#very rude information to know indeed

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I hope you don’t mind a Welsh question. A Duolingo question nonetheless!

But I’m curious about iawn! Context clues tell me that iawn means very so da iawn seems to mean very good or very well in response to sut dych chi. But apparently you can also say iawn on its own?

I like that very much, but I’m wondering if I’m wrong about it meaning very? Because yes yes yes how are you? Very! Is literally my favorite way to answer that question. How am I? Oh I am very. But it also makes me wonder if maybe it’s a colloquialism? Or a shorthand to imply well? And you only actually add the well when it’s very well?

I am very curious about this but I wouldn’t blame you for ignoring this nonsense! I really like Welsh so far, it’s a really interesting language - it feels like a neat mix of Russian and Yiddish and English grammar rules which is such a dumb thing to say, but it makes learning it a lot of fun! Sorry in advance if it’s rude to treat you like the oracle of all Welsh language knowledge I just figured you would know!!

I am very happy to answer this! Or hapus iawn, appropriately.

The answer is, it's one of those words with more than one meaning. You do indeed chuck it after words you want to magnify, making it equivalent of the English 'very' - da iawn does mean very good. But, when you use it on it's own, it means something like 'okay/fine'. You can ask someone "Ti'n iawn?" meaning "You okay?" and the answer would be iawn.

The other meaning sometimes is 'right/correct'. We actually have a word for 'correct' (cywiro) but if you wanted to say "I think you're right", you'd use "Fi'n meddwl ti'n iawn" in informal Welsh.

Anyway: diolch am ddysgu!

[bonefall]

⭕️Hey Bones! Is it ok if you explain and/or elaborate how Crowfeather is abusive to Breezepelt if please?⭕️

I do KNOW that crowfeather is indeed, abusive to Breezepelt, due to the fact that he emotionally and/or physically neglected him - with child neglect being known to BE a form of child abuse - and I also heard that he slashed and/or hit him within one of the books, which I believe is in the book Outcast, in chapter 16.

But I also wish people would talk and be informed about it more within the fandom, because in the parts of the fandom I’ve known portrayed Crowfeather’s neglect on Breezepelt as negative and bad, but not in a way that made me think and/or feel: “Wow, that’s pretty bad. That’s…actually abusive.” I suppose? So I hope more people will talk about it more in that type of way.

Also, please be aware that I have NOT read PoT, OoTS, etc. or barely any warrior cats books, since the majority of the information I got from the series is from the wiki and the fandom, so that probably explains why I didn’t know this part of Crowfeather’s character is as bad as it actually is until now. Also, feel free to talk about Crowfeather’s abuse on Breezepelt I haven’t mentioned and/or don’t know right now as well if you want.

I’m SO sorry that if this ask is unintentionally quite long, and feel free to make sure to take all the time you need to answer it. Thank you!

OH LET'S GOOOO

Breezepelt is both physically and emotionally abused by Crowfeather. I'm not talking about only child neglect; he is screamed at, belittled, and even once hit on-screen.

The fact that Crowfeather both neglected and abused him is very important to the canonical story of Breezepaw. There's actually a lot more to this character than people remember! Even from his first appearances he displays good qualities, a strained relationship with his father and adult clanmates, and is clearly shown to be troubled before we understand why.

As many problems as I have with the direction of Breezepelt's arc (especially Crowfeather's Trial), his setup is legitimately a praiseworthy bit of writing from Po3 which carries over into OotS. To say that Breezepelt was not abused is to completely miss two arcs worth of books SCREAMING it.

BIG POST. Glossary;

INTRO TO BREEZEPELT: The Sight and Dark River

ABUSE: Outcast, Social Alienation, the Tribe Journey.

DARK FOREST: How these factors push him towards radicalization.

For "brevity," I'm not getting into anything post-OotS. I'm just showing that Breezepelt was abused, the narrative wants you to know that he was abused, and that his status as a victim of child abuse is CENTRAL to understanding why he is training in the Dark Forest.

INTRO TO BREEZEPELT: The Sight and Dark River

Our very first introduction to Breeze is when Jaypaw walks off a cliff in the first book of Po3 and is rescued by a WindClan patrol. He's making snarky remarks, and Whitetail and Crowfeather are not happy about it. Whitetail snaps for Crow to teach his son some manners, and Crow growls for Breezepaw to be quiet.

But our proper introduction to him is at his announcement gathering, when Heatherpaw playfully introduces him as a friend,

From the offset something's not entirely right here between Breezepaw and his father. He's cut off by Heatherpaw here, but he's touchy whenever his father is involved, and we're not entirely sure why.

Throughout Book 1, he's just rude, with a notable xenophobic streak. He's a bit of a mean rival character for Lionpaw, as they're both interested in the affections of Heatherpaw and make bids to get her attention, but nothing particularly violent yet.

He participates in the beloved Kitty Olympics and gets buried in liquid dirt with Lionpaw, basically a rite of passage for any arc.

(And Nightcloud has a cute moment where she watches over them until they fall asleep)

As the books progress, the relationship between Crow and Breeze visibly deteriorates. They start from being simply tense with each other in The Sight, to the open shouting and hitting we see in Outcast.

In the very first chapter of Dark River, we learn where his behavioral issues are really coming from;

Crowfeather.

Breezepelt is getting xenophobia from his father. Occasionally he says something bigoted and his dad will agree and chime in, and those are the only positive moments they have together.

(Note: In contrast, Nightcloud explicitly pushes back against xenophobia, chiding Breezepelt for his rudeness to Lionpaw in back in The Sight, Chapter 21. The Sight is the book where a lot of "evidence" that the Evil Overbearing Woman is actually responsible for the rift between father and son but. No. She's not. Though she can be overprotective; Crow and Breeze have a bad relationship when she's not even around in Breeze's first appearance and even his Crowfeather's Trial Epiphany refutes it. Anyway this post isn't about Nightcloud.)

So he starts acting on his bigotry, accusing cats in other Clans of stealing, running really close to the border. What's interesting though, is that this is not entirely his doing. The first time we get physical trouble from Breezepaw, DUSTPELT aggressed it. Breezepaw and Harepaw were just chasing a squirrel and hadn't yet gone over the border at all.

We learn that WindClan is teaching its apprentices how to hunt in woodland, and tensions between the two Clans is starting to escalate as ThunderClan isn't entirely trusting of their intentions.

The second time, fighting breaks out over him and Harepaw actually crossing the border and catching a squirrel. WindClan is adamant that because it came from their land, it's their squirrel. So it's as if Breezepaw is modelling the aggression around him, learning how to behave from the older warriors and his father.

When he joins Heatherpaw and The Three to go find Gorsetail's kits in the tunnels, he's grouchy towards the ThunderClan cats, but very gentle with the kittens. Notably so. When Thistlekit is dangerously cold, he cuddles up next to her, and even assures Swallowkit when she's scared,

Through this entire excursion, he's the one in the comforting roles for the kittens. Breezepaw is the one who is taking time to tell the kits they'll be okay, that he'll protect them, and physically supporting them when they're weak, even when he's terrified.

And it's always contrasted to Heatherpaw who's way more 'disciplined,' as a side note. It's a detail I'm just fond of.

All this to point out,

Breezepelt displays his best qualities when he's away from the older warriors of WindClan, and he's at his worst whenever he's near Crowfeather. Even while he's essentially just a bully character for The Three to deal with. He's gruff but cooperative when it's just him and Heatherpaw interacting with The Three, but mean when there is an adult to please.

We're getting to the on-screen abuse now, but Po3 actually sets up Breezepaw's troubles and dynamics well before it's finally confirmed that he is a victim of child abuse.

ABUSE: Outcast, the Tribe Journey.

In Outcast, Breezepaw's problems have escalated into open aggression towards cats of other Clans, and is now a legitimate concern for his own safety. Yet, he's spoken over by older warriors, and reprimanded at nearly every opportunity, right in front of the warrior of another Clan.

Squilf just asked the poor kid how his training was going, and then Whitetail JUMPS to talk over him so she can complain, RIGHT in front of his face.

They can't even wait until they're alone to grumble something rude about Breezepaw, who is still just a teenager here;

They taught him already that a bit of prey that runs off their own territory still belongs to WindClan, encourage him to blow past borders in pursuit, and started a battle with ThunderClan over this. And then they're pissed off at him for being aggressive, thinking it's deserved to scold him in public.

When Onestar announces that he wants Breezepaw to go on the Tribe Journey, he's devastated by it...

Because he thinks WindClan doesn't like him, and he's right. He's gossiped about, torn into in front of a ThunderClan warrior, and even his own dad doesn't want to be around him. It's clear that Breezepaw's impulsive "codebreaking" behaviors are a desire to prove himself, and once you realize that, the way that he's being alienated is heartbreaking.

But Wait!! Hold on a minute! Where did he get a "patrol of apprentices" from to confront the dogs with, exactly?

Simple. Breezepaw CAN make friends! He actually values them a lot! So much that it's the first thing Crowfeather snaps at him over, out of frustration that his son is also being forced on this journey with him. It's an angry response to his child having emotional and physical needs, resentment that will continue all journey long.

Note that it's plural, friends. Breezepelt has multiple friends, at least one who is not Heatherpaw, and she promises to say goodbye to them.

Up next, they state over and over, Crowfeather and Breezepaw do not like each other. Crowfeather resents being around him and dealing with his rudeness, embarrassed and angry, and Breezepaw is absolutely miserable being sent on a journey to the mountains with a man who hates his guts.

The whole while, Crowfeather is brooding longingly about Feathertail, already thinking about her as soon as he kitty-kisses Nightcloud goodbye, his eyes looking somewhere distant. He makes a jab about loyalty when Breezepaw doesn't understand why they're helping the Tribe.

Breezepaw gets smacked after he's "shoved" at Purdy and acts rude to him, while the other three manage to be polite (while still having internal dialogue about how stinky he is).

Without so much as a, "cut that out," Crowfeather raises his paw and hits him. Breeze is quiet after that.

I don't give a shit how rude your teenager is being. Do not hit kids. Being throttled on the head is not okay.

In spite of the Three not liking Breezepaw, or even Crowfeather, they're constantly noting that their arguments are not normal, and that Crow is a cold, unsupportive father who digs into his kid constantly, and the only time he ever DOES "discipline" his child it's through immediately smacking him.

At one point, the apprentices get hungry, and decide to foolishly hunt in a barn that they know has dogs in it against Purdy's warnings. Once again, JUST like the first two books, Breezepaw is more friendly when Crowfeather is not around.

EVERY time he is alone with cats his own age, he's grumpy but cooperative. Even enthusiastic at times! The minute Crowfeather is in the picture, he's nasty.

Naturally, the dogs show up, but Purdy rescues them. Though Brambleclaw also chews his kids out (and i have strong opinions about bramble's parenting style for another time), Hollypaw is taken aback by the contrast of what a scolding from Brambleclaw looks like vs how Crowfeather reacts.

The narrative is desperately trying to tell you that the way Crowfeather treats his son is not normal.

And then Crowfeather is pissed off that Breezepaw is exhausted from running for his life from hungry dogs,

And he's constantly losing his shit whenever Breezepaw says something as innocuous as "dad im hungry"

Then, Breezepaw is made to watch his dad pine over the grave of a woman who died long before Crowfeather was even considering his mother for a mate. What he feels is jealousy, because he knows his own father doesn't love him anywhere near as much as he loves the memory of Feathertail.

This really goes on and on and on. The ENTIRE trip is like this, with Crowfeather treating Breezepelt poorly, giving him a smack before even verbally warning him, pushing him past his limits and blowing up on him when he asks simple questions about eating or resting.

It all comes to a head in this one exchange, towards the end. Hollypaw ends up snapping at Breezepaw for his rudeness, before having an epiphany.

It's explicit. Crowfeather's emotional abuse, his "scorn" for Breezepelt, is what is driving a wedge between him and all of his older Clanmates. Between EVERYONE in Breezepelt's life who wasn't already his friend. This awful treatment is only making him worse and worse.

Realizing this, she has more sympathy for him, but it's too late. He continues to be rude to her because he feels insulted, and her patience completely runs out. She's just a kid. They're both just kids. She's not responsible for fixing him when he's pushing everyone away at this point.

That's the end of Breezepelt in Outcast. It can't be helped anymore. Any spark of friendship they had together in the barn, or in the tunnels, is gone.

As the series progresses, Crowfeather continues to refuse any personal responsibility for the mistreatment of his son, even pinning all of Breezepelt's behavioral problems on Nightcloud. He is a cold, selfish father who only ever thinks about his own pain and reputation.

DARK FOREST: How these factors push him towards radicalization.

Everyone talks about the Attack on Poppyfrost, which happens in the first book of OotS, in oversimplified terms. YES he is going after a nun and a pregnant woman. I've never said that's not Bad.

But no one talks about "WHY", and that reason is NOT just that he desires power like so many other WC villains. Breezepelt makes his motivation very clear on the page.

Escalating to violence was about making Jayfeather feel the way that he does.

When Breezepelt says that he wants Jay to be surrounded by "lies, hatred, and things that should never have happened," he's talking about the way HE grew up, knowing his father never wanted him, and that his Clan HATES him as a result. Killing Poppyfrost is about trying to frame Jayfeather for her murder, so ThunderClan won't trust him anymore.

