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twoidiotwriters1 · 27 days ago

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Chapter 4. The Artist

Summary: If he does not leave his hiding spot willingly and upfront, you will squeeze in sideways to reach him. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,446 Listen to: Growing Sideways -by Noah Kahan A/N: Reblog or comment, pls! -Danny

"May I inquire about your family, then?" Benedict stands with both hands behind his back. "Unless you consider it none of my business..."

You smile at his teasing. "Depends on what you wish to know."

"Silly nothings," he leans sideways on the stone bannister. "If you're having fun in London... Why are you in London when you could be in further interesting places..."

"You don't think London is interesting?"

He tilts his head a moment, narrowing his eyes. "I think it's old and damp."

"On both we agree. Although I do not see its age as a bad thing."

"And the dampness?"

"That I do hate," you say with a sheepish smile, "But I had to make this visit nonetheless, I would've never left Genovia on my own, so my family came to support me. I should've started my rounds at social events seven years ago when I debuted."

"You've been postponing this for seven years?" He can't tell if this amuses, or rattles him. "Good lord... I must admit it is somewhat heartening, that a royal admits they dislike these... events. Makes me feel less of an oddity."

"You are a bit odd if you dislike balls," you push a strand of hair away from your delicate brow. "I long for a gathering where I can be myself without bringing my usual mishaps into it. A man such as yourself, handsome, social, and intelligent, never lacks approval."

"Yes, well, that is the problem," he scowls at a point in the distance. "Too many people claiming to like me when they don't even know me. The debutants, most of all. They search for a husband in me, which I'm not. I don't think I'll ever be one."

"A bachelor who wishes to be noticed instead of admired?" You raise a brow. "That speaks of depth. Lady Danbury said you like art, are you an artist yourself?"

Benedict's eye twitches before he adopts a fake smile. "Your Royal Highness, my duty tonight is to entertain you, so allow me to steer us towards our next activity—A stroll around the garden."

"Have I reached an uncomfortable topic of conversation?" You ask bluntly.

"Not at all," he guides you to the steps that lead down to the open grounds. "I don't wish to bore you with a story that has no substance."

"Now I'm more curious," you reply playfully, your gaze on him even as you walk down the steps.

"I want to keep my private life private if you don't mind," he steers you in the direction of a bush of big, red roses.

"And what shall we discuss, the weather?" You steer to the other side of the path to examine the lavender.

"Your Royal Highness wanted to know more about my family," he points out, keeping a respectful distance two steps behind you. "I'd be happy to talk of each and every member of my bloodline if you wish. In fact, I feel obliged to let you know my younger sister, Hyacinth, yearns for a chance to meet you."

"I would be delighted to meet her, is she in attendance?" You respond without looking away from the flowers.

"She's thirteen, but so clever she could surpass any debutante in conversation," he informs you, discretely pulling your skirt out of the bushes with his foot. "She's a precocious little thing."

"And yet not a single hint of chastisement in that declaration," you smile at the daisies. "You're quite proud she is that way."

"Well, you see your sister grow into a lady that will not be swept off her feet by any regular rake, and you can't help but rejoice in it, especially when you're a... man yourself." He stumbles over his words before calling himself a rake.

You notice there are telltales in Benedict's behaviour that indicate he's trying his best to be plain, which bugs you. You wish to speak with the man who stumbled upon you at Hyde Park and teased you like a friend, not this curated version of him. If he does not leave his hiding spot willingly and upfront, you will squeeze in sideways to reach him.

"You have paint on your hand." You say as casually as possible. Benedict looks down in alarm and you laugh. "Ah-ha! You are an artist!"

"You—" he purses his lips before he can blurt out affront. "I'm not! I thought I'd touched something freshly painted!"

"Oh, yes, that is a common occurrence, fresh paint is everywhere," you reply sarcastically. "You're an artist, Mr Bridgerton. I'm willing to be you own a sketchbook. Are you good at drawing with coal?"

"Charcoal," he corrects unable to stop himself. "I burned that wretched thing a year ago. Please—"

"I keep a diary," you continue steadily, "and I draw the herbs and flowers I find in my trips, but I'm not good at it."

"I'm not a teacher," Benedict says promptly, his feet itching to turn away from the conversation.

"You will be now," you give him no chance to refuse, your expression adopting a royal severity you've learned to master thanks to your mother. "You'll be here on Monday at noon to discuss our lessons."

"Are you out of your wits?" His personality slips out as he glares at you. "Or is this your way of punishing me for my impertinence?"

"Neither," you say without reacting to his tone. "I want your company for this season because I find you..." You push your shoulders back and squint as if trying to read him. "Engaging. Your sister Miss Hyacinth is invited, too. I'll write to her in the morning. Now, let us return to the ballroom."

Benedict watches you retreat, barely able to keep his animosity under control.

When the ball ends you reunite with your sister, excusing yourselves for the night and walking together to your chambers.

"Who was that gentleman you clung to the whole evening?"

"I did not cling, he wouldn't stand close enough for me to do so," you grumble.

"But who was he?" Marie insists.

"My new art teacher," you disclose proudly. "He'll come back this Monday."

"Art teacher?" Marie gives you a look. "Since when do you draw?"

"If I knew how to draw, I wouldn't need a teacher, would I?"

"There's something you're not telling me." Your sister sees right through you nonchalant act.

"Let us get to my room first," you grab her hand and pull her forward.

You kick off your shoes and huddle up on the lounging chair, where she tells you about the dashing gentlemen she conversed with and the debutantes she befriended, the funny incident one of your brothers suffered with a redheaded lady, and how she's made plans for the week ahead.

You listen, and when it's your turn to speak, you don't know where to start. "Well... Yesterday while everyone visited the castle grounds, I went to Hyde Park for a stroll—"

"Y/N!"

"Nothing happened!" You say defensively. "I had a lovely time. This gentleman approached me and initiated a conversation, which I quite enjoyed." You blush. "I didn't know he'd be here tonight, but it's a good thing he was. I do not have kindred spirits in this particular side of London 'cept for him, it seems."

"Oh, you've barely left the castle at all!" Marie huffs stubbornly.

"I'm not completely opposed to meeting more people even if we don't fit," you shrug, brushing off the wrinkles on your dress. Benedict feels like a comfortable risk, something that your parents can see as progress without having to put yourself out there in a real way. "I simply want to secure this acquaintanship."

"Because...?" Your sister prompts, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Because he's nice to look at," you reply without matching her energy, "is that what you want me to say?"

Marie rolls her eyes. "Oh, you'll get your sense of humour back soon enough, so I won't take your rudeness to heart. All I ask of you is that you tell me if this becomes something else... or if he's open to one-night encounters with his student's sister," she winks at you and gets up.

You toss a small cushion at her and she exits the room laughing. Your smile fades as soon as she's out and you slump on the chair, taking off the pins on your hair one by one and tossing them to the table in front of you.

All these effort—you think grumpily as your hair cascades down your shoulders—and no one looked at me... not like he did in the park.

Benedict is an easy target, something to keep yourself busy and ignore all the ways you cannot come out of your shell as a grown woman. Vexing him is better than embarrassing yourself in front of large groups three times a day.

He's getting paid for all the trouble, so really, what is there to complain about? This will be the best season of his life.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@babypink224221 @Booknerdlife @djsporks @lght-roastcoffee @marii-ren @mythical-goth @omgsuperstarg @creepytoes88 @sarahskywalker-amidala @23victoria @shadowolf993 @squirreljoe @syxtiramishuui @stargirl-mayaa

#twoidiots writing #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton netflix #Bridgerton x Princess Diaries crossover #TPD fic #bridgerton

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yilisbookclub · 1 year ago

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"Can't Hurt Me" is a true story written by David Goggins, who used to be a Navy SEAL and a long runner. He talks about his tough childhood with racism, not having much money, and being treated badly. But he didn't give up. He became one of the best long distance runners in the world.

The book is based on Goggins' "40% Rule." This means when you feel like you can't do more, you're really just using 40% of your power. Goggins wants us to go beyond what we think we can do and be okay with feeling uncomfortable because that's how we get better.

What's cool about the book is that it's not just words. There are things to do, like tests about yourself and challenges that make you step out of your comfort zone. Goggins tells us we need to take control of our lives and work really hard to reach our goals, even if things are tough.

People really like this book because it's honest and it makes you want to be better. It gives good ideas about how to grow and do well in life, even when things are hard. It's so good that a lot of people want to read it to get inspired and reach their goals.

Some lessons you can learn from this book:

Don't run away from things that scare you. Face them to become stronger.

Difficulties make you tougher. Embrace them instead of avoiding them.

Keep going even when things get tough. Persistence helps you achieve your goals.

Your mind can make you go farther than you think. Train it to be strong.

Stop making excuses for not doing things. Take responsibility for your actions.

Aim high and set challenging goals. They'll push you to do your best.

Your body and mind can handle more than you believe. Push yourself past your limits.

Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. This is where growth happens.

Be around people who support and challenge you to be better.

No matter how tough things get, don't give up. Keep fighting for your dreams.

#david goggins #bookstagram #book review #bookish #bookshelf #bookaddict #new books #book quotes #books #books & libraries #books and reading #currently reading #reading list #booklover

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theamityelf · 7 months ago

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I keep thinking about Chapter 3 of the mini thh cast, since you mentioned that Nagito asked Hajime to take care of Makoto and dodged a bullet with Mikan... I can't help but wonder what if he didn't ask that? What if Makoto was in Mikan's care? Would she kill him, thus getting Nagito executed? But wouldn't that be too obvious, since she was taking care of him? Wouldn't it be super suspicious if he died?

So then what would she do with him? Try to cause him despair? Hurt him but not kill him? Would that fuel Nagito's suspicions of her, where Makoto tells him what happened (or at least the gist, not any details about memory recovery), and he starts hating her because she hurt his little guy? Or Makoto refuses to spill what happened (because he's afraid of exposing her memory recovery and making questions pop up), but Nagito can tell something is off, and that's part of why he starts to suspect Mikan, too? I feel like there could be fascinating Nagito & Mikan & Makoto interactions from this...

Or maybe Mikan tries to find a way to kill Makoto? Like pretending he's been kidnapped? Only to kill him later? Maybe?

I just can't get the thought of Chapter 3 happening with Mikan having a little mini Makoto during all of it. It would, undoubtedly, be a mess.

I'm glad you asked, because I was actually thinking about that, too. First of all, even if Hajime did have Makoto, Mikan could still access him while Hajime is sleeping. In the seconds or minutes before those two separate scenes where Mikan climbs on top of Hajime while he's sleeping, she could abduct or harm Makoto without any interference.

I'm imagining a situation where, instead of using "falling asleep on top of Hajime" as an alibi, when she sneaks into Hajime's cabin, she sedates Hajime so he won't interrupt her, then grabs Makoto from where he's sleeping– in the same general space as, but with a respectful distance from, Kyoko.

Makoto wakes up with Mikan's hand wrapped around his whole body and her other hand caressing his cheek with her forefinger.

"Wakey wakey," she giggles.

"Mikan?"

"Did you have a nice rest? After all that excitement with Nagito, it seems like you and I have barely had time to talk." She's still petting his cheek with a finger. "I'd like to continue our conversation from before. You don't remember it, but that's okay. You can just listen. Don't worry– we won't be interrupted."

Kyoko has woken up by this point. She tries to discreetly sneak away from her little bed, but Mikan swats her onto the floor and puts her foot on top of her. Threatening, maybe injuring, but not killing.

"Mikan, what are you doing?!" Makoto asks.

"Look at you. So tiny, you fit in one hand. And in comparison, my beloved is everywhere. I can taste my beloved in the air I breathe. This will be a beautiful place to die, don't you think? But first..." She takes out a needle small enough for a tiny person. "My best despair for the one who took my beloved from me."

She sedates him, and he wakes up in any of the following situations or something similar:

Inside the mini-fridge in Nagito's cabin. (She has access to his key, since she's the one who changed him into the hospital gown.) Because Makoto's tiny, there's enough air that he won't suffocate during the investigation and trial time, if he's in there for that long. The cold is a significant threat to his life, but it's just short of freeze-to-death temperature, depending on how long he spends there. He's in some kind of uncomfortable position in addition to being cold– maybe there's an overturned dish on top of him, placing just enough weight on his back that he's constantly being a little bit crushed, or maybe he's under a glass, or maybe he's taped to the wall or dangling upside down (the last of which I can only imagine is really dangerous for his health). Kyoko is in there with him, also drugged, probably with a broken leg or something from being stepped on. Nagito finds them because his cabin key was on top of his jacket instead of in his pocket, when he woke up, so he knew where to look.

