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douglysium · 5 months

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Episode 15 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 10. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (Episode 14 TMP Quick Thoughts).

However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.

These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.

Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.

These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.

Episode 15 “Well Run”

So the transcripts have an error. While the document title matches the name of the episode on the youtube channel, etc. the transcripts themselves say Episode 15 “Good Show.”

Weird, but probably just an error. Either this was the episode's original name, and it was changed, or some other episode was originally in the slot for the 15th entry (stuff can move around a lot in development). Anyway let’s dive in.

We start the episode from the perspective of a CCTV in the breakroom at night. Sam asks Celia on a second date by showing off some theater tickets he bought for “The Pillowman.” Celia laughs, much to Sam’s confusion, and sarcastically says it’s a “very romantic choice.” Sam says he doesn’t know a lot about the story but Celia does decide to go anyway “If only to see your face.” I haven’t seen Pillowman but according to the Wikipedia summary “It tells the tale of Katurian, a fiction writer living in a police state, who is interrogated about the gruesome content of his short stories and their similarities to a number of bizarre child murders occurring in his town.” So Celia’s reaction is understandable and it goes to show that Sam should have asked around a bit more. It’ll be an odd date for sure, but I’m very curious to see their reactions considering that Sam and Celia’s job right now is literally to sit around listening to scary stories. Although, they know Pillowman isn’t real so it might not be that big of a deal.

Alice enters the room, seemingly to Sam’s dismay or exasperation considering the sighing, and offers them a chance to come to the performance of her younger brother’s band. Sam wonders if it’s Dredgerman but Alice corrects him by saying “Don’t be daft, they’re taking a break before their tour! No, it’s “Penny for the Well” actually” and Sam wonders how many bands Luke is in (so Luke is part of multiple bands at the same time). Sam asking about Dredgerman is actually a bit of foreshadowing for the person Alice encounters later. The person in question keeps speaking of the deep water and drowning, similar to some of the stuff Gordon was saying in a previous episode, and a dredger is “a barge or other vessel designed for dredging harbors or other bodies of water”, to dredge is to “clean out the bed of (a harbor, river, or other area of water) by scooping out mud, weeds, and rubbish with a dredge.” / “an apparatus for bringing up objects or mud from a river or seabed by scooping or dragging.” and a dredgeman (no R here) is “one who is in charge of the operation of a dredge used to mine metal-bearing sands from the bottom of a body of water.” So there’s a lot of specific water imagery going on here. “Penny for the Well” also arguably ties into this theme since a well is “a shaft sunk into the ground to obtain water, oil, or gas.” Pennies are often thrown into wells and fountains for the sake of wishes and stuff but there are also stories of people falling into wells. So you could argue there’s still a theme of drowning or deep water being laid here too.

Alice says “Let’s just say that this revolutionary indie ensemble, which may or may not also include my incredibly talented younger brother, is playing The Gladstone Arms at ten thirty tomorrow evening and you are both on the guest list. You’re welcome.” but Celia says she has to go take care of Jack (the babysitter can’t stay late enough for her to go to the performance) and the revelation that Celia has a human baby seems to catch Alice off guard. Considering Alice’s reaction to Celia last episode, it’s interesting that she invited both Alice and Sam to the event and doesn’t seem to say Sam shouldn’t go on his date with Celia (just that they can swing by afterwards). It’s possible she wants to keep an eye on them or doesn’t want to piss off Sam but it’s interesting that Alice is actually taken aback by Celia’s baby. Maybe Alice herself isn’t really a baby person. It’s possible she’s just surprised Sam is dating someone with a baby or she just genuinely didn’t realize and is surprised / awkward. Sam comments “(standing) And you say I’m clueless.”

In case you’re wondering what a gladstone is: “a suitcase with flexible sides on a rigid frame that opens flat into two equal compartments. called also gladstone bag.” Gladstone also seems to be a person: “William Ewart Gladstone FRS FSS (/ˈɡlædstən/ GLAD-stən; 29 December 1809 – 19 May 1898) was a British statesman and Liberal politician. In a career lasting over 60 years, he served for 12 years as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, spread over four non-consecutive terms (the most of any British prime minister) beginning in 1868 and ending in 1894. He also served as Chancellor of the Exchequer four times, for over 12 years.” I also saw some, potentially questionable, sources saying that a gladstone can refer to a Prime Minister who’s served four years but maybe take that with a grain of salt coming from me. Since Protocol does seem to have a big emphasis on the government it wouldn’t surprise me if using the name of a politician is somehow going to end up being some sort of reference or foreshadowing for later.

At this point we are privy to 3 of the bands Luke has played for: Bullets for Saint Sebastian, Penny for the Well, and Dredgerman

We move to the statement of the episode. It’s in the form of a voicemail being delivered by someone to “The Sentinel tip-off hotline.” The bot on the other end says:

“If you are calling with information that you believe merits investigation for the public interest, please leave a message with as much detail as possible along with your name and number.

If you wish to remain anonymous, please instead leave a three word code at the start of your message that we can use to identify future calls or correspondence from you.

This voicemail is monitored by dedicated staff that are obliged to report serious crimes to local law enforcement if there is risk of imminent harm to anyone. Please speak after the tone. To end the recording, simply hang up. ”

The person giving the statement of this case is referred to as the “Caterer” in the transcripts and they are clearly in a rush since they say they can’t go to the police and start telling the story without leaving in sort of three word code or identity for future calls. The Caterer even says that they don’t know how much time they have left.

They begin to explain that they work as a caterer at a business they own. They tend to handle really high-end private functions: “We get called in for the really high-end stuff. The kind of event where the guest list is so rich that you’ve never even heard of them. There’s a big difference between “extravagance” and “elegance.” We sell the latter.” However, the Caterer’s company isn’t very big. In fact, it only has 6 permanent staff if you include the Caterer themselves (so there were 5 other permanent staff the Caterer worked with). Of course, the company did “...hire in fixed-term waiting staff and other contractors but even so…” But it becomes clear that something bad happened to the other permanent employees. For the sake of clarity, a caterer is “a person or company providing food and drink at a social event or other gathering.”

The Caterer’s company “...got the call a couple of months ago for a fairly small event at Wychwood Hall in the Cotswold’s. Apparently, they had a family shoot and wanted us to prepare the game. Normally that would be pheasant or partridge and we’d just swap it for stuff we prepared off-site since no one could ever tell the difference, but they were really explicit about it being larger game and wanting to know who’s kill they were eating. That meant a lot more prep time and equipment but they insisted and at this level you don’t get to tell the client no, just how much extra it will cost.” So immediately, we have some themes reminiscent of an Entity like The Hunt but it’s still pretty early on in the statement and Entities can overlap all the time so let’s keep reading.

The company “...set up the cooking gazebo during the early afternoon in the rear gardens on the butler’s instruction. The house itself was a massive sprawling Elizabethan thing with pristine flowerbeds and prim lawns that ran right up to the surrounding woodland. It wasn’t usual to be given center stage like that but I figured the client fancied themself a foodie and wanted to see the prep. Thankfully we brought the flashy gear, just in case. Normally you’d expect the shoot to have already been well underway by the time we arrived but people were only just arriving in their tinted Range Rovers and Rolls.” The Caterer notes that normally, the shoot / hunt would already be happening but by the time the Caterer’s crew arrived everyone else was just arriving. It would make sense that normally the shoot would already be taking place since the Caterer is just supposed to cook whatever is caught and it doesn’t make a lot of sense to have them just waiting around while you try to kill the game animal. However, this is actually foreshadowing since we later learn that the Caterer and their crew are what’s supposed to be hunted. The Caterer even mentions “Another hour passed with a couple more cars trickling in, but still no one had set out. Instead, I could see them through the leaded windows, just watching us work ” So the people are watching their prey (the caterers).

Eventually, the Caterer had the house staff fetch the butler to let him know “that unless he knew something I didn’t there was going to be a distinct lack of venison for tonight’s venison medallions. He just gave me this look, told me to “prepare” and then headed back inside. Obviously that pissed me right off but what can you do? They’d paid for the day so we just hunkered down and looked busy.” It’s possible that what the butler is saying has a double meaning. They shouldn’t just be preparing food but the caterers themselves should prepare to fight each other and be hunted. This is alluded to later when “the matriarch” asks the Caterer if they are prepared.

Speaking of which, the sun begins to set and all the hunters and dogs begin to come out of their vehicles. In front of them is someone the Caterer describes as a “matriarch.” “I don’t know how else to describe her. This big, imposing, like some Roman statue brought to life and given a gun. I kept thinking of my army days cooking for the top brass. She had the same eyes, like they didn’t see people any more just “assets” and “resistance.” And if that wasn’t enough, she had this huge custom rifle over her shoulder, like an antique elephant gun or something. There was no way it was UK legal, the thing looked like it could take out a jeep, never mind a stag! And it wasn’t gilded or anything, it was dull and plain looking despite its massive size and you just knew that this was a gun for killing with, not showing off.” I think it’s interesting that the Caterer has some sort of military background. There’s an obvious commentary about the military complex but often when the Entities show up they do so to specific people or at specific times that are advantageous. This is to say that the Entities often have thematic reasons for why or who they are manifesting around at a specific time and I don’t think the fact that a person with military trauma was picked is purely coincidental.

The Caterer says that the matriarch reeked with power and “...when she spoke they all listened. She had the guns all line up facing us with their dogs at heel and then they all just stood there watching the sun set as their staff and security all headed back into the house leaving us alone with them. That was when I knew something was really wrong. The woman stepped forward with her dogs by her side and faced me with this bright and wide smile splitting her face under her electric blue eyes and gunmetal-grey hair. Then she just locked eyes with me and began to carefully load the rifle without looking, punctuating each word with another cartridge. “Are you prepared?” she asked quietly.” This calls back to what I was just saying about the butler. I think what the butler was saying had a double meaning or was vague enough to be misinterpreted as referring purely to the food being prepared.

The Caterer answers with ““As we can be” I replied. “but-“” and then the woman silences them by raising a hand to their mouth. “it was as though she had slapped a gag in my mouth. I couldn’t even think of disobeying her, the words just died in my throat.” She returns to her group of hunters with her dogs flanking her and they are unable to make out the faces of any of the other people due to the dazzling light of the sunset. Then she stood tall and proud and said with just the tiniest hint of anticipation: “Let’s begin then shall we?” As one, the hunters raised their rifles as one and levelled them at us as we stood transfixed under our gazebo. Theres a very specific feeling you get when you’re staring down a barrel at close range. First the world gets very sharp and bright, then the horizon sort of shrinks around you till it’s no wider than the dark hole aiming straight at you. It had been a long time since I’d felt like that, but it was still so familiar. Too familiar. The woman hadn’t raised her own weapon, instead she called as though directing a firing squad: “Hunt.”” The caterers don’t immediately understand what’s happening so the simply sit in still silence until the Caterer realizes that the matriarch is talking to them and not her hunters. “After seconds that felt like hours the woman seemed to grow impatient. Finally, she sighed and repeated: “Hunt” before shouldering her rifle, sighting and then pulling the trigger without hesitation.”

One of the other caterers, Steven, falls to the ground dead (having been shot). “Without lowering the rifle, she chambered another round and re-sighted, this time at me. She smiled greedily then pumped her eyebrows just once, playfully. “Hunt!”” This time the Caterer understands what she wants: “Without taking my eyes from her I reached out and gently closed my hand around the handle of the clever in front of me. It shone, pristine and unblemished, ready for its bloody work. Then slowly, so slowly, I raised it overhead, bracing myself for what followed. The woman grinned widely, her finger caressing the trigger, then I brought my hand down sharply, smashing the cleaver into the face of Marcus, our Saucier. He couldn’t even cry out as it cleft deep into the base of his neck, his arterial blood gushing out and down into the overly-hot pot, releasing a plume of acrid iron smelling steam.” The other caterers run as the Caterer pulls the knife from Marcus and turns to them.

“The party ate well that night. All told, it didn't take long, maybe a half hour at most? None of them got far. I caught Debra as she tried to hide up in a tree. Fair play to her, almost made it up there despite being in her fifties. Mira tripped over a rabbit hole in the darkness, I think she tried to beg, but I couldn’t make out the words. The only one who gave me any real trouble was Boris. He was a big guy, nearly six five, and that’s a hell of a size difference, even with my training. But it wasn’t enough. I had killed before, and he hadn’t. He hesitated, and that was that.” As the Caterer packs up the woman shakes their hand and compliments them “Then the butler handed me a thick brown envelope. It was full of cash and a note written in elegant cursive with just one word: “Run”.” They ran and say that they cannot stay anywhere for long, they can’t stop moving. “I keep hearing dogs barking and I don't know if it's just some pet or… I thought about handing myself in to the police, but that just feels like trapping myself in a dead end.”

The Caterer explains that they resolve to leave the country but as they explain their plan-

The car window shatters inwards from a sudden loud gunshot. The CATERER is wetly silenced.

Someone approaches, reloading an enormous rifle with growling dogs in tow.

They stop then yank open the car door.

LADY MOWBRAY

“Well run dearie. Well run…”

The line goes dead.

If we view this through the lens of Smirke’s 14 (plus the Extinction) the most obvious Entity here would be The Hunt. This case shares many similarities with plenty of The Hunt’s manifestations in TMA. For example, being hunted by colleagues or people you know in a death game type set up (such as in MAG 112 (Thrill of the Chase) with the Murder Club and the domain Trevor was stuck in with all the metaphorical witch hunts and people constantly turning on each other. Mowbray’s dogs are probably some sort of hunting dog and the Caterer is being chased / hunted by Mowbray herself like an animal on top of hearing the barking of dogs. Daisy from TMA has also been compared to a sort of metaphorical dog. Which makes sense if you consider the overlap between police and hunting dogs meant to pursue targets. Plus, in MAG 31 (First Hunt) we get “As I looked at him, the strangest thing popped into my head. Have you ever read The Duchess of Malfi? I had to study it for my O-Levels, many years ago. Dreadful play, as I remember, the worst sort of old revenge tragedy, all incest and murder and madness. But there’s a line that stays with me, a doctor diagnosing the Duchess’ brother with lycanthropy. As I recall it goes, “Once met the duke, ‘bout midnight in a lane behind St. Mark’s church, with the leg of a man upon his shoulder. Said he was a wolf. Only difference was, a wolf’s skin is hairy on the outside, his on the inside”. Looking at this thing that wanted to kill me, it’s the only way it’s the only description that feels right.” and Jon refers to the strange hunter in the statement as a “wolfman.” So The Hunt is not stranger to canines and it tends to lean towards more animalistic imagery.

The case also has some themes that parallel The Slaughter (with the violence and military background), The Web (the Caterer feeling physically unable to disobey Mowbray’s command. Although, this could just be due to the fear and massive guns), The Eye (with the fear of being found or someone knowing where you are), The Dark (with the hunt taking place at night and one of the caterers tripping over a hole in the darkness), The Flesh (with all the food imagery and the caterers are in the place of a game animal (which is meant to be caught and cooked)), and The End (with the fear of being killed).

Some people might wonder why I usually bother going through some of the other possible Entities or parallels like this (especially since if we are to assume Smirke’s 14 is still at all applicable this is the most Hunt hunts to ever Hunt. For one, it’s supposed to be a reminder that the Entities aren’t completely distinct and exist on a vague spectrum at best. All the Entities constantly bleed and overlap each other so trying to perfectly and neatly box them tends to be unhelpful and it’s very rare that only one emotional fear is present. I also do this to help try to keep my mind open. Like I said, Entities bleed into each other all the time and this can sometimes make it hard to pick apart (if at all). Sometimes I get so pigeonholed into the possibility of a single specific Entity I kind of lose sight of other possibilities or Entities. For example, while I think this case screams the Hunt there is a very good argument for something like The Slaughter here. Assuming Smirke’s 14 are even still relevant anyway.

As the line dies Celia is clearly disturbed and we hear Lady Mowbray herself say “Fascinating.” Yeah, she’s in the office now with her dogs and it was very trippy listening to this for the first time. Celia is startled by her appearance. Once again, I have to wonder if Mowbray was quiet or if the cases sort of draw people in. In TMA the statements could have strange effects, for example some characters would find it difficult to stop reading statements once they started and may sort of space out. The statements are also noted as being stressful or taxing for some people to read / listen to. However, this could also just as easily be because Celia was listening to a horrifying first hand account.

CELIA jumps up with a cry and turns to find Lady Mowbray and her dogs

standing right behind her. The dogs growl threateningly.

LADY MOWBRAY CONT.

“Sit.”

CELIA

“Excuse me?”

LADY MOWBRAY

“I was talking to the boys.”

The dogs sit. They are not fur babies, they are what turns up when

someone says “release the hounds”. (Yes this is actually in the official transcripts you can go check)

The transcripts also say “MOWBRAY sniffs her as though she were a particularly odd vintage.” and it describes Mowbray as stalking while she asks Celia for her name. So Mowbray is acting like a dog or animal sizing up some prey and comparing Celia to a vintage suggests that Mowbray sees her in the same way one might see a fine wine. Something to be savored and consumed. I think it’s interesting that Celia actually refuses to give Mowbray her name by simply saying “I didn’t.” upon being asked “What did you say your name was dear?” This isn’t the first time names have seemed important. In episode 10 (Saturday Night), as Gwen delivers the letter to Mr. Bonzo, Nigel says “Mr Bonzo meet… I didn’t actually get your name. Probably for the best.” and “The name, the address – tell him where to go.” This implies that names might have some sort of importance when it comes to how Externals find or pick their targets. The OIAR is also connected to the government so it may also have to do with the government being able to pull up a file or something using someone’s name.

