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lazuli-bloom · 4 years ago

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Roses and Styx

Chapter 2 – The Man In The Rotting Suit

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5051

You get to go home early, which is nice. Now if only you could shake that guy from the graveyard. It doesn't help that no one else is able to even see him. There has to be some way to get rid of him, right?

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--=--=--

Deep breaths. Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth. You're fine. Just ignore the man grinning at you seated in your passenger seat. Everything was normal and fine. He's not really there.

"So, where to, babes?"

You sucked a long sharp breath and glanced over to the delusion. He definitely looked at home in a graveyard, with the patches of moss on pale skin and sporting a frayed suit coated in dirt and grime. The man flashed you another grin showing off sharp teeth that likely have never seen a toothbrush.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored the apparition while you get your shitty car started. A few minutes later, the car clanged and sputtered awake. You shoot whatever was in your passenger seat a glare before pulling out of the small lot and headed home.

The man next to you groaned after you passed the first stoplight. You glanced over to him. He crossed his arms, and wore a frown on his face. The green color in his hair dulled from when he was in the store. His tone looked to be a more purple hue.

"Come on, babes, I know you can see and hear me!"

You stayed silent and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light. He was right—much to your vexation—you could perceive him. In more ideal circumstances you'd seek professional help from a doctor or therapist, but that costs money. So you're forced to bank on the hope that ignoring the delusion makes him disappear.

He huffed and pouted more. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone could see me. I ain't leaving so soon."

You press your lips tighter into a line and kept your eyes on the road. His peculiar wording bounced around in your head for the next few stops. Soon that bled into playing the events of the funeral. He was there, bugging the mourners and going unnoticed.

"Fine. What are you?"

You catch the dimmer purple wash away from his hair and brighten to a vivid green.

"Aw babes, I knew you'd come around!"

"Please answer the question."

"Oh, and so polite! Alright sweets, since you asked so nicely; I am a ghost!"

You spared a glance over to him as you turned onto the dingy road leading to your apartment. The skeptic in you wanted to counter and say that wasn't possible, but you doubted voicing that would magically make your unwanted passenger disappear.

"Alright then, mister ghost, why are you following me?"

"Already told ya, you're the first breather able to see me in a long time."

"So, are you planning to haunt me? Make my life worse than it already is? Because so help me god I'll kick your ass straight to Hell if you try."

You parked your car and turned, giving him a pointed glare. His citrine eyes lit up as his grin stretched so large it threatened to split his face.

"Feisty! I like that in a breather."

You grumbled under your breath and looked around the parking lot. Your car was one of maybe four parked there. There weren't any milling tenets out, either. Nevertheless, you weren't keen on staying out in your car the entire day talking to a ghost.

"I'm going inside. If you want to follow me, then you're going to have to answer my questions. Got it?"

"Anything you want, babes."

You breathed out through your nose and unbuckled yourself. As you stepped out you caught sight of the ghost floating out the front of your car where he waited for you on the curb. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rolled back, putting his weight on his heels. The ghost flashed you another grin, and you doubted any good could come from this.

No second guesses or weaseling out by that point. You told him to follow you as you made your way to the apartment. Up the flight of stairs and to the end of the hall, you were almost home free.

"Parker!"

The harsh rasp of a smoker shouted at you. Every fiber of your being tensed up, and you fought to put on a smile in front of the dragon. She marched up to you with narrow eyes locked on you.

"Hi Donna."

"Who the hell left your apartment yesterday? I swear if you're smuggling a roommate in there I'm going to raise your rent."

"That was my friend, Sam. They're moving and stopped by to say goodbye. Wait, how did you know Sam even visited? Didn't you go out last night?"

"I got complaints about you."

You keep your mouth shut for the moment. This was a conversation you preferred not to drag out. You simply nodded to her as you carefully thought over your next words.

"Sam only dropped by to say goodbye."

"And who is 'Cassie'?"

You tensed up to the point your muscles could turn to stone any minute. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and you struggled to keep up a friendly act.

"They're a co-worker."

Donna huffed at you, followed by a sneer showing off tobacco-stained teeth. She waved you off and turned, pulling out her smokes as she left. Donna uttered an insult your way before descending the stairs.

"Ain't she a delight."

You whipped your attention to the gravelly voice and found the specter with narrowed eyes pointed at the landing. His brow and nose scrunched up as he glared and you noted odd flecks of red in his hair.

You got your keys out and unlocked your door. "She's a bitch, but this apartment was the best I could afford. Easier to just grin and bear it."

"You know sweets, we could help one another with our problems." He said. You raise a brow at him before you stepped into the apartment. While he didn't exactly need you to, you stepped to the side and held the door open for him. "Babes, you are adorable. I'd give ya a big ol' 'thank you' kiss if I could."

"Please don't," you said, closing the door.

He let out a hardy laugh and then winked your way. You frowned and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He scanned over the apartment while you studied him. The ghost's ragged appearance gave the impression that he recently crawled out of the grave. His pale skin grew bits of moss that blended into his hair. Dark rings circled his amber eyes. And a layer of rot and grime coated his odd frayed suit.

"Like what ya see, sweets?"

Heat rushed to your face, and you furrowed your brow at that. "You could use a bath."

"You breathers and bathing. What's even the point of it?"

"Health. It cleans away dead skin, and any diseases stuck on you, helps with sore muscles and aches, and can just help improve your mood overall."

"Shit. I didn't expect you to actually have an answer."

"Had one or two school wide lessons back in high school telling the kids that body spray was not a substitute for a shower."

He blinked at you. He shrugged a moment later and took a step closer, with his hands behind his back. "Anyway, back to my point. I think we can help each other out."

"How?"

"You and me could get rid of that awful hag! Decapitation, eaten alive by rats, electrocution, I'm open to suggestions!"

"Real casual with murder, huh? Yeah, no, not interested."

"Wait! Okay, it doesn't have to be murder. I could scare her so bad that she runs off and never comes back! We can workshop that later. But first I need you to say my name!"

"What would saying your name do to 'help'? And I don't know your name, you never said it."

The nameless ghost rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Did the dead still need to breathe? That didn't seem right.

"Right now I can't affect much of anything. You saw how that guy walked right through me, right?"

You nodded.

"But if you say my name three times, I get my powers back and won't be stuck being invisible." There was a certain excitement in his tone when he said that. One that lit up his amber eyes with... something.

Your lips twitch downward as you mulled over his words. He said earlier you were the first person to see him in a long time. How long you couldn't be sure without asking, but truly any stretch of time sounded so lonely. However, you couldn't just let him have free range to do whatever he pleased. He already proposed murder as means of dealing with your landlady. This ghost could be impossibly destructive if unleashed.

"I don't know. How can I—"

A vicious yowl made you jump. It came from the other side of the wall.

"Shit!"

You rushed around the corner and opened the bathroom door. A white blur ran past you to the underside of the coffee table. Aqua colored eyes glared at you, only to shift focus in the ghost's direction.

You ignored that for the moment and instead turned your attention to the bathroom. The smell hit you first, the acrid scent of cat piss. You groaned as you looked over the state of the bathroom. The toilet paper shredded in tethers on the cheap linoleum, food and water bowls flipped with contents scattered, and a yellow puddle next to the litter box. Fantastic.

"Why was your cat locked in the bathroom?"

"I'm pet-sitting for a friend, and I can't have pets in the apartment," You said while you dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. "I'm keeping him mostly confined to the bathroom, so it's not obvious a cat's here for two weeks."

"Why are you pet-sitting if you can't have pets here?"

"Because my friend couldn't board their cat anywhere else. They promised me a couple hundred bucks to do it too, so I bit the bullet."

"If you're hard up for cash, I know an easier way to get it."

You glanced back at him with a raised brow but kept quiet to focus on cleaning. A minute later, once cleaned of Rigel's mess, you tossed the toilet paper in the bathroom trash and asked, "And what method would that be?"

"Just taking it! I won't get caught, babes, and even if I did, there's nothing a breather could do about it. Come on, all you gotta do is say my name three times in a row!"

You stay quiet for a minute as you washed your hands. You dried your hands and turned to face him, saying once more, "I don't know your name."

"Well, I can't say it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed. I can't say my own name."

"Is it... Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Sweets, that hurts. You really think my sexy self could be that little imp?"

"Well, other than taking more shots in the dark, how else would I figure out your name?"

"We could..." He trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. His face lit up a moment later as he said, "We could play a game or something so you can figure it out!"

His grin stretched wide as he wore an earnest hope on his features. It was rather sweet, strangely enough, and made the notion of turning him down seem harsh. You mulled over your decision. While you didn't want to say no, you weren't keen on agreeing either. If you said yes, he'd expect you to say his name afterwards.

"And if I figure out your name, then what? Setting you free doesn't seem like a smart idea."

He instantly deflated when he heard that. Smile gone, brows furrowed. Even the vibrancy of his green hair looked like it dulled to a blueish purple. He looked crushed, and knowing you caused it struck you with a bit of guilt. You couldn't blindly trust him, but you didn't want to see him so hurt.

"Look. We just met. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Cause we're BFFFFs Forever!"

"B-F-F—... You want to be friends?"

He nodded vigorously, with a glimmer of hope rekindled in his eyes. Your guts twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer he gave you the lost puppy look. If he truly was alone and unseen for any stretch of time, then desperately wanting a friend made sense. And for whatever strange reason, you were the one able to see him.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal. We can be friends, but I won't free you until you've earned my trust. If I feel like I can trust you by the end of the month, then I'll say your name."

His grin reappeared, showing off sharp yellowed teeth. His hair also grew to a vibrant green. "Aw babes, you're the best! We are going to be great friends!"

You gave him a half smile, finding his excitement endearing if not a tad contagious. You finished up with cleaning the rest of the mess, and while doing so, you threw out a few more guesses of what his name might be. They were all wrong, but "Cthulhu" got a laugh out of him.

Once done with tidying the bathroom, you check on the furball under the shoddy coffee table. The devil cat hissed at you and swiped a clawed paw at you for daring to get so close. His eyes were thin slits and seemed to shift between yourself and somewhere behind you. You followed his gaze and landed on the ghost. You even asked him to move and the cat's gaze followed him.

"Huh. Looks like Rigel can see you."

"Rigel?"

"The fuzz-bucket of pure rage over here. His name is Rigel."

"Like the star in Orion?"

"Yeah, actually. The bright white star, that's why Sam named him that."

"Do you know any other stars in Orion?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

"Eh... can't say."

You raised a brow at him. You wanted to find out the other stars in the constellation after he asked that—but with no internet access at the apartment or even a smartphone, you couldn't do that. All you owned was a cheap little prepaid flip phone straight out of the early aughts.

You shrugged it off and made a note to search that the next day on the store's computer. In the meantime, you sat down on the couch, kicking your shoes off to pull your feet up too. You didn't want to take the chance of that cat getting ballsy and going after you.

"So Mr. Whatsyourname, how am I going to figure out your name?"

He floated down to the other end of the couch and shrugged. You pressed your lips tight and hummed in thought as you worked out a means to find out his name.

"Well, playing twenty questions is getting us nowhere. Then again, throwing out random guesses isn't how you play that, but whatever. You can't spell it out, can you?"

"No, I suck at spelling it. And I can't, cause that would count as telling you it."

"Hmm, do you think you could use pictures to 'spell' it? Like using—a fly, a car, and a dog, to get the result of a flying carpet?"

"That might work, but I can't affect things, babes."

"But I can. Give me a sec, I'll get some paper." You rushed off to your bedroom and come back with a pencil and sketch pad. You took your seat back on the couch and turned to sit side by side with the ghost rather than facing him. "Alright, you tell me what shapes to draw."

You flipped to a blank page, skipping the older pages filled with various sketches and doodles. Once you got to a clean page, you held the book at an angel he could easily see.

The first thing he said to draw was a rectangle, a narrow one standing upright. Then a shorter and much thinner one at the top of the first. Followed by a third the same size as the second but connecting with it at an angle.

"Is that a juice box?"

"Nix the box."

"Juice?"

He nodded with a Cheshire grin. "Great! Now draw a circle on the front of the box."

You did so, as well as draw the six lines going out from the circle like he asked.

"Bug?"

"No, more specific. Draw lines on it in a 'T' shape."

You drew the segments on the bug, which gave it a distinct head and a line along its back. You look over the drawing and ask, "Is it a beetle?"

"Yes!"

"Beetle... juice?"

"Yes! You got it!"

You hum to yourself and look over the picture more. Such a strange name. Was that his name in life, too? Or did he get a new name upon death? Does everyone? Can you choose your name?

"I can see why your name's Art."

You shook out of your thoughts and jerked your head to the ghost—Beetlejuice—sitting beside you. You huffed a small laugh and closed the sketchbook.

"That's not my name."

"But that guy at the store—"

"I don't put my real name on my apron."

"Okay, Parker—"

"Not my name either."

"What? But that bitch called you Parker."

"I don't want people knowing my name. So, I don't give out my real name."

"Not even to your BFFFF Forever?"

"How about instead of telling you, you try to guess it? No hints either."

Beetlejuice groaned and whined at that, but you didn't budge. You instead gave him a sly smile of your own. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at you, and you did your best to not break into laughter. How was that disheveled ghost able to look so cute?

"Babes, tell me! You know my name now, I want to know yours."

"I had to play a game to figure out your name, only fair you have to do the same to learn mine."

"I'm cursed though. I can't say my name. Well, my middle name anyway."

You blinked and tilted your head as you processed his last comment. His middle name? How odd. You shrugged at him and said, "You can either try to figure out my name or maybe if I end up trusting you, I'll tell you. But for now, you don't need it."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"You've been doing just fine with nicknames like—babes, sweets, and breather."

"Fine. But I want to know your name at some point."

"When I'm more comfortable, it's a personal thing. What about you, though? Can I call you by a nickname?"

"Sure! You could use—sexy, or handsome, or hot stuff."

"Or none of those," you said, shaking your head. You did your best not to crack and laugh. "How about Beetle, or Bug? Simple and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?" He asked with a purr that caused your face to burn.

"I think you're weird, and strange, but not the most terrible at least."

"I'll take it!"

There was that bright smile again. Wide and full of sharp teeth. This ghost was a very perplexing being. The more you saw his smile, the more your own lips curled into a smile of your own.

"Okay, so if you're going to hang around here, we should set up some ground rules and get other things squared away. Like—I don't want you going in my bedroom unless I invite you in and stay out of the bathroom too."

"Aw, that's no fun."

"Do you sleep or anything?"

"I can, but I don't need to. Same goes for food when I'm not stuck being invisible."

"Can you affect anything while you're like that? Lights? Electronics?"

"No. The air gets cold around me. Other than that, can't do much of anything while invisible."

You nodded with a small frown. That must be so boring—stuck watching the world go by, unable to affect anything or even seen by anyone. That experience didn't sound pleasant. As much as you wanted to keep a low profile, you couldn't bear to be that level of unnoticed.

"Well..." you said, getting your thoughts back on track, "If you don't need to sleep, what do you want to do while I'm asleep? You want me to set up a movie for you in the living room? Or I guess you could go snoop around the other apartments and see what everyone else is doing. Lord knows there's always someone awake in this place no matter the hour."

"You're giving me a free pass to spy on your neighbors?"

"You said you can't affect anything other than making it cold, so I don't see a problem. Hell maybe if you annoy enough people with cold spots Donna will have to deal with a bunch of complaints. Maybe she'll even waste money trying to fix things, that'd be fun."

"We are going to be such great friends."

You huffed out a small laugh. As strange as he was—and maybe a little too gung ho with murdering your landlady—Beetlejuice seemed like he would make for... interesting company.

You checked the time on your phone. Five in the afternoon. Only an hour left of your shift. Well, if you hadn't left early. You tossed your phone on the coffee table with a clatter. Your action earned a venomous hiss from Rigel.

"So, um, if you don't need to sleep but can, do you want me to set up the couch as a bed? I don't have anywhere else to set one up and if Donna thinks I have other people living here, she's going to be pissed."

"Good thing I'm dead."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes. "Well yeah, technically. Existing here then, which dead or alive; you do exist. And that would still piss off Donna."

He huffed and narrowed his eyes, but glanced away from you. "I know you said you want to trust me first, sweets, but I could do a helluva lot more than just annoy her with cold spots. Just give me a chance!"

"I don't know... I don't like her but I don't think that would be a good idea." You sat looking blankly at the couch cushions as you hummed in thought. Even if he had good intentions going in—or more accurately, intentions that benefited you—things could go wrong and land you in a worse spot. Good intentions paved the road to Hell, after all.

"Babes, please, I'm begging. Ya gotta let me do something! I can even hold back on hurting her if that's what you want! I'll just scare the shit out of her!"

You thought over the proposition, and it sounded enticing. You tapped a finger against your cheek as various scenarios of Donna, scared out of her mind, played out. "That does sound fun, maybe later—Wait! It's October!"

"It is? Huh. I thought it was still July."

"Wait what? How...?"

"When you've been around for over a millennium, you stop bothering to keep tabs on time."

"A millennium? That's, holy crap. Okay, I have questions, but first what I was originally saying; It's October. So that means at the end of the month is Halloween. So, what if, if things go well and I trust you by then we plan a big scare for this All Hallows' Eve?"

The ghost shot up, bouncing on the couch. The sudden movement freaked out Rigel enough for him to scurry off to another hiding spot. "Hell yes! Babes, you're the best!" This ghost vibrated with barely contained excitement and you could have sworn he was glowing green.

You held up your hand to hold in a laugh. Beetlejuice radiated a pure joy that was not only endearing but also infectious. While precious to see him so happy, you asked him to compose himself and sit. Incorporeal or not, it’s difficult to carry a conversation while a ghost jumped on the furniture.

He sank back and sat on the couch, though he chose the arm of the couch as his seat. He faced you, still sporting a grin and vibrant green hue, and you couldn't stop smiling at this happy dork. Wanting to keep your discussion going, you cleared your throat and picked things back up with a question.

"You said you've been around for a millennium. So does that mean you lived during the... eleventh century?"

"I was around then, but I've never been alive. I was born dead."

"Born dead? Do... you mean like a stillborn?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm a demon straight from Hell."

"You're a demon-ghost? Ghost-demon?"

"Both, yeah. But enough about me, as great as I am. How'd a pretty little breather like you end up in this shitty apartment?"

You frown and grabbed at your sleeve, not wanting to look him in the eye anymore. "It's kinda complicated and I don't want to go into all of it. I'm just... scraping my life back together and this place is the best I can afford right now." You stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at the ghost. The vibrant joy on his features faded drastically. Guilt stung in your heart for dampening the mood and offered the best masking smile you could muster. You weren't sure it looked all that convincing.

Beetlejuice stayed quiet a moment longer before a smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, now you know who you can call if ya need help dealing with a few problems."

"The ghostbusters?" You asked and cracked a genuine smile.

"Pff. Them? Nah, babe, the ghost with the most! Just gotta say my name three times, spoken unbroken!"

The self proclaimed "ghost with the most" puffed out his chest in a bid to look impressive. It earned a soft chuckle out of you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A low growl filled the room. Heat seared your cheeks as you wrapped an arm over your stomach. Lunch wasn't as filling as you had hoped. You sighed and stood with a stretch. If you didn't make dinner soon, you'll end up nauseous from hunger later.

Your new familiar spirit stayed put sitting on the arm of the couch. However, when you glanced back at him, his head turned around to face you. It unnerved you, and the longer you looked at him the worse the feeling got.

You shook it off as best you can and headed to the fridge, which hid behind a wall jutting out to separate the living room and kitchen. And right then doubled as a divider that blocked you from view of the couch.

Once you dug out the mixed vegetables from the freezer, you turned and caught sight of a large blur on your counter. You seized up, knees locking, and heard a loud laugh bellow out.

"Aw babes, you should've seen the look on your face."

Beetlejuice wiped away some tears, then snapped his fingers. You blinked a few times, unsure what to think of seeing your face on his body. He twisted his—your? features into an expression of shock before cackling. Your mouth hung open, but you couldn't find any words. So you just shook your head and carried on making dinner.

As you worked on getting your dinner prepared, you pick back up the conversation. You and Beetlejuice took turns asking questions to get to know one another. Beetlejuice opened by sharing about his banishment—no clear details, just stated the fact it happened. He also said he got a kick out of the spread of the bubonic plague through Europe.

You grabbed a bowl and poured in your steaming dinner. The savory flavoring of the noodles mixed with the thawed vegetables and wafted in the air. Once you turned the stove off, you sat back on the couch. In between bites, you divulged a few minor details about yourself, like how you've worked for Mr. Turner close to a year and a half, and your hope to one day work in a haunted house attraction. That topic piqued Beetlejuice's interest.

"So, you get to scare people. As a job?"

"Y-yeah. I've thought being a haunted house actor could be a lot of fun. But there's no acting job close enough willing to pay the rate I'd need to make it worth it. And it's seasonal. So it's gotta stay a dream job."

You ate your noodles and mixed vegetables, allowing the specter to take over the conversation and regale you with various stories. One of his stories got you to laugh so hard you ended up swallowing wrong. It took a minute of coughing and sputtering before you stopped choking on your food. You cleared your throat with a short groan and fought to stop laughing.

After you finished dinner, you checked the time. It wasn't too late, but with everything that happened, drowsiness gnawed at the edge of your mind. You tapped your fork against the rim of the bowl as you walked through the mental checklist of what you needed to do before bed. Beetlejuice asked what you were doing and frowned when you told him.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I have work tomorrow and you gave me a few good scares today. I'm getting tired."

He pouted, but you noticed he cracked a smile, hearing that he scared you. You rolled your eyes and got up to put your dish in the sink. When you returned, you pulled several movie cases and set them on the coffee table.

"Pick whichever one you want, I can put it on for you before I go to bed."

You give him a small smile and leave to get ready. A few minutes later, once in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and the cat wrangled back into the bathroom, Beetlejuice picked out a movie. You got it started and tidied up the couch for him.

"You don't have to clean on my account, babes. I don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind, you're my guest, and I want things to be nice." You said and gave him another smile. "G'night, Beetle. See ya in the morning."

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Link to Chpt. 6, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, fingering, helmet stays on, explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), canonical violence

Word count: 12.5K (another long one for you because I don’t know how to edit enough)

Author’s Note: We’re still on Angel One because I wasn’t done playing there. If you’re interested in the setting, I’ve based the historic part of the city on Toledo, Spain. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When you awake the next morning, it feels like you have had the best sleep of your life, despite spending so much of the night making love with Din. You feel utterly blissed out and although some of your muscles ache, it’s the most delicious feeling. You feel him stirring next to you, and you remind yourself that you have to wait to take off the sleep mask until you know it’s safe.

“Go-od morning, cyar’ika,” Din says through a yawn, “Gimme a minute to get the helmet.”

“Of course,” you reply stretching out in the bed, and as you do, your stomach lets out a loud growl. You’re embarrassed, especially as you hear Din laughing softly.

“Did you work up an appetite?” he asks, “I know I’m starving after all that activity.”

You blindly throw a pillow in the direction of his voice and he just laughs harder.

“Careful, my dear, you might break something,” he admonishes you playfully. You hear his footsteps come closer to you and something fluffy lands in your hands.

“You can take the mask off now,” Din says, his voice sounding modulated again and you know he has the helmet back on. You slide the satin mask off your head and store it safely in the nightstand and you see that he’s brought you one of the robes to wear. You’re just slipping it on when you hear a knock at the door. You’re getting ready to hop out of bed and answer it, when Din tells you,

“I’ll get it; no one else needs to see you like this but me.” He’s only half dressed in his trousers himself, but he throws on the other robe to answer the door.