When Jayfeather points out the simple truth that what Breezepelt is saying doesn't make any goddamn sense, his hatred "falters." He's blaming his half-clan half-brother for his own treatment because of the reveal, but totally failed to consider that JAYFEATHER'S ALREADY GOING THROUGH IT... so his response is just this pitiful, "s-shut up, man."

Then the ghost of Brokenstar and Breezepelt bounce him back and forth between them like a beach ball for a bit until Honeyfern's spirit shows up.

Breezepelt's childhood abuse and social alienation was a hook that the Dark Forest latched onto, to reel him in. His anger at his half-brother is so obviously misplaced that its absurdity was something Jayfeather pointed out.

We soon learn that it's the Dark Forest who's planting that ridiculous idea in his head;

The narration is SCREAMING, "The Dark Forest is validating the anger he feels towards his father, and redirecting it towards The Three." He's described as 'kitlike,' Tigerstar's eyes are compared to a hypnotizing snake.

This prose could not make it more obvious if it drove to your house, beat you with it, and then spoon fed you the point while you were hospitalized.

At the end of this scene, Tigerstar sends Hawkfrost to recruit Ivypaw. This scene where Breezepelt is being lovebombed, and the command to start grooming Ivypaw, ARE LINKED. That was a choice.

A VERY GOOD choice! Again, as many issues as I have with OotS, its handling of indoctrination is unironically fantastic, and it owes a good amount of that to the outstanding setup of Breezepelt that was done back in Po3. And that setup doesn't work if Crowfeather was merely distant.

Breezepelt was abused by his father, both verbally and physically. It drove him to be more aggressive to prove himself, modeling the battle culture around him. The adults of WindClan judged him based off Crowfeather's responses, shunning and belittling the 'problem' teenager, which eventually drove Breezepelt to the only group that he felt "understood" him.

In a book series that is RIFE with abuse apologia, this is one of the few times that there's any behavioral consequences for abuse and the narrative holds the perpetrator accountable for it.

But people hear Crowfeather's deflective excuse in The Last Hope where he says he never hated him, blames Nightcloud for everything, and just lick it up uncritically.

Gee whiz, I wonder why the guy who never blames himself for any of his problems would suddenly say it was his ex-wife's fault. Real headscratcher!

(Crowfeather's Trial then goes onto, for all my own problems with it, also hold Crow accountable as the reason why Breezepelt turned out like he did. But that's a topic for another day.)

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 3 - Dark On Me

18+ | 2.9k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | Unresponsive Aegon | half sister reader - you're a princess now! Fastest elevation in class ever! wholesome, fluff, severe injury and burns, mentions of death and other bad things, but still... this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

Ok! This chapter was actually very emotional for me to write. I think sometimes I put my mind too closely into that of my characters, because as I was imagining several parts of this chapter from the reader's perspective, I found myself tearing up. Hopefully that emotion comes across in the work and makes it better.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - Dark on Me I especially like the line - 'But I found in you what was lost in me.. In a world so cold and empty.' Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made all the gifs myself again! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

You hear the horns sound and watch from the balustrade as the procession makes its way through the city up towards the Red Keep. The soldiers return from battle victorious, carting the head of Meleys upon a wagon, but you haven’t seen Sunfyre return yet and nobody will tell you what has become of the king. You’ve heard his mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, mention Aegon in hushed whispers with some council members, but she has not deemed you worthy to share whatever information she has.

Even with the king’s decree elevating your status to that of princess, none will tell you what has happened. You must assume the worst. As the caravan draws closer to the castle, you can see another cart led by two horses. It carries what appears to be a casket covered by many blankets and your heart sinks at the thought of your most dire fears come true.

He cannot be dead. No, no. You won’t accept it.

You rush down to the courtyard, to await the arrival of your king, praying to any gods that might listen that he is still alive. A large contingent of the Kingsguard greet you outside and you feel even more strongly now that your assumption must be true. That Aegon is indeed in that wooden tomb, very likely deceased, but your heart still holds out hope that you’re wrong. The massive gates open to the inner wall of the keep and you watch with despair as the wagon is pulled forward.

As the wooden cart stops, your eyes dart to and fro as men step up to bear the casket forth. You catch the gaze of one of the white cloaks standing near you, and plead with him for answers. “Is he dead?” you whisper, desperate to know the fate of the man who had asked you to be his.

He offers a knowing expression of remorse, but nothing more. You are forced to follow behind as six men carry the king inside, be he dead or alive. You can’t help but wonder where everyone is. Where is his mother? His brother? Where is the small council? Is nobody here to witness the return of the king? You can’t help but to cry quietly as you follow the men of the City Watch and Kingsguard combined with your hung head low.

They carry the massive wooden crate all through the castle, heading upstairs until they enter Maegor’s Holdfast. You pass by Queen Helaena who is standing outside of her chambers, observing the procession with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if they had kept the truth from her as well. When your eyes lock onto each others, her features twist with curiosity at the sight of your tears, but there is no malice present.

Helaena has never been rude or cruel to you, despite her knowledge of your role in Aegon’s life. She almost seemed grateful that you were able to offer him the companionship that she could not. The queen did not follow further, opting to stay back, likely having a sense that even more tragedy was on the horizon. You didn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t change that you must know. You had to see with your own eyes what had become of your love, Aegon.

As the doors to the king’s chambers opened, your gaze fell upon Alicent standing to the side by the windows. Of course she had known, but chose to leave you in the dark, suffering alone with your doubts and fears. When she saw you, she averted her eyes for a moment, her facade of calm cracking slightly before she steeled herself and offered you a nod. You returned the gesture with a trembling lower lip stepping aside to watch what came next.

They removed the lid of the casket and a whimper escaped your lips as one soldier took Aegon’s sword, Blackfyre, from within and placed it to the side with reverence. The soldiers cleared the room as men dressed in black heaved a dark canvas bag from within the wooden coffer. The sight of this actually made you fall to your knees with grief, finally seeing proof that Aegon was not of this world anymore.

A lamenting wail throbbed through your chest as they placed Aegon’s body on the bed. Your hand clutched the footboard as you fell down on one knee, barely keeping yourself upright. Alicent came to stand beside you, and you barely noticed the presence of the maesters entering through your sobbing.

“Is he alive?” the Queen Dowager asked with a mixture of shock and trepidation. The words stopped your weeping instantly as you pulled yourself up and leaned over the bedframe.

“His Grace, remains with us, for the moment,” Grand Maester Orwyle answered somberly.

You let out whining gasp that makes you sound like a pathetic animal, but you can’t help it. “He was alive? And you carted him through the streets as though he were a corpse!?” You cannot help but cry out as you stare accusingly at Alicent, appalled by the treatment he’d received.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” the Queen Dowager replies looking bewildered as the sight before her seemed to sink in. “They told me.. They thought it would be best that nobody saw the injuries he sustained.”

You stop your outrage, realizing that she likely didn’t know the extent of the damage either. Still, you wish she would have confided in you what little she had known so that you might have better prepared for this.

Orwyle takes an instrument from his medical kit and begins to remove pieces of Aegon’s armor. The more you look, the more you begin to understand what has happened to him. The entire left side of his body, from his head all the way down to his leg, has been scorched by dragonflame. His arm appears to have been dealt the brunt of the damage, where the Valyrian steel has melted into his limb, leaving it a gored tangle of flesh and metal.

A cry threatens to escape your lips once more, but you stifle it. There will be time for sobbing later, but for now you wish to keep yourself preoccupied. “I wish to help,” you say desperately, but everyone is so busy at work that nobody even responds. “Please,” you ask again, your brows furrowed with anguish. “I need to help.”

Alicent offers a glance at one of the maesters assisting Orwyle and from there, a chain reaction of assent occurs, until finally a young man tugs your arm and pulls you to the side.

“You can aid me in making the poultices,” he says softly. You cannot possibly express how grateful you are for the opportunity to stay busy, while attempting to save your king. You offer the Queen Dowager an appreciative look from across the room and return to learning how to prepare the treatment for Aegon.

It is likely a good thing that you are not watching as they remove the king’s armor, for you can hear his ragged breaths and the gasp that startles from Alicent’s mouth in response to it.

“Is my son going to die?” she asks sounding petrified. You do not wish to hear it, but you can’t tune it out either.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Orwyle responds quietly, turning his head to regard the Queen Dowager for a moment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, these next hours are most critical.”

“Of course,” Alicent replies, taking a step back so that she’s no longer interfering with the healers work.

The young maester in training hands you a plate filled with individual leaves of steamed cabbage and notions for you to take it to the bed. “Take these,” he says quietly as a mouse. You don’t hesitate to obey, not wanting to hinder Aegon’s chances for survival.

You hold the tray out, leaning over Aegon’s bed, to an aged maester with a gray beard dressed all in dingy whites. He begins to take one piece at a time, placing the wraps at the bottom of Aegon’s broken leg and working his way up. Your hands shake slightly, but you do your best to stall your trembling so that you might be of use. Stealing a glance down the length of the bed, you see Orwyle sponging charred bits away from Aegon’s once pristine face.

Your heart aches, but you push it deep down. There will be time to grieve later if he dies, but you refuse to give into despair again before that actually happens.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” the cold and familiar voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn to your right and see Aemond standing there, dead center at the foot of Aegon’s bed. He had always seemed dangerous to you, but has never looked this unhinged before. You can’t help but wonder what might have happened at the battle of Rook’s Rest to change his demeanor so drastically. The way he looks at Aegon, it reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse, holding it by the tail and swatting at it.

You can’t help but wonder how he stands there without an ounce of concern for his brother. As your discomfort grows, you decide that you will have to keep an eye on the prince from now on. You swear solemnly to yourself, glaring at Aemond while you do so, that you will keep watch on the king as though your life depended on it. Just in case.

————

It has been a couple of days now and while Aegon has not yet woken, he has not yet passed into the arms of the Stranger either. He’s been cleaned up considerably, and his wounds all tended to. The only remnants of the horror you witnessed when he first arrived in the Red Keep being the charcoal still tinting his cheek and of course all of the burns that lace his left side. His broken leg is propped up to keep the blood from swelling, but otherwise Aegon looks peaceful in his slumber, despite the audible struggle he has breathing. You lay next to Aegon on the bed, unwilling to leave his side for any reason lest he might wake alone without a caring face to welcome him back. Nestled carefully against the side of him that is not horribly burnt, it almost feels comforting to feel his chest rise and fall beside you with a fire crackling in the hearth.

At first, you worried that Aegon might pass at any given moment, but once he was out of imminent danger, it became a waiting game. Inevitably boredom overcame you as the king continued to sleep. You took to cleaning to pass the time. First, washing and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the floor in his chambers despite the objection of everyone that came across your endeavoring to stay sane. You then moved onto dusting and cleaning out the tapestries. It was one of the few times you’d left the king’s chambers since he returned, but you wanted to take everything outside to be aired out, lest there be a dust storm within.

A soft sigh pulls you from your memories and your eyes open to see Alicent sitting at the side of Aegon’s bed. Her hand is clinging to his as she leans slightly onto the bed. You can tell from her expression that this whole situation has been very taxing on her. Within such a short span of time, she’s almost lost her eldest son and king, and been passed over for the regency of the realms in his absence for Aemond. Given the predatory way the new Prince Regent had been staring at Aegon days prior, this is a decision you wholeheartedly disagree with.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown to appreciate Alicent’s company. At first she seemed annoyed by your presence, but you can only assume that in seeing your dedication to her son, she’s softened towards you. She’s even shared several kind words with you, which felt incredibly awkward, especially when she began referring to you as ‘The Princess,’ a title you are still not accustomed to hearing anyone speak, let alone her.

The Queen Dowager had never acknowledged the decree previously, but then none of the acceptance really matters without Aegon here to share it with. He’d talked of marrying you upon his return and now you wondered if that would ever happen. Your fingers caress softly along his arm, a motion that has become almost involuntarily by now as you huddle to him, hoping that your touch will bring him back.

Alicent stands suddenly, her eyes bleary as she places a hand on her son’s good cheek. She almost looks afraid to get too close, as though admitting the depth of her care for him might somehow make it hurt more to lose him. She nods a soft ‘good night’ to you and goes to leave the room. You watch for a moment as the maester opens the door for her in anticipation, and rest your head back down on the pillow.

And that’s when you hear it, so quiet and coarse that you might have missed it if you had not been right beside him. “Mummy,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

You dart up from the bed with haste, looking at him incredulously, as though he had just risen from the dead. “Queen Dowager!” you cry out, not wishing to disturb him, but needing to get her attention. “Maesters! He spoke!” You realize you are laughing with relief as you call out to the them, brushing the backs of your knuckles upon Aegon’s cheek gently as you coo to him. “She is coming, my love.”

As Alicent rushes back to her son’s bedside, you both share a look of hopeful promise. “What did he say?” she asks, her eyes searching over Aegon as though he might move, and than glancing back to you.

“He said ‘Mummy,’” you answer with a smile, happy to see the look of touched gratitude that appears on her face.

“Oh my sweet son…” she trails off, seemingly unable to put words to how she is feeling. She stands beside him, reaching out with a little more confidence this time. “Mummy’s here,” she offers quietly as the two maesters on duty gather behind her.

Aegon lets out a gravelly sound, his breath hitching as he fights for consciousness.

“We’ll let Grand Maester Orwyle know of this development,” one of the men in white offers. “But if he is soon to be speaking with us, it is good news indeed.”