Celia is definitely holding it together pretty well and Mowbray remarks on her high levels of bravery. As I went over in episode 7 “Give and Take” (TMP Quick Thoughts 7) Celia is heavily implied to have some connection to the TMA universe and know a suspicious amount about the Entities. She even shares the name of a character that shows up in TMA, specifically a member of Melanie and Georgie’s cult. With this in mind, Mowbray’s commentary on Celia’s bravery is interesting. Firstly, Mowbray’s dogs get aggressive when Celia was startled by Mowbray. It could be that they are just getting excited but if Mowbray and / or her dogs are some sort of Avatar or connected to a Power it could be that both her and her dogs are reacting to, and looking for, fear. Since Celia knows this she could be hiding or dampening her fear as a form of protection. The more fear someone has or shows the more tempting they are for the Entities to torment. Lena even says “But he didn’t, which means you’ve passed the first part of your probation. Congratulations. Did you scream?” and “You should. It really helps one cope with the more affronting aspects of the job. And they usually like it.”

Not showing fear isn’t guaranteed to keep you safe but in TMA a character named Fiona Law managed to survive many encounters due to her propensity to pass out. As detailed in MAG 167 (Curiosity): “Of course, retreat is not always possible in such a line of business, and when that proved to be the case, there was a single trait which Fiona possessed that saw her surviving encounters which had killed far braver souls than her: Because when she was pushed to the very limits of her terror, Fiona Law would faint. And while there are those things in the dark that would kill you as you slept, most get no real delight from it, unless you are awake enough to know what is happening. And so, through cowardice and unconsciousness, Fiona had survived an entire generation of Archivist. And even stranger, when Angus Stacey died and she had the chance to walk away, she decided to remain.” So while a lack of fear isn’t guaranteed to protect you it does help. Also, both names and outward displays of fear seem important in Protocol.

Gwen comes in to collect Mowbray and as she leaves she tells Celia “Catch you next time, dearie.” to which Celia says “No, you won’t.” Celia probably knows that Mowbray may be being a bit more literal when she promises to catch someone later. Gwen offers her refreshments but Mowbray declines, explaining that she ate recently. There’s kind of an implication that Mowbray ate one or more of the caterers, and probably the one that was giving this episode’s case. Mowbray also says “That’s me yes. I presume you’re Gwendolyn Bouchard?” when Gwen asks for her. It could simply be that Mowbray was told who Gwen was beforehand but I wonder if the other Externals have been told about Gwen, especially since, based on the comment I brought up from Lena earlier, they seem to enjoy scaring people like the Externals Liaisons.

Mowbray also asks “Bouchard… You wouldn’t be of the Cheshire Bouchard’s would you?” but the scene ends before we hear Gwen’s full response. Considering the implication from Lena that Gwen’s family has a ton of money (so much so that Gwen blackmailing her for money seems silly) and Mowbray is clearly very rich I wonder if Mowbray has had an encounter or connection with the Bouchard family. As for who Cheshire is, I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if they turn out to be yet another person in TMA with too much money and time on their hands though.

As the scene closes the transcripts say “CELIA exhales shakily before turning back to the computer.” implying that she was suppressing her fear or at least not showing them. Mowbray said “interesting” when Celia finished listening to the case and I have to wonder what Mowbray was referring to. Was she referring to the computer itself, the information in the case she’s in, or even Celia herself? Additionally, she’s probably one of the OIAR’s externals. In the case she’s wielding a large gun that’s described as “this huge custom rifle over her shoulder, like an antique elephant gun or something. There was no way it was UK legal, the thing looked like it could take out a jeep, never mind a stag!” It’s possible she just owns this gun illegally but I wonder if the OIAR or some other faction supplied her with the gun.

I also have to wonder how many of the externals get their victims assigned to them by the OIAR and if so how many? Is it all of their victims or just some of them? The possibility of a target being in this episode is interesting since Bonzo’s target also seemed like they were wealthy or had a decent amount of money at the expensive club in episode 12 (Getting Off). Wealth and money seem like another noticeable theme in Protocol so far.

We cut to Alice at the performance of “Penny for the Well” as it comes to a close. She talks with Luke and it turns out that while Luke’s music was supposed to be a chill side gig it’s been really picking up. Luke also says “You joke but the managers already added seven more cities to the Dredgerman tour.” Alice also mentions Glastonbury and a quick google search tells me that it’s just a really big festival with all kinds of stuff (like music performances). So when Alices says “Hello? Yes? Is that Glastonbury? Why yes, we DO have a minute…” she is joking about Luke being invited to a massive event. Luke asks about Sam and Alice says he couldn’t make it. Luke says “Shame he couldn’t make it tonight” and Luke and Alice continue to hang out and drink. I think it’s interesting that Luke and Sam seem to have a possible friendship or acquaintance.

We then cut to a tape recorder again and get “A tape recorder CLICKS, distantly a body shuffles in an alley off the main road.” The body is of some sort of victim talking and muttering. They keep talking about things like how they are trying to breathe and how they are being dragged below the line of sea and sky. So it sounds like they are talking about drowning and they are also having trouble breathing as they gasp for air. Alice is heading home, and the transcripts state that she is still buzzing from the show (she’s slightly intoxicated). Alice runs into this seemingly drowning woman and the victim grabs her in some sort of panic or desperation leading to a small altercation as Alice throws the victim off. Alice begins to panic and call 999 for an ambulance as the victim appears to choke and gasp for air.

As Alice explains the situation she mentions “Yeah there’s someone I don’t know if they’ve OD’d but they’re going into a fit or something.” The victim then seemingly dies, or at least stops breathing, but the transcripts clarify that she dies from an impossible amount of water coming out of her lungs, and Alice starts performing CPR. As she panics the transcripts say “She sees the tape recorder next to the body and picks it up.” This implies that the tape recorder was on the strange drowning woman and it could be an Entity such as The Web trying to get the tape recorder where it needs to go or even give it to Alice. It could even have to do with the ERROR that escaped the Institute’s ruins in episode 10 (Saturday Night) since that situation was also being recorded via tape recorder. Maybe ERROR even saw it and picked it up at some point. However, as “The victim starts to speak again, quietly, bubbling up through the water and out of dead lips.” Alice panics, drops the tape recorder, and flees the scene, leaving what the transcripts describe as a dead woman behind as the deceased person’s voice trails off and the episode ends.

It’s kind of hard to understand what the victim is saying the entire time so here’s the transcripts of the entire speech awkwardly stitched together: “- the second time is up I try to grasp the air and fill my lungs that burn and rattle full. I can’t, there’s so much air but none inside as I go down again the cold surrounds and drags me down, the blue the black the weight of all the sodden fates awaiting me below the line of sea and sky. I kick, I lunge I flail towards the brightened blue and break above the third and final time. I know I'm spent there is no more within me save the salt spun death that reaches down my throat and spasms in my chest that cannot breathe inside me i'm done the water is... is... dark Deeper… Deeper… Down among the dead and swollen flesh so pale within this lightless place where eyes are open cloudy white and all the water pushes down upon a lifeless form that sinks and sinks down to the bottom that is not there no sandy grave below the swell no rest among the coral and the depths I feared so much but reached up and over land to claim me still.”

The force this victim is talking about is probably the same force that Gordon was talking about in episode 11 (Marked). I’ll refer to this Entity as “The Deep” like many other fans for now. In Episode 11 Gordon says, among other things, “I saw them hanging around the office when I was waiting. Waiting so long just to see it, just to know what’s in the water. And they took it. They think they’re smart, but I saw them I know where they’re staying and if they think they deserve it they’re wrong. It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.” So there’s a lot of the same imagery here, plus the earlier mentioned parallels with Dredgerman’s name.

Some people are arguing that The Deep is a completely new Entity of some sort but I would argue that what we have seen of The Deep fits in line pretty comfortably with The Buried. The Buried also has a strong association with water in the form of deep water, drowning, and suffocation (which seems to be happening to this woman). Gordon angrily says that the body Ink5 obtains belongs to the deep (which sounds similar to The Buried’s connection to burying bodies or making sure they aren’t dug up). In fact, some of The Buried’s many other names is “Choke”, “Too Close I Cannot Breathe” and “Forever Deep Below.” Forever Deep Below is especially an interesting name since the woman mutters “...the blue the black the weight of all the sodden fates awaiting me below the line of sea and sky…” So something deep below the horizon of the sea and sky. All the names I mentioned fit pretty well with what the woman seems to be affected by, she is literally choking and struggling to breathe as water fills her lungs. Even something like “The Deep” sounds like it could be right at home as one of The Buried’s names. The Buried ultimately revolves around the fear of not having enough space, whether that be from literally being stuck in a small space, metaphorically lacking wiggleroom, or not having enough space in something like your lungs to breathe. So being trapped deep underwater or underground first with The Buried as a motif. It’s also important to remember that the Entities are no stranger to having multiple names or titles. For example, there is The Eye and The Beholding but these both refer to the same Entity. I would actually be a little surprised if all the characters referred to the Entities with the exact same set of names even if Smirke’s 14 does end up being still in use by the OIAR or other people.

Some people might argue The Vast because it also has an association with the deep ocean, and Simon even tries to use this association for a ritual, but it’s important to remember that Entities can overlap in both fear and manifestation and it’s not always what they manifest as but why. When The Vast manifests as the ocean or bodies of water it usually does so to capture the fear in regards to the immense size of such bodies but when The Buried does this it usually has to do with suffocation and drowning (like what we see now). Obviously, these can overlap since something large can easily smother or crush you but hopefully you get my point, and remember even often opposing Entities are connected and bleed into each other.

Conclusion

Previously I hoped that the next external Gwen got to see would be someone who can talk and give some actual questions / answers and it looks like I could be getting my wish depending on how this goes. Although, whether Mowbray is an external is still technically up in the air and maybe she’s just been brought on but I think it’s safe to assume that her being an external is likely. I wonder if she knows anything if at all.

I’m also beginning to wonder if ERROR is somehow connected to the tapes and what it’s plan / goal is. Alice expressed fear of travelling alone previously ever since leaving the Institute’s ruins but despite seemingly being alone before and after running into the woman there is no sign of ERROR appearing to attack or anything.

If you want the categorization of the case the transcripts list it with-

CAT1RB-6451-22062023-22032024

Hunt (aristocratic) -/- compulsion

Incident Elements:

- Graphic Violence/Murder

- Futility

- Being Hunted

- Classism

- Dehumanisation

- Hostile work environment

- drowning

- Mentions of: blades, guns, military service

- SFX: Gunfire, loud music, suffocation

Archive for my other thoughts: TMP Quick Thoughts Archive

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #tma #theory

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daxwritesstories · 5 months

Text

College AU Part 13: came to my show

Content warning: drug use

Part 1: Hip To Be Square (Hammer)

(Scene title by Huey Lewis & The News)

INT. Cyra & Celia's dorm - Morning

Cyra is sitting on the floor in front of her bed. She is alone in the dorm.

She takes out her phone and sends Erik a text.

CYRA (text): What's taking so long??

She gets an immediate reply.

ERIK (text): You can wait.

Cyra laughs and rolls her eyes. She's about to put her phone down on the floor but she gets another message. She picks it back up to read it.

ACE (text): Okay, here are my notes for you, since you asked.

Cyra looks confused but she quickly understands what he's referring to when she reads the next couple of texts, which come in quick succession.

ACE (text): You need to drink more water because you're not producing enough saliva.

ACE (text): Your gag reflex is too strong, like, to the point where it was annoying instead of hot.

ACE (text): And you need to learn how to use your tongue more. It gets boring if you're just bobbing your head back and forth the entire time.

Cyra snorts out a laugh at the messages. She holds her phone up to type a reply.

CYRA (text): Was there anything you liked? Lol

Ace responds after a long moment.

ACE (text): I liked that you didn't complain when I fucked your throat. But I already knew that you wouldn't.

Cyra blushes when she reads the text. She's about to type a response when the door opens.

Erik walks in and glances around the room.

ERIK: You shouldn't leave your door unlocked.

CYRA: I don't, I just didn't wanna answer it when you got here.

Erik doesn't respond. Instead, he sits down on Cyra's bed.

ERIK: Well?

Cyra sighs and leans her head back against the mattress.

CYRA: I hope you'll trust me when I say that I didn't fuck Rhett to try and get back at you.

ERIK: And yet you still had no problem rubbing it in my face when you saw that I was upset about it.

CYRA: Okay. Yes, I was happy that it made you mad, but that wasn't my intention. And I'm sorry for rubbing it in your face. I was mad and trying to impress my friend.

ERIK: Hm.

Erik goes quiet for a moment.

ERIK: You're being surprisingly honest right now.

CYRA: I feel bad. And I want you to feel like you can trust me.

Erik sighs.

ERIK: Well, I don't know if I can trust you just yet, but I'll trust you on this one. And I'm sorry for calling you a slut.

Cyra holds up her fist and starts counting with her fingers as she speaks.

CYRA: And a skank. And a whore. And stupid. What else am I missing?

ERIK: Yeah, okay, I'm sorry for calling you all of those things too.

CYRA: Okay, I forgive you. You know, normally I would like to have a hot guy calling me all those things, but only if he's fucking me.

Erik frowns and huffs in frustration.

ERIK: There you go again.

CYRA: This is just how I am, Erik. You're going to have to get used to it.

Erik sighs.

ERIK: I'm willing to try. But you have to be willing to learn the songs that I wanna play.

CYRA: Right. About that...

Cyra turns her neck to look at Erik directly.

CYRA: I went and listened to some more Ghost songs, and I found quite a lot that I actually liked. I just didn't like that one song that you wanted me to learn. I wanted to ask if you guys know how to play other Ghost songs besides that one. I know they're your favorite band so I didn't want to just brush them off.

ERIK: Hm... I guess that could work. Which songs were you thinking?

CYRA: Well, Square Hammer is pretty popular. Can you play that one?

ERIK: We can. Do you know the lyrics?

Cyra nods.

CYRA: Mhm! Let's swap that one in instead. The rest of the set list is fine as it is. What do you think?

Cyra smiles at Erik and he can't help but smile back at her.

ERIK: Okay fine. We'll do Square Hammer instead.

CYRA: Yay!

Cyra's phone buzzes and she quickly snatches it up to read the message, assuming it's Ace. Erik notices her sudden enthusiasm.

ERIK: Who are you texting?

CYRA: This guy named Ace. He's friends with Roman.

ERIK: The music prof?

CYRA: Yep.

Cyra giggles when she reads Ace's text, which we don't see.

ERIK: What are you getting all giggly about?

CYRA: Ace says I'm bad at giving blowjobs.

Erik laughs.

ERIK: Well? Are you?

Cyra looks at Erik and smiles.

CYRA: I don't know. I think I need a second opinion~

Erik rolls his eyes and stands up.

ERIK: Well, good luck with that. I'm gonna go.

Cyra snickers as Erik walks toward the door.

ERIK: Remember we're doing practice in the afternoon today. We need to be ready for the show tonight.

Cyra holds up an "ok" sign with her hand.

CYRA: I'll be there! Wouldn't wanna be square.

Scene 2: came to my show

(Scene title by 100 gecs)

INT. Bar - Night

Roman walks into a dimly lit bar alone. The bar is pretty crowded but Roman manages to make his way through with ease. He walks up to the stage where Cyra's band is doing sound check. Cyra notices him right away and rushes over to talk to him.

CYRA: You actually showed up!

ROMAN: I told you I would.

CYRA: Yeah but that was before I yelled at you in front of your class.

ROMAN: You're gonna have to do more than that to piss me off, Cyra. And besides, if what you say is true then I wanna hear all about it.

CYRA: Oh I'll tell you.

ERIK: Cyra!

Cyra whips her head around when Erik calls her name.

ERIK: We're starting in, like, ten. Hi Roman!

Erik waves and Roman waves back. Cyra turns back to talk to Roman.

CYRA: I would say "enjoy the show" but I already know that you will.

ROMAN: Don't disappoint me, Cyra.

Cyra winks at Roman and goes back to her band. She goes straight to Erik.

CYRA: I have an apology gift for you, but only if you want it. If you don't, I won't be offended.

ERIK: What is it?

Cyra takes a step closer to Erik and holds out her fist, opening it to reveal a few pills. Erik raises an eyebrow at her.

ERIK: Drugs?

CYRA: Molly. I know you've done it before so I figured it was your kind of thing.

Erik doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he just takes the pills from Cyra's hand.

ERIK: I'm assuming you had some too?

CYRA: Mhm! When I went into the bathroom.

ERIK: I'll be back before the show starts.

Erik sets his guitar down and hurries off the stage. Cyra smiles at Rhett.

CYRA: Thanks for the gift idea!

Rhett holds up an "ok" sign with his hand and clicks his tongue.

Scene 3: Square Hammer

(Scene title by Ghost)

INT. Bar - Night

We open with a shot of Erik playing the opening guitar riff to "Square Hammer" by Ghost, then a shot of Rhett bringing in the drum beat.

We see Roman sitting at a high table by himself, moving his head to the beat.

Cyra sways on the stage until the lyrics begin.

CYRA (singing): Living in the night

'Neath heaven's torn asunder

You call on me to solve a crooked rhyme

As Cyra performs the first few lyrics, she leans forward, bending her knees together and pushing her feet apart. She sways her top half in a seductive, snake-like way.

CYRA (singing): As I'm closing in

Imposing on your slumber

You call on me as bells begin to chime

Cyra stands up straight again and winds her hips to the guitar riff. When the chorus begins she holds the mic with both hands and leans forward to sing.

CYRA (singing): Are you on the square?

Are you on the level?

Cyra stands back up and stretches out her left hand behind her. She slowly does a back-bend, hanging her head toward the audience.

CYRA (singing): Are you ready to swear right here right now

Before the devil

Cyra rolls her eyes up and rolls her head around when she sings "devil". She then stands back up and spins around to face the audience.

CYRA (singing): That you're on the square

That you're on the level

That you're ready to stand right here right now

Right here right now

As the short guitar riff plays, Cyra runs over to the drum set and quickly sits on Rhett's lap. Rhett lifts his arms at the exact time Cyra steps in front of him. It is obvious that they practiced this.

Cyra leans forward and sits up so the audience can still see her face when the second verse begins.

