#I suspected it my whole childhood and pushed it aside because I loved them and I thought if I love them then they must love me too
“Promise”
Why can't you just… Promise ?
Today's goal is an in-depth look at one of the most beautiful and breathtaking episodes of She-ra: "Promise"
Storywise, it's incredibly important to the series, and focuses entirely on Catradora. It's the first time since Adora left Catra behind to seek out the sword that the girls really have an opportunity to talk, and things are not going well. Both of them are royally pissed off at the other, with good reason.
For Adora, we're gonna deflate that proud hair poof of hers a bit, as we'll take an honest look at her as a person at this point in her life. And Catra... she's really guarding her feelings closely, as she's already deeply angry with Adora. But we will use the combination of Catra's younger self in the memories they see, plus looking at other times in the series that relate to this episode, where she was less guarded, in order to understand her as a person at this time. Also: warning: tl;dr, best enjoyed while cozy with a drink..
To get started, we skip to when they end up stuck together…
After Adora takes drastic measures to ward off the security spiders by collapsing the tunnel, the girls are now stuck together, and so… they talk...
We immediately see how incredibly irritated they are with each other as Adora chides Catra for being in the Crystal Castle, since the monsters will continue to attack them as long as she's protecting Catra… only to have Catra retort that she didn't ask for protection. Some snippy bickering back and forth happens, then...
Adora asks: "Does Shadow Weaver know you're here?" Very deadpan assertion from Adora. She knows Catra must be disobeying orders, she just doesn't know why.
"I'd say Shadow Weaver has bigger problems right now". Catra is already starting her move against SW back at the Horde. With SW abusively blocking her every move within the Horde, and now that Catra knows that SW was going to mind wipe Adora, Catra has decided she must deal with her abuser.
Adora puts on her telltale sideways grin, and Catra chafes at Adora's flirtation, saying "I told you it's not because I like you” downplaying Adora’s suggestion that this was the reason she let her go. Catra freely admits here that she does like Adora, but it's not the real reason she did it. Still, Catra doesn't explain further, and we see later that Catra often lets Adora explain away her actions this way... but that Adora constantly misses the deeper truths.
"Where are your new best friends? I thought you did everything together". She's very snarky and dismissive of Adora and her flirting. She's mad about Adora leaving her for her new life.
"The ones you let SW imprison and curse?" Adora is angry at Catra for what she did, which was a sudden escalation of things by Catra.
"Yeah obviously, what other friends would I be talking about?" An obvious dig at Adora for leaving her, everything behind. She deadpans this, staring back plainly. Catra is obviously really angry at Adora... while Adora is legitimately mad at Catra for doing something so nasty to Bow and Glimmer...
::Let's take a moment to talk about Catra's feelings about Adora's new friends: Catra feels horribly betrayed by this. Adora completely tossed her aside, and replaced her with Bow and Glimmer. What comes to mind is at the end of Sea Gate, Catra is thrown in the water and then looks up at Adora, who is celebrating and cuddling with Bow and Glimmer. Catra is emotionally forlorn watching this, as Scorpia comes to drag her off to safety, Adora doesn't even look back towards her.
She's forgotten, Adora showed no love towards her at all in that scene (and then hardly any at Princess Prom, either). Adora ignored her plea for her to return, she didn't reach out to Catra at all. And now she watches her cuddle with her new friends: everything Catra thought she had with Adora meant nothing, and she's been replaced with these feel goodie goods who are fawning all over Adora.
Suffice to say, Catra couldn't do this, she's got way too many issues with emotional intimacy and touch aversion. So she watches Adora, seeing that what she offered her wasn't good enough, knowing because of it she's forgotten. Catra was trying really hard to be a close friend to Adora in spite of her issues, but as we will see, Adora wasn't trying to understand what was going on with Catra. And because of this, Catra was too afraid to express her affection openly, and yet here's Adora... accepting all of Bow and Glimmer’s love, for which Adora really did nothing to earn. Adora took Catra’s friendship for granted while ignoring her deeper needs, as will be explained, then completely abandons her, not even seeming to miss her. Catra is deeply hurt by the unfairness of this.
>Catra stares back at Adora, frustrated when she doesn't even acknowledge their lost friendship.
"Well, we don't need to go together. You do your weird little magic quest thing I'll find my own way out". Catra looks resentfully at the sword on Adora's back as she says this. Catra is laying down boundaries, except it's useless since they are trapped together. But, boundaries are important to Catra and as the episode progresses, Adora shows that she doesn't really understand Catra's.
>As they walk along, both girls' shadows loom equally tall. The symbolism is that in this story, both are equally important... it's also a shockingly beautiful sequence. (pic above)
After entering the room of infinite darkness, Catra tries to separate from Adora but the door is gone, they are stuck together. Weird things start happening. As the Fright Zone appears, both of them are confused. Adora decides to suspect Catra, after all, she attacked her friends. But as Adora grabs Catra, Catra is surprised and confused... Catra doesn't like being touched unexpectedly, Adora knows this but is ignoring that and attacking her. She gets treated as an enemy when she clearly hasn't done anything wrong, and it sets the tone for the two of them: Adora has constantly treated Catra as an enemy since the very moment she defected, not even trying to understand Catra's point of view. And so Catra increasingly emotionally distances herself from Adora. Catra angrily casts Adora's arm aside, not liking being vilified by her, and Adora doesn't understand why Catra is so upset. Catra slips away to explore, needing space from her.
The way Adora immediately suspects and then attacks Catra is symbolic to the whole episode: by defecting to the Rebellion, Adora chose to start treating Catra, and her entire unit, as enemies, backing it up with hostility. But Catra doesn't really agree that the horde is evil... in her experience, it's just how life is.
>The two girls, now separated, call out to each other. Adora hears Catra's call, then another: young Catra is behind her, looking lost and insecure. Catra joins Adora as their first memory has just begun…
~DISCLAIMER TIME~ A lot of information in She-ra is inferred by emotional context, so if this seems a bit head-canon-y, I assure you, I have data! Please ask questions and seek clarifications, I promise to answer back! ~EtheriaDearie
>A worried and hurt young Catra runs to young Adora's side. She is emotional and needs support. Adora checks her out then gets the real deal: Catra was in a fight with an adult. It hints that Catra always had to deal with people messing with her, even before SW began her abuse. This is a guess, but it's probable: this is likely a happy memory of the two of them right before the hurting began. Along with the "promise" memory and the moments immediately preceding their entering the Black Garnet chamber, these scenes set the baseline for what their friendship was like before Catra suffered SW’s abuse. Also, this memory is a happy one, and how Adora remembers their friendship: it was likely triggered by her memories. The next ones are not, as I believe they are triggered by Catra, who is trying to explain to Adora what was so painful about their childhood...
>Catra doesn't know what to expect when she shows Octavia to Adora. She probably expects Adora to try to apologize on her behalf, or to give her a hard time about what she did. Instead, Adora sticks with her friend and yells “Hey Octavia, you're a dumbface." This brings young Catra much joy, Adora is sticking with her, not passing judgement. The two young girls run together hand in hand, experiencing childhood bliss, but it doesn't last. The present versions of themselves return, holding hands...
They share a brief moment of connection before Catra pulls her hand away in anger. Adora is surprised at the strength of Catra’s reaction. They are not on intimate terms any more, in fact, I suspect they had been struggling for a while before Adora's defection. Adora doesn't want the moment to stop, but Catra does. It hints that the gulf between them is already wide.
"How can you deal with all this magic stuff?" Catra has a deep distrust of magic, as it was used in her abuse. She resents it, and throughout the series whenever anything magic happens that she doesn't see coming she gets creeped out.
"I'm only dealing with it because I need to figure out how to heal Glimmer after someone got her cursed." It's a valid criticism, but Catra deflects it.
"What do you want? An apology? You're not getting one." We don't get the full story on this moment until season 5 when a young Catra tells Adora she'll "never say sorry to anybody, ever." Adora doesn't like Catra just refusing to explain, and as Catra pushes her away, Catra is full of reproach at Adora's judgement.
::As an abused child, Catra was continuously vilified and abused by everyone but Adora. And when Adora would suggest she apologize throughout their lives, she can't understand why Catra won't. It comes down to literally everyone in the world judging Catra and being cruel. Not once did any of them apologize to her, even though she didn't do anything to deserve the abuse. Except Adora... but that has issues, too. In fact, SW literally tells her "I won't apologize" regarding her abuse of Catra. Can you imagine the hurt at that?
[pic caption: Catra refuses to apologize, Catra often shows her deeper emotions while blinking, in this case: the incredible pain she experienced from SW’s abuse.]
So no, Catra won't apologize, she had a thing she was trying to do by kidnapping Bow and Glimmer and taking her sword, and it ended badly. But she felt she had a good reason to do it: she wanted to force Adora to see her, to make her acknowledge how big of a part of Adora’s life Catra used to be. And it's not like anyone has been helping Catra, she's had to make every single decision on her own her entire life and live with the consequences.
Also, mistakes for Catra have an entirely different meaning than they do for Adora. Whenever Adora made a mistake, she was given an opportunity to fix it. This is a theme of their relationship: Adora expects Catra to let her fix her mistakes. But for Catra, she learned that any mistake she made was dangerous, as when she did make a mistake, SW would torture her for it. And if other people saw it too, they'd use it to perpetuate the notion that she's some kind of no good fuck up. So Catra is extremely careful to not make mistakes, and if she does, she tries to cover it up, distance herself from it. (note: this isn't the same as Catra's intentional rebellions against this system where she was unfairly targeted for abuse-). This is why Catra simply cannot forgive Adora easily for breaking her promise: in Catra's world, she had to be perfect, or she could have been dead by SW's hand. She wasn't allowed to make mistakes like Adora is, she is what is clinically known as 'hyper vigilant' and always preparing for the worst. And so she applies this standard to be perfect all the time to Adora, and therefore she won't give Adora the same license to make mistakes with their friendship. Catra thinks Adora should know better, and see the consequences of her actions.
>Adora lets it go: when Catra seems to shut down, Adora does her best to try to accept her. Adora tries a different track. She asks Catra why she let her and Glimmer go when SW had them imprisoned, when it could have resulted in Catra getting in trouble. Catra walks ahead, trying to distance herself from having to answer. But the magic of the Crystal Castle intervenes: as Adora slips and begins to fall, Catra saves her. It's a symbolic moment: Catra has always tried to protect Adora, to save her from pain. It's why she changed course to give the sword back to her, partly.
"Did you really think I'd just let SW erase your memory like that?"
"I don't know. Probably." Adora shows such little understanding of their friendship. It shows Adora really is thinking of Catra as an enemy, not as the complicated person stuck between protecting her friend, and the cruel necessities of her life.
Catra looks at Adora with disappointment. "Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me." Adora tries to understand Catra's emotions, fails.
"Huh, can you blame me?" Ouch. Adora smiles at Catra, trying to show love for her roguish quirks. But it just shows how little Adora understands: she is repeating a negative stereotype of Catra that everyone in their old life believes and perpetuates. And Adora should know better, instead of just assuming the worst about her. That persona is one which Catra uses to protect herself, partly from her own emotional feelings, but also as a necessity to protect herself from SW. She had to act like she doesn't care, doesn't try, so SW wouldn't see her power.
"Psh, not really." As Catra turns away, again she deadpans this but you can see pain and disappointment leaking past her indifference.
As she walks away she trails her tail across Adora's hand, flirting and drawing Adora's attention to her butt. It's a cute little moment of telling a truth to counter the lie: 'Adora, you should know me better, and also, I like you.' Still, it's only a half truth: Catra couldn't let SW win because SW is Catra's true enemy. But, Adora takes the flirtatious hint, as always. She accepts it and doesn't dig deeper.
Catra asks Adora about their childhood, trying to understand how Adora could just throw it all away. Adora gives a very direct and impassioned speech, she looks Catra in the eyes, trying to convince her and make her understand why leaving was the right thing to do. Catra hides her emotions, weighing Adora's answer. She doesn't agree with her sentiment, in Catra's experience good and evil are relative and exist as such everywhere. Also, she's right: we meet many people in the Horde who aren't evil. And Adora's finding the sword is one giant sinister manipulation by Light Hope. Moral grayness is a constant theme in this show. Still, this isn't really why Catra chooses to stay with the Horde.
Adora sees her explanation failing to convince Catra, so she tries reminding Catra of their deeper friendship, telling her she misses her too. Catra is temporarily taken aback at being called out before remembering to deny it. She tells Adora to get over herself, and Adora tells her she won't stop until Catra says she likes her. They flirtatiously rough house, and Catra smiles during it: yeah, she does. But she denies it anyways.
::Adora often tries to be respectful of Catra's personal space but is making an exception here: she's telling her that she finds her desirable, and if Catra wanted it, they could be together. Adora can't understand why Catra feels the need to resist this, but she knows doing it helps her friend feel wanted. Still, this shows how casually Adora views their attraction.
Yes, they should be together. And actually, they had an unspoken agreement that they would be. But Catra's not going to open herself up to that just to serve her desire. She wants more from Adora, for Adora to show her that she really does see her, and cares about her. If she did, maybe Catra could open up about some of her pain. Being intimate without doing that would be impossible, and so far Catra's life still isn't safe enough to risk her feelings. Adora's promotion could have meant the beginning of something new between them, where they worked together to build a more secure future together where Catra didn't have to be fearful all the time. But instead, Adora left her.
So begins the second memory. The two girls, now teenagers, compete against each other in sparring. It's clear they are flirting, and neither is fighting all out. When Catra taunts Adora by putting her finger to her forehead, she shows how much better she is at fighting. She full heartedly laughs, Adora enjoys this and then throws a purposefully weak strike to restart the fight. When Adora seemingly turns the tables through brute force, Catra plays hurt to exploit Adora's naiveness. As Adora tries to show concern, Catra turns the tables back. She wants to teach Adora a lesson: that not everyone will play fair, as Catra knows all too well from SW's abuse. But Lonnie interrupts her. Catra doesn't appreciate this and makes quick work of Lonnie, showing just how good she is. Adora attacks, getting the predetermined win. Catra doesn't enjoy the beat down but accepts Adora's help up. She heads to Lonnie as Adora receives compliments from their commander.
As Catra confronts Lonnie, she tells Catra "you were playing dirty, I was just leveling the field". Catra will hear these words again when she leaves Adora behind in frustration near the end of the episode. They are significant: these are stereotypical views forced on Catra, and those views ignore that Catra was just doing something she felt was important: teaching Adora about the harsh realities that exist in the world. Real enemies don't play by the rules, and will be unpredictable.
As Catra’s anger rises at this, Adora puts her hand on Catra's shoulder to calm her down, then compliments Catra on her fighting skills. Catra ever so casually tosses the comforting hand aside. She's saying 'I can handle my emotions without your help, but thanks for asking.' As she tells Adora she let her win, Adora tries to tell if Catra really is ok.
Thus starts one of cutest exchanges between the two of them: as Catra tries to explain why she lets Adora win, Adora puts on her sideways 'you like me' grin while she playfully denies that Catra let her win. Catra gives a very animated and obviously made up explanation about not wanting to have people expect things from her. Adora grins along, and halfway through her lie Catra leans in, staring at Adora's lips before looking up into her eyes. Once again, Catra is undoing a lie by telling a truth: she let her win because she likes (loves) her. But it's only a half truth, once again...
Adora accepts the explanation, keeping her sideways grin: 'it's so cute how you like me'. Catra's explanation done, Adora moves on, wanting to catch up with their unit. Catra lets her do so while excusing herself. As Adora leaves, a huge amount of meaningful information passes across Catra's face…
First, Catra feels bad about having to lie to Adora, and it shows. Then, as Adora leaves to socialize, disappointment and rejection shows: Catra had hoped Adora might look deeper, and try to see the deeper truth. As Adora turns away and leaves we see a look of total love and adoration on Catra's face. She really, really loves Adora. She's the light of her life, a real idiot no doubt but Catra will always love her for exactly who she is.
The girls remain their younger selves as the rest of the memory plays out, Adora staying to accept praise while Catra separates to deal with her internal feelings which Adora always fails to see: the hurt and aloneness she feels.
>A frustrated young Catra cries, expressing her repressed emotions. It would be easiest to assume she cries because she's sad about losing, but we have to look ahead to the next memory to find the real truth.
Catra is sad because she never had a choice. SW took that choice from her, and while Catra is happy to let Adora win because of the love she feels for her, it hurts that she never really got to decide. And Adora doesn't see that, doesn't see the pain Catra is bearing, hiding. And so she cries for that, too. The one person who should love her doesn't really see her. As she looks up in the mirror to see herself, since no one else in her life seems to see her pain, she sees her present tearful self looking back. The pain of the past is real in the present, and while she's older now and won't let herself give in to tears, she feels the pain as she did back then. (pic 1, below) She sees the tears and it snaps her back to her present self, totally unnerved by the simulation as the security detects her and attacks. A fearful Catra screams, wanting help, wanting Adora.
>Adora snaps back to herself, having been participating in the replay of the memory post Catra excusing herself. She tries to run to help Catra, full of worry. She sees a terrified Catra trapped by the spider. As the spider begins to drag her away the two girls lock arms, trying to free Catra. But it's too strong, and as we see their grip start to slip, Catra looks to Adora wanting, pleading for help. As Catra is pulled away, Adora feels helpless, knowing she couldn't help her friend. She thumps her head in frustration that she wasn't there for Catra.
The scene speaks to an obvious truth: Adora has never quite been there enough for Catra. She's always less present, less aware of Catra's reality than she could have been. But since Catra was experiencing a painful memory when this happened, her reaction shows her vulnerable emotional state, and so she called out for help: Catra just wants to feel safe, for Adora to be there to help her. But she wasn't.
>As Catra is dragged away, she feels helpless, and calls out mournfully for Adora. But she's long gone; Catra is alone and scared, as usual. She screams out her frustration, the realization that she’s never gotten the help she needed, she always ends up alone. She cries tears for the suffering and anguish she feels from that. (pic 2, below) It’s a moment that shows us the real inner Catra: She feels deeply, whether it be her desire to be seen, loved by Adora, or the fear she feels in this moment and others. She tries her best to act confident in herself, but it's a lie: she needs support, yet is left behind by everyone, including Adora. She was willing to bear her pain for Adora's love, but she has become increasingly aware of how tenuous that really was growing up.
>Catra digs deep, like she's always done. She will handle this, won't take the abuse lying down. She shifts her mentality to being the survivor, the person who has survived years of abuse. She frees herself and gets to her feet, accessing her foe, determined to defeat it. She attacks, using her anger to deal damaging blows, seeking to destroy her enemy, to make sure she survives. She stands back, confident she's won, proud of herself for it. She doesn't quit, she always perseveres against those who want to destroy her. (pic 3)
Adora shows up, finishing the monster. Catra doesn't drop her mentality, this person who has lived a separate life from Adora and survived on her own, doing the hard things like winning fights and resisting Shadow Weaver's abuse.
Adora walks forward, seeing Catra's anger, determination. She looks blankly, trying not to upset Catra. She's trying to get a read on Catra but not having any luck, so she's being cautious. She asks if Catra is ok, casually pulling webbing off Catra's shoulder, trying to exist in her physical space without upsetting Catra further. "I had it" says Catra, not dropping her fighter stance, mentality at all. Catra is very much feeling the aloneness of her life from everyone, including Adora.
Adora tries to casually put aside Catra's assertion that she had it, she smiles diplomatically. She tries again to touch Catra, to break down her animosity and get her to calm down. It doesn't work. "We need to make sure we stick together from now on." As Adora touches Catra, she tenses, uncomfortable. Catra has strong touch aversion, and Adora knows this but she also knows doing it sometimes helps Catra shift her mentality, so she's trying to get Catra to connect emotionally, to get her to accept care.
"Will you stop telling me what to do?" An exasperated Catra says. We see a look of total dismay cross Adora's face. She's not understanding why Catra has so much animosity in this moment. (pic below)
As Adora looks at Catra, she hunches her body, looking misunderstood and isolated. Adora has consistently failed to see Catra's emotional states and so Catra is feeling more and more apart; that the mentality of the survivor she's feeling now is the right one. Adora didn't really help her at all growing up, and she doesn't see her for who she really is, either. Adora always took the easy explanation, like saying that Catra did things for her because she liked her. Never looking deeper, trying to see her struggle. And so Catra doesn't drop her combative pose, she stays in it because she feels in control, less vulnerable.
As for the words "stop telling me what to do", that's an essay in itself but consider: just now Adora became frustrated when she lost Catra, and now tells her they need to stay together. But they didn't, they never did, and even when they are together Adora is no real help to Catra. So she reacts in anger to Adora trying to direct her. After all, in the next scene we will see that Adora leads Catra into danger, and then doesn't really help her as she gets abused. Adora is no great leader, not according to Catra's experience.
::Adora is having a total loss, here, as she tries to understand Catra, why she's angry at her: It's because she has never really known this 'survivor' side of Catra. Adora wants to comfort her and calm her down, but Catra isn't having it. I think this is when we first see Adora begin to realize that there is something is very wrong with her friend that she has completely failed to see, and she's deeply worried by it. (pic 2)
[pic cation: Adora can't read Catra's emotions, Adora realizes Catra is deeply angry. Outside SW’s chamber, Adora wants to take Catra’s hand.]
Adora loves Catra, but can't seem to get through to her: Catra is holding herself apart from Adora. Again, Catra pushes Adora's hand aside, frustrated. She expresses her exasperation at the situation, saying she's sick of what's going on. Adora follows along, confused. As Catra seemingly purposefully leaves her behind, Adora demands to know what Catra's problem is, saying that she was trying to save her. Catra looks down at her confrontationally, frustrated with Adora's lack of vision. "For the last time, I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own. No thanks to you." Uh oh.
The words "no thanks to you" are especially cutting. Adora has totally failed to see the struggles Catra had all her life, she didn't understand the hurt and abuse Catra was fighting against. And so Catra did it all on her own, protecting herself and trying to remain strong. Her love of Adora might have helped her have hope, but fundamentally Catra overcame the abuse by not giving up on herself, believing she had worth, and not letting others tear her down.
Adora runs to Catra's side, taking her arm in one hand. Feeling her friend becoming increasingly distant from her, Adora tries authentically telling Catra her feelings, hoping to make her friend see her desire to help and understand her. Adora explains that she's sorry for leaving and that she did it because she couldn't stand the war the Horde has pursued. Her next words are telling: "but I never wanted to leave you". 'Want' is an important word in this series, and it comes up again in season 5 when Catra asks Adora "what do you want, Adora?”. By choosing to leave the Horde, Catra feels that Adora wanted that more than she wanted what they had together. Also, promises are not something you're supposed to break over a 'want'. And Adora so casually breaking their promises makes Catra think she doesn't matter to Adora. It's not the truth, but this belief still determines her reaction in this moment. Even though Adora dearly loves Catra, including at this point in the story, she hasn't shown it in a way that Catra can see as meaningful. As Adora finishes saying this, Catra looks back, feeling alone and unwanted, seemingly thinking 'but you did leave me, Adora.'
Adora tries to appeal to Catra to join the rebellion with her. Then she says "I know you're not a bad person, Catra. You don't belong with the Horde." Catra must be thinking 'Ok so at what point did you become the authority on whether someone is good or bad, Adora?' Adora has shown no interest in understanding Catra's position, she treated her as an enemy without fail since she left her, literally in every single case including at Princess Prom when Catra was trying so hard to romance her. And Catra doesn't accept Adora's naive black and white view of the world. Think about it: when Adora defects she begins treating all Horde with hostility, including her dearest friend, she judges them all and doesn’t even try to see them as the complicated people that they are. So when she suggests Catra doesn't belong with the Horde, Catra looks back at her, feeling totally isolated from Adora. Even though Adora's plea is earnest, Catra declines it.
>As the next memory begins, we see Adora now has both hands on Catra's arm, she's desperately trying to hold on to her bond with Catra and show her desire to fix things between them. Catra doesn't drop her wary demeanor at all, and Adora looks lost and anxious over this as a young Catra runs by.
The memory starts out full of childhood innocence as the two of them play together. When the girls see that the Black Garnet chamber is open, young Adora remarks "we're definitely not allowed in there." Young Catra looks at Adora, seemingly asking if she wants to go in, trusting her. Young Adora runs off, and Catra follows her in. Yes, Catra participates in the decision, but she's not the one who runs towards the chamber, and that's important to what happens next.
A worried (adult) Adora looks to her friend who seems so distant, stoic. Anxiously, Adora tells Catra "You don't have to go in there." Adora knows what happens next is very bad, that this is a hurtful memory for Catra. As an unwavering Catra begins to walk towards the chamber, Adora looks down at Catra's hand. [pic above] She wants desperately to reach out and take it, to hold Catra back from this terrible moment, to tell her she's sorry for messing up. Adora knows now that she screwed up, that she's let Catra down, somehow more than she ever realized. She doesn't know what to do about it… she follows Catra inside.
The young girls explore, Catra touches the black garnet and gets shocked. Adora has second thoughts, she realizes they're trespassing.. but of course, SW returns, so they try to hide. As SW takes off the mask, Adora cries out, taken aback... young Catra looks at her in dismay. She's about to pay for Adora's mistake with a lifetime of suffering. Offended, SW tells them to "Get out!" but rethinks. She puts the mask back on, and decides to use this moment to instead abuse the girls and use the crime of their trespass against them. As SW tells Catra to stay, Adora turns around, seeing that Catra is caught, and she's scared for her friend. She really did make a poor decision, and as a highly empathetic person, what happens to Catra scars Adora, too.
Held powerless by magic, Catra tries to explain that they were just playing. SW's words to her set the stage for a lifetime of physical and psychological abuse: SW leans over her menacingly, telling her "Insolent child, I've come to expect such disgraceful behavior from you, but I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well." Again, it's not Catra who decided to go in, so it's really not her fault. SW disparages her and heaps blame upon her for Adora's bad choice, ignoring the truth.
Adora weakly tries to protect Catra, saying "SW, it wasn't her fault. It was my idea too." It's an understandable response, as they're just little kids. Still, Adora could have taken the blame for their trespass, since she led Catra inside. But it's about to get a lot more hurtful for Catra...
SW's voice echoes through Catra's head as she trembles in terror: "You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me. I've kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. Do you understand ?" Catra trembles in fear, her eyes unfocused, the room empty but for SW menacing her. She's in a dissociative state, terrified and helpless. I think some people probably feel like this must have been a idle threat, but it isn't: SW abuses Catra many times after this for her mistakes. And the depiction of the dissociative state helps us understand just how damaging it was. While Adora seemingly goes on to not realize the importance of this memory, for Catra it is formative to her entire life.
Again, Adora tries weakly to stop what's happening, putting herself between them. She tells SW "please, stop" then looks over at Catra, full of concern. Running over to SW, she tells her "she didn't mean to". This is so hurtful, as young Catra is very smart. Catra knows Adora has blown it again, after all, what is it that she "didn't mean to" do when it was Adora's idea to trespass? Adora isn't getting the magnitude of the situation, and Catra is very much left to fend for herself.
SW then does a very insidious thing to Adora, a very directed abuse that's meant to work against her personality and empathetic reactions to others pain. She tells her "Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. Do not let something like this happen again..." SW follows this up with years of manipulation to make Adora even more susceptible to abuse. But in this moment, SW again heaps the blame for Adora's mistake onto Catra, who did nothing wrong. For Catra, she comes to believe that what she did doesn't even matter, nobody cares what the truth was. Even Adora. But for Adora, the hurt goes deep as well. She made a bad decision, her friend gets hurt for it, and she never comes clean... instead, she's told she has to do a better job of controlling her friend, and that she has to be perfect so that it doesn't happen again. It's a deep and hurtful moment for Adora, just like it is for Catra. But the hurt is much less direct, and more sneaky. Nonetheless, Adora struggles with this moment, this abuse of her, in the most intimate and painful ways all throughout the series.
Young Catra watches on as SW completes her manipulation of Adora. For Catra, she's left with the feeling that nothing she does matters, she was blamed for something she didn't even do. And Adora seemingly took the easy out, spreading the blame. But she doesn't realize this moment is so insidious for Adora, that it attacks and manipulates her at her emotional need to help others. From this moment on, Adora is afflicted with a desperate fear that she can't protect others, and must lead perfectly so they don't get hurt. This internal conflict erodes Adora's self worth, and causes her great emotional pain throughout the series. Catra, instead, believes she is being told she has no worth, and isn't even allowed to make her own decisions. It's hurtful, and it's part of why she tensed so badly at Adora for trying to tell her what to do earlier. We see this realization cross young Catra's face: she feels forgotten in this moment.
We see the young girls walking away from SW's chamber, Adora with her hand around Catra's shoulder. This comfort is not enough... Catra really needed Adora to stand up for her there, to come clean, and she didn't. Trying to comfort her now seems hollow. As they flash to their present selves, Catra knocks Adora's arm aside in frustration, accusing her of needing to play the hero.
