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infranscia · 7 months

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Everything Wrong with Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet (almost)

So not too long ago, Steam alerted me that a number of Sherlock Holmes games were on sale. Realizing that I wasn't really familiar with this classic, beloved icon, I figured it was about time to change that and - for now - started by buying a low-price, little bundle.

I also decided to check if the books were public domain yet, and was glad to find out that they just became public domain this year.

Turns out, Doyle had a tendency to include a lot of foreign cultures, and/or foreign persons of note, in the Holmes stories. And I'm guessing there's a fairly strong tendency to get details wrong, or at least for them to be fantasized - based on whatever stereotypes and whatnot were most available at the time, if I had to guess.

At the very least... imagine the awkwardness when I found that in the very first book, it had a HIGHLY INACCURATE - and stereotypical - portrayal of early members of my religion. 😅

So... Yeah. Here I am to debunk as many inaccuracies as I can. 😂

Feel free to take things with a grain of salt - I know a lot of the stereotypes - and flaws of members - tend to lead to people disliking us, and you probably don't have much reason to take my word about things.

...Also, I'm not the most studied when it comes to history - including my religion - so I may have some details wrong. 😅 Still, I'll try my best.

Major spoilers for A Study in Scarlet below the line - especially the second half - including some content that some people may be sensitive to (it IS a murder mystery... among other things).

Also: don't expect this to be short. There's a lot to cover, I'm VERY detail oriented, and I ramble a LOT. ...This took me days to make. (I'm not even doing any more error-checking than a spell check, and such, because I just want to get this done. 😵)

(Note: This post also exists as a Skiff document.)

Okay, I guess I'm coming out more-strongly as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints here - essentially born and raised, actually (not so much a convert). As I mentioned, there's a lot of stereotypes, bad-blood, and such where we're involved, so I haven't exactly been in a habit of being public about it. 😂 I guess I'll see how this goes.

I'll note that Doyle actually got enough of the setting accurate that I was able to guess what he was leading up to before the reveal was dropped: the description of the desert in the middle of North America, with the wagon trails, and occasional bones of both people and oxen, was more than enough to ring familiar. The average Church member - especially those who have been raised in the Church, or are otherwise longtime members - will easily recognize these as being elements of stories of what we call early Church pioneers.

And while I had to look it up, I was able to confirm that there were at least some areas where the soil and/or water was alkali. However, it doesn't look like it was anywhere near as alkali as Doyle made it out to be. (Heck, I'm not sure it'd be possible.) I'm also not sure the alkali areas were as widespread as it seems like they're being portrayed, but as far as I'm concerned, this is a relatively minor detail.

...Anyhow, I looked back over the second part of the book and tried to go over things roughly in order... so what I'm starting with may seem a little odd. 😆

For a bit of context for anyone who might not have read, this part of the story starts with a flashback, focusing on a couple weary travelers in the desert - a man, John Ferrier, dying of thirst and hunger; and a young girl, Lucy, 5 years old. They're discovered by what appears to be a very large wagon company.

Travelers seem to have knowledge of nearby wells, possible dangerous areas to avoid, etc.

Okay, maybe my lack of historical knowledge is showing, but I do wonder how much of this they could've known. Maybe a lot of the stuff originally came from Sacajawea, or something, but I also wonder how wells could've already been found and built.

The verbiage of members is generally flowery, using fancy names for God, etc.

This is hard to pick-apart without going into even more detail than I'm already going to include. But basically, we prefer to keep things simple, easy-to-understand, etc.

Going into a specific example as I bring up something else...

“He who could draw it from the rocks will not now abandon His own chosen people.” “Amen! Amen!” responded the whole party."

We don't respond to random declarations like that, esp. with the double-amen. Yes, we'll say "amen" in unison - ONCE - after the end of things like prayers, talks (sort of our version of "sermons"), testimonies, and maybe a few other things, but that's about it. And it's not a shout (no exclamation point).

Honestly, at this point, I think most of us do it mostly just out of habit and tradition than much anything else. 😅 Something we're advised against, occasionally, but it's hard not to do stuff like that.

I'll touch on the "chosen people" thing later.

There appears to be absolutely no struggles of traveling members to hold onto faith

This appears to be a common misconception with religious groups, in general. But anyhow, our stories of Church pioneers are FULL of instances of people struggling to hold onto faith that things might work out, if not faith in their religion as a whole.

They're also full of stories of how they tried to hold onto faith. My favorite, so far, involves a woman noticing flowers growing in the desert (the desert rose, IIRC). She figured that if delicate flowers could make it in the harsh desert, then she could, too. 😊

"Brother" and "Sister" used, fairly strictly, as titles/honorifics for members.

While it is part of our culture to refer to each-other as "Brother/Sister such-and-such," something about the usage portrayed feels a little too strict and formal.

The honorific (if you can call it that?) is used most-often during church-related activities (meetings, asking for help in Church-related thing, etc.). We tend to use it fairly casually in such settings - if anything, we may see it as sort of a term of endearment. Still, it's not uncommon to drop it in casual settings, esp. with close friends, or children/younger members.

It's also one of those things where, if you grow up with it, it becomes so habit and routine that it's easy to forget the reason for it. 😅 So much, that I'm finding some conflicting information on the reasons when I try to look it up. 🤔

Some of the results I'm finding are articles that do mention the interpretation of us all being 'baptized as brothers and sisters in Christ.' However, I think the interpretation I was taught, that I prefer, and that's found in the Church manual (which I consider more official that articles, which are typically written by members, rather than leaders), is that it's based on the Gospel principle that we're all (everyone, not just members) LITERAL children of God - and thus a spiritual family. 😄

As such, sometimes members will refer to non-members as "Brother/Sister," especially if they're visiting (as we call it) in a Church meeting, or in another Church-based setting.

(And I'm gonna give a side-note because I'm sure some people are going to wonder: setting aside the politics of our views on gender, it is common for Church teachers to mention, without being asked, that they don't know how it's supposed to work for intersex people [even if they don't usually use that term, or similar ones]. Giving a quick search, there don't appear to be any specific rules - only a firm recommendation to be considerate. I wouldn't be surprised if some people use "Sibling," however. ...And NGL, I haven't heard it myself, but I suspect that a lot of debate crops up... esp. in the cases where it's really relevant... 😞)

"Elder" is used, multiple times, like a title of high status.

Actually, as far as priesthood titles go, "Elder" is the lowest-ranking. I know it's confusing, but a guy can become an Elder - and is generally expected to be, and encouraged to try to be worthy in advance - at the age of 12, well before he'd be considered an adult (at least nowadays).

(TBH, I'm not sure why they're called "elders" - maybe there's some linguistic drift going on? Might be worth looking into, but I'm not focusing on that right now - it's something that, I'll admit, the average member seems to have forgotten about. 😅)

But yeah, an Elder pretty much just has the most basic level of priesthood, which comes with the authority to bless and pass the sacrament, and to help with blessings (a sort of prayer) for health and such. Maybe a few other, simpler things. That said, one does need to be an Elder before he can be other things, like a High Priest, Bishop, Stake President, etc.

John adopting Lucy is taken totally in-stride.

Not that we're against adoption or anything - in fact, the Church has its own adoption services, which focuses on helping unmarried, expecting teens find parents to potentially raise their child; and for married couples, esp. (or solely?) those who can't have their own children, to find a child/children to take in and care for.

Anyhow, still: it's not a major issue, but it still seems odd. Like everyone else, we tend to find intrigue where adopted children and the like are involved, getting curious about the birth parents, etc.

Also, we have a strong emphasis on family and genealogy (or as we prefer to call it, family history), so there's an even stronger reason to wonder where Lucy came from.

No apparent help is offered in raising Lucy - there's relatively little talk of help, in-general.

Like I mentioned, we have a strong emphasis on family. (Esp. traditional families - not looking to get political or anything, and I'm not going to try to preach; I'm trying to just be honest here about our beliefs, culture, etc. I won't argue, even if you try to start an argument. So I'd prefer if you don't bother.)

Similarly, lot of church members absolutely adore children. And on top of that, there's a lot of emphasis on service (as in helping people out) - members are particularly encouraged to help families in need, and such.

Heck, one of our most-commonly-quoted scriptures states "when ye are in the service of you fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." (Mosiah 2:17)

As such, I find it VERY hard to believe that a lot of the members - especially the women - would NOT immediately start to talk about how adorable Lucy is, and offer to help take care of her.

Similarly, there would probably quickly be talk of sharing water and rations with John - maybe suggesting he ride in one of the carts, to regain his strength.

The group help up the castaways up at the start, and there are some onlookers showing shock and pity... but that's about it, as far as I can tell.