CYRA (singing): Hiding from the light

Sacrificing nothing

Still you call on me for entrance to the shrine

During the guitar riff, Cyra leans back against Rhett. She tilts her chin up and rests the back of her head on his shoulder. She uses her free hand to grab Rhett's hair behind his head.

We see a quick shot of Roman craning his neck to try to get a better view.

CYRA (singing): Hammering the nails

Into a sacred coffin

You call on me for powers clandestine

Cyra hops off Rhett's lap just as quickly as she got on and hurries over to Erik. She drops to her knees in front of him just in time for the chorus.

CYRA (singing): Are you on the square?

Are you on the level?

Are you ready to swear right here right now

Before the devil

Cyra gestures to Erik with her finger, holding her hand high enough so the audience can see. Erik smirks at her and steps forward, planting his boots on either side of Cyra's thighs. Cyra dramatically leans back to make room for his guitar.

CYRA (singing): That you're on the square

That you're on the level

That you're ready to stand right here right now

Right here right now

Cyra pumps her fist on the second "right here right now". Erik steps back, allowing Cyra to flip around and stand up again.

During the instrumental, Cyra dances around the stage, headbanging and pumping her fists. When Erik plays the guitar riff, she whips her head around in circles, her hair flying around.

Cyra keeps dancing and headbanging until the instrumental comes to an end. Just before it ends though, she stands still in the middle of the stage, away from the audience. As soon as Rhett starts the drum beat again, Cyra backflips and turns around to face the audience again. This makes the crowd cheer with excitement.

CYRA (singing): Are you on the square?

Are you on the level?

Are you ready to swear right here right now

Before the devil

Cyra jumps around as she sings, feeding the audience's excitement. She occasionally leans forward to sing to specific audience members.

CYRA (singing): That you're on the square

That you're on the level

That you're ready to stand right here right now

Right here right now

Cyra does another back-bend to sing the final "right here right now". She holds the pose for a bit while the audience applauds.

Scene 4: Molly

(Scene title by Mindless Self Indulgence)

INT. Bar - Night

Cyra is standing at Roman's table, leaning her elbows on it. Roman has a beer on the table in front of him.

ROMAN: That was quite the opening performance. I didn't know you could do a backflip.

CYRA: I've been doing both gymnastics and dance for, like, my entire life.

ROMAN: That explains all the back-bends. One day you'll have to come show me how flexible you can be.

Roman takes a swig of his beer. Cyra's expression turns conflicted. She frowns but she's biting her lip at the same time.

CYRA: I'm still mad at you.

ROMAN: Then why are you looking at me like that?

CYRA: Because I'm on drugs.

ROMAN: You're doing drugs without me?

Cyra shrugs.

CYRA: I didn't have enough left to share.

Roman laughs.

ROMAN: I'm mostly joking. And by the way, I don't care if you're still mad at me. I'm not apologizing. For anything I've done to you. Because I'm not sorry.

CYRA: Yeah, yeah. You told me that last time we talked.

Roman laughs and takes another drink.

CYRA: I'm not afraid of you.

ROMAN: You will be.

Roman nods past Cyra.

ROMAN: Your friend's coming.

Cyra turns her head and sees Erik walking up to her.

CYRA: Hi.

Erik wraps his arms around Cyra from behind and puts his chin on her shoulder.

ERIK: I'm, like, so high...

Cyra smiles.

CYRA: I only ever buy the expensive stuff. So it might be a little stronger than you're used to.

Cyra wraps her arm around Erik's head and tangles her fingers in his hair. Erik shivers and sighs heavily.

ROMAN: I heard you two had a fight.

CYRA: I think we're gonna be fine now.

Cyra's eyes roll up as Erik slides his hands under her tank top.

ROMAN: Genius solution, Cyra.

CYRA: Mm... Wasn't my idea. Okay, we need to go back to your dorm, Erik.

Erik lifts his head, eyes dazed.

ERIK: Ugh...

ROMAN: Do you kids need a ride back? You probably shouldn't walk back like this.

Cyra points at Roman's beer.

CYRA: How many have you had?

ROMAN: This is my second. I don't have to finish it if you wanna leave now.

Cyra nods, trying to ignore Erik's hands roaming her body.

CYRA: Okay. We gotta find Rhett first.

Scene 5: Backseat

(Scene title by New Boyz)

INT. Roman's car - Night

Roman starts the car. Rhett sits in the passenger seat and closes the door.

ROMAN: Get in the car, you two!

Cyra and Erik fall into the backseat, unable to take their hands off each other. Cyra, being pinned to the seat, makes a lame effort to close the car door.

CYRA: Erik, you have to close the doooor!

Erik groans in annoyance and sits up to close the door behind him. He immediately falls back on top of Cyra.

ROMAN: Seatbelts?

ERIK: Not happening.

ROMAN: Yeah, I didn't think so.

Roman pulls the gear shift and starts driving. He glances at Rhett as he pulls out of the parking spot.

ROMAN: Weren't they fighting because you fucked her?

RHETT: Yeah.

ROMAN: And now...

Roman points his thumb at the backseat. Erik and Cyra are aggressively making out, ignoring the conversation.

Rhett shrugs.

RHETT: I don't know, man. I'm high as shit. I don't care.

ROMAN: Eh, you shouldn't care anyway. Cyra's a slut. Right, Cyra?

CYRA: Huh?

Roman turns his head and raises his voice so she can hear him.

ROMAN: You're a slut who will suck anyone's dick just to get her crush's phone number. Right?

Cyra holds up her middle finger at Roman. She stares up at him while Erik has his face buried in her neck.

CYRA: You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?

Rhett laughs, not entirely sure of what they're talking about.

ROMAN: Nope.

Cyra rolls her eyes and goes back to kissing Erik.

#cyra college au #cyra’s world #script #band drama #original characters

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aro-comics · 3 years

Text

Canon Vs. Fanon Aros: Princess Merida

I PRESENT: A NEW ANALYSIS POST ON OUR ARCHERY QUEEN, PRINCESS MERIDA OF DUNBROCH!!! 😄😤🏹✨

Haha okay, but in all seriousness, I’m glad I managed to wrap up the loose ends with this post and get this out to y’all 😅 (sorry about the lateness, I’m fine but lately the combination of work and getting ready for fourth year has been pretty exhausting).

Obviously, as we all know by now, I love a good media analysis, and especially when you look at things from an Aro Lens – and it always fascinates me when I find a character that’s widely regarded by the community as an icon, if not perceived as arospec in some way! 🐸💚💚 Merida is no exception, and I loved having the chance to delve into her character and what (I believe) she represents for our community. Personally, I didn’t watched Brave as a kid, but watching it as an adult and being able to see all those points of tension at the beginning of the movie surrounding marriage – and especially how Merida’s dad described her as wanting to remain single forever and ride off into the sunset shooting arrows – was really relatable, especially as a young woman who’s kind of at that age where people “expect” you to start dating/thinking about things like long-term romantic relationships 😭😭

Anyways, I feel like I’ve covered most of what I want to say in the actual textpost for once 😂, so I’ll just sign off with a note that I will be sharing some extra art and stickers tomorrow.

ARTIST’S NOTE: Since this is tumblr (and I can throw in more than 10 slides at once XD) I’ve just shared the rest of the post here! Link to the stickers.

As always, feel free to let me know what you think! Do you see Merida as Arospec or an Icon for the Aro community?

[Image Description:

Slide 1: Title slide. Text says: “Canon Vs Fanon Aros, feature: Princess Merida.” The title shows a drawing of Celia sitting and reading a book, relaxing. Bottom text says “a textpost buffer series” and by “aro comics (the Instagram username)”

Slide 2: Note: For the following slides, information is quite text heavy. As a result, the original script written will be pasted here with additions of any visual notes if needed.

Slide Title: Intro

About: Princess Merida of DunBroch

Canon vs. Fanon – Circle Fanon

Basic facts:

Personality: Bold, courageous, energetic, freespirited, and a bit stubborn and rebellious

Loves archery, sword fighting, riding her horse Angus, and exploring!

A princess that rebels against traditional training and etiquette, the plot of the movie follows our protagonist on repairing her relationship with her mother after a falling out and an accidental curse.

Slides 3-4:

Slide Title: An Aro Icon

Why is do people think Merida is aromantic, or at the very least an Aro Icon?

Great question! To be fair, the movie doesn’t go into the topic of romance so there’s no canonical evidence to Merida’s romantic orientation.

Even so, however, the narrative presented resonates deeply with many aromantic viewers. Merida is ADAMANT about not getting married off (though this is based more in the fact she’s SIXTEEN and doesn’t know any of these boys, which is very understandable) and makes a point of it by rebelling against the archery contest her mother set up to pick her suitor.

Screenshot: A defiant Merida speaks in front of the gathered clans at the Highland Games. She announces: “I am Merida, first born descendant of clan Dunbroch. And I’ll be shooting for my own hand!”

NOTE: This is significant because the games are meant for the first born descendants of other clans to compete for her hand. However, since she has chosen archery as the competitive sport, and she is technically the first born of her own clan, this is a clever moment where she is able to use this rule to rebel and attempt to maintain her freedom!

Slide 5:

Slide title: Meaning

Her behaviour and portrayal really strikes a chord with the aro community, because we are often asked to engage in romance or marriage despite our discomfort. It’s empowering to see a character stand up against these norms!

Given the way amatonormativity also tends to insert as many romantic subplots as possible, it’s uncommon to have no love interest in a movie. Because of this, aros we rarely get to see a story and growth occur without romance, which makes Brave all the more meaningful. Merida’s growth and her agency as a character in this story feels a lot more relatable to us.

Slides 6-7:

(Continued from previous)

It’s because of these elements that many people will consider Merida an aro icon, if not aromantic herself (although this is more of a headcanon)! Also … she’s literally good at archery, which in and of itself is kind of perfect for an aro icon.

Also, Merida’s a Pretty Cool Character for other reasons too!

The focus on familial love in this movie is very heartwarming, and it’s not something you see too often in princess movies. There’s also the intersection between amatonormative ideals and feminism - Merida’s a strong role model for young girls. Though it may seem common now that there are strong/free spirited princesses/female characters in movies for children that take control of their own destinies, it wasn’t so much in mainstream media when Brave first came out.

And especially it’s uncommon to see princesses not have a love interest – historically, patriarchal society uses women’s relationships to men as a indicator of their value, so it’s important to have media that reflects how women can have compelling and complex narratives that feature their importance as a person independently too.

Slides 8-9:

Slide Title: Conclusion

Why is Merida’s existence important to aromantic people and beyond?

In short, it breaks romance norms and also gives aro people a fictional character to relate to! But before we wrap up, I wanted to address the discussion/discourse around “projection” of identity onto Merida – as some people have pointed out before, why is it that if a woman doesn’t show interest in a man in the context of a story should they be interpreted as gay or aspec? This does tie into issues of sexism for women, as mentioned before. But this being said, as an aspec woman I would say that it’s perfectly valid and good for LGBTQ+ to interpret characters to be like them/to have more diversity in interpretation, because we’re so far lacking in representation. It’s a good point to make/ask why we may view a female character this way, but ultimately its understandable, and not harmful/engaging in sexism, to imagine a character that we relate to be like us.

Overall, Merida’s storyline and character was quite groundbreaking regardless of whether or not she’s aromantic, and she’s VERY cool! And personally, I’m glad to have her as an icon for our community!

Slide 10:

Sources:

1: Screenshot from Original Brave Movie, sourced from an online clip:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWbxhKTbTkA

Although I don’t quote any other direct sources for this textpost, I used the following sources for additional research and would encourage you to read them if you’d like to learn more!

https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/06/does-it-matter-if-the-heroine-of-brave-is-gay/258979/

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Brave

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Merida#Personality

Slide 11: A page full of sketches of Merida. The text: “Some Merida Sketches (Yes I’m still messing around with my art style)”. The sketches include a headshot of Merida smiling and winking, another half-body shot with her nocking an arrow, and a third chibi of her with her bow. All three sketches are coloured and shaded, albeit in different styles.

Slide 12: A redraw of a key scene from the Brave movie. Merida is holding her bow as she defiantly exclaims: “And I’ll be shooting for my own hand!”

Slide 13: A graphic showing cutout versions of the two stickers made from the previous sketches (the Chibi and the Headshot). The title: “Free Stickers! (Check the Carrd)”, and below a note reads “Free for personal use only”]

#CanonVsFanonAros #NotAComic #Fanart #Merida #PrincessMerida #InfoTextpost #aromerida

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emeto-secret-agent · 2 years

Text

Sicktember Day 2

Homesick

Fandom: -

Characters: Florian and Celia

Illness: Common cold, Fever

Warning: -

A little bit of context for a better understanding (bc I just jumped straight into action lol): Florian was invited to a neighboring kingdom for diplomatic purposes, and in his escort he brought Celia with himself and now she's providing comfort for him while they're far away from home. The prince and Celia are pretty comfortable with each other at this point but still maintaining their obligatory distance.

’I just… I want to go home. Everyone is so loud and irritating here and there are always so many problems with everything. And my head hasn’t stopped pounding since two days ago.’

Celia quietly sighed as Florian leaned back and rested his head on the top of the armchair. He was exhausted and this whole room was just uncomfortable and hot, he wished to be back in his own chamber and own bed. It was selfish of him, he knew that well and he felt bad about his thoughts but couldn’t help with the helplessness and homesickness that was clinging onto his chest. Celia’s cold hand on his forehead was what brought him back to reality. The maid was looking at him with a pitiful sadness and Florian’s stomach jumped into a knot at the look in her eyes. He never liked it if somebody was looking at him like this, it made him feel weak and useless like he wasn’t good enough for his title. And the emotional state he was in right now, clearly wasn’t helping his clouded mind.

‘You’re burning up.’

‘What?’

‘You’re running a fever, Your Highness. I believe you’re sick.’

‘No, that can’t be.’ Florian quickly shooed away Celia’s hand, but only realized how hot his head actually felt when the maid’s cool fingers weren’t pressing on his skin anymore. Maybe even his head started hurting a bit more. ‘I can’t get sick right now.’

He was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t right, he was just tired and maybe that has messed with his temperature, but the scratching feeling in his lungs that made him want to cough was clearly protesting against his idea.

‘I’m sorry Your Highness, your body must have gotten tired because of the traveling and caught a cold.’

Celia was still looking at him that way. She was pitying him. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, especially not a maid’s!

‘Stop looking at me like that!’

Florian’s voice was harsh and rough and Celia quickly turned her head away. She was familiar with higher ranking people yelling at her, but it was the first time Florian raised his voice at her and it caught her off guard. She let her feelings show too much and she must not let this accident happen again.

‘I’m sorry Your Highness, please forgive me.’

Her voice was weaker than she had intended and Celia was cursing herself for that. She needs to get herself together, this behavior wasn’t suited for the crown prince’s nursing maid.

‘No, no I’m sorry Celia…’ it only took a moment for Florian to realize how he just acted with her, who was only trying to help him, and immediately felt terrible. ‘I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, it was very rude of me, you didn’t do anything. You don’t have to ask for forgiveness. I’m just…so tired, I’m sorry…’

Tears were forming in the prince’s eyes and he quickly pulled a hand in front of his face but Celia gasped when she saw the tears running down Florian’s face.

‘Oh no, it’s alright, I’m not angry or anything! Please don’t cry Your Highness, everything’s fine.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why am I like this… You shouldn’t see me like this…’ the prince’s voice was trembling and Celia not minding the young man’s status, pulled him close. Florian hasn’t protested, just laid into her hug.

‘I’m the very person who should see you like this.’ Celia’s soothing words filled the air with some kind of comfort. ‘And you’re feverish, it’s normal to experience mood swings, I know you haven’t meant it.’

‘I don’t want to get sick…’

‘I know, but I’m here to help and you’ll feel better soon enough.’

‘But what will they say…?’

Those always-watching and unpredictable gazes felt like burning irons on his skin. Normally he’d know how to deal with them, but right now he was so tired and lost and buried under all those problems without a clear solution. He really just wanted to go back home and hide under his blankets where he could comfortably rest for a few days without everyone questioning him. But even if he set off right now, it’d take two weeks to get home and he had to admit, he was in no way in any shape, or form fit for a road so long. The only thing he had closest to home was Celia right now.

‘For the next two days there won’t be any meetings.’ answered Celia after a little thinking, while gently rubbing Florian’s back. The prince wasn’t sure when was it okay to let go, but he sure didn’t want to yet. ‘The noblemen are going for a hunt and you can kindly decline to go with them, saying that you’re honored, but hunting isn’t your favorite way of passing the time and you must manage some matters regarding a few diplomatic decisions that need your attention. And while they are out and you’re seemingly busy with work, we’ll nurse you back to health in no time.’

‘That sounds actually… quite manageable. But I’m sure they will comment on me missing out on the hunt.’

‘We can’t make anyone happy, but I’m sure they’ll understand you have work.’

‘Hm.’

‘So, how about it Your Highness? I can send someone out immediately if you want to.’

Florian was quiet for a little, trying to think through the plan and find some weak points in it, but his mind wasn’t working properly anymore, too fogged to do any of its work.

‘Yes, alright… This one will do it… And nobody will know how I…?’

‘Nobody. I promise.’

‘Thank you, Celia…’

‘Of course.’ Celia smiled at him as she gently pulled away from him and Florian let her go with a shaking breath but found her fingers on his face again before having a chance to step away. She was carefully placing her palm on the prince’s cheeks, tapping the hot skin with her fingertips and discreetly whipping away some of his dried up tears. Florian closed his eyes and haven’t even flinched when Celia’s soft lips made contact with his forehead and rested there for a few seconds to feel his temperature. Even her breath felt nice and cool and for a fragment of a second, Florian was no crown prince, just a sick boy in a loving hold.

‘Please get comfortable and go to bed, Your Highness. I’ll bring some water and tea for you and make someone inform the noblemen. You’ll have to sweat this one out.’

Florian just nodded and threw his clothes on the ground as Celia quickly left and climbed to bed with aching muscles. He wasn’t even sure how he had the energy for this day when the only thing he was able to do now is to hide under the heavy blankets shivering and waiting for his maid to finally return back to him.