Adora responds, saying she was only trying to protect her. Catra's next words tell the real truth of their childhood: "You never protected me! Not in any way that would put you on SW's bad side!" Adora at first chafes at this statement, feeling like she did try to protect her, then crosses over to confusion at the strength of Catra's assertion. Catra is telling Adora she was blind to her pain. She wasn't there for her, and this is very much at the core of Catra's disappointment with Adora: the fact that she never stayed, never tried to understand. Adora let SW control her, make her ambitious, and so Catra was put to the side of that, and over time Adora grew apart from her. Catra’s exact words here are important: she says that Adora ‘plays’ at being the hero, yet always seemingly protected her status as the favorite, never standing up to SW and risking harm onto herself in order to save Catra from pain.
And so, the fact that out of seemingly out of nowhere, Adora decides to risk everything and defect in order to fight for people she doesn't even know, insults Catra. Adora abandons and consequently fights against her own people, leaving Catra behind, unilaterally treating her as an enemy. Never, in their whole lives, did Adora ever fight for Catra, only offering affection afterwards to make up for the cruelties that happened to Catra. So no, Catra doesn't want Adora to save her, or her sympathy, when she seemingly cared so little about her pain. Adora was no hero to her.
Now an obvious question might be: if the manipulation is that Adora is supposed to protect and control Catra, then shouldn't she have had to see SW abuse Catra for it to work? The first part of the answer is that it was never really about that, once the idea was put in Adora’s head, SW used it to manipulate her further into a mentality where Adora would accept praise, promotion on her path to becoming a force captain.
The other is that when someone is being hurt like Catra was in that moment... if the one person in the world who is supposed to get it doesn't get it... then it becomes very hard to ever bring it up to them again. It's a specific type of hurt and abandonment: for Catra, she goes on to believe that this is her burden, that somehow she alone is supposed to learn these hard lessons. And so she doesn't tell Adora about the abuse. Also, keep in mind that they are small children, and Catra doesn't want Adora to hurt like she does... so she's actually protecting her, in her mind. But the fact that time goes by and Adora never seemed to care, to stop and see Catra's pain, was very hurtful to her. And Catra’s feelings of betrayal at Adora’s not seeing the hurt are justified: in episode 1, we see Adora watch SW menace Catra, then happily run off to accept her promotion, only remembering to check on Catra as an afterthought. Catra needed Adora's support, and never really got it.
[pic caption: (left to right) Adora’s apparent willful ignorance of the abuse.]
So Catra believes she learns these hard lessons so Adora won't have to, but is left alone in her pain. This also means that SW specifically abused Catra at times and in places so Adora wouldn't be aware, which again, tells us it was never really about making Adora responsible for Catra's decisions. No, the reasons were much darker, and Catra bore it all alone.
The girls flash to their younger selves, and Catra accuses Adora: "Admit it, you love being her favorite." Catra is telling Adora that she was disappointed and hurt that Adora kept accepting praise and privilege from SW, after that moment when she so clearly should have seen how SW abused her, and the maliciousness of the death threat. In Catra’s mind, Adora could have rejected SW. As painful as it is for a small child to be without any parents, it would have been the right thing to do, for Catra. SW was no good to Catra, and they could have shared the pain of being orphans who only had each other, but instead Catra ended up bearing all of the abuse while Adora was given privilege.
Adora denies this assertion, and yet she did accept the privilege SW offered her. Catra's next words show how ignorant Adora was to the realities of their lives as they flash back to their present selves: "Oh yeah? When you left, who do you think took the fall for you? Who was protecting me then ?" Catra bore all the abuse and punishment for Adora's leaving, and Adora wasn't there to see it. Catra did this bravely for Adora, in fact, up until before Princesse Prom, Catra did everything she could to cover for Adora, just like she asked, protecting her, hoping she'd come back to her. But Adora shows no understanding at all for what Catra went through, she didn't even think about what must have been happening to her. Adora has never taken the time to think about how her actions affect Catra's life.
Adora counters, suggesting that Catra could leave the Horde, and therefore get away from SW's abuse. Catra just glares back at her, disappointed. Catra knows running from the abuse won't solve anything.
::What this comes down to is a totally different understanding of the world. For Adora, she thinks she became a hero for leaving the Horde, and becoming She-ra. She doesn't realize she was lucky to fall into the situation she did, with Bow and Glimmer helping her gain acceptance and protecting her. She's totally unaware that the reality that her becoming She-ra is a manipulation born out of evil intent. For Catra, she's always known that the world is harsh, and that bad people exist who will try to destroy you. She's not afraid to fight, she's had no choice learning these harsh truths. It's a jaded view that negatively affects her perceptions of people, but it prepares her for the worst, and so she relies on it. So when Adora suggests she run from it, she rejects her as naive. They flash back to their younger selves after Adora suggests Catra can leave like she did, and Catra accusingly points out that she doesn't need to follow Adora around. That they're children is relevant to the previous memory where Adora led Catra into danger, and then didn't protect her. Catra isn't interested in following Adora blindly after she's put her in danger so badly in the past.
Flashing back present selves, Catra tells Adora she doesn't want to leave. As she says this her face conveys her anger at the world, her drive to face SW instead of flee. She says "I'm not afraid of SW anymore, and I'm a better force captain than you ever would have been." Let's take this in parts: Catra won't run from her abuser, she's already planning to take her down. Doing so is important to Catra, as it fixes her world in an important way. And that Adora can't see this just shows how far apart they are now. In Catra's mind, Adora was supposed to stay, and as they rose to power together, they would have supplanted SW, fixing Catra's world. The two of them would have been stronger in the end. But Adora did leave, so Catra impatiently tries to get Adora to see that she won't just run away. If Adora doesn't want to help Catra overcome this evil, then she'll do it on her own.
Her disappointment in Adora for abandoning this fight is apparent, what comes to mind is when Catra calls Adora weak in the Sea Gate episode. And now Catra knows she's got the power to do this, she's a force captain, and if she can just find a reason to depose SW she knows she has the station and fighting ability to take her down. She always knew she could lead, but was happy to let Adora have success because she really didn't want that responsibility. So she points out her superiority, not to show that she's better than Adora, but to tell Adora she was blind to Catra's worth, and to be hurtful to Adora for abandoning her.
They flash back to their child selves: Adora looks at Catra, hurt and confused "You always said you didn't care about things like that." Adora is feeling hurt by the idea that she was unknowingly taking advantage of Catra, because Catra has seemily just told her she was lying.
Now, this next part is important, and it's important that we are seeing Catra's reaction as her child self: Catra looks sad and lonely as Adora finishes her question, and she's crying. Something adult Catra would never let herself do. So we're seeing a much more authentic expression of Catra's hurt and emotions than if it were her present self. What you need to understand here is that those emotions don't really match her words... Catra tells her "Well I was lying, obviously!" But her face says she's angry and hurt at Adora for not seeing her pain.
As she delivers those words her face is full of accusation and insult, she's being dramatic, something we will see Catra do time and time again. She stares down Adora, eyes scrunched up, showing Adora how betrayed she felt by her insensitivity. Then we get sadness, disappointment. Finally, we get a lonely kind of furious sorrow: all that time feeling alone and Adora didn't bother to understand is written on her face.
The tears are still flowing, but as she turns away they shift back to their present selves. Adult Catra looks totally alone, heartbroken.
Ok but how we REALLY know Catra isn't telling the truth is this: almost word for word, this moment exists in episode 1. ANY time you see that happen in this show, you need to look back to find the meaning of it.
>We will need to look in totality of this scene in episode 1: An excited Catra pounces on Adora, asking her what SW said. She sees the badge and takes it. Here's a funny thing, because we see Catra jump on Adora you might think Catra is always like this, she just comes into Adora's space as she pleases. But once Catra has the badge, we see no anger or jealousy. Just total wonder. She shows nothing but exuberation and happiness for Adora's promotion (pic 1, lower left fyi).
Catra knew this could be the turning point she's been waiting for, that Adora was due for promotion. And so she's jumping all over Adora, full of joy. We only see her attitude change once Adora tells her SW isn't letting her go on missions. And so, we can infer a lot of information from this...
Catra expected this moment to change their lives for the better. That Adora's rising in rank means freedom, the beginning of something new. Some many new things, in Catra's case. But Catra definitively shows us in this scene that she doesn't desire the success for herself. She only shows happiness for Adora, for them together, and she's ecstatic. (pic 1, fyi)
This, in Catra's mind, probably means the start of their romantic lives. If Adora is the force captain that brings them to victory, SW won't be able to just trample all over their lives. Catra can begin letting down some walls, maybe even let Adora pursue her romantically. If they're together, and Adora is on her side because of that, she becomes safe from her abuser. It's a much better outcome than trying to fight SW, but that's not how the story goes. No, Adora leaves her instead. How's that for emotional whiplash? All of these truths are laid bare in s3ep5, when we see Catra's perfect reality, when she and Adora are together romantically. Catra only wants to be safe and to be loved, but when Adora leaves her she loses trust in the goodness of Adora, and in people in general.
> Adora tells Catra she shouldn't be surprised she's been cut of of the mission because she's so rude to SW, to which Catra responds by calling Adora a people pleaser, then storming off in anger...
::Note, as this is important: Adora is taking SW’s side, and not Catra’s, which is entirely opposite of their early childhood memory of Octavia. It shows how Adora had started listening to the negative judgements others placed on Catra...
>Adora goes after Catra, finding her sulking on the roof. Catra is angry, betrayed by the world, at the injustice that SW is in her life. Adora asks "I didn't even think you wanted to be a force captain?" Catra tossed the badge at her, saying she doesn't. Then she folds her body up, holding herself. Adora sees this, but doesn't touch her. She's being careful to respect Catra's boundaries. But the anger Catra feels here isn't about being denied the chance to be a force captain, it's at all the hurt that SW has dealt her and continues to do so. And Adora doesn't see that, which disappoints Catra. But, she's unable to verbalize it herself, she is too insecure in her emotional vulnerability, so she lets it slide.
What we have here is two different instances of the same question with two different answers, but in both cases Catra is telling the truth. In episode 1, it's the truth that she doesn't care about being a force captain because of her love for Adora, and the promise, in her mind, that they will eventually be together. In episode 11, Catra then says she lied, and this now is also true: Catra did think about what she was going through, all the pain and sacrifices she made for Adora, which were done in the name of love. But Adora doesn't love her the way that Catra loves Adora, instead leaving her behind. And so now that Adora didn't ever see how excellent a person Catra actually was, how dedicated to her she is, and the pain she was willing to bear for her sake, it does matter. Because that's shitty of her, and so now Catra will survive on her own by her own excellence, her strength that Adora never stopped to see. So Catra is guilting Adora, trying to make her see how blind and unfeeling she is.
>Back to ep11: Catra tries to walk away from Adora, who desperately chases her, trying to understand why Catra is becoming so distant, wanting her to tell her what's wrong. She reaches out for Catra's shoulder in one last attempt to get Catra to talk, she knows touching Catra could maybe get her to be more open. But the truth is Adora has been far too easy on Catra, she needs to be more forceful if she wants Catra to talk, which she later comes to understand... she's been coddling Catra, and so Catra is allowed to wallow in her unhealthy mental states.
Catra takes Adora's hand, forcefully holding it away from her and delivering a hurtful line: "Why do you think I gave the sword back to you in the fright zone? I didn't WANT you to come back, Adora!" This hits Adora like a load of bricks, her dismay is evident. And it's all true, which is the sad part. Catra was already preparing to cut ties with Adora, as even by that point she had come to a realization, a decision: if Adora doesn't want to be with her, then she'll do it herself. She will do the hard things on her own.
She turns away from Adora, looking hurt and betrayed. And Adora is at a complete loss, she doesn't know this side of Catra, this part of her that has survived hardship all these years... she lets her leave, not knowing what to do.
Adora is then attacked by the security, which takes up her time. As that happens, we see memories only shown to Catra. Catra runs, emotionally overwhelmed as all the unfair judgements, the abuse, and hollow apologies ring out around her. All the years of frustration and sadness weigh on her, she tries to keep it together, lashing out at the holograms. She falls to her knees, fighting back emotion and trying not to cry, her inner, vulnerable self is near the surface, and she's trying not to break down in tears over all of the hurt she's had to bear...
… and then she hears soft crying...
She turns to see her younger, tiny self, crying. Then, a tiny Adora joins the tiny Catra. Unlike the other memories, Catra never flashes into her younger self, she just watches...
The tiny Adora pulls the blanket down, Catra hisses at her... Adora sits down next to her tenderly. And we finally get the promise, the two parts that Adora has so tragically broke...
Adora tells her "It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you... nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other." The tiny Catra looks at Adora, wanting to trust her, to believe in her. As she says the question, present Catra echos it: "You promise ?" This was a sacred moment that gave Catra hope as a young orphan, that maybe she would be ok.
And so, the present Catra echoes it. Adora tells her she promises, as the skeptical present Catra looks on. Tiny Catra is still sad, insecure... she hugs Adora, needing this. Adora suggests they go back out to play... and we see tiny Catra look at her, still afraid, reluctant, wanting to stay. But she decides to trust Adora, and so they walk out, holding hands. Then something unique happens. Tiny Catra stops to look up at her present self: note, this is entirely a unique moment in the simulation, it never happened in reality... and yet Catra is given this moment...
The innocent child stares up Catra, making her see her. It's a look full of meaning, it doesn't carry any specific emotion... only innocence. Catra is having an inner child moment. That most deep and innocent part of her, her vulnerable self who feels love, is communicating with her. It's asking her to see it's vulnerability, and it's pain. Catra sees this, all of the pain Adora has caused her, the breaking of the promise, the promise that this innocent part of her was holding on to desperately with hope. She is forced to acknowledge Adora's disloyalty to her, her carelessness. Catra is reflecting on how she did her absolute best to keep that promise, even after Adora failed to look out for her in SW's chamber. Catra was so loyal and so good to Adora all of their lives; she made sure Adora had a good life, and she played by SW's rules so Adora could be the chosen one, wanting to protect her. All in the hope that they would be together, and that their love was real. But Adora couldn't even do that much, she left her. And Adora doesn't understand her, she doesn't even seem to miss her.
[pic 9: Broken Promises, Catra’s inner child, The Hero goes Her Own Way].
Present Catra watches her tiny self leave, coming to the tough realization: that she's never been able to trust Adora, not really. Her love isn't reciprocated, not by her standards.
…. which makes Adora a deeply unsafe person to Catra...
Catra survived SW's abuse, learning to believe in herself, protect herself because no one else would. All while keeping this hope of love in her heart, this vulnerable core of herself that has tenderness and loves Adora, and needs love back. But, her need for love goes to such a deep vulnerability that giving in to it and then again being rejected or forgotten by Adora would simply destroy her. SW held the threat of death over Catra’s head her entire life, and Catra resisted it, got through it by being tough and trusting in herself. So now she sees she can't trust Adora: everything that happened since she left her behind, the fact that Adora always treats her as an enemy, that she seems to show no lingering desire for her, and doesn't even seem to miss her while replacing her with new friends, seems to confirm her worst fears. Fears that have been building over the years, starting when Adora broke their promise in SW's chamber, and then as Adora pursued her success while accepting praise and privilege from SW, ignoring the abuse Catra bore because of it. She decides she can't trust Adora. Love is a lie, a weakness. A weakness that could destroy her last bit of individuality, and belief in the world.
And so, Catra, The Survivor, makes the decision... in her mind it's the brave one, just like way back when and she decided to bravely stand up to SW's abuse and not let it destroy her: she will stand up to the threat that is the weakness of her love for Adora. Adora is selfish, she doesn't deserve Catra's love. She was stupid to believe that love was even possible, for someone like her… who has always been ignored, and told she is unworthy of praise or even existence. There's only one thing left for her to do: she will be alone, strong on her own, for herself.
Her gaze hardens... that part of her that has made sure she survived SW's abuse, and made sure she won fights when she was threatened, is now the decider. It will protect her from her vulnerability, and reject Adora for her. I suppose you might be confused as to what I'm referring, or maybe not... If you haven't had to fight for your life, whether physically, mentally, or otherwise, you might not know this side of yourself well. But we all have it, it's The Survivor. And while I knew mine would protect me, I didn't accept it as my real self, I didn't accept its necessary but vicious deeds as my own. This is very much how Catra is, and as the series goes on she puts this survivor in charge of more and more decisions, we watch her deteriorate as this part of her gets out of control, protecting her from darkness with more darkness. All the while her vulnerable inner self suffers, watching the horrible deeds and becoming more and more alone, desperate for affection.
>Adora is outnumbered, eventually ending up hanging from the cliff's edge by spider webs. She hears Catra return, dealing with the spiders. Adora looks up, hopeful because Catra has returned...
Catra saunters in. Let me say a few things before we go through this part: Catra is about to say a lot of things that aren't really true. They are instead meant to be hurtful to Adora, Catra is being intentionally mean. We shouldn't take her exact words as her authentic beliefs, because they're not... no, Catra is doing what she believes she has to so she can be apart for Adora, and be safe from her. The truth is, Catra needs to be away from Adora. She's too scared of the vulnerability that is her love for Adora, because Adora hasn't shown her that she cares. And she can't do that by defecting, no, she must stay with the Horde. It's the only thing she feels there is left for her to do.
Now, let's go through this: and heads up: I'm getting at something very powerful that's going on here that you may not have realized. This speech is, in fact, a heroic moment. A heroic moment... for Catra. Not Adora, for Catra. And you just need to open your ears to hear it...
"Hey Adora."
🎶 is sad
"Catra! Help me, please!"
"This thing wouldn't work for me if I tried, would it? It only works for you... then again, you're special... that's what Shadow Weaver always said..."
🎶 is melancholy
"Catra, what are you doing??"
"Ah, ya know, it all makes sense now... you've always been the one holding me back... you wanted me to think I needed you, you wanted me to feel weak."
🎶 has even tone
"Every hero needs a sidekick, right?"
"Catra that's not how it was.."
🎶 rises, falls, sad (“Promise” begins playing)
*Catra chuckles* "The sad thing is I've spent all this time hoping you'd come back to the Horde... when really you leaving was the best thing that EVER happened to me..."
🎶 lowers, is dark, is dramatic. -Note: we see Catra seemingly become deranged as she says this line. This is Catra deceiving herself out of perceived necessity.
"I am so much stronger than anyone... ever... thought." *she cuts part of the web*
🎶 begins to rise, uplifting
"I wonder what I could have been if I'd gotten rid of you sooner." *she cuts the rest of the web, Adora falls, catching herself*
🎶 rises, is dramatic
"I'm sorry! I never meant to make you feel like you were second best. Please, don't do this."
🎶 is still rising, uplifting
*Catra stands proudly, nobly, looking at the sword. She looks down at Adora, then she casually tosses the sword past her...
🎶 is rising, hopeful, heroic.
"Bye Adora, I really am going to miss you..."
🎶 is heroic, violins now playing, adding depth
*Catra turns and walks away from Adora, proudly*
🎶 has risen to its height, crests, is heroic.
"Catra... Catra, no!!"
🎶 remains high, cresting, heroic
*Adora cries, sad, confused by Catra's leaving her...*
🎶 crests again, fades out...
Ok, so... let's talk about what just happened here. The undeniable conclusion is that this was meant to be a heroic moment, and a damn heroic moment... for Catra. The writers are telling us that Catra leaving is an important part of her hero’s journey, and that it was the right thing to do. You might be wondering, how can that be? The short answer is, Catra is on a hero’s journey unlike all the other hero’s journeys normally portrayed in fiction. All of it, even her darkest deeds, all her cruelty towards Adora, will be part of a very... important... and powerful... journey. One which will forge her into a hero in this series, in her own incredible right... how this is, what she is, is yet to be revealed... but make no mistake, she's a hero. Just not the one you expect…
We see Adora open her eyes, and see Light Hope. She tells Adora to let go. She means of her emotional attachments, as we find out. Adora cries for her lost Catra, that she couldn't bring her back to her. She lets go...
BIG ASSERTION TIME: Now, I know it's a common theory that these memories were all just an elaborate manipulation by Light Hope to divide the girls from each other, but I don't agree with that. No, I believe this was a memory journey guided by Catra, subconsciously, to help her tell Adora why she couldn't come with her, why she has to be apart.
Take for instance the memories and visions that Adora sees when she's on her way to the Heart of Etheria in season 5: this system exists apart from Light Hope, who dies at the end for season 4. This simulation comes from somewhere more primal: in my belief, it is the deep magic of Etheria being visualized through the First One's tech. We see the simulation show Catra the promise memory, something Adora isn't shown at all, and then allows her to see her inner child's hurt. Something deeper is going on here, and you should consider how strongly the magic of Etheria is resonating with Catra when it does. Because the magic of Etheria will again speak directly to Catra, this isn't the last time... In short, the magic helps the two of them to understand each other, because Catra is an important part of Adora's true She-ra journey.
I also believe that a theme of this series is that abusers, like L. Hope, are not perfect vindictive manipulators. They are flawed, and L. Hope in particular, I believe, is no genius: she fails time and time again. That L. Hope uses the moment to get Adora to let go is her using the moment to her advantage, she didn't play ultimate control over it. She just piggy backed on Catra's hurt to do it. So that last memory really was for Catra... Furthermore, I simply cannot believe L.Hope would understand the concept of the inner child… as she can't even understand sarcasm.
But now, because of this, Adora now knows of Catra's pain... and this is the beginning of Adora's long journey back to Catra, of her repairing their bond…
Let's address the obvious counterpoint: Adora now knows that Catra is hurt, but she doesn't yet understand why. And it's not really her fault, as Catra doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, among other things. But it's apparent that Adora doesn't remember these crucial memories as well as Catra does, even though they were critical in her development as well. Adora is a mess of emotions, just like Catra, and (if) she has ADHD, it might be one reason why she doesn't really get Catra. Especially if her parental figure has been manipulating it against her. Adora very much vibrates between stimuli anxiously, so SW might have made her forgetful by distraction over time. Also, the way in which Adora treats Catra as an enemy when she doesn't accept Adora’s (totally rushed, afterthought, and hollow) ultimatum that she defect with her, is a reflection of Adora's ingrained Horde war training… this is something she has to unlearn, as it is wrong. But Adora is a good person, she really, truely, is, because Adora never stops trying to make it better. And so, she slowly, but surely, comes to understand Catra’s trauma.
We get one last scene of Catra returning to the fright zone. We get to see Catra's truth here: She walks, as if she's not even there, she's deadened by the sorrow and the inevitability of what her life will now be: one of hard work, and zero joy. She will try her best to stand on her own, and put Adora out of her heart, slamming its doors shut against love. It doesn't work, but that's what she's trying to do, nonetheless. This is the beginning of a profound depression that builds over the next 3 seasons, and combined with new traumas, nearly takes her life.
But the tech Catra has brought back will end up giving her what she needs to face down and depose SW, just like she needed...
::Here is another complicated twist that's so essential to She-ra as a series: Catra, in fact, protects Adora by taking down SW. Catra may go on to command the Hordes forces so effectively that it pushes the Princess alliance harder than it's ever been pushed before, but her deposing SW is extremely important in the story. She both removes SW’s ability to attack Adora, and then denies her any sorcerous power by taking the Black Garnet from her, since SW needs an external source to draw power from in order to use her vampiric powers...
Ok so more theory time: it's a common belief that Catra stays with the Horde, and goes on to try to conquer the world out of some deep need to externally validate herself, and to prove she was the better child by beating Adora. I don't think any of these explanations are true. Catra may go on to play such a character on a surface level, but every time she professes to have any such ambitions, she is either in the presence of Adora, or under incredible stress. In the one case, she's saying those things to try to hurt Adora, and make her see how naive and foolish Adora always was, especially now that Adora thinks she can fight against her.
In the other case, it's actually her survivor mechanism trying to take over, to make her world safe. In every case where Catra says something about ambition, somewhere in that scene, Catra shows the distinct emotions of her true inner self: generally, these emotions are sorrow, fear, and loneliness. They don't exist on screen long, they are what is known as micro expressions. (See below for a short discussion of Catra’s micro expressions.)
To put it simply, the only reason Catra stays with the Horde is so she has somewhere she can be separate from her feelings and heartbreak over Adora, and then she climbs the ranks in order to find safety, first from SW, and then Hordak, once he threatens her life with his temper tantrums. That she fights against Adora is just a collateral consequence, she isn't out to get Adora, but nor does she care if Adora gets hurt, because she’s hurt her. Catra does fight against the princesses, though (including She-ra).
A core feature of Catra's character is indeed one of personal power. She's a person who is told to hurry up and die at an early age, but refused to do so. So her arc, her issue, isn't a cautionary tale about chasing validation, it's about her overcoming her fear of vulnerability and allowing herself to rely on others in a way that lets her be safe without needing to combat the darkness with more darkness. But vulnerability scares her because of the abuse she experienced.
As for validation, the only person she would want that from is Adora. This is because Catra believes in herself already: that she has a sacred right to exist, no matter what SW and others may tell her (note: Adora struggles with this, she's actually the one who seeks validation). But, she also needs love, and she is too fearful that Adora doesn't really love her and is afraid of being hurt by that. It's also why I think she's so chaotic towards Adora: her inner child tells her adult self to protect her from her love for Adora, which it tries to do, but that same child misses and needs Adora in so many ways. So she's trying to be mean to compensate for the incredible desire she feels towards Adora. I love it when Adora calls her a brat in season 5, it's such a well deserved line, mmhhmmm.
Actual discussions of how these particulars play out in the show are better left for another time, but there you have it.
Promise sidebar discussions: Catra’s micro expressions; Catra nearly dies at the Battle of Bright Moon
“White Out” microexpression discussion: [see pics below] This is the first time since the Battle of Bright Moon that Catra and Adora meet. So it's a good time to talk about Catra’s micro expressions. Picture 1: Adora says “Hey, Catra” out of the blue and Catra is completely blindsided, she figured she wouldn't be bothered out in the middle of nowhere. She's anxious and unhappy to be seeing Adora. Along with her suspicious absence the episode before in “Roll With It”, the answer is obvious: Catra has been avoiding Adora. She may have cut ties with her in “Promise”, nearly bested her at the Battle of BM, but she doesn't want to see her. She doesn't know what she feels about her.
Picture 2: Enraged monsters are decimating the base, and a battle breaks out over the corrupted disc. Catra is desperately trying to protect it, because she can control Adora if she has it... and she needs this chance to have her back. As Catra reaches to pick it up, she's facing away from everyone and so no one can see her desperation and sadness from missing Adora. (pic 2) Shortly after, we also see her clutch the disc desperately to her chest in a way that's very endearing, right before the monster attacks her and makes her drop it. Then, as she's about to die in its jaws because she doesn't want to give Adora up again, Scorpia breaks the disc and saves her life. We see in this episode as Catra completely loses track of her emotions, and now realizes she has to come to terms with the fact that she's so desperately sad from missing Adora, she was willing to die just for a chance to have her back.
Pic 3: Catra hates working for the Horde. She HATES it. She gets zero joy from the job, and she’s already figured out that Hordak will kill her if she screws up too badly. She didn't want this job, plain and simple, but now feels stuck with it. None of this is the life she wanted. Combining this knowledge against Catra’s declaration to Adora at the end of Promise, we know she's not happy that she had to go her own way...
Catra’s near death experience at the Battle of Bright Moon
At the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra leads Adora (She-ra) away. They battle, but then Catra retreats and instead starts listing out every single worst fear of failure she thinks Adora has. It's a dark moment, she's acting much like SW did to them as children, and we watch her manipulation take root in Adora. Finally, her words are too much, and as Catra looks down at Adora's (She-ra's) back, we see Adora become deranged, overcome with her fear of failing everyone... (pic1, above) she picks up a boulder and throws it directly at Catra. Catra is knocked flying, and only by the barest of margins does she keep from falling to her death. Adora nearly kills Catra. And so, as Adora drags Catra up from the cliff and slams her into the wall, we see a totally heartbroken and emotionally crushed Catra. In this moment, Catra believes all of her worst fears are confirmed: Adora only cares about being She-ra, so much so that Adora would kill her in the name of being that hero. Catra uses this moment, this belief, to justify her division from Adora. Sadly, she's wrong... she's ignoring the seriousness of the threat that the battle poses, and as Adora was facing away from her during that moment, she doesn't see the terror and desperation Adora experiences due to her cruel words…
Oh, and one more thing before we go: when Catra says “What, did you really think this was about you ?” SPOILER ALERT: It was. Because She-ra is one big Catradora story… and we love it.
As always, thanks for reading. <3
~EtheriaDearie
P.S. :: as I am new to tumblr, if you enjoyed reading this, please consider giving me a reblogg! Thanks!! 🙇💛
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The Sight of You (Spencer Reid x Reader)
Summary: Spencer’s disturbing dreams about his childhood bring him back to Las Vegas to face two of his childhood’s greatest enemies: his estranged father and his ex best friend.
AN: it’s a friends to enemies to lovers fic! Set in the episode “Memoriam” 4x07
Content Warnings: usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of child death, childhood trauma, descriptions of a dead body. Let me know if I missed anything!
Despite seeing Spencer around Pre-k, Y/N did not trot over to talk to him with their brightly coloured rucksack swinging vigorously and violently behind them. They walked faster instead once their parents had dropped them off. Spencer did his best to catch up to Y/N but lost them around the corner in the sea of students seeking their next class. He was meant to be one of them. Adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose, Spencer noted that he needed a new prescription before entering his own class and preparing to focus on a subject he was already well-versed in.
