#yes I got sidetracked from point of the other post/the other post's tags

[anattemptatmeaning]

Meredith: First Time Caller, Long Time Listener - Chapter Three: Crystal Clear

Author's Notes (potential spoilers): My home internet is really slow, hence why this post may look a bit rough (I also stayed up til 4AM finishing and posting this on AO3 lol) and a lot of things have been going on in my personal life but I'm proud to post the third chapter of my humble story! Especially proud, considering that I'm absolutely PATHETIC with procrastination and anxiety, so being able to consistently write three chapters on something I've been working at really means a lot to me. And I got to live out my childhood fantasy of secret passageways in a Bad Times at the El Royale/Barbarian-style sequence. Definitely a two-for-one.

Chapter Theme Song: One Way or Another - Blondie (I find it really funny in the context of this chapter, it matches the dark humor of an OC you'll meet in later chapters)

Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GV9rbpFrebDNkG3J1GGcu

Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains some graphic violence, mainly near the end, but there's slight references to it around the midway point.

Tags: @nocturnest @blingblingsparklesparkle @brittklein18 @luluartpop

Word Count: approx. 2,828

Three: Crystal Clear

The landing in Minneapolis was smooth.

Tangerine got through security with minimal effort, owing to his experience in the business and strings pulled with money to spare. The private jet used for his businessman cover, one of his favorites and most convenient, didn’t hurt.

He texted Lemon to put the bastard at ease.

🍊: Landed safe

🍋: In the belly of the beast now mate

🍊: Fuck off, all I need to do is kill one sodding cop and take a picture of him and send it to some bird

🍋: If any one person recognizes you you’re public enemy number one

🍊: Could say that about any of the other places we’ve been

🍋: Not Meredith.

Tangerine had to take a large seething breath at that point. He tried convincing himself it was just anger as always. 

🍊: Didn’t we agree never to mention that place out loud ever again?

🍋: No, we didn’t, we just stopped talking about it

🍊: Yeah well same fucking principle alright? I landed, I’m ready to do the job, that’s it, why the fuck are you acting like this?

🍋: I still don’t think you should’ve taken that job. I was already on one anyways from the fucking White Death and with where it’s looking, we won’t need one for months

🍊: We’ve already fucking discussed this

🍋: Just finish it and get home ASAP

Tangerine was about to get into another row over Lemon’s hypocrisy when he was the one trying to do his job without a complaint, but got his shit together before he could get even more sidetracked.

He checked into his hotel and went straight to unpacking. As he began hanging his suits, he realized he could not stop thinking back to his client.

She was indeed unusual. He appreciated the promptness and it was certainly a lucrative offer, but it was rare that he would get paid such a high amount, and he was usually sent after the higher-ups. Crime bosses, crooked politicians, and the like. But one measly corrupt cop? If it wasn’t for the curiously high price, arguably below his pay grade.

And it just so happened to coincide with one of the very few jobs that separated the Twins.

Tangerine pulled out his phone and scrolled to find the contact of his client, and began typing.

🍊: Oi, just to clarify, you said three million?

He gets a reply almost immediately.

🔲: Yes. 

🍊: I’m not gonna deny it’s a pretty penny, but how do you have that much, and why me, why this?

🔲: I didn’t want to bother with details. I did say it was personal. But since you asked, revenge. For my family. We’ve got quite a bit of money, and my dad left me a hefty sum in his will. I’m using the bulk of it to pay you. If the job gets finished, of course. 

The response was reasonable if irritating. He was a fucking professional for Christ’s sakes. 

And revenge was annoyingly common in his world, one of the most frequent reasons for people like him to be hired in the first place. It was all a bloody soap opera at this point. 

Tangerine prided himself on being the type not to ask questions, but skepticism won out.

🍊: Hold your horses, who do you think I am? I’m doing your dirty work for you, and I’m gonna be expecting that three mil when I get that photo.

🔲: I genuinely find that ironic. And once again? You did ask. But I think that’s quite enough chatter for a man of your…occupation, isn’t it?

Judging by what he heard of her voice, she was older than him, but came off as a pretentious fucking brat in these messages. Avoiding her bait, Tangerine turned off his phone and got to work, hacking into databases and digging up shit on Officer Geoffrey.

Officer Geoffrey was a madman. 

And he was no cop. He was Black Stone.

Black Stone had been an independent operator for quite some time, and profusely refused to work with any other, not even an agency or a handler. Quite rude too, even considering Tangerine. He flipped from being curtly professional to raving lunatic, constantly giving everyone else in the business a fucking earworm. He was also on the older, washed-up side, looking more like an alcoholic father than a threat.

Tangerine never liked Black Stone. Neither would he admit it, but he was surprisingly a rather prolific contractor, despite being in his line of work for far less time. 

It pissed him off to no end. His ruthlessness matched his reckless abandon, but there was a clear pattern to his victims: they all had committed serious misdeeds, from Blackwater affiliates who had fired on civilians to human trafficking ring leaders. 

Not that it undeterred Tangerine’s opinions of him. Self-righteousness annoyed the hell out of him, and there were plenty of “deserving” folks walking around all over the world at the end of the day. 

Besides, the Twins had worked with Blackwater several times amongst everything they had done throughout their rise to infamy. They hadn’t perished to the great Black Stone. 

Anyways, his methods were as unpredictable as he was angry. Sometimes he’d shoot a prick through their fucking ears. Other times he’d lead a whole gang into a fucking forest and burn it all down. 

Tangerine was understanding a lot more why he was being paid so much. The cop shit had to have been a cover for Black Stone’s antics, and someone had been pissed off just enough. Unsurprising. 

Well, then.

—

Tangerine tailed Officer Geoffrey’s patrol vehicle in a rental car.

He had been intercepting his field operations. Luckily for Tangerine, it wound up as a fairly mundane day. Black Stone was simply monitoring the city while writing the occasional traffic ticket. 

At some point, Geoffrey began to drive out of the Central District. Tangerine followed close behind in a rental car, occasionally darting around different roads to maintain an unsuspicious distance. 

They crossed the Wabasha Street Bridge onto the southern areas of the city. By now, Geoffrey hadn’t done anything besides driving, not even using his radio. Tangerine decided to kill him wherever he stopped. 

Eventually, Geoffrey slowed down and parked. The GPS revealed their location to be in Sunfish Lake, which looked to be a rural village with few houses around. Perfect. Tangerine pulled over just one turn away. He drove a slight distance down a wooded path before killing the engine. 

Tangerine trailed Geoffrey and quickly caught up to within a short distance of him, walking along the road and taking cover among the trees as needed. Minutes later, a multi-story house in a more open lot of land came into view. 

Fair spot for a safe house, Tangerine had to admit.

Geoffrey fished out a set of keys and entered the house. Once he closed the door, Tangerine made a beeline for the house, ducking out of the field of vision whenever Geoffrey walked in front of a window. At the door, Tangerine got out his lockpicks.

Whatever mild approval he expressed of Black Stone for his choice in refuge disappeared once he realized how fucking mediocre his locks were. Nevertheless, he quickly brushed the disappointment off. He would complain once he got home to Lemon.

Once he heard the latch click free, he swung the door open quietly yet rapidly. He closed it with one hand as he drew his revolver with the other.

The interior of the house was unremarkably normal-looking. Grey walls. Forest green tiles. A kitchen with an island, couches and a coffee table over a rug. Bookshelves, framed artwork, potted plants.  

Geoffrey hadn’t come into view, but momentarily Tangerine heard footsteps coming from upstairs. He slid behind a wall and prepared to ambush, but right as he got into position, the footsteps stopped. And never fucking came back.

Puzzled by Geoffrey’s apparent disappearance, Tangerine stepped out into the open. Still no footsteps or sound of movement. He scoured the first floor, walking down a hallway and checking every room and the garage. 

Nothing. 

Tangerine was about to venture onto the second floor when he heard what sounded eerily similar to rustling. He instinctively turned towards the sound, finger on his trigger.

Nothing?

He moved in the direction it came from, which was towards the back door. Right when he reached the door, he heard more rustling. But it sounded like it came from within the house.

What the fuck?

Tangerine briefly peeked through every room on the first floor again before walking up the stairs. The second floor was as mundane as the first. Bedroom. Bathroom. Second bedroom. Second bathroom. 

He was just walking out of the second bedroom’s closet when he noticed a weird flash in the corner of his eye. 

He wheeled around and was face-to-face with the bed. 

Tangerine squinted and walked closer to the headboard. White with three frames that looked like cupboard doors.

Doors.

He used his free hand to look for any openings between the frames and the headboard itself. When he came to the middle frame, he felt his fingers squeeze in just a bit further than with the other frames, followed by a click, and the door swinging wide open.

Under the bed was a dark, long passageway resembling a cave. And there was light at the far end. 

Forced to crawl, Tangerine got on his knees and began navigating through the dimly lit burrow. As he got closer to the light, he noticed that it came from within what appeared to be a dug-out room. 

When he saw what was inside, his jaw dropped.

There was a gigantic fucking conspiracy board filled to the brim of him. Of everything about him. There were photos of him ranging all the way back from when he got his start in the business, his teenage years, to his most recent job. He should have gotten rid of the security camera footage by the time he got home.

And yet.

Newspaper clippings of his jobs, all covered up by the various agencies and criminal organizations by the time they hit the headlines. Portraits of his targets, in live and mangled body form. Snapshots of all the cities he’s worked in, including some uncomfortable close-ups on buildings he recognizes. The inevitable trail of red string connected all of them together in perfect chronological order from what he could remember.

Underneath the board was a long desk. On both sides of it were supercomputers, with a more general-purpose desktop on a smaller desk next to it. There were even more articles dedicated to him, scattered across the vast piles of documents he thought no longer existed. Burner phones he discarded. Cameras of the surveillance kind. Safe house keys. 

This time, what he noticed the most was a garish handwriting in a darkened, oft-putting shade, trailing all over most of the torn sheets of paper. He knew it wasn’t blood, but a distinct putrid odor emitted from the questionable ink he couldn’t quite place. It just felt unnatural.

The writing itself, in bold, large capital letters, spelt NOTHING IS FORGOTTEN.

He picked up one of the sheets of paper and noticed the deranged writing covered a past contract he signed. 

Fuck the job, Black Stone was going to fucking answer for this.

Coming out of the room, he was again bathed in the darkness of the cave as he crawled back to the bed.

Wait, didn’t he leave the door open—

His head bumped against what was certainly the wood of a frame.

That didn’t budge.

He tried pushing against the door as hard as he could, eventually resorting to punching it with his brass knuckles, but for whatever reason, the door did not move an inch. Someone on the other end had to have been holding it in. It was like it had been fucking sealed.

He caught another flash at the corner of his eye and saw that more light had now appeared in the opposite direction. Cursing under his breath and realizing he was forced to find another exit, he crawled all the way to the other side.

There was another ladder leading up to a circular door, looking the same as the one he originally took. The door was easy to open - all he needed to do was push - and spit him out right on a lot of open land. The door was covered by grass, and he noticed a keyhole. It had been unlocked.

Almost directly in front of him was a large white mansion. It easily surpassed Geoffrey’s house by about three times in size. The main entrance had three large wooden doors and wide platform stairs leading up to the front door. 

Two of which were wide open.

Tangerine seethed and quickly barged through the entrance. He was done with Black Stone’s games. 

As soon as he fully stepped inside, both open doors rapidly slammed shut behind him, causing him to flinch. All the blinds were closed in the house, giving the atmosphere a dim, shadowy atmosphere.

Tangerine tried looking out the small windows of the door, but they were built in a kaleidoscope style, the panes seemingly divided into dozens of protruding bumps of glass, making it difficult to see anything. There were no moving shapes, or even shadows from under the door that gave away an outside presence. 

“Fucking bullshit,” Tangerine muttered with half a mind to beat the piss out of whoever showed up, Black Stone or no. Then he heard something akin to a glass shattering from inside the house. He drew his revolver. 

The nearest window smashes to pieces as a figure crashes through the glass to tackle him to the ground.

With a roar of exertion from the sheer frustration of the day, Tangerine puts all his strength in kicking the person off, but they grab hold of his legs and use their fucking body weight to slam him back down. 

Tangerine hits the floor face first, and it’s instantly met with a deep, heavy punch to the back of his head, causing his nose to make full contact with the ground, signaled by the sound of something surely breaking. 

Letting out a furious groan, Tangerine jabs an elbow upward, only slightly connecting with his attacker but connecting nonetheless, and he attempts to follow through with a jab of his own. Said attacker - whose weight had become suspiciously light - only captures his arm in a deathly grip and slams his legs onto Tangerine’s upper body, pushing his head with a now-damaged nose into the floor again with a louder crunch - make that two, as the attacker was pulling his arm back relentlessly far. 

Tangerine let out a guttural cry of pain as his arm was broken, proceeded by his elbow as the bastard had the nerve to suddenly reverse the lower part of his arm in a 180-degree angle. He had dealt with broken limbs before, he was a fucking assassin, but this was particularly inconvenient. 

His quick-thinking of how to adapt to his incapacity was rudely interrupted when the bastard slams a fist in his face, the sensation of pain arising from the broken nose clouding his judgment. A punch to his stomach then the next to his chest knocks the wind out of him. 

Tangerine could now clearly recognize the figure. Black Stone, his tall, lanky figure and his messy dark hair. Most of all, he saw that he was pissed beyond belief. His eyes told the story of a flurry of emotions: rage most obviously, and something involving sadness. 

Tangerine doesn’t get to take advantage of his emotions the way he usually would’ve as Black Stone slams him from wall to wall, then punches him through the cheek, his fist reaching his lips. He begins to feel the same sensation of pain from his nose in his mouth, and is only able to see two of his teeth on the ground before he is practically dragged by the neck without concern for potential choking. His attempt at breaking off is met with a kick to his knees and yet another punch to the shoulder, rendering it nigh dislocated. 

Shortly, he feels Black Stone throw him to the floor, now carpeted. Tangerine was about to fight through the pain to rip him a new one when he noticed dozens of people. Then hundreds. They were at the back of the house now, and he could see into the sizable lot of land through the back door that people surrounded them from all sides. 

People he recognized. No, people he knew - or knew him, rather. 

And standing closest to him were the survivors of the Meredith Elementary School bombing. 

"You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise." -Maya Angelou

[m1ckeyb3rry]

I wish there were a more standardized rules for the romanization because the differences are so wild that I go back and read and I’m like what who tf is this…like atp it’d be easier for me to just read it in korean instead if I have to think this hard to figure out who is being referred to…and yes the webcomic def isn’t as deep LOL im ngl I was never like super SUPER into orv like that so I didn’t mind it just being a more surface level easy quick read maybe someday I’ll actually get the willpower to fully read the novel…

Wait you’re so right LOL I totally forgot….also on that note iirc I think yukis bday is late April, I wanna say 26/27….but I could be wrong because I (regretfully) have not paid as much attention to yuki as some others (KARASU cough) but I’m actually laughing so hard sidekick Niko is actually gold I love the dynamic

Oh yeah there’s definitely Kaiser glazers LOL I feel like most of them are also the ones calling ness a glazer which is ironically funny (classic dude bro activity)

I just saw your side by side post and I was gonna say why do they look so similar in those panels LOL ok but hak too >>>>> I also remember seeing scenes of him and being like omg…actually he does kinda remind me of the closeted pining loser..lowk maybe I should go back to reading this again

LMAOO yeah you could never catch me pampering someone like Reo does to Nagi but OOOOOH guys im getting an exclusive sneak peek to peregrine hehe ok but reading this YOU CANNOT DROP A BOMB LILE THAT OMG??? Guys….guys?????!!!! Heavily agree that nagi being with her DESPITE the hassle >>>>>> Nagi being with her because she’s the only one who isn’t a hassle….it makes it feel more meaningful because we all know how much he hates hassles and instead of her just conveniently fitting with his lifestyle in that sense he’s actively willing to actually go out of his comfort zone for her….its the active part fr…I’m crying him biking all the way to meet her is giving me white butterfly hiori and willow tree rin add him into the losers with wild signs of affection club…ok but him actively failing to give the opportunity to her SHSGSHSH Lowk I can imagine her being pissed when/if she finds out but also OHHH ok it’s been a bit since I last read it but the pieces are here so that’s why Nagi’s always been kinda looked down upon because of his soccer career decline…that sounds like a big peregrine installment though LOL excited for whenever you decide to put that out!! I’m all for the tidbits and spoilers though

I was also going to say I remember first reading peregrine and getting sidetracked by chigiri because of the way you wrote him as the bff too LMAOOOO I definitely see the chigiri bff trope used here and there and I haven’t seen any characterizations of him here that are as bad/wild as other characters (like the Itoshis) but yours is def one of my favs miraverse characters on top!!!

LMAOOO “did I miss a tag was this supposed to be some cucking fic” no dw they’ll turn around once they realize it’s not aiku (like me reading Karasu bfb part 2 instead of 1 smh) OR they’ll just convert to (whoever it is) nation from your writing

OOOOOH ok actually that makes it easier for the fyp to do its thing then manifesting some top tier audio!! On a slightly unrelated note whenever I see anything using that audio from the Barou one you showed me I think about the Barou edit and lose it…truly living in my head rent free

Omg so I sent in the reply and went to go look at the source material to translate but got side tracked and completely forgot about it until I read this so umm!!! Going now!!! LMAO luckily they’re pretty short so it won’t take me long as long as my brain has the capacity to remember to actually do it shshjensjs

- Karasu anon

i think i started reading it because of an edit on tik tok (at this point what DON’T i do because of edits on tik tok…) and found out the webcomic wasn’t finished so i just went straight for the novel instead!! and honestly i’m glad i did because it was a much better experience imo…honestly i was lucky in that i had literally nothing else to do so it was easy for me to keep reading which meant i could get to the really exciting parts quicker!! since at first it’s kind of confusing 😰 but i do want to reread at some point because i think it’s one of those stories that’ll be even better when you know the ending?? or like you pick up on things you missed the first time around 🙂‍↕️ however it’s so long that rereading would be such a time commitment idk if i could do it 😭

okay wait yeah he does have an april birthday i was thinking of nagi when i said may!! LMAO agreed the yukimiya facts are not at the forefront of my mind as compared to nagi karasu and barou’s (also barou and i have almost the same birthday this basically makes us soulmates i think)

kaiser glazers are so interesting because 99% of kaiser fans fundamentally misunderstand his character to the point that it’s like…just create an oc…LMAOAOA he’s definitely interesting but i think he has to be viewed in a very particular lens to even make sense as a person 🤔 he’s not solely “evil abusive meanie villain” but he’s also definitely NOT a sweetheart who would be perfect and flirty in a relationship…many layers to that man but i will leave the exploring of them to someone who actually gaf abt him

NO BECAUSE THE RESEMBLANCE IS UNCANNY TBH LIKE WHY DO THEY LOOK SOSOSO SIMILAR?? dare i say nagi might pull up and steal shinah’s story that i always wanted to write but never did…DARE I SAY 🤫 jkjk we will see if i can even make it work because to be honest it might be too dependent on yona lore HOWEVER the crossover could be insane 😨 especially because hak was the second lead so i could EASILY give rin that spot and fulfill my rin second lead dreams 🤩

LMAOOO I NEEDEDDDD TO GO ON THE PEREGRINE RANT WITH SOMEBODY!!! oh 100% it’s like one of the main three fights they have (the first is after he becomes friends with reo and asks her why she hates him so much so she tells him she hates him for not trying and still being better than her because she’ll be stuck in their hometown forever [they secretly become friends and then start dating afterwards], the second is when she finds out he failed on purpose because she’s all like “oh you didn’t trust me now i didn’t even earn it” and nagi’s like “bro what do you want from me 😰”, and the third is when he bikes to her house and asks her to stay and she tells him she has to leave and then literally gets in the taxi and leaves him standing there in the rain watching her go 😭) okay wait more peregrine lore: the reason why she gets with kira is deadass because chigiri reo and may convince her to go to a college party in their freshman year with them for the underage drinking experience and when she’s drunk she sees a tall pale haired soccer player and is like omg nagi??? and goes over to cry and hug him because she misses him sm…meanwhile kira is like WTF but finds her hot so he decides he needs to snatch and that’s why he knows who nagi is even though she doesn’t remember it happening because reo may chigiri were NOT responsible friends and she had a bitttt too much 😓 she says no because she still loves nagi and wants to be with him once she graduates but a week or so later nagi goes viral on social media for mentioning he’s in love with a girl from their hometown — orie watanabe (reader’s best friend from when she was a kid who sold her out to her mother) so she calls kira and is like “ok ig i’ll date you i have no other options” BUT plot twist there’s an interlude which shows the actual interview and all nagi said (in response to the interviewer asking why he’s single) is that he’s still in love with this girl he knew from when he was younger (implied to be reader) it’s just that the gossip sites went crazy trying to find the girl and orie being a clout chaser is like “oh he’s talking abt me” LMAOAOA and ofc as chigiri mentioned nagi doesn’t have any social media so he had 0 clue what was even HAPPENING but that’s why reader thinks he moved on first!!

also wait number one peregrine moment that is yet to come is during reo and may’s wedding…the date of reader’s wedding has been set and she’s dancing w nagi as the best man and maid of honor usually do and she starts crying because talking to may made her realize she actually still loves nagi but she doesn’t know how to escape the hole she’s dug for herself so nagi’s like “wow guys she’s so emotional her best friends are getting married 🙂‍↕️” and they go sit in the corner and he’s like ok why are you ACTUALLY crying and she’s like i wish we were the ones getting married which ofc makes nagi be like 😮 UNFORTUNATELY kira is there and he overhears and starts crashing out but then the goat himself HYOMA CHIGIRI pulls up and diffuses things by dumping a glass of red wine on kira’s head and saying “you’ve always wanted to be like me at least now you’ve got the hair color down 🥱” JFNDJSKS then kira fucks off back to america but chigiri gets home first and he + niko + kunigami get all of reader’s stuff out of their house before kira can do anything…then nagi gets back into soccer but the only team that’ll take him is a really shitty one that’s supposed to be kicked out of the league because they don’t even have a coach and reader is like “yo if you take nagi as a player i’ll get you a coach” and then she calls chigiri so he + kunigami + niko (who still has reader’s cat for some reason) pull up and chigiri gets the job as their coach and he + nagi lead them to victory that season even though chigiri had to quit playing soccer in college because of his leg (hence why kira replaced him) 🤩

YESSS THE AUDIOS GO CRAZY i never know when inspo will strike because it’ll be the most random videos fr but at this point i trust my for you page to lead me to greatness it hasn’t let me down yet!! also omg the barou effect…so real though that edit was PERFECT like the clips they used and everything…lowkey after sae i might do barou’s edition of the oaeu because i cannot wait to write him and also because it’ll introduce niko as aiku’s sidekick which is a must

LMAOOO no worries i will go respond to them now!! hehe you are always on the translating grind my goat fr 😩

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝

"You only want to stay because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?“

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,297

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: i'm so fried after editing this, if i missed any typos, i'm sorry. as always, let me know what you think! i love getting feedback from you guys!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your siblings sit in a half-circle at the back of the Hermes Cabin, ready for their lesson. James lays out the materials you’ll need for the potion he was demonstrating today: the mortar and pestle, herbs, spell books. He has almost everything except for the sand, which was the most crucial ingredient. So, he had sent you to retrieve some from the dunes since you were the only one who didn’t need the lesson Ernest was teaching.