His comment about your appearance makes you curious, so you get out of bed anyway but head to the large bathroom instead. In the mirror, you see a woman who looks well loved. Your hair is mussed, your lips are slightly swollen, and there are several marks, Din’s love bites, on your neck and chest. You smile back at your reflection and think you’ve never looked better.

You hear the door close and so you head back out to see what that was all about and find Din in the sitting room area with a large cart laden with breakfast foods. Mistress Sigrid may be a bit much, but at least she’s a great hostess. You immediately dig in to the delicious spread as Din chuckles at your eagerness. You make a plate, flop down on the sofa, and turn yourself so you’re facing away from him.

“Go ahead and eat, Din, I know you’re hungry too,” you say, “I promise I won’t look.”

“I know, I trust you,” he says and you hear him get his own breakfast too.

You enjoy your food and the time spent chatting with Din about various other things last night. Turns out, he got a lot more information about the Jubilee from the men.

“Today there’s a sort of bazaar with arts and crafts and cultural demonstrations,” he’s telling you, “Trent promised to show us all the best booths.”

“That was nice of him,” you say.

“And there’s a big set up for this competition that they have amongst the women. Today they announce the challengers and then tomorrow the contest begins,” Din explains.

“I bet it will be entertaining to watch, the women here seem so skilled, it will probably be some type of combat contest or at least something athletic,” you speculate.

“There’s also an interesting prize system for it,” he lets of a huff of laughter, “Apparently the women get to choose the man they want for the night based on the order that they finish - so it’s a prime time for a woman to steal a guy she’s had her eye on.”

“What? That sounds so sexist, I mean towards men, which I know sounds weird, but, ew.” The idea just seems wrong to you, but then you think about how you’re only seeing this from your perspective and say, “But, I know I shouldn’t be judging their culture by my norms, and if this is what works for them, then so be it.”

“It seems odd to me too,” Din says, “But the men last night were pretty excited about it, it’s a pretty big honor to be selected by the winner for them.”

“Well at least we’ll just get to be spectators,” you say.

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Once you’re ready for the day, you head back to the nursery to collect the child. He’s very excited to see you both and toddles over to you as quickly as his tiny legs will carry him. He’s clearly had a great time and is wearing a flower crown and a new beaded necklace.

“Hi buddy, look at you! I love your new accessories!” You say scooping him up. He leans in for a hug and then makes grabby hands towards Din. You hand him over, as Gregor is coming up to you with a little bundle.

“Your little one was such a dear and he played so well with the other children,” he tells you, “And he had a great time with arts and crafts, he’s just a little natural.”

You open up the bundle to find two more beaded necklaces, one in pinks and reds and the other in blues and greens.

“These are so pretty, buddy, did you make them?” you ask the child who is cooing happily at you. “Let me guess, is the pink one for me?” He coos and giggles and you drape the necklace over your head.

“And is the blue one mine, kiddo?” Din asks and again the child makes a happy sound and you help Din put on his new necklace.

“What a beautiful family!” Gregor gushes, “Let me get a holo of the three of you.” Dutifully, you pose for a few holos including a few that Gregor snaps with your holopad too.

As your little party makes its way out of the state residence to head to the bazaar, you find Trent with a group of his friends in the foyer. They are all dressed to impressed and are also sporting flower crowns today.

“Oh Princess and Mando, hi!” Trent greets you enthusiastically, and then with a cheeky grin, “Someone had a wonderful night last night, didn’t they? I noticed you two sneaking off in the middle of the show.”

You feel a touch embarrassed but Trent’s happy grin makes you giggle in spite of yourself and you just say, “Oh, I’d never kiss and tell.”

This seems to delight all of Trent’s friends and they giggle right along with you, and you notice a couple of them checking out Din’s marks on your neck that are still very visible. They exchange knowing glances and you give them a wink.

“See, I told you she was charming,” Trent says and then proceeds to introduce you to his friends. The men greet Din enthusiastically too, most of them having met him last night.

“Oh, but Mando, you don’t have a flower crown,” one of the men, Chad, says with a note of disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t worry there’s always some nice ones you can buy at the bazaar,” another man says.

With that, you all head out to explore and enjoy the day. It’s a beautifully sunny day with a nice light breeze and the scent of flowers and delicious food wafting through the air. You can hear festive music playing and the sound of many happy people already out and about enjoying their holiday. This part of the city is a historic district with many very old stone buildings close together and narrow cobblestone streets that wind through the buildings before ending in large plazas. Large red banners adorned with various symbols hang off most every window and balcony that you pass, and beautiful floral garlands are draped across the streets between the buildings. Each of the plazas are ringed with vendor booths and each plaza appears to adhere to a particular theme for the wares. Trent directs you to the floral plaza and a stand with many flower crowns. You’ve never seen such beautiful flowers and in such a variety of pretty colors.

“They look really nice, I’d love a flower crown too,” you say a touch wistfully, and the men dissolve into laughter at the idea. You look around and realize, “Oh, wait, they’re just for men, aren’t they?”

Din steps up to look at the crowns more carefully. You can’t imagine he’ll really buy one for himself, but then he asks you, “Which ones do you like?”

You let your fingers touch the soft petals of a particularly beautiful one with red and yellow flowers that catches your eye, “I like this one best,” you say.

“And what’s second best?” Din asks, and you look a touch surprised, but maybe he doesn’t care for the red and yellow? You look through the others and land on another lovely crown of purple and white blooms.

“This one is also lovely,” you say softly.

“We’ll take these two,” Din says to the vendor, handing him a small handful of credits. He then picks up the red and yellow crown and gently places it on your head, enjoying the look of surprise on your face, before plopping the purple crown on top of his helmet.

“You’re a princess, you should have a crown if you want it,” Din tells you.

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him.

“It actually looks really pretty on you,” Trent says, “Who knows, maybe it could be a new trend?”

You continue to explore the bazaar and eventually you meet up with several of the mistresses that you met the night before. They eye your flower crown with a snicker, but you figure they were already laughing at you anyway so why should you care. The only one who doesn’t do this is Eira, who politely tells you that it looks nice, and you decide she’s your favorite out of all the women you’ve met here. Eira introduces you to her lover, Bradley, who is a quieter man than Trent and his friends, but very nice. They invite you and Din to join them for a drink at one of the tavern booths, and the four of you fall into a comfortable conversation.

After a bit, Eira tells you that it’s time to head to the main plaza because the day’s program is scheduled to begin soon. Arriving at the plaza, you see a stage and several grandstands set up around it. Most of the stands are already full, but Eira leads you to seats in one of the front rows that have been reserved.

Mistress Sigrid walks out onto the stage to a podium that has been set up as a band plays a triumphant march. As the music swells, people stand and cheer. When the music ends, Sigrid welcomes you all,

“Hello, I hope you are all having a wonderful Jubilee of Astrid!”

“May she bless us!” the crowd replies enthusiastically.

“Please be seated as we begin our ceremonies,” she says.

What follows are a series of speeches about the importance of the holiday, the blessings of Astrid, and the prosperity that she is sure to bring each family. You’re only half listening and instead you let your mind wander to what it must be like to live in a place like this where you know you will celebrate together each year, a place where a family can spend a peaceful day together having fun. You look over at Din holding the child who is playing with the beads of Din’s necklace and you feel a pang of sadness in your heart. What would it be like if you could settle somewhere and have a real home, make friends, and spend time each day in plazas like this one? You know you’re letting your emotions get the best of you. After all, you haven’t even been together with Din for that long, so why are you picturing such a future already? Still though, now the image is in your mind.

“And of course, now we get to the main event,” Sigrid is saying, and you snap your attention back to her, “It’s time to announce the competition and challengers for Astrid’s Battle.”

“This year’s competition will consist of three rounds,” she announces, “In round one we have a test of agility, in round two, a challenge of intelligence, and then in round three, the show of strength. As each of our competitors finish a round, they will earn points based on the quality and speed in which they completed the tasks. Remember this means that even if someone doesn’t win any of the rounds, she could still end up the victor based on total points!”

The people around you cheer wildly and you do your best to applaud and look enthusiastic. Sigrid goes on to then introduce various women who come out on stage to receive cheers and take a bow. It isn’t until she gets to Mistress Lagertha when things unexpectedly take a nasty turn. Instead of coming out for just a bow, Lagertha heads to the podium.

“I am here to issue a special challenge, to our visiting princess.” Your head snaps up at her in alarm. “Your Highness, I dare you to compete for your Mando. If you should manage to place higher than me, then he’s yours, but if I out place you in the contest, he’s going home with me.”

You jump to your feet in utter shock at her audacity and you feel your body flood with anger. How dare she!

It is very quiet all of a sudden, as all eyes look to you. You try to reason with her at first, but your voice cannot hide your ire, “Mistress Lagertha, we are guests on your planet, and I regard this as highly unusual to request that I participate in this competition and that Mando be offered as a prize.”

“If you’re too scared to compete, then I’ll just take him now,” she smirks at you, openly mocking you in front of everyone.

You feel Din standing beside you, his body tense, and you know his fight mode is about to kick in, but that would be disastrous. You raise your head and give her the most intimidating glare you can muster, as you say, “Very well, I will accept on one condition, Mando is only a prize between you and me, no one else may compete for him.”

There is an immediate uproar at this and the crowd begins to gossip excitedly about this newest twist to the competition. Sigrid motions you to the stage, but before you can go, Din grabs your arm, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think I do, unless we want more trouble,” you tell him and you make your way to the stage.

You are seething right now and you curse yourself for ever having thought of Lagertha as friendly. Your outrage makes you walk with intention and when you take the stage, you know you’re going to show these women that you might be smaller in stature than they are but you are still a powerful woman in your own right.

“Do we have an agreement?” you ask Lagertha your voice cold. It’s a tone you learned from your days with the Empire and from the way her eyes widen, you can tell it has an effect on Lagertha. She gives you a curt nod.

“I’ll need more of a guarantee, Mistress Sigrid, that no one else will compete for Mando.” You look at her with hard eyes, you may be wearing a flower crown, but the pretty, delicate princess is all gone.

“So you will join the competition? Compete for Mando’s affections?” Mistress Sigrid asks rather surprised.

“I will, but only if my stipulation is met,” you reply sharply.

“Very well, only yourself or Lagertha may claim Mando,” Sigrid confirms. She then turns to the crowd and announces you as the final competitor. You take a small bow like the others, but you keep your eyes trained on Din.

When you exit the stage both Din and Eira are there to meet you. Din takes you by the shoulder and brings you in close so he can speak directly in your ear,

“Are you certain you want to do this? We can just leave now, take our chances,” Din urges you.

“No one can find us here, this is the safest place for now,” you reason with him, “And if I need to play their game to help keep us here, then I will. No woman is just going to take you from me.” Din sees your eyes flash with that statement, and he feels humbled by the intensity of your affection for him. I don’t deserve her.

“I can help you prepare,” Eira is saying, “I’ve competed many times and honestly the competition doesn’t change much from year to year.”

“I would appreciate any help, Eira,” you reply, “And I can still beat Lagertha on total points, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Eira confirms, “Let’s go back to our house and we can talk strategy.”

Din, the child, and you follow Eira and Bradley back to their home as she tells you about her experiences with Astrid’s Battle.

“The first two rounds will be tomorrow. The agility challenge is always some type of obstacle race, the obstacles change from year to year, but generally you have to have decent balance, be able to climb, and be light on your feet,” she explains.

“Your smaller size may give you an advantage there,” Din says encouragingly, “And I’ve seen you carry a tray a food, the child, and several of his toys around the Crest with no problem, so balance should also be a skill for you.”

“My best shot at earning points though is going to be the intelligence test,” you say, “What does that usually consist of?”

“Typically, it’s some type of really hard puzzle or riddle,” Eira tells you, “It’s a real challenge, but I know that Lagertha isn’t good at riddles, so you do stand a good chance there.”

“That would be right in my skillset, so I’ll hope for the best there.” You feel much more confident that you can do well on that section and if you’re fast enough it might be enough to keep you competitive with Lagertha.

“The part that worries me the most is the strength competition,” Eira is saying, “Because that is almost always hand-to-hand combat. It’s on the following day because it’s usually done in tournament style.”

“I’ve given her some training, but if she could spar with you, that would be helpful to see the fighting style you use here,” Din suggests.

For the next couple hours, you spar and practice with Eira and Din in the grassy area behind Eira’s house. The two of them give you various pointers about how to best hold your own and use your smaller size to your advantage. It’s good that Din’s training has focused on that too, because it doesn’t feel too foreign to you. At the very least, you feel like you won’t make a complete fool out of yourself thanks to their advice. Bradley has kindly been watching the child the whole time as they sit on the sidelines and cheer you on. There was a tense moment at first when Eira kept mysteriously falling down as she went to attack you, but thankfully, Din realized what was happening and hurried over to lower the little green hand. Eira just figured she had slipped on something and didn’t get suspicious.

When you’re taking a break, you pull the little one close to you and whisper in his ear, “I appreciate the help, buddy, but save it for the real competition in case I really need it.” You give him a kiss and he makes his happy, snuffly baby sounds.

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Later that evening, you’re resting in your room back in the state residence. Din is insistent that you save all your energy for tomorrow, and while you know he’s right, you can’t help yourself from giving him suggestive looks anyway after the child is safely in his pram for the night.

“Cyar’ika, you’re supposed to be getting ready for bed,” he admonishes, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You’re already a distraction,” you say playfully. Nevertheless, you know you could use more rest given that last night wasn’t exactly full of sleeping. So you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face for the night. You’re starting at yourself in the mirror again, but this time doubt starts to creep in as you consider how much stronger and bigger Lagertha is. You have no idea how she might do in the intelligence competition, either.

When you come back to the bedroom, you ask Din, “Do you think I have any chance tomorrow?”

“Of course I do,” he insists strongly, “If I didn’t I’d already have you and the kiddo in hyperspace.”

He’s direct, and you know he means it. Your face must still show your doubt though, because he comes over and pulls you into his arms.

“Cyar’ika, you are going to be great. These women underestimate you; they’re too wrapped up in their own ideas of superiority to see who you really are.”

“Who I really am?” you repeat to him, wondering how he sees you.

“A brave, intelligent woman who knows how to survive,” Din says sincerely, “And the only one who can win this Mando’s affections.”

You hug him tighter to you as he says that and then you lean up to place a kiss on his helmet where his mouth would be.

“Close your eyes,” Din says, and when you do, he pushes up the helmet so he can lean in and take your lips in his. His kiss is tender and loving, and when he pulls away, you feel content again.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“Thank you, Din,” you say softly.

“For kissing you?” he asks, a little amused.

“For believing in me.”

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

You’re filled with anticipation and anxiety as you wait for your turn to begin the obstacle course in the agility portion of Astrid’s Battle. You’re thankful that Eira was able to brief you on this part because now it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. The course is set up with various sections where you must cross a narrow bridge or make your way over an unstable surface designed to test your balance. There are also several climbing walls to surmount, and a crawl through swampy, muddy area that you are not looking forward to completing. You have an advantage however, of being in the middle of the pack of competitors because you can watch the women who run the course before you and see how they attempt the obstacles. In some cases, there are two options for a path, and you’re quickly learning which path will be best for you. As each woman runs the course, two announcers provide a play-by-play of her progress and updates on the time. It seems like most women finish in around 15 minutes, but you can get time added to your clock as a penalty if you make a mistake on the course.

Suddenly it’s your turn to start and as you hear the buzzer sound, you jolt into action. As you’ve been watching the others, you pre-planned your route in your head and as you bound across the first obstacle, a net that makes you bounce as you run on it, you tell yourself to focus on the plan and to shut out any distractions. One thought keeps your legs pumping and your eyes sharp, she won’t take Din from me.

Din is sitting in the stands holding the child on his lap as he watches you compete. Maker, he’s not even in the competition but his heart is beating fast with nervous energy as he watches you on the course. He’s glad that Eira and Bradley are with him because these new friends seem just as invested in your success as he is. You’re doing really well on the balancing apparatuses, and each time you cross one, Din cheers out for you. But, you’re having less success with the climbing walls, as unfortunately with those, your shorter height gives you a disadvantage. You aren’t able to reach as far as the other women, so it takes you longer to get over each one. Still, each time you do, he’s so proud of you. You’re almost to the end of the course now and all that’s left is the muddy crawl. Din knows you’ll hate that part as one time the kid got himself and then you, covered in mud and it was clear you did not enjoy it. So when he sees you dive into the mud like it’s nothing, giving it your all, he feels honored that you’re trying so hard to win him. Of course, there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let Lagertha anywhere near him if she should happen to outscore you in the competition. However, he kept that to himself so that you would focus on doing your best with the challenges and not worrying about the ensuing fight that might be necessary.

Positively filthy, you push yourself off the ground and sprint as hard as you can towards the finish line. When you cross, your lungs are burning and you can hardly see with all mud on your face, but you smile as you hear the announcer state your time, 20 minutes and 38 seconds, a respectable time for someone who’s never competed in anything like this.

You head over to an area where outdoor showers have been set up so you can wash off the mud. The water is cool and refreshing as it runs over you, and you appreciate it, as you take in the moment, happy that this first part is finished. You’re wiping your face with a towel and when you can successfully see again, you look up to your favorite sight. Din and the little one come over to give you a hug and a Keldabe kiss.

“You did amazing, cyar’ika,” Din says his voice full of pride, “The announcers and everyone around us were really impressed too. You didn’t even get any penalties.”

“That’s good to hear, but I just hope it’s enough--” your statement gets cut off as you hear the announcers say Lagertha’s name excitedly.

“Yes, folks, it’s a new round one record for Mistress Lagertha at only 10 minutes and 32 seconds!”

Your heart drops at that news. She completed the course twice as fast as you did, and with a new record, she’s likely to be in first place going into the next part of the contest.

Din sees your expression and he leans down to tell you, “Don’t give up yet, I know she doesn’t have the brains to beat you in the next part.”

You look at him with wary eyes, “Maker, I hope not,” is all you can say.

After cleaning up, you’re ushered into a special lunch with the other competitors. Your completion time has placed you in the bottom half of the competitors, but you’re fortunate to see that you’re actually closer to the middle than you expected to be. There are several women with worse completion times because either they had many penalties or they were actually slower than you. It gives you a little bit of confidence as does the fact that many of the women have come up to congratulate you on making it this far.

“Well, look who’s still with us,” Lagertha strolls up to you as the luncheon is ending. She flanked by two friends taking a classic mean girl approach. It’s clear some things are universal no matter what planet you’re on.

“Congratulations on your record,” you say graciously. You know she wants to bait you into an argument, so you plan to stay cool and collected and deny her the satisfaction of seeing you upset. It’s a tactic you’ve seen Din use when people get mouthy with him.

“Why thank you! Aren’t you sweet?” She makes it sound like an insult. One of her friends rolls her eyes.

“I’m looking forward to the next round, I do enjoy an intellectual challenge,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s something that your little head can handle,” she gives you a smirk as her friends snicker rudely. You’re getting really fed up with this elitist attitude they have.

Nonetheless, you swallow your anger and say, “Thanks.” But you know your eyes are showing your true feelings and it just seems to amuse her and her nasty friends all the more. You sigh, hold your head up high and just walk away from them heading into the room where the next round will be held. You hear shouts of laughter at your back but now it’s just fuel for your fire as you are determined to be outstanding in this next challenge.

You’re seated at a desk with a holopad and a camera designed to film you as you work on the puzzles and broadcast it on a large screen to the audience. It also allows the judges to see you in action and ensure that no cheating takes place. You feel more nervous than you anticipated because you didn’t think about everyone watching your every move. But then you look over to the stands and see the flash of beskar, even though he’s across the room from you, you can feel Din’s energy like a lifeline reaching out to you. It calms you and although you’re nervous, you know you can handle this.

Mistress Sigrid comes out to start the second round and announce the puzzles. She looks right at you and gives you a small nod that you take as encouragement before she says, “Welcome everyone to Round Two of the Battle of Astrid! This year’s intellectual challenge will ask our competitors to decipher three messages written in three unique and puzzling styles. This year will be a real brain workout as our third message features a real code used during wartime. Competitors may ‘purchase’ hints to the puzzles in the form of time with a more useful hint costing more time. Are we ready to begin?”

Thank the fucking Maker! The second challenge is codebreaking! You can’t believe your luck and when Sigrid hits the buzzer to start the competition and the first puzzle appears on your screen, you have a huge smile on your face.

The first code is a simple substitution cipher and is the type of code that children use when they’re writing secret messages, and with the free hint providing the first substitution, there is no challenge for you at all. You solve the code in three minutes. When your holopad confirms that your answer is correct, the next puzzle is displayed. You hear an impressed sound come from the crowd around you along with the surprised voice of the announcer saying that you are already on to the second puzzle.

You feel your confidence soar as you quickly glance up and see that no one else is even close to solving. The second code is much more complex and on first review, you believe it to be a shift cipher where each letter of the alphabet is shifted down to a new position. As you work, you notice that the code is actually a clever collection of multiple shifts in sequence. It’s a great platform for building a code and one that you might choose to use. It takes more work, but you feel like you’re in your element and everything around you falls away as you break the message. You realize you’ve got it and hit your button to submit. Suddenly you hear a large cheer when your correct message is confirmed, and look up to see that you’ve completed this round in just about 20 minutes. Another quick look at the other screens and you can see that you are now light-years ahead of anyone else, and more importantly, Lagertha has only just started the second puzzle.

When the third encoded message is displayed on your screen, you almost laugh out loud. The wartime code that Sigrid mentioned is an Imperial code that you not only recognize, it’s one that you helped create. You identify your own special coding signature and everything. Again, you can’t believe your luck, and you think the Maker really must be smiling down on you today. It’s not even a challenge for you. It takes you five minutes to decode the message and that’s only because it was a fairly long paragraph. When you hit submit and the correct message is confirmed, no one can believe it. The audience goes absolutely wild and the judges come rushing over to review your work. The competition is paused for the other competitors so that everyone can verify the results. There are some angry shouts demanding to see your work. But after a quick review of your holopad, there’s no denying it, you are correct and you have won the round.

“In a stunning turn of events, we have an incredible new record for the intelligence challenge,” Mistress Sigrid announces to the stunned crowd. “For the first time ever, a woman has completed this round in less than 30 minutes. Princess, please take a bow.”

You stand and take your bow, feeling a rush of true success and luck, and for the first time today, you breathe a sigh of relief. You hurry over to sit with Din and the child so that you can watch the rest of the competition now that it has resumed.

“You were incredible, I had no idea you were that good,” Din tells you, “I mean, I knew you were smart, but, cyar’ika, that was outstanding.”

“I was good, but I was also extremely lucky,” you whisper to him, “I’ll explain later.” If anyone were to hear about how you were able to break the code so quickly, it might lead to allegations of cheating and who knows what other problems.

Eira and Bradley also express their admiration for your performance and Eira even throws her arms around you in a bear hug. You’re so grateful to have at least a few other people supporting you.

You watch the competition, mostly for Lagertha but also smugly curious to see how the women do with breaking your code. You know it’s petty, but when you see how much everyone is struggling with it, you feel an upwelling of pride within you. No one is able to make any progress at all without purchasing at least three hints. This feeling of superiority grows especially as you watch Lagertha purchase every possible hint, costing her precious time, and then still struggle to solve it. When she does eventually figure it out, her time comes in at just over four hours.