“[T]here seems to be a powerful lot of ye.” “Nigh upon ten thousand [saints]” (No mention of who's in charge of this group.)

I had to look up the numbers on this one, and it took me a little while to find the right articles and sort through the details, esp. with the order I ran into the info. 😅

This Church article/infographic probably gives a good balance of info, and readability. This other article also gives some good info, and goes into a little more detail.

As the second article puts it, "It is difficult to identify an exact number of individuals who came to Utah[...]because not all the company rosters were turned in to the Church." However, numbers are estimated from 60k-70k.

This said, it's pretty common knowledge among Church members that they didn't all travel as one group, even if we don't always know the details. This said, Church pioneers were organized into 250+ companies - mostly wagon companies, with 10 handcart companies making up about 3,000 members total. The exact size of companies varied, but it looks like they averaged somewhere around 250 people, give-or-take.

Each company had a captain - some companies were known by the name of their captain. E.g. the handcart company captained by Edward Martin - the biggest of the handcart companies, according to this wiki page - was also known as the Martin (Handcart) Company. And apparently, companies were further divided into smaller and smaller groups, each group with their own captains - presumably, captains of smaller groups reported to captains of larger groups (that's how we tend to do things).

Interestingly, Church members tend to focus on the handcart companies, and not the wagon companies, to the point where I didn't know there was a distinction until until I stumbled upon this other infographic. The first thing I found with my search was actually this Church lesson guide" with a lot of info, including a map of their route. From the looks of it, I'm thinking the handcart companies probably made their own journey - it might explain a few things. 🤔 But I'm rambling...

(Still... since the infographic mentions the transcontinental railroad, I'll throw in a tidbit I think is fun: Apparently, the handcarts and wagons left such deep impressions in the ground that they were actually used when first laying down railroads. Thus, the width of railroads and trains is based on the width of those carts and wagons. 😀)

But yeah, whether going by the total numbers, or the size of a company, Doyle got something off there. 😅

“[W]e are the persecuted children of God—the chosen of the Angel Merona.”

First off, I dunno if it's a typo or what, but it's technically the angel Moroni.

Secondly - and I'm just going from how I've heard things talked about - while it's true they were persecuted a lot, along with the other hardships, I don't think it's likely that they would've focused on the fact that they were persecuted to the point that they would introduce themselves that way. More likely, they'd introduce themselves by naming their religion from the getgo - either in full or by the (now defunct) nickname of "Mormons".

Third and most important... we don't do the "chosen people" thing, and especially not chosen by an angel.

While we believe in angels, they don't have the same level of importance as in other Christian sects - esp. Catholic, I think; correct me if I'm wrong.

(And you may debate terminology, but we do consider ourselves Christian, because we believe in the same Christ that's in the Bible. The Book of Mormon even includes another version of the Sermon on the Mount.)

While we're vaguely aware of how some Christians put a lot of focus on angels, saints (as they define them - to us, any member is technically a "saint," regardless of how "saintly" they might be 😅), and specific demons in their belief systems, that's about the extent that most of us know. The average member isn't likely to be able to name any of them, esp. the saints and demons. I'm taking a guess that the list of angels includes those in the Bible (e.g. Gabriel), but if you asked the average member, odds are you'd get a blank stare, and an answer of "Uh... I dunno."

Putting the metaphorical definition aside, we see angels more as messengers and servants of God - they do His work as He directs, and like with living Church members, they won't have any authority unless He gives it to them.

The authority to choose people like that is not one of those that would be given, even if we considered it a thing, in general.

The Book of Mormon has mentions God not being "a respecter of persons" - as does the Bible, come to do a search. Or for those who don't know the term, the idea is that He doesn't favor people based on age, race, gender, level of freedom, etc. 2 Nephi 26:33 is one verse with that includes the spiel on the latter part. (I'll touch on a scripture that mentions the first part later, because of the context.)

In fact, there's actually a story in the Book of Mormon that talks about ancient missionaries (on the American continent) being shocked to discover a religion basically centered around that belief: people taking turns standing on a tower, giving an identical prayer, thanking God for letting them know that they were chosen to be saved while everyone else should perish, then departing and not even mentioning their religion until they gather again the next week...

The religion in that story is VERY MUCH used by Church members as an example of what NOT to do. 😅

In any case, if there was any choosing going on, it would be done by God - or maybe Jesus - and it would basically be choosing people who give Him respect, and already follow his teachings. NOT that He would choose a people to give teachings to for some, arbitrary reason.

“We are of those who believe in those sacred writings, drawn in Egyptian letters on plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smith at Palmyra["]

While not that far off, for the most part, it is definitely romanticized, and feels like a very weird way for us to talk about this.

For the nitpicks, the writing wasn't drawn so much as etched or engraved - we tend to just say "written." That's the most common word in the BoM.

I don't think there's info on how the plates were made - it's not mentioned in the BoM as far as I can remember, or find, and it's hard to find a detailed description. One description I heard made them sound kind of like thick pieces of foil, though our typical portrayal is something like golden pieces of sheet metal, with D-ring bindings. And we tend to just call them "the gold(en) plates." That said, "beaten" sounds more-right than one, mistaken voiceclip I heard that called them "tablets" (which sounds WAY more heavy and impractical).

I'm having trouble remembering, or finding, the scriptural reference, but as fancy as the fact that it's gold sounds, I understand there was a practical reason: materials like paper and parchment tend to rot, and other metals tend to rust or tarnish over time. (And, of course, stone is hard to use in a space-efficient way, and tends to crack.) I understand modern science vouches for this.

Speaking of, it's odd that the mention of the style of writing is mentioned first - we usually say things like "...from (the) golden plates, translated by Joseph Smith." The bit about the kind of writing usually has less emphasis.

Still, the writings are described as reformed Egyptian. I don't know why the writing is considered "reformed," but the reason given for using reformed Egyptian (and not Hebrew) was so they could fit more writing into less space. I imagine that the fact that it was difficult to engrave words on plates - as one writer in the BoM mentions - might've been a factor.

(Speaking of Hebrew, the primary people focused on in the BoM report themselves as decendants of Joseph of Egypt, son of Jacob - the one with the fancy coat who was sold into slavery by his brothers.)

The plates weren't handed to Joseph Smith - they were revealed to him. Basically, they were buried in a (stone?) box, with a biggol rock for a lid, with some other items inside. Moroni is the one who showed the location to him (being the one who hid them in the first place - he's the last author in the BoM).

Finally, I understand this is a common misconception, but like with angels and saints, we don't worship prophets.

...Or at least, we're not supposed to. Though the way a lot of members act, I think there's a tendency to effectively worship the prophets... 😅

But no, it's not part of our doctrine to do so. We never say "holy Joseph Smith." We're likely to say "the prophet, Joseph smith," but we never put the word "holy" in there. It gives the wrong kind of impression.

"We have come to seek a refuge from the violent man and from the god-less"

I'm generally inclined to agree with the "violent man" part. But a lot of the persecuters were members of other Christian sects. We would call them FAR from "godless" - maybe a little misguided, and with a different view on the details, but we essentially believe that we worship the same God.

“We are the Mormons,” answered his companions with one voice.

First off, we don't have a hive-mind. I don't see any real reason why they'd answer in unison. It's not something we recite, or anything.

Secondly, as mentioned, the term "Mormons" has always been, at best, a nickname. It's never been an official name of the Church. We've been asked to abandon that nickname (and while we've got the biggest changes made it looks like we're still in the process of adjusting some smaller things, e.g. things on the website that aren't talking about the past). The main reason stated for this is that we want to emphasize the fact that Jesus Christ is a key part of our faith - even when we were still using the nickname, we emphasized the words Jesus Christ on our nametags, on the sides of our buildings, etc.

(Note: I'm including the word "Mormons" as a tag only because I think it'll be more-widely recognized, to help with visibility of this post. Otherwise, I'd leave it out.)

I think another major reason for abandoning the nickname is because it led to some confusion as to whether "Mormons" meant the same group. I've heard a story where some group was getting humanitarian aid, and someone apparently reported "We're getting help from two groups: the Mormons, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints." (Cue laughter.)

But yeah, the term "Mormons" actually started as an insult - presumably mostly by other Christians, on account of the fact that, besides the Bible, we had another book that we believed in (the Book of Mormon, of course).

IMO, the fact that members accepted the nickname at all is a pretty good indication of our tendency to be on the doormat-y side. 😅

And just to make sure: no, the Church was never named after the Book of Mormon. Nor was the Book of Mormon named after the church. It's named after the person who did most work compiling and condensing his people's records that later became the Book of Mormon. (Mormon, of course. ...Moroni's father.)

