#you were all wonderful folks and think of our interactions fondly

[roguelioness]

To all the Tumblr friends who've gone quiet or disappeared: I miss you and I hope you're doing well

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: It would be really cool if you could do a library AU! Maybe one of them works at a library and they keep running into each other or something.

I have been unbelievably excited to write this one, I’m so happy I’ve finally got around to it! This is where my mind went as soon as I read the prompt, I really hope you enjoy it! (If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for a part 2 I’d be more than happy to do that once I reopen requests.)

Featuring he/they Willie because I really need to include that headcanon in my writing more often. Willie’s pronouns alternate throughout.

Books on Boards

Usually it was Reggie whose excuses began with “In my defence…”

“In my defence, I couldn’t see where I was going… In my defence, I forgot water and electricity don’t mix… In my defence, if Luke didn’t want to be shot with a Nerf gun then he shouldn’t have been standing in my way…”

Sometimes it was Luke.

“In my defence, no one told me not to… In my defence, I didn’t realise it could go this horribly wrong… In my defence, I did try to do it properly and I don’t know how it blew up…”

On rare occasion, it was Julie.

“In my defence, I was a little lost in my own head… In my defence, I’m terrible at comebacks… In my defence, I have an extremely annoying boyfriend and he was trying to talk to me about our new setlist the whole time which was very distracting…”

But it was never Alex.

Until now.

“In my defence,” Alex began, raising a hand and talking over Julie, Luke, and Reggie’s shouts, “I have to go to the library a lot. I’m an English major and it’s where all the books are!”

“But you don’t need to be at the library for five hours a day,” Luke countered.

Alex sighed. He had a point, and Alex had no excuse this time. Well, that wasn’t strictly true – his excuse was an adorable library assistant who just so happened to be very friendly to Alex and, by some miracle, worked whenever Alex needed to study. But he couldn’t just admit that to his friends, each of whom was staring at him with flat disbelief.

The assistant’s name was Willie and he was simply wonderful. The first time Alex had met him had been right at the start of his first semester – he had never been to the university’s library before and it was bigger than the one at Alexandria, so he was unbelievably lost. Alex had half-convinced himself that he would be stuck there forever, doomed to wander between the shelves looking for the section he needed, eventually becoming a ghost and haunting the place, still trying to locate his books.

Enter Willie. They had scared Alex half to death – in Alex’s defence, he hadn’t expected to be knocked off his feet by someone on a skateboard in the middle of a library the size of Buckingham Palace. And yet, he had landed on the floor, flat on his face and winded, understandably startled. As he scrambled to his feet, he heard his assailant exclaim, “Aw… you dinged my board!”

Alex had started to berate him but stopped in his tracks when he looked at the guy and realised that he had been knocked to the floor by a literal angel. His long dark hair was majestically swept to one side and tucked behind his ear, his soft eyes were sparkling, and he had a lopsided smile on his face despite the fact that Alex had been shouting at him just a second earlier (well, whisper-shouting at him – they were in a library, after all).

“Sorry,” they had said, picking up their board. “I didn’t see you there. Books were in the way.” He had pointed to a heap of books now strewn across the floor, some splayed open, some with ripped pages. Alex realised that he had been carrying the books stacked up in front of him, skating along with them.

“Oh!” Alex exclaimed, bending down to help pick the books up. “No, sorry, it’s fine. I was just stood there. I’m a little lost, no problem, my fault.”

Together they had stacked the books back up, and Willie heaved the stack onto a nearby table before introducing himself. Alex did the same, shaking Willie’s hand and trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach – he couldn’t let himself get distracted by a cute guy with a skateboard, not while he still had all his books to find in the labyrinthine library.

“So,” Willie had said conversationally, leaning back against the table. “You said you were lost? Anything specific you need to find?”

Alex dug around in his fanny pack before pulling out the list he’d scribbled down. “Yeah, all of these. Do you know where they are?”

“I’d be a pretty terrible librarian if I didn’t,” Willie chuckled. At Alex’s bewildered look, he had raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not a terrible librarian. I’m actually really good at it. I mean, I don’t usually knock over customers, but these things happen.”

“Oh,” Alex said, clocking on too late. It made sense – of course that was why Willie had been carrying so many books, he was a librarian. Alex didn’t know how he hadn’t guessed before. “Right, I get it, because of the books and the… Right, okay. What about the, uh… the skateboard?”

Willie had picked up their board, smiled at it fondly. “It helps me get around faster. This place is huge, man, you don’t seriously expect me to walk around it all day? Anyway, come with me, I’ll take you to those books.”

That had been five weeks ago.

It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie was incredibly cute. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie’s shifts happened to perfectly align with his studying time. But he couldn’t deny that it was his fault that he had stayed there for hours on end every day since, talking to Willie about everything and nothing. And it was also his fault that he had done that very same thing today, checked his watch and seen that he was an hour late for band practise, and kept talking to Willie anyway.

Usually, Alex thought about consequences, but he had been having so much fun talking to Willie that day that he hadn’t considered them. Now those consequences had caught up with him in the form of one very angry rock band.

“Alex,” Luke said imploringly, “you’ve got to get your head in the game! We have a load of gigs coming up, really important ones–”

“We do?” Reggie interrupted, looking baffled. “I thought we’ve got that one at the old folks’ home and then that’s it for, like, a month?”

Luke waved him away. “That’s not the point. These gigs are just as important as any big ones. Dude, we’ve got to build up our repertoire so that we can start playing bigger venues, but that’s not going to happen if our drummer is too caught up in his studies!”

Alex inwardly sighed with relief. At least Luke thought the reason he was staying at the library so often was because he was working hard, not because he was talking to Willie. He would have preferred his tiny little crush on Willie stayed secret for a little longer; whenever Luke found out that Alex or Reggie liked someone, he became unbearable.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if Julie had other ideas.

She huffed an incredulous laugh, saying, “You seriously think he’s staying late because he’s studying?”

Luke nodded, confused, as Reggie gestured to Alex and said, “Of course he is, what other reason could there be?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding. He knew that the hitch in his voice was unconvincing – in his defence, he’d never been a good liar. “What other reason could there be?”

Julie raised a challenging eyebrow, but the smirk on her face told Alex that she knew she had already won. “Alex, can I just ask, who was working at the library today?”

Alex cleared his throat and tried for nonchalance when he said, “Willie.”

“You mean the good-looking skater-boy history major, right?” Julie said slyly.

Alex shrugged. “Yeah. I guess he is those things.”

Julie nodded slowly. Luke and Reggie were watching the interaction carefully, though it didn’t seem like the realisation had dawned on either of them yet.

“And who was working last Friday when you didn’t arrive back here until almost ten p.m.?” Julie asked.

“Willie,” Alex said under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“Right,” Julie replied. “And what about Tuesday when you missed three lectures and were smiling too much to even care about how much that’ll drop your grade?”

Alex scowled and didn’t say anything. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer, and judging by the ‘O’ shape Reggie’s mouth was making and the wide grin that had made itself at home on Luke’s face, they had figured it out too.

“Bro,” Luke said excitedly, “you’ve got a crush on Willie!”

“No,” Alex spluttered, “no, I do not. We just happen to get on really well and he’s always working when I need to study.”

“But he is the reason you’re always there, isn’t he?” Reggie prompted.

Alex shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Luke leapt up, clamped his hands onto Alex’s shoulders and jumped up and down like an over-excited puppy. The ecstatic smile on Luke’s face didn’t quite make up for how annoying it was.

“Dude,” he said emphatically, “you’ve gotta ask him out!”

“Don’t be silly,” Alex said, shaking his head, “it’s not like that.”

“It’s like that,” Julie, Luke and Reggie chorused. Alex just rolled his eyes.

“Look, Alex,” Julie said. He looked past Luke to her, but only because in situations like this she tended to be the voice of reason. “I actually agree with Luke.”

Apparently, that day she was taking a break from being the voice of reason.

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Julie interrupted him. “Hear me out. No matter what you say, you’re clearly head over heels for this guy. And it is distracting you – we’re two hours into rehearsal and you haven’t even set up your kit. If you ask him out and he says yes then you can hang out with him at other times as boyfriends, not when you’re meant to be spending time with us. If he says no, you can get him out of your mind and move on, getting your mind back on the band. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Again, Alex tried to respond, but this time Reggie and Luke both yelled over him.

“No!” Reggie shouted. “We agreed never to ask him that question again!”

“Have you forgotten last time?” Luke questioned furiously. “That was the longest three hours of my life!”

Julie held her hands up. “Sorry, sorry, it slipped my mind.”

“Okay,” Alex said, ignoring them and deciding to get the conversation back on track. “Even if I did do that, there’s so many things that could go wrong. I don’t know if he’s into guys, and if he says no for any reason at all then I can never go back to the library.”

Luke shook his head. “Dude, Willie’s the head of the university’s LGBTQ+ Society and he introduces himself as ‘Willie, he/they, gay’ at the start of each session.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been a couple of times. Hey, wait, we should all go, it’s actually super chill and–”

“It sounds great, Luke, but we’ll talk about it later,” Julie said, easily calming him as he started getting over-excited again. “Right now we have other things to focus on. Alex, if Luke’s right then Willie is definitely into guys. And from the way you’ve gushed about him and your conversations without realising it, I’d say he definitely has a thing for you. And he seems cool – I’m sure even if he said no then he’d act completely normally around you.”

“Yeah,” Reggie agreed, “the guy doesn’t find anything awkward. Last week I was looking through a book for my psychology class and just as I flicked to a… questionable page, he came up behind me. He just laughed it off and then offered to sign it out for me once I was done looking through it.”

Alex thought about it for a moment. It sounded too good to be true. Luke said that Willie was into guys, Julie said they might like Alex, Reggie said that they’d be cool with it no matter what… Good things like this didn’t happen to Alex too often.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. The others sighed, Reggie throwing up his hands with exasperation. “I will! I’ll think. But we should get to rehearsing.”

Almost two and a half hours later than they should have, the band finally set up their instruments and Alex counted them in.

*

He was at the library. Again. He was always at the library these days, just this time he really did need to be working. He had a big assessment coming up and needed to cram some last-minute studying in.

It would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t been trying to avoid Willie the entire time.

In Alex’s defence, it felt like the most reasonable option. Sure, he could see Willie and ask him out, but if Willie rejected him then he wasn’t sure he’d ever live it down despite his friends’ reassurances. He could have seen Willie and not asked him out, but then he’d be living in constant wonder of what could happen. So he had elected to do the sensible thing and just not see them at all.

It had been going well for the most part. His legs were beginning to ache from springing himself behind bookcases whenever he caught a glimpse of Willie, but it was worth it. Besides – he needed to focus, and an angelic librarian wasn’t about to help him do that.

He made his fatal error when trying to exit the library.

He had been so caught up in scanning the surrounding area for Willie that he hadn’t been looking ahead, or down at the floor. He heard the shout of, “Watch out!” too late.

Alex stepped forward, his foot landed on a skateboard, and he was sent flying down to the ground, landing hard on his coccyx. Pain shot up his back and he let out an agonised groan which earned him a “Shhhh!” from a tired-looking student sat at the nearest table.

“Alex,” came the same voice who had shouted the warning, the voice Alex now recognised as Willie’s. So much for avoiding him. Willie came and crouched down beside Alex where he was still laying on the floor, leaning over him, looking concerned. “Hey, Alex, you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my board lying there, I was only restocking that shelf.”

Groaning, Alex eased himself into a sitting position. Willie sat back, still looking worried.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex lied. His coccyx was killing him. “It’s fine. I won’t sue or demand you get fired or anything.”

Willie chuckled lightly and then held out his hand. Alex took it automatically and was a little startled when Willie began pulling him to his feet – maybe it was the shock, but he had thought the hand holding was them simply having a moment. But no, of course it was too good to be true. Willie let go of his hand the moment they were both stood and then bent to pick up his board.

“I hadn’t seen you,” Willie said. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Alex shrugged. “Oh, nowhere. Just… doing my English work. In the quiet area.”

Nodding, Willie replied with something that made Alex’s blood run cold.

“That’s cool. It’s just that I was just talking to Luke a minute ago and he said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

Eyes wide, jaw open in shock, Alex looked behind Willie to where they had pointed. Sure enough, standing by the end of a nearby bookcase with his nose in a book (which he was clearly not reading because it was upside down) was Luke. He gave Alex a nervous wave when he saw him looking.

Trying not to sound murderous, Alex said, “Yeah. There was something.”

He realised too late that hadn’t been what he was planning to say.

“Yeah? What is it?” Willie asked with a smile.

Alex’s eyes darted from Willie to Luke and back again, then up to the ceiling and around the library for inspiration, and then they landed on his own wrist and the rainbow bracelet wrapped around it.

“I – well, we, me and my friends – we were wondering if there would be any space for us to join the LGBTQ+ Society. Luke mentioned you’re the head so I figured there’s no one better to ask than you. Right?”

Willie blinked, face faltering for just a moment. Alex tried not to panic – had he said the wrong thing, had he somehow offended Willie? But the look was gone quick enough for Alex to convince himself he’d imagined it, replaced by his radiant smile.

“Yeah, the more the merrier,” he said. But then he cleared his throat and added, “You’re sure that’s it?”

Swallowing nervously, Alex cast another glance to Luke who had given up the pretence of reading and was now urgently gesturing at Willie, making kissy faces, and mouthing words Alex couldn’t understand – but he got the message.

“Okay, no, there was one more thing,” he said quietly.

Willie tucked his hair behind his ear and Alex’s eyes caught momentarily on his earring.

“I was wondering,” he began, slow but steady, “if you would… by any chance… And you can say no, I won’t be offended! It’s just, I would really like to go on a date with you. And if you would like to go on a date with me then I think we should. Do that. Go on a date. Together. If you want?”

As awkward as it felt, Alex maintained eye contact – he was glad he did, because a moment later Willie’s face split in a beautiful grin that didn’t look mocking or apologetic, it looked genuinely happy.