After the competition ends for the day, everyone is ushered into a special dinner where the rankings will be announced for tomorrow’s strength challenge. You sit nervously next to Din poking at your food and then feeding most of it to the baby. You pray that your unbeatable score in the intelligence challenge will garner you a great position for this final hurdle.

“Remember if you’ve placed high enough, you might only have to fight in a couple matches,” Eira explains, “Hell, with that score you pulled off in Round Two, you’re looking really great.” You know from her earlier coaching that a high score will put you into one of the higher rounds of the tournament automatically reducing the number of women you’ll need to take on in the strength competition.

Finally, Mistress Sigrid is at her podium next to a giant screen and is ready to reveal the results. You listen restlessly as she announces the competitors in reverse order from bottom to top finishers. You keep waiting to see your ranking, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Shockingly, Lagertha’s name is revealed in sixth place, and then even more astonishingly, you listen as Sigrid declares that you have rocketed your way into second place.

“It is unprecedented to see such a meteoric rise in this battle, but I believe we all owe our off-world princess a round of applause for her cunning mind,” Sigrid praises you, and you nod blindly in your bewilderment.

“I can’t believe I pulled that off,” you say to Din.

“It’s great, because it means you’ll only have two fights at the most, because you automatically advance to the final four!” Eira practically squeals at you.

At the thought of the fights, your glow of success and hopefulness starts to fade and the reality of having to fight at least one if not two of these giant women settles on your shoulders. It must show on your face, because you feel Din lean in close to you and place a hand on your arm.

“Hey, don’t fret,” Din is saying to you, “Best case scenario, Lagertha is defeated in an earlier round and then you can just concede and come in fourth.”

“True, but there’s still a chance I have two matches that I need to win tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can even manage one,” you tell him honestly.

“Yes, you can, I know you can,” he replies and he takes your hand interlocking his fingers with yours. It’s a small gesture but it has an instant effect and you feel warmed by his faith in you.

When you return to your room, you look around and decide that maybe it will be a good idea to pack up your belongings, just in case you need to make a hasty exit from this place. Something is nagging at your mind, but you can’t figure out what it is. There’s just a feeling that something is going to go wrong. The packing serves as a good outlet for the uneasy energy that has taken over your body, but you don’t really have that much stuff and after it’s all organized, you turn your attention to the child. He likes to be rocked to sleep and so you start to do that, but then your frazzled nerves and racing mind turn rocking into pacing until Din steps in.

“Let me take him, cyar’ika,” he says gently, “You’re keeping him awake you’re moving so quickly.”

“Oh, I, I’m sorry,” you say sounding distracted.

“It’s ok,” he says as he reaches for the child, “You go get ready for bed.”

You listen to him and go through your nightly ablutions, but still there is something toying with the edge of your thoughts, something that you’re missing. When Din comes into the bedroom, you’re sitting straight up in bed nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you replay various moments from the day in your head.

“My love, you need to relax,” Din says with a soft sigh, “You’re getting yourself so worked up you’ll never sleep.”

“How did Sigrid get that code, Din?” you ask, having identified that as the primary source for your frustration.

“What do you mean?” he questions confused.

“You know how I said I got lucky in the code-breaking competition,” you say, “That third code was an Imperial Code, it was my code, or at least one that I helped create.”

“That’s why you solved it so quickly,” he realizes.

“Yes, but how did they get it, and how did they know how it worked in order to make into one of their puzzles?” This is the question that has been wracking your brain.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation, cyar’ika,” Din says calmly, trying to help you settle down, “Remember, the Rebellion had code-breakers too and it’s possible someone on their side broke that code.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” you say, “And then maybe they made those documents public after the war?” It sounds possible, but your voice is still full of doubt and unease.

“Yes, it’s likely that’s what happened,” Din says. He looks at you for a long moment and then says, “Take off your nightgown and lie down on your stomach. I’m going to rub your back to help you relax.”

“I’m naked under this,” you say automatically, still distracted by your turbulent thoughts.

He chuckles, “Well, I was hoping that I’d get the privilege of seeing you naked again, but honestly this will just help me massage you better.”

“Oh right, of course,” you say, letting out a shaky laugh yourself as you pull off your nightgown and lie down.

You try to will yourself to relax as you feel his large, warm hands begin to sweep over the muscles of your back. His fingers knead into you and start to relieve the tension in your shoulders as he works out the little knots there. His hands move down your spine stretching and soothing the muscles. When he gets to the part of your lower back that always seems stiff, you let out a little moan as he helps relieve the pain there. He gently runs his hand over your bare backside and you feel a little spike of desire before he moves on to massage your thighs. He massages all down your legs, working out sore spots you didn’t realize you had. When he gets to your feet, you’re feeling so much better, you almost forget why you were so worked up.

“Turn over,” Din tells you. You comply, a little confused, but you figure he knows what he’s doing.

He keeps massaging your feet for a while longer, and then starts to move up your legs again. As he reaches your thighs again, he starts to nudge them apart and you watch as he climbs up on the bed. His touch starts to change and you realize he’s staring between your legs now and it’s turning you on.

“What are you doing, Din?” You have a pretty good idea, but you want to hear him say it.

“I’m going to make sure you’re completely relaxed, cyar’ika, the best way I know how,” he tells you with determination.

Now his hands are right on either side of your pussy and again he just stares for a moment before he lets his fingers begin to explore your most sensitive flesh.

“Do you like to look at me, Din?” you ask in a sultry voice.

“I love to look at you like this,” he says gruffly, “So beautiful when you’re open for me.” You hum your approval in response as his fingers apply more pressure and start to circle your entrance.

“You get so wet,” Din tells you, “I love how responsive you are to me.” He plunges his long middle finger of his right hand inside of you and you cry out softly at how good it feels. His left hand is now playing with your clit as two of his fingers roll and pinch it between them. Gently, he adds a second finger to the first one inside you, moving them in and out and swirling them around reaching deep within you. His motions are unhurried and you relax even more into his touch. Every so often, he crooks his fingers upward, making you moan out his name. It feels so good and his pace is so steady that the pleasure builds slowly and even as you know you’re reaching your climax, it feels like you are floating towards it rather than hurtling there like you usually do. This time it’s not a race for release; instead, it’s like he’s trying to draw it out of you as gradually as possible. When you do finally reach your peak, it is blissful and you moan his name out contentedly.

As your breathing returns to normal, you tell him, “You’re right, Din, I feel so much better, so relaxed.” Your mind is finally quiet, “Give me a few minutes and then I’ll help you feel good.”

“No, cyar’ika, this was all about you,” Din says gently, “I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep now.”

“You sure?” you ask, but you can’t deny you do feel very sleepy already.

“I’m positive,” he says. You feel him pull the blankets up around you and then he carefully places the sleep mask over your eyes. You hear the telltale sound of his helmet coming off and then you feel his soft lips against yours. When you settle back into your pillow, you feel drowsy and peaceful. When Din’s arms come around you and he pulls your body against his, you’re already drifting off.

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

The strength competition is a master class in hand-to-hand combat. You watch from the warm-up area with the other competitors, awed by how powerful and skilled these women are at their sport. You have only a shred of hope that you will be able to put up a good showing in the competition and you’re desperately wishing for someone else to take out Lagertha for you. So far though, she looks to be in her element. She fought off her first two challengers handily and while it gave you an opportunity to study her fighting style, it mostly just scared the pants off you. Now Lagertha just has one more woman to beat and if she does, you’ll have to fight her. At least she was randomly selected to be on your side of the tournament bracket, otherwise you’d have to be sure to advance to the final round and beat her there.

Din and the baby come over to stand with you, as you get ready to watch Lagertha’s next match. Din places his arm around your shoulders helping to calm you. You take the child into your arms, since you know his sweet presence with help you feel better too.

“Look, see how she drops her shoulder there,” Din points out, “That’s a good opportunity to land a painful hit.” You nod as you listen to his advice.

“Oh, and there, you see how she puts all her balance on her front foot when she throws that cross,” he shows you another weakness, “If you can kick at her other leg when she does that, you’ll knock her down for sure.”

You turn and look at him, really look him, as he’s still trying to coach you up until the last possible moment. As you watch him, a sense of happiness and calm comes over you. It dawns on you that Din will always be on your side, rooting for you, believing in you, and nothing will change that. He really is the best man you have ever known. You slide your arm around his waist and rest yourself against his body and you let his continued advise wash over you. No matter what happens, you know you are going to fight your heart out for him; it’s what he deserves.

You watch resigned as Lagertha defeats her opponent and you know the time has come. There’s a short break between the matches, so you have a few minutes with your guys before you have to step into the fighting ring.

“Thank you for all your help,” you say to Din as you pull his helmet down to meet your forehead, “I’m going to fight like hell for you.”

Then you shift your attention to the child on your hip, and turn him around so you’re facing each other. You look deep into his eyes, and whisper to him, “If you do end up helping, just try to be subtle, OK?” You lean down and give him a kiss on his forehead. He coos at you like he understands, and you cross your fingers that he won’t try to fling Lagertha across the arena.

“So, little princess, are you ready to get that butt kicked?” Lagertha jeers at you as you enter the ring.

“I’m ready to fight for Mando,” you tell her with determination, “He’ll never be yours. Besides, I doubt you’d even know what to do with him.”

“Oh you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Lagertha snaps back at you, and maybe you hit a nerve.

You smirk at her as you reply, “I think the intelligence contest proved that yesterday already, or did you forget?”

Lagertha is seething at you now, “You little bitch, I’m going to destroy you.”

In getting her good and angry, you can see she’s throwing out her strategy and is going into blind attack mode. You think one more biting remark will really push her off her game and it might cause her to make a mistake. “At least I don’t have to win a man in a contest to make him mine,” you taunt her, your voice condescending.

Lagertha lunges at you before the buzzer has even sounded, but in her anger she telegraphs the move and you dodge her attack just as Din showed you. The referee for the match blows her whistle and signals a penalty for Lagertha.

“None of that!” the referee snaps, “Get back and wait for the buzzer!”

You can see that Lagertha is vibrating with anger and although you know it’s risky to keep making her mad, it is keeping her unbalanced and sloppy, so you wink at her and smirk in her direction.

When the buzzer sounds and the referee signals the start of combat, Lagertha charges at you again in her rage. You can see that all of her weight is leaning forward with her momentum and so you duck and throw out a kick to her knee that knocks her to the ground. You quickly move away from her though so she can’t grab you and pull you down too. She scrambles to her feet and then runs towards you again. This time she’s better prepared, and when you land a blow to her ankle, it merely trips her up but she doesn’t fall. You figure your best strategy is to keep moving and dodging her as much as possible in hope of tiring her out. Din had pointed out to you that she’s already fought several matches and that making her chase you would be difficult for her. You can hear the crowd cheering the more you bob and weave and land a few small blows. You’re not doing a lot of damage to her, but it does seem to slow her down at least, and so far, you managed from getting hit by her. The more you do this, you hear the crowd sound begin to shift. The spectators are starting to laugh. It must look pretty funny you realize as you land your little hits and then run away from this giantess.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Lagertha threatens you as she finally makes contact with your body, punching you hard in the side. You flail a bit but manage to keep your feet and try to dart away again, but she reaches out and grabs your wrist, hauling your body back up against hers. It’s almost the same exact position from when Din first started training you and the memory of that runs through your mind as you automatically fight her off exactly the way he taught you in that first ever lesson.

As he watches you successfully break away from Lagertha’s hold, Din feels incredibly proud. Everything you’re doing is what he trained you to do. Although he hates the fact that he can’t be the one to fight and protect you, the feeling of seeing what you’ve learned from him is gratifying in a way he never knew it could be. He winces as Lagertha manages to punch you in the shoulder, but then it turns to a shout of praise as you land a good kick to her hip. You’re fighting so hard for him that it makes his heart ache and, rather unexpectedly, it’s turning him on quite a lot. That is until Lagertha manages to knock you to the ground hard, so hard that you cry out in pain and Din feels sick. He can see Lagertha rearing up so that she can drop her full weight on top of you in a crushing blow, but then it’s like she’s stuck for a moment or is second-guessing her move. It that split second, you manage to roll over and swing your legs around hard, sweeping Lagertha’s feet, making her stumble and fall. You pop up onto your feet again, but blessedly Lagertha stays down. It isn’t until the referee is blowing the whistle that Din looks down and see the child’s hand extended.

“Ok, that’s enough, kiddo,” Din says quietly to him, but he’s secretly pleased that the child helped you win.

You cannot believe what has happened as you stand there panting and swaying slightly on your feet. After the initial whistle blow, the referee came over to you and thrust your hand in the air, signaling that you were the winner of the match. But then, Lagertha finally made it to her feet and tried to hit you again, but ended up punching the referee. A small shouting match broke out at that and now the referee is conferring with the judges and Mistress Sigrid as Lagertha argues with them that something went wrong during the fight. You look over to Din and the child, and you can see that the little guy looks happy but rather sleepy, a sure sign of some force assistance. You hope nothing looked too out of the ordinary to the crowd.

“That’s enough, Lagertha,” Mistress Sigrid is saying angrily now, “Give it up! You challenged her and you lost; take it like a woman!”

You watch wide-eyed as Sigrid then comes over to you, raises your hand in the air again, and announces to the crowd, “The winner of this match!”

A sense of true relief washes over you and you feel tears of joy at your eyes. Knowing that the win isn’t entirely yours doesn’t bother you because you still fought hard, and you know that Lagertha can’t take Din away from you. You look around for him in the crowd again, but you don’t see him, and you’re starting to get concerned when suddenly he’s there in the ring with you, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around. He sets you down on your feet again as he brings his helmet down to your forehead and the two of you are oblivious to everyone else around you.

“You did it, cyar’ika,” Din tells you happily, his voice filled with admiration.

“I think I had a little help,” you whisper and then lean down and kiss the baby on the nose. He coos up at you softly and then slowly blinks his dark eyes.

“Ok, lovebirds, I think we know how this competition is going to end,” Sigrid is there chuckling as you finally pull away from Din’s embrace. “Technically you are supposed to fight Runa here in the final match of the competition.”

You see Runa standing there looking at you with respect and she says to you, “I’m not interested in your Mando, so if you want to concede, I’m happy to be the overall winner without another fight.”

“Yes, I wish to concede the next round and select Mando as my prize,” you state happily.

“Very well,” Sigrid says smiling big, “Congratulations on your performance and enjoy your prize!”

“Thank you, I will.”

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You emerge from the luxurious bathroom having had a restoring shower and a recovery drink with a healthy dose of bacta to heal your bruises from the fight. You feel like a new woman and the pride of your win is still pulsing through your veins along with lust for your Mandalorian. You hear Din in the bedroom now and he calls out to you,

“The kid’s asleep; he’s out for the night.” You figured as much since you know using his powers tends to tire him out quickly.

You drop the towel that was wrapped around your body and saunter out into the room naked. Din instantly drops what he’s doing and you know he’s starting at you. You smile suggestively at him and then make a show of looking him up and down.

“What are doing, cyar’ika?” he asks, he sounds aroused and entertained.

“Appreciating my prize,” you tell him saucily, “Get undressed so I can appreciate you even more.” So far, you’ve let him take the lead when it comes to the physical side of your relationship, but tonight you want to be in control. You wonder how far he’ll let you take it.

He tilts his helmet at you, as if to say, oh really?, but then he starts removing his armor as that black visor stays trained on you. This is a different side than you’ve shown him before and he likes it, so he’s eager to fulfill your request. As more of his layers are removed, you make little comments as he reveals his body to you. He stays quiet though; content to listen to your praise and suggestive remarks.

When the gloves come off, you say, “You have such nice strong hands, Din, and very skilled fingers.”

Then his cape, “I can still see the marks I made on your neck, do you remember how good that felt?”

Next is his shirt, “I love your big arms, they feel incredible when they’re wrapped around me. Oh and that gorgeous chest feels so good when I press against it.”

He leans down to remove his boots, this time you giggle, “I guess the big feet saying is true when it comes to you.”

Then his trousers are off, “Your thighs are so nice and thick, I wonder what it would be like to ride one.”

But then, his underwear slides down those thighs, “Oh, now that’s the prize I’m gonna ride.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din says his voice deep and gravely, and with that one word you can hear how turned on he is.

“Get on the bed and sit with your back against the headboard,” you tell him and watch as he moves quickly to comply. Watching him strip for you and ordering him about has you very turned on and you feel your wetness coating your inner thighs.

“I can see how wet you are from here,” Din tells you, “I like how turned on you get by just seeing me.”

You climb onto the bed and straddle Din’s legs with your own and his hands immediately come up to hold your waist. He tugs you down lightly but you stay up on your knees for now, wanting to tease him some more before you get too carried away.

“Touch my tits first,” you tell him and you reach to move his hands upward. His hands slide up your body to cup your breasts and then his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples teasing them into hard and needy little peaks. You let your head loll back and you push yourself further into his hands. You hold onto his arms and you gently let your hips become flush with his. You don’t let him enter you yet though, instead you just grind against him letting his hard cock brush through your wetness and rub against your clit in a delicious fashion. Din groans loudly at the contact and he bucks up into you in an attempt to create more friction.

“Not yet,” you say, “I want you to touch me more, first.” You lift back up off his hips, take his right hand from your chest, and guide it to your core.

“Make me come, Din, like only you can,” you order him and then you gasp as he pushes two fingers into you at once.

“Gladly, my princess,” he replies. Unlike his easy pace from the other day, this time his fingers plunder your tight passage, pushing in deeply without much warning. The swift invasion makes you cry out his name and you clench around him tightly. He rotates his hand so his thumb can circle your clit and your hips start to buck against him. You stare into the blackness of the visor and you know he’s watching your face even though you can’t see his eyes. There’s something about seeing that unreadable mask in front of you but hearing his harsh breathing that excites you even more.

“Yes, Din, yes, that’s it,” you moan out, as his fingers inside you focus on the spot that gives you the most pleasure. It feels so good that your thighs are starting to shake and you know you’re already close. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you hard and fast while his other hand tweaks your sensitive nipple in a perfect blend of stimulation.

“Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika? You gonna soak my hand?” Din’s voice urges you on and you rock on his fingers drawing out the sensation as much as possible before you feel your internal muscles fluttering around him as you come apart with a shout of his name.

“That’s my good girl,” he says and you watch as his fingers disappear beneath the helmet so that he can lick them clean.

“I’m ready to fully claim my prize now,” you say with a wink as you reposition yourself over his cock.

“Yeah, you gonna take me now? Make me yours?” Din asks his voice laced with amusement and lust. He reaches down to hold himself in position for you.

“Mmm, yes, I’m going take you, all of you,” you reply as you slowly start to sink down on him. You draw out your descent, pulling up a little before sinking down again, each time going a little lower and taking more of him. You can see that Din’s trying to hold himself still, but as you get closer to taking all of him, he can’t resist thrusting up into you those last few inches until he’s fully inside of you. It feels so good and you grind yourself against his body. Your hands are on his chest helping support you and you stare into his visor hoping that you’re making eye contact with him.

“You’re mine, Din,” you tell him as you start to lift off him and then come back down. You glide up and down on his cock finishing it with a grind against him each time.

“Say it again, say I’m yours,” he says as you start to find a rhythm to your movements.

“You’re mine, Din, you’re mine,” you repeat and his hands come to your hips to urge you to move faster on him.

“Tell me I’m only yours,” he demands and he starts to match your movements, thrusting his hips up into you. He feels so huge in this position and when he surges upward into you, the feeling is sublime.

“Only mine, Din, you’re only mine,” you breathe out as you start to bounce faster on him, riding him harder, “No… other woman… can have you… only me.”

“That’s fucking right,” Din says and his hand finds your clit again, rubbing frantic circles around it, “Tell me again, don’t stop telling me.”

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine!” You can feel yourself galloping toward your release, and the more you call him yours, the more a primal need for him awakens within you. It makes the pleasure that much more intense and you feel yourself burning white hot from it. The flames within you build as you continue to cry out that he is yours until it is too much and the fire consumes you.

Din watches as you reach your peak. He relishes in seeing how beautiful you look in that moment and in hearing how you sound as you’re absolutely overcome by him. His strong arms wrap around you to hold you up as you slow your movements and become more relaxed. He takes advantage of your momentary pliant state to roll you over, so he can be on top now. He did enjoy having you ride him, but he needs to be able to really thrust into you now, the way he’s been thinking about all day. Din pulls your legs up to his shoulders before he enters you again, this new position allowing him to penetrate you deeper than before.

“Ah, Din! Yes, oh Maker, yes!” you shout out your approval competing with the wet, lewd sounds filling the air as he pistons into you. Your cunt is so tight around him, he almost feels like you’re pushing him out of you each time you clamp down hard around him. Din knows he won’t last long like this, but with the way you’re thrashing around underneath him now, he doesn’t think you’ll care.

“You f-fought so hard for me t- today,” Din tells you between thrusts, “So- so p-proud of you, m- my cyar’ika.”

You mewl when he says that and seem to clench around him even tighter. It makes him want to say it again,

“My cyar’ika, mine,” he repeats and it feels as though you become even wetter for him. It makes him increase his speed and now his hips are pounding against yours. He’s going much harder than he dared the first time you were together. It’s like something has come unleashed in him, a deep desire to show you how much you are his, how much he wants to be with you, needs to be with you. He watches as you arch your back and writhe up to meet his punishing thrusts, your head is thrown back as you let out a near constant string of moans and Din thinks he’s never seen a more gorgeous sight in his life. He feels himself get impossibly harder and he knows that he’s close to his climax, but he want you to get there again first.

“My cyar’ika… fuck, want you… want you to come again… t-touch yourself,” Din tells you and you immediately reach down to play with your clit. Your fingers move rapidly in tempo with his hips and you start to shudder.

“Ahh, DIN! Yes! DIN!” He loves the way you cry out his name when you come and as soon as you start to squeeze around him, he lets himself go, pumping his seed deep within you as he follows you into the ecstasy of release.

Din slowly pulls out of you and lowers your legs before collapsing next to you. He lies there for just a moment before rolling towards the nightstand and pulling out the sleep mask. When he comes back closer to you again, he reaches up to cradle your face with one of his hands and looks into your eyes.

“My love, even though we haven’t been together long, I want you to know there is no one that could ever take me away from you. I’m so proud of how well you did in the competition, but you have to know that I would never have gone with that woman. I mean it when I say I’m only yours. And you should know that I won’t let anyone take you from me either,” Din tells you, his words heartfelt. You feel tears prick at your eyes as your emotions flood your chest.

“I mean it too, Din, I am yours, and you have to know I’ll never stop fighting for you, for us, when I need to,” you reply and place your hand over his.

“Can I cover your eyes? If I don’t kiss you soon, I’m going to burst,” he says.

“Yes, please, I need to kiss you too, my darling Din.”

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

In another part of the state residence, Mistress Sigrid sits in her office and stares at a flickering holo. The image must be at least 7 or 8 years old, but there’s no doubt in her mind now that it must be you. After seeing you for a few days in a row, she knows that even though it’s an old holo, you are the same woman, and although you might be passing yourself off as a princess now, your appearance hasn’t changed that much. Plus, after rigging the intelligence challenge to include that Imperial code, she knows for certain that you must be the woman that Commander Kerrick Hoven is seeking and for whom he is willing to hand over a fortune in credits. She punches a code into her comm device.

The image of a blond man with sharp eyes appears and speaks, “Mistress Sigrid, I hope this is confirmation of good news.”