[...]and were surrounded by crowds of the pilgrims

Technically accurate (aside from the inferred size of the crowds), but like I sort of mentioned, we prefer the word "pioneers."

(This said, as a kid, I used to mix up Church Pioneers and "Thanksgiving" Pilgrims. 😅)

[...]until they reached a waggon, which was conspicuous for its great size and for the gaudiness and smartness of its appearance. Six horses were yoked to it, whereas the others were furnished with two, or, at most, four a-piece

No.

We don't really do flashy, and the companies had to be as practical as possible, and couldn't really pack much besides probably essentials. I'm pretty sure that a bunch of smaller, standard wagons would be more practical than one, big, fancy one.

Any fancy wagons like that would more-than-likely have been sold, to afford more, smaller wagons, or more food and other supplies.

Also, the text strongly infers that the big wagon is for the leader of the group. We don't give such deference. In fact, there's a lot of emphasis in our doctrine that the leaders have to work for a living as much as any other person. We don't pay our leaders with our tithing, or anything.

“If we take you with us [...] it can only be as believers in our own creed. We shall have no wolves in our fold. Better far that your bones should bleach in this wilderness than that you should prove to be that little speck of decay which in time corrupts the whole fruit

This is one struck me as wrong in so many ways...

As mentioned earlier, we have a very service-oriented culture. We believe VERY STRONGLY in helping others in need. We're not going to abandon someone to die in the wilderness just because they're not a member. Nor withhold food and water (as is done in this story until John Ferrier agrees to join).

Similarly, at this point, I'm pretty sure a lot of members would be converts, themselves. They don't have much reason to fear people just for being non-members because, at some point, most of them were non-members - they already know that one can very well come into the fold, of their own volition. (Also, it's already established that these two were Christians, already.)

If anything, members are more likely to be afraid of physical danger, especially after all they've been through. And a dying man and a small girl are NOT going to be a physical threat. (Not to mention that, again, there's no hive-mind: more likely, if anything different members might have different ideas. This said, as kind of a side-note intra-faith politics seem to be something rarely touched on outside of of the faith in question, regardless of the religion/sect/etc.)

ALSO! We have a VERY STRONG belief in freedom of religion. In fact, one of the things we try to have members memorize - the Articles of Faith, written by Joseph Smith as a summary of our beliefs, after being asked about it - talks about it. Specifically number 11, which states:

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege. Let them worship how, where, or what they may.

*checks* ...Only some spelling errors (corrected) and one punctuation difference (left in). Still got it! 😁

But yeah, the decision to join the Church is supposed to be a choice. Even little children aren't technically considered members - we're supposed to wait until they're old enough to decide for themselves (officially, eight years old - with possible exceptions for people with mental challenges needing more time; Lucy is actually too young at this time in the story). ...That said, I'll touch on some more stuff in the next segment...

But yeah, a more likely response would be something like giving an invitation to learn of our teachings while along the way. And even if they ended up declining in the end, the two probably be allowed to live alongside the members, or helped to find another place to live if they so chose.

I was going to go even longer with this, but I think I'll actually put those comments under the next point...

John Ferrier and Lucy appear to be considered members as soon as John agrees to it - or as soon as Brigham Young makes it official

The direct authority of the President of the Church is not required for membership. More on this, later.

Besides that, Doyle missed a very important step in the process of becoming a member:

BAPTISM!

(And the laying on of hands for the Gift of the Holy Ghost, but that comes after baptism... which tends to get more focus, anyhow, to the point where I think the gift of the Spirit is underrated...)

But yeah, the importance of baptism as a part of becoming a member is VERY MUCH emphasized in the Church.

We also note the importance of baptism by immersion - i.e. after a priesthood holder gives a prayer, he briefly dips the person into the water and pulls them back out, like John the Baptist did with Jesus. A fairly common saying is "Don't sprinkle yourself with the Gospel! Immerse yourself in it!"

There's also another important thing with baptism (which I bet some people are wondering about)...

WE DON'T DO INFANT BAPTISMS!!

Aside from the obvious safety reasons and such, and the part I mentioned earlier about how it's meant to be a choice (John shouldn't be able to make the decision for Lucy), there's another important element: while we do consider baptism an important element that has to do with "washing away sin" (or remitting it, technically), our definition of sin is to knowingly, and willfully, act against what you already know to be true.

Naturally, it takes a while for children to get a real sense of right and wrong. As such, little children are considered incapable of sinning.

Heck... there's an entire chapter in the Book of Mormon (Moroni 8) that's dedicated to this.

But yeah, like I mentioned earlier, eight years old is basically when you're officially considered old enough to decide for yourself. It's also what's known as the age of accountability - i.e. when you're old enough to have a sense of right and wrong (barring some exceptions), and are considered responsible for your actions.

Kids who die before the age of eight are basically believed to get a free pass into heaven. (No, we don't encourage trying to make this happen...)

But yeah, like mentioned, Lucy is five years old at this part of the story. She wouldn't technically be eligible.

And technically, even kids who grow up in the Church, with their parents as members, aren't considered members, themselves. (Though if their parents already had a temple marriage, the children are considered born in the covenant - basically already connected to their parents so they can potentially stay together, eternally.)

Though yeah, along with the basic Gospel principles, a big part of Primary (children's) lessons - esp. the littler children - is helping them get ready for baptism.

...Or trying to...

I'm going to go on a tangent, but I think it's an important one: baptism is really supposed to be something that a person decides to do, for themselves. However, with the way lessons are taught - and particularly, with the way the songs we sing are worded - we end up not so much helping children understand that they decide whether they want to be baptized, as we try to get them excited for baptism... like, for "when" it happens. Not "if."

(And in a way, it's not just with baptism. This type of thing is something that never really sat well with me, even as a kid.)

I don't know the ratio/percentage/whatever, but I do know that part of the end result is that at least some children end up not realizing that they're supposed to choose whether to get baptized, or not. I know that was the case for me, and I've definitely heard that I'm not the only one.

Heck, I remember being taught baptism is "a choice." But the way my teachers talked about choice, I actually didn't realize that "to choose" and "to decide" were synonyms... if anything, I perceived them as antonyms - I didn't see baptism as MY choice: I heard it as a choice that was made FOR me.

As such, I never even realized that I was supposed to be able to say "No"...

...and at the time, I REALLY would've liked to have known that. 😓

So... yeah. It's sadly very possible for children to effectively be baptized unwillingly - which actually goes against our doctrine. (I'll note that I, personally, probably would've voluntarily gone through with it at age 12, but at eight? Yeah... no. 😅)

But yeah, I can hope that things have been shifting. However, since I haven't really been involved in Primary classes since I attended, myself, I can't say what the trends are, at least for my local Ward (congregation/small geographical area).

Still, the idea that even a SINGLE child might be put through that? That the parents and teachers might fail to realize the agency involved in the process? It REALLY troubles me...

It is DEFINITELY something that I think the Church - or at LEAST Church members - need to do better on. 😢

...anyway, continuing... (And no pun intended, because of what the next one is.)

["]Forward! On, on to Zion!”

It's hard to say with the context, but for starters, this seems to be portrayed less as a rallying cry, and more as a chant. We don't do chants. (Which I guess might be part of what I've been trying to say, already.)

Regardless, this phrasing includes a common misconception: While the word "Zion" can refer to geographical locations, it's defined more as "the pure in heart." (And one of the few geographical locations mentioned in that link is in Missouri, not Utah.)

Similarly, I vaguely remember being told in Church lessons that's less of a place and more of a people.

But yeah, the more common phrasing we use is about establishing or building Zion. Sometimes we might use the word "gathering," though it's noted that while it was more literal back then, it's more metaphorical these days.

...Kind of makes it hard for members to travel onward to - even back then. 😜

And I know how cult-ish this might sound, but to me, right after this is mentioned seems like an appropriate time for the traveling members to break out into a hymn. I understand that early Church members did sing hymns along the way - not for any strict, religious reason so much as to try and keep their spirits up on the long, hard, dangerous journey.

["...]remember that now and forever you are of our religion. Brigham Young has said it, and he has spoken with the voice of Joseph Smith, which is the voice of God.”

...Well, props to Doyle for getting the names right, at least.

Whether or not this is inaccurate depends on definition, intention, and interpretation. However, given the phrasing (which we would never use), it sounds like the idea that essentially anything and everything the President of the Church says is also the Word of God.

That's not accurate. While they're authorized to speak the Word of God, they are still their own people, separate from God, and still very prone to mistakes. Heck, I know that my mom and I, at least, still like observing the occasional moment that reminds us that our Church President is still human.