Pinned to a cork board with pins pierced perfectly through the gaps between his ulna and radius and his tibia and fibula, rendering him painfully immobilized. In this situation, Kyoko is not with him. Maybe Mikan has drugged her with something heavy enough that she doesn't remember anything she saw or heard immediately before, so Hajime just finds her in her regular spot, heavily drugged and physically injured, with Makoto missing. Once again, Nagito has to find Makoto. Hajime probably offers to help, since from his perspective, he's the one who lost him, but Nagito urges him to focus on investigating. (Nagito already knows who did it from very early on, so he has time to break away and look for his poor kouhai.)

Floating on an ice cube in a cup of water. He can't reach the top of the cup, so once the ice melts, he has to keep himself afloat to avoid drowning. This could be literally anywhere. In this situation, he's not as hurt when Nagito finds him as in the previous two; he's just exhausted. Although, maybe it's a glass of soda or something other than water. I have to imagine that being a tiny person in a glass of soda would feel bad on the skin; his skin would be proportionally thinner, and it's very acidic. And again, Kyoko's just heavily sedated and left with Hajime.

She would want to hearken to the crushed-to-death execution, since it's what killed Junko and what should have killed him, but the only self-sustaining thing I can think of for that, that wouldn't just kill him, is putting him between books in the library, which feels kind of impersonal? Idk. Maybe under the insole in her shoe, if she's willing to carefully avoid actually stepping on him with that foot. Her seeming to have a weird limp would be a good way for Nagito to guess where Makoto is, but the move itself just seems pretty weird, lol.

I'm not actually suggesting this, but I will say an actual Danganronpa game might have a gag where after the trial Nagito asks what she did with Makoto and she either has him in her bra or says something that seems to imply he's in her bra but actually he's, like, wrapped up in a bandage somewhere on her person. Either way, another situation where the discomfort is of the slowly-getting-crushed variety. And also temperature.

Okay so stay with me here. Or actually, stay with me if you're okay with this one being really grim compared to the other ones; if not, go ahead and skip this bullet point. Okay, so it's the fridge situation again, except the temperature is definitely going to kill him if he doesn't do something. Kyoko isn't there. But all of the kouhais Mikan has been taking care of are dead in there, in a pile, and the only way for Makoto to stay warm is by crawling under them.

He's in Mikan's cabin, taped down with a needle full of some chemical that will make him sick or feel pain. Nagito figures out that he's in there but can't get him out until after the trial, at which point he breaks the door to get in, because Mikan refused to give him the key before her execution and Monokuma refuses to just let him in like he usually does. Getting to launch an assault on Mikan's door would probably be pretty cathartic, after Mikan's little "lol no one loves you" moment after the trial, which will definitely inform how much he throws himself into Makoto's recovery.

All of this assumes that the senpais are allowed a grace period to find their kouhai, so long as the kouhai is still alive, before they're counted as having lost them and being punished accordingly.

If Nagito finds him before the trial, there would be a consoling moment where Makoto is falling over himself trying to explain what happened and who did this to him, and Nagito calms him down, bandages any major injuries, and reassures him that he knows it was Mikan and she won't get away with it. He's speaking pretty calmly, but he is shaking with anger, enough so that he has to pause and take a deep breath in order to keep bandaging him. He's never felt this kind of protective anger before.

He's even angrier knowing that Mikan is the one who would normally be trusted to take care of Makoto's injuries. He gently hides Makoto so that Mikan won't find out he found him, and he maintains his cold, passive aggressive treatment of her until the truth comes out, because not to do so would ruin the game, and he's going to continue to care about the game until next chapter.

The fun thing about speculating as to what Mikan might do to him (if "fun" is the right word, lol) is that right after this case, Nagito finds out about the Ultimate Hope thing, so the hard swing from lowkey torture to lowkey worship is a thing.

There's definitely some gap in time between Nagito just being worried about his kouhai because he cares about him (and having to deal with the fact that he's not okay with Mikan doing this to Makoto and can't really convince himself that he would've been okay with it if she'd done it for hope instead of despair), and Nagito finding out Makoto's the Ultimate Hope and no longer having to engage with the idea of caring about someone for their own sake.

(Sorry if I didn't fully answer your question. If there's a part you want me to focus on, you can ask again!)

(Mini THH AU Masterlist)

#danganronpa #mini thh au #mikan tsumiki #makoto naegi #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #kyoko kirigiri

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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WIBTA for not getting my coworkers holiday gifts?

Sorry in advance for the long ask, I have adhd so I'm not always great at figuring out what's relevant to the topic lmao. I (29M) have been working at my current workplace since I graduated college (so ~7 years). For the first few years I worked pretty much alone. I have a close working relationship with my supervisors, and I have a lot of interns filter through, but I was the only person at my 'level' of work, if that makes sense. I would write cards for my supervisors, and with my interns I would do something like bake cookies for everyone, or take them all out for dinner (to clarify I always have at minimum 3-4 interns, I wasn't just taking someone I was in charge of out for a one on one dinner lmao).

Last year, four more people were hired who work in the same position/level as me (early 20s-mid 30s, all F). I get along with them alright as coworkers, but they are all much closer with each other than I am with them. They didn't know eachother before starting here, but I make a lot of effort keeping distance between my work and personal life, vs they have all become friends outside of work. I also have enough issues with them that I wouldn't want to be friends with them outside of work (very condensed version is that I am openly aroace and they are Weird about it). I am firm about keeping boundaries/distance though and that makes it easier to deal with them.

Again, we work together really well when we're actually talking about work-- it's just the non-work stuff that I don't really vibe with. Also, their level of friendship is very normal in our workplace/field, since we are in a very very rural area where the tiny little town we're in is almost entirely centered around the one industry/company that we're at. The fact that I'm not friends outside of work with my coworkers gives me a reputation for being weird/cold (but I don't care if I seem weird as long as it means I can keep some distance).

Last year, we all talked about Xmas gifts, and decided that we wouldn't get each other anything, but rather just pitch in for some wine and fancy pastries for a mini office party. It was nice, except then right before Christmas I found a gift on my desk from one of them (like, a 50$ gift, which is quite expensive considering how much we make). I asked her about it, saying I appreciated it but didn't have anything since we agreed not to get eachother gifts. She said something like she didn't expect anything, just wanted to get me something. I thanked her and but was uncomfortable enough that I ended up giving the thing to a friend of mine (who knew it was a re-gift and was happy to have it lol). I didn't plan to get anything, except then I found out that the other three had all consequently gotten eachother and me gifts as a result of her. I talked to the one coworker I get along best with, and she agreed with me that it would now be rude to not give anything in return, so I just got everyone relatively impersonal gifts (books).

However, finances are tight this year for me (coworkers don't know that) due to some medical bills. We are doing an office cookie exchange, and again agreed not to get each other gifts, but one of them (same one who started this last year) hinted that she had 'a little something' for each of us anyways, but no need to reciprocate.

If it's relevant, we are in the US, all white, and all varying degrees of atheist/agnostic/ex-christian.

No idea if this will even get out of the queue before Xmas lol but: WIBTA if i stuck to our agreement to not get my coworkers Christmas gifts, even if they get me gifts anyways?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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themultifandomgal · 1 year ago

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Matt Casey x reader

What if Casey is dating Andy Dardens little sister who comes back to Chicago to replace gabby Dawson when she left Chicago.

Y/n had to leave Chicago to take care of her two nephews Griffin and Ben. She and Casey decided to have a long distance relationship but he visit his girlfriend as much as he can do.

It is the Stellaride wedding and y/n are coming back to Chicago to be there for her best friend and for Severide who is like a brother to her. Y/n has some news for everyone that she tells them about before the wedding.

Y/n is moving back to Chicago with her two nephews and she can finally take care of them in there home city.

Casey is gonna propose to his girlfriend in the evening of the wedding when they are alone. But there is one problem.

Gabby shows up at the firehouse the day before the wedding. Casey doesn’t care that his ex wife is in town and that she will be at the wedding.

But y/n feels uncomfortable when gabby is in Chicago seven if they used to be best friends and partners on Ambo 61 before Leslie Shay started at firehouse 51.

Y/n are best friend with Sylvie Brett and they where partners on Ambo 61 before she moved to Portland.

Based on last episode of season 10 and the first episode of season 11

Matt Casey- Home Pt1

Things were obviously tuff after my brother Andy's death. Heather my sister in law got a DUI and ended up in prison for 15 months. During that time I looked after hers and my brothers kids, when she was released Heather took Griffin and Ben to live away in Florida. She suddenly stoped phoning me and anytime I would phone her I was cut off. Eventually I was blocked. This was heard on me because all I wanted was to speak to my nephews. Matt and Gabby got divorced then I started dating Matt.

Then one day Griffin appeared on mine and Matts doorstep telling us how his mom keeps moving him around and now is in prison again. Of course after a lengthy conversation Matt and I made the decision that I'd moved in with Griffin, Ben and Heather until I know that she can cope again.

I was gone for a long time, but Matt and I made it work doing long distance. He would also come and visit me any time he could, but it's tough. And unfortunately Heather kept getting into trouble, so Matt suggests that the kids just move in with him and I, that way Heather can sort herself out and the kids would have a stable environment. Plus with Gabby leaving I was offered to become PIC of ambo 61. I'm not just coming home because of that, it's also my best friend Kelly's wedding.

I walk into the fire house holding on to my nephews hands hoping to surprise everyone. Of course Matt and Kelly know I'm coming home, but they think my flight gets in later

"Geeze, thought I'd at least get some banners for my return"

"Babe?" Matt looks over a little shocked "thought I was picking you and the kids up later"

"Eh flight changed"

"No it didn't you said you wanted to surprise everyone"

"Thanks Ben"

"YN. It's good to have you back" Herrmann pulls me into a hug which is followed by everyone else

"YN thank you for coming back for the wedding"

"Well that's not the only reason I'm back" I say replying to Kelly

"Well don't leave us all waiting" Brett encourages

"Well I'm coming back permanently, Ben, Griffin and I. I'm gonna be the PIC of ambo 61 again"

"Yes!" Gallo fist bumps the air

"Bless our saviour"

"Oh thank god" Brett hugs me again

"What did I miss?" I chuckle

"The person who replaced you temporarily, well she's not the nicest"

"Emma just creates a lot of drama" Gallo replies for Capp

"She's been after the PIC job since you left"

"Oh well don't worry about her anymore. I'm back next shift"

"Perfect" Brett once again hugs me tight

"Right we best get you guys fed. You hungry?" Kelly asks me and the kids

"I'm starving" I reply chuckling. The kids follow Kelly to the kitchen while I get stopped by my very handsome boyfriend

"Hey"

"Hi" I smile up at him "don't be to mad at me for trying to surprise you"

"Just glad your here and staying" he places his hands on either side of my face and presses a kiss against my lips

"Oh Errm sorry to interrupt" we break apart and see Emma "was just coming to collect my things"

"No hard feelings right?"

"No course not" she smiles but I can see how fake it is

"Come on let's grab something to eat" Matt wraps his arm around my shoulders and we head to the kitchen

"If we had known you were coming back we would have made a nice spread"

"It's ok. Don't worry about it"

"Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3 , ambo 61. Structure fire 336 Arlington"

"I'll see you guys later. Matt I'll see you at home"

"Home. I like the sound of that" I give him a peck before he shoots off

"Ok let's get you guys home hey?"

On the way home the taxi driver starts to drive passed where the fire. I notice Emma outside getting shouted at, but no Matt, Stella or Sylvie

"Hey can you stop a minute?" I ask and get out

"Hey. Boden things ok? Where's Brett?"

"Inside. Woman's giving birth and Jacobs left her"

"Chief send me in?"

"What. You don't start till...."

"I know but if someone's giving birth up there Brett's gonna need help, please?"

"Ok go"

"Ok boys I want you to stand over there with Chief Boden. Ok don't leave his side"

"Ok" the boys leave the car while I run into the burning building

"Brett? Kidd? Casey?" I shout running up some stairs

"YN?" I hear Brett yell and follow her voice

"Holy shit" I notice the room on fire

"She's crowning" Brett tells me "YN give me the bulb suction" I hand her what she needs while I tend to her wound on her shoulder "ok big push" Brett says. Thankfully we hear crying from the baby

"Ok Kidd Casey carry her out. Brett you got the baby?"

"Yeah"

"Ok when we have them in the ambo I want to put oxygen on the baby just in case as well as the mother. Let's go" I grab the bag and follow the others out. When we get outside to safety I hear Emma getting told to clean out her locker

"Welcome home YN" Brett smiles giving me a side hug once the baby was in the ambo having oxygen thanks to other paramedics that just arrived.