Ernest stands in front of Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen, and Atticus, lecturing on the properties of sand. Your siblings listen attentively, taking notes in their notebooks, all of them but one. Ernest looks up from reading a part of his book of shadows, noticing Atticus is distracted by his familiar.

"Atticus, are you listening?" Ernest asks, raising his eyebrow as he closes his book. Atticus cradles Harvey in his arms as if he is a newborn baby, his finger scratching his tummy as the animal curls up towards his chest. He doesn’t notice the other staring at him for a few seconds, looking up after realizing he had stopped talking.

"Me? Yeah, dude. I'm listening," Atticus bluffs, and Ernest squints, leaning back on the desk behind him.

"So what did I just say?"

"Atticus, are you listening?" Atticus repeats, smiling as his sisters giggle beside him. The corner of Ernest’s mouth tugs into a slight smirk as he rolls his eyes.

"What did I say before that?" He clarifies. Atticus sways in his place, continuing to soothe his tired familiar, and he hums, trying to recall what they were discussing. He’s quiet for a while before grunting. He really wasn't listening, too distracted by his surroundings to focus. Ernest pretty much lost him at “alright guys, today…” However, he remembers you volunteering to get sand after James realized he forgot to get some himself.

"Ehm… I don't know. Something about sand?"

Ernest sighs, "Yes, I was talking about sand. Can anyone catch Atticus up on the properties for sand?"

"Different sands have various spiritual properties, but the lake sand that you're using today can be used in spells for self-reflection and grounding," Travis chimes in all of a sudden. He's laid down in his bed, holding a comic book over his head as he looks at the group.

James turns away from the materials, amused that the other has probably been listening this entire time. It was the middle of the day, so the Hermes cabin was pretty empty since everyone was out doing their own thing. The only other people in the cabin were the Stoll brothers and a handful of their siblings. James chuckles,

"Travis, you want to be a witch too?" He jokes, and Travis shrugs,

"I practically am already. I'm always listening to your lessons," he admits amused, returning his attention to the comic book he was reading.

"Everyone has a little witch in them. See Atticus; even Travis was listening," Alabaster teases.

Atticus grunts, "Yeah, yeah. I was trying to put Harvey to sleep!"

“You act like he’s a baby that needs to be coddled!” Sage raises her eyebrow. Atticus had always been super affectionate with Harvey. She swears she’s never seen Atticus and Harvey separated for long like the way you and Ambrose have periods where you’ll be apart. When Ambrose knew you were safe, he’d usually wander off to find your siblings or mess around with monsters in the forest, so he wasn’t with you 24/7. But Atticus managed to have Harvey with him all the time.

“Do not judge my parenting! He likes being held,” Atticus defends Harvey, and Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.

“Parenting? You sound like a single dad.”

Alabaster snorts, “anyways," he cuts in, grabbing both of their attention. "we can start the potion whenever Y/n decides to come back with it," he says as he sits down in a nearby desk chair.

Lou Ellen hums, "she's been gone for almost 40 minutes now. The dunes are on the other side of camp, but it shouldn't take her this long?"

"Maybe she got sidetracked?" James shrugs. "We can go look for her if she doesn't come back in another 10 minutes, but I'm sure she's fine.”

"I'm here!" You announce as you burst through the cabin door, Ambrose running next to you. He runs through the wall, rushing to join your siblings. You sigh, your arm coming up to wipe your forehead that was a little damp from sweat, and your cheeks are a little flushed from being in the summer heat.

"Look who decided to come back," James announces, shaking his head in playful disapproval. You smile sheepishly, too caught up in your breathing to say anything as you pass the jar to him. You return to your spot between Lou Ellen and Atticus, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What took you so long?" Lou Ellen asks, her voice concerned. You clear your throat, attempting not to sound hesitant as you come up with a lie on a whim.

"Oh uh, I just got distracted… some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin were hanging out at the dunes, and I got caught up in conversation," you stutter a little, suddenly feeling nervous as Atticus squints at you. You accidentally meet his stare before looking away fast, turning so that your back is facing him.

"You're lying," he declares. You scoff,

"No, I'm not!"

"I'm your twin, y/n. I know when you are lying!" He reminds you, and you groan.

You and Atticus have always had this weird twin sense. You both can tell when the other is lying because you could pick up on each other's emotions really well. You thought maybe if he didn’t see your body language, he wouldn’t be able to pick up on your lie, but of course, he didn’t need a visual to know that you were nervous. You could also feel each other's pain to a certain extent which has always been annoying. Atticus was pretty accident-prone when he was younger and, well, still is. This meant any bumps and bruises he managed to obtain, you would always get dull aches in the same area. The most annoying part of it all was that the more severe the pain, the more you felt. Once you had period cramps so bad, you both had to call out from school because he was also curled up in his bed, declaring that he’ll never make period jokes again in his life.

You weren’t sure why you had this connection with your brother. Since you’ve had it your entire life, you had thought this was a regular thing, but you’ve recently found out that it wasn't normal at all. You just assumed that it came with the quirks of being children of a sorceress goddess. You had to admit that it was cool, but at times like this, you wished you didn’t have it because Atticus called you out a lot.

You didn't want to admit you got distracted by Percy in the combat area. On your way back, you saw him practicing with the test dummies. You watched him practice for a few seconds, and you had no intention of stopping to talk to him initially, but when he caught you walking by, he called you over.

"Admit it, you were nervous," Percy laughs, continuing to tease you about how you ran away from him during Capture the Flag. You scoff, nudging his shoulder,

"Of you? Please,” you deny even though you were nervous about going head-to-head with him, but he didn’t need to know that. “It doesn't matter if I ran away because I still won!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he smiles,

“You should still practice your sword fighting, Y/n. You can’t always run away from a sword fight,” he points out, and you frown,

“I’m not a close-range fighter. It’s just how it is.” After declaring that you “failed” in sword fighting, you were a bit insecure about your abilities. It was a good and bad thing because after your “failure,” you delved into your magic studies, and you were proud of how much better your abilities have gotten. You could confidently say that you are now a more powerful and seasoned witch than you were at the beginning of the summer. The bad part was that you never stepped foot in the combat area again. The dagger you carried around barely saw the light of day, strapped in its holster most of the time.

"Well, one day, you might not have a choice… c'mon Sabrina Spellman, show me what you got," he jokes as he gets into his stance. You smile, putting the jar of sand down before taking your dagger out of its casing.

"I don't got much to show," you say playfully.

You thought that you'd just go one round with him, but the next thing you knew, he was giving you an entire lesson. He sparred with you a few times, analyzing how you fought and he gave you tips here and there. He was helpful and patient, and you did walk away knowing a few new things.

You swallow as you feel the stares of your siblings, now interested as to why you lied. You try not to become more flustered as you recall the feeling of Percy standing close behind you. His touch was gentle, hands slightly calloused as he adjusted the way you held your dagger, and with light fingertips, he moved your limbs, putting you in a stronger stance.

You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you trailed off, hoping Atticus would drop it. You turn to your brothers, James preparing everything, but Alabaster and Ernest were just as interested as the others regarding where you could have been.

"She was probably with Percy,” Connor mocks, a sly smirk on his face as the whole cabin filled with Ooo's and amused chattering. Your shoulders slouch, head hung low, and you felt like you wanted to crawl in a hole.

"Were you actually?" You hear Atticus asks with amusement in his voice. You don't move from your place, keeping quiet. You knew there was no use in denying it because Atticus would easily sense the lie.

"She definitely was!" Alice squeals when you don’t say anything, and you glare at your sisters, making them giggle.

Lou Ellen nudges your shoulder, "what were you guys doing? You looked flustered when you walked in here,” she teases and winks.

"Probably making out!" Connor butts in before you could answer, and you gasp, snapping your gaze to him.

“We were just sparring!" You blurt out, and Connor laughs at how defense you suddenly became. The last thing you wanted was rumors leaving the cabin, and you groan as your sisters start pestering you with questions, along with the assumptions of your other cabinmates.

"Okay! Okay," Alabaster shouts a little over the chattering. "We need to focus. You guys can talk about that later," he says, and silence falls amongst your siblings. You nod, relieved that you get to avoid the topic for now. You watch as they exchange looks, silently communicating something to each other. You had an idea that it had something to do with you as Ernest’s eyes flicker in your direction and Alabaster’s face hardens. James gave them a dismissive wave with his hand as if he was telling them not to worry before continuing to sort out the materials in front of him.

"Let's start this potion. Some of us have chores to do," James cuts through the silence as he grabs the mortar and pestle and sits down in front of you and your siblings.

As James puts the potion together, carefully showing you how to cut and crush certain herbs, Ernest sits beside him, explaining the steps carefully. You lean a little forward, focusing on the lesson, and you diligently write notes in your notebook, trying not to miss any crucial details.

“Take good notes; I’m copying those,” Atticus whispers in your ear, and you squint at him playfully. His arms were too occupied with Harvey, so he was just watching the demonstration, confident that you’ll take thorough notes for him to copy. You shake your head, turning your attention back to Ernest as he speaks. After demonstrating it, they pass on the materials to you guys, and it was your turn to try it out.

The potion was a little too easy for you, and you find yourself growing a little bored as you put everything together. It annoyed you because you felt like your brothers were going easy on you and you were itching to get into the more advanced stuff such as healing potions or something like a disguising potion.

Out of your three older brothers, Ernest was the most knowledgeable about potions. He was always helping out in the infirmary, making healing potions for the Apollo kids to use. Sometimes the Hermes kids would ask him to make potions for pranks, and you’ve even seen some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin begging him to make love potions for them. Usually, Ernest would decline their requests, giving lectures, especially to the Aphrodite girls, why a love potion is a terrible idea. But in the times that he has agreed to do them, the results were always hilarious. Once, he made a Hilarity Potion for the Stoll brothers that turned the Ares cabin into a bunch of giggling messes for 24 hours. Until that day, you’ve never seen someone giggle aggressively before.

You were the first to finish the potion, bottling it up in a miniature glass jar before pushing the cork into the top. You carefully wired wrapped the jar, attaching it to a necklace and fastening it around your neck. After being praised by your brothers, you were off to do the chores that were given to you by Connor as repayment for not ratting you out to the Aphrodite Cabin about your spontaneous meeting with Percy at the docks.

You were done right in time for dinner, the time passing as usual as you and your siblings talk and laugh at the table. Soon, you were singing along to the songs at the campfire, and by the time it came to an end, your eyelids were heavy with fatigue. You knew then that you were not going to study into the night as the soreness from sparring with Percy started to settle in your muscles. When you arrived at the Hermes cabin after washing up for bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered was mumbling a good night to Atticus and turning over in your bed.

Your dreams were always weird, so when you’re taken to a meadow in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t surprised. Actually, you were pretty content, preferring this scene instead of the bizarre settings you often came across.

You swore you could feel the soft summer breeze blowing on your face, and you take a deep breath, basking in the fresh air. You look out at the grassy land ahead of you, noticing you were standing at a crossroad. Two gravel roads stretched in either direction, one path seemingly identical to the other. You turn around to study your surroundings further. You squint, hand hovering above your eyes to protect them from the shining sun that's beginning to set behind the hills. The valley was still; the only sound you could hear was the wind whooshing past your ears, and you felt safe.

“Come with us, y/n.” A familiar voice cuts through the stillness, and you gasp, looking in the direction it came from. You find Alabaster standing on the left road, James and Ernest standing beside him. You felt your stomach turn as their eyes darken. Your arms wrap around your frame as the once warm wind turns cold. Dark clouds roll in, splitting the sky in half as the right side remains the same sunny meadow. Groans of thunder echoed throughout the land, and you can sense an eerie presence lingering in the air.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, noticing Atticus standing on the right road.

“No! Don’t,” he shouts, his expression glazed over in fear, and you step back.

“Don’t listen to him. We know what’s best for you,” James says, his arm extended out for you to hold, and you shake your head. “Come with us.”

“No! Come with me!”

“Come with us!”

You feel your heart racing in your chest, the screams of your brothers sending goosebumps to your skin. Their voices become more desperate, and you can hear the grief and panic in their voices.

“No, no, no. It’s a dream… you can change it,” you whisper, becoming overwhelmed as the thunder grows louder and so the desperation in your brother’s wailing. You stare down at the ground, and your hands are pressed firmly over your ears. You try to concentrate on shifting into another dream, but before you could, you felt as if your body was sucked into a vortex. A distant voice calls your name, and you groan, your vision blurry as your eyes flutter open.

Alabaster stands over you as he nudges your shoulder softly, whispering your name until you finally wake up. “C’mon, get up.”

You lazily sit up in your bed, your surroundings fuzzy as Alabaster guides you to stand up. You assume that it must be morning as you slip your feet into your slippers and you rub your eyes. It didn’t take you long to notice that it was still night time and you whine softly, confused and annoyed that you were woken up from your slumber.

“Al? What’s going on?” Alabaster doesn’t answer, grabbing onto your wrist, and you were too groggy to protest, following him to the back window of the Hermes cabin. You stumble a little when you land on the grass, Atticus coming to your side and grabbing on to your other hand. You don’t even notice the nervous look on his face or the way his hand was shaking, too busy attempting to stay awake.

Your vision was still fuzzy, and you lay your head against your brother's arm, feeling Ambrose’s mouth tugging on your shirt frantically as Alabaster leads you into the forest. You don’t know what it was, but you had this feeling that something was wrong and a soft sigh leaves your lips as you gather your strength to get out of your grogginess.

“Wait… wait!” You snatch your arm from Alabaster's hold. “What’s going on?” You ask as your brothers turn around.

“We’re leaving,” Ernest says, and you furrow your eyebrows. “We’re going to join Kronos’s army.”

“We? Are you insane?” You felt your heart drop to your chest, and you tried to look for any sign that they were joking.

“Come with us, Y/n,” Alabaster pleads, and you feel goosebumps forming on your skin as you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The tone of his voice, the way their eyes darkened, was the same as the dream you just had. Your brothers glowered down at you, waiting for your decision.

"No… no, this isn't right,” you whisper. You let go of Atticus’s hand, just now noticing how tight his grip was. You wipe your shaky palms on your pants, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. At least, you were hoping that you were still dreaming. You scan your surroundings, trying to find a sign that would tell you that this wasn't real, but you don't find one.

“There is no reason to stay here, to fight on this side. Kronos will win the war. The camp doesn’t stand a chance,” Alabaster declares confidently. Your mind wanders, recalling the dark stormy clouds that loomed over your brothers in your dream and the eeriness that took over. You could practically feel your pulse in your ears, grasping the fact that your dream was a warning.

“And how are you so sure?” Your voice quivers, and you sigh in disbelief.

“Because mother told me,” Alabaster says, and your head jerks back, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Mother? She spoke to you?”

“Yes. She’s fighting for Kronos, and she believes it is in our best interest to join her.”

A wave of emotion washes over you all at once. You were shocked, furious, even a little jealous. Your mother never came to speak to you. You knew that she tended to favor your more powerful siblings. Your older brothers have talked to her a few times, and the reminder made your chest feel heavy. You knew she looked after you, obviously. She had saved your life by sending Ambrose to you and your brother's aid. You prayed to her daily, and she occasionally sent you signs that made you feel she was there with you — but coming to see you? That was a privilege that you weren’t worthy of; at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your fury came from the fact that your mother was the motivator of all this. Why would she persuade your brothers in her own interests? Weren’t there rules that your godly parent couldn’t interfere with certain things? You weren’t sure what the rules specifically were, but this didn’t feel right. You shake your head,

“Mother isn’t omniscient. She doesn’t know who will win.” Your fist is clenched hard on your side, and you watch as Alabaster’s expression hardens,

"You're only fighting on this side because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?"

"Boyfriend?! What are you talking about-”

"I'm talking about Percy! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you hanging out with him. Sparring together? In the strawberry fields together? You guys were practically flirting at the campfire, and Connor told us that you’ve been meeting him at night. Is that true?"

You feel your face get hot, but it wasn’t at the accusation of Percy being your boyfriend but the rage that was swirling in your chest. You hated that he thought you would compromise your loyalty to your siblings for a boy. That wasn’t true. In the right circumstances, you would always put your siblings first because you knew they would do the same. But this wasn’t about Percy; you haven’t thought of him until Alabaster brought him up. This was about loyalty to the camp.

"He's not my boyfriend. It doesn’t even matter what side he’s fighting on. I couldn’t care less. Al… this- this is about family!"

"Family?! What?”

“The camp,” you say shakily, and you shift on your feet as a sarcastic laugh leaves Alabaster’s lips.

“The camp? You mean the camp that doesn’t deem our mother worthy of her own cabin? We’ve been trapped in that Hermes cabin since the beginning. Half of us didn’t even have a bed to sleep in the first summer we arrived. You and Lou Ellen had to cram in a twin-size bed the first couple of weeks until you got lucky and something opened up. Y/n, they don’t care about us. They toss us to the side, barely give us a space to learn our magic. This camp isn’t family. We're your family, Y/n. We understand you the most. We share the same powers, the same mother. We care for you."

You look down at the ground, hating that you were unable to deny that the words he spoke held truth. The children of minor gods were treated differently. You didn’t have a cabin dedicated to your godly parent, and that was enough to make you feel lesser than. You remember Ethan Nakamura saying in passing that being forced to sleep in the Hermes cabin was pretty much an odd punishment for not being a child of one of the 12. You remember laughing and brushing it off, not thinking much of it at the moment, but now, it suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t joking at all. He was dead serious.

You have to admit that the living situation wasn’t ideal. It affected how you were able to study your magic and came with annoying inconveniences. You slept in a sleeping bag for your first summer, tucked away in the corner of the room with Atticus. The system in place for who gets a bed was set up by seniority. The longer you've been at camp, the more secure your sleeping arrangements were. You only got a bed because, at the beginning of the summer, a good chunk of kids had left to join Kronos’ army, which bumped you up on the waiting list.

You almost gave in, only so that you'd be with your siblings. If you stay, most of them will be long gone, and you'll be forced to fight them on the battlefield, but you couldn't leave. It didn’t feel right to compromise your loyalty to the camp. Though there were days where you did feel like an outcast, you couldn’t ignore the times you didn’t. Your friends here were important to you too, and you’ve always seen the camp as your haven. It was the only place where you didn’t have to worry about monsters or entities. Sure, some people at camp saw you as some freak, but you never felt as much as a freak here as you did in the mortal world. In the end, it boiled down to one question. Did you want to fight alongside your friends for a camp that brought you a sense of comfort? Or will you fight for a bitter, greedy titian who’s only using you so he can have the throne?

"No, I’m staying,” you say with a tight jaw, looking up to meet Alabaster’s eyes. You kept thinking of the dark clouds, the thunder roaring in the background, the way the valley darkened. That was a warning. That was a clear sign to run the other way, to not walk into the storm.

"Atticus?" Alabaster shifts his gaze to your brother, who stands beside you. Your entire body tenses up, your teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

He couldn't go. You couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. Though you were sure that he would be on your side, it was then you decided that if Atticus left, you were going to leave too. You hated that you were second-guessing him, but you weren't sure what to believe after this whole thing being pulled by Alabaster.

"... I'm staying.” His voice is more confident than you expected it to be, and you sigh out shakily, feeling the weight of dread lift from on your shoulders. You’ll still have your twin, and right now, when you felt like your whole world was falling apart, that’s all that mattered.

"You both are fools," Alabaster hissed, and your fist clenches, gaze snapping up.

"You’re the damn fool. How are you so sure that if Kronos wins, everything will suddenly be better? Alabaster, he’s feeding off your anger for his own agenda. You really think if we fight in his little army, he’ll care about us?” Your voice cracks, you scan the crowd of your siblings looking at you. You peer over at your sisters, who were huddled behind your brothers.

“Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen? This isn’t right. We- I- don’t go, just stay here at camp,” you plead, hoping that if you could persuade them to stay, maybe your brothers will forfeit their plan. “I have a bad feeling. I had a dre-”

“Stop,” James barked. You couldn’t help but cringe; the way his eyes narrowed at you was something you’ve never seen before.

“The odds are in Kronos’ favor. He has a bigger army. His allies are strong. This camp doesn’t stand a chance. You asking them to stay is the same as asking them to die,” he declares. “Mother says if- when he wins, she will take care of us. We can live and study with her, she promised.”

Your eyes sting with tears, and you close them, fingers anxiously peeling the skin around your nails. It was way too good to be true. That’s probably something you’ve always wanted, to live as a coven with your siblings. You only wished for a conversation with your mother, but the opportunity to learn from her directly was tempting. Still, you thought about the chaos that would reign across the country, across the world. You didn’t understand how a world under the rule of Kronos could be any better than the world you had now. And you deduced that it would probably be even worse.

“It’s all bull,” you spat, and you scoff. “I’m asking them to die? Take a look at where you’re taking them! This is mad. Guys, please,” you plead again. You frown as Alice and Sage refuse to look at you, huddling close beside each other.

“I- I’m staying,” Lou Ellen suddenly breaks the silence, and you feel a rush of hopefulness. Her head is lowered in a bow, avoiding the stares of your brothers as she walks to you. You reach out your arms, grasping her hand the moment she was close enough. You hear Ernest scoff, turning around to look at Sage and Alice.

“Anyone else would like to stay?” His tone is harsh, cutting through the night and Alice and Sage stare at the floor. You could tell from their trembling hands that they were scared. If they felt any conviction, any second thoughts, they didn’t dare to speak up.

“Let’s go before we get caught out here,” Alabaster announces, and you meet his eyes one last time.