“Yes, Commander Hoven, I am certain it is her.” Sigrid replies.

“She was able to break the code easily?” he asks.

Sigrid chuckles, “She took only 5 minutes to do it. That along with the holo you sent confirms that it must be her.”

“Only 5 minutes,” Kerrick repeats fondly, “Still my brilliant little doll. You said she’s pretending to be a princess and is cavorting with a Mandalorian? She always was one for lost causes.”

“Yes, well, he shouldn’t be any problem for my warriors. When will you be here to collect her and transfer the funds to my account?” Sigrid asks.

“We shall see you in five hours.” Kerrick ends the call and his image flickers out.

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

It hasn’t been very long since you drifted off to sleep when you are jolted away by tiny claws grabbing at your face and a scared cry. You can feel that Din is at your back, his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried into your hair, so you know it is safe to lift the sleep mask. When you do, you are met with the child’s highly distressed face.

“Buddy? What’s the matter? How did you get in here?” You have no idea what’s going on.

The child reaches his hands out to you and places them on either side of your face and suddenly your mind is filled with images. You see the interior of what looks to be an Imperial ship filled with storm troopers and other officers, then suddenly you are on the bridge of the cruiser looking at Kerrick in a commander’s uniform. He looks older than you remember and you can see that he is staring at a holo of you. You can’t tell what he’s saying but you can feel the threat that he poses and you are seized with the idea that you are in danger.

The child removes his hands and the images disappear. You heart is pounding and you have broken out in a cold sweat.

“Buddy, is that what’s happening? Is Kerrick after me?” you ask the child wildly even though you know he can’t respond. He just lets out more sad, whiny sounds and now you can hear Din starting to stir.

“What’s goin’ on? Middle of the night,” Din’s sleepy voice comes to you even as it’s still muffled by the pillows.

“Din, wake up, we have to leave, we have to leave right now.” Your voice is urgent but you keep it low so you won’t alert the rest of the household.

“What?” Din says confused.

“The child showed me Imperials coming after us, after me,” you tell him. You want to leap out of bed and start getting dressed but you know his helmet is still off and you won’t move until you know his creed is protected. “Please, put on your helmet.”

Din rolls away from you and you hear shuffling before he says, “Ok, turn around and tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but the child showed me a vision, it was Kerrick, only now he’s a commander and he was looking at a holo of me, and I could feel the danger, that we’re in danger.” Your words are coming out in a jumble but you do your best to explain.

“It could just be a bad dream, couldn’t it?” Din asks.

“How would the kid know about Kerrick? Please, Din, we have to leave, I know that we need to leave.”

“You’re right, cyar’ika, there’s no way the kid could know about your ex-lover, and if you feel that strongly we’ll go right now. It’s ok, don’t panic. I’ll protect you.”

You’re thankful that you have almost everything already packed and you hurry to pull on clothes. You collect the last few things you have strewn about the room before the three of you slink out into the corridor. Thankfully, no one is around and as you stealthily make your way back to the Razor Crest, you manage to avoid seeing anyone. It isn’t until Din takes off and you breach the atmosphere that you feel like you can breathe again. Din is working on putting in coordinates, when a pinging comes in on the long-range scanner.

“There’s an Imperial light cruiser closing in on Angel One,” he states gruffly and he quickly makes the jump to hyperspace.

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“What do you mean she isn’t here? You fucking promised me!” Kerrick’s angry voice rings down the corridor from Mistress Sigrid’s office.

“I don’t know what happened, when my staff went to deliver their breakfast, they weren’t there,” Sigrid explains, embarrassed, “Then we discovered their ship was gone…”

“Such incompetence, no wonder you were of no use to the Empire during the war,” Kerrick sneers at her. He slams his fist down on her desk, “Fucking waste of fuel to come here! Five years of searching and I thought this time I’d finally found her.”

“Sir, they were able to give us some security footage of her. We have her initial interview when she arrived here, and recordings of her competing in some type of contest here.” An ensign brings Kerrick a holopad.

Kerrick brings up the interview footage first, when he sees Din and the child he pauses the images, “This child, she said he was hers?”

“Her ward, she said the Mando rescued him,” Sigrid replies.

“I know this child,” Kerrick says thoughtfully, “Moff Gideon is searching for him, and this must be the troublemaker Mando he spoke about.”

Kerrick looks back at the holopad and stares at your image on the screen. He touches the pad softly as he murmurs, “Still so beautiful, my doll, don’t worry, I’ll find you and bring you back to where you belong. I’ll rid you of that vile Mando and then we’ll be together again, just like it should be. We should have been together today, my doll, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Suddenly, he pulls out his blaster and shoots Sigrid in the heart before whipping around and stalking out of the room. “Come Ensign, we must contact Moff Gideon and see if we can’t pick up the trail of this Mandalorian.”

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Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @hotsauceonabiscuit @overtly-cuteashell

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. In case you’re wondering, yes, you did remember to grab the sleep masks before you fled ;-) Chapter 8

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 4 years ago

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The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

#emma 2009 #emma woodhouse #mr. knightley #jane austen #jane austen emma #romola garai #jonny lee miller #period dramas #regency

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years ago

Text

The colour of your eyes

Remus Lupin x reader

Request: Hi love, can I please request a Remus x Slytherin!reader with a soulmate AU? @obsessedwithrandomthings

Words: 7k

Warnings: angst, but with a happy ending

A/N: I know it’s a bit long, but i just loved the plot so much i had to write it. Also, i developed a crush on Maia in this fic... I tried to keep everything as gender neutral as possible! I hope you like it!

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The connection between two persons, that turns into a deep understanding faster than between two people who have found each other without that bond, is called a soulmate-bond. Soulmates are, though popular in literature, rare in the real world. It is not often that two people form a deep, meaningful connection without knowing a lot from each other and are destined to spend their lives together.

Different from fiction, the way to recognise one's soulmate has nothing to do with names, tattoos or songs. There is one obvious for sight, yet more complicated way to find out one has a soulmate. The colours of one's eyes changes to the mood of their soulmate, but only after they have met their soulmate. Before this occasion there is no difference in eye colour.

The change of colour does not hurt one's eyes nor does it have any other impact on the rest of their appearance. To one self it is, without a mirror, impossible to notice the change.

To each emotion belongs a different colour.

Red indicates anger.

Yellow indicates happiness or excitement.

Blue is an indicator for sadness and sobriety.

Green stands for jealousy.

Purple, nervousness or anxiety.

Orange shows boredom and disinterest.

Black indicates fear.

Grey shows deep concentration and focus.

You knew every word on the page that had been ripped from an old book. It had been wrinkled, smoothed out and wrinkled and smoothed out again. The once white paper had turned yellow over the time and some of the words were smudged because you had spilled tears on them. It was a paper that you always carried with you in a book or somewhere close, ever since you had found out you had a soulmate.

The exact day that you had found out was still in your memory like it was yesterday. It had been your second day at Hogwarts. You had been a little first-year, new to Hogwarts and everything around it. The Sorting Hat had placed you in Slytherin and you had immediately realised that you had found a home in your house. You had made friends with a girl that had sat down next to you. Only fifteen minutes it had taken you before you had realised that the next seven years would be the best of your life.

The next day you had met your year mates. Flying lessons with the Hufflepuffs, Potions with the Gryffindors and Herbiology with the Ravenclaws. Nothing had seemed different to you; you had gone through your day full of new impressions. But at dinner your new friend, Maia, had pointed out to you that your eyes were a weird colour. She had told you that they were yellow, when she was sure that they had been a different colour this morning. Together with her you had rushed out of the Great Hall to the closest bathroom, where, much to your shock, you found out that your eyes were indeed a different colour. And like that wasn’t scary enough to you, as you were watching yourself in the mirror, your eye colour changed from yellow to purple.

That was the day that Maia had introduced you to the existence of soulmates. Together with her you had snuck to the library at night and had ripped out the page you were holding in your hand now. The fact that you had a soulmate was still something that brought you to tears if you thought of it. They must be in your year, since your eyes had changed the day you had met everyone else in the same year as you, but that was all you knew about them. And even about that you weren’t entirely sure; you had never heard someone else talk about soulmates or changing eye colours.

And now you were starting your last year at Hogwarts. With no sign of your supposed soulmate.

You folded the page and put it in the back pocket of your jeans as the lights in the train turned on, since it was getting darker outside. The rain was slamming down on the window and it was impossible to know where the Hogwarts Express exactly was. You could only guess. The rain on the window made everything outside one big smudge.

Maia was sitting next to you, her head on your shoulder and her pastel purple hair falling in front of her face. She was asleep. She had been for the past two hours. You were bored; you missed the bright mood that Maia brought when she talked to you. The rain made you sad and as you were alone you couldn’t help that your mind wondered to your soulmate.

You took the little mirror, that you brought along wherever you went since you had found out you had a soulmate, and looked at your eyes. They were yellow and the fact that your soulmate, wherever they might be, was happy made you feel a little bit better. At least someone was enjoying the train ride.

-=-=-=-

The rain was still slamming down as you ran with Maia to the big front doors of the castle. You were completely soaked already; the carriages that brought you from the train to the castle had no roofs. Whoever had invented them had apparently no knowledge of the Scottish weather.

Together with a big group of students you and your friend ran inside and you nearly collided with someone in your hurry to get inside.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ you mumbled, wiping the water from your face. The person you had ran into turned around and smiled at you. Maia walked past you and you lost her for a moment as you looked at the boy you had nearly knocked off his feet.

‘Don’t worry, I’m still standing,’ Remus Lupin said with a smile. ‘y/l/n, right? Slytherin?’

You nodded and looked over his shoulder to see if you could find Maia.

‘Did you have a good summer?’ he asked you.

‘Yeah, it was great,’ you mumbled still searching for your friend. ‘Went to France, great nature, terrible food.’

Somewhere in between the sea of students you spotted a purple head looking around. Maia was looking in your way and you waved at her. ‘Maia! Over here!’ you yelled and when she saw you she started to make her way over to you. ‘Great talking to you, Lupin. I’ll see you around,’ you said and you walked past him without looking him in the eye.

After uniting with Maia, you sat down with her in the Great Hall and students started to fill the space. You recognised some familiar faces and together with your best friend you laughed at the nervous first-years when they walked into the Great Hall all looking nervous.

The Sorting Ceremony was not any different than previous years. The Hat sang a song, was placed on each student’s head, yelled the house and then disappeared when all the new kids were sorted. The new additions to Slytherin were greeted with hospitality and soon felt at ease, even though surrounded by fifteen and sixteen year olds.

Dumbledore got up to speak and you sighed; it had been a long day already and you just wanted to eat. ‘Your soulmate agrees,’ Maia muttered as she looked you in the eye.

‘Orange?’ you asked.

‘Orange,’ she affirmed.

You shook your head and laughed softly. Well, at least that was something. Your soulmate was just as bored as you were.

Dumbledore finished his speech and you and Maia attacked the food on the table. You both stayed silent during dinner, preferring to listen to your class mates stories rather than to actually talk yourself. You had already told Maia everything about your vacation and she about hers, so between you two there was nothing to share. It was nice to listen to other people’s stories, especially if that meant that you could discuss them with Maia later that night. You could share a look with her and know that that was something you would come back to in privacy.

Which you did.

Later that evening, as most of the common room was cleared of people, you and Maia sat at the window. The rain was still falling down and sometimes the room lit up by a bolt of lightning. The tears were on your cheeks as you listened to Maia retelling a story you had heard earlier at dinner.

‘You’ve got a special talent for that,’ you sighed as you wiped away the tears from your face.

Maia just shrugged and studied your face for a moment. You felt the uneasiness suddenly build in your stomach as she raised her eyebrow.

‘What colour?’ you asked softly.

‘Purple,’ she answered plainly as she got closer to you. She sat down on the armrest of your chair and you looked at her for a second before you turned away.

‘I just want to know who it is,’ you sighed and averted your eyes.

‘I know, I know,’ Maia said and she pulled you to her side. ‘But you will. We will figure it out! Before Christmas!’

You pulled away from her embrace and looked at her. She had an enthusiastic look on her face. ‘We have tried for six years and never found out, what makes you think that we can do it before Christmas?’ you asked.

‘I don’t know, I just have the feeling that it will work. I mean it is our last year and the person probably wants to know it too! Maybe they’re just scared or something.’

‘Or maybe they know it’s me and they don’t want me as their soulmate,’ you said sadly.

‘Oh stop being so dramatic! You’re a delight and anyone should be lucky to have you as their soulmate!’ Maia exclaimed and she kissed you on your cheek before she started to dance around the common room, making the few people that were still there look up in surprise.

-=-=-=-

The following week you and Maia started to examine everyone from your year whenever you were around them. Breakfast was the time for watching the Hufflepuffs on the table next to you, at lunch you looked at the Ravenclaws on the other side and at dinner you could only look at the Gryffindors from afar.

You had a few classes with students from other houses, but since not everyone had the same classes, there were only a few people you could look at. Maia did the same in her classes and at the end of the day you got together and discussed what you had seen.

So far you had not seen anyone whose eye colour was a strange one. Most common were the brown and blue eyes, some green ones and even a few grey. But no one had purple, yellow or orange eyes. No one’s eye colour switched with your mood. You even dropped the word ‘soulmate’ a few times, but no one seemed to have any interest in it. They shrugged, told you they didn’t know about them or just ignored you. Peter Pettigrew, who was in your Arithmancy class, made a little jump and quickly ran away from you, but that was probably just because he was scared of you; he always acted like that around you.

After that week your mood dropped quickly. Finding your soulmate was harder than you had thought and the lack of success was not making you any more motivated to search. Luckily you had Maia at your side, who was still convinced you would find them before Christmas. She pointed at any seventh-year student you walked by, whispering facts about them and imaging them as your soulmate.

‘What about them? They look cute,’ she mumbled to you as you sat in the courtyard. She was pointing at a Hufflepuff across the yard.

‘Are their eyes orange?’ you asked. ‘Because I am kinda done with this whole soulmate-thing.’

‘Don’t say that! You can’t just give up after one week!’ Maia cried out and she turned away from the Hufflepuff. ‘We’ll find them! At least we can cross some people off the list.’

‘I know,’ you sighed. ‘Just… Why is it so difficult? Don’t they want to know? Don’t they want me as their soulmate?’

‘Merlin, you’re dramatic!’ Maia giggled and she shook her head. ‘Believe me, anyone would be lucky to have you as their soulmate. They just don’t know what they’re missing out on!’

You rested your head on her shoulder and let out another sigh. This soulmate thing had been going on for more than six years now and you still hadn't found them. You really wanted to believe what Maia said, but the doubts were climbing into your mind, making you wonder about reasons why your soulmate hadn't made any contact with you.

‘They are cute though,’ Maia said as her eyes turned back to the Hufflepuff.

‘So you go for them,’ you said, lifting your head from your friend's shoulder.

‘Not that cute...’

-=-=-=-

Another month passed and still nothing happened. The late summer of September turned into October's autumn. The green trees turned orange and the bright green grass darkened. Blue skies made place for dark clouds filled with rain that fell at night. Leafs started to fall from the trees, leaving the branches exposed to sight.

You spent your days in classes, your afternoons in the library, your nights in the common room. Since the professors wanted to prepare you for your final exams, they had taken every opportunity to give their students extra assignments. It wasn’t uncommon to find half of all the seventh years cramped in the library. Ravenclaws next to Gryffindors and Slytherins helping Hufflepuffs; your house didn’t matter on those afternoons.

The rare free moments you spent with Maia. She was still determined to find your soulmate before the end of December, though her determination had faded over the past month. The enthusiasm and perseverance that she had had in the first week wasn’t gone, but now only came out a few times a week. She would glance at people over dinner and point out people that she thought would match with you when you walked through the corridors, but even she had had to admit that it was harder than she had thought. Your soulmate was hidden and neither you or Maia knew where.

‘But what happens if you see them? Don’t you feel something?’ Maia asked on a Saturday night.

You and her had sneaked out to the courtyard and were sitting on a cold stone bench, watching the stars in the skies. The full moon was standing fiercely in the dark sky, surrounded by hundreds of stars.

‘Nothing,’ you said. ‘Only if I look them in the eyes. Then both of our eyes will go past all the colours. But when we’re apart our eyes will show the moods again. I’ll never get my original colour back.’

‘I don’t even remember what your normal eye colour is,’ Maia chuckled. ‘They have been coloured the since the first day I met you, I never got the time to admire your real colour.’

You laughed softly and turned your gaze to the moon. A cloud passed by and the light the moon shone on the courtyard faded a little. There were no sounds other than rustling leafs and Maia’s and your breathing. After a while the cloud moved by and the moon reappeared.

‘They’re black,’ Maia said, her voice clear in the silence around you.

‘Black?’ you repeated and turned to your friend. She nodded and got a little closer to you, examining your eyes.

‘Yes, black.’

You blinked as if that would make your eyes turn back. Why were they black? What was your soulmate afraid of? Though you didn’t like to admit it, you were a bit worried about them. Over the past weeks your eyes had been purple and blue more than yellow. Maybe you didn’t know who your soulmate was, but you did want them to be happy.

Shaking your head you turned your eyes to the ground at your feet. The moon was reflected on your boots and you stared at the white circle. An uneasy feeling washed over your body and you shivered.

‘Maybe we should go back,’ Maia suggested and you looked up to her. The expression on her face matched how you were feeling and you nodded.

In silence you walked back to the Slytherin common room, every now and then hiding from Filch in a secret passage. The castle was deserted and the way back to the common room seemed longer in the dark. Your footsteps echoed through the halls and Maia’s smaller steps filled yours like a beat.

You reached the corridor of the common room when Maia put out her arm and slapped her hand in front of her mouth. Her eyes widened like she was screaming and when you looked at where she was pointing you took a step back in shock.

There on the ground in front of you stood a big, fat rat. It was carrying a vial with a yellow liquid along. You grabbed Maia’s hand and together you looked at the rat, that seemed to be looking back at you. Maia dropped the hand in front of her mouth and when she looked at you she couldn’t suppress a laugh. You looked from the rat to Maia and back and you felt laughter rising in your body.

Maybe it was the strange situation or maybe it was the lack of sleep this night, but you and Maia burst out into laughter and couldn’t stop. The tears streamed down your face as you stepped over the rat and walked towards the common room.

You were still laughing as you stood in the empty common room and for a moment you had forgotten about your black eyes. But as you saw your reflection in a mirror on the wall your laughter stopped and you stared at your eyes.

Black eyes weren’t a really uncommon thing to see; your soulmate seemed to be scared quite a lot. But every time you saw those black orbs staring back at you in the mirror, you couldn’t suppress a shiver. There was something unnatural about black eyes, or maybe it was just the reason they were black.

-=-=-=-

‘Why is it so cold?’ you grumbled as you pulled your coat closer around you.

It was the first weekend of November and you and Maia were walking to Hogsmeade. The winter had come early this year. The winds were cold and cut through your coat. It was still raining like had done in the autumn, but combined with the cold wind if felt like winter. All that was missing was the snow.

‘Because it is November,’ Maia said and she tied her scarf tighter around her neck.

‘Three Broomsticks?’ you asked and she nodded eagerly, taking you by the arm and pulling you through the streets.

The Three Broomsticks was filled with people, but there were enough spaces left to sit. You claimed a table for two, while Maia went to get drinks. You took off your coat and put in on the back of the chair as you looked around the space. What you saw were mostly Hogwarts students who had, just as you and Maia, taken an escape from the cold streets. At the bar you saw two big men with dark hair and red robes, there was a tiny old woman sitting alone in the corner of the room and you even saw a few teachers on the other side of the room.

‘Here you go,’ Maia said and she handed over a Butterbeer while she sat down. ‘Any possible soulmates?’

You grinned before you took a sip of your drink. ‘Nah, don’t think so,’ you said shaking your head.

‘You still have no idea?’

‘As much as you have,’ you mumbled and stared at your glass.

Honestly, you had given up on finding your soulmate. You just didn’t see it happen any time soon. Maybe you weren’t destined to meet your soulmate, maybe you were like a character in a tragedy. One that has a soulmate but will never meet them. Quite a depressive thought…

Maia let her eyes roam through the space filled with fellow students. She waved at a few other Slytherins a few tables away from you and then turned back to you.

‘You’ll find them, don’t worry,’ Maia said like she could read your mind. ‘It’s not Christmas yet, we still have one and a half month.’

You smiled sadly at Maia and luckily she changed the subject. Your soulmate was forgotten for a moment as you talked with your best friend about possible romances within your house and stupid fights between third-years. You laughed when you discussed the weird situation with the rat last month and you got through three Butterbeers before you went back into the cold outside.

The wind blew against your bare cheeks and you put your hands in your pockets. The skies were grey, but it didn’t seem like it would rain. The streets were filled with dark brown and red leafs from the trees further at the end of the street. There were little groups of friends huddled together in front of shop windows.

For two hours you strolled with Maia through the little village, every now and then going into a shop. Every time you stepped outside the wind crashed against the exposed parts of your body and your fingers grew numb from the cold. After a while you and Maia decided that it had been enough and you started on your way back to the castle.

You hadn’t walked further than three steps when someone behind you called your name, making you stop in your tracks and turn around.

‘You dropped this,’ Remus Lupin said and he looked at a glove in his hand.

‘That’s not mine,’ you said and you glanced at Maia next to you. She hid her smile behind her hand as she looked from Remus’ red face to you.

‘Oh,’ Remus said and he dropped his hand. ‘I thought it fell from your pocket.’

He looked up to you and you saw two bright yellow eyes stare back at you. You were taken aback for a moment; you had never seen someone with such eyes. As you blinked to look better, the colour suddenly changed from yellow into red and then into blue.

Maia gasped and you realised what had happened. Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

No, Remus Lupin couldn’t be your soulmate. No, it couldn’t.

Remus seemed to have realised the same thing as you, but unlike you he just smiled. You studied his face, from his purple eyes and stupid grin to his red cheeks and the scar that crossed over his nose.

‘Moony? What’s going on?’ someone behind Remus yelled and before you knew it, three boys surrounded you, Remus and Maia, who was staring with big eyes at Remus.

James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. They were all there and wore just as stupid smiles as Remus. You quickly looked at them. James winked at you, Sirius nodded and Peter took a step back as you looked at him.

‘So you finally told her you’re soulmates?’ James asked Remus.

That snapped you out of your shock. Finally?

‘You knew?’ you asked, trying so hard not to let the anger through in your voice. ‘For how long?’

Remus mumbled something you couldn’t hear and you opened your mouth to say something, but Maia was first. ‘How long?’

‘Since fourth year…’

You snorted and looked into the eyes that were still changing colour, though every colour seemed to have a red undertone now. He had known for three years and he never told you?

Done with the conversation, that could barely be called a conversation, you took Maia’s arm and turned around. Swiftly you walked away from the group of boys, leaving a blue-eyed boy.

-=-=-=-

For the following two weeks you ignored every attempt Remus made to get to talk to you; you left immediately after the class was over, you ate at times the Great Hall was almost empty and you spent all your free time in the common room.

You didn’t need to see Remus to know how he felt; your eyes said enough. They had been blue the entire fortnight after you had ran into him in Hogsmeade. You were pretty sure his eyes were a mix between blue and red, sadness and anger the only two emotions that filled you at the moment.

It was Friday night and you sat in the corner of a sofa close to the fire hidden. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and your fingers were playing with the edges of your trousers. You were staring into the fire, taking in the silence of the common room. It was around dinner time and most of the Slytherins were gone. You weren’t hungry. Or so you thought, because when Maia walked into the common room with a plate of food, your stomach started to growl.