#my oc #prince florian #celia #common cold #sickfic #sicktember 2022

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imherongraystairstrash · 4 years

Note

prompt 44 for kitty please? 🙈🥺

KitTy!!! I love this prompt and it was so much fun to write! I think there’s an abundance of KitTy angst, so I wanted to write some fluff for these two! It’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! (Also, idk what’s up with the font, I’m so sorry)

Title: Constellations

Ship: KitTy

Prompt: “Hold still.”

“TyTyTyTyTyTyTyTyTyTyyyyy! Getitoffme!!”

“Hold still, Kit.” Ty said, gripping his forearm hard.

“I can feel all of it’s tiny, demonic legs crawling on my skin and I hate it!”

Kit looked away, his heart racing at the thought of what was on his arm. He felt goosebumps all over his body because he could still feel it.

“Is it off? Please tell me it’s almost off.”

“There.” Ty said, holding up the centipede in his hand.

Kit shuddered. “That creature came right out of the pits of Hell, and nobody can convince me otherwise.”

Ty furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s not true. Centipedes come from—”

“Ty! Put it down! It’s disgusting.”

Ty looked at it. “It’s lovely.”

“No, it’s ghastly and evil and—” Kit gasped. “Wait a minute, I thought I was lovely.”

“You’re on the same level of lovely.”

Kit was extremely offended. “Are you saying I am as attractive as that—that insect thing?!”

Ty let the centipede crawl on his other hand. “Yes.”

“Yes?!”

Ty looked up at Kit. “Maybe you’re a little bit more lovely.”

“Gee, thanks Ty.”

Ty smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

He put the centipede on the ground as far away from Kit as he could, without having to stand up. Kit fell back on the blanket they had put on the ground in relief. Despite Ty’s love of them, Kit couldn’t find it in him to like insects. Even butterflies were scary, with their crazy wing flapping. He looked up at the expanse of stars that loomed over them in the LA desert. At night, the temperature dropped drastically enough that they were both wearing hoodies against the cold. Kit hugged his arms and crossed his feet at the ankle.

After putting down the desert monster, Ty leaned back on his elbow, one hand fidgeting with the zipper of his sweater. His gaze was on the tops of the jagged mountain range, his eyes roaming as though he were tracing the peaks with his vision. They were both silent as they took in the vast landscape of the desert, where they were isolated from the world and it’s never-ending chaos.

“Do you know any constellations?” Kit asked, curious.

Ty glanced away from the mountains. “I know a couple.”

His eyes flickered to the stars and he eased his back to the ground beside Kit.

“Those three stars are Orion’s belt. You can sort of see the rest of him if you look hard enough.”

His right hand found Kit’s left and the former began playing with the Herondale ring on Kit’s finger, moving it up and down or turning it in a circle, which made Kit smile.

“Do you know the big dipper?”

Ty shook his head. “But I do know a couple of Fae constellations that Mark taught me.”

“We can see them in the mundane world?”

“Some of them.” Ty said.

He showed Kit as many as he knew. When he ran out of constellations, they created their own.

“That one looks like church.”

Ty squinted.

“Look, the head, the tail. The angry eyebrows.”

“Oh. Yeah, I see it now.”

Kit put his head on Ty’s shoulder.

“That one looks like Heron.” Ty said.

Kit laughed. “Hey, it really does.”

“And that one is just a line.”

“Damn, we should be astrologers.” Kit said with a yawn.

“Astronomers.” Ty amended. “Unless you think we should be predicting the future using zodiac signs.”

“That too.” Kit said, putting his arms around Ty. “Your rising sun in Cancer makes you a kindred spirit.”

“My rising sun isn’t in Cancer.”

“Then your moon sign.”

“There’s nothing on my zodiac that’s in Cancer, Kit.”

“Really? I thought you said you were a Cancer in your rising sun or moon or something.” Kit said, burying his face in the crook of Ty’s neck.

“That’s Tavvy. But it’s his sun sign is Cancer. ”

Kit opened his eyes. “I’m so confused.”

Ty shrugged. “Maybe we shouldn’t be astrologists then.”

“Yeah. Astrology is excessively complicated for no reason.”

Ty just sighed, closed his eyes and smiled.

“We should probably drive back home before we fall asleep.” Kit mumbled.

Ty hummed in agreement, but made no move to stand up. They kept their eyes on the stars, looking at nothing in particular, but somehow at everything.

“It’s weird to think we’re looking at a piece of the universe.” Ty said.

“We’re also part of the universe.” Kit pointed out, looking over at Ty.

“Yeah. I guess what I meant was that we’re looking at what is untouched by mankind. It’s lonely, but breath-taking. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Kit whispered, looking at Ty.

Looking at Ty. And only Ty, because if the universe was what mattered…Well, Kit didn’t have to look up. He realized that everything he wanted was already on Earth; a family, friends and, of course, Ty.

And as he realized this, he thought about how it was the first time in his life where everything made sense. All he had to do was live life a little longer, drift through the universe for a couple of years, before he found that his life was waiting for him. All he had was find out he had been lost, before he could be found.

Tagging: @hitheresomeoneusingthus @celias @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @aceofjesper @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @forjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @dustandshadowsworld

If you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

#I just realized how much this is like aaddtstu #oops #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kitty #Christopher herondale #tiberius blackthorn #kit and ty #ty and kit #lol #tsc #tsc fanfic #tda fanfic #twp fanfiction #kitty fanfiction

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bird-likes-to-fandom · 3 years

Text

Covered in Storms, Surrounded by Eyes (Chapter Three)

Previous Chapters: One, Two

Content Warnings: Swearing, death mentions, domestic and verbal abuse mentions

Notes: this took a very long time to write and I’m sorry kfhgdkfhg. To make up for it, this chapter has a lot of Celia and Grover, but it’s sort of angsty.

Summary: Percy learns more about his fellow campers, whether he likes it or not.

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

Percy followed Luke and Marina out to the lake, where the water was lapping against the shores fairly violently. Luke took a step back. “We shouldn’t be out here. We’re lucky we made it past the harpies. I don’t like the way the water’s acting.” He said. Marina shook her head. “Go back to the cabin, Luke. We’ll follow later.” “But -” “Go.” Marina said. Luke obeyed, slowly turning around.

When it was just Percy and Marina, he realized how at ease she looked, unfazed by the crashing waves. She looked like she took comfort in them. Her short hair was blowing in the wind, and the glow in her eyes brightened. She turned to Percy. “A storm is brewing.” She said. Percy felt something course through his veins, an urge to take the waves into his own hands and control them. He turned toward the water, ready to give in. “Do you know why?” He asked Marina. He didn’t know why he asked that. She probably didn’t know, but she nodded anyway.

“I have my guesses.” She said vaguely. She turned to Percy, her eyes latching onto his. “All of them have to do with you.” “I’d appreciate it if you shared those guesses.” Percy said back. Marina rolled her eyes. “The water has been acting up all week. I figured it was normal. The sky and the sea have been… angry these days. Figured it had something more to do with Grandfather and his, um, brother. But when you arrived - I’m talking when the first part of you stepped over the property line - it got worse. The storm started to come. I understand now that it’s an omen from my mother. She doesn’t communicate much, so this must be important. And something big is coming. I can feel it. Can’t you?” .

Percy turned toward the angry waters, trying to feel what she felt.

He couldn’t feel it, whatever she was talking about, but the fish were going insane, calling him lord and prince and other titles reserved for royalty. There was a trout that was trying to tell Percy what was going on - something about his father - but the words were drowned out by the other fish clamoring to greet him.

“Uh, I don’t think I’m as good with the water as you,” He said to Marina. She stared at him again, as if he was crazy. “Maybe not yet,” She said, “but soon. I have a feeling about this. You can go back to bed now. Don’t get eaten by harpies.”

That was it? No “I’m sorry for waking you?” or “Sorry for nearly giving you a heart attack!” or something along those lines? Okay, sure. Percy rolled his eyes, but when he started walking back, he noticed that Marina wasn’t following. “You aren’t coming?” He asked. Marina shook her head. “No, I’ll sleep here. If my mother is trying to send a message… if she finally wants to talk…” She trailed off, hugging her knees. Percy walked back to the cabin groggily and quickly fell back asleep.

When he woke up, everyone was screaming.

Okay, okay, the camp’s getting attacked - don’t freak out. You can handle the monster like you handled the Minotaur. That was Percy’s internal motto. When he grabbed his Minotaur’s horn to try and jab it at someone --- because that was his first thought --- someone pulled his shirt back.

“Stay back, squirt,” Said an older voice. Percy turned to see a young woman with a shaved head and big round glasses, but one lens was completely blacked out. “What?” Percy struggled against her grip. “I said stay back, squirt,” She repeated more sternly, “I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re so young…” The girl shook her head. Percy realized she looked older than Luke, or maybe around the same age. But he heard a very familiar scream.

Grover.

“Sorry, gotta go!” Percy said, breaking free. “Hey! Hey, squirt!” The girl called as Percy ran outside of the cabin, slamming the door. A few seconds later, it gently opened and Celia followed him out. She raised her hands, probably instinctively, and pressed a finger to her lips.

Percy turned to the scene before him, horrified. There were two campers - big and burly, probably either Ares or Hephaestus kids, holding Grover back, gripping his arms so tight the blood had rushed away from them.

“The last one you brought in was one of them, will this one be, too?” The Ares girl hissed. The Hephaestus boy, not the counselor but someone only a little shorter and less burly, tightened his grip. Grover was crying and kicking. Annabeth and Luke were across from him, their weapons pointed out at the kids surrounding them. Annabeth was crying, too.

“Let the satyr go! It wasn’t his fault -” “He knew what she was, Silena! And he still brought her here. He’s… he’s a Monsterbringer!” Shouted someone near Percy. He turned to see a tall boy with curly brown hair. “Shut up, Caleb!” The other voice, Silena, shouted back. Percy stepped forward, Celia behind him. “Where’s Chiron?” He asked her, “Where’s Mr. D?” Celia shook her head in a distressed way. She didn’t know.

“Hey!” He yelled, coming up beside Luke and Annabeth and pointing out the horn. “You let him go,” He threatened. Grover’s captors laughed.

“Oh, look, the man of the hour! Show us who you really are. Poseidon? Hades? Zeus again?” The boy hollered. “Let him go,” Percy repeated, trembling with anger. “Or what?” The girl asked. “Or this.” Celia said simply, raising her hands a little higher and then pushing them outwards. Percy felt a little dazed, like he could just take a nap in the middle of the clearing. Within a few seconds, the Ares and Hephaestus kids fell to the ground, unconscious.

“She killed them!” Gasped a camper.

“A daughter of Hades!” Snarled another.

“Murderer!”

“Monster!”

“May Zeus strike her down!”

Annabeth and Luke froze where they were. Grover ran toward Percy, giving him a huge hug. Percy hugged him back, but pulled away to see Celia in the middle of a circle of campers, looking afraid as all of them were shouting hideous, violent things.

Percy felt his blood boil. First they try to kill one of his friends, then another? He would not let them hurt Celia. He looked in the crowd, trying to find - Ah, yes. There they were. Marina was shoving people to the ground, making way for Beau and not being kind about it. “They’re only unconscious! They’re not dead, you idiots!” He shouted. The entire camp turned to the Hephaestus and Ares campers, murmuring amongst themselves and giving Celia their apologies.

“A daughter of a minor god, no doubt.” Annabeth said beside him. “Probably Hypnos.” Agreed a boy on the other side of Percy who hadn’t been there before. After Percy was done having his tiny heart attack at the boy’s sudden appearance, he calmed down. Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis. He always seemed really distant, and only interacted with the unclaimed kids or children of the minor gods in the Hermes cabin. He didn’t like any of the children of the Olympians, except for Luke.

Percy turned away, looking for Celia. “Looks like they’ve got it covered,” Ethan muttered, putting a hand on Percy’s shoulder. Percy looked over to where Marina was yelling at people, baring her teeth and waving her hands around crazily, and where Beau was consoling Celia. He nodded at Ethan. Luke smiled. “That’s what the Hermes cabin does. I won’t tolerate any slander of possible Big Three kids in there.” There was a hint of something troubled in his voice, and paired with the way he and Annabeth were defending Grover…

“Have you… met one?” Percy asked him cautiously. “A Big Three kid, I mean.” Luke was silent for a while. Ethan eventually left, while Annabeth stayed by his side. Luke sighed. “Her name was Thalia. Thalia Grace.” He said. Annabeth squeezed his hand and walked away. Luke left, too, but in the opposite direction. Percy was left alone in the clearing. He went over to check on Celia, pointing his Minotaur horn at anyone who got in his way.

“You probably shouldn’t be using a spoil of war as a weapon.” Celia commented. Percy rolled his eyes. “Come on, I can do what I want. Are you okay?” He asked. She nodded. “Just a little… shaken up, I guess. They were all so nice to me when I first got here, and for them to just… turn on me like that? It was scary.” “I bet. You didn’t have to do that, you know. You don’t even know Grover.” Percy said. Celia shrugged. “I know you, and I wasn’t going to let you get eaten alive so soon.” “You’ve only been at camp for like three days longer than me,” Percy pointed out. She shrugged again. “Yeah, but you’re like four. I’m fifteen. Come on, the Demeter kids need help with the strawberries.” She said, dragging him along, which didn’t allow him to protest that he was twelve, thank you very much.

“So, what did you do to them?” Percy asked after he filled his first basket with strawberries. Celia was still picking. “I made them fall asleep. I’ve done it to monsters in the past, but never deliberately. It usually comes as an instinct. That was the first time I’ve ever really chosen to do it, and the first time I’ve ever done it to another human.” She said. “Well, that might be a lie. I used to sing lullabies to my sisters back home, and they always fell asleep the quickest on the… worse nights. It must have been my powers picking up on my anxiety, like they thought I was in a fight or something.”

Percy hummed as he started picking strawberries for his second basket. “I didn’t have the best home life, either. I had this stepdad - Gabe from that appliance store on Admiral, if you’re a New Yorker - and he was a drunk. He and his friends were… I don’t really want to talk about it, but they were the worst. Called me and my mom the worst names.” He shuddered and kept picking. Celia sat in silence.

“I’m the middle child, and I’m the product of a one night stand. My mother worked at multiple different bars, but she went to school to become one of those sleep techs. It was always her dream to work in that field, er, no pun intended. But then she met my… stepfather, I suppose? And he forced her to drop out. They aren’t good for each other. They hate each other. But… they’re together. I have no idea why. They had my older sister, then they broke up and my mom met my dad at a bar, and then I was born, and then they got back together and my little sister was born, and it’s been rocky ever since. They scream and fight so much, and they get drunk all the time and it’s just so hard, trying to convince my little sister that there’s more life than that.” Celia’s shoulders slumped.

Percy reached over and gave her a hug. He didn’t really know why. He certainly needed one, and he guessed he thought she did, too. When he pulled away, they were both crying a little bit. “It’s hard.” He agreed, “My mom just died because she wanted to take me somewhere to cheer me up. And - And now all I have left is fucking Gabe or - or the father who I don’t know? The one who never wanted me? The one who left my mother to that monster?” He asked. “I’m not even sure I want to be claimed. Yeah, I want to know who exactly I should blame, but I like the Hermes cabin. You guys are the closest thing to family right now, even if I haven’t been here that long, and -”

Percy cut himself off, going back to picking strawberries. Celia didn’t want to hear any of that, she had her own thing going on. She sighed. “Yeah, well, maybe your father’s a minor god. Maybe he’s Hermes. That way you’d get to stay with us.” She said, in an attempt to comfort him. Percy gave her a weak smile, and then thought for a moment. “Are there any minor gods of the sea that would give me control over the water? Marina thinks I have some connection to it.”

Celia hummed as she picked more strawberries, filling up her second basket. “Amphitrite, maybe? Not likely, though. Triton? No, he doesn’t like coming up to land… Rhode? Kymopoleia? Ooh, what about Gael? You could be a child of Gael. ” She said, and Percy frowned. “Everyone you named, except for Triton, was a goddess. I have a mortal mother, and she always told me I had a father.” “Gods can have kids with humans of their same presenting gender. Gods don’t really have genders. They can look however they want, because their bodies are images of constant perfection, divinity.” Celia shrugged. “Only some of the gods are known to do that, though. Aphrodite, Apollo, Dionysus… just to name a few.” “Mr. D?” Percy gasped. Celia laughed at his expression and then nodded.

“What about the Big Three?” Percy asked suddenly. “Well, I think Hades is the only one to not mess around with guys, but don’t quote me on that. It might just be because he never leaves his domain. You can’t really get it on with dead people, after all.” Celia answered, picking up her strawberry baskets. “Come on, the dryads are bringing their baskets down. We should go, too.”

As they walked down the hill, they met up with the dryads. They were pretty cool. There was one girl --- Juniper, maybe? --- that kept asking about Grover, worrying if he was alright. “Last I heard, Lord Dionysus had demanded to see him. Do you know anything about that?” She asked, grabbing onto his arm. He frowned. No, he didn’t know anything about that. Hopefully Mr. D was just talking to him so he could figure out a punishment for those kids that grabbed onto him earlier.

When Percy was left to himself, he started thinking about the Big Three --- about Thalia Grace. Who was she? How long ago had she lived? If Luke had known her, it couldn’t have been too long. Was she alive? If so, where was she? If not, how did she die? Did she make it to camp? How did the campers react? From their response to Grover bringing him here, and saying… What was it they said? Something about the last one he brought being a Big Three kid?

... Did Grover bring Thalia Grace to camp?

“Percy? Percy, are you okay?” Celia asked, waving a hand in front of his face. He nodded rapidly. “Yeah, just… thinking.” “Want to share? You went out of it for a second, there.” She looked a bit concerned. Percy shook his head. “Well, we’re here, so set your baskets down.” She gestured to where baskets of strawberries were lined up on the porch of the Big House. Percy set his basket down alongside hers, and sat on the porch until he found Grover. “Hey!” He called. Grover walked up, and Percy jerked his head toward the lake, silently asking Grover to follow.