“We’ll see you on the battlefield, sister.”

The walk back to the Hermes Cabin was silent. You hold on to Lou Ellen’s equally clammy hands, the three of you shaken up from what just happened. A part of you still couldn’t even believe that this is how your night played out. You glance at Atticus, his face expressionless, but you knew his mind was scattered with a million thoughts. If your own grief wasn’t enough, you were met with the burden of the grief radiating off of him.

Atticus coped with things differently than you did. You were quick to cry when you’re sad, scream when you were angry, but he bottled it up. He would bottle it up until all his emotions boiled over the limit. Even then, he was private, never letting it out where people could see him, but no matter what, you felt it, and no matter what, you were there comforting him.

He meets your gaze, and you take in the sadness on his face. The sight of his sorrow made it hard to hold back your tears. You knew that when Al called his name, he felt your panic. He felt your dilemma. You didn’t exactly know his stance on the impending war, but you knew at that moment, Atticus made his decision because he didn’t want to be separated from you. He manages a sad smile as there is a mutual understanding of this between the two of you. He slings his arm around both you and Lou Ellen’s shoulders in a failed attempt to lighten up the situation. He swallows hard,

“We’ll be okay,” he musters out, and as confident he wished to sound, the weakness in his voice was unavoidable. You suppress the sob that threatened to leave your lips, a tear falling down your cheek, and you nod,

“Yeah, we- we’ll be okay.” Your voice falters.

and hopefully, they’ll be okay too.

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr

[mittensmorgul]

So for the most part, I outright reject the finale. But I do think, in light of the whole "Jimmy was supposed to be in the bar, and Dean was disappointed by that because his perfect heaven would have Cas in it" just makes me all the more convinced that the final episode was some kind of djinn dream. Like.... There's no other explanation in my opinion. If Dean's perfect heaven was supposed to have Cas, and he tragically gets faked out by Jimmy (????? Why tf would jimmy be there anyway), it just proves that it's not ACTUALLY heaven. That, along with he El Sol beer he's drinking is all the evidence I need. I think after 15x19, Dean and Sam got whammied by some monster, and are stuck in a hallucination, and that's what we're seeing. (My headcanon is that it's actually The Empty doing it, because it knows if it doesn't keep Dean and Sam occupied and spinning in circles, they'll invade the Empty to save Cas. So its trying to prevent that) :)

Hello, anon friendo! I am gonna start by offering the socially distanced version of a high five, because yeah... There is just so much to unpack here, and you provided such a succinct and all-encompassing series of statements to start from. Thank you!

*flings open array of questionable suitcases*

First off, Congrats on having rejected the finale. I know a lot of folks are still struggling with that one, for many reasons. But you have hit upon so many of the points I’ve been trying to make about the finale since it aired. I’d just like to start with some of the assumptions I’ve heard from folks about the finale that make it impossible for me to consider it fully honestly canon. Because so much about it just makes no goshdang sense... like... not at all...

One of the biggest issues I have surrounding the reception of the finale in parts of fandom is that it portrayed a “happy ending.” The show itself spent the entire final season telling us that a gravestone marked Winchester was not and never would be a happy ending (thank you Becky Rosen-- words I never thought I’d say, but honestly and most sincerely meant). Let’s break this down a bit.

Starting from the assumption that “heaven was fixed” so that characters could have true free will there, making it satisfying in any way that Dean died so young and never got to truly experience happiness during life, I would like anyone who has adopted this attitude to then explain Kansas the band. I mean... explain that in any satisfactory canon-compliant way. (hint: you can’t. it makes zero sense in canon, if heaven is truly reformed and “happy” with everyone in possession of free will.)

Which brings me to Misha’s comments about Jimmy being in the Roadhouse. Why, if heaven were truly fixed, would Jimmy ever in a bazillion years attend a party for Dean Winchester? If Heaven were truly a “happy” ending for Dean, why introduce this element of eternal tragedy and heartbreak to his heaven experience? Why taunt him with the eternal loss of Cas-- even if you don’t think he reciprocated Cas’s romantic feelings, he was canonically the best friend Dean ever had, and being forced to exist forever in a place where he had everyone else he ever cared for except for Cas? Is frankly horrific.

How the actual fuck is that a happy ending, in any sense of the word?

How is this the sort of heaven that Dean would’ve made for himself before it was “fixed?” At least in the memorex heaven, he could’ve lived in oblivious peace with Cas, even if it was always just his own memories and not ~actually Cas~. I honestly think that would’ve been happier than the abject tragedy of what we did get, and what we would’ve gotten had the original script played out.

All of this kind of makes me wonder if they ever even actually defeated Chuck. Like... it feels more like Dean got pulled into the Empty at that moment with Cas and Billie, and everything else after that point was the Empty’s endless experience of sorrow and despair we knew it subject its charges to. So that’s one potential for what could’ve actually happened. I mean, everything about the finale was sorrow and despair, you know? Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his pie at a pie festival because Sam smashed in in his face. How is any of it happy, in any way?

Because if that was actually heaven, there wasn’t actually any free will (because why tf would Kansas the band have chosen to put on that concert? why tf would Jimmy have been there, just to torment Dean with the taunt of Cas returning to him only to have that hope snatched away again? It’s cruel. It’s, in fact, a source of intense despair).

The djinn theory could also work, and I’ve read some excellent fix-it fic using that as a premise. But that doesn’t really explain what happened to Jack (and Amara, since she was in there with them) after hoovering up Chuck’s power, you know? I think the simplest explanations in canon are that Chuck actually won via the unified power of Light and Dark being transferred into Jack and effectively using him as a vessel. With Sam and Dean convinced they’d won, they effectively stopped resisting Chuck’s story for them, and using Jack’s understanding of humanity and the Winchesters specifically, Chuck finally was able to implement a version of his story that the Winchesters would just waltz into without thinking it was supernaturally influenced at all. Going bigger and bigger with monsters and cosmic troubles hadn’t worked, but going so small Sam and Dean would barely even notice the influence-- even with the incongruous reappearance of a vampire that appeared in their lives once, for like two whole minutes 15 years ago, and an unsolved case from the journal from more than 30 years ago that John had never even linked to vampires at all.

At this point, I need to mention that I’m watching 10.23 as I type this up. An episode in which we confront the Mark, along with Death, and Dean’s despair, where he learns a version of the truth (but by no means the full truth, or even accurate truth in some respects) about Chuck’s Story, Amara/The Darkness, etc. That would unfold more fully over the next five seasons. And what was the case Dean took in this episode? Vampires. LOLOL omg this show is nothing if not horrifically consistent, yes?

So because of this, I went haring off through my own blog looking for a post I made a long time ago about the symbolism of how various monsters are used on this show (because again, consistency). I got sidetracked by other posts in my monsters tag, including this from after 15.09 aired, which feels particularly awfully relevant. This was my reaction to Chuck’s Story he showed Sam in that episode, about what the future would look like should he successfully trap Chuck with a Mark, and which... yeah is basically exactly thematically consistent with what we saw in the finale, right down to a cheesy twist on vampires. Read the whole post right here, but this is the part that reached up and punched me in the face:

this is how Dean personally reacts when he loses Cas. We know how he reacts when he loses anyone else– think about what he did when Charlie died. He went on a murder rampage against the Stynes for killing her. When Mary died he broke some furniture and went full bore toward both resurrecting her and stopping Jack. But without Cas, Dean loses the will to fight. Sam has… always been different. He referenced Jess in 15.04 to remind us of how he was after she died in the pilot episode. Just like John, he picked up the revenge mission and ran with it. But for Dean, Cas is different. Without Cas… Dean gives up.

Because... Dean gave up. Sure, he and Sam weren’t overrun by vampires in the end. Chuck knew they’d never stop fighting the monsters, one way or another. The only way to get Dean to give up is something Chuck hadn’t quite figured out yet... maybe not until after 15.17, after confronting Cas in the hallway of the bunker, after absorbing Amara’s power, knowledge, and perspective on Dean.

Chuck needed Dean to give up, and honestly? Pushing Billie to clear him off the table and send him (and Cas, that pesky angel who never did what he was told) to the Empty would’ve been a direct way to deal with that... pretty much akin to having one sibling locked in a cage forever, yes?

Also, still looking through my monsters tag, I’m reminded of 14.15, and still cannot differentiate the version of Heaven in 15.20 from what was done to the people of that town. This... is not... paradise. This is actively what Dean has been insisting is the OPPOSITE of paradise since like… 4.22… No ending where Dean was a “Stepford bitch in paradise” ever had the possibility of being “happy,” at the core of things, and this “fixed” version of Heaven just doesn’t hold up to any degree of inspection. Something is seriously wrong here. https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

And since I was unable to find the post I wrote who knows how long ago about Monsters and how they’re symbolically used on Supernatural to represent larger themes in the episode, I’ll just attempt to sum up what Vampires have been used for. Revenge. Vampires are always, in some way connected to themes of revenge.

(and hooray, I found at least a post adjacent to the one I’ve spent the last four hours trying to find... https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/187207052080/i-obviously-did-not-think-this-through, where I mention that shapeshifters are about revealing hidden truths (mostly about Dean since most shapeshifters are connected to Dean), zombies are about grief and the inability to move past it.)

So why... why at the end of their road is the monster that comes after them-- literally FOR REVENGE for something that had never been blamed on Sam or Dean to begin with, from season 1, directly connected to John’s revenge mission and the first time they learned about the Colt AND the first time they learned in canon that Vampires were even real... like... this feels very specifically like some kind of layers-of-meta levels of shade on them, you know? Vampires are for revenge, so what vengeance exactly is being visited upon Sam and Dean in this episode? If not Chuck’s entire story for them itself?

So yeah, 100% agree, something is incredibly rotten in the finale. And I am sick to effing death of people trying to convince us that anything about this was “good” or “happy” or “satisfying” in any way. Or even “how it was always supposed to end” with Dean dead bloody, as if the entire back half of the series hadn’t been suggesting that a true win was the subversion of all of Chuck’s story for them, and Dean finally being able to have his chosen family all alive, happy, and chilling on a beach somewhere watching the sunset. Nothing will ever convince me that the ending portrayed in 15.20 wasn’t exactly how Chuck thought he “won,” rendering it entirely irrelevant to the rest of canon, unless all of canon was ultimately the tragedy we’d been encouraged to believe would be firmly defeated in the end.

Folks, you can’t have it both ways. 

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 6

(yep, the rest of the parts of this are all under the KyidylCL tag, in case you happen across just this one.)

Rocks and...other stuff

Ok so here we are...we’ve arrived at my least favorite thing.  Lithics.  I’ll be honest with you guys, my disinterest in lithics means that I don’t have a lot to add here.  But...I’ll do what I can.  

So, first off, we’ve found *thousands* of lithics on this site.  It is by far the most common thing we have.  We’ve found broken tools, used up tools, intact points, fire cracked rock, like...the whole nine.  One of the things you can learn from lithics is how far people were going to get their rock.  For example, we have a lot of jasper in our lithics, so we know they were going up onto the nearby mountain because that’s where the nearest jasper deposits are.  I *absolutely* am not the right person to go into a detailed account here, but I do know that they were going pretty far away to get their supplies - even over to the other side of the mountains.  Or at least they were trading with people in closer proximity to those places.  

I think what’s amazing to me is the degree to which they work quartz and quartzite.  Here’s one of the points we found: 

I’m pretty sure, if I’m remembering the things the Rock Guy told me correctly, that point is made of quartzite.  Quartz and quartzite are very hard (7/7.5 on the Mohs scale aka the rock hardness scale.), so working them is difficult.  I don’t know how to do it, but I know it must have taken either an impressive amount of brute force or an impressive amount of energy.  Either way, it’s neat.  Hell I found a piece of quartz the last time I was in the field (which I don’t have, or I’d show you.) that literally looked like it was cut like a gemstone.  It’s more likely it came out of a geode but still, they did cool shit with quartz.  Some of what we’ve found has been almost as clear as glass.  

I’m aware that the style a point is made in (and everything that is, well, pointy...is a point.  It includes spear tips, arrow heads, etc.) is indicative of the age of a site, but I don’t know enough here to go into it and we’ve already covered age in the pottery and digging post (it’s late woodland - early contact, c. 1300s - 1700s), so I’m just gonna show you some cool pictures.  

First point that we found...

Same hole, another point.  Probably both are arrowheads given the size.  The one I’m holding up in the picture up there was probably a spear, not an arrowhead.  Arrowheads are actually really small.  

Here’s another weird rock: 

It’s weird because that one in the upper right has that groove in it and is kinda squished.  to me it looks like a tile, which would be really anachronistic to this particular site, and our Rock Guy assures me this is a natural thing, but these rocks have something on them I’ve been finding on a lot of the lithics: a red residue.  You can see it pretty clearly on the top surface on the center rock, but it’s in the grooves on the right one too.  These rocks didn’t come out of the pit with the red dirt, so it’s not like...red dirt from burning.  To me it looks like ocre, but this is one of those areas where my knowledge base just comes up short and I need to wait for someone who knows more to look at them.  But lets just say that I have this experience often where I’ll say something like “this looks like ocre” and people will be like “nooo, that doesn’t make sense” and then they’ll spend some time with the artefact and be like “hey look at this it looks like ocre” and I’m over here like....yes....I know....I told you that weeks ago...perhaps if I’d found a way to say it in a male voice we wouldn’t be having this conversation.  x.x Aaaaannnnnyway.  

Another kind of rock we have are fire-cracked rocks.  Back in the day they used to heat rocks in the fire and then put them in pots to boil the water.  They often reuse them, and after a few uses the constant “hot rock plunged into cold water” thing causes them to crack.  It’s *extremely* common to find this all over the world.  I saw it at the site I worked in England, too, when we were digging the Roman stuff.  And it’s always kind of confused me because even though water boils basically instantly when you add the very hot rock, it would likely take longer for the rock to heat up than it would to just, y’know, boil the water, so why use the rocks? Then it occurred to me: because the rocks were just casually tossed into fires that weren’t being used for cooking.  So you toss a few into the fire you’re using for warmth or for smoking or whatever in the morning and by the time dinner rolls around you just grab some rocks that’ve been in the fire all day and you toss them into a pot of water.  Multitasking ftw! I would find some pics for you but I’m NGL guys, they just look like stones that’ve been cracked in half.  People weren’t all that picky about the type or anything like that.  

So yeah, that’s rocks, now who wants to see some weird shit? You, obviously, YOU want to see some weird shit.  

Weird Shit

First up, because I STILL haven’t figured out why this is like this, we have this bone: 

Ok honestly I’m only like 93% sure it’s a small piece of bone, but like...it’s definitely natural.  It’s been burned for awhile but the weird part here is that IT’S GREEN. Now that’s not in and of itself weird - this is what happens to bone when there’s some metal nearby.  It often leaves behind green staining on bones.  But there was no metal in the ground here, and this thing was pretty deep.  Below the civil war trench stuff.  So I have no idea why it’s green like this.  

This...thing.  No idea what it is.  Roughly a quarter inch long, metallic...looks like slag but, again, came out of a hole that was really too deep for us to be finding iron in (in this case, iron is a modern contaminant or something you’d only find in the top - IE, later - layers.). Meteorite, maybe? We’ve found some other weird stuff like this too but it was from much higher layers.  

The back and front of a piece of bone that is too small for me to make a determination as to whether or not it’s human without like...a microscope.  I don’t have one.  I mean it probably *isn’t* human, but the color is right, soooo...IDK I just thought it was weird.  

This is another small, weird, brown thing.  BUT! it’s a different kind of small, weird brown thing than the other one.  The other one passes the magnet test and fails to leave a streak when wet.  This one fails the magnet test but left a brown streak on my skin when wet (no...I didn’t lick this one).  So I’m pretty sure it’s a coprolite, but I’ve never handled them before so I’m not entirely certain.  It looks like one to me, though (coprolite is very old poop.  Poop is important bc it informs on diet and stuff.  There have been literal fights and thefts in the archaeological community over coprolites.). This came out of one of the test pits and we haven’t dug over there yet so IDK.  

This next bit is less weird and more cool.  

This is a very small, very burned piece of bone but it’s cool for two reasons.  One, see that long light-color diagonal mark in the lower right area of the top surface? That’s either a butchery mark or more tooth marks.  I learn towards butchery becaaaaause....see how flat this is? That only happens when it’s been cut by people.  Bones don’t break clean and flat like that, the crack or they splinter.  When they crack they do it vertically because that is with the grain of the bone.  This is horizontal, or across the grain.  They have to be cut to look so flat.  Here’s another example from the test pits: 

See? Perfectly flat across the grain.  This one has also been cut and burned.  The white color of the two bones means they’ve been burned for a long time at a high temperature.  All of the collagen - the soft stuff - gets burned off when you do it for long enough and at a high enough temperature and the minerals are left behind.  Both of these images are macro images on bones that are smaller than an inch.  

Ok, one more weird thing: 

This is actually the back and front of a rock.  It’s flat on both sides like pottery, but it tasted like a rock and it has no temper so...rock.  But in that top image it has some kind of dark residue on it that almost looks like rust or paint, and the opposite side has small marks that look like cut marks or tool marks.  I’m not sure what kind of rock it was, but it also had a dry, sandy texture to it.  IDK it was just weird.  The marks could just be damage over time to the rock (what we call taphonomic damage.), but the residue is pretty strange.  

Anyway, that about wraps it up.  I think that what I’m gonna do is start going through the uncleaned material I have downstairs (I got sidetracked by covid and the holidays. :P) and start posting what I found or anything out of the ordinary, if you guys want anyway.  Thanks for sticking around through this long series of posts about the site I work at, and I hope you enjoyed it.  As always, if you have any questions my askbox is open.  :) 

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Epilogue

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Aaand we finally made it to the end! Which is a beginning in many ways. How is it going to go? Beats me, but it probably won't be boring. Also yes, I am just posting a Christmas-themed chapter right before Easter. So sue me. I had a blast writing this one - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

***

“Unionize Hell. You’re telling me we should unionize. Hell.”

“Well, it would be a first step towards giving you some bargaining power. Once demons begin seeing Satan as someone you can bargain with through the sheer force of numbers, it will be easier to convince them they can decide to walk away.”

“This is the single dumbest idea I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Sitting beside Gabriel, Michael stiffened and glared daggers across the table. “If this is how you believe you can address us, we may as well end the meeting--” she began, only to trail off when Gabriel grinned,  resting an elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“That’s blatantly untrue,” he said, still smiling at Beelzebub. “You’d ve heard dumber by far.”

The prince of Hell’s lips curled upwards for the briefest moment. Michael shifted a little on her seat and glanced over at Dagon, who just so happened to be sitting beside Beelzebub for the meeting. She met her gaze briefly, but it was enough for Michael to know she was not the only one to be mighty uncomfortable at the turn Gabriel and Beelzebub’s formerly entirely professional relationship had taken. That was an odd sort of relief. 

Unaware of their second-in-command’s discomfort, or just blatantly ignoring it, Beelzebub let out a thoughtful, buzzing sound. “... Hmph, I suppose I have. But I am ready to be you are not inclined to have the Heavenly host unionize.”

“Ah, actually,you’d lose that bet. We have given the go-ahead.”

The Lord of the Flies blinked. “... You have?”

“Yes. It worked out for my friends back in Southampton, so I figured, why not Heaven?”

Michael briefly wondered if she was supposed to remind Gabriel that Heaven was not precisely the same as a port city on England’s south coast, but in the end she decided against it. She was a warrior, had always been, but a good warrior knows how to pick battles and that was not the hill she was ready to, figuratively speaking, die on. 

Across the table, Beelzebub raised an eyebrow while waving away a few fies “And God is not displeased?”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back on his seat and spreading his arms a little. “I have not been fired yet, and I am taking it as a good sign. I suppose it may create a precedent for angels to leave, if so they wish, on more amicable terms than you did. And possibly with some severance. Who knows, perhaps if you had formed a union in the first place instead of going immediately for full-on rebellion--”

All right, they got sidetracked far enough. “Gabriel,” Michael spoke up.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Apologies. Never mind the past. What I am saying is, it might be a viable path forward now - for beings on either side. Do give it some thought.”

“Mmh.” Beelzebub crossed their arms, leaning back against their seat with a foot braced against the table. To Michael’s surprise - and to Dagon’s utter bewilderment, it seemed - they seemed to be truly giving it some thought. “I suppose that perhaps, this does fall into the ‘so dumb it might just work’ caregory. And it’d make Hell worse for Reagan and Thatcher. I will consider it.” 

“Very well. I do believe that concludes the meeting.” Gabriel said, and smiled. He’d been smiling an awful lot throughout the meeting, and not the kind of insincere business-like smiles he would usually sport on such occasions. 

No, Michael thought, not usually. Before.

“Actually, there’s more we need to discuss,” Beelzebub said, standing. “Privately, if possible.”

“Ah, of course. Right this way. You’re all right wrapping this up, Michael?”

Trying with all her might not to wonder about their private discussion, Michael nodded mechanically. “Of course,” she droned, and busied herself picking up papers once they were gone, trying to ignore the demon who was very much not gone.

“... For the record, the cold shoulder treatment only works if the one receiving it cares about getting the cold shoulder,” Dagon spoke up after a few minutes, filing papers away in a folder she had seemingly summoned out of thin air. “And I do not care.”

And yet you had to remark on that.

Michael let out a snort, choosing not to argue. She hadn’t been trying to remember the being they had known before their rebellion and Falls, or at least not as hard as Gabriel probably wished her to - Sandalphon and Uriel were fairly ahead of her there - but she did have the uncomfortable sensation she had known Dagon, whatever she was called before, quite well.

Awkward, considering she was rather certain it had been her to cast her out.

“Have you had any success in tracking down the Duke of Hell?”

“Hell has a great many Dukes. You will need to be more specific.”

“I believe there is only one who is currently a fugitive,” Michael said, her voice sharper. “Hastur. The one who kille-- who almost-- sort of killed Gabriel.”

“... We lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but I am certain we will catch up with him eventually.”

“Are you always this inefficient?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try catching him yourself,” Dagon snarled, snapping the folder shut. It seemed the perfect moment for her to disappear in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, but she did not; rather, the Lord of the Files seemed to hesitate. Michael had just enough time to wonder if she may have remembered something from before that Michael did not before she finally looked up and spoke again. 

“All right, since we are suddenly supposed to have opinions now, what do you really think of this… entire… thing?”

“You mean, Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plan?”