‘He’s outside the door,’ Maia said as she sat down next to you and stole a fry of your plate.

‘I don’t want to talk to him,’ you mumbled back.

Maia sighed and nodded as she leaned back into the couch, resting her head on the back. ‘You have to talk to him eventually. He is your soulmate, after all.’

‘Maia, he knew! He knew he was my soulmate! And he said nothing!’

‘I know, I know! I am not taking his side, I promise!’ Maia said and she turned her head to you. ‘But he is your soulmate and he feels bad.’

You looked to her and raised your eyebrow. ‘How do you know?’

‘He has been asking me to get you to talk to him. He says he is genuinely sorry and that he would like to apologise to you.’

You stared back at the fire and ate your dinner, not tasting anything. Some part deep down in you did want to talk to Remus, but you were also still mad at him. If he apologised now you’d accept his apology and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

‘You don’t have to talk to him,’ Maia said. ‘But you have to stop hiding here. I want to do fun things with you! Come on, come to the game with me tomorrow! Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. You just know we’re going to win.’

‘Alright, alright,’ you said, unable to turn Maia down when she was so sweet to you. ‘I’ll go to the game with you.’

-=-=-=-

Grey skies stretched out over the school grounds. The sun was hidden behind think layers of clouds. It seemed as though everything was under a filter of grey. But it was still dry and there was no rain predicted for the day.

The perfect Quidditch weather, Maia told you as you stood with her in the stands. She was wearing a Slytherin scarf and her face was half hidden behind it. Her purple hair peaked out from under her hat.

The game took your mind of everything that was going on for a while. You watched with anticipation. Slytherin was stronger than Ravenclaw, everyone knew that. But still the game was exciting. With every goal the Slytherins made, you and Maia yelled and cheered. The Slytherin Seeker caught the snitch after forty five minutes. A loud applaud erupted from the Slytherin stands, while the other three houses groaned. For some reason they all stood on Ravenclaw’s side. They always did. It had never happened that the Slytherins were supported by one of the other houses. But they didn’t need the support, they were good enough without.

You hugged Maia happily and you both yelled at the Slytherin players as they made a victory lap around the arena. The captain of the team screamed there was going to be a party in the common room right after and he flashed you and Maia a smile, since the two of you were one of the few left in the stands.

Laughing you descended the stands with Maia and started to make you way back to the castle. But before you could even turn the corner, you were stopped by no one less than Remus Lupin.

In a reflex you took Maia’s hand, before you looked at him. His eyes were yellow but the colour was soon fading to purple. You were a bit uncomfortable as he stared not at you but at some other place on your face and you said nothing. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, partly because you just didn’t know what to say.

For a minute you stood in silence, the both of you just staring at each other.

It was Remus who broke the silence.

‘Why are you avoiding me?’

‘Why did you never tell?’

Remus opened his mouth to answer your question, but he then closed it again.

‘Why, Lupin?’

‘Because I didn’t think you would like it. I mean you’re a Slytherin after all…’

‘So, why does that matter?’ you asked, raising your eyebrow. ‘Remus, I spent the last seven years trying to find my soulmate, hoping that one day they would come up to me and we would have that special moment. This-’ you gesture between you and him ‘-is supposed to be something build on trust and love. You have known for three years and you’ve kept it a secret! Why did you do that? Do you think I’m not good enough for you? Had you wanted your soulmate to be a Gryffindor just like you? Were you scared that everyone would find out your soulmate is just a shitty Slytherin?’

You stared at Remus’ red eyes as you waited for his answer. But he kept his mouth shut. Nothing in his body posture told you he was going to fight for this- for you.

A scoff passed your lips as you stepped past him. Taking Maia with you by hand you and her walked away swiftly. When you figured you were far enough Remus wouldn’t hear, you let the sobs escape your mouth. You cried bitter tears into Maia’s shoulder as she embraced you. Her hands rubbed up and down on your back as she whispered: ‘He’s a dick. You don’t need him, he’ll bring you nothing good. I’m here for you, don’t worry.’

‘But why is he my soulmate? Why didn’t he say anything? Am I truly not good enough?’

You couldn’t help but ask the questions. It was what had been bothering you for so long now. Finding your soulmate was supposed to be something good. It should be like a scene from a film, where there is soft music playing in the background. Two people should meet and their worlds should burst into colours like they have never seen. They would confess their feelings and be together forever.

Why was it not? Why weren’t you hugging Remus’ right now? Why was your world black and white? Where were the colours?

Everything that you had been dreaming of in the past seven years had scattered right in front of you. It lied in broken pieces on the floor, like a picture ripped by trembling hands. All your hope had faded and what was left was a hollow feeling.

-=-=-=-

November passed on like nothing. You decided not to let Remus ruin your last year at Hogwarts. So you had a soulmate, then what? That didn’t mean that you actually had to be with them. You could find someone else. People that didn’t have soulmates found a significant other too.

You concentrated on your work. Your grades went up higher than they had ever done before and multiple teachers had told you that if you were to keep this up, you would graduate as top of your class.

The bond between you and Maia was stronger than ever. She was the one who helped you through it all. She was your shoulder to cry on and the hand to hold when you were scared. She made you laugh and comforted you. You told her everything you were feeling and she was supportive through everything.

‘I like this version of you,’ she said on a Saturday night, when you and her were sitting in the courtyard. ‘I liked you before, but I like you now better. You’re independent and strong. And I think that-’

She stopped mid-sentence and stared at you. You blinked and shook your head softly. She was looking at your eyes, you knew that. For the past weeks you had just ignored them. You hadn’t looked in the mirror since and the page that you had always carried along with you, now lied in the top drawer of your nightstand, under a book.

‘There black again,’ Maia whispered and she took your hand. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s not your problem anymore.’

You smiled gratefully at your friend and rested your head against the cold wall behind you. Pulling your knees to your chest you wrapped your arms around your legs and stared into the empty courtyard.

A comforting silence filled the night around you. Maia rested her head on your shoulder and after a while you heard her steady breathing, meaning she fell asleep. You closed your eyes for a second and you felt yourself drift off too. You knew that there would be problems if someone found you here, but you didn’t care at the moment. All you wanted to do was disappear from the world for a moment. Even if it was just a second. You wanted to know what if felt like not to have the problems pulling you down to the ground. You wanted to know how it felt to fly.

-=-=-=-

‘Please wake up!’

The sound of a deep voice woke you from your sleep. Your legs hurt from their uncomfortable position and Maia’s head was still on your shoulder.

The sky was lighter than when you had fallen asleep. One side of the heavens was colouring orange as the sun rose on the horizon. The other side was still a dark blue, the last stars trying to shine fiercely in the sky.

The air was humid and your clothes were cold and wet. Your hair was sticking to your face and your fingers were purple from the cold. The bench you were sitting on was covered in little dewdrops.

You looked up to see who had woken you up. Who you were faced with surprised you.

James Potter was standing in front of you. His face was tensed and you could immediately sense there was something wrong. Sadly you could also sense with who.

He wasn’t your biggest friend, to say the least. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had led to it that you never really talked to James. It was not that you hated James, but you and him were both too proud and too dedicated to your house to seek each other’s company.

‘What happened, Potter?’ you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

‘Uhm, Remus got hurt and he’s kinda in a bad shape,’ James stammers.

‘So? What has that got to do with me?’

‘He asked us to get you. The last thing he said before he passed out was that he wanted to talk to you.’

Next to you, Maia slowly woke up and she stared at James. She had heard his last words and turned her head to you.

You doubted what to do. You were worried about Remus, but had the last month not shown you that there was nothing between you? You were scared that if you would talk to him now, all those sad feelings would come back to you.

‘Where is he?’ you asked, straightening your back.

You would go to him. Maybe you wouldn’t even talk to him. No one could force you to. You would take Maia with you, see what is wrong with him and then you would decide what to do.

‘The hospital wing,’ James said and he seemed relieved when you got up and nodded.

Maia followed you and James as he lead you to the infirmary. The sound of your footsteps was the only thing that broke the silence. The stone steps moved under your feet, like it was the world that was moving under your feet and not you over the earth.

For the first time in weeks you pulled out the mirror from your pocket and looked at your eyes. They were dark grey. A combination between fear and focus. It was a colour that, unfortunately, you had seen before. Remus didn’t seem like a dangerous boy at sight, but the past years had learned you that he did more dangerous things that you would think. The amount of times that your eyes had been black or this colour grey was uncountable.

‘How did he get hurt?’ you asked.

James hesitated. He looked at you and then back at the end of the corridor. His eyebrows were furrowed and he nodded.

‘I think it’s better that you know before you see him,’ he mumbled.

You looked over your shoulder at Maia, who was walking behind you. She had her head down, but when you looked at her she looked up. You raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. You looked back at James and waited for him to talk.

‘Remus is a werewolf.’

Your jaw dropped and you stared at James with big eyes. Behind you Maia gasped and she put her hand over her mouth.

‘He got bitten when he was a little boy and there was nothing his parents could to. So every month he hides in the Shrieking Shack and transforms there,’ James said.

‘And tonight was a full moon,’ you mumbled. ‘That’s why my eyes were black. That’s why my eyes are always black on a full moon.’

The puzzle pieces fitted together. For years you had wondered what Remus did that he was so scared of. Never had you thought of this. Never had you seen the link between the moon and the fear.

Remus was lying on a small hospital bed. Sirius and Peter were sitting beside him and madam Pomfrey was standing at his feet. All three of them looked up when they heard James, Maia and you enter the room. Sirius stood up and looked suspiciously at Maia.

‘She was there too,’ James mumbled and he pushed Sirius back in his chair.

You stood awkwardly at the end of the bed and you looked at Remus. There was a cut on his cheek and his face was pale. His hair was a mess on the pillow.

Minutes passed and no one said anything. The silence that hung in the air was tensed and it pushed on your chest. With every minute that passed you regretted coming there. What were you supposed to do?

After a while, Remus groaned. He opened his eyes slowly and you saw the purple irises scanning the room, before settling on you. Your heart pounded in your throat as you looked at Remus. All the colours of the rainbow passed in his eyes as he looked back at you. Red turned into blue, blue into grey and grey into purple.

For as long as you stared at each other, the colours would continue to change. You wanted to look away, but the eyes were too intoxicating. There was something about them that just kept you staring. You didn’t even notice that everyone else had left the two of you alone. Not until the door closed and you were pulled out of your trance.

You broke the eye contact. You had to remember what had happened between the two of you. You cleared your throat and spoke softly. ‘Why am I here?’

Remus lifted himself in his bed and rested his back in his pillow. He stared at his hands as he spoke and you looked at his eyes. They were purple again.

‘I’m sorry,’ Remus said with a raspy voice. ‘I’m sorry for not telling you I knew you were my soulmate. I know I should’ve but to be honest, I was scared. You are everything I am not. I was afraid you wouldn’t think I was enough and that you would crush my heart the way I did yours. But you have to understand that it was scary for me. I mean, look at you. How could you ever be with someone like me?’

Sighing you sat down on the side of Remus’ bed and took his hand. He looked up to you and the colour show played in his eyes again. You saw the tears pooling in his eyes and you felt a tear slide down your own cheek.

‘How could you ever not be enough for me?’

‘I’m a monster. I should be locked up. I am a danger to everyone around me. If I hadn’t hurt myself this night, I could have killed someone.’

‘You’re not a monster, Remus. No one thinks you should be locked up. And you didn’t kill anyone. What you put yourself through every month is something that takes so much strength, and you do it. You come out stronger every time.’

The tears were streaming down Remus’ face and you wiped them away delicately. Your hand cupped his cheek and your thumb stroked his skin. Unknowingly you had gotten closer to him.

Everything that had happened in the past months was forgiven as you looked into Remus’ eyes. Maybe this was your film moment. Maybe this was how it was supposed to go. From here you would build your life with Remus, your soulmate. You would grow happily old together. You would help him through his struggles and he would guide you through yours. You would love him with everything you could.

And it would all start with this moment. This delicate moment shared between you and him. The kiss that Remus pressed against your lips and the reaction you gave him. The hand that you held on his cheek and the one on his thigh. The fingers that pressed in your waist.

Your life with him started now.

---------

taglist:

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec

Remus: @racerparker @susceptible-but-siriusexual

marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @belovedadam @wecouldbreakthedistance @valentina-007

let me know if you want to be added!

MASTERLIST

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter x reader #remus lupin x slytherin reader #slytherin reader

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dahniwitchoflight · 4 years ago

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Another Obscure KH Theory

Since I’m on a roll here, might as well throw my hat into the ring for what the heck the book names in Hollow Bastion in KH1 were meant to mean

Azal (アザル) volume 3 Yellow book Hafet (ハフェ) volume 4 Purple book Khama (カアマ) Volume 8 Red book Mava (マヴァ) Volume 6 Green book Mava (マヴァ) Volume 3 Green book Nahara (ナハラ) Volume 5 Yellow book Salegg (サレグ) Volume 6 Blue book Theon (タオン) Volume 6 Yellow book Remember those? No? Don’t worry neither does anyone else

So, I spent a while searching both the katakana in japanese and the words itself in hebrew, and obviously I didn’t get any exact or correct matches,

But I found a group of matches that fit a little bit, and since their connected theme is so close together

I almost wonder if these words were a sort of corrupted engrish version of what they meant and that’s why there so hard to translate

and figured heck, nobody else has any idea what these books are supposed to be, so might as well throw a random ass theory into the ring

I believe they might all be corrupted Hebrew or Biblical names/words/places

So first up up in order, here is what I believe these words were trying to refer to:

1) Azal (Japanese Azaru)

Azal or Azel, is a place in the bible described to be a mountainous land

Zechariah 14:5 King James Version = “And ye shall flee to the valley of the mountains; for the valley of the mountains shall reach unto Azal: yea, ye shall flee, like as ye fled from before the earthquake in the days of Uzziah king of Judah.”

Azal means “Ran Out” in Hebrew as well

2) Hafet (Japanese Hafe)

Japheth (pronounced something like Hyafeh I believe) is the name of a biblical figure, one of the three sons of Noah from the biblical flood

“Japhet may have some roots in Yafe, meaning pretty, but take me with a grain of salt on that last one.“ as one person quoted to me as well

3) Khama (Japanese Kaama)

Khama is a hebrew word for the “Heat / Rage” and when used a proper noun, can refer to Mercury or The Sun

4) Mava (Japanese Mava)

Hebrew girl name meaning “Pleasant or Delightful” literally all I could find lol (tbh not surprised the apparent girl of this group got shafted though)

5) Naharu (Japanese Naharu)

Nahal is a hebrew word meaning " to lead or guide to a watering place, bring to a place of rest, refresh”

“Naharu does share a root with the word for river, Nahar, Naharu has a connotation of going somewhere wildly- With lots of energy and urgency” as one person quoted to me as well

6) Salegg (Japanese Saregu)

Closest thing I could find was Serug, one of Noah’s descendants, name meaning “From the noun שריג (sarig), tendril, or from the verb שרג (sarag), to be intertwined.“

or could be “Salakh ” a word meaning forgiveness

Either way, sounds like someone that got intertwined with tendrils of darkness that now seeks forgiveness

7) lastly, Theon (Japanese Taon)

This is the only one that isn’t directly hebrew in origin somehow, it’s actually greek, but it’s the greek word that the bible used to translate specifically only the term for “The God” meaning God-God

alternatively, “Theion” is a word meaning sulphurus/fire and brimstone/lightning, and is used for the word to descrube what was cast down upon sodom and gomorroh to destroy

I don’t know about you but that sounds very Master of Masters to me yknow?

So at the end of the day, we end of with biblical or hebrew associated names that are tied to the “KH name elements” of: Mountain, Flood, Sun, Girl, Leader, Darkness, and God

Now I kinda wanna associate each of these with each of the foretellers lol

6) Salegg

almost certainly the traitor Luxu, just the idea of intertwining tendrils and forgiveness, screams of someone who fell t the darkness yknow? And that’s definitely Luxu I think

3) Khama

feels like a good match for Gula honestly? maybe? His associated color is Gold and his animal is a leopard, all sunny associated things, and he’s also the smallest of the group, and mercury is the smallest planet, so either being Sun or Mercury feels like a good fit for him

7) Theon

is obviously very Master of Masters-y

5) Nahal

feels like Ira, since “Lead or Guide to Water” Ira is the Leader of the foretellers, Unicorn is a type of horse, you often lead horses to water, water is blue, Ira has blue hair

4) Mava

might as well be Ava, and also since Ava is also Girl

1) Azal

feels like it could be Aced since he a big strong boy and Earth element types in KH tend to be big strong lads and whats more earthy and strong than a mountainous land

2) Hafet

tricky one, means Japheth one of three sons of Noah who saved humanity from a flood but If Im being Honest, Invi is the only one left so I guess she goes here lol I guess you could say since her colors are also a silvery blue that it’s enough to also maybe associate her with a water element?

Again, all of these are huuuuge stretches

but it’s something for all those weird book names, almost like they were proto-foreteller names before they settled on the Sin associated ones

maybe the sin names are code words and these are their Real Names

(not really, but it’s Neat even to just see the elemental associations tbh)

#KH #Kingdom Hearts #Foretellers #Luxu #Ava #Ira #MoM #Master of Masters #Aced #Gula

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grilledpasta · 3 years ago

Text

Only Us Carmen Sandiego Fanfic (First time writing fiction lmao)

Hey guys! So I have had this fanfic sitting on the backburner for about... 5 months now? Its no where near complete, in fact I am still working on the first chapter, but I wanted to share some of what I have so far with you guys, and have some feedback on my work. No pressure! I would love to make this into a full blown story with multiple chapters and I have alot of really cool ideas. But! of course, I have to start somewhere lol.

( I took some liberties with carmen’s real name and such, I think it fits her well)

So here we go, here’s a snippet of chapter 1, I hope you enjoy.

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Scrape Scrape Scrape went the sound of a small piece of colored chalk on a brick wall. The young seven(and a half) year old artist took a step back to admire her creation.

“Hmmm, I think it needs more yellow.”

Exasperated, an older girl looked up from where she was currently sitting nearby on the ground.

“Zoe, you can’t be serious, I went to the market twice for more yellow chalk, can’t you draw something else that would be growing out of the ground because of the giant Sun you’ve been coloring?” she made a show of pointing to the four green chalk pieces lying on the ground next to the wall they had been coloring on

“maybe use something other than just yellow?”

Zoe thought for a few seconds, innocently oblivious to the green chalk, “like a big yellow sunflower?” she asked, cocking her head and pigtails to one side.

The older redheaded girl rolled her eyes and sighed, “start with the bottom green part, tomorrow morning I'll see if Mr. Garcia has any more yellow chalk”.

Zoe did a little jump and squealed in delight, “Yay! Thank you Isabel!” Shaking her head Isabel pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “Of course Zo-” Isabel’s eyes widened when she realized what the time read.

“C’mon Leo! We’re gonna be late for dinner!”

A little boy no more than nine years old looked up at the crimson haired girl tugging at his arm. “Awwww do we have too? I think I can win if we play one more time?” Leo pointed to one of the few dozen road chalk tic tac toe games that they had been playing all afternoon (he had been on a winning streak for the past hour). Isabel shook her head “Tomorrow we’ll play again, I promise ok? Now if we don’t get back in time, Miss Valdez is going to get worried.”

Leo shook his head a little ruefully at the older girl, “Ok fiiinnneee Izzy, bye Zoe!”

Zoe almost tackled them both with a hug as they got up to leave. “See you tomorrow for my tía’s party? lots of food!” Zoe pressed. Isabel smiled, “Wouldn’t wanna miss it, I’ll have my mom call yours tonight to see if more kids wanna come”.

Zoe gave a big toothy grin, “Yay! See you then!'' she turned and ran across the small street and up the steps of her house, her mother waving from the door with an oven mitted hand. Both Isabel and Leo waved and then raced up the street back toward the Orphanage where dinner and found family was waiting.

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(Thanks for reading! I have a bit more as well, tell me if you would like to see that as well!)

#carmen sandeigo netflix #redcrackle #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #IalsohavenoideawithwhatImdoingwhenitcomestospacingandediting

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loopy777 · 4 years ago

Note

RE: WIPs game: Actress Mai. what is she acting in? besides her ongoing starring role as Repressed Perfect Child?

Ah, "Actress Mai." This is a headcanon I keep chipping away at in the hopes that I'll eventually have something I want to publish. I have a whole host of little ideas and scene concepts, but only one actual WIP.

It started with the idea that Zuko and Ursa are theater snobs. Sure, Ursa apparently attended Ember Island Player performances, which Zuko disdained, but my thought is that she took what she could get in terms of live theater with her family even if she agreed with his criticisms. However, I like to headcanon that Mai loves the Ember Island Players, hates classical theater, and generally is the type of person who thinks that Michael Bay movies are great and more people should just turn off their brains and allow themselves to be entertained.

Why?

Well, because character conflict is what makes stories interesting. Zuko gritting his teeth through Mai's praise of how the EIPs finally made "Love Amongst the Dragons" interesting? Gold! Ursa and Mai getting into heated drunken arguments about theater styles? Gold! Mai convincing Kiyi of the good points of the controversial 'Love Amongst the Dragons II: Love Harder' (which is canon to at least two of my Maiko fics) while Zuko and Ursa grit their teeth? Solid gold!

This fun little conflict turned into something more, though. If Ursa and Mai are dark mirrors of each other in terms of theater tastes, then it felt like Mai needed a little acting history to parallel Ursa's own. But Ursa could be a publicly known actress because she was a peasant; such a profession was okay for her. Mai is a noble, though, and an acting job would be seen as beneath her, especially as a woman, as Polite Fire Society knows (or thinks it knows) that 'actress' is really just a polite term for prostitute. This is a takeoff from some real-life history stuff that I first learned of through Sherlock Holmes stories. Apparently, Irene Adler being an 'opera singer' was a thing British readers would recognize as being of a sordid nature.

So I decided that Mai did some secret, illicit acting anonymously during her childhood and teenage years. She stumbled across an opportunity, gave it a try, and found it fulfilling despite the social stigma. She liked being able to project emotions of all kinds in public, while at the same time shielded by masks or makeup or costumes or whatever. She liked being other people, people who find love with their heroes or die tragically to teach everyone a point or villainously ruin everything around them as a force of vengeful nature. It was the only opportunity for expression that she had, as well as a quiet form of rebellion. So for years she snuck out of the capital, down to Harbor City, and acted in all kinds of plays for a troupe that accepted not paying her as a fair trade for keeping her anonymous.

Naturally, moving to Omashu put a crimp on that, and so it ended.

So the idea is that Ursa eventually learns this about Mai after years of their butting heads over theater opinions, sees the parallels and perpendiculars in their lives, and grudgingly comes to respect Mai's completely wrong opinions about theater as at least being informed. And Mai, who is good at acting and does know the classics and would be wasted in the Ember Island Players, helps Ursa out with some plays she writes (still anonymous, although Zuko and Ursa know) even though Mai privately thinks the dialogue is too stilted and the stories kind of cliched.

But I have had trouble beating all of this into a proper story. I want to do flashbacks to Mai on stage, I want to show her conflict with Ursa, I want to reveal how Ty Lee found out and used that to get Mai to accept running away to the circus, I want Zuko's reaction to finding that his wife can recite soliloquies from all the major classics, I want Kiyi becoming an Ember Island Players groupie, etc. It's just missing a plot to hang it all on.