Examples include:

Saying we're now going to sing a hymn we've already sung, then looking confused for a moment while one of the other Church Leaders walks up and turns the page on the program he's reading from.

Saying something (I don't remember what) and having his wife correct him. Immediately turns to wife and says "Oh, is that it?"

There's a rather comical moment where President Monson (already Church President) wiggled his ears in front of a live congregation. (And here's a link to the talk in question in case the video stops working. Linked to the paragraph in question, though there's an non-shortened video at the top.)

Heck, I've even heard a story where Joseph Smith, reportedly, gave a talk during one congregation. The week afterward, he came back and said something to the effect of "Last week was Joseph Smith talking. This week is God talking."

And then he apparently said pretty much the opposite of what he'd said the week before.

(I couldn't find a record of this story with a search of the Church website - it could be the quote I heard isn't accurate enough. Or maybe, if there IS an actual record, then it hasn't been transcribed to digital format, yet. Or both.

Still, even if just as a metaphor/analogy/allegory, I think it gets the idea across. 😉)

The area is referred to as "Utah" - mentioned as being a state

There are a number of contradictions here. Church settlers actually called the area Deseret, which is a word which the Book of Mormon lists as meaning "honey bee."

We kind of took on honey bees (and beehives) as a not-super-official symbol (i.e. not part of the doctrine, but part of the culture). The honey bee is seen as a symbol of industry - e.g. hard work. Industry is still the state motto - similarly, we're known as the Industry state - and similarly, the state emblem is still the beehive, and the state insect is still the honeybee. (Reference link.) Heck, the state flag still has a beehive on it. (Though a few years ago, someone made a proposal to remove it... go figure... Doesn't seem to have gone through, though, AFAIK.)

This said, while Deseret (the region) could be said to have been established in 1947 (I think), it wasn't made an official state until 1896. (For reference, the later particular part of the story, after a timeskip, is listed as taking place in 1860.)

Heck, the term "Deseret" is still used in some Church-related things. Examples include Deseret Industries (a Church-based thrift store/charity shop), Deseret Book (a Church-based book store, of course), and hymns such as In Our Lovely Deseret (which, IMO, is not one of our better hymns - not for musical reasons so much as the way it talks about certain things, particularly in the 2nd verse, where it addresses the Word of Wisdom* in such a negative way that that it gets kinda... contentious and prideful... heck, these days, younger members tend to have trouble getting through that verse without going quiet and laughing awkwardly).

But yeah, when it came time to make the area an official state, people apparently didn't like the idea of it being a religious reference (again...). So they suggested the name "Utah," meaning "tops of the mountains."

...We willingly accepted. 🤣

That said, importantly, as part of of the conditions for letting our area become a state, we were also forced to give up polygamy - which, predictably, is a major part of the story. More on that later.

But yeah. Again, from a number of different angles, there are contradictions on that front.

I think the story also mentioned members making trade with neighboring areas, though I'm having trouble finding the reference, assuming I didn't misremember. In any case, Nevada is mentioned a few times - not explicitly as a state, but still, Nevada wasn't established as a state until 1864. California is also mentioned once, in passing - this said, California actually WAS established as a state in 1850.

Heck, I'm actually not sure what, if any, relations we might've had at the time. 🤔 I'm not sure if we even used a real currency, at the time... I'm not having any luck finding references with a search on the Church site, and I'm not sure how I'd refine my search. 😅

*Some advice, given through Joseph Smith, with recommendations regarding diet and using (or rather, NOT using) certain substances. The part regarding stuff like drinking, tea**, and coffee is probably taken TOO seriously by members (like, a straight-up commandment), while the dietary parts tend to be forgotten (I remember another member saying "How many of us actually eat meat sparingly?" ...Heck, how do you quantify "sparingly"? 🤔)

**Herbal tea is controversial. I'll note that this type of tea was only invented in 1969, WAY after the Word of Wisdom was established. Members tend to debate whether it's the caffeine, the heat (the original wording for "tea and coffee" is technically "hot drinks" - Joseph Smith apparently had to clarify), or other details that are the issue.

Just to be safe, many members avoid even herbal teas. I'd basically decided to do the same thing (aside from trying to do a homemade, makeshift lemon-ginger tea - my family didn't have fresh lemons, OR fresh ginger 😅).

That is... until after I got prompted/impressed (basically, told by God directly, via the Holy Ghost) that I needed to get into herbal tea - starting with chamomile, to help me sleep better, and help manage my anxiety, somewhat. (I do cool it down. I prefer most of my drinks about room-temp, anyhow.)

I won't make a definitive claim on what this means for members as a whole, but I suspect that if it's okay for me, it's probably okay for the average member - most exceptions would probably be in the cases of stuff like allergies. For any members reading this, I recommend you stop trying to reason it out, and pray about it. ("Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding." - Proverbs 3:5)

Anyhow, continuing with the point of this post...

All around farms were apportioned and allotted in proportion to the standing of each individual.

Again, no. We don't give deference to our leaders in that manner. Leaders aren't paid for their Church service (it's pretty much volunteer work).

If anything, farms would be allotted according to ability and/or need - e.g. bigger, and more-farm-handy families would get bigger farms, since they had the know-how, and more mouths to feed. Non-farmers would probably not get farms, instead getting something more in-line with what they already knew how to do. From what I understand, people would probably basically just do what they did best, and basically help each-other as needed.

From the great inland sea to the distant Wahsatch Mountains...

I don't know if this is a typo, but I know at least modernly, it's "Wasatch Mountains."

There's also a later mention of "Salt Lake Mountains." Personally, I never heard the term before reading this story. Looking at a few maps, it doesn't look like an official name: the character using the term is probably referring to the part of the Wasatch Mountains closest to Salt Lake City, or the Great Salt Lake, itself.

Actually, come to look, I think Doyle made another mistake, this one geographical: the story later talks about travelers heading through the mountains as they head for Nevada, but looking at it, there aren't very many mountains between Salt Lake and Nevada; definitely not as big or as dense to the ones east of Salt Lake (in the other direction). In fact, it's pretty much just desert.

Come to think, I've traveled to Nevada a few times, myself. This is pretty in-line with my own experiences: I can vouch that it's STILL mostly empty desert. 😅

Above all, the great temple which they had erected in the centre of the city grew ever taller and larger.

Even as I first read this, I felt like it gave the wrong impression: sure, the Salt Lake temple is fairly tall, and, in a way, kind of castle-like, but I consider it more wide or long. The use of "taller and larger" makes me think of the Tower of Babel (which, as you may or may not know, was supposed to be a shortcut into Heaven, which God punished people for - confounding their languages so they couldn't all communicate easily, breaking the tower down... I hear that was also when what's now known as Pangaea was separated into the different continents...).

Anyhow, I already knew there was at least one detail that probably put a kink in this description. And looking it up, I can give more detail:

In 1858, about five years into the initial construction of the Salt Lake Temple, the foundation of the temple was actually covered up, due to threat of war. (Which, I totally forgot about the war thing. And apparently, Doyle also either missed, or forgot about that detail. I think I remember the story saying something about basically having no outside threats... I either haven't found it yet, or I misremembered.)

But yeah, it wasn't until the next year that the foundation was uncovered again, and as this Primary lesson says...

After the problems with the government were resolved, President Young ordered the foundation uncovered. The workmen found that some of the mortar and small rocks used between the large foundation blocks had cracked and shifted. [...] The workers removed the small rocks and mortar and all of the sandstone blocks down to the first layer, replacing them with hard granite blocks.

In other words, starting in 1859 they had to completely dig up the foundation and start over.

A reminder that this part of the story takes place in 1860. Odds are that the temple hadn't even really reached above ground level, yet. 😅

This said, the temple also wasn't finished until 1892, over 30 years later. (The granite blocks they used had to be shipped in from distant mountains, carved out by hand... it was hard, slow work.)

So... yeah, the temple wouldn't grow tall(-ish) for some more years. And its original width was planned out from the beginning, so it wouldn't grow bigger on that front, either. 😅

Lucy remains motherless/John Ferrier remains unmarried/"celibate" (as Doyle put it)

Not inherently false, but I do think it fairly unlikely. Like I mentioned, there's a strong culture of helping each-other out, and I really do think that a lot of the members - esp. women - would've gushed over Lucy, offering to help with raising her. (It's not directly stated, but it's pretty strongly inferred that John didn't get ANY help on that front.) Women in particular are generally tasked with assisting those in need and offering relief - hence why the Church's organization of women is called the Relief Society.