“Yes,” Willie said, laughing quietly. “Yes, I do want that.”

Alex sighed with relief. “Thank god. I’m going to kill Luke.”

“Don’t,” Willie said, shaking his head. “I can’t have you getting arrested before I get to go on a date with you.”

“What about after the date?” Alex joked.

“Yeah, man, that’s fine.” Willie laughed but after a moment their expression softened. “I’m really glad you asked. I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.”

Alex scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah. That’s the same reason it took me so long to do the actual asking.”

“Well,” said Willie, “that doesn’t matter now. Does Friday work for you?”

Alex’s only form of a social life was hanging out with the band, and his plans for Friday consisted largely of sitting in his and Reggie’s shared dorm room, eating cold pizza and watching reruns of Friends.

“Yeah,” he said coolly, “I can probably make it work. Might have to reschedule some stuff, but it’ll be worth it.”

Clearly not believing him but polite enough not to call him out, Willie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. My shift finishes at five that day, I’ll let you be a gentleman and pick me up. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll catch you then, Alex.”

“See you,” Alex said.

Willie walked away and was seamlessly replaced by Luke, who gripped Alex’s arms and shook him up and down. “Bro! You got a date with Willie! You can thank me later.”

Alex left the library, Luke trailing behind him. “I’m not thanking you,” he said, fighting a smile.

“Why not? I got him to come talk to you!”

“You didn’t ask him out, I did that. There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“That is where you’re very much wrong because…”

As Luke went on for a solid ten minutes about why Alex and Willie finally agreeing to go on a date was actually all down to him, Alex zoned out and let himself be happy. He had a date with Willie, the angelic librarian, the good-looking skater-boy history major. He couldn’t believe his luck.

When they arrived back at the studio, Julie smirked and said, “You’re grinning like an idiot, Alex.”

“In my defence,” he returned, “I'm going on a date with Willie.”

[luna-redamancy]

it me. pliz i need. Bifur x reader. Reader is our word and she works with deaf children so she knows sign language and when she falls to middle earth she tries to communicate with Bifur and picks up iglishmek with relative ease. Idk if this is true but maybe for this fic at least we can HC that it's primarily a sign language that is "useful" so there aren't words for things like, ahem, "i love you". So even though they can communicate he can't say he loves them till the axe is out >:)

;o It you! This idea was so freakin cute and I have a new love for Bifur! I hope you like it lovebugggg <3

The conversation/talking through sign language will be in Italics!

The fire crackled pleasantly in your ears, your eyes drawn from the bowl in your lap to Bifur who was having a seemingly heated argument with his brother, Bifur’s hands angrily slashing through the air as he argued, a glare on his face. Drifting your eyes from his face to his hands, you tilted your head as you watched him create symbols and make movements with his hands. 

Setting your bowl to the side, you narrowed your eyes on his hands, mimicking his movements with your hands, listening to Bofur’s responses to try and grasp what Bifur was saying. 

“Lass, what’re you doing?” Oin questioned, eyeing you suspiciously. 

Jumping, you hovered your hand over your heart before you turned to look at Oin. “You scared the lights out of me, Oin.” You huffed before looking back at Bifur’s hands, feeling slightly shy underneath Oin’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m trying to learn how to communicate properly with Bifur.” You simply explained, watching as his movements got even faster with his rising anger. 

“Bifur can understand what you’re saying, he just has difficulty responding,” Oin explained, watching his friend proceed to call his cousin a bag of useless ore. “After getting that axe lodged in his head, he hasn’t been able to talk properly since.” 

Nodding, you watched as Bifur broke into a grin after seeing Bofur give up the argument, enjoying the way his eyes twinkled. 

-

It took you around two weeks of closely eyeing Bifur to pick up on Iglishmêk, with the help of Oin who taught you the basic hand gestures and their meanings. 

Deciding to test out how well you learned the language, you sat across Bifur (much to his confusion) as everyone waited for Bombur to finish cooking that night’s stew. 

How are you? You signed with a gentle smile on your face, your hands moving slightly sluggish as you wanted to make the gestures properly. 

Bifur’s eyes widened in shock, looking from your hands to your face before a grin broke out across his face. 

The two of you spent hours chatting back and forth, your movements becoming much more fluid as you began to be immersed in the language even more. 

“How did you learn Iglishmêk so quickly?” Bofur questioned, interrupting your conversation. Pausing your hands you turned to him. 

“Back home I learned sign language to teach my students better, I had a few students who couldn’t hear very well, or hear at all. Some were simply non-verbal, so I did what I could to become the best teacher for them… “ Your smile dimmed as you wondered how your students were doing, if they missed you. 

“It was easier for you to learn because you already learned one form of sign language?” Bofur questioned, still trying to wrap his head around how you learned Iglishmêk without learning how to speak Khuzdul. 

“Sort of?” You didn’t know the answer yourself, “I was already used to talking to people through hand gestures, it is difficult though because I want to use the gestures I already know.” 

Bifur watched you interact with his cousin with affection flooding his eyes. You learned Iglishmêk just to be able to talk to him, to have an equal conversation. Bombur watched the three of you from afar, catching Bifur’s gaze. 

I think she’s the One, Bifur signed to his cousin, fondly watching you continuously explain that you weren’t a wizard to Bofur. 

The two of you grew closer over time, your free time filled with him (and the help of Bofur) teaching you more Iglishmêk so you could conversate easier with the animated dwarf. His excitement when talking to you was like a child telling their parent their favorite story, no matter how simple the conversation was he always seemed so excited to get to talk to you. 

Today he seemed particularly eager, nearly dragging Bofur by his braids to translate for you. His Iglishmêk was followed by quick phrases in Khuzdul, making you furrow your brows in confusion, turning to Bofur for help. “I’m afraid I don’t grasp what he’s asking of me?” Your voice was laced with worry and confusion as you watched Bifur’s face fall. 

“(Y/n)...” Bofur sighed, realizing they never taught you anything more complex than simple conversational gestures. “Iglishmêk isn’t designed for full conversations… It’s mining talk, you see, designed for us to talk to each other without needing to find a quiet space, you see? My dear cousin is trying to, terribly trying to, ask you for your permission to braid your hair... To court you.” 

Your eyes went wide, darting between the cousins as a blush began to rise up on your cheeks. “O-oh I see now…” You laughed nervously, a smile growing on your face. 

Yes, you signed, watching Bifur’s eyes light up just like how they did when he won the argument against Bofur, only this time he was winning your heart. 

-

You tried to not let it bother you so much, the increasing gap between you and Bifur due to the language barrier. Nowadays, Bifur would give up on bringing Bofur to translate, his body language telling you he was frustrated by not being able to get across the words he wanted to. As far as Balin told you, you two have nearly finished all the steps of courting besides one thing: impressing you. 

In dwarvish culture, you discovered that the final step before marriage is to show your beloved how strong you are and how well they can take care of you, however, that seemed impossible to do while you were all focused on reclaiming Erebor and surviving the battle that was raging outside these stone walls. This didn’t help the doubt that began to grow in your mind, thoughts of how he probably will find a dwarrowdam once this was all over and Erebor gets rebuilt, you left in the dust while he creates a wonderful family all of his own. If you all made it out of this alive, that is. 

Sighing, you pushed the negative thoughts out of your head, heading toward the entrance of Erebor to find Bifur, only to hear Thorin give a speech about being sons of Durin.

“-We are sons of Durin. And Durin's Folk do not flee from a fight.” Thorin declared as him and Kili pressed their foreheads together before Thorin approached the Company members.

“I have no right to ask this of any of you… But will you follow me? One last time?” Your eyes widened as they all picked up their weapons, silently agreeing to follow their King into battle.

Your eyes locked with Bifur’s, his expression grim as he began to approach you. Silently he dropped his weapon to the ground with a gentle thud, carefully pressing his forehead against yours to try and convey his feelings. 

Feeling his frustration about not being able to talk to you fully, you only nodded, blinking away the tears that were threatening to form. “Come back to me,” Was all you said, your hand reaching up to brush your thumb over his cheek before he got pulled back to the Company and things descended into further chaos. 

Time seemed to move by slowly, hours feeling like years as you navigated the mayhem surrounding you. The battle ended long ago, but the hysteria of the battle was not. Sounds of shouting, crying, and the constant shouts for more healers filled your ears as Gandalf continued to lead you back to the Company. Your proof of fighting was decorated on your body. Blood splattered on your face and clothes, slightly limping from being tossed like a ragdoll by a troll. 

“She’s alive!” You heard Bofur shout as you and Gandalf entered the halls of Erebor, a weak smile stretching across your face as you waved at them, too tired to greet anyone. 

Noticing Bofur’s worried expression you shook your head. “Not mine,” You announced, sitting down to rest, the adrenaline of possibly getting killed finally wearing off.

Bifur approached you quickly, looking over your entire form for any scratches or bruises before he cupped your face in his hands. “M’okay Bifur, just a little sore,” You grinned as he bumped his forehead against yours. Pausing for a split second, you pulled away with shock on your face.

“T-the ax?” You questioned, reaching up to stroke the mark on his head where the blade was once embedded into.

“It got pulled out during the battle,” His voice was gruff from not having spoken full sentences in years, but his grin was as big as you’ve ever seen it. 

“I can finally say something I have been meaning to for quite some time.” Bifur bumped his forehead against yours again, his nose rubbing gently on yours. “I love you, (Y/n).” 

You felt tears swell up in your eyes as a wide smile spread across your cheeks. “I love you too, Bifur,” You couldn’t help but giggle as he began to repeat the phrase over and over, giving you small kisses on the apples of your cheeks. 

Tags:

Forever tag:

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18@raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @underthemoon-n​​​ @ladylouoflothlorien​​ @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt ​​ @legolaslovely​​ @bthtallmadge2​​ @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf​​ @aspookybunny​

Bofur tag: None currently

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language: iv. yours truly

Warnings: mentions of rehab, but for the most part none! 

Length: 5.5k

Authors Note: This is the happiest chapter so far, and theres a few perspective jumps but they’re not too hard to follow. i love this fic, but the last chapter is next and shit is emotional. be ready and thank you all

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid comes to some scary conclusions about what that gnawing feeling is. The universe knows a lot of things the two of you don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

Reccomend this song to listen to this while reading!

"Well, Spencer - remember you are always welcome back here but I think, for now, you have some folks waiting for you outside. Congratulations and many blessings,"

Spencer smiles at her, her name was Diane. She didn't remind him of his mother but she was nice all the same, curly hair and dark skin and kind eyes. No, she didn't make him think of his mom but she certainly made him think of you - and so Spencer smiles at her fondly and wishes her goodbye.

He'd technically been outside in the last 60 days, but only technically. This was the first time he'd actually been outside, just to be outside and not because his therapist recommended fresh air. He could feel the cool wind presses kisses to the nape of his neck, intertwine with his fingers as the sun brushed his skin. He could feel everything - and it was so much and so little at once but he was so grateful. He couldn't stop smiling, the second he went outside, he just couldn't stop smiling.

JJ hugs him first. She's warm, her arms are small and they hold onto him tight. She's crying and says hello and Spencer says hello back. Next is Penelope, who also cries and hugs him tighter. Emily, then Derek, then Rossi and lastly, Hotch - who gave him the proud fatherly smile that only he knows to give.

It was only missing you, and even though you told him you couldn't go to pick him up - he finds himself so disappointed. He's deflated but decides he can mope later.

"We're so proud of you, Spencer," JJs voice is shaky and a little hurt. Spencer smiles down at his shoes and nods.

"Thank you, all of you for supporting me," Spencer says honestly. Everyone gives him a soft look.

"It's nothing kid," Morgan says first. The whole team nods in agreement. Spencer can't stop smiling it seems.

"Let's get you home," Rossi's voice is smooth as he speaks, everyone walking towards the SUV. Spencer looks back onto the concrete building with an odd fondness. It's a surprisingly difficult goodbye, but it's the most important one he's had second to yours. So, he says bye - hoping to say an important hello to you soon.

_____

The headstone was something he would've liked. Every time you look at it, you can see that he'd like it even if he pretended not to at first. You chuckle for a few seconds, the flowers and the ridiculous cherry blossom tree that's been here for as long as you can remember, it's beautiful and unfitting. He's dead, and that's that and it should feel - well, it should feel more important shouldn't it? But it's all so indifferent. It's all so much nothing, and didn't mean as much as it should've but who's to say right?

You wish you were crying. But you weren't, you were just looking. Tears fall, slowly if at all while you just take it in. You were alone before but it's different this time. In the whole world, there's no one who can really claim you as blood. It doesn't hurt but it's strange to remember. When the cherry blossoms fall onto his grave you don't resent them. He was neglectful at worst so in a way, you don't resent him either. It was all over now, whatever happened between the both of you had simply ceased and it felt like it was time for the next chapter. It'd take a while before things settled again, but that's okay.

"You've been staring awful long," your boyfriend's voice is comforting. It was familiar and when you heard it, you felt calm. You turn around and give him a light kiss which he returns to you, and then the both of you just stand.

"Guess so," you managed to mumble our. His arms around your shoulder as he hugs you tight and the gesture is friendly. Most of your interactions were, intimacy only heightened enough to be dating, really.

"You ready to head to the airport," his voice is more a statement than anything.

"Yeah, Jay - I'm ready," you say softly. He squeezes your hand as he leads you away to the rental car.

_____

Spencer doesn't know if he recognizes the office much these days. It might be a little easier if you were there - and you would be soon. For now, it was a familiar and worn place. Full of tattered and unclosed edges, and long nights that seemed to settle inside him forever. Spencer wasn't unhappy there, he just didn't know what to make of things yet, worried that time would've changed his mind.