We arrive back at the firehouse, everyone excited for my return when I see Gabby. My old best friend

"Hey" she smiles and Matt and I

"Hi Gabby"

"Well this is awkward" Mouch mumbles earning a nudge from Gallo

"I'm not here to cause drama. Just here for the wedding"

"Errm it's good to see you Gabby. Matt I'm gonna take the kids home. I'll see you later" I give him a kiss and leave the firehouse feeling a little uncomfortable about Matts ex being here. Yes we were once friends and yes ok I'm the bitch that dated her best friends ex husband, but doesn't mean that I'm not a little worried.

#one chicago imagine #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #matt casey x oc #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey #Matt casey x wife

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waywardsculs-a2 · 11 months ago

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This place is a ℂ𝕀ℝℂ𝕌𝕊,

you just see the surface They cover shit under the rug

You can't see they're 𝔽𝔸𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾,

they'll never be naked

Just fill your drink with tonic gin,

this is the American dream

Hey yo what's up you filthy fucking sinners welcome to my little multimuse blog for Vivziepop's HAZBIN HOTEL and HELLUVA BOSS , featuring characters like VELVETTE , LILITH and FIZZAROLLI .

That said, I go by Ritsu, She/Her or They/Them, 30, Australian and just generally tryna chill. You can find my rules below.

OTHER BLOGS

@constellaris ( multifandom multimuse, sideblog ) @harmonysheart ( robin from honkai star rail, sideblog )

AFFILIATED WITH: @bittcnneck , @hellshoard , @cxncrie , @ochtendster / @dageraadster , @sinfuldxgenerates ♥

Header & Promo Credit. || Pinned Credit. Dash Icon Credit. || Icon Template Credit. MDNI & 18+ Warning Credit. || Divider Credit.

IMPORTANT NOTE : if you ship adam with charlie, for both of us, it would be best you do not follow me if you don't intend to tag it. i'm sorry, but it makes me so vehemently uncomfortable that i just would prefer to keep my distance.

Keep the setting of the show in mind when looking to interact. Not all muses will be friendly or even remotely nice. Don't take it personally.

I'll be as canon divergent as I feel like. Let's face it, the second we take up writing a character we're making shit that ain't ever gonna be canon. Let's just have fun.

Muse ≠ Mun. Shouldn't have to say this, but I will anyway. Some muses might be assholes, but I try not to be. You're free to come talk to me any time, I'm usually just tired lmao.

I will not be following any pre-conceived relationships with OCs unless specifically discussed prior to interaction. For example, one of my OCs (Ambriel) has her main story tied to Velvette, being that she works for her, however this only applies to my Velvette. I will not push this on any others who write Velvette, and I expect the same in return.

I am very into shipping. Our muses should kiss. Bang. Fuck around. You know what it is. I'm a ship hoe and I don't care.

NSFW content may be present. I'll make sure it's tagged as #nsfw cw or #suggestive cw for easy blocking if you guys need it, but don't be surprised if it shows up from time to time. You shouldn't be, not with the nature of the show.

Mutuals only. Meaning you need to be following this blog and be followed in return from my main blog for us to count as mutuals. If you are using a hub blog, please have your blog(s) linked somewhere so I know who you are. Otherwise I block personals on sight.

Due to personal reasons, I will only ever touch on angst threads / content in general with people I feel I can trust immensely. Please do not push me for this. I may also post occasional ideas, but I will be very picky about who I explore these with.

Every ship is in its own verse and completely separate from one another. There will never be any form of infidelity occurring on this blog in any way. To expand on this, I also will not partake in any polyships or any situations where my muse has more than one romantic or sexual partner.

I never try to hide the fact that I do struggle with my mental health a lot, and I cannot stress enough that I need any and all of my partners to be understanding with it. I have been formally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder and Autism Spectrum Disorder. All of this is by no means an excuse in any way for anything, I simply hope this may help explain some of my behaviour at times.

I have a life away from Tumblr. I won't always be around to write replies or chat. That's how life is. I work, I have responsibilities, and those take priority.

I don't do passwords/pass phrases. If I follow you, it's safe to assume I've read your rules. I always do before following anyone.

I'm not here for drama. I know you see this everywhere, but I'll be real - I barely have the spoons to live lately. I just wanna vibe and enjoy a hobby, not take part in any bullshit. Leave me out of things unless it's absolutely imperative I know about something.

No art on this blog is mine unless I openly state otherwise. The usual. Let's leave it at that babes.

Ships I Will Not Write / Do Not Like

I will not be elaborating on why I dislike them or won't write them. These are simply things I've found I really don't like and, if possible, would prefer tagged so I can simply block them.

AdamsApple (Adam/Lucifer), Velmilla (Velvette/Carmilla), Charlastor/Radiobelle (Alastor/Charlie), Valentino/Angel Dust, Adam/Charlie, Valentino/Charlie

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solarcitymelodies · 5 months ago

Note

You said you wanted to talk about ventriloquism?

Tell me more?

It took me so long to get to this I'm so sorry 😭 low on spoons, you know how it is

But yes, I LOVE ventriloquism, and I talk about it semi frequently here in my corner of the internet ... I'm not even sure where to start just cuz there's SO much, but this post I made a bit ago with a focus on our bonds with our puppets is a good start :)

Other than that, I've left quite a lengthy beginners guide under the cut, so I hope you enjoy!

So, here's where we start. This here:

Is a headless Jerry Mahoney. I show you this mildly uncomfortable image so you can see the most important piece of equipment in ventriloquism: the headstick! Or control stick, some people call it that too. This has a bunch of different levers on it that control different parts of the face, but more rudimentary ones will just have one lever for the mouth. Which is really all you need honestly. (Anything else costs a pretty penny. Like, an especially pretty one.) The lever being pulled on Jerry here is the only important one, and that's the one that controls his mouth.

You can see a bunch of those controls here:

This isn't the only kind of ventriloquist dummy, but it's definitely the most well known iteration. There's been a huge rise in felt puppets recently, and there's also been pull-string ones around for quite a while (which are far less intricately built than other dummies, but pretty sweet for beginners. I only own string-pulls and i love them very much. ♡)

As for actually doing ventriloquism, there's a few tips I have that I tell anyone interested.

1. Ventriloquism is easy. It is so easy. It's learning how to make it convincing that's hard!

2. And in that same vein, it doesn't matter that much how convincing you are as long as you and the audience are having fun! I always get tired of people treating what's basically playing with dolls but ✨️fancy✨️ like an Olympic sport lol.

3. Letter substitutes are whatever you can get away with. Cut corners. Change your vocabulary. Whatever works to make yourself sound more natural is what you should be doing! Remember, it's not cheating if it works.

4. If you aren't a little weird about the puppets please consider getting weirder. It is a tradition we hold very dear to us.

Now, as far as the basics go-- like I said, it's not too terribly difficult.

First and foremost, there's a certain "standing position" your mouth should rest in, which sounds very silly but it's true. Your lips should be slightly parted, enough to let air out but not enough to be super noticeable. You can't actually talk with your mouth fully closed, but it should look closed from a distance. This is one of our tricks of illusion >:3

Your tongue should always be behind your teeth, usually resting against them a bit in my experience. Your teeth are going to be acting as your new lips. That sounds insane but it'll make sense the more you do it. When you'd usually use your lips to pronounce a word, you use your teeth. ALWAYS keep your teeth resting in a mostly closed position!! This is so people don't see your tongue moving!! Learned this the hard way lol.

There are a few letters you have to watch out for: B, F, M, P, V, and W. Some of these are easier for other people and some are harder, but these are the well known ones, plus ones I have trouble with (granted I do have speech issues as is, sooo... take with a grain of salt?)

These letters are evil and cursed and don't like to be pronounced without moving your lips, which is where we introduce letter substitutes. Generally,

B = D (or G)

F = more of an S sound, like a hiss

M = N

P = T

V = a sound closer to Z

W turns into the wretched "duddayoo." I do not like this one.

I'm not that great at explaining the basics to be honest, but there's lot of great tutorial videos out there, I'd recommending doing s little dive into those if you're genuinely interested. For now here's one from Darci Lynne because I love her.

youtube

The best thing to do though, if you dont want to do the actual acting thing? Get active in the community anyways. Get your friends into it. Talk about it! Post about it! Ventriloquism has been, famously, dying as far as most people are concerned for a long while now, and we really need younger people to step up and keep this art alive. Just appreciating it and supporting from the sidelines is a huge help. As much of a loser as this makes me sound, please for the love of God make ventriloquism look cool. It sounds goofy but we really do genuinely need it.

As a final note:

Ventriloquism at its core, I believe, at least, shouldn't be competitive. There are a lot of people in the community that just take it way too seriously and frankly, it is so lame. Ventriloquism should be fun. It's odd and it's kooky and it should be accessible to everyone no matter how good they are at keeping their lips still. A lot of the best ventriloquists famously could not keep their mouths shut. And I mean that as literally as possible. They were still beloved by many and are greatly cherished figures in our community.

If you ever doubt yourself, remember: Lambchop was only a sock before Shari Lewis made her come to life. You don't need the best materials, or the best technique; all you need is passion and a good routine.

#ventriloquism #puppetry #PLEAAASR LET PPL SEE THIS ITS MY AUTISTIC MAGNUM OPUS (this is my biggest special interest)

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cantstoplovingjude · 5 months ago

Text

To Steal You Away: Alfons Sylvatica Ch.2

This is from Ikemen Villains EN, Cybird owns everything.

Kate: "We don't have to hold hands, but... can I just hold onto your sleeve?"

(He's definitely going to tease me now...)

Alfons: "Of course. Whatever you wish."

I looked up at him, surprised by his kind response, but then saw a smile curving on his lips.

Alfons: "Did your heart skip a beat just now?"

Alfons: "You can grab me anywhere you like. Go on."

Kate: "This is fine. Thank you."

Alfons: "Are you sure? Such a reserved little robin. You should be more demanding sometimes, you know."

His reply was lighthearted and airy. However...

I noticed he was walking slower than usual.

(Is he matching his pace to mine?)

If he was indecent and dishonest and the stuff of nightmares, then I should keep my distance.

(So why does he make it so hard for me to do just that?)

I kept those feelings to myself as we began looking for any stolen items that might've been stashed away here.

Alfons: "This place is just packed with things. It looks like Elbie's room!"

(This is what Lord Elbert's room looks like...?)

I had to admit that this sort of light chitchat was the best way to stay calm in dark, scary places like this.

But I felt the fear creeping up on me again and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, as if to ward it off.

Kate: "Liam told me something the other day."

Kate: "He said you two often go out together late at night."

Kate: "What in the world are you two doing together?"

Alfons: "Do you what to know because Liam's involved? Or because of me?"

(There he goes again, teasing me.)

Kate: "I'm the Fairytale Keeper, so I thought I'd ought to know."

Alfons: "What a boring, trite answer. However, I'll indulge you just this once."

Alfons: "Due to his curse, Liam must satisfy his curiosity on a regular basis."

Alfons: "Which just so happens to align with my hedonistic views, as I love a good time."

Alfons: "So before we knew it, we both started looking for new thrills to satisfy our curiosity together."

Kate: "What exactly does that mean...?"

Alfons: "Well, we have a game where we jump from rooftop to rooftop while drunk. If you fall, you're out."

Alfons: "There's also a game called Chicken where we race horses to the edge of a cliff."

Kate: "That's definitely beyond what I'd imagined."

Alfons: "Oh, I'm pleased to hear that!"

Alfons: "There are other delightful things we get up to as well, but I shouldn't share those with others. Would you like to tag along next time?"

Kate: "Sorry, but I think I'll pass."

Alfons: "Ah, what a shame."

Alfons chuckled and picked up a dusty marble that lay at his face.

Kate: "Hm?"

It let off a dull glow as he held it in his hand.

Alfons: "Liam needs to forget about reality sometimes."

Alfons: "You're starting to pick up on that fact, aren't you?"

Kate: "Yes... I had a feeling."

Liam wasn't just satisfying his curiosity because of his curse.

When I was having a hard time or was feeling sad, he always the first person to come to me.

He generously gave me his time to try to cheer me up.

I had a feeling the reason he was so good at doing so was because he empathized with people's pain and sadness.

So, there must have been a lot of suffering and sadness in his past.

Maybe he was keeping himself going through his dark and dreary everyday life by coloring it with curiosity.

That reminded me of what Alfons had said to me before.

It was the first time he'd used his ability to rewrite perception on me.

-Flashback-

Alfons: "Life is a tragedy. There are many painful realities that can't be changed even if we try."

Alfons: "So what's wrong with escaping into dreams?"

-Flashback Ends-

(Back then, I was so confused about what he was doing that I didn't think too deeply about what he meant.)