So here's a snippet of one of my attempts to construct something:

Noren grimaced. "Honestly, I was impressed we got enough people to fill out all the parts, never mind understudies. This play-"

"-is important," Ursa finished for him.

He hesitated just a moment before nodding. "And it's important for the same reasons that it was tough to get actors. I'm sure once Zuko sees it and can give it his official approval-"

"But he can't see anything without a Rinzen." Ursa thought about her son out there in the audience, anonymous amidst the 'peasants' of Hira'a. Zuko didn't mind mixing with his people, despite being their Lord, but the only reason he was here, tonight, was because Ursa herself had written the play, and he was a good son who would always support his mother.

Zuko had even brought his friends, including the Avatar. Aang was a delightful young man, and always very nice to Ursa, but she couldn't help but feel trepidation at his presence. After all, Avatar Roku, Ursa's grandfather and Aang's previous life, was a major character in this play, and while the story was based on real events, it was Ursa's hand that had shaped his dialogue and actions. She was putting her thoughts and philosophies, her very heart, out on the stage for public assessment, and this was tricky material. Would it do right by history?

Plus the lead actress was sick, and going by her complaints and the smell of the privy, perhaps dying.

Ursa had to tell herself that her audience, her friends and family and neighbors, wouldn't enjoy this play becoming a disaster. None of them were that bad. This wasn't the Capital. And she wasn't a princess. Not anymore.

So why had she taken it on herself to write this play, to positively dramatize a story of an ancestor who a few years ago was considered a heretic and traitor, to will into being a performance right here in the Fire Nation of a play that featured a heroic Air Nomad character whose actress was currently trapped in the privy?

Because her nation had hurt the world, and she wouldn't leave it to her son alone to do all the work of helping to fix that. That's why.

"Maybe," she ventured, "I could play the part."

Noren frowned. "You? But you're playing the Lady of Glass, and the characters share several scenes."

But Ursa was already analyzing the copy of the script that existed in her mind. "Rinzen has a lot more lines than the glass spirit, and I'm the only one who knows them. And playing a spirit is a lot easier than playing an Air Nomad. A spirit is just a voice, a costume, and some special effects. An Air Nomad character is a performance, and we're fresh out of actresses."

Noren's head tilted from side to side. "We could ask Kiyi. She knows the play by heart. She's a bit young for the part, yes, but-"

"No," Ursa cut him off. "She'd say yes if we asked her, but she hates being on stage. I'm not going to do that to her. I'd rather call off the play and see if our Rinzen is feeling better tomorrow."

Noren blanched at the very thought and made a gesture of good luck. "Well, maybe we can find a new Lady of Glass. And adjust the Rinzen costume. So are you thinking we'll just go on stage and ask the crowd who wants to join the cast, or maybe-"

And then there was a shift behind Noren, the red curtain over the office's doorway being pulled aside to reveal a living shadow. It seemed to Ursa that a chill had entered the room.

Lady Mai, Intended to Fire Lord Zuko, had arrived.

Ursa stiffened as Mai stepped into the office and let the curtain fall back into place. Time and familiarity had not made it any easier to be in a room with her son's lover. She had no real doubts about Mai, no resentment over the early difficulties Zuko that had apparently been overcome, but it was hard to reconcile Azula's shy and dour childhood companion with what existed now. Mai walked around covered with knives, watching everything; she never spoke unless there was an explicit need, but her gaze was always focused and her eyes missed nothing.

And it was in Mai's kind of silent, watchful abyss that Judgement grew. Ursa did not have a good feeling about how Mai likely judged her. How could a child of the Fire Nation's capital, someone who had become strong alongside Azula, a world-class warrior whose last stand for the life of her lover was already the subject of at least one popular poem, have any empathy for Ursa's life or the mistakes she had made?

Mai looked at her with dull eyes. "Is everything okay? The crowd is getting restless, and Zuko was worried. I told him I'd check on things so that he wouldn't miss the beginning of the play."

Ursa hesitated against that flat, low voice, and Noren stepped in to answer, "Our lead actress is sick. Ursa and I were just discussing options. There- uh, there aren't a lot of them."

Mai might as well have been told that dinner was planned to include green sprouts, but they were all out and so the yellow ones would be substituted. "Which part?"

Ursa swallowed. "The Air Nomad girl, Rinzen."

Mai quirked an eyebrow. "The heroine." She was still and silent for a long moment, and then sighed. "Zuko's really been looking forward to this. I guess I can help out. All right, I'll be your Rinzen."

Ursa wasn't quite sure she had heard that right. "You- you want to take the part? But-" Her voice faltered, as all the possible objections swirled through her mind. Mai was, to put it simply, completely lacking in charisma and non-threatening presence. She spoke without emotion. She moved so efficiently that no one in the back of the audience would even notice her. And she was so disinterested in everything that she'd probably nod off in the middle of the performance.

Noren offered a troubled smile. "Thank you for the offer, but acting is harder than it looks. It's not just about going on stage and reciting lines. An actress needs-"

"It's Nomad part, right?" Mai shrugged. "So we want a high, bright voice. Circular gestures. A bounce in all the movements. Here, like this." She stretched out her arms, shook her head, and then-

-and then-

-and then Mai was no longer there. The woman in red and black looked like her, but there was a wide mischievous smile on her face, and her eyes were big and bright. She stepped towards Ursa- no, they weren't mere steps. She kicked her heels high with each one, and the way she shifted her weight flirted with almost being a dance. She held her arms up at her side as she moved, and then when she reached Ursa, swung them dramatically to bring her hands together into a sign of respect.

She bowed, and in a voice that positively rang and filled the room, said, "Are you not the Firebender Avatar, Roku? What a fortunate wind blows to lay my path upon your own!" She rose again, and trotted in a circle around Ursa. "I say, you are taller than I expected, and must be quite heavy. Are you sure you're keeping up with your Airbending, young Avatar?" She raised a hand and held it out to the side.

Noren recovered before Ursa did, realizing what was going on, and quickly found a rag and placed in the waiting hand.

Mai's eyes never left Ursa the whole time, and as soon as the rag was in her grip, she moved again, taking a stance that had clearly been modeled on Avatar Aang's own style, and held the rag out in front of her, dangling it from her fingers and bouncing it in the air.

Mai gave a laugh that was echoed through the little room. "Your beard flutters in my breeze! Come, young Avatar, let's have a spar!"

There was a beat, and Ursa was tempted to deliver Roku's next line in response, but then all at once the younger woman slumped, letting the grandness leak out of her limbs. When she straightened, Mai was back, standing like a blade made of shadow, her face blank and her eyes dull.

Ursa blinked. What had she just witnessed? So many questions swirled in her mind, and she decided to ask the most important of them: "You know all the lines?"

#avatar mai #mai #ursa #avatar ursa

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kneipho · 4 years ago

Text

Hope Springs Eternal Part 1

I shivered

palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.

It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.

Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.

Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.

A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.

But that just added a certain spring to my step.

Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.

Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.

But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.

A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.

Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.

I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.

My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.

“Your mind should be a diary.

Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.

Time, dates, everything.

It always comes in useful.”

She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.

Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.

Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.

I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.

As of yet

a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.

Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.

Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.

I called it my domain.

Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.

The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.

Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.

As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.

Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.

Optimism and cheer were her other passions.

As well as paying attention.

“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.

“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.

“Where there is joy there’s hope.

Time and hope are intertwined.”

Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.

Typical Virginia logic.

I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.

This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it’s rivulet of veins.

The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.

But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn’t help but notice something else.

The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.

Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.

My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .

This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.

Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.

Or did I hear it go off?

My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.

The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.

“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.

It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.

“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.

Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.

I’ve always had a thing about posture.

The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.

The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.

Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.

The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,

purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.

Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.

Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.

Albeit with telltale winter stains.

But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.

Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.

A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.

The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.

Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.

Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.

The bane of every bulging blood vessel.

An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.

Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.

Irrespective I continued unabashed.

The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.

A motivator of noble human impulse.

My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.

A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.

Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!

But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.

Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.

The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.

She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.

Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.

Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.

“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.

They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.

They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.

The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.

“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.

Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.

They can assume a life of their own.”

Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.

Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.

Although such humor couldn’t always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.

Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.

It’s beginning to fill up.

The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.

The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.

Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.

Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.

An unyielding rooted presence.

They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.

These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.

Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.

All these details forensically noted.

A sudden wakening ensued.

“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”

My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.

“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”

Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.

They alighted from their bicycles

“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?

You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.

Winfred her boyfriend agreed.

“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.

Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.

Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.

His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.

After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.

As well as the young at heart.

–

Sunday Submission: @mantrabay

Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

Part two will be submitted next week with your kind permission.

#mantrabay #submission sunday #submission #writers on tumblr #short story #written word #fiction #photographers on tumblr #photography #original photography #other #Hope Springs Eternal Part 1

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

From @MissSquidTracy

to @scattergraph

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Gordon liked to think of himself as the fashionista of the family.

Sure, his Hawaiian shirts sometimes drew attention of the unwanted kind, but the aquanaut was a firm believer in using clothing as a means of non-verbal communication. John was living proof of this theory.

Unfortunately, all of the freedom associated with self-expression went down the toilet with a resounding ‘flush’ when tradition dictated your attire, even if only for a day.

“Seriously, grandma?” Alan grouched, his bottom lip poking out to form his signature pout when he spied the Tracy matriarch descending the stairs with an armful of colourful sweaters.

“Zip it, kid,” Sally rasped, her tone offering no room for negotiation, “This year marks the tenth anniversary of the Tracy Christmas Album, and I’ll not have your attitude souring the occasion.”

Scott and Virgil shared a look of mutual disgust as Sally handed them two hideously baggy and itchy looking jumpers.

“Don’t you two start as well,” Sally warned, yanking a loose thread off the sleeve of John’s before tossing it towards the redhead, “Anyone caught sulking will be in the kitchen with me for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve just finished a fresh batch of liver and onion stuffing and could use a taste tester.”

Five jumpers were yanked over five heads in perfect unison.

A nod from Sally affirmed her satisfaction with her grandson’s new-found cooperation.

Gordon grimaced and scratched absently as the coarse fibres tickled the soft skin of his neck. Posing for the annual Christmas album photograph was a tradition that stretched right back to their days on the ranch, yet he found himself becoming more disillusioned with it the older he got. Maybe it was the discomfort of wearing an unnecessary extra layer in Tracy Island’s heat. Maybe it was the disappointment of no longer having snow to wake up to on Christmas morning. Maybe it was the absence of his parents, and for the last three years, at least one of his brothers.

“Who’s on the roster for today?” Kayo asked, striding into the room and wordlessly scooping up the one remaining jumper that was equally as ugly as the abominations adorning the torsos of her male colleagues.

In an effort to preserve the family element of the season, Scott had devised a strategy where just one member of International Rescue acted as the primary point of contact for any rescue calls that came through on Christmas Day, be them sea, earth or space based. Last year, Virgil had volunteered and been called to Nigeria to deal with a flash flood. The year before, Kayo had drawn the short straw and ended up assisting with the evacuation of a small town in Chile when a nearby volcano blew it’s top. The year before, Gordon had helped clear away the debris caused by a three-way semi collision on one of Australia’s busiest highways. The aquanaut had been instrumental in ensuring three hundred people made it home in time for Christmas, despite it coming at the expense of his own.

Fairness dictated that Virgil, Kayo and Gordon were exempt from being called upon this Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Accordingly, the honour of being ATD (available to deploy) fell to Scott, John, and Alan to hash out.

One quick round of rock, paper, scissors later, and Scott found himself wondering what brothers three and five would look like with their heads shaved.

“Alright, scoot in!” Sally ordered, returning with Alan’s tablet which she held aloft in an attempt to get a good angle, “Scott and John, you two stand at the back. Gordon and Virgil, you kneel in front of your brothers. Kayo and Alan, I need you both to sit at the front. We’re going for a tiered approach this year.”

A healthy amount of shuffling ensued as each Tracy (plus Kayo) moved into position and tried desperately to make himself/herself look decent. Scott yanked on the hem of his jumper in an attempt to cover up his belt. Virgil tried to hoist his up so that he wasn’t rocking the off the shoulder look. John scrubbed at his nose as the acrylic material began to trigger one of his many allergies. Gordon fanned his face with a hand as sweat began to bead across his forehead. Alan tugged fruitlessly on sleeves that fell woefully short of his wrists, and Kayo demanded that Virgil tell her honestly whether the shape of her jumper made her look fat.

Sally was firmly of the opinion that jumpers had to be vomit-inducingly ugly in order to be ‘festive’. The designs adorning each of the six knitted atrocities in front of her offered indisputable visual evidence of this belief.

Scott was brandishing a bright blue snowman, while Virgil sported a dark green reindeer (complete with light-up antlers). John was the unwilling wearer of an orange gingerbread man, and Gordon was proudly modelling a yellow penguin (complete with a squeezable beak that sang Jingle Bells if you so much as looked at it). Alan appeared indifferent to the red elf plastered across his chest, and Kayo was trying to make the best of her rapidly unravelling black turtledoves.

“Smile!” Sally sang, her finger poised, “On the count of three, everybody say cheese! One…two…three!”

“CHEESE!”

Click.

Flash.

The end result was less than impressive. Scott had blinked at precisely the wrong moment. The grin plastered across Virgil’s face was nothing short of horrifying. John’s eyes were almost as red as his hair. Gordon was shamelessly modelling a chunk of leftover spinach in his right canine. Alan had twisted his head to peer at Virgil at the last second and was a blond and red blur…

Unsurprisingly, Kayo was the only one who’d managed to look straight at the camera and smile like a normal person.

After reviewing her rather substandard snap and tutting in disapproval, Sally tightened her grip on the tablet and ushered her dispersing grandsons back into formation with a ‘shoo’ motion of her free hand, “Come on you lot, form up. Nobody leaves this room until we have a decent photo. How you boys can look so good in real life but so bad on canvas is beyond me. Your dad always said-“

The sudden departure of an elf wearing Tracy brought all dialogue to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry, grandma!” John yelled as he made a beeline for the stairs, the redness of his nose akin to Rudolph, “But this wool is giving me a nosebleed. You’ll have to take the next shot without me, or just make the one we have work. It might be for the best, as you know how Alan gets unforgivable gas whenever he’s forced to pose.”

The youngest Tracy let loose a honk of outrage, but was dutifully ignored as, one by one, his other brothers began to filter out of the lounge. Excuses of varying degrees of believability bounced off the walls as three more bodies scampered to freedom.

It took all of ten seconds for most of the lounge’s inhabitants to disperse, leaving Kayo and Alan alone with a somewhat disappointed looking Grandma Tracy.

“Oh well,” the Tracy matriarch sighed, reaching to pick up the blue snowman that had been ejected over the first floor bannister, “There’s always next year.”

Kayo smiled thinly and made a mental note to spend next Christmas with her father.

-x-

As well as being the family fashionista, Gordon was also a self-appointed expert in gift giving.

His affinity for making people smile helped tremendously, since it made the process of choosing something his recipient would find meaningful much easier. He wasn’t adverse to buying his brothers practical gifts that they could use in their everyday lives (the tea cosy he’d bought for John the Christmas of fifty four was still in active service), but he knew they had all of the utilitarian gadgets they could ever want or need, courtesy of Brains and their nine figure bank account.

Cue unicorn poo bath bombs, flamingo slippers, and personalised face cushions.

This year however, he’d outdone himself.

Unbeknownst to anyone outside of the family, Gordon was quite the expert on upcycling. He had a knack for seeing potential in things that other people had written off as trash (like Scott, for instance), and took great delight in working with his hands.

It had taken several days, but he’d finally managed to relocate one of their dad’s old hoverbikes from the ranch to Tracy Island. It had taken up most of the room inside Thunderbird Four’s dry tube station, however he’d managed to offload it in the hanger and perform the desired modifcations in the (relative) privacy of Four’s module.

Alan had stopped believing in Santa when he was seven. With Lucy dead and Jeff away for three quarters of the year, Scott had taken it upon himself to safeguard whatever remained of his youngest brother’s innocence. Every year on Christmas Eve, without fail, the eldest Tracy donned a red suit and beard and made a big (and often loud) show of depositing presents under the tree. Unfortunately, a rather heated debate one year over Santa’s handwriting (which looked suspiciously similar to Virgil’s), had culminated in the death of Alan’s wide-eyed belief.

Gordon had found the whole debacle rather heart-breaking. Sure, he’d been a year younger than Alan when he himself had stopped believing, but the process had been much gentler. He’d made the innocent mistake of asking John one year to help him with some basic calculations regarding the speed and size of Santa’s sleigh, however had ended up on the receiving end of a lecture from his redheaded brother on reindeer anatomy and wind resistance.

His belief had died peacefully in its sleep nine hours later.

Still, having a belief squished verbally was a lot less harsh than having it squished visually. Poor Alan.

Gordon smiled to himself as he inspected his handiwork. He’d outfitted the storage compartment on the back of the red hoverbike he’d abducted to look like the back end of a sleigh. He’d toyed with the idea of enlisting the help of a couple of real life reindeer (or ponies) to act as draught animals, but had decided against it after reviewing the vaccination and transport requirements.

Despite managing to complete the modifications inside Four’s module, Gordon had been forced to relocate his creation elsewhere when he and Virgil had been called away on an impromptu rescue involving a couple of unqualified divers. With his back against the wall, the aquanaut had picked the first alternative hiding place that had come into his head.

The roof.

As ridiculous as it sounded, the glass roof of Tracy Island’s lounge was anchored into numerous rocky outcroppings that, when utilised effectively, provided excellent cover. So long as nobody glanced up, of course.

A sigh of pride bubbled up Gordon’s diaphragm. He might not be able to reverse the damage caused by Virgil’s handwriting gaffe, but he could at least give his youngest brother a laugh and deliver his gifts in style instead.

So preoccupied was the aquanaut with buffing out an imaginary mark from the hoverbike’s bumper, that he failed to notice the Island’s automated weather system bark out the alarm for a storm warning.

Thankfully, John didn’t.

-x-

Scott had checked high and low.

And then high again, just to be sure.

The eldest Tracy was stumped. Gordon had somehow managed to vanish clean off the face of the earth.

Not that such a discovery would usually cause the eldest Tracy any concern (the aquanaut had a knack for evading capture), but Christmas lunch was due to be served any minute and they were one body short at the kitchen table.

“Gordon?” Scott called, shoving his head into the bathroom for what felt like the billionth time that hour. He’d tried calling the aquanaut’s phone, but had been sent to voicemail both times. His biometric tracker showed that he was still on the island, however couldn’t generate an exact location for him. EOS’s heat signature scans weren’t much better, courtesy of the wonky connection brought about by the oncoming storm.

“I’m stumped,” Scott huffed, admitting defeat with a bemused shrug, “He’s gone. I’ve checked the hanger, the changing rooms, his room, the bathroom, and the gym. Nothing. It’s like he’s poofed into thin air.”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, however was cut off by the arrival of John, whose expression was an expert blend of concern and flippancy.

“I’ll give you three guesses as to his location,” the redhead began, “If you win, I’ll do your laundry for a week. If you lose, you have to eat my portion of grandma’s stuffing.”

Scott quickly did the math. It was a risk he was willing to take.

“Is he stuck inside his launch chute?”

“No.”

“Is he swimming in the lagoon?”

“No.”

“Is he hijacking Thunderbird One again?”

“No.”

….

“Well?” the eldest brother demanded, hands on hips. He had no interest in John drawing out his victory for any longer than necessary.

The redhead allowed a small smile to grace his face before gesturing with an index finger towards the ceiling.

Scott blinked as his blue gaze clapped onto a jean-clad butt scrabbling around atop the reinforced glass, oblivious to the small audience he’d amassed as he tried to evade the rapidly intensifying rain.

“The roof?” Scott honked, one hand fisting itself through his hair, “I take my eyes off him for two minutes, and he ends up on the roof?”

“Whoa, whoa!” a new voice piped up, it’s baritone depth failing to bring Scott any relief, “He’s where?!”

The eldest Tracy said nothing, opting instead to stab a finger upwards. Ever the cooperative one, Virgil cast his eyes in the desired direction, a small frown infecting his face as he did so.

“We should probably get him down,” the engineer announced, cringing when Gordon slipped on the now wet glass and starfished on his back, “He’s still wearing his Christmas jumper, and the blasted thing will short-circuit if it gets damp.”

A loud ‘thwack’ echoed around the lounge as Scott’s palm got itself well acquainted with his face.

-x-

John had never been one for big displays of emotion.

A polite smile or, in extreme cases, a shoulder pat were usually the preferred methods his brothers employed whenever they wanted to convey feelings of endearment towards him.

Christmas was an exception, however, and it was without a shred of his usual awkwardness that the redhead enveloped his fish brother in a tight hug, the scent of singed fabric tickling his nostrils.

Virgil’s extraction of their younger brother hadn’t quite been quick enough, and it was with a suitable amount of humility that Gordon shuffled back into the safety and dryness of the lounge, a thin trail of smoke rising from the beak of his thoroughly soaked penguin jumper.

“How bad was it?” John queried, biting his cheek to keep his humour in check as he took in the static strands of hair atop Gordon’s head. The aquanaut looked as if he’d just stuck his finger inside a plug socket which, on reflection, wasn’t as much of an inaccurate analogy as the redhead had originally thought.

Gordon ignored his space brother in favour of slowly shuffling towards the staircase, an involuntary yelp escaping when his traitorous jumper suddenly gave off a stray spark.

Virgil snorted and flicked a hand through his hair to rid it of the rainwater it had collected, “Nothing to worry about on the health side of things, but man John, you should have seen it. He nearly took off like a firework.”

The redhead quirked an unimpressed brow, “Serves him right for skipping over the electrical safety briefings I sent down last week. You’d think he’d have a better understanding of how water and electricity don’t mix, what with his ‘Bird being the only one kitted out for aquatic reconnaissance.”

A shrug was offered by Virgil in lieu of a response, “I’m sure all will be revealed once he’s properly earthed himself. Meanwhile, I’d better get that hoverbike down before it crashes through the roof and lands on someone’s head. Can you send Scott up to help? I could use a couple of his grapples.”

John threw his brother a mock salute before breezing off towards the kitchen, only to stop when he caught sight of a familiar blue outline on one of the sofas.

“Be there in a minute!” Scott mumbled, his cheeks bulging like an oversized hamster as he chomped his way through an indulgent looking doughnut.

John felt his gaze darken as he took stock of the stray sprinkles in the corner of his eldest brother’s mouth, “Where did you get those?”

Scott held a finger up as he swallowed, thumping his chest when a stubborn piece of dough got lodged, “Mainland, to make up for grandma’s sprout and salmon tart. Help yourself, there’s plenty left. I’ve only had three.”

The lack of control Scott had when confronted with unhealthy snacks never failed to amaze his brothers.

“You want to take it easy,” Virgil warned, motioning with one hand to his waistline, “Too many of those could send you to an early grave.”

Scott flicked his hand dismissively and reached for a fourth doughnut.

“Don’t care. I won’t be the one carrying the coffin.”

- FIN -

#thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #MissSquidTracy

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bellakitse · 5 years ago

Text

You and I, Collide

Carlos looks at the firefighter, he’s handsome, seriously and almost unbelievably good looking with the greenest eyes he’s ever seen. He’s amazed by them. It’s probably why when he opens his mouth to reassure him that he’ll stay awake, what comes out instead is – “You’re really pretty.”