The Queen Dowager is in high spirits when she is finally ready to leave for the night, so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she says, looking you in the eyes as she rises from her chair. “You didn’t have to call me back, but I’m glad that you did.”

“Who am I to deny him his mother if that’s who he’s ask for?” you say as though there was no other possible outcome in your mind.

She smiles at you with a warmth she’s never shown you before, nodding slightly. “Will you have them fetch me if he wakes again?” she asks with fondness in her voice.

“Of course,” you reply, settling back into the bed beside Aegon. You are surprised when she walks around to your side of the bed, and proceeds to mother you under the covers.

“If you’re going to spend your nights in here, than the least you can do is keep comfortable,” Alicent says with a hint of jest in her tone.

It is definitely a touch strange as she pulls the blanket up and around you, tucking it underneath you slightly. It’s almost suffocating, but in a nice way. “Good night,” you say, turning on your side towards Aegon. You’ve practically made a nook at his side from the amount of time you’ve spent there by now.

“Sleep well,” Alicent calls as she extinguishes the candles, leaving nothing but the hearth to light the immediate vicinity. She ushers the maesters out of the room, with an authoritative pitch. “Get some rest for the night, my son is in good hands as you can plainly see.”

As the doors close and you’re left in silence, you can’t help but consider how sometimes the worst things in life can really help to bring people together. You’ve also seen tragedy tear relationships apart, but when something beautiful can blossom from the ashes of destruction, it almost feels like everything is going to be alright again. Like Aegon is going to wake up and get out of his bed and move on with his life. And when he does, he’ll find himself rousing to a world in which his mother might feel a little more comfortable showing her thanks for his company.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent. Despite all of the medicinal herbs and the lingering remnants of carbon, you can still smell him. You press a tender kiss on his neck, right below his ear, humming softly as you taste him on your lips.

Whispering softly, you beseech him with kindness, “I love you, Aegon.” You run the tip of your nose against his jawline, savoring the feel of him. “I’ll wait for you… As long as it takes. Just come back to me.”

[erabu-san]

First of all, I would like to thank you so much for all your support and your kind message !! Thank you so much for being patient with me too !! (you will see, I thanks a lot in this post lol)

Haha tbh I believe that ignoring and move on is a great way too! Yeees when I read this anon ask, I was wondering if they are living somewhere where pale person are oppressed and they are personally in this case and it affects them so badly that they have so much hate in them or they are just being hateful toward poc w/o any explication ? It was a bit uncomfortable And what is appealing with Genshin Impact (for me) is the fact that they use real culture to create their game ; even in the last survey, they ask if we like Natlan's authenticity (weird they only ask abt environment and music, i think they know they have issue with character design bahaha). I learn a lot about persian, algerian, but also chinese and even about french culture ! It is because people recognize themself that they start talking about it. I know there is a lot of controversial topic in Natlan, but because of this, I learn a lot on Hawai'i 's culture too. So yes, even if it is fiction, representation *is* important. And it is because they take inspiration of their culture that there is people who want a better representation, and in my opinion, this is something to not ignore !

About taking well what anon said, thank you so much ! If i can be honest tho, I didn't take it very well neither, or just I don't know how do I really felt at the moment I am an adult but I still hard time to distinguish what is morally okay or not, what is bad and good ? So if someone doesn't tell me they are explicitly a bad person with bad intention, I won't get it haha (ofc I grew up and now I identify my value and morals, but I still questionning if my morals are objectively great or not- yeaaah i was called weird for that, I am aware) Since forever I always try to understand other so I can communicate properly (at least I try), and that's why I am always interested on how does people think, why do they react in this specific way etc etc. Pro, I am patient and can take even the most violent take "well" (all depends. I am still a human) Con, I give free speech to those who have a "bad" take </3 and I apologize for that aaaa

KFSDLFSD I wish to express my angryness sometime but I just don't know if it is really adequate What if I interpret their text in wrong way as they initially try to say ? I wasn't feel offended by what they said, I was just uncomfortable because their opinion is something I consider hateful. and what if i was wrong??? But reading you all's opinion just affirm that's they were indeed rude ! I should stop overthink, life would be easier Maybe next time I have a doubt I will ask my friends's opinion before answering ksdkfsf

Oh my god thank you !!! If i can be honest, I draw Kinich this way because when I draw him w a darker skin for the first time, I thought "Oh !!! he looks so cool !!!!" and seeing a lot of positive comment abt my Kinich just makes me happy so I keep him like this ! And thank you for sharing with me informations !<<333 This is not overstepping at all ! And it is a reciprocate feeling anon ! It might be a bit weird but "angry" is such a complex feeling for me. I feel it but I don't really know how to express it in the most healthy way and it is super frustrating. So... seeing people getting mad at something I also disagree on makes me feel better !! And for this, thank you all !

I SNORT SO HAAAARD Damn Macron you again..........!! I didn't put all ask here but I read them all !! Thank you for sharing with me your opinion and reaction, it is truly interesting (and way more relaxing that the hater anon kskskss) !! and again, your support is truly meaningful for me. You all have sincere gratitude Hope y'all have a great day !! Stay hydrated too <3

[redflagshipwriter]

Cupid is Wanted for Questioning Chapter 4

Masterpost

Their strange bonding episode hung in a waiting breath. Father came by to confirm that they were alive, not laid low by their falsified digestive ailment.

“We are alive,” Damian said from the squashy chair, trying to verbally push the meddler out the door to his bleak office job. “We shall survive.”

“I think we can pull through one day in your well-stocked mansion,” Brown concurred nasally, from her tactical posting underneath a cushion. The device muffled her voice. She dug her arm out to point with her long fingers at the side table which Alfred had already stocked with beverages and nutritious rations.

Father touched the doorframe and his brow furrowed. “Alfred has appointments to keep. You’ll be alone for hours. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home?”

Brown pulled the pillow down just enough to reveal her eyes. “You let the two of us fight crime together,” she pointed out.

His lips twitched. “You didn’t have a cold then,” Father protested, but his mood seemed a little lighter. He took his phone out. “Call or message me anytime, okay? If you need anything at all or if your condition worsens. I’ll keep the volume on.”

Damian snorted. “Good day,” he said firmly. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to convey that he was prepared to get up and physically push Father from the house if necessary. 

Father left.

An hour later, Pennyworth left as well on his worthy and unknown pursuits. As soon as the dust had settled from his departure down the gravel driveway, the two detectives were on the move.

Several minutes later, they were in the room with the ancient viewing device. Brown had clearly done her research. She expertly operated the device. Damian hung back and allowed her to be the leading expert on old person activities, as she was significantly more advanced in age and deserved his respect on that count. She did something arcane that made the device spin rapidly inside the driver, black tape whirring from one side of the VHS to the other.

“You have ancient wisdom,” Damian complimented her.

She side eyed him. “Thanks, D.” 

He scowled at her from underneath his plush blanket cape. There was no call for such rudeness. 

Unfortunately it was impossible to perform a binary search with the device, as they didn’t know what would show on screen at all. Therefore, they started by finding the footage of Damian’s encounter.

Damian held his breath as the villain came into focus. He bobbed and weaved through the crowded cafeteria, ostentatious and dramatic in his movements. It was, perhaps, playful? He seemed to be dancing. No one looked at him. Upon more than one occasion, Damian would swear on his mother’s honor that the fool had jangled through another person. Density shifting, perhaps?

“That guy?” Brown pointed at the potential villain himself.

Excellent!

“Can he be seen by anyone on footage, or is there something about your perception that aligns with mine?” Damian burst out. “We must make a copy and show it to another person to gather information.”

“Roger that, baby Boss.” Brown snapped a photo of the screen. 

“I do not command infants,” Damian corrected her. “And this is no cherub to be controlled by any charm you or I might possess.” He scowled at the screen, lost in thought. The cupid shot their foolish arrow, smirked, and disappeared. 

“I can’t believe Jason didn’t notice that,” Brown muttered. “That’s so far up his alley. If anyone should have run after Cupid shooting bullets or asking for a boo, it would be him.”

Damian opened his mouth to correct her that the mall was very far indeed away from the alleys of Crime, but realized in time that this was perhaps some jest or metaphor. He shut his mouth to hide his ignorance. 

“Wait.” Brown scrambled for the remote.

He went tense. “What is it?” Damian demanded. He stood up. His blanket fell down.

“Rewinding- look.” Brown stopped the video and jabbed the screen with a finger. “This kid, red sweatshirt.”

Damian squinted. The child was alone, dirty, and in the middle of stealing a wallet from a uniformed police officer when Brown had paused the video. “I do not think it is advisable to pursue him, but if you are insistent then we can go to his home and give him a very stern lecture about target selection. If he has one.” 

“No, no.” Brown waved that off. “I think he knows what he’s doing. What I want you to see is this.” She restarted the video. Damian watched as the urchin slipped the wallet into his pants pocket, turned, and visibly startled before whirling around to look at the crowd again, looking stressed. 

Damian furrowed his eyebrows. Why? Why had he jumped, he was only facing a shop window–

“He saw the villain’s reflection!” 

“That’s it!” Brown crowed along with him. “Yes!” She pumped the air. “He sees Cupid’s reflection after you point him out. Cupid is invisible to you, but just look.” She traced the urchin’s sightlines. “He can clearly see something, he is watching what would have been Cupid’s expected path through the crowd.”

“You do not receive enough credit for your wiles,” Damian complimented Brown. Her eyes glittered with victory, pleased by his approval. “This means that I am not the only witness.” Damian clenched his fist. Vindication. “Is there a way to identify this person and track them down for an interview without opening our investigation to other parties?”

Brown sucked in air through her teeth. “If we put the still into the Batcomputer, someone else will catch it the next time they’re bored and going through the recent files. Bruce, Tim, maybe Dick. So that’s out. I know there’s privacy workarounds, but I definitely don’t know them…” She grimaced. Her tone turned a little hopeless and morose. “Neither one of us has a personal system we can access, unless there’s something you have access to…?”

She trailed off.

Damian hid a wince. She was covertly referring to his mother. “No,” he lied. If Mother realized that he was investigating on his own, she may retain the information to use in her battle of wills and wits with Father and share it at a personally opportune time. “So we require assistance from one of the more established figures.”

Grim indeed.

Resources outside of Gotham would hardly be helpful. 

Every option was terrible.

Todd was extremely trickable and would not tattle on them, but he also would not notice a woman being shot with love in front of his addlepated face, so there was no purpose in asking for his assistance. 

Richard could achieve it, but he would shoulder his way into the investigation. 

Pennyworth was an expert with the surveillance systems and could surely hide their work from Father, but his time was too valuable to use on tracking a mythological demon such as Cupid. 

Cain and Thomas did not possess any more Batcomputer proficiency or resources than Brown and Damian had.

Father was unthinkable, he was extremely bothersome and blundering and smothering.

Damian sunk to the bottom of a lake of despair. He forced himself to the surface long enough to make his most important stance clear:

“Drake is obviously the last resort among last resorts.”

“Oh, for sure,” Brown agreed, fire in her eyes. “He got Santa. He doesn’t get Cupid.”

“We may have to…” Damian fought the urge to make a face of disgust. “Go to the top, as it were.”

“You might have to fly with the other birds,” Brown said. Her tone said that she was sympathetic. Her demeanor revealed the lie: she was amused by his turmoil. Wretch. “Barbara will do that for me, but it’ll make it one of her operations. Can your ego handle that?”

Damian bristled. “I had defeated the weakness of egotism as a toddler,” he spat. Honestly. “I can work with anyone, no matter how loathsome or quarrelsome.”

Brown squinted at him. “...You mean as a hypothetical, because Barbara is an absolute delight.”

He gritted his teeth. “A guiding light to all who know her,” Damian lied, because he understood the ghastly necessity of diplomacy. 

“You’re going to wear down your molars doing that,” Brown informed him. “Alright. I’ll tell her that you want to fall at her feet in supplication.” At his appalled expression she shrugged and put her hands up. “She has done all the free favors for me that I’m going to get! We don’t have anything that she wants, and we definitely don’t want her ire.”

“That is correct,” Damian agreed. He was already so weary. He felt as though he might legitimately have been struck low by a physical illness. The concept of lowering himself to request benevolence from the witch in her electric tower made his stomach twist with nausea. Would she once again attempt to ruffle his hair? He may yet weep. “Very well.” Damian took a deep breath. “We will fall upon her mercy.”

[porphyriosao3]

Day 15 - Craft

Bilbo was aware - had been aware - that there were all sorts of conversations going on in the mountain to which he in particular was not privy. Periodically someone would go to speak to (i.e., shout at) Thorin where he wandered amongst the piles of gold, for example. Often the hobbit came around corners to find a small huddle of dwarves muttering together, and they always stopped and stared as he went by. It had only gotten worse since Thorin had given him this ridiculous armor.

One night, things seemed to come to a head. He approached the main dining area to overhear "... well, with all due respect Lord Balin, this has gotten ridiculous." Coming from, of all dwarves, Dori! Bilbo hated to eavesdrop but found himself melting into the shadows nearby all the same. "Even in the Blue Mountains, for things to have gone this far without..."

"Yes, Dori, I know, I know," Balin groaned. "I don't think anyone foresaw the shirt." There was a pause, as though Balin were thinking. "You know a dwarf his whole lifetime, and still he can surprise you."