He sits at his desk, the team chattering away while Spencer patiently waits on your arrival. You spent 60 days taking care of your father and your neighborhood. You called him, and wrote him letters at times because you know he loved to write back. Somehow you managed to care for him so far away - and any breakthroughs he had was because you kept pushing him to move forward. Spencer just wanted to show you he was good, more than good — he wants to finally be able to say thank you. After all this time, he feels like he owes you that much.

When you walk out of the elevator door, Spencer is the first person to hear you. It's the weight of your walk that he'd become so attuned to, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor that he knew so well. He didn't have to pause to make sure because he just knew. No doubts in his mind, like he'd memorized your white noise so well it'd be ingrained in him forever.

After 60 days, you were the only thing more refreshing that being outside.

The team says something, but it's distant to Spencers ears as he gets up from his desk and walks up to you. It was that feeling again - that the two of you were the only two people on Earth. Spencer can't bring himself for formalities - so when he sees you, and he hugs you so tight you might break, you get it.

You hug him just as tight back. This is the strongest hug he's ever given you but it's not about the physicality. You could feel the happiness on his skin - something that was usually always in glimpses was now in full bloom. You hug Spencer so tight that he's all you can feel. It didn't matter what the universe had to say.

The whole team is stunned into silence - because the last they all remember the two of you couldn't stand each other. But, here you two were, holding the other so closely as if no one was there at all. You wanted to see them, and so did Spencer but this was different. It had to happen first - so the team just gave eachother side glances and watched the two of you.

When you pull back, you look up into Spencer's eyes and put a hand on the side of his face. The team steps back as they watch - they swear you two are gonna kiss but you don't. You just look into his eyes so deeply you can see into his mind and he lets you. Spencer doesn't let anyone do that, but he lets you.

"Hey, dickhead," You say first breaking the silence. Spencer lets out a wonderful laugh, truly jubilant.

"Hey there, lady," Spencer says cheeky. He called you that because he knew how much it annoyed you - when people called you a lady of any kind, went back to being discplined as a kid. You hit his chest, eyes squinted as he laughs. The team just watches in awe as the both of you look at each other so intently - all of them waiting for something more to happen but it doesn't. Neither of you seem to care to explain what went on, and it becomes more apparent as the seconds pass that it wasn't weird to either of you. Did you two think they wouldn't notice or was this legitimate ignorance, no one had decided yet.

"Move so I can go say hi to the team, stupid," you say sarcastically yet lightheartedly. Spencer laughs , continuing to block your vision.

"They can say hi from here," Spencer insists, letting you out of a hug as he moves his body to block your vision. You give him a shove which he fake whines at and you laugh again.

"Hey everyone," You say first. Suddenly your aware of everyones expression, all equally as perplexed. You look back at them just as confused as all of you stand still, just looking at the other party with an odd suspicion. Your facial expression is truly befuddled so the team figures that you two were actually just unaware of how strange all that was. No one says anything, instead all opting to shake it off as people start to give you hugs one by one.

"Oh I've missed you so much, beloved Y/N," Penelope is the first person to hug you, everyone silently appreciating the work she's doing. You smile, returning her affectionate gesture before going back down the line of people. Hotch hugs you last, giving you a knowing look. You just shrug your shoulders, softly smiling at him while shaking your head. He blinks in acknowledgement before things can go any further.  You simply shake your head at him back and he gives you  a gesure, like we'll talk about it later.                        

"I've missed you guys too," your voice is sincere as you speak to all of them but your eyes naturally find themself to Spencer. He gives you an encouraging smile that you return shyly and the whole team pretends not to catch wind of it.

"Hotch," Rossis voice cuts through the room for a moment. Hotch looks at Rossi with a questioning look.

"Do we have a case today?,"

Hotch shakes his head, brows furrowed as Rossi continues.

"Well the, if everyones free - I think it's long overdue we have some celebrations for both of you," Rossi annouces. The team lets out a string of celebratory noise but you're confused - unsure as to why they were celebrating you. You were off-grid for the last few months, so they couldn't have known about what you had been doing. A sixth sense went off in your head as you looked over to Penelope who was definitely avoiding eye contact now. You wanna roll your eyes but who could ever be really angry at Garcia of all people?

"Now wait - I know why we're celebrating this dickhead over here," you say looking to Spencer "but, why would we be celebrating me at this occasion?," You said suspiciously. The whole team looked at Garcia, who immediately folded under the weight of all that pressure. You gave her a look of faux annoyance as she spoke quickly.

"I know you said you were supposed to be off-the-grid, but I worry okay? And when I worry, you know what I do? Well, other than watch cute videos of bird doing tricks -"

"Birds can do tricks?," JJ asks laughing.

"Birds are extremely intelligent creatures - they display traits like good memory, extensive communication, the ability to plan ahead, among other things that we associate primarily with intelligence. They're also able to complete problems and task that are far beyond that of what we'd call animal instinct, so it's actually very easy to teach birds to do tricks," Spencer says anecdotally. Your eyes fill with affection as you hear him talk and he manages to give you a shy smile back. Emily looks incredulously at the rest of the team but they all shake their head, telling her to leave it.

"Yes, birds can do tricks. Now as I was saying - when I worry I go and do research so I started digging, not to intrude - just to make sure you were okay you know and I found that you'd been fundraising all that money for kids in your neighboorhood and I got so excited because that's so lovely, you know? You're so lovely and I love you," Garcia says rambling. You can't help but smile at her, looking down at your shoes embarassed.

"Did you find anything else?"

"No no, I don't intrude remember - just saw you in the local paper with your apron and read the article about how you handmade all those desserts and it was just really heartwarming you know, good for the soul," Penelope explains dramatically. You laugh a little bit, scratching the back of your neck while your cheeks flush.

"Wouldn't take you for a baker, mama," Derek says laughing. You stick your tongue out him and Spencer ignores how jealousy floods in his chest. Weird.

"I learned from this woman named Miss Bell, she was like - the neighborhood auntie. Welcomed everyone in and taught me to bake so I'd have something to do when I got bored, instead of you know - get in trouble,"

"You were a troublemaker as a kid?," Emily asks surprised. You can't help your roar of laughter, your stomach hurt from how hard you were giggling.

"I would give baby Morgan a run for his goddamn money, let's just say that," you say sarcastically.

"That bad?," Rossi questions. You just nod, a smile painted on your face.

"Absolutely that bad,"

"You're a baker, and after all this time I haven't recieve a single cake - frankly Y/N, I'm devestated," Rossi says dramatically. The whole team laughs as you shake your head.

"Give me a hall pass on being late tonight, and I can bring one in," you say, smiling. Rossi gives you a nod of approval.

"Now it's really a party,"

"Sure is. Spence, you wanna come over and come bake this cake with me?," You say, not really wanting to bake alone since your boyfriend was gonna be busy tonight. Spencer grins ear to ear.

"I'm definitely not gonna be very helpful, but yeah I'd love to," Spencer annouces. The team gives The Look™ to each other. Morgan rolls his eyes, speaking up first.

"I don't remember you and pretty boy being so cool last time we all saw eachother," Morgan annouces, pointing out to everyone else what was already obvious. You furrow your brows at him, Spencer doing the same. Were you two...? You two were definitely mirroring each other and didn't notice. Jesus.

"We kept running into each other after we took off for the first few weeks," It's not a lie, but it's not true either. Spencer gives you a mental high-five.

"Turns out we have a lot in common," Spencer adds, giving his tight-lipped smile (:]) to Morgan. Derek puts his hands up in defense

"Just curious," Morgan says, easing up. The both of you just look at each other briefly before looking away - neither of you has spoken about those two months since then and you certainly planned to keep it that way.

"We all deserve a break - and I'm happy to welcome both of you back. So go home, wind down, and get ready. I'll see you all at the party,"  Hotch annouces, basically telling everyone to fuck off and go home. You look at Spencer, making sure he's following you as you walk into the elevator and down into the parking lot.

___

"Whose this again?," Spencer asks, yelling over the speakers a bit as you mix in some sprinkles for the batter of your cake. You twirl around to the sound of Artic Monkeys playing in your kitchen. The oven makes a little beep sound to tell you it's pre-heated and you flash Spencer a grin as you mouth the lyrics

"Artic Monkeys!," You say, pouring your batter into greased up pans, as Spencer sits next to you on the kitchen counter. You groove to the music, singing the lyrics with a faux-british accent.

"And I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be ! And satisfaction feels like a distant memory ~" you laugh aloud as you sing the lyrics of the song. Spencer watches you carefully, seeing the way you sway your hips to the music - closing your eyes and getting visbly excited when a part you like comes on. The whole thing was so domestic, you alone in your kitchen with Spencer singing your favorite song. It was invitng, and cozy. It was different.

In the months you and Spencer could only talk through letters and phone calls - all your conversations started to be more meaningful in the way only subtext could make it. Intimacy can't be represented by touches, most days. There's more intimacy in moments like these - jokes whispered to each other at serious events and little lingering looks. You were both so oblivious, and maybe that's why it works. Those conversations shared over a secret so powerful - you'd be foolish to not know someone could fall in love off that.

No harm, no foul. If no one knows - not even you two, the universe could remain in tact. Otherwise, it was likely that both of you were soon to be unraveled. It wasn't for either of you to decide but - Spencer keeps having this nagging feeling.

He hasn't had it since you told him you had a boyfriend - he managed to deal with it just fine but it keeps coming to him. Sometimes at the end of phone calls, or when he'd finish writing letters. It was like anytime an ending crossed paths with him - he had this nagging feeling about making sure you would still be there. Maybe it was the addiction talking, the fear of being alone again but it just felt different. He couldn't be sure why.

"Alright - cake is in the oven. I gotta go get ready, can you take it out and cool it down when it's done? I'll frost it once I'm dressed," you say to Spencer, washing your hands under the sink. He just nods for you, giving you smile.

"You already know where everything is, and I have some of your stuff in my room from before so just grab anything you might need! Okay, gonna go shower," you say, shuffling into the bathroom before throwing your apron at him. Spencer chuckles before catching it - watching as you scurry away into the bathroom.

Spencer sits on your couch when you leave. He hears you sing in the shower and can't contain his giggle. He's reading, a book that his mom recommended to him forever ago that he never got around to. He'd probably finish in the time that you'd come out, he figures.

It's silent for a while. Spencer reads and you shower, and the apartment is filled with a pleasant sense of the evening. It's nice to be here, kind of like before but Spencer shakes the thought out of his mind before wiping his face.

His ears become alert to the sound of the key unlocking, and before he panics too much he reminds himself you gave your boyfriend a key to your place recently. Spencer sighs as he sees him walk in the door and gives him a small wave. Jay smiles at him brightly, going up to Spencer with a welcoming look.

"Spencer, right? Good to meet you, man! I've heard so much about you, it doesn't feel like the first time, heh," your boyfriend repeats to him. Spencer laugh, shaking his hand.

"I hope all good things," Spencer says quietly, chuckling. Your boyfriend gives him a pat on the back before going to the kitchen. He peers at the cake on the counter and smiles at it, before looking up at Spencer again. He has a knowing smile written on his face, opening his mouth to talk to Spencer.

"Spencer, you're a good man, you know that right?,"

Spencer looks up at him confused, eyes furrowed and nods slowly. He grabs his stuff out of the drawer of Y/N's apartment, just some tools he let her borrow a while back. He looks to Spencer and holds eye-contact before laughing. He's suprised that Spencer is just as oblivious as you, but he can't say it doesn't feel like destiny. He shoots Spencer a soft grin, shaking his head in the process.

"Remember to take care of Y/N, always - and remember you can always come to me if you need anything," his words are ominious and Spencer just shoots him a confused look before nodding. He beams at Spencer, tucking his tools away in his bag before giving Spencer.

"Tell Y/N I say hello! I'm gonna head back out," he calls out to Spencer. Spencer shouts back a goodbye as he hears the door shut close.

Like clockwork it feels like, you pop out of the bathroom fully dressed and ready to go. Spencer feels his heartbeat in his eardrums as his eyes fall onto your sihloutte, body adorned in a dress that managed to hug your body in all the prettiest ways. It was lavender, your make-up pretty golds and neautral browns - lashes long and fluttering against your eyes as you blink them getting re-adjusted to the feeling. You give Spencer a twirl, before smiling at him with a toothy grin.

"We match!," you're so genuinely excited as you see Spencer look down at his own attire. Your dress matches the lavender shirt that he liked so much. Spencer can't help the way his eyes flooded with endearment at your excitment.

"That dress is too pretty to frost a cake in, Y/N," Spencer says softly. He hears the sound of your feet pad on the floor, you haven't put your heels on yet. You walk over to the cake and grab a spatula and the frosting you had Spencer make earlier on.

"No dress is too pretty for cake, Spencer. How the hell do you think people get married?," You argue back, confidently. Spencer giggles at your comment but can't disagree. He walks up to you as you frost the cake. It's the firs time he's noticed how much taller he is then you. You seem so tiny now, he isn't sure what to make of it. He leans over your shoulder as you frost and stack the cakes up.

"Need any help?," Spencer inquires, throat closing up as he realizes the words that almost come out of his mouth. He nearly called you love - and it came out so easily he's startled. You shake your head no as Spencer finds himself dazed.

"With this? No. But you have to help me put my heels on because I can't get the clasp on them on right ever," you say softly. Spencer nods, looking for your shoes which he finds next to the futon he sat on earlier.

You finish frosting the cake before sitting down on the futon next to Spencer. He smiles at you, as he takes your shoes out of their box. You make eye-contact as Spencer holds your leg, easing your feet into the uncomfortable looking heels. You watch his as he works with the clasp of them, pulling the strap through and readjusting them so that their tight. The moment is too close for comfort but you'd be damned before you thought of moving. Spencers eyes find yours for a second as the two of you smile at eachother for a while. Spencer places a hand on your calf, and you place one of his face and it feels like those two blissful months. Still difficult, and heartwrenching but for different reasons that you couldn't be sure of yet.

"Ready to go?," Spencer asks, cutting the tension. You nod halfheartedly.