But those words had lingered uncomfortably inside my heart.

Alfons was a thrill-seeking hedonist who loved having a good time and enjoyed making people see illusions.

However, now he told me that he was aware Liam had something he wanted to forget, and that was why he went out with him at night.

(Maybe it's just convenient for me to think this way because it's what I want to believe.)

(But what if...)

(What if Alfons really is showing people illusions to help them escape from painful realities that plague them?)

Just then, I heard a noise from the back of the hallway and exchanged glances with Alfons.

Kate: "Is it the culprit?"

Alfons: "I suppose we shall find out. Get behind me, Miss Kate."

I turned and peeked over Alfons's shoulder, but saw someone very unexpected.

==========

Elderly Man: "...Who are you young'uns?"

An old man with white hair was settled deep in an armchair.

(Somehow I have a hard time believing that man's a thief and a murderer...)

It certainly looked like he was the owner of this house.

Alfons: "Our cat wandered in here, so we came after it. Terribly sorry to come in without permission."

Elderly Man: "Oh, I see... I thought you were another one of those fools barging in here again."

Alfons: "What do you mean?"

Elderly Man: "Well, some lads have been sneaking in here at night without my permission."

Elderly Man: "Just because I had a spare room, they thought they could take advantage of me and make themselves at home."

He lived here alone and seemed to be turning a blind eye to the criminals using this place without permission.

(But why are they leaving him alive?)

It was definitely risky to keep him around.

All he had to do was tell one person who'd call the police and that'd be the end of it.

They'd supposedly already killed before, so it wasn't because they were hesitant to kill...

Elderly Man: "Oh, I'm sorry. I was so absorbed in my guests I forgot about you."

(Huh? Is there someone else here?)

I looked around, but we were the only ones in the room.

And then, I realized he was speaking to a portrait of a woman on the wall.

Elderly Man: "Will you forgive me? Yes, I know. You've always liked guests."

I was confused, but then heard Alfons whisper into my ear.

Alfons: "Oh, I see. He's senile. That's why they kept him alive."

Alfons: "What should we do about him, Miss Kate?"

Kate: "What do you mean?"

Alfons: "If I use my ability, I might be able to bring him to his senses."

Alfons: "That way we can get his testimony and our mission will be easier."

I wasn't sure how the old man viewed what was happening here.

But I did know that he looked blissfully happy as he gazed at the painting.

Kate: "I..."

==========

We decided to seize the stolen items we recovered as evidence and move forward with the condemnation at a later time.

That way, we wouldn't cause any harm to the old man who lived in the house.

Alfons: "Why didn't you want to bring him out of his dreams back into reality?"

When he'd asked me before, I told him I wanted to leave the old man alone.

Kate: "He needs that dream in order to survive. So I don't think it's a bad thing."

Kate: "Even if the dream was just a convenience."

Kate: "Also..."

Kate: "I thought that's what you would do, if given the choice."

Alfons stared at me for a moment.

Then without warning-he pulled me toward him and hugged me against his chest.

The next thing I knew, I heard a gunshot ring out. A nearby potted plant in the garden exploded from the bullet.

(What's going on?!)

Man with Stubble: "You think you can just barge into our hideout, huh?!"

A man loomed before us, his eyes fixed on the stolen goods we'd confiscated.

(He's one of the culprits!)

Man with Stubble: "I can't let you outta here alive now. I'm gonna kill you!"

Alfons: "That's pretty rich, considering you're the one who trespassed into someone else's home."

Alfons swept behind the man in a flash and twisted his neck, rendering him unconscious in an instant.

Alfons: "Whoops, I forgot that we trespassed too. Oh, well."

Alfons: "Shall we confiscate him, too?"

==========

After we safely delivered the stolen items to Jude's warehouse, we walked through the city at night.

(Oh...)

Only then did I notice my hands were trembling slightly.

The sound of the gunshot brought back memories of the previous night.

(I hate this... I just want to forget about last night and get rid of all this fear inside me.)

(I don't want it to control me forever.)

I clenched my hands into fists to try to stop shaking, and then Alfons tapped me on the shoulder.

Alfons: "Miss Kate. Miss Kate...? Do you have more time to spare?"

Kate: "Huh? Oh, yes. I don't have any other plans for tonight."

Alfons: "That's a relief. How about staying with me a bit longer, then?"

Kate: "For what?"

Alfons: "Since Liam's away, this is the perfect opportunity to do all sorts of shameless and indecent things to you."

Alfons: "Now that our mission is done, we can extend our date. The excitement's only just begun."

End Ch.2

#ikemen villains #alfons sylvatica #ikemen villains alfons #ikevil alfons

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coffeeandmagicaltales · 1 year ago

Text

The Auror & The Devil part 9

(FLUFF, cozy, nothing really happens, grab your tea/coffee & enjoy) MCxAESOP SHARP

The August sun has been rarely seen lately from behind the foggy curtain; most of the Highlands were shrouded in stormy clouds and mist.

Aesop wasn't sure if it was drizzling or if he had entered a tangle of fog, hiding under his umbrella as he walked slowly along the muddy road, supporting himself with a cane.

He was in an area mostly inhabited by Muggles and preferred not to attract attention with a transparent, enchanted umbrella. He stopped for a moment at a crossroads, checking which way he should turn. A black carriage passed by, pulled by horses.

"Lost, sir?" shouted the driver, an old man with a bushy beard, but Aesop denied it, cursing his pride silently. He knew where he was ten minutes ago, and in that time, much had changed.

"Just a moment!" he called, changing his mind, and the stranger stopped the horses. "I'm looking for Marcus Dimm's brewery... Do you know it?"

"Oh, certainly, it's not far. Please, have a seat next to me, I'll give you a ride, but just a short distance, as the brewery is not exactly on my way... Billy Sommerset, at your service."

"Aesop Sharp," he mumbled, grabbing the extended hand. Billy pulled him up, and Aesop clumsily climbed the steps and finally took his seat, silently thanking himself for putting pride into his colorful socks. After a moment, the whip cracked, and the horses started moving.

"It's easy to get lost here, and you, sir, seem not from around here at first glance. I don't recognize the name either... I've seen similar ones on people who recently returned from Africa, have you been there maybe?" Billy tapped his cheek with his finger and glanced at Sharp, intrigued by his scar.

"I'd rather not talk about it..." he answered wisely, having no idea what Sommerset was talking about, and lapsed into silence.

"Well, terrible what happened to our folks under Congella... My neighbor, a young lad, didn't come back. We live in strange times... I've been a witness to too many untimely deaths lately, it's a bad omen... I feel in my bones that something bad is brewing, not that I'm a pessimist... Every moment there's some trouble, they fight somewhere, and they keep inventing worse weapons for war..."

"I guess that's the price of progress..." Aesop confessed with a heavy heart, frowning. "In the wrong hands, it becomes a curse."

"True words..." the man muttered, nodding. "I see you're your own man, Sharp, and I'll tell you in secret, I don't understand this notion that someone deserves something more than someone else because they have a different skin tone or were born in a prettier house... In the end, I take them all on a ride..."

He gestured with his head towards the inside of the carriage. Sharp only now noticed that behind the black curtains, there was a coffin jumping happily on every stone. He felt very uncomfortable, and regretted looking back.

"Old Dimm has been sick lately too..." Billy confessed with sadness. "Morana, his adopted daughter, is doing her best to help him... She's a good girl, a woman to be precise, I don't believe she's 16." Sharp twitched at the sound of the familiar name and felt a pleasant warmth growing inside him. He straightened up in his seat and suppressed a smile. "...Well, she's strange, I can say, and I'm almost certain she's a witch."

"Oh, really?" Sharp pretended to be surprised, focusing all his strong will on not bursting into laughter. Billy nodded, wiped his nose with a checkered handkerchief, and continued.

"You have no idea... A real she-devil. A black cat circles around her, and lately, she brought a sick horse home... I don't know, I don't know... A peculiar beast, heh, no one believes me because no one supposedly saw it, as if it was invisible... Don't be scared when you see it... Here, have some garlic, just in case..."

Suddenly, a clove of garlic appeared in Aesop's hand. He didn't know exactly what to do with it, so he thanked and promised to use it, putting it in his pocket. The rattle of the wheels soon stopped, and they halted at a crossroads.

"I'm turning right," Billy announced and helped Sharp get down, then glanced at his pocket watch. "Almost noon... In a few minutes, Morana should be passing through here. I saw her going to town in the morning; she'll be coming back this way soon. If you tell her you have business with Marcus, she'll surely take you with her. Nice to meet you, Sharp, and I don't say see you soon!" Billy burst into a ridiculous laughter, revealing his missing teeth, nodded, grabbing the brim of his hat, and tugged the reins, signaling the horses to move.

"Likewise, Sommerset." Aesop nodded appreciatively at the gravedigger's dark humor and, leaning against a road sign, watched the carriage go. Waiting for a few minutes didn't seem like a bad prospect, especially since it had stopped drizzling... Well, at least in theory, a few minutes were bearable, but suddenly it started to feel unbearably long, and Sharp, out of impatience, limped back and forth. His thoughts circled solely around Morana... Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his tie. He wasn't sure if meeting her was a good idea. After all, she proposed it herself, but there was nothing stopping him from politely refusing, which he didn't. At that time, it seemed like a pretty good idea and a distraction from the lack of activity during the day... Now, however, he was afraid he might be bothering her... Visits from an acquaintance were probably the last thing the Dimms wanted now, especially her. After all, in a way, she was at work, busy with brewery matters, family...

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?"

His heart pounded harder; the sound of hooves and the rattle of wheels mixed with a singing voice he knew so well.

"Morana," he whispered, but the smile faded from his face, and each subsequent word of the refrain pierced his heart like a thorn.

"Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."

He remembered when he last heard those words. A small cart emerged from behind the hill with a few barrels, pulled by a Shetland pony and its accompanying thestral, its wings masked by a blanket.

"Remember me to one who lives there, for once he was a true love of..."

She fell silent upon seeing Aesop, and he could see from afar how her face lit up with a pearly smile. She raced the horses and sharply halted near him. She loved dramatic entrances.

"Hi," she said quickly, catching her breath, and the smile didn't leave her face as she jumped down and shook the mud clumps off her worn dress. Taking Aesop's umbrella and cane, she tossed them somewhere between the barrels. In the meantime, Sharp patted Hranolka's neck, who demanded affection once she recognized him. Mora grabbed his arm and helped him climb onto the seat.

"Good to see you..." He whispered, and as they set off, he began to tell her about how he got lost and encountered the gravedigger, asking Mora for details about the war Sommerset mentioned, taking every opportunity to sneak a glance at her. Her appearance was slightly different from what he was accustomed to, and he wanted to examine her and not wanting to embarrass her by his stare at the same time. The nightsky of a thousand freckles on her sun-kissed face had increased by several dozen, forming constellations unknown to him. The makeup was also a novelty; her style seemed to deviate from the fashion of subtle colors accepted in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. Hmm... However, upon reflection, he immediately concluded that the dark, almost autumnal colors on her eyelids, along with the black, thick lines ending with a sharp edge, suited her excellently and reflected her character. Just like the golden earrings she didn't wear at school but now twinkled on the lobes and petals of her ears. He smiled at the sight of the golden star in her nose, which he noticed only when she rubbed it with delicate fingers adorned with numerous rings, as a stray strand escaped from her bun and tickled her. She always seemed modest to him, but here she was: earrings, a Deathly Hallows-themed necklace, jingling bracelets... He was quite surprised, but what could he expect - she was an adult woman, and she probably bought quite expensive jewelry with the money she earned selling ingredients collected during her escapades. Some of the earrings looked almost like goblin work, which immediately intrigued him, and he tried to remember to ask about them someday. Yes, she looked "different," but she was herself; every little movement and gaze of her blue eyes was familiar to him. And her terrible, charming laughter when he showed her the garlic from Billy... He understood how much he missed it... Missed her.

"You won't really satisfy yourself with garlic..." he mumbled upon hearing the rumbling in her stomach and handed her a cupcake wrapped in fabric, which was almost immediately unpacked by her and entirely stuffed into her mouth. He knew perfectly well that, as usual, she left without breakfast, and then didn't have time for it. "Slow down..." he laughed. "Thanks Salazar, I also made a few for the Dimms... Well, to be honest I feel a bit awkward coming at not the best moment..."

"Few people visit them lately; they will be happy." Mora assured him, speaking with a mouthful and placing her hand on his forearm. "Mr. Dimm feels a bit better, but he has to rest..."