"The point remains," Dori continued in a just-so tone of voice, "we know none of the information necessary for the next steps. Also," he paused, 'there's the matter of the Mastery." None of this left Bilbo any the wiser, but Balin's response was lost to the ages as Nori's hand landed on the hobbit's shoulder from a patch of darker shadow that Bilbo would have sworn couldn't contain a dwarf.

"Well, hello, Bilbo," he said loudly, practically dragging him into the room and leaving the other two staring in surprise. "We wondered where you'd got to. Dangerous place, shouldn't wander too far in here." His cocked eyebrow brought a flush to Bilbo's face. Bad enough to eavesdrop but even worse to be caught!

"Yes indeed," Balin said with a smile as false as a cat's promise. Dori sat nearby as focused on Bilbo as though he were the only thing in the room. Odd. "Bilbo... I just realized we know hardly anything about your life in the Shire! We saw your lovely home, of course," making all of Bilbo's social sensors turn to point due trouble, "but tell me, what did you do for a living?"

"I beg your pardon," Bilbo said by habit before remembering where he was. Perhaps that wasn't quite as rude a question among dwarves. He reminded himself forcefully that he wasn't in the Shire at the moment. As though the bare cold stone walls and floors didn't give that away! "As a rule, gentlehobbits don't talk about such things, I must say," he continued, provoking a wince from Dori and Balin both.

"Understood, my apologies if I was inappropriate," Balin faux-chuckled. Really, Bilbo thought, he might try a little harder. Even a faunt wouldn't be fooled! "What I mean is... do you make things? What was your craft? Metal, wood, stone? Gems? Were you a merchant?" This was entirely too much.

"Wha... you... what?" Bilbo spluttered. "You think I'm some sort of tradesman? I fear there is some sort of confusion going on. Perhaps I should leave you to your discussion." He drew himself up. The nerve!

Dori sighed and leaned in. "You are not a dwarf, and we are not hobbits," the old dwarf said primly, reminding Bilbo yet again that the rules might be different here. "Our intention is not to offend, but to learn, Bilbo. All dwarves have a craft. I am a tailor, as is Nori. Bifur and Bofur are miners, Bombur a tinker, the princes are a gemcutter and weaponsmith respectively, and so forth. It is how we..." here his eyes cut to Balin, whose expression spoke of worry. "... how we understand the nature of those around us."

"Oh," Bilbo said blankly, glancing from face to face. "Er... well..." He racked his brain. "I spent much of the day gardening and cooking, if that helps. Quite social, don't you know, always running about," he chuckled and realized he was laughing alone. Honestly, everyone looked so focused! This was a very strange conversation. "Perhaps you could say I was a cook." Balin was already shaking his head.

"That's a task, not a true craft," he said, provoking a snort of disgust from Bilbo. The hobbit would have argued but Balin was pressing on. "What do you make? Anything durable, anything that lasts."

"Had a lot of books in his house," Nori said while staring at the wall, acting completely disinterested in the whole goings on. "Papers on the desk showed a nice hand, though far too Elvish."

"You went through my papers!" Bilbo shouted. "Nori!"

"A scribe!" Balin announced with a beaming smile. Dori nodded, face a picture of satisfaction. "Did you write for others?"

"Well, I suppose I occasionally wrote a letter for someone or read mail to others without their letters, but..." Bilbo said to universal smiles. "I did compose a book for the children of silly tales from the Shire, but I hardly think..."

Ori, who had wandered in midway through the discussion, looked over. "You wrote a new book?" He said with eyebrows raised. "By yourself?"

"Preserving the lore of his people," Balin said. "Very clear. That's settled." Dori nodded, his face a picture of satisfaction. The whole group broke up at once, leaving Bilbo more confused than ever. As Nori stood to leave, though, he seemed startled to find a hobbit at his elbow.

"Let's talk about the propriety of going through someone else's desk and things, shall we?" Bilbo said, a steely smile not making the dwarf feel comfortable. It was a smile that would have fit perfectly on Thorin.

"Oh yes, you'll do just fine," Nori laughed, leaving Bilbo flummoxed. Curse the dwarves for their confusing ways!

[ilsole]

Stupidly in Love

A flourish of ribbons fly in the air as a certain jester lays out a nifty little fabric square upon fresh grass, a clearing within a great field, the forest behind, sun in the sky, birds singing their little theatre songs.

Fool gave a synthetic breath in, before turning to his companion.

Misuta glared up at the bright skies above, before he himself turned to Fool, a slight look of confusion coming to his face.

"When you asked if we could go out together, I wasn't expecting... this."

Fool gave the man a cheshire smile.

"Why not? A beautiful day to spend with someone I hold so nice and dear to the heart?"

Misuta sat down in a huff, but Fool had noticed those flushed cheeks immediately.

"... It... is nice today, you're right."

"As I am so often~"

Fool deftly landed on his behind beside Misuta, twirling his baton in his limber hands before settling it down upon the blanket beneath.

Today, there'll be no sun nor moon, just him and the heart stealer beside him.

Oh yes...

"What's in the basket? We can't eat..."

Misuta asks a very promising question, responded to with a curved eye smile.

"Oh, my sweet man~ I'm very glad you asked!"

Fool reaches out, lugging the basket closer before popping the lid up, exposing its treasures like a trove untold.

"Books-?"

"I know how much you love reading, so, I may have sneaked a few books from our little Sweetling~"

A leer was sent the fool's way.

"You stole from them."

'Not unlike how you stole my heart', Fool was so close to saying the words on his very lips, yet he refrained, it was too soon.

"No, no, this fool would never go so low. My... what do you take me for?"

Fool had leant back, a hand to his chest in mock offense, yet he peeked open an eye to view Misuta as silence ringed between them.

Crossed arms met him, a single raised eyebrow with the most unamused expression greeted him in return.

"A thief."

"You hurt me."

"Good."

To anyone else, it'd be rude, but the two shared a coupling laughter.

Misuta would reach into the basket, pulling out the top book.

'The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe'

Misuta hummed in thought, sitting back on a palm as he flipped open the hardcover entertainment, eyes already starting to flitter over the words and read.

Fool picked up his own book, yet he knew he wouldn't be reading, for his attention was taken by another, just as intriguing, thing.

Minutes passed, a comfortable silence settling between the two, one reading, the other attempting.

Fool took in no information, his gaze glancing up to the source of his warmth and love that had spiraled way out of his control.

He wanted to reach out, hold Misuta close to him and never let go, yet there was something holding him back, he wasn't sure...

"Fool...?"

Misuta was looking up at him, why was he so close suddenly? Fool shifted an arm, realizing exactly what was going on.

In his little daydream, he had indeed gotten closer to Misuta, their bodies touching, and Fool's arm had wrapped around Misuta's back, fingers a breath away from his waist.

Fool brought his mismatch up, meeting Misuta's own fuchsia.

"I-I..."

For once, Fool was speechless, his smile drooping at the corners as a flood of nerves was thrust upon him, he's sure he'd be sweating if he could.

He was frozen in place, staring, fake heart pounding with real love, one he felt when around the man in his arms, and the precious Sweetling.

Time stilled as the two stayed in their places, like deer under a scope, they were too nervous to move.

Until Misuta's eyes flicked down.

Fool took that as a sign.

He leant in, lips pressing to Misuta's so softly, he'd have melted, and felt like he would when the pressure was returned soon enough.

Fool's book fell to his lap as he brought a hand up to caress Misuta's face, a small order to stay where he was, yet neither of them wanted to pull away, not even for a second.

They caressed each other, eyes closed as they laid in their shared embrace, an arm tightening around a waist, pulled closer.

Until, they parted, while they had no breath to lose, they still wanted to see one another.

Eyes opened, and their love filled eyes met once more, a deeper understanding now felt within the two.

"Cariad… I… Rwy'n dy garu di…"

Misuta blinked at the foreign words before a soft laugh escaped his lips, and he presses another kiss to Fool's own.

"私も愛しているよ."

A mutual agreement of love, Fool almost couldn't believe it.

He wrapped his other arm around Misuta, hoisting the man upon his awaiting lap, making sure Misuta couldn't escape his grasp now that he was finally his.

"Oh… thank the very Heavens…"

Fool whispered into Misuta's neck, a sigh escaping the man as arms wrapped around his neck.

"Fool…"

"Mm… already with the pet names?"

Misuta rolled his eyes, though his amusement was as clear as the very sky they were under.

"Idiot."

"So mean to me…~ How could you be so rude to your boyfriend~"

They both stilled at that, realization dawning on each of their faces. Boyfriend.

They… are together.

They're in love.

A fluffy hood buried itself into Fool's chest, a heat being felt through Fool's flowy shirt.

"バカ…バカ…バカ…バカ…"

Fool laughed his sweet bird song laugh, his arms bringing Misuta closer to him even still, offering comfort to the flustered man.

"Mm… your stupid."

Stupidly in love.

For @venomous-qwille's gorgeous au Ghost in the Machien that hosts the best characters I've seen written in fiction and have my heart in a death grip <3

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode one

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Madman’s note: I like mean guys and judging by what we know about Pantalone so far (Arlecchino’s voice-line, Lazzo teaser, Wriothesley’s weapon, Pantalone’s artefact) he fits this category perfectly. I see the pattern of a rude boy here. Charming on the outside but once he opens his mouth it’s disgusting (hahaha.) He probably likes mocking and lecturing others, that’s for sure vibing in the Lazzo. He also talks a lot (thanks Cholde). As for the toxic assorted au, Ik half of you don’t like reading gentle n sweet Pantalone, but when I see this man I just can’t imagine him being cruel to his lover who accepted him when the Gods did not. I really think he is very soft inside (with a person he trusts). He’s all about equality and fairness so probably he treats people the way they treat him, and if ur nice to him, well Panty acts with equal respect to you back. That’s for the personality part. Speaking of other aspects, at least you guys get a happy ending. Coz I hate bad endings. Don’t wanna fuck up huge efforts. The angst and struggle was worth it. Come get your man guys. He’s like the mean classmate who bullies you but is secretly in love with you. As for the gentleman part, I wish I could write something more than just him protecting the lady, coz I believe Pantalone to be a big deal of a gentleman who has his standards even though what he does for a living is very questionable. I’m afraid it will be too much information for this post already. I must also mention that he might say a lot of disturbing and condescending things in the beginning. Oh, and to avoid any misconception--i don’t like writing innocent readers. My reader is fierce, chronically exhausted and crazy.

⟣

“You will be my prize. A perfect fit for a powerful man like me. You have no friends, your parents are far away, the only person to care for you is your grandmother who was, for sure, foolish enough to take a loan from Northland Bank. You are helpless in front of me, and I enjoy seeing that smug smirk disappear from your face once you realise you’re completely at my mercy. All alone, with your life depending on me. And I will, by any means, show you mercy if you are worthy enough.”

Said Pantalone as your résumé was forcefully slapped down on his desk. Your past jobs, experiences and skills — all in front of him, in his long fingers which are sliding through the pages as if it were an action book.

Your grandmother, indeed, was the only dearest person you had and, unfortunately, in order to save your life (and future) she took the risk of becoming a debtor to the old devilish banker who was by any means an extremely questionable person.

You had a rough path of changing jobs, trying to find the most fitting and well-paid one, however ending up in only worse conditions. A few years passed like this, the workload traumatised you so much that you couldn’t believe two years had passed since you started doing work for a living. Your grandmother was too prideful to retire, but you both knew her money alone could not sustain your happiness.

And thus, you ended up under Pantalone’s sharp gaze. Now, standing up in front of him with an unfazed expression, knowing too well this man just adores chewing on others’ suffering.

“Fuck you and your long ass monologues”, you think but your face remains cold.

The tapping of his fingers suddenly stops. You feel your heart sink, and it makes you wanna vomit.

“What was that? The look on your face just a moment ago”, Pantalone takes his glasses off and looks at you sharply. You can feel that heavy presence with your skin alone. The violet charm of his eyes suffocating you. His whole presence does nothing but choke you.

“Beg your pardon?” You narrow eyes and ask him as politely as possible.

“Were you thinking something a bit ago, dear? Or should I say, were you doubting my professionalism?”

“Shit, he is reading my mind. I have to think about something stupid.”

“You’re so untamed and so… wild, I’d say”, he says as he rises from his desk and approaches closer to you. “But alas, I can’t discount your value after one mere impression, can I? That would be too unconscionable of me as a businessman.”

You see him lean to your ear, his body bending cause of how tall he is, and you feel nauseous once he opens his mouth again.

“Your résumé is trash, but I’m not a monster everyone thinks I am. I will let you work under me because of how persuasive your grandmother has been. Though, I’ll be watching you, kitten. Perhaps I’ll even put you under my strict supervision—"

A sharp slap lands on his cheek. That is the moment Pantalone should realise that your pride cannot be underestimated. With his face thrown to the side, he pats his cheek, holding his fingers on the reddened skin.

“…at the lowest position”, he finishes the sentence. “Heh, the audacity of yours.”

Pantalone grabs your throat, your is suddenly pulled closer. While being choked heartlessly you turn your eyes to him and hold them for a few long deep moments.

“I’m not afraid of you”, the words come out of your mouth weakly. “Just let me work for you. I won’t be plotting anything. Not interested, to be exact.” He keeps suffocating you, you almost roll your eyes at the back of your head before the banker finally releases you. You slowly fall onto your knees. “Haah… hha…”

“I’d never be mean to a lady. But a particular someone just doesn’t know any manners.”