"Do I look okay?,"

Spencer pauses. He takes a deep breath before his eyes settle on your face, your shoulders, your hair. He takes you for a few seconds, before he replies.

"Perfect. You look perfect,"

__

Rossi really knew how to threw a party. It was mostly the team and their spouses collectively, but what it was lacking in size it up for in fancy decor and lighting. You can't imagine how long it took for him to set-up, feeling overwhelmed with just how nice everything looked.

You and Spencer sorta forgot that you two were the ones being celebrated, so when everyone popped over with gifts of all kinds and alcohol - it was a little overwhelming. Nonetheless, you felt grateful. You hadn't realized how much you missed being around the team until it hit you like this.

Most of the night was spent catching up - drinking and talking until the early hours of  the next day. You told everyone about how life was back home, what it was like to volunteer with all the kids and catch up on old folks. Everyone was surprised you ended up a fed, you were such a shithead kid they wouldn't have figured it otherwise. You told them about how they cleaned up the river you used to live next to, and about how the old shopping center closed down finally. You talked with them, drinking wine and laughing until the sun threatened to come up. You'd missed everyone so much, the sound of their laughter so soothing to your aching ears.

Spencer told them stories too, about all the things he saw  in rehab. He told them about the scheduling and all the paintings he did, about the different people he met who were all their own brand of strange. He told a ghost story that scared the shit out of you even though you'd heard it before. Everyone was together - joking with each other like tomorrow was unimportant.

All night was ephemeral. Sometimes certain thing exist to be just that - gone and back in a matter of seconds. Sometimes things that are so volatile in nature are the most lovely - and this night was the clearest example. It was all ending, the spark had gone out and everyone was about ready to call it quits.

"One last slow song, as requested by our lovely tech analyst," Rossi announces. Garcia lets our a drunken giggle as she whisks Morgan onto the dance floor.

You had been whisked away by Hotch and Spencer by Emily. You figure now was the time that Hotch was referring to as later. He leans into your ear and whispers.

"What happened?,"

The question is relative. It means a lot of things, like how are you and what happened when you disappeared for so many months, how will I explain all that to the people above me. Hotch knows, he always does, so when he asks you that - you know have to be totally honest.

"I can't disclose the first two months yet but you can write that I was taking care of my sick dad - he passed away when I was home," you explain softly. Hotch pulls away to look at you and you give him a sincere smile.

"I'm okay. I don't feel much, really. About him at least," You say, your word choice sticking out to Hotch as the two of you swayed to music. Hotch nods at your honesty.

"I'm glad you're okay, welcome back,"

"Thanks, Hotch. I didn't take you for a dancer," you say laughing quietly. Aaron shoots you a small smile.

"Hope you don't mind if I steal your dance partner real quick," comes Spencers voice. Hotch shakes his head, passing your hand off to Spencer whose quick to shoo Hotch away. He gives you a knowing look before he goes to talk to Rossi about what you could only assume to be a case.

"Hey, you," you say softly. Spencer hands find the lower part of your back, as he shuffles his feet. He holds you close as he sways to the music and you find your face instinctively in his chest. This was just comfortable, of course. Nothing more or less.

"I missed them," you speak first. Spencer holds you a little tighter before looking at you, as you looked up at him.

"Did you miss me?," he asks, tongue-in-cheek. You roll your eyes, laying back down as the two of you continue to sway.

"I alway miss you, dickhead,"

"Always?," Spencer asks you. He chews on the inside of his lips - the question was heavy though it stems form something else. That was always the case for you two it seemed. You hold your head up to see Spencer, look him in his eyes. You always looked into him, you felt the way his hands grip on your waist as if you were going to fall away and you just smile.

"Always, Spencer."

He gives you a small smile in return.

"Well that's good. I always miss you too and uh - didn't want it to be weird, you know," He says a little sarcastically. You try to control your laughter but it comes to you in fitst, breaking the lovely moment in the best way. Your heads thrown back as Spencer gives you a few laughs himself, he watches the way your hair falls behind you.  He's seen you laugh before, and maybe it's the sangria talking but this was different. You were laughing till your stomach hurt, wiping tears from underneath your eyes to prevent your makeup from smudging too much. The sound of your voice in his ears was sweet, so sweet it could rot all his teeth. The way your whole body relaxes him as you continue to let out soft giggles of appreciation, over a joke so simple. Spencer is smiling but he gets this feeling again. A gnawing one like he's gonna be sick.

And suddenly, so suddenly - Spencer gets it.

It's hard to describe the feeling that you're in love with someone. Every writer, story-teller, musician, poet - everyone has tried so hard to describe the feeling of falling in love. The act of falling in love is so convoluted, it nears fucking impossible. Spencer doesn't know if he can explain what it feels to know that you've fallen in love with someone who once to you was so impossible but he feels it. He feels it so much in every part of him he feels like he's gonna pass out.

For Spencer Reid, falling in love with you was like waking up. Just like waking up, because when Spencer Reid thought of you he thought of everything that might make tomorrow. For 60 days, he thought of you just waiting for the last tomorrow to see it. When we wake up, we are making a promise to live another - just to see what happens. When we wake up, we are promising the universe that we are going to try and give it another chance. When we wake up, we go to sleep trying to fall in love with the universe all over again. Dreams are a prophecy, but waking up was a promise. Spencer Reid realizing he's fallen in love with you was a promise to the universe that he would keep waking up - and when he was awake, he would go to sleep with intent to do it all over again. You weren't his oxygen, but you were all 5 of his senses. You were the thing that made him experience life because he wanted too. Spencer Reid spent so many fucking hours thinking about what it would be like if he just didn't wake up. He wondered what it would be like to dream of endless darkness for so long.

Spencer used to dream of endless darkness. He prayed for the abyss to swallow him in his sleep.

But then you came, and reminded Spencer to wake up. And suddenly, the darkness was gone and he was holding onto thoughts of you.

Spencer woke up, and pulled himself out of the darkness for you.

"Y/N," Spencer voice can only manage a whisper as he wakes your sleepy figure. You flutter your eyes up at him and Spencer looks at you with love. Love is written clearly on his expression but he doesn't know if you can see it. You smile at him and Spencer loves you. Spencer loves you so fucking much and he has no clue what to say, or how to say it yet and even though he doesn't know if it's necessary he feels it so much. He needs to tell you, just not yet.

"Yes?," your voice is small. Spencer pushes hair out of your face, your sleepy and buzzed face smiling at him. Spencer's heart aches. Spencer Reid heart aches for you, and only you.

"Wake up, it's time to go home,"

"Okay," you say sleepily. You tangle your hand in Spencer's hands and the whole universe falls beneath his feet.

What the fuck was he gonna do?

___

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[disneyat34]

Dumbo at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

We remember things as we want to remember them. Memories distort perception and perception distorts reality. Childhood is especially remembered well. If not the entire childhood, elements. People romanticize memories from the feelings they evoke, and discard the reality. 

The circus is a prime example. The circus was once a staple of American pleasure. It brought entertainment, excitement, and exotic animals to small towns across the US. In days before the internet, before TV, and before movies were mainstream, it was a necessity. 

People remember the old-timey charm, the whimsical environments and otherworldly aura. Nobody wants to remember the adverse working conditions, the high rate of injury, or the gross abuse of animals. Nobody remembers the smell of port-a-potties or the heaps of animal manure. People remember the calliopes and cotton candy. 

It’s quite appropriate Dumbo takes place at a circus. Everybody remembers the movie fondly, but nobody seems to acknowledge its flaws. It’s heralded uncontested as a Disney masterpiece despite a number of problematic issues.

For starters, the film is only 64 minutes in length. This includes the opening credits. From a logistical standpoint, one can understand the purpose. Disney Studios took a financial hit from Pinocchio and Fantasia. They needed something not only profitable, but cheap. The same way that a three-wheeled car saves money on tires.

The story of Dumbo is one of growth and confidence when faced with adversity and doubt. However, the plot is about a young elephant finding an act in a circus. Dumbo tries, and he fails. He tries again, he fails again. Finally, he tries and he succeeds. An entire plot thread seems missing from the film. Dumbo learning to fly (both literally and figuratively) should support a larger narrative.

There are no stakes for Dumbo. His failures don’t affect the circus’s income or popularity. Dumbo is ostracized, but still cared for as well as any other animal in the show. He is ridiculed, but still performs every night. 

The movie ends before any growth or change is displayed by the secondary characters. Everybody likes Dumbo once he can fly, but do they like him, or do they like his profitability and popularity? If a lion with an extra long tail is born, will he be mocked until he earns respect too?

Everybody in the circus feels comfortable calling him “Dumbo” at the movie’s end. Canonically, his official name is Jumbo Jr, named so by his mother. Everybody calls him Dumbo, a deliberate insult. The name sticks, even for the viewing audience. Either Dumbo begrudgingly accepts this epithet, or reclaims it. Either way, at least his mother should refuse it.

Dumbo’s mother is Mrs Jumbo, a pariah and outcast among the other circus elephants. What causes this exclusion is never explained or hinted at. The other elephants are just jerks. She has no friends, no confidantes, and is apparently widowed; there is never a mention or allusion of a Mr Jumbo. She has nobody in her life. This is presumably why she is so desperate to become a mother at the movie’s inception.

The film begins with a muster of storks delivering babies to various circus animals. It’s a cartoon staple and a very convenient workaround, explaining the miracle of a baby without the depiction of childbirth or implications of procreation. It also justifies how Dumbo is born despite there being no male elephants anywhere in the circus.

For whatever reason, these storks all deliver their parcels on the same night. All except for Mrs Jumbo’s coveted baby elephant. Baby Dumbo is delivered the following day. After seeing everyone else enjoying their children. After her hopes are dashed. There’s no explanation why the stork arrives late, well after the circus is dismantled and loaded aboard a train. Dumbo is delivered a day late for the sake of drama.

The train itself is almost a character itself. It has a name: Casey Jr. It has a face. It emotes. It speaks. But can he be rightfully called a character? Casey Jr doesn’t interact with other characters. He has no goals or desires besides acting and moving like an ordinary train. It’s an odd design choice, leaving Casey Jr halfway between being a robot and the pathetic fallacy.

Casey Jr is an interpretation of the famed children’s story, The Little Engine That Could. Casey Jr even uses the famous line, “I think I can, I think I can” as he climbs a hill. The story’s most famous interpretation was a 1930s picture book by Watty Piper (a name one could only have in the 1930s). The character and story itself belongs to the public domain. 

It wouldn’t surprise me if somebody at Disney Studios tried and failed to make an animated short based on the story. As consolation, they retrofitted the character for a bit part in an unrelated, developing film. The cumbersomely named 'Little Engine That Could' was renamed ‘Casey Jr,’ and a new character is added to Dumbo's universe. A character Dumbo never meets or interacts with, and has no bearing on the plot. If nothing else, he adds five minutes to Dumbo’s anemic runtime.

Design is one of Dumbo’s weakest points. Human characters are hyper-stylized caricatures of actual people. Perhaps intentionally, so we empathize more with the comparatively realistic animals. But the animators went too far. The Ringmaster is so rotund, he seems inflated. The clowns have bizarre proportions which are somehow reigned in by their baggy costumes and floppy shoes. The rowdy child who assaults Dumbo looks more like a chimpanzee than a boy. 

The character of Timothy Q Mouse is perplexing. Is he employed by the circus, or just a circus enthusiast who hangs around the fairgrounds after hours? What would a circus gain from hiring a mouse? Why does he dress like a bandleader? Does this imply an unseen mouse marching band? He never displays any musical ability. He’s there because the movie needs him to be there.

Being Dumbo’s sole friend is Timothy’s secondary purpose. His primary purpose is to outwardly verbalize the thoughts and emotions of Dumbo. Our protagonist is mute throughout the film and most characters avoid talking to Dumbo directly. Without Timothy, Dumbo would stare at camera sadly for the movie’s run.

The circus folk themselves are weird, and not just their physical attributes. The Ringmaster is a bombastic Italian man who, as Timothy describes, “never had an idea in his life.” He seems genuine, eager to entertain his audience with an entertaining and original show. His real malice is never workshopping ideas. He will not hesitate to endanger the lives of his employees or animals on his fanciful whims. 

Can six full-grown elephants balance on a rubber ball? Who knows. Let’s put it in the show. Is it safe to have a baby elephant drop twenty feet into a washtub full of shaving cream? We’ll find out. Is it a good idea to start a fire underneath a canvas tent for the sake of a firefighter sketch? The audience likes it, so who cares? Go stand next to the fire, clowns.

There’s an old adage about doing anything for a laugh, but the clowns from Dumbo take it to a sociopathic extreme. The clowns develop an entire act around humiliating Dumbo. When the skit is a success, they drunkenly decide to put Dumbo in more humiliating situations and more precarious stunts.

It’s implied the clowns are the low men in the circus’s caste; those who cannot perform elsewhere are subjected to the humiliation of clowndom. Does the scorn beget the malice, or did the malice beget the scorn? 

Perhaps this is why the clowns are never shown as actual humans. Throughout the movie, they either appear in their grotesque, make-up clad personas, or in various states of undress as silhouettes inside a circus tent. At all times, they are either 100% clown or some spectral figure. They are never seen as human, because there is certainly no humanity to them.

However, the most questionable employees are the laborers. The laborers are not entertainers; they have no face time with any circus patrons. And yet, they are the most important employees of the circus. They are responsible for unloading the train and erecting the many circus structures. 

These laborers, tasked with the most arduous and backbreaking of work, are all large black men. As a stylistic choice, they are all depicted faceless. Not even worthy of dignity, they are robbed of any identity and distinguishing characteristics beyond skin color. 

To cushion our objections, the laborers sing about how much they like the work. The song is no comfort. They sing about being illiterate. They sing about being underpaid, and routinely subject to wage theft. They sing about how its their very nature to be irresponsible with money. They literally use the word “slave,” and “ape” to describe their circumstances. Thank you, 1940s.