So, yeah. I find it hard to believe that there wouldn't be other members visiting often, helping in her upbringing. I particularly find it hard to believe there wouldn't be any women to help out... and while not impossible, I find it unlikely that at least ONE wouldn't leave a strong enough impression on Ferrier that he'd want to marry her. 😉

Again, not inherently false... but I think it pretty unlikely. 😅

This said, while I think I should comment on the subject of marriage in general, I'll do it farther down.

He had always determined, deep down in his resolute heart, that nothing would ever induce him to allow his daughter to wed a Mormon./["]What is the thirteenth rule in the code of the sainted Joseph Smith? ‘Let every maiden of the true faith marry one of the elect; for if she wed a Gentile, she commits a grievous sin.’["]

I looked up this so-called quote and found nothing about it. (A search for an exact quote literally turns up 0 results.)

I've never heard of a "code of Joseph Smith" (and we wouldn't use the term "sainted"). My only guess on what he could mean is the Articles of Faith that I mentioned earlier, which, none of them mention marriage - not even the thirteenth and last one (which basically just talks about trying to be good people, and good to other people).

Farrier's opinion isn't inherently contradiction - given that opinions are, by nature, subjective, and this is a fictional character - it is supposed to give him a sort of conflict that sets the background of his story.

In any case, I think I should still touch on this at least briefly:

There isn't a hard-and-fast rule that says that you can't marry a non-member. It is generally seen as unwise, but not much more, I don't think. Heck, Idon't think it's technically even considered a sin. Sure, it would mean you couldn't be sealed in the temple - which basically means you'd be missing out on a number of blessings - but there's nothing that forbids it, AFAIK.

Well... maybe some parents forbid it, and people might treat you weirdly, but that's probably as close as it gets. 😅

...speaking of which...

[T]o express an unorthodox opinion was a dangerous matter in those days in the Land of the Saints.

I can't claim to have exact knowledge of what kind of tension might've been going on, by a longshot. I'll note that, yes, I wish I could say that this is 100% false. I've definitely heard of intra-Church conflicts as far back as before the Saints even traveled to Utah/Deseret, long before reading this Holmes story. 😔

Still, the story seemed largely and dramatically exaggerated. (Which, in my non-professional opinion and observation, it seems like non-members, particularly anti-Church groups, have a tendency to do. 😅 ...Heck, on a broader scale, people who are against something tend to make up false rumors about the thing that they hate. Why wouldn't the same apply with us? 😕) In any case, the story didn't fit with what I've been taught about Gospel doctrine, or Church history.

This said, I still tried to find a specific reference, and look it up. It took me a while, because I had trouble finding it again in the story - even when looking multiple times. 😅 I did find it, eventually, and have since looked it up... even if it meant rewriting this section. 😂 (Or at least part of it.)

The story basically describes members suddenly going missing if they express controversial viewpoints and whatnot. It mentions these appearances being done by a particular group, which is given a couple names - apparently the most common name for this group is the Danites.

I, personally, had never even heard of the Danites before reading this story. (And I think it would be pretty weird if non-members knew something that the average member doesn't. 😕) BUT! That said, apparently there's a bit of truth in that they were real.

Emphasis on "were." Very, very past-tense... and apparently short-lived, among other things.

I found a couple of particularly good pages on the subject: this one gives a little information. this one goes more in-depth on general violence in the days of early Saints... both received and, sadly, caused by some earlier members. (I linked specifically to the part on Danites, if you want to check it out, but keep it short.) The article doesn't make any attempt to condone such violence, but neither does it cover it up. If anything, I'd say it looks like it goes into pretty good balance of detail. Both pages link a number of references.

But yeah, looks like the story of the Danites is wildly exaggerated. To sum up, they didn't go to kill any member who had trouble with any little part of Church doctrine: their focus was on non-member an ex-member groups who posed a potential, physical threat to members as a whole.

Also - while I still won't claim this was appropriate - they mostly focused on burning, or stealing, property from these groups, with (apparently) only a few deaths caused... which, while not mentioned in the articles, it sounds to me like their primary goal was to deter and discourage groups who might attack the Church, with killing probably being a last resort. (Or possibly meant to be avoided, altogether, but there's no accounting for the actions of individuals in ANY group. 😑)

Third, they lasted less than half a year. They more-or-less stopped being a thing by the time Brigham Young became head of the Church (as he's supposed to be in this story).

There's more, but I think those would be the main points for the sake of this post (which is running VERY long as it is... and I'm not finished 😅).

I guess I'll note real quick that we also don't really do secret societies, though I'll touch more on that in another section.

As for what I'd already written, I decided to touch more on how things are these days, modernly. I'm including most of it, with some adjustments for the new context:

Sort of like I said earlier, I've never heard of a member suddenly vanishing, just because they weren't sure about one or two points of doctrine, or anything. There are PLENTY of members who will talk about this or that multiple times, across multiple weeks. 😅

As for doctrine in general. We do still believe that murder is a bad thing (we basically still use the Ten Commandments, among other things). Things like self-defense might be another story. Heck, there's a story in the Book of Mormon where it talks about some of the people - namely the Nephites - deciding to go to war for the sake of self-defense (they were attacked first). There's a couple verses back-to-back talking about how God told them when it's okay to defend themselves.

But still, outright murder? Just for not being 100% true to the Gospel? No. That would be horrendously hypocritical, and it would be very hard to justify it.

I've mentioned that, if anything, modern Church members tend to be more of doormats. 😅 A lot of us actually tend to avoid aggression, contention, etc. (At least... in public. 😂) It's to the point where lot of us have a lot of trouble being assertive, or standing up for ourselves and our beliefs, because (like many others) we're not sure how to be assertive without being aggressive... or prideful, which we're also warned against. 😅 (Though many still struggle with it. 😔)

This is not to say that we never do anything... not-so-kind when/if someone expresses a non-Gospel opinion, or anything. Like I inferred, a number of us may express our disapproval in-private, when the person(s) in question can't hear. 😅 In public, members are more likely to be avoidant than aggressive. (I've definitely heard stories of people being shunned for one reason or another... though typically not until they'd long already moved out or something. 😔)

But yeah, we have an emphasis on bringing people (back) to God. Leaving people in wickedness is more intimidating - we tend more toward a fear that comes from not wanting someone to be tormented for denying the Gospel, and not coming back to it. 😅 Put positively, as one of our scriptures puts it, "the worth of souls is great in the sight of God" - a common quote among members.

This said, one of our most-common mistakes is that we tend to try to follow that more out of fear than of love. 😂 Or even when trying to be loving, we tend to accidentally give bad advice, accidentally insult people instead of showing empathy, all the usual stuff that a lot of people are known for. 😅

Heck, I'm not sure I've heard heard of any modern stories of a member getting violent - particularly not in that sense. That said, I'm not going to claim that violence never happens. Heck, I think it would be insane to assume that it never does. We're still human, after all.

I actually remember a young guy losing his temper at a Ward barbecue, once. 🤔 He mostly just yelled and jumped on a table - maybe threw a few light punches. Thankfully, someone managed to talk him down. 😅

(This said, I have heard stories of sexual assault within the Church. 😬 So... I think that's a pretty good indicator that physical violence probably happens, at least occasionally... 😔)

But yeah, the Church doesn't condone aggression, and encourages members to work towards peace - something I, personally, would like to vy for. Any violence in members is more of an individual thing, not a group one.

And even then, again, when it comes to a member not being completely faithful, most of what I typically hear about is avoidance, less-than-empathetic comments (often meant with good intentions, but... yanno), shouting from other family members... and maybe the occasional case of someone getting disowned. 😬

I still don't think the first two are good - maybe at least the second I can sometimes find understandable, but still. I definitely don't condone the latter two... (And if Church articles including this one are any indication, neither does God. 😔)

So... no, that kind of violence is DEFINITELY not something that's advocated for. 😔

Polygamy...

Like said earlier, I am definitely NOT surprised that this is a major part of the story. Polygamy is one of the biggest points of misconception that non-members have about our Church, and we are VERY aware of the stereotypes... which this story fits to a T.

YES, early saints practiced polygamy. NO, as of this time I'm writing this, we don't currently practiced it (I've mentioned some of the reasons above). NO, we didn't practice it for the reasons, nor in the manner, that many people tend to think. (And NO, we don't try to skirt around laws regarding legal marriage age... at least, not in what I consider the real branch of the Church... some people have made offshoots that, as far as I can tell, are very much in line with the stereotypes. 😑 Not sure if they're still around - at least not the main one. Haven't heard anything in a long time. 🤔)

I mentioned before that the journey to Utah/Deseret was dangerous. Being as traditional as we are, especially back then, I understand that it was mostly the men that hunted for food, and generally worked to protect everyone from various dangers. Thus, apparently mostly men died, leaving the population a little skewed.