"Wiggenweld potion probably did its job..." Sharp mumbled, looking at her askance, and she blushed. "I'm sure you gave it to him because, from what you wrote to me a week ago, he wasn't doing well. In a way... you did the right thing, but I don't want you to have trouble with the Ministry because of it. It believes that Muggles should be treated by doctors, not us... Ugh, don't look at me like that; I don't agree with everything they come up with, I'm just telling you the rules in the wizarding world."

"I added few drops to his tea, no one saw." she muttered, rolling her eyes and blushing.

"It would be right to ask him first if he agrees to alternative treatment. You probably wouldn't want me to dose you with my elixirs without your knowledge, even if they were supposed to help you..."

"Hmm, let me remind you the bottle of liquor they agreed to anything after one drink..." she nudged Sharp's side with her elbow, who nervously cleared his throat.

"Well... I just brewed it... Fig used it."

Morana laughed upon hearing his awkward attempt to explain himself. After a while, however, she became serious and admitted very quietly, "You're right... Next time, I'll ask for their permission, but I panicked... The fever didn't want to go away... Besides, they don't quite understand who I am; I don't want to scare them..."

"Did you talk to them about it?"

"I tried..."

Aesop raised an eyebrow.

"No, you didn't." he summed up, which deep down annoyed Mora but at the same time gave her a strange pleasure. The smirk, which slightly lifted the corners of his mouth, and the peculiar, sly look from under his dark lashes, which literally read her like an open book, disarmed and confused her. She liked the feeling caused by his intelligence and sharp wit.

It felt like she had said goodbye to him yesterday... It was over a month ago. Only a week and a half ago, she received a letter from him informing her about his small investigation and wanting to summarize what he had learned so far. She suggested a meeting, and they agreed on a date that suited both of them. Nothing special. Just a meeting. But no visit from her friends flooded her with such a sense of calm and comfort. She always stressed about someone's visits, wanted to make the best impression, and sometimes, wanting to please everyone (as was the case with Ominis, where butterflies in her stomach flew like possessed, turning her mind into jelly), she overdid it, which always ended with burnt cake or spilled drinks. Aesop Sharp made all her fears take a break, and they seemed to go for a beer to Sirona, leaving her alone with him and his extraordinary gentleness. The sun had slightly burned his nose and bony cheeks, which now had the color of beet soup. She had the impression that he must have dozed off somewhere in the shade recently, probably dreaming of fluffy nifflers, and during that time, the sun had peeked out from hiding and maliciously turned him red... Occasionally, he unconsciously rubbed the itchy skin with his hand. She found it amusing how his pale complexion quickly surrendered to the unusually warm summer. His British soul must have sighed in relief because it had been raining almost non-stop for a few days. Adorable.

"Poor, silly Aesop," she thought, smiling broadly. There was something different about him than usual. Maybe it was the grumpy grimace that had completely disappeared from his face along with the shadows under his eyes. He must have rested quite well, and it seemed to suit him, as he appeared more relaxed; his muscles weren't tense, as if he expected some apocalypse triggered by Garreth at any moment, and his sunken cheeks gained a bit more substance. At school, he ate fairly normally, and when he had too much work, Morana (not seeing him at the Faculty Table) would come to his class to remind him about dinner. Hmmm, sometimes he got so absorbed in his work, wanting to finish checking hundreds of essays on time, that he forgot about his hunger. When he told students that their papers would be returned the next week, it had to be the next week, and nothing could change that because he always kept his word, honorably, as a Slytherin... although, it often turned against him. Morana felt a bit sad, remembering how, towards the end of the semester, he panicked when he lost someone's essay and couldn't find it. They both searched for it for several hours, and only when he casted Levioso on one of the potion-making stations, and Morana crawled under it, did she find the mischievous parchment. It was supposed to be checked the next day, and her assurance that nothing would happen if he told the student to wait one more day completely failed to convince Aesop.

"Submit... not on time?..." he said with a slightly trembling, frightened voice. "No, no, no, Mora, that's a bad idea... I can handle it; there are still 3 hours left..."

"... Until 8 in the morning," she interjected, frowning, raising black eyebrows, and squinting her eyes. His eyes involuntarily closed, and every few moments, he discreetly yawned. Morana could barely stand on her feet, and her tongue seemed to produce words created by her mind with a delay when presenting arguments for him to postpone work and go to sleep. However, he insisted, sat down to read, and that was the end of it. Frightened by the prospect of breaking his promise or maybe appearing as an incompetent teacher, this fear often kept him awake at night, that something would not be done on time, that he would explain something wrong, and as an expert, he should know everything. He tried to control everything, and he took each lesson very seriously, something that practically no one except Morana seemed to notice. Maybe stress was taking its toll, and despite a good diet, it consumed him from the inside. He always looked good, dressed in an immaculate suit that smelled of his cologne (she could almost locate him in the castle by following the trail in the air), well-groomed beard, and perfectly combed hair... and now he looked almost radiant... Could anything be the reason for this other than the vacation? Someone?

Their eyes met. Aesop smiled shyly.

"I wonder what you told them about me? That person coming to them today is... who? Santa?"

Morana cleared her throat.

"A teacher."

"Hmmm, wonder which subject? Arts and Crafts?" he sneered sarcastically, thinking his joke was successful. His large hands, his height, gloomy clothes, and a menacing expression were rather the opposite of his idea of a typical artist, whether Muggle or wizard – someone dressed in colorful patterns, covered in paint, contemplative, and ethereal.

"Well, you could be one; you have extraordinary talent," Morana replied in a thoughtful voice, regretting that she hadn't thought of it before, because his drawings and sculptures spoke for themselves. Aesop blushed at the sound of the compliment and withdrew into himself, regretting bringing up the subject. "... but I said you teach chemistry; it seems to be the closest to what you do."

"Merlin..." he muttered, rolling his eyes, preparing for what was probably going to be the most abstract conversation in his life. "It will be funny."

From behind the mane of golden fields shimmering on the hill, a small farm emerged near the oak grove, surrounded by picturesque hills. Twisting, rocky paths and low walls separated the fields where sheep grazed. The barn, built of grey stone and roofed with slate, had been converted into a brewery. Between the tiles, a not-too-high, smoking chimney protruded. Wide doors, through which cows must have entered in the past, were now flanked on both sides by barrels labeled with a red emblem reading "DIMM'S BREWERY Finest beer est. 1790." They extended along the wall under a small, long, angular cottage attached to it, whose right half had been converted into a stable for a pony and a small carriage.

Aesop sniffed, sensing the intoxicatingly sweet aroma in the air, which he deduced as malt, bringing to mind something between caramel and raw bread dough that his mom often made without magic. Wait a minute... he thought. He recognized that smell. Sometimes, that's how Morana's parchment smelled when she handed it in for assessment or even her clothes when she returned to school after a weekend spent at the Dimms'.

Morana, just beyond the gate with a sign that read "DIMM'S BREWERY Finest beer est. 1790," stopped the horses and helped Aesop dismount onto the slippery cobblestone surface that covered the entire courtyard. She immediately handed him a cane and an umbrella. The stable boys, having greeted them, started unpacking barrels marked with a red label reading "BUTTER BEER." Morana quickly detached the pony and rushed Hranolka to the stable. Aesop wondered whether the men could see the thestral or if they weren't entirely aware of her presence in the brewery. The pony trotted slowly behind the winged beast, and they quickly reached the feed. Morana unhooked their bridles, hanging them on a hook, and led Sharp towards the cottage.

The modest rural dwelling was very well-kept; the windows sparkled with cleanliness, flowers bloomed in pots, and bees and bumblebees buzzed around them when it stopped raining. The cobblestone was cleared of all weeds and unwanted leaves. Aesop rarely visited the Muggle world, but the only difference he saw for now was the lack of magical pruning shears trimming the flowers in the pots. He felt completely at ease and, for safety, tucked his wand deep into his sleeve, not wanting to feel too comfortable and reach for it in the company of Morana's adoptive family.

The woman shook the dust off her patched dress and confidently entered the house, giving Aesop a wide smile and a chin nod to follow her. Sharp felt a bit uneasy, which always accompanied him during meetings with people he didn't know at all. He wiped his sweaty hands on his coat, and leaning awkwardly to avoid hitting his forehead against one of the beams, he took an uncertain step inside. In the brightly colored light from the stained glass windows, the room was very cozy. Warm colors dominated, hand-knitted tablecloths and napkins, patchwork throws on sofas and armchairs arranged around a pleasantly glowing fireplace. The floor creaked crisply with each of his steps, mixing with the clinking of a wooden spoon hitting an enamel pot, which Mrs. Dimm, standing by the stove, was stirring, as Aesop deduced from the smell, a carrot soup. The only problem was the... very low ceiling. Sharp tilted his head unnaturally, fearing a too-close encounter between his forehead and one of the beams, and removed his coat, hanging it on the hook near the door. Seeing that Morana had taken off her shoes, he cursed under his breath that he had to wear his crazy socks today, his lucky ones with nifflers chasing after coins. Leaning against the wall, he dealt with his footwear, not wanting to expose himself to anyone's disapproval by not following the rules in this household, despite the knee that had been bothering him a bit more for the past few days.

Morana approached Mrs. Dimm and, gently touching her shoulder, whispered very quietly that Professor Aesop Sharp had arrived.

"Yes, I know, I heard you laughing from afar already," she replied in a whisper and, patting Morana's hand affectionately, turned towards the guest, removing her apron.

"Well, well, what a sense of hearing she got..." Aesop thought, greeting her and bowing low, observing how the face of the gray-haired woman with rosy cheeks suddenly brightened with a broad smile.

"Please come in, have a seat wherever you're comfortable, I'll be right there!" she gestured with her hand, indicating the living room area. "Mo, fetch some water and please make tea, you must be freezing!"

"Mo, how lovely..." Aesop smiled, hearing Morana being referred to with a term of endearment he would have never thought of. For a moment, he stood still, contemplating this, and how well it suited Morana, then, the clinking of a spoon, which Mrs. Dimm dropped by accident on the floor, snapped him out of his thoughts. Morana went to fetch water from the well, and Aesop hobbled to help the elderly woman left in the kitchen by picking up the lost utensil.

"Can I help you with anything?" he offered, handing her a spoon, which the woman grabbed quite awkwardly, intriguing him instantly. She looked in a slightly different direction than his face when assuring him that she had everything under control, and at that moment, Aesop was sure she bwas blind. For a split second, he felt sorry for her, but he had no intention of asking intrusive questions. Seizing this moment, he very quietly took a shrunken cupcake tin secured with fabric from his pocket and, with the discreetest wand movement he had ever performed, enlarged and heated it. The scent immediately intrigued Mrs. Dimm.

"I brought a little treat for you..." he mumbled shyly. His legs were trembling. Damn, he could have taken a sip of Felix Felicis, but of course, Aesop Sharp from the past considered it foolish.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" she smiled and, sliding her hand over the countertop, found an empty plate. "Could you arrange them? I'm afraid I might scatter them all over the room." she chuckled. "Please don't be afraid of me; just make yourself comfortable. I hear you're a bit... hmmm... nervous."

Aesop's lips tightened into a line, so thin it practically disappeared from his face. He fidgeted, trying to string together some sentences, but Mrs. Dimm found his arm in the air and, patting it affectionately, signaled him to take a comfortable seat and let her finish the soup, which was starting to bubble dangerously. Morana squeezed into the room carrying two buckets of water, and with a mischievous smile to Aesop, she began to brew tea. He sat sunk in a chair that was too soft and small for him, looking at the cupcakes on the plate before him or nervously glancing at Morana in search of rescue, as if he were expecting a conversation with Professor Black at the very least.

Finally, both women sat on the sofa opposite him. Morana handed him a teacup, carefully observing his trembling hand.

"Is everything okay?" her concerned look asked, and Aesop nodded.

"My husband is feeling a bit unwell today and is resting upstairs, I apologize that he couldn't come down to greet you..." Mrs. Dimm said quietly, and Aesop immediately assured her that it was no problem and apologized for intruding at such a moment.

Mrs. Dimm smiled broadly. "You have a truly beautiful voice," she confessed unexpectedly, immediately met with Morana's sharp look and a stern "tsk" that came out of her mouth, that which amused Aesop. The old woman completely ignored her and continued, "Only that accent... Hmmm... London? No, no... That's not it... Oxford, yes. You come from higher spheres, don't you, Mr. Sharp? It's rare to hear someone speak in a similar way around here... but... You don't behave like one of them; you know the local customs as if you've lived in the Highlands for some time." She took a sip of tea and reached for a cupcake, and a sly smile danced on her lips.

It surprised him that he found a resemblance to Morana in her... Some words lingered when she spoke, the specific manner of talking, wise words... The list of such details was undoubtedly long, and he couldn't wait to start discovering them all.

"I see you have a detective's soul," he confessed jokingly. "Yes, my father is from Oxford, and I spent many years working in London by his side. My entire childhood, on the other hand, with Mummy, right in those areas."

"I knew it!" Mrs. Dimm exclaimed, almost spilling her tea, pleased with her deduction. "I love listening to detective novels; I have a whole little library, and I always dreamed of becoming an officer..." Aesop glanced towards a sizable bookcase, its shelves bent from an excess of literature. "Unfortunately... I was born blind, and a career at Scotland Yard was quickly knocked out of my head."

"Well..." Aesop cleared his throat, feeling that she might be impressed, even though he didn't quite know what Scotland Yard was. "I was a detective for almost fifteen years..."

Mrs. Dimm took in a large amount of air, and Aesop had the impression that she would start squeaking in delight any moment now. However, she composed herself and turned to Morana.

"Darling, why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"

"Mrs. Dimm, Professor Sharp needs some rest, and you probably wouldn't want him to come and tell stories all the time." Morana laughed, giving Aesop a meaningful look.

"Well, it probably would be like that..." she admitted with a sad smile, fidgeting with her legs like an impatient child. "Mo only told me that you ended your previous job, which you genuinely loved, earlier due to an accident. She didn't specify what happened, but I heard that you limp, and it's probably the result of what happened... It must have been a difficult decision... But well, life writes various scenarios... Unexpected... Often it takes away the dreams we want to give us what we need."

Mrs. Dimm's words touched Aesop deeply.

"I'm not surprised that Morana is so brilliant since she's under your care," he confessed quietly, with a soft voice, looking at Mora, who blushed and lowered her gaze.

"Hmmm..." Mrs. Dimm smiled, and her thoughts drifted towards memories. She adjusted herself on the sofa and took a sip of tea. "I don't know much about your past, but there's something in you that makes me think I can share our story... Morana is quite reserved towards people, but the way she speaks of you and trusts you... suggests to me that I can add a few details to the story known to everyone in the area... Many years we tried for a child with my husband, and when we finally succeeded and the baby came into the world... we only managed to give it a name before letting it go in our arms. I couldn't recover for a long time, and the fact that Marcus had to work, often traveling, did not help. But eventually, time healed our wounds... And so we immersed ourselves in everyday life, which didn't mean we weren't happy; on the contrary... But one day, the mailman brought me a letter in which Marcus chaotically wrote about a girl sleeping in a pile of hops between our barrels... We immediately decided to take her in, even though we were advised against it, told that she was a little witch, a devil, that there were many 'well-behaved' girls we could adopt... Ugh, as if adoption were a market, monstrous. We saw it as a sign, as magic. Little Mo had a spirited character and reminded me of myself from childhood." Aesop watched Morana closely, who looked in a different direction, and her face was covered in shadows. It was evident that she felt uncomfortable, as if someone were talking about someone else entirely, not about her. Suddenly, she stood up, announcing that she would take the soup to Mr. Dimm, slipped out of the room.

Mrs. Dimm, hearing the creak of the chair, gestured with her hand for Aesop not to stop her and sat down.

"Stubborn, always covered in mud, and seeking adventures." she continued in a calm voice. "We never prohibited her from doing what she loved, and even though she disappeared for a few days, she always returned to us with spruce branches in her hair, a few bruises, and sometimes even a knocked-out milk tooth. I forbade Marcus from punishing her because it worked the opposite of intentions... I know because I experienced it firsthand when my father often whipped me with a belt... And yet, I ran away even more, which might seem strange given my disability, but I always found a way to navigate the terrain and reach my goal... Anyway, my father was definitely someone I didn't want to be for Morana..."

"I know something about that..." Aesop interjected quietly. "My father didn't spare the belt and cane on me, which was one of the main reasons my mother left him. I know his raised voice and often his fist were a sign of his helplessness and stupidity... As is any violence against the weaker ones."

"Hmmm... I'm glad Morana found someone on her level... Although I've met all her friends and think they're wonderful, especially Mr. Gaunt, with whom I have a lot in common... They're still children and look at many things differently than Morana, or don't think about them at all. I knew there was something special about you because Morana didn't talk much about you, unlike practically everyone else. (Oh, dear, I even know what brush her headmaster uses to comb his beard.) Sometimes, she has many secrets, important mysteries."

"I rather doubt there's anything special about me..." Sharp shrugged. "Except that I'm one of the less liked teachers at the school."

"Hmm, yet I haven't seen those more liked here... Except for that boorish professor... what was his name... ah, Fig! He had quite the audacity." She smiled very mysteriously and beckoned him to come closer. "Can I see you?" she asked, raising her hands slightly. Aesop agreed to the request and crawled out of his seat, sitting on the edge of the sofa and allowing the old woman to touch his face. It was nothing new for him; Mr. Gaunt had also recognized his face in this manner when he started at Hogwarts, and all the teachers were asked to do so. Mrs. Dimm's wrinkled hands' touch was very delicate, maternal. "It might sound strange, but after hearing your voice somewhere near the ceiling, I assume you're quite tall."

Aesop laughed. "Thanks to my mum. We both walk with our heads in the clouds."

Mrs. Dimm chuckled and asked about the color of his hair, beard, eyes, to which he replied in detail, not hiding the fact that most of his beard was gray.

"I've never seen colors in my life, but I like their sound, like brown or blue. I don't like the word yellow or blonde..." She stopped when her fingers found his scar. She became serious, and her hands left his face. "Oh yes... True kindred spirit... I think I understand everything now..." she whispered very mysteriously.

What's on her mind? Her eyes covered with a veil seemed to see much more than others, observing. Suddenly, Aesop felt a bit like when he was with Morana, like a Muggle wanting to shout "WITCH!", feeling that she had abilities beyond his understanding...

"I think I've confused you a bit, I apologize; I can be very blunt..."

"You're definitely very mysterious." he admitted, suppressing laughter, and returned to his seat. Now he was not at all surprised that Fig had trouble gaining their trust, assuming that simple people, Muggles, would be less cunning than him.

Morana from the upper floor could barely catch snippets of their conversation, occasionally interrupted by the louder whistling of the wind dancing around the chimney. Every now and then, she tenderly handed Mr. Dimm a spoonful of carrot soup as he finished the previous one.

He looked much better. Seated in bed, propped up by several pillows, covered with a blanket, he could endure this position a bit longer than yesterday. He was still pale, but his skin was regaining color. Today, he even read for a while, which Morana considered a significant success. And he ate with appetite. When the bowl was empty, and Morana placed it on the bedside table, Mr. Dimm adjusted his cap, which he wore even indoors, fearing drafts, and took a deep breath, as if contemplating what he was about to say.

"I think it's a good time to discuss something with you, Mora," he confessed quietly. "In some time, the brewery and the farm will be yours, so I thought it would be best if you take over some of my responsibilities during the summer holidays this year... Of course, you can do whatever you want with the brewery, but even if you decide to sell everything, the merchants won't appear immediately; it might take a year or two, and it's better if everything works to generate as much income as possible... Don't look at me like that; I don't plan to die soon, but I want you to be able to handle everything in case I'm gone and not drown in debts." He grumbled in a stern tone, seeing her frightened expression, and continued, "Lyra and I decided that this year you will go abroad on your own... You can take someone trustworthy with you because we don't want you to be completely alone. Not because we doubt your abilities, but because loneliness can be quite overwhelming. We have much to catch up due to my illness, and I was planning to cancel the trip entirely, but I think it's a good time for you to explore the market on your own. You know how to haggle, and you know which hops are the best; I wouldn't trust anyone else with this task... Well... What's that sad little expression of yours, Mo?" he asked gently, seeing the corners of her mouth turned down, and lightly touched her cheek. "Next year, when I feel better, I'll go with you, but I'll be more of a companion, and you'll already be the boss. I'll be able to enjoy Czech beer without worrying that I'm at work." He joked, lifting Morana's spirits a bit. She smiled and placed her hand on his.

The silence was interrupted by a timid knock on the door, and with Mr. Dimm's permission, Aesop entered the room.

"Oh, Mr. Sharp, nice to meet you!" the old man exclaimed. "Please, come in. I secretly hoped I'd manage to come downstairs, but I'm not strong enough yet."

Aesop entered the room cautiously to shake Mr. Dimm's hand and began to scrutinize all the details, hoping to find some typically "Muggle" extraordinary objects, which immediately brought disappointment. Fireplace, bed, armchair, rug... Meh... He thought.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Marcus shyly.

"Well, thank you; my two angels take care of me." He glanced proudly at Morana. "And sometimes they are overly protective because I can eat on my own; I don't need to be fed." He smiled at Aesop and, after a moment, asked with a serious tone, concern in his voice, "How is Mora doing at school? Has she skipped any classes?"

Sharp immediatelly thought about killed trolles and poachers turned to smithereens, oh and a dragon, but shook his head, and Mr. Dimm's eyes lit up with pride.

"She passed her exams very well, although her po..." He bit his tongue before saying "potions" and quickly sought a substitute word. "Potential in chemistry is significant; she just lacks patience."

"That's interesting! Lately, Morana has been weighing the beer, and Mrs. Sirona, our best customer, hasn't complained about a change in its taste... You see, the process is quite complicated, and one errant sneeze cuould be disastrous."

"I see that you're a man of culture," Sharp said, shooing Morana out of the armchair and sitting down, listening with interest to Mr. Dimm.

"Well at least when it comes to bear! I know everything about it. My family owned a network of breweries for years, but after the crisis, we had to sell everything and focus on this small one to stay on the market without going bankrupt due to excessive expenses. We chose quality over quantity, and it paid off. I've been working in it for as long as I can remember. Lyra, on the other hand, studied at home when she was little. She has aristocratic roots, but her father quickly brought the family business to ruin. I often saw him drunk when I was a delivery boy visiting their house with orders, and Lyra would throw frogs into my bottle crates... None of us could afford a proper school, so we're determined to give Mo a better start. I won't allow her to be at the mercy and whim of a husband, like the daughters of my industry colleagues! Hell, with her knowledge already, she's becoming quite the competition! Maybe you'll show Mr. Sharp around the brewery, huh? And I'll take a nap." He suggested, subtly indicating that he needed rest. Morana nodded. "Please, come by again someday, Mr. Sharp; we'll have a chat and enjoy some fresh beer." He winked at him, and Aesop gladly accepted the invitation.

Morana didn't say much as they said their goodbyes and headed to the brewery. She felt like she was hearing Aesop's voice from under the water surface; he summarized the visit, pleased with the meeting. She was absent, contemplating Mr. Dimm's words, worrying about his health.

Aesop caught snippets of their conversation as he cautiously climbed the narrow stone stairs, so now, seeing concern on Morana's face, he completely understood her and fell silent, allowing her thoughts to drift in silence. She needed a moment of calm to sort everything in her mind, and deep down, he regretted leading her to the brewery, to show him how it worked, which didn't matter much to him now...

They walked slowly, him leaning on his cane, admiring the extraordinary machinery, the vats of malt, the pleasant aroma, and the ease with which Morana operated the complex apparatus. All of this wasn't important to him at the moment. He saw pain in her eyes, and he wanted to interrupt her, to talk somewhere private, in a quiet place, to let her calm down... On the other hand, he didn't have the heart to silence her story about the creamy beer, which she spun with such passion, answering each of his questions meticulously. Torn, he waited, enjoying her words.

"Aesop..." she said softly, unexpectedly, when they stepped outside. He supported himself with a cane, leaning slightly, listenning her. "I need to talk to you."

"Hm?" he asked, looking deep into her sad eyes, seeing through them the words that tangled in her mind. She lowered her gaze, glancing at servants.

"Not here, I'll escort you to the Castle; I haven't been there in ages." Aesop nodded, and with a discreet wave of his wand, he toppled a few barrels deep into the brewery, immediately alerting the workers. When they disappeared from Sharp's view, he extended his arm towards Morana; she took it, and they disapparated with a loud snap.

They walked arm in arm on the muddy path leading towards the Castle. Morana breathed deeply, seeing the familiar sight she had missed from the abundance of responsibilities.

"I had such a nice day that I forgot why I came here at all." Aesop chuckled. Yes, His deep chuckle was also something she missed, and before she could turn her head towards him, he slipped a small book, about the size of a prayer book, into her tiny hand. The cover was enigmatic, adorned with black, rough leather. Morana turned it a few times in her hands, but she found no title on the covers or the spine. In the yellowed pages, someone, probably Aesop, inserted small bookmarks. The first page was titled "Faces of Curses," and the foreword explained that the book dealt with a scientific analysis of scars and wounds that curses, dark magic spells, potions, and dark artifacts could leave.