He signs the papers quickly, squeezes a used draft in a ball and throws it into the trash bin. The signature he leaves on your zero-hour contract is so lazily made as if the man wanted to deal with you as soon as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m angry.”

“Thank God”, you sigh in relief, despite being choked a few seconds ago.

His movements, his body are so quick and flexible, you do not notice how the eyeglasses return to his face.

“You have a zero hours contract here, but I’ll personally make sure you work not less than six days a week.”

“Just so you know, I won’t kill for you. That goes against my principles.”

Pantalone raises his eyebrows, giving you a bored look.

“I wouldn’t let you have a privelege like that anyway. I have enough henchmen of my own to stain hands with unneccessary violence.”

When the conversation ends, you go to the bathroom and throw out. This man gives goosebumps, and he is not easy at all.

To your biggest surprise, as a leader Pantalone turns out capable enough. Just seeing him intricately managing his resources and employees makes you admire him at some point. No matter how unattractive his personality, for sure, was, none could not deny the fact that he is a skilful individual. He possess finesse and determination. Though speaking of his other traits, you cannot ignore the fact how suave he is. Women touch him with or without his consent all the time. And you’d agree: the man is attractive. Affable demeanour in public, though quite closed in private. “Closed” is an understatement. He is, in fact, incredibly emotionally unavailable.

His ill-favoured personality, hidden under that affable demeanour and polished looks, however, could not prevent you from falling. For him. And you are gradually finding yourself more and more addicted to him. Brushing off these ideas as soon as possible, of course. Occasional touch of your fingers, frequent looks he’d give you. You cannot remember the exact moment when Pantalone started showing signs, but you remember well that his glances in your first meaning were anything but interest. As you are a “special” debtor with a large sum to owe, Pantalone almost cages you in his main office buildings. To your knowledge, there were a few of them, but out of all people the fate of working with him has fallen onto your shoulder.

There was one day when he scared you.

“You… killed someone?” You ask, holding your hand to your chest as you walk into his office to bring some papers. But they are dropped down the moment you see the so-called crime scene. The heavy metallic scent of blood blocks your breathing and you dream of disappearing from this room, however it is too late.

“Just taught a disagreeable debtor a valuable lesson”, Pantalone walks out of the shadows, lighting the cigarette right in his own office.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the blood on his face once he makes himself visible.

“What are you doing here? Ah, the job. I almost forgot.”

A panic attack crashes you sooner than Pantalone inquiries.

“Why the sour face? Just put the papers here and you’re dismissed.”

You look down at the body next, and even if!(fat chance) that person is alive, you cannot pull yourself back into the calm state.

“Are you deaf? Put your stuff on my desk,” the banker commands, wiping the blood off his cheek.

Your vision goes blurry when you see his stained with crimson skin and you feel like fainting.

“I don’t… exactly like… seeing blood, yes.” You turn away but lose your consciousness the moment after.

When you wake up you find yourself lying in the leather couch, a blanket dropped sloppily over your body. Pantalone is sitting at his desk per usual, working on his papers when he sees you slowly come to senses.

“Alive? Good. Now go back to your duties.”

You rise from the couch slowly, pulling the blanket down and slightly wobbly proceed to the door.

“Y/N.” Pantalone stops you with his voice.

“What now…” you think. But your expression softens one you hear what he tells you:

“There is a bottle of water I left for you on the desk. Take it. I’m not exactly eager reviving you after another fainting because your careless ass is dehydrated”, he stops writing with his left hand and says again, this time harsher: “And never enter my office announced again.”

“Thank you”, you take the bottle of water the Harbinger offers you. It has a distinct spicy scent from cologne lingering on it. “Your couch reeks of tobacco, by the way.”

One time, when you save him.

Pantalone storms into the office visibly injured and infuriated. You can see his secretary come up to him, presenting some sort of intel while her hand slips under his sleeve trying to pull his gloves out. You see it all through the small doorway.

“Lord Harbinger, you must have had a tough mission, let me release this stress of yours…”

The other employee of his, a male, presses a wet sponge against his expressionless face. Pantalone, seemingly weak and tired doesn’t respond immediately to the secretary boldly roaming her lustful hands over him but a while after his consciousness makes itself known. He grabs the recently presented papers and slaps the woman’s hand with them.

“Sir—”

“Have you two no shame? I need privacy. For once, just leave me alone!” He shouts, uncharacteristically to him. Both the secretary and the lowly subordinate rush out of the room under his strict command.

When the shift ends you can see everyone leave the office, however there has been not a single move from Pantalone’s office since he shut his door. You look on the clock, it’s already 9:15 p.m. Why is he not going home? You decide to spy on Pantalone. Soon, as everyone has left the office empty, you raise from your working desk and go to check on your CEO.

“Pantalone.”

You knock, but the response is none.

“Pantalone, coming in.”

You push the door slowly. Even his spicy cologne mixes up with the metallic scent of blood. You walk in the office and feel your heart sink at the sight: the banker is lying on the floor, as if he had fallen from his desk, there are lots of tablets scattered around the floor, and a bottle of wine, shattered, the salty smell filling your nostrils. The ashtray on his desk is full and messy. Everything looks chaotic and Pantalone himself is, for sure, out of character.

He is unconscious as he is lying on the floor. You rush to him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and start shaking him.

“PANTALONE!!”

He doesn’t wake up and you have to resort to drastic measures. You slap him. At that, he finally comes to the senses.

“This is the second time you have slapped me. Are you not afraid of the punishment I might force upon you?” he asks, groggily putting his body into a sitting position.

“Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

“I’m perfectly fine handling some scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Then, what are the tablets for? I thought they were painkillers.”

You see as Pantalone examines his own mess, and his expression is calm yet a hint of exhaustion can be spotted.

“Clever”, he says. “I was beaten up, and my muscles obviously hurt.”

“And the wine?”

“To relax.”

“I see.”

Pantalone eyes you once again, his face extremely pale and tired. “Are you done? You can go home.” He turns away from you, you don’t know what he’s doing but you hear a drawer being pulled and Pantalone let out a short sound similar to groaning. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. You see a used needle roll across the very same desk…

“You’re… you’re diabetic?”

“An astitute observation” (silently). “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

You analyse him from the top to bottom and deem this person likely not being able to get home himself. You open your eyes to offer taxi, but realise that he has a personal chauffeur. “Right, rich people…”

“That’s all? You won’t even give me a lecture for spotting you in such a vulne-” Pantalone’s gaze becomes so evil that you rethink over the choice of your wording. “In such a predicament. I mean, shouldn’t your mighty self cut my tongue in order to prevent me from gossiping about your health concerns?”

“You’ve been reading far too many detective stories. I’m not so…” he sighs, realising that given the circumstances of his long list of crimes even as a polished businessman he is a perfect match to Meropide. So Pantalone cuts his wording as well. “Forget about it.”

“You sure will be alright?”

“Worry of yourself, it’s getting quite dark and seems like rain and thunder.”

Wow. That’s a gentleman indeed! He won’t even offer you a lift? You roll your eyes.

“I’ll get home just fine. And also, you reek of alcohol. Can’t have the employees think poorly of you.”

You don’t even know if you are happy with your doing or not, because if you didn’t wake him, he’d probably be lying there on the floor until the very morning.

As you’ve cleaned your desk and taken your coat on, ready to leave, you see that the raining outside has become even more aggresive.

You walk outside and slip on the first level of stairs. “Great.” Before you could dial the number of the taxi, you hear the voice behind you stopping you.

“Don’t need to spend money. You’re coming with my chauffeur.”

“No thanks, I am quite fine being al-ready indebted to you.”

“That won’t need repayment. You saved my life. If I were not woken up in time, and didn’t inject insulin, I would most certainly end up in a coma not long after.”

“Especially considering that you drank wine”, you think.

“If you insist. Look like today I’m but a slave of the weather conditions.”

Pantalone hums to your response and leads you to the sleek black car. He throws the door open for you and gets onto the back seat with you. Once he’s settled and you wait to be dropped off your place you notice the holes on his gloves, revealing already dry blood stained cuts. You are only able to see them properly now, due to your close proximity.

“May I ask who attacked you?”

“It happens quite often so no one is really surprised by now”, he clears throat. “An assassination attempt. But I’m faster” he gives you a warning look, by which you conclude that the killer is no longer alive.

“I see.”

As you’re dropped off safely to your place, you sneak into your bedroom before your grandma has questions. As you lie in bed under a fuzzy blanket you cannot brush his scent, the mix of spicy cologne with blood, off your mind. The sight of him almost helpless, injecting that insulin like he was on a thin ice, stays carved into your mind as well.

⟢

[freedomfireflies]

iFall For Harry

Part Two to this request!

Summary: Turns out, the stranger in your phone is kind of funny...

...and kind of sexy, too.

Oh, my god. 

Harry, did you hear the news?

It takes exactly three and a half minutes for those familiar little bubbles to pop up.

Well hello to you, too. 

No, what happened?

You struggle to contain a rather giddy grin as you begin to type, A cheese factory exploded in France!

Wait, really? Shit, what happened?

I don’t know. But all that was left was…de brie.

Exactly sixty seconds pass before he begins to type.

Fuck.

I think I just snorted. 

That was…goddammit that was good.

You don’t even know what he looks like, but you chuckle at the idea of him laughing so hard he can’t help but snort.

Thank you, thank you. 

Took me two weeks to come up with that.

I’m impressed. 

Little offended, too.

Oh? Your heart sinks.

Yeah. 

Kept me on the edge of my seat for two fucking weeks wondering if I’d hear from you again.

Shit. 

You smirk to yourself as you flop down onto your sofa and think through a response.

Hey, it takes two to tango, pal. You could have texted me, too.

The bubbles make your heart pound.

Alright, that’s fair. 

In my defense, I didn’t have any more cheese puns.

Oh, is that all this is, then? 

You just use me for dad jokes?

Psh, nooooooo…

Then, another text.

Although, the jokes do make my days…cheddar.

 You laugh a little louder, suddenly very aware of the flush in your face over some stranger in your phone. 

No, wait. How do I erase a text?

I hated that. 

Seriously, how do I make it go away? 

My failure is staring me in the face, and I hate it.

You giggle under your breath.

Easy, Grandpa. 

Relax, just press down until the options pop up.

The conversation goes quiet for a brief moment before you watch his previous text vanish from the screen with a dramatic, poof!

Then, he begins typing again.

Hold on… 

Did you just call me Grandpa?

…psh, noooooooo

Oh, so that’s how it is?

That’s how it is.

Wow, and we had such a nice thing going, too.

To be fair, you never told me your age, and you don’t even know how to delete a text. 

What am I supposed to think?

First of all: rude. 

Respect your elders.

Second of all: this deleting shit is NEW, okay, and I just updated my phone, like…a week ago, so I never learned. 

Uh-huh. 

No, yeah, whatever you say, Grandps.

He responds with the emoji that’s rolling its eyes.

You smirk.

For your information, I’m 29.

Okay, which is a cool, hip, fun, and very fresh age.

Yes, I believe that’s the slogan for the retirement home, too. 

“We’re cool, we’re slick, and we might break a hip.”

There’s a longer pause between your text and his response. You hope it’s because he’s laughing. It’s not your best work, but you think it’s funny.

And then, you get the notification.

Dammit, that place sounds so much cooler than the retirement home I’m in now. 

Send me the address? I’ll wheel myself over.

You got it, Old Man. Will you need any help crossing the street?

How thoughtful of you. Yeah, that’d be great, and then you can finally earn your Girl Scout badge.

Oh, my God. How did you know it was the last one I needed?

Cause I’m old. And therefore wise.

Oh, right, right. No, that checks out.

Yeah. 

You lean back, forcing your eyes away from your phone to finally get a moment of reprieve from the excessive smiling. Why is this so fun?

I guess 29 isn’t so bad. Just…three years older than me.

Ah, another piece to the Cheese Girl puzzle. 

You’re 26.

Indeed.

26 was fun. 

I liked 26.

Yeah, it’s not too bad so far.

Just wait until your bones start to creak whenever you get out of bed.

I’ll keep a can of oil on my nightstand.

You grimace to yourself. Your worst joke to date, and you just hope you haven’t blown it.

Probably smart. 

My preferred method is lube, but…

Whatever works.

Your eyes widen.

Oh?

Yeah.

 My bones might creak but at least I can still fuck.

Well…shit.

You readjust your position on the sofa, desperately working to find a cool and relaxed and equally mysterious reply.

…so, no pressure.

Just be careful with all that lube. 

Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall.

Hope you’ve got Life Alert on speed dial.

Oh, I absolutely do. They love me over there.

You smirk to yourself, fighting yet another laugh. 

Yeah? Thank God.

Boy, I bet you’re a real stud with the ladies, huh?

Damn fucking right. 

This grandpa has moves.

I bet. Yeah, women love a man that squeaks when he thrusts.

They do, actually. I happen to squeak quite sensually.

Is that right?

It is.

Damn.

Might need to hear that for myself someday.

It was bold. Perhaps a little daring, and you don’t give yourself a chance to overthink it before turning your phone off and tossing it onto the other side of the sofa.

You give it five minutes before checking to see if he’s replied.

Thankfully, you have two notifications, delivered 3 minutes ago.

Yeah?

So what’s stopping you?

What is stopping you?

Probably a number of things, but instead of pointing out that he’s a complete stranger and could very well be a catfish (or even worse…that he might not even find you attractive) you decide to go with another joke.