And when many women would be left without even the option to marry (or remarry, in many cases), what's left to do?

Near as I can tell, the whole polygamy-vs.-monogamy thing appears to be one of those things where it's less of there being only one, real way of doing things, and more of being about what's probably most appropriate for the circumstances. Jacob (father of Joseph of Egypt) is known for having multiple wives, and in his case - and some others - it appears to be appropriate, from what I can tell.

HOWEVER! The ancient Church members in the Book of Mormon (commonly known as the Nephites) were commanded by God to only have one wife per man. Also, thereas a mention that David and Solomon having many wives (and concubines) is something God considers abominable (His word).

So... it sounds like, even in cases where polygamy is considered okay, having an excessive amount of wives is still a no-no. Heck, in the Holmes story, it seems to suggest that having many wives was... typical.

I don't think the population was that skewed. And even if it was, it wouldn't be for very long. 😅

So no. I don't see how that would be possible. Even if, hypothetically, it were encouraged.

Heck, I'm kind of afraid to look it up (for numerous reasons - not sure what exactly I'd search for, for one), but I've heard that the husband needed permission from his existing wives - starting with the first/"main" wife, and working his way down - before he could take another wife. I've also heard that a common conversation was most likely something along the lines of "Sister XYZ lost her husband on our journey here. Do you mind if we take her in? Give her someplace to stay and raise her children?"

Quite a different image than the "harems" people tend to expect (and that Doyle called them), huh?

(And it's not mentioned in the story, but since I know some people will wonder about it, or have heard otherwise: no, the wives are not considered married to each-other.)

I'm not going to make any claims, nor denials, as to who had how many wives, or anything. (Other than I've heard a rumor - not a hard fact, but still - that Joseph Smith's wife wouldn't let him take in any other wives.) Those records will probably be a pain to sort through... I pretty much just take things with a grain of salt on that front, personally, regardless of the direction.

Still, just as an estimate, I'd venture that 2-3 was more common, with several happening occasionally... and just one still being very common.

But yeah, as of the time of writing this, I've basically heard only heard emphasis on the one-man-one-wife arrangement, as far as the Church goes. Heck, right now, the idea of polygamy still seems odd to most members, AFAIK.

That said... I've also heard rumors that Utah is considering making polygamy legal again. I would not be surprised if Church leaders say something about it.

(This said, there are some elements I, personally, can respect about polyamorous relationships. Namely, the idea of multiple people being in a relationship with another person - or maybe even each-other - and being open and honest about it with each-other. Less of that ridiculous drama of someone being "taken," just because they're dating.)

Related side-note... Non-members, ready to have your mind blown? The recommended guidelines for dating in the Church: first and foremost, it's recommended to hold off until the age of 16 - this is largely to help prevent early pregnancies. (Turning sweet 16 is something often looked forward to. 😂) Secondly, it's recommended to start off with "group dates" (basically hanging out, not even beginning to pair off), in order to get an idea of what kind of people you like. After a while of that, you can move into paired-up dating, but it's recommended to avoid dating one person steadily - the idea is to try and help prevent getting too attached to any one particular person until you're ready to pick someone to marry. Finally, once you are getting ready to marry, you can start steady-dating the person you're considering - basically, you can start courting at that point.

How much of that sounded weird - maybe even crazy? 😜

Not to say it always works out that way... Along with the fact that people have their agency and autonomy, and that temptation is still a thing... some of us still struggle to get dates. 😅

...or feel that the pressure makes it... more intimidating. Maybe even gets some people focused more on the social pressure - feeling a need to rush things - than on whether it's actually a good idea, in their specific, current circumstances.

(I know I've been impacted by that... indirectly... 😓)

...anyhow...

The President of the Church (too many details for a header)

TBH, the portrayal of Brigham Young is probably the part that bothers me the most.

It might not have been so bad if Doyle wasn't misrepresenting a specific, named, major figure in our history - and particularly if it wasn't so incredibly inaccurately. But nope! Doyle was probably trying to be "realistic." 😅

It'll be hard for me to get into every detail (both emotionally, and just because of what it would take to point out EVERYTHING), but basically, the portrayal includes aggression, intimidation, making a point to oversee basically everything seen as a potential issue, outright threats... The narration even explicitly mentions that getting a visit is unlikely a good sign (at least for the character in question).

Regardless of whether one believes one such as him to have actually been called of God, I'll note that I, personally, haven't really known any of our Church Presidents (and other high-ranking leaders) to be much anything other than gentle. And to me, this seems like one of the major reasons why they would end up being President of the Church in the first place. Any guidance and correction I've heard has been - again - gentle, and loving.

Since checking the thing about the Danites, I've heard that he read some warning verses from the Old Testiment with passion... but I suspect that was mostly meant as a stern warning or something, from what I can tell. Other than that, about the worst he did was make it official that war was going on - after members had been attacked - rallying militia for defensive reasons, from what I can find. 🤔 Some... fighting spirit, I suppose, but not really aggression. There's even a point where he warned against getting involved in the affairs of some others in the area, because he didn't want a fight. (Though his message was... too late... 😢)

The bit about a visit being something to be concerned about definitely struck me as odd. Normally the possibility of getting to meet a Church President is something that members are excited about. 😅 Sure, maybe if one was, well... very much a sinner. (Which, to be fair, part of the idea is that Ferrier hasn't done something that, according to the story, is considered critically important...) But even then, stories I've heard about Church Presidents talking with sinners and the like typically involve a very gentle love that really does remind me of stories of Jesus.

Speaking of which, opportunities to meet a Church President in person are fairly rare. Especially these days. But even back then, things would be organized so he wouldn't have to handle everything, himself. Like I mentioned before, things would probably be handled by a Bishop or Branch President first, then a Stake President, then maybe one or two other levels of authority (I'm unclear on the details, but maybe a member of Area 70s?), before making its way to the Church President.

Even back then - basically any time except maybe the very earlier parts with Joseph Smith - the head of the Church would've been a very busy guy. Fact is, I really doubt he'd have time to handle everything by himself.

(Fun fact: Even the President of the Church has to talk to his local Bishop for certain things. I'm uncertain on the details, but one thing I think would be a good guess would be verifying records of personal tithings and other donations. ...Yes, even our leaders pay tithing.)

One particular omission I noticed was that there was no reference to finding out what God might want for any given situation. (Even with the very cult-like portrayal, this seems odd to me - I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be a common form of coercion.) This said, I'm pretty sure an emphasis on prayer would be more likely. (Or at least, I believe that it should have been. 😅) Most likely in asking Ferrier and others to pray... though praying himself, on occasion, wouldn't necessarily be out-of-place.

But yeah, lots of portrayals of stuff that would NOT be appropriate for his station. 😅

Incidentally, here's a bonus detail that even members tend not to remember: Have you noticed that I've been using terms like "the President of the Church" instead of "the Prophet"?

Well it turns out, unlike how even most members talk about it, the President of the Church is technically not "the" p/Prophet! Not even the only living prophet.

He might be sort of the head prophet, and he definitely is granted more power and authority. BUT! At EVERY General Conference for the Church, and even in some other cases, members are asked to sustain the President of the Church, his two Counselors, AND the Quorum of the Twelve (sort of the next group of authority down - our apostles) as "prophets, seers, and revelators."

Heck, here's a link to a reference of this being done in the April 2023 General Conference - the most recent, as of this writing, though our next one is expected next week. So this is very much a current exercise in our Church.

Still, somehow, the average member seems to forget about this... 😕 ...I admit, it's kind of a pet peeve of mine. 😅 It's something I wish at least our members remembered more-clearly, if nothing else. 😑

Marriage, general; insane controversy over Lucy being unmarried

Along with the polygamy section getting too long as it was, it just seemed appropriate to touch on marriage, separately. 😅 Still, these two points seem to go well-enough together that I decided to combine them.

While there is a lot of emphasis on marriage in the Church, it's not to the degree portrayed in A Study in Scarlet. Like with basically everything else in the Church, the ability to choose who you marry and such is still pretty important - for the wives as well as the husbands.

And while I'm sure there's sometimes drama over multiple people liking the same person (not that I've been part of that, nor been part of any circles that talk about these kinds of things...), it definitely wouldn't be to the point of Church leaders giving a one-month deadline, complete with ominous death threats, hunting parties tracking down anyone who might try to escape... or anything like that. 😅

Heck, it's pretty rare for Church leaders - even as much as a local Bishop - to get involved with stuff like that. 😅 Maybe counseling for couples after marriage - that's pretty common. Maybe some advice about marriage, proposal, etc. But nah, not going to mandate anything, by a long shot.

About the worst staying single is likely to result in would be some some "encouragement" (pressure...) from other members, or members accidentally assuming all the adults in a Ward/Branch ((two types of small congregations)) are married... and accidentally making exclusionary choices, accordingly...

To quote that article:

Sometimes even those of us who think we practice inclusion can be unintentionally exclusionary. For example, when I served as a nursery leader, I often missed announcements that were shared during the second hour of Church meetings. When I told a leader about this concern, he said, “But doesn’t your wife hear the announcements in Relief Society?”

(I guess I should probably give a note that the definition I heard - likely the Church definition - of "single" is "not married." Even if you're engaged, that doesn't mean you're not single. 🤣)

But yeah, someone being single in the Church isn't going to evoke shock, gasps, or anything of the sort. Let alone ominous death threats... or people hunting you down if you try to escape... 😂 In general, it's mostly just seen as a bad idea. Or at most, maybe a "sin of omission."

This said, while non-marriage is not exactly seen as good, I'm inclined to point out that *ahem* intimacy outside of marriage is typically viewed as MUCH worse. 😅

(Side-note: Apparently this is to the point that some find it hard to wrap their heads around the idea that intimacy with their new spouse being okay. 😅)

Also, a member having been married in the Church, and then getting divorced, is more likely to bring scrutiny... 😅 One of those things where a lot of members tend to get a lot more judgmental than I believe they should be. 😑

...But yeah, it can still hard not to wonder what might've led to something like that. 😅

...Still, I've heard cases where I would say that it's completely justified. 😒 (Someone pretending to be someone they're not until the other person was "stuck with them"? Yeah. Apparently it's happened at least once. 😅)

Besides, people can change, and I prefer to reserve judgment - at least until I know more. 🙂

(That's "judgment" as in "to make an assessment" - the scripture before the semi-famous "man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart" comes after Jesse assumed that Eliab, soon-king David's older brother, must be the one chosen by God to be King because, apparently, Eliab's big and buff. God basically goes 'Nope, don't judge him to be morally great just because he's a tough guy.'

Similarly, John 7:24 advises to judge righteous judgment - as does, actually, the Joseph Smith Translation of Matt 7:2.)

The most important figures in the Church are strongly implied to be the Holy Four

...Never heard of them. (Well, not outside of this story, at least.)

Honestly, given the context, it's hard to tell who this "Holy Four" is supposed to be. The Godhead* + Church President...? 🤔

...And honestly? Generally speaking, we're more likely to do things in sets of three. Three members of the Godhead*; three members of a Bishopric, or Stake Presidency, or the Church Presidency (all cases of one leader + two counselors); three witnesses of the Book of Mormon...

And when not three, other common numbers are eight, twelve, and seventy. Four isn't as big of a number.

But yeah, I'm not sure where this "Holy Four" thing came from. 😅

*The Godhead is sort of like our version of the Trinity, except instead of three beings in One, it's three separate beings, working as one unit (i.e. a team).

Ferrier is shown taking the Lord's name in vain

Not sure how relevant this is supposed to be to Ferrier's relationship to the Church, but I figured I'd touch on it.

Yeah, we don't encourage swearing. There's some debate as to whether things besides the Lord's name in vain is really considered swearing - or at least, many seem to agree that the Lord's name should, at least, be considered worse than other terms (not a teir-1 swear, or whatever that one word is considered).

But yeah, that's a no-no. ...And I'm only slightly surprised that there isn't an example of a practicing member breaking the Word of Wisdom (esp. the "no smoking, drinking, etc." part).

Secret groups are seen meeting, exchanging code-phrases, etc.

Like I was refering to with the Danites thing. This is another thing that the Church is against. Groups like this are what we call secret combinations. Secret combinations are one of those things that are described as "most abominable and wicked above all, in the sight of God."

Any secret societies and the like would not be sanctioned by the Church.

(Also, side-note, I have no idea what their code-phrases are supposed to mean.)

Endowment House - flags flown to indicate a marriage the day before

I actually hadn't heard of this, either, until reading this story. Turns out, it was a thing (again, past-tense). It was basically used as sort of a temporary temple, until the actual temple could be finished (something I'd guessed at). It doesn't seem to be much of a thing right now.

There's no mention in that page I linked of flags being part of an official ceremony, or anything (on the endowment house, or - apparently - in the streets). It's certainly not a modern thing - strikes me as way more showy and public than we tend to prefer things to be. Heck, marriage is one of those things that's considered more private. And if anything, one of the common comments about our wedding ceremonies is how simple they are.

And besides that, weddings are one of those things common enough, and with enough of them done in one day, that I really doubt there'd be any signals used for a single marriage the day after it was performed. 😅

I'm actually half-surprised there's no mention of endowments. I'm actually not sure if Doyle even heard of an endowment in our Church. It is something that's required before getting a temple marriage... or going on an official mission, though members can get one at other times. It's the thing that's related to the garments some of us wear (as some non-members called it some years ago, "Mormon underwear"). It's also something we consider sacred enough that it's done in a special room in our temples (basically hence the need for a temporary location while the temple was under construction for so long).

This said, a since only the first wife who's probably sealed to her husband, I'm pretty she'd be the only one that'd really need an endowment for her marriage, if she didn't have one already. 🤔

And I know I'm not being specific, but it's something that's also considered sacred enough that we're not really supposed to discuss it with others who haven't had it - if not just plain not outside the appropriate room in the temple.

I actually can't give details, even if I wanted, because I haven't had one, myself. But I remember that not that long ago, it was to the point that even members couldn't really find information about it by searching the Church website. (A point of frustration for me... And when bringing that up to a couple endowed girls, I remember them getting a little awkward and telling me "It's not secret, it's sacred." ...Which didn't help my frustrations, because I'd say it was at least both!)

A few details have been released publicly now. None of the sensitive stuff, but I've caught things about it once being called 'endowment of power from god,' and something about extra protection.

It's apparently also possible to put certain principles of it together if you know what kind of reasoning to use - even if you don't realize it's connected with the endowments, somehow.

But I'm not going into any more detail, nor look for more info on for the sake of this "dissertation." 😜 (Sorry not sorry.)

But yeah, an endowment house doesn't seem to be a thing now, marriages weren't forced, and I really doubt the flags were a thing. 😅

Wives observing custom of sitting up with someone the night before their burial

If this ever was a custom, it certainly isn't now. Sure, I'd say there's a tendency to stay by the side of someone who's dying, but it's not an outright custom.

...Nor have I ever heard of staying near an already-dead body the night before burial. 😬 Ew...

-----

So... yeah. Overall, while I was surprised to see the Church in one of these books in the first place, once I noticed it was there, I wasn't really surprised of the shape the portrayal took. Like I said, we're very aware of the common stereotypes... and we're painfully used to being seen as "the bad guys" - whether as a group... or individually... 😢

Heck, I'm betting that A Study in Scarlet contributed to a lot of it, directly or indirectly. 😑 We all know how popular Sherlock Holmes is, and this is the very first book. 😬

This said! Far be it from me to try and tell people to abandon Sherlock Holmes. (I think that would be folly, anyhow. 😅) We don't have to accept every aspect of the stories... And Holmes is known for his deductive reasoning, first and foremost, which I can very much get behind (even if it's a little fantastical/romanticized), and I think he shares a lot of nuggets of wisdom. 🙂

And if the principles of reasoning and getting to the truth used in the Holmes' stories are any indication - not to mention the strawman moments *coughLestradecough* - I think that Doyle was just trying to portray things as accurately as he could, wanting to be true to them - not to add to prejudice based on falsehoods. 😂 ...Sadly, a lot of what he had to work with would've probably been misinformation, or even disinformation. And communication technology would've been a LOT less advanced - worldwide websites weren't a thing yet. 😅

...I wouldn't hold availability of resources against Doyle. Yes, mis- and disinformation is harmful... but people, as a whole, are fallible. I do think he was probably trying his best, and I'm definitely not going to hold that against him. And in general, I prefer to give people the benefit of doubt. 😌

Also? ...This might seem like a side-note, but in my latest fanfic, I've written Holmes references into chapters that haven't been posted yet, starting with the next chapter. I considered removing them, but I keep feeling impressed through the Holy Ghost to leave them - heck, I keep feeling guided on how to include them, and such.

(And to reinforce this, I plan - and feel impressed - to still stream those Holmes games I bought, on my Twitch channel. No, I'm not giving you a direct link. 😉)

And heck... not trying to brag, but to be honest? The general way that Holmes works things out - his patterns of thinking, and a lot of the principles of reasoning he stands behind? ...I actually find them very relatable. 😄 A lot of the stuff Holmes suggest is stuff I figured out/decided to do on my own (if in different words and such... and even if I disagree on occasion 😉).

I'm not going to claim to be on the same level as Holmes (this is fiction), and my strengths in knowledge and such are in different areas... but the general style feels very familiar... and I think this actually is the strongest I've ever felt a character to be a kindred spirit of sorts. 😃

Heck... I'd say Doyle must be something of a kindred spirit, to even come up with Holmes' manner of reasoning.

...Call this a bold claim, but I think he'd like me trying to correct his mistakes. Try and repair a little of the damage. 😌

So... yeah. I'm not even trying to preach or anything, I just want people to be aware of the inaccuracies in portrayals like this one, at minimum. 😅

And... I want to share that I can still fondly appreciate something that started with such a big flaw. 😌

#sherlock holmes #a study in scarlet #misinformation #latter day saints #mormons

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purplehoodiesimon · 2 years

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okay i know i promised more butterflies and i'm very sorry but i went down another rabbit hole again and hopefully it's another thing you'll be interested in (if you know this already i'm sorry i promise i'll be back with another butterfly for you soon). once again i tried my best but some of it might be incorrect.

on to today's topic: in 2000, there was a somewhat controversial article written about the linguistics of the word "butterfly" across different languages (the elusive butterfly), written by william o. beeman, an anthropologist, who claimed that, contrary to most words, "butterfly" shares few/no roots from language to language. he's controversial mostly in that his focus isn't actually historical linguistics - it's anthropology. and within the article, he cites other, also controversial, researchers. in any case, some people agree with him, some people disagree with him, but at least on a surface level, many of the words for "butterfly" do appear unique. the gist of his research (i did not read his article i read a bunch of articles about his article) is that "butterfly" does not follow the typical cognate rules - i think within the romance languages (?) - because they should all be similar to the Latin word, papilio, and most of them, with the exception of French, aren't. even a lot of the other related languages have entirely different words.

this really isn't about beeman's research at all, although that's what got me onto the topic originally. mostly this is just about the etymology of the different words for butterfly. English: butterfly

comes from old English buttorfleoge, literally just butter and fly. this could be because butterflies were thought to have liked butter, because their poop is the color of butter, or because of the common butter-yellow color of some butterflies in England. in middle English it becomes buterflie, which evolved into the word we use today.

French: papillon

again, this is the one with a clear root word - papilio, in Latin becomes the French papillon.

Italian: farfalla

apparently, this comes from the Lombardic parpaja, which originated in northern Italy/southern Germany. (i don't know how accurate this actually is - every website seems to have a different answer, this one just made the most sense to me. alternatively, it comes from the Old Italian parpaglione, which does come from the Latin papilio.)

Maltese: farfetta

the other possibility i saw for farfalla is that it came from this word, but i don't know which came first. i can't (easily) find an origin for this word.

Spanish: mariposa

this comes from the phrase (?) "María pósate, descansa en el suelo," shortened to "María pósate," meaning "Mary, alight."

Portuguese: borboleta

in Latin, bellus means beautiful. with Vulgar Latin, it becomes belbellita, which becomes (now Portuguese) belbeleta, then berbeleta, then borboleta.

German: schmetterling

this one is simple. it comes from schmetten, meaning cream, because it was believed that witches transformed into butterflies to steal cream (sorry i missed that in the mythology ask), and the diminutive suffix -ling.

Dutch: vlinder

unfortunately this one is also unclear. the best i could find is that it is possibly related to the Proto-Germanic fî-faldrôn and/or fifaldǭ.

Swedish: fjäril

definitely related to the Proto-Germanic words above. those turn into fífrildi (Old Norse) and then into fiädhal (Old Swedish), before you get the current fjäril.

Danish: sommerfugl

literally "summer bird"

Russian: babochka

a diminutive of "old woman" or "grandmother." this also gets me a different result on the mythology front - it says that the Russians believed women/people turned into butterflies after they died.

Polish: motyl

from the Proto-Slavic motyljь‎.

Finnish: perhonen

perho is a fishing lure, supposedly. with the diminutive suffix -nen it makes the word for butterfly. other sources show liippo as an alternate word as well.

Hungarian: lepke, pillangó

from the Proto-Uralic lëppᴈ. it is a cognate of the Finnish liippo listed above.

from the word pillog, meaning 'to blink or flicker'. it uses the pillang variant with the -ó suffix.

Greek: petaloúda (πεταλούδα)

likely either from petilís, meaning 'locust', or petánnumi, meaning 'spread out'. i would guess the second over the first, but i really don't know.

Hebrew: parpar

originally, the word tziporet or tziporet kramim (meaning bird/vineyard bird) was used in place of an actual word for butterfly. in a poem written in 1904, tziporet was used alongside the word for flutter - pirper. deciding that a word solely for butterfly was necessary, someone in the Ben-Yehuda family (not sure who) took inspiration from pirper along with the Pharpar River and the French papillon to create the word parpar, first appearing in a 1910 poem and eventually becoming popularized.

Albanian: flutur

possibly from the Proto-Albanian flugtur, or the Latin fluctuare (to the Vulgar Latin fluctulāre, to the Albanian fluturoj - meaning 'to fly')

Romanian: fluture

borrowed from the Albanian flutur

Irish: féileacán

most likely from the Old Irish etelachán, which comes from the word etelach, meaning 'flying'.

Turkish: kelebek

from the Proto-Turkic kepelek.

and a few words that i couldn't find etymology for but still liked anyway: kipepeo (Swahili), fithrildi (Icelandic), peperuda/пеперуда (Bulgarian), and liblikas (Estonian).

(obviously this is not every language that exists - most of the articles i looked at had lists of languages and their word for butterfly, so that's where i got all these from, give or take a couple.)

sign languages do not reflect this difference - the vast majority use the same sign, although some have a different movement (ASL flutters the hands in place, BSL flutters upwards and left, LSF flutters upwards and right - those are the main variations). the other most common version of the sign for butterfly is the one used by Estonian, Italian, Spanish (Argentina), and Japanese sign languages: (please forgive my descriptions from here out) palms facing outward, thumbs overlapping at the nail, both hands form an open-b, with a repeated movement from open-b to flat-b. some of these signs include a secondary movement like BSL and LSF do, but some are stationary like ASL. of all the sign languages available for this word on spreadthesign, only Belarusian and Croatian have a distinctly different sign. Belarusian crosses the arms at the wrist and flaps the whole hand (palms down), and Croatian holds both hands shoulder-height (palms out, hands tilted so the fingers point off to the left and right but not entirely horizontal) and flutters the fingers.

this ask is a whole ass essay, i'm sorry. i put it into google docs to make sure i wouldn't lose it and it came out to ~1100 words. my apologies to everyone who has to see this and/or scroll past it.

💜🦋

Okay I just read that paper and your ask and that is fascinating. The way that so many of those words were completely different from each other, even among languages with similar origins like, everyone really did look at the butterfly and decide on a different word for it. I've always known that "butterfly" and "mariposa" were very different sounding but figured it was just one of those ones where English ended up with a Germanic based word for it instead of a Latin based word that would be similar to the Spanish. Did NOT expect it to be a weird one across lots of languages like that though. That is such an interesting phenomenon though like why did so many languages end up with such different words for butterfly, even when a lot of them share words/roots? I do have to say, after reading that entire list, I think mariposa is still my favorite word for the little creatures. It just sounds so elegant, like them.

As for the sign thing, that does make to sense to me. A lot sign languages had some mixing and matching during their establishments, like people often learned from other people in other countries that already had a sign language and so on and on. And it makes sense like, visually? Like you know, a lot of animal signs have to do with the appearance/movement of the animal (think like spider, turtle, snake in ASL) so it makes sense to me that an animal that generally just flies around flapping its wings and looking pretty would be shown with a hand flapping movement across the world in sign. THEN AGAIN, you'd also think etymologically similar spoken languages would have similar words for it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm gonna be up for the rest of my entire fucking life thinking about this. I have so many thoughts. So many. So many questions. A million, honestly.

Also every little nugget of information you give me about butterflies I am putting in a notes folder and figuring out how to work into butterfly Wille so keep them coming. I swear it's coming along. Slowly, but it is. These are amazing.

Please note: I am not an actual linguist or historian, just a languages nerd taking a lot of language classes, and if there's terminology or information in here that's inaccurate, I'm sorry, just let me know and I'll make the corrections.

#asks #💜🦋💜🦋#theo i love you thank you for these

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creepling · 3 years

Text

am i not enough? (quackity x reader) - apocalypse!AU

( 。・_・。)人(。・_・。 ) | part of the @quackisinnit 1k event !

THE PROMPT IS . . . