#there were ideas with potential but all they seemed to focus on was poppy and ian and the rest of the characters just existed

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

I am simply going to pretend that the real Mythic Quest s3 doesn't exist and that the one in my head is canon instead

[piratewithvigor]

KNIGHTS

The knights in the army of King Vincent are divided into two groups: the ones who train hard to protect the palace and the kingdom, and the ones who live inside the palace as showpieces of human perfection.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on chapter 1. I intend to have a new chapter up every 2 days, and if there's more than 48 hours between posted chapters, you're all given permission to yell at me. Also, I need to apologize that H*gan will indeed be part of this story, but kept to a minimum. Since the first 17 chapters focus on the mid-80s kayfabe and I know not everyone has seen it, don't hesitate to ask me for mini bios on any characters you aren't familiar with because now that this fic isn't secret anymore, I will talk anyone's ear off about it.

CHAPTER 2: The Knight And The Thespian

“SteelMania?”

“That’s what they’re calling it.”

“But why? What does it mean?”

Shane shrugged as he reached for another grape to pop into his mouth.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself. I asked a handful of the lords and none of them truly had a concrete answer. I’m certain it was Father’s idea; you know how poetic he has the tendency to be when he really wants to.”

Hulk rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face.

“And why exactly does it concern me?”

“You’re the draw, I suspect. The man everyone is going to come to see.”

“They come to see me anyway; why create a particularly special tournament for it?”

“Because of the debt. Father thinks I don’t know about it, but I do.”

Hulk propped himself up onto an elbow and grabbed another bunch of grapes for himself as he looked over the young prince. Approaching 15 years old and no rapidly-approaching marriage to speak of. Of course, Hulk didn’t really know much about the inner workings of royalty besides what he’d read as a child. Maybe someday, if he cared enough, he might ask if any of it was true and if Shane would really be betrothed to some princess of a faraway kingdom to make an ally out of a potential enemy. His sister, Stephanie, almost certainly would be. Never mind the fact she was only eight years old. Plans of such a caliber usually had to be laid early. But none of that had anything to do with Hulk, so he didn’t preoccupy himself with it. He much preferred to enjoy his life as it happened.

It just so happened to lead him to one of the many sitting rooms of the palace. An audience with the King had been requested of him, and so Hulk found himself waiting. Shane had joined him not long afterwards and one of the staff had offered them a bowl of grapes to occupy themselves with as they sat and waited. Shane seemed to know a little bit more about SteelMania than Hulk did, but his knowledge fizzled out not far beyond the name of the tournament. He’d suspected that was what his audience was going to be regarding.

The idea made Hulk chuckle a little; the notion of having to set up an audience to visit one’s own father seemed ludicrous, but such was life behind the palace walls. The King was a busy man, far busier than whoever might be needing to speak with him, no matter who they were.

“And your audience was also for noon?” Shane asked, a grape or two muffling his voice.

“Also?”

“That’s when he wanted to speak to me.”

“Do you have any idea what for?”

“I’m hoping it’s to tell me that since I’m going to be 15 soon, I’m finally going to get a role of some kind in the court.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t yet?”

“Well…” Shane’s cheeks grew slightly red. It seemed to be a commonality amongst the members of his family. Hulk had seen King Vincent’s cheeks and really his entire face grow as red as a poppy in a matter of moments if he was having some particularly intense emotions. “... I’ve been training, at least. That must count for something, right?”

“As a swordsman?”

“No, as a jester.”

Hulk could practically hear Shane’s eyes rolling and he didn’t even need to look over.

“You’d make a mighty fine jester.”

“Okay, I gave you that one, but don’t let Mother hear. She said I’m getting to the age where I need to start presenting myself properly to the commoners.”

“Presenting yourself properly,” Hulk scoffed. “What does that even mean, anyway?”

“To look… Princely, I guess. To not embarrass the family and the crown with my behavior.”

“Nothing there sounds like I can’t suggest you’d make a good jester.”

“It’s part of protecting my image. If you call me a jester, I have to give you lashings or something. My belt across your back is the suggestion Mother gave.”

When Hulk looked over at the kid, a fighter was the last thing he saw. Residual baby fat made his cheeks and face round and his youthful enthusiasm made him almost endearing. It was why Hulk hadn’t immediately shut down any attempts to have a conversation. That, and he was the Prince and more or less got to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted without repercussions. Except the occasional scolding from Mother, it seemed.

“I take back and apologize for my insult towards you, Sire, and I humbly beg your forgiveness,” he laughed, tossing a grape in Shane’s direction.

“Forgiveness granted. You keep your head for today. Tomorrow, I may not be quite so merciful.”

“A thousand thank yous, your majesty.”

Shane was halfway to laughing his head off before stopping short and jumping up from his couch the instant he heard the door open, bowing deeply. It took Hulk a little longer to realize their visitor was in fact the man who had summoned them there the day before. No matter how personally friendly one was with their king, the custom was always to bow as he entered a room and not be seated until he granted permission. King Vincent never really took offense if people did not take the proper formalities, but he appreciated the sign of respect it signified.

“Be seated, boys,” he instructed, pulling a chair from the side of the room to form a sort of askew triangle between his two invitees.

“Grape, Sire?” Hulk offered the bowl, prompting King Vincent to pop one into his mouth and begin chewing before he rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“I’m certain you’ve both heard of SteelMania by now, correct?”

“Chatter’s been everywhere, Father. People don’t yet know what it is, but they’re excited to learn.”

“The truth of the matter is, my son…” King Vincent paused, stroking his jaw thoughtfully. “There truly isn’t much yet known of SteelMania. We have one match in mind and it will be unlike any other match the tournament-going public has ever attended.”

“What, will the knights not use swords or something?” Hulk chuckled. He’d intended the jape to be nothing more than a joke, but at the silence of the King, he was far less convinced. “Will they not?”

“It’s being discussed that this could very well be the case. We want matches that have never been witnessed before. Matches that will excite and bemuse the public.”

“Well, you can’t take away swords completely,” Shane pointed out. “The reason tournaments are so popular already is because people like to see the blood. That’s the excitement; to spot the drop of blood first.”

“People will get their bloodshed, don’t worry about that.”

“While I’m not unimpressed by the idea of such a tournament, Sire, why exactly did you summon me here?” Hulk asked. Fighting was in his blood. Diplomacy and the more strategic, planning side of things, not so much. He’d certainly love to be in a tournament of the magnitude SteelMania’s rumors had explained it to be, but his enthusiasm wavered slightly at the idea of leaving his beloved sword behind. Or not being allowed to draw blood.

“I need a grand finale to the tournament. A grandiose final match that will nearly put all others before it to shame,” King Vincent explained, a devious twinkle in his eye.

“And you want me to be part of it?”

“Certainly. Hundreds attend tournaments where you’re booked to fight. I need at least that many to be invested in SteelMania.”

“Alright… who am I fighting?”

“That’s what I’ve come to ask you. Out of all the men you know, out of all the men you’ve ever heard of before, who would you like to fight? Who do you believe you could truly have a spectacular match against?”

Hulk leaned forward on his couch, leaning his chin on tented fingers. Being asked his dream match out of anyone in the kingdom, perhaps even beyond… quite possibly the most desired request of any knight or swordsman.

“Will it be a regular match?” He eventually asked. “First blood rules?”

“Only if you believe you can attract the proper crowds with a first blood match. Could you do it? Truly?”

A part of Hulk wanted to boast that he could, easily. That simply being in his presence would excite the crowds into hysterics. It had been accomplished before and Hulk was certain it could happen again. His doubts rested only with the curiosity of what else the King was planning.

“We can’t end with first blood. It won’t work. It won’t leave the people satisfied if the tournament they’ve seen so far will be as tantalizing as you say it is,” he decided. “Something has to be new about my match. Something the people have yet to see. We need to take a classic first blood match and elevate the rules. Give something new to an old classic.”

“And what new stipulation would you add?”

It was Hulk’s turn to grin as a thought crossed his mind.

“Two men cannot finish this tournament alone. But four may get the trick done.”

Both the king and his son leaned forward, fascinated by the idea. Four men fighting together at once under first blood rules… it had never been done within the kingdom and if it had, no one in the room had yet heard of it. Submission rules, certainly, but never first blood rules.

“Elaborate. What will these four men be doing to keep the audience from getting confused? An ordinary match between two knights is usually exciting and quick enough. What will happen if we bring the number to four?”

“My idea, as it stands, is that we have four men, and two swords. Regular teams of two, but only two men fight at a time. Each team carries their own sword. The victor must be the first to draw blood from the opponent holding the sword or who last held it, should the team drop the sword. The man on each team not fighting remains outside the boundaries. This way, the match stays organized and fair and can go on far longer than an ordinary match.”

If a man could vibrate with excitement, Hulk would have to assume that was what King Vincent was doing as he spoke. He could practically see the clockwork turning behind the King’s eyes. Ideas fitting together like some mysterious puzzle Hulk was destined to never understand.

“Say you had three more slots to fill with men; one on your own team and two opposing… any idea who you would select?”

One name was hard enough to pick out of the hundreds Hulk was familiar with. Three was borderline impossible. Luckily, vague descriptions were far easier. And allowed for men to be selected who Hulk didn’t even know.

“On my team… I want an unknown. Someone who’s potentially never lifted a sword before in his life. By lifting a sword on the winning team of the final battle of SteelMania, his name will be elevated as high as mine, if not higher, seeing as he’s a novice. He doesn’t even need to be particularly skilled; I have skill enough for both of us.”

“Most certainly. And on the other team?”

“They must be despicable. Truly vile men. Every great battle needs a hero and a villain, in this case, two of each. And as I’m hoping to be a hero in your eyes, Sire, I suspect my foes must be the greatest villains that can be found.”

“I’m certain they can be found. Ought they be well-known? Or unknown like your teammate?”

“That’s for you to decide, Sire. Keep in mind, I’m not a particularly gifted organizer. I simply know who I like fighting and what happens to their lives when we’re through with the fighting.”

“There’s a man I know,” Shane piped up from his side of the room. “He hails from the north, but he fights within our army. I’ve heard Captain Albano speak of him, how if he weren’t so skilled with the steel, his conduct record would have him sent to the dungeon or, at the very least, back north. It’s said he begins fights verbally, but he concludes them with his sword or any other tool he so happens to have laying around.”

“Does this man have a name? Or is he simply a menace?” King Vincent asked, slightly annoyed to know one of the men who supposedly served under him had such a known temper, but he was also intrigued by the idea of a man becoming a villain in the eyes of the world.

“I’m sure he must, but I’ve only heard of Captain Albano referring to him as ‘Rowdy Roddy’. A nickname, I suppose.”

“Is it apt?” Hulk grinned, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Men from the north were known to be some of the toughest, in defense of the cold that invaded their homes on a daily basis, but also some of the most emotional of any people. Frequently, those emotions were kind. But on occasion, the endless snow and dreary weather could take a toll on the minds of the people who lived there. They would gain short fuses and even shorter tempers that would run out at the slightest provocation.

“From what I’ve heard about him? It’s as apt a nickname as they come.”

“Does he have an equally vile brother?”

“Captain Albano would be a better man to ask. He’s far more familiar with the knights than I am.”

“And rightfully so. While I appreciate your assistance, Shane, it’s unbecoming of a prince to be mingling with the knights,” King Vincent scolded. “You’ll be forgiven this time, but should I hear of another visit to the barracks, I will be given no choice but to punish you, do you understand?”

Shane’s head hung in shame as he nodded. A sullen, quiet nod that deeply resembled a child scorned by their parents. In many ways, he was still most certainly that child. In likely just as many ways, he was ready to be a grown man in his father’s eyes.

Of course, said eyes did not see just how downtrodden Shane was at being pushed aside. Those eyes were entirely on Hulk, eager and excited. King Vincent was seeing his plan unfold in his mind. Two matches planned… he wanted no more than ten in total, preferably fewer, but exciting enough that they could last a while and the crowd would get the maximum amount of enjoyment out of the day. The gears turning in the mind of the king eventually settled upon a particularly vivid idea.

“Sir Hogan, while I appreciate your nobility in requesting an inexperienced and unknown partner, we must remember that the crowd is far more apt to cheer for those they love. What would happen if they discover they dislike your partner? It’s a risky move.”

“What would you suggest instead?”

“Someone they know and like just as well as they know and like you. We require someone more to tell the story of a hero instead of actually being one. That role is up to you on your team. What I suppose I’m asking is if you’ve ever heard the name of Mr. T., the famed thespian?”

Hulk couldn’t mask the disgust on his face immediately. Truly, it wasn’t intentional; just a gut reaction.

“Certainly, I’ve heard of him. Even attended his performance of the play about the four men accused of a crime they did not commit.”

“Precisely. The show is nearly an hour long and over half of his time spent on the stage is spent intimidating someone or sword fighting. The show has been running nearly five years; his name must certainly have some kind of weight towards the people who attend. And in five years, if he hasn’t yet learned slightly more than the basics of sword fighting, then he ought to quit as a thespian.”

“You want him to be my partner?”

“I want him to be your partner. I want the two of you to be as closely knit as any two men can be. Both during the tournament, after and before.”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“You’re to be a team. One of the very first teams to ever participate and certainly the first partner Mr. T. has ever had in the world of professional sword fighting. I don’t just want him to act a swordsman during SteelMania; I want him to be a swordsman. The only way one can learn such an art so quickly is to train alongside one of the best. To learn to be like you. So he can be just as believable as you are when the match begins.”

Truthfully, Hulk wasn’t fond of the idea. He knew he was resented amongst his peers for being slotted with the less-skilled knights during other tournaments, nearly always garnering him the prize money. If he were in their shoes, he’d likely be frustrated too. But it wasn’t as if he hadn’t paid his dues to get to where he was. He’d once been an unskilled swordsman like anyone else he fought. Hardly given a chance to prove himself. It simply took the right man to notice and appreciate his talents. He couldn’t help it if it had been a king who noticed him instead of just a lord who had too much money and free time. King Vincent The First had selected him for his personal garrison. Not part of the kingdom’s army like dozens of other men; just a select handful. He and the other hand-picked men lived in the palace and trained privately. Knights designed to win fights. But battles? If he were sent to war, he’d be more or less useless. It didn’t take a genius to figure something of the sort out. And if he couldn’t fight under the sponsorship of the King, the money he’d been making would dry up quickly. Such a sponsorship could be removed instantaneously if ever Hulk quit cooperating. He may not like the idea of training Mr. T., but as things stood, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“How soon can he get here?”

[aegor-bamfsteel]

How long does it take to travel to King’s Landing from Dragonstone?

I wanted to focus a meta on a seemingly minor detail that, if you look into the likely circumstances surrounding it, reveals an important piece of characterization of Da3ron II that I don’t think has been discussed. AWOIAF says, regarding Da3ron’s reaction to his father’s death: “[he] departed Dragonstone within the fortnight after learning of his father's demise and was swiftly crowned by the High Septon in the Red Keep.”

If Aegon IV had died, and then Da3ron had arrived from Dragonstone and been crowned within 2 weeks (equal to a fortnight) of this death, that would’ve been understandable. However, the “and” signifies that Da3ron was crowned after the fortnight; it took within a fortnight of being told of Aegon’s death (not Aegon’s death proper, just when he heard the news) for Da3ron to pack his things and travel from Dragonstone to King’s Landing. The implication is that the journey from Dragonstone to KL takes nearly two weeks by sea. I was so puzzled at the idea that the Targaryen’s home castle was so far away from their capital (that they chose to build in that location partially because it was that close to Dragonstone) I checked the Errata of The World of Ice and Fire to see if it was a misprint in the way Myriah Martell’s name was; it was not. Da3ron took nearly two weeks after hearing of his father’s death to arrive at King’s Landing, and was “swiftly crowned” only after. Which leads me to ask, how many miles by sea does it take to travel from Dragonstone to King’s Landing?

According to a map of Westeros and assuming that it is to scale, someone worked out the distance as 420 miles/675km by sea; it is 100 miles/160km from Dragonstone to Sharp Point on the mainland, and then 320 miles/515km of traveling west along the coast to King’s Landing. It is not mentioned what type of ship Da3ron took (galley, longship, carrick, caravel, etc; all of which travel at different speeds based on how they’re built, with longships being the fastest and galleys the slowest), how experienced its crew was (although since Dragonstone is known for its navy, you’d think they would be experienced), or if the winds were favorable, so I’m going to estimate the slow, average, and fast speed of arrival from Dragonstone to KL based on the sources:

If Westeros is anything like our world and the equator is located south of Dorne, then the prevailing winds would blow from east to west (easterlies) south of the Neck and from west to east (westerlies) north of the Neck. Dragonstone and King’s Landing are located south of the Neck, so the prevailing winds would be trade winds/easterlies; in other words, Da3ron would’ve had the wind on his side leaving Dragonstone, which would’ve increased his speed by as much as 1 knot/1.15mi. Travelling at less than 4mph/3.5knots per hour generally meant a sailing ship was travelling with unfavorable winds, so we can assume Da3ron never reached below that speed.

Ideal Conditions:

Under ideal conditions (favorable winds, a skilled crew) a sailing ship could average around 6knots/6.9mph over a trip (pre-modern vessels could “sprint” up to 12 knots, but this wasn’t sustainable). This translates to 168 miles per day, assuming sailing in the day and night (which Da3ron would’ve had to do at least on the first part of his journey to Sharp Point, as he’s sailing the open ocean). 420mi/168mi/d= 2.5 days, or 60 hours at maximum speed

Assuming Da3ron took a caravel, the maximum speed of which is 9mph or 150 miles per day, it would’ve taken 420mi/150mi/d= 2.8 days, or 68 hours at maximum speed

I doubt Da3ron took a galley, considering it is a slow ship most often used for war, but non-ironborn nobility in Westeros do seem to have more of them to their name (Cersei, Stannis, Alyn Velaryon use them as flagships) than other ships, so I’ll put these numbers in to show that even at the slowest built ship Da3ron should’ve made better time. They are on average about 3/4 as fast as caravels, so at maximum might reach 6.75mph, 112mi/d, so 3.7 days or about 90 hours at maximum speed

Average conditions:

The average sailing ship could go around 5knots/5.75mph; this translates into 73 hours or 3 days 1 hour on average

Average speed for a caravel is 4.5mph or 90-100mi/day. The lower range indicates this trip would take 112 hours, or 4 days 16 hours; the upper range is 101 hours, or 4 days 7 hours on average

Average speed for a galley is about 3knots/3.45mph; this translates to about 122 hours, or about 5 days on average

Slow conditions (slowest possible with still-prevailing winds):

As explained before, going less than 3.5knots/4mph via sailing ship meant generally unfavorable winds. Assuming the absolute slowest, the ship could expect to make the trip in 105 hours or 4 days 9 hours

Using the ratio that a galley is about 3/4 the speed of a caravel, its slow speed might be 3mph, which translates into 140 hours or 5 days 20 hours

In conclusion, assuming that Da3ron did not stop at any harbors along the way and traveled at a consistent pace, he should have arrived in King’s Landing within one week, not two, of learning of Aegon’s death. Even at the slowest pace, taking the slowest method of water transport, the trip does not equal 6 full days of travel. 

It’s possible that, like Corlys Velaryon at the 101 Great Council, he brought the full Dragonstone fleet to King’s Landing to support his claim to the throne if he feared it was in danger (which makes sense in that he took so long to arrive, but was “swiftly crowned” after), but that would’ve lengthened the trip to 6 days at most (since a navy can only travel as fast as its slowest ship, the galley), and certainly not to nearly two weeks, since time is clearly of the essence in thwarting a potential coup. The idea that it took so long to prepare such a navy after hearing of Aegon’s death seems like a stretch considering the old king’s slow physical decline (see below)

A more benign argument is that after he reached Sharp Point, he did stop during the night, but assuming a night is 8 hours, that means even if he stopped every night along the journey (a ridiculously inefficient plan that practically defeats traveling by water, but to stretch out the time let’s pretend he might’ve done it) would’ve made the trip 76 hours or 3 days 4 hours at the fastest, and 172 hours or 7 days 4 hours at the slowest. Again, even at the slowest pace, with the slowest method of transportation, and now with long stops, it still would’ve taken barely more than half the time Yandel noted Da3ron actually spent to depart Dragonstone and arrive in King’s Landing. And how many days did he really need to pack his things and leave? I doubt nearly a week was really necessary...

Of course, that Da3ron might’ve taken a slower ship and stopped every night from reaching Sharp Point on ignores why he’s journeying to King’s Landing in the first place: his father just died and he is going to be crowned king, unmistakably the most important event of his life. As the crown prince, he has access to the fastest ships and most experienced crew. This is no time to stop to rest and leave the realm without a king (especially if you believe that others are plotting to take the throne, as Da3ron’s actions after arriving regarding Daemon Blackfyre and his father’s Small Council indicate). There is no technical reason why a journey that should’ve taken 3-4 days instead took nearly 2 weeks. The only possible reason for such a massive delay is a character-based one: that Da3ron did not wish to arrive in the capital so soon. Waiting that long almost undoubtedly meant he was not there for the funeral (given Aegon’s condition at death, it makes me think he was buried shortly after; in addition, the news of the death would’ve had to have reached Da3ron before he could depart, which would’ve taken 1-1.5 days by raven), which would’ve been the best opportunity to show filial piety, or at least pay respects to the old king from the perspective of a successor. Da3ron wore his father’s crown allegedly to prove his legitimacy, but the gesture seems rather empty after taking so long to come to the capital that he missed the funeral, and the coronation itself was the only event described as “swift.” It makes it seem as if he did not care for his father, purposely avoiding the capital until all mourning was done and then claiming his crown. This might have been the case given they were estranged the last years of Aegon’s life, but no matter his personal feelings, it would’ve been politically wiser if he were to come to King’s Landing as fast as he could, especially given the doubts of his legitimacy and his paranoia over claimants to the throne. The very tense succession of Viserys I to Aegon II officially took place on a single day; understandably such a short passage of time wasn’t possible in Da3ron’s case, but potential problems in a succession makes Targaryens act faster, not slower.

What makes matters worse is that Aegon’s death was obviously not sudden in the manner of Viserys II’s. TWOIAF’s description of his demise includes, “he was grossly fat, barely able to walk, and some wondered how his last mistress—Serenei of Lys, the mother of Shiera Seastar—could ever have withstood his embraces.” Serenei was Aegon’s mistress for at least a year, and undoubtedly a man who was barely able to walk does not have long to live. Toward the immediate end “his limbs [were] rotting and crawling with fleshworms”; there was even debate over this condition: “the maesters claimed they had never seen its like, whilst septons declared it a judgment of the gods” in addition to palliative care “Aegon was given milk of the poppy to dull his pain, but elsewise little could be done for him.” It seems like the final stage of Aegon’s illness could’ve taken weeks or even months, if there was time to discuss its cause and for worms to start eating his rotting limbs, or for final treatment and a damning decree to be issued. The health of the king is obviously politically important, especially to his heir, so I think it’s unlikely Da3ron wouldn’t have known about this final illness. Certainly by the time Aegon was unable to rise from his sickbed, Da3ron should’ve been able to tell the end was near; he very well could’ve reached King’s Landing before Aegon’s death, let alone before his funeral. That could have altered the course of Westerosi history if he arrived in time to contest the will that decreed all of Aegon’s illegitimate children be legitimized. 

It’s important to note that it’s never explained why Da3ron was unable to undo Aegon’s deathbed decree. The Greens were able to successfully contest Viserys I’s will that Rhaenyra succeed him and instead crown Aegon II, once they got the majority of the Small Council on their side. In real life, Henry of Blois was able to release his brother Stephen and the rest of the barons from the vows they swore to uphold Empress Matilda’s ascension to the English throne, on the grounds that her father king Henry was wrong to make them swear the oath because it would threaten the stability of the kingdom (in addition to bribing the royal steward into alleging that the old king had changed his mind about the succession and nominated Stephen instead, which at least worked for William the Conqueror regarding Edward the Confessor’s will). It would’ve been even easier for Da3ron to contest the will because Aegon was in horrific pain due to ill health and given milk of the poppy, a drug that is known to “fill one’s head with clouds”; Da3ron could’ve said that Aegon was not in his right mind when he made the will and that any deathbed decrees should be discarded. If only he had come early enough to King’s Landing to plead his case before Aegon’s death, or failing that, to try to force a reversal through the High Septon or the royal steward shortly after, things might’ve gone better for him later in his reign.

To conclude what is a much longer meta than I expected, Yandel claimed that Da3ron arrived in King’s Landing from Dragonstone within 2 weeks of hearing of his father’s death. Through estimating the speed of certain ships and the distance between the two castles, we can determine it should have taken at most 6 days and in all probability more like 3-4 days if he conducted himself with any sense of urgency. But instead, he chose to arrive so far after Aegon’s death that he probably missed his funeral, which, coupled with the haste with which he was crowned, shows a lack of respect for a deceased father that goes against the teachings of the Faith of the Seven, the moral authority of Westeros (and probably fed rumors of his illegitimacy). Even worse, the nature of Aegon’s illness was so slow that Da3ron could’ve made it to King’s Landing in time to change or contest his will if he had bothered, thus getting rid of his potential rival’s legitimization. I can only infer that Da3ron’s actions were not motivated by political necessity (and in fact could’ve hurt him politically and socially), but by hatred for his estranged father. I don’t blame Da3ron for loathing a man who abused his mother and tried to start an unprovoked war with his wife’s family. However, I don’t think the characterization of him putting political necessities above personal feelings can hold water, at least where his own are concerned (the feelings of others under his guardianship, such as those of Aerys I, and perhaps those of Princess Daenerys and Daemon Blackfyre, might be different matters). Nor do I believe that he should get a pass for making politically unwise decisions due to personal grudges when Aegor Rivers, who also had long-term vulnerabilities (disgrace at 2 weeks of age, the execution of half of his family at 6 years, invited into a court that hated his family...and that’s before the Blackfyres start getting cruelly murdered) is reduced to a one-dimensional villain for behaving similarly.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy XIII Review

Year: 2009

Original Platform: PlayStation 3

Also available on: Xbox 360, PC, Android, iOS

Version I Played: PlayStation 3

Synopsis:

On the planet Cocoon, those who come into contact with anything from the planet Pulse are purged to that planet. Pulse is a feared planet full of monsters and strange creatures. Both planets are ruled by fal’Cie, mechanical godlike beings who sometimes brand humans as their servants for specific tasks, called a focus. Those who fulfill their focus are turned into crystals and obtain eternal life. Those who do not fulfill their focus turn into mindless monsters. Lightning is a former soldier whose sister, Serah, is branded by a fal’Cie and taken to be purged. Lightning sets off to rescue her.

Gameplay:

Going to say this now – the worst gameplay in the entire Final Fantasy series.

The battles are Active Time Battles but instead of you inputting individual commands, there are what’s called paradigms. Paradigms are somewhat like Job Classes from the old Final Fantasy games, except less fun and more automated. You can switch to a Medic paradigm in battle and every time you press “Auto-Battle” your character automatically performs a series of necessary cure and restore spells, based on what’s going on in the battle. The Sentinel paradigm specializes in keeping the enemy at bay. The Ravager paradigm uses magic. The Commando paradigm uses physical attacks. You get the picture.

As a result, the gameplay could be best described as:

With occasional switching of paradigms whenever you see fit. You can set up a number of combinations across the characters. Two Commandos and one Sentinel. One Sentinel and one Ravager and One Commando, etc.

The party automatically heals after each battle – you can even press start during a battle and restart the battle.

I probably only used an item once or twice. I honestly don’t see why they bothered putting any items if you hardly ever use them.

You can upgrade your weapons with pieces and junk you find after battles. You find so many of them that you hardly ever think about what you’re upgrading so long as whatever you make upgrades your stats. Is this better? No? What about this? Okay, good. Moving on.

Like Final Fantasy X, the game is linear. Much more linear. You follow a long hallway for about 30 hours of the game before you can do sidequests. The sidequests involve completing other people’s focus. That’s about it. There are no towns, no inns, no villages. You are entirely on the road, constantly in battle (Okay, there’s like one time where Sazh and Vanille are in a casino or something but that’s about it).

I wrote a blog piece a while back about what exactly was wrong with Final Fantasy XIII, and it’s not that it’s linear. We play really great linear games all the time. It’s the automation – the feeling that you’re not really doing anything.

There isn’t an ounce of customization. Leveling up is similar to the Sphere Grid of Final Fantasy X. It’s called the Crystarium but it follows a strict path. You can’t actually stray anywhere or customize anything. If that’s the case, why bother making you open the menu to level up through the Crystarium? Why not just automatically do it? I guess they want to give you some ounce (more like a milligram) of control over the game.

Basically – you’re watching a long movie and occasionally get to move the people around. That’s how I see it.

Graphics:

PLAYSTATION 3 HD GRAPHICS HOMG DO YOU HAVEA BONER YET? LOOK AT THIS. FIRST FINAL FANTASY GAME IN GLORIOUS HD.

Everything is pretty in this game. Everything. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Story:

The characters appear to reference those in Final Fantasy VII. Director Motomu Toriyama wanted Lightning to essentially be a female Cloud Strife. She’s a no-nonsense, athletic female lead. While Cloud and Squall were introspective and antisocial, Lightning is slightly different by actively ordering people around. She comes off as a dick to everyone, and that’s due to her ex-soldier background. Think of your stereotypical ex-cop/ex-CIA/ex-military action movie hero, like Liam Neeson (Bryan Mills in Taken) or Bruce Willis (John McClane in Die Hard). That’s basically Lightning.

Can we go on a short tangent for a moment to talk about how weird it is that Lightning was also used as a model for advertising in Japan?

Here she is driving a Nissan.

And wearing Louis Vitton.

Cool? I guess? Unless you start to realize that Toriyama wanted to design his own personal waifu, and that he’s completely obsessed with her. That gets really weird. And sad? A little? Anyway.

Vanille has some reminiscent of Yuffie from Final Fantasy VII, although with more character via her inner monologues and narration. Fang is vaguely like Vincent Valentine. Sazh takes the place of Barrett as the token black dude, except instead of being aggressive he’s more like the comic relief and wants nothing to do with anything. Every time you control him, jazz music plays, because black people I guess. Hope doesn’t appear to be reminiscent of anyone – he’s just this boy who yells and complains a lot with Lightning. Snow meanwhile is a ripoff of Zell from Final Fantasy VIII, except somehow even more annoying.

(Every time I see his picture I think about your typical dude bro at a frat.)

The story starts of a bit choppy as you follow almost each character separately, then they run into each other, then separate again, then join again. The first 30 hours or so gives flashbacks of 13 days prior- BECAUSE IT’S FINAL FANTASY XIII GET IT? Vanille actually narrates some events but it’s not exactly clear why or from when – but that’s a spoiler. Along the way, I got really confused because I didn’t know why some people were fighting each other when they were on the same side a moment ago. The concept of the “focus” is really weird and sometimes confusing. People with a focus simply have visions or a general idea of what they’re supposed to do, but they don’t actually know for sure unless they actively seek it. If the gods granted them a focus, wouldn’t it make more sense if the gods just told them what to do? Seemed to work in Final Fantasy XII. 

In short, the narrative weaves around a lot. If you stop playing in the middle and pick up the game again months later, you’re bound to forget what’s going on. I know I did.

The characters didn’t annoy me as much as you would think they would on paper. They all have character development and that’s good. The only character that effectively got on my nerves was Snow. Snow is Serah’s fiancé, and Lightning hates him because of course you need some family drama. I don’t blame Lightning though. Snow shouts cheesy lines left and right, like “Heroes never die!”. He shouts Serah’s name the same way Christian Bale shouts Rachel’s name in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. Snow is quite possibly the most irritating character of all the Final Fantasy games. He will not shut the fuck up about what it means to be a hero.

The rest of the cast works well in that their motives and desires clash with each other. But I’m still sore about the wasted potential for a great character in Jihl Nabaat. Sazh wants his son Dejh back, who was taken to be purged by the sinister and extremely hot Jihl Nabaat.

 Goddaaayyyum. Seriously, look at her.

Too bad, because she’s only featured in a handful of scenes and then dies. Her death isn’t a major spoiler, at least one that I consider, because she hardly does anything except get in the way for a moment. You don’t even fight her. How lame is that?

Then you have this annoying bastard – Primarch Dysley.

When I think of him, I think of Mitch McConnell.

Old. Disagreeable. Been in power for too long. Always in the way of progress.

Primarch Dysley happens to be as annoying as Seymour from Final Fantasy X, so expect to be overjoyed every time you run into him.

Overall, the story isn’t as bad as you’d think. You just have to pay close attention. The gameplay is far worse than the story. I could easily slip into a coma while playing this game and still make it pretty far.

Music:

Final Fantasy XII saw the departure of Nobuo Uematsu (well with the exception of the pop song “Kiss Me Goodbye”). Final Fantasy XIII continues to head into the unknown without the beloved longtime composer. This game’s score is composed entirely by Masashi Hamauzu, who if you haven’t been paying attention, already partly worked on Final Fantasy X.  I immediately saw how “Saber’s Edge”, the boss theme, is similar in nature to the boss theme of Final Fantasy X.

Final Fantasy XIII made the most radical changes to the score. There are no signature themes from the series. No “Prelude” theme, no “Main Theme”, no “Victory Fanfare” theme. Instead, we get a theme called “Fabula Nova Crystallis”.  It plays frequently throughout the game, and almost acts as Serah and Snow’s love theme. In some portions of the game, some woman is singing along. Yes – this is the first time where you roam around a world in a Final Fantasy game with actual pop music playing in the background – “Sunleth Waterscape” to be exact. Final Fantasy XIII’s music gets pretty poppy.

Not saying it’s a bad idea.

Just.

You got pop music playing in the background now.

“Lightning’s Theme” is pretty sick. Her theme plays during the battles in a rendition called “Blinded by Light” – HA GET IT BECAUSE SHE’S LIGHTNING. SO CLEVER.

But Hamauzu was a good choice – the entire score holds up well and sounds like a movie score, with varying motifs running across. It can be a bit more subdued but that’s how contemporary instrumental music is nowadays, especially with film composers like Hans Zimmer.

 Notable Theme:

“Blinded by Light”

Really epic, unique song. I always scat along to it as it plays.

Verdict:

Uff. 

Look, if you just search on YouTube for all the cutscenes, there you go. That’s the game. And it’s entertaining to watch. But it has the worst gameplay that doesn’t feel like you’re even doing anything. No sense of customization or originality.

Direct Sequel?

Yes, two.

Final Fantasy XIII-2.

I started it around the time it first came out, but I’m still in the middle of playing it and I have no idea what’s going on in the story. NO idea. NONE at all. They use time travel but none of it makes sense. Apparently changing things in the future can change the past. I don’t know how. I only understand a vague semblance of a plot with the bad guy Caius. While it doesn’t tarnish the dignity of the original like Final Fantasy X-2 did, it’s still offbeat with its metal (yes, metal) music and utterly confounding story. It’s infamous for this metal rendition of the sweet and innocent Chocobo theme.

Then there’s the third game, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII

I plan on playing it after I finish Final Fantasy XIII-2, if I don’t already die from an aneurysm by then. It’s supposed to be better than Final Fantasy XIII-2 but lacking in graphics.

[cfdiamonds]

[ ARON PIPER, CIS GENDERED MAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! LEOCADIO SYNDER, the TWENTY-TWO year old SECOND year ECONOMICS major from MADRID, SPAIN, is known as a DIAMOND around here. HE was invited to join because OF HIS PERSISTENCE AND HIS FATHER WAS IN THE SOCIETY, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of A LEGION OF STAFF CONSTANTLY AT YOUR SERVICE, A WARDROBE FILLED WITH THE FINEST MATERIAL, + EXPENSIVE RINGS ON EACH OF HIS FINGERS.

helloooo!!  it’s been a long time coming but i’m finally excited to be here and join in on this super cool story the admins and all of you have created! i’m lia, i’m 23 and i go by she/her and they/them pronouns, so feel free to use either of them. i was going to make a graphic and a google doc but i’ve got plans with my family to watch a movie tonight, so until i can make the time i hope his app is enough! 

a past and character reflection.

you were born into success and luxury, the only child of two glencore billionaires — a diversified natural resource company. the synders are responsible for the marketing of lead and make a little over a billion dollars each year. all they’ve ever known was their jobs and their money, leaving little room for anything more than that, especially the addition of a child. the nannies changed your diapers and the maid picked up your toys, while the butler handled the broken glass splayed across the marble flooring from one of your daily tantrums. they bit their tongues because you were raised to view yourself as extraordinary living in a world of the ordinary. despite this, these people meant more to you than the ones who brought you into the world. you had a mother that asked you how your day went and then immediately turned her attention back to her phone or laptop, checking off that mental to-do-list that made her believe the question was enough effort. you had a father that saw you as weak and continuously pushed you past your limits, focusing on every little flaw you had and giving you no choice but to be better. you became so conflicted between your drive to be the best and your need for love, that anger became your method of coping. even the lightest of offenses were met with your spite and you glorified material things as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. even at the tender age of ten, power was the one thing that kept you driven.

growing up, you never had any real or close friendships. the people that you called your friends were just more people that you could benefit from — the children from rich and influential families that spanned the globe. regardless of your rude and cold exterior, they still found reason to look up to you like you were their leader, be it an inheritance from your father’s charisma or your mother’s sophistication — because everything you had, you had to thank them for right? you knew exactly how to draw people in and use them until you didn’t need them anymore, kicking them to the curb the second their time ran out. the kids that excelled in school got you the highest grade, the kids that excelled in sports helped you become captain of their teams, and the kids that assisted you in breaking the rules always took the fall. and yet, no matter how hard you proved yourself as this apex predator, your parents saw you as inferior. they always told you to work smarter not harder, but when you did, it still wasn’t enough. what more could you take from the world? it had nothing left to give you.

the next chapter in your life became your second chance to prove yourself, but this time with a different method to your persistence. just as your parents did, you’d build yourself from the ground up, not taking whatever you wanted but fighting to obtain it. you already had the determination to do what had to be done to reach your goals, now all you needed to do was make it yourself. you enter your first year at strathmore university and you never take what you need to succeed, you push yourself until you earn it. every time the fates fight against you and you feel hopeless in meeting these high expectations you and your parents have made for you, you grasp onto the anguish of that ten year old boy yearning for approval and press forward with your strength. you still hold onto that cunning aspect of your character but this time, it’s something you keep hidden beneath the surface — away from prying eyes. you slip up once or twice, but it’s never enough to allow others to see you for who you truly are. you join several clubs even though you barely have the time, slipping your name into the minds of those spanning the entirety of the campus. you maintain one of the highest grades in your classes through dedication and hard work, scoffing at the students that request your assistance … they don’t deserve your help. not now anyway. not while you fight to be noticed in a place filled to the brim with excellent minds. not while you await your invitation to the society, the first step at proving that you can be great just like them. just like your parents.

on the society

upon arriving at strathmore university, leo became obsessive in his studies and joined many clubs to assist in his quest of standing out amongst the other first years. unbeknownst to many though, he also did this in hopes of earning a spot in the secret society. this is because his father had been in the society when he was young and in order to prove his potential, this was an organization he knew he had to be involved in. despite not knowing what the society was like or what they were about, he knew that they existed because of his father but that’s the extent of his knowledge on it.

when he was finally given his chance thanks to the diamond opal, leo became passionate about his spot and willing to do whatever means necessary to keep his spot. he takes advice willingly ( but goes against it if he believes they’re wrong ) and pushes to lead in some situations, not letting anyone or anything stand in the way of his goals. although he mainly does everything for his parents, whether they will ever notice or not, it is also for himself and his desire to be something great ( something he outwardly believes he already is but has struggled with internally for a long time ). leo wants to be the best prodigy and opal that the society has ever seen, and visualizes himself as the diadem when he builds himself up to that point.

when it comes to poppy nighmore, leo is more intrigued than he is worried about the reason for her disappearance. if those within the society that knew poppy are upset about her disappearance, leo is willing to take initiative in trying to solve the mystery. he will take risks and push limits in order to find information, but does so for selfish gain than anything else. he believes that he may prove himself as a worthy and necessary addition to the opal society if he continues researching and physically proving he cares. it also gives him a chance to show the others that he is capable of big things.

wanted connections.

as i read about your characters i’ll be able to generate a bit more ideas when directly plotting with each of you! these are just the ideas i have coming into the group, so if you do not see your character fitting them, worry not! we can brainstorm<3

his soft spot — the person that leo can’t seem to say no to no matter how hard he tries. his entire life he has felt little to no remorse in his conquest for power, no matter who he trampled along the way but suddenly, out of nowhere, the world presented him with this person and every time they’re around, every ounce of him becomes vulnerable. when they tell him to do something or to behave a certain way, he seldom disobeys. if they happen to be in the room when he’s behaving as he normally does, he avoids their eyes in fear of backing down. in a way, this person in his anchor that protects him from himself.

his adversary  — the person that gives leo a run for his money, testing him and pushing him every step of the way. they bear too many similarities to get along and compete over even the littlest of things. when one says yes, the other says no. the steve rogers to his tony stark. the thor to his loki.

fellow rich kids — those he knew by association prior to strathmore university or the society. they all understand each other because they grew up in similar conditions, where material things were the forms of love they received as children. they understand the lifestyle and flock together, regardless of whether or not they actually like each other. they board a private jet and escape real life for a weekend, only to return like nothing had happened come monday morning.

his best friend — leo doesn’t know it yet, perhaps neither of them do, but this person is his best friend. close relationships of any kind are foreign concepts to leo because he had, in his opinion, more important things to focus on as he grew up. love doesn’t exist in his world. so by his words, he trusts this person the most and is constantly inviting them around with him. he would never call it as it is in fear of cutting them loose and never feeling an ounce of remorse, but he’s acknowledged it in his head once or twice. this person is like the sibling he’s never had.

his mistake — in leo’s first year, he befriended this person and the pair eventually started to see each other romantically. however, leo wronged them somehow and now that he’s in the society with them, he realizes how big of a mistake he made hurting them. perhaps he fell back into old habits and made their acquaintance with the intention of gaining something, maybe in a class or by their personal influence in the world / at school, and they eventually found out about it. just an angsty exes plot.

his mentor — the diamond that took him as their prodigy. leo takes the dynamic between them incredibly serious and is willing and ready to do whatever they ask of him in order to prove they made the right choice taking him under their wing. he understands that his place in the society must not be taken for granted and so he treats it as a passion, rather than just another club around campus. he rarely does something society related without first receiving the opinion of the opal, but he also would ignore their opinion if he feels they are the one that’s wrong. this is business as usual and leo is their prodigy knowing that if all goes as planned, he will have their seat in the future.

[choices-binglebonkus]

More Choices Predictions

-Witness: A Bodyguard Romance, The Nanny Affair, and Queen B will all be standalones because Witness and TNA have both been disastrous, and Queen B just doesn’t seem like it could be made into a series.

-No matter how much we beg, Pixelberry will not make Poppy Min-Sinclair a love interest. The unfortunate reality of it is that they’ve already got the plot centered around a rivalry with Poppy that wouldn’t make sense for a enemies to lovers plot. Some people have theorized that Queen B was originally a single love interest book that Pixelberry added extra “love interests” because of the backlash the forced romance with Professor Kingsley got. Think about it. Have we had even one diamond scene with Zoey or any other “love interest” other than Kingsley, who’s had four by now? So why would Pixelberry put in more effort to rework their entire plot to add a romance with Poppy when it’s clear they only really cared about Kingsley? Alternatively, if they DO allow us to romance Poppy, it’ll end up just like the Kate O’Malley “romance” in which you have to pay 30 diamonds to end up with her at the tail end of the book.

-The Nanny Affair seems to be about halfway done at this point (I think chapter 11 is on Wednesday), and I don’t think it’s a mystery what’s going to happen. Sofia will continue to be villainized, Sam will ditch her for MC, Robin turns out to be a villain and tries to undermine Dalton Enterprises. Blah blah blah, they defeat Robin, blah blah blah, time skip like 2-3 years later where Sam and MC are now married, and Mason and Mickey call MC their mother. The end.

-Witness is either just going to have two volumes or three volumes in the book. Why they bothered to add volumes? I don’t know. But I do know that Cassian and MC will continue fucking at the weirdest times in the weirdest places (usually when they’re in danger) and will end up defeating the Irish Mob, MC will magically overcome her fear of commitment and surprise! She and Cassian will get married in the final chapter. And I’m sure MC will continue her bratty behavior into their marriage.

-And honestly, I can’t believe we’re now only down to three books releasing this week. There was a time where Pixelberry released EIGHT book chapters weekly. I’m sure they eventually realized how overworked their employees were and slowly cut it down, but I wouldn’t put it past them to end up doing it again.

-On the matter of the books on hiatus...Pixelberry claimed at one point (I think 2017) that they’d release Hero vol. 2 in 2020. 2020 is now here and they’ve shown zero signs of prepping it, so I think that was an empty promise.

-Most Wanted book 2 continues to be on an indefinite hiatus and I seriously doubt it’ll ever come back.

-And the It Lives anthology remains abandoned as well. They said they may revisit the series in the future but it’s undecided. I think that’s a terrible business decision, as It Lives has been one of the most popular series in the entire game, and there’s still so much potential for it. For now, though, the fate of It Lives hangs in suspension.

-Baby Bump 2 will be the end of that god awful series, which never should have become a series in the first place.

-My Two First Loves is going to be heteronormative as fuck. PB has already confirmed it’s a gender customizable love interest, which are typically written to only make sense if the LI is a man. PB has also messed up their pronouns time and time again (only the females’ pronouns though!) and is just generally lazy when it comes to the gender customizable love interests. I honestly cannot name a single gender customizable love interest I’ve enjoyed so far.

-Not much to say about OPH Second Year. Just that June will turn out to be a villain for whatever reason and we’ll keep fighting with Aurora.

-Ride or Die’s sequel has yet to come out, and for the first time, I’m actually hoping Pixelberry continues a hiatus for a series. I don’t miss ROD at all.

-The Royal Heir book 3 will focus on getting our daughter back and SURPRISE! Barthelemy was Godfrey’s accomplice all along! Wow! I had no idea! Barthelemy goes to prison, we get the kid back, and have lots of unnecessary parties and balls and festivals, and lots of sex scenes with our love interest because TRR/TRH is one of the most notorious series in the game for its excessive filler. Remember, for every chapter of plot, there needs to be two, maybe three chapters of filler! Anyway, I loved TRR, but they really need to put this series out of its misery already. The characters have been really watered down and the plot is way too predictable. Additionally, it’s gone on for OVER THREE YEARS. The Freshman/Sophomore/Junior/Senior lasted a few months over TWO YEARS. Let that sink in.

[wizardrywilting]

my favorite quotes from give me silence

ch. 1:  Let her rephrase, a very pretty Muggle girl named Eloise Mary Howard. --- It should be noted that Lydia was mentally compiling her will. --- Arthur Weasley was running towards her, dressed in some combination of a pantsuit and clown costume. --- Immediately, they covered the pranking product they’d been working on with a quilt, this catching it on fire. --- The twins snapped their gazes to each other, then jumped up and grasped hands. They jumped, the wooden floor thudding beneath them. By the time they had finished cheering and jumping, Mrs. Weasley had hollered at them twice, Percy yelled four times, and Lydia was blushing. --- Fred set his chin in his hand. “Tell us everything .” --- “Ginny! You don’t knock on strangers’ doors!” --- (Yes, Colin did get a photo of Neville licking a napkin, stress written on his face. It was hilarious.) --- “You’re the oldest of us, which means you’re the responsible ones.” The twins looked horrified at the idea, and Lydia laughed herself silly. --- Even though it was so cute and honestly, the fur would be cheaper to knit than yarn was - that is to say, on the way back home Chio had already shed enough for them each to have a handful of fur. --- Neville had glitter on his eyebrows, and he was attempting to blink it away from his eyes, face contorting in funny ways. Chio’s fur was doused in blue and purple glitter. Lydia herself had glitter in a smattering of multicolored freckles across her nose and cheeks.  ---

ch. 2:  “If you need me to pick the liquor cabinet’s lock I know how.” --- Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Did they break a window?”  “Uh...We fixed it?”

---

Where Lydia came from, albeit not a traditional family, you learned knife tricks and pressure points to incapacitate someone.

---

“I know. We just never see eye to eye.”

 “No one can meet your eye, you’re too tall.”

---

 “Have good, British dreams, Lydia.”

---

But we’re not...not that.”

 “Of course not, she’s only thirteen. But dear, perhaps you should acknowledge that you fancy her. Merlin knows we all noticed.”

---

It was, quite frankly, concerning. Was this a heart attack?

---

Fred was chuckling, the prat. “Just glad to see you, his brain cells have given up. Wait a minute.”

---

Was she seriously apologizing for a hug? What?

---

“Merlin, I miss you. It was so boring with all the boys. I think I lost some estrogen.”

---

 “Lydia, love, you look like a pixie.”

---

ch.3:

She had wanted to stay behind and ask a few questions, maybe pull out her pocket knife, the usual sort of thing, when she noticed Neville struggle to stand, shaking like a fucking tree branch during a tornado.

---

“Neville, I would make God bleed for you.”

---

Were they twice her size? Yes. Would she still rip them a new one? Absolutely.

---

What right did a little kid with blood in her teeth and something called an ele-friend have to her heart?

---

Madam Pomfrey was smiling at her. Lydia didn’t like it.

---

Sighing, Madam Pomfrey faced Lydia again. “As you were deflecting?”

---

It was a nice painting, surprisingly well done. Lydia’s face was in the foreground, getting smacked in the face by Natalie’s wand, while the girl herself was cheering in the background. The blood on her face was surprisingly realistic. Up in the top left corner, Natalie’s attackers were out cold, various painted injuries littering their bodies.

Lydia felt strangely warm.

---

Lydia beamed. “It’s more like insane. To be stupid you have to have brains. Luckily, I left mine in the dorm today.”

---

 “You called her Minnie.”

Lydia quickly realized her mistake.

 “N-No, I didn’t!”

 “You did,” they sang, “You called her Minnie! We’re rubbing off on you!”

---

Poppy smiled and thus began their weekly gossip. She did so love this child. If only she could tell her.

---

ch. 4:

As with every other Halloween, really the day must be cursed, things go to shit.

---

That does beg the question, why are magical people so determined to risk their lives? Is it a universal thing?

---

Was it petty? Absolutely. Had she gotten caught yet? Of course not, who did you take her for, Parkinson?

---

Harry shrieked like a mandrake, and Lydia quickly sent a spell to silence him.

---

“You. You’re a girl.”

She raised her eyebrow at the log-turned-Sirius-Black. “And you’re not a dog anymore. I’m glad we’ve established that.”

---

He paled a little at her smile, and stepped backwards. “I’ll uh, I got nothing. Oh, look, Sirius! Let’s shift focus to him.”

---

Something seemed to click. “So you’re the kid that sent me a letter with threats.”

---

“First of all, you’re terribly hard to kill, Harry,” Lydia sighed, shifting to sit more directly in front of the fire, “Secondly, think about this. There’s a couple hundred more students than normal, and everyone thinks the kids underage are safe, because why would Dumbledore’s magic ever be faulty? There’s a fourteen year old kid, he looks pretty defenseless, especially now that he’s been lulled into a false sense of security. He probably thinks he’s safe, with the age spell and loads more people that could protect him if Voldemort gets inside Hogwarts again. This would be the perfect time to strike - lots of people to blame, a tournament that could be found at fault, and an old man’s magic coincidentally not working. I’m just saying, if someone’s been after you for awhile and hasn’t succeeded...now’s the time.”

Sirius chuckled nervously. “You’re not a Slytherin are you?”

---

“Are they being mean again?”

 “Who’s they? I don’t know anyone named They. What a weird name, They-”

---

Aria sighed and flopped onto a space between the bridge’s arch where there was a bench. Colin grabbed her elbow so she didn’t do something stupid like fall through. That had to be a safety hazard, right? Was there no safety inspector for Hogwarts?

---

It seems like Ginny was going to get to try out that new boils curse she’d just learnt after all.

---

It was very hard being a Triwizard contestant. Well, that was kind of a lie, and Cedric didn’t lie. Unless it was to tell his dad he was excited for a Ministry job, that is.

---

There were downsides to being a Triwizard Champion too, of course.

-There’s barely any time for friends.

-No alone time.

-Mum cries whenever she sees you, you’re not sure if she’s proud or scared.

-There’s potential for trauma, but hey, it’s writing material.

-You could die or be seriously injured. You’re trying not to think about that.

-The other Hogwarts champion was entered without their own free will and now might be getting bullied and you feel overwhelmed with the guilt.

---

“Cut ‘im some slack, Lyn. He’s got so much to worry about. His adoring fans, for example.”

---

She slugged his arm. “Don’t get smart with me, your job is to be pretty. It’s Lydia’s job to be smart.”

---

George nodded at the three Hufflepuffs. “Pretty Boy, Pretty Boy’s friends.”

---

 “I stand by what I said, purple glitter jazzes up my comforter.”

---

 “Lydia, how are we gonna get down six floors?”

Lydia snorted. “Prayer, Colin. I’m personally praying to Yoshi.”

---

“You know you need the sleep, young lady. Now, fret until ten o’clock.”

As Madam Pomfrey left, covering the snoozing Colin with a blanket, she heard a mutter. “I don’t fret.”

---

ch. 5:

Heidi glared, picking up her cup full of ice cubes and popping one into her mouth with a loud crunch.

---

“Might as well break the rules for a good cause, right?”

---

Ginny gasped. “Oh no, am I gay? I feel gay.”

---

George is running away from the Durmstrang students, and I should go save him before he gets mauled. I told him not to charm their hair and skin orange, but he didn’t listen.

---

Oh, is that Hermione sounding disappointed? Surprising.

---

Glancing to where Alicia and Katie had been flirting all afternoon, she winked.

---

“I set the books to become inanimate again when he apologized to Hermione.”  “He, ah, refused to until blood started dripping into his socks.”

---

“he won’t let me go with Priscilla.”

Ginny leaned across the table. “You mean Lee’s tarantula?”

Lee nodded. “Match made in heaven, I say. But you know how it is, star crossed lovers and all.”

Ginny blinked very slowly for a moment and then left for the Ravenclaw table, shaking her head. 

---

 “Our little snake.”

 “Already sneaking around the rules at such a young age.”

 “I’m fifteen! ”

 “Our little-”

 “-tiny baby rebel. My, how they grow up.”

 “Just yesterday you were learning manipulation. And now, you’re sneaking into a dance.”

---

Finally, George said, “What’s the solution? I’m begging you Lydia, help me.”

She stared him in the face and said, “Aren’t beggars usually on their knees?”

---

 “New plan, because you’re as graceful as Hagrid’s skrewts.”

---

“This is your karma for that idiotic stunt with the dragon.”

 “Are you ever letting that go?”

 “I will when you stop flirting with Death.”

 “I don’t flirt, I tease. There’s a difference.”

---

“Hey Freddie, do you think your mum would be upset if I told her I want to drop out?”

 “Do you?”

 “Kind of. We could get a head start on that joke shop of yours.”

 “With what money?”

She shrugged, finally tearing her gaze back to his. “I guess how all poor people get money - struggling. It's just...I want to be with you and George, where nobody else matters.”

---

ch. 6:

She hoped Luna liked the earrings made from orange skins, it seemed her style and had made Lydia’s fingers sting when juice seeped into a few paper cuts.

---

Ginny barely gave her finger guns before she was sprinting.

---

“Is that allowed?”

 “Probably not,” Colin admitted, then shrugged. “But since when do we adhere to those silly things?”

---

 “Hi, you’re that scary snow white girl Colin’s always talking about, right?”

---

“Ready to piss off some purebloods?”

Ginny grinned like she had just hexed someone. “Oh Lydia. I was born to piss of purebloods.”

---

The night hasn’t gone devastatingly wrong as of yet, and Lydia supposes that’s all she could expect without sacrificing her soul or something.

---

Lydia briefly wonders if she’s just doomed Hogwarts to a fate of destruction. She figures it will be fine. Probably. Maybe.

---

A loud bell rings over the music, startling the band so badly a tambourine gets thrown and hits Professor Snape in his hooked nose.

---

Lydia cuffed his shoulder. “I know damn well your mum didn’t raise you to ignore a beautiful girl, Ron Weasley!”

---

They were all rushed to bed as soon as they got back to the Burrow, the car having malfunctioned and it already being near dawn by time Mr. Weasley learned they were accidentally in the Netherlands rather than England. (How that happened Lydia didn’t know. She’d fallen asleep against George’s shoulder after the fifth hour driving.)

---

She pauses in her unwrapping a little, and she mentally screams.

Look, she’s paranoid and mind reading is possible.

---

  ‘No way!’

 ‘Shut up.’

 ‘How come you fancy him and not me?’

 ‘Shut up!’

---

She began to mentally sing. ‘LA LA LA LA.’

---

ch. 7:

George had the big mouth, and often didn’t bother listening. It was as if he had one functioning ear, and he simply didn’t bother to use it.

---

The things he’d seen...it made him want to set something in fire, or smash something. Neither were an option though, as his mum really liked their curtains and dishes, so he stewed in the feeling.

---

This is how she should be - chasing him with giggles and hexes falling from her lips.

---

“ Ced got high and went swimming with his egg so the task is probably something to do with water. “

---

Sirius, honestly, is not having a good day. Or a good thirteen years, really. The things he looks forward to are rats, pets from nice villagers, and seeing his godson.

---

Ron snorted. “You reckon they think we’re all going in the cave to snog - OW, Hermione!”

---

“Your idiot godson - sorry, totally intelligent and not at all stupid godson -

---

Harry is pouting, and it’s the cutest goddamn thing Sirius has ever seen.

---

As Lydia runs to catch up with the other three, Sirius can hear Hermione demanding what the letter said, and Lydia saying, “If I told you I’d have to kill you. May I tell you?”

---

ch. 8:

She didn’t regret it, a little suspicion of authority figures was healthy.

---

“I’m surprised you weren’t born on a broomstick.”

George sighed with faux disapproval. “I wish I’d been.”

---

“No, you’re pretty...uh, good. You’re pretty good. You don’t have any...toothpaste.”

She laughed again, and George prayed for a sinkhole.

---

He fancied Lydia, and he was totally screwed.

Lydia was by his side every day of the year, basically.

She spent summers at the Burrow, save for those in the States, and they went to school together!

Oh Merlin. If his siblings (read: Ginny) found out they’d be insufferable! No. She couldn’t find out.

---

Katie grabbed her arm and pulled Lydia to her own chest, telling Alicia, “Love, time for Bear Protocol.”

Alicia, apparently doing what Bear Protocol meant, kicked Lee. “Bear Protocol. Now.”

Immediately, the debate cut off, and the twins slid close together, blocking anyone seeing Lydia from behind them. Lee did the same from her right side, and the three Chaser girls did so on her left.

---

 “Why aren’t you in class - oh goodness, what’s this?” Professor McGonagall, for her part, looked about as alarmed as one could make her.

---

Professor Flitwick simply levitated her and told Professor McGonagall, “Alert her professors she won’t be in lessons today, won’t you? I’m sure Poppy will want to keep her for quite a while.

Professor McGonagall sighed slightly but nodded, mumbling something that said an awful lot like, “Attached much?”

ch. 9:

Fred is pretty sure the detention was just for appearances sake, because when they got to Professor Flitwick’s classroom he had pretended to be disappointed, but when Lydia smiled at him he had smiled back.

They had practiced charms Fred is pretty sure weren’t supposed to be taught unless paid extra Galleons for, and he gave them all snacks.

---

“Madam Pomfrey is currently with someone else. She’ll be available tomorrow, or when she finds time.”

George obviously was strung out, because he snapped, “Get Pomfrey!”

 “Madam-”

 “Pomfrey will make an exception, Lydia isn’t a normal patient.”

 “I really doubt-”

Ginny sneered. “Doubt a little less, or you’re getting boils in places cream can’t reach!”

---

“ Mam .” She cried out, and Madam Pomfrey pulled Lydia forward so the girl could grab onto the woman.

---

And if later on Professor Flitwick found and joined them? Well, no one needed to know.

---

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Beth!

You have been accepted for the role of EMMELINE VANCE with the requested age change! We really loved reading your portrayal for Emmeline! We especially enjoyed the details you brought in about her family and upbringing, along with the fact that healing doesn’t always equal warm, gentle, and empathetic. We love having you on the dash already and are excited to see you bring this introspective healer to life!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Beth

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE: CST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I feel like I’m literally always around on Discord right now, even if I’m not on the dash. I’ve been trying to do replies at least every other day currently. Given the current COVID situation and summer upcoming, my activity probably won’t change until mid-August.

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Emmeline Vance

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Emmeline is a ciswoman who uses She/Her pronouns. If she were bold enough to use a label, bisexual would probably fit best, but Emmeline isn’t particularly open about her sexuality and desires. She’s always had more important things to focus on and didn’t really find dating worth the fuss. She’s had a few partners here and there, usually men, but Emmeline has never been in what she considers a serious relationship.

BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: I wrote her age up there as 25 instead of 27 because with all the characters right at the same age, I kind of like the idea of her being just under that, of being familiar with them from school but not actually in that group. This isn’t a sticking point or anything, and I don’t have a problem with her still being 27.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Emmeline, a mind so fine, never really expected to shine. Cheesy rhyme? Perhaps. One that would annoy her? Oh, definitely. Emmeline is a person of practicality as often as is possible. Learning new things brings her great joy, but it’s as much about how that information can be used as anything else. Most of the time, Emmeline keeps information to herself. She’d rather be sure than spread false information, and when rumors at the subject of conversation, she’d rather leave things to be spread for themselves.

She has always had a deep fascination with understanding how things work, and sometimes that has meant taking them apart to put them back together. That problem-solving occasionally takes on a singular focus, which didn’t always make Emmeline popular among her peers going up. Given the right situation, she can be a bit intense. A lifetime of trying to monitor that intensity often has Emmeline defaulting to her second instinct: silence. It’s easier to wait and see what others bring to a situation. It’s easier to understand their perspectives, information, and biases when she doesn’t cloud it with her own first. Sometimes Emmeline will then engage in conversation, but if she senses a potential argument that she can’t win anyway, Emmeline often won’t try. She’ll leave it at that, whatever it is.

Still, as much as she pretends to be able to understand the situation as a whole, Emmeline knows she has shortcomings. She often fails to realize how infrequently the whole picture is considered. That’s not to say she’s more objective than most people. She isn’t. She’s just more likely to dig until she thinks she has the most complete story possible. Then she’ll dig a little more just to be sure. It means she has a lot of useless information, but it also means she’s not likely to argue back when someone is wrong when Emmeline doesn’t for sure know if her conclusions are correct. Instead she sits there quietly and just knows the other person is wrong.

Most people seem to expect healers to be especially empathetic. Emmeline is not. She does try. She tries to put herself in other people’s perspectives, but she’s much better doing that from a knowledge perspective than from an emotional one. “If I didn’t know why my skin was blue and steaming, I would also react negatively to someone else not knowing the cause,” instead of a more empathetic viewpoint like, “They are afraid because they don’t understand what’s going on.” She needs a bit of the concrete and the observable. Although Emmeline doesn’t externalize many of her thoughts, she struggles when other people do the same because she isn’t good at reading the emotion within the silence. At work, that’s easy enough to handle because she can ask patients how they’re feeling and coworkers for more information. With the Order, that’s a little more challenging, especially if it’s a conversation Emmeline isn’t technically in, just present for. They seem to happen often. After all, Emmeline is so easy to overlook.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Life isn’t easy in the magical world with a surname that hasn’t been around for the last hundred years or so. Margaret Baxter knew that better than anyone as the child of two muggleborns, but she certainly didn’t do any climbing by marrying a muggle named Allan Vance. She practically lived like a muggle too. It wasn’t until her daughter Emmeline was seven that she fully understood that some of her horticulturist mother’s prettiest and most exciting plants weren’t ones her classmates knew. Nor could any of their mother’s produce a couple drops of dittany to heal scrapes and bruises before giving the ever important kiss to finish making it better. Emmeline grew up in an almost entirely muggle household with little bits of magic that Maggie couldn’t live without. Emmeline had to learn early on which were which, and she needed to know which things couldn’t be mentioned to her friends. Her own magic was most likely to appear when she was trying to make things work. Allan walked into the room one day to find his favorite working model train floating through the air in pieces as Emmeline skipped between them, pausing every once in a while to inspect one. Maggie was able to put it back together, but under his breath, Allan would still occasionally complain that the steam puffed too realistically now.

Allan was a postal worker who believed quite firmly in the importance of hard work and dedication. Had he been a magical man, he likely would have been in Hufflepuff. While that work ethic was something Emmeline did inherit, she was always more like her mother, interested in understanding above all else. Maggie’s interests ended up in herbology. She had a gift for determining how to help plants flourish and cross-develop to create viable hybrids with helpful gifts. While Emmeline never shared her mother’s interest in plants, she embraced Maggie’s methodology toward problem-solving. It became an important step forward for Emmeline.

OCCUPATION: 

Emmeline knew from fourth year on that she wanted to be a Healer.

She’d always been good at charms and transfiguration, and in her pursuit of theoretical knowledge about human transfiguration longer before she was old enough to actually do it, Emmeline stumbled upon healing textbooks in the Hogwarts library. They were all well and good, but they couldn’t tell her as much as a real teacher. She went to Madame Pomphrey initially just to have a few questions answered, but the woman knew so much about a subject Emmeline hadn’t realized went so many layers deep. Madame Pomphrey saw her spark and encouraged it, suggesting to Emmeline’s other professors side projects which might be of interest to the young Vance girl. By her seventh year, Emmeline was helping Slughorn brew a few healing potions and fetching herbs from the greenhouses whenever Madame Pomphrey asked. That gave her a head start on some of her peers when she applied for St. Mungo’s Healer Program and, when coupled with her impressive NEWT results, looked quite remarkable to her mentors. Emmeline completed the program as fast as possible, happy to be able to lend a hand and make a difference.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Emmeline learned early on that a person’s value is on what they can achieve, but the magical world is full of people who look at pedigree instead. She’s not even first generation. Not second either. She’s got two generations of magic flowing through her veins, but it’s not about the magic itself; it’s about the heritage that can be used as a weapon. Emmeline is not stranger to this weapon, and she watched it slowly grow stronger around her during her time in training as a Healer. From the first whispers of a group defying Lord Voldemort and his followers, Emmeline knew that was a group she needed to find. At first she didn’t know how, and Emmeline continued on as normal. She couldn’t sit idle forever, though, and it took a few months of listening around corners and staying quiet in the backs of rooms before she’d connected the group to Hogwarts. She didn’t know what it was called or who was involved, but if it happened at Hogwarts, Emmeline knew Albus Dumbledore had to know.

After graduation, Emmeline had continued to meet Poppy Pomphrey for tea at least once a month as they transitioned from a true student mentorship to friends. It was at one such tea that Emmeline revealed what she had learned and insisted that she needed an audience with Dumbledore about it. Poppy agreed to set it up, and less than a week later, Emmeline was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and already working to create a hospital space at the recently acquired Potter Estate. She found it a bit unsettling that such a young wix could have this kind of shelter to casually provide, but Emmeline wasn’t about to question it. James seemed sincere and wasn’t pandering to other purebloods, so Emmeline took it for what it was.

While she could do some to fight, Emmeline very rarely saw battle directly. Most of the time she paced around the Potter Estate until people started arriving back. She’d been pushed to her limits helping the Order. Emmeline was good at her job, but she hated that she had to strain so often. It wasn’t on her own account either. People shouldn’t be put at risk as often as they were. Still, they weren’t doing enough. Too many people got hurt for too little and sometimes no reward. Emmeline couldn’t stand it, especially when she suspected egos and misinformation contributed so frequently. No one ever seemed to be thorough enough when they clarified the facts, and even if they were, they shared half-truths. Emmeline has grown tired of people trying to hold things back. This is a war, and people are dying. Now is not the time to try and seem smart by keeping things to oneself.

SURVIVAL:

Emmeline’s life looks pretty standard from the outside. She lives in a small two bedroom flat and uses the second as an office and storeroom for healing supplies. She remembers to eat regularly and works her shifts at St. Mungo’s with no complaint. She checks in at the Potter Estate about every other day, even if it just means reorganizing her supply of pain potions. She hears things and she absorbs the information, and that cycle had become a bit of a sticking point in her life. Emmeline is so afraid of not being there when someone needs her that she’s allowed basically everything else in her life to slip into the background.

It was easy for her friends and family members to believe that Emmeline was just throwing herself into her work, perhaps too easy. There’s no turning back now, though. Emmeline made a choice, and it’s one she intends to see through. Some days that just means getting through to the next one. She has no idea what the future holds, and at this point, Emmeline is almost afraid of what comes after because it’s easier unimaginable horror or unknowable potential.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Emmeline is perhaps one of the people devoting the most time to the Order, and much of that is in direct service to her fellow members. One might expect that to translate to having more close confidantes in the group, but Emmeline doesn’t take it personally. She’s never been the most popular person in a room. Plus, not being the center of attention has its advantages.

One of those advantages is that she isn’t expected to respond positively if pureblood Order members mention their supremacist families. She hates hearing about it, and that’s just one more reminder that some people in the Order have more to lose than others if Lord Voldemort wins. People like Alice Longbottom have a safety net, family who would assumedly welcome them back, if there’s anything to forgive at all.

She knows that distrust doesn’t breed strong teamwork, but even the people she has no reason to mistrust don’t always leave Emmeline particularly inspired. So many of the members rush to conclusions without the proper facts to back them up, and Marlene McKinnon seems to be one of the worst. That’s not fair, Emmeline knows. She doesn’t know the witch’s full situation, but when every incorrect thing out of her mouth is said with such confidence, it’s hard not to take it personally. Marlene isn’t alone in this unfortunate attitude, but she is perhaps the one Emmeline is stuck dealing with most often. Emmeline tends to stay curt and to the point before quickly slipping away to find someone else for better assistance.

When group meetings so often don’t actually say what they’re meant to say, Emmeline grows frustrated and bored in them. Lately she’s taken to watching others in the circle at such things, and of late, she’s found a kindred soul in Peter Pettigrew. She wishes more people were like them, watching and learning instead of just assuming. She thinks meetings could run more efficiently then. The whole Order could really.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I have no specific hopes or desires for Emmeline. Romance is far from a primary motivator for her, so it would take good chemistry to start anything.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Emmeline would consider herself fairly open-minded, if only because she likes to take all the information available, find more, and then use it to come to a conclusion. She isn’t going to hop on any fearmongering broomstick over werewolves being isolated when all the research and Madame Pomphrey can tell her they’re incapable of causing any more damage than the average wix during most phases of the moon. That’s the logic that Emmeline applies to a lot of people problems.

That said, she really doesn’t have time for people who refuse to learn. The world is full of information, and one of the most important things about learning is the ability to acknowledge when your previous understanding was incorrect and move on. Emmeline’s not sure she’s ever met a pureblood who could truly do that. They loved to pretend they understand what the world is like, even when they’re talking about things they don’t understand. Most don’t know anything about the muggles they claim to be so much better than. It absolutely frustrates her because the knowledge is right there. Unlike wizards, muggles don’t try to hide what they have and pretend it’s much better. They don’t even have television for Morgana’s sake! Muggle technology and medicine could be readily available if wix just got over themselves long enough to see it.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I told myself I wasn’t going to apply for a fourth. That said, I have the time, am enjoying the writing, and felt the call for someone to round out my little collection. I don’t have anyone as level-headed as Emmeline or who manages to carry their confidence without arrogance like she does. I’m excited for the possibilities she creates.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: I do think it would be interesting down the line for someone to challenge Emmeline on something she feels passionately about. Maybe the Order could get ahold of something cursed/semi-cursed that Emmeline strongly disagrees with keeping around because the risks to themselves are higher than the potential rewards as a weapon? Perhaps there’s a building rumor or huge miscommunication that she’s heard enough (indirectly) from everyone involved, but she can’t get people to just talk to each other because they just keep assuming they know the truth when they’re missing major pieces.

ANYTHING ELSE? I love you all! You keep me inspired, clearly.

[unklarity]

Critical Role: Fjord

“It is in our nature to adapt.”

Click “keep reading” for more pictures of my Fjord magic box and for an explanation of the contents!

So, this box was pretty challenging for my brain, content-wise, because I knew that I loved Fjord but couldn’t figure out WHAT I loved about him. It was difficult to name his qualities, because I feel like he’s a bit different than everyone else, both in lore and in the way we learn about him throughout the game. So instead of trying to make a list of what made him who he is, I decided to go a different way and mirror some of the questions he asks himself and others. I’m pretty sure I just made things harder for myself in the end, but I also think it was an interesting way to tackle a box that I’ve never tried before and I’m pretty happy with the outcome.

This box does contain spoilers, because as fast as I was trying to pin down something concrete about Fjord, he was changing - or maybe just showing more of who he really is - and things were happening TO his character that were forcing him to change and adapt as well. The most recent “spoilers” which aren’t super concrete but will be referenced here would be episode 76, as that’s when I finished the actual contents of the box. I promise I will keep things vague in my explanation, but you’ve been warned. :)

The box for Fjord is a vintage box with an awesome pirate ship on the lid. The second I saw it, I knew I needed to have it, and it was actually what inspired the box in the first place. Right after I got it, I immediately got the yellow eye and set it into the top lid to represent Uk’otoa watching Fjord in his dreams and the Cloven crystals. It is super creepy, because the eye totally looks like it follows you when you move the box around!

Stones:

To start out, I started accumulating stones, as I tend to do when potion contents seem intimidating and confusing. As a focus stone, I included a Kambaba Jasper sphere, which helps with dissolving overwhelming negative emotions and healing from trauma - plus it’s varied shades of green, which I thought would fit nicely.

The two crystal towers in the box are smoky citrine and pyrite. Smoky citrine helps to ground and to calm fear and uncertainty. Pyrite, on the other hand, is a Protector Stone, representing self worth, personal power, strength, willpower and focus. It helps overcome feelings of inadequacy and live your life to its full potential.

The tumbled stones included in the box are:

bloodstone for courage and freedom from captivity;

labradorite for help banishing fears/insecurities while enhancing faith and reliance in oneself;

moss agate for a new start and gaining confidence in oneself;

fluorite for seeking knowledge, changing negative behavior, revealing truth, and emotional balance;

black tourmaline for help when feeling trapped;

aquamarine for courage, freedom, and communication, and is used by sailors as a talisman of good luck;

vesuvianite (a type of greet garnet) for soothing emotional turmoil, help making peace with and adapting to new situations, and support through major transition and upheaval;

obsidian for protection;  

dumortierite for help taking control of one’s own life

Finally, there’s a round, flat star ruby in the black sachet, meant for overcoming adversity, opening up and expressing true feelings, and some tiny red coral pebbles for confidence and courage.

Potions:

I felt like I anguished over the potions for ages, but really it took a few weeks of trial and error to get my thoughts to flow in a way that made sense. I started with 7 bottles and came up with 7 questions as loose themes for each one. This was a bit tricky, and I think I ended up making things more difficult for myself, but I’m happy with the results, so I’m going to pretend it was intentional genius all along.

After I finished the bottles, I did give them each a more succinct one-word theme, but I’m going to share both the questions and themes in an effort to show my process a bit. The first three potions are in the first photo above, in order from left to right, and the remaining four are in the next photo, also in order.

1. What is this pact I am in and what does it mean? (PACT) This potion is centered around Fjord’s pact with Uk’otoa, which is his most important conflict that’s both internal and external. He is initially confused about the pact and wants to learn more about it, and this curiosity quickly seems to turn to fear and uncertainty when he realizes just what he’s in for. There’s skullcap for making a binding oath or pact, bay leaf for prophetic dreams, lavender and coffee for disappointment, bitterness and regret; Anise and rosemary for preventing nightmares/disturbing dreams, aid in clear thinking, and help with memory, as Fjord doesn’t ever remember actually making a pact, he just washed up on the shore with the falchion next to him. There’s also vervain for protection at sea and protection from drowning, and thorns for feeling trapped and fearing one’s circumstances. Lastly, dogwood here represents regret over a specific decision or a situation that was beyond your control, and black represents a curse, or a boon that’s been warped into something negative. -Sealed with an anchor stamp and gold wax.

2. What is magic worth to me/Where does my worth come from? (DESIRE) This potion focuses on Fjord’s desire to learn about magic and understand his abilities. He seems to be searching for something he can’t name, and through learning magic he gains confidence in who he is and starts to accept himself (albeit conditionally). On the flipside, once he has this magic and this knowledge and it gets taken away, he has the realization that his magic and strength is intrinsically tied to his self-worth and isn’t sure how to deal with the possibility that it might not be permanent. This one contains fluorite and garnet pebbles, representing the search for knowledge and gaining strength. In addition, there’s cedar for confidence, strength and gaining knowledge; mugwort for building confidence; rosemary for difficulty with self-acceptance; jasmine for beginning a new life with new ideas/a new outlook, and hibiscus for finding passion, drive and insight. There’s also labradorite and violet for glamour magic and changing who you are both physically and mentally - for example, both gaining physical strength, filing down his tusks, and adopting Vandran’s accent. -Sealed with rosemary stamp and gold wax.

3. What am I willing to do for power? (POWER) This one deals with Fjord’s struggle of not wanting to be a burden or be cast out vs his impulsiveness and tendency to take risks. I had a lot of questions going into this one such as: How willing is he to deceive people/keep them in the dark? WHO is he willing to deceive? What are the means, what is the end? What was the goal in working with Avantika: just knowledge, or power? Cad’s quote of “Sleep well with your bad decisions.” really influenced this one in a big way. Fjord tends to make decisions and think about what they mean later, and ask questions of his friends without being willing to answer any about himself in return. On the surface it seems as though Fjord is trying to play both sides, getting what he wants by deceiving Avantika, and thinking he can fool his Patron as well, although as we know, that doesn’t turn out quite as well as he plans. For this one, we’ve got deer tongue for power; licorice root for persuasive powers/charisma and having advantage over others; lavender for distrust/disappointing others and yourself; hydrangea for pushing people away, and yellow rose for lies and suspicion. -Sealed with tiny ship stamp and gold wax.

4. How do I define myself? (SELF) This potion was super interesting and led to a lot of different questions. How does Fjord define himself? By his magic? By his past, or the people in his past (like Vandran)? How does he think of himself? As a leader, as an outcast, as part of the mighty nein? Who is he? Orphan, sailor boy, half orc, warlock, charming, intimidating? His tendency to act as teacher/mentor/protector/leader/ really stood out when compared to the lack of that figure in his own life. At times, he seems like he wants to fade in the background, but when no one else will, he steps up and becomes the voice of the group. For this one, I added cinquefoil for eloquence and acting as a leader; goldenrod for magic; cypress leaves for processing grief, anger and loss; pyrite for becoming a protector; poppy for trying to leave the past behind, and calendula for honoring the people we have lost, which I thought really fit with how Fjord adopts Vandran’s accent. I think Fjord defines himself internally by his past and is trying to scratch out one by one the things that remind him of his pre-Vandran life that he views as worthless, or as something he needs to erase in order to be worth something. He’s emulating a man that he respected, and trying to choose how he defines himself instead of having that decision be made for him as it was in his younger years. -Sealed with ship stamp and gold wax.

5. What am worth I without magic? (DOUBT)  This potion focuses on Fjord’s uncertainty, loneliness, insecurity, self-doubt, and fear of being helpless/fear of failure. Because he’s given his new powers so much importance, it paints a really stark contrast when we start to see his really deep reserves of insecurity and self-doubt. His fear of being helpless again is a big motivator for most of his (poorly thought-out) decisions. He tries to stay self sufficient, and we start to see that fear of being abandoned by the Mighty Nein if he isn’t useful to them, likened to his previous abandonment by his family and by Vandren, the only other positive figure in his life. In this potion is black ink and purple goldenrod for trauma and imprisonment/being helpless/blaming oneself; heather for solitude and protection against violence; lemon balm for help with insecurity, calming, and self worth; yarrow for overcoming fear and self doubt, and dogwood for keeping things (his dreams, accent, past, etc) close to the chest. -Sealed with ship stamp and gold wax.

6. Where do I belong/where am I going? (CHOICES) For me, this potion was about Fjord gaining the agency to make his own choices instead of having those choices made for him. He didn’t choose the pact with Uk’otoa, and didn’t choose how he grew up, but slowly, he starts realizing the power he has to make decisions and change his own life, both alone and with the help of others. He has a ton of choices to make: Release Uk’otoa or not? Break the pact or not? Become a follower of the Wildmother or not? This potion is one of my favorites and is packed full of ingredients! There’s barberry for atonement, magic/sorcery, and for freeing oneself from the power/control/influence of another; mint for help getting the push needed to change one’s life, peaceful sleep, protection while sleeping, communication, and drawing good spirits; rue for freedom and breaking oaths, and for help seeing and understanding one’s mistakes; agrimony for overcoming fear, reversing pacts and spells and warding off evil entities. Like the first potion, there’s also skullcap in this one for making a binding oath/pact, but this time it represents both Fjord’s blood oath with Caleb and his newfound connection with Wildmother. It also represents the relief of disharmony. Lastly, there’s pink rosebuds for divine love, pink carnation for a mother’s love (the Wildmother), and peony for protection, breaking hexes/curses/bindings, and help dealing with feelings of shame, which Fjord definitely struggled with when his powers were taken away from him. -Sealed with symbol of the Wildmother and gold wax.

7. Can I reach my goals alone? Do I want to? (GROWTH) In my other CR2 boxes so far I’ve included a reference to the rest of the Mighty Nein, and for Fjord I wanted to keep it going. In this potion, there is one clove for each member of the M9, including Molly. Cloves represent camaraderie, and becoming better through the influence of those around you. There’s also thyme for attracting loyalty and the good opinion of others, providing strength/courage, and warding off grief/nightmares; zinnia to remember friends that are no longer with us; sage for renewal, and for grief/loss and being able to learn from them (grief for Vandren, Molly, himself, and for other losses the group has sustained). Lastly, there’s magnolia for loyalty, calming anxiety, peace and overcoming destructive/unnecessary behaviors. -Sealed with tiny ship stamp and gold wax.

Since the top inside lid was so simple with just the eye, I wanted to have a little fun with the bottom of the box and make it a bit more complicated. I got a silver sword and  broke it, then carved out a space in the bottom so the sword would fit, using clay to fill in gaps so the sword was set flush into the bottom surface and it was still flat enough for everything to balance on it. Then, I covered it in resin, giving the bottom a “wet” look, which turned out even better than I expected and ended up looking super cool. To finish it all off, I added a piece of fishing net on the bottom as both a way to protect the resin and to give an interesting effect.

Lastly, I added a brass-topped tooth on a red cord in the little black sachet to represent the red rope on Fjord’s armor and his tusks, which have served as a metaphor throughout the campaign for his journey to self-acceptance, and carved a quote on the very bottom of the outside of the box. It says “It is in our nature to adapt.” I don’t want to spoil how and when it’s said, but I thought it fit really well.

This box was a wild ride, and I felt like I couldn’t see the end until I’d reached it. I’m glad I stuck it out and kept going because I love how it turned out! Thanks for reading this ridiculously long write up, friends, and until next time! 

[y-ildthoughts]

WHY R U? THE SERIES FULL REVIEW

So now that the series has come to an end, I feel like I should summarize my feelings about WHY R U? the series, because honestly there are a lot of them.

When I heard the initial premise, I was very excited, a series about the fantasy story of a BL fan girl! It seemed like an original idea with a lot of potential for different narratives. A new way for fan girls to be satisfied; seeing their imaginations played out on screen as part of the script, and not just as fan service or in a fan fiction.

When the cast was announced I'll be the first to admit I didn't know any of the other actors apart from Saint. However, the lure of Saint in another BL role was more than enough to persuade me to anticipate the series. His previous role in LBC was carried out superbly. In fact, I learnt that the accent he put used for that series (which annoyed me greatly as a viewer initially) was an artistic choice for that character specifically, which makes me respect him as an actor even more.

By the end of the first episode, I was left with some rather conflicting opinions. Nevertheless, I continued to watch, episode by episode and have finally come to some sort of conclusion. It's a rather messy and confusing thought process but hopefully you can bear with me.

At first, I was off put by the jumpy plot, the narrative follows the characters along at the pace of a fan fiction, with little to no filler to explain how characters go from to enemies to friends in a single leap. The argument I've heard raised against this is that it's -meant- to be like that. Which I can appreciate, and I applaud the writers for their work, but I also think there's a reason that rarely if ever books are directly translated to screen in that manner.

However, I will say that once the relationships between characters- mostly Saifah and Zon - had settled that this style of plot development bothered me less and less and instead I found myself egging on the romantic tropes the two encountered.

As I've said I previously hadn't encountered any of the other actors before but now that I've watched the whole series, I have to say that they put together a really great cast. It's actually also a rather large cast I think, so I'll try to mention the actors that really stood out for me, but I don't think I can write about everyone.

Starting with the main cast:

Tommy Sittichok Pueakpoolpol plays Zon, and although this was not his first professional work it is arguably his biggest project to date. I think he plays the character very well. There is a sudden change in his character from stubborn to endearing; but this comes with the change in equilibrium of his relationship with Saifah and is therefore understandable.  Overall, I really enjoyed this character's journey and especially fell in love with his soft boi persona that he has adapted to by the end of the series.

For his first ever professional works Jimmy Karn Kritsanaphan did a really well to undertake such a big role as Saifah. That being said, the characters integrality within the plot was not reflected equally to his time on the screen.  It could be due to the point of view that the series is shot from - predominantly Zon and Tutor's- that we don't get to see this character’s development in greater detail.

Zee Pruk Panich and Saint Suppapong Udomkaewkanjana play Fighter and Tutor respectively. I mention these two actors together because putting the more adult scenes aside, these two actors show such great chemistry and tension between their characters, there's a real push-and- pull between them which I think really draws you into their storyline. Also, I think they really deserve recognition for the "hard carry" they did of the series' last few episodes after the corona virus outbreak.

As is typical of Thai BL series due to their nature, I feel that female actresses in these series have to work especially hard to gain recognition for their roles beyond being hated for keeping a male couple apart. Refreshingly in this series Zol played by Perth Veerinsara Tangkitsuvanich has a rather neutral yet involved role in the narrative. She particularly shines in giving a comical and expressive performance whilst maintaining verisimilitude. The other stand out female actress from this series for me is Janistar Phomphadungcheep who plays Hwahwa, is obviously gorgeous, and part of her role is dependent on that. More than that though she executes Hwahwa's brand of "dumb" comedy hilariously well, so well in fact that she easily defies the typical reaction that a female love interest ensues.

And finally, without going into too much detail I also have to give special mentions to Nat Natasitt Uareksit who plays Blue, Poppy Ratchapong Anomakiti playing Junior and James Rusameekae Fagerlund as Kae. Throughout the series these three actors all had what have to be considered scene stealing moments.

Maybe it's just me but all I found myself wanting to do was to protect Blue from his older love interests, as his sweet demeanour is revealed. Junior's "waterfall" moment upon seeing the engineer gang in the cafeteria in episode one really set the president for his comedic moments throughout the series, as rare as they were. P'Kae is the boss we all wish we had, and his protective streak when it comes to Tutor has definitely earned him a place as a fan favourite from the series.

One of the biggest talking points of the series has got to be its method of shooting and how that has affected the entire production. The production was shot live, meaning that each episode was shot and edited before it was released for broadcast each week, with the exception of some scenes. To shoot live requires quite the commitment from both cast and crew, it's also an incredibly risky method of shooting as any number of unforeseen circumstances can occur and interrupt shooting which has a direct effect on the entire production. Hence why live shooting is less common nowadays. However, the team definitely deserves credit for this decision as without the corona virus outbreak I think that this method would have benefitted the production overall.

That being said unfortunately the outbreak has forced many productions to shut down, and of course this has negatively affected the production of this series too, possibly more so than others that are in production stages currently. As such more casual fans of the series that may be unaware of the situation, and therefore not understand the reasoning behind the shift of focus from around episode eight and nine when the virus began to affect production. When in actuality the team should really be applauded for managing to still broadcast such coherent episodes under the circumstances.

Is it a perfect ending to the series; with a broad oversight of each character, couple and relationship that the viewer may desire? No, I would regretfully say that it doesn't manage to reach these criteria, but it makes a damn good effort to try, and this valiant effort is spearheaded by what should be categorized as a FighTor fan's dream. Endless scenes of the two characters exploring the more intimate side of their relationship. Which is actually a rather fitting filler for the series considering it is meant to be a fan girl dream story. So without these scenes I'm not sure that the series stands up with the  storyline as it is. However, this doesn't and shouldn't distract at all from the stellar acting performances that we've seen from this series.

So, congratulations if you've managed to make it this far and read the whole review, my thoughts on the series were decipherable enough through the review, I hope.

[rmg91]

The Woes and Antics of Living Together-Chapter 2

Here's chapter 2! With 100% more Bridget and Poppy! And 1000% more Branch getting tortured by the universe but I think you'll like the ending ;)

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter; AO3/FF.net

@writerofberk CHAPTER 2 IS HERE!

                                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days.

It had been three days since Branch had gotten his so called eviction 'notice', three miserable, wet and rainy days that he had been looking for a new apartment with no luck. No matter where he looked they were either out of his budget, too far from campus or just so ran down that even as desperate as Branch was he wouldn't want to live there and all he wanted was a place to sleep at night. He was beginning to think maybe this wasn't worth it and he'd have to swallow his pride in order to beg his landlord to let him stay. Although he really didn't want to do that, Griff would probably just laugh in his face while denying him and then he'd be right back where he was.

Of course he wouldn't be in this mess if his lousy boss actually paid him decently and didn't delight in making Branch serve the more difficult customers where he knew Branch would loose his temper and foil any potential tips. Said boss had also recently told Branch he was on thin ice because he kept getting distracted, was making more mistakes than usual and getting even more complaints than ever. Branch had tried, once, to explain his current dilemma but all his boss had said was to suck it up and do something right or else he'd be fired. Groaning Branch buried his head in his arms, crumpling the newspaper he had been looking through beneath him. His life just continued to get worse and worse it seemed.

"Um, Branch? Is...everything alright?"

"Yaarg!" Branch cried as he jumped out of his seat at the sound of Bridget Tudor's quite voice, when had she shown up?! Turning wild, shocked eyes to her, he hissed, "Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"Sorry, sorry." the pastel pink haired woman mumbled as she ducked her head, "...Um, is everything alright? You...didn't forget about our study session, did you?"

"It's fine, I'm fine." Branch breathed as he sat back down, glad the corner of the library they were in was empty and the librarian hadn't heard his outburst, "And no. Sit down. You were still having trouble with calculus right?"

Bridget nodded as she took her seat and placed down her books, still looking worriedly at Branch, "Yeah, this one section is just so confusing. Are you sure you're alright? You looked pretty down when I came over. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Let me see where you're getting caught up and no, I don't. Nothing's wrong."

The Hospitality major frowned at him, "It's okay to talk about it, whatever is it. We're friends, Branch. I won't even tell Gristle if you don't want me to."

Branch sighed, knowing how useless it could be to continuing deny nothing was wrong. Bridget could be amazingly stubborn when she wanted to be and he knew if they kept this up he'd snap at her, which would make her upset, which he'd then regret because she was just trying to help and why did he have to be such a softy?! He blamed...he didn't know what he blamed but it was something...probably the universe, it was a cruel, cruel mistress after all.

Slumping in his seat, he leaned over to bury his face in his arms, "...I'm being evicted..."

"Oh, Branch! I'm so sorry!" Bridget exclaimed, "Is there anything we can do to help? You're more than welcome to come stay with me and Gristle till you get sort out."

"Thanks...but I'll be fine, alright? I've got some options." Like maybe dropping out of school and going to live in a bunker somewhere deep in the woods. He could hunt and gather whatever he needed to survive out there.

Bridget didn't looked convinced but nodded anyway, "Alright...but let us know if you need help with anything, okay?"

"Sure. Now, show me where you need help." He would be fine, the bunker plan could be a good plan once he'd be able put more thought into it. Plus no one would be able to kick him out then.

                                                  ~*~*~*~*~*~

The sounds of utensils clinking and people chatting echoed around Branch as he tried to focus on working his section of the restaurant. However he was just too preoccupied thinking about where he could live to pay much attention to his actions. The bunker idea had merit but as he thought more on it, he'd need a way to gather a few starting supplies before hand and to actually find a bunker first. Grumbling to himself he served a pair customers their order before making to go back to the service counter.

"Uh...excuse me, dude?" The young woman's voice called out making Branch groan, "This isn't what I ordered."

Turning back, Branch attempted to fake a pleasant smile as he glanced at the order slip, "You ordered the special, right?"

"Yeah, the fish one. Not the chicken. Can you, like, take it back?"

"Suuuuure," Branch said through clenched teeth, trying to keep from glaring at the girl. He took the plate back and stormed off toward the kitchen, thinking that she should have been more specific when he took the damn order in the first place rather than just saying she wanted 'the special'.

Tossing the plate onto the service counter, Branch called through to the chef that he needed a fish special, stressing the fish part, before leaning against the wall and waiting. Just once couldn't someone be satisfied with their order? It would appear not as Branch always, always got the difficult people, even when he tried to be a 'pleasant and accommodating server' to quote his boss. Speaking of his boss, oh joy, here he came now.

"Hawthorn. A word."

"Can't. Waiting for an order." Branch said, gesturing to the window.

"What's that then?" His boss, Mr. Garavito, said, pointing to the dish sitting behind Branch.

"Not mine."

"Right." Mr. Garavito grabbed Branch's arm and begun tugging him through the kitchen door. "Alice! Take over Hawthorn's section!"

"Hey!" Branch cried as he was weaved between the kitchen staff before being shoved outside, "What's the big deal?!"

"I've had it, Hawthorn! With your attitude and your horrible service skills! Not mention all the complaints I get about you! You're done, got it? Collect your things and leave your nametag. You're fired!"

Branch watched his boss go back inside stunned before what had just happened truly sank it. Letting out a anger filled scream, he kicked a nearby trashcan before slumping against the brick wall. The universe didn't just hate him it seemed, it truly wanted him to suffer. What was he going to do now?

                                                  ~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days later and Branch wished he was dead, then he wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore. He still wasn't having any sort of luck on finding some place to live, which seemed like a moot point now as he had no job to support himself, something else he couldn't find a replacement for. Groaning, he let his head fall back and hang over the back of the bench he sat on as he closed his eyes. Maybe if he sat here long enough he'd just waste away to nothing and not have to kick himself over never having the forethought to have a back-up plan for the very things happening to him. He always had a back-up plan! Turns out he wasn't paranoid enough to think he'd need some sort of way to survive after losing both his home and job. At least when he died he could take his secret crush to the grave with him...

"Braaaanch~!" Speaking of said crush and the very embodiment of sunshine, he could hear her calling his name.

He stayed still and hoped she'd leave him alone, seeing as he was in no mood for her company. Then again this was Poppy...

"Branch!" The bright pink haired woman cried as she caught herself on the bench, "Just the man I was looking for!"

He grunted and watched with tired eyes as she climbed over the back to sit beside him, happy grin in place, "What do you want, Poppy?"

"Weeeellll," She sang out, "I might have heard you need a new place to live and I've got the answer to your prayers!"

"....And just where did you here that?" Like he didn't know the answer.

"Ah-ha...um...Bridget may have...accidentally told me?" At least she had the mind to look a little bashful, which was just another adorable look on her and -Focus Branch she was speaking again! "But that's a good thing cause I have the perfect opportunity for you!"

Branch sighed and closed his eyes again, "I don't need your help, Poppy. I'll be fine."

"At least hear me out? Please, please, please, pleeeease?! With sugar and whip cream and peaches on top?"

He always hated when she'd ask like that when they were kids and still hated it now, "...Fiiine..."

"You can move in with me!" She cried.

"What?!"

"See, my old roommate just moved out to live with her boyfriend, so I have an free room right? And you need a place to live! It's works out perfectly!"

Branch sputtered, "No, it doesn't! I don't want to be your roommate! Plus-plus wouldn't it be weird for us to live together, a guy and a girl? And what would your friends say?! I-I-No! I refuse! I'll be fine!" He crossed his arms in defiance as he turned away from her.

"Oh, please, Branch. We're adults and it's not like we're going to be sharing a room." She giggled, "And the gang will understand, they're still your friends too," She ignored his muttered 'Yeah, right', "Come on, Branch. You know you really want to~ Plus, how much longer do you have to find a new place and get all that paperwork done? Not to mention all the inspections I know you'd insist on."

The dark haired man merely grumbled and continued to face away from her. He was not going to fall for her tricks! He'd be absolutely fine on his own! Even if she did sort of have a point about the paperwork...And living with her would be like a dream come true...but no! He couldn't! He wouldn't subjugate her to his horrible luck and have the universe curse her too! Plus there was no way he'd be able to enjoy his solitude with all her singing and scrap-booking and party planning and friends over all the time. No, he'd much rather suffer in a box somewhere.

"Branch. How long?" She asked again, trying to look him in the eye.

"....About five days..." He finally muttered. "And no, I still refuse."

"Please, Branch? It's so much easier to just add your name to my lease! Especially if you haven't even found a place yet. And it'd make me feel so much better if I knew you weren't living in a box somewhere or-or Gristle and Bridget's basement!"

"Gristle and Bridget don't have a basement."

"Exactly!"

Branch sighed, "Sorry, Poppy. My answer's still no."

Poppy let out a rare growl of frustration, "Why are you so stubborn?! Why are you still refusing? This is a perfect idea!"

"Because I also just lost my job alright?! I wouldn't be able to contribute so just leave me alone and stop pushing this! It's not happening!"

She fell silent after his little outburst and stared at him quietly for a moment before speaking up softly, "How about a deal then? You move in with me and I give you two months to settle in and find a new job. I'll cover the rent for that time but in turn you have to...cook dinner, maybe do some chores around the place?"

Branch gave her a flat look, "So you want a live in butler?"

"No, it's more like you're earning your keep. Please, Branch?" Poppy clasped her hands under her chin and gave him the most pleading look she could.

And damn it all, if there was one thing Branch hated more than seeing her genuinely upset it was the damn wishy eyed look. Her beautiful, bright amber eyes were gazing at him with such hope that he would agree, he be double damned if he refused. And what was worst, she knew it too, he'd always fallen for this look in their childhood and it looked like he would again.

"...Fine." Poppy let out a whoop of joy as he cried, "But on three conditions!" She settled for bouncing in her seat as she nodded, grin wide and adorable dimples on display as she listened, "One: Don't bother me when I'm studying unless it's an emergency. I like my solitude. Two: Let me fortify your apartment. You can never be too safe and knowing you, you only have the lock that's easy enough to break. And three: No parties."

"Hmm.." Poppy hummed as she thought about his conditions for a moment, they weren't all completely unreasonable, "How about a compromise? One: Study outside of your room sometimes. I know you like your space and that's fine but it isn't good for you to lock yourself away. Two: I'm not letting you put twenty extra locks on my door but I will allow you two extra's since I know it'll make you feel better and I want you to feel comfortable and safe. And three: I can only promise no ragers. I'm not going to stop throwing study parties or sleepover's just because you say you don't like them. It's who I am, Branch. However I will also try to let you know when we're going to have guests, so you don't get too surprised. Deal?"

Branch watched her hold out her hand and wiggle her fingers, waiting for him to take it. He frowned at it before taking it, sadly her compromise didn't sound so horrible and he couldn't really find a loophole, "...Deal."

                                                        ~*~*~*~*~*~

Don't deny it, Branch, you want to live with her. Also I can't bring myself to write Branch as huge jerk cause I know deep down he's a softy who just wants hugs XD He just doesn't want to admit it.

Hope you all enjoyed! Read and Review!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 51)

She couldn’t believe that she was missing her first day of senior year. Katara was going to kill her for sure, if the stress didn’t get there first. She squeezed her mother’s hand, happy to have it there. For as much as the woman vowed to not get involved with the raising of her baby, the woman was doing a bad job of sticking to her word.

Not that Suki had an protests there.

Breathing and body temperature problems were an on and off again problem since Jing-Zao’s birth. The baby hadn’t enough body fat to protect her from hypothermia. And her lungs had formed as immaturely as she.

‘How is Jing-Zao?’ Katara texted the question.

‘I’ll let you know when I figure it out.’

Suki had been allowed to take her baby home a month after having her but she was right back in the ER almost immediately with some sort of flu. And then a case of whooping cough. They had told her after the third trip that this was the result of a poor immune system.

She would be surprised to find that Jing-Zao’s immune system had failed again.

They had already been at the hospital for over an hour. She hated having to call Sokka again. He was probably already in the middle of a morning class.

But their baby was having breathing troubles again.

Over and over again, in her head, she wondered what she could have done to have prevented the preterm birth. But when it came down to it, the only thing she could have done was not have a baby at all. She squeezed her mother’s hand.

Even going back to Wan High was a better option than this.

.oOo.

Toph frowned to herself, according to Katara, Suki would be missing the first day again. She was glad she didn’t have babies to deal with, it seemed like such a handful. The only baby she’d have to worry about was Appa.

“Don’t let him bite anyone.” Poppy cautioned. “We can’t afford another lawsuit.”

“I know, mom.” Toph grumbled. “Appa’s a good dog, he won’t bite anyone.”

Poppy pulled her into a crushing hug. “Don’t push yourself too hard today. If you have any trouble, if they aren’t accommodating…”

“I don’t need accommodation.” The less they accommodated, the better. The less changes that were made, the better. “And, don’t worry, I can walk myself to the bus.” Before Poppy could protest, Toph took off. She sprinted down the sidewalk, eyes locked on Aang.

“Hey Twinkle Toes!” She greeted.

He jumped.

“Any higher and I’d think you were practicing hurdles for the track team.”

“Soccer is good enough for me.” Aang replied.

One of these days she was going to have to find a way back onto the team. “Guess what?”

“What.”

Toph whipped out a brand new backpack. “Now that Mai’s family dropped the lawsuit, things are getting back on track. I can go to better eye doctors now. The kind that don’t try to mess the whole thing up.” She reached down to hand Appa a treat. “So, Twinkle Toes, what kind of drama do you think Wan High has in store for us this year?”

“Hopefully none.” Aang rolled his eyes. “We got more than enough of it last year. I was hoping to have a quiet year with Haru.”

“A quiet year? With me?  I don’t think so, Twinkle Toes!” She rolled her eyes. “Yeesh, all of that drama, and I missed it.” She had gotten the tail end of it, but it seemed like all of the action seemed to happen when she was gone. Frankly she would have loved to have been around to witness exactly what had led Azula to come to Katara’s party so many months ago. But then again, she couldn’t have promised that she wouldn’t have made an ill-placed comment or two.

“Trust me it’s not the kind of drama you would have wanted to be around.”

“Eh...I suppose that I got enough of my own last year anyways.” Toph shrugged. She was just glad to be returning to school at all, especially after so many threats from her mother about being transferred to a specialized school.

The bus pulled into the stop. “Ladies first.” Toph motioned Aang ahead.

Aang stepped onto the bus. “I missed your jokes.”

“You missed my jokes?” Toph replied. “I missed making them!” She missed almost a whole year’s worth of witty jokes and opportunities to be sarcastic. “Don’t worry, I’ve saved up a whole year’s worth of ‘em. Gotta make up for all of the jokes I missed. I’ve even come up with some new nicknames for everyone.” Of course they didn’t know it yet, but they would as soon as an opportunity presented itself.  “Spike better like hers.”

Frankly she was looking forward to getting to know her better, the amount of Usha jokes they could make together...she saw so much potential. Alright, so it was more like, she sensed so much potential.

She hoped that there was as much potential in the partnership her father was considering with Teo’s father. “So, Haru is friends with Teo, right?”

“Yeah.” Aang replied. “Why.”

“I hope he has a sense of humor because, we’re about to get to know each other pretty well.”

“Teo can take a joke.” Aang replied.

“Perfect.” Toph grinned. “If I don’t run into him today,” which with Appa as her eyes was a real possibility.  “Can you ask Haru to mention my name?”

“Sure thing, Toph.”

“Knew I could count on you, Twinkle Toes.”

.oOo.

Sokka stepped into the hospital. The commute had taken much longer than he had anticipated. “Hey, Suki.”

Suki pulled him into a hug. “I’m just so tired of the hospital.”

She looked exhausted. Not that he didn’t share her sentiments. But he was only missing move in day. This hospital visit was costing her the first day of school. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to class, I think I can take over this one.”

“It’s just icebreaker and syllabus day. They’re the same every year.” She declined. “I wouldn’t be able to focus anyways, Sokka.”

“She’s gonna be fine.” Sokka assured. “If she’s anything like you then she’s not going to give up that easily.”

Suki sighed. “You’re right…”

So far Jing has pulled through everything else. He didn’t see why this case would be any different. He motioned for Suki to sit in his lap and squeezed his hand. “Hey, my days of cleaning up highway and trash and garbage under bridges are almost over. By the time she’s able to get on her feet and walk, I’ll be around to help her do it.”

“Well I hope so.” Suki muttered.

The look on her face still said he was in deep waters for making her endure most of the crying over the summer. And her mother still had to warm up to him. “Hey, I promise. I let Katara down, I’m not gonna let you and Jing down too.”

.oOo.

Aang held his head as high as he could as he walked passed Hide.

“How’s my favorite priss? Did you boyfriend treat you like a princess over the summer?”

“You bet he did.” Haru took Aang’s hand. “With a mustache this majestic who wouldn’t feel like royalty after a kiss.” With his free hand he locked a finger gun on Hide.

“That’s disgusting.” Hide scrunched his nose.

“Someone isn’t handling the single life very well.” Chan put in.

“Since when did you play for the geeks?” Hide scowled.

“Since my ex decided to go and be one of them, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Whatever.” Hide muttered. “If you want to let the faeries feel you up, that’s your deal.”

“Boy, underclassmen are wild these days.” Chan noted.

“Says house party guy.” Aang interjected.

Haru burst out laughing. “I love you Aang, but I think Toph has a thing or two to teach you about insults.”

“Your mustache is an insult to your face.”

“Better.” Haru replied.

“I don’t know, I thought that one was pretty clever.” Chan replied propping himself up against a locker.

“What brings you to this part of the hallway?” Haru asked.

He held up the sheet of paper showing his locker number.

“Looks like we’re going to see each other a lot.” Aang noted, motioning to the locker two away from his. It would seem like luck was on his side this year. Chan was still gorgeous, but this time without the disastrous personality. If he got really lucky, the ex-jock might even act as a line of defense against Hide.

Heaven knew he was going to need that now that he was in a more open relationship.

But he had promised Haru that he wasn’t going to let anything scare him away from sneaking kisses in the hallway or on the bleachers during games--that is, if Haru could ever convince him to get near a football match.

“Hey, thanks for sticking up for me.”

“No problem. I’ve decided to put my assholery to good use.” Chan shrugged.

“You going to be hosting more parties?” Haru asked.

“Yeah, still hosting the homecoming and Halloween ones.” Chan replied. “Guest list is gonna be more exclusive though. If you and your guy haven’t been traumatized, you can come again.” He paused. “One rule though.”

“Yeah?��� Aang asked.

“No sheet ghosts allowed.” Chan said. “Gotta be more original than that since we’re going to have less costumes to choose from. Don’t worry, you’ve got a whole month and thirty-one days to think about it.”

“Thirty days.” Haru corrected.

“Whatever, dork.”

“Alright, no sheet ghosts.” Aang replied. He’d have to settle for curtains.

“I gotta get going.” Aang replied. “I heard Zhao is awful.”

Chan visibly cringed. “Good luck little loser. You’re gonna need it.”

But Aang didn’t think so, so far everything was going well. If anyone could suck up to Zhao and get a good grade, it was him. He didn’t think he had much to worry about, he had a good feeling about this year.

.oOo.

Jing-Zao squirmed around in her arms. It wasn’t good news, but she supposed it was much better than she had fretted. After hours of monitoring, the doctors had declared that the girl had a case of asthma. Another good hour or so was dedicated to learning all about how to care for the condition.

“I’m going to drive with Sokka, mom. If you want you can take my car.” She leaned in and let the woman hug her. “Thanks for coming today. It means a lot to Sokka and I. Right?”

“Absolutely.” Sokka agreed. “Jing would like to have time with two gran-grans.”

Suki rolled her eyes. She had to get him to stop calling them ‘grans’. Granted it was much better than his first idea, ‘the gran squad’. “And two grandfathers.”

Her mother sighed. “He’ll come around Suki. Just keep rocking the baby in front of him and he’ll come around.”

Suki didn’t doubt that. He had the same reaction when she’d brought a stray cat home as a child.

Back in the comfort of her home, she tickled Jing’s tummy, relieved and elated to hear the baby’s coo. She was mostly healthy and she was happy. And that had to count for something. Even if she and Sokka had a long way to go.

A really long way.

She sent Katara a text. ‘Everything is okay with Jing. I’ll be in school tomorrow, mom said she’d babysit.’ She hit send and added. ‘I’m still on for tonight.’

Granted Katara’s idea of ‘on for tonight’ was a night at home watching dumb chick flicks and laughing at the drama from the safety of their couch. But that was fine by her, it was a baby-safe night out.

“You going to come with us Sokka?”

“I would, but I’ve got some trash to pick up. I’m trying to get that out of the way.”

“That’s fine, it was a girl’s night anyways and we have Jing to fill in for you.”

“I’ll be sure to crash girl’s night next time.” Sokka vowed.

“What if we’re inviting guys next time?”

“See now you’re making things difficult.” Sokka replied, holding out his arms.

She passed Jing-Zao over. She supposed that he could have the honor of rocking her to sleep this time. He beamed down at the baby, booping her on the nose. Suki smiled. They certainly didn’t have it completely together. But she had a good feeling that they’d be able to work it out.