The only other black characters are a murder of crows introduced in act three. These crows must be less racist in depiction and demeanor than the laborers, right? They couldn't possibly be worse, right? Then one learns the leader of the avian posse was named “Jim Crow” on all Disney material until the 1960s. 

The entire Civil Rights Movement needed to happen, but somebody eventually realized a children’s cartoon character named after the most provocative blackface character in history, the namesake of the American laws that enforced segregation, was a bad idea. It didn’t help Jim was voiced by a white actor. Cliff Edwards voiced Jim Crow (later renamed Dandy Crow), the same actor also voiced Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. Jiminy Cricket has appeared regularly as a beloved figure in Disney merchandise and material. Dandy Crow has not.

To Disney’s credit, the other crows were voiced by actual black actors. Although, one has to wonder if the AAVE was written into the screenplay, or if the director asked the actors to create it on the spot. There’s no good answer.

The crows’ musical number was performed by the all-black Hall Johnson Choir (with the exception of Edwards’s vocals). Their number, When I See an Elephant Fly, is one of the better pieces of music in the Disney catalog. It's full of jazz scatting and clever wordplay. It’s a shame its existence is marred by its racially charged source.

How an oversized pair of ears grants the ability to fly is not important. It’s a cartoon. The ears are a means to an end: the physical feature that made Dumbo a laughingstock also granted him a most unique ability. Differences make us strong. It’s a good moral (even if the film is hypocritical).

The depiction of the moral’s resolution, however, raises eyebrows. Upon discovering he has the ability to fly, Dumbo seizes the opportunity to take revenge on those who wronged him. He circles around the big top, swooping at the ringmaster, scaring the clowns, shooting peanuts at the other elephants like bullets from a machine gun. ‘Make your enemies pay,’ is the takeaway. Suffer all, enemies of Dumbo.

Some may argue Dumbo’s character arc is not redemption for himself, but for his mother. Mrs Jumbo spanks a young boy who assaults her infant son. The circus folk misinterpret this act as a rampage. She’s is subsequently shackled and imprisoned for the forseeable future. 

Even after being deemed hazardous and mad, Mrs Jumbo is never sent away. There is no indication of punishment beyond isolation (why the circus keeps a dangerous rampaging elephant on circus grounds is a creative liberty). The true punishment is being separated from her son.

The movie ends with Dumbo as the star of the show. Everyone sings his praises, he has his own personal train car, and Mrs Jumbo is freed. The question is, why is Mrs Jumbo freed? Just because Dumbo is beloved, why is Mrs Jumbo’s perception as a threat forgotten? Why is she forgiven because her son is popular? Dumbo cannot speak, how can he serve as a character witness? Why does Dumbo's achievement redeem his mother's actions? The writers delivered a happy ending by solving a problem that was never actually solved.

Dumbo is a film full of illogical scenes and developments. It's grandfathered into the cultural pantheon despite outdated imagery and storytelling. It has good intentions, utilizing themes of overcoming adversity, the endurance of familial love, and appreciating each other's differences. But these good intentions are drowned in too many narrative shortcuts and a sloppy execution. It’s a pleasant movie the less you remember, and most people’s memories are hazy. What’s more appropriate from a film whose most famous scene is a surreal drunken musical hallucination?

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Pinocchio Dumbo

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [951]

"I shan’t lie to you, you weren't in the plan. I didn’t plan for this, for you.”

“To be quite fair to everyone who’s ever had to interact with me, no one ever really plans for me so much as I happen to bumble about into their lives and mess things up quite neatly.”

“Bumble seems like such an innocuous word.”

“Should I say crashed? Barged in? Abruptly slammed, tackled, or burst in? They seem so very violent.”

“Ellana, your presence in life can only be described as vivid. A word like bumble is altogether too…soft. Now. Let’s look at how you…burst in on this one, shall we?” Max sighs as the two of them examine the pandemonium in the cathedral.

“I am sorry, Max. I didn’t think you actually had a plan. You were all…droopy. And resigned. I mean, by all appearances you’d given up and it was a dreadful thing to see.”

“Yes, that was rather the point of it, Ellana. I was supposed to look resigned to my fate of a forced marriage and at the very last moment I would have turned around with — well. It doesn’t matter now, does it? The entire place is in a riot. How do you do that? Incite a previously peaceful, joyous crowd into a frenzied carnage?”

“I’ve a gift.”

“You’ve a something,” Max says fondly. “Now, where’s your — and I do hesitate to say this — better half?”

“Am I not the better half?” Ellana teases. “I think he’s in the process of getting your cousin out of the melee. For the record, I don’t know if she was in on your plan, but she certainly was in on ours.”

“Evelyn too? Goodness,” Max blinks, turning back towards the crowd. “Is there anyone else I know in there, come in to try and save the day for me? I’m touched. I didn’t realize so many people cared. I mean. Cared enough to turn a wedding into a full on battleground.”

“Well. To be incredibly honest with you, Max, most of us are here for you. But…”

“But most of you are also here because of the potential to cause drama, yes, I expected that much.” Max shakes his head fondly. “So. Now what? My plan ends with me in disgrace, again, and being taken off the marriage market for the foreseeable future. It also ends with the entire place being intact and everyone being rather. Well. Not this. What now?”

“Now we use Bull’s contacts to help smuggle you out of the Free Marches,” Ellana answers, looping her arm through Max’s and pulling him away from the cacophonous affair. “But before that, you need a change of clothes. You aren’t getting very far dressed like that.”

“I happen to look rather smart. I cleaned up very nicely for my unwanted nuptials.”

“Right, but it isn’t the most discrete look you’ve worn is it? Or do you enjoy getting robbed while traveling? No? Thought not. Bull’s connections aren’t exactly with high end passenger ships, you know. Don’t tell me all your time mingling with the rich and titled has made you forget what it’s like with us common folk?”

Ellana pushes Max towards an unmarked carriage.

“You’re in on it too, Leliana?” Max asks, as he settles in. “Now that is a real surprise.”

“Of course I’m in on it,” Leliana says, handing Max a bundle of clothes before climbing out the other side. “Did you think that this lot could organize this kind of rescue without me?”

“I had it handled, so you’re aware,” Max says, quickly beginning to shed his layers of formal dress. “But so that I’m aware, where are we going?”

“I’ve got papers for you to sign. You’ll be a Charger for a bit,” Leliana says. “And we’ll use that to get you out of the Marches and into Orlais. From there I suppose you’ll be running around with that crazy lot until things get quiet.”

“Forgive me for being ungrateful, but is there a reason why I’m not just returning to Skyhold?”

“That’s the first place they’ll look for you, Max.”

“True, but — I’m having a hard time imagining myself with a mercenary crew as rambunctious as Bull’s. They’re all wonderful people to be around. But living with them? Without any reprieve? I might go mad.”

“Max, you probably went mad already thinking you could handle this on your own,” Ellana says. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“Ellana, if anyone’s going to make me go mad it’s certainly going to be you,” Max sighs, tying is shirtsleeves closed. “How did you get my sword?”

“Evelyn’s been helping, I told you already. She sneaked into your rooms and got all of your important things.”

“Working with the Inquisition has made her infinitely more devious. She didn’t even hint that she had something going on,” Max says. “Though I suppose I should have realized something was afoot, considering that she — I guess pretended to? — reconciled with her mother so she could sit near the front.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t tip you off.” Ellana sighs. “Ah, here’s Bull with Evelyn now. How’d it go?”

“Wonderful,” Evelyn says. Max pokes his head out the carriage window, tugging on his good boots, “Max. If I ever have to do this kind of thing for you again I’ll have to charge you for it. I think I’m going to start coughing up blood from all the less than generous comments I had to hold back to make this plan go off.”

“Evelyn, if you ever have to do this kind of thing for me again just do us all a favor and ship me in a crate with holes in it to Antiva.”

“Cute,” Bull says, gesturing for Evelyn to get into the carriage. “Get changed. Leliana’s going with you to our meet up point. Ellana and I are staying behind a bit.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because causing trouble in a Chantry got me hot and bothered,” Bull deadpans, “What the fuck do you think, Trevelyan? I won’t fit in that carriage. Also someone’s got to throw them off your trail.”

Ellana beams up at the Iron Bull. “Please tell me we get to use the hounds.”

“We are definitely going to use the hounds.”

[thelastspeecher]

Story Time

I usually like to include in the title of the post what AU the write is from, but this particular AU has such a long name that I don’t really want to.  This takes place in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU, and is a rare write that takes place from Lute’s perspective.  It’s not quite as Lute-centric as the thing I’ll be posting tomorrow, since it focuses a bit more on Stangie memories.  But still, we get some good Lute thoughts into what is going on in this tragic AU.

              “Uncle Lute, look!”  Lute looked up from the dishes he was currently in the process of washing.  His niece Daisy ran over, proudly holding a piece of paper.  Lute smiled and dried his hands.

              “What’s this?” he asked.

              “My teacher left a note on my project, sayin’ I’ve got potential in science she’s never seen before!” Daisy enthused.  Lute chuckled.  He took the piece of paper.  It was the results of her fourth-grade science fair project.  Angie had helped, but Daisy had insisted on doing the majority of the work on her own.

              “I ain’t all that surprised,” he said, ruffling her hair.  “Yer quite the smartie.  Just like yer ma.”  Daisy beamed. “Ya told her when she picked ya up, I assume?”  Daisy nodded. “Good.  I can put it on the fridge right away, then.”  Lute walked over to the fridge and stuck the paper on the door with a magnet shaped like a salamander.  He heard the front door open again.

              “Ma, are ya goin’ to tell us?” Emory’s voice asked eagerly.

              “Yes, sweetie, just let me take a seat in the livin’ room, okay?” Angie’s voice said.  Lute pursed his lips.  Angie was frequently tired, particularly since she started to help Ford with his research on the Gravity Falls anomalies, in addition to her own.  But the exhaustion in her voice wasn’t physical. It was emotional.  And that pointed to his missing brother-in-law.

              I knew they’d start askin’ about him eventually. The breadcrumbs Danny ‘n Daisy have, or what all Stanford ‘n myself tell ‘em isn’t enough.  They want to hear about Stan from their mother.

              “Don’t start without me!” Daisy said suddenly.  She darted out of the kitchen.  Lute took a deep breath and followed her into the living room.  Angie entered and took a seat on the couch.  Emily and Emmett, six years old and just done with their first week of school, climbed up next to her.  Daisy sat on the floor in front of the couch.  Danny joined her.

              “Angie,” Lute said softly.  Angie looked up.  In the seven years that had passed since Stan’s disappearance, the bright caramel color of her hair had started to fade, and she’d been forced to wear reading glasses regularly.  Lute couldn’t help but wonder if the stress of everything that had happened was what caused her to age so quickly.

              “I’m fine, Lute,” Angie said with a forced smile.  Lute leaned against the wall.

              “You don’t have to talk about him.  I can tell ‘em another story.”

              “No, we wanna hear about Dad from Ma!” Emmett protested from Angie’s lap. Lute blinked, surprised.  Emmett was the black sheep of his siblings, quiet and unsure.  He very rarely raised his voice, and even more rarely wasn’t willing to compromise.

              Maybe he’s finally gettin’ some stubbornness in him.  Lute smiled. Good.  Stan wouldn’t want a kid who’s willing to back down.

              “It’s fine, really,” Angie said to Lute.  She took a deep breath.  “It’s been seven years.  I can talk.”

              “Okay,” Lute replied.  He stayed where he was, determined to step in if Angie became too emotional to carry on.

              “What do ya want to hear about, babies?” Angie asked, stroking Emmett’s hair.

              “What was Dad like?” Emmett asked.  Angie smiled faintly.

              “It’d take a long time to explain everything about him,” she said.  “Like all people, he’s complex.”

              “Ma,” Danny piped up.  “Don’t dance around the question.”

              “All right, all right.  He’s stubborn.  Stubborn as a mule.  Loyal, willin’ to do anything to protect those he cares about.  He has issues showin’ emotion in front of people at times. He’d try to downplay anything he did to be kind as him doin’ just ‘cause it didn’t inconvenience him.  His voice would get all gruff when he talked about yer sisters, ‘cause it was the only way to hide how proud he is of ‘em, and how much he loves ‘em.”

              She’ll never stop usin’ present-tense, will she.

              “How did you two meet?” Danny asked.  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “I know you’ve heard that story.”

              “Yeah, but not from you.”  Danny leaned forward.  “Did ya know he was the love of yer life the second ya laid eyes on him?”  Angie laughed.

              “Not by any means.  I was sixteen and hadn’t even left the state before.  I couldn’t feel any emotion other than curiosity until I got to know him.” Angie looked over at a photo on the wall, of her and Stan’s high school graduation.  “Most of the first interactions we had, I was confused how someone could be so obtuse.  He was a real fish outta water on the farm.”

              “But he got better,” Daisy said.  Angie nodded.

              “Yes.  He got better.”

              “How did ya know he was the one?” Danny asked.  Lute let out a small huff of amusement.

              There she goes, the hopeless romantic.  Lord, am I goin’ to have fun terrorizin’ her dates when she gets older.

              “I’m not quite sure,” Angie replied after a moment.  She untangled a knot in Emmett’s hair.  “It wasn’t one moment.  It was a series of moments that all built up.”

              “What were-” Danny started.

              “Where is he?” Emmett interrupted.  Angie’s face broke.  Lute stood straighter.

              “…I don’t know,” Angie whispered.

              “We’ve answered that question, Emmett,” Lute said.  Emmett looked over at him.

              “Yeah, but yer lyin’,” Emmett said firmly.

              “No, we were tellin’ the truth.”

              “No.  It doesn’t make sense,” Emmett insisted.

              And already his new stubbornness is comin’ to bite us in the butt.  He really is Stan’s son.

              “Honey, yer Uncle Ford was there,” Angie said gently.  “He saw what happened.”

              “Yeah.  Right after he and Dad had a big fight.  Uncle Ford could be lying to cover his tracks.  He probably is.  ‘Cause it doesn’t make any sense fer Dad to be- be wherever Uncle Ford’s machine took him!”