It was lunch time when Spencer finally found Y/N. They were sitting at the furthest end of the table in the canteen. But Y/N cowered away from him, his shoulders drawn up defensively.
“Are you OK, Y/N?” Spencer asked before getting to what was more significant to him: “Do you know when you will be free to play again?”
The next sentence out of Y/N’s mouth stung like a nettle. They stood up, their face contorted in their fit, and they pushed Spencer hard on the shoulders.
“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!” They cried.
They went silent when Spencer was laughed at by those who heard what was said. Just grabbed their lunch and moved away, leaving Spencer spellbound in the middle of the canteen, heartbroken and with a new opening for a potential chess partner. Maybe that man they saw last week at the park would be kind enough to join him again.
But there was no replacement for Y/N, who now never said a word when they caught a glimpse of Spencer being bullied – only dithering about on the spot before fleeing the scene moments before a teacher would show up.
Spencer was hurt; that hurt warped into hatred when he was next out with his mother and father. They were at the shopping mall and had just bought Spencer his new glasses. Going down the escalator, he saw Y/N. They were smiling and skipping between their parents, a new pair of shoes shiny on their feet.
The second they spotted the Reids, Y/N ducked behind their parents. Spencer could still see their face: brow furrowed, eyes squinting, hands shaking now that nothing was holding them. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. They kept talking and walking even as Y/N stopped in time with the Reids stepping off the escalator.
Sudden footsteps running away was what dragged the public’s attention to a suddenly absent child.
“Y/N!” The parents called out as they chased after the four-year-old. They were quick past the Reids, not stopping to say ‘hello’.
Spencer kept his eyes trained after Y/N’s fleeing form, right until his mother’s face came into view. Diana looked saddened; she too was staring after the L/Ns.
Turned to his father. William was composed but his eyes were turned down and watering.
For making his parents react like that to their mere presence, Spencer despised Y/N.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
The burning hatred from adolescence staled once Spencer reached adulthood. The protective nature that spawned from it for his mother remained.
Which is why, when Diana Reid casually mentioned Y/N when asked about Riley Jenkins, Spencer froze up.
“You remember Y/N?” He said stiffly.
Diana didn’t notice her son’s change in tone, “Of course, you two were opposites but you got on so well. So sad what happened to them.”
The first guess was that she was referring Y/N’s repeated attempts at running away before Reid cut contact with neighbourhood gossip at age fourteen. He didn’t bother with a second attempt to understand what his mother meant.
“I don’t care about Y/N. I want to know if you remember Riley.”
“And I told you: Riley was a boy you made up.”
“No, Mom, he was a real boy who lived in our neighbourhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think-- I think that dad might have had something to do with it.”
“He was real?”
“Yes. And...”
“He was on that little league team, too.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
The whole case was surreal - “case” being a very loose term.
When they got into his office, Spencer thought that perhaps things might simmer down a little. Unfortunately, as soon as his father spoke about their history of similarity in appearance, Spencer’s usual comfort of statistics and facts on the elderly and pets failed to conceal his abandonment issues.
William Reid was clearly affected by Spencer’s accusations, calling the idea of fitting the profile thus being Riley’s killer “absurd”. Furthermore, he was confrontational when asked for access to his files and demanded a warrant. Coupled with Lou Jenkins’ absolute certainty that William was not involved in Riley’s murder and Penelope asking him “you sure about this?” concerning invading the aforementioned files, Spencer was very close to snapping.
“I really wish people would stop asking me that.”
Then there was the envelope posted beneath his motel room door. Suspicious timing aside, there was a brand-new suspect basically handed over on a silver platter. One Gary Michaels whom Spencer couldn’t remember him but he couldn’t be sure that he didn’t know him. Uncertainty being the feeling he hated the most.
This man could fit the profile; his previous of exposing himself to a minor was a precursor to molestation. But that wasn’t what Spencer wanted to hear from the shady file slipped to direct his attention away from William.
Garcia reported back about his father’s drives, “No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”
“What about his finances?”
Hotch joined the conversation, “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”
Spencer sighed while Emily decided to crack a joke: “Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we can overlook that.”
“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer persisted.
“Well, of course,” Hotch answered, “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”
“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know.”
A peace offering on behalf of Emily. Clearly she had improved after her night out and subsequent hangover. Spencer gave the go-ahead and Emily listed her profile:
“He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn't travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”
“He appears to spend most of his free time alone,” Hotch added, “He goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favourite author is-”
Spencer interrupted his boss, “Isaac Asimov, I remember that one.” He pressed his lips together. They were right; William Reid did not fit the profile.
Garcia piped up once more, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”
“What?”
“You, kiddo. He's got, like, everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioural science journals, He even has a copy of your dissertation.”
“He's keeping tabs on you,” Rossi said, That's saying something.”
But Spencer smoothly dismissed this attempt to make excuses for his father, “Yeah, he googled me. That makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
After getting said air, Spencer went to the local bar and began playing an
computerised poker game. His paying attention was only to distract himself, clear his head with something he knew he could control. And thankfully, a chance interaction with a lady at the bar spawned the inspiration for a sporadic hypnosis session.
Doctor Jan Mohikian allowed them a session. Reminded of the limitations that a four-year old’s memory could provide, not including the bias he already had as a son and a profiler, Spencer lay on the couch. His feet hung over the end so that his head could be comfortable in a pillow. There was no time for self-consciousness with Rossi in the room observing. He closed his eyes and felt his hand be placed upon Doctor Mohikian’s body.
She spoke low and calmingly, “I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand. And if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
His eyes were closed still, but the couch shifted into a bed. His bed. A floor below, the faint shouting between his mother and father was heard.
There was someone else there too. A child wailing, and it wasn’t him.
Suddenly his father was at his side, touching his arm, saying, “I know you’re awake. Daddy loves you; you know that?”
Spencer didn’t want to be there, and then it was the following morning.
Putting his glasses, the room fell into focus. His mother was there, she didn’t see him because she was too busy looking out the window. Her body language told him that this was not a meltdown, but what she saw was distressing. She’d been crying. As she walked away into the house, she hid her face as if she knew Spencer was watching and she wanted to hide her reaction from him.
Spencer ran to the window the second Diana had left the room.
His father was in the back garden and burning clothes. A bloody shirt, a tiny cardigan, landed on top of the pile already set alight.
“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and wake.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
And Spencer was shocked out of the scene, back to the doctor’s couch and gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Rossi was by his side, bringing him back to peace with his voice.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Derek was clearly disturbed that Spencer was very set on his father being a paedophilic murderer as much as he had been that Spencer was taking something that was said after his mother’s fit seriously. He continued however to assist with Rossi in Spencer’s investigation.
As if everything else hadn’t been hard enough, the captain took some time to agree to holding William Reid in custody. Finally, he settled for twenty-four hours. William was as resistant to the questions as he had been upon the initial reunion. All he could say was that he didn’t hurt Riley. Spencer wore him down, getting him to drop the Gary Michaels bomb plus the threat that he “didn’t want to go down that road”.
Garcia’s search of Gary Michaels’ DNA on the databases brought to light that their suspect was dead. Buried across state lines, beat over the head with a pipe or bat, and the body was discovered in 2001.
“Maybe it wasn’t Riley’s blood on the clothes he was burning.” Derek was about to hang up when Garcia began to speak again, a new discovery ready for her team.
“Also, Todd found something in your father’s finances. There was a standing order for a therapist, specifically a child therapist from 1985 to 1995. I thought it was for Spencer, but William left when you were twelve, and these sessions continue irregularly after he left you!”
“Who was the patient?”
“One Y/N L/N. Local to North Vegas, born 1980 to Shelly and Finley L/N.”
Both Rossi and Derek looked away from the phone to Spencer and he knew. He knew he’d have to face another villain from the past – like a knight in one of Y/N’s stories.
“Still alive?”
“Yep, already pulling up an address. There’s a lot of short leases attached to this name. Lucky for you, they keep going back to live with their parents.”
Spencer wasn’t entirely sure that he could handle two bitter reunions in one day.
“We’ll send off the fingerprint while we visit Y/N. They could have been a potential victim of Michaels before he died. They might know something.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
It was a normal home in a normal neighbourhood. Spencer had never visited Y/N’s house. Their play-dates were always at the park.
“Hello, Mr L/N,” held up their badges, “I’m Agent Derek Morgan, this is Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid. May we come in and ask you some questions?”
“Sure. My wife is uh out at work at the moment,” Finley opened the door wider and stepped aside for the trio to enter, “I’m the house husband as it were.”
Looking about the kitchen, Spencer spied several photos of an adult Y/N but very few of them as a toddler and even less as a teenager.
“You have a child, Mr L/N?” Rossi asked.
“All grown up now, Y/N,” Finley smiled with a nod. Then he squinted at Spencer, “You’re not related to William Reid by chance, are you?”
Masking his bitterness, Spencer said shortly, “He’s my father.”
Finley seemed in awe at the prospect, so Derek redirected the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What was Y/N like as a child?”
Nodding still, like a bobble head, Finley looked weary at the notion, “Troubled. They were very young when they withdrew into themselves. Used to run away from home a lot. I don’t know what happened, but Y/N never told us.” He then jumped to protect his child’s reputation at present, “They’re doing better now, went to therapy and they’re doing very well for themselves.”
“I’m glad to hear.” Rossi replied.
Finley continued his defence of Y/N, “They’re a published author, they write fantasy things for kids and young adults. We’re very proud of them.”
“Did Y/N know Riley Jenkins when they were a child?”
“Riley Jenkins, that’s Lou’s kid who died, right?” Finley sought confirmation and, when he had it, he spoke, “Not personally. I think they might have played at the park once or twice. Before he died, Y/N would play with anyone. But you… you know that.” And Finley gestured to Spencer, much to his disgust.
“Is Y/N in the area?” Spencer asked briskly.
“Well, they’re due for a visit in a few hours. They went on holiday.”
“They still live with you?”
“A month ago, they got a new flat in the city. But they’ve got their own room here, for whenever they need it.”
“May we see it?”
The wallpaper was barely visible beneath exam revision notes, posters of
Fresh sheets on the bed and the clear space on the floor were the only tidy things about the place. It was a haven of organised clutter.
A chess set caught Spencer’s eye. It sat upon the windowsill, recently dusted. The pieces were not that of a classic set; each was painted prettily but with enough error to indicate it was a personal touch.
“You and Y/N were close then?” Derek was holding up a photo album. Upon inspection, the photograph the page was open on was of Spencer and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Doctor Frankenstein and the Monster respectively – accurate to the book of course.
“Yeah, ‘were’,” Spencer turned back to the chess set. He didn’t bother to ask when his friends had figured out he knew Y/N.
Rossi decided to further test the waters, “You think that Y/N could have killed Riley?”
“Of course not. A four-year-old couldn’t kidnap, tie up, rape, and kill a boy their own age. No violent history that indicates they would ever do something like this. Do I think that Y/N knows something about what happened and my father is trying to keep them quiet? Yes.”
Rossi moved beside Spencer, picking up the knight. Except it wasn’t a knight. It was a wizard of some kind in purple robes.
“We’ll stay up here for a bit then go down once Y/N’s inside and settled,” He gestured with the knight to the window. Spencer blanched as he spied a cab at the end of the driveway. The trunk was open and someone was retrieving a suitcase from within.
Y/N appeared around the corner, waving off the cab and turning to the house.
Mr L/N appeared on the drive and they met in the middle for a hug. Over Mr L/N’s shoulder, Spencer could see that Y/N had grown into their chubby childhood features. They looked genuinely happy.
He would have to go through with it, but he didn’t have to like it. And he couldn’t go hide in the bathroom like with his father.
The trio plodded down the stairs when the sound of the front door closing was replaced with a joyous gathering in the kitchen. It all changed when Y/N went to take off their jacket and caught sight of the three FBI agents standing in the doorway. Taking out his badge, Rossi led the way.
“Hello, Y/N, I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid. We’re looking into the death of Riley Jenkins, and we were hoping to ask you some questions.”
To the naked eye, very little changed about Y/N’s appearance. To the three profilers, there was a visceral reaction: Y/N’s right hand started trembling, the hard swallow, the dropping of their gaze from Spencer to the floor.
“OK,” They said, a great deal quieter than they had been with their father.
Rossi sat next to Y/N at the dinner table. Derek was beside Rossi; Spencer stayed standing. Mr L/N stayed in the kitchen, at Y/N’s request.
“Can you tell us what you remember about Riley?” Rossi began.
“Not very much, I don’t really remember much about school.”
“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer blurted, “Well, I do.”
Derek glanced back at him with a look that just screamed “shut the hell up”.
It seemed to cut down Y/N’s resolve, their jaw quivering.
“Sorry, can you give me a moment?” They stood up quick, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as they walked just as fast to the kitchen. Through the open door, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer watched Y/N grab a glass from the open dishwasher. The water from the tap hit the bottom of the glass harsh, crashing out like a wave of the ocean hitting a cliff. Y/N didn’t seem to care. Their hand dripped water onto the surface as they chugged back some of the drink before returning to the table with a topped-up glass.
“Are you alright?” Rossi inquired, leaning closer to Y/N.
They answered wearily, “Fine, just feeling woozy.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Yeah, you’re a writer too. My mom reads your stuff before bed.”
“Bit of an odd nightcap,” Rossi said with a little chuckle.
Y/N shared that smile for the briefest of moments, replying “You’re telling me.”
From their pocket, they pulled out some painkillers, popping them back with a slug of water then speaking again. “I remember Riley was smaller than me. Still figuring out coordination, but he liked to play chase. I know he was killed; I didn’t find out how until I looked into it last year.”
“Why did you look into it?” Rossi gently probed.
Y/N rubbed two fingers back and forth across their head as they spoke, “I was back here, I felt sick so I went for a walk in the park, and I just remembered him tripping over while trying to tag me. No one ever told me what happened, just that he had to go away. I wanted to know what happened to him.”
“Are you sick often?” Derek asked suddenly, his voice soft to match Rossi. Spencer grimaced at the treatment Y/N was receiving but said nothing.
“Headaches and stomach aches mostly.”
“You get them whenever you come home?”
“I do. Figured I was allergic to something but never figured out what.”
That would have to be a very quick response, like a dog allergy. And coincidental, seeing as the symptoms didn’t start until they saw Spencer.
“Y/N?” called their father, “Can you come here a moment please?”
“May I?”
“Of course,” said Derek and Y/N was out of the room. Derek pivoted in his chair to include Spencer in his theory, “I think they know something, but they don’t know they know it. I think they repressed this memory like you did, Spencer. We should take him to the therapist, see if we can jog his memory.”
“You can’t be serious,” Spencer covered his face with his hands, dragging them down with irritation.
Derek was persistent though, “Spencer, like it or not, Y/N’s linked to this investigation. Put aside your differences for a moment, please.”
Spencer all but squawked, “Put aside my differences?”
“You have brought a lot of bias to this case. Let us at least pursue this lead.”
“Sorry,” Y/N interrupted Spencer’s retort, sitting back at the table, “He needed someone to get unhook the loft door. Mom usually does it.”
“That’s alright.” Rossi waved a hand dismissively. Once Y/N accepted that, he moved in with Derek’s suggestion, “You know, some people have strong physical reactions to memories, trauma. Maybe you’re not getting sick. You’re rejecting something.”
“Rejecting?” repeated Y/N. There was no doubt in their voice, more cautious curiosity.
Derek nodded, “A memory, repressing it, and your body has linked the physical responses to your home. We think it has something to do with this case, and we’d like to see if we can retrieve any memories you might have. Would you be alright to come with us?”
“Yeah,” said Y/N, though they didn’t sound too certain, “Yeah sure.”
The resigned, too tired look on their face, and Spencer felt a tug in his chest. A longing to see Y/N smile like they had when they first entered the house. He’d rather hate someone who was happy than someone who suffered the same as him.
Leaving the house, Spencer took a deep breath of fresh air.
“Spencer?”
He ignored Y/N’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t disregard Y/N standing in front of him and speaking again, “Spencer, can we talk please?”
“I’m busy,” He said, already walking off as he pretended to call someone, “Hey Garcia.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
“Hold onto my hand, use it as an anchor, and squeeze when you feel fear.” Doctor Mohikian accepted Y/N’s hand on her wrist and their silence nod as they lay back on the same couch Spencer had been just hours before.
“I want you to think back to your childhood, back to when you were five. You’re at the park, your parents are on a bench watching nearby to keep you safe. What do you see?”
“Spencer Reid.”
Derek and Rossi glanced at Spencer, who did not react. They kept quiet so that Y/N could immerse themselves in the hypnosis.
“What’s he doing?” Doctor Mohikian continued.
“Teaching me chess.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Sat on opposite sides of the table, Spencer and Y/N’s eyes were glued to the chess pieces that were neatly organised between them. Spencer was thinking strategy. He could not say the same for his companion Y/N. They reached a hand out and hovered over the pieces before finally selecting their last knight.
Their tongue clicked as Y/N trotted the piece on the spot.
“What’s this one again?”
“The knight,” Spencer recited, “It moves two spaces up, down, left or right, and another step perpendicular to the first direction.”
“Brave creatures riding into battle,” Y/N narrated before continuing their clip-clopping to its new position, “Pawns in the game of war.”
Spencer didn’t understand how they were coming up with this whilst playing. Well, actually, he did. Because Y/N was clearly not playing to win. They were playing for the best possible story.
“Where do you think this story will end?” Y/N asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying,” said Y/N, pushing back the sleeves of their white cardigan, “Come on, you can tell me, with your magic powers.”
“It’s not magic. It’s logic.”
“That’s magic to me,”
Narrowing his eyes, Spencer decided that he should give his friend the information they sought: “I see checkmate in fifteen moves.”
“See? Magic! The gift of sight!” crowed Y/N, clapping their hands together. The cardigan sleeves fell back in place as they did so. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up; he dropped his head so he could smile in privacy while Y/N began to decide their next move.
“How’s your mommy today?”
Shrugging, Spencer said, “Better than normal. But that means a bad day is around the corner.”
Y/N nodded solemnly. “Do you want another ice cream? I got more birthday money.”
“No thank you.” Spencer moved the piece but was immediately intercepted by Y/N, “You’re getting better.”
“Fank you.”
“You’ll have to wait longer to beat me though.” And he snatched Y/N’s knight away, just as planned and much to Y/N’s dismay.
A new voice from their left spoke, “Hey you’re pretty good.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Y/N’s grip tightened on Doctor Mohikian’s wrist, “Someone’s with us.”
“Who do you see?” Doctor Mohikian asked patiently.
“A man. He’s asking us if he can watch us play, listen to the story.”
“Do you want him to stay?”
“No,” Y/N flinched, “But Spencer keeps talking to him. The man won’t go away.”
“It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re safe, Y/N.”
Y/N flinched again, this time letting out a whimper, “He’s on the floor.”
“Spencer is?”
“No, the man.”
“What’s he doing on the floor?”
“He’s,” Y/N began panting, their face tensing and body jerking, “I can’t get to him. There’s glass in the way and the ground is shaking.”
“Y/N.”
“I can’t look, I’ll be sick! Whenever I see them, sick.”
“OK, you’re going to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”
Their eyes snapped open with the click of the fingers and Y/N leapt out of Doctor Mohikian’s couch. Their head aimed over the bin by the door and they retched. Nothing came up but their stomach continued to squeeze up
Spencer fidgeted in his seat, trying his best not to look at Y/N. The choice words of the session, three in particular, wrapped around his head.
“Floor”.
Y/N had seen Gary Michaels inside, somewhere that wasn’t the park.
“Glass”.
A window, Y/N was watching what Gary Michaels was doing.
“Sick”.
“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!”
“Them”.
It wasn’t just Michaels in the room alone. They had been a witness to his murder.
Derek’s movement to help Y/N took Spencer out of his analysis. Sweaty, Y/N was led back to the couch, the bin between their legs, head lolling forward. Spencer tried to move beside them for questioning, but Y/N winced and began heaving again. He felt that ache in his chest again. He was causing this and nothing he could do would change that. Not until they both knew what happened to Riley and Y/N got help through it.
“What did you see, Y/N?” Derek asked as he replaced Spencer’s spot beside them.
With watering eyes, Y/N looked at Spencer, “The man we played with, he was on the floor. His head – thank you.” They accepted the water from Doctor Mohikian, gulping some back, “It was smashed in.”
The three agents left the room, Doctor Mohikian following after Y/N left to get some air.
“It’s logical to assume that Y/N tied that sickness, that repulsion because of what they thought they saw your mother be involved with, to you and your family,” Doctor Mohikian evaluated.
Interrupting again, Spencer stammered his way through his analysis, “That’s why they avoided me. They associated me with being ill. It’s probably also why they ran away so much; they had to get away from this horrible feeling they had associated with their home.”
Doctor Mohikian shook her head, “We won’t be able to use this in court, I told you when we started.”
Derek’s phone started to ring. As he answered, Spencer somehow managed to slip away for long enough to find Y/N. They were leaning against the ramp’s railing in front of the practice, their body lifting and slumping with each deep breath they took. Against his better judgement, he moved toward them.
“Y/N? Can I have your number?”
The breathing slowed again.
“I need it to call you with an update on the situation as soon as we get one.”
Without looking up, Y/N pulled out their phone and handed it over to Spencer.
He punched his number in a new contact, using this time to gather the courage to maybe say something else. The hurt and pain went beyond him now. Y/N was suffering and had been much longer than he had.
“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, hoping that his didn’t add to the illness, “I hope you feel better soon.”
Their head still down, Y/N croaked, “You too, Spencer.”
“Spencer, get over here! We got a match on a print on Michaels’ body!”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
“What makes you think Gary Michaels killed your boy?”
“He admitted it,” Lou Jenkins said, as monotonous as he had been for the last fifteen minutes of the interrogation.
Derek’s quickfire was on Jenkins instantly, “You beat a guy with a baseball bat, he's going to admit to a lot of things. How do you know he was the right guy?”
“I know. He approached another kid in the neighbourhood.”
“And how do you know that?
“I was told by a concerned party.”
“Who? Another parent?”
Jenkins leant back in his chair, “That's all I'm going to say on the subject.”
“Who was it?” Spencer suddenly spoke up.
Caught off guard at his interjection, Jenkins awkwardly parroted himself, “I told you that's all I'm going to say on the sub—"
Reid slammed his hands on the table, getting right up in Lou’s face, “Who was it?”
The door opened, Detective Hyde appeared, “Agent Reid?”
“Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective,” shouted Spencer, “This is not your case anymore!”
Once again, he was cut off. This time, by the arrival of his own mother, Diana, and her admission of guilt: “Spencer, it was me”.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Of all the things this case had brought him, Spencer least expected to be sitting in a room with his mother and father together for the first time in years. To have Diana explain to him how she was involved in a child’s murder was also up there with the unthinkable.
But he stayed quiet and listened to her confession.
The reveal that she had seen Gary Michaels playing chess with him and Y/N, that she and got a feeling that something was wrong before anything had even happened, opened the story. Lou Jenkins’ involvement was next on the menu. Two days after the chess game, he drove Diana to Michaels’ house, disclosed his history of child abuse, and demanded she leave while he went into the house.
Upon reaching the point where she entered the house, Diana struggled with her words. William reached over and took her hand.
She described seeing Lou with the bat, standing over the body, slipping in the pool of blood, finding Y/N standing in the window and their face, their little face as innocent as the white cardigan that covered their shoulders and absorbed the blood from Diana’s hands as she shook their shoulders.
“And the rest... It's all dark after that.”
William continued for her. Diana came home and brought Y/N with her. Eventually he came to understand what had happened and decided that nobody could ever know.
“You were burning her bloody clothes,” Spencer concluded.
His father nodded, “But the knowing, you can't burn that away. It changes everything.”
“You paid for Y/N to go to therapy.”
William didn’t seem surprised that Spencer knew this, going straight into explaining: “They went into a dissociative fugue state after seeing what Lou had done. When Diana brought them home, they were just stiff. I asked them for their home number, to call their parents, but they started screaming and throwing up. We had to take them to the police station.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “They needed help, but their parents couldn’t afford it. And they didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t drag another person into this, Spencer.”
“Is this why you left?”
“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much.”
“You could have come back. Could have started over.”
“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done.”
“At least now you know the truth,” Diana made an effort to smile at her son
Choking on his words and the overwhelming remorse he felt, Spencer refused to look at his parents any longer, “I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry.”
And William said something that Spencer had been waiting for, for a long time, “I am, too, Spencer.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
All of this was repeated when Spencer walked with Y/N through their old park the following day. Filling the final gaps in the memory would hopefully bring some respite to them both. Or at least maybe something to start the recovery process, easing Y/N’s sickness and Spencer’s pain.
“I’m sorry for my behaviour during this case,” Spencer sniffed, “When you said we made you sick, back when we were four, I thought you had seen my mom during one of her episodes and thought she was a freak, like everyone else.”
That stopped Y/N in their tracks, their hands coming up to cover their mouth, their eyes misty, “Oh Spencer, I’m sorry too, I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much pain.”
Spencer’s hands rushed up as if to create belated damage control, “It’s ok! I hurt you too. I made you sick.”
“That wasn’t your fault though.”
“It wasn’t yours either. We were kids.”
Almost pedantic, stropping, like a child again, Y/N moaned, “It’s all been such a waste. We could have been friends all this time!”
“We can be friends now,” Spencer pushed his hands down into his pockets to stop them flailing about anymore. His sentence was phrased more like a question.
One that Y/N gladly answered, “I would like really that.”
Sitting in the reply for a moment, Spencer followed up on his concerns,
“How are you feeling? I mean, are you feeling sick again?”
“A bit, but I can handle it.”
Spencer could not see any changes in their behaviour from the day before. So obviously they were lying about that. But he didn’t protest. The lie meant Y/N wanted to stay with him, which was good - Spencer wanted that too.
They kept walking, only in silence for half a minute before Spencer broke it again, “I read your books last night.”
“Yeah?”
“‘The Siege of the Lost Faiths’ in Rogue’s Mask, that was our first game of chess.”
“It had by far the best narrative,” Y/N dragged their shoe a little on the grass before coming to a stop, “Do you still play?”
“All the time.”
They nodded over to where the old chess tables still stood, “Fancy a game before you go?”
Spencer grinned, “Just promise that this is the only setting where we’ll be on conflicting sides from now on.”
“Promise.”
Brushing the debris from the table, they both took their places opposite each other. From Y/N’s bag was revealed a box, spilling their painted chess pieces across the board. Remembering how they had stood in Y/N’s room, Spencer helped to set up the match. They took their seats opposite one another. Y/N was the green side, Spencer the purple.
Spencer moved first. After a second’s deliberation, Y/n moved their pawn.
“Isn’t there a story with this one?” Spencer said, an implicated teasing in his tone despite his shyness.
With an equally bashful eye roll, Y/N started their new story, “First begins the battle with the royals on both sides sending intrepid messengers to meet and pass along their deeds.”
Spencer took Y/N’s pawn. As he lifted their piece away, he spoke quietly, “One not as intrepid as the other.”
A gasp dropped from Y/N’s smile. He had never joined in the narrative telling before, always too taken up in the match to invest in whatever story they spun.
“He’s not a coward,” They said, still smiling, much to Spencer’s delight, “Prisoner’s dilemma, he just couldn’t trust the other with his life.”
“Did they know each other before this battle?”
“Yes,” Y/N moved a knight across, stealing Spencer’s pawn, “They were brothers who once shared a crib and now they share a grave.”
Throughout the game, Y/N continued the story with Spencer asking questions just to hear them talk more. The maturity of the stories had grown just as Y/N’s voice had. They knuckled their eyes a few times, but they didn’t complain about the headache.
“I know what endings you like,” Spencer moved his rook, “Checkmate in five.”
Y/N didn’t seem to mind that little dig, “This’ll have to be a short story instead then.”
Spencer’s next sentence got away from him, trailing off the closer he got to the end of it, “You could write an anthology series, if we see each other again and play more games.”
Where Spencer’s voice disappeared, Y/N’s returned with invigoration, “That’s not a half bad idea, Spencer.”
The checkmate never came. Y/N diverted the ending into a draw.
“A peace treaty has been forged by the survivors, because too many lives have been lost to justify this violence anymore. If only they realised sooner that no blood had to be shed for peace to rule the lands.” And they smiled at Spencer, clearly chuffed as they leaned back in their chair, “Bit of an upgrade from the horse noises, I’ll say.”
Spencer rotated the purple knight – the illusionist – between his thumb and forefinger, “I liked the horse noises.”
“You should have said during the match! I’d recreate them, for you.”
One by one, the pieces were placed back into their box until the last piece remained in Spencer’s palm: the knight or Soren the Illusionist, distractions and deceptions but he loved the tricks that delighted most of all. Just like Spencer with his magic tricks but a little to the left. The character was always one of Y/N’s favourites. Some solace away from the pain of thinking of who he was based on.
Y/N pushed Spencer’s hand away, closes his fist around it, “Keep him. He was made with you in mind anyway.”