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ expired.

date: late mid-2018

location: unspecified

word count: 1,937 words

notes: creative claims verification.

the musical base of the song is made before ash decides what to do with it. it feels like he’s been working on songs he has to fit into a certain sound and vision as commissioned by bc for weeks. having the the knowledge that they’ll likely end up rejected anyway on top of that has drained him of his drive and inspiration despite desperately attempting to avoid falling into the trap of creative block he’s usually better at steering clear of. the clock ticks on for a while longer and defeated, ash saves and closes the files he’s been working the whole night. it takes a few beats of considering if he should pack up and head back to the dorm before he forces himself to keep working in some capacity. he won’t get anywhere if he keeps doing what he’s already been doing, though, so he brings up a blank project on the illuminated screen in front of him. for a while, he does little more than stare at it and think about what he even wants to create, hoping creative lightening will spontaneously strike him with the motivation to create a masterpiece.

when that doesn’t happen, he starts by making a slow beat, then laying a faster beat over it. it’s a start, but ash still doesn’t know where he’s going with it. when that’s finished, he plays around with his MID keyboard that is connected to the computer. at first he tries something fast and poppy, but it’s not right. it sounds too much like everything else he’s been working on all night. he hadn’t set all of those aside to come up with the same thing for the twentieth time that week. he wants to make something different from what he’s already been doing, even if that means he might turn out with a mess instead of something bc wants, or even the respectable completed work he wants.

he takes another few moments to think, eyes scanning over the keyboard and his beat pad and the composition program in front of him before his fingers return once again to press down on the keys. he tries something slower, simple chords to accent the beats, but that’s not it either, so he morphs it into something more melodious. but now he’s run into the same problem of it being too much again.

draft after draft of keyboard melodies get scrapped until ash has layered enough different cuts end to end to make a tune that begins in simple chords before transitioning into a dreamy melody in a creation more fitting for a full song. finally, something he can work with.

a few days later, and ash has continued solidifying the simple backing track, before turning to composing a vocal melody. he doesn’t have an idea of what the words will be yet, so he works with short, meaningless syllables to shape the journey they’ll follow along the song. along the way, he falls in love with the song he’s created for the first time in a while. he keeps finding himself coming back to it every time he gets stuck on another song or after bc rejects yet another one of his attempts to make something that will be up to their standards.

with time, it becomes a fully realized composition that ash is loathe to abandon simply because it had only been a distraction at first. he sees its potential to be something greater, and he sets aside the risk of neglecting his other work to focus on expanding the track into a full song, or at least something more than a still-sloppy composition draft.

he cuts it close with how closely he’s still writing the song to the deadline for the final track list, and he’s starting to think its chances of making it are grim anyway. it’s not sensually romantic or sensually heartbroken like bc seems to be going for with the tracks that have made the cut so far. it’s very real, actually, he realizes after the lyrics come together. too real to be interesting to other people, surely. he’s been trying so hard to grow in his writing to become better at making songs that don’t sound so self-absorbed and melodramatic. many a song he’s tried to present to bc have been written off that way, and as much as he insists that it doesn’t really matter to him what they think, it very much does.

it’s hard to ever tell what bc really wants. even the in-house writers and producers must struggle to know what will make a&r and the higher-ups happy. ash has learned better how to bend to their desires since he first dreamed of releasing songs he’d written, but there’s a lot of clear ‘no’s, not nearly as many clear ‘yes’s, and a whole lot of middle ground in between that he’s learned not to be optimistic about. sometimes, it feels like bc’s team will pass any ballad with a high note and other days they want some strange, experimental detour only barely within the bounds of pop that ash has no idea how to create for them.

it’s a lot like everything else bc asks of him; only really transparent when he’s in the wrong and unclear to the point of frustration when he does something right.

and like so many other songs he knows will never see the light of day, the lyrics for this one come out of him as a way to accept and understand his own feelings. he needs to stop treating his songwriting as a diary if he ever wants to be truly recognized as a good musician. he knows this. he’s been told it more than once and he’s read essays by supposed pop music experts about how the greatest hits in music history are those not only with a good beat, but those that are easily relatable on a broader scale. he could at least gauge how relatable his own feelings are before he bleeds them out onto paper in a haze of emotion and desperation like he always does, but this one pours out of an open wound in his heart before he lets his brain patch it up.

he doesn’t know what wounded him or what’s been scratching away at his chest for years now that finally did enough damage to bring his feelings out, but when he gets hit with the inspiration to add the lyrics to his composition, they’re finalized by the time he finishes the first draft of them. there’s nothing he can change that can make the words more truthful than the raw product of what he wants to express in the moment.

he’s beginning to hate the song a little bit. it’s so gluttonously self-indulgent, so greedily written as if anyone wants to hear the words he’s scrawled out in front of him, one of the rare times pen on paper have felt more appropriate than a more modern counterpart.

he hates it for the reason he’s hated all of the songs that have been crumpled and discarded in the trash lately; it’s a reflection of himself and he’s tired of being the person that stares back when he looks in the mirror.

It’s not a lyrical magnum opus. the more ash reads it more, the more he wants it to find its place in the trash along all the other songs he can’t bare to admit he thought were acceptable examples of his work when he was writing them.

so he files it away in the notebook and tells himself he won’t look at it again. it doesn’t work, though, and by the end of the week, as the deadline creeps even closer, ash has pulled out the piece of paper with his lyrics on it as he stares at the untouched production program open in front of him.

he struggles for a while on how he wants it to sound. he has the words down, words that had been so clear and easy to get out onto paper, and he has to composition of the piece, but how is he supposed to translate the feeling he wants into a complete product? production is always harder for him than the steps of creating lyrics and music, because he learned about it on purpose as a beginner instead of the accidental experience that years of music lessons and written disclosures of his feelings for his eyes only had given him when he’d seriously stepped into the role of composer and lyricist.

even with the somber vocals on top of the instrumental, the track feels empty. he thinks he wants it to feel empty, but not in such a dull way. but maybe he does want it to be dull. or jaded. is there a difference big enough to make the distinction? and if there is, how is he supposed to get that across past his tone of voice and the notes that reach a listener’s ears?

ash adds more reverberation to the instrumental while keep the vocal parts low in volume, and he likes the empty sound of it more now. that’s the emptiness he wants. it’s not the emptiness of a new, unfurnished room; it’s the emptiness of an old room that’s been forgotten by everyone who used to occupy it with footsteps and echoing laughter. abandoned, just like the lyrics confess he’s so afraid of being one day. it scares him some to think about if he’s trying to purposefully make himself sound so alone within the world of the song. he feels lonely most of the time, but showing it in auditory metaphor while his voices asks what will become of him is haunting to hear in his own ears. it’s not that the thoughts that circle his own mind surprise him, but that his willingness to put it out there with such an inconsequential air does. the song says yes, ash kwon is scared of becoming nothing, but he’s not stupid enough to pretend it’s not inevitable.

he has to tell himself not to be afraid of vulnerability when he wants to add in more effects and more instruments to cover up and distract from the words he still doesn’t know if he likes. if he’s going to admit that he’s afraid of becoming meaningless to everyone around him, he shouldn’t bury his own voice. he doesn’t expect anyone to hear it and care that much, but isn’t that the whole point of the song itself?

again, ash is a willing victim to his own self-pity, a willing participant in exposing himself like some kind of emotional exhibitionist. he pulls his jacket tighter around his form in the empty studio to keep out the cold, or to hide himself away, or to remind himself that he exists at all.

a few more days pass, and the deadline is upon him once ash finally finds the right balance so it’s more honesty than self-indulgence. he decides not to play up his feelings as a gigantic life-changing thing. it’s just truthgul. he doesn’t ask for his fear to disappear; he only lays it out and presents it as what it is.

if it doesn’t make his album he’s okay with that, but now he wants it to again. he’s steered it away from a source of shame. if he is left behind one day, abandoned and aimless, he’ll deal with that then. for now, he’s proud of himself for creating something completely real without bc entertainment taking the truth away from him with their mind games.

[fireinmoonshot]

Unaware.

Summary: “Reader survives with Eggsy and Merlin and goes with them to Kentucky. Tequila flirts with reader relentlessly and Merlin, realizing he has feelings for reader, gets all bothered and reader notices?” Pairing: Merlin x Reader. Fandom: Kingsman Warnings: None. Word Count: 1772. A/N: So, apparently today is the day for longer imagines than usual. Anyway, this was so much fun to write and I really hope you enjoy it! 

You’d been in Kentucky for two weeks and you were already missing home.

You, luckily, had been out on a late night grocery run when Kingsman HQ and all of the remaining agents had been killed. You’d expected Eggsy and Merlin to have died too, but after arriving at the tailor shop and seeing them there, you’d never been happier to not be alone.

Statesman wasn’t too different to Kingsman, you’d noticed. You’d grown to like Ginger the most out of all of the agents - she was the kindest and friendliest and seemed to really understand the things you were dealing with.

The other agents - Whiskey, Champ and Tequila - weren’t bad either. They seemed nice enough, but since two of them were field agents, they weren’t around as often as Ginger was. 

You appreciated that you still had Eggsy and Merlin, too. You knew that, if they weren’t here, you wouldn’t be either. With them, you knew you were never really alone, and that was all you needed to reassure yourself, at least half the time.

You were trying to find your way to Champ’s office one Wednesday morning when Agent Tequila found you, wandering around HQ. He was clearly confused as he stopped in his tracks. 

“Where are you headin’, sunshine?” He asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

You nodded at him. “I was trying to find Champ’s office. I got a message from Merlin and Eggsy telling me to meet them there.” 

“I’m on my way there, come on,” Tequila said, heading off down the way you’d come. You quickly followed after him, thankful for his help.

You hadn’t really spoken to him all that much since you arrived at Statesman, but he seemed to be pretty kind. After the abrupt welcome you’d gotten from him, of course. But he was pretty easy to forgive - all three of you knew that, if the tables were turned, you would have done the same thing. 

After a quick walk - it turned out you’d only made a few wrong turns - you finally reached Champ’s office. Tequila walked in after you. “Found this one wanderin’ around outside,” he said. “Maybe y’all should have dropped by her room instead of just sendin’ a message.” 

Eggsy held back an eye roll and sighed, crossing his arms. You saw Merlin beside him frown slightly before shaking it off. You moved over and took a seat beside Merlin. “Sorry,” you muttered. “Got lost.”

Merlin smiled at you and nodded. “Happens to the best of us,” he said. “This place is pretty big. I don’t blame you. I’m probably next to get lost.”

You smiled back at him, grateful for his kindness towards you. 

A few days later, you were sat with Merlin and Ginger in Statesman’s tech department. They were watching over Harry, Eggsy and Whiskey who were currently on a mission in Italy. You still couldn’t quite believe that you had managed to get Harry back, though the hole in your heart from the thought of losing him still hadn’t quite healed.

You didn’t expect it would for a while longer. 

“So,” a voice said behind you. You turned around to see Tequila standing behind the three of you. “What did y’all do in London for Kingsman?”

Merlin spoke first. “I’m Kingsman’s version of Ginger. I work for the tech department, mostly. I dabble as a field agent sometimes.”

Tequila nodded. “And you, sunshine?”

“I’m an agent like Eggsy and Harry are,” you replied. You wished that you were on the mission with them right now, needing the thrill of something like that to get you back into the swing of things. But they hadn’t needed you, not yet, so you’d decided to stay behind with Merlin. 

He came and sat down on a spare chair beside you, kicking his legs up on the desk. Ginger glared at him. “Feet. Off.”

Tequila chuckled and took his feet off the desk, making a bigger deal about it than was necessary. You grinned at him, unable to suppress your smile and laughter at his actions. He smiled back at you.

“You’ve got a nice smile, you know that?” He said, suddenly. 

You looked at him, blushing a little. “Uh, thank you.” 

He smiled at you, tipping his hat a little bit. You didn’t notice Merlin tense up beside you, his fists clenching slightly as he tried to focus on the monitors in front of him. 

Another week passed and you, unexpectedly, had found yourself getting closer and closer to Agent Tequila. Whenever you weren’t working, you usually spent your time with Ginger and Merlin in the tech department. Agent Tequila was almost always there when you were.

You’d found out quite a bit about his life, and he about yours. You didn’t mind his compliments and flirtation either. It took your mind off of everything else that you were worrying about, so you really didn’t mind.

Merlin, on the other hand, did. You had noticed over the past few days, a difference in the way Merlin acted around you and Tequila. He’d been trying to keep it a subtle as possible, but you’d known him for years and it wasn’t hard to pick up on differences in his attitude. The first time you’d noticed was when he started talking loudly to Ginger in the middle of one of Tequila’s compliments.

He’d only realised a few days ago that he had feelings for you, but the idea of telling you was frightening. Sure, he could kill people and fight bad guys, but telling you he liked you? Impossible. Even more impossible, he’d found, was trying to calm himself down whenever cocky-cowboy-man flirted with you.

Ginger had stepped out of her office and headed to grab coffee for the four of you when Merlin lost his cool. It was a Friday morning and you were all helping Ginger do some more research on Poppy. Tequila was sat beside you, as usual. He’d kicked his feet up on the desk as soon as Ginger had left.

You laughed softly, amused at what he was doing. You knew he’d get told off as soon as Ginger came back into the room, but you also supposed that was why he was doing it - just to bother Ginger. 

Tequila smirked at you. “Have I ever told you how adorable your laugh is?” 

You made a face at him and shook your head. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned that,” you mused. “Wait - yes, you’ve told me at least once a day for the past week.”

He chuckled at you and winked. “Should I tell you again?”

“If you want to,” you joked, ready to conjure up a fake laugh should he need an actual reason to tell you about your so called adorable laugh again.

Before Tequila could reply to you, Merlin had slammed his fist down on the table, just a little too hard. It made you jump and you turned to face him immediately. “Merlin?”

He turned to look at you, eyes a little wide. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged. “Just lost a bit of research.” 

You didn’t quite believe him, though you nodded slowly and made a mental note to talk to him later before you turned back to continue talking to Tequila.

You caught Merlin just before he left the tech department later that night. He pretended to be confused about why you pulled him aside, but you knew he knew why. 

He hadn’t lost any research this morning, yet he’d still angrily slammed his fist on the table as if he was trying to break up your conversation with Tequila. As if he was jealous of the two of you.

“What’s going on with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Nothing. Why?”

You gave him a look that told him that you knew he wasn’t being truthful. “Fine,” you sighed. “What research did you lose today? Was it important?”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s nothing that can’t be replaced. I just got a little annoyed when I lost it.”

“Clearly,” you muttered. “So, you getting irritated this morning had nothing to do with Agent Tequila flirting with me? Or was it just mere coincidence and timing?”

“Coincidence, that’s all,” Merlin said, faking a smile that he hoped would get you off of his case. He didn’t intend to reveal how he felt about you now. He had no idea that you suspected.

You sighed and nodded, going to move past him and into the hallway. “Merlin,” you started, pausing in the doorway. He turned to face you. “Tequila asked me on a date earlier today. Do you think I should go?”

It wasn’t easy to miss Merlin’s irritation at the news - the fake news. Tequila hadn’t asked you on a date at all, but the thought had entered your head and you couldn’t help but try it out on Merlin. 

“You should go,” Merlin said, through semi-clenched teeth. 

You nodded slowly. “I should, shouldn’t I? Tequila is just... he’s such a gentleman, isn’t he? He’s kind, he’s charming. He’s wonderful.”

Merlins fists clenched at his sides - you noticed immediately. The more you spoke about being affectionate with Tequila, the more annoyed he was getting.

“Do you think we’d make a good couple? Agent Tequila and Agent Gawain. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” You mused, trying to keep the smile from your face.

Instead of replying, Merlin merely hummed in agreement. He’d hidden his clenched fists in his pockets now, but everything was clear on his face. He was jealous. He didn’t like the idea of you and Agent Tequila together. It became harder to not smile and show your amusement.

You stepped back into the room, slowly walking over to Merlin. “So, you have no problems with me potentially dating Agent Tequila?” You asked.

Merlin shook his head. “None,” he muttered. “I’m going now, Y/N.” 

He moved to push past you, though you moved in his path. “You know, Merlin,” you chuckled. “You’re really clever. Super intuitive. Incredibly intelligent...”

You finally let yourself smile, fully showing how amused you were at Merlin’s actions. “But there’s something you missed.” You added.

Merlin raised his eyebrows a little. “And what did I miss?”

You answered only by leaning in and pressing your lips to his. 

When you pulled away, you grinned at him. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice you getting all tense and bothered whenever Tequila flirted with me? Come on, Merlin. You’ve gotta give me a bit more credit than that.”

[multi-lefaiye]

Mystic Messenger Warriors AU - Chapter One

After a million years, here’s the first real chapter! (Since the previous one was a prologue, heh.)

In this chapter, we meet kitty Jumin, V, and Elizabeth III! And another... mysterious face... :3c

(Trigger warning: there is a depiction of a character having a minor anxiety attack in this chapter, as well as depictions of an animal character who has been injured and is in pain.)    When the cream-colored cat opened their eyes, they found themself in darkness, unable to see a thing. They briefly panicked, trying to stand, only to find their legs were too weak to hold them as they collapsed with a weak mewl.

   Through their dulled, muddled senses, they felt another cat settle down next to them. The stranger’s long, soft fur brushed against their own pelt, warming them and calming them down. A rough tongue rasped against the top of their head and their eyes fluttered shut.

   “You’re alright, little one,” the strange cat meowed in a sweet, soothing voice. “Relax. Go back to sleep.”

   As abruptly as the warmth of the strange cat arrived, it faded away as the cream-colored cat drifted into slumber.

   Slowly, the cream-colored cat awoke again. They groaned as they felt a dull pain throbbing throughout their body, especially in their head. Their eyes, when they opened them, were raw and ached.

   They tried again to stand, only to stumble and collapse. Even moving their legs the slightest amount filled them with sharp, stabbing pain like claws. The cream-colored cat rested their head on the soft earth below them, letting their eyes fall shut again as they grimaced.

   Trying to get a sense of where they were, they sniffed the air. They were met with a wide variety of aromas that assailed their senses, though the smells were strangely familiar to them. The cream-colored cat frowned and wrinkled their nose.

   “Ah, I see you’re awake,” a ragged voice murmured. Momentarily forgetting the pain, the cream-colored cat snapped their eyes open and looked in the direction of the voice.

   Sitting nearby was a thin, blue-grey tom with dark stripes and a white belly. He was gathering a pile of leaves with shaking paws, glancing at the cream-colored cat in concern. They narrowed their eyes at him, twitching their tail.

   “Where am I?” they asked, wincing at how raspy their voice sounded. “Who are you?” The tom abandoned his leaves and moved closer to them, limping with each careful step he took.

   “You’re somewhere safe now, you don’t need to worry,” he told them. He sniffed at their head, ignoring the way they flinched away from him. “I’m not quite sure what happened, but I can see you are hurt. I was just mixing together a poultice for you.” He gestured towards the pile of leaves with his tail.

   “As for my name,” he said as he carefully made his way back to the pile, “you can call me Blueheart.”

   They flattened their ears as they watched him pad back to the pile and start to chew the leaves into a green pulp. When he was done, he spread the pulp across thick pads of cobwebs, which he placed on their aching limbs and body.

   “The nettle leaves should clear up the swelling,” he murmured, “and I added horsetail, comfrey, and dock to ward off infection. The cobwebs are to hold everything in place for now.”

   “Comfrey isn’t for infection,” they corrected him, twitching their whiskers in confusion. Blueheart blinked at them, pausing as he wrapped their foreleg.

   “Of course,” he said, “my mistake. I was hoping to soothe any potentially broken bones… how did you know that?”

   “Doesn’t everyone?” the cream-colored asked. “I thought it was obvious.” The tom hummed and finished what he was doing, looking contemplative. This close, they could see that his eyes were somewhat clouded and unfocused, covered in old scars like spiderwebs.

   “What’s your name?” he asked them. They opened their mouth to reply but quickly closed it.

   “My… name?” they asked. He nodded and they looked down at their paws, trying to think.

   Even as they concentrated, they realized they couldn’t remember what their name was--in fact, they couldn’t seem to remember anything.

   When they closed their eyes, all they saw was a pale face and sunken, lifeless eyes. A horrible cat with a grin full of long, sharp teeth.

   With nothing beyond that.

   Their breathing began to pick up as they came to this realization, alarming Blueheart. He rested his tail on their flank, which only agitated them further.

   They tried to stand only to stumble again, their legs trembling too violently for them to find their balance.

   “Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, “it’s okay. Are you alright?”

   “I don’t know!” they cried, their voice cracking. “I can’t remember! Where…” They looked around again, growing frantic, but their environment was a blur.

   A green, leafy sprig was suddenly thrust into their face, and without thinking they hissed and attempted to back away. Blueheart huffed in frustration and concern.

   “Eat this,” he ordered them. “It’ll calm you down.”

   They glared at him warily, their blood roaring in their ears and their fur standing on end, but decided that, at the moment, they didn’t have a reason to mistrust him. The cream-colored cat tentatively sniffed the plant, noting its dry scent.

   Thyme, their mind supplied reflexively. For anxiety. They made a face but obediently bit off a few of the leaves and chewed them, sighing at the plant’s minty taste.

   They didn’t calm immediately, but felt slightly less frantic as they swallowed the leaves. The tom was watching them expectantly, seemingly relieved as they calmed down.

   “Better?” he asked. The cream-colored cat nodded mutely, looking down. “Now, what can you remember?”

   The cream-colored cat furrowed their brow and closed their eyes, trying to focus. As they breathed, they could smell the herbs the tom had stored throughout the den.

   Poppy, marigold, parsley… that came to them easily enough, but when they tried to remember anything about themself, there was nothing…

   Well, not entirely. They remembered that pale cat, whoever he was, and... a stranger with long, soft fur comforting them after they fell. The cream-colored cat furrowed their brow and opened their eyes, peering up at Blueheart.

   “There was a cat there after I fell,” they said hesitantly. “They had really long fur, and… and I think they were comforting me? I… remember a really sweet voice, almost like birdsong.”

   Blueheart stiffened, looking at them in confusion and fear. Wondering if they said something wrong, the cream-colored cat shrunk under his gaze and looked away.

   “Do you remember anything else about this stranger?” he pressed, urgently. His clouded eyes were wide and desperate, full of an emotion they almost couldn’t quite place.

   The cream-colored cat shook their head and meowed, “No, I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t see whoever it was.” He relaxed slightly, but there was a strange look of grief on his face.

   “My apologies,” he murmured. “I was just… wondering.” He straightened up now, sighing. “This was something I was worried about. With head injuries, sometimes cats forget things.”

   Blueheart’s voice was calmer now, though there was a clear edge to it and he seemed to be holding something back.

   “Will I get my memories back?” the cream-colored cat asked. They avoided looking at him, afraid of what they might see in his clouded eyes.

   “I don’t know,” the tom said truthfully, but not unkindly. “I’m afraid… I’ve never seen a cat who lost as much as you have.”

   Something in the cream-colored cat’s heart ached, grief at losing a life they may never know. Before they could really dwell on the grey tabby’s words, a scrabbling of tiny paws alerted them to someone else approaching.

   A tiny molly with fluffy, white fur pushed her way through the ferns at the den’s entrance, carrying with her a plump mouse. She shook herself off and met the cream-colored cat’s gaze with shining, excited eyes.

   “Good morning, Snowpaw,” Blueheart murmured, his voice fond. She meowed cheerfully in response, though her response was muffled.

   The cream-colored cats watched her warily as she approached and set the mouse down in front of them. She rolled it closer with one small, white paw.

   “Hi!” she chirped cheerfully. “I got this for you to eat, since Blueheart said you were gonna need to keep your strength up so you can recover!”

   “Thank you,” the cream-colored cat replied automatically, glancing suspiciously at Blueheart. He seemed to not be paying attention, a faraway look in his eyes.

   They returned their gaze to the white molly--Snowpaw, that was her name. She beamed at them, her face alight with an expectant, slightly nervous energy.

   “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. Before they could reply, she continued, “I’m the one who found you, you know? It was really scary and Crowfall said I shouldn’t get my hopes up that you’d survive but you’re awake and here and I knew taking you to Blueheart was the right idea!”

   She seemed to stop talking only because she ran out of breath, panting a little as she peered up at the cream-colored cat.

   “Er… thanks,” they murmured, lowering their ears. “For that, too, I mean.” She grinned at them in response, her tail high in the air.

   “Of course!” she meowed. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself.” She dipped her head politely, almost as an afterthought. “My name’s Snowpaw! What’s yours?”

   The cream-colored cat froze, frantically racking their brain once more in an attempt to find their name. It felt wrong, somehow, to tell Snowpaw they couldn’t remember, or to try and lie to her.

   Despite having only just met her, the cream-colored cat felt a pang in their heart when they looked at the sweet little cat’s smile. There was something… familiar about it. They tried to pinpoint this fleeting feeling, but it slipped through their paws like smoke.

   They were startled by another cat slipping into the den, a black tom with a white belly. He had a displeased frown on his handsome face as he looked between the cats gathered in the den.

   “Snowpaw--” he began.

   “I was giving our visitor prey!” Snowpaw explained proudly, grinning up at him. “Blueheart said prey helps everyone feel better!”

   The black-furred tom hummed, then looked over to the cream-colored cat. They avoided his gaze, unnerved at the blatant disapproval in his eyes.

   “I see you’ve already done that,” he said. “Now, you have duties to attend to.” His voice was hard, leaving no room for argument.

   Despite the black-furred tom’s harsh tone, Snowpaw’s small face determined as she pouted at him.

   “But I already finished cleaning the elders’ den and hunting,” she protested, not at all withering under his gaze. “What else is there to do?”

   “There’s always more to do,” he replied, only just barely not growling. “Snowpaw, leave Blueheart alone--he has his own work to do.” Snowpaw looked as though she was going to protest again, but instead she sighed and rolled her eyes.

   “Fine,” she said. She nodded again to Blueheart and the cream-colored cat before stalking out of the den, her steps stiff and her face set in a grumpy scowl.

   “She wasn’t bothering anyone,” Blueheart said gently, limping over to the black-furred tom.

   The tom looked at him with a neutral expression, twitching his whiskers. Still, his eyes softened when he looked at Blueheart and he sighed.

   “Snowpaw has to learn to listen,” he said, though there was little force behind his words. “And you must be able to work without anyone running under your paws.”

   “She was just trying to help,” Blueheart said. “I don’t mind it, truthfully.” Before the black tom could protest, Blueheart smiled and added, almost teasingly, “You should go after your apprentice, my friend. I think she’ll want to have a long talk with you.”

   “I suppose,” the other tom agreed with a huff. He dipped his head respectfully to Blueheart. The cream-colored cat couldn’t be sure, but they thought they saw a flash of concern in those narrowed eyes.

   The black tom directed a curious, slightly disgruntled look at the cream-colored cat. Hesitantly, he said, “... I hope you recover soon.” With that said, he turned and slipped out of the den.

   “Who was that?” asked the cream-colored cat, staring after him. They flattened their ears. “Does he not… like me?” Did they do something wrong?

   “Crowfall doesn’t trust outsiders,” Blueheart explained with a reassuring smile, “but I told him you need to get well before I’ll allow him to question you.” He sighed, his expression strained. “And knowing what we do about your memory, perhaps I should advise him to wait…”

   The cream-colored cat furrowed their brow, looking down at the mouse lying on the ground before them. It wasn’t anything particularly remarkable, but their stomach twisted and growled at the sight of it.

   “Eat,” Blueheart urged them gently. He had the same faraway look in his eyes as before, they noticed. “When you’re done, you can rest again.”

   They weren’t sure if they wanted to sleep, unsure what they might find in their dreams, but… Blueheart seemed to know what he was doing, they reasoned.

   The cream-colored cat bent their head and did as they were told, curling their tail loosely around themself.

   In the back of their mind, too quietly for them to truly register, the same cheerful, sweet voice whispered to them.

   “Rest now,” it said. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, little traveler.”

[emmeoutofline]

NAME: Emmeline Vance AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: August 1, 1951 (Leo) GENDER: Cis-female (She/Her) SEXUALITY: Nothing defined but could define as bi/pan HEIGHT: 5′4″ WAND ARM: Right hand BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw OCCUPATION: Healer

The Basics:

Past: Emmeline had always been quiet, but not because she didn’t have thoughts. In fact, she was nearly always thinking. She enjoyed looking at the world and seeing the truth behind it - figuring out the faults, seeing the potential. She analyzed people, liked to find the way things worked. It was no surprise to anyone when she was sorted into Ravenclaw upon entering Hogwarts. The house fit her perfectly - she’d finally found people who could keep up with her. She liked having philosophical conversations by the fireplace or studying with her friends. At Hogwarts, she was constantly soaking up information. She loved her classes and focused on that over social activities and events. Some people found her odd because of it - but Emmeline didn’t pay attention to the whispers when she could fill her mind with knowledge. She found a mentor in the unlikeliest of people after a bout of flu: Madam Pomphrey often went unnoticed by people at school, but Emmeline thought her wonderful. The woman knew nearly every remedy in the book and, soon, Emmeline found herself immersed in the field of healing. She often spent her evenings with the mediwitch, trying to get a leg up before graduation. Her skills made it easy to get accepted into the healing program at St. Mungo’s and she excelled at her training. Eventually, however, as the war continued and more people wound up injured or dead, Emmeline knew she needed to do more. She had the skill - she needed to get it to the people in need before they were past the point of no return. She was so unassuming that people didn’t notice her sneaking into conversation, discovering just who to speak to about the organization that kept destroying their towns while fighting You-Know-Who. It was Emmeline who approached Dumbledore first - something rare for the old wizard - and she joined the Order without looking back.

Present: Being the only fully-trained healer in the Order, Emmeline mostly spends her time in the Potter Estate working within the makeshift hospital area after battles. That position lets her hear more than others are aware - and her sharp eye lets her see things other people can’t. She knows a lot of the Order gossip, despite rarely sharing it - and she notices the cracks in relationships often times before the people in them can see it for themselves. Her opinions on important matters typically aren’t sought out by those in the inner-circle, but Emmeline has a lot of ideas on what could be improved. She doesn’t particularly like that she’s underestimated, but not enough to actually do something about it. It’s like school all over again - and, just like when she was a kid, she’s learning things. People are more complicated when they’re under pressure and fighting in a war allows for a lot of miscommunication! If they’d just ask her for some advice, she thinks the Order would be running a lot smoother.

More Depth:

PERSONALITY: 

Emmeline, a mind so fine, never really expected to shine. Cheesy rhyme? Perhaps. One that would annoy her? Oh, definitely. Emmeline is a person of practicality as often as is possible. Learning new things brings her great joy, but it’s as much about how that information can be used as anything else. Most of the time, Emmeline keeps information to herself. She’d rather be sure than spread false information, and when rumors at the subject of conversation, she’d rather leave things to be spread for themselves.

She has always had a deep fascination with understanding how things work, and sometimes that has meant taking them apart to put them back together. That problem-solving occasionally takes on a singular focus, which didn’t always make Emmeline popular among her peers going up. Given the right situation, she can be a bit intense. A lifetime of trying to monitor that intensity often has Emmeline defaulting to her second instinct: silence. It’s easier to wait and see what others bring to a situation. It’s easier to understand their perspectives, information, and biases when she doesn’t cloud it with her own first. Sometimes Emmeline will then engage in conversation, but if she senses a potential argument that she can’t win anyway, Emmeline often won’t try. She’ll leave it at that, whatever it is.

Still, as much as she pretends to be able to understand the situation as a whole, Emmeline knows she has shortcomings. She often fails to realize how infrequently the whole picture is considered. That’s not to say she’s more objective than most people. She isn’t. She’s just more likely to dig until she thinks she has the most complete story possible. Then she’ll dig a little more just to be sure. It means she has a lot of useless information, but it also means she’s not likely to argue back when someone is wrong when Emmeline doesn’t for sure know if her conclusions are correct. Instead she sits there quietly and just knows the other person is wrong.

Most people seem to expect healers to be especially empathetic. Emmeline is not. She does try. She tries to put herself in other people’s perspectives, but she’s much better doing that from a knowledge perspective than from an emotional one. “If I didn’t know why my skin was blue and steaming, I would also react negatively to someone else not knowing the cause,” instead of a more empathetic viewpoint like, “They are afraid because they don’t understand what’s going on.” She needs a bit of the concrete and the observable. Although Emmeline doesn’t externalize many of her thoughts, she struggles when other people do the same because she isn’t good at reading the emotion within the silence. At work, that’s easy enough to handle because she can ask patients how they’re feeling and coworkers for more information. With the Order, that’s a little more challenging, especially if it’s a conversation Emmeline isn’t technically in, just present for. They seem to happen often. After all, Emmeline is so easy to overlook.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Life isn’t easy in the magical world with a surname that hasn’t been around for the last hundred years or so. Margaret Baxter knew that better than anyone as the child of two muggleborns, but she certainly didn’t do any climbing by marrying a muggle named Allan Vance. She practically lived like a muggle too. It wasn’t until her daughter Emmeline was seven that she fully understood that some of her horticulturist mother’s prettiest and most exciting plants weren’t ones her classmates knew. Nor could any of their mother’s produce a couple drops of dittany to heal scrapes and bruises before giving the ever important kiss to finish making it better. Emmeline grew up in an almost entirely muggle household with little bits of magic that Maggie couldn’t live without. Emmeline had to learn early on which were which, and she needed to know which things couldn’t be mentioned to her friends. Her own magic was most likely to appear when she was trying to make things work. Allan walked into the room one day to find his favorite working model train floating through the air in pieces as Emmeline skipped between them, pausing every once in a while to inspect one. Maggie was able to put it back together, but under his breath, Allan would still occasionally complain that the steam puffed too realistically now.

Allan was a postal worker who believed quite firmly in the importance of hard work and dedication. Had he been a magical man, he likely would have been in Hufflepuff. While that work ethic was something Emmeline did inherit, she was always more like her mother, interested in understanding above all else. Maggie’s interests ended up in herbology. She had a gift for determining how to help plants flourish and cross-develop to create viable hybrids with helpful gifts. While Emmeline never shared her mother’s interest in plants, she embraced Maggie’s methodology toward problem-solving. It became an important step forward for Emmeline.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Emmeline learned early on that a person’s value is on what they can achieve, but the magical world is full of people who look at pedigree instead. She’s not even first generation. Not second either. She’s got two generations of magic flowing through her veins, but it’s not about the magic itself; it’s about the heritage that can be used as a weapon. Emmeline is not stranger to this weapon, and she watched it slowly grow stronger around her during her time in training as a Healer. From the first whispers of a group defying Lord Voldemort and his followers, Emmeline knew that was a group she needed to find. At first she didn’t know how, and Emmeline continued on as normal. She couldn’t sit idle forever, though, and it took a few months of listening around corners and staying quiet in the backs of rooms before she’d connected the group to Hogwarts. She didn’t know what it was called or who was involved, but if it happened at Hogwarts, Emmeline knew Albus Dumbledore had to know.

After graduation, Emmeline had continued to meet Poppy Pomphrey for tea at least once a month as they transitioned from a true student mentorship to friends. It was at one such tea that Emmeline revealed what she had learned and insisted that she needed an audience with Dumbledore about it. Poppy agreed to set it up, and less than a week later, Emmeline was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and already working to create a hospital space at the recently acquired Potter Estate. She found it a bit unsettling that such a young wix could have this kind of shelter to casually provide, but Emmeline wasn’t about to question it. James seemed sincere and wasn’t pandering to other purebloods, so Emmeline took it for what it was.

While she could do some to fight, Emmeline very rarely saw battle directly. Most of the time she paced around the Potter Estate until people started arriving back. She’d been pushed to her limits helping the Order. Emmeline was good at her job, but she hated that she had to strain so often. It wasn’t on her own account either. People shouldn’t be put at risk as often as they were. Still, they weren’t doing enough. Too many people got hurt for too little and sometimes no reward. Emmeline couldn’t stand it, especially when she suspected egos and misinformation contributed so frequently. No one ever seemed to be thorough enough when they clarified the facts, and even if they were, they shared half-truths. Emmeline has grown tired of people trying to hold things back. This is a war, and people are dying. Now is not the time to try and seem smart by keeping things to oneself.

SURVIVAL: 

Emmeline’s life looks pretty standard from the outside. She lives in a small two bedroom flat and uses the second as an office and storeroom for healing supplies. She remembers to eat regularly and works her shifts at St. Mungo’s with no complaint. She checks in at the Potter Estate about every other day, even if it just means reorganizing her supply of pain potions. She hears things and she absorbs the information, and that cycle had become a bit of a sticking point in her life. Emmeline is so afraid of not being there when someone needs her that she’s allowed basically everything else in her life to slip into the background.

It was easy for her friends and family members to believe that Emmeline was just throwing herself into her work, perhaps too easy. There’s no turning back now, though. Emmeline made a choice, and it’s one she intends to see through. Some days that just means getting through to the next one. She has no idea what the future holds, and at this point, Emmeline is almost afraid of what comes after because it’s easier unimaginable horror or unknowable potential.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

Emmeline is perhaps one of the people devoting the most time to the Order, and much of that is in direct service to her fellow members. One might expect that to translate to having more close confidantes in the group, but Emmeline doesn’t take it personally. She’s never been the most popular person in a room. Plus, not being the center of attention has its advantages.

One of those advantages is that she isn’t expected to respond positively if pureblood Order members mention their supremacist families. She hates hearing about it, and that’s just one more reminder that some people in the Order have more to lose than others if Lord Voldemort wins. People like Alice Longbottom have a safety net, family who would assumedly welcome them back, if there’s anything to forgive at all.

She knows that distrust doesn’t breed strong teamwork, but even the people she has no reason to mistrust don’t always leave Emmeline particularly inspired. So many of the members rush to conclusions without the proper facts to back them up, and Marlene McKinnon seems to be one of the worst. That’s not fair, Emmeline knows. She doesn’t know the witch’s full situation, but when every incorrect thing out of her mouth is said with such confidence, it’s hard not to take it personally. Marlene isn’t alone in this unfortunate attitude, but she is perhaps the one Emmeline is stuck dealing with most often. Emmeline tends to stay curt and to the point before quickly slipping away to find someone else for better assistance.

When group meetings so often don’t actually say what they’re meant to say, Emmeline grows frustrated and bored in them. Lately she’s taken to watching others in the circle at such things, and of late, she’s found a kindred soul in Peter Pettigrew. She wishes more people were like them, watching and learning instead of just assuming. She thinks meetings could run more efficiently then. The whole Order could really.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I have no specific hopes or desires for Emmeline. Romance is far from a primary motivator for her, so it would take good chemistry to start anything.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE? 

Emmeline would consider herself fairly open-minded, if only because she likes to take all the information available, find more, and then use it to come to a conclusion. She isn’t going to hop on any fearmongering broomstick over werewolves being isolated when all the research and Madame Pomphrey can tell her they’re incapable of causing any more damage than the average wix during most phases of the moon. That’s the logic that Emmeline applies to a lot of people problems.

That said, she really doesn’t have time for people who refuse to learn. The world is full of information, and one of the most important things about learning is the ability to acknowledge when your previous understanding was incorrect and move on. Emmeline’s not sure she’s ever met a pureblood who could truly do that. They loved to pretend they understand what the world is like, even when they’re talking about things they don’t understand. Most don’t know anything about the muggles they claim to be so much better than. It absolutely frustrates her because the knowledge is right there. Unlike wizards, muggles don’t try to hide what they have and pretend it’s much better. They don’t even have television for Morgana’s sake! Muggle technology and medicine could be readily available if wix just got over themselves long enough to see it.