All these Girl Scout cookies I gotta sell :/

Shit.

Yeah.

What if I bought a hundred boxes?

Then you’d have to hand deliver them to my door, right?

Your eyes roll playfully as you sigh.

That IS the Girl Scout policy, yes.

We pride ourselves on good service.

Fantastic, then I’ll take 100 boxes in the flavor of you.

Your lashes flutter as you reread the text, over, and over, and over. But before you can spiral…he’s sending another.

…shit, that was meant to be smooth.

Get it, cause…like, you know, get a taste of YOU. Like…if you were a cookie. 

Cause…I wanna taste you…

Explaining it makes it worse, doesn’t it?

 It should make it worse, but for some reason…he’s funny? And charming? And making your thighs squeeze together—

I think that can be arranged, yeah.

I’ll package them up nice and pretty, just for you.

Equally as cheesy, but apparently…cheese is where you both shine.

You hope he’s at least somewhat amused, and when he finally responds, your stomach flips.

This conversation is bad for my health.

Yeah?

Why’s that?

Because I’m in a meeting and I’m about to have a heart attack.

…why are you about to have a heart attack?

Oh, right. I forgot that happens at your old age.

Ha.

Funny.

Good thing you have Life Alert on speed dial.

Yeah, I don’t think Life Alert is gonna be able to help.

No? Why not?

Cause only one thing can save me now.

Cookies.

Your cookies.

To be exact.

See? Cheesy.

Wow, I was almost turned on and then…

Nope, there it goes.

Oh, is that what we’re doing? We’re trying to turn each other on?

Well, why didn’t you SAY so?

Hold on, I’ve got a few good ones.

Oh god.

Alright, here we go.

So…

What are you wearing?

…really? That’s all you’ve got?

Work with me please.

My gosh.

Clothes.

I have clothes on.

Yeah?

That’s a shame.

Two minutes go by without him adding anything else, and you can’t help but laugh when you realize that’s all he’s got.

Wowwwwww…

No, that was so good. I’m…holy shit, you just took my breath away. I’m so turned on right now.

I mean, my panties just FLEW across the room!

You’re THAT good!

Okay, very funny. 

I wasn’t done.

No, really. You gotta warn a girl before you just completely rock her world like that.

Honestly, I feel a little faint.

Where did you learn such a masterful technique? Really, you should teach a class on sexting, cause that was just…phew.

Listen, I was just trying to take it easy on you.

You know, ease you into my seduction before I gave it to you good and hard.

The last bit of his sentence has you stumbling over a gasp, but you simply clear your throat and work to find a response.

You have two options:

Either you tease him a bit more…

…or you ramp up the tension.

Well, by all means, Harry…

Give it to me good.

And hard.

He doesn’t respond for quite some time to this. And while you’d like to tell yourself that it’s because he’s just so turned on by your response…

…it’s more likely that you definitely fucked up and he wants nothing more to do with you.

But then…your phone dings.

Is that what you want then, hm?

Want it rough?

Shit, shit, shit.

Yeah.

If you think you can keep up.

Trust me, sweetheart, that won’t be a problem.

If you want it rough, I’m more than happy to oblige.

Is that why you texted me today?

Needed my help?

Truth be told, you don’t know why you texted him today, but you certainly aren’t upset with how things are going.

Me? Needing YOUR help?

Cute, but I think my fingers and I can manage just fine.

His response comes so fast, your head spins:

…fuck.

You smile.

Shit, okay now this conversation is REALLY bad for my health.

I might keel over right here in this meeting.

My death is on your hands, Cheese Girl.

Worth it.

You watch the bubbles float onto your screen for a good thirty seconds before they disappear.

Then, they appear again…just to dissipate before you can get your hopes up.

Finally—finally…a text.

Okay, listen, you don’t know me.

And I don’t know you.

I get that.

I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger.

But…

And hear me out…

What would you say to a phone call?

Your pulse stutters as you stare at his proposition, but he’s already sending his next text before you can decide if you’re really that stupid or not.

I know that’s asking a lot, but…

If you promise that you aren’t a 90-year-old man, and I promise I’m not some kid playing video games in his mom’s basement…

We could at least…have a real conversation.

And make sure that we really are who we say we are, you know?

And I could be assured that I didn’t just get a fucking boner in the middle of a busy boardroom cause of some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

You hesitate.

Despite yourself, you are intrigued by the idea.

Worst-case scenario if he is some loser…you can just hang up and block his number.

And if he’s not…and he’s half as hot as you’re starting to hope he is…

You swallow.

Thickly.

I am not some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

I’m just a regular creep that makes cheese jokes.

Promise.

And…yeah. 

I would be okay with a phone call.

As long as you do in fact promise I won’t regret it and that it won’t result in nightmares that haunt me for the rest of my life.

Ah, well…

Can’t say much for the regret…

But I do promise that I will try very hard not to give you nightmares.

God, are you really doing this?

Are you really doing this?

Alright, then…

Oh, so you’re doing it. You’re really that dumb. You really just let a complete stranger convince you to call him, even though he could be a serial killer, or a psycho, or—

Your phone rings.

You see his name pop up in large print as the cellphone just about flies out of your hand.

Scrambling to keep it steady, you lurch forward and collect a deep breath.

You can do this.

You can do this.

You’ll give him thirty seconds. And if he seems creepy…you’ll hang up, and you’ll move on.

And you’ll never get random boys in bars numbers again.

You press your thumb into the button on your screen and slide it to the right.

Here goes nothing.

“…hello?”

~ iFall for Harry pt. 3 (the third part to this!)

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ More Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

@tinyhrry @supersanelyromantic @lomlhstyles

[adragonsfriend]

Supreme Chancellor Grandpa and his Spectacular Vibes

"'Busy as always, I’m afraid. But very glad of this evening’s reprieve.' He says, smiling warmly, because Chancellor Palpatine is the picture of a harried but caring and active leader."

This is going to be part commentary on canon, part my response to the fairly common supposition that Palpatine acts openly rude or prejudiced as Chancellor, part thought experiment.

(quotes from Biting his own Tale (mostly The Supreme Chancellor's Diary) in purple because if I don't do breakdowns of my own writing, who will?)

I pose the question, what is it actually like to be in Palpatine’s presence?

At the heart of it, it's incredibly reassuring:

He is always solving problems for people—often by taking on extra responsibility! It is genuinely difficult to come out of a meeting with Chancellor Palpatine feeling as though some weight has not been taken off your shoulders. Be it emotional (he has lent a sympathetic ear: gained personal information about you), logistical (he’s offered to mention your problem to someone: gained a tacit, informal favour in return), personal (he’s given you advice: shaped your decisions), or logical (he’s always up for a challenging puzzle: he’s always looking for opportunities to take advantage of).

He's a good public speaker, and his speeches gesture at large goals, out of the individual person's reach (I went to a school that had students give these speeches to the whole school twice a week about what ever (school-approved) topic they wanted and trust me, the fastest way to alienate a general audience is to ask them to do something achievable. depressing i know). People—even senators who are aware of his rhetorical tricks—consistently leave his public appearances with a vague but incredibly strong sense that big problems will all be resolved naturally, or by someone else. "She starts reading over one of Palpatine’s oldest speeches, from nearly twenty years ago. …Our Sector is made strong by its partnerships with our neighbors…Naboo will always maintain those relationships bring Prosperity to young and old…The new trade bill will ensure Peace and Security for decades to come…  It has a familiar, empty quality that makes the speaker sound full of ideas, but really only rouses emotion."

He’s no comedian—his jokes are typically chuckle-worthy at best, indeed they are often a little awkward—but he takes such clear delight in causing joy in the people around him that it is hard to resist smiling even when a joke is stilted or slightly out of touch. "'Knight Skywalker didn’t stir at all, I’m afraid,' Sidious inserts a little self-deprecation into Palpatine’s tone, “But it’s reassuring to know he’s in the most capable hands here, Master healer.' / 'We certainly do our best, Chancellor.' Master Che’s expression is polite, but she doesn’t smile. / Not taken in by flattery for a moment. Palpatine approves, 'And I’d best let you get back to it.' He sighs just audibly, and squares his shoulders, 'And get back to it myself.' He crafts a smaller smile, and this time he catches the faintest hint of amusement in the twitch of her lips."

You are a corrupt politician who has gotten in some trouble, but don't worry—your friend Palpatine is there to take care of it. He'll ask a few favors on your behalf, only because he knows you deserve a second chance, and besides he says, what you did wasn't really all that bad in the first pace. He's not doing anything bad by helping out a friend. "'But I'm not! Ventress is getting stronger and I'm still too weak. I should’ve killed her when I had the chance—' [Anakin] cuts himself off, glancing nervously at Palpatine—Sidious arranges Palpatine’s face like a deck of cards so it shows only dedicated interest. Anakin continues, reassured that Palpatine sees no problem with killing his enemies."

You are a leader of your people, worried about how you are going to help them. Palpatine is also a leader, and of even more people than you—but he sympathises, he's made time for you, he worries about his own home planet even as he puts that worry aside to care for the whole galaxy. He suggests someone you might speak with.

You are a clone in the coruscant guard, whom many citizens and senators dislike either for enforcing the law or simply for being clones, but Chancellor Palpatine is always polite to his guards. He confuses you for your brothers sometimes, but he always apologizes and clarifies your name. Sometimes you catch him muttering names and ranks under his breath, trying to remember all of them—he is always faintly embarrassed when this happens, but he keeps doing it.

You are a Jedi, reporting that one of your people has died in tragic, violent circumstances. Out of the many-faced mass of the Senate comes Palpatine to lead the condolences. He maintains a steady sympathy, but beneath it, you can see that he truly feels the loss. Even the seemingly apathetic Senators around him have been moved to nod their heads in true sympathy—in a galaxy that grows cold to your people you more and more, he makes your loss felt to others when you cannot. "[Padme]'s hardly ever irritated by Palpatine when she’s in his presence, only after she leaves, when she’s picked through all the pleasantries and misdirection. Just this week, she’d watched him frown upon hearing about the death of Knight Wu Mengxiang, and caught herself nodding along with his condolences to the Jedi who’d come to inform them."

You are the queen of a planet in danger, and here is someone who is willing to do something drastic to help you. He will take power, and help you fix all the injustice if you will only ask him for help. Yes it may take a few days, but he is doing all he can—it is not his fault the incumbent Chancellor is too attached to his position to realize another could do better in his place. "He’d used them, encouraged them to attack Naboo, and then used the crisis to force a vote of no confidence against Valorum. Only force isn’t the right word is it? He’d made a suggestion, and Padme had jumped at the chance to spare her people."

Body language and charisma are incredibly powerful (random statistics like 'oh 80% of all human communication is through body language' are not sufficient to communicate the extent of this power), and one of Palpatine’s most extraordinary traits is is ability to keep up and act—probably to an unrealistic extent.

Lots of real life advice on how to discover manipulative people is simply to wait and observe their actions over a longer period—eventually, they will slip up and reveal who they truly are. This certainly happens with Palpatine in ROTS, but it takes a very long time, not months or even years, but decades.

And his suspicions behavior in ROTS is a deliberate ploy! He uses it three fold:

To incite cognitive dissonance and uncertainty in the senate—most of whom have regarded him as trustworthy and in accord with their specific interests up to this point—so that he can push through his most obviously suspicious empire-making pieces of legislation.

To cause the Jedi to be suspicious of him in general, so that they investigate and eventually attempt to arrest him, allowing him to label them traitors and usurpers.

To cause the Jedi to be suspicious of him specifically to put Anakin, who either does not register or does not acknowledge any change in behavior, at odds with the other Jedi.

"'The upside,' Padmé counters, 'Is that it means even Palpatine is limited in what he can push through without sacrificing his [public] image—' / Ekkreth cuts her off, 'If you ever do find him obviously suspicious, it is too late. That is his endgame for the Republic.'"

The only point where he compromises his act to his own detriment is in Return of the Jedi with Luke, who has the twin advantages of knowing exactly who Sidious is and only having been in the same room as him for all of ten minutes.

People like the Jedi on the Council and the leaders of the Delegation of 2000 (potentially including) Padmé Amidala who manage to partly pierce the veil and form actual distrust of Chancellor Palpatine as an individual are the exception, not the rule. They are extraordinary in being able to both know the man and even semi-accurately analyze his actions.

I say potentially about Padmé because it is very much the last days when she remarks upon anything, and the delegation of 2000 deleted scene reads to me as though she is being read in on a plan others have already made—ergo she is not one of the initiators.

People who are aware of him only as a public figure are not at any great advantage either. His speeches give much the same air of worn but steady reassurance, and it is difficult to trace any particular wrong doing back to him—he took over of a paralyzed, unpopular leader, he was in favor of unity and so opposed the war, he has a great origin story going from troubled youth to orphan to responsible leader, his greatest scandal is a slightly expensive taste easily excused by his role.

Sidious has a distinct advantage in that any obviously violent or cruel end he wishes to pursue can be achieved through Dooku and the Separatist military (want to kill a Jedi who knows too much? Dooku can have Ventress do that. Want Anakin to suffer extra this week? Dooku can arrange that. Want this or that artifact/weapon stolen or destroyed? Dooku can assign a general to do that. Want a clone army? Dooku can get Syfo Dyas to do that. et cetera), and there is no paper trail of any of it. The only way in which Chancellor Palpatine has to get his hands dirty is making the pragmatic decisions necessary to the Republic. "No matter how much more obscure the methods for obtaining those records has become since the Government Information Acts—which she recalls Palpatine calling a deeply unfortunate necessity of these troubled times—were passed, they are still legal."

Long story short, Anakin is special only in the individual attention he receives—he is the microcosm of what Palpatine does to almost everyone he comes into contact with. Invoke trust, take on responsibility, absolve guilt, corrupt. Palpatine's greatest strength is not in his long-term schemes—many of those are set up for him, or mainly managed by Dooku—it is in his opportunism, and that includes in his ability to become the right person for every given moment.

Long story even shorter, Darth Plagueis did not name his apprentice Darth Sneeky McSneekface so people could try and convince me Chancellor Palpatine is randomly rude to people.

Edit: changed some phrasing--nothing substantive

[sgiandubh]

Why are you so angry toward Tony? Why do you call him names? If you honestly believe Sam and Cait are together, Tony is a non-issue. The only reason to be offended is if you want Sam and Cait to together, but you know she is with Tony, abd you feel he is between them. Your anger and rudeness the man shows you know the truth of their marriage, family and your bitterness she didn't choose Sam as a mate.

Dear Calling Names Anon,

I am not the one being angry, here: you are. You are so angry, in fact, that in your haste to hopefully bash me, you typed 'abd' instead of 'and' (also because you are on your phone) and you ate both a verb (if you want Sam and Cait to be together) and a preposition ( 'anger and rudeness towards the man'). Both lapsus calami (that's 'slip of the pen', for you) are very telling - mais, passons (that's French, for you: I know it pisses you off and I am so glad it does, every single time!).

I have read so many times the glorious POS you dutifully copied and pasted in that Anon box, that this time I knew I had to answer you, once and for all. You and the one who wrote this down first and then you all dutifully followed - no critical skills and never did have any.

I am not angry toward McIdiot. I am derisive and dismissive of the very lucrative part he agreed to play in that 🎪. As is, he is still a social zero and nowhere to be seen, unless she brings him along, but only at events where she knows virtually no one. No matter how hard you try to present him in an extravagant light, his real situation is well known, based on public records. Conversely, you are angry and contemptuous towards S, who has his own businesses and takes risks and makes a thousand mistakes. But who, unlike your hero here, is alive. McIdiot, that character paraded in front of us, comes across as a profiteer. Maybe McGill is a nice person. Maybe he is friends with C. McIdiot, the part he's been given in this shitshow, is anything but nice, interesting or attractive.

I call him McIdiot, that is true. You lie all day long about S, spreading lies and calumnies and innuendoes that cost him a LOT in the past. What you did had consequences IRL. Yes, you and your little harmless coterie, including its 455 Twitter and Tumblr sock accounts. You knowingly hurt someone who did absolutely nothing to you and 'rude' doesn't even start to describe your reckless attitude. What moral right have you to come here and give me lessons? That's rich, coming from people who repeatedly called me a liar, an idiot, assured their flock I was several other persons. Same people who, overall, take a sick, cheap pleasure of calling shippers either 'worms' or 'the mental ward'. So what the hell did you expect, coming here? A fucking welcoming committee? A potluck of revelations?

I do not want S&C to be together. I know S&C are together. You know it, too: otherwise you wouldn't be here screeching like a maniac in front of a closed door. You then proceed to assume knowing what I think and lecture me about what I should be thinking, instead: a very poor rhetorical strategy, indeed and a sure sign of confusion. For your information, McIdiot's absurdity will always be an issue, irrespective of their real status. And you are correct: I know a fairly consistent part of the truth about her 'family' and 'marriage'. What irks you is that I chose not to discuss many things I know in here and certainly not with you. You see, I have a personal policy, Anon: I don't share secrets with cowards. Ever.

You make me think of these harmless fools standing in the rain in Hyde Park's Speakers' Corner, who preach the imminent end of the world in front of an empty alley, Anon. Better go home: maybe Moo will make you a cuppa, once you get there.

http://www.cgpgrey.com, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

[yuurei20]

Hi! Not trying to come off as rude, but is there a reason why Malleus is the only character to receive a TBD amount of facts?

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐉

Malleus' facts are TBD as I was pretty sure from the timing that EN would be receiving Book 7-5 during the process and I would like to provide the most up-to-date information possible, but as I cannot be sure how much information is going to be added, I do not know how long Malleus' series is going to be! :>

(Vil's fact series was posting as EN was actively receiving Book 6, for example, but rather than update in real time I decided to just go with what I had, and as a result Vil's series is very incomplete :< This is to be corrected soon but I did not want to repeat the mistake, lesson was learned!)

Book 7-5 has indeed been released and now it is the weekend I can get to work ^^ Will hopefully update with a total number shortly!

[byizoyas]

sfw ; alhaitham x gn!reader. coffee shop au | alhaitham might be down bad for reader

you look at your left then at your right. few customers are still here; some are talking together and you spot him. he is sitting all alone, a cup of coffee in front of him, one that you brought to him earlier and it seems that he didn’t touch it.

you meet lots of people in one day, serving them and of course you cannot remember every person you hold a casual conversation with.

but him. he is one of a kind you cannot forget. you wouldn’t dare. and you genuinely can’t.

he’s got you obsessed lately because yes, he’s been passing by quite often actually so no wonder you remember him so well.

and well, his appearance is quite unique too. his voice is low in your memories and he always sits on the same spot of the room. next to the bay windows but still away from the front door. since your shift is almost over, and your colleagues all left early, you’re on your own with the few seven people remaining.

you look at them. the atmosphere is super peaceful. everyone is chilling. and that guy; he’s reading the same book over again. he doesn’t even look back at you after you announce the closure is approaching.

but you don’t mind. he seems busy; and focused and well, that makes him attractive to you.

you shake your head, quick to forget about that and instead go to put the chairs on the tables so it’s easier to clean the floors later.

that was one of the reasons you hated so much to do the shutdown but you had no choice.

you look at the watch on your wrist. it’s officially time to close. you stop yourself for a minute.

the customer is still here. you can see his ashes hair from behind the counter. he’s away and you don’t particularly like to speak loud, so you go towards him to inform him that he’s going to have to leave.

‘sir.’ you say. he does not turn around, which you find a bit rude at first so you insist. after a few seconds of being ignored, you eventually lose patience and tap on his shoulder gently, a smile on your lips so you seem less intrusive.

he turns around, taking off an earphone. ‘mh ? what is it ?’

his voice is calm. and low, making him sound super serious. but not only that, his whole routine and habits were kinda giving you the hint so in the end, you’re not really surprised.

your smile grows larger as you tell him to leave. you wouldn’t want to sound rude; it wasn’t your first shutdown where people had stayed so late, but it was a first time talking to him despite him spending so much time here.

‘i see. thank you for the coffee.’ he says, and it almost sounds ironic since he absolutely did not drink a single drop of it. and you can tell by the motif you’ve drawn that is still quite in place.

‘is there something wrong ?’ he asks, looking at you, whose eyes are glued to the full cup resting on the wooden table.

‘no aha, it’s alright, have a nice day sir.’ you reply, walking away towards the kitchen to grab the groom and start with your cleaning task.

he looks at you walking away, his closed book in hand and his jacket in the other.

‘it’s midnight though.’

to that you giggle. spending the day wishing every single customer a lovely day made it become automatic. you rub your face, passing your fingers through your hair.

‘indeed. good night then, sir.’

you’re not sure, but you can almost swear you’ve seen a smile forming on his lips as he speaks again.

‘alhaitham.’

‘mh ?’

he crossed his arms against his visibly muscular chest, blinking a few times. ‘it is my name. since i know yours, you should know mine.’

his remarks make some sense indeed. and you can’t tell if the lack of sleep is the reason you’re confused but you genuinely ask yourself how the hell he could know your names; and you can’t help but asking him.

to your question he only giggles, a slightly mocking smile appears on his usually very composed face.

‘it is written. y/n.’ he points your apron to which a small etiquette with your name is sticked to it.

you rub your face with your two hands, letting go of the broom by the way and the whole scene is embarrassing for you, yet as much as it is, you feel good. tired perhaps. but it is as if the person beside you could see through you and make you feel at ease.

he laughs a bit too and helps you moving a few chairs over the tables. as a customer he’s not supposed to do this, but it was so kind of him you didn’t have the heart to decline his help when he offered it.

‘well, i’m done. goodnight y/n.’

‘good night alhaitham.’

you look at him walking away, biting your lip because you crave to ask if he will be back tomorrow. the moment you just shared was nothing exceptional. but something happened. something that made you want to seek more of him.

‘will i see you tomorrow ?’ you ask him just as he’s about to open the door and take his leave.

you’re surprised at your own boldness. but you have nothing to lose, right ? then why would you stop yourself from asking.

‘who knows ? i don’t particularly like the coffee here.’ he waves goodbye, closing the door behind him, wishing you luck with the end of your shift. and just like that he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

because if he didn’t like your coffee; what reason did he have for coming here everyday ?

[if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi]

ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES - FINAL PART (ANGST VERSION)

part 1 here.

part 2 here.

A/N: PLEASE DON'T READ THIS ONE IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PT.1 AND PT. 2 YET. TRUST MEEEE.

Disclaimer: I do not own Maliksi, or Makisig (the Tamawo bros). Full Credit goes to HC - @ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto.. All involved characters are adults. This might or might not be a self insert, please don't come for me.

You are very scared and confused, wondering why this is happening now. You have managed to safely go home this late almost everyday. Why now of all times?

His voice is oddly familiar and calming to you- not in a sense that you've already talked to him before but the way he talks to you is as if you've known him for a long time, as if you two were friends...but how is that possible? You were certain that this is the very first time you've met him.

"Excuse me...can you please explain what is happening?" You softly asked, trying to choke back tears so the other man who's chasing you won't hear it.

Maliksi sighed. "I don't even know if you'll understand it right now. I have to take you somewhere safe first, Amor-"

"I'm not...Amor.

My name is Y/n.

I have a Lola named Amor though."

Maliksi quickly shot you a glance, examining your face in the illuminating light provided by the full moon- indeed, you look like Amor, that one human he somewhat liked being around with, but you're not her.

"H-how long has it been since Y/N left?"

"Twenty years, Bunso. It's been twenty human years already."

Maliksi sadly nodded, looking up at the moon, not knowing how to react- yet he knew he was feeling a lot right now. A feeling he can't quite explain.

Just like that..

In a blink of an eye...

....that's all it took.

"I....see."

"I still have to take you to safety though. Please don't be afraid, I won't let anything happen to you."

Maliksi took your hand and led you to safety- the home he shares with his Kuya Makisig in the Lost City. He can't risk you being tracked and followed by Bangkal who is still trying to look for you in that dark road. He'll have his Kuya Makisig have a word with that tamawo later.

"Amor- your lola...Is she still alive?"

"She was sick and she...passed away last month."

Makisig had to stop walking as it took a few seconds to digest the information he just heard.

He was a little too late.

No. Not by a little.

For him, it was months of denying his feelings while sulking in his room in Biringan. Yet it was twenty. fuckin. human. years.

If only he was not foolish enough to be blinded by all the rage and hate he carried for centuries...

Maybe he'd been actual friends with her.

Maybe he'd be brave enough to let go of his walls and talk to her nicely instead of always acting rude.

Maybe he'd been able to tell her how her kutsinta will always be his favorite. How he enjoys playing video games with her.

Maybe he'd been able to tell her how she makes him want to let go of all the pain and anger he has....how she makes him want to be better..

His grasp on your hands became tighter as he tries to keep his breath steady, not wanting to cry infront of someone.

"Are you lola's friend?" You softly asked as you slightly stared up at him. "She'll get sad in the afterlife if you cry, so please don't cry." You whispered, yet the cracking of your own voice betrayed you.

Maliksi tried to clear his throat- a pitifull attempt to get his composure back. "Was she happy before she...passed?"

Did she atleast become happy in this lifetime?

"She was. She's the coolest and sweetest lola ever. She always liked spending time with me and my brother, she basically raised us. She loved cooking and we didn't even know how she knew how to play videogames, but she does!" You smiled as you reminisced the fun times you had with your favorite lola.

"Your lolo...the one Amor spent her life with...did he loved her right?" Maliksi asked in a voice softer than a whisper.

"Lola didn't marry. My mom, is Lola Ligaya's only child. She's lola Amor's older sister." You tilted your head as you explained. Your lola never married nor entertained anyone. Your other relatives were utterly disappointed since no one expected that Amor will be the one to grow old alone and unmarried since she's beautiful and is just the sweetest woman you'll ever meet.

"We always teased lola before, how she's got a cold heart and she never fell for any man's charms even after having many suitors but she'll just answer the same thing over and over again."

Maliksi's eyes widen as he felt his own tears slowly streaming down his cheeks. This might just be the first time he's ever cried again in centuries. He didn't even know he could still cry, much more over a human.

Amor, didn't found love?

She didn't fell inlove.

She grew old...alone.

As fickle and short her human life is... yet she didn't found one person...

"Don't look like you pity her!" You softly chuckled.

"Lola Amor didn't seem to mind that she didn't have a husband. Want to know what she always told us whenever we tease her?"

Your voice snapped Maliksi's attention back to reality as he turned to look at you. You smiled- you were beautiful, the spitting image of Amor, just with a beauty mark on your chin instead of Amor's beauty mark under her left eye.

You took a deep breath, placing your hand tenderly in your chest where your heart beats, before reciting what your lola used to tell you and your brother- word by word, with the same smug yet sweet tune she always used:

"I did fell for someone's charms.

I know it.

I know how falling in love feels. I just can't remember who that lucky bastard is...

I might not remember him, but my heart and soul will know him once we meet again."

-x-

((DAMAY DAMAY NA TOOOOO;; char, labyu all mg mhiemaaa))

Art by: @ask-emilz-de-philz, that's their OC, Maliksi the Tamawo. Please support them <3

[hayanwulf]

Stephen in spider-man homecoming

(In reference to the WIP game.)

Self-explanatory; Stephen is present in Spider-Man Homecoming!

He kind of shows up in Peter's scene coincidentally, and then of course Peter later rants about it to Happy, who informs Tony, who is so paranoid of magic that of course he tries to find out more about this wizard guy.

From there Stephen sends Tony in a wild goose chase, partially because he finds Tony annoying and partially for the shits and giggles.

Here's a snippet (Stephen recently dealth with Dormammu and he's Not Okay).

Soft footsteps could be heard behind him, signaling that the hero had apparently not left him alone yet. He tensed, able to feel Spider-Man creeping closer to his personal space without needing to see. Just when he thought that Spider-Man might try to touch him again, he instead flinched when the hero sat down next to him at a respectable distance, legs dangling off the roof similarly to his. “Not afraid of heights?” Spider-Man asked. Stephen internally sighed. He hated small talk, and talk in general was the last thing he wanted to do right now, especially with someone who was practically a stranger. “That, too, is none of your business,” Stephen told him blatantly. “Doesn’t your business entail catching thieves and stopping robberies? I think you should go tend to those.” Spider-Man shrugged, completely unperturbed by his clipped tone. “I would if something fishy was going on right now, but everything seems a-okay so I’m on a break.” Then, out of nowhere, the young hero brought out a wrap of tissue paper that emanated an unmistakable scent of fried dough, accentuated by the tinge of cinnamon & sweetness, and extended it towards Stephen. “Want some churros?” Stephen blinked down at the unexpected offering, then looked up at Spider-Man as if the hero was the weird one. “No.” “You sure?” Spider-Man tilted his head slightly. “Cause you look like—” he then raised his hand a little, “—I mean, I don’t mean to be rude! But, erm.. I noticed you don’t look very.. you seem like you might..” Stephen sighed. “Just say what you want to say.” Spider-Man fell silent for a second, then spoke up, “You look like you haven’t been eating well.” Stephen was suddenly hyper aware of just how terrible he must be looking if a random stranger felt the need to point it out. Embarrassment curled in his chest. Right as he was about to make a move to get up, the wrap of tissue was offered to him again, making him pause. “Well, this isn’t much,” Spider-Man said, emphasizing the offered churros, “But if you need help, my— Uh, I know this really nice lady who works at a homeless shelter.” “Are you saying that I look like a homeless person?” Stephen narrowed his eyes, more offended than embarrassed now. “I mean if you wanna know the truth, you look like a D&D cosplayer, but seeing the magic-y stuff you did just then—” he pointed a thumb behind them, where Stephen had arrived, “—maybe it’s not cosplay after all. Anyway, I don’t mean any offense, sir! I just thought maybe I’d help out, y’know?” “You talk a lot.” “So I’ve been told.” Stephen thought he could imagine a smile in the hero’s voice. “So, churros?” Stephen briefly looked down at the offering again, reminded that he had indeed not eaten anything after the morning breakfast, which had been cereals. His body was begging him to take the offering, stomach growling at the delicious scent. He turned back up at Spider-Man. “You’d help a random stranger who almost turned you into burnt soot?” Spider-Man tilted his head a little. “You didn’t, though.” “I could’ve,” Stephen whispered inaudibly, turning his head away. It had been extremely reckless. He had almost incinerated a person just because they had made an innocent gesture of touch on him. He might as well be a threat to humanity with his level of.. reaction. “Yeah, but you didn’t,” Spider-Man said, apparently having heard Stephen’s murmur. He had no idea how. He turned back towards the hero and found him insistently passing the churros now. “Here, take it. I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better after having them. They’re really good!” A little hesitantly, Stephen extended his hand and took the offered tissue wrap from Spider-Man. The hero didn’t say anything, but Stephen could practically feel the happiness he radiated at that moment, with how his legs swung and his body swayed. Stephen opened the tissue, cautious to not let the shaking of his hand make the churros fall off. Carefully, he picked up a churro and took a bite. It tasted heavenly.

[blueesnow]

(6/6) Camus's Private Story [Utapri Live Emotion]

Ch 1: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 6 with Camus)

-Shining Agency's Meeting Room- Haruka: P-please forgive me…! Camus: … Haruka: (To think that I spilled a coffee on Camus's senpai's script… talk about a big mistake) Camus: I don't need those kind of superficial apology. If you were indeed feeling sorry, rather than words show it within your action. Camus: If it's a for a peasant like you… that's right, you could at the very least provide me with some useful information. If you managed to do it then I might let this one slide. Camus: But if you can't even do something so simple like that, then I'll turn you into an ice. Now, choose which one you like. (choices) <I'll provide you with information!> Haruka: Of course let me provide you with information…! Camus: Hmph, good decision. Now speak. Camus: But be aware that if the content isn't to my liking, I'll automatically turn you into an ice, no matter how much you protested. <I-Ice…> Haruka: I-Ice… A-anything but that! Camus: Then you only have one option, give me some good information that you have. Camus: I'm a busy man you see, so I won't wait for that long. The time until I freeze you is 3, 2… (back to story) Haruka: Ah! Come to think of it, Camus-senpai I heard that you like sweets, right? Haruka: The other day Tomo-chan… um, my friend told me that she found this unknown cafe that serves lots of delicious sweets. Haruka: She said that not only does it looked really pretty she also guarantee the taste of it. …How about that? Camus: Not bad for a fool like you. I shall compliment you for managing to speak that out. Camus: But you never actually check out that place within your two eyes right. Then that means I can't exactly trust that info. Camus: You have to take a responsibility and accompany me to that cafe later. If it turns out that you're wrong….you knew what will happened, right?

Ch 2: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 11 with Camus)

-Cafe- Camus: …Chocolate cake and fluffy tiramisu, cheesecake and berry tart. And then… Camus: …Matcha mousse and super rich caramel pudding, a monstrous banana parfait… That's all, please. Server: I understand. …Please wait for a moment. Haruka: …Y-You ordered a lot. Camus: In order to determine whether the information that you gave is truly valuable or not, I need to try them as many as possible. Camus: It'd be good if these sweets will be enough to satisfy me… Heh, I'm looking forward for the result. Haruka: …Camus-senpai. You've been putting a lot of sugar in your coffee for a while now… Camus: So what? Haruka: That… wouldn't it be bad for your body? Camus: There'd be no problem. You don't have to be worried about me because I know myself better than anyone else. Haruka: T-That's right! I'm sorry for being rude. …Also, once again I'm truly sorry for what happened. Camus: You mean that script that you made a mess of? That's also no problem. Camus: I already took a glance of it before and memorize everything. I don't need that anymore. Haruka: Eh…!? Camus: Oh my. What's wrong, My lady? Is there any problem?

Ch 3: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 21 with Camus)

-Cafe- Haruka: I see… I'm glad to hear that. Camus: Your screw-up is obviously not something that should be praised for, but thanks to it, I was able to get information about this store. Camus: Since you said that this place is quite unknown, there are barely any people around creating a quite and calm atmosphere. I must say that this is actually a perfect place to enjoy sweets. Haruka: Does that mean I passed…? Camus: It all depends on the quality of the sweets. But well, I guess I can give you a passing grade first for the time being in terms of its environmental aspect. Camus: From now on, be sure to report back to me whenever you come across any information that I might like, just like this place. Camus: Whether it's useful or not, I'll be the judge for it. Understand? Haruka: I-I understand. I'll try to look around for more information! Camus: If it's necessary, then we can go again just like this to verify the information. Don't forget that you're using my valuable day off time for this, you should be grateful. Camus: …Yes, everything that I ordered is all here. Now then, time to dig in. - Camus: …Hmm. It was actually quite delicious. Haruka: I'm glad that you liked it…! Camus: For a fool like you, that was actually quite a high quality information that you provide. Camus: As a reward, I shall offer you a treat here. But, don't forget to prepare something even more higher level for the next time. Camus: I'm looking forward to see what can you do to impress me from here on out.

Ch 4: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 31 with Camus)

-Shining Agency Dorm Haruka's Room- Haruka: (Since today's my day off, I think I'll try to relax and watch some TV…) - Camus: Greetings to all the ladies and gentlemen. This time, it is I, Camus, who will be the host of the show. Haruka: (It's Camus-senpai. This… Isn't this a program show of everyone from QUARTET NIGHT!) Haruka: (In this popular program show, all of the Senpai are fulfilling the requests of the guests who made an appearance… And this time they have a film director joining them) Camus: Since this is your first action movie, I wonder if you went through a lot of difficulties. Film Director: Everyday was a series of challenges. However, I think I was able to make good use of my past experiences. Camus: There were many scenes throughout the movie where we could feel the director's style in it. For example, during this scene where they get lost on a snowy mountain… Haruka: (Camus-senpai is really good at both speaking and listening…) Haruka: (His appearance as a butler idol was also flawless. I must learn a lot from Camus-senpai's high level of professionalism.) - Camus: Now then, for the guest's request this time is, "I want to try some sweets that I, Camus, recommend". Camus: And here's what we have prepared for you. It's a beautiful Japanese confectionery. Camus: The elegant sculptures created by the artisans are truly works of art. Pardon me for being presumptuous, but I'll also be joining in for the taste-test. Camus: …The smooth texture of the bean paste that melts on your tongue. As the rich and sweet flavor spreads within your mouth, oh my, talk about how delicious it was. Haruka: (Just hearing it makes me wanted to eat them. Ha! Talking about sweets…) Haruka: (He gave me a treat at a cafe the other day, but I still haven't thanked him yet…!)

Ch 5: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 41 with Camus)

-Shining Agency's Hallway- Haruka: (I'm glad that I was able to buy a thank-you gift for him without any problem. I hope he'll be happy with it…) Haruka: Oh… Camus-senpai! Good work for today. Camus: Oh, it's you. Did you come here to cause a trouble again? I'm afraid I don't carry a script with me for you to spill coffee again for today. Haruka: T-That's not it. It's just that, I actually wanted to meet Camus-senpai again, so meeting you like this is such a perfect timing. Camus: What is it? If you're calling me out just for some nonsense then you better stop or I won't give you any mercy. Haruka: Actually, there's something that I would like to give you. Here it is… Camus: A gift for me? And looking at those paper bag, it seems to be sweets, isn't it? (choices) <It's a limited-edition sweets!> Haruka: Yes, it's a limited-edition sweets! Camus: Oh, isn't this the one that is said to be very difficult to get? I heard that you had to line up early in the morning for this… Camus: Well, not bad for someone like you. It seems that you do have a talent for being a servant. <I chose this one after a lot of consideration.> Haruka: I chose this one after a lot of consideration. I've been struggling and worried as to which one that you might like so I hope you'll be satisfied with this. Camus: That's quite an admirable mindset. Though I suppose it's only natural since you're my Kouhai. Camus: But remember that what matters is not the process, but rather the result. Let's just hope that all of your efforts won't go to waste. (back to story) Haruka: I do hope that you will like it… Please take it as a thank you for the treat you gave me the other day! Camus: I thought I told you that was your reward. There would be no end to it if you keep on reciprocating them in return. Haruka: That might be true, but I've always been indebted to Camus-senpai on a regular basis. Haruka: I've learned a lot from you as a kouhai, and I was also impressed when I saw the way you act as host on TV the other day…! Camus: Calm down. Perhaps, it might be reasonable that you give me that paper bag first. I'll let you talk as much as you like while I'm enjoying the sweets.

Ch 6: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 51 with Camus)

-Shining Agency's Meeting Room- Camus: Mm…this is quite something… Here's your reward, come and have a taste. Haruka: (Looking at his reaction now, it looks like he really took a liking to it. I'm glad…) Camus: What are you spacing out for? And here I thought I told you that you can have a taste, so why don't you just take one and eat it? Haruka: Thank you so much for the offer, now then if you excuse me… Mm, it's so delicious! It's melting inside my mouth. Camus: That's right, the combination of its soft sweetness and texture is like a match-made in Heaven. On top of it, it also has a rich aroma too. It really do be tempting you to take another bite. Haruka: Camus-senpai's way of words are indeed amazing. I was amazed by some of your words on TV the other day. Haruka: You're also really good at managing the atmosphere. Even I was able to tell just how comfortable the guest was as they talk to you. Camus: I'm just doing my job as what a host should be. Camus: To be able to do anything that is asked of you is what it means to be a pro. Haruka: And I'd like to learn more from your example! Camus: Hmph. A little girl like you wanted to try to copy me, you can just keep on dreaming. Camus: However, training a kouhai is also a part of my job. Camus: …I guess it can't be helped, this time is a special exception. I will grant you a permission to come and observe me at my work. Haruka: Thank you so much…! I'll try to do my best to learn and improve a lot from you. Camus: Someone like you will never be able to match up with me for the rest of your life. But well, try to do as best as you can to catch up to me.