              “Junior,” Lute snapped, using the nickname he had come up with when Emmett was five and wanted to go by his middle name, Stanley.  “Yer on thin ice.”  Emmett glared at him.

              “I just want to know what really happened!” Emmett said, crossing his arms. “Dad shoulda been here!  He wasn’t!  If it’s Uncle Ford’s fault-”  A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek and landed on Emmett.  He looked at Angie, startled.  “O-oh.  Sorry, Ma.”

              “I’m fine,” Angie said.  She rubbed her eyes.  “I just don’t like thinkin’ ‘bout- ‘bout where yer dad is right now.”  Emory embraced Angie.

              “Ma, don’t cry,” Emory said softly.  Angie smiled through her tears.

              “Fer you, I’ll hold ‘em back.”

              “I’ll be quiet now,” Emmett mumbled.

              “You don’t need to be fer my sake, honey-bun,” Angie said.  Her voice was still thick with tears.  Emmett shook his head.

              “No, I- we should talk ‘bout the good things,” he said.  Angie stroked Emmett’s cheek.  “I don’t wanna think about him bein’ somewhere bad, either.”

              “Thank you, sweetie.”  Angie took a shuddering breath.  “Danny, the first time I knew yer father and I had somethin’ was when we moved in together. He jumped at the chance to move out of yer grandparents’ house, across the country, with no plan fer a job or anything.  Just so he could live with me.  Everything that happened after just made me more sure of it.  Our bickerin’ over the thermostat, me draggin’ him to museums and forests, him draggin’ me to sporting events.  The way- the way he’d just laugh if I jumped onto his back, takin’ on the challenge to carry me to whatever my destination was.”  Angie’s eyes grew misty with memory.  “The way he smelled and felt.  And…the day he proposed, blurting it out without thinkin’, without even havin’ the ring on him.”  Danny’s eyes widened.

              “Wait, how did Dad propose if he didn’t have a ring?” she asked.  Lute cocked his head, curious as well.

              I don’t think she ever told anyone how Stan proposed.  Angie smiled fondly.

              “We were down in the mines, and yer father kept tryin’ to get me to go to this fancy restaurant I liked.  But I ignored it, said I was fine traipsin’ ‘round underground.  I didn’t pay attention to what was goin’ on, and yer father had to rescue me from bein’ eaten by somethin’.  He tackled me, we rolled down a hill, and there, at the base of the hill, with me starin’ up at him, he asked me to marry him.”  Angie let out a small wistful sigh.  “Never did find out what exactly prompted him to pop the question then and there.  Knowin’ him, it probably just felt right.  And it did.  It was special.  Way more special than if it had happened at a restaurant.”

              “Aw,” Danny gushed.

              “I can see why ya kept that story a secret,” Lute said softly.  “It’s a sweet one.”

              “Yep.  And Stan’s got that hard shell.  He wouldn’t want folks to know he’s secretly sappy.”

              “He’s gonna come back, right?” Emory asked.  Angie nodded.

              “Yes,” she said.  “He will.” Lute’s heart sunk.

              She’s never goin’ to move on.

              “I think that’s enough story fer today,” Angie said briskly.  “Y’all have some homework, and I have some data to write up.”  The children grumbled, but gradually dispersed.  Once all four children were gone, Lute joined Angie on the couch. She was staring at the photo on the mantel of Stan, Angie, Danny, and Daisy during their first Halloween as a family. Stan and Angie were dressed as robbers, and the infant Danny and Daisy as sacks of money.

              “Banjey, it’s not right to get their hopes up like that,” Lute said in an undertone.

              “I know you don’t think he’ll come back,” Angie said softly.  “But I know my husband.  He’d do anything to come back to his fam’ly.  It’s not gettin’ their hopes up to let ‘em know that one day, their dad will be back.  It’s preparin’ ‘em fer the future.”  She stood. “I really do have research to work on.” She walked away.  Lute sighed.

              “Learn to keep yer darn mouth shut, McGucket,” he said to himself.  He stood up and walked over to the mantel to pick up the Halloween picture.  In the background, he could just make out Ford with his back turned, helping Tate go trick-or-treating.

              If there was anyone who could bring Stan back, it’d be Stanford.  And if there was anyone who could survive alternate realities to come back home to his family, it’d be Stan.  He set the picture back on the mantel.  Maybe I should try bein’ optimistic like Angie fer once.  It’d sure be better than assuming my brother’s dead.  He let out a sigh.

              “Somethin’ to ruminate on,” he said quietly.  He turned away from the mantel.

              Now, back to the dishes.

[catradorazine]

Hi, folks! We’re back and happy to announce your new Mod Team for the Catradora Zine! In case you’re wondering, the Catradora Zine is a project dedicated to the characters Catra and Adora, from the 2018 She-Ra Reboot, and their complex relationship with one another. Check below for info on our Mods, along with links to even more information!

Fonda

https://easyminds.tumblr.com || https://twitter.com/easyminds

Hello there, my name is Fonda. I’ve been apart of the SPOP fandom since the reboot aired but fondly remember the 1985 cartoon as luckily, I “retro” TV channels were a thing. I was the solo mod for the Fairy Tail Nakama, and I am currently planning a Allurance fanzine to launch in 2019. I was an artist on 4 other fanzines within the following fandoms; Miraculous Ladybug, Naruto, and Fairy Tail.

The reason I like Catra and Adora, as friends, enemies and as a romantic pair is because they as stand alone characters are not just defined by one another, but they both at the same time have had a huge impact on one another throughout season 1, especially Catra.

Maya 

https://lordzarcock.tumblr.com || https://twitter.com/lordzarcock

Hi, I’m Maya! I’ve been involved in many aspects of fandom events since 2016, and I love helping out in the community. I used to be mainly involved in the VLD and PJO fandom, but have since branched out to TDP and SPOP. I can usually be found working on spreadsheets or handling emails, with a color-coding system of course! I love organization and am a bit obsessed with maximizing everything.

I love Catra and Adora’s relationship because it’s so complex. It’s not perfect by any means, but the way they interact and think about their past make it apparent that they care for each other, even if it is confusing with how it is now as they grow as individuals. The relationship is twisted and tangled due to many factors, but I hope that things will get better in some way. They’ve loved each other as friends before, and I hope that they still love each other enough to come to a mutual understanding of their relationship, whatever that may be.

Fricz

http://fricz-art.tumblr.com/ || https://twitter.com/FriczArt

Hello! My name is Noah or Fricz, I’m currently in a lot of fandoms being some of them YoI, VLD, Banana Fish and of course SPOP! I’m an animator and illustrator and my biggest dream ever is to become a concept artist and storyboard artist; I have previous experience being mod (particularly of Voltron zines) so I wish to bring my experience to this zine and learn a lot more.

I deeply enjoy Adora and Catra’s relationship because it feels real for me, it’s a friendship you can easily find in real life, making it easy to understand their personalities, I like how it portraits how it feels to grow up and how unavoidably friendship will change with it and how said friendship can overcome the change or how it’ll break. So yes, I like the complexity involving these girls and their relationship.

AD

https://twitter.com/gesuko__

Hi! My name is Gesuko or AD. I was really excited for the SPOP reboot, and it delivered! I fell in love with the characters and their relationships with each other. This is my first time acting as a mod for a zine, but I’ve been an artist on 10+ other fanzines in the Voltron and Boku no Hero Academia fandoms, and many more on going projects. I currently work in animation, and fandom has really motivated me to work towards making my own show or comic someday.

I love Catra and Adora’s relationship because they have such a complicated history, and even though their sides conflict, they still care about each other deeply. What they do has profound effect on the other, but they’re both separate individuals with their own goals and motivations.

Shanimal

https://felicitywild.tumblr.com/

Hey, I’m Shanimal! I’ve dipped my toes in many a fandom, but magical fantasy has always been one if my favorite genres. Right now She-Ra and The Adventure Zone are at the top of my list, with shows like Voltron: Legendary Defender and Steven Universe close behind. Most of my involvement in fandom is as a fanfic writer, but I’m also currently a mod for two Voltron zines: If You Need Me: A VLD Whump zine, and the Voltron Yearbook.

Catra and Adora are one of my favorite dynamics in the show. As childhood friends turned adversaries, their relationship is wonderfully layered and complex, and I can’t wait to see how it plays out in future seasons!

The following Mods will be tag-teaming the role of Formatting Mod:

Saleha (Main): our Support Mod (see below) 

 Syn (Support): our Social Media Mod (see below)

syn

http://tiramiszu.tumblr.com/ || http://twitter.com/tiramirs/

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ Hi there! It’s nice to meet you. I go by syn. I’m a fan artist & hobbyist who’s recently gotten into zines! I have been a zine contributor in the past, and, most recently, have also organized my own small-scale zine. I’m excited to have been brought on as a moderator for the Catradora zine & look forward to bringing my best to this project & the fandom.

Catra and Adora’s relationship is the main feature that really draws me to the She-Ra series, and I’m definitely glad for it. They’re both such a defining presence in each other’s lives, finding it impossible to hate, but impossible to love one another, no matter which side of the war they’ve found each other on. There’s definitely no easy way out for the two of them, but I’m certainly rooting for them.

FateReplay

https://twitter.com/FateReplay/

Hey there~ I’m Saleha, or FateReplay, and I’m a writer and creative works enthusiast. I love graphic design, layout, and organizing things! I’m currently the main mod for a FFXV Promptis zine (Insomnia High). I have a degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing. I’m in a million fandoms and never have quite enough time for all of them.

She-Ra is a very nostalgic show for me. I love the reboot and the new twist it places on the characters and their relationships. For Catra and Adora specifically, to me their bond is something stronger than friendship but perhaps hard to define. They’ve experienced the worst and the best together, and now the state of the world is placing them on opposite ends of a war. I think they’re dynamic is complex, exciting, and worth exploring. The energy they have together is unlike any other!

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[vroenis]

Art Created For Mood

I was watching a YouTuber I really like playing a game I really don’t like but from a developer that I also don’t like who does a thing I actually really like. That’s an opening and a half, but bear with me.

I don’t know if this book is good or not, but it’s here for the puns, and so am I. So is Max Kornell, it appears. I sure hope he’s an alright guy cos his children’s book is on my tumblr for a visual gag now.

It doesn’t matter what the game was, and it so happens it was DLC - some of you will be able to figure out what it was once I describe it, but very early on in the gameplay minutes of proceedings, the developers have the player-protagonist/avatar and your companion-of-the-moment engage in messing about in an old, abandoned fancy-dress store, picking up costumes and masks and larking about. I appreciate the YouTuber in question may have been partially or wholly playing up to the streaming audience ever-present at the time when they impatiently remarked “is this all we’re going to do” and “when do we get to actually play the game” etc., “when does the game start?” and so on, but as you may remember in my commentary on the Uncharted games a while back, interactions like these to someone like me are most often the most important - and now there’s no question what the game is if you haven’t figured it out already. As a side-note, I think the problem in this particular instance is one of pacing, and cold-opening the DLC with a scene like this may have been the issue. Video game pacing is tricky, tho, so it’s difficult to consider whether most players would be playing this content months after having experienced the main game, or whether the majority of players will be those who will have purchased it fresh on the newest generation of hardware, given the title actually launched a whole console iteration ago. Assuming that might be the case, the pacing experience might be entirely different, but I’m getting side-tracked.

I can’t account for what the YouTuber/Streamer was thinking and I don’t want to throw any shade and suggest they may have been performing for their audience - even if they were, it’s still fine - Streaming is performance, I feel like that much should be clearly evident. It’s not important to me where the truth lies within that individual. What the exterior performance telegraphs tho, is perhaps a misunderstanding of what the purpose of a scene like that is. I realise that in games that feature frequent occurrences of brutal violence, tension, excitement and anxiety, scenes of levity and peacefulness offer reprieve and introspection. They’re effective because of context and their rarity lends them power.

I’m still here to say a whole game of those kinds of things can still be powerful, you just have to be intelligent about the context. Reframing maturity to mean something other than violence takes real intelligence. It makes me question just how many actual adults we have developing video games. No, I don’t hate to bring it up again, but you need to play Kentucky Route Zero, Howling Dogs and a myriad of other Twine games and many other games created in queer spaces to perhaps broaden your understanding of what adults create when they don’t look to violence as a banner for maturity.

Naturally I’m going to turn to the most cliched of mediums; film.

For which I won’t apologise. That’s a frame from the montage in the middle of Mamoru Oshii’s 1995 movie Kōkaku Kidōtai - Ghost In The Shell, based on Masamune Shirow’s manga of the same name. I’d like to say that frame or the set of frames it’s taken from is one of my favourites from the film, because it is, but to be honest, the entirety of the three and a half minute montage is absolute perfection and every frame is equally important. It encapsulates the essence of the film without a single line of dialogue by playing a haunting piece of music expertly crafted by Kenji Kawai and showing seemingly disjointed images of the city in which the film is set. The film’s protagonist does appear in several shots, and some frames exhibit the city in decay, but some are completely urbane and simply show life in ordinary existence. Without discussing the main text of the film further, suffice to say it is the perfect frame for the subject of the narrative without stating it.

Before I embed the Ghost In The Shell montage, however, I want to share one Oshii created 2 years before it in Patlabor 2: The Movie. Let’s watch that one together, and even if you’ve not seen the film yourself, note in particular how topical the images are today, if you’re reading this some time around July 2020.

For those who’ve not seen the film, I highly recommend it. It’s not necessary to have seen either the series or the first Patlabor movie. It may help a little to watch the first film, mostly just to familiarise yourself with characters and terminology, but it’s not a necessity. The first film is much more comedic and while the second still has its funny moments, as evidenced in this montage, it takes a much more dramatic and sombre turn. Various domestic terrorist and military activities cause a declaration of martial law in Tokyo at roughly the mid-point of the film at which point this montage appears. The depictions of the citizenry, their interaction with the military and vice-versa are particularly interesting, and the film’s commentary as a whole is fascinating. That this has for the most part been lovingly and agonisingly rendered by hand in stunning animation detail is amazing.