"It's not the most pleasant read... Wizards use it for investigating crime scenes... My friend wrote it some time ago, you could say I also contributed to its creation... I marked a few cases that might interest you..."

Morana followed the first bookmark and encountered a rather drastic photograph of someone's arm marked with a monstrous wound... curls resembling burns and a few longer lacerations that seemed familiar to her own scar after a few moments. The title read: "Case 156: Memory-altering spells, memory-erasing spells." Other cases, similarly marked by Sharp, were related to Obliviate-like spells. Others resembled scars that a young Thestral had; they were only labeled as "dark magic."

Morana took a deep breath wanting to share her plans, the thoughts that had been swirling in her head for a long time... And now, when the opportunity presented itself... She didn't have the courage to confess them to anyone, as she knew she couldn't solve many issues with those she knew. Except for a certain former Auror, a detective.

"In a week, I'm going to Nitra. I want to know what happened that day to me, but... I need help," she wrinkled her brows, angry at herself for imposing on Aesop, afraid he might think she was using him for her purposes, and he might not be up for it. She was a young student; he had his own life and was her teacher, not a friend... She shouldn't... "Of course, I'll understand if the answer is 'no'..."

Aesop fell into thought, somewhat surprised by the proposition of a joint journey. He felt as if an angel was sitting on one of his shoulders, explaining to him that "traveling with a young, unmarried woman almost begged for scandal"; on the other shoulder, the devil chanted, "Adventure, ADVENTURE, puzzles, investigation, AESOP, I know you love investigations." He swallowed hard. The angel continued about conventions, while the devil raised the strongest argument: "You know... It's uncertain what awaits her there... To what or WHO clues might lead her to... Are you sure the emotions accompanying her search for her mother and father won't drown her vigilance? If she fell into an ambush, who knows, maybe she could even... die."

"Well... In a week, we have a meeting at school, but... But maybe a day later, I could reach the Floo flame in Vienna; from there, it's not so far to Nitra, I suppose..." he spoke with a trembling voice, nervously rubbing his hands together when he hid his cane and umbrella in case of meeting with any student. "If you wait for me one day, I'd be happy to help you... if you want help, because, in the end, I don't know what kind of help you're expecting from me, but I guess I'd be more useful on the spot than sending owls..." he babbled, not entirely sure what he was saying. Suddenly, a small hand grasped his arm, and a pair of two shiny eyes reflecting the cloudy sky gazed at him.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking him under her arm. Her hand rested on his forearm, subconsciously squeezing her fingers on a pretty hard muscle she could sense from undeerneeth his cloak, as if seeking Aesop's support. She felt more confident walking beside him in this way, as if he represented solid ground in the ocean that often flooded her mind with negative thoughts, especially when she had no contact with him. Aesop initially stiffened, wanting to assure her that he could walk quite well on his own... but... Well, after a few steps, he felt warmth spreading around his heart, and a blissful smile spread across his lips.

The devil on his shoulder kept chanting: "ADVENTURE, ADVENTURE! "

End of part 9, thanks for reading!

#professor sharp #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy meme #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy oc #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp smut

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trainerspiral · 2 months ago

Text

It's late afternoon when I stumble into Slateport, and it takes me much longer than I would like to find a motel with a vacant room. The Pokemon Contest that drew ASH here must be responsible for that.

When I finally find a place, I whip out my trainer ID and announce myself as a former Champion before the clerk can react to my appearance and odor. I've never been checked in so fast in my life.

After a long and thorough soak and shower, I check my email. Sure enough, there's a message from [email protected] It reads:

Hi Spiral!

Great news! My team says they have all the battle data they need! Thanks so much for all your hard work!

When you get to Slateport, shoot me an email and I'll tell you where to meet Trizztan, our head artificials researcher. He should have all that data crunched by the time you get there.

Cheers,

Nifi<3

I feel light as air. I shoot her back an email right away, and while I wait for her response I text Rosette and tell her I'm in town. She asks whether I can meet her for dinner, and we arrange to meet at a nearby hotpot place. By the time we've finished, Nifti has responded with the location of an office building near the market district, and I'm able to confirm that I can make an 11am meeting.

I stare at the meeting time and place for a long moment. I don't want to dampen my own excitement, but my misgivings about Koynlab and ASH's warning keep knocking around in my skull. After a moment's thought, I forward the information to ASH. He quickly responds that he'll wait for me outside the building.

The ingrained laws of inconvenient politeness tell me I should refuse and force him to insist before I give in, but I surprise myself by simply responding, Thanks.

No matter what the outcome, something tells me I'll want someone to talk to when that meeting ends.

.....

When Rosette sits down across from me, I can tell she's not in the best mood. Her smile is much more tepid than usual, her expressions more muted. I wait until the waiter comes and goes to ask her about it.

"Work got you down?"

She looks at me for a long beat, long enough for me to feel nervous.

"What is it?"

She sighs, settles her purse on the booth next to her, and gives me an uncomfortably serious look. "I met with ASH."

"Oh." I blink. "I thought...I thought you'd just talk to him on the phone, or text him or something. That was nice of you to meet him in person."

Her expression doesn't lighten. She continues to study me from behind her glasses.

"Did something go wrong?" I venture.

She sighs and adjusts her glasses. "No..." Her tone is uncertain, and her gaze shifts off of me and into the middle distance.

I want to push, but I wait for her to collect her thoughts. When she looks back at me, she looks somewhat sad. "Spiral, is there anything you're not telling me?"

"Huh? About ASH, or...?"

She stares at me expectantly, and I wrack my brains, but I can't think of anything relevant I haven't told her. I shake my head. Her eyes flash, and a hint of anger enters her expression.

"Ro, what is it?" I ask. "Was he a jerk to you or something?"

"No," she says roughly. "Well, you know how he is, how he can be." Her eyes harden. "He's just kind of rude, you know?"

"What'd he say that was rude?"

"Just some little remarks about my job, the League. He said..." Her eyes flash at me again. "He said he made you cry."

"Oh," I laugh.

"It's not funny!" I flinch at the pain in her voice. "Why didn't you tell me about that?"

I drop my eyes, sobering. "I was just embarrassed. You know how I hate to cry. And the only reason I did was because he said he forgave me for killing his Pokemon."

"But that was his fault! I've been telling you that for years, and if he's going to be guilting you about--"

"I don't think he was." I hold up my hands. "Ro...I know he comes off kind of dickish, but I honestly think he's been doing a lot of soul searching."

"Not enough to accept responsibility!"

"He does, it's just that--"

"He just thinks you should get half the blame, too."

"Shouldn't I?" I say, my voice taking on a ragged edge.

"No." She leans forward, pointing her finger in my face. "Absolutely not. And you can't let him put that on you."

"I could have called the match after the first casualty. If I hadn't been so proud--"

"He could have forfeited, and he should have."

A silence unspools between us. She sighs, her face softening, and looks at me with desperation in her eyes.

"Spiral, I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know. I can hand--"

"Listen." She presses her palms together. "Even beyond all that stuff that happened in the past, he's just...chaotic. He thinks he knows better than the League, better than everyone. He chases bizarre theories and bulls through whatever's in the way. He stress-tests things until they break."

"He's changed." My voice is weak.

"I believe you when you say he feels bad about what happened," she says. "But I'm not sure it's enough to keep him from making the same kind of mistakes."

I take a deep breath. This is where I should tell her that ASH will be waiting when I finish with Koynlab tomorrow, but the words stick in my throat. Instead I just say, "He's only helping me with one thing. I'll be careful."

Her mouth quirks in a grim smile. "I hope so."

@novelistash

#pokemon rp #closed rp #closed roleplay #pokemon

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dappercapper · 5 days ago

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Dapper Ramblings #1: The Meaning of a Heart

It hasn't occurred to me 'til just now how ubiquitous and context-sensitive the symbolism of the Heart Shape (❤️) is. You see it damn near everywhere, seeing it in some places FAR more than others. The most immediately recognized use for it is as a symbol of love, owing to how hearts beat faster when experiencing intense affection. But even then, calling it "affection" feels wrong, doesn't it? Because they are also seen in erotic contexts. Love and lust can sometimes be concurrent, but they are decidedly separate things. This is why (and how) Asexual Panromantics or Homosexual Aromantics exist, among other identities and preferences.

Scientifically speaking, adrenaline and exertion - or any other form of physical/mental excitement - is what causes the heart to race. Yet the sensation is homogenized with emotions like intense affection and sexual arousal because that, too, is a form of excitement. Because, either socially or psychologically, our brain comes to see those things as the same thing, they are often mistaken. This is literally how the Suspension Bridge Effect works. But we don't ONLY see it in the context of some manner of attraction.

Take video games for instance! Hearts usually symbolize health points and extra lives, because obviously, we'd die without a heart. In Legend of Zelda, you increase your life total and max by literally just… collecting hearts you find. Which is morbid when I actually type it. And thinking about it in a literal sense, yeah, running around collecting stray hearts sounds nightmarish and disgusting. But it always made perfect sense to us as kids. Thats because the heart was meant less literally. More conceptual, representative of the idea of "staying alive," alluding to the hearts function, while keeping a comfortable distance from what a heart actually is. An abstraction of the heart's function into something symbolic. But what, then, when the heart itself is PURELY symbolic?

Undertale and Kingdom Hearts, most notably in the scope of pop-culture, took the heart as a symbol specifically for the Soul. The essence of a person's being. Which does make sense, as if we didn't have hearts to pump blood, we'd be dead. But thinking about it, wouldn't the brain be better suited for that kind of thing? After all, we don't exist without our brains. We don't think, don't feel, don't sense, don't live without them. We need our brains to tell the heart to pump. Our brains hold and store everything, our heart is merely a muscle. So why use that instead?

The easy answers are that 1. the heart is an easier shape to draw and simplify, and 2. Brains are kinda yucky looking. all grey and jiggly. Why would ANYONE want that as representation of our being? My personal theory is it makes the reality of what we are uncomfortably concrete. We are our brains. Our thoughts, feelings, and identities all born from the electrical signals put out by a jiggly, grey hunk of goo whose ENTIRE job is intaking information and stimulus, and creating neural pathways intent on prolonging our life, happiness or safety - drawing from PREVIOUS information and stimulus to inform those new pathways, and the emotions they trigger and instincts they feed. Our bodies are machines running on thick fluids, wiggly meat, and spooky bones that our brains pilot.

Ew. Yuck. No.

So where does the heart come in? Once again, it's an abstraction - a separation of its function from its form, while both are still brushing elbows with each other. Because of our social perception of hearts being tied to love, joy, lust, and cute things, this makes it a much more appealing symbol of the soul, because people generally enjoy the idea that our soul is a good thing. Our purest, best, most wonderful pieces of ourselves. Thus, we are naturally inclined to tie it to the heart, a symbol that already has positive connotations.

Consider, then, what happens when the symbolism and realism is cranked up to eleven, to the point where you can ONLY see it as what it is.

In Metaphor: ReFantazio, your Gauntlet Runner's primary engine component is a biological-heart-shaped thing that pulsates like a heart, pushing fuel through it like a heart, and because of that, you can imagine what would happen if the runner's "heart" stopped doing the thing. Any game with "Metaphor" in the name is clearly not going to hold its punches. But it's obviously not a heart, right? Yes, it does all the things a heart is supposed to do, and is shaped like one, but it's made of metal and rubber rather than flesh, and its pumping fuel instead of blood. But if the only thing that's different about the runner's heart is what it's made out of, then it seems like a meaningless distinction, right? For the Gauntlet Runner, it pumps faster when running faster. It keeps it running. It keeps it "alive." It simultaneously is and isn't a heart. It feels almost recursive: it symbolizes the function and form of a heart by doing all of the things a heart does while looking like a heart.

Take, now, the OTHER example from the same game: when party members awaken to the powers of the Archetype, they reach into their chests and rip out a symbolically (not biologically) heart-shaped microphone, and speak their truth. This is one use of a heart where it feels almost difficult to simplify what it's trying to represent because it is being so many things at once. They rip it from their chests and blood gushes out, so it's a heart that keeps us alive. This happens at the moments of self-actualization where the party members are decisive in their path forward and conscientious of their goals, thus making it a symbol of their power, their agency within the story, and their own lives. It takes the form of a microphone, into which they swear a vow or proudly declare who they are, making it a symbol of the soul.

In this case, the heart symbol is all-encompassing of a larger idea of Humanity - helped largely by the game's strict focus on the human experience and what it means to be human. But even when it's trying to be all of these things at once, it isn't outlandish. It isn't surprising. We don't spend much time thinking on why its a heart because it seems to immediately make some modicum of sense. And the reason for that, I believe, is because the symbolism, the function, the form, and the need for a heart, in whatever form it chooses to take, is integral to the overarching idea of what is the core of "Humanity."