* Carlos is in a car accident, TK and the 126 show up at the scene.

for @lire-casander, Hope you have the happiest of birthday! 💖💖

thanks to @lauraperfectinsanity for the prompt idea, here

When he comes to, it’s to a pounding headache and a blaring horn of the truck that slammed into him. It takes him a moment to process the thought correctly, but when he does, he does it with a groan. He hurts all over, not just his head.

He starts to recall moments before the accident. He remembers waiting at the light behind a blue compact Sedan that is now a hell of a lot closer, given the fact that the front of his squad car has wrecked the back of it.

He also remembers being shoved forward with a jarring force, his seatbelt pushing him back but not before his head rammed into his steering wheel, leaving him to see spots just as his airbag deployed. He closes his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to open them again.

Slowly he raises his arm, and even though it hurts to move at least it’s doable. He gets his hand to his radio after what feels like an eternity; all of his movements feel like he’s slower than molasses.

“Dispatch,” he croaks out as the radio statics to life. “Officer Reyes, 286, multiple car collision on Rainey and Davis,” he waits, letting out a relieved breath when the response comes back quickly.

“Roger that, Officer Reyes,” the operator answers, and Carlos realizes with a sense of relief that it’s Grace. “Any injured?”

“Besides me?” he asks dryly, trying to chuckle, but it comes out a painful groan. “I’m not sure; it hurts to move, and I think my door got warped in the collision.” He explains as he tries to pull on the handle and it doesn’t budge

“Carlos?” Grace questions; her voice while still professional doesn’t hide the concern. “Are you saying you’re part of the accident?”

“Yeah, Gracie,” he says tiredly, maybe if he shuts his eyes for a moment he’ll feel better. “Call someone, will ya?” he trails off, and as he closes his eyes, he thinks he hears her calling his name again. He wants to answer, he hates being rude to someone so nice, but he just can’t when sleep is calling his name too.

He'll apologize to her later.

֍֍֍

There is a loud buzzing sound at his side that wakes him up again, followed by some grinding that makes him frown at how noisy it is.

“Officer Reyes, can you hear me?” he hears to his left. It takes him a moment to realize the door to his car is now open. “I need you to open your eyes for me.”

He turns in the direction of the voice; it’s nice, soft but steady, and comforting. He thinks he hears it ask for his first name.

“Carlos, open your eyes for me,” he’s asked again, the voice is still soft, but also firm, it’s more of an order and Carlos finds himself falling back on his training, responding to the command he opens his eyes slowly.

For a moment, everything is out of focus before a figure appears in front of him wearing a firefighting uniform.

“There we are,” the man smiles at him. “Officer Reyes, I’m TK, we’re going to get you out of here in a few, just keep your eyes open, can you do that for me?”

The firefighter – TK, blinks at him twice, his mouth drops open.

“Did – did he just call you pretty, Strand?” Carlos hears behind the beautiful fireman, and he watches, now more alert, TK turning a pretty shade of pink as he hisses back ‘Shut up Judd.’

“Judd?” he questions, shifting forward to try and look over TK’s shoulder at his friend. “Ryder?”

Judd’s head appears behind TK; his face is concerned, though there is a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. “Yeah, brother, it’s me, you’re going to be fine.”

Carlos gives him a nod before resting his head on the headrest. “I didn’t answer Grace back,” he says, remembering her on the call earlier. “Tell her I’m okay.”

“Will do buddy,” Judd promises. “Now just hold on a little longer. Pretty boy and I will get you out of the car. Michelle is waiting to yell at you and then fix you, in that order.”

“Awesome,” he grumbles. TK lets out a noise, and when Carlos looks at him again, he finds a beautiful smile on his handsome face.

“You really are beautiful,” he says again; this time, TK doesn’t look surprised, and the smile on his face grows softer.

“You have a concussion,” TK tells him, he’s serious, but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he answers back. “I can have a concussion, and you’re beautiful.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Grace and Michelle about this,” he hears Judd laugh, and TK hisses at him before turning back to him.

“Officer Reyes –“ TK starts gently.

“Carlos,” he tells him, cutting him off. “Do you like tamales?”

“I’ve never had any,” TK answers indulging him.

“I can make you some,” he says, hopeful when TK gives him another smile.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, his green eyes shining as he grins at him. “Let's get you to the hospital, and then we’ll talk about dinner, how about that?”

Carlos returns the smile, feeling excited, and a little dizzy. “Cool, I’m just going to close my eyes for a second though,” He thinks he hears an objection, but he can’t be sure as he shuts his eyes one more time.

֍֍֍

Carlos wakes up for the third time to noise and lights, only this time, he’s not sitting in his car but lying down. There’s beeping, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s a heart monitor.

“Hey, Romeo.”

Carlos turns his head to find Michelle sitting next to him, watching him with assessing eyes.

“Hey, chica,” he mutters tiredly. “My head hurts.”

“That would be the concussion,” Michelle tells him as she stands. “You also have a few bruised ribs from the seat belt, and you’re probably going to ache for a few days, but you’ll be okay, Romeo.”

“Why are you calling me that?” He questions, frowning when Michelle grins down at him.

“Because that’s what you are,” she starts. She chuckles as she shakes her head at him. “Only you would awkwardly flirt with a firefighter while in a car accident, and not just any firefighter but the son of the new captain of the 126. Thanks for that, by the way. Judd, Grace, and I will be laughing about this for a while.”

“What are you talking – “ Carlos stops, frowning harder as he tries to remember, green eyes flash in his head, a sweet smile on a very kissable mouth. “TK,” he whispers, letting out a low groan as it all comes back to him. “I didn’t dream him up? He was real?”

Michelle opens her mouth to answer, but another voice stops them both in their tracks.

“Am I dream material?”

Carlos stares at his friend pleadingly only for her to smile at him with a wide grin. He rolls his eyes at her complete lack of help and turns his head to find TK, the firefighter from earlier standing by the door. He’s in street clothes with a soft-looking yellow hoodie that Carlos really wants to touch. There is a small quirk of his eyebrows as he looks at Carlos with a sweet, teasing smile.

“H-hey, TK,” Carlos gets out, he gives him a small awkward wave and feels himself go instantly red at the chuckle Michelle covers with her hand.

TK bites down on his bottom lip, but it doesn’t hide the way his smile grows just a little bigger as he walks into the room, coming to stand at the edge of Carlos’ bed.

“I came to see how you’re doing,” TK tells him, answering the silent question showing on his face.

Carlos’ cheeks still feel hot from embarrassment as he remembers more of his encounter with TK earlier; now that he’s awake, he’s getting flashes of himself going on and on about the guy’s eyes. Given Michelle’s earlier teasing, he’s sure he made an ass out of himself.

“I also brought you dinner,” TK continues, holding up a plastic bag. “Since I figured they would keep you for at least the night, and hospital food sucks.”

Carlos stares at TK, not quite believing he would go to the trouble for a stranger he saved just to be hit on by him while doing his job.

“That was really nice of you, TK,” Michelle says for him when he can’t seem to find his voice.

“Yes – “ he clears his throat. “Thank you.”

TK smiles at him and gives him a shrug of his shoulder. “I found a place that makes tamales,” he tells him, his smile turns playful. “I figured I needed something to compare, for when you make me yours.”

Carlos finds himself staring at TK again, his heart beating hard in his chest at the implication of his words.

“Well, that’s my cue to get out of here,” Michelle says with a laugh, she leans down and kisses the top of his head, when she pulls back her eyes are dancing with delight. “Enjoy your dinner boys,” she says as she heads for the door.

TK says goodbye to her without taking his eyes off him. Once they’re alone, TK moves around the room and rolls the overbed table over, placing the food on it. He makes quick work of opening the take out containers, not the least bit bothered by the fact that Carlos still hasn’t said anything. Every few seconds, he sneaks a look at him and smiles like Carlos is amusing him greatly. When he’s finally done with everything, he sits down on the chair Michelle left by his bed with a plate in his hand.

He watches him expectantly, and Carlos looks at him some more, amazed that this beautiful man is even in his room, indulging his earlier ramblings. He shakes his head as he picks up the fork and takes a bite of the tamale.

When he’s done chewing, he finds that TK is still watching him, obviously waiting for his verdict.

“It’s good,” he starts, his heart ticking upward again, it’s going fast enough that the heart monitor beeps, causing TK to raise an eyebrow at him. “But not as good as mine,” he continues, feeling himself smile when TK chuckles softly. “You’ll see when I make them for you. Maybe this weekend, if you’re free?”

TK grins at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Carlos is struck yet again by how beautiful he is. “It’s a date.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #my writing #happy birthday lire!!

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okay-what-if-rumir · 4 years ago

Text

What if, after the curse was broken, the kings regained their human form, but whenever they got mean they turned into plants?

The Two Princes Discord likes to refer to the old kings as “The Bastard Kings” WBK = Western Bastard King, EBK = Eastern Bastard King.

Like a time-out

I feel like they'd just constantly be plants

I wonder if Rupert would carry his plant-dad around hoping to rehabilitate him

Rupert's always so optimistic

And all his life he's been imagining his dad as this great guy - I don't think he would give up on that so easily

They'd meet a new person, Rupert holds up a potted daffodil: "This is my dad, he's not always a plant but generally he is because he doesn't know how to be nice yet, but we're working on it."

He points to a potted daisy: "And that's Amir's dad, we're running into the same problem with him, but Amir and Atossa don't seem as keen on trying to help him so I've taken it upon myself to help him too. This is part of his rehabilitation, they've gotta be nice to new people. Say hi, dads!"

The plants start shaking their leaves and a muffled grumbling seems to echo from them.

Rupert, grinning: that's so much better guys! You're going to be back to having fingers and toes again in no time!

Yes!

They sit in a preschool classroom where the kids are learning to share and play nicely with each other

Rupert goes back to his and Amir's chambers one night all mopey and Amir asks what's wrong and Rupert mutters something about how WBK got turned into a plant again after telling one of the girls that he didn't like her pigtails and making her cry, and then EBK also got turned into one because he was laughing

And they had been doing so well!

Sure, WBK's compliments had been passive aggressive at best, but he was trying!

And sure, EBK would just add the word "don't" to all his sentences like "I don't want to strangle you right now" when you could tell he really did want to.

But there was PROGRESS there!

Rupert's so proud that they're attempting at all

Rupert constantly has to try to keep Lavinia from planting WBK in some random spot in the woods

Atossa just keeps EBK in a closet for like a week until Rupert finds out.

Rupert can't find them one day and he's like Moooooms?

And they look all guilty and are hiding garden trowels behind their backs.

Amir, trying to be a good husband, walks up the hall behind them with two plants clutched by their stems, dropping dirt everywhere with roots kicking all over the place and the plants making vaguely threatening noises and just shoves the two plants roughly into some pots while he himself is grumbling about how they're more trouble than they're worth.

He knows it's Rupert's pet project and wants to be supportive

Rupert's off to the side berating their mothers for not helping them progress

Talking about leading by example

But at the same time he's not too upset with them because he knew they weren't treated the best by their husbands.

Yah no. He's like I get it, but maybe just leave them alone?

Also, they're obviously super opposed to the boys' relationship, and they mostly just see Rupert but not the two of them together, but then some days they both come into the preschool class to read to the kids and they an see how in love they are with each other.

At first they're totally in denial, but slowly grow to accept it.

Their grumbling on that topic gets to be less and less

They never admit that they accept it

They still grumble occasionally but usually something along the lines of "he shouldn't have gotten you flowers, those are useless, he should've gotten you a sword then you could learn to defend yourself!"

I love that. That honestly makes me smile so big

And you can't tell me that they didn't spend 18 years together as a single tree and not become begrudging best friends.

OMG YES

They're super sarcastic and snarky with each other, but they know each other so well.

They're constantly seen together when in human form and they're always grumbling but they're both insanely proud of their sons even if they won't say it out loud and it's one of the few things they can agree on.

Love that.

They always get turned back into plants together when one does something mean and poof! And then the other delights in the first's distress - poof!

Then the one who got turned into a plant first laughs at the second.

And cue more sarcastic bickering.

One of the knights will find them in the middle of the hallway as plants just laughing at each other and then sigh before picking them up and depositing them with Rupert who takes them back to the preschool class.

EBK starts to really see how kind Rupert is, he says something about it to WBK in a rare moment of sincerity.

WBK grumbles that he should be strong and tough instead.

But for the kindness, EBK poofs back into a human while plant!WBK sits there and stews

But then like an hour later (EBK has long since walked off) WBK silently turns back into a human (because he realized he was grateful for Rupert's kindness as well)

Yes

Of course it doesn't last and they're back in their pots by the end of the day. But it was REAL progress!

Rupert tries to figure out what made them go back to human but neither of them want to admit it.

They just blush and change the subject.

I love the idea of them just randomly turning into plants because they had a mean thought or something. (Like a real mean thought - not an intrusive one)

Like, it just appears super random to the people around, but everyone is used to it by now.

"Where'd that plant come from?" "oh, it's just one of the former kings. Don't worry about it, it happens all the time."

Everyone just pulls pots from their sleeves and scoops them up.

It's become common for everyone to carry around flower pots all the time

The first time Rupert has the plants, he's carrying around the kings in plant form and reprimanding them and everyone is super confused and they think Rupert has lost it, but eventually they don't even give him a second glance when it happens.

People turning to do a double take and running into each other, progresses to everyone carrying flower pots and knowing how to talk them through different breathing exercises.

Sometimes the queens will just carry them around by their stems and it's the equivalent of carrying an animal by its scruff and it's utterly humiliating for them.

They get all uppity about their petals being ruffled

They constantly have competitions over who makes the prettier plant.

They get super angry as plants and just start shaking and some of their petals/leaves fall off.

They're like "Oh no! look what you made me do!" But getting mad at the other one just makes it worse

So then they're like "Okay, deep breaths… what did Rupert say? In through the nose two three four, out through the mouth two three four." Then the other's like making fun of them for trying to calm themselves down, but one of his leaves turns yellow and he's hyperventilating.

The queens stopped taking them to the compost heap or putting them in the closet. But now they'll go plant them in a flower bed with a bunch of the same type of flowers so it's hard to find them.

They spend a whole two days there once and they get some good meditation time in.

Rupert spend at least an hour trying to find them because Lavinia won't tell him where she planted them because "they'll turn human again eventually"

Omg. WBK walks in after being missing for a few days and just wordlessly hugs Rupert

Omg yes. And Rupert is confused but hugs back anyway.

Lavinia's all like "I told you." but she's actually softened by the display.

Rupert: Okay Dad, think of something nice to say to Dad. EBK: I'm not your father! Rupert: Oh honey, you were at the wedding. I don't know what else to tell you, but I'm your son now. WBK. You're no son of mine either! Rupert: sigh Dad, do we really need to go over this again? Now, there's lots of other ways to go about this, but in your case: when two people love each other very much, and one of those people happens to have a uterus, and the other… Both Bastard Kings: NOOOO! Not again! Wait! Uh, your leaves are looking very nice today! Very green! Please make him stop!

Did someone say "bastard plants on roller skates?"

(art by @spoopdeedoop)

Porridge you sneaky sneak!

He found them sitting in the hallway and sent them off on an adventure.

Porridge what have you done!

(art by @oftheflamingheart)

WBK: I bet my mulch I go farther than you! EBK: You’re on!

@cloudcover23 @fwufferson @nyx-dragon @spoopdeedoop @oftheflamingheart

#the two princes podcast #bastard kings #rumir #au

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callmeunstable · 5 years ago

Text

Angels & Demons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Characters: Reader

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic and I decided to place it in the universe of the greatest of the greatest. Geralt of Rivia! I don’t know where this will go 100%, but I know it’s going to be interesting. 😄 The reader starts of in our modern world and stumbles into the universe of The Witcher. I take my information mostly from the books and games but my fic is set based of the Netflix series so it’s basically beginners friendly.☺️

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Song:

“Two face, two face, yeah Black, white, left, right, yeah Up, down, all night, yeah Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train“

The music made her headphones vibrate. Probably loud enough for everyone around her to hear. If there was anyone. She was alone, hiking in the forest. It was what she always did when her anxiety got the best of her. The city is loud and dirty, squeezed full with people that never look around. Never realizing what was going on in the real world. At least what that’s what they called their reality. She always thought it was foolish to believe that they were alone in this big of a universe. Impossible.

Some stones here and there made her trip but she didn’t stop. She knew where she wanted to go and she didn’t intend to stop before she reached her destination. Kicking some branches out of the way and silently passing other hikers that greeted her with waving hand. She didn’t like the people in the city. All of them were selfish and money orientated. Of course, so tried to earn some money as a health center receptionist at her university but only to keep her head above water. Her focus was on her degree in medicine. She wanted to be able to afford a good life for her and her dad.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

She slowed down and let herself down on the ground. Pulling her knees to her stomach and breathing in the fresh air of the trees. The pollution caused by cars and all of these different companies laying behind her. Closing her eyes and trying not to fall asleep. Her insomnia got worse on hot summer days like these. The missing air conditioning in her dorm room made it even worse. Two hours have to be enough to function. She couldn’t wait for the autumn to start. For the leaves to fall. And the crowds to shrink

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out-“

Her music was cut short and her eyes gazed at the screen. The Battery was almost empty. With an annoyed groan, she took off her backpack searching for her power bank. The only good thing summer had for her was the power of the sun being strong enough to charge the battery of the device. Still having her headphones in her ears. Just in case someone stumbled across and wanted to have a conversation. The easiest way to ignore people without seeming too harsh.

Her glance went up, analyzing anything she was able to catch. The mountains far back on the horizon hugged by a thick layer of clouds that protected them from any unwanted attention. The distance colored them in a blueish gray tone that would capture a lot of people. At least the ones who noticed and wanted to have a peerless experience.

Some strange black orbs were able to sneak into her daydream making her once again face the consequences of her lack of sleep. Slowly blinking she took a look at her watch. 2 pm. Still early. She just wanted to close her eyes for a few more minutes. To help her find her lost energy. Just in case she set her alarm for an hour and put her phone in the pocket of her pants. - “Everybody said that I'm falling, uh Took another line, I'm calling, uh I'm so sick of the nonsense, uh I'ma dive into the mosh pit, uh I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gunshot could solve 'em Tell my friends I'm sorry though T-T-T-Tell my sins to go. And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

The tones of her favorite song woke her up. Her headphones got disconnected while she was asleep. With panic caused by the rush of adrenaline, she paused the music. Taking a deep breath and enjoying the silence again. Her arms were stretched above her head and a yawn made it through her mouth. Slowly gaining back clear vision she looked up again. But something was different. The dusk was slowly setting in.

She failed to set her alarm correctly. But it could be worse, she wasn’t doing anything special today anyway. As she was standing up she looked for the mountains in the far, however, her view was blocked. Big deciduous trees rose in front of her. Maybe she fell asleep in a different place? A little far more into the forest?

She got herself up and started walking her way back. At least what she thought was the right way. Somehow everything looked a little different. As different as forests could look like. The hiker trail was gone. Slowly breathing away her risen heartbeat she tried to focus. It’s just the forest how bad can it be? She always found her way out of it. She got lost a couple of times whilst exploring new paths but still. The air felt different. Not as heavy as she was used to. The trees were able to give her better oxygen as in the city but they just couldn’t hold all of the smog back.

Her feet automatically began to walk faster and faster as time went by and nothing seemed familiar anymore. She tried to find her starting point again but that seemed rather impossible right now. There was still a lot of light left but everything seemed strange.

She started to run. Jumping over the rocks and logs that blocked her way. As she was trying to bridge over the next log she wasn’t able to see the small lowering that led to her stumbling and rolling a couple of feet down. ‘Great, just great.’

Her thoughts were sarcastic, helping her to cope with the panic rising in her throat.

She looked up and let out a short scream. Some big bright yellow eyes were looking at her from above. They belonged to a child with pale blue skin. At least it looked like a child. She didn’t dare to move one muscle, staring at the creature in front of her.

It was barely as tall as a 9-year-old and it’s skin made it look like it was suffocating. A rough crown made out of sticks sat on top of its head. It wore some pants that had seen better days. They seemed to be made out of a cheap fabric that was ripped in several places. A green scarf was hanging from its neck.

“Hello.” It could speak. His mouth was stretched to wild smile.

“It’s been some time since an ol’ villager got lost in ma forest. That was some fall you had. Are you alright?” Still staring at the creature she tried to get her words together.

“Ehm…yes I tripped and fell. I don’t think I’m hurt. Thank you.”

“Good to hear. So what’s your name? I’m James.”

She hesitated. She didn’t even know if this creature was human. She couldn’t trust just anyone.

“Alva. My name is Alva.”

“Nice to meet you, Alva. So what did ya run away from? Thought the Drowners were after ya.” Drowners? What the fuck are Drowners?

“Yeah so. Excuse me the question but you seem rather … blue?” She was scared to ask something like this but this little creature seemed friendly.

“Oh that. Have you never seen a good ol’ Godling? Because that’s just what I am indeed.” The little boy laughed and seemed to be happy to have found some company.

“That is a Godling?”

“You never heard of us amazing Godling?”

The little blue boy explained to her that Godlings are woodland creatures dwelling in burrows and moss-covered hollow stumps on the outskirts of human settlements. They are deeply rooted in their home territory and perform acts of care and guardianship to those dwelling near their burrows. They watch over people as well as animals, but, shy creatures by nature, they try to do so while remaining unseen. Godlings are drawn to joy and innocence, and so delight in the company of children and usually only show themselves to the young.

“That’s why I am talking to ya. You seem fun. At least you look funny.” The boy started to walk around her while lifting her flannel and poking her skin.

‘He’s the one looking like a tall version of a smurf. What is he talking about?’ Her thought rushes inside of her head, making her regaining the feeling of dizziness.

“So you’re telling me you’re some kind of magical creature as in Harry Potter?” The girl tried to order her thoughts by sitting down and trying to hold on to the facts the little guy was telling her. Maybe she was in a coma? Or dreaming? Possibly. These are the only explanations she could come up with.

“I don’t know anyone called Harry Potter. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Ok, listen up. You’re probably just part of my imagination so why don’t we have some fun while it lasts?” As long as she sleeping and lucid dreaming she could at least make the best out of it.

“Yes, let’s have some fun! I love singing, I love music! I heard some strange melody coming from your direction. That’s how I found you.” James started to do some little happy jumps and clapping.

“Oh, you mean this?” Alva took her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him.

“What witchy device is that suppose to be?”

“No magic. Technology. Let me show you.” She pressed on some Icons and song from earlier continued.

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out.”

The little one danced to the music and showed off some rather random dance moves. Spinning in circles, jumping up and down and throwing his hands in the air.

Still thinking of her lucid dreaming she joined her little Godling friend. Turning the music louder and louder they enjoyed themselves.

Until a growl broke the peace of the music. But both James and Alva were to focused on having von dancing to notice some strange noises. They didn’t hear it, down to the moment when the girl got hit by something sharp, making her fall to the ground.

“Don’t stop dancing Alva, you’re no fun.” The Godling still didn’t realize that Alva was sitting on the ground covering her bleeding upper arm with her hand. Looking up she saw the scariest creature she could’ve imagined.

In front of her is standing a sickly blue or green colored human, with slime and sludge oozing out of every pore and the acrid stench of rot wafting off of it. No, that wasn’t a human.

“James! What the fuck is that?” The girl cried for help.

Finally objectifying the situation, James was hurrying towards the creature when it rose its arm for another attack.