Feelings are wonderful, weird, oddly shaped things. We use a lot of words in our lives, pragmatically to communicate, to instruct, to describe and tell stories. Funnily enough, when I was deeply entrenched in video games culture doing podcasts, playing a lot of games and writing a lot more about game studies etc., there was a lot of writing about the place about game verbs and it’s a great synthesis of design - a tool for describing the most simple actions in a game; move, jump, shoot, collect, talk, choose etc. In my introductory example, there are still a lot of verbs in play, like move, but the one most absent is of-course shoot, and the one that comes to the fore is talk. I feel like the scene at the beginning of that DLC is wholly intended to create a sense of atmosphere, to evoke certain feelings. Is it there to set the scene for context later on? Maybe. Is it for reprieve from violence? Also possible. But perhaps it’s just there to be relished, to be indulged. Maybe it’s OK to just be there to be felt, because feeling it is good, or even just feeling it is feeling something. Maybe it doesn’t have to be good, it’s just a different feeling to the way we feel when we’re reading an action feedback-loop where we’re engaged in move/shoot/wait/don’t die/melee/die-reload-repeat.

It’s hard for me to separate these montages from the films they come from. I want to say they’re powerful outside of the films, but I’ve seen those films so my viewings and re-viewings of them are loaded with my memories of the entire work; I have the full context. Tempted as I am to embed the montage from Ghost In The Shell 2: Innocence, I think that would be spoiling you too much, plus the film in its entirety really warrants a full viewing. Kenji Kawai’s music in the second film along deserves maximum volume and your time uninterrupted, so I won’t demean it with a tiny little window and a wall of text. I promised you the montage from the first GitS movie, so here it is, at three and a half minutes.

I’m using the word feel quite a lot in this entry and it’s intentional. In recent times, we seem to be de-emphasising our feelings somewhat and I’m all for some semblance of rationality and logic but emotions are important. Feelings are amazing - all of them. The ones that are good, the ones that are uncomfortable, the ones that are uncontrollable. I guess some folks try to talk about understanding feelings and there’s a little truth in that but I don’t think it’s something we can ever fully get a complete hold of, nor should we. I’m not here to attempt to provide you guidance on that, I think if you’re reading this, you’re well capable of gauging for yourself what the impact is of your emotions to your life and what you may need to do about it. Don’t read an implication that I mean to diminish their impact, either - you may well need to amplify their impact, I think a lot of people don’t consider that - now more than ever, but again, I wouldn’t know. You would. Only you do.

Anyway - I feel like a lot of art and moments in art, or sections of art, are being misinterpreted or criticised because people aren’t open to the intent. Again I come back to the example in the opening to this entry. Assuming on good faith that the YouTuber’s/Streamer’s behaviour was genuine, their reading of the activity in the game was that it was somehow not game, and that until there was either shooting or puzzling or adventuring of some kind, that those things would be actually game or real gameplay does that scene and activity a disservice. Of-course, maybe they just straight-up didn’t like it which is fair. I accept that, I guess - but I don’t like it.

It still bothers me tho. Even tho I really don’t like that game, I understand that the point of it is to ground the narrative in very human roots, in emotional engagement so that the character has something to celebrate, to cherish fondly, or even perhaps to regret or look back on with bitterness or anger. Regardless - even if it doesn’t have a payoff in the future, I still feel like it’s important as a representation of human behaviour in a game in which human avatars are depicted. The images on screen within that video game are for the most part not abstract. The themes shown and the narrative woven about their journey, their motivations, the justifications for their actions and the moralising therein within the fictional framework of the universe are all extremely human and intended to be analogous to the real human experience. 

That being the case, on that assumption, I’m surprised and even more disappointed that there aren’t more non-violent indulgences of peaceful human interactions on offer in these games.

People’s tastes in films, I guess, has been quite monolithic for some time. I mean, I’ve always had the throw-away semi-casual assumption of such but I didn’t think it was a real thing. I appreciate I’m into some fringe stuff and I don’t expect most people to get into the super-weird films, but that folks would be so narrow? Like... so narrow. I’ve said it before, I’m well accustomed to the art I’m into being heavily criticised by most people, but even the more approachable material I’m into, people seem to either struggle to digest or still regard as boring because it doesn’t register on some level of excitement that scales on a weird, reductive verb-o-meter not dissimilar to video games designed with the fewest of verbs; move, shoot and collect. Sometimes a film isn’t necessarily about what’s literally happening on the screen, or strictly about the narrative playing out. Sometimes art is about how you feel when you experience it - we’ve quite literally been describing art, in particular music, as mood pieces for years, and for quite some time now, video games. 

In film, David Lynch is a master at it to name only one, and there are a ton of others. You don’t have to immediately have to be able to process his narratives, your first concern is to how you feel when you view his films. The pragmatics can - and often do - come later. Once you familiarise yourself with his cinematic language of emotional tone and atmosphere, you may find that his narratives are actually quite simple and they quite easily make sense - they’re artfully told and are injected with immense feeling because they’re told in such unique and emotional ways.

How do you go about choosing a frame from David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr.?

I tend not to discuss general release films much - I don’t have any particular distaste for them at all, I’ve mentioned that I have a great appreciation for them but if there’s any way I can speak to the emotional responses I have to them, it’s that in a broader sense, most of my responses are more or less the same. That’s why I don’t really talk about them. Their impact to me and how I engage with art in my life is minimal. That doesn’t mean I don’t think they’re important in the world culturally or that I discount their cultural importance to others - not at all. If they’re important to you, then that’s wonderful and amazing and you should celebrate them. Nevertheless, there’s also a place for independent cinema and art and creating things that don’t directly speak to the most transparent of feelings. I understand that the audience is smaller and the financial availability is going to have to be smaller - that’s OK, but mood pieces are special and amazing and weird and sometimes indescribable and maybe you should give them a try because they can make you feel real strange and sometimes strange feelings can be powerful too.

Once in a while, some folks do make something that is super approachable and bridges that magical gap between indescribable emotion and mood, and audiences that need the most gentle of entry-points. I think Thatgamecompany’s video game Journey has to be one of the best examples of a work that transcends and overcomes a lot of barriers by removing so many obstacles not only typical of video games but art in general. It’s a truly gorgeous experience, and one that is uniquely evocative not only for its own but any medium.

While I’m sure there where throngs of mouth-breathers who flocked to reddit et al to decry Journey as NOTAGAME™, there were plenty of people who found themselves disarmed by its approach to play, playfulness, narrative and emotion. While you can watch a full play-thru video of the game, once-again I do encourage you to actually play the game itself altho so far from its release, there may be a critical component of the experience missing. A minor spoiler; central to the game is a sense of connection and yet separation. Lead designer Jenova Chen at the time was dismayed by online gaming behaviour and that engagement between players was so so toxic - it remains so today. He wanted a way for players to connect but not be able to be harmful and hateful to one another. The game will actually pair players together via online services, but there is no VOIP or text communication utility at all, nor can you see the username of whom you’re liked to. There is almost no way to communicate, save for a single button that will emit a musical note and an abstract symbol above your character’s head - that’s it. Beyond that, you may freely move about the world together, choosing to follow one-another or separate and ignore each other. That is the extent of interaction, and when the game launched in 2012, we discovered this together as a community - it was amazing and breathtaking, especially as the whole experience unfolded.

If Jenova Chen and his team at Thatgamecompany can teach people who usually shoot heads that moods can be engaged in and enjoyed with Journey, I feel like people have the ability to identify all forms of art that does the same. Art that deviates from the usual MO of fulfilling our usual roster of base needs. I’m not denigrating mass-market art by describing base needs -  not at all. Base needs are hella important, but if the violence in The Last of Us gives the reprieve of giraffes context, surely the base needs of mass-market art does the same for mood pieces?

This is a frame from Exit (2011) directed by Marek Polgar and you should 100% find it and watch it.

These are some of the more fringe works I’m into, if you’re particularly daring. I’ve no doubt that someone will find them pedestrian and that’s fine. At some point, tho, people have to be able to either go to a shop a buy it, or at least find it online somewhere, so I’m sure the video your mate from uni made is the highest of couture art, but if no-one other than you and ten friends have seen it, it legit doesn’t count ay.

By the way - these are all listed in Film Notes, but I’ll lazylink their IMDB pages here so you can see how bad their audience scores are.

Tokyo.Sora (come-on, it’s my favourite film of all time) Exit (OK so as much as I was being facetious just before, this is going to be difficult to track down, but worth it if you can) Womb (CW: incest) The Sky Crawlers (my favourite of Mamoru Oshii’s) The Limits Of Control To The Wonder (I know - Malick, but I feel like if you’re going to try one, try this - shorter, more intimate, less abstract - I find it’s his most tender) Holy Motors (be thankful I’m linking Carax and not Noé/Void or Climax)

[aroacehogwarts]

4,000 Followers Shout-out!

George felt like he hadn’t stopped moving in the past few months. Fred felt like he might not ever be able to stop moving. They thought opening the shop had been busy - and it had been - but it was nothing like comparing for a big surprise while also running the shop and dealing with customers.

Four had always been a lucky number for the twins. Perhaps it was because they were the fourth birthday of the family. Perhaps it was because they were born in the fourth month. Perhaps it was any number of things, but the twins were connected to the number four. That’s why they had decided to do an ambitious celebration to celebrate their 4,000th sale. They would have planned a 40,000th or 400,000th or even 4,000,000th sale celebration, but honestly with the looming war... Well, better safe than sorry. Plus, the world could use more cause to celebrate at the moment. The only problem - if it could be considered such - was, their 4,000th sale was coming up faster than anticipated.

“Is it-”

“-ready? Not quite.”

“Maybe some essence of murlock?”

“Hm, yes, its uses for satisfaction are promising.”

“Probably just a few drops will do it.”

“Just what I was thinking, brother!”

The big day was coming fast, but a few nearly sleepless nights and it would all be worth it.

~

“So, you talked to Angelina yet?”

“You talked to Lee yet?” George retorted, a little extra snap in his throw when he tossed the cinnamon in their mixture.

“No,” Fred admitted. George delighted in the blush that’d crept up his brother’s face. Neither of them blushed much, but bringing up Fred’s crush was a surefire way to bring on the red. “I don’t know how to talk to him about being grayro. Which is a great excuse. What’s your excuse for Angelina, huh? She may identify simply as queer, but I’ve talked to her a lot. I’m pretty sure she’s acespec, bro. Definitely would understand you being demisexual.”

George shrugged. “I just... It’s something I don’t want to rush. I don’t want it to be tainted by whatever this war is going to bring. I feel like if it’s meant to be, it’ll be after the war when it can be good and happy.”

Fred was silent for a moment, carefully counting out clockwise stirs. It’d been a while since him and George had made time to actually talk with each other. Most of their conversations had been literal shop talk. They really hadn’t even had the time to be brothers for the past few months.

“Actually, your excuse is better. Can I also use it?”

George chuckled. “Anytime. For what it’s worth, I had similar conversations with Lee. I’m not sure he was ready to admit it, but he’s likely bi. I think he’d understand being grayro.”

“Alright, ready?”

“Yep, on three.”

“One, two, three - beatigaumus!” they shouted in unison. Bright orange flashed in the twin’s vision, temporarily blinding them.

“Whoa.”

“Wicked.”

“I think we’re good to call it a night,” George grinned.

~

They were usually happy around the shop, but today Fred and George nearly scared away customers with their dragon-sized grins. There was no way they weren’t reaching their 4,000th sale today.

George slid behind the counter to join Fred at the register. “Thanks for shopping with Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes - tell your friends!” Quietly, to Fred, he said, “We maybe should have chosen a shorter name. So how many was that.”

“Nonsense the name is perfect. Just five more, Georgie boy!”

Their fifth customer after that was someone they recognized. A young, Hogwarts-aged wix who was seemingly homeschooled. They often came around the shop but had yet to buy anything. “I saved up enough allowance by doing extra chores!” the young one proclaimed, exceedingly proud of themselves and their hard work. Fred and George were all at once reminded of themselves.

“This is so perfect,” Fred told his twin.

“So what did you decide on?” George asked their young customer.

“A pride pop for my older sister!” Their pride pop lines were one of the products they were the proudest of. A whole package of pride colored lollipops. One side of the package was for bigots and bullies, the other for the prideful purchaser. The side for bigots and bullies looked like normal suckers but literally tied the tongue of the bigot in knots. The pride side came in shifting pride colors depending on who grabbed it and what they asked for. Its side effects ranged from a short happy high to being able to breathe pride-colored fire to burping pride-colored bubbles to floating a few inches off the ground for a few minutes.

“Are you getting anything for yourself?” Fred asked.

“No, I don’t really need it. But my sister is having a bad time with my parents, so she needs it.”

George smiled fondly at the kid. “You’re much nicer to your sibling than we were to ours,” he teased, pleased that this would be their 4,000th customer. “That’ll be seven sickles.”

George nearly squirmed in anticipation as Fred took the offered sickles and opened the register. Upon closing it, in true Weasley twin fashion, everything exploded into action. Money coins exploded out of the register like a fountain as more coins rained down from the ceiling. The whole shop briefly flashed purple. Celebratory sirens ran out three times. Wix who needed protected from the sensory input were temporarily bubbled - either to protect from falling coins, the color, and/or the sound. 

Fred and George’s voice boomed out above the crowd. “Four thousand sales, folks, and it’s you who gets to reap the rewards! Our lucky 4,000th customer here is winning a grand prize of 4,000 sickles! And one of you lucky folk in the crowd can win 2,000 sickles if you find the candy galleon with a blue inner wrapper! And by the way, these galleons are our newest product meant to help you celebrate - any that dropped a moment ago are absolutely free. Bite into one of these cinnamon-y chocolate delights and you’ll hear the roaring of a crowd in your ear, feel like you’re getting a congratulatory handshake or slap on the back, and get a boost of adrenaline and happiness that comes with succeeding in your goal! Have it folks - but no pushing! Violence automatically disqualifies you from winning, and we’ll know if you cheat or steal the winning candy from another!” The two stepped down from the counter they’d hopped up on for their announcement.