The information sank in and Spencer’s nose wrinkled with the little smile on his face as he cupped the little Illusionist, “I’m Soren?”
Nodding, Y/N confirmed, “You’re Soren.”
“But what about your set though?”
“I can always make and paint another knight,” and Y/N tilted the piece upside down in Spencer’s hand, revealing the signature on the underside, “You and him are the originals, it’s only fair you stay together.”
In a moment of pure instinct and nostalgia, Spencer clicked his tongue as he twisted Soren in time with the noise. Y/N let out a burst of laughter that dragged the air out of Spencer’s chest.
“Hey, do you wanna get dinner tonight?” He said, running out of breath very quickly as a result.
It had a similar effect on Y/N, “I thought you – don’t you have to get back to Virginia?”
“I have time for dinner. For you.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
The bookstore was packed but the breath of the patrons was held as one.
All eyes were watching the mini stage where a crouching figure lifted their head up slowly. A jump as the tension broke with the figure leaping up to their feet with a bang.
Y/N pushed up the brim of their cap. Snatching a deep green hoodie from the purple trunk – silver constellations painted on the sides – they swung it over their back before picking up the page where they had left off.
“Nasima looked up at Mason and said, ‘Well that was just unnecessary.’”
A burst of laughter shot through the pre-teens in the front row, spreading to the adolescents sitting further back who had grown up with the author’s other works, finally reaching the adults at the back where Spencer was fiddling with his cane. He adjusted the sleeve of his costume absentmindedly. He was just like everyone else in the room: captivated by how Y/N was so immersed in their reading.
They had just mimed kicking down a door, plus sound effects from their mouth.
Swapping back and forth between the two conflicting characters arguing with one another, changing between the hoodie and the cap with every other line of dialogue and taking both off for the role of the narrator, it was certainly a workout.
An exaggerated breath was drawn into Y/N’s lungs, flopping over in a melodramatic state, which caused another laugh in the audience.
Spencer’s nose scrunched up as he grinned. He knew this was part of the scene; he’d seen Y/N rehearse this story in their sitting room. It was so much better to share this with an audience, for their reactions to fuel Y/N’s energy.
Y/N finished the short story A Battle of Bent Truths with a flourish, leaving the rest of the anthology for their audience to read in their own time. The kids were up on their feet first. Some of them were jumping up and down as they applauded with the rest of the shop. Y/N gave a big grin as they bowed, sweeping their cap off for extra drama.
There was a book signing and a photographer that followed, and Spencer waited patiently at the end of the queue, thankful that the store allowed him to bring a chair along with him. He was happy to entertain his godson and friends with a few tricks to pass the time.
“Another one please!” Henry jumped up and down when Spencer revealed his card.
A minor commotion arose by the photographer’s backdrop. There was a teenager was crying; she was clutching her copy of Untold Tales of Human Nature. Y/N was holding their shoulders, rubbing gently and speaking softly. Only half paying attention to his next trick, Spencer kept an eye on Y/N as they hugged the teenager, looking near tears themselves.
“Spencer?” J.J tapped him on the shoulder and Spencer realised that Henry was looking a little mad to have lost his godfather’s attention so easily.
“Sorry, Henry, can you pick another card please?”
When they reached the front of the queue, JJ went up first and took Henry and his pals up to see Y/N. They instantly recognised JJ and welcomed her with a tight hug. Henry was delighted to see his favourite babysitter and show them off to his school friends, boasting that they had read to him before today.
“They read me bits for bedtime, Mommy!”
“I know!” JJ tickled his cheek, “I read them to you too.”
“Who do you like better?”
“Mommy,”
Y/N gasped, dropping to their knees which made Spencer wince, “Henry, you wound me!”
Rossi approach next, knowing that once Spencer got to Y/N, they would not be left alone.
“You really know how to captivate an audience,” He kissed them on both cheeks, “Though don’t take offence if I don’t use the same tricks at my readings.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it! Thank you for coming.”
Y/N then caught Spencer’s eye and began meandering over to him with a smile they were desperately trying to stifle. Spencer rose from his chair, meeting Y/N in the middle.
“Hi, Spencer.”
With his free arm, Spencer flaunted his cloak, “Who is Spencer? I’m Soren the Illusionist!”
Giggles from his godson, his godson’s gang, his co-workers and friends, they almost caused Y/N to lose their composure. They held on just long enough to continue the banter.
“Oh, forgive me, you look so much like my boyfriend.”
“Hmmm, he must be very handsome,”
And Y/N burst into peals of laughter, waving their hands about, “OK, stop, stop, stop, I can’t.”
“Hey!” Spencer pretended to take offence, pouting as Y/N brought him into a hug.
“Don’t worry,” They kissed his cheek between giggles, “You are so very handsome.”
“To think you were once sick at the sight of me.”
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The whole package (Diego Hargreeves x Fem! reader)
A/N: Okay, I'm finally catching up with the requests... And how exciting that they have already confirmed the third season of Umbrella Academy!!!!
Words: 2,115
Request: Hi! So I saw your requests are open... here goes one! For Diego from TUA: he starts dating this girl, and after some time she decides that it’s time for him to meet her little daughter. I think he would be kind of wary around her at the beginning, but he would eventually warm up to her and ve just so soft around her? Anyways, I think that at the time he would introduce his girl and his not by blood but in bond little one to his siblings, they would see what a natural softy papa bear he is💕
The couple is in the small room that he rents in the gym where he also works. Both lying on the bed, Diego slowly strokes her hair, while Y/N traces her fingers on his chest.
"I've been thinking," says Diego.
"Oh no. That’s never a good sign,” the girl jokes and Diego makes a face.
“Anyway, I was thinking,” he continues, “we’ve never talked about meeting our families.” Y/N's body tenses. She moves away a little and sits next to him.
"I thought you didn't want me to meet your family." He raises his eyebrows.
"Well," Diego scratches his head. "I'm not excited, they are insane, but..." He looks at her. "Wait, don't you want to meet them?"
"If you say it's a bad idea, I don't see why making it so important," She responds, looking away.
"I think you are the first girlfriend I’ve had that doesn’t want to meet my siblings, not even my mother," he suspects.
"It's not a big deal, Diego," She says.
"We've been dating for over a year now, don't you think we should at least talk about it?" He sits up.
"Why do you suddenly want to do it?"
"Why are you getting defensive?"
She opens her mouth, but the words get stuck.
“Do you have something against my siblings? Believe me, it's not something that would surprise me, Vanya's ex-boyfriend is proof of that, but I want to know if something happened–"
“No, I don't know them, Diego. It's just that- if I meet them, it means that you too will want to meet my family.” She bends her legs and hugs them against her chest.
Diego feels pressure on his chest when he sees her in that defenceless way.
"Hey," He grabs her chin. "Is there something wrong with your family? I thought you simply weren’t on speaking terms with your parents..."
"I am, but, they have a good reason to be upset."
"What are you afraid of?"
"You won't want to be with me anymore," She says with a pout.
Diego frowns.
"What? Why do you think that? I’ve done everything to be able to go out with you, blood, sweat and tears..."
"I'm serious."
"Me too! Honey, I can assure you that there will be nothing that can scare me or keep me from your side. With the family I have, nothing can do it."
She bites her lower lip.
"I don’t know..."
"Trust me."
Y/N sighs and reconsiders the possibility. She remembers everything they've been through together since he tried to flirt with her after that fight at the gym. The determination of man to get her attention.
She admits that Diego is a great man, tender, protective, funny, responsible, a little clumsy and stupid, but in the end he always manages to make her smile despite the fights. And after he has confessed everything that had to happen with his family, she knows that there are no more secrets.
“Ok, but you should know that this is a huge step for our relationship. I've never gotten this far with someone else."
He’s surprised to see her so serious but doesn’t push his luck.
"I'm ready for the whole package, baby."
***
"Last chance to go, Di," She says when they both arrive at her apartment door.
“No matter how much you say it, I won’t leave. You won't have a pet spider or something like that right?" He jokes, but when she doesn't answer, the nerves grow. "Tell me please, at least it's not a tarantula–"
"I don't have a spider," She says rolling her eyes.
He opens the door and the two enter. Y/N leaves the keys on a small table and walks through the small apartment.
"Daisy?"
Diego stares at the place. He pauses at some picture frames and laughs when he sees one of his girlfriend as a little girl with a ball in her hand, smiling at the camera showing some a gap between her teeth.
"Mommy!" the high-pitched scream makes him turn quickly, only to witness the moment when a little brown-haired girl runs into Y/N's arms and she carries her. "You’re early, I must show you the best drawing of my life!"
The woman laughs.
"You said yesterday's drawing was the best of your life."
"Mommy, that was yesterday!" replies the girl moving her hand from one side to the other.
Y/N puts her down, but before the little girl could leave, her mother takes her hand and crouches down to her height.
“Daisy, I want you to meet someone first. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"
Daisy looks up and finds Diego standing next to the television. She turns away from her mother and walks slowly towards him.
“Hi, my name is Daisy. Are you my mom's boyfriend?"
Diego isn’t sure of what to do.
"Uh, yes?" he says nervously.
The girl asks tilting her head and then goes back to her mother. "Are you sure it's him?" Y/N laughs and walks over.
"Daisy, this is Diego. Diego, this is my daughter Daisy."
The man comes out of his shock and begins to notice the great similarities between the girl and his girlfriend. She is the girl in the photograph.
"Uh- Hi," he says tensely.
"You're good?" Y/N asks.
"Yes! Yes, I'm okay. I’m just surprised. Uh, you look a lot alike."
"Can I go get my drawing now?" says the girl and his mother nods.
"Sure you're okay?"
"Sorry, I'm not good with children," he says nervously.
"Don't worry, she's only 8 years old."
"They're the worst."
"Diego!"
"I'm sorry," He sighs. "Wait, were you afraid that I would break up with you because you have a daughter?"
"It wouldn’t be the first time. Since she was born every time I mention the possibility of a child, everyone runs away and I didn't want you to do it."
He takes her hand and with the other, he caresses her cheek. "I'm still here and rest assured that I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."
"Aren't you scared?"
"Yes, but not because of what you think," He grimaces. “You know I didn't have a good childhood and I’ve never dealt with children. What if she hates me?"
Y/N laughs when she sees her boyfriend's nervousness and feels one less weight off her.
"I will not lie to you, she can be difficult sometimes, but she will love you."
"Difficult, huh?" He says raising a brow. "Just like her mother."
"Don't try to win her over as you did with me, she’s not as patient with idiots."
"At least I have a clue," He leans down and gently kisses her lips.
"Ew, stop kissing!" The girl screams. "Leave my mom alone!"
"Daisy, don't be rude!"
"Okay, now I see the resemblance."
***
"Diego, your hands are sweating," says Daisy wiping her hand on his pants.
"I'm sorry. I’m nervous."
"Why?"
“My family’s crazy, Dais. I don’t know what will happen."
"Are they dangerous?"
"Do I look dangerous to you?"
"No, actually I think you're just dumb."
"Daisy!" Her mother scolds her and Diego laughs.
"Yes, so are my brothers."
The three arrive at the academy, before opening the door, Diego stops. Y/N take his hand. "Everything will be fine. We’re with you."
Daisy's little hand takes his again. Diego opens the door and the three enter the large Hargreeves mansion.
The first thing they hear is the echo of heels approaching. Grace approaches the little family with a huge smile.
"Hello, darling," she says, opening her arms and Diego surrounds her in a big hug.
"Hi, Mom," He stands aside and smiles. "These are Y/N and Daisy."
The woman greets both with a hug.
"Diego has told me many good things about you."
"You don't look like a robot," says Daisy.
"Daisy!"
Grace laughs.
"That's the idea, sweetie. Would you like to try the cookies I just baked?" The girl's eyes light up, but before she can respond, she looks at her mother asking for permission, when she nods to her, she turns to Diego and he, surprised, also nods.
"Yes!" She squeals and takes Grace's hand, the two of them walk into the kitchen.
"One less," says Y/N.
"She didn't worry me," Diego answers, grimacing.
"Son of a bitch!"
"That’s the real problem."
Another scream echoes through the house and then a thin, brown-haired man runs up the stairs and reaches the two adults.
"Diego! Hello, how nice to see you after such a long time,” He says, trying to control his breathing. "Oh, you must be the mistress, nice to meet you!" He says, taking her hand and shaking it exaggeratedly.
"Klaus..." growls Diego.
"What? I'm being nice, just like you asked."
Before anyone could say anything, a blue light flashes behind Klaus, scaring all three of them.
"Give me back my money!" The boy mutters.
"Five! What are those manners? We have a guest!” says Klaus pointing to Y/N. Five frowns and looks at the girl.
"Oh, yeah. Hi."
"It's a pleasure to meet you..." She answers a little unsure.
"I only asked you for a day without nonsense!" Diego sighs.
"Oh, they’re here!" says a woman coming down the hall.
"She's Allison," Diego moves away from his other two brothers who are already fighting again.
“Hi, it's a pleasure to meet the girl Diego talks about so much. You really don't know how tiring it is!"
Y/N laughs.
"I still remember when you said that no girl would make you weak and look at you now, blushing like a little boy!"
"I did not say that."
"That sounds like something you would say," adds his girlfriend and he blushes even more.
“Anyway, where are Ben and Vanya? They are my last hope..."
"Why is there so much noise? What's going on? Who are you?" says a very tall blond man.
"I guess your ape brain doesn't remember that we have an important dinner today, Luther," says Diego through clenched teeth.
"Uh, yeah. Hello.” Luther shakes her hand.
"They’re so many," Y/N whispers to Diego.
"And there are two still missing..."
"Hey, I don't want to scare anyone," Allison says. "But Ben is arguing with a girl in the kitchen."
Allison, Diego and Y/N go to the kitchen, while Luther notices that Five and Klaus are fighting, so he stays to break the fight.
"The movie is better!"
"How is it better? I tell you, the book is much better!"
"I don’t like reading. It's boring."
"That's not my fault."
"It's not my fault that you're boring either."
"Listen to me, girl–"
"Ben," says Diego. “Are you arguing with an 8-year-old girl?
"She started!" He points out.
"Vanya, why didn't you tell them anything?" Allison says looking at the girl sitting at the end of the table.
"I did, but no one paid any attention to me, so I just waited to see what was going to happen," She shrugs.
"Di, your siblings are very strange, but your robot mom made us chocolate cookies" adds Daisy taking one from the plate and offers it to her mother.
"Daisy, you said you were going to be good," Y/N says taking the cookie.
“It was Ben's fault. She said the Harry Potter books were better than the movies."
"They are!"
"It’s not true!"
"Very well family, dinner is served," says Grace entering the kitchen.
The entire Hargreeves family reunion with Y/N and Daisy was anything but boring. Y/N is delighted with Allison's style, Five's intelligence, Klaus's ideas, Vanya's calmness, Ben's acquaintance, and was even able to see something good in Luther, with whom she had less interaction.
She’s happy to meet her boyfriend's family, especially seeing how her little daughter laughs, discusses and interacts with everyone. It seemed very natural to be with so many people and she’s sure the Hargreeves felt it too.
"Everything went fine after all," She whispers leaning towards Diego at the table.
“You’re still here. It's what matters,” He says with a lopsided smile.
"Oh, I don't think Dais wants to leave soon," They look at the girl who listens carefully to something that Five’s explaining to her. "I'm glad she gets along with everyone… it's always been just her and me."
Diego takes her hand.
"That ended. You will not be alone again."
She smiles at him and kisses his lips.
"Ew!" yells Daisy.
"No demonstrations, please," says Luther.
"There are children here!"
"Some of us are eating!"
"How cheesy..."
“Get a room!”
The others continue, making the couple laugh.
"I can't believe you're still here after all this circus," says Diego.
"We’re ready for the whole package, love."
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Chapter 55: Movie Night
Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.
Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.
Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.
Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.
This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.
Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.
Becoming The Mask
Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.
They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.
"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.
"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."
"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.
"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."
"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."
"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."
"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."
"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."
"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."
Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.
"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.
"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.
"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.
Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"
"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"
"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"
"… Yeah."
"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.
"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."
Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?
"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"
"Commentary," said all three girls together.
"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.
+=+
"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."
"We believe you actually created something."
"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."
"What is that monstrosity?"
"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"
"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.
"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."
Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.
+=+
"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"
"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"
"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."
"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"
+=+
"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.
+=+
"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.
+=+
"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."
"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.
+=+
"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."
"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."
The entire group cracked up.
"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"
"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.
+=+
A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.
"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.
+=+
"Does it have to be this dog?"
"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.
"Yes. He's good. I can tell."
+=+
"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."
Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"
Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.
Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."
"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."
"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."
"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."
+=+
"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"
"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.
"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."
"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."
+=+
"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"
"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."
"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.
"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."
"… Was he?" asked Claire.
"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."
"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."
Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."
+=+
"Heard you lost your job."
"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"
"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"
"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly."
"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"
"Uh … yes?"
"New job. Model citizen. Good day."
+=+
"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.
+=+
"Until we meet again …"
Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.
"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"
Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."
"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."
"You're sure?" asked Jim.
"I'm sure."
"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.
"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"
Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.
"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."
"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.
"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."
+=+
"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."
"I'm … waiting."
"For what?"
"Family."
"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."
"Maybe … I could –"
"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."
Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.
+=+
"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."
"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"
Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.
"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.
"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"
"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.
"You're sure?"
"We can just fast forward."
"I said I'm fine!"
"Okay …"
Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.
"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"
"Ih."
"Fine."
"Fine? You're doing what he says?"
"Ah, he is very persuasive."
"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.
"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."
The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.
"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.
"It wasn't all your fault."
"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."
The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.
+=+
"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"
"Yes."
"Can Stitch say goodbye?"
"… Yes."
Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.
+=+
"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"
"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."
"That doesn't sound neutral."
"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."
"Kay, I see it now."
"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."
"… Whoa."
"I know, right?"
"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."
"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."
"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.
"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."
"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.
"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."
"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."
"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.
"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."
"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."
"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.
"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"
"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."
Jim squirmed.
He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?
While he debated, the movie got put in.
"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"
Enrique started laughing.
Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.
"Uh, Enrique –"
"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"
"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"
"The trolls are gonna –"
"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.
"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."
Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.
Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.
The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.
"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"
"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"
"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."
That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.
"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"
"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.
"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"
"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."
"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.
"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"
"Still counts."
"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"
"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."
"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."
"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"
"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."
He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.
(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.
It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)
"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"
Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.
"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.
"You got adopted?"
"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."
Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.
"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."
"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"
"They gave you one, too."
"Yeah, but you got yours first."
They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."
"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."
"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.
"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."
"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.
"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."
"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.
"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."
"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."
"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."
"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."
"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"
"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."
On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.
"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."
Jim laughed.
"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"
"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."
"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."
"No we are not!"
"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"
Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.
The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.
+=+
"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"
"That's Sven."
"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"
"… Sven."
"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."
"~Riot~," said Enrique.
"Huh?"
"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."
What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?
"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."
Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.
"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."
Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.
+=+
Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)
Table of Contents
Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)
A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.
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Tinsel: All Aglow (A Light Fingers Christmas Special 2/2)
Read Chapter 1 here: First Christmas
A/N: We go from happy Christmas fluff to angsty sort of plot relevant stuff. But still kind of soft?
Word Count: 2314
Content Warnings: discussion of childhood poverty, social workers, implied/referenced child abuse and neglect (past), references to drugs
Cross-posted to AO3: here
“Hey, Y/N,” Klaus asked after the others had left, having stuck around to help with clean up the party and have the chance to get to know you better. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?”
“What?” you asked, frowning in confusion, at the same time Diego did with a seemingly affronted tone, one you knew was a cover for his insecurity at being reminded of your colorful acquaintances.
“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely do. I’d recognize that adorable face anywhere. It’s the eyes I think…I just can’t figure out where from…”
You grimaced. You could think of a lot of places a junkie might know you from: pawn shops, back alleys, sketchy clubs, your fence’s house, to name just a few. Luckily Eudora was long gone, so reference to your illegal activities wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it came up, but honestly you didn’t want to be reminded of them tonight of all nights, not after the evening had gone so well up until now.
“The mausoleum!” he suddenly shouted with a snap of his fingers.
“What?” Diego asked with real confusion now.
Klaus turned excitedly to Diego. “Remember, I swore you and Ben to secrecy because Dad would have been so pissed? The girl, the one that glowed and kept me company when Dad locked me up, and helped hold the ghosts at bay?”
“I always thought you were making that up. Or that it was a friendly ghost that made the others back off somehow. I never…You’re telling me it was Y/N?”
He turned back to you for confirmation. You studied Klaus, the pinch of your eyebrows as you concentrated creating that cute little furrow that was of Diego’s favorite quirks of yours.
“Oh!” you cried suddenly, remembering.
You had snuck into one of the creepy old buildings in the graveyard near your family’s home to hide from the woman discussing “removal.” You were just making yourself comfortable in one of the cubbies, meant for coffins and just tall enough to sit in, when the doors were thrown wide and a boy about your age had stumbled in.
“Three hours,” a voice which later haunted your nightmares had barked. “Maybe by then you will have learned that death is to be controlled, not feared.”
The boy was crying. You felt terrible. So you made yourself glow, though it was hard without much to draw from, and poked your head out of your hiding spot. He screamed and started crying more. It took quite a bit to calm him down and explain that you weren’t a ghost or a monster, and then he’d explained that he could see ghosts but they terrified him and his father was unhappy with him because of it.
“Your dad is a bully, and when he comes back, I’ll kick him,” you offered your new friend.
While he hadn’t accepted that offer, he had the one to come back again in case he was ever thrown in there again, and to shed a little light while he was there (even though it made you feel sleepy and sick to keep it up for so long. It wasn’t like your new friend needed to know that, and he needed your power more than enough to make it worthwhile).
It was no surprise, really, that you hadn’t recognized Klaus. He looked extremely different from his childhood self. It wasn’t a bad look by any means, but it certainly wasn’t the round-cheeked, freckle-faced and crying boy you had known. And it had been so long ago, a friendship that had ended when you were about seven, after one incident where you'd nearly been caught and he had been more scared of what his father might do to you than he was of the dark and the ghosts. He had insisted that he never wanted to see you again, and not knowing yet how to fight for the things that mattered, you had let him push you away.
“Huh,” you finally said, acknowledging the accusation. “Small world.”
“You knew Klaus? Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.
“To be honest, I didn’t realize...I sort of forgot,” you said, hoping to brush the whole thing aside. “I try not to think about...roughly ages four to nine. It wasn’t a good time to be me.”
Diego raised an eyebrow and you knew he wouldn’t let it go, so you sighed.
“Look. It was after Dad died. Mom wasn’t doing well emotionally, and money was tight. Apparently when your kids constantly show up to school with no breakfast in them and no lunch, and their jeans are held together with strips of duct tape because a roll of that is cheaper than trying to get new clothes, it raises questions about parental fitness. There were a lot of social workers in and out of my life, and I spent a lot of time running away. Can we not talk about this on Christmas?” you asked quickly, your voice tight, before turning to Diego’s brother. “Where are you staying tonight Klaus? Our couch is available if you don’t already have a place.”
“I’d love to crash at yours, if my brother doesn’t mind,” Klaus said, offering you a hesitant smile.
“He doesn’t,” you replied determinedly, and both brothers glanced at each other over your head, a silent conversation about your sudden terseness and the ways they might be able to help.
~
Later that night, the three of you sat around the apartment, earlier tension forgotten. Your back rested against Diego's shins from your seat on the floor, head falling on his knees as you threw it back in laughter from some story Klaus was telling about when they were children and he and Diego had started some sort of prank war with Ben (secretly supported by Five or Vanya or maybe both, Diego had said he suspected). It made you happy to hear about the good times, that they had still found ways to be children despite their harsh upbringing.
“The way he stuck to the honey in his mattress was so worth having mine taken away for a month,” Klaus concluded, laughing and oblivious to the horror widening your eyes.
Diego’s fingers combed unconsciously through your hair, massaging your scalp. You started to feel calmer with each pass, matching your breathing to his movements. The physical contact grounded you, reminding you that, despite everything, you had both made it through and made it here.
“It couldn’t have all been like that though...right?” you asked hesitantly. “There must have been just average days where you got to be normal kids?”
“We were allowed to have fun on Saturdays,” Diego was quick to assure you.
“For a whole half hour!” Klaus chimed in, still laughing, false cheerfulness radiating a sharp sting of bitterness. “And on special occasions, Mom made chocolate chip pancakes.” He paused, seeming to listen to something. “Yeah. I think Ben’s funeral was the last time we had any.”
“Oh.”
You sighed, leaning as far into Diego as possible, as if he could give you strength, or you could give him back the peace he had been robbed of pretty much from birth.
“I used to envy you, growing up,” you admitted. “I thought if I had been adopted things would have been better. But really I just wouldn’t have known how bad they were. There really wasn’t a not shitty end of the deal, was there?”
Silence fell over the three of you, uncomfortable and awkward.
“It’s okay though,” Klaus said eventually, shifting nervously and picking at his nails. “We survived it, figured out to be functioning - semi-functioning - adults. And never have to go back.”
“Right,” Diego said and you felt his body shift as he nodded at his brother. “It’s just a thing in our pasts. Everyone’s got...stuff.”
“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess.”
“Hey is there any of that roast left? I’m starving,” Klaus said, standing to climb over the back of the couch and wander toward the kitchen.
You stared after him, unsure if he was serious or just trying to lighten the mood. When you shifted your gaze to Diego questioningly, he just shrugged.
“It should be in the container with the blue lid,” he told Klaus, waving vaguely at the fridge.
~
The three of you talked (one might even have dared to call it bonded) long into the night. It was past midnight when Diego finally bowed out, practically asleep on the couch already before he stumbled off to bed. You took his spot, sitting cross-legged and facing Klaus at the other end of the couch, and the pair of you continued to talk for at least another hour.
“Y/N, you should sleep,” Klaus eventually suggested. “You look exhausted, and it’s no surprise, with everything you did today, and putting up with my brother all the time to boot.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab you some stuff to sleep and be right back.”
Quietly you slipped past the screen into the darkened bedroom area and frowned, scolding yourself internally for not doing this before Diego was in bed. He was a light sleeper and got so little of it on a regular basis, and though you could adjust the light to not wake him, it was an imperfect solution. Trying not to disturb your sleeping husband (the word still felt weird and wonderful to wrap your head around and you couldn’t help but smile), you lit your hand with a faint glow and dug through the bins beneath your bed to find your spare bedding.
“You really don't have to worry about it, Y/N,” Klaus whispered, having followed you to the doorway, trying to wave off your efforts. “The couch alone is better than I've had lately. I can just use my coat as a blanket.”
“Absolutely not,” you hissed back determinedly. “You are a guest in my home. I want you to be comfortable, not just 'good enough.'”
He opened his mouth to protest and you held up a finger warningly.
“Klaus, be smarter than Diego, and know that you can’t argue with me and win. Especially not over something as simple as me finding the spare bedding.”
His mouth shut with a dramatic popping sound that made you tense as Diego stirred in the bed.
“Go wait in the living room before you wake him up,” you asked, “please? He’s tired enough as it is most days.”
You felt more than saw Klaus’s eyes as he studied you for a moment before nodding and, shockingly, doing as he was told. A few minutes later, you emerged once more, handing Klaus a pile of bedding.
“Blanket, light sheet, pillow,” you said, patting the pile. “I can grab another blanket if you need, if this won’t be warm enough. I have like a hundred of them.”
“No, this will be fine,” he said sincerely. “I sleep warm anyway. I think it’s the nightmares. Or the drugs.”
“Riiight. Are you sure you’re good? You don’t need anything else? Glass of water? More food? Cup of tea?”
He laughed, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Relax, Y/N. I appreciate it, but I’m fine. If I need a drink, I’ll raid the kitchen later. I have everything I need. More than I deserve.”
“That’s not--” he put a finger to your lips dramatically, stopping you short as you squinted in confusion at him, going cross-eyed to try and look at the offending digit.
“Don’t try to argue it. It’s a lifetime of a feeling. But I appreciate you trying. And everything you’ve done, then and now.”
You cocked your head softly. “You know, that offer to kick your father remains on the table.”
He grinned.
“But maybe we should table that discussion for tomorrow, it’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Actually, I’ll be gone then,” Klaus said in a tone clearly meant to be reassuring. “Before you wake up, if my brother’s smart enough to take a day off or learn that there’s no reason in general to get up with the crack of dawn. Especially with a beautiful woman in his bed.” He shot you an exaggerated wink.
You rolled your eyes fondly. “You don’t have to, Klaus. You can stay for a while. Days, weeks, whatever.”
“You’re sweet. But you don’t really want me around.”
“Of course I do,” you insisted, frowning at how casually he said such a thing. “We do. You’re family.”
“I don’t think anyone with the last name of Hargreeves really knows what that means.”
“Actually, I took your brother’s name when we got married so…” you shrugged.
Klaus laughed and you smiled.
“I’m serious though,” you pushed. “Diego will never admit it because he’s stubborn and dumb, but he cares about you, and worries. And I think he misses you.”
Suddenly, Klaus’s long arms were wrapped around you, hugging you fiercely. There were tears in his voice when he next spoke.