Covering her face Alva started to realize that this is the moment she was going to die. You can’t get hurt in a dream. That is just not possible. Her arm was on fire, giving her a pain she never had felt in her entire life. This was real. Waiting for the next hit but it never came.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see only James in front of her. The monster not in sight.

“Where did he-?” Completely shocked by the situation and being unable to talk, Alva starred at the boy.

“Don’t underestimate the power of a Godling. Nothing comes between me and my forest. And since you stumbled in it you’re a part of it.” He looked down at her bleeding arm and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You need a healer. As much as I’d love to I can’t heal it.”

The words barely got to the girl. She was scared for her life. She never believed something like this could happen. But one thing she knew for sure. This wasn’t her reality.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm falling from Eden.”

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harleenfleck · 5 years ago

Text

“Don’t forget me” (Part. 1)

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader fic

Summary: you’re one of the few female clowns who working in Ha-ha’s, over time, you made a nice friendship with Arthur, and at the same time, you began to be very attracted to him, but you never had the valor and courage to confess your feelings. The things get complicated when he gets fired of the job and you knew nothing about him until the death of his mother. Being convinced by Randall and Gary, you three plan going to visit Arthur.

Warnings: No one in this one, maybe sexist language from one of the characters, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: Well, lasts days I watched “Joker” for the nth time and this idea was like a seed flowering in my head when I see the Randall’s Death Scene. I change some details of the movie, but I really had too much creativity in this story that I had to get carried away with. The lyrics to the song "Night Mime" by Melanie Martinez inspired me very much, actually, the name "Night Mime" appears in the story ✨🌌

In fact, the story was going to be a One-Shot, but Tumblr said no 🙄 because it was on the limit of words, so I decided to do it in 2 parts, even though my heart is asking me to do a third part.

I’m sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, English is not my native language.

I hope you like it!

...

Running, you’re late, and you don’t want be late in the work. You ran upstairs and take a big breath when you punch in the time clock.

You came to your job at Ha-ha's, a clown agency in Gotham, you really loved your job, you loved dressing up, putting on wigs, put exaggerate and shining makeup in your face and making people laugh, especially kids, made some balloons for them, dances and giving littles jokes with your magic wand.

“I can’t feel my legs” You whispered to yourself, and coughing too. You really got tired.

“What did a lady like you last night who can’t feel her legs?”

You heard a masculine laugh, you frowned.

That motherfucker, Randall, he was one of the horrible things in that beloved place. Randall was a man who disgust you. Repulsive, misogynistic and unfriendly. It seemed that everything inside him was on his outside too.

You almost returned the insult but someone interrupted you.

“What is wrong with you Randall?! She’s a lady! Leave her alone!”

Oh, one of your friends in Ha-has, Gary, that great guy, he’s was so nice with everyone here, especially with the few women who working in Chuckle Town, that’s how Randall referred to work sometimes.

“Thank you, Gary, you’re really a real man in this place, so respectful, a real gentleman. Others should learn from you”

Randall breathed a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a joke Y/N! Tiffany, the redhead clown, you know her? Well, she laughs a lot with my jokes, why you don’t-”

“Because I’m not Tiffany! And I don’t like your fucking jokes! You always-”

“Hey, hey, calm down!” Oh no, Hoyt, your boss, appeared “Can you two please leave this stupid conversation? Always you two fight for bullshit”

“Boss, I’m sorry, it was Randall’s fault, he always says disgusting things to me and the others women!”

“Please Y/N! Why you don’t go to prepare for the show of today? I remember you Night Mime will go a Birthday Party Today”

Night Mime was your clown name in the job, Night Mine is the clown you played in every show you gave.

“Yeah, sorry, I forget that. I’m so sorry” Don’t want to disturbed the place, you decide to shut up your own mouth. Maybe Randall won this battle, but definitely not the war.

You go to your locker, looking for your make up and your wig, when Hoyt called you again. “Oh, by the way Y/N, Carnival will accompany Night Mime today”

You stayed mute to that words.

“Carnival will accompany Night Mime today?” You asked again, but more timidly.

“Yeah, when he comes, I’ll tell him”.

“O-Okay…”

Everyone (Except Gary) mocked about that. You turned around quickly, because you blushed instantly.

Carnival will accompany Night Mime, which meant Arthur Fleck would be with you. Your heart beat so quickly. And you don’t feel your legs again.

When Hoyt leaves, some began to mock the situation.

“You heard that shit? Arthur surely will think he'll have a date with Y/N” a laugh you can heard. You get so annoyed and you wanted to punch their faces of that idiots who made fun with him.

What’s the fucking problem with Arthur? He's not like one of the other idiots here, he's different, so different from everyone

You thought, cause that’s the true. You don’t understand why everyone were so mean with Arthur. He was just a man who have a strange condition, but that it’s not his fault. Maybe him don’t have a lot of money, but nobody in Ha-Ha’s were rich. He was just a boy with bad luck.

When you choosing what wig wanted to use for the show, you heard the time clock. Turned your head, you looked at him.

Arthur was there, with his bag, his dark yellow jacket and his green eyes. His beautiful eyes.

Blushed again, you moved your head again to the wigs. When you started to work in Ha-ha’s, you met every clown, one by one. When was the turn of present you to Arthur, you were so fascinated with him, you don’t meet nobody like him before. And you wanted to start a friendship with him.

But it was harder than you expected.

Arthur was so shy, reserved, barely talking to his male coworkers, especially Gary and Randall, never with women, maybe a "Good morning" or "Hello," but only that. You saw how he related to others, but from your position, you noticed that Arthur's friendship with Randall was unwholesome. He always made fun of him, so was the joke, you noticed that something inside Arthur it became uncomfortable.

You came to him slowly, sometimes you would come and say "Good morning, Arthur", which sometimes left him amazed, he didn't expect anyone else to remember his name. You remembered his name, why would you remember him? Arthur wanted to get excited, but he knew you weren't interested in him.

Or that’s what he thought.

One day, you said something nice to him about his hair, but that make he exploded in laughs. You thought he was mocked of you, but when he passed you a little card and you read that little card, your heart broke.

“I’m so sorry Arthur, I don’t want to be rude with-“

“It’s- It’s… O… Oka…”

He still laughs, and you, without experience in that cases, you hugged him and massaging his back. That was the first and last hug you shared. Arthur for a moment he felted safe, he felted confidence, and he return the hug. This could have made you two closers, made a pretty friendship.

If Randall hadn't opened his mouth:

“Hey Artie, Is she your new girlfriend? The lady Y/N have an expensive taste, I don’t think you can give her what she wants”

That was the first time Randall disrespected you. You were speechless because you didn’t expect it from him. And Arthur felt so insecure back, he doesn’t laugh again, but he apart to you, ashamed. He didn't want them to think you were his girlfriend, because he didn't want them to mess with you like they did with him.

And now, he tried to avoid you. That sometimes hurt your feelings. And felted some stupid, you started to feel attracted to him. You don’t want a friendship anymore; you want to be the girlfriend of Arthur Fleck.

But now, that’s was impossible.

Thank you, Randall, thank you for ruining everything".

“Hey Arthur” The voice of Gary sends you to the present again “Hoyt wants to see you in his office, he has a job for you today”

“Uh?” you heard a deep breath of Arthur and his steps to the office. You looked everyone, and they started try to mocked in silence.

You can’t hold it more.

“What’s so fucking funny?” You talked, almost screamed to them. They thought you were angry for share with Arthur your afternoon and job. You were really angry at them for making fun of him.

When Arthur backs, you were so nervous, you wanted to see him, but you were very shy for do it.

“H-Hello Y/N”

His voice, he called you.

Your heart beat like it had a life of it's own. “Hi Arthur! How are you today?”

“Eh… Fine, I think I’m fine, thank you…A-and you?”

You could notice he was very nervous. You didn't know if he still wanted to avoid you or he was just more shy than usual. Maybe he was ashamed to have to interact with you after he took you away from him himself.

It didn't matter, you'd forgive him. It didn't matter what he did.

“Fine too, thank you Arthur. So, Hoyt tell you about the job of today?”

“Y-yeah, a birthday party”

“C’mon Arthur, sit with me, don’t be shy” Arthur was discussed with himself whether he should do it or not. Then he scolded himself, you were being kind to him, he should reciprocate you. He sat with you, shyly. “So, Arthur, you worked with a partner before?”

“N-no…”

“Oh… Well, there’s always a first time, I’m so glad to work with you today, we gonna be a great team you and me”

The enthusiasm you radiated left Arthur delighted, why did he try to avoid you all this time? You were very kind to him, he had to be thankful.

“I hope so… I-I have a pair of ideas f-for the show”

“Really? Tell me Arthur”

You and him spent at least two hours preparing the show, perfecting it. The others at Ha-ha's, who waited a moment to mock him, just got tired of waiting. Even one who else realized you two made a good duo.

After prepared the show, it was the time to convert you in Carnival and Night Mime. You put on a purple jumper with a yellow blouse, big black and golden clown shoes and white gloves. You decide to use a two colors wig, turquoise and black, with a purple beret. Arthur get prepared for convert in Carnival too. He put his clown make up and his very cute clown suit.

You don’t have idea how to use your makeup today. Arthur noticed that, and he confused it a little.

“You don’t have one only make-up?”

You refused, making noises with your throat “I always change my makeup, but I don’t have inspiration today…”

“C-can I help you with y-your makeup?”

He really does it for you? You felted you going to melt for his tenderness.

“…That’s sounds great Arthur! Please, just don’t make me ugly”

“That’s impossible…” He whispered, but you heard him anyway. Blushed again.

Arthur started to makeup your face, something like the Carnival’s makeup but in pastel colors, more feminine and putting a heart in your nose instead a circle.

“That’s so beautiful Arthur!” You said very happy as you looked at yourself with your little mirror.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

“Thank you, Y/N ...”

“No, thank you Arthur… Well, let’s go, it’s show time!”

You two advised Hoyt of your parting and went to the birthday party. It was the party of a little boy who would be 8 years old. The party wouldn't have been the same without the clowns. They cheered the place, told jokes that made even the adults laugh, played with the kids, Night Mime gave to the children a mime show, Carnival inflated balloons and made animals of those balloons, and finally Night Mime danced a song from Carnival's Ukulele.

When the party was over and they got their paycheck, you thought you'd invite Arthur to dinner at a coffee shop.

“I told you Arthur! That was amazing!” You almost cried to Arthur; he only could smile. You thought how unique two clowns should look in a coffee shop eating desserts and drinking sodas.

“Yeah, you’re right Y/N… I, I really like to work with you”

“Me too! Carnival and Night Mime really like each other, I hope they work together again”

“I hope it too…” Arthur drink to his soda. You looked him again. How you thanked to Hoyt for giving you the "penalty" to work with Arthur, you enjoyed every second.

“Arthur”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You think we just… Mmhh…”

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to go to eat again with me?”

Arthur blinked to make sure it wasn't a joke you were telling him. Were you asking him to both come out again? Arthur could only feel that the butterflies in his stomach fluttered uncontrolled.

“Oh… Y/N, I, I love it, I love spend the time with you”

Arthur realized that maybe the following words he said would be misunderstood. Maybe you'd misunderstand him and get mad with him, maybe you'd be so angry that you'd leave him alone there.

But instead, you smiled at him.

“Arthur. Yeah, we must to go out again. Maybe the cinema next time?”

“Sure, I love movies”

Arthur smiled, were you asking him out on a date? Wait, you two were dating as a couple or friends? He chases the second option; it was the most probability.

And so, that’s was your plan, but at first only. You wanted things to be slowly given. You wanted him to succumb too to the same feelings you were trapped in.

But he was already trapped in those feelings too, but he was less brave.

…

The days went too fast, maybe it was already weeks, or months, but you and Arthur were best friends. Gradually you knew better that man in a yellow jacket who had the noblest soul in the world, knew his flaws, his qualities, every little detail of him in his life. And you also let him into your life, he would soon know what your favorite perfume was and that one of your favorite flowers was lilies.

Your feelings also increased too much; you felt your heart inflated as much as a balloon when you saw him, that one of those day you would fly out the window.

Arthur felt the same way about you. He loved the scent of your hair, the color of your eyes, your joy, your spontaneity. Even inside his mind he played that Carnival was in love with Night Mime too.

But again, his insecurities assured him that all those games were absurd, that you were his friend. You only saw him that way. He was said to himself you would find someone special soon, and that he should let you be happy with that someone.

But soon, things were going to change, and very badly.

One day, an animated Arthur told you he was going to a job at a music store, you wished him luck and enjoyed the show. When you were in your apartment, eating a couple of cookies, the phone was ringing. You ran to it and responded, it was Arthur, crying.

“Honey! What happened?! Are you okay?!”

“I-I got jumped Y/N, I got jumped for a bunch of kids…” His broken voice make you cry too. But you did it in silence, just for not worry him “It’s so stupid…”

“No Artie, that’s not stupid. Are you in home? You don’t wanna I go to your apartment?”

“No Y/N, it’s late, I don’t want you get assault too. W-we can talk about it tomorrow in the work”

“Okay darling… Are you okay, Artie? They didn’t hurt you?”

“…No, don’t worry for me, I’m fine…”

“Artie, I’m so sorry to hear this… Don’t worry, you can tell me everything tomorrow, right?”

“Right… Hey Y/N… Thank you, thank you so much for be my friend…”

You wiped your tear from your cheek. You talked a little more on the phone until he said the dream was beating him. You knew how bad Arthur was financially, you counted your bucks, and fortunately you had extra money. You could help Arthur with that.

…

“Randall… I’m not supposed to have a gun”

Randall had given Arthur a gun, under the pretext that he could defend himself a little.

“Don’t sweat it, Art. No one has to know, and you can pay me back some other time. You know you’re my boy”

Arthur saw the gun inside the paper bag again. He started laughing nervously. Maybe Randall was right, maybe he needed something like that to defend himself against those who wanted to hurt him.

“Hey Arthur, another thing. Don’t tell about this to your friend, Y/N”

Arthur, who was smiling, stopped doing it when Randall asked him that. “Why not?”

“…Because she is a woman, women don’t understand about guns and these things, that’s secret was between you and me, right?”

“Okay..." Arthur kept the gun in his locker, just then, you showed up. And you looked at his back. And the contusion in his scapula.

“Arthur”

Arthur was shocked with your voice. He feared you'd find him with the gun in his hands, but unfortunately, you couldn't see the paper bag. You could only see that purple stain on his back.

Randall left there, he knew very well when you were present, he wasn't welcome. But you didn't even care about Randall's presence. You come up to Arthur and made him sit on the seat, you sat down too.

You couldn't find the words to express yourself.

“Arthur, why you lied to me?” You asked him in a brittle voice, you didn't cry just because you were at Ha-ha's.

“What? I don’t lie to you”

“You did it! You said you hadn't been hurt when you were assaulted, and the first thing I see is that huge blow on your back, Arthur."

Arthur was embarrassed. What you were saying was true. He had lied to you, that wasn't something you could easily forgive.

“I-I don’t want to worried you, Y/N, I-”

“Well, now I’m double worry for you, because you’re hurt Arthur, they hurt you…”

Arthur looked at the ground, ashamed so many things, was ashamed that you saw him shirtless, that you saw the blows to his body, he was ashamed to have lied to you, he was ashamed to had worried you.

“I-I’m so sorry Y/N, I really don’t want to worried you. I’m sorry to lied you Y/N, I’m sorry” He hugged you, hiding his face on your shoulder, hoping that his condition would not betray him at that moment. You hugged him, you honestly were a little disappointed with him because he hid the truth from you, but Arthur did it so you wouldn't worry. He wouldn't do it with other intentions.

Randall only watched you from afar, disliked the scene, how come someone was able to hug Arthur?

“Arthur” Gary appears again “Hoyt wants to see you in his office”

You stopped hugging him so he could go with Hoyt, Arthur put on his white shirt and went to the office.

“Hey Gary” Randall opened his mouth “Do you people call it miniature golf or is just golf to you?”

Some clowns started to laugh; Gary feel embarrassed again.

You get mad, really mad, why the people love to mess with those who were not to blame for their circumstances?

“So fucking funny Randall, did you tell to your wife that joke?” You looked at him “Oh yeah, you don’t have nobody to love, and nobody loves you”

"Hey Y/N, when will you and Arthur's wedding be? Because I can’t wait, I must to rent a suit for that event"

They made fun of you again, but not Randall, you weren't going to win this time.

"Soon Randall, very soon, but don't worry, you're not going to be invited, and I don't think any suit of all Gotham fits on you"

The laughter was heard all over the room, even Gary tried not to laugh, but was impossible. Randall was clearly angry, you smiled maliciously.

But all the fun for you ended when you see Arthur leaving the office, and leaving the building. Something bad happened. In the middle of the laughs, you got up and went after him. You came down the stairs.

You left the building and got to see Arthur walk into an alley. You ran after him. And you saw the image of Arthur kicking a few garbage bags. You've never seen him like this before, so angry, mad and furious.

Arthur falls to grown, feeling some stupid, but he really felted so frustrated.

“A-Arthur?”

He gets dumbfounded and turned surprised at you when he was crying and hugging his legs on the floor.

“Y/N? What you’re doing here?”

“I see you leave the job, what happened?” Despite the bad smell, you sat next to him. And then, you heard him, you never heard his voice full of angry and sadness at the same time.

"Hoyt said he was going to take it from my check the sign that those who assaulted me destroyed, he thinks I kept it, why would I keep his sign, Y/N? He said he didn't think I was assaulted for the sign, and I need the money, I need the money for my mother… He also said that... That many at work are not comfortable with me, they think I’m a freak, a weird. Y/N, is that true? I’m a freak? You feel uncomfortable with me?"

Arthur's voice nearly broke when he asked you that.

And now, it’s was your turn to get mad too.

“Arthur, what the fuck? Why Hoyt say that bullshit?”

“M-maybe it’s true”

How they dare to hurt Arthur?

“Well he’s is fucking wrong! I don’t think you’re a freak, I think you’re just a human” You took a pair of tufts of his hair “You don’t make me uncomfortable, you’re my best friend darling, please Arthur, believe in that, right?”

“R-right…” You surrounded him with your arms one more time. But that injustice to him wasn't going to look like that.

A little while later, you went to Hoyt’s office

“Can I help you, Y/N?” He said without looking you.

A loud noise made he stops to read some letters. It was your hand with a bunch of dollars.

“For your fucking sign. By the way, he’s not a freak”

He looked at you, and he didn't know if it was the way you spoke him or he'd never seen anyone defend Arthur the way you did.

He only took the bunch and counts the money.

“It’s okay…You can go”

And you leave the place.

…

That morning you woke up, you felt something bad was going to happen. Your instinct was telling you.

In Ha-ha’s, Arthur mentioned to you he was going to a children's hospital.

"Night Mime could come with you" You suggested, you could make back that fantastic duo, in fact, when you both worked together, they even tipped them for yourselves, you kept a little and with the rest you were going to eat at some small restaurant.

"That's a great idea, let me ask to Hoyt" Arthur went to Hoyt's office excitedly. That day, you felt the need to stand by him, to protect him.

Arthur backs with a disappointed face.

“And? What Hoyt says?”

“He said no”

“Oh…”

You also got disappointed, you really wanted to be with him that day.

“It’s okay, I’ll be alright”

“Yeah, you’re going into a hospital, a children’s hospital, nothing bad gonna happen”

He smiled at you. He prepares himself to convert in Carnival Clown. Before he let the place, you wish him good luck. And you don’t know this was the last time you’ll see Arthur in a lot of time.

The next day, you went to Ha-ha's in the afternoon as you had a little event at a school. You didn't know everything that was going on in the city until you got here. Hoyt said the school had canceled the clown show.

“Why? Why they cancelled the show?”

“You didn’t know Y/N? for the fucking killer clown”

The words "Killer Clown" took you by surprise.

“KILLER CLOWN?! What the…? What happened?”

“Y/N! Right here!” One of the clowns pass you a newspaper, you read the notice. A killer clown kills three rich guys in the subway.

“Oh my… What horrible” You said with total honestly. And you notice to Randall was so very nervous. You slowly went to where Gary was sitting.

“Gary” You whispered to him “What happened to Randall? I very enjoy the show, but I want to know why he’s like this?

In that moment, Gary saw you with some concern and preoccupation.

“Oh Y/N, a lot of things happened in the morning”

“What?”

“This… Well, it’s about Arthur”

You worried instantly, because Gary's face said a lot of things and at the same time nothing.

“Arthur? Arthur It’s okay?”

“Y/N… Arthur bring a gun to the children’s hospital; they warned to Hoyt about it and he fired Arthur”

Your mind clouded at that instant, your eyes became small, trying to understand all the information exposed to you in that little sentence your co-worker told you.

Arthur with a gun? Take it to a children's hospital? Arthur getting fired from Ha-ha's?

“…And today, he said the gun was Randall’s in front everything, and Arthur owed money to Randall from that gun”

As if it wasn't too much information to process the one you received first.

“What… What the fucking hell?”

Your mind processed everything, absolutely everything. Why would Arthur carry a gun? He himself had told you before that he could not take one, would Randall have forced or insisted until he had accepted? That’s probability, and now again thank to Randall, Arthur was out of job.

Randall deserved the little hell in he was in that moment.

…

You waited to the night, use you telephone and called to Arthur. You hoping he response the call.

You called him for three times, in the third time, he answered.

“Who is this?”

“Art… It’s me, Y/N, are you okay Artie?”

“Hey Y/N, I’m fine, I’m really fine, thank you, and you?”

You noticed that voice wasn't Arthur's. You knew it was him, but not at the same time. He sounded so different, like he was someone else, a stranger, not the Artie you knew, the Arthur who was your best friend.

“…Worry Artie… Gary told me everything about the morning in the job, it’s true about the gun, Arthur? it’s true Randall gave it to you?"

He didn't answer for a few seconds. You even though the phone was failing.

“Why you want to know that?”

You got frozen when you heard that, why Arthur was talking to you like that?

"Because I care about you, why you didn't tell me Randall gave you a gun? You know Randall is an asshole. I can, I can tell Hoyt you explained to me that the gun was a toy, I can get one just like it, and we could get rid of the real gun, we can…"

You were looking for a plan A, a plan B, a plan C, possibly a plan for every letter of the alphabet, something you could help Arthur with it, because he didn't deserve to be fired, you could help him, you wanted to help him. Your love for him was so big that maybe you could let forgive him that he's hidden things from you, he should keep his own secrets, right? But you really wanted to help him.

“It’s okay Y/N, I don’t need that job anymore, everyone there was awful with me, don’t need to support they shit. Don’t fix my mistakes, please”

Frozen, again.

And what did he mean by that they were all awful to him? He was forgetting you and Gary?

“Arthur… A-Are you really okay?”

“You don’t listen me? I told you, I’m fine, really fine, thank you, I guess”

But what the fuck was going on with Arthur? Maybe he was irritated and upset about Ha-ha's and the incident, but it was no reason to treat you so indifferent. It was much worse than when he was trying to avoid you at Ha-ha's for the first time, only that time it was for shyness. Now it looked like you really bothered him.

“I’m sorry Arthur, I just… Can I see you soon Artie? In your apartment? I can bring some candies and chips, what you think?”

Maybe you could make better his days, maybe it was time to tell the truth, to tell how you really felt about him.

But what you never expected of him was a rejection. Or at least something like that.

“I'll call you. Bye"

He hung up the phone, you said his name twice to make sure it wasn't. But yes, he hung up on you, ending the call.

You tried to understand him for the first few seconds, but soon your blouse and hands would start to soak in your tears.

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