When Percy sat down on the sand, he immediately felt… lighter? More powerful? Something like that. “This isn’t a good idea, Percy. Chiron said no lake --- it’s not safe to be here. The water might swallow us.” Grover said uneasily. Percy shrugged it off. He didn’t really think the water was going to hurt him. If it was Marina’s mom, she probably didn’t care about the other campers. Besides, the other demigods’ parents would probably get angry.

“Tell me about the Big Three kids. Tell me about Thalia Grace.” Percy insisted. Grover looked shocked, and like he was about to cry. “Why do you want to know about her?” He asked shakily. “When I woke up here,” Percy said and took a deep breath, “I asked if I would be safe here. You said I would be unless I was a child of the Big Three. What did that mean? And Luke said he knew a Big Three kid named Thalia. What… happened to her?”

Grover was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he sounded somber. “She was around your age, maybe a year older, when she got to camp. She was a daughter of Zeus, and you could tell. Some say her eyes were electric. She traveled with two other half bloods here, one of them was Luke. A satyr tried to guide her here. He thought she would be safe -” Grover’s voice cracked, and Percy reached out to touch his knee in a comforting way. Grover gave him a shaky smile and continued with his story. “She… wasn’t safe. A horde of monsters were chasing her and the others with her, and all three Kindly Ones. They fought the Kindly Ones off together, but they ended up retreating to the sky to circle above. They fought some of the monsters, but they tired quickly. Thalia realized they weren’t going to win and she - she sent the half bloods and the satyr to go over the property line into camp. She managed to strike all of the monsters down with lightning and she was so relieved and exhausted from the use of her powers that she dropped onto the ground and passed out. Luke and the other half blood and the satyr tried to bring her into camp but - but the campers… being a Big Three child is outlawed. They were dangerous. They were banned after the camp massacre and the gods trained the campers to fear and hate them, to become vicious and hostile at even the thought of one. It was horrifying, watching them - watching them kill her. We tried, Percy, we tried to stop them - We tried so hard, especially… I - I can’t -”

Percy cut Grover off. Even he couldn’t take it anymore. The campers murdered Thalia Grace? Even after she fought all of those monsters? Even after she saved her friends and, by extension, the campers themselves? That was so fucked up.

“Zeus turned her into the pine tree on Half-Blood Hill while she was dying, so that she could protect the camp with a magical barrier forever.” Said a soft, kind voice. Chiron. Percy turned to see his centaur teacher and waved before helping Grover to his feet. “Hey,” He told him, “I know you brought her here, but you… you’re not a failure. You brought me here, right? And I’m alive and safe, so you did your job right. You’re a great satyr, Grover. I hope you know that.”

Grover was starting to cry again. Chiron sent him on his way and then pulled Percy to the side. “Thalia Grace was nothing short of a hero, Percy, that is something you should keep in mind. Do not fall into the camp rhetoric that all children of the eldest gods are evil. They are much like you, children who need to be loved. Not monsters.” He said. Percy nodded, but he wouldn’t have thought otherwise anyway.

#bird likes to write #covered in storms #percy jackson #celia smith #grover underwood #pjo chiron #luke castellan #annabeth chase #thalia grace #beau rivera #marina johnson #ethan nakamura

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puckyeahobx · 4 years

Text

they tried to sweep us into the cracks in the wall

not my gif

a/n: i really hope you guys aren’t getting tired of my rafe apologist behavior because it’s just gonna keep coming. this one is a little long but i really like how it turned out! i just hope rafe gets some form of redemption arc or SOMETHING because he truly is just a product of his toxic, abusive environment and i know he’s good at heart. (it helps that drew is my dream man tho) *title inspired by chapstick by hippo campus*

summary: there’s a huge storm in the obx one night and y/n is stuck at the diner she works tirelessly at. little does she know that her beloved diner is about to become refuge for the last person she’d ever dream of feeling empathy for.

warnings: none! fluff overload

word count: 7.6k (meep)

You had been working at this cafe by the beach for a couple of years now, ever since you had turned 16. You needed the money to save for college and get the hell out of your house and, one day, the Outer Banks. It’s not that you didn’t love it there, because of course you did. It was home after all but you just knew that you were meant for more. But, it had been almost four years at this cafe, two at the closest community college, and things weren’t looking good on the whole “meant for more” front. Lost as ever, you just kind of took every day as it came and tried to keep a smile on your face as you did so. It wasn’t a particularly hard life, nor was it ridiculously painful, but you couldn’t help but think of what sixteen year old Y/N would have thought of you four years older in the same shitty apron and clunky work shoes.

Much like your life hadn’t changed much in the last four years, the cafe hadn’t changed since before you were born. The same old people came in on the same days at the same times, which was good because it meant you got to know them really well, usually meaning bigger tips for you, but it was kind of a slap in the face with the whole complacency thing. You were the youngest people ever in that building, besides Mildred’s granddaughter Celia who came in for brunch every Sunday at 10:45 (right after mass), and since this is where you spent pretty much all your time, your dating life was also suffering. This obviously wasn’t the most pressing variable in the situation, but it was a variable all the same and it wasn’t like you could pretend like you didn’t notice. Because you did. Every time a love song from the 60’s came on the cafe playlist you noticed. Whenever Ester and Charles came in for their Monday morning coffees and Thursday evening dinners, you noticed. Sometimes you’d be doing nothing at all and you’d notice. It was kind of impossible to ignore. You weren’t one to obsess over boys because, frankly, there weren’t any you were interested in. This was a small island, you knew your options and you were far from impressed. Sure some of them were attractive, but that usually also meant they had rocks for brains and that was just not something you were willing to indulge just because you were desperate for a warm body. This was your life for right now and you were just going to have to be ok with it. And you were. For the most part.

The good thing is that you didn’t hate your job. Food service wasn’t glamorous but the cafe was sort of like a second home to you, and since you had been there for so long the owners really trusted you. The couple that owned the place weren’t as young as they were when they opened it 25 years ago so any chance they got to hand the keys over to you for the night, they took gladly. Tonight was one of those nights. It was pouring outside as you started the closing duties. Sweeping, wiping down the tables, polishing the glassware, typical restaurant stuff. It was actually kind of relaxing.

You were on your fourth set of mugs when you were startled by the bell above the front door jingled delightfully. It was only 9 PM so you didn’t technically close for another hour, but your usual crowd tapped out at around 7:30. But, then you realized that this customer was a part of your usual crowd. Oh no, this 6’4” twenty something in board shorts and a half-buttoned shirt was far from that. He was soaked from head to toe, his horrific Sperry’s squelching as he made his way toward the counter, looking around. He couldn’t see you from your spot hidden around the corner to the kitchen back by the dishwasher, but you could see him bright and clear.

“Hello? Is there anyone here?” His tall body and broad shoulders did not match the apprehensive tone of his voice, and it certainly was a far cry from the way you had heard him speak before.

You stepped out from around the corner wordlessly, your towel and mug still in hand. He jumped in surprise before you could say anything.

“Jesus Christ!”

You jumped back at his mini outburst, “You’re the one that asked if anyone was here!”

He rest his hands on the counter and huffed out a laugh, “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he looked up, his hair (as well as the rest of him) completely soaking wet and dripping all over your freshly mopped floors, and his eyes closed in on you, “Do I know you?”

“We, uh, we went to school together. Class of 2018. You’re uh Rafe Cameron, right?” You tried to be casual, but you knew exactly who he was. Rafe Cameron: public deviant and resident party boy of Figure Eight. Needless to say you never ran in the same circle, but it was impossible not to know who he was. Some may have called in infamy.

Straightening up he smacked a hand to his forehead and then started pointing at you, snapping. “Yes duh! And you’re-” more snapping, “God it’s been so long….Something with an ‘M’?”

You knew he had never known your name, but you kind of liked that he was pretending. “It’s Y/F/N Y/L/N. I think we had geometry together sophomore year.”

“That must be why I don’t remember you, I never went to that class. Mrs. Reynolds was a bitch.”

Normally you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes at a man calling a woman a bitch but in this instance he was absolutely correct. “She was the worst,” you laughed nervously.

There was a beat of awkward silence when you remembered what you were being paid for, “Oh so did you, um, did you want something to eat?”

He looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language until he also seemed to remember what your job was, “What? Oh, uh, no. Not really.”

“Ok...do you want coffee or anything?” You asked, confused.

“I actually only came in because this was the only place within like ten miles that had its lights on. You do know there’s a tropical storm coming, right?”

You did not know there was a tropical storm coming. At around 7 you turned the radio off and took aux, simultaneously cutting off any and all emergency weather reports. You could tell that the storm was rough, but it was rare for a tropical storm this time of year.

“Is that why you’re soaking wet? You got that bad just from walking inside here?”

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at the ground, “No, actually, I got this bad from riding my bike for the last hour.”

Wanting to avoid another awkward pause you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Well that’s pretty stupid.” You immediately covered your mouth with your free hand, a hot, crimson blush creeping up your neck and taking refuge all across your cheeks. The awkward pause would have been favorable.

However, instead of flipping you off and calling you a dumb slut like he and his friends had been known to do in high school, he looked back up at you and laughed. You hoped it was with you instead of at you, so you forced a laugh back. It was hard not to, his face completely changed when he laughed. It was as if all of his features shifted into something softer, rounder, open. You had gone to school with Rafe Cameron your whole life and never before would you have ever dared to describe him as warm, but that’s exactly what the person laughing on the other side of the counter was. It was almost off-putting.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking stupid. But, in my defense, it wasn’t raining when I got on my bike. And I didn’t have much of a choice.” The last sentence fell off his tongue a little harder, a little darker.

“What happened?” You weren’t sure why tonight was the night you had decided to speak on impulse, but you were really starting to question why lobotomies were frowned upon. It seemed like you could use one.

He clearly didn’t want to answer, with the way he sighed and focused his attention on the cup of coffee stirrers on the counter in front of him, but he did anyway. “You know how parents are. The old man was just sick of looking at me tonight, I guess.” His tone was casual, but his gaze on the coffee stirrers was anything but. Happy people don’t look at inanimate objects like that.

You let his omission sit in the air for a moment, making sure you didn’t say anything stupid again before settling on the one thing you knew to be a sure fire antidote. “I think you should drink some hot cocoa.”

He looked up at you and tried to wave the suggestion off, “Nah it’s ok. This storm will be over any minute now and then I’ll head out. Besides, you’re cleaning and I’m interrupting you.” He went to turn around and sit in some of the chairs but you had already turned on the machine.

“Don’t be stupid, this storm is going to stick around for awhile. You might as well get comfortable.” The hot cocoa finished and you topped it off with whipped cream and brought it to his spot at the table closest to the counter.

He looked from the mug to you and back again, doing that thing with his neck again. “This is really nice, Y/N, but, uh, I don’t have any money.”

You scoffed and walked away, “Yeah, ok, Mr. Tannyhill.”

He got a little quieter, “No, uh, I’m serious. My dad cut me off. None of my cards work.” You turned around and saw him looking down at his shoes. His broad frame slouching over onto itself, making him look almost small.

“Don’t worry about it. I was never going to make you pay for it anyway. Just promise I can have a sip, yeah?” You tried to keep the conversation light so he didn’t freak about the amount of honesty he was sharing with you. Why was he being so honest? Why was he talking to you at all? You suppose it would have been awkward if he had just walked in, not ordered anything, and sat down without a word, but that still didn’t explain the brutal honesty about his homelife.

He smiled at you and laughed, “Yeah, I promise. You can have as many sips as you want.”

You returned a soft smile back and pointed to the kitchen, “I, uh, I have some other stuff in the back I need to finish up real quick. Make yourself at home, I guess.” And you turned around quickly, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way back into the safety of the dishroom.

Back in the safety of the dishroom you had time to actually process what was happening for the first time all night. There you were, desperate for something in your life to start, and then all of a sudden something jolted you awake. Maybe you were being dramatic for the sake of entertainment, but as a big believer in the universe and the purposeful things it sends our way, you were not about to take this for granted. He was being so kind - so very the opposite of the Rafe you had heard the stories about for years and years. But there was more to it, the kindness didn’t even seem like an active choice. He just was. From the way he tentatively looked around for another soul in the storm, to the guilty look on his face when he couldn’t pay for the drink you had made for him (it was true, by the way. You really were never going to make him pay for it. His surprise made you wonder when was the last time he had been shown a random act of kindness like that. You felt your heart hurting for him), he was just kind and scared and considerate. Although, you might have just been romanticizing the one interaction you had had with a guy in God knows how long. It didn’t help that his shirt was almost all the way unbuttoned and completely soaked through. You weren’t even letting yourself think about the way his hair was stuck to his forehead and in his eyes, because if you thought about it you were afraid you might offer up your hand in marriage.

All this not thinking about his hair had really distracted you from your cleaning, so you were even further behind. You still had four racks of mugs to wash and dry as well as three containers of silverware to sort. Normally, you would have been by now. But normally, there wasn’t a soaking wet boy in your cafe.

Just when you were almost done not thinking about him, you heard his voice coming from somewhere much closer than the table by the window. “Um, do you need any help?” He asked from the doorway.

You jumped, almost dropping the mug in your hand.

“We should probably stop sneaking up on each other, you might end up breaking a mug,” He chuckled as he walked towards you, tugging a dry towel off the rack by the door. “So, where do we start?”

You stared blankly back at him, not trusting your brain to come up with something intelligent to say.

He chuckled offhandedly at your agape mouth, taking the wet mug from your hands and drying it before setting it on the rack with the rest, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer. And, even better, it might just restore my image,” He paused and held his hands out in front of him with a grand gesture, “‘Outer Banks Playboy and Coke Addict Rafe Cameron Attempts Manual Labor’ That’ll be a hit for sure. Do you have any more washed mugs or should I do that too?”

Snapping out of your trance, you cleared your throat and pulled out a rack of freshly washed mugs and set them in front of you both. He was standing so close to you that you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him through his soaked shirt.

“You know, we have extra uniform shirts in the back. I could get you one,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“A job offer, huh? I’m impressing you that much already?”

You felt yourself start to blush again, “No, uh, I just meant because you’re probably cold. It’s not good to stay in wet clothes. If you don’t want one that’s fine I just thought-”

He stopped your train of thought when he rested a hand on top of the one you had been using to scrub the same spot on the mug you had been scrubbing since you started talking, “I’d really appreciate that, Y/N. Now, set the poor mug down. It never did anything to you,” it could have been teasing, but it honestly didn’t sound like anything other than him trying to ease the tension you were so obviously feeling.

You nervously laughed and walked out of the kitchen to get the shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. Returning with what you hoped was the right size, you stepped into the kitchen still not looking at him, “I didn’t know what size you would want, but it was between this and a XS and that just seemed unrealistic.”

When you finally looked up you fully almost passed out. There was Rafe Cameron, in your cafe dish room, topless. He was standing over the drain on the ground, wringing out his other shirt. His biceps tensed with each twist of his arms and you swear you heard yourself gulp. He looked up at you as you finished talking, straightening up and giving you a full view of him. While you had run in different circles in high school, you weren’t blind. And you definitely weren’t stupid. Rafe had always been good-looking. This wasn’t a shock. It was completely a context thing. But that didn’t change the fact that suddenly your mouth had gone dry as you tried to somehow drink in the image of his entire body without coming off as some freak with zero social skills.

“Just toss it here, thanks,” he caught it with one hand (sexy) and slipped it over his head, doing that thing where boys shake out their hair after putting a shirt on, and smoothing it out over his chest and stomach. “Fits like a damn glove.” He shot back another one of those uncharacteristically enthused smiles before setting his wet shirt on top of the washing machine and getting back to work on the mugs. “Are you just gonna stand there, Y/L/N or are you gonna help me?”

You slowly made your way back over to him, too nervous to make any sudden movements. What if you just blinked for too long and suddenly he was gone? Finally getting back to work, you stood further away from him this time

“I don’t bite,” he whispered to you as he leaned in close to your ear.

Laughing nervously you scooted to the side a little closer, “Sorry. I’m just, surprised, that’s all.”

“Not everyday someone so good looking turns up at your door and offers you free labor?”

“I was more so thinking about it being you specifically, the ‘Outer Banks Playboy’ and all. This doesn’t really seem your speed,” you shrugged as you placed another dry mug on the rack.

He sighed, “Yeah, well, the outer banks playboy hasn’t really done me any favors recently. I think I’d much rather move at this speed.”

You scoffed, “I hate to break it to ya buddy but the speed you’re referring to might as well be a standstill. Nothing about this place has changed in the last 25 years and that includes the customers. I’d take Playboy over Groundhogs day any time. Much more glamorous.”

“I’m not so sure about glamorous, Y/N...you did hear me say that I’m completely broke, right? Doesn’t really scream luxury.”

You faltered, surprised that he brought this up again on his own accord. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” You started after a pause, “But what happened that was so bad that your dad kicked you out in the middle of a tropical storm?”

Stopping his motions completely, he set the halfway dried mug down and sighed, closing his eyes, “To be honest, this happens like every week. Nothing really happens, it's just like, he remembers I exist and picks something to be mad about. This week it was because I didn’t go to college, one of his personal favorites,” He laughed in spite of himself and shook his head, focusing back on the mug, “The one thing that changed was that I couldn’t take it anymore. I just got on my bike and left. I’ve been staying at Top’s since but then his parents kicked me out after Ward told some lies about how useless I was and how they shouldn’t enable me...maybe they weren’t lies, but it’s still fucked.”

You had long since forgotten the mug you were supposed to be drying, too focused on looking up at him to make sure he wasn’t going to crack at any moment. He didn’t seem emotional about all this but that just made you even more nervous. You reached out to set your hand on top of his gently, a sign of camaraderie. “Rafe, that- that is so fucked up. I’m so sorry. I had heard stories about Ward but that...wow…”

“Pretty fucking unbelievable, huh?” He scoffed, “What a stand up guy. I haven’t even done anything to piss him off in months. He didn’t even notice that I stopped doing blow…”

You tried not to show any visible signs of that news shaking you to your core - you thought the coke addict thing had been a joke.