“Thank you, Y/N. That means...a lot. And hey, take care of him, will you? He’s gonna get himself killed otherwise.”
“Of course I will, Klaus,” you said, hugging him back. “I do kinda love him.”
The pair of you pulled away to share a smile, and somewhere deep inside, you felt the stirrings of your ancient friendship awakening from hibernation. After a moment, you shook yourself.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. And if you happen to stick around, I’ll make pancakes in the morning. See if I can’t scrounge up some chocolate chips?”
“You drive a hard bargain, Y/N. I’ll think about it.”
You chuckled, before flicking off most (leaving the one above the sink to help ease his fear of the dark) of the lights. “Goodnight, Klaus.”
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Summer Roads - Chapter 4
Pairing: Sean x Fem! reader
Description: You’ve always been Lyla’s best friend, but since Sean moved you became an inseparable trio. But who could say that, after all these years together, you would start growing feelings for Sean?
Warning: swearings only.
Word count: 1.741
A/N: I really wanted a gif of Sean smiling and that’s the one I could find. Plus, the subtle kinda holds the vibe from the end of the chapter :)
“Ugh, finally, I was starting to think you guys decided to bail on me,” that’s how Lyla received you and Sean.
“Not today, no,” Sean said. You giggled.
“Good to know you’re up to something. I’ll keep tabs on you two.”
“Me too?” You pointed to yourself. “But I didn’t said anything.”
“I’ll. Keep. Tabs.” You hoped this wasn’t true, because you thought if Lyla suspected anything, you would be dead.
“Uh, backyard?” You raised your bag, indicating if you should leave the things there. Lyla nodded.
“I can see you brought some food, too.”
“Not food exactly, it’s more like… things we chew.”
“You want to say chips, don’t you?” Lyla said deadpan.
“But they are…”
“Girls, I really don’t wanna pull that thread,” Sean passed his arms around yours and Lyla’s shoulders.
“I thought knowledge was always welcomed,” Lyla said.
“Only during school. It’s summer, Ly,” you gave a kiss on her cheek and went outside.
Starting to place your sleeping bag, Lyla lied on the grass, arms behind her head. Sean sat on the bench, elbows on knees.
“I have the feeling that this summer is going to be a special one,” Lyla started.
“Why’s that? Sometimes I think that too, it’s my last summer before becoming a freshman. But you’re going to be a sophomore,” you said.
“Hey, I’m going to be a freshman too,” Sean says.
“You guys are so cute. Don’t worry, we’ll always be together there.”
“You putting it like that makes us feel like kids, as if you were some big grown up,” you were too wrapped up on your own thoughts to pay attention to Sean or Lyla. You guessed she was right, but not because of the changes high school would bring. Maybe it was because how the sun rose on the first day of summer vacations, how the morning was cool but as time kept going it got a little warmer. The sun was this shining guiding light hanging on a blue, clear sky, that if you glared too much at you would start feeling lost.
It was easy to get lost when the sky had no clouds.
“Earth calling Y/N?” You hear someone calling you.
“Yes?” You answer both ways, Sean and Lyla.
“I was thinking that, since Lyla can’t stop saying how this summer is special and whatever shit…”
“Hey!” She protests.
“It made me remember she promised me long ago I could tag her wall.”
“My mom is gonna freak,” Lyla said.
“I think it’s a good idea. Maybe Sean could put our three ideas into one.”
“I’m not that much of a pro,” Sean said humble.
“C’mon Seanie, have some faith,” you say. “You’re great.”
“I think I have a board we could tag and just hang in the wall, it’s better this way. I’ll keep my promise and my mom won’t kill me.”
“You’ll keep an edited promise, but that works,” you nod in concordance.
“Okay, lemme find it.”
“What you have on your mind?” Sean asks you.
“What?” You got caught off guard.
“For the mural. What you have in mind?” He asked with a smile, one you couldn’t take your eyes off from.
“The beach,” you said without thinking first. “I always wanted to visit California, all that coast surf. My brother lives there with my father.”
“Yeah, I remember. It seems like a nice place.”
“Maybe you’re watching too many TV?” Lyla said, a big board covering her. You could only see her hands and feet.
“I don’t think it’s too much different from what they show. At least not from what my brother tells me.”
“Oh, right, he lives there, doesn’t he? I forgot. Well, my idea for this summer is a lot of skating. Sean?” Lyla places the board on the fence, where the paint wouldn’t reach the wall.
“I guess I know what I’ll do. Let the pro work now.”
“I thought you said you were no pro,” Lyla teases.
“Shoosh.”
Sean grabbed some spray can from his backpack while Lyla dragged your ass all the way across the backyard. She started chattering about the summer, the parties and the new year in high school, having ideas of what you three could do and go. She was so excited that she didn’t even noticed you kept your eyes on Sean working, or at least you thought so. You noticed how his hair was starting to grow and wondered if this time he would let it grow through summer.
You followed every movement of his, how his hand held the spray can and how his arm moved around to tag, how sometimes he would get down or be on tiptoe. Eventually you remembered yourself to look at Lyla and nod your head, trying to keep it casual. You didn’t want your crush to be so obvious, or obvious at all.
Watching Sean working made you realize how you liked every part of him, because every part of him made sense. It was… what he was made of.
“Are you guys peaking? I really prefer you to not,” he said loud enough so he didn’t need to turn his head.
“No!” Lyla answers and turns your head to her, grabbing your chin. “You never could not peak on his art, right? You were always so curious,” breathing nervously, hoping like hell Lyla didn’t suspected anything, you shrug.
“Nothing I can do. I like it.”
“I know,” and Lyla started from where she stopped. Maybe this was a good sign, she didn’t paused her plans to try a talk with you on the matter. “Do you think you need anything new for you roller skates?”
“Uhn… no? I guess.”
“You’ve been using them for a while, isn’t time for an upgrade?”
“I take good care of it,” besides, Sean gave me them, you added in thoughts. You had no plans on changing anything about those roller skates.
“I was thinking that maybe I could work on them.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up,” you rose your hands. “Forbidden territory. No touch.”
“No fair, you let Sean sketch on them!”
“That’s because he was the one who gave me them,” you said without much confidence.
“I see that favoritism there. It’s unfair, I’ve known you longer.”
“I’m hearing that discussion and I don’t like it, I’m feeling pushed aside!” Sean said out loud.
“You know I love you, Seanie, but it’s not me, it’s Y/N.”
“I’m just protecting my roller skates,” you defend yourself.
“Now I’m offended,” Lyla said, a finger up.
“We all know your skateboard is a deadly machine,” Sean said.
“Artists are not supposed to give their opinion,” you heard Sean laughing. “Seriously, Y/N.”
“Seriously, Lyla. My roller skates are perfect, I take care of them. I keep maintenance,” she puffed. “But I know you always wanted to give my backpack a treat. To compensate you, I’ll let you do it tonight.”
“FINALLY!” Lyla shouts. “Gimme the thing.”
“It’s called a backpack.”
“Gimme,” smiling, you handed her your backpack. Lyla went inside the house for a couple of minutes and got back with a little box. “You’re not allowed to choose the patches.”
“Your responsibility,” you said raising your hands. You watched Lyla work on your backpack, but here and there you would glare at Sean for a few seconds.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Lyla pointed.
“I guess this afternoon got me tired.”
“Maybe. You do seem a bit off today. Do you miss your brother? I know he visits every summer.”
“I haven’t thought about it, really. Maybe it’s this whole summer idea, it got me dazed,” you throw your head back, hitting the fence behind you. “I do feel kinda off,” without noticing, your look froze on Sean, but you didn’t notice him. Lyla rose an eyebrow. “I just want to have the best time before school starts again.”
“Oh… I know what this is about. Your first high school year. You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” you said defensively.
“You just don’t know it, hun. I felt like that too. But now we’re gonna be together, all three of us. Besides, you’ll always have Sean by your side.”
“That’s true!” He shouted from the distance.
“My guess is that you feel like you’re leaving something behind,” Lyla said and this time you looked at Sean. You were leaving something behind, you felt like it, but you weren’t sure what it was and what it meant to start growing feelings for Sean, your childhood friend, almost like a brother. You smiled.
“I guess so. Thanks, Ly.”
“But I haven’t said anything.”
“You said enough.”
“Well, I do acknowledge I’m a terrific friend.”
“Ladies, I’m done!” Sean announced and Lyla pushed you to the ground.
“I tag your ass!” She ran to see Sean’s work. You got up laughing and when you got to her side you pushed her. “Wow,” you heard her saying before you could take a look.
It was a beach, leading you to assume Sean wanted to represent California. At the beach, in the middle of the sand, was a huge skate ramp, and you could see skaters all around. And, attacking them, coming out of the water, was an enormous squid, its tentacles grabbing the skaters and crushing the ramp.
“Dude, that’s rad,” Lyla said. “I loved it.”
“Yeah, me too,” you tapped his shoulder. “But maybe you should let us add something? So it could be our mural?” Sean gave you what you judged to be his biggest smile ever.
“How couldn’t I think about it? Yeah, sure.”
You and Lyla grabbed each a spray can and exchanged looks.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“If you’re thinking about the same thing I’m thinking.”
“Why do girls do it?” Sean mumbled.
“I get tops,” you say. Lyla nodded.
You could see Lyla making little roller skates on some of the squid’s tentacles while you made a giant bow on its head.
“Oh my fucking god,” you heard Sean laughing. “You are creative, aren’t you?”
“We are,” Lyla said proudly and wrote her initials at the corner of the board. You did the same and, after you, Sean.
You noticed your pointer finger was pink and you held it up for your friends to see. Lyla’s was blue and Sean’s had a little rainbow on his.
“To the best summer ever,” Lyla said and you three touched your pointer fingers, as some kind of toast.
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Beautiful People
Armitage Hux x Reader, Kylo Ren x Reader
Hi! I'd like to request a Hux x Reader in a modern AU where the reader is dating Kylo Ren because of status and for public appearances. And in comes Hux and the reader has feelings for him and he feels the same way but they have to keep it secret otherwise it's a scandal that'll ruin everyone. Also Kylo knows but doesn't want to let the reader go because he's an asshole. Thank youuuuuuu
A/N: I’m so excited about this story, it’s so unlike anything I’ve ever written! I hope you all enjoy! xx
Warnings: angst, toxic relationships, adult situations, sexual references, language, those who love Kylo should not read this it hurt to write him like this oof
Y/N carefully picked up a diamond earring, rubbing it between her index and middle fingers. After a beat she lifted it up, looking into her vanity mirror as she placed on her ear, the other following suit, letting her arms fall to her sides.
She studied her own face in the mirror, to her elegantly styled hair to her perfectly done makeup. Y/N pursed her ruby red lips, her gaze hardening.
She hated the person in the mirror.
Y/N L/N was born into a prominent family, the only child of two political powerhouses. Her childhood had been that of a princess’s, perhaps even of an heir. Fitting, due to Y/N’s inevitable future of continuing her parent’s legacies.
So here she sat, wearing diamond jewelry in a $10k dollar dress, in a penthouse flat. Y/N let her eyes flicker away from her reflection to the opening of the door behind her. She turned, inhaling softly.
“You look beautiful.” Kylo Ren murmured, stepping into the large room. He wore an expensive black tuxedo, his raven hair slicked back and his shoes definitely red bottoms.
“You don’t mean that.” Y/N curtly replied, still planted onto her vanity stool.
Kylo clicked his tongue. “You are.”
Y/N scoffed, standing and walking to her closet, opening the door and stepping inside the walk-in, searching for a clutch. “What would you like me to say? You look dashing and handsome?
“Thank you, I tried.” Kylo responded, infuriating her further.
Y/N finally found the clutch she was looking for walking out and briskly passing Kylo. She paused at the door, turning with a tight smile.
“If you bring home your slut tonight, please be quieter this time.”
The circumstances of Kylo and Y/N meeting were very much prepared. Kylo himself arose from European royalty, but instead chose to leave for America, becoming a citizen and changing his name as a teen and anticipating the world of politics. His distant uncle Sentor Snoke took him under his wing, bringing him up into the desired plane. Y/N’s father found an arrangement of Y/N and Kylo beneficial on many fronts, as much of a 21st Century arranged romance as you could get.
They had know each other for years, since their early twenties when they met during both of their studies at Harvard. Kylo and Y/N were actually friends once, unloading griefs upon each other, Y/N about her stifling parents and Kylo on his past dreams. He once wanted to be an Air Force pilot, once wanted to be an artist.
But as they were arranged, they grew cold, and as Y/N dreaded this appearance-cast relationship, she suspected Kylo did as well, though he tried, sometimes.
The car ride to the benefit was incurabley long with traffic, a thick silence hanging between Kylo and Y/N. The city noises were only apparent, Y/N casting her gaze out the shaded windows.
“Are you going to be like this all night?” Kylo finally spoke up.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Y/N mumbled, still gazing at the city lights, “I’ll be a good little girl for us tonight.”
Kylo sighed. “We should announce an engagement soon. Call a tabloid or two and tip them off. Would be good press.”
Y/N turned to look at him with full eyes, casting her gaze down. “Trapped with each other forever.”
“You make it sound like prison.” Kylo growled, “We can come and go as we please. Put on a show for the idiots.”
Y/N finally met his eyes, biting her cheek. “Give me a few weeks, if you could be oh-so-kind.”
Kylo rolled his eyes as the car pulled up to the venue, the sounds of cameras flashing and paparazzi flooding the night. Y/N exhaled loudly, staring ahead. “Let’s give them a show.”
Armitage Hux was not an obscenely wealthy man. His father was big money, and Hux, he delved into politics to appease his father, climbing the ranks.
The benefit gala was a horrid idea in his opinion, too much frill and preening of celebrity-level politicians, who reeked of corruption and pretentiousness. But Hux went along with it, agreeing to help sponsor and put in an appearance.
Hux dreaded that his life would be married to politics, maybe a wife who was as money sick as everyone else, maybe one day he’d become as ugly as them all and become unbothered by the people he encountered.
He made his way past paparazzi, into the venue where he breathed a bit, walking up to a man in a crisp and ornate Air Force uniform. “I don’t like this idea.”
“Oh come on,” Commander Poe Dameron chuckled, clapping Hux’s back. “A little party never killed nobody.”
“Never say never.” Hux groaned, the Guatemalan-American raising an eyebrow.
“Look, I hate this arrangement too. But Princess Organa needs information, sometimes you have to play dirty.” He smirked.
Hux despised working with the royalty. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with them. But when the offer to bring down Kylo Ren showed itself, Hux couldn’t refuse. He hated that man, his arrogance and disgusting holier than thou complex. So he became a “spy”, if you will.
“So long as the dirt stays off my hands.” Hux spat, walking away from Poe.
Y/N walked down the carpet with Kylo, smiling at the paparazzi as they shouted praises and controversies. She hated this part the most, but Y/N had a remarkable and unreavealing smile.
Inside the venue Y/N and Kylo relaxed a bit, but they still knew the motions of the parts they had to play. Kylo, a ruthless politician and Y/N, a loving girlfriend.
Y/N was standing next to Kylo as he introduced himself and was speaking with someone prominent as she found herself scanning over the room. Her eyes gazed over every person until they suddenly stopped, zeroing in on someone.
Hux stood with a flute of champagne, forcing smiles at pretentious billionaires until he felt a stare embedding into him. He turned, his eyes meeting that of a beautiful girl’s. Not just any beautiful girl, Kylo Ren’s girlfriend.
Hux nodded, Y/N smiling back. He read her expression, it was clear she’d rather be anywhere else. But what could Hux do about that? His heart did not race, his cheeks reddening, a cold sweat breaking out, absolutely not... right?
How could one pretty girl reduce Hux to this? A taken girl, by his enemy! He turned away from the girl, but still felt her gaze on him unwavering. She always held that affect upon him.
Y/N’s smile widened a bit as the red-head turned, still observing him intently. Kylo leaned near her ear, speaking in a deep voice. “Remember what you promised? Be a good girl.”
“Yes, your highness.” Y/N hissed through an unsuspecting smile, feeling Kylo tense at the hated nickname.
He grasped her wrist tight, Y/N gasping in surprise as Kylo pulled her close to him, his breath warm on her face. “Never fucking call me that again.” He then kissed her softly on the cheek, turning away to greet another wealthy businessman.
Y/N smiled sweetly, muttering about using the bathroom as she walked away, rubbing her wrist as she weaves through the crowd.
Hux pulled her aside once in the hallway, Y/N quickly pushing him against the wall. She grasped the man’s suit, ravenously pressing her lips against his. The man, grasped her shoulders, pulling her back. “Missed me that much, sweetheart?”
Y/N smirked. “I like a handsome man in a suit.”
“Obviously.” Hux smiled tightly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “You look ravishing.”
“Armitage Hux, such a charmer.” Y/N chuckled. “We should just walk out there arm and arm, give the cameras something to squawk about.”
Hux’s smile dropped slowly, resting his forehead on Y/N’s, sighing. “We can’t.” he whispered.
“No, you’re right.” She mumbled, closing her eyes. “Just... hold me a bit longer.”
Hux wrapped his arms around her, his hand clutching the back of Y/N’s head.
“I’ll hold you as long as you wish, my dear.”
Y/N and Hux had met years and years prior, before she had even met Kylo. She was seventeen, visiting Dublin with her family when she encountered him. Hux was graduated from highschool, enjoying a gap year of foreign policy and preparation to embark to America.
They immediately clicked, becoming good friends and having weekly lunches at a local New York Dinner. They were close for a few years, until the letter from Harvard came and she flew away. Where she met Kylo and the whole mess began.
Whatever was happening between Y/N and Hux, call it an affair or call it a relationship, had been continual over five years.
Y/N suspected Kylo knew, but with unknown women weekly in their spare bedroom, she felt as though it never really mattered.
Hours later Y/N was climbing into the black SUV again, Kylo sitting across from her. The city lights blurred outside the window, a light drizzle of rainfall fogging the windows.
The two were silent. Y/N rested her chin in her hand, staring out the window, as Kylo stared comprehensively at the woman before him.
“You saw him.”
Y/N turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
Kylo scoffed, sitting back. “Didn’t you?”
She leaned forwards as the car pulled up to the apartments, the girl narrowing her eyebrows.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Y/N stepped out of the SUV, Kylo following as she stepped into the private elevator, pressing their floor number and swiping her keycard.
Kylo suddenly grabbed both sides of her face, kissing her deeply. Y/N raggedly gasped in shock, stumbling back as he pushed her up against the wall. She squirmed under his grip, finally breaking away and elbowing his chest, Y/N retreating back. Kylo licked his lips, chuckling as he turned to look at the elevator door as it chimed open.
He turned to look at her. “You’re mine. It’d be better for you not to forget that.”
Y/N’s lips parted, watching as Kylo walked out of the elevator and into their flat. He slammed their bedroom door behind him, the girl finally wandering into the penthouse. She unclasped her shoes, removing them and tossing them on the floor. Her dress hugged her body, but to Y/N it felt like it was suffocating her.
She sat on their plush couch, running her fingers across the fabric as her breath began to catch in her throat, Y/N gasping for air as tears began to trail down her cheeks. A broken sob escaped her lips as she began to rip pins out of her hair, her Y/H/C locks spilling out.
She knew Kylo could hear her despair. Could hear Y/N cry and sob and fall apart. But he never emerged to comfort her.
Y/N woke the next morning on the couch, still wearing the dress she used to love so much. She sat up, rubbing her head and catching her reflection in a wall-hanging mirror. Mascara tracked down her face, her hair a mess. After changing into a different shirt and shorts from the outside closet and cleaning her face Y/N sighed, standing and walking to the kitchen.
She carefully pulled a glass from the cabinet, turning on the faucet to fill it with water.
“Oh!”
Y/N whipped her head around. A young girl stood in the living room, her dark hair loose around her shoulders and a dress shirt, Kylo’s red dress shirt from the night before, covering her body.
“Hello.” Y/N softly replied, turning to switch off the faucet, taking a sip of water as she turned. “Would you like a glass of water? Something stronger?”
The girl’s mouth opened and closed, her features contorting into confusion. After a couple tense seconds she spoke. “Why... what’s...”
Y/N leaned across the counter, smiling softly at the girl. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Rey.”
“Rey,” Y/N sat her glass down, interlacing her fingers. “I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been fucking Kylo for a while now. And honestly, I could care less. But here’s the thing,” She pushed away from the counter, approaching Rey. “you’re in dangerous water, Rey. This tiny world, this life. It’s not glamorous. And the last thing I want is for him to hurt you.”
Rey exhaled deeply, leaning against the back of the couch. “I’m... I’m sorry.” She pushed some hair behind her ear. “Kylo... he’s always been so kind to me. He told me, that you and him—“
“We’re simply a game.” Y/N smiled. “A game we can afford to loose.”
Rey left soon after, Y/N sitting in the living room going over several pieces of finance paperwork for her father’s firm. Kylo finally emerged from the bedroom, Y/N not skipping a beat as her eyes remained glued to the paper. “Rey is a sweet girl.”
Kylo’s face hardened. “Hux is an... interesting man.”
Y/N looked up, the papers falling down onto her lap. “Kylo, what are we doing? We both love different people, maybe we should just call it—“
“No.” Kylo frowned. “Terminating this relationship for other people would ruin us. All of us.”
“What’s the point anymore?” Y/N countered. “You’re powerful, I’m just a mantelpiece, and Rey would make a great—“
“You aren’t listening!” Kylo shouted, interrupting her. “I sacrificed everything to be here. I refuse to do that again.”
Y/N stood, the papers tumbling and fluttering out of her lap and onto the hardwood floor. “Why can’t you just let me go? We never loved each other, Snoke manipulated you into this relationship, into this role!”
“You always blame everything on Snoke, too scared to admit your faults.” Kylo spat.
“My faults?” Y/N yelled. “Mine? You are so fucking toxic, Kylo! You’re a fucking hazardous chemical!”
The slap echoed throughout the room, Y/N stumbling back and clutching the arm of a chair, reached her hand up to her cheek. She shakily looked up at Kylo, her eyes reflecting fear. She always thought of Kylo being all bark, no bite.
Y/N never thought he’d hurt her like this.
“Fuck. You.” She seethed, standing and shoving past Kylo, grabbing her coat and keys as she walked into the elevator, glaring at Kylo as the doors closed.
An hour later Hux answered a knock at his door, only to meet Y/N with sunglasses adorned on her face, her hood up. “Hey Armi.”
“Hey Y/N/N.” Hux responded, gesturing for her to come in. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”
“I want to leave. Somewhere far away from here, from politics and Kylo and the people. I want to disappear, and I want you to come with me.” Y/N insisted in a level voice. She removed her sunglasses and hood, Hux’s eyes widening at her bruised face.
He raised his hand up, carefully running his thumb over the bruise on her cheek before rushing to his freezer, returning and handing Y/N a frozen vegetable bag. “He... did he do this to you?”
“I can’t live like this anymore, Armitage.” Y/N pleaded, the girl pressing the bag against her cheek. “Remember when we went on that holiday to Greece?”
Hux’s face softened. “The one where you publicly fed birds whole gyros?”
Y/N smiled. “Yeah. That one. Let’s go back, let’s go and forget all of this. Please.”
Hux sat on his couch, Y/N settling down next to him. “It’d ruin us. Destroy our reputations, hurt any of our chances.”
“We’d be crazy to reveal such a scandal.” Y/N mused.
Hux reached over to pick up his laptop, flipping it open.
“When do you want to leave?”
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Chapter 12 - Intriguing Intruders and Intruding Intrigues
Ah, yes. Welcome to chapter 2. No, you didn't read that wrong. This begins with the second scene I've ever written for this AU. We've come a long way since back then, especially considering that it was only a little under two months ago and this fic has since taken over my life. Also, thanks as always to @persony-pepper for betaing!
Now enough of me rambling, here's the chapter:
Summary: Jaskier's liege lord comes to Lettenhove and our beloved ex-bard is struggling to keep it together.
Read on AO3
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"Where is he?" Jaskier panted, wincing at how his side ached after sprinting up a flight of stairs. He used to be able to hold his own against a witcher on a horse, for Melitele's sake, what had happened to all that stamina?
"Beggin' your pardon, m'lord, I don't know," Marta answered, her eyes widened in panic. "I've been lookin' for 'im for the past hour. He's nowhere to be found."
"Shit," he cursed, startling the surrounding servants. "Fuck!" he cursed again, just because the first one hadn't been enough to actually voice his frustration. He kicked the wall and howled in pain. "Fucking shit! Start over," he ordered. "I want that damned witcher and I want him now! Marta!"
"Yes, m'lord?"
"Is my cousin presentable yet?"
"No, m'lord."
"Then see to it that she is. You have half an hour; the green dress, if you will."
He turned on the heel and raced down the stairs again, cursing quietly. He shouldn't be surprised, really, that Geralt chose today of all days to all but disappear from Lettenhove. 'That's not fair,' he reminded himself, 'you didn't know eith-'
"Fuck!" His foot slipped on the slippery stairs and he would've taken a tumble down the stairs hadn't he collided with a bulk of muscle.
"Careful, my lord," Geralt said, and held him firmly by the shoulders. "Else a twisted ankle will be the least of your worries."
"Geralt!" Jaskier started a futile attempt to wiggle out of his grasp. "Where have you been, you donkey?"
"Training your horse, my lord," he replied, making no move to let go of him. Instead he calmly looked around, taking in the bustling servants. "What's going on?" He pulled him closer to the wall, to let two men hauling a heavyweight chest pass through. "Are you preparing for war?"
'If only.' He scoffed and smacked at Geralt’s hands. "No. Witcher, you need to leave."
"What?" That finally made him soften his grasp, though he did not lift his hands, nor did he move from where they were crammed onto the same step. "Why?"
Jaskier passed a trembling hand through his hair. It was sweaty already, not a good way to start the day when- "There are guests on their way," he explained as calmly as he could. "I don't know which of my imbecile neighbours chose this exact time for a visit, but there's nothing I can do about it now."
"And why do I-" His hand shot out and caught a young lad by the elbow. "Are those my swords?" he growled menacingly. The poor boy looked as if he might piss himself.
"Yes, I- Geralt!" He tried prying the butcher's hand away without too much success. "Let go of him this instant, you're frightening him!" The witcher complied slowly. "Stop glowering, they are acting on my orders. And you, run along now, and hurry up for Melitele's sake!"
The lad took off again and Geralt crossed his arms and glared. "Why?" he asked again. "Where's he going with them?"
"To your new rooms in the North Wing. Ci- Cousin Fiona is also moving, she'll be living with my sisters." He waved his hand dismissively, cutting him off before he could even start to speak. "It wouldn't make sense otherwise. I wouldn't leave her with you when Józia and Janka are there to take care of her. And as my best friend it's only natural for you to be accommodated close to my quarters."
The witcher frowned, still not convinced. "Why do I have to leave then?"
"Because I do not know who is paying me a visit and what intentions they bear. No-one will look twice at dear Cousin Fiona, but you-"
"My lord, there you are," Jakub came to a halt a few steps below them.
"What?" Jaskier snapped.
"Your visitors. They're bearing the banner of Hangfelt."
Fear gripped him like an icy hand, choking the air from his lungs. "Fuck." He'd known this was inevitable, but still- "Go, Jakub, inform the kitchens right away. I will not be accused of lacking hospitality." He manservant bowed curtly and hurried away.Jaskier turned to follow him.
Geralt caught him by the shoulder again. "What's so important about Hangfelt?"
Jaskier winced. "That's my liege. You need to leave, now."
He frowned. "I don't understand-"
Jaskier was beginning to lose his patience. 'Gods above and below, he's been roaming this continent for almost a century. Should be more than enough time to get a basic grasp on petty politics,' he thought. He almost told him so, too. Almost. "That's not important right now," he hissed and tried to push him away, "we're running out of time."
The witcher didn't seem overly impressed by this display of his measly human strength. "Please, my lord, let me try-"
"You don't need to understand!" he snapped, and Geralt visibly recoiled. If nothing else, it did soothe Jaskier's temper a bit. Wiping his sweaty hands on his breeches, he tried to explain: "My liege, Geralt. Lettenhove is his castle. If he suspects something, anything-" He took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he continued: "If he demands that I hand you over, I won't be able to refuse. I won't be able to protect you from him, do you understand?"
Geralt paled visibly. "Fiona-"
"She'll be fine, she's family. Protected by my name and castle peace and all that. No-one can lay a finger on her without my leave. The Count is not a bad man, he won’t hurt us and break the law: we’re protected by King Vizimir’s peace. But you are not. So, witcher," he straightened himself, "you need to go."
He set his jaw and the grip on his shoulder tightened. "My lord."
"Take your swords and a cloak, and for Melitele's love, stay out of sight. Of his guards, and his men, and most importantly himself. I'll come find you in the woods once all of this is over. Alone. Do not come seek me if there is another person with me." He faltered, taking in Geralt's squared shoulders, his kind eyes, his attentive expression. "I-" Suddenly, the urge to exchange the grip on his shoulder for a tight embrace to calm his fluttering heart became very hard to fight.
"My lord?" Geralt's voice startled him from his trance. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," he answered curtly and bit down hard on his tongue, to shake those ridiculous thoughts. "I have places to be, witcher, and so do you. Unhand me and leave."
Very slowly and very reluctantly Geralt did as he was told and freed Jaskier from his grasp. He allowed himself to wonder, only for a moment, if Geralt might have felt overcome by the same sort of sentimentality.
'No,' he told himself decidedly as he sprinted down the stairs of his tower, 'do not think about that. You're Jaskier the Bard, not Jaskier the Fool, Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove. If Geralt had no affection to spare before, he surely won't have any now.'
In the courtyard, what appeared to be the entirety of his staff was bustling around, all doing their best to make the castle presentable for its rightful owner.
There weren't a lot of orders for Jaskier to give, they all knew what they were doing. The air was filled with the rich smells of half a hundred different delicacies to flatter Lord Hangfelt's noble palate, and servants hauled casks of wine and ale alike that would surely not even see the first snow. Wiktor was making space in the stables for at least a dozen horses more, as Jakub was berating some chambermaid for one reason or another. It was a good thing Jaskier had already warned them that his visit was rather imminent after his return from the disastrous parlay. That way they weren't completely unprepared.
Still, he winced at the memory. The meeting hadn't been dangerous or anything, gods forbid, he'd never have brought Ciri if there had been so much as the slightest sliver of the chance. It had even been fun, truth be told, until the Baron had begged a word in private with him. Unpleasant didn't even begin to describe the whole affair.
"Why?" Jaskier had asked cheerfully, "Are you afraid to get your ass handed to you by a little child again?"
Daniel of Dergetten had frowned at that but not dignified it with a response. Not until he had sent Ciri ahead, at least. Then his old childhood friend had leaned close and hissed: "What on earth are you playing at, Julian?"
"Me?" he had laughed. "Nothing, dear friend. I've got no idea what you're talking about."
"What happened to your sharp wits? Fucked them away on the Path? I thought the man who graduated summa cum laude from Oxenfurt would know better than to believe himself the only one capable of thinking around here."
"Speak plainly."
"Sheltering a witcher in Lettenhove, Jaskier?" he had mocked. "Beneath a mantle of protection that is not even yours to give? Aleksander hasn't forgiven you for your last insolence, yet. What was the year again? 1252? This impertinence might just be enough of an insult for him to finally set you aside. Unless-"
"That's quite enough, Dergetten," he had bristled.
The bastard had only smiled. "Is it, Pankratz? I know where my loyalties lie, as does the Count. Do you?" The memory of his smile choked the air from his lungs. 'Foolish,' he told himself, 'you're a foolish man, Julian Alfred Pankratz, to think you can hide a secret such as this from your liege.' Which meant, there was only one thing he could do.
It was true that Count Aleksander Milas had been lenient in the past when it came to Jaskier's particularities that distinguished him from the rest of his peers. He quite liked his songs, had even encouraged him to tutor his son - which Jaskier had firmly declined - and he hadn't given him too much of a hard time for his prolonged absence from Lettenhove. Upon his return his liege had only laughed, not cruelly, when he had knelt at feet to beg his forgiveness for his negligence. And when his father had died, not two days later a servant had summoned him to Hangfelt to swear his fealty — despite Jaskier's protests that his sister Janina would be much better suited for the title.
"Nonsense," Lord Hangfelt had answered, "how could I accept her oath when the rightful heir is right here?"
So, he had sworn, and Hangfelt had promised a visit once the mourning period was over. He was only off by three days, probably spurred on by Daniel of Dergetten's dutiful report, the little traitor. As a consequence, though, Jaskier was still dressed all in black, as were his sisters. Ciri's green dress was an almost offending speck of colour when she stepped out into the courtyard.
"There you are," Jaskier exclaimed and strode over to her to put an arm around her shoulders. "Come, you'll stand at my left side."
She nodded and together they crossed over where Janina and Józefa were already waiting. The four of them surely made a pretty image, he thought, all of them with their pale skin, dark hair and bright eyes. 'Ciri fits right in,' he noticed, satisfied with the illusion he'd conjured.
Waiting like this, prettily lined up for their lord to inspect like cattle on a market's day, was torture of the cruelest kind. The urge to fidget hadn't been this strong in him since before he'd left. Images of memories long forgotten flooded his mind, the five Pankratz siblings diligently queueing before their father's high chair to receive his judgement after a day of deeds and misdeeds. It had always been him who had misbehaved most, if wandering off in his mind and quietly humming as he worked could be counted as misbehaviour. It had also always been him to step forward to take the blame and consequences for whatever crime his sisters had committed. It hadn't been his fault more often than not. 'My responsibility to bear nonetheless.'
When he finally found the strength to abandon those hurtful memories he bowed down to Ciri. "You'll have to curtsy," he informed the princess quietly.
"I know," she replied, barely moving her lips. Absentmindedly he wondered how many stiff ceremonies she had already suffered through. 'Surely too many,' he determined. 'Even one is one too much.' "I've seen it many times."
He raised an eyebrow at that. "You do know how, don't you?"
She grew rigid under his touch. "Of course!" she repeated. "I've seen it many times!"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. It was Jakub who saved him from the embarrassment of having to explain to a princess how to bend her stiff royal knees. "They're here, my lord," his servant told him quietly.
"Good," he answered. It wasn't good at all. Still, he shouted: "Open the gates!" He heard Jakub repeat his order, and then Marin, too, and then the large winches sprung into motion and opened the heavy oaken gates for the Count and his companions.
As soon as the winches stopped moving, a party of roughly fifteen riders poured into the courtyard. A standard bearer came first, then the Count himself, along with his son and heir, the spitting image of his father. Well, if one ignored the fact that his father was in his forties, overweight, and balding, and not a strapping lad of fourteen years- 'Oh, fuck no, you won't,' he thought and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened.
Behind them followed some brothers or cousins or friends Jaskier couldn't quite remember from his youth, half a dozen guards, and- He nearly cursed out loud when he saw there was a woman riding with them. 'Hangfelt, you bastard.'
To his deepest regret he had to postpone his harangue, though, because Aleksander Milas, the Count of Hangfelt was already dismounting and it was time for their act to begin.
Jaskier stepped forward to greet him with a smile as if he was an old friend and not his garroter. "My liege," he said and bowed with a flourish, "Lettenhove is yours."
"Pankratz!" Hangfelt laughed and displayed his crow's feet for everyone to see. "How good to see you again!" He pulled him into a tight hug that made it difficult to breathe. "How have you been?"
"Fine, my lord," he gritted out and did his best to make a sad face, "as much as the circumstances allow it. Though we are still very heartbroken for the passing of our father."
"And I expect no less, my loyal servant. Which is why I postponed this visit as long as I could. I would not want to disturb your grief."
"You could never, my lord," he answered but the Count had already moved on to his sisters, who were still curtsying deeply. Jaskier nudged Ciri with his elbow to get her to do the same.
"My dear Lady Goldfurt," he said as he beckoned Janina to rise. "I see you still enjoy your brother's hospitality. Is your husband's town so unappealing?"
"Not at all, my lord," her voice and smile were icy, "I am only here to help my brother settle in. He has been away for so long; he hardly knew his way around the castle upon his return."
That made Lord Hangfelt laugh. "Is that true? Have you forgotten all about your home while away on your little adventures?"
"Hardly, my lord," Jaskier forced himself to say. "But it is good to have familiar faces surrounding me."
He nodded. "And what pretty faces those are. Lady Józefa!" He kissed her on both cheeks and Jaskier found himself admiring her self-control. She didn't even flinch from his slobbery mouth. "Has your brother still not found you a husband, Madam?"
"Alas, he has not," she answered jovially, truly an accomplished actress. "Though I trust he will soon correct that mistake. Come spring, perhaps?"
"Sooner still, I hope. I would love a spring wedding. Speaking of weddings, you do remember my sister, Pankratz? The Lady Alina Milas."
The lady in question dismounted her own horse and came over to them. She was Aleksander Milas' step-sister, almost two decades younger than her brother, and the heiress to a rich estate. And his betrothed, whom he had stood up one beautiful autumn evening in 1252 on their wedding day. 'Shit,' he thought and bowed to kiss her hand. This day was growing worse by the minute. He didn't let that show, though. "How could I not? Is it me, Lady Alina, or have you grown thrice as beautiful since our last meeting?"
"Surely I have," she answered coldly. "I was six years old when you last saw me. Though not for lack of opportunities, I remind you."
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Hangfelt just laughed again. "Look at you, Pankratz! She hasn't forgiven you, yet. Well, maybe it is not too late. You are still unmarried, I've heard."
"I am. Though let us not talk of such a joyous occasion yet. You see, my sisters'-" He halted for just a moment, shooting them an apologetic glance. "- delicate nature is still rather frail after our father's death. I wouldn't want to disturb their mourning with festivities."
Lord Hangfelt pouted, which looked ridiculous on a man of his age and size. "You speak of mourning, yet still you have invited guests to your house. I think we haven't been introduced yet?"
"My cousin, the Honourable Fiona Nowak. I met her three years ago in Verden and, after I heard the war had left her orphaned, I had her brought to Lettenhove. It has lessened our grief greatly to have her with us."
Ciri rose from her curtsy and let the Count kiss her knuckles. She obviously had learned self-control from Józefa, for her face didn't so much as twitch. "I am terribly sorry for your loss, Madam."
"There is nothing to be sorry for," she answered and Jaskier could feel the whole courtyard hold its breath, "it was not your sword that slew my mother."
Hangfelt blinked for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I see the family resemblance now! A steel-tongued brat for our silver-tongued lordling. Have you given up your verses and songs yet?"
"Almost, your Lordship," he answered with a forced smile, "there is only one person in the world who might move me to a ballad these days."
"A lover?" he teased.
'If only.' "An old friend."
He frowned. "Not the witcher, I hope."
Jaskier forced himself to smile. "Precisely him."
"Speaking of steel and silver and ballads, then, where is he? Has he left so soon again?"
"Not at all, my lord. Though, he left before sunrise this morning. He does not like to spend the days in company, especially not while he is mourning."
"Mourning?" one of the members of Aleksander Milas' party called. "Are you quite sure he can even feel?" Roman, he remembered the brat was called, the Count's youngest brother and just out of his swaddling clothes when Jaskier had left.
'I am, you prick, and I am quite sure with such a comment you'd have angered him enough for him to gut you for me. He can feel just fine.' He pitied that he couldn't say that to his liege's brother. Instead, he opted for: "I believe he thinks himself guilty for the death of Princess Cirilla."
"Ah," the Count said and dropped his voice compassionately. "I've heard the tales. They say she was raped by half a hundred men before the bastards killed her."
His eyes grew wide and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened. "My lord, not in front of the child, if you please," he said just as quietly. "She's gone through so much already."
"Of course." He straightened himself. "Speaking of children, have you met my son, yet, Pankratz? Aleksander, Lord Retton."
"I'm afraid I have not." Jaskier bowed again, when the lad stepped forward, looking very out of place with his gangly limbs, too large ears and peach fuzz on his upper lip. 'Gods, and I went to Oxenfurt at that age!' he recalled. Twenty years later, the thought of sending a child to that place filled him with terror. He was glad that the boy could not see the grimace on his face. "At your service, my lord."
"Rise, Lord Lettenhove," he said with a thin voice. 'Gods, he's nervous,' Jaskier thought with amusement. "You, uh, have a beautiful castle."
'What pretty lines he has learned.' He had a hard time not smirking when he answered: "I am pleased to hear that. Are you looking for a new keep for yourself, my lord?"
The lad frowned deeply, obviously not understanding the jape. "Not at all."
"No? Are you then making plans for the future, my lord?"
Helplessly and quite confused Aleksander the Younger looked up at his father, who in turn had a hard time to keep from laughing. "Enough of the teasing, Pankratz," he chided softly. To his son he said: "I told you to guard your tongue with that one. Twisting the words in your mouth is his easiest exercise."
"I would never, your Lordship," Jaskier said quickly, smiling openly now.
"Now, don't add lies to the never-ending list of your sins. We're hungry and we're cold, so keep your mouth shut and lead us to your hall and serve us your best wine. We've deserved it."
Jaskier bowed again. "It would be my pleasure." He turned to his former betrothed. "Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour of accompanying you?"
She scowled and for a moment he feared she might decline, but then she took his offered arm. After a glowering stare of her elder brother she even dignified his formal phrases with equally stilted responses as the Count led the way to the hall as if he owned the place. 'Which he does,' Jaskier reminded himself.
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Aleksander the Younger stumbled over his words to ask Ciri to walk with him, who graciously accepted and giggled stupidly. Then, as she took his arm she made a barbed comment that the boy did not understand but that made Janina gasp in thinly-veiled horror. He couldn't quite rid himself of pride welling up at that, despite the curtain lecture that surely waited for him once the Count left.
In the hall Jaskier hurried to pull the lord's chair back for the Count and tried to ignore the jealousy seeing him at the head end of his table, his heir at his right-hand side. 'You never wanted the stupid title anyways,' he told himself, 'so there's no reason for jealousy now.'
He himself sat down at his liege's left, with Lady Alina at his side. Opposite to them was Ciri next to Aleksander who looked just as miserable as Jaskier felt. As soon as the other guests had resolved their brief argument about who got to sit next to Józefa and had all settled into their seats, the food was brought out.
It was a lot, much more than needed to feed such a small party and Jaskier felt a little bad for wasting it. But that was the way things were and he could do nothing about it. So he had his guests’ plates and cups filled and kept full, maybe a bit too much so. Roman Milas was drunk before the hour was up.
After lunch the Count got up. "I'll be going on a hunt," he declared, "and you will come with me."
Jaskier's head snapped around. "Excuse me?" he answered with a frail voice.
"I believe you understood me quite well. We're going hunting, Pankratz."
'What for?' he wanted to ask but didn't dare to. It was late in autumn already, there were no hunts this late. Besides, there were no hounds in Lettenhove and they hadn't brought any with them either. 'We're not hunting for game, then,' he thought grimly and fought the urge to divest himself of his lunch again. "Of course," he answered instead. "My pleasure."
He left Ciri and Alina with his sisters and led the Count and his friends outside again, praying to all the gods he knew. He prayed that Geralt had finally learned how to listen to a fucking order. He had no idea what his liege could want with the witcher — and he had no desire to find out either.
It took all his carefully composed self-restrain not to let the anxiety that roared within him rise to the surface. ‘He’ll be fine,’ he told himself, ‘he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. He has to be.��� Instead he tried to busy himself with what he did best: telling stories. Joyously he japed and jested, and he would’ve jigged to, were his feet not planted firmly in his stirrups.
Aleksander the Elder called for all the raunchy stories of his time in Oxenfurt and he gladly delivered. And when he and his friends doubled over in their saddles with laughter, Aleksander the Younger appeared at his side, shyly asking whether he could tell him about the Academy. The boy wasn’t stupid, Jaskier soon discovered to his surprise, on the contrary. ‘He’s just young,’ he realised, ‘and it can’t be easy to find your voice with a father as loud as his.’
Still, the worry in his chest did not subside and he kept looking to the sky, where the sun inched towards the horizon far too slowly for his liking. Apparently, the Gods had heard his prayer, for they returned some hours later with empty hands and empty stomachs. Dinner was hastily brought out for the hungry hunters and after that the nobles retreated to the fireplace room in the East Wing.
Hangfelt claimed Jaskier's armchair and Aleksander Geralt's, so Jaskier was left standing awkwardly for a moment before begrudgingly retreating to the divan where Alina sat. Like that he was forced to continue the polite conversation, that quickly turned into the dullest interaction of his entire life, until she mercifully begged her brother's leave to retreat for the night.
“You may go,” the Count conceded. “Aleksander, go with her.”
“Father,” he whined pathetically, “you promised I could stay.”
“I promised you could stay the evening,” he growled. “The evening’s over, which means that women and children are going to bed.”
Jaskier hid his smirk and jerked his head in the direction of his sisters and Ciri. The princess was on her feet already and floated over to their guests. “Lord Retton,” she curtsied quickly, “Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour to show you to your rooms?”
Aleksander the Younger frowned and Jaskier smiled proudly. There was no way the young lord could politely refuse such an offer and he damn well knew it. So, he and Lady Alina went with Ciri and his sisters, and left Jaskier alone with Hangfelt and his men.
That finally gave Jaskier the opportunity to talk to the Count himself. "Lord Hangfelt," he said quietly, "might I talk to you in private?"
He scowled but nodded graciously, and allowed Jaskier to lead him to his study. "A drink, my lord?"
"Gladly," he answered as he sat down in Jaskier's chair by the window.
Jaskier poured two goblets of his best liquor — he'd need the courage — and brought them over to his lord. "Your witcher hasn't returned," he remarked as he accepted the drink; their cups clinked together, "and yet it is already dark. He's not very well trained."
"He's not an animal," Jaskier exclaimed indignantly before he could stop himself, "nor is he a prisoner. He may come and go as he likes."
"Not a very grateful guest, then, if he doesn't even come to greet his host's lord."
He clenched his jaw, desperately trying to think of a witty response. He wasn't fast enough though, for Hangfelt continued: "Hm. So, that cousin of yours... She does look an awful lot like you."
Jaskier tensed. 'Shit, I should have shut that rumour down as soon as it left Janina's lying lips.' "I suppose she does," he answered diplomatically.
That made the Count smile brightly. "Well?"
He hesitated. "Well... what, my lord?"
"Are you going to legitimise her?"
"Oh." Truth be told he hadn't even thought of that. He cursed silently. Well, maybe- "I haven't decided yet."
"Well, decide quickly, then. I like you, Pankratz. And as luck would have it, the betrothed of my dear Aleksander passed away from a fever a few months ago. I haven't decided on another match, yet."
For a few short moments Jaskier was stunned into silence, convinced that his ears had to be betraying him. 'Why would the Count want to bind me to his family tree?' Before he had even the chance to gather a clear thought his mouth blurted out: "What would you get out of it?"
Lord Hangfelt laughed. "Ever the clever man. Why, I would get Lettenhove back for a start.”
“Well, my lord, if you want it back, why not just take it?” He forced himself to smile. “You know just as well as I do that doing so is completely within your rights.”
“What, and just throw you out?” He shook his head. “No, Pankratz, I don’t think I’m keen on aggravating you anytime soon. Or your sisters, that is. I can’t afford a feud with neither Goldfurt nor Kerton. Not to speak of his Majesty’s uncle, who is so very fond of your Jolanta. And, judging by your reputation, you’d just flee to Oxenfurt and write a horrible cycle of smear poems that would ruin my reputation beyond measure, but not before seducing at least three of my siblings and my mother.” There was an amused twinkle in his eye. “Is that an accurate assessment?”
Jaskier quickly hid his smile. “I believe so, my lord.”
“I know four things about you. First, you were endowed by the gods with a vivid imagination and a silver tongue. I know about the games you play and it’s folly not to fear you. You could be more lethal than your witcher still. Secondly, you’re too clever for your own good. You graduated two terms early, summa cum laude, with begrudging recommendation letters from all your professors. While simultaneously managing to climb the steps of the Academy to the rooms above the vice-chancellor’s office. Don’t give me that look, Pankratz, I did my research. Thirdly, you know how to survive. You did that for sixteen years while trailing behind a witcher like a lost puppy and fucking your way through nigh every marital bed of the Continent. That’s rather impressive. And lastly, you are filthy rich. In fact, you’re the richest vassal I got and I know that you know how to become richer still. Is that about right?”
He nodded slowly. “Colour me impressed, my lord,” he answered, “I believe you’re seeing right through me.”
“Good.” A smile spread on his face. “So, Pankratz, I have to retract my earlier words. I do not want Lettenhove back. I want you. For good. And I want you to put that clever little brain of yours to good use. I think we can go far, you and I.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “So, why don’t you tell me why you actually wanted to speak to me and we work out a trade?”
“A trade, huh?” he repeated quietly. That was a much better bartering position than he’d imagined himself to be in. “It is true that there is something I wanted to ask of you, though does it not require Fiona to wed your Aleksander.”
“Why ever not, Pankratz? I took you for an opportunist! Wouldn't you like your grandson to be a Count?"
Jaskier's head was spinning as the whole extent of the offer became apparent. He should, he guessed. As a Viscount, that was. He should be delighted with the opportunity to get Goldfurt within reach. If Ciri truly were his daughter, he probably would have agreed without thinking twice about it.
But she wasn't. She was Ciri, sweet little Ciri, who had suffered so much already, who slept with stuffed animals and clung to his lips with whatever story he told; brave little Ciri, who'd be just as deadly with a blade as her father once she was grown. He couldn't barter her away. Never. Not even to- "She's only ten years old," he said quietly. "I don't want to take that kind of decision quite yet."
Lord Hangfelt snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. She’s more than old enough for a betrothal. Alina was scarcely ten months old when our fathers brokered the engagement."
'And what grief that betrothal brought,' he thought bitterly. ‘My bride was not even old enough to agree to an engagement when I could already be married.’ Another reason why he had chosen to hide in Oxenfurt for four years, though not before his father had forced his hand to sign the damned thing. "Allow me a bit more time to think about it. Please, my lord. I only just got her. Seven years I didn't even know of her existence. Don't take her from me just now. I can offer you something else in its stead."
"Tell me about your demand and we can see about that payment. How bad is it? Treason? Spying? Did you kill someone? Not a member of the court, I hope, I can't help you there."
"None of that, my lord, you'll be glad to hear. It's…” He wet his lips nervously. "Five generations ago my ancestors were granted this keep for their loyal services to your family. They have kept their peace, collected their taxes, furthered their interest. I have done nothing less. These ancient walls have protected those who bore my name ever since. Refugees were among them, and traitors, too, yet with your blessing no foe dared disturb the peace of this keep."
"Yes, as it is tradition."
Jaskier closed his eyes and swallowed his pride. 'Geralt could do it,' he told himself. 'And if the stoic witcher can, so can I.' Slowly, he went to his knees. "My liege, I am asking your leave to extend the Castle Peace that protects me and mine to Geralt of Rivia, as well."
"So, that's why he's not here." The Count of Hangfelt was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "I thought as much, but gods above and below, Pankratz, you are beside yourself with fear. He's a witcher, he will be alright! What are you so afraid of?"
'Why don't you tell me?' he thought angrily. 'You're the one who's been searching for him for the better part of the afternoon.' But right now was the time for humility and humiliation, not anger. "Might I be allowed to finish my plea, my lord?" he asked, his eyes firmly lowered onto the carpet.
He snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Well, then, wordsmith, talk away."
"The Witcher Geralt of Rivia is my dearest friend, whom I have known for almost half of my life. I love him like I would a brother. He arrived on my doorstep tattered and torn from the war that divides our beloved Continent, with bloodhounds on his heels. They turned around as soon as Lettenhove came in sight, but I do not know if they will stop without knocking a second time. It is not only Nilfgaard who calls for his head, but other factions, too, closer to my borders than I would like. I would like to protect him from these threats and any that might follow."
"You're asking for a lot, Pankratz, you know that," Aleksander Milas said quietly.
"I do, my liege."
"And how do you intend to pay for that?”
He swallowed. "I-" His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, but it did not help the dryness of his mouth. 'It's for Geralt,' he reminded himself, 'for Geralt and Ciri.' With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he said: "I accept, my lord. I will become a part of your family and help you with your ambitions. If your sister would still take me after the insults I have bestowed upon her."
"Hm," the Count said. “That’s a lot you offer for a bit of protection for your witcher.”
“It is,” he agreed quietly. “You said it yourself, four sixteen years I trailed after him like a lost puppy. He is very dear to me.” After a small pause he added: “Though I certainly wouldn’t be disinclined to another holding or two in exchange for my service.”
"Fine," the Count conceded after a moment of consideration. "Wed Alina if you're so fond of her, then. I'll draw up the contract."
Jaskier clenched his teeth. 'Shit.' That meant that there would be at least half a dozen clauses in it that he wouldn't like. Maybe if he talked to Geralt- No. He wouldn’t do that to them. He bowed his head instead. "I would be honoured," he answered.
The Count held out his hand and Jaskier took it with numb fingers to kiss the signet ring. "Belleteyn is a wonderful date for a wedding."
"I am inclined to agree, my liege."
"Get up now, liegeman, and go fetch your witcher. He'll have nothing to worry about from me tonight. And tomorrow he can swear to you and he will be safe."
"I am grateful for your generosity," he answered honestly.
"I'm certain you are. Now, stop frowning, this is a joyous day."
It was an order, but Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to follow it. 'A joyous occasion?' he asked himself. 'I sold my hand in marriage to shield Ciri from the same fate, and for what? To protect the man, I have loved for half my life with whom I can't lead a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes. Pray tell me, my lord, what is joyous about that?'
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open heart but ethan and mc are soulmates
910 words – book one and the beginning of book two
(tagging @megowitch because i shared these with her back in june of last year and we headcanoned together 😳)
in this au, people start to feel the stronger emotions their soulmate feels after a certain age
growing up mc knows their soulmate is angry and upset and lonely and wants to help them but doesn’t know how. as they get much older their soulmate starts to get happier which makes them happier but they can still sense a consistent feeling of loneliness from them
considering the age difference, ethan grows up thinking he doesn’t really have a soulmate because he doesn't feel anything from them. he literally doesn’t feel any of mc's emotions till he’s much older – he really just thinks he’s going through it emotionally for a while and doesn’t realize he actually does have a soulmate till a few years later
(ethan during a med-school seminar: oh my god why the fuck am i crying)
(the people sitting next to him: oh my god why the fuck is this dude crying)
(mc in high school crying: mom my homecoming date just ditched me 😢)
ethan obviously was never given the love or support he deserved, especially with his mom walking out on his family, so he felt very alone growing up. plus seeing the people around him feel and meet their soulmates and him never having felt anything had him genuinely believing he’s not meant to be with someone and that no one will ever love him in that way (internally he believes he doesn’t deserve it) and he lives his life thinking that and just focusing solely on his studies and career. he grows a bit cynical about the whole concept of soulmates because of everything. then when he’s older he starts to feel these intense emotions and is like wtf is happening – he knows it’s not himself, and at one point tries diagnosing himself but then he realizes he’s finally got a soulmate
(ethan reading textbooks that basically affirm that some people get their soulmates much later than intended and feeling terrified and genuinely afraid of love... but also a small part of him is relieved)
at the beginning of his relationship with harper, they wish they were soulmates but also ethan is like, fuck the system we don’t need to be soulmates to work out! (breaks up and gets back together repeatedly)
mc realizes ethan's their soulmate wayyy before he does so for a few weeks they're kind of distant from him and just taking it in. suddenly they're 10x softer with him knowing that he’s had such a rough childhood and he’s confused because Where Is The Annoying Resident He’s Fond of (and In Love With) and Why Aren't They Bothering Him and Nosing Into His Business 😠
they're hesitant about telling him for a long time because they're afraid he won’t believe them and they'll just end up embarrassing themselves because he probably gets that shit a lot from other people who’re interested in him (and would he even believe one of his residents is his soulmate?)
they realize their soulmate is ethan when dolores dies – they're still a bit unsure but once they walk into the unfinished wing and find out about naveen they know for sure after that
they’re surprised and a bit in disbelief over the fact that their mentor – the reason they even went to med school – turned out to be their soulmate. it feels almost too good to be true
ethan also wonders whether mc is his soulmate when dolores dies, but he of course refuses to believe it and pushes the thought away every time he suspects (as he gets to know them better, he finds himself wanting it to be true but tells himself it's a ridiculous thing to hope for)
ethan hides his emotions so well on the outside so mc is always surprised when they feel really strong things from him (which is why at first they're like nah it can’t be him... my soulmate was so sad this morning and he seemed really normal)
he finds out they're his soulmate in miami. he’s hesitant because he’s their attending and he’s also upset that they knew and didn’t tell him, which is why he pushes them away and keeps his distance from them for a while
knowing that they're soulmates, they both feel a stronger pull to one another than they'd ever felt before, their subconscience often telling them to go find the other when they're not feeling well
ethan tries to hide his emotions so much on the outside, especially trying to cover them up from mc because he's their role model and because he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone else. even after they find out about one another he always denies his emotions when asked; but then when mc feels really sad over something he’ll always without fail pull them aside and ask if they're doing alright
he feels his past cynicism towards the whole concept of soulmates start to break down the more time he spends with mc. by the time they join the diagnostics team, he's aware of the fact that he's deeply in love with them but doesn't want to jeopardize their career or hurt them in any way
and so, for the most part, their relationship stays very will-they-won’t-they, mc waiting for ethan to do something, ethan wondering how long he’ll be able to push his feelings away before he eventually cracks, the both of them just waiting for something to happen.
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Songfic for Shoto or Dabi with the song 'Stay' by Mayday Parade? I really loved your Sero one with Hard for Me 😭😭💓💓💓
I went with Dabi bc I was feeling burned boi hours!!
also took inspiration from an older post of mine... which in turn was inspired by an ASMR video XD
also also DAMN I love Mayday Parade but I hadn’t heard this song till I got this request?? and it SLAPS holy shit I’m crying
please let me love this crispy burnt chicken nugget uwu
I need some time, just deliver the things that I need for now
everything that I feel’s like a warm, deep calm casting over me
and it’s taking me to somewhere new
Toya Todoroki is dead, but until a short time ago, he didn’t really know what else to call himself. DABI has a good ring to it, he eventually decided.
There was only one person who showed him any little bit of kindness as he had drifted out of the drug- and depression-induced numbness he’d been in for maybe a week. (Name). He remembers them more than anything else he remembers from that time. Whatever words exactly they said aside from offering to stay with him and listen, if he wanted to talk, have been lost to whatever force allows him to repress most of his horrific childhood memories.
All he really knows is that it’s been months, and the thought of their nervous, good-natured smile is pretty much the only thing that lets him feel anything at all.
if you believe that everything’s alright
you won’t be all alone tonight
and I’d be blessed by the light of your company
slowly lifting me to somewhere new
Seeing them again shakes so many feelings loose that he wasn’t even sure he could feel anymore.
He likes to pretend that he doesn’t feel a damn thing, and sometimes it’s a godsend when he can’t feel anything at all. But suddenly, as soon as he sees them again, he remembers how great it is to be happy. He keeps his cool in front of everyone else simply because he doesn’t need more vulnerable spots.
When he’s all alone outside smoking, and he sees (Name) out of the corner of his eye coming over to him, though, he almost wants to break down. His heart almost chokes him when it jumps into his throat as soon as they sit down beside him.
“Hey,” they say softly. The hand they set gently on his knee makes him wish he could fucking cry. Why are they treating him like he’s some precious thing? “You miss me, Toya?”
oh, can you tell I haven’t slept very well
since the last time that we spoke?
you said, “Please understand, if I see you again
don’t even say hello.”
(please…)
Just thinking about that name, about who he used to be, makes his hands shake. He blows out a slow stream of smoke, letting it drift in the air around them before he can even think about formulating a response. Hearing the name in their voice, especially because they don’t know better, isn’t so bad, but — it’s not who he is anymore.
“I don’t really remember a lot about that night,” he admits, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Mostly just you.”
“Really?” That smile of theirs… God. It’s still the same. A little bit anxious, way too sweet for someone who’s hanging around unsavory people, so genuine. “That’s… fair, I guess. You seemed to be in a really bad place. But I’m glad I get to see you again.”
His head tilts to one side, and another cloud of smoke filters from between his lips. He wasn’t expecting that. “Heh. And here I was, figuring you’d told me that it was a one-time thing, that you didn’t ever plan on seeing me again. That… you know… if I ever did see you again… I should just pretend I didn’t know you at all.”
Their smile falters, just a little. “I… didn’t mean to come off like that.” A hand shifts over to rub at their arm, self-conscious, probably unsure about whether he’ll want to hear what they have to say. “Every time I was in that area where I found you, I… I looked for you. I really hoped I’d see you again.”
He can’t breathe.
what a night it is when you live like this
and you’re coming up beneath the clouds
don’t let me down — all the love’s still there
I just don’t know what to do with it now
His head dips down amid the smoke, almost like he thinks it’s going to hide him. A shuddering, unraveling breath leaves him, something that’s probably as close to a sob as he can bring himself to display to them. “Fuck, I just—”
That’s not something he expected to hear in the slightest. To know that someone actively searched for him, wanted to see him again, didn’t want him just out of their lives… it’s unbelievable. He doesn’t know who would want him around, and his head tells him that, like almost everyone else, they’re lying. For once he does his best to shove that down.
They seem so authentic. Like lying doesn’t even cross their mind as an option. He wants to believe them more than anything.
“I don’t get that a lot,” he finally says. He doesn’t know what else to say to express what he’s thinking. “I never… never did. You’re the first person… you were the only good thing about that night. About my whole fucking life.”
He throws his cigarette down, grinding it beneath his heel, though it’s a weaker gesture than usual. It feels like his whole body is shaking and he’s about to come apart any second.
(Name)’s hand moves again, reaching to wrap their fingers lightly around his. It’s quite honestly the first time anyone has ever given him this kind of gesture. He doesn’t hate it. He can’t. “Then I’m sorry. If I was the first good thing about your life, then you deserved better.”
you know, I still can’t believe we both did some things
I don’t even wanna think about
just say you love me and I’ll say, “I’m sorry
I don’t want anybody else to feel this way”
no, no, no
They reach their other hand down and produce a couple bottles of booze, offering one to him. “The truth is, I don’t think I’m any better. You’re one of the only good things about my life, too, and I… don’t get people wanting to see me either. That night was crazy,” they laugh as they pop the cap off their bottle, “but it also kind of — you know. Felt like I was… actually with a friend. Or… or, you know, something like that.”
“Something like that, huh?” he mumbles, opening his own bottle. One swig makes him feel a little more at ease; tastes like cheap beer, alright. To be fair, they’re not the only one who felt like that. Having them there that night made it almost bearable. “… I, uh… I mean… think about you a lot, too.”
The way their face lights up immediately is all the reaction he needs.
“I, uh. I go by Dabi now, by the way.”
can you tell I haven’t slept very well
since the last time that we spoke?
I said, “Please understand, I’ve been drinking again
and all I do is hope.”
(please…)
stay
please stay
Dabi doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he lets his hand tighten around theirs, or when he steels himself using his bottle so he can push himself toward them. All he really knows is that he’s been wishing they were in his life again and now they’re here. They’re here, right in front of him.
He suspects they don’t know what they’re doing when they respond by leaning in. Or at least, they don’t fully know why they’re doing it, because it’s the same thing he feels. That shaky uncertainty, that hesitation, that undeniable need to want to be something with someone.
It’s unclear who makes the first move, but before too long, they’re kissing like a pair of long-lost lovers… or maybe a pair of long-lost could-have-beens. To Dabi, it’s physically painful, to have them pressed against the charred parts of his skin, but for once, his heart has stopped hurting, however brief that feeling might be.
He’s struck by the depressing thought that he didn’t realize how badly he wanted them until he was pressed against them.
I’ll admit I was wrong about everything
‘cause I’m high and I don’t wanna come down
all the fun that we had on your mother’s couch
I don’t even wanna think about
Their reunion isn’t really horribly passionate or unspeakably desperate. They don’t have their hands completely all over each other, clawing to be closer, constantly writhing against one another.
It’s needy, in the way that two people who are lonely and hurt and tired can be for each other.
For his part, Dabi thinks he should have given (Name) more of a chance, even though back when he was Toya he probably couldn’t have. He could kick himself for believing the worst of them, for disappearing from their life without a trace, for denying himself this that he could have had right beside him all this time if he hadn’t. Even though it isn’t like years have passed, he’s still pissed at himself for being so stupid.
He can’t recall right now exactly what was so memorable about that night, other than just them. He doesn’t remember what they said or did or how they found him or when it all ended. He remembers them, their smile, that they treated him kindly and sat with him, and then he remembers leaving. Did he leave when he noticed they were gone? Had they fallen asleep and he slipped away?
Does it matter now that he has them back? Whatever happened obviously wasn’t enough to keep them from wanting his company.
I’m not strong enough for the both of us
what was I supposed to do?
you know I love you
oh, please stay
please just stay
stay…
He missed them so much. He still misses them even with their lips on his.
“Tell me,” he breathes with his forehead pressed to theirs, “you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Though his eyes aren’t quite as good as they used to be, he catches it when they smirk. It looks so melancholy on them, but it’s also… genuine. Just like they are.
“Don’t worry, Dabi. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. Not again.”
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One
I don’t know what to say. What do you say when you feel like the world is ending? There are a million ways that life feels over. The pandemic. Climate change. Pollution. Lack of resources. Misinformation. Lack of values. Lack of morals. The list could stretch on.
I am not a scientist. I am just someone who started their existential crisis a few years ago, who now suspects that many others are caught up in their own crisis as well. How did I get there? That isn’t something I am ready to talk about, but I can tell you that I think it started for me the way it would start for most people. I lost my faith in humanity.
I had always been an optimist. Someone who always had hope for the future. I saw the good in people, but then again, don’t we all at some point? Yet life experience slowly erodes that youthful naivety that some of us are naturally imbibed with, and perhaps it was only a matter of time before that slipped away. It was like I had been stumbling around for years in some kind of haze that I can only liken to drug induced euphoria. And then they pulled out the rug and I was on my ass sober.
My perception grew sharper, and I tried to tune things out the way I had before but found myself unable to. I was noticing the people around me in ways I never had before.
Social media made me sick as I scrolled through my feed. Everyone carefully wording the things they shared to cast them in a positive light. The desperation for attention… Sharing countless memes to let the world know, Yeah, I’m funny. I’m a catch. You should know this. Everyone needs to make it known that they say what’s on their mind, consequences be damned. I mean, maybe they are blocking dear old Grandma from their stories, but everyone else is going to know exactly why you have a problem.
Maybe I am explaining it wrong. Let me just tell you exactly what I think.
People complain about the pandemic’s effect on mental health. Everyone feels cut off. Disconnected. But I’ve been feeling that way all along. I think people have been unaware of the great disconnection we are all experiencing and are just now realizing when confronted with social distancing alone we are all feeling.
Maybe it is just me. Maybe it is just my age. My Mother told me one day I would have a family and disappear into it. She said when you have kids that slowly life becomes more about them than anything else, and friendships fall by the wayside. This was told to me when I asked her why her friends didn’t visit anymore. I didn’t believe her. I was just a child and there was nothing more important to me than my friendships. The thought that my best friends wouldn’t always be a part of my life was ludicrous. I vowed to prove her wrong. That would not be my life.
My Mother had a funny way of doing that. I always knew she was an intelligent woman, but there were so many pearls like this that she shared with me throughout my childhood that would make me react in disbelief. So many times she was right, and now it’s too late to say it to her… But let me digress.
That’s not my life, you might say. My friends still come around. They still call. We have a great relationship! I am happy for you then. But I am not talking to you. I am talking to those people who are curating their online profiles with a fine tooth comb in an attempt to get recognition. Bad self esteem is easier to handle when you get positive reacts to a selfie. Anxieties about parenthood are easier to handle when you share an inspirational quote about how you need your children more than they need you. Your marriage isn’t so toxic when people are fawning over pictures of your special anniversary dinner together and saying things like, “You guys are so lucky,” or, “Look how happy they are!” Maybe things aren’t as bad as you think they are. Everyone else sees how happy you two are together. As a matter of fact, people constantly say how happy your entire family looks. Maybe you are focusing on the negative too much. You’ve gotta work on that. You have to be less negative. So, you share some more inspirational bullshit to your friends and family online. You take lots of selfies and caption them that you are loving your life or that you are #blessed.
It makes you feel a bit better. The tightness in your chest lessens a bit when your friends and family hit that like button. They wish they had your life. You are lucky. You are grateful.
I feel bad for the children though.
They will never experience what life was like before. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Every old person says this. Things were better in my day. It is almost a cliche. Unfortunately most people tend to view the past through a nostalgia filter. My Mom didn’t do that. She constantly told my siblings and I how lucky we were to be around for such a wonderful period of human history. She marveled at video games and happily played them with us. She was jealous of us getting to experience what she called the Golden Era of Disney. She made sure we appreciated the time we were alive in. I am aware of my children’s luckiness too. They have a world of information at their fingertips. Pictures and videos can happen at the touch of a phone screen ready to preserve all those precious memories. That’s nice. It really is. I would have died for a video camera in my childhood. Plus, they are living through meme culture. Such hilarity. So many funny vloggers. So many silly trends… What a time to be alive!
My kids do not ride the school bus though. They are considered car riders. The week they are with me I drop them off at school and the week they spend with their Dad his Mother drops them off. My kids get sad about this sometimes. The thought of riding the bus with their friends seemed like an adventure. They had heard funny stories from friends and even from their family. They wanted to experience it. So, I made it happen.
Those young bright eyes were wide with excitement as they waited for the school bus. They had had to get up way earlier that morning since a bus route takes much longer than me driving them directly, but they didn’t mind. They were hopeful. Their morning held so many possibilities. Their joy at the novelty of it all made my chest swell with happiness. It lessened my nervousness about it. Yes, bus rides could be fun, but there is always potential for harassment or bullying. That morning I pushed my anxiety aside and focused on the moment, tried to live in it with them. We laughed as we said goodbye that morning. I could feel the excitement. For a moment I was transported back to my own childhood and that flood of adrenaline on the first day of school. I couldn’t wait for them to come home and tell me all about it.
That afternoon I picked them up from school. There wasn’t enough time for them to ride in the afternoon, not with homework and dinner prep. So, I waited in the car rider line at the school drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in anticipation. I kind of expected happy little hops towards my car when they came out the door, but when I saw them it was a bit more reserved. They looked sleepy and ready to put their long day behind them. I was kind of surprised, but it happens like that sometimes. School can be exhausting.
Immediately they relaxed when getting in the car, sinking down with exhaustion. I turned on the music and we drove. They said they were tired from getting up so early. I had forgotten about that. So, I asked the question I had been waiting all day to ask, “Well?”
They both gave me a shrug. I was confused. I expected to hear stories of them chatting with friends. Not the disinterested attitude they were displaying. It took the whole ride home to figure it out. Apparently they didn’t do much talking with their friends because everyone has a cell phone nowadays and there were sixty little faces glued to their phone screens the entire time. My children were feeling disappointment but also jealousy. They wanted phones too and didn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to have one yet. This wasn’t how I had expected the day to go. I sensed opportunity in that moment. Those pearls of wisdom my Mother gave me in my childhood? I was determined to do the same. Our car rides were where we had our most serious conversations because there are no distractions to the kids. It is one of the only times I have their undivided attention, so I spoke.
“Babies? I am really sorry for how the bus ride turned out. It wasn’t what you were expecting, and I know that you’re feeling frustrated, but this just shows why you don’t need a phone yet. You’ve just seen it yourselves.” My son looked angry at my words. He has been asking for a phone for several years and I sometimes wonder if he feels embarrassment at not having one like all of his other friends. I continued before I could be interrupted and lose my train of thought.
“My childhood has lots of happy memories. When I am sad sometimes I think back to other happy times in my life and it helps me to get through the day. I have so many memories with friends and family that I treasure-”
“But if I had a phone I could record those memories,” my daughter interrupted angrily from the back seat.
“You are missing my point, let me finish,” I admonished her. “Lots of people are missing out on good times and fun because of their phones. You all don’t see it that way but it’s the truth. People get addicted to their phones, and not just children. Adults are addicted too. They miss out on everything happening around them. When I go to visit Grandma I always feel frustrated because she isn’t paying any attention to me, her face is buried in her phone. Apps that you would use are MADE to be addictive. There are studies about this. You get a rush of dopamine, your happiness chemical, when you get things like reacts from your friends. People are becoming so dependent on it that they are creating any true happiness in their lives. They are slaves to their phones. It isn’t just social media, phone games are made the same way. They pay people big bucks to manufacture games in a way that leaves you coming back for more, over and over. It is how they make money. People pay to speed up the reward systems in these games, and it is like being manipulated.”
“I wouldn’t get addicted,” my son muttered angrily beside me.
“That’s what everyone thinks, but it happens slowly. You know how we do family dinner? Do you ever see me on my phone?”
“No,” they replied in unison.
“Exactly. I think it is the pinnacle of rude behavior to sit down to dinner and ignore everyone around you because you are playing on your phone. That isn’t how you create good memories. When you have a bad time you think back on the good times, right?”
“Yeah,” replied my son.
“And those good times involve your friends and family, right?”
“Yeah.”
“When you are going through something hard you are going to look back on times where you felt joy, or when you shared laughs with your friends over something funny that happened. You will never think back to hours spent on a video game, especially a phone game.”
“But I have had fun playing online with my friends! You’re wrong,” my son quickly pointed out.
“Yes, I can see some good memories happening in those instances, but for the most part you are playing alone. Those good times are few and far between. You might have had a laugh over something happening on the game, but how long will you hold that memory dear?”
What I should have said before we arrived home, and maybe it didn’t occur to me to say at the time, I love looking back on experiences with people where we had deep conversations. Where we were discussing important things. Where our young minds were filled with the wonder of infinite possibilities. Do I hear my children having conversations like that? I do not. There is hardly any depth. Before you say that this is me being old and being disconnected from the youth, let me say that I am not the only one who had deep conversations with their friends in childhood. You cannot say that you never pondered the meaning of life and what your role in it was.
Are children not having as many of these conversations because we are not teaching them that skill? Or are they more guarded because there are so many more ways to experience bullying these days? Do they feel unsafe to open up? I know that I am making mistakes as a parent myself. My son told me that he wanted to be a famous youtuber one day, and I couldn’t stop myself from showing that I was unimpressed with his aspiration. I asked my son why he no longer wanted to be a writer and said matter of factly that it was a terrible idea. I shut a door between us before it had even fully opened. I didn’t mean to, and have apologized, but I know that I will never get it back. How can he open up to me when I disregarded something so important to him? I didn’t mean to do it, and I regret it.
It wasn’t just the job itself though, it was my motherly instincts.
My children have not had to deal with online abuse yet. They have never been bullied in that way. They simply cannot fathom how nasty people can be when cloaked in anonymity. How many online influencers have killed themselves in the past year? Several that I have read about.
Eventually my son did ask why I had a problem with it, and I finally got to explain a little. I mentioned the nastiness of online comments, the suicides, and the depression that these people struggle with. My son assured me that he could just ignore nasty comments. I’m not so sure.
My son is definitely funny. He talks to himself while playing video games frequently and I can hear him from the other room. I am constantly chuckling at his antics and sound effects. Do I think people could appreciate his videos? Definitely. I love his commentary. Do I think people will be jerks to him anyway? Yep. That’s what people do. It is their outlet for their hate and rage in life. People take it out on others online, because when you act like a jerk online there are rarely any lasting consequences. Maybe a temporary ban or mute, but then these online bullies very often have multiple accounts so that they can continue their bad behavior unimpeded.
I try to reflect on my motives often. I find myself wondering about others motives all of the time, so I try to scrutinize myself in the same way. Because another big problem that I notice in life is that people are not searching for introspection and very often do not understand their own motivations. People lie to themselves constantly, and if there is one thing I am sure of it is this, if you cannot trust yourself, how can you trust anybody?
Am I being a terrible parent at this moment? I definitely feel I screwed up in my response to his aspiration that he shared with me. Is this me being overprotective and stopping him from pursuing his passions? How much damage have I done by my initial response? I want my child to feel he can talk to me, and I just made a common parent blunder. Every generation of children feels that parents just don’t understand. I want to do better.
Fame is fleeting and leaves you under the microscope of public scrutiny. I would never want that for myself, and cannot imagine my son dealing with those pressures. Way too much importance is placed upon external validation. Yes, it’s nice to have but I think it is much better to validate yourself. Don’t get me wrong, my Mother validated me constantly. She made me feel so intelligent, so witty, and so wise. I think she was the greatest for this, but it is necessary to validate one’s self as well. When you are dependent entirely on other people’s praise and all of your self worth comes from the attention of others you are destroying your own resilience. Sure, people preach self love constantly these days, but I don’t see it working too well in most cases. People are bashed for being prideful, or maybe they were prideful about the wrong things. Why are you so focused on loving yourself at any weight? Don’t you know that skinny shaming is a thing? Don’t you know that your outside is irrelevant? What matters is on the inside! Insert eyeroll. These aren’t my thoughts, but just an example. Everyone has an opinion and the internet gives them a place to share it. There will always be someone who is critical of your view. Preach self love all you want, but it is still so hard to come by.
Have I helped equip my children with resilience or self love? They seem to struggle with it. Have I praised them enough? Do I feel that they are mentally strong? Not as strong as I would like, but I fear the ways they could attain mental strength. I have experienced a lot of rough times in my life. I have overcome adversity. I have been at the bottom and drug myself back to the top. Is that the only way to build mental strength or resilience? Through pain? Everyone struggles in life. Will my children’s struggles help them to grow to be strong people or will it leave them a broken person constantly questioning their own validity?
No one knows the future. How do we know that our methods are right? We can only proceed based on our own life experiences and knowledge. It is so terrifying not to know what the future holds. What seemingly inconsequential things did you say or do that will reverberate through your child’s life and affect them in ways you cannot begin to imagine? Hindsight is easy. Staring into the unknown future is much harder. It is incredibly difficult to face. Every single person is capable of causing untold amounts of ripples that expand into society and spread throughout the word.
Do you ever think about your own ripples?
Some people are aware of it and try to send out good ones. They try to pay it forward whenever conceivable. Maybe they pay for the person behind them’s meal in line at a drive through restaurant. Maybe they bring donuts for their coworkers. Maybe they stop and help people alongside the road who need help changing a tire. There is plenty of good still in this world. It isn’t all bad. But are we as a society focusing enough on the bad ripples? The bad energy we are sending out into the world?
So few seem to care these days. Humanity as a whole is selfish. It isn’t your fault, that is our nature. It is how we survive. But deep down how many times have you made an exception for yourself because you are special, you are you? The pandemic has really opened my eyes to people’s inherent selfishness. How dare you try to inconvenience me by requiring me to wear a face mask? I don’t care that it is mandated, and that you are simply doing your job, I am going to harass and abuse you! You may not be in support of wearing a mask on a personal level, but I don’t care about that. I am not going to live my life in fear like all of you sheeple. So, be prepared, I will hit you. I will spit on you. I will shoot you. Seems dramatic, right? But this has happened over and over again in this past year.
I want to ask where is the humanity, but I am beginning to fear that this IS humanity.
So often I struggle with wondering, is humanity worth saving? If this is the end-times do we deserve another chance? What makes us redeemable? The only answer that I can come up with is love. We are redeemable because of love. Maybe you have a better answer than me. Love is the only thing that I can come up with at this moment, and even that is hard to hold on to. I feel myself spiral and losing faith in humanity on a daily basis almost, and I have to make a conscious effort to remember the good things. Those loving moments that we are capable of.
The animals that we rescue. The children that we pray for. The couples who still love each other after many trials or years. The art inspired by it, or the music. Love is a universal feeling. It can unite us, though we face the ever present danger of hate dividing us. I am so past hating stuff. I can tell you that I intensely dislike our former president, but do I wish his death like I have seen others do? I do not. I think we have a world full of damaged people searching for meaning, and there is no manual. We are all trying our best and are making decisions based on our own life experiences. What is right to you is wrong to someone else. It doesn’t mean anyone is wrong. It is just perspective. There is no other way to view it that I am aware of. We all have different perspectives, our own personal narratives of events. That is just what humanity does. We are not a collective consciousness. So many people try to make things black and white, when really there are nothing but varying shades of grey. Had I lived your life and been through the things you have been through I might feel very differently. This is just my opinion on the matter, based upon my own life experiences. I don’t hate you for feeling differently than me. I just get sad sometimes that we struggle to find common ground. I want us to succeed. I want humanity to persevere.
How do I explain everything that is on my mind lately without making you feel it is endless rambling? I know this started with a list of things that make it feel like the world is ending, and I could go on forever. Do I drone on and on, or should I find some semblance of structure? I do not mean to be a bore, but there is so much to address. Is this a diary? Is this to my children? I am unsure. Maybe it is just for me. Maybe I just need to find the words that can make a difference. I don’t know about you but for quite a while now I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that time is running out and there is something I must do. I hope that by trying to organize my thoughts I can figure out what it is.
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PROMPTS!! I want a pumpkin picking date with Kara pouting a lot bec Lena said they can’t just casually take the 800lbs pumpkin home. Bonus points if Lena caves and ends up paying some guy enough money to buy it and supergirl flies it back to their apartment to carve it. Maybe it can’t fit through the door?? I’m not sure.
(Oh my WORD, it took forever and a day to get this to post but I did it, dammit! @valkyrieskwad , this one's for you! Cross-posting it on Ao3!!)
"You want to what?"
Kara grins and bounces in place, totally unperturbed by Lena's decided lack of enthusiasm. "Pumpkin picking! There's a patch, like, an hour away. It's so cute, I follow them on Instagram, and everyone looks like they're having so much fun in the pictures! It's almost Halloween, too, so we need to go soon or all the good ones will be gone."
"The good ones…?"
"Pumpkins, Lena! Pumpkins! C'mon, please?"
"Isn't this exactly the sort of thing Alex makes fun of people for? Being basic?"
"Alex doesn't know what fun is if there aren't guns involved, so who cares? Please, babe? Be basic with me!"
Lena arches a brow at her, already caving under the weight of her girlfriend's boundless enthusiasm and the rare (and doubtlessly strategic) use of 'babe'. "Is it a muddy field?" she asks suspiciously.
"Uh… wear boots?" Kara tries, still smiling. "We can take the baby. He'd love it, and we need to work on socializing him, right?"
Lena turns her attention to the little white puppy snoozing on her lap, running a hand over his back absently. "I mean, yes, we do, but a farm?"
Kara's affronted, or at least playing at it. "Uh, I halfway grew up on a farm, thank you."
"And look what's happened because of it."
Kara laughs, shaking her head, somehow charmed even though Lena knows that she's being a brat about this whole thing. "Why do you hate pumpkin picking?"
"I don't like doing things unless I'm already good at them."
Kara scoffs at this. "You can't be bad at picking pumpkins, Lena. It's just like when you were a kid."
The long stretch of silence at this is telling.
"Lena," Kara says slowly, "have- have you ever been to a pumpkin patch?"
"I buy pumpkin at the store in a can, like a regular person. Half the work, half the price."
"But you can't carve a can of pumpkin puree!"
More silence. Krypto wakes up, shakes his whole roly-poly little body, and lays back down for another nap, snuffling as Lena rubs between his ears.
"Lena. Please tell me you've carved a pumpkin."
"I- I've seen people do it, so-"
"Oh my GOD."
"Kara-"
"What- what did you do at Halloween? No pumpkins! That's like half the fun, aside from all the candy and costumes, and…" Horror spreads across her face almost as fast as a creeping red flush spreads over Lena's. "Honey. Sweetie. Baby. Please, please tell me that your childhood included just one iteration of a normal American Halloween…?"
"Define normal..."
Kara jumps up from the couch, fuming. "I'm gonna punch your mom in the boob. Is it Tuesday? They do visits at the prison on Tuesdays, right? Because, like, I know she's in prison, repaying her debt to society, or whatever, but I'm still gonna go punch her in the boob."
Lena grabs Kara's hand, tugging her to a halt. "Alright, first of all, I appreciate and share the sentiment. Second, please never put your hands anywhere near my mother's boobs. Third, we're gonna stop talking about my mother's boobs, forever. Starting now."
"That's just… why does she suck so bad. Like, so, so badly, she sucks as a person. So bad. Badly sucks."
"Okay, yeah, you're doing that thing where you're so mad you make word puzzles, so I need you to sit down and hold this puppy." Lena lifts Krypto (who growls his fiercest growl and bites her fingers for disrupting his 18th nap of the day) and pushes him into Kara's arms, gratified when she instantly melts, just a little. "Better?"
"Yeah." She heaves a sigh and drops onto the couch beside Lena once more. "Look, if you really don't want to, we don't have to. But it is fun, and it is a disgustingly cute couple-y thing to do, which I know you love even if you pretend you don't."
Lena scoffs. "Prove it."
"You drag me into every photobooth you see and have a collection of all the photos in your desk at work."
Lena flushes a little more, knowing that she's been caught. "It's fun?" she asks quietly, spinning her chunky silver ring around and around on her finger.
"So fun. And it's a good excuse to get out of the city for the day." Kara scoots close, tipping her head so it knocks lightly against Lena's. "Instead of beating up your mom, what if we just make sure you get to do all the stuff you missed, like pumpkin patches and carving Jack-o-lanterns, and all that jazz?"
Lena considers this. "So, we're doing this at least partly to spite my mother?"
Kara beams at her. "Yep! You're gonna get all muddy doing something frivolous just because it's fun. She'd hate it."
"When are we going?"
It's a few days later that they're piled into a borrowed pick-up truck and coasting out of the city in the early morning. Lena has relented the wheel, for once, conceding that she hates driving outside the city and she has no idea where they're going. At least Kara was right about one thing- Krypto is already having a blast, trying his best to stick his entire upper body out the window, and yipping in annoyance when Lena continuously pulls him back into the cab.
One benefit, though, is Kara in what she calls her 'farm clothes', a heretofore undiscovered genre that involves a sturdy and well-loved pair of leather boots, what is clearly a men's flannel shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans secured with a heavy leather belt, and a goddamn trucker hat.
Lena's really annoyed at how much this look is working for Kara.
Totally annoyed. No other emotion. Or like, squirmy feelings about it in general.
None at all.
"... and of course we'll get some breakfast- hot cider and doughnuts sound good to you?"
Lena blinks, realizes that Kara's been chattering this whole time. "What was that?"
"I asked how you feel about getting some breakfast. You okay? You're kinda spacey today."
"Says the girl from space," Lena snarks.
Kara rolls her eyes, amused. "That joke was only funny the first hundred times."
"Still makes me laugh."
"Fine, fine. But you're good? 'Cause I can hear you thinking, over there."
"I'm good, I just… is it stupid that I'm nervous?"
Kara takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. "Not at all. But you don't need to be nervous or anxious, because it's fun. Okay?"
Lena nods. "Okay." She shifts a bit on the old-school bench seat in the truck. "Why did we borrow this thing, again? My cars are a lot more comfortable."
"Well, Frank would yell at me if I got mud all over one of your cars."
Lena snorts. "He would not, he loves you."
"And, this way, we can get a big one." There's an almost manic gleam in Kara's eyes that's distinctly disturbing.
Lena chooses not to ask questions.
It is not a muddy field.
The dirt road they pull onto doesn't look all that promising at first, but the pumpkin patch itself is pretty, in a rustic, outdoorsy sort of way. Even early in the day there's a decent crowd here, and Kara grins at the sight of the picturesque red barn a ways away cheerfully advertising cider and doughnuts inside. "Nice! I hoped they'd still be doing the cider and stuff!" She hops out of the truck and rounds the front to help Lena down- whoever this behemoth belongs to had installed a lift-kit to it, and it's a fair few feet to the ground.
"I thought this was a pumpkin patch?"
"Well, yeah, but there's an orchard next door or something, so they have apples and pumpkins. And pears, apparently. Ha! A-PEAR-ently! I'm funny," Kara cackles, settling her hands on Lena's hips.
"You're lucky you're so cute," Lena snorts and scoops Krypto up, bracing a hand on Kara's shoulder as she's lifted easily out of the truck and onto the ground. "But you being able to just pick me up like that? Always a turn-on."
Kara laughs, loud and surprised as a flush creeps up her neck. "Good to know."
Lena smirks and sets Krypto onto the ground, and their day begins.
"So," Lena drawls, chewing an admittedly delicious cinnamon cider doughnut, "what constitutes a good pumpkin?"
"Well, obviously, you don't want a squishy one."
"Obviously."
"Tiny ones are cute, but it's really hard to carve them."
"Noted."
"Other than that, it's all personal preference. I say go big or go home, Alex likes the really round ones, Eliza likes hers to be smooth, and Jeremiah loved ugly pumpkins."
"Ugly pumpkins...?"
"Oh, yeah, like, the weirder and bumpier the better. He was really good at carving them, so he could do, like, super cool faces and stuff. He made a witch one time that was really creepy."
Lena pushes up onto her toes to plant a kiss on Kara's cheek. "He sounds like a fun dad."
Kara smiles a little sadly. "He was."
Sensing a rapid downshift in mood, Lena resolves to perk the fuck up. "So! We did doughnuts for breakfast- which I strongly suspect was your real motivation for this little venture…"
Kara's mouth drops open in shock, but her eyes are sparkling with humor. "I would never!"
"Sure. So, as long as the pumpkin isn't soft, it's fair game?"
"Yup! Go nuts! I couldn't get a pumpkin last year, because of that guy from Yavin IV, I'm gonna get a big one this year to make up for it."
Lena fixes her with a look. "Not too big, though, right?"
Kara smiles innocently, letting Krypto tug her a pace or two ahead. "Of course not."
Lena sighs.
Kara really is a terrible liar.
"Lena."
Upon seeing what's caught her attention, Lena nearly drops her own perfectly round pumpkin. "No. Under no circumstances are we getting that one."
Kara's starry-eyed as she stares up at the truly gargantuan squash before her. "It's beautiful."
Lena strongly disagrees- this pumpkin is decidedly ugly, misshapen and lumpy and a shade that's not quite orange or green, but a rather sickly combination of both.
But what it lacks in general aesthetic appeal, it more than makes up for in sheer size. It's wider than Lena is tall, likely taller than she is, too, and is, in general, what Winn would call 'a threateningly large vegetable'. It's on a little platform, a plaque proudly boasting that it'd won some award or other at the state fair a week or so ago. And also its weight:
One thousand two hundred eighteen pounds.
Lena tries for reason. "Kara. Darling. Love of my life. This… thing won a prize. They bred it especially to be giant. There is absolutely no way they're going to sell it to two city-slickers."
And then it happens. After almost a year of dating, and several years of friendship, Lena is well aware of Kara's pout, and especially aware of her own susceptibility to it. She can almost sense when it's about to happen, these days, and she senses it coming now, tries to steal herself against it.
But it's no use. Kara, she could maybe handle. Maybe. But when she bends and scoops up their three-month old puppy to help her pout, Lena is powerless against the assault.
"Alright, that was unnecessary," she complains. "No using our son like that. He doesn't even know why he's pouting."
"But is it working?" Kara asks, hiding her face behind Krypto's and talking in the goofy voice she reserves for narrating his thoughts.
Lena groans, because yes, of course it's fucking working. "No. Kara, they worked hard to make that... gourd. Can't you get another one?"
"I mean, I can," she agrees, peeking over Krypto's head so just her eyes show. "But think about how awesome that's gonna look when I carve it."
Lena sighs. "Kara, they're using it as a draw to get people to come here."
"They're making it like a display in a zoo. People just come and point at it! We can give it a loving home!"
Lena arches a brow. "You literally just said that you want to cut it open, scoop out its insides, and carve it.."
"Well, yeah, but like, lovingly."
Lena snorts, knowing she's lost. "Fine! Fine, we can go ask."
Kara cheers, hopping a bit in excitement and darting forward to press her lips to Lena's in a silly, smiley kiss.
As predicted, the farmer is initially reluctant to sell his prize pumpkin. "It's not the money," he clarifies hastily when Lena doubles her offer for the damn stupid pumpkin. "I need the seeds, to plant next year. I won big at the fair this year, and with those I'd have a hell of an advantage next season. You understand?"
"What if we save the seeds and bring them to you?" Kara offers earnestly. "I can drive them out whenever."
The farmer looks skeptical at this, but Kara's offer doesn't waver under his glare, and he sighs, reaching out to shake Lena's hand and seal the deal. "Fine. Only because your girl is cute."
Lena huffs out a laugh, and Kara positively beams at him. "Thanks so much!"
"But Jake has the tractor out in the maze right now, won't be back for an hour or so to move it for ya."
Kara's grin only widens. "Don't worry, I called a friend for help moving it."
The farmer shrugs, and Lena groans, knowing that one spectacle at the pumpkin patch is about to be replaced by another.
Lena hands the farmer his due for his prize pumpkin, and he turns away before she calls out, catching his attention.
"Sorry, I almost forgot, how much for this one?"
He eyes the normal-sized, perfect pumpkin in Lena's arms and his mouth quirks up in a grin. "For you? On the house."
Supergirl makes a very showy entrance, to the delight of most in attendance (the exceptions being a 74-year old man who thinks anyone who flies should have to get a license, and her girlfriend who is rolling her eyes fondly and wrestling to keep their puppy from revealing her secret identity), landing with a flourish. She smiles brightly at the crowd waving and laughing, high-fiving anyone who offers before shouldering the massive gourd. "Sorry, guys, I'm on a very important mission. Support local farms!"
Lena snorts, loudly, and Supergirl takes off into the air as her ears turn a little pink.
The farmer sidles up to Lena at the back of the crowd, looking a little star-struck. "Wow."
Lena grins, dropping a kiss to Krypto's nose and blowing in his face when he nips at her chin. "Yeah," she agrees. "Wow about sums it up."
The truck rides notably lower on the trip back, the massive pumpkin weighing down the truck bed probably more than is entirely safe.
"So, how was your first trip to the pumpkin patch?" Kara asks with a grin.
"I hated it," Lena deadpans, cradling Krypto in one arm and her pumpkin in the other. On the seat between them are three dozen doughnuts, four gallons of cider, and three bottles of hard cider the farmer's wife had slipped into their bags with a wink.
Overall, it's been a very pleasant experience.
"Oh yeah?"
"Absolutely awful. Hated everything."
"What was the worst part?"
Lena reaches over, grabbing Kara's hand and threading their fingers together. "Spending it with you."
Kara clicks her tongue, shakes her head. "Yeah, that sounds awful. I'm a pain in the butt."
"Yeah. You're kinda cute, though, so I guess it's fine."
Kara chuckles, brings their clasped hands to her mouth and kisses Lena's knuckles. "Good news for me."
Lena smiles, turning her attention back to the window and watching as fields fairly fly by, the low sound of Kara singing in the background making this almost unbearably perfect.
Almost.
"Um… so, funny story…"
Lena arches a brow expectantly, and Kara scuffs her red boots on the floor. "Oh?"
"Yeah. So, the thing is, I tried everything, with the pumpkin, and… it won't fit through the door. None of the doors. Or any of the windows…"
Lena bonds at the waist and laughs until she cries.
That year starts a long-running and much beloved tradition, wherein a truly massive and skillfully-carved pumpkin appears in L-Corp's opulent lobby the first weekend of every October. It later years, it's joined by other, smaller ones, dozens, carved by the children of employees, including those of the CEO herself.
It's a family tradition, after all.
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Mess me up. (Klaus GoldsteinxReader College AU)
When you start getting angsty feels way too late at night and you just need to write a random one shot..anyone? Just me? Okay
Genre: angst/suggestive/slight fluff
Summary: Klaus goes through a break up and turns to you, aka his bestfriend, for comfort.
(Second person point of view)
"It's okay, (Y/N). This is your last year. You can get through this." Having your own apartment with no roommates throughout college had its perks- one of them being moments like this when studying has practically driven you insane, and now you're just talking to yourself. Fun.
"I fucking hate information. Couldn't I have been created as a rock?" You huff, stretching as you decide to give yourself the hundredth break this past hour to go make yourself your thousandth cup of coffee today.
A knock on the door interrupts your plans, however.
You glance at the clock hanging on your wall. 2:30 AM. The fuck kinda asshole knocks on people's doors at this time in the morning? You sigh, but trudge to the door anyway.
Upon peeking through the peephole, you almost gasp at the unexpected guest. Your bestfriend might've been an asshole, but he certainly wasn't one to stay up that late. He cares about his health, or whatever.
Maybe he'd decided it was time to change his boring habit and spend time with the most fun person in his life, you of course. You chuckle at your own joke, pulling the door open.
But your smile falters at the sight before you.
"Klaus?! What's wrong with you?! What happened?!" Questions escape your lips before you could comprehend any of them. His mischievous, teasing eyes had been turned blank and glossy, redness and puffiness evident even at first glance. He appeared to have been crying, but that was something you'd believed impossible, for you've known Klaus since childhood, and you couldn't remember the last time you saw tears in his eyes.
"Can I come in?" He croaks, keeping his head low.
"Y-yeah, of course." You step aside, allowing him to shuffle into your messy living room and place himself on the couch.
"Um, it's a bit of a mess; I wasn't expecting y- not that I mind, I just- um..do you want some tea?" You finish your string of nonsense awkwardly.
"It's okay. I just wanted to see you." His eyes don't meet yours. Normally, Klaus would be scolding the living shit out of you for your 'pig lifestyle'; never would he have been okay with your living room looking like it'd just been hit by a tornado.
You nervously inch closer to him; it was almost like you were waiting for a bomb to explode at the slightest mistake. "Did something happen?"
"No, nothing; I'm just cosplaying a cloud." He rolls his eyes and looks at you directly for the first time.
You laugh nervously, unnerved by the lack of humor in his statement regardless of how clearly sarcastic it was. Something is very clearly off, but you didn't know how to get him to open up.
"Are you gonna keep standing there like that? Could you just sit down?"
"Oh, um.." Suddenly aware of how awkward you look, you fumble to sit next to him on the couch.
After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, you'd had enough of how hot your face was getting, but you weren't sure if you were supposed to ask again about what happened, so you do what everyone hates but resorts to anyway: small talk. "So..how much studying left do you have?"
"What makes you think I have any studying left? I'm already done." It was honestly hard to try to talk normally when he looked like he had a permanent pout etched into his face. You couldn't see him for the stuck up, demanding nerd he normally is.
"Klaus, seriously, what is it?"
"What is what?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
"I-" He seemed to have been about to continue the argument but pauses, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glued to the floor (or rather the books and papers covering the entire floor). "I don't know if I'll be able to talk about it." He sighs.
You rub your eyes with your palms in frustration and exhaustion. "Forget the tea; I'm getting the vodka." You push yourself off the couch and head to the kitchen, returning with a large bottle and two glasses filled with ice.
"Drink till you spill....information not vodka; this shit's expensive." You clink your glasses together, downing the clear liquid in one go.
You both cringe a little at the flavour before you pour more for each of you. After that second round is when his majesty had finally started speaking.
"So, you know how I'd told you I'd propose to Mila, right? I was even looking for a ring and all, right?" He stares at his third glass like he was reading his words off of it.
"Yeah?" You already knew of his girlfriend; you weren't very fond of her, but if Klaus likes her, that's the whole point, isn't it? Okay, you weren't that understanding at first, mostly because you'd started developing feelings for Klaus at around the end of middle school, but after he and Mila started dating in their first year of college, you'd given up on it and decided to remain friends with him instead, and slowly you'd felt your feelings for him fade away, helping you become more supportive of his relationship.
However, his next statement makes you wanna throw all that support out the window.
"Well, I went to visit her dorm a few hours ago." He pours himself a fourth glass, downing it before uttering any more information.
He sighs. "She was giving some dude a head." He chuckles humorlessly. "I'd suspected she was cheating, but what I didn't expect was for her to try and play it off like she had the right to- like I deserved it somehow." He slams his glass on the coffee table and reaches for the bottle, only for you to pull it away.
"What are you doing?" He grumbles, the effect of the alcohol evident in the slurring of his speech.
"Enough. I know you're upset, but it's too much; it's strong; I've only had two glasses, and I'm already struggling..you've had four!"
"I'm not telling you the rest if you don't hand it over!" He crosses his arms childishly.
You hesitate.
"Only one more, okay?" Your shakily hand him the bottle, which he gladly grabs to pour his fifth drink.
"So, what does she do? She tells me I'm bossy?! That all I ever do is control her life?!" He laughs in disbelief, "She says if I hadn't been such a pain in the ass, maybe she wouldn't have gone for another man." His laugh turns into shaky, desperate sobs. "Am I really that bad?" You doubted the question, like the rest of his speech, was even aimed at you; it was like he was only babbling and ranting to himself.
But it's not like you were gonna let him wallow in self-pity. "No, Klaus, it's her loss; don't say that-"
"She said at first I seemed perfect: rich, handsome, smart, but up close, I'm absolutely disgusting, and," he pauses, letting himself calm down slightly, which didn't even help because he still kept sobbing harshly, "and that she tried to hold on for the money, but even that couldn't prevent her other temptations."
It was absolutely ridiculous- so ridiculous, it pissed you off.
You pull the blond into your embrace, allowing him to sink into your warmth and let his tears roll freely. "Klaus, you're the biggest sweetheart I'd ever met; yeah, sure, you enjoy sarcasm more than chocolate or sex, but that doesn't make you a horrible person." Your flawed method of comforting earns laughter from the male in your arms.
"See? Who wouldn't kill for such an adorable laugh? Come on." You preach.
Gleaming purple eyes, still tainted red, stare back at you in disbelief, "Going a little too far, aren't you?"
"I'm re-inflating your huge ass ego, is it not working? I should get paid for this." You state in certainty.
"You're an idiot." He pulls himself away from you. You couldn't help the grin forming on your lips; the way his smile contradicted the trace of tears on his pink cheeks and red nose, the way his eyes glimmered in happiness though holding remnants of sadness, it all did wonders to your heart. It was a living, breathing proof that anything she breaks, you can fix- even if at your own pace.
And suddenly you begin to doubt if your feelings for that rude blond ever really went away.
"(Y/N)?" He snaps you back to the present. Has his face been always this close to yours?
"Hmm?" You attempt to shift away from him, but before you can really move away, his lips swollen, pink lips press onto yours softly.
Your eyes widen in shock, hands immediately flying to his chest and pushing him away. "Klaus?!"
"You like me, don't you?" His eyes bore into yours, forcing you to melt under his manipulating gaze. He looks like a kicked puppy, but somehow he'd managed to gain the upper hand, leaving you red and hot with embarrassment and surprise.
"Wha..what are you talking about?" You move back, creating distance between you two, but he just moves closer to you.
"I like you too; how did I never notice my attraction to you?" He sloppily traces your jawline with kisses.
You find it in you to push him away once again, trying your best to ignore your heart pounding in your chest. "Klaus, you reek of alcohol; you don't know what you're doing. Just stop."
He doesn't respond, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss, one you were unable to pull away from. Butterflies were going crazy in your stomach, matching the speedy rate your heartbeats were going at.
The taste of vodka conquered the kiss, reminding you every passing second that he doesn't mean what he's doing and that it'll be awkward in the morning and maybe for the rest of your life, but maybe this is your only chance to feel loved by him, maybe you too wanted to forget about the future for a second and get lost in the heat of the moment.
So you do.
Therefore, when he begins reaching for your shirt, sure enough, you let him. And faster than you would've imagined, your clothes piled up on the floor with the books you'd abandoned since that idiot has stepped foot into your apartment.
"You're too good to me." Lips pressed to your neck, he mumbles, his right hand caressing your bare hip and side while he uses the other for support. He bites lightly on the soft skin, making you yelp at the sudden sharp pain, but it doesn't last. He licks and sucks on the skin, etching his markings onto your neck and collarbones.
×××
Perhaps an old, hard couch wasn't the perfect place for your sexy time with your crush, but then again were you even thinking at all last night?
Certainly not.
You shamefully collect your clothes off the floor, quickly noticing the fact that Klaus's were no longer there.
"Klaus?" You call out, earning no reply.
Before you give yourself a chance to actually look around for him, a paper on your coffee table catches your attention.
"It was a mistake. I'm sorry.
Please ignore last night I wasn't myself.
Klaus xx"
"Ignore it?" You chuckle sadly, "You fucking dick."
You pour your third glass.
~~(A/N): it's currently 7 am so idk if this is terrible and I'll regret it when I wake up or not but I'm posting it anyway 😂 Also I feel like this blog is becoming don't get Klaus drunk unless you want to get into his pants then sure go ahead! Idk 😂😂 but anyway if y'all want a part 2 for this tell me lol
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Please give me more Will! I loved him in triple frontier❤ Could I get a one shot with Will finding out that this is his SO's first serious relationship? Like, she's gone on dates but none of them could have been considered relationships, not really
Again I’m so sorry you’ve had to wait so long love ❤️ BUT on the bright side of things you get like two requests in two days ain’t that a treat?
Will finds out it’s his S/O’s first relationship
It’s not really a topic that comes up immediately. Of course, being with William you talk, and you talk a lot, but the topic of past exes and relationship wasn’t something neither of you had the deep urge to share. Will briefly mentioned that he was engaged at one point but he never elaborated why it didn’t work and you didn’t push.
You’re in a small storage unit working through boxes and Will is on top of a ladder, searching through some of his own stuff when the topic does come up. It’s nonchalant, really, Will teasingly asks you if you came in the day before to clear out all your dirty little secrets and throw away pictures of your lover’s you’ve been hiding from him and you snort and reply that there’s really not that much to hide. At first he takes it as another joke, sending you a wink from the top of the ladder, pushing aside another box on the shelve.
“Oh sure, as if there are not at least two or three guys out there that I should be at least weary about.”
“No, really.” You turn around another paper in your hands, trying to figure out wether that’s on old report on one of your injuries or just a formal letter from the bank that you’ve kept, just in case, not even looking up as you reply. “I highly suspect most of them still remember me.”
Will’s answer is a sarcastic snort, not at you but at the fact that he can’t believe such guy’s exist. The puff of air throws up some dust and he barely manages to squeeze his question through the short numbers of sneezes. “Who even - achoo - forget’s - achoo - their girlfriend?” With his eyes watering up Will misses your shrug, finally able to decipher the letter in your hand (it was, in fact, the bank).
“Maybe they would’ve remembered me if it ever came to that.” You mumble, sorting the paper on one of the piles and starting to grab another one, catching the sudden stop of motion to your left and looking up, Will starring down at you, a perplex expression on his face.
“What do you mean?”
You’re a bit lost at first, not realizing what you might have implied here, what wheels your sentence might have started to turn in Will’s head and lastly, that this was in fact something, you’ve never talked about. It’s a short moment where thoughts rush through your head and although you know that Will won’t react negatively in what you’re about to say next, you are certain that he will react in some way and this is what has you crumble your paper, shifting your weight on your feet, tongue lipping over your lips before you stumble the next words out with a shortness of breath you didn’t expect.
“I - Well, I just.. I never had like a proper boyfriend.” You suck in too much air at once and continue, heart racing suddenly and you’re not even sure why because this is nothing you’ve ever been ashamed or afraid of but at the same time you feel like you’re confessing something you’re not even sure deserves the weight to call it confession in the first place. “It just never happened, you know?”
Will’s eyes are focused on you know, feet climbing down the ladder carefully, one hand steady on one of the steps as he leans his body on the ladder, taking a moment. Of course he doesn’t mind but Will does what he always does with a new piece of information: He processes it, turns it over and then stores it in his infinite big picture of the world that he keeps track of in his mind. And once stored, the picture changes, altering everything he thought to know before, reliving moments and seeing them in a new light, pieces coming together that didn’t make sense before and Will can’t stop that process because this is just how his mind works. Before he knows it, there are million thoughts racing through his head but he doesn’t voice a single one of them. Instead, he does something very out of character and he regrets asking as soon as the question leaves his lips.
“But how? I mean… How?”
You roll your eyes at him, a huff escaping your lips, shooting him a look. “I don’t know, Will. How do you end up falling for someone? How do you not? How do you meet the right person? It’s not something I can control.” Your words come out a bit sharper than intended and you avert your eyes for a second, taking a breath before sitting down on one of the boxes.
“I’m sorry, that was.. I’m sorry.” Will mumbles, utterly stepping down from the ladder and leaning against one of the shelves, arms crossed. “That just caught me a bit of guard, you know?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping, too.” You let out a long breath of air, stretching your legs a bit. “It’s just a sensitive topic, that’s all. I mean there were guys I’ve .. kinda dated before but none of them were my .. official boyfriend before. I know it’s not that big of a deal.“ You glance a bit at him, all of the sudden unsure about your words. “At least it’s not for me.”
You didn’t plan on it being such a serious talk, in fact you never really thought about how you’d like to tell him but there you are now, sitting between childhood pictures and old wardrobes and pans and papers in a storage unit surrounded by brown cardboard boxes. As Will sits down opposite of you, arms on his knees you shoot him an unsure smile and the moment he returns it you know in your heart that whatever you say to him, he will be okay with it. So you lean back and talk.
“It’s not like there weren’t .. “ You search for the right words for a bit ”.. suitable candidates. It just never happened, you know? There was always some thing that came to light the more I got close to someone. It was either some trait I couldn’t get past or some believes that I just .. I can’t be with someone that doesn’t have the same values as I do. And sometimes you just realize that this won’t work out.” You laugh a bit here, fiddling with your hands before continuing. “And I know the whole.. pots and lids thing like there’s a right person for everyone and I just had to wait a bit longer than that. I just never had the feeling wanted to be with someone. Until now.”
It’s Will’s hands taking your nervous fingers in between his hands that have you looking from your lap into his eyes and he holds the look, steadily, as he lifts your hands and presses small little kisses on your fingertips and knuckles and the back of your hand until you can’t help but crack a smile. Will smiles back at you, fingers brushing against his beard as he tucks your hand under his chin. “I love you too.”
It’s not the first time Will has said those three words to you but this time it sends a shiver down your spine and through the midst of it all you suddenly feel like crying. You pull your hands free from under his chin, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face closer to him before tears actually threaten to spill out of your eyes, the kiss lasting longer and transporting so many emotions that you actually have to gasp for air one you separate. Will leans his forehead against your’s, stroking your cheek with his thumb softly before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time parting with a smile and you send him a questioning look as his grin spreads wide across his face.
“So … does this mean your family will immediately accept me for taking on the challenge of loving you?”
“Just shut up and kiss me again, William.”
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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Chapter 29: The Phoenix Lament
“And a Death Eater’s dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse the huge blond one was firing off everywhere – Harry, if we hadn’t had your Felix potion, I think we’d all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us –’”- We know using Felix Felicis is illegal if you enter a competition and that you should not use it too often, but this made me wonder if it wouldn’t be useful for Aurors to use the potion if they are facing particular dangerous situations? But also, what if the other side would have used Felix Felicis as well? Luck is not biased, it can not decide between good or bad. If the Death Eaters had used the potion the luck would have been on their side. Given that the potion helped Ginny and the others staying alive shows how powerful it really is, so perhaps it should be banned completely, because it can be abused as well.
“‘I’d love to know what Snape told him to convince him,’ said Tonks. ‘I know,’ said Harry, and they all turned to stare at him. ‘Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realised what he was doing, he was really sorry he’d done it, sorry that they were dead.’ ‘And Dumbledore believed that?’ said Lupin incredulously. ‘Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James …’ ‘And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn, either,’ said Harry, ‘because she was Muggle-born … “Mudblood”, he called her …’” – And this shows how dangerous it can be if you only know half the truth. Even Lupin, who knows that Lily and Snape had been friends as children, doubts Snape’s motive. The only encounter between his mother and Snape Harry is aware of is the memory of him calling her ‘Mudblood’. He doesn’t know their history and the circumstances, but it fits into everything else Harry knows about Snape: that as a Death Eater he would obviously despise Muggleborn witches and wizards. To Lupin the situation reads the same; we later learn that Lily broke off her friendship with Snape after this incident and perhaps even she was not aware of the fact that Snape never stopped loving her. The only people who did know were Dumbledore and Voldemort, though the later never understood love and the things people are willing to risk for it. Dumbledore took Snape’s secret to the grave and Harry only knows half of the story, leaving out the important bit, the real reason why Dumbledore had trusted Snape.
“As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny move beside him and looked at her. Her slightly narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur, who was gazing down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face. […]‘You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per’aps, you ’oped?’ said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. ‘What do I care how ’e looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!’ she added fiercely, pushing Mrs Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.” – Both Ginny and Mrs Weasley suspect that now that Bill is injured, that he is no longer as handsome as he used to be and there might be some other after-effects of the wolf-bite, Fleur is no longer interested in him and will leave him. And of course Fleur’s initial reaction is shock. But it turns out she is less superficial than they thought. Yes, Bill is/was handsome and of course there was a physical attraction between them, but it does not mean they don’t love each other genuinely. Fleur could possibly have any man she wants, so there must be something about Bill that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him, something that goes deeper than attraction. For better or for worse indeed.
“And the meaning of Tonks’s Patronus and her mouse-coloured hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumour someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all …” – I still think it is quite interesting how Tonks’s heartbreak manifests. It is so profound that Harry mistook it for grief. It changed Tonks’s hair, so that it took the same colour as Lupin’s, her Patronus changed into a wolf, in a way she became Lupin, who had always been on her mind.
“‘I am not being ridiculous,’ said Lupin steadily. ‘Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.’ ‘But she wants you,’ said Mr Weasley, with a small smile. ‘And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.’ He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.” – There is something so genuine about both Fleur and Tonks expressing their love, showing that it is the person you fall in love with, not the body.
“And a new portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts … Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking peaceful and untroubled.” – Does that happen automatically the moment a headmaster dies? I mean doesn’t anybody have to paint the picture first? Or maybe they do this beforehand and the portrait only becomes alive when the subject of it dies? Like it feels weird that on the one hand Dumbledore is gone and yet he is still in a way here, like Harry could wait for him to wake up and ask him for advice, no biggie.
“‘Harry,’ she said, ‘I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school.’ ‘I can’t tell you that, Professor,’ said Harry. He had expected the question and had his answer ready. It had been here, in this very room, that Dumbledore had told him that he was to confide the contents of their lessons to nobody but Ron and Hermione.” – I think I wondered briefly why Dumbledore would be that secretively, that perhaps it would be better to find the remaining Horcruxes if for example Aurors would look for them, not three teenagers, who are not even fully educated yet. But I think the reason is that the less people are involved the less likely is the chance Voldemort knows what they are up to. Voldemort of course infiltrates the Ministry and perhaps he even had spies at the Order (apart from Snape). And obviously Harry and his friends are the last people Voldemort would suspect to have find out about his secret and who are off to destroy him. Vanity has always been one of his weaknesses.
“‘I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here,’ she said quickly. ‘Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen next year. The death of the Headmaster at the hands of one of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts’ history. It is horrible.’” – We know that Hogwarts will reopen, though with a few changes. But if it hadn’t what would have happened to all the students? Would they have gone to a different school? Stayed at home? Hogwarts had always been a safe harbour, especially now that the Wizarding World is at war, but that promise of safety has always been linked to Dumbledore. And it is not just his death, but also the circumstances. That it was possible for Death Eaters to get in the school, that one of the teachers is seemingly one of them and then killed the headmaster, at school. The school has become a place of terror, it is no longer a home.
“And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world … had left Harry.” – Book 7 is so different in so many ways, because the death of Dumbledore really means the end of an era in every way. Hogwarts is no longer the place Harry can call home. He will never return, at least not as a student, because to him there can be no Hogwarts without Dumbledore. Dumbledore has always been the one to look up to, the one to ask for help, the one with all the answers. After Sirius Dumbledore was the last parental figure Harry had. With his death, with leaving Hogwarts, the last parts of Harry’s childhood are over. Symbolically he becomes of age at the start of book 7; he is legally and emotionally an adult now. No one to protect him, to guide him. He is his own man now.
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