“Calling it a plan seems more generous than I’ve ever known you to be.”

That was true, Michael had to concede. When she had tried asking Gabriel if there was a plan they should know of, he’d only replied that he was ‘sort of winging it’. It certainly was a complete u-turn from how things used to be, but if he had been brought back and… not yet cast out again over his unorthodox involvement with Beelzebub, there had to be a reason. 

Perhaps whatever he had learned in his time on Earth would be the key to everything. After what she had done to him by blindly following orders, Michael was willing to heed his words now, and so were the others. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would face whatever consequences there may be as one. Never again would she lift a sword on her friends.

“... No, it is not a plan,” she finally said. “I suppose it is more of a leap of faith.”

“Faith in what?” Dagon made a face. “In God?”

Michael did not take the bait. “More in our own ability to figure things out, I suppose.”

“That’s the sort of thing humanity is all about,” the Lord of the Files muttered, and blinked when Michael let out a brief laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is precisely the point. Try being more human.”

“... Have you hit your head? From the beginning of everything, it has always been human who tried to become more like u--” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose as though she had just sunk her fangs into a lemon. “You. More like you. And from the beginning, you have encouraged that.”

“Maybe that is where we went wrong after all.”

A pause. “Are you seriously suggesting it should be you-- us-- to lower ourselves into being more like them? Really?”

“Well. It is what Yeshua did, and perhaps it was a lesson meant for us,” Michael shrugged, and tuned to the door. “After all it was humanity, and not us, to be made in God’s image.”

***

“Oh, look at that. Another wedding invitation.”

“Shadwell and Madame Tracy?”

“How did you guess?”

“They made it abundantly clear during Anathema and Whatshisface’s wedding reception.”

“Ah, fair. Do you think they’ll allow us to take Warlock to their wedding as well? He got on well with the Them, and Madame Tracy has surely invited those children.”

“Can’t see why not. Are you sure they meant to invite us?”

“This is marked for the Serpent of Eden and the Southern Pansy.They did mean to indeed.”

“No clause against witches?”

“Oh, there is. It is to be a witch-free wedding. The only exceptions to the rule are dear Anathema, Adam, the two of us, and the bride herself.”

“You’d think that by now he would have noticed she only has two nipples.”

“Don’t be crass, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think he’ll ever stop thinking we’re witches?”

“Unlikely. And I am not particularly inclined to disrobe and let him count nipples.”

A hiss. “Old fool.”

“An old fool who managed to swindle both of us for a few decades.”

“... Don’t remind me.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, and settled more comfortably in his armchair, setting aside the letters to pick up a book. Wrapped around the back of said armchair, the Serpent of Eden leaned his head on top of Aziraphale’s own. He tended to enjoy inhabiting that form, Aziraphale had found out, when the weather outside was cold and the fireplace was lit. 

Amazing, how many more little things about Crowley he’d found he didn’t know, after so many centuries of… acquaintance. Sharing a home with someone really did lead to a lot of interesting discoveries. For one, he could now see the appeal of laying in a bed and hallucinating behind closed eyelids for a few hours. 

“I could make my entrance in a cloud of Hellfire,” Crowley muttered, tongue flicking against Aziraphale’s hair as he reached to pick up a book. 

“I suspect giving the groom a heart attack would put a damper on the wedding.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“No, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached up to scratch the scales on Crowley’s side. 

He hissed again. “Spoilsport,” he said, but he leaned into the touch all the same. 

“Heh. Either way, we have plenty of time to make plans for the wedding, whereas Christmas is around the corner. Do you have anything in particular in mind, Crowley?”

“You do realize demons don’t really celebrate the birthday of your boss’ son, right?”

“Ah, I suppose that’s fair. But I wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in, perhaps bake some cake,” he said, faintly wondering whether Crowley would object to mistletoe. 

“Oh. Well, then I could help with the tasting, I guess. And-- wait. There are presents, right? Do you want presents?”

 A chuckle “I am rather content as is, but thank you.”

“Ah. Of course,” Crowley seemed to stammer, which was no mean feat considering he currently had a mouth whose anatomy was not meant to utter words in the first place. His head slipped lower, and ended up resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “... You wouldn’t happen to know anything about whatever Heaven’s planning, would you? Things have been… quiet.”

“Not at all. Nor you have the foggiest idea as to what Hell is on to, I’m guessing?”

“Nothing whatsoever. I think I’ll wish them luck and keep it this way.”

Aziraphale smiled, took a sip of wine, and opened his book. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

When he tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of his head, Crowley did not protest.

***

Did you throw out another of your angels?

Not to my knowledge?

You must have. Someone just got through all layers of Hell all the way down to Satan’s lap. Sliding down a pole and singing. What the Heaven is going on up there?

Let me check with Uriel.

***

“Uriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of any angels being cast out? Beelzebub insists someone just got there, and I quote, ‘sliding down a pole’.”

“We have cast out no one. Their security must be really lax. Didn’t they have a similar problem with a poet from Florence at some point?”

“I don’t think that one came in sliding down a pole, but fair.”

***

I can confirm we cast out no one. Must be a mortal.

Wonderful, more paperwork and security checks. Thanks for checking, I guess. At least he seems to be keeping Satan distracted from anything we do.

Dare I ask how?

Don’t.

All right. Have you changed your mind about coming with me to the Christmas party?

Absolutely not. But I will meet you afterwards for carnal relations.

Are you aware that it does not count as a sin and therefore it is not the middle finger to God you think it is?

Are you saying you’re not interested?

No. Usual place?

Usual place. Don’t be late. 

I wouldn’t dare, Gabriel wrote with a smile, and his finger lingered over the send button for a few moments. I love you, he almost wrote, but he did not and in the end he just sent out the message as it was. Beelzebub would have found it both saccharine-inducing and redundant, and for good reason. There was no need to spell it out, really.

They were both very much aware of it.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for usual celebrations?”

“Rather certain, yes. My former colleagues on Earth invited me to join them so long ago, it would be rude for me to cancel on them.”

“Yeshua might actually show up this year.”

“Ah, I am doubtful. He never did attend his birthday party, did he now?”

That was true, although not something any of them had really felt entitled to comment on. Sandalphon knew that Gabriel had taken it… not quite as a slight, but close enough. After all, the celebration was about a birth whose annunciation he was most widely known for.

Now, on the other hand, he seemed too taken with the idea of celebrating it on Earth to be bothered in the slightest. “... I suppose he didn’t,” Uriel conceded. Gabriel closed the drawer with the last of his work for the calendar year, straightened his tie, and smiled. 

“Why don’t you come with me? You could use getting to know more humans, too.”

Both Michael and Sandalphon blinked. Uriel raised an eyebrow. “To celebrate Yeshua’s birthday on Earth with them?”

“Why not? I am sure they won’t mind if I bring some friends. And you could use a break, Uriel. You’ve been working on reorganizing the lower spheres for months now.”

“You know I do not get tired,” Uriel informed him, but she was already glancing over at Michael and Sandalphon. 

In the end, it was Michael to shrug. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be interesting to see how the celebrations have changed since last time I took a look. They were not precisely cheerful, back then.”

“... When was the last time you did check?”

“Sometimes in the mid-fourteenth century,” she replied, and Gabriel laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ah,” he said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

***

“... And this is why it’s either panettone or pandoro, and anyone claiming not to take a side is  coward and a liar, and--”

Fabrizio rambled on, clearly rather satisfied to have finally found an attentive listener in Sandalphon, and Gabriel chose not to interrupt him. Somewhere at the other side of the room, Łukasz was staring in absolute disbelief as Uriel drank the twenty-second shot in a row without seemingly feeling any effects, and he might just be starting to fall in love. 

As he stepped towards the door and passed by a table, Gabriel chuckled. “Go easy on them,” he muttered, and Michael just raised an eyebrow at him, effortlessly beating yet another warehouse worker at an arm wrestling match. In the end, Gabriel decided that as long as the only thing getting bruised were egos, there was no reason to intervene. 

He stepped outside into a cold, clear night. No comet in the sky, but he had felt a pull to come out all the same. He let his gaze wander down the street and there it was - a shadow crouched in an archway, barely illuminated by a street light and covered in blankets as he tried to keep warm. Somehow, the blinking lights of Christmas decorations on the building made the figure seem even more lonely. And that wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all - especially not that night. 

“Excuse me,” Gabriel called out, approaching the man. “Would you like to come inside? It is quite cold, and my friends and I are having a party - I am sure they wouldn’t mind.”

The man looked up. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal dark brown eyes, and his features were just barely illuminated by the street light - but it was enough for Gabriel to trail off, taken off guard. The man smiled. 

“Thank you for your offer, Gabriel. I think I’ll take you up on this one.”

Ah. Well. It made sense, come to think of it. He’d always been original like that. Past the initial surprise, Gabriel straightened himself and smiled. “Any particular name I ought to call you by tonight?”

“In this time and age, Joshua will do. It's nice to see you guys paying more attention to humanity. I look back fondly on my first lifetime among them. Most of it at any rate,” Yeshua added, and stood. He straightened his back with a groan. “Ow, my spine.”

Gabriel was unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is this how you’ve been spending your birthday for the past two-something thousand years?” he asked. Until not too long ago, he would have been offended by the notion. Now he felt rather foolish for not having thought of it. 

“More or less. No offense, but I enjoy Earth. Corporate events were never quite my thing.”

“None taken. I hope your mother is well?”

“The one who cast you out of Heaven, or the one who hit you in the head with a clay vase?”

“... The latter.”

“Ah, yes. She is very well. Still rather sorry about the incident, but maintains you should have knocked if you didn’t want a vase to your head.”

“That’s… understandable. But we have amended records to omit that part, so no harm done.”

“I am aware. So, is there anything I may do to thank you for your hospitality tonight?”

“... Do you still do the thing with the water and wine? Because I believe we’re running low.”

A laugh. “Ah, yes,” he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as they headed back inside. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

Somewhere, Crowley is losing his entire MIND over the fact this guy got to use a pole on his way in. 

[allykakamatsu]

FE SS X DRV3 General plot

Once again, I’m back on my bulls**t. Got the basics for the AU sorted now so let’s take a look, as well as what most of the characters are doing

Plot Outline:

As I mentioned in the first post https://allykakamatsu.tumblr.com/post/649470604067717120/fe-ss-x-drv3 the reason the class is in Magvel in the first place is because Monokuma decided that trapping them in the game was gonna be the motive, where you either have to end the war/beat the game or kill someone from the real world in order to get out. The characters got sent to various points in the timeline, and as you can imagine, this changed quite a lot.

Shuichi Saihara:

•The last one to wake up, aka got sent to when the game starts rather than some time before like the others.

•Ends up unintentionally becoming Eirika’s bodyguard as they run into each other while the Princess is trying to get to Frelia and Seth has gone missing dun dun dun

•Sticks around as Eirika knows where Kaede is and because he doesn’t want to leave her on her own.

•Can use magic, but still needs to work on his aim. Aka, never let him fight an enemy that’s near a tree.

•Still better than when he uses a Lance, he just stabs wildly and hope it works

•Because he doesn’t get the pre-war time everyone else had to get ready, he does get the advantage of remembering other things, though they’re things he’d rather not remember.

Kaede Akamatsu:

•Was sent to Renais and ended up getting adopted by the royals, so she’s the Twin’s step-sister.

•Despite her accidental new status, doesn’t change too much, and enjoys her time with her new family even if she’s always scarred about when the war will start

•As such, she’s also very overprotective and always goes with Ephriam to his dumb stunts, under the guise of being all for it.

•Very over dramatic organ player.

•Like Eirika she’s good with swords, but tends to specialise in staffs.

•Is part of Ephriams four (well now five) man army trying to take Grado down.

Maki Harukawa:

•Woke up in Jehana but didn’t stick around for long due to not liking the heat.

•Ended up travelling with Tenko for a while as travelling mercenaries, but when Maki’s work started leaning on the assassin side again she left so the Aikido Master wouldn’t get involved.

•After that becomes an assassin for hire, and she works for people all over the continent, including with Rausten which (unfortunately) led to her seeing Kokichi again

•”If it wasn’t for the fact your Princess hired me I’d kill you”

•Eventually after several jobs making her infamous, she was hired by Kirumi to help protect Eirika.

•Agreed, and was extra motivated due to Shuichi being dragged into this.

Himiko Yumeno:

•One of only two who was over the moon to be sent to Magvel, because now she has real MAGIC

•Winds up in Lute and Arthur’s village, where she joins their friend group to become master Mages.

•Constantly getting on Lute’s nerves for napping during practice.

•More energetic than usual, but that just means when she’s out she’s out for the count.

•Specialises in thunder magic, but that’s mostly not to steal Lute’s thunder, well, fire in this case.

•Goes with Arthur to get help when the village is attacked by monsters to “make sure they don’t claw him to death”

Angie Yonaga:

•Ends up becoming a priestess in Grado.

•Doesn’t really like spreading the word of non-Atua figures, but sticks around because Atua said so.

•Also leads to her becoming friends with Natasha and also ‘friends’ with Cormag

•Was already growing weary of the Empire when she heard about the war, but when Natasha was branded a traitor she knew something was up and went after her.

•Still always smiling, which depending on the person is a relief to see someone keeping their hopes up, or disturbing cause “does she ever not smile?”

•Mostly a light magic user, but can heal and not afraid to staff bonk.

Kirumi Tojo:

•Was sent to Frelia and became a servant at the castle very fast.

•Joined the staff only a few days before ‘The Frelian Tragedy’ where the crown Prince was kidnapped and presumed dead.

•Because of this and the King being so busy, Kirumi ended up being the one to console the young Princess Tana.

•Ended up becoming a mother/big sister figure and was offered a change of position as the nanny. Ended up taking it and staying on maid duty, and eventually rose to head maid.

•More open with her emotions, but still quite reserved.

•Can use all weapons well, but prefers spears and staffs.

Kokichi Oma:

•Not known where or when he first arrived, but after 3 years ended up in Rausten.

•Wound up as part of L’Arachel’s entourage due to his battle skills and her liking his attitude.

•Dream tam for each other, nightmare for everyone else.

•Was rumoured to be part of the Frelian Tragedy, but no one can prove it or knows how.

•With L’Arachel for most of the war, but ran off for a bit to drag Renac back

•A full blown trickster class, so swords and staffs for him.

Kiibo:

•Since Robots don’t exist, he’s a dragon now.

•Excited that he’s living and breathing, but scarred because “How did I change species?!”

•Eventually finds Myrrh and she thankfully sets things straight.

•Proud of his new species, but does miss his old life.

•When Selena steals her dragon stone, he tries to get it back, only to get caught in some trees while in dragon form.

•After that accompanies her on Ephriam and Kaede’s path to get the stone back.

Rantaro Amami:

•A former wyvern rider turned pegasus knight

•Yes, somehow he got a pegasus to trust him enough to let him ride, to the confusion of everyone else.

•Was with Grado for a while, but jumped ship to Jehana about three years before the war.

•When he learned that the Queen’s son had run away, his big brother instincts kicked in and he volunteered to find him.

•His search eventually led to Carcino where he found Joshua alone with the rest of Eirika’s party.

•Agreed to tag along so he could keep an eye on the gambling Prince and so he could help out Shuichi.

•Good with lances, but way better with flying.

Miu Iruma:

•A wyvern rider from Grado, though an unconventional one (I mean, it’s Miu)

•She and Rantaro were part of the same squad, but she stayed unlike him.

•Good at making all her allies lives a living hell with her antics (RIP Cormag) but she’s kept around due to her skill

•Saw Valter kill Glenn, but while trying to tell Cormag, got sidetracked by seeing Selena try to take Kiibo’s dragonstone, which made her go “F**k it”, swear the Flurspar out, and switched sides to team Ephriam.

•The only wyvern who uses an axe. Everyone calls her crazy for it but hey, whatever works.

Tenko Chabishira:

•Was in Renais at first, but after being ditched by Maki she went to Jehana due to her unsurprisingly wanting to be in the nation lead by a queen rather than a king like the rest.

•Ends up bumping into Marisa on a job, and once it’s over she convinces Tenko to join the Mercenaries.

•Loves Tethys and Marisa, so she stays no matter what, but she does eventually get some respect for Gherik.

•Doesn’t stop her from thinking somethings up with Kiyo and the new recruit who won’t take his mask off.

•Would’ve joined up with team Eirika either way since everyone else agreed, Himiko being there just made her a lot more aggressive with it.

•Axes all the way baby!

Korekiyo Shinguji:

•Wound up in Caer Pelyn, which royally confused everyone, but they kinda just rolled with it.

•Stayed due to his interest in the village, but when he was about to leave Ewan stopped by, and after a misunderstanding about why he wanted to leave Kiyo gets dragged into the mercenaries.

•At first only stayed due to wanting to send his sister more ‘friends’, but after seeing Tethys and Ewan act like how siblings are supposed to act, he realised how badly he screwed up, so he ends up sticking around to find out what real siblings are meant to do.

•Gladly joins up with team Eirika once they show up not only to stay with his allies, but also to get some more ‘sibling role models’

•Good with dark magic and staffs, but is in the summoner class..... be very afraid.

Kaito Momota:

•Woke up in Carcino, but after realising the guys in charge were assholes, he left and started travelling all over as a mercenary.

•After seeing Ephriam and Kaede storm a castle with 5 people total and win, he got the bright idea to become a masked hero busting innocents Grado captured out of jail and just generally be a thorn in their side.

•Formed a bit of a partnership with Kokichi because of this cause hey, where else in Magvel are you going to get smoke bombs.

•Eventually met Lyon, and after they explained what was going on to him, Kaito decided to risk it all on them as he let himself get caught to help bust Knoll out of jail, which worked, albeit with a lot of extra help from team Ephriam.

•All and all, more or less the same, just in WAY over his head.

•Of course he’s in the Hero class, so that means swords and axes.

Tsumugi Shirogane:

•The only one who’s played the game before, and easily the most excited, especially as she ended up in Grado and to be more specific as Lyon’s adopted sister.

•Thought she could get everything she wanted due to this being a game, but ended up having a bit of an existential crisis when the world turns out to be harder to manipulate and more real then she thought.

•Not wanting to accept that fiction can be real to, decided to take the demon kings power that wasn’t in Lyon (this was before the stone was shattered so that means most of it) to try get control back.

•This, of course, backfires, as while her already wanting to cause chaos/drama meant she kept her sense of self for longer, her lie eventually crashed in as once Shuichi got her to accept that fiction can be real she got completely possessed.

•Has the same class as Lyon, though she’s less tanky in exchange for being faster, worth it when you’re dealing with dark tomes.

Well, that’s everything for now. Hope you enjoy!

[pluviophile-bookworm]

I feel like I need to talk about this...

I’m very open about being aroace. At least here on Tumblr I am. (Outside of Tumblr, I am technically out, but some issues with my mother and grandmother have forced me back into the closet. I felt miserable about that initially, but I’m learning to be fine with it.) But it wasn’t always this way. In fact, I didn’t even know what aroace meant until I was 18. So how was I supposed to know when I got my first ‘celebrity crush’ that those last words do not, in fact, describe very accurately what I was experiencing? I didn’t know I had ADHD, either. I feel like that might have helped me realise some things about my experience. But let me go back a bit and actually tell you what happened and how it happened. [side note: I’ll be starting from a bit earlier than the ‘crush’ thing happened because I feel like it’s important for whoever reads this to understand how my circumstances shaped the experience I had]

Backstory:

I had always been different from my peers, so it was not surprising to anyone that I was bullied in middle school. [side note: Judging from my and my little brother’s combined experience, I feel like bullying is, quite unfortunately, something of a universal experience in middle school - in my day, I was on the receiving end. This last school year, my brother was the bully. Gosh, I wish I could tell my story without many deviations and without crying as I type, but I’ve already thrown both of those intentions out the window.]

So anyway, things got so bad that I was driven to suicidal thoughts. One night I was just lying in bed, thinking about going through with it, but I was like, well, I’ve got a test in the morning. Maybe after that. 13-year-old me had very weird priorities. I kind of still value my work over my mental health, but I’m working on it. So that night, I didn’t do anything. The next day, right before school, I was on the internet and I found out a new show had premiered. And then, as I was watching the pilot episode, that was when it happened. I saw this boy, whom I will not be naming, and I listened to him sing. I felt nothing much at the moment, but I couldn’t get the song out of my mind all day. Up until that moment, I had had a weird attitude towards music where I’d only listen to female singers. My ‘boys have cooties’ phase, I guess you could say. But this one, he was the first one I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I felt like I could listen to his voice 24/7. I’ve had that feeling hundreds of times by now, but I hadn’t before then. So I figured, this must be what a crush means, right? This must be what all my peers are talking about. The next day, I confided in a girl from my class with whom I was kind of friendly (though not actual friends, I’d say). I asked her if she’d seen the show, if she knew this person. She said yes and we kind of gushed about the song together, and I felt normal for a couple of minutes. I never knew the difference between my experience and what is considered ‘normal’ until years later.

For the time being, the thought of this special person was what was keeping me alive. I started having visions of him walking with me through the school hallways or sitting next to me on the bus home from school. I knew perfectly well those visions weren’t real, but they made me feel better. Happy. Safe. Seen. Full disclosure: I still have such visions, I’ve had them with different people through the years as my hyperfixations change. My latest one is what has enabled me to deal with some of my worst phobias (and I have a long list of them). I’ve never told anybody what it is, and I won’t be telling because I feel like if I do tell, the vision will not be strong enough to work against my fears. But I’m getting sidetracked again. Sorry for that.

So, I was pretty much obsessed with this guy. He was all I could think about, he was keeping me alive through what was possibly the toughest time in my life to date. So naturally, thanks to my heteronormative, amatonormative surroundings, I was convinced I had a crush on him. In fact, after this experience had lasted about a year, I was sure I was in love. 

Then things changed. I started high school. I found a couple of friends, and the people in my class in general made me feel like I could finally be myself. Be open about what I thought and how I felt. So by the end of the first semester, all 27 people in my class knew about my feelings for this guy. What I didn’t know was that they didn’t know that it wasn’t exactly like I was describing it. Because I wasn’t aware that a straight/ allo person’s idea of being ‘in love’ was different from mine. I was just putting things in words I thought I understood. 

So it came as a total surprise when some people from my class started teasing me about it. It wasn’t malicious teasing, that much I could tell. I had been bullied mercilessly before. What my new classmates were doing was asking genuine questions in a slightly teasing manner. For example, it would be known that my special person had a girlfriend, and so they’d ask me ‘aren’t you jealous’ or ‘do you wish you were that’, or stuff like that. And those questions felt so weird. So stupid. I thought, wait, why would I be jealous? Why would I feel bad about this person who has made me so happy, being happy himself? Why would I want to date him? That had nothing to do with how I felt. I told my classmates so. They gave me weird looks in response. So I started feeling like there was something wrong with me. Like I wasn’t doing that ‘in love’ thing right. Suddenly, I felt like my feelings were being intruded upon. Tarnished, somehow. I had always been aware that my visions were anything but real. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. And all of a sudden, somebody was suggesting that I should want to date this person. Why would I want to date anyone, I thought? Even if it was him. Dating people was awkward. Making physical contact with anyone outside my immediate family made me shudder. It still does, though I can hug some of my closest friends without any negative feelings. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Back to my first time I questioned my experience. I was about 14 at the time (in Bulgaria, high school starts from grade 8, ages 13-14 or 14-15), and, well, I didn’t do much questioning at the time. I just told myself that they didn’t understand my feelings, and I stopped being so open about the topic. 

My hyperfixation on this person lasted long. Longer than any other I’ve ever had to date. Maybe it was because I clung to it like it was what tethered me to my mortal life. But by my final year of high school, I could feel it fading away. I was forcing myself to think about this person, to conjure up the old visions; the song that had started it all was drained of all meaning that it had held for me. I was moving on to other hyperfixations. I felt like I was betraying myself, like I was breaking some sort of unbreakable vow. It was time to face the music. So I let go. I allowed myself to move on. It was kind of made easier by the fact that my special person had changed, too, and had moved on to projects that I could not enjoy due to some triggering content. And I moved on.

Then I joined Tumblr. I discovered some things. Among them was Hellenic polytheism. It had been a while since I’d found my faith in the Hellenic pantheon, but Tumblr was where I found out I was not alone, that there was an existent religion. And step by step, I realised that... I had been projecting Apollo’s presence onto my special person. And my old connection to that person had started fading away when I had realised I believed in the gods.

This explained a lot of things. But there was still the fact that I had never been able to look at another person the way my peers were looking at each other. I had been asked out two or three times during high school. I had rejected those people without even thinking about it. My best friend at the time was a boy and most teachers seemed to ship us together because, well, let’s be real - we were constantly fighting like an old married couple. It took him getting a girlfriend and seeing how happy I was for the two of them for everyone to realise that things between us were, and had always been, purely platonic. And now I was going to uni and I had never had feelings I was apparently supposed to have. 

It was also thanks to Tumblr that I discovered the extent of the LGBTQ+ community. I considered myself an ally at first, and I was a passionate ally, too. I still am nothing but supportive to my fellow LGBTQ+ people of all identities, but it was not until I was 18 going on 19 that I discovered the term ‘asexual’. I knew quite suddenly that this was the term for me. I knew what I was and how I felt. I felt mature enough to know the difference between ‘I’m not experienced enough to know for sure’ and ‘I’ve just never had those feelings, I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be like’. It took a bit longer to find out there was a difference between sexual and romantic attraction, but by the time I was 19, I had proudly labelled myself ‘aroace’. I still feel at home with this label. I am completely open to the possibility that it might change with time, but this is what feels right at this time. 

Fast-forward another couple of years to about 8 months ago. I had always known that I got really invested into stuff - shows, books, hobbies, people - only for that investment to wear off after a time. The timespans varied, but I realised I had experienced this ever since I was in pre-school at least. I didn’t have a term for it, though. And then, all of a sudden, Tumblr started offering me posts tagged ADHD. I could relate to maybe 95% of them. At one point, it felt like whatever algorithm this hellsite operates on was shoving the ADHD posts in my face, as if screaming ‘DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF, WELL, YOU?!!!’ in my ears. So I did some tests. I did a lot of self-reflection. I went to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed in March. I started educating myself on the terminology and found out that what I was experiencing is called hyperfixating. So here I am now.

Here I am now, reflecting back on my experience from 8 years ago, connecting the dots. Realising what it was that I went through, allowing myself to go through it again, with different things and people. I don’t feel the need to cling to hyperfixations anymore because I know that is what they are and I know I can’t keep them forever. Of course, I do feel bad about stopping caring about something that used to be my light and life for a time. I dread the time I’ll get over my current hyperfixation, but I also know it’s inevitable. My ADHD brain needs the change and it happens naturally. And somehow I’m ok with that.

Well, this is it. This is the story of how Tumblr prompted me to discover aspects of myself that have been there for as long as I can remember. What better place to talk about it than Tumblr itself? What better group of people to understand and accept me than my lovely mutuals and followers? If you’re reading this, thank you. For being here, for listening to me, for allowing me to be who I am. You’ve got no idea how happy this makes me, even though I can barely see what I’m typing through the tears. Thank you. 

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 18

Short and sweet today because I’m drowning in work! I will update the Masterlist later, I promise! But if you jump down like 2 posts, the link will be there (I know, I’m so lazy, it would have been faster to copy the link rather than type all of this, oops! xD) I’m a weirdo, I know!

Btw, if anyone wants to be tagged when I upload a new chapter, please just say so! I’d be more than happy too! And as promise, here’s my first tag: @tillyrubes10 I hope you love this new chapter! :D

CHAPTER 18

Sidetracking

Sunday was a blurred mix of images in Celaena’s mind, and she wasn’t sure what had been real, and what had been a dream. Waking up in a stranger’s room, she started piecing all the bits of information together, trying to collect as many facts as she could about her situation.

She got up from the bed and had a drink of water from the bedside table. There were a couple of blisters with painkillers, and she decided to take just one more to blur the pain and help her focus. She was done with feeling weak and useless. Her phone was also on the night table, connected to a charger on the wall that wasn’t her own; she was surprised to find it there as she couldn’t remember asking for one. 

Looking down at herself, she laughed; she was wearing a pair of male pajama pants with drawings of dinosaurs in all colors and shapes. After checking her phone, she started rushing around and picking up the few belongings that were scattered around the room, and throwing them back into her duffle bag. If she wanted to make it in time to go to school, she’d have to go back to the hotel to get her uniform, shower, get changed, and apply a ton of makeup. Probably too much makeup. Time was barely on her side. 

She looked around the room until she finally found a small mirror on the inside of the closet’s door. She looked pale, and the cut on her brow was still swollen, the skin around it was a mixture of green, yellow and purple. She rolled her sore shoulders and then lifted her top to look at the long cut on top of her hip bone; the skin around it felt a little tight, but the redness had almost disappeared and the stitches looked good.

As she heard voices outside the room, she hurried to her bag, grabbed her contacts, and put them on using the small mirror again. Her eyes were still sore from wearing the contacts for way longer than she was supposed to and sleeping with them the night before, but she added some eye drops and hoped it’d do for the moment. She barely remembered taking them off on Sunday and hoped she hadn’t been stupid enough to let any of the guys see her eyes. 

Not like they could make anything out of it anyway. 

A knock sounded at her door, and it slid open slowly almost as soon as she reached the handle.

“You’re up early,” Fenrys said, sounding surprised.

“Yes, I’m feeling way better.” 

“You’re leaving,” he said as his eyes darted around the room and focused on her bag. It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“I am, I need to head to school.” She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The pain was certainly still messing with her mind, she normally wouldn’t have been so stupid to let such a big piece of information slip out of her mouth.

Fenrys’ eyes didn’t give much away, but his smirk did. “School, huh? Why don’t you join us for breakfast before you go? Connall’s making eggs, and he’s a fine cook.”

“I don’t really have time for-”

“I insist,” Fenrys hooked an arm around her and ushered her out of the room. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t feed you, right? You haven’t eaten pretty much anything in two days, you need your strength back.” He might have noticed her body going tense at the contact because he let go of her almost as fast as he had grabbed her. “Please?” He added with pleading eyes.

Begrudgingly, she walked with him down the hall and towards the kitchen. It was probably a good idea to gather some information on these people before leaving anyway, and she was famished. 

The open plan lounge was small but practical. To her left, there was a couch in front of a small TV that had some blankets and a pillow on top, and two small armchairs. And to the right, a small kitchen and a table with four chairs around it. Connall was cooking on the stove, his back to them, and he barely looked over his shoulder as they walked into the room. 

“Morning, brother!” Fenrys chanted happily.

“Hm, morning,” Celaena said, feeling slightly uncomfortable but slowly slipping into the character she had to play. 

“Come on, let’s grab a seat,” Fenrys pointed to a chair, and she took a seat, looking around the room discreetly.

“So, it’s just the three of you living here?” She asked, pretending to make small talk.

“Yes, it is. So glad to see that you’re off your defensive horse.”

Celaena glared at him and then softened her look. “I apologize if I caused you any inconveniences or if I was rude. If I’m honest, my memories from what’s happened in the last day and a half are a bit hazy, but I know I owe you one; the stitches look great.”

Fenrys’ smile spread wide on his face as he looked at her up and down as if trying to check how well she was feeling. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you're feeling better. You have some color back on your cheeks... If you wanted to pay me back, you could always stay for a while longer, so I can make sure you’re properly healed.”

“I do feel almost back to my normal self,” Celaena shook her head, and Fenrys sighed as he smiled warmly at her.

“You are so much stronger than what meets the eyes, you know that, right? I think you might be the bravest teen I have ever encountered, you almost had those guys back at the alley.” He said encouragingly. 

Connall came over with two plates full of scrambled eggs and toast then, and put one in front of each of them, then returned to the stove and came back a moment later with his own plate, and a tray full of crispy bacon. Celaena was glad for the interruption as everybody looked at the food in awe.

“Bon appétit," Fenrys lifted a glass of orange juice as if doing a toast.

“Thanks, Connall, and thank you too, Fenrys.”

“Eat up,” Fenrys grabbed a forkful of eggs, and Celaena followed suit.

The eggs were delicious, and considering how hungry she was, she ate her whole plate without paying much attention to anything going on around her. Once she was done, she looked up, only to find both Fenrys and Connall staring at her.

“Do you want some more?” Connall asked jokingly, a half-smile showing on his face for the first time.

“Is there any more?” She asked softly, making both brothers laugh. Connall went over to the counter and returned with a new plate full of eggs and fresh bread.

“It was meant to be for Rowan, but he’s taking too long on the 24/7, so you can have it. I’ll make him more later.” He slid the plate in front of her, and Celaena grabbed a mouthful of egg, aware of Fenrys’ eyes still on her.

“So, school, huh?”

She looked up at him through her lashes and shook her head.

“I think you’re smart enough to know I won't tell you anything about it.”

Fenrys’ laughed out loud while Connall collected the empty plates and headed towards the sink. There were only a bunch of schools in the city, but they were enough for them to have to actively search if they wanted to find out which one she attended. 

“Girl, I don’t even know your name.”

“And that’s how it’s meant to remain. I need to leave, and you should forget any of this ever happened.”

“Are you sure you're feeling good enough to leave? I honestly don’t think you should be going to school, you need to rest and take care of those stitches. Do I need to remind you that you lost a lot of blood?”

“Trust me, I remember.”

Her eyes dropped back down to her plate as she ate slower now, the memories of everything that had happened catching back with her. She had been careless and stupid, she should have never allowed Cain to get so close to her, to make her so vulnerable. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was lucky Fenrys had seen them and stepped in; she didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if he didn’t.

When they heard the front door open, they both turned around and found Rowan standing under the threshold, his hands full of grocery bags.

“What the fuck is this?” He dropped the bags to the floor and slammed the door shut behind him.

Celaena jumped to her feet on instinct, and Fenrys walked forward, standing almost in front of her. “What’s wrong, Rowan?”

“What’s wrong?” Rowan yelled back. He stormed towards them and pushed Fenrys with a palm against his chest. “Couldn’t you have given her any other fucking seat?”

Celaena watched them confused as Fenrys’ expression changed, his eyes dropping and his palms raising. “I’m sorry mate, I didn’t… didn’t think about it.”

Rowan’s cheeks were bright red, one fist clenched by his side, and the other grabbing a fistful of Fenrys’ shirt. Celaena cleared her throat lightly, and Rowan turned to her as if remembering she was standing there. His eyes traveled down to the pajama pants she was wearing, and if she didn’t know the guy better, she would have thought his eyes were filling up with tears. He let go of Fenrys and, pushing him to the side, stormed towards the hallway.

“Fuck.” Fenrys ran after him, leaving Celaena standing on the spot, speechless and confused. He disappeared down the hall, and then she heard the knocking on a door, a door opening and closing, and muffled yelling as Fenrys and Rowan argued behind closed doors, possibly in Rowan’s bedroom. 

Connall showed up by her side, and she looked at him questioningly. “What was that about?” He shook his head and pointed to the bags by the door.

“Help me with the groceries.”

She followed him as they picked up the bags, took them to the kitchen counter, and started unpacking all the food. They worked in silence for a while, the muffled argument in the distance going quieter and quieter until Connall sighed and looked at her. 

“You were sitting on her seat,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s seat?”

“Rowan’s ex.”

“Oh, okay.” Confused, Celaena got a bunch of bananas out of a bag and passed them over to Connall, who set them on a fruit bowl and turned around to get some cans out of another bag. 

“So, what’s the deal? Is the seat sacred or something?” She grabbed the last of the apples from the bag and set them on the fruit bowl. Connall poked his head out of the pantry, looking at her with his characteristic nonchalant expression.

“She’s dead.”

Celaena’s jaw dropped, Connall’s head disappeared back behind the pantry’s door, and as if on queue, Rowan walked into the room. There was an awkward silence as Celaena held an empty bag in her hands, and Rowan just stood there in front of the hallway door, looking at her. As she opened her mouth to say something, anything, Fenrys showed up behind Rowan and set a hand hard on his shoulder.

“My mate here wanted to apologize for overreacting,” he said, a huge smile on his face. Rowan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but then looked at her, nodding lightly.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” Rowan said, nonchalant.

“And… for being a moody prick?” Fenrys spur him on, making Rowan roll his eyes again.

“And for being a moody prick.” Rowan’s right corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Apology accepted.” Celaena had to admit, she almost liked Fenrys and his way of dealing with things. But her time was over, and she needed to hurry and head to the hotel if she wanted to have enough time to do her makeup. There was probably no useful information within the apartment, nothing worth her time. “Now, it’s my time to head out.”

“Don’t forget to return Rowan his pajamas before you go.” Fenrys winked at her, and Celaena darted out of the kitchen, pushing the guys to the side as she passed the door and headed back to the bedroom. Rowan’s pajamas? She remembered then, barely, how Rowan had given her some of his clothes the day before. Had he been in the bathroom with her? She shook her head dismissing the crazy memory of Rowan helping her, that part surely must have been a dream. 

Celaena got her bag, and as she was about to head out of the room, her phone rang. It was Sam’s name on the screen.

“Cortland.”

“Hey, you’ve been MIA this weekend, I expected to hear more about the fight. Should I pop into the hotel before school?”

“I don’t think so, I’m running late and will be just in time for class.”

“Oh, okay. Any new developments I should hear about? I’ve heard from Arobynn, he’ll be out of town all week again, I think he’s headed over to Terrasen.”

“Not much, really. Look, can’t talk right now, gotta go.” She hung up, fixed her bag over her shoulder, and walked towards the lounge. 

All three flatmates were sitting on the couches as she approached. “Okay, thanks for your hospitality, but I guess this is goodbye.”

As Fenrys stood up, a loud knock sounded on the front door. Fenrys’ eyes widened, Rowan jumped to his feet, and Connall raised his eyebrows.

“You,” Fenrys mouthed to Rowan as he pointed at her. 

Rowan walked quickly to her side and pushed her gently with a hand in the small of her back. He led her towards the room on the back of the hall as she heard Fenrys calling ‘coming’ while he walked loudly around the lounge.

Rowan left the door ajar as he leaned in, his ear against the gap. 

“Hey, how can I help you?” Fenrys’ voice reached them from the entrance.

“I have a message for you all,” an unknown male voice replied. It sounded deep but young.

“What is Lorcan Salvaterre doing here?” Rowan murmured to himself, and Celaena stepped back, the school database popping in her head as the name rang a bell.

[tearlessrain]

30 questions tag game

Tagged by: @mercurypilgrim (thanks!)

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Name/nickname: I’ve been going by tearless/tearlessrain for so long that a friend once called me that in person and I did not notice that it wasn’t my name until they said something. but I also have a lot of other names, only two of which have legal relevance.

Gender: male

Star sign: virgo, but I’ve been told by the local astrology gays that I’m also an aquarius moon and that it “explains a lot”

Height: 5′2

Birthday: a secret. I do not like being the center of attention.

Time: it’s like 3:40am. I will experience deep regret tomorrow, and I will learn nothing from this.

Favorite bands: queen feels like a cop out but like I’m never really not in the mood to listen to queen. linkin park, unironically. and all the different permutations of the crosby/stills/nash/young/simon/garfunkle cloud.

A few I am currently listening to, though: I can’t really call out specific bands/artists because I’m mostly listening to my oc playlists lately (I literally can’t stay in a bad mood listening to riska’s playlist and that’s just the energy I need in my life right now).

Favorite solo artists: (all together now) david bowie. also hozier and joni mitchell.

Song stuck in my head: O Come All Ye Faithful, in latin, for some fucking reason. it’s been there for days. send help.

Last movie: Kung Fu Panda, discord server was having a movie night.

Last show: WandaVision but I’m behind on it (loved the first two episodes but now I can feel the Marvel-ness looming again and I dread it)

When did I create this blog: god I don’t even remember, I’ve been here since the first age and never changed accounts/urls so like. around ten years now I think.

What do I post: whatever the hell passes through my brain from moment to moment, I can’t believe anyone follows me. lately a lot of rambling about my swtor ocs, sometimes it’s tolkien/silmarillion content, sometimes I liveblog terrible movies on purpose, sometimes it’s isaac asimov hours, sometimes just shitposting or unsolicited opinions about completely random things I’m not qualified to talk about. the only thing I can be relied on to provide is reblogs of ocean and horse photos, but not on any kind of consistent schedule.

Last thing googled: celtic invasion of portugal. I got slightly sidetracked from something else I was doing.

Other blogs: I’ve got art over at @tearlessrainart, horny art over at @a-world-of-osha-violations, and a little pile of extremely specific sideblogs I rarely use.

Do I get asks: not often, but those I do get are appreciated. except you, ray bans bot. I don’t appreciate you.

Why I chose my url: I originally used it as a deviantart handle (still there) because it wasn’t taken and I liked the overall way it sounded, and kept it because it’s rarely taken anywhere. and now it’s been ten years so like it’s stuck at this point.

Following: 305

Followers: 1392 which is far more than I deserve given my wildly inaccessible blogging style

Average hours of sleep: 7-8 hours usually but my actual sleep schedule skews late. I’ve never been one of those people who can skate by on 5 hours and be functional, if I get less than 6 hours I am absolutely useless and was that way even in high school/college when everyone else was pulling all nighters and shit.

Lucky number: I honestly have never understood lucky numbers, and how much I like any given number is solely dependent on how appealing its colors are according to my synesthesia. if anyone’s wondering, 420 is a hideously tacky blue/orange clusterfuck, but 69 is pleasantly greyscale.

Instruments: I play the flute, in that I own a flute that I was pretty good at playing in high school and can, if I choose, still play notes on it. I also own a melodica but I cannot play it, which to be clear does not stop me from playing it.

What am I wearing: pajama pants and a sith cloak. which sounds like a joke but I do actually own a set of sith robes and the cloak happens to be warm and very comfortable so I just kinda. wear it around the house sometimes in the winter.

Dream job: ornamental lighthouse hermit who may or may not be a wizard.

more realistically though I’m hoping to go into sfx makeup and cosmetology (I was like a week away from getting my license when the apocalypse hit)

Dream trip: I’d love to visit australia and new zealand, would also very much like to go back to scotland and possibly just not leave scotland.

Favorite food: sushi, specifically good salmon nigiri. god it’s so good. smeagol was right.

Nationality: regrettably, american.

Favorite song: god I have no idea. uh. I really like the boy in the bubble by paul simon. something about the visuals in that song speak to me.

Last book read: rereading The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov, which is a terrible book that I nonetheless subject myself to periodically because I like all the books around it a lot. I need to start on Robots and Empire but shit’s been going down recently so I haven’t been reading much.

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:  

okay LIVE IN is a very different question from “universes I think are neat” because like. I love the whole thing firefly has going on but I wouldn’t survive it for more than five minutes. so with that in mind:

1. middle earth but like, the shire during the third age specifically.

2. I think I would enjoy being a legend of zelda npc. I could just be a weird little potion seller who lives in a tree or something. or maybe an inexplicably sexy fish man. or better yet, the inexplicably sexy fish man’s husband, who sells potions. yeah I’ve got my fictional life here completely figured out now, this is good. I would also own an extremely chonky horse.

3. one of the ones I made up, specifically the one that involves a lot of gryphons and interdimensional bullshit. more specifically the origin universe of said gryphons, which exists at the heart of an extremely complicated multiverse that includes both earth and at least one fantasy world but is part of neither. anyway it’s a nice place.

Tagging: @raemanzu @sith-nb @vampiraptor @nyriad @crypticspren

(only if you want to of course)

[caiminnent]

shadow play [shaundes, rated T]

Prompt: surrender (1/25) [metaphorically speaking]

Summary: A discussion about tattoos and permanence that gets sidetracked in the best possible way.

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Tags: Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Relationship Discussions, Mutual Pining, Tattoos

Note: Also written and posted as an entry for @denydesmondsdeathday​, which I seem to have forgotten to tag. #justCaithings

2.4K || Also on AO3.

He likes to touch Desmond’s tattoos in the dark.

It’s not an accomplishment, per se—he is far from the first person to learn the topography of Desmond’s marked skin, won’t be the last—but there’s still an odd pride to it, being able to trace the black lines spanning across his shoulder blades, swirling up his arm without having to see them. Sometimes he imagines he can feel the texture of the art, the shadows and the sharp edges—that he could map out Desmond’s entire upper body with just his fingertips.

Desmond releases a long sigh, hugging his pillow closer, the movement drawing his shoulders tighter in. Whatever has been on his mind, keeping him up, he won’t say—and Shaun can’t ask, no matter how tempted he is. Especially because of how tempted he is. He’s already risking things by letting himself linger, not quite ready to draw the night to a close; he can’t afford another indulgence.