He shook his head and started working on the mug again, finishing off the last in your guys’ stock. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you all of this. I’d be super fucking weirded out if I were you...sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind,” You said sweetly, tossing your used towel in the hamper. “I don’t get a lot of company around here, so I take what I can get. Daddy issues be damned.”

He let out another one of those honest-to-God laughs again which you were relieved by. It was amazing how easy being with him was considering everything you had thought you had known about him. Some people really do change after high school, huh.

“You’re funny,” he remarked as he finished up laughing, swinging his towel over his shoulder and running his hands through his hair, “So...what’s next boss?”

“I still have some silverware to bag up but you really don’t have to help me, I’m a big girl I can handle it myself. Besides, you’ve had a long day of being homeless.” You joked, grabbing the silverware and setting up to sort them. He made no sign of moving. You rolled your eyes, “Rafe, I’m serious. I can get this done in like twenty minutes,” and turned away from him to focus on the task at hand.

Almost as soon as you were done talking though, he was already right beside you, “But if I help we can be done in ten. What kind of asshole would I be to let the beautiful girl I burdened with my presence work while I sat and did nothing?” And, with that, he pulled out another tray of silverware and got to sorting. All you could do was smile to yourself and try not to look at him. If you did you were sure you’d embarrass yourself with the blush and giant smile stretched across your face. This truly seemed like a dream. Too good to be true. It was no passionate affair, but it was more than enough for you. As you finished the silverware (he was right, it did take ten minutes), you found yourself hoping that the storm was raging even harder than before, with no signs of stopping.

Once you finished the last chore of the night, it was time to face the fact that it was too unsafe to travel anywhere for the time being. It was creeping further into the night and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tired, but you would seriously be damned if you did anything to miss out on the absolute miracle unfolding before you. So, you tried to plow through it regardless of how completely exhausted you were.

Rafe was in the middle of trying to build a pyramid out of the menu cards from the tables while you sat opposite of him, rotating through the same three apps on your phone like you had been for the last 45 minutes when you let out the most dramatic yawn of your life.

The pyramid toppled over and Rafe sighed, “This is stupid. We need to talk about a game plan.”

“What-what do you mean?” You struggled to ask through your second yawn.

“You’re clearly exhausted so we should probably decide who is sleeping where since I doubt there’s going to be any chance I’m getting back on that bike any time within the next eight hours,” He paused to survey the small cafe, clearly trying to come up with a solution. “There’s a booth over in that corner that looks like it might work, and the stools at the counter have some cushions we could remove for pillows….I’m sure my shirt is probably dry by now for you to use as a blanket…”

“First of all, you can keep your shirt. Really, I’ll be fine,” You pretended to be annoyed but truthfully, the thought of curling up with something of his made you want to sob. “Second, I can just sleep on the floor. I’m the one that cleans it so I don’t really mind.”

He was already up and gathering the cushions off the stool, “Just shut up and let me be a gentleman. It’s handled.” And, before you could say no, he was arranging a couple of cushions on the booth, fluffing them for dramatics. “It’s beautiful.” Truthfully, it was a 25 year old glorified couch cushion with two paper thin cushions resting on top of it. But sure, beautiful would work.

“Well this is very sweet but I can’t let my guest sleep on the floor…”

“Guests are usually invited, I don’t think I count. Now! Into bed you go. You’ve had a long day.” He gestures towards the booth.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You asked tentatively, hoping he’d say right next you.

He shifted his weight back and forth between the heels and balls of his feet, “Erm, probably in that corner with the rug. Don’t worry, I saved a stool cushion for myself though.”

“This is so stupid-”

He put a finger on your lips and shushed you, your eyes surely popping out of your skull. Once he was sure you were done talking, he rested both of his hands on your shoulders, easing you down onto the booth. Convinced he had cast some sort of spell, you didn’t put up a resistance and sat down, still looking up at him with a stunned expression.

“What’s stupid is you refusing kindness from Rafe Cameron. People aren’t going to believe you when you tell them so you might as well milk it for all its worth, sweetheart,” His voice was a little breathier than before and your mouth seemingly had gone dry because of it.

Sweetheart. Shit.

When you didn’t say anything, he squeezed one of your shoulders and laughed to himself, “I’m trying this new thing where I put good in because I heard that’s how you get good out. How am I doing so far?”

You tried to speak but nothing came out at first which made you want to crawl in hole and die of embarrassment, but then you cleared your throat and nodded, “Um...yeah! So far so good.”

He smiled and straightened up (you already missed the feeling of his hands on your shoulders, on you period), “That’s what I like to hear. Well...I’m gonna turn off the lights and head over to my corner.” He paused for a second before turning around and then again before he got to the lights, this time turning back towards you, “Thank you, uh, again, for being so cool. Sorry for ruining your night.”

He turned the lights off.

You heard yourself halfway whispering “This has been one of the best nights of my life” before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

“Mine too,” you heard from an even quieter voice as something linen was draped gently across your back and shoulders.

And then it was quiet, and you fell asleep praying to God you wouldn’t wake up in your bed in the morning.

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

When you woke up suddenly, jolting straight up in bed - well, booth - after a particularly loud thunder clap you truly had no idea where you were or whose shirt was draped over your shoulder. It wasn’t until you heard a voice from a disembodied lump in the other corner that the memories of the previous four-ish hours hit you like a truck.

“You snore.”

It was pitch dark but you knew you were red as a beet. Death seemed preferable.

“Don’t worry, it’s the cute kind. Like the little ones, not the chainsaw ones.” There was a tenderness in his voice that would have made you fall over if you weren’t already sitting down.

“Is that why you’re still up? Because I was being loud? I’m so sorry-”

You heard him shift and groan, his body adjusting against the stone floors, “No, no. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Too much going on up here, ya know,” he paused, “I’m uh pointing at my head...it’s dark.”

You let out a laugh and laid back against the cushion, “I kinda figured.”

“Yeah that was stupid I don’t know why I felt the need to clarify,” he laughed back.

A comfortable silence fell over you two for a moment once the laughter died out.

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed and shifted again, “I’ve already kind of talked your ear off I think.”

“I don’t mind.”

When he didn’t respond immediately you started to get nervous that you had overstepped. You were just about to tell him to forget it, that he didn’t owe you any sort of explanation, when you heard what sounded like a sniffle. Rafe Cameron was fucking crying.

“It’s just uh,” you could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and your heart shattered, “I’m just tired of being the bad guy, I guess. I just wish I could do the right thing, ya know?” He paused, “Do you ever just- just you know, wish you could change everything about yourself?”

You turned on the booth towards the direction of his voice and sighed, “Every day of my life.”

He let out a wet, pathetic laugh, “Yeah. It sucks.”

Another pause, this time not so quiet as you heard him try to catch his breath.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?” He sounded nervous.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” The fondness you had discovered that you had for him was seemingly filling you up completely. Every corner of your body was full of it. You hoped he could hear it. You hoped he believed you.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said through another wet laugh, “But you might be the only one.”

This time, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you grabbed his shirt and the cushions he had used to make your bed and walked to where his voice was. The light from the security lamp on the corner of the building filtered through just barely so you can see the outline of his trembling body. There was a broken boy at your feet and you set the cushions down beside him, draping the shirt over him like he had for you and laid down next to him. It was intimate, your front pressed against his back as you held him through the cries he still was hoping you couldn’t hear, but that was it. You didn’t need or want anything besides him being able to feel the tenderness coming from you.

After a few moments he gave, turning to face you as he rested his head on your chest and let out a real sob. He grabbed onto you as if you could get up and go at any moment and your fingers threaded through his hair gently, doing anything you could think of to soothe him. He kept mumbling apologies to you but you just shushed him and held on tighter, trying not to let your own tears fall.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sobbed into your chest, your work shirt becoming soaked.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

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

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke up the events of the night before immediately popped in your head. Partly because they were arguably the most exciting things to happen to you in years, but also because it was sort of hard to forget with there was a sleeping boy on top of you.

His arms were wrapped around you and half on your side, half on your back, and fully uncomfortable. The stone had not been kind to your back, and the weight of 6’4” Rafe Cameron didn’t really help, but hell would freeze over before you dared move and disturb the peace before you. His eyelashes were so long they rested on the top of his cheek as he snored just the littlest bit, his bottom lip pouting out as he did so. The storm had caused his hair to get soaking wet just for it to dry chaotically around his forehead. It wasn’t his normal slicked back look, but rather unkempt and surfer-like. It was falling on his forehead perfectly and every time you breathed it shifted just the tiniest bit.

By some miracle it was a Sunday which meant you didn’t open until 10 am and judging by the way the sun was barely creeping above the ocean, you guessed it was probably somewhere between 7 and 8. You knew that eventually you both would have to move, but not yet. Please, God. Not yet. Because if he moved, that meant he would leave, and you weren’t prepared to cope with that kind of loss so early in the morning. Or ever, possibly.

It was almost embarrassing how much you cared about this boy that you were almost certain was a sociopath twenty four hours ago. But now it was as if everything had ever known had changed. Everything seemed brand new: The sun, the stone beneath your spine, the shape of his lips. This might have been some fluke that he would pretend never happened, but you knew in your heart that nothing could ever be the same for you after this. What a crushing blow to know that your life was able to change without your permission.

Before you could get too philosophical before noon, your worst fear was confirmed as you felt him shift. It was endearing to see him be so human in those first few moments of awake-ness. He removed himself from your skin, resting up on one of his elbows, as he wiped his eyes and tried to piece together exactly what had happened to make him end up in this very position. After he had looked around and decided he was in no mortal danger, his tired eyes fixed on you. They were still a little puffy from all of the crying, but they hadn’t lost the softness you caught yourself getting lost in.

“Good morning,” His voice was gravel in the morning and you jotted that down as a fun fact to bury deep in your memory in case you never got to hear it again.

“Good morning,” You couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed by how small your voice sounded. He was goddamn breathtaking this early in the morning.

He looked around again, shaking his head slightly as if to shake off the exhaustion, “What time even is it?”

“I’m not sure, my phone is dead, but I’m going to guess sometime before 8.”

To your surprise, his elbow dropped and he rested himself right back against you, nuzzling slightly, “Too early. Need sleep.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you apprehensively threaded your fingers through his hair, “I can’t argue with that logic, but the cafe does open in two hours and I think my smell might offend some of the customers.”

He put his face against your chest and sniffed slightly before resting his cheek again, “You smell great. Screw the customers.”

You wanted to stay there all day but there was just no way. If it wasn’t Fran and Neil banging on the door at 10 AM sharp like they do every Sunday, it was going to be your parents sending out a search party. You may be 20, but you still lived under their roof and they never let you forget it. “Rafe…”

Rolling over onto his back he sighed, “I know, I know. I should probably go.” He started to get up when you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“No! No that’s, uh, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you don’t have to go anywhere. You can hang out here all day if you want for all I care. It’s a free country!” You were rambling. “I just need to get some clean clothes and shower before this six hour shift, that’s all.”

“Y/N, I’m not going to stay here while you go home. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He started to get up again and this time you didn’t stop him, conceding to defeat. You were already burying this whole night deep in the recesses of your mind where the memories of it couldn’t hurt you when he held his hand out, “Need help up? That stone is a bitch.”

Once he had helped you up you both just sort of stopped and stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat and started to look around, “Besides, I uh have some things I need to take care of anyway.”

You nodded and crossed your over your chest, “Yeah, yeah I get it. Good luck, with everything.”

He nodded awkwardly back at you, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, need it,” He tried to laugh but it sounded so forced it just made you even sadder.

You were about to respond when he leant down and gave you the quickest kiss on the cheek known to man. Another awkward nod and he was turning on his heels towards the door. “I’ll see you around?” He asked as he swung the door open.

“You know where to find me.”

And with that, he was out the door and one his bike. You didn’t know where he was going, but it was away, and that was just enough to break your heart.

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

The rest of the day was torture. Your usual Sunday morning customers were not as charming as they usually were, the sun wasn’t bouncing off the coastline as it usually did, and the mundaneness of your life wasn’t as easy to ignore as it once was. After he had left you set the cushions back where they belonged and got into your car and headed home. Before you left though, you saw his shirt laying on the floor where your two bodies had shared sleep and you took it with you as you left. You knew it was best to forget that this had ever happened, but you’d do that after the smell of him mixed with the rain faded from the cotton. Upon returning home you were lectured by your parents for not telling them where you were, and during the middle of a storm, for crying out loud! But nothing they said had any meaning. You hated yourself for how melodramatic you felt, but you couldn’t help it. What were you supposed to do after a night like that? Move on? Seemed unrealistic, in all honesty.

You got ready for work and managed to trudge through the work day until close again. The cafe closed early on Sundays, thank God, so by 6:30 you were locking the doors and were back in the kitchen sorting silverware drying mugs (both of which made you want to cry whether you wanted to admit it or not) when you heard a bang on the glass doors out front. Scared out of your mind, you grabbed a dirty knife and slowly turned the corner. But when you saw the person on the other side of the door, the knife was forgotten as you dropped it and hurtled toward the lock.

As soon as Rafe saw you his face broke open, his smile just amplified by the sunsetting behind him. He was in different clothes now, but his hair looked the same and he looked so much happier than the last time you saw him. You fumbled with the lock until you finally got it, swinging the door open and letting in a giant current of ocean spray, wildflowers and him, him, him.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face but you tried to come off as casual anyway, “Back so soon? We’re closed you know...This time it actually is an imposition. If this is just your master plan to get free hot chocolate you are sorely mistaken sir.”

He waited for you to stop rambling to ask politely, that smile still all over his face, “Can I come in?”

You wordlessly moved out of the way as he stepped in and turned back to you.

“So what do I owe to this great pleasure? Did you forget something-”

But before you could get the whole sarcastic remark out, your lips were being crushed by something soft and desperate. His hands cupped either side of your face as he kissed you wildly. Your hands immediately found the nape of his neck and you leaned in even closer to him, trying to make it clear that he could wield you any way he wanted.

He pulled a part far too soon, his breath completely uneven in a way that made you feel like you were dreaming, “Uh yeah, actually. That. I forgot that.”

His hands were still on your face, yours still in his hair, “Well what took you so long then?” You laughed, just as breathless as him.

“I was too busy trying to convince my dad that I was a good person. It took a couple of hours, but I don’t think he hates me anymore. He reopened all of my cards and is letting me live in the guest house-”

“That’s great Rafe!”

“On one condition...” He sounded nervous, but the faintest trace of a smile still danced across his lips.

Your voice lowered, “I’m nervous.”

“I have to get a job…” He paused waiting for you to catch on, but you just stared blankly back at him. You were still reeling from that kiss. “And I guess I was hoping that this very cafe might be hiring?”

Your smile got even wider and your whole body felt like it was glowing, “You know what I think we are,” You all but giggled.

His hands fell to your hips where he squeezed slightly, laughter bubbling off his tongue, “Perfect! When can I interview?”

“Right now!” You enthusiastically pushed him into the chair behind him and he fell back less than gracefully. “Who is the best employee at this cafe?”

“Hmmmmm I don’t know, Y/N, you did give away free hot chocolate...That doesn’t seem very business conscious.”

“Do you want the job or not?” Your eyebrows raised at him as a warning.

He laughed again and looked up at you again and grabbed your hands, pulling you between his legs, “I think you are not only the best employee at this cafe, but the best looking employee at any cafe that has ever been built.”

You scoffed and threw one of his hands off yours, pushing his shoulder.

“So did I get the job?”

You looked down at him and smiled, unable to even pretend to be annoyed, “Well, Mr. Cameron, I have reviewed the facts and it looks like you’ll be the perfect fit. Luckily for you, flattery will get you everywhere.”

He smirked at you and pulled you into his lap, “Oh yeah? I like the sound of that.” His voice was slightly teasing but there was no mistaking his hot breath against your neck.

“Get your mind out of the gutter! I was strictly speaking professionally.” The blush was creeping all over your body when he pulled away.

“So was I, boss. What do you take me for?” He feigned hurt and you saw right through it.

Deciding to tease him right back, you raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you seriously want me to answer that?”

With that he scoffed and rolled your eyes at you, giving up on your games. You laughed in his face and wrapped your arms back around his neck, assuring him you were just teasing. It didn’t take much convincing because soon he had forgiven you, his lips back on yours in an instant.

You went to sleep that night thanking your lucky stars for that worn down cafe and the tropical storm that brought him to you, still not being able to believe your luck. Sleep came for you as images of his smile fluttered past your eyelids, a smile permanently tattooed on your lips.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #outer banks #rafemaybank wrote this #rafe cameron fluff

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fromtheboundlesssea · 4 years

Text

Love’s Not Always Wise Ch 35

Celia XII

Lord Edmure was handsome, there was no denying that. He looked a little like Robb, only his features were more like those of the Riverlords while Robb had the face of the North. However, while he was a handsome man, he was still one of Robb’s men and all eyes were constantly upon him as the new lord of Riverrun as well as the king’s uncle.

“If I may,” he said. “I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the Stone Mill which may have some bearing—“

“Please,” the Blackfish said. “Cease this chatter about the mill, it was a pointless victory and barely one at that.”

“I think—“

“It is a blunder,” the Blackfish stated firmly. “It was no victory.”

Celia listened as the Tully men argued. She waited for Robb to speak, wondering when he would do so. He stared outside the window as though he wished to be anywhere but there. He looked South, to where their sisters were.

She could see the annoyance rolling off her brother’s back like dark clouds. He was angry and she knew that their father saw him to be quite like their Uncle Brandon.

Celia wanted to say something, offer some word of advice or comfort. But she was Lord Stark’s disgrace, allowed by the grace of her brother’s title to stay in the halls of his mother’s girlhood. She held far too much respect for Lady Catelyn to force her opinion when it was barely one at all.

Robb spoke out then, rebuking his uncle and any words that Celia might have said died upon her tongue. “It's not about glory,” he said. “Your instructions were to wait for Tywin to come to you.”

“I seized an opportunity,” Lord Edmure said firmly.

Robb sighed. “What value is the mill?”

“The Mountain was garrisoned across the river from it.”

“And is he there now?” Robb asked. “Of course not.”

“We took the fitting to him,” Lord Edmure insisted. “He could not withstand us.”

“I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west,” Robb said firmly. “Into our country where we could surround him and kill him. I wanted him to chase us, which he would have done because he is a man without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now. Instead, I have a mill.”

“We took hostages,” Lord Edmure continued. “Willem and Martyn Lannister.”

“These boys are barely fourteen or fifteen and I once held the Kingslayer. Did Tywin Lannister ever sue for peace? Did I? No, having two Lannister cousins will do nothing.”

“How many men did we lose?” Celia asked.

Robb’s gaze shifted to her, she could feel it against her skin even as she looked away. She could still remember the touch of his skin to hers, the heat of his body radiating through her own and the sound of his growls in her ear. She blushed and glanced down at her hands as Lord Edmure answered.

“For every man we lost, the Lannisters—“

“We need our men more than Tywin Lannister needs his,” Robb said firmly.

“I’m sorry,” Lord Edmure said “I didn’t know.”

“You would have, had you waited,” Robb continued.

“We seem to be running short on patience,” the Blackfish said.

“You know who isn’t?” Robb scoffed. “Tywin Lannister.”

Continue on Ao3

#jonsa #robb stark x oc #robb stark #celia snow #celiaverse #my writing #love’s not always wise

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

TITLE: The Arrangement CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: the-resal10 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being in an arranged marriage with Loki. You aren’t too unhappy about it, but he is and is at times rude to you. You two argue and bicker a lot before you both begin to fall in love.

Imagine you are marrying Loki. It was an arranged marriage and you are not too happy about it. Loki is quite happy as he has always secretly liked you. But he sees how unhappy you are and plays along.

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: So it has been a LONG time since I submitted one of these (like two yrs), I apologize in advance if there are any typos or I made any mistakes with the way I submitted this. There are two imagines for this and they kinda intertwine so yeah, keep that in mind. Thank you for reading and I appreciate any feedback.

Chapter 1: Reconnection

The bright, warm sunlight shined on his face as he peacefully slept in bed. He slowly awoke and blocked the sunlight out of his eyes with his hand before sitting up in bed. He wiped the sleep off his face before getting out of bed and getting dressed for the day.

Loki happily walked down the corridor to the throne room where he was called by his parents. “Good morning,” He said to his mother, kissing her cheek, then bowing to his father, who sat on the throne. “You’ve called for me?”

“Yes, I have news for you and your brother.” he answered.

The doors opened and Thor entered. He gave his mother’s cheek a kiss then bowed to his father before taking his place next to his brother.

“Now that you both are here, I can give you the news I received last night.” Odin said, “My sons, as you know your mother and I made an agreement with leaders outside of Asgard for an arranged marriage between their eldest daughters and both of you. Well, the time has come for you to reconnect with your fiance and wed her.”

“Reconnect? They’re coming here?” Thor asked.

“Yes. They’ll both be arriving this afternoon.” Frigga happily said.

“But it’s been so long.” Loki said, “We haven’t seen them in years and you still expect us to marry them?”

“Yes, that is why it is called an arranged marriage.” Odin responded. “These marriages will strengthen our alliances with your bride’s father. To end the engagement now would show weakness and create enemies. For the good of Asgard, we must keep peace within the nine realms.”

“I know the news is so sudden,” Frigga said, catching their attention, “but you both knew this was going to happen one day. You know what is expected of you. I know it has been years since you two last spoke to these girls, that is why we agreed to give you some time to catch up with them before the wedding.”

“How long do we have?” Thor asked.

“A couple of weeks. The wedding will have to be within the next month so I want you to do the catching up as soon as possible.” Odin said, “For now, we must get ready for our guests to arrive.”

She peeked her head around the wooden wall and smiled when she saw her eight-year old sister running towards the stables. She quickly hid back in one of the horse’s stalls as her sister got near. “I’m gonna find you!” she said aloud.

She held her breath as she heard footsteps getting closer to the stall, but they continued on to the next stall. She quietly left the stall and snuck up behind her little sister, scaring her and earning a scream from her which made her laugh.

“Rosalind!” her sister pushed her, “you scared me!”

“I’m sorry.” she continued to laugh, “I got you!”

“No fair!”

She cleared her throat, “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I want a redo.”

“Ce, you know I have to leave in like an hour.”

She sighed, “why do you have to go?”

“I already told you. I’m getting married.”

“To a prince. Ugh, it’s not fair.”

“Do you want to marry a prince?”

“No. It’s not fair because you’re gonna leave us behind to live with him.”

“It sucks, I know.”

“You barely know him.”

“We were once childhood friends.”

“But that was a long time ago. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go too, but you know I have to. Nothing can stop this, it’s been arranged.” she crouched down to her height and took her sister’s chin between her forefinger and thumb, “hey, at least it’s me doing this, not you. When you’re my age, you won’t have to worry about being in an arranged marriage because you’ll be able to choose whoever you want to marry. You can fall in love with whoever you want to.”

“I wish you could too.”

“I know, but you know how the rule is. The eldest chosen will never get to experience anything like that because of the arrangement. I’d rather do it so you don’t have to.”

She hugged her, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” they pulled away, “No matter what happens, I know I’ll always have you.”

“Rosalind.” A voice called out, “What are you doing here?”

She stood up and turned to see her father, “I was just playing with Ce before I have to go.”

“I know you’ll miss your sister, Rosalind, but you must get ready to leave for Asgard.”

“I know, father. I’m sorry.”

“The servants have drawn your bath and are waiting for you. Now, hurry to your chambers.”

“Yes, sir.” She picked up the skirts of her dress and ran back to the palace.

Her little sister stood next to their father. “Does she really have to get married?”

“Yes, Celia, she does. Come now.” he picked her up and kissed her temple, “let’s get you changed out of those dirty clothes.”

Rosalind arrived at her chambers where she found the tub waiting for her. As she bathed, the servants gathered her things for her, her clothes were taken from the closet as well as her shoes, her jewelry and notebooks, all were gathered and placed in storage trunks. She entered her room to get dressed and found most of her stuff gone.

There was a knock at her door that stopped her from getting dressed. She answered it to a surprise - her secret lover.

“Mika!” She pulled him into her room and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

He held tightly onto her, “I managed to sneak away from my post and past the guards to see you.” They pulled away, “I had to see you one last time, Rosalind. You’re leaving today and I may never have another chance to see you again.”

“I know. I’ve been dreading this day for the longest.” she hugged him again, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Me too.” he pulled away enough to kiss her, “I can’t believe you have to marry someone you don’t even know. Someone you don’t even love.”

“But I have to, you know I do. If I don’t, my father could have an enemy and a war could break out between our realm and Asgard. I couldn’t do that to him or anyone here, I couldn’t be that selfish.”

He sighed in frustration, “why did it have to be you?”

“Hey.” she cupped his face, “I don’t want your anger to be the last thing I remember about you.” her hands moved to his chest then slowly down his abdomen, “we have a few minutes before the servants return.”

He kissed her again, “How much?”

“At least ten.” her lips hovered over his, “nine if we’re just gonna stand here and do nothing.”

Mika chuckled, picking her up by her waist and holding her close, “how could I not give the beautiful Rosalind a proper, pleasurable goodbye?”

Loki met up with Thor in the corridor. “What took you so long?” He asked as they walked together to the front of the palace.

“My thoughts. I can’t believe they still expect us to do this.”

“It’s an arranged marriage, Loki.”

“Arrangements can be broken.”

“Broken because you don’t want to marry Rosalind. Loki, you and her were once friends.”

“Friends can grow apart as we have.”

“Loki, I’m sure you both will get along just fine. How could you not? She always did like you.”

“Yes, I know.” He looked at his brother, “What about you? How do you feel about this?”

“I’m not really sure. I mean, we knew this day would come and now that it’s here… I’m excited and nervous at the same time. I haven’t seen Josephine in so long.”

“Well, I know you both will get along right away. You and her were the best of friends. I’m surprised that you and Josephine haven’t spoken since we were six.”

Thor chuckled, “Yes, well, I can’t wait to see her.”

The two met their parents outside and stood next to them, waiting for their old friends. Not long after, Josephine arrived first. She approached the royal family and bowed before going over to Thor, and kissing his cheek. He did the same to her.

“It’s been so long. How have you been, Thor?” She smiled.

He smiled. “Good. And you?”

“Just wonderful.” She looked over at his brother, “Loki! It’s so good to see you.”

He gave a small smile, “Hello, Josephine. I hope your trip here wasn’t a problem.”

“Not at all. It feels so good to be back in Asgard.”

“Josephine.” Odin said, “perhaps you’d like a tour of the palace to refresh your memories. We’ll speak with you later. Thor, if you’d be so kind.”

“Of course, Father.” Thor looked back at Josephine, offering his arm. “Come on. Let’s see if you can remember everything.” She took his arm and followed him into the palace.

Minutes later, Rosalind arrived. Loki watched as she approached the royal family with a smile, she bowed before them then stood in front of Loki.

He cleared his throat, “Rosalind, it’s good to see you.” He smiled.

“Prince Loki,” she grinned, “my, how you’ve changed.”

“It’s still the same old me.” He chuckled nervously.

“Rosalind,” Frigga said, “perhaps Loki could show you around, bring back some memories.”

“Alright then. Lead the way, Prince.” She followed Loki into the palace.

When they were alone, Loki turned to her. “I’m sure you remember your way around the palace.“

“Of course. I could never forget. After all, this is my future home.”

“Well then, should I show you to your chambers?” She nodded. He led her down corridors and found her room, “these are your chambers.” He said, pushing the doors in.

She stepped in after him, looking around the room in awe. “Now, the chambers are something I forgot. How could I forget such a beautiful room like this?”

“And your chambers back at home?”

“The palace isn’t as big as this one and neither are the chambers. They’re at least half the size of this one.”

The servants entered the room with Rosalind’s storage trunks. When they left, Loki looked at her, “Well, I better let you settle in.”

“Thank you for showing me to my chambers.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and there will be a party tonight for you and Josephine. I’ll be waiting outside the ballroom whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” She watched Loki leave then went over to the nearest window and looked out at the towns nearby.

Rosalind unpacked her things and made herself at home. When she finished with her chambers, she roamed around the palace, remembering a few things that made her smile to herself.

Towards the evening, she returned to her chambers where a handmaiden waited for her. As she got dressed for the party, Rosalind thought about Loki. Was this arranged marriage something he was okay with? She certainly wasn’t but she didn’t know if Loki felt the same way. To ask him would be wrong. What if he was okay with the arrangement? What if he wanted to marry her?

She was brought back from her thoughts when the handmaiden zipped up her dress. She finished getting ready on her own then she left the chambers in search of the ballroom.

Loki stood outside the ballroom with Thor and Josephine, patiently waiting for Rosalind who quickly made her way toward them. Josephine hugged her tightly, happy to see her.

“Oh, Rosalind, it’s been forever.” She said as they pulled away.

“I know! I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting for so long.”

“We just got here.” Thor reassured, “you don’t need to apologize.”

“Very well then.” She then whispered to Josephine, “we must catch up soon.“

The doors opened, revealing the princes and their future brides. As the couples entered the room, the guests approached them, wanting to meet the girls who were going to marry their princes.

The four got separated during the party. They all spoke with important people about the other, recalling their memories about the other. Nothing bad was said.

As the party continued, most of the guests were enjoying themselves and allowed the couples to enjoy the party before it ended. It was getting late for Rosalind and she decided to leave the party, but she had to find Loki first.

She searched the room before taking a look outside in the nearby courtyard. She saw Loki and Thor standing near a balcony rail. She was ready to approach them but stopped when she heard them talking, their backs were turned to her so they couldn’t see her.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself.” Thor said.

“You know I haven’t.” Loki responded.

He sighed, “Are you telling me you still don’t like the idea after spending a whole day with her?”

“I didn’t spend the whole day with her, I had better things to do.”

“She’s your future wife, Loki. Give her a chance.”

“I don’t want to give her a chance.”

“Loki.”

“How many times do I have to say it? I don’t like this arrangement, I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

Unnoticed, Rosalind slowly stepped back into the ballroom, shocked. Josephine saw her and went over, placing a hand on her arm. “I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay, Rosalind?”

She slowly shook her head, “I, um, I’m feeling a bit off. My head hurts so much.” She lied, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Oh. Well, I can go get Loki so he can…”

“No.” She stopped her, “I’m just gonna leave. Retire to my chambers and get some sleep. I’ll explain it to Loki tomorrow.”

“Okay. I hope you feel better.”

She nodded then left the ballroom, heading straight to her room.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #the-resa10 #the arrangement #chapter 1

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throwaninkpot · 4 years

Text

My reactions to reading RotT. Part 1!

seeing all the books listed before the title page. crying.

to sounis. crying.

I WAS JUST THINKING IN MY REREAD THAT A TABLE OF CONTENTS WOULD BE DOPE.

this would be why he's only just learning to read when we meet him in TaT. bc he has horrific ableist parents and his nurse probably can't read herself, and so she couldn't teach him even if she wanted to.

"I bit him hard on the ball" 😳 "--of his shoulder" 😑

"my father is easygoing" *6 pages later* "one time my father kicked me so hard I had to spend an entire winter in bed" pheris, I'll kill him for you.

good job, gen. take care of the child.

"not everything that is easy for you is easy for the rest of us" holy smokes.

the unified crest!!!! (it reminds me of gen's coat from the official art, but not quite.)

"people love a dancing bear. no one wants to be one."

matching embroidery. awwwwww.

gen, babe, I feel you. I feel you. somedays I would like to be dead if it meant not getting out of bed and seeing people, but I swear to the GODS, gen, don't even joke about being dead. don't you speak that into being.

"if you were dead, we couldn't just leave you alone" they've learned how to deal with him.

he smiles at pheris, and that's the first time he smiles in the books.

"attolia raised an eyebrow, too much a queen to say anything else." I am madly in love.

"at a very minor goddess's altar [...] he closed his eyes and lay still for some time" mystery goddess????????

there's a lot of pheris being distraught by noise and disorder and movement and touch. he liked watching the order of the servants and the bees back at the villa. that's all I'm saying. idk.

gen sees earrings and that Activates Interest, no mask can keep that excitement hidden. heiro is so funny and a good friend.

his family aggressively trying to trick and politick gen into self-care.

they're his family, I just realized. wife and cousins, now that sophos has married helen. sophos was his family in affection before, but now he is legally as well I'm emotions.

"there were eleven, a frustrating number" hmmm. the whole thing with the orange. hmmmm.

"smacking people will not persuade them" idk it worked for gen in KoA.

exchange on pg 71 feels vaguely directed at the fandom.

"as your kind always fall" OKAY, BUT. IS THAT THE FALL OF A THIEF? THE FALL OF A KING'S REIGN? WHAT KIND DOES MOIRA MEAN? IS HE STILL A THIEF?

"men fall in battle [...] they fall ill" SEE, THAT'S PRECISELY WHAT I'M AFRAID OF. H E C K.

"wouldn't it cause confusion having two cleons?" I'm entirely confident that megan whalen turner has never heard the name of jonny sims much less knows who he is and about his infamous naming conventions, but nonetheless, mwt has thrown some major shade at jonny sims.

"verimus pursued the poet lavia, who wrote terrible poetry about celia, one of the queen's attendants" oh?

"why a guard stared at layteres, the second son of baron xortix, and why layteres pretended so poorly not to notice" oh??

costis name drop!!!

"I remember this moment particularly because died clopius died trying to protect the king after the ambush at the roadside tomb" I'm sorry, what?

why do characters keeping writing in-universe fic mocking my boy

Bythesea. By the sea. I'm so angry.

What ambassador hurt Megan that she has to drag their ilk through the mud and fire so

What if Cenna were one of his sisters or a niece

"Costis may still be alive" I'm an idiot, bc of COURSE this takes place during his travels int he mede empire, bc pheris only just got here. but it took until this line for the timeline to click in my head. and for me to realize that irene is pregnant rn. we will see the pregnancy. and....what happens.

"oh, what a lie that was" I see, that is how they say I love you.

I'm so sad. Juridius loved him and used to be his brother. honestly, and you know I don't cuss, but fuck their parents and the household for making a child choose between loving his sibling and being treated well by the rest of his family.

he's singing "the king's wedding night". I can't, I can't. have you no shame, boy.

SOPHOS. XD

gen having a pitcher of water dumped on his head and then just crawling up a wall like a vengeful spider.

my laughter immediately turns to terror. gen, you were JUST given a prophecy that you will die from a fall. be careful!

I keep needing to take breaks bc this is So Much. just the reality of holding this and reading this and turning pages.

"unwanted attention he paid to the women of the court" what is it with sexist ambassadors in these books, huh?

excUSE ME? EXCuse ME? not even nahuserfush was so rude and forward as to call her "irene". please, go kindly impale yourself on gen's hook.

"ugly women do not?" ANSFKSGMDJSHHSV.

KILL.

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

oh, I feel physically sick.

they deserve that. they deserve a little rest, and to take over a council room for a nap and cuddles.

he sexually harrasses and assaults the queen, and HE thinks HE deserves an apology for receiving a modicrum of punishment. I hate that I'm not surprised. I've met his type.

how are people still coming to this country and underestimating them????????????

good, dite has him. dite will be a good influence.

pheris and juridius are both children. this is so cruel of erondites.

gen sailing over the fence. no one told me this was going to be a comedy.

oh.

I spoke too soon about the comedy.

genny.

the only person who has called him genny before was megan on her tumblr, so I read that message in megan's voice. it is also very like megan to request earrings.

the dolphin signet ring returns! (briefly.)

megan, how come relius gets to know how old pheris is but we don't? >:[

okay, enough hmm-ing. you know what? pheris has autism. I was kinda wondering even back in tat, and I'm just very happy.

"by then, I knew why the guard Legarus stared with such anger and misery at Baron Xortix's younger son" okay, this in the context of love and being in love. idk if that's just meant to be him being jealous maybe bc the baron's son is dating someone he likes? or? megan said Legarus the Awesomely Beautiful and Gay.

relius where did you go?????? establishing a spy network mayhaps??? with some kick butt spy ladies like heiro and agape???

"one would have thought relius would be done with love and lovers, but I'd seen a veritable parade of them. none of his affairs lasted long, and I'd witnessed several spats when he showed someone the door." s... s. sexy. sexy relius canon. why. why this. dear God, why this.

the art in the middle is BEAUTIFUL. but the two dead birds at the bottom left corner have me worried for symbolic reasons.

#queen's thief #return of the thief #rott #rott spoilers #qt spoilers #this has been a post

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leafenclaw · 4 years

Text

For the “Ask questions about my WIPs!” game

@inkstainedfingers97 asked:

“Perchance would you be willing to send me a brief summary of the premises of "Gem" and "Fearful Symmetry" ?”

First of all, thank you for asking! ^^

Gem is actually one of my earliest Mentalist works, one of several character studies I wrote in preparation for another story called Visions (which I was supposed to go back to right after Chasing Storms, but then Kindred happened x3). The concept was quite simple, a long drabble in which Lisbon was pondering all the ways Jane reminds her of a diamond (the dazzling smiles, flashy tricks, cutting edges of his personality, the fatal flaw at heart, etc.). That said, 400-ish words in I realised I was pushing that metaphor just a little bit too far? XD So unless I recycle parts of it for Kindred at some point (perhaps for 2x09, with that subplot about a diamond Jane lost in the bullpen? ^^), it’ll probably never see the light of day and to be honest I’m pretty okay with that. x)

Fearful Symmetry is a different animal entirely. I don’t know if you remember 2x10 well, it’s the episode where Jane gets hit by a baseball and gets a concussion, so he spends the whole episode fainting and having intrusive memories of his father? And in one of those memories, you see him and his father conning an old lady and her dying granddaughter. For some reason as I was watching I started thinking on that kid, wondering what would happen to her if she survived after this. Would she think the crystal really saved her, or would she know it’s a con and resent the Janes for it? I followed those thoughts for a while, got mislaid by a few Shakespeare references, and ended up with a story in which Celia (the dying girl) is Red John, because the application of the crystal nearly killed her and she wants revenge on the boy who lied to her. x)

It’s not a happy story. Written in 2nd person from the POV of an extremely unreliable narrator, it’s meant to be an illustration of how a healthy mind can sink into really unhealthy thought patterns because of a single event, how holding onto hate and a desire for revenge usually ends up poisoning your own life, and (as the title implies) it was also meant to be a commentary on thematic parallels between Jane and Red John, how similar they are, how you just need to fill in a few blanks to realise they have the same nature.

Anyway. x) It was SUPER cathartic to write and I was all set to publish as soon as it was done... until a computer mishap ate half my progress (more than 5k gone, I had almost 12k by then), including a scene I struggled a lot on, so it never recovered. I’m still keeping that one on the back-burner though, it’s one of ten stories across all my fandoms that I definitely intend to come back to and complete.

Excerpt under cut. Trigger warnings for obsessive thoughts of hatred and revenge, graphic descriptions of pain, some internalised ableism, and violent rejection of morals and religion. (There may be other things, as I said it’s not a happy story.)

(Feel free to comment but please don’t reblog.)

*****

Fearful Symmetry

*****

"Breathe," says your grandmother softly.

And you do, one laborious inhalation after the other, even as the wet, squelching sound makes you shiver, and the pain tears you apart. You do, and you clutch the crystal against your chest – because it will help, won't it? It must. Your grandmother says so, and the Carney man at the fair said so, and the boy. The boy said so. The beautiful boy who cried for you, with the golden curls that makes you want to giggle and sigh and feel their softness under your fingers. He said so.

"Breathe," repeats your grandmother, and you do – again and again and again and why isn't it working?

"I'm sorry to tell you, ma'am. You were robbed," says the doctor, shaking his head. "Crystals aren't magic. They can't heal anything."

But neither you nor your grandmother will listen to those lies, because you saw it. You saw the blister on the boy's finger heal with your own two eyes. How is that not magic? So you breathe, and breathe again, and cough up phlegm until even your grandmother pales and shakes her head.

*****

"What if – " you ask, then cough some more. "What if it needs to be inside?"

"Direct application," whispers your grandmother, eyes feverish. "Yes! We could put it in your oxygen tank – that should work. It will work, Celia. I promise."

Of course, no doctor will allow her to put a foreign object in your oxygen tank, not even a magic healing crystal that could save you. You should have known. They never took you seriously, even in the beginning. That's why the cancer was allowed to spread so far.

But you and your grandmother know what you're doing. You've seen it work. And when it does, when you're healed, you will walk back to the county fair on your own feet and kiss that boy right on his generous mouth to thank him for everything he did.

One day. If you dare. You need to heal first, for that to happen.

So you and your grandmother talk about it, and come to a decision.

Forget about the doctors.

Trust in the crystal.

Trust in the boy.

"Keep your eyes closed," whispers your grandmother, a handful of carefully grounded crystal in her palm. "I will blow it toward you. And when I say so, take a deep breath, as deep as you can. Are you ready?"

You nod.

"Now!"

You open your mouth wide and breathe, and cough, and open your eyes because it hurts so much, and dust flies in your eyes and your mouth is burning, your eyes are burning, your lungs, NO, burning scratching burning bleeding leaking painpainpain –

You scream.

*****

"What were you thinking!" bellows the doctor, somewhere on the other side of the door.

Your grandmother is crying, all hysterical sobs and blubbering mess, incoherent words of desolation falling out of her mouth like a waterfall. You want to tell her it's not her fault – it's not her fault, it's the boy's. The lying boy with his lying tears and those lying curls of shining gold you still want to feel under your fingers, except now you want to feel his lying throat bobbing up and down as you squeeze it just as much.

You want to tell her, but they hooked you up to your oxygen tank and you can't say a word, and you can't reach out to her either because you can't see with all those bandages covering your eyes.

Can’t, can’t, can’t do anything, anything at all.

"It's a miracle it didn't kill her on the spot!" yells the doctor again.

You can hear the angry breath he takes and releases, almost covering your grandmother's cries.

"Your crystal dust buried itself in the tissues, scarred her lungs and cornea," the doctor adds, so quietly you have to strain your ears to hear him speak. "If she was to live, it would be a miracle for her to escape pneumonia and infections. But as it is..."

You shouldn't be listening to this. But you do, you do even if you're not supposed to, even if you're supposed to be sleeping, and resting, and recovering. That's what they told you to do, anyway. Rest, and don't bother your pretty little head with grown-up talk.

Rest.

Rest in peace.

"Her last days will be painful," concludes the doctor. "Dying will be a kindness."

Your grandmother's wail covers every other sound.

The pang of shock in your mind covers every other thought.

Until shock turns to helplessness.

Then anger.

Then hate.

*****

You lie on your back, eyes closed as the priest anoints your forehead with oil, muttering blessings for your soul. Your grandmother cries softly by your bedside as you take one painful inhalation after the other. They've all given you for dead already, talking about you in past tense, hushed murmurs and sniffles in every corner of the room.

You don't care.

You're such a raw mass of unending pain. Nothing else matters but the burning in your lungs and the fever in your eyes and the pounding in your head that erases all ideas, all thoughts, all emotions.

Except one.

And the growing thirst for revenge sustains you in a way nothing else – no medicine, no prayer, no crystal – ever could.

*****

You never knew there was an emotion so powerful as to conjure up miracles – but if you had, you would have bet on love.

And you would have been wrong.

Love, in the end, wasn't enough to save you. Be it the love of God with its many prayers all through the night, or the love of Science on the altar of which you sacrificed your hair – both utterly failed you. Even the love of your grandmother only brought you worse suffering instead of the promised peace and relief.

Love wasn't enough.

But hate is.

Hate allows you to survive night after night until a full month passes. Hate allows you to hang on by a thread until breathing comes easier, until pain ceases. So slowly at first nobody notices you healing. So slowly at first you don't even notice it yourself.

Until you do.

Until they do.

"It's a miracle. Praises be to God," says the priest, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because there is no miracle, there is no God, there is only hate burning bright and hot inside you, turning the cancer to cinders and coal dust.

"It was the crystal. It gave her back her life," says your grandmother, and you want to tell her to shut up shut up shut up, because the crystal nearly killed you, the crystal scratched your eyes away and even hate couldn't give you back your sight.

"It was the treatment. In a few months, we may be able to graft her a new cornea," says the doctor, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because the medicine was never helpful to begin with, they didn't even bother treating your eye infection properly when they thought you were dying, and when you finally get out of here you will never trust a doctor again.

But you don't say a word – because you may be healed but you're still weak, and arguing over what exactly saved you would be a waste of time, a waste of energy. Instead you let hate eat away at any warm emotion you once felt, shield your mind with its cold, hard shell of frozen magma.

Who cares what they all think anyway? You know the truth, and at night you dream of a thousand humiliations and pains for the boy who grievously betrayed you.

#inkstainedfingers97 #thank you for the ask! ^^#fandom: the mentalist #ship: teacup & handmade socks #ship: smiling tygers #writing #[my stuff]#watch me as I attempt not to panic about excerpts from my WIPs being released into the wild lmao

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hitchell-mope · 4 years

Text

(Third film. After “who I am”. Mal Hades and Uma freeze for a moment. The gravity of their bonding moment sinking in. Then they burst out laughing. And they’re only stopped by Harry flying through the closed french windows and crashing into the gazebo)

Ben: sorry. My bad. He encroached on my personal space

Harriet: he walked past you

Ben: he walked past behind me.

Harriet: so the fuck what?

Mal: Ben’s got a fight or flight response when it comes to the gnome.

Gil: it’s what happens when you do what Harry did to him

Cj: which is what exactly?

Ben: kidnapping me, trying to sell Gil to me, attempted to kill me and was accessory to the almost capsizing of the cotillion yacht that me and all my friends were on

Cj: that is barely worth mentioning and in any

Evie: Ok everyone shut up I need to talk to the happy couple

Harry: I think my legs are broked

Evie: no one cares flapjack face. Ben. Mal. Join me at the kitchen island

Mal: you wanna tell her or shall I?

Ben: umm. Me? (Mal gives him the go ahead). Um. Evie. Uh. Heheh. We sort of decided on most of the um important stuff so you don’t have to plan. You just have organise

Evie: and the four things?

Mal: I can create my new dress with magic. I’m going to ask my mom if I can borrow a necklace. I’ve got the class ring Ben gave me. And I can redo the hair streaks my exposure to the ember made for the ceremony. Sorted

Evie (through a forced, fixed smile): so I’m utterly superfluous

Carlos: pretty much yeah.

Jay: c’mon E. this is probably gonna be the first royal wedding in history where the couple have their heads on screwed on right

Evie: mhmm mhmm yeah yes of that is true however HOWEVER there’s the little slight wrinkle of me being all but shut out from the proceedings

Mal: you’re still in the party. After Jane - oh shit Jane! - and Evie’s fainted. Doug, buddy, could you alert me when she wakes up. I gotta go talk with the guest of honour

(She bustles over your Jane who’s just outside and nursing a large glass)

Mal: hey bud

Jane (slightly glazed look in her eye): heya Mally. How’re hic you doin?

Mal: I actually came over to see how you were doing. I got wrapped in my own drama again. I’m sorry

Jane: ah don’t be. I’ve come to expect. Nothings about me. Never. Not even my own birthdays. You know in my four teeth I got ‘tention?

Mal: no

Jane: Chas copied off me in algebra. Ma thought I cheated. Registration thingumy. Him fore I. So I spent that afternoon clapping erasers. So see. Never bout me

Mal: ah. Well this was supposed to be about you. And I’ve shirked you to a corner drinking....

Jane: 🎶colada’🎶

Mal: right. Judging your countenance I’d say not a virgin one. How many have you had?

Jane: one. About eighty, eighty eight times? I think. Might be more

Mal: I see. Wanna stitck by me for the evening?

Jane (pouty): will you show off those sceptre tricks you’ve been working on?

Mal (chuckling): if you want

Hades (from the kitchen): Mal! Evie is awake and demanding your presence

Evie: I refuse to be shut out!

Mal: (long, long sigh) I am so sorry Jane. Let me try and make things better.

(She points her finger at the ground and Hadie materialises in a plume of green smoke. He’s trying a hat on)

Hadie: strange, I could’ve sworn there was a mirror there

Mal: what in dad’s name are you wearing?

Hadie: oh. Doug said I should get changed. Lovely guy by the way. Evie chose well. Dizzy took me upstairs to the changing rooms. And I saw a large picture as I passed her room. He was wearing this precise outfit. So I replicated the look and was just fixing the hat when you summoned me. You like?

Mal (very calm): Jefferson. Please tell me you replicated the look and not replaced it. All three of them will kill me if that posters wearing a bathrobe

Hadie: (beat) ok. NOW it’s replicated

Mal: good. Now could you please do me a favour and keep an eye on Jane? Birthday girl shouldn’t be left alone

Hadie: it’d be my pleasure

Mal: great thanks. I gotta go

Jane: he’s tall. Er then me

(Mal goes back into the house and heads towards Evie)

Mal: what is it now?

Evie: you just can’t keep me out of your wedding planning. I’m the WEDDING PLANNER

Ben: we’re not keeping you out E. We’re just shutting down the ideas we don’t like

Evie: you’re not even supposed to be part of the conversation! You’re the groom you’re only job is to show up sober

Mal: really? Well that scuppers my plans to be blitzed during the ceremony

Evie: oh here we go...

(As they continue arguing Uma heaves a long suffering sigh and goes outside, Lonnie goes over to check up on Gil who’s eyes are scrunched shut with his hands over his ears)

Lonnie: you ok

Gil: I don’t like it when my friends fight

Lonnie: I know. Hey jay. Could you help us out here please?

Jay: sure. Hmmm. Ooh. I know. To get rid of these ants in their pants/I command thee all to get up and dance.

(Some music starts up and everyone freezes)

Jay (taking Gil’s hands away from his ears): at your leisure qayidi 'aw rbany

(This is when “backflip” happens. After the song the spells breaks)

Evie: what happened?

Lonnie: you three were arguing, Gil got upset so Jay broke the argument up and we all danced

Mal: sorry bud

Ben: sorry bro

Evie: yeah sorry

Gil: s’ok

Evie: what were we arguing about?

Mal: beats me

Ben: ditto

Cj: I know

Jay: no ya don’t

Cj: ....uhhhh....OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY!

Ben (much more then dismissively): eh he’ll be fine. Where’s Uma?

Elsa (refreezing the now lukewarm beer): she headed back outside Benjamin

Ben: ohhhh yeah uhhhh heheh you mind?

Mal: nah, go ahead. Do what you gotta do

Ben: thank you

(Outside Uma’s ranting and raving about how Mal “always wins” and how she “always loses” but she stops when Ben approaches her)

Uma: ohhhh What do you want?

Ben: talk?

Uma: oh yeah? What about?

Ben: uh, you?

Uma: why? I could see you lot in there perfectly happy, dancing about, not a care in the damn world, you and your FUCKING FRIVOLITY!!!!

Ben: ohhhh riiiight yeah I understand now, can’t be easy. Worlds in tatters, your entire life perceptions been upended, you think you’ve got on the same page with some of your family then you see your cousins arguing about wedding planning so you don’t think they’re taking things seriously. Completely understandable

Uma:...yeah I’m a little tipsy so you’re gonna have to slow down

Ben: you think you patched things up with Mal then you turn around and she’s not focusing on what you deem necessary

Uma: I’m not gonna “patch things up” until she admits and pays for what she did to me

Ben: what more can she do though? I mean seriously. She apologised, tried to let you kill her and she’s protected celia throughout most of today. Most things are a two way street Uma. And it’s up to you wether you accept her apology or not. No one can but you

Uma: I...don’t...KNOW. I DUNNO! GOD! I can’t stand it! She gets everything! The title, the reverence, the power, immortality! This past year I’ve been in my own personal hell while she’s been over here swanning about and owning the whole fucking place! It’s not fair that she gets all this and I get pruny hands and a barnaclised first mate!

Ben: have you told Mal this?

Uma: what? And be vulnerable towards the cow? I thought you were smart

Ben: (chuckles) m’sorry. Shouldn’t laugh

Uma (scoffing): s’alright. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. But I can’t help it. Cause when she’s been here, I’ve been down there. With my oh so delightful mother. And yeah I know it’s stupid. I can’t let it go. I’m not ice bitch. The sea waits and it will have its revenge! I’mramblingaren’tI?

Ben: mhmm. But that’s ok. You deserve it. Honestly every vk on this property has a right to complain and then some.

Uma: im done. You can go

Ben: before I do can I give you my thoughts quick?

Uma: whatever

Ben: I can help you. Believe me. All I want to do is help. But you kidnapped me. You tortured me. You tried to kill me. Why? To stick it to Mal? To make yourself feel better. All you had to do was ask and I would’ve listened to you. I will in fact still listen to you. I want to be friends with you but you need to let this petty vendetta go. It won’t do anyone any good to dwell on the past. I only hope you understand that

Uma: petty? Me? Petty?

Ben: mhmm.

Uma: bitch!

Ben: oh please. Everyone has a fatal flaw. I, apparently, have a tendency to be a smidge naive

Uma (utterly deadpan): really? I never would’ve believed it.

Ben: are you sure you can’t see yourself one day letting what happened go?

Uma: nope

Ben: why not?

Uma: cause it feels right. Evening the score feels right. And frankly I don’t care what you think. It’s simple as that. I don’t care

(This is when “I’ve gotta be me” happens)

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

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