The young wix, their 4,000th customer, looked up at them in awe.

“Sickles? Four thousand sickles,” they said faintly, and Fred wondered if they might faint.

“Congrats! Is a guardian here with you? I’d love to just give you the sickles, but I think there’s some legal issue with doing that. Or maybe we could hold your winnings here at the shop and give you some free stuff until you’re old enough that it’s not an issue? Of course, you might spend all of it here at the shop by then-” George nudged his twin. “Er, uh, or we could give you some time to process first.”

“I got it!” a triumphant voice sounded from over in the potion aisle. The twins immediately recognized the voice of a witch about their age that Fred occasionally flirted with. She was charismatic and friendly and sometimes came in the shop just to chat with its owners - and sometimes to escape the whether, which the twins never minded.

A chorus of disappointed groans sounded from the shop, but the young girl received plenty of congratulations as she made her way to the front. Other customers satisfied themselves by stuffing as much of the free candy into their pockets as possible.

Fred verified the witch’s win quickly. “Congrats,” he grinned as George handed over her winnings. “We were hoping a regular might get to win.”

“You’ve no idea how much this means to me,” she said. Then, with a “aw, hell,” she leaned in to hug the both of them. “And congrats to you,” she beamed at the young wix, still mouthing the words ‘four thousand sickles’ to himself.

“Excuse us just one moment,” George told them before he and Fred stepped back up to the counter and amplified their voices.

“That’s it, folks! There’s our winners. However, besides the free candy, you’re all also winning today. Fifty percent off everything in the shop for the next four hours only as a thank you for your loyal business thus far!”

Even though they had plenty of time, customers sprang into frenzied action grabbing products they had earlier been debating on buying. Although everything was half off, the next four hours resulted in Fred and George having the most successful day of their business yet, unexpectedly selling out of many of their products. Nearly every customer at the register asked if they’d be putting the Gratification Galleons on the shelves (yes, they would be once they whipped up a new batch). Their young 4,000th customer winner ended up settling on getting a “weekly allowance” from the twins, which they figured worked as a loophole to make sure they actually got their winnings instead of their parents.

~

Fred let out a loud groaning sigh as he flopped into a big, squishy chair in their flat above the shop. In contrast, George silently collapsed on his bed.

“My feet,” George complained. “Can we take tomorrow off?”

“Just use some of our Petrissage Potion. If I’m working, you’re working.”

George grinned in spite of himself, summoning some of the potion from the bathroom. “It was a good day, huh.”

“I’d do it all over again,” Fred agreed.

And neither twin even thought about complaining when they fell asleep right where they were.

~ Thank you to all our followers, submitters, rebloggers, etc.! You are awesome, and we appreciate your interactions. We wouldn’t be here without you all! ~

[terraclae]

Caer's remembrance

In which Arodan has his first real interaction with a scout he had yet to speak to. 

Lore pinglist: @cityofinoue @yuushanoah-fr

'You. You with the scruffy face.'

Arodan looked up from his desk curiously, seeing Caer standing in the library's doorway. 'Afternoon. Can I help you?'

'No. I am just keeping watch.' She said. She didn't particularly look like someone who didn't have questions. 'I'm just making sure you don't decide to run off again.'

'Miss, I have alcohol-' He held up a bottle of castle brewed mead. 'I think I'll be fine as long as your people provide me a bed and a job. I'm just passing the time.' He shot her a look and realized he must have looked really tired.

'That is what worries me. It makes you impulsive.' Caer finally entered and quietly closed the door behind her. If Arodan thought about her he thought about ghosts, how she was pale like one and cold like the dead. 'Give it to me.'

'No, it was a gift.' He immediately dropped the bottle in a drawer and shut it with haste. 'Listen, this is a place of quiet encapsulated solitude, so either you grab a book and do it honor, or leave.'

'Since when is this your castle?'

'I'm the librarian and said nothing about owning this castle.'

Caer quietly glanced over Arodan, settling on his eyepatch again. 'You willing to share that brew kid?'

'Why?'

He wasn't sure how she managed to move a chair over to his desk without even as much as a scrape. When she sat down, it was with a deep rattling sigh that might have been the first noise he heard her make. 'Shit's tough kiddo.'

'Woah, mind your language.' Arodan said, slamming his journal closed and stuffing it in his bag as if he was in the company of a small child. 'I didn't think you'd swear-'

'What, didn't expect it? I'm cranky, Librarian.' She held out her open hand. 'Pass me the mead.'

'Fine.' Arodan grunted, slowly pulling the bottle out of the drawer again. He looped one finger through a teacup in it, placing it before Caer. 'I don't have any more glasses so you will have to make do with this.' And he gave her a hefty teacup full of mead. 'So, what's rough?'

'The strategists. King Balam. The fact there's going to be an enemy at our doors with massive power in their hands. Whatever Kassa is excited about.' She picked up the teacup, her pinky sticking out as if it was a far fancier brew contained within. 'I would be lying if I said this hasn't happened before. You can see by me sitting here that we are still very much alive. But every battle we have to wage is a gamble of fifty-fifty chance.'

'That sounds gloomy.'

'That's war.'

'... Have you always had this occupation?' Arodan asked, eyeing Caer. Looking at her, she seemed to have several scars on her neck only barely visible over the lining of her winter coat. ‘I mean, you seem pretty battle hardened.'

'Aye.' She took a swig of her drink. 'I used to be a wandering mercenary actually, a sellsword. I took whatever job necessary, because it made money and if you're under someone's employment already then you're virtually safe from being dragged to the fighting pits.' She set down her cup and it barely made a clink. Arodan was at this point fascinated how she did that. She pulled the sleeve of her coat up and showed the remnants of a nasty scar left running across her arm. It looked as if someone had attempted to hack it off but failed spectacularly. 'I'm proud of this one actually. The others are meh, but this one means a lot to me.'

'How can you be proud of a scar?' Arodan asked, rubbing his bad eye as if on impulse. 'What did you do to get it?'

'I protected my future mate from robbers.' She grinned, pearly white teeth almost seeming to glint as bright as a small sun. 'I have another on my lower back too and that's hers. She made that scar.' She rubbed her back tenderly and swore it was almost as if the arrow was there again. 'She's a guardian to this little piece of paradise in the Viridian Labyrinth. I was sent there to steal this dumb artifact thing and I ended up getting my heart stolen instead.'

'What's she like?'

'You know those sort of people you see, and just go, oh they're completely out of my league?' Caer started, and Arodan nodded in response. 'That was her, that's Alchemilla, my Milly. I knew it the moment she pointed her bow at me.' She looked fondly into her mead. 'Weird huh? I fell in love with her on first sight and she didn't even trust me for a long time.'

'I don't know. With how many times I've seen others pine, love and be loved in heartfelt ways one could argue it's almost like fate.' Arodan sipped absentmindedly and who came to mind first had been Her Humble Majesty's ship doctor. In the few quiet words they had shared it was apparent she held a deep but uncertain love for a girl overseas she could only hope felt the same.

It had been strangely hopeful.

'I don't like the word fate, but yeah, something like that.' Caer mumbled. 'You know, I think it was her smile that just had my heart completely melting into a pathetic pile of goo.' She made a downwards gesture with her hand and waved her fingers. 'She first smiled at me when I confessed what I was sent to do, and said that she knew. As if she already knew I couldn't do it anymore because of her and she was just waiting for me to admit that.'

'So….?'

'I mean, she's my mate now, so you know how that story ended.'

'Why are you here then?'

Caer paused, brought her hand up to her chin, and immediately downed all of her mead. 'I was born here, in Paramo. I left when I was young and foolish, I wanted more. I didn't know what the world was like back then.' The mead had left a thin film of foam in her cup that she now focused on. 'Back then I only thought of this city as belonging to the old and deceased. Did you know this city and this castle are said to have been here before dragons even existed?'

'Sounds like a bunch of hot air.' Arodan said.

'Yeah, right?' A laugh with a similar rattling timbre to it escaped her. 'But the gist of it was, I left this city as soon as I was old enough with two rules in my mind: One, do not get yourself caught by fighting pit recruiters, second, march on your own terms. I still abide by those rules but they sure hardened my heart those early days.' She smiled again, a softer and more reclusive smile this time. 'Got mashed right open by Milla.'

'I'm happy for you. Being in love sounds nice.' Arodan absentmindedly answered, staring down his own mead.

'You should try it sometimes. Maybe it'll soften you up.'

'No thanks.' He felt a hint of humor in her voice and it was nice, unexpected. It starkly contrasted the first impression he had gotten from her. '... What are the fighting pits? I don't think I have ever heard of it.'

'Ah. Yes.' She held out her teacup for Arodan to refill. 'The technical name is Striker's Dome. It's this big underground complex where rich people throw their best fighters in the ring to duke it out. Thing is, a lot of the fighters aren't folks who signed up to be there, they're poor sods who got abducted and forced to fight.' She took a good moment or two before she continued, sipping her drink as if it would make her talk better when she full well knew it didn't, not for her at the least. 'People who are so far gone thanks to that awful place often come here because the things that were drilled into their heads meant no one else would have them. You know how it is.'

'Yeah.' This time it seemed Arodan's turn to down his drink in one go and suddenly felt very old. 'How come I've never heard of it?'

'Listen, these folks think they're running a good thing here, so they'll do anything to keep it safe. If that means keeping it alive on word of mouth they'll have it. The only place it is well known in is in the city of Glasir.' Caer spat her words with disdain and turned away from Arodan. 'Goddamn Striker. What a freak.'

'Is that the figure who runs this business?'

'Sorta. He's the co-owner, got the Dome named after himself.'

'I see.' He glanced at his journal momentarily. What self respecting person names a place like that after themselves? 'How do you know this much about it if you've never been there?'

‘I've never been in the pit. That doesn't mean I haven't been in the dome as a spectator.’ That seemed the end of their conversation and Arodan didn't feel the particular need to ask Caer more. In silence they drank and soon Arodan realized he actually really desired the company. In times like these everyone seems fearful and it came to him that must have been what Caer had wanted from him.

‘You know-’

He perked up. ‘Yes?’

‘You don't seem bad kid. I don't trust you, but there's something to your eyes.’ Caer remarked, setting an empty cup down on Arodan’s desk. ‘No wonder King Balam gave you a chance.’

‘I haven't been here long enough to call my shot already. I haven't proven myself yet.’ Arodan finished his own glass and set it down, a warm buzz washing over him. ‘I know Balam doesn't trust me yet. And that he wants me to feel at home despite that.’ He leant on his hand, his bad eye buried in his palm. ‘I don't understand why he tries. This could have been so much easier.’

‘The man has a good, chargeless heart aight.’ She reached out to pat Arodan's shoulder who immediately shot up with an incredulous look. ‘Also you have a nice face so that helps you fall in his favor.’

‘Okay, first…’ He lowered his voice to a whisper just in case anyone was listening. ‘King Balam doesn't have a charge? And second, how is having a nice face going to help me?’

‘I thought it was obvious. The man looks like he's always searching for something, gods. Only a chargeless guardian looks that longingly.’ She took a deep breath and wore a grin that hid annoyance. ‘As for your second question, our king gets up to mischief sometimes. Mischief in play, mischief in romantic pursuits. It doesn't interfere with his job but isn't stifled either.’

‘No, it wasn't obvious to me.’ He wasn't sure what he should be focusing on first. It was too late to suppress the blush on his cheeks and managed to cool himself by thinking he had only really spoken twice to the king in long conversations with small conversations interspersed. Nothing to get flustered over. ‘So… Is there no risk in him leaving then to find his charge?’

‘He loves Paramo too much to do so. He once said he might if he passes the mantle to his children but I know he's just hoping it's one of the many antiques he imports or someone who comes walking in.’ She answered. ‘He won't leave. This city means too much to him.’

‘That's reassuring.’

‘It's the little things.’ She moved to hold up her empty cup in a joyful gesture once again. ‘Anyway, I should go. Can't be getting drunk now.’

‘I am. I'm a lightweight it seems.’ He watched as she got up and left the chair where she had dragged it. ‘See you around I guess.’

‘You got it.’ She pat Arodan’s head. ‘Thanks for talking with me kiddo. I needed that. It's nice to talk about my missus like that.’

‘Same sentiment-’

‘Don't tell anyone though.’ Her eyes darted between the empty bottle of mead and Arodan's gaze. ‘If anyone asks, I wasn't here or I was here to yell at you. Okay?’

Arodan said nothing but a finger rose to his lips in the universal sign of people who didn't snitch on their new allies. ‘Goodbye miss Caer. Don't close the door too loudly as you leave.’

Caer shrugged, and left silent as ever. The only thing that'd might reveal her was her funny-looking grin that glinted in the dark of the halls.

Caer genuinely couldn't tell if she was far away enough, and fair enough, he didn't really care. His head gently buzzed and he flipped his journal open. ‘There. Swear words. Happy, Mimir?’

‘I will soon know many more.’ The journal wrote in bright gold on a new blotch of black. It seemed almost vaguely threatening. ‘Mimir though?’

‘Yes, that's your name now. You posses a sentience of your own, so you deserve a name right?’ He started to write in the journal on an empty page, detailing his day. ‘That name came to me.’

‘I like it.’ Appeared on the left page Arodan wasn't writing on. ‘Mimir. Miiiiimir. Mim.’

‘Stop that.’

‘I love it.’ The book scribbled. ‘Thank you.’ Finally  the journal ceased writing on its own.

Arodan didn't respond with anything beyond a thin smile, and continued to record his thoughts and progress of that day as if his life depended on it.