Running a finger down a long line from the back of Desmond’s shoulder, carefully avoiding where it tickles, “How did you end up with tattoos?” he asks instead. He might not be able to give Desmond some peace of mind, but he can offer distraction. That one he’s good for.

Desmond makes an amused grunt. “Thought you’d never ask,” he says with half a mouth, muffled against the pillow. Another drawn-out sigh and he’s slowly pushing himself up on his hands, stretching out his back like a cat. Putting on a show, almost.

He hardly minds.

Desmond settles back on an elbow, mirroring Shaun, barely more than an outline against all the white. He doesn’t speak again, though; the air growing heavy with something Shaun can’t identify but dislikes all the same as Desmond stares at the patch of sheet between them, his expression blurred back into the dimness of the room with the distance.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers, heart at his feet. Leave it to him to find the one topic that would make Desmond uncomfortable. Congratulations, really. Very well done.

Desmond shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not that.” He shifts again, this time to reach over the gap and lay a hand down, right next to Shaun’s on the sheet. “Keep touching? Please?”

As if he could deny Desmond anything.

He drags a finger up his wrist, forearm, sliding over that twist of ink over the muscle he can always find so easily. The lines aren’t as sharp here, the angles not as precise. Were they drawn in a hurry? Did Desmond move too much, filled with restless energy or twitching at each bite of the needle?

“I got this one first,” Desmond starts, as Shaun traces one of the longer lines, twirling at the end. “On my nineteenth birthday. I was supposed to work that night, but the boss—bless her heart—she put some money in my pocket and sent me on my way, told me to go have fun with my friends.” He huffs out a little chuckle, entirely joyless. “Only, I didn’t have friends. Didn’t have anyone I could celebrate with, didn’t have anywhere to go except my shithole of an apartment—which I really didn’t wanna go back to. So, I took to wandering.”

It’s easy enough to imagine: Desmond in his teens, walking up a storm on the streets of New York with his hands deep in his pockets, lips curled into that scowl that really only comes out when he thinks no one’s there to see.

His stomach churns.

“Then you saw a tattoo shop,” he guesses, following the same path up.

“Then I saw a tattoo shop,” Desmond confirms. Pauses, before adding, “I know it’s not... tasteful, or anything, but—it was mine, y’know? Something I’d picked for myself that no one could ever take away from me. It was... I dunno.” Shrugs a shoulder. “It was big, at the time.”

He understands the feeling.

In theory, at least. The wish for something bold and tangible and his, a middle finger to anyone who sneered and snickered at him for being who he is and wanting what he wants—that he understands. Getting it etched onto his skin for everyone to judge, however? That takes a kind of impulsiveness he only wishes for in secret.

What would that be like, even? Doing things without twisting yourself into knots? Deciding that you want something and just—getting it?

Desmond brushes the back of a finger underneath his wrist, oddly reassuring. “Is that the good kind of silence?”

If only he knew. “It’s not the bad kind,” is all he can allow. “It sounds... terrifying, is all.”

“Terrifying?” Desmond repeats on a low laugh.

“I mean...” He waves a hand vaguely, racking his brain to find the right words. “It’s a tattoo,” he settles on at last—rather lamely, he might add. His way with words never stepped outside of a classroom door, much less inside a bedroom. “It’s permanent—or as close to it as it gets, I suppose. It’ll be there long after us—after you, even—and you decided to get one on a whim. I don’t think I could ever be so…”

“Reckless?”

He rolls his eyes. “I was going to say spontaneous. Though, yes; that, too.”

That finger is still running back and forth, a teasing touch right under his pulse, starting to build something warm low in his belly. He wants to kiss Desmond. No secondary intent, not to get anywhere; kissing only to enjoy the feeling, Desmond’s warmth against his—and maybe fall asleep in the same bed after, just once. Just to see what it would be like to wake up there, curled up around Desmond or Desmond curled up around him, nowhere to rush to or run away—

Well, if that’s not his cue to get the hell out of here before he makes a fool of himself.

Rolling onto his back, he reaches for the alarm clock on the nightstand and slides it over with his fingertips to squint at the numbers, just this side of careless—even he has his moments. Well past one in the morning; earlier than the weight settled onto his bones suggested, late enough to be his excuse.

“Looks like we’ll have to leave the story of the back piece to another day after all,” he says, putting it back down in favour of the light switch above—blinks, the sudden brightness stabbing at his brain.

“You’re leaving?” Desmond asks—oddly put off, by the sound of it. What else did he even expect?

Throwing the covers off himself, “I should if I want to get some sleep,” he points out, stepping out before he can change his mind. Before the temptation to stay under the covers becomes too great.

Glasses, phone, his bag over by the door, his coat on the rack—where the hell are his clothes?

“In the closet,” Desmond says before he can ask. “I put them away while you were in the shower.”

Huh. Since when does Desmond care about tidying up?

“Thanks,” he says anyway, heading over to the closet—where his shirt and trousers are carefully placed on hangers, the bottom two buttons of the shirt done up like he prefers, his sweater sitting neatly folded on the rack above.

Something not unlike foreboding twists in his gut.

See, he has never seen the point of not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Call it paranoia; he cannot receive something nice and not poke and prod at every opening until he’s sure it’s meant in kindness. He doesn’t like surprises, doesn’t like getting caught off-guard—he does not like not being able to read Desmond’s expression as Desmond watches him through the full-length mirror, sitting up against the headboard with the covers pooled in his lap.

He needs to get out—fast.

Turning away from the mirror, he puts his focus entirely on dressing out of Desmond’s clothes into his own, buttoning up his shirt like he’s being timed on it. The very air is tense with anticipation—for what, he can’t tell, nor does he want to find out. For once, he doesn’t.

“So, after us, huh?” Desmond says—apropos of nothing, for all that he sounds as if continuing an interrupted conversation.

It takes Shaun longer than he would like to admit, to figure out what the hell Desmond’s talking about. “What of it?”

“That really what you think?” Desmond asks, serious like he never is. The feeling in his gut intensifies. “That this—” Gestures at the room as a whole, the open space between them. “—is temporary?”

Bitter laughter bubbles up in his chest. He pushes it down before it can escape, the pressure making it difficult to breathe. Is this what you think, Desmond asks—like what he thinks matters. Like what he thinks changes any damn thing here. It must be a joke, right. It must be a joke, because Desmond can’t be bloody serious.

If it is a joke, though, it’s a very cruel one.

Suddenly self-conscious with words like us hanging over their heads, he turns away from Desmond and the mirror both, back to the closet. “More lovers than you could keep track of,” he lists as he shoves his legs into his trousers, no trace of the resentment gathering and thickening in his chest making it to his tone, thankfully. “Not knowing how to do the ‘domestic stuff’. I’ve never learned how to stay still. I can read between the lines, Desmond.”

“I’m not denying what I said,” Desmond says—dares to sound upset, as if Shaun is being the difficult one here.

Cinching his belt, he reaches for his sweater. “Then we’ve got nothing to talk about.”

Behind him, the bed groans as Desmond steps out of it. He can’t help tensing at the slow approach, Desmond’s footsteps too loud in the still of the night.

Desmond touches Shaun’s arm, hardly more than a caress.  “I think we do, Shaun.”

He panics.

There’s no other word for the fist that grips his heart and throat both, his hand tightening instinctively around the fabric of his sweater. God, of course. Of course he’s already fucked up, given himself away—how could he have not? He’s transparent, obvious, subtle as a brick to the face and Desmond—

Desmond’s too gentle to let him down any other way.

“Shaun?” Desmond urges softly, his hand a light pressure on Shaun’s arm—not a weight but an anchor, grounding. “Look at me, please?”

He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to face Desmond, doesn’t know what his face will do if he does. If this is the end, he’d much rather leave with at least some of his pride intact.

Nonetheless, he turns.

Desmond’s watching him with open wariness, as if Shaun is a bloody caged animal, something to tread carefully with—the door a mere three steps behind Desmond. He could leave. Desmond wouldn’t follow if he did, just walked past him out of the room, the house. Avoided Bad Weather and anywhere else they could potentially come across, left this all behind.

He couldn’t, though; he knows he couldn’t even as he’s thinking it. He’s too greedy not to latch onto this—too needy to let it go.

“Look, it’s fine,” he sighs before Desmond can get a word in, running a hand through his wild hair. “You didn’t sign your life away by kissing me first; that’s not how this works. We don’t have to be more than—whatever the hell we are now.”

“But you want to be?”

Christ, Desmond can be worse than a bloodhound on a trail sometimes. “What does it even matter? I’ve already said I’m not going to tie you down. It’s fine.” Nothing has to change. Just leave it.

The slow smile that spreads over Desmond’s face is a rare kind, small but no less bright for it. He brushes tentative fingers over Shaun’s lips—Shaun’s breath stutters against them, his heart seizing. “What if I don’t want it to be fine?”

Oh.

Perhaps he’s been a bigger idiot than even he thought.

Desmond slowly slides his hands down onto Shaun’s chest, thumbing the top button. “I know what I said before,” he murmurs, meeting his gaze briefly, as if for permission, before he undoes it. The next one. The next. “You have every reason not to put faith in me. But—things have changed. For me. In here.” He rests a hand on Shaun’s chest, sizzling on the naked skin and there’s no way, no way, that he can’t feel the stupid beat of Shaun’s heart under his palm, hard and rabbit-fast— “Is it bold of me to hope they did for you, too?”

He can’t breathe.

He should be happy. Hell, he should be ecstatic, dizzy with joy instead of the wet, cold fear latched onto his insides, rooting his feet to the spot. It’s not usual for him, is the thing. To get what he wants. This—it can’t be—nothing is ever so easy. These things always come with a catch, some sort of a trap—consequences he can’t always foresee. He’s not like Desmond; he can’t just leap into things.

Desmond’s smile is dimmed with the hesitation creeping back into his eyes, his hand pausing over the last button above his waistband—and Shaun did that, right, with his paranoia. His useless anxiety.

Must he talk himself out of every good thing?

Swallowing against the burn up his throat, he lays a hand over Desmond’s; not an apology, not quite, but the closest thing to one he can give. “Do you even know what you’re offering?” he asks, matching Desmond’s tone. Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?

“Not really,” Desmond admits on a quick, breathy laugh. “Think we can find out together?”

He’s not ready for the jolt that passes through his heart, nor the weight in his chest that he’s not quite ready to name—too light to be what it was, too deep to be anything else. Insufferable and exhilarating at the same time. Too familiar.

Sucking in his bottom lip, Desmond meets his eyes again—it’s the same everything cluttering up his insides reflected back in them; the hesitation, the uncertainty. The fear. “You don’t have to say it. I don’t need pretty words or promises. Just—” The last button, undone—leaving him bared. “Stay.”

“Okay,” he whispers—and isn't that an admission. “Okay.”

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {20}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 19.Girls’ Night

A/N:

Prepare for Puns xD

20. Boys’ Night

While the sisters had a lovely tea party inside their pillow fort, the boys’ night out was continuing to be unsurprisingly uneventful. Kristoff had finished brushing Sven a while ago, and now the boys were stuck roaming around the courtyard, encircling it for what seemed like the millionth time. Olaf got bored fairly easily, so of course he tried to nullify his boredom himself the only way he knew how, by talking, practically non-stop, barely letting Kristoff get a word in edgewise. Olaf's virtually self-supporting conversation consisted of him rambling stories, spontaneously jumping into song, and (the part that actually required Kristoff to be present to answer them) curious questions. 

 "...magic, so I guess Elsa's like my mom, but kids seem to have both a mom and a dad, and they don't have magic --at least I don't think they do-- so it's got me thinking, how do people make babies without magic?" Olaf wondered curiously, it one of the countless questions he had asked that night.

Kristoff had always been a good listener, so he didn't mind the rambling. They could possibly have done other things, but Kristoff was at least vaguely aware of Hans' whereabouts and wanted to be sure he was nearby in case he was needed. He wasn't oblivious to boredom per se-- just too focused on everything else to process it. 

He just about choked when he tuned in to Olaf's question. He certainly made a sound like it, but he cleared his throat. 

"Why is this not the first time I've been asked that?" He asked, more to himself and his gods than anything. "It involves complex biology and is way more gross than you'd want it to be..." He started.

 "Oh look, we have company!" He changed the subject quickly and pointed out Hans and the Captain wandering home. In spite of the drinking, Hans seemed little more wobbly than he already had been with his injury. 

"Ahoy Admiral!" Kristoff called, just to draw attention and avoid the question from Olaf. 

"View Hallou!" Hans replied, curious what he was being hailed for. "The night is young and we are getting older." Hans joked dryly to the Captain, wandering to meet Kristoff and the party. "Well if it isn't the little snow-prince and the Arendelle royal cavalry. Good evening gentlemen. And I am counting the reindeer." He gave a respectful greeting gesture to all of them, perhaps especially the reindeer.

"I'm Sven," he introduced. He should at least be known by his name instead of just being 'the reindeer'. 

"Oh! Hans the Fool!" Olaf greeted, now completely sidetracked from the question he'd asked earlier. "Are you having a night out, as well?" Hans raised an eyebrow at Kristoff, more amused than perplexed, though there was plenty of that. 

"I am, little prince. Getting to know the Captain. It appears I'll be helping the Royal Guard with my sword. I'm a little more than a fool, I must admit. Shall we have the remains of a night out together? Telling stories and whatnot?" Hans' tone was always lighter and sweeter with Olaf, as anyone might be while working with children. Especially a fool.

Olaf's face brightened with glee at the notion of having Hans join them.

 "Yes! Let's do that!" Olaf exclaimed with excitement. He really did appreciate Hans' company, no offense to Kristoff and Sven, but having someone else that shared his enthusiasm, overjoyed Olaf. 

"If that's what you wish to do."

 "Good Evening," saluted the Captain, as he approached the group. "I see Westergaard's already inviting himself to join your party," he chuckled, already accustomed to his antics. "Is it alright to leave him in your hands?" He attentively asked Kristoff, almost as if he was watching over a puppy or a small child, instead of a grown man, a slightly drunken man, sure, but still. The Captain thought he should ask, Hans felt like he was his responsibility and he didn't impose anyone with that duty without their consent.

"Not going to join us, Captain? Just handing over Gaoler duty?" Hans joked dryly. He honestly meant it as a joke, but perhaps it did speak to his self-image. 

"We'll be fine, Captain. In spite of Anna's wariness, I'm pretty sure I can handle this driftwood log, and if he gives me trouble, I can always pitch him back out to sea." Kristoff joked, nudging Hans with his foot. 

"Oho, the Reindeer Lord has jokes. One of us is the Queen's fool, be careful who you challenge." Hans joked in return. He truly wore that stupid made-up title with pride. But then, Kristoff had his own made-up title, perhaps it was only fair.

"Hate to be an old fogey, but I'm afraid I've had enough excitement for one night, all I want to do now is get as much rest as I can to try to avoid having a headache in the morning," he said as he yawned. "I think my ears are still ringing from all that singing," the Captain twisted his pinky in his ear as if trying to dislodge something. "Keeping up with you isn't easy, you've completely drained me, boy. I need to hand over the reins and have someone else keep a watchful eye on you, just because of your capriciousness, and for your own well-being. Wouldn't want to find you floating in the fountain in the morning. I lost track of everything that happened tonight at the tavern, but if I recall correctly, I'm sure at one point you suggested doing a balancing act on a chair." 

"Oh, I've seen him do that once," Olaf interposed. 

"Of course, you've done it before, why am I not surprised?" The captain said with a disapproving head shake as he brought a hand up to his face. He let out a sigh. "Anyway, thank you for keeping tabs on him Lord Kristoff," he gave a nod in appreciation. "Fair warning though, his mood seems to be as fickle as the sea."

Hans laughed. "You flatter me, captain. And you need more practice at drinking if you plan to keep up with me. I was still sober at that suggestion." Hans grinned wryly. "And at the singing. I just like singing." He hummed. "Sleep, old man. See you in the morning, we'll try to keep tomorrow quiet then, hm?" Hans thumped the Captain on the shoulder, as good mates do. 

 "What else would we expect? Fickle moods seem to be all we know of him for sure." Kristoff pointed out. But he smiled and shook his head a little. "Tag me in next time, we'll see how I do at holding my drinks against a sea captain."

"I'd say bragging about your sobriety when acting like you were isn't something you should be proud of boy, but you already dub yourself a fool," he chuckled. "Indeed. Next time you're welcome to put him in his place," the Captain affirmed with a nod. "Goodnight gentleman, hope you enjoy the rest of your night-- and you don't cause too much trouble," he nudged Hans back. 

"I'm off to bed. I bid you all adieu." After one more reverence, the Captain took his leave.

 "Can I go to the drinking party next time too?" Olaf childishly asked. He wasn't aware of the alcohol involved, instead he was envisioning some sort of manly tea party. "It sounds like fun!"

Hans laughed a little. "Maybe when you're much older, little prince." He teased. "The men say things we oughtn't say around younger folks, and act more like fools than we ever should." He observed. "But what the captain doesn't know is, a fool is wiser than he seems, and a wise man more foolish than wise men ever think. The wisest man is the one who takes himself for a fool, even around fools." Hans smiled a little, playing wordplay games. He always liked puns and wordplay. 

"This is like that riddle, 'the wisest man is he who understands that he understands nothing'." Kristoff hummed. "Hans likes to say silly things, and worse, sometimes I imagine he says things that get him into trouble." Kristoff observed. 

"Aye, and out of it. More often out than in, but when in, then in big." He observed. It was a statement one really had to track to understand, but that seemed like the theme. Drunken philosophy night with the strangest assortment of characters around. "So, what are we all wandering about for?" Hans hummed. 

"The ladies are having a girls’ night, so I was on patrol to keep an eye out that you weren't up to trouble." Kristoff answered honestly. 

"What a good guard you are. You've certainly done that job." Hans hummed. 

"Out drinking with the Captain of the Guard? I bet that was a wild night." 

"Cards, drinks, and encouraging positive feelings toward myself. It's so easy, as if my last visit to Arendelle never happened. Anna is thus far the most sensible person I've seen." Hans admitted, a bit more soberly. 

"You're not upset?" 

"Oh, deeply. But that's sort of the point, isn't it." Hans didn't seem too bothered, just logical.

"Aw," Olaf groaned when he was denied his request to partake in the future fun only because he was deemed 'too young'. People kept telling him, 'when you're older Olaf', but when was that going to happen? He was a walking talking snowman, not an actual child though he was very much one in essence. Olaf tried to follow Hans and Kristoff's conversation, but got a bit lost in their philosophical talk. Hans smiled a little at Olaf. "Just as well, I don't think it would appeal as much to you, yet. Not really. In much the same way that politics only makes sense and isn't boring when you get older, it likely wouldn't be quite the same for you as for us." He assured him. He almost instinctively patted Olaf's head, perhaps forgetting that he was made of ice and snow.

 "You two seem chummy." Kristoff remarked, amused. 

"Of course. He's kept me company while I've been unable to walk around and chatter quite so much. I don't talk very much at home, it's good to be here and be able to say the things I think. Oh, Olaf, did you ever figure out what the meaning of my story was, that day of the raid? I suppose I never finished it. Predictable, but the best stories are the ones that take what you know and turn it upside-down. Like an hourglass, it renews the story." He may not have been drunk, but Hans certainly wasn't sober either. He was prone enough to meander (both in words and walk) while sober, and drinking only exacerbated it as he wandered off toward grass, just to walk on something more natural than cobble. Hans loved adventure, even if it was only venturing off the cobblestones.

Olaf laughed a little at being patted on the head. "Hmm...the meaning of the story?" he pondered. "I think it means that even the Mirror Prince had his own side to the story," answered the little snowman. It was obvious even to him what story Hans had been trying to tell him that day. "You know, I have my own retelling of that story too and so does Sven, don't you Sven?"

"Oh, I would wager you do." Hans agreed, sounding intrigued. "So you've figured out that I'm not just Hans the Fool, then?" He hummed, with a little smile. "I keep picking up titles these days, sooner or later I won't know what to do with them all. I wonder if they can be recycled. Someone else can be a prince, I'll keep Fool and Admiral and let the others slide." He joked, all lighthearted for the moment-- perhaps purely because Olaf was there. 

"Do pray tell, tell your version of the story? You can be quite a storyteller all your own." Hans remarked, his tone light and sweet. Kristoff wondered if that was what he was always like with children-- as Hans seemed under the firm delusion that Olaf was more of a strange child than a 'snowman given life through strange ice magic'. Kristoff supposed that was the better way to view things. Would he be like that with his own children? If Hans ever chose to have any, anyway. That would be its own pot of problems when they got there. Kristoff was glad that wasn't his problem-- but lately he had been thinking a lot more about families and family life. One could hardly blame him for thinking about the way Hans thought. Especially since he seemed to show a different face for every combination of company he might keep. Sometimes it seemed to change by the moment.

"Oh, yeah, everybody wouldn't be making such a fuss about you if you were just a fool, but I do prefer Hans the Fool," he giggled. The young snowman's face lit up at the invitation to share his account of the day he was created and the events that followed. 

"Okay, be prepared, I'm going to start from the beginning, well, my beginning since I wasn't there for the rest of it. This story starts up on the North Mountain where Elsa created me using her magic..." Olaf was very thorough in the retelling of his story. He told Hans how Anna, Kristoff and Sven freaked out similarly (or even more so) than he did when they first met him as well. He went into detail about everything (even the unimportant stuff) from how he got his nose, his love for warm hugs, mistaking Kristoff for Sven and of course his love for summer. Olaf continued his explanation about how he led his new friends up the North Mountain to find Elsa to bring back summer. Of course he couldn't gloss over he got impaled. And trivial facts like how he waited for exactly one minute before he joined Anna to talk to Elsa at the Ice Palace. How Elsa herself was also a bit shocked that she'd brought him to life. He described the sisters' interaction after Elsa stuck Anna and how they got kicked out by Marshmallow, only to have Anna aggravate him shortly after. He couldn't leave out how he bravely volunteered to distract and hold Marshmallow back to no avail and that they all ultimately fell off the cliff. Olaf didn't skip out on any of the awkwardness. He went on to talk about how they all ventured to Kristoff's 'Love Experts', and how he thought Kristoff was totally crazy talking to rocks he called his family until they revealed themselves to be trolls. Also that he figured out his name was Kristoff not Sven. Olaf relayed the full extent of their visit with the trolls, attempted wedding and all and how they went to go find Hans (for a kiss) after they were told that 'only true love thaw a frozen heart'.