Humans need love, humans need lust, humans need a soul, humans need a sense of self, humans need excitement.

Humans need a heart to live. Both literally and figuratively.

So whatever you do… hold onto yours. Your love, your lust, your soul, your sense of self, you excitement, your purpose. Your life.

Hold onto your heart. Because you still need it.

❤️

#metaphor refantazio #kingdom hearts #undertale #brain dump #waxing poetic #can you tell im hyperfixating #hyperfixation #heart #symbolism #discussion #open to interpretation #subjective #humanity #love #soul #self love

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blackjackkent · 1 year ago

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This Sharran gauntlet is definitely a bit of a maze. Doing my best to cover everything and not get lost but we'll see.

My immediate plan was to go deal with that displacer beast, since the knowledge that it was there was making me nervous. :P Jumping down to the level where it was standing, though, it seems to be abruptly gone, and Karlach picked up a perception check.

Cool. Probably the one Raphael told us to look for.

Aggressive quicksave per @zenjestrr's suggestion, and down we go, fully expecting something to jump out of a wall.

Actually, before even starting down the corridor, I'm able to move the camera along, and hey, look.

There he is.

This big boy and his numerous friends are a level above us (just take my word for it; the messed up, shattered architecture around here is very confusing) and looking the other direction. I'm guessing our current path will take us underneath him and then he will drop down on us? The displacer beast appears to have moved to the far side of the room past him.

My ideal strategy here would be to jump up behind him and get the drop on him instead, but only Karlach has the jump distance necessary to make that work. So we'll see if we can get a shot on him from underneath before he notices us, I guess.

A very unscientific diagram of the situation:

After some experimenting, I was able to get the group (in a rare moment of the hide action actually working successfully in this game) to sneak to the far right side of the room without alerting anybody. This allows us to get a bit of a look around at this area, which is AWFUL.

Hector points out that there is tons of blood and gore everywhere, and this is hanging out at the far end near where the displacer beast is pacing back and forth.

Yechh.

I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Shadowheart, that this isn't what normally goes on in Sharran temples.

We do seem to kind of have the option of just...scurrying past the whole situation and not engaging. But I'm not overly interested in doing that, and I don't think Hector is either. He doesn't like Raphael much but the depiction of the Orthon as a crazed brute seems like it might not be off the mark and needs to be dealt with.

But if there's a way to handle this situation stealthily I don't think I know what it is. And ultimately I think Hector would like to get Orthon's side of the story before killing him outright. So I think the correct answer here might just be to step into view and see what happens.

[QUICKSAVE]

The displacer beast spots them immediately, followed at once by the orthon on the upper level, who has sighted down on them with a crossbow.

"What's this?" the devil growls in a rumbling, resonant baritone. "Fresh entertainment...but you're too fresh for this place, aren't you? There's a whiff of the surface to you..."

His eyes move from Hector to Karlach, and he smirks. "You. Tiefling. You've got the stench of the Hells about you - the stench of home. And a whiff of the surface besides. A servant of Zariel, if I'm not mistaken." His fingers flex on the handle of his crossbow. "I'd know the stench of her infernal machinery anywhere."

Karlach shifts uncomfortably at Hector's side. "What do you know of infernal machinery?" she asks.

The devil shrugs casually, the tip of the crossbow remaining perfectly steady with the movement. "Only what I can smell. And whatever engine burns within you is grinding to an inevitable explosion. Burning and fear - you reek with it."

Hector sets his jaw. How dare this creature taunt them with that terrible encroaching deadline? He has tried, so hard, not to think about it, to focus on what he and Karlach have together, now, but that mocking voice draws it back into immediate focus and the pain stabs back into him again, and with it, fury.

And yet...

Is it possible the orthon knows something that could help to save her? Hector would betray Raphael in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Karlach safe...

As if following his thoughts, the devil twitches, looks back towards Hector and wrinkles his nose up. "There's something else...almost hidden by your fear-stink. Cherries...musk...and sulphur. Raphael! I can smell him all over you. WHERE IS HE?"

"I...don't know what you mean..." Hector tries evasion, but it's useless.

"LIES," the devil bellows at once, as Hector on some level knew he would. "My nose would recognize him anywhere. That perfumed trickster swindled me - trapped me!"

There's clearly no point in being coy about this. Hector sighs. "He wants you dead," he says matter-of-factly.

"Where is he?" growls the orthon. "Spit it out. NOW!"

"Careful," Shadowheart mutters. "I'm not sure we want Raphael as an enemy."

Hector isn't either, but he also believes Raphael fully capable of lying about what is actually going on here. What he wants, more than anything, is information before making a decision, and this orthon seems like it might be marginally more likely to tell him things directly than Raphael is.

"Let's...share our experiences about Raphael," he says carefully. "Perhaps we can help each other."

The devil laughs. "Bargaining, are you? A Kara-Tur warlord once tried the same - I made him watch as I ate his concubines and young, then fashioned a codpiece from his skull." He snarls, a noise of muted frustration and rage. "You can't help. It's not just walls that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark, or the creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me. A contract. Either I fulfil the contract, die trying, or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I'll become Raphael's slave."

Hector's eyebrows lift in surprise. This...is interesting news - and not simply for reasons of the issue at hand. Astarion has said on more than one occasion in camp that he would like to work with Raphael, to make a deal that would see him freed of Cazador's ability to control him. Hector thinks it's a terrible idea, but knows arguing with Astarion is pointless - but he wonders how Astarion would feel to know that Raphael is ready to enslave and control as well, perhaps just as much as Cazador was.

But...that is an issue to consider later. For now he must decide what to do regarding that crossbow still pointing down at him.

"Show me this contract," he says, still speaking very slowly, carefully, ready to dodge aside if the devil shows signs of attacking. "Perhaps there's something you missed." That would be the ideal scenario, wouldn't it? Get the creature out of its contract, send it back to the hells, and upset Raphael's plans at the same time but without giving him room to object.

The orthon blinks, then straightens and, completely unexpectedly, begins to sing - terribly.

"Spill all the blood sworn to the night. Silence all prayers, smother each rite. Wander Shar's halls, hungry to slay. Leave no Justiciar alive to obey. Leave none to hear it; then be set free. This song is your oath. Swear, swear it to me."

Hector resists the urge to wince at the discordant notes, focusing instead on the message of the strange, winding verse.

Narrator: Well, that explains where all the Dark Justiciars went. [INSIGHT] The final lyrics linger in your mind. There is a trick buried within them - a clause that cannot be easily fulfilled.

"That's it," the demon rumbles, bringing his crossbow up again and re-aiming it at Hector's face.

"So he's responsible for all the carnage down here," Shadowheart whispers, appalled. "All those Dark Justiciars...slaughtered..."

Hector looks up at the orthon, his mind churning rapidly, trying to parse the situation and the best way out of it. "Raphael wanted you to kill Dark Justiciars?" he asks. "Why?"

"Asking why doesn't get me paid," the orthon snarls. "Hunting and killing does. Raphael mentioned something about an aasimar. Meant nothing to me. I did my part - I filled these halls with ghosts. But Raphael's playing some other game, one that involves stiffing me."

He pauses, seems to consider for a moment, then shrugs. "Anyway, enough prattle. The lyrics are clear - all who hear the song must die. He spits on the ground, cocks the crossbow back. "Time to die."

Hector backpedals at once, a hand going to his crossbow, but as he does, he babbles out desperately, [PERSUASION] "The lyrics are a trick! You've always had an audience - your followers! Get rid of them!"

Years of reading back in the monastery libraries on all manner of subjects coalesces here; he has read of devil contracts and of the legal ones of the material plane. If he can convince the devil to believe him...this has to be correct, it has to be the way out...it solves everything at once...

But that's a very big "if."

A long, strained pause. For a moment he's quite sure he's going to get a crossbow bolt in the head no matter what...and then the orthon's weapon drops and he looks perplexed. "The merregons?" He glances at the masked, imp-like creatures flanking him. "They barely have a thought to share among themselves..." Another pause. "But they do have ears." He turns towards them, snaps out an order. "Kill yourselves! Back to the hells with you!"

It's a rather extraordinary show; without hesitation, all the small creatures turn and slam their axes into each others heads, then collapse in a bloody heap. One of their axes clatters down next to Hector's feet.

The orthon roars with frustration. "Arrrghhh - I still hear it! Seems your theory is wrong!"

Hector's whole body is jittery with adrenaline, both from fear and from a sort of hysterical thrill that he spoke and the creature listened to such a bloody degree. He can feel the situation on the verge of slipping out of control...but he's almost certain his interpretation of the situation is correct, and at least there are fewer enemies on the field now. [PERSUASION] "You're not finished yet!" he points out desperately. "The displacer can hear you, can't she? Kill her!"

A very unexpected burst of grief flashes onto the orthon's face. "Kill..Nessa?" He looks towards the displacer beast at the far end of the room with deep regret.

"Stay very still, my beauty..." he whispers, and pulls the trigger on the crossbow. The shot flies true and the displacer falls without a sound.

The regret morphs into rage at once. "I STILL HEAR IT!" the demon bellows.

Hector swallows. This is it - the final point. If he's right...the orthon will no longer stalk these halls, Raphael's request will also have been fulfilled, and all of it completely in line with the contract.

[PERSUASION] "Exactly," he says. It takes every ounce of nerve in his body not to flinch away from the pure fury in the demon's face. "Kill yourself, complete the contract, and you'll be reborn in Avernus. Free!"

Surely this is right. It fits with everything he's read before about such things. Listen to me, he thinks desperately, watching the crossbow's tip waver in midair.

And then the crossbow drops. The devil stares at him, reaches to his back and pulls out a heavy steel sword from its sheathe.

"If you're wrong about this," he growls, "I'll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned."

He lifts the blade, puts it to his own heart, and thrusts it home. A spatter of bright red blood sprays across the stone floor. "Nicely played, Raphael... Bastard..." he groans out and collapses heavily off the platform into a heap on the ground.

For a long moment, Hector and his companions simply stare at the unmoving body, unable to believe that worked.

"That silver tongue of yours is dangerous," Shadowheart murmurs after a while, looking rather impressed. "Bravo. I can't believe you actually pulled that off."

----

"Me either," Hector whispers. His heart is pounding as if he's just run a marathon, and he finds that his hands are trembling as he goes to try and loot the devil's body.

He didn't really think that would work, right up until the moment that it did. All this time out in the 'real world,' he's struggled with the nuances of conversation, of handling tense situations smoothly. Here, of all places, he was utterly terrified that he would say the wrong thing, would fail, would get them all killed...

But that devil...listened to him.

He believed what he was saying, that these actions would free the orthon from its contract; it wasn't a lie, he wasn't trying to trick the creature. But nevertheless, it was a desperate attempt at best. And the fact that it worked...

He sits down heavily on the floor, puts his head in his hands, and just breathes until the shakiness starts to bleed out of him. It worked, and it's over. It worked, and it's over. One less thing to face in this darkness. All things with her strength.

All things with *my* strength.

For the first time, he realizes he truly believes it. He can do this. He can face these things and handle them, at least sometimes, even the ones that seem insurmountable. For the first time since the crash, a tiny bit of the everpresent fear ebbs away.

"You all right, Hec?" Karlach sits down next to him, leans her head gently against his. Feeling him shaking, she shifts to wrap her arm around him and, unresisting, he slumps into her side.

"I hate this place," he mutters with a hoarse, rueful laugh.

Shadowheart stands nearby, watching him thoughtfully. "You have no love for my Lady, or the others who worship her," she says quietly. "I know that. But you drove out that evil, so it will not kill any more of us."

He nods slightly, not looking up. "They don't deserve a massacre," he says hollowly. "Any more than the Selunites on the surface did."

She has no answer for that, and turns away with a troubled expression.

"Loathe as I am to interrupt our self-congratulatory snuggle session," Gale says mildly, "I think we might do well to be moving on. We've no shortage of other dangers to face before our tents show us their welcoming faces once again."

He leans over and offers a hand to Hector, helping him lever away from Karlach and back onto his feet. "But well done, my friend. Any standoff with a devil that ends with everyone still un-immolated is fine by me."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bjk writes her own party banter #hey hey hey what's that coming down the pike #it's an INCREDIBLY LONG POST #this post has everything #hector character development #party banter #a devil singing badly #persuasion checks that blew out my entire collection of inspiration #unexpected displacer beast feels #tiefling snuggles #you name it we got it #god only knows what i just wrought in terms of raphael's opinion of me but we'll cross that bridge when we get there :P

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