He explained how he ended up getting separated from the group and that he was the one that had found Anna locked up after Hans abandoned her. Olaf recounted how he almost melted trying to warm Anna up. He was quite proud of his 'Love Expert' advice that made Anna realize that Kristoff really cared for her. Then it was on to how the two of them managed to escape a freezing castle through a window and make it to the fjord. Olaf had gotten blown away by the storm and so the next thing he witnessed was Elsa embracing a frozen Anna on the fjord. Olaf expressed how devastating it was to think they lost Anna forever, but was happy when he was first to notice that Anna had in fact been saved, her frozen heart thawed by an act of true love different than the one they all had envisioned and that none of them had expected. He conveyed how delighted he was at the return of the summer once Elsa was able to control her powers, even though the sun had promptly begun to melt him, but thankfully Elsa kept him from melting. That was practically the end of his story about the events he'd observed, because after that he had been too distracted and overjoyed, by his own personal flurry that allowed him to enjoy summer, to pay attention to everything else that was going around him, like Hans getting punched in the face by Anna. The little snowman was very animated with his explanation, transforming himself and acting out the parts as he went along, he was a very theatrical storyteller even more so than Hans. 

"...and that's the story of how I spent my first day of life."

Hans laughed through much of it, amused by Olaf's transformations and animated behavior, and all of his excitement. 

"You lived quite an adventurous life, and all in one day! Many people would be jealous, and I would venture to say you have lived the most adventurous life of any snowman. I wonder if Marshmallow would say the same? I very much remember Marshmallow, nearly killed me on the ice bridge, but what an adventure that was!" Hans hummed. He seemed quite fond of Olaf, and only more so with time. 

"You remind me of someone, somehow, but I'm not quite sure..."

"Yourself." Kristoff proposed.

 "How, exactly? We're not exactly alike." Hans pointed out. 

"You both laugh in the face of death, love jokes and stories, change to adapt to your environment, and everyone underestimates what you're thinking." Kristoff gestured to both of them.

 "...Well perhaps, but there's no need to insult him." Hans scoffed, tone a little flatter. 

"Oh shut up, I bet he's what you would have been like if you were raised in a happy family, without whatever screwed you up." Kristoff wouldn't let Hans deflect this one. And granted, perhaps Hans would have been a little annoying. Most children were. Olaf truly was just a child. 

"Hm. That may be so, but for once I don't find much merit in exploring hypotheticals. I can't imagine that alternative history. I'll have to just enjoy the one we're in, instead." His tone was perhaps a little less pleasant. If anything, he seemed a little more protective of Olaf, after that. He didn't want anyone to think they were like him. He was one of the disappointments, a prince turned treasoner and fool. He was not an example to follow.

"Ah, yes, an adventure of a lifetime, those were the days. My, how time flies." Olaf said in an almost reminiscent tone. "I don't know if Marshmallow would say the same, he's not much of a talker. But what I can say for him is that sure mellowed out since the last time," Olaf laughed at his own joke.

"You both love wordplay..." Kristoff added, amused, as Hans laughed at Olaf's joke. Hans was probably the only one who would laugh at that joke. 

"Your lifetime is only just beginning! You also lived through the assault on the castle, remember, there's plenty of adventuring time left." Hans assured, then he brightened up more. "Ah! I'm out of the castle, I can visit my horse in the stables! Would you all mind if we went? I haven't seen him in... probably a month? I'm not sure how long, now. Two?" He turned to go that way without waiting. Whether Kristoff wanted him to go or not, Hans wanted to see his horse. Kristoff shrugged and moved to follow. He was planning to end the night there anyway, and may as well let the man see his buddy.

"Oh! You have a horse? Is it a boy or a girl? What's it's name? Do you talk to them like Kristoff does to Sven," Olaf asked an abundant amount of questions as they headed back towards the stables.

Hans chuckled. "It's a boy, his name is Sitron. I talk to him, but he doesn't talk back." Hans assured with a little laugh. When he made it there, he jogged toward the horse, ignoring the pain in his side. Sitron seemed happy to see him, too, making happy sounds and tossing his mane. Hans threw his arms around his horse's neck and petted him. He was deeply fond of his horse, and they clearly missed each-other. Once again, it was easy to forget he was a prince, once. Now he was a man who had little but a mixed reputation, and a horse. A horse he was very glad to see again. 

"Hello you, I'll have to go riding again soon, they haven't been giving you enough exercise, hm?" He cooed to the horse, petting its nose. "I never thought I was going to see you again." While he kept his tone relatively neutral, it was just because there were people around. He had deeply missed his horse. He had few other friends.

Sitron was indeed ecstatic to see Hans again, it had been far too long that they were about. He gently trotted with excitement at the notion of being ridden again. His tail was raised in excitement and his ears were facing forward in full attention. Of course he had to sniff and nuzzle Hans with his nose. There was no doubt Fjord Horse had deeply missed his friend as well.  

"Oh, so that's Sitron, handsome horse, I was wondering where he'd come from, looks like he really missed you," smiled the little snowman. "Maybe you should groom him," he suggested, seeing that Kristoff had brushed Sven to start off the night and the reindeer seemed to enjoy it, so. "I know Sven likes it a lot when Kristoff does that to him."

"You know, I was thinking that myself." Hans agreed, immediately rolling up his sleeves and looking for the supplies to groom. Kristoff handed some over so Hans wouldn't have to think about it, and Hans happily took to tending to the horse as if he did that all the time. Maybe he had been a prince, but he had been a prince who wanted to be useful. "Ah, the lemon's turning into a lemon cake. You need to exercise." Hans teased, patting his horse's side to indicate that the horse was getting a little chubby. Still, he was glad his horse was being overfed, rather than underfed. He was the horse of a treasonist, after all. "Are they taking good care of you? You look well-groomed at least. No parade horse, but there's no neglect in Her Majesty's stables." Hans observed, more muttering at the horse than really talking to him as he groomed.

Sitron whinnied to show he was content. He was being treated well of course but he sure did miss going out for rides instead of being cooped up in his stall most the day. 

"Did you name him yourself or was he named that when you got him?" Wondered the curious snowman. "He doesn't look like a sour horse to me," he commented since he didn't understand why he was named after a lemon.

Hans chuckled. "I did, I was a boy and boys do silly things. He's got a slightly yellow-y tint and it reminded me of lemon meringue, especially with his mane." He hummed. "Certainly not a sourpuss, Sitron has been my friend for years. Sometimes the only one I felt like I could talk to, since he can't talk about whatever I tell him. Secrets are a resource in my homeland, they're hard to keep and valuable for it. No matter how mild, it seems it can be a danger. So if I only told my horse, I never had to fear it getting to anyone else. And what does a horse care what I have to say? He's a horse. He cares that I feed him, groom him, ride him, and make sure his shoes are on right." Of course, the stable hands handled the shoes in Arendelle. Not that he would usually shoe a horse, but he liked to at least make sure they were taken care of.

"Your homeland sounds like an awful place if you can't talk to anyone but your horse," remarked Olaf. "No offense to you lemon meringue, I'm sure you're a great listener."

"It is." Hans assured, nonchalantly. "Our family and staff have a lot of petty squabbles and teasing that tends to go... overboard. I'm the youngest, I get a lot more trouble than the rest. That's why I left for anywhere else. The sea is a great big 'anywhere else' to me. When I couldn't sail, I rode. As far as possible, somewhere as wild as possible. Often to a beach or a shore, sometimes to explore some forest. A horse makes for a fine friend, but it does lead to much less conversation." Hans admitted, focusing on his grooming. Sitron didn't seem offended, it was the truth.

"You and Kristoff are a lot alike when it comes to finding fine friends in animals, yet Sven does seem to converse more than Sitron. But then again Kristoff isn't much of a conversationalist when it comes to people, I've heard him sing that he thinks 'reindeer are better than people' when playing his lute," mentioned the childish snowman. "I think it's because he was raised by rock trolls," he tried whispering the last part.

"Aye, you could say that." Kristoff admitted, amused as he folded his arms and looked down at Olaf with a raised eyebrow.

 Hans laughed a little. 

"Maybe he's not wrong. A reindeer never committed a coup." He pointed out lightly. "Everything's a matter of perspective, I think. Perhaps the rock trolls have a better perspective." He paused a bit. "Did I know about the rock trolls? I think I didn't. That's weird. But not the weirdest thing I've seen, I hope one day to meet them, then. If only to say I've done it." He hummed a little bit at that. He liked experiences for the sake of them. Who needed reasons to see or do something new?

"You should definitely meet them, the rock trolls are fun, very nice, wise and they really like telling embarrassing stories about Kristoff," Olaf said, completely ignoring the look Kristoff gave him. 

"Maybe they'll do the fixer upper thing with you and Elsa, it looked like a lot of fun," he said, not really aware that it had resulted in the trolls attempting to wed Kristoff and Anna last time or was he? It was hard to tell will Olaf sometimes.

Hans looked curious, and chuckled a little. 

"Afraid I'm not a big fan of embarrassing stories from family." He admitted. "Too familiar with that bitter pill, myself. I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, but, it's probably for the best if we don't. I'm the Queen's fool, but I won't flatter myself to think we'll be spending much time together." He waved the thought aside, with a horse brush in-hand. Kristoff gave Olaf a curious look, wondering if Olaf was thinking the same thing he was about that. Olaf could be dim sometimes, but he -like Anna- had a habit of hitting upon the important things without knowing it.

For the first time in forever Olaf was uncharacteristically taciturn. 

 "Oh," he voiced in a slightly dispirited tone. He looked up at Kristoff a bit bemused.

Kristoff held the silence for a moment, a slow smirk showing up, identical to the one he wore when he wanted to tell Olaf all about how snow melts in the heat, but Anna stopped him. 

 "Flatter yourself, idiot." Kristoff shifted over to swat Hans playfully on the back of the head. Hans ducked, perhaps a little more than he needed to, receiving some small amount of the swat anyway. 

 "Excuse me?" He seemed uncertain whether he should be offended, or amused, but he looked a little more defensive either way. 

"You think she visits just to make sure your wounds don't rot? That's what doctors are for. Anna may not like you, but Elsa does, at least as a friend. You might hate yourself, but you're the only one. And maybe Anna, but she'll forgive in time, if I know her at all. I won't tell you to get over it, but at least get the picture; you're staying in the castle, you're going to see the Queen plenty. Still, probably best you don't see my folks and her at the same time, they're likely to marry you both." Kristoff joked dryly. 

 Hans laughed, a somewhat nervous laugh. But he didn't know how to respond, so he focused on brushing Sitron, instead. 

 "Let's talk about something else." He was quick to press the conversation away. Even if it was awkward, he would sooner hold an awkward silence than think about what Anna thought of him, or acknowledge that the Queen might like him. Somehow, both were painful.

Maybe the awkwardness now was karma for what happened earlier at the tavern. Kristoff had brought a wide smile back to the young snowman's face. 

 "You sure are a strange fellow," Olaf commented. Countless people would love to be in Elsa's good graces (especially since she still wasn't the most open person), but Hans seemed to think it was a bad thing, maybe he thought he didn't deserve that kind of attention, Olaf didn't quite understand and thought the former Prince was being silly, the title of Fool suit him quite well. He wasn't going to press him any further he saw Hans didn't seem too happy about the topic and Olaf preferred smiles to scowls. Of course Olaf couldn't bear the silence for too long, so he tried breaking it. He was an expert on changing the subject and going on random tangents. He didn't wish for Hans to stay silent, it just didn't feel right to him. 

 "Hey, Sven," he began "What do you call a reindeer with no eyes?" Olaf paused for a moment and Sven grunted. "What? You really don't know? I was only asking you cause you're a reindeer and I have no eye deer." He resorted to telling jokes, it was second nature to him. He’d much rather hear laughter than nothing at all.

Hans laughed quite suddenly at that joke, and rested his free hand on his face while he recovered from that one. 

 "Oh! That was a genuinely good one! it has layers." He did so love wordplay and puns. 

"Honestly, he has snow idea how to tell a good joke." Kristoff proposed. He liked Olaf's tactic. It worked a lot better. 

 "Snow thanks, Ice see what you're doing here." Hans retorted. They were probably going to be doing that a while.

And that they did. Once you start wordplay especially with people that are willing to continue it's a bit hard to stop. There were lots of snow and ice puns, of course, those were the easiest to make, as well as horse and reindeer ones, but the best kind of wordplay was undeniably the one that used their names.

  "I gotta Hans it to you, Sitron is looking more Hansome now that you brushed him," Olaf declared with a giggle. --

The puns continued for a long while, certainly long enough for Hans to finish tending to his horse and spending time with it. When it was finally time to leave, he gave his horse a fond farewell with reassurances that he would be back. Kristoff escorted him back to his room, just feeling as if that was now his duty, since the Captain of the Guard was gone-- and also he was the most sober one there (both of mind and body). 

By the time Elsa would have come to check on Hans, much later in the evening than she probably intended (because Girl Talk and catching up was simply too riveting), Hans had already decided to sleep, with an arm over his eyes and a leg hanging off the bed. Some people when they slept looked as if they had been laid to rest. Hans looked as if he had been thrown to rest, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with that fact. His hair was mussed and his collar rumpled, but only from the day's activity. And of course, he smelled a bit like rum and horse. It was sometimes easy to forget that he was an admiral. But not at that moment.

[headquarters90]

Sound of the Warrior (Warrior of the Source 17)

Pairing: Darkiplier x French Goddess!Reader, Reader x Original Characters (Platonic/Family), Reader x Greek Gods/Goddesses!Characters

Words: 1,675 words

Warnings: (crappy) fight scene, Angst, cursing (probably)

A/N: Hey guys! So, it’s the ending piece of Warrior of the Source! Like I said before, there’ll be a sequel, I just haven’t figured out a title for it yet and it’ll be a while before it’s posted. I want to actually write it all out before posting it and I need to focus on the other fandoms I write. I’ll also be posting a few within the Markiplier fandom - trying to at least. This series has been my main focus, to be honest. Anyways, enjoy! And let me know if you want to be tagged when I post the sequel to this! ~JadeDarrow

Series Masterlist

“Get back. Now,” you called out, glancing over your shoulder at the entities before you were throwing your hand out. “Ignis inspiratione,” you murmured, watching fire shoot out of your hand, and you gritted your teeth at the sight of William lifting himself into the air before landing a few feet away from you.

“You think some dainty fireball will hurt me?” William raised an eyebrow at you, a scoff leaving his lips. “You disappoint me, little ladybug.”

You know what to do, Y/N, Sébastian spoke within your mind as you twirled your fingers beside you, feeling the hard wood of your staff appear.

“Don't call me that.”

“You still fear me, ladybug.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Ladybug.”

Your hand tightened around the staff before you swung it towards the man, annoyance seeping through as he flew back. A smirk was present on his lips and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.

“I knew something was off when I sense no panic from you, ladybug.”

You gritted your teeth at the statement. You knew, you knew he knew. Over the years, against your wishes, you knew this man and how he thought, just as well as his children did. It usually took weeks of the three of you combining forces to figure out a plan he wouldn’t know about – at least, it did last time. You didn’t have weeks this time, just hope.

“Why is he the only one attacking? Why aren’t you doing anything?”

You heard the harsh whispering of Dark’s voice and glanced over your shoulder, your eyes landing on his before you tossing your staff over your head, turning your head to face William.

“He didn’t give the order too and she hasn’t let on she needed help. We have a way we do things,” you heard Angel say as you lifted your foot, kicking him away.

With him, you wanted to add but you kept your mouth shut as you fought against the being before you.

While you felt the presence of others in the room, you focused on Dark’s, keeping your fear from creeping forward and sidetracking you from the now. You couldn’t risk that, even though the more you fought against William, the more your heart sank. Your mind kept reminding you of one thing as you fought on – Dark's gone after this.

Feeling your staff leave your hands, your eyes lifted up towards the air as it flew through before landing on the smirk on William’s face as you felt a sudden drift from his wings.

“Angel, André, hands!”

You turned quick on your heels, rushing towards the pair as quickly as you could as they put their hands together. Barely placing a foot on them, they were shoving you up and you were reaching for your staff.

He had your blood.

There was no telling if he had the abilities you held as a Warrior.

You couldn’t risk him being able to control your staff.

Your hand wrapped around your staff and you pointed your free hand towards the ground, muttering a single Latin word that lifted you just a tad bit to miss a collision against William and your feet landing on the ground, holding the staff behind you.

If it hadn’t been for the slight stinging pain on your wrist and the looks of the rest of the Warriors' faces, you would have never realized as you glanced at your mark, watching the Anemone turn into a Crown.

“Finally got your crown, ladybug?” William smirked and your eyes lifted to his before you were tilting your head, watching as his eyes flickered away from you for a second before returning like nothing happened.

“Go-”

You dodged before Dark could finish his warning, ramming your staff into the God’s gut before lifting your hand, vines shooting out to wrap around him. You heard quick movements as you turned to face William, barely catching sight of others joining the battle you began.

Get them out of here, Sébastian, you ordered, your eyes glancing towards the entities in question before returning your eyes on William. He’s done what he needed.

Y/N, are you-

Yes.

Of course. As soon as I can get away from Monique, I will.

Thank you.

You brought your staff around, blocking a hit before you fought against William once more, waiting for his focus to remind on you and you only. There was one more than you needed to do.

“Foolish Goddess!” Dark called out as your back hit the ground with a thud and William smirked above you.

You forced yourself to gulp as William pointed the tip of his sword to your neck, his head tilting to the side.

“Look at that, you even have him calling you a fool. Now, what lover does that?”

“Are you kidding me? Go help her, you idiot!”

“Trust me, Dark, she’s okay.”

“You dumb-”

William narrowed his eyes at you and your eyes fell to the woman who stood behind him, watching as she twisted her wrist just a bit before pulling out the dagger. You moved back and onto your feet at the sound of the dagger hitting the ground as Isabelle stepped back from her father, Charon right behind her.

“Stay dead, you asshole,” Isabelle spoke as her eyes watched him fall to his knees before lifting to yours. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

Silence fell between the two of you. You two understood each other’s pain on two different levels. She had been abused mentally and physically, tested on as soon as her mother died. He took a step further with you and the only reason he didn’t with his children was because, in the end, he was their father. He gave them little mercy.

Your eyes lifted towards Sébastian before meeting Dark’s as the Monstre placed a hand on the entities’ shoulders. You held his glaze before he disappeared from sight.

He got what he wanted.

And you had a mess to clean up.

~

Dark muttered under his breath as he slammed the door behind him, tossing his suit coat onto his unneeded bed.

He couldn’t deny the frustration he felt being given no choice on whether he left or stayed. He was annoyed at himself for feeling an ounce of fear at the sight of the foolish Goddess on her back and a sword pointed at her neck. He had seen the Goddess in action. He saw all of them in action. He should have known – but that didn’t stop his emotions, did it?

“Emotions are pointless and unnecessary,” he muttered, pulling off his dress shirt as he looked towards his mirror.

He stopped his movements at the sight of a silver chain around his neck before his eyes fell to the gold ring hanging from the chain. He found himself grabbing at the chain with every intention to take it off and send Anti to return it before he dropped it, turning to his closet for a new suit.

He was already late for a meeting. He’ll do it later.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself. His eyes glanced at the mirror once more, catching sight of the necklace before he turned his head, walking out his bedroom door.

~

“I still disagreed with what you did,” Juliette stated as you sat with her, Jean-Louis, and Angel. Their lovers had gone home – though, André had wanted to stay. “But I also applaud you. You made the hardest choice that even Jean-Louis would have a hard time making.”

“That is not true.” Jean-Louis turned towards his sister as a snort left Angel. “I have no issue making anyone leave.”

“Oh, like you did with Makaria?” Juliette challenged and he scowled as he turned his head. “That’s what I thought. Anyways, at least we have our leader – our correct leader.”

“You guys knew?” You questioned, glancing between the three.

“The book said the one with the worst past, sissy,” Angel pointed. “Yeah, Auntie had it bad – being cut up into little pieces and thrown into the River followed by Jean-Paul by our grandparents, feeling nothing but guilt at the sight and thought of her brother joining her and possibly other siblings but that’s nothing compared to yours. It’s baffling you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t accept my past. I guess I didn’t until now. I mean, last time I went against him, I still felt afraid. The only fear I felt fighting him was...”

You found yourself turning your head as you stopped speaking. It’s only been a few hours since the battle and you had waited to unwind with the three before trying to sleep but it was apparent that your mind won’t let you. When have your mind ever let you?

“I’m going to call it a day – a long day at that. Tomorrow, later in the day, we’ll meet, all of us. There are things we need to discuss,” you spoke, standing. “Go rest. We earned it.”

“If you change your mind, let me know and I’ll go with,” Angel spoke gently and you looked at her, giving her a small smile.

“I won’t but thanks.”

You watched a frown appear on her lips as she nodded and you soon teleported, finding yourself outside the doors of your library. You felt Sébastian stir in the back of your mind, getting ready to say something but, for once, you put up that wall you were desperate to prevent.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You wanted the night to feel upset and guilty over your choice because, tomorrow, you’ll go back to being okay and you’ll accept all the advice many will give you.

You glanced at the library doors as you turned before dragging your feet to the bedroom. As you walked through the door, your eyes landed on a book sitting against your lamp – Words of a Parvulus – and your heart thudded against your chest at the realization of what the book was.

The one he had been reading to you

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 43: Tea Can Just Knock Over Joey Wheeler With Her Index Finger

Guys guys guys, my favorite Character is back. That’s right--the storyboarder!

So this episode looked helllla nice for a Yugioh episode (again, this is Yugioh, it will win no awards.) It wasn’t as nice and fluid as the episode where they temporarily killed off Joey Wheeler, but I give it a good 2nd place.

You can tell we’re getting to the climax of the season because they’re throwing down their most entertaining art people onto the screen, giving us about 5 zillion dutch angle fashion close-ups of Marik’s cabbage face, and a whole lot of zany and hard to very hard to draw fish-eye lens angles of Pharaoh.

Also, everyone wears flared bell-bottom pants now. New stylistic decision, as decided just now. Everyone in pants now has flares. Even if their pants are cargo pants. How very 00′s. (my pants were flares from like birth until 2006, it was a good trend, super comfy, bring it back.)

(read more under the cut)

First off, Evil Marik decided to rewrite Marik history a little bit with some hilarious retconning that only the most evil Marik would think is legit.

I mean I was there when Marik was introduced and was a complete asshole all of S2. I remember when Odion considered murdering the hell out of his little brother because this Marik guy was such freakin tool and his Dad was an evil cultist bastard. I...I’m gonna go on a limb and assume that calling Marik a “loyal servant” is a freakin stretch. Marik made his choices. Yes, his bad side killed his Dad, but they have made sure to indicate that yes, this is the evil inside of Marik, something that he himself caused--but most of the things that Marik has done (with the exception of killing his own Dad) is still Marik. He did that.

The fact that his evil side can’t quite connect that his good side and evil side are at all the same however, is fitting for an evil Marik to think. More and more, Marik and Marik are becoming 2 different people, and this game is the deciding factor to finally give this guy full autonomy of his other half.

We’ve seen this type of contrast before with Bakura and Ryou--where Ryou and Bakura don’t really get along but have always been clearly different people, so the culpability of what they do tends to fall on Bakura. (which is a pretty GRAND assumption, I still think Ryou is a precious but absolutely still shady little bastard) So, it’s a little different that Marik considers himself two completely different people when it’s just...not the same. Marik’s alter ego is just an ego. More like how Yami was in Season Zero but a little bit more evil. Both Marik’s have the same upbringing and the same source.

It’s been kind of an interesting progression now I can look back on it, where slowly the two have been clashing to the point that they are in fact different, disparate people now. The fact that Marik points out how his situation similar to Yugi and Pharaoh being a host is almost like “well yeah, it would have been nice to see how the whole Season Zero Yami evolved into more of a separate person over time, I’m glad you inferred that, and I’ll never get to see it, thanks” But again, all that is inferred. Whether Yami Yugi eventually became Pharaoh over time or whether Pharaoh is a big retcon of Yami Yugi for the new series in order to keep the culpability for what he does off of Yugi Muto was never directly spoken in the show so it’ll be left to your fanfictions.

Meanwhile, Yugi has decided that they’re going to try and purify the Marik situation and save the good side. This is sort of the Yugioh thing, to dispel the bad forces from people and leave behind hollow husks, so yeah...it tracks. I mean...there’s very little Marik left to save, but it’s better than a husk, amiright? Better than what happened to freakin PaniK, RIP. I’m sure erasing over half of your identity will go over real well for Marik and be absolutely painless.

And then we had a lovely scene that, for those people doing scene redraws from anime, as has been a popular trend on art blogs lately--this is your episode for Yugioh. This episode’s got moody lighting, we’ve subdued all our weird ass colors into one concrete palate (remember how green the carpet used to be?) we got interesting elements of Marik being here despite being chopped into pieces. We got so many ellipses drawn in perspective (y’all I could write an entire posts just about ellipses but I’ll spare you). It’s like Yugioh gave itself a redraw.

I can’t believe this shot came out of freakin Yugioh.

Also, this guy was an ASSHOLE for the past 2 seasons but the show was like “time to make him likeable” and so they dropped some good ass cinematography and sung that sad backstory tune on the trumpet and you know what? It works.

+++++++++++++++RANT ABOUT REDEMPTION ARCS FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS MASSIVE WALL OF TEXT++++++++++++++++++++++++

Now I think the arc of Marik is pretty simple and people are pretty chill with it. But, I’m gonna talk about villain redemption arcs just in general--gonna sidetrack a little from Yugioh for a moment. Partly because I watched 6 seasons of Once Upon a Time, which is basically Villain Redemption Arc Controversy: The Show.

It bothers a hell ton of people when TV shows have to make a villain redeemable, but there’s only one episode left so they put their hands up and say “but I swear the good side of him was always good” But, does that mean Marik’s going to make up for all the murder and sending people to the shadow realm? No. He never will. Even if Marik was completely his bad half the whole time, it still wouldn’t make up for the damage done. Dead people are...DEAD.

Marik can’t actually make any choices right now to redeem his character. All he’s doing is accepting he will never be a full person ever again. Hence why he is in slices and pieces, and in several shots is trapped either in an empty glass or a window. The choice to redeem him is entirely on other people.

And that’s the thing about redemption arcs that I want to bring up--how much of a character’s redemption relies on what the villains do to “Make up for what they did”, and how much relies on everyone else to redeem them. I think the tendency is for people to assume that the villains should be doing 90-100% of the redeeming, but unless they have a time machine--they can’t do any. Even if they freakin die to sacrifice themselves it’s still like “that character was basically little Stalin, right?

I’ve seen like a million ways to write a redemption arc, but none of them, not a single one that I can think of, can ever truly make up for the things the villian has done. There’s no way that Darth Vadar was suddenly going to become a good Dad, no matter how many Palpatines he can toss into a...whatever that was at the end of that movie. That’s the riddle behind what makes redemption arcs so engaging--By all cultural standards these villains should always be tagged a “bad guy” but, we, the audience, are being challenged to ignore those standards.

And I know a lot of people see redemption arcs as a quasi-religious sort of adventure into atonement, where we’re supposed to see ourselves as the villain searching for some type of forgiveness from a higher, most-likely-a-reference-to-Jesus-power, but I don’t really see them that way. Maybe it’s because, I dunno, I haven’t killed anyone recently or possessed other people’s minds or strung them up to anchors and dropped them into the ocean. But if you see yourself as a Marik, then go for it, I won’t stop you.

But, to me, a redemption arc is more of a question posed for us as viewers. Since it is impossible for the writers to ever fully redeem a character, the only ones doing the redeeming are the people watching it, who’s reaction will differ wildly from person to person, and that’s what makes it fascinating.

And like, that’s my thesis here at the very last paragraph of this long meandering rant. Redemption arcs aren’t about “hey is this person good enough to be redeemed (because that will never happen)” it’s “are you too good to redeem that person?” It’s a large scale experiment on the viewers watching and that’s why it makes people so freakin pissed and uncomfortable. Every redemption arc calls them out directly, and for some people it’s just like--the world ends or something. I have seen actual internet mobs develop over...a villain redemption arc. Which is weird.

And so I’ll leave it with my other spicy take that...you don’t have to redeem every villain when the question is asked. I mean these aren’t real people. The questions of “would you redeem this person” is asked entirely hypothetically. And that’s what makes up stories, not just the interaction of the people inside the stories, but when it affects the moral structure of the readers directly, and seeing how for some people, that can be a very intense and deep reflection. (which usually leads to a hell ton of either retconning fanfiction or a hell ton of really, really angry posts)

bro’s just told me that Yugioh is just a redemption arc for season 0 Yami Yugi. Bro and his spicy headcanons. This one holds some water though, lol.

++++++++++++END OF A SUPER LONG RANT ABOUT VILLAINS THAT I HELD IN FOR THE ENTIRE 6 SEASONS OF ONCE UPON A TIME, WOW A LOT OF PEOPLE HAD OPINIONS ABOUT CERTAIN CHARACTERS THAT THEY JUST EXPECTED EVERYONE ELSE TO HAVE, AMIRIGHT????+++++++++++

Anyway, back to jokes.

Again, Storyboarder just...nailing these weird ass shoes that are somewhere between a dress shoe and a boot. Shoes are hard to draw, y’all. This storyboarder. And they even made sure that the shoes looked very small and precious the way Yugi shoes would be. Little Cinderella size 5 Yugi shoes.

Oh finally.

So it was only a matter of time before the people who actually care about being possessed noticed this situation, it just took like...a season longer than I thought it would. I’ll be honest it was quite cathartic for them to actually address for the first time in what feels like a long time “SHOOT, GHOSTS!?!?”

Although it was kind of funny that the biggest reaction to all of this came straight from Joey. Yugi still doesn’t care, Tristan’s decided to just accept this, and Duke is just slowly backing away. But Joey’s going to try and do the work that Yugi should have done last episode.

HOT DAMN.

So, lets go over the Yugioh power chart here. Tristan can punch out Bakura. Tristan can also defeat Seto Kaiba with a broomstick. Joey can kick Tristan, even when Tristan is armed with a broomstick, so hard that Tristan flew through a metal door and bent it completely over backwards. Tea, however, can knock Joey completely over with one single index finger.

How has this girl ever been abducted? Was she just bored?

Bro wants to bring up that she once incapacitated a man with her butt. Just falling on top of a guy and hitting him with her butt of steel. Was she even in danger from the shipping container when she could just bat it away? She once choked out Season 0 Yugi Muto. She was always fine.

Credit to Joey, he keeps trying, and it gives us, for the first time, a sneak peek into what it must be like for Yugi and Joey to hang out on the offtimes that Yugi switches over and Pharaoh hasn’t quite gotten the memo.

This is in fact, the second time that she’s done this.

(meanwhile, sitting next to Odion, is one single cargo pocket floating in the air, gently smoking a purple haze like incense)

Welcome back Odion! I only now just realized how freakin jacked your neck is.

Like y’all his neck is wider than his head, hot damn.

Anyway, this show is secretly all about the power of big brothers, so I assume he’s going to start the mile long crawl to the top of the tower and then just...walk in...just walk right into a shadow game...?

...no one thought to stay with Odion? Like not even Serenity? Or at least leave him a weelchair? what the hell?

Odion always gets the worst wrap, this poor guy.

Anyway if you just got here, this is a link to read these recaps in chrono order from the beginning and watch my progression of knowing nothing about Yugioh to knowing a lot about random facts about Yugioh but still knowing absolutely nothing at all just like Socrates.

And here’s that shot of Marik for y’alls anime scene redraws, knock yourself out.

[panelshowsource]

i actually wasn’t too nervous! i knew paul, iain, and joe would all be sweet and i was excited for sian because no middle-aged funny lady has ever not been a legend. even though i don’t think it was a god tier season i thought they were all endearing in their own ways (even iain lmao) and i think we appreciate that kind of pleasantness. i had thought it was going to be a touch more competitive — which is my taste, which is why i liked s2 so much, for example — because iain and even lou were bringing it hard in the beginning, but they seemed to succumb to the wrath of the taskmaster pretty quickly and begin just going along with what he decided without much fuss or drama. that said, i also think the taskmaster was a little lax; you may have noticed plenty of rounds he didn’t give out 1 or even 2 points, like prize tasks were 3-3-3-4-5 points opposed to someone having to come last even if they did a decent job (which can cause some fun drama). i thought the editing of the tasks was really back up to par this series and i loved the return of sassy talkative alex like we had in s1 and 2. i really think it was a lot of fun!

ahhhh hard to say! maybe......sian 💕 hbu??

i’m not proud of him and frankly i hope he’s not proud of himself

even though requests aren’t open this was cute so i got u hehe

joe is very special and perfect and good and i am highly concerned about him

you and a thousand other anons, trust me ;’) luckily if u catch him with a rosé in his hand i think you’re in with a chance

hell yes she is! taskmaster said smith family rights!

it’s what we DESERVE!!!!!

seal*! ofc mitchell brook primary school are a league of legends baybay!! and ya i tried to do a lot of miles content this week bc it’s what the people want heh

i would really enjoy seeing glenn moore and larry dean more, who i think were some of the best newcomers to have come on the show in a long time. as for guests from very previous series? ooo well i def miss gina and do think david should be on every show forever until the end of time, obviously, but hmm it’d be great to see holly walsh, sarah millican, and jo brand again!! they’re all ace with those big group dynamics which is super important on that series in particular. i also miss frankie with my every fibre

lmaooo i call him a poor man’s ed gamble and that’s a compliment tbh

it may have very well been an act back in 2017, or maybe you were just really receptive to even him at his most honestly aggressive, hard to say. i was much more forgiving of that aggression the second time i saw him live but by the third and fourth times i was very much on the same page as those in the thread and thought it was borderline unprofessional and barely funny. honestly to each his own though, bc if it can pass as comedy then it is comedy, truly. the worst of it i saw was when a woman got up to use the restroom during the set and he ended up berating her for ten mins over it, and after the show she was outside telling people she was so sorry she upset him but she couldn’t wait any longer to change her tampon...seriously brutal. i really don’t have any reason to believe it’s an act. he’s mentioned many, many times on his podcasts that he is very sensitive, is sidetracked easily, is very self-critical, he doesn’t enjoy interacting with fans (specifically during and after standup), and it’s not uncommon for him to lose his groove half-way through his shows if something throws him off; he is also self-admittedly seriously mentally ill. the protection of being in character seems to have come in handy for him in a serious way for a long time, and i don’t think he’s come to understand how he’s meant to behave and interact when he’s being Real James like he is in cold lasagne. i don’t claim to know him, but considering the last time i saw him (spring) he did a whole bit about how suicidal he was just a couple months prior, it seems fair to say he’s still in throes of taking care of himself, so i’m sending him positive and healthy vibes and hoping he’s putting that before his career

note: i really don’t want to rehash this acaster convo again in the asks, so please message me off anon if you have any questions. stay positive and take care of your mental health, y’all!!

i haven’t!! i’ll let you know when i do though :’)

apart from the champion specials that are upcoming, we aren’t suuuure. probably september or october, though! i am rly excited for it to come back, it’s such a pleasant show and richard is such an underrated panelist in general imo

my thoughts exactly anon 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

anon stop are you trying to make me cry..........i genuinely find it so inspiring.........the first time i heard him say that the 2 years waiting for her were the hardest of his life, and if he had known he only had to wait 2 years for her they would have been the easiest..........broke a piece of my heart off that is still floating around my chest cavity trying to find a home..........

TBH I ASKED AND I HAVE RECEIVED

which links anon? i clicked through a bunch and everything is in working order. are you sure you’re looking at the original post, which gets updated?

f.a.q. // tags // watch links masterpost

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01 E06

This is a bit of a weird episode, in that it feels like not much happened. Because Skam España switched a few things around, it seems like episode 6 shouldn’t be the episode in which to hang out with the characters for a while before shit goes down. But one thing that got me hooked to Skam almost straight away was the way you got to “hang out” with the characters even in small, drama-free moments, and this episode has a couple of clips I really like.

CLIP 1: Monday blues

Es que le metiste un corte (You were razor sharp with him): “Meter un corte” is really hard to translate. It basically means to be really cutting with someone when they aren’t expecting it, in a way that shuts the conversation for good. Which Amira did, over and over, but the dude wasn’t getting the hint.

I do think Nora feels a little bad for the guy, but only because Nora is extremely empathetic with everyone in the world, to the point where it’s surprising when she’s not empathetic.

Viri is a great liar. We will come to find out much of what she says in this scene is a lie, but she has no tells. This is why I think the Selena Gomez shoe line thing was Viri teasing the girls, because she broke character almost immediately. If Viri wanted the girls to believe it, we can see here that she would’ve managed.  

Nora’s shirt says, “No means no.” ‘No es no’ was first a slogan for an awareness campaign, promoted by several Spanish city halls, which aimed to curtail sexual abuse and rape during local festivals, such as Sanfermines. There’s also an Axel, Soledad song. And it has of course been slapped on all sorts of merchandise. Like shirts!

The sides of the mirror are tagged with graffiti, by the way.

And also, Eva and Nora are late for first period! They end up skipping it entirely.

CLIP 2: Lucas has feels; Eva’s are stronger

Eva and Lucas are listening to Molly Svrcina’s Fallen Angel. I think the point of the song was lost in how incredibly random the song is. This is a song Lucas recommends Eva listen to. It’s about Lucas, not Eva. Lucas is trying to give a hint to Eva about himself, but Eva’s too focused on the Jorge drama.

While this clip dropped during recess, Eva skipped school. Not sure if Lucas did as well, though.

It’s Viri who shares a birthday with Paris Jackson, as I already wrote in the post for last episode.

Alejandro Reina does a nice bit of acting with his eyes at the 5:22 mark. Lol, Lucas is so fucking tired of the Eva/Jorge drama carousel.    

Y tú me caes de puta madre (“And I think you’re fucking great”): Lucas is not just saying that he thinks Eva’s great. He’s saying he really fucking likes Eva (as a friend, that is!).

Es que sigo enfadada (“‘Cause I’m still upset”): This is a sentiment that will be expressed often this week by Eva, Jorge and Lucas. I’ve seen subs that translate it “enfadada” as “angry” and it’s not wrong, but I feel Eva and Jorge are both more upset than angry during this week. Your mileage may vary, though!

CLIP 3: Ship wars

Cullera: Cullera is a beach city in the Valencia region that has been taken over by tourists (or guiris, if you will!). There are some nice sights, but people visit for the beaches. Many Spanish familes own some sort of apartment by the beach, but Cullera is a step up from the usual, which is Torremolinos. A hint about Inés’ parents’ economic status! Cullera means “spoon” in Valencian language, by the way.

Easter break: The 2019 Easter break runs from the 12th of April to the 22th. Coincidentally, there are some rumors that s2 will premiere after Easter break 2019.

Tú no te líes, que el viaje importante es el de Mallorca, ¿eh? (Okay, but don’t lose sight of the important trip, the Majorca trip, huh?): A closer translation would be: “Don’t get sidetracked, the important trip is the Majorca trip, okay?” Which is actually a shorter line, so we should maybe change that, lol.

Que parezcamos ahí dos lapas como estas parejitas que están por ahí (For us to look like two barnacles like those couples you see everywhere): The literal translation would be, “for us to look like two barnacles like those couples that are around,” but that sounded like shade towards Eva and Jorge, who are also broken up this week. It’s not meant as shade, and in fact Eva has no reaction to it, so I reworked it.

Viri’s economic background is hinted through her confusion with job titles. In Spanish, she doesn’t remember if Alejandro’s father is a “director” (which could be translated as director, manager, and even principal, but also CEO) and “directivo” (executive or CEO). I settled for initials salad.

There is a bit of dialogue at the end that was cut from the episode version. The girls present their final arguments in the Viriandro vs Aleviri debate… which ironically, foreshadowed the Norandro vs Alenora shipname wars. It appears as if most of the fandom has settled on Norandro, at last.

Viri: It’s that, it’s like a Greek god.

Cris: What are you, Voldemort or something?

Viri: It’s like, it’s funny because it’s like a Greek god, like Viriandro is a Greek god sort of name. Yeah, it’s super neat.

Cris: It’s a gladiator name, dude!

Almost totally off topic linguistics note: The girls use the English loanword “ship” in the fandom sense. The verb had obviously crossed language lines in fandom spaces years ago, but it became part of mainstream Spanish culture (yes, really) when Operación Triunfo became big last year, and everyone was shipping couples from the show. The interesting part is that Spanish speakers came up with two declensions for the Spanish form of the verb: “yo lo shippeo” (I ship it) and “yo lo shippo” (again, I ship it). People who had been in fandom longer leaned towards “shippeo” (and so do I!), so I find it aesthetically pleasing that the girls favor that declension.  

CLIP 4: Eva shoots his shot. It doesn’t go well.

I was certain Jorge’s secret would have to do with one or both his parents being unemployed, so at the time I made note of the fact that one of the apartments he walks by is up for sale. It’s the reddish orange sign at the 10:06 mark.

The song that plays at the end of the clip is Zahara’s El Frío, but it has been edited. These are the lyrics that have made it to the clip: “I didn’t expect that the one who started all the fires would also be the one to put them out. How did you let the cold inside you, it has destroyed everything.”

CLIP 5: Speederman

This has to be a change from my high school years. I did the Cooper test in 3º ESO (the equivalent of 9th grade in the US) and never had to do it again through high school. 

More info on the Cooper test, in case you care. Not only was I not tested on a standard 400 m tartan track, but we were also not trained to perform it properly. Ah, high school PE!

Venom premiered in Spain the 5th of October. This clip dropped the 19th of October.

Yes, that is actually how we pronounce Spiderman in Spain.

I love that Nora is into Viri saying she loves anything that has to do with saving the world. Nora is so earnest, lol.

¿O qué vas a hacer, tía? ¿Quedarte en casa llorando? (“Or what do you have in mind, dude? Staying at home, crying?”): Another translation could be, “Or what are you going to do, dude? Stay at home and cry?” but I went with the line in the subs because I thought it flowed better.

Cómo jode que te dejen, ¿eh? (It sucks to be dumped, doesn’t it?): “Sucks” is a lot less charged than “joder,” which is the word Inés actually uses. I guess you’d have to say “fucking sucks” to get the intensity across. You’ll have to make do with Inés’ line delivery.

CLIP 6: Ride of the Valkyries

As it turns out, Alba Planas is also a fan of og Skam, so I’m going to pretend Eva’s string of sorries is also an homage to Tarjei’s delivery.

This scene was shot right outside of Cine Paz. 

Pero no me seáis pavas (“But don’t be silly”): Viri says “pavas,” which is hard to translate. Essentially, Viri’s afraid the girls are going to embarrass her in front of Alejandro, either unintentionally or (not unlikely given this group) intentionally. I.e. they’re not going to behave maturely in front of him.

Madre mía (Good heavens): Okay, so I already talked in the post for episode 5 about the way Amira uses interjections that aren’t swear words, and this is an example of it. “Madre mía” literally means “mother of mine” and it’s basically meaningless as an interjection. What matters is the tone you add to it. In this case, Amira’s impatient that the girls are getting distracted chatting about whatever, instead of going into the theater. I don’t love “good heavens” as it has Christian connotations. On the other hand, “geez” feels too short for how impatient Amira sounds.

It took me a while to realize this, but this clip actually has an og equivalent. This would be the clip where Vilde notices William and Sara hooking up, and looks devastated. Skam España chooses to go about it in a totally different way, with the girls backing Viri up as they walk in.

CLIP 7: Tout le monde veut devenir un cat

Sí, hija, sí (“Yeah, girl, yeah”): Jorge actually calls Eva “daughter,” lol. Much like with tío and tía, we might call anyone “son” or “daughter.” I’ve even caught myself using it on my own parents! If I have the right info, this is also common in Latin American countries, except they use “mijo” and “mija,” instead. “Hijo” or “hija” is more affectionate than “tío” or “tía,” although, much like with “madre mía,” it’s used to express a variety of emotions. Here, Jorge is dismayed that his chocolate romance went awry.

Pretty sure those are knockoff peanut M&Ms. Most likely from the Spanish grocery chain Mercadona.

The song that plays at the end of the clip and through the credits is Bely Basarte’s Mariposas. You can find a translation here. 

Tomás Aguilera, who plays Jorge, has managed to be almost impossible to find online. However, his instagram bio makes reference to the French version of the Aristocats song Everybody wants to be a cat. It’s adorable.

Social media:

The girls talk about the Zaorejas random again, Cris notes that he looked young enough as to be in ESO, or MSE, Mandatory Secondary Education. MSE runs through the equivalents of 7th to 10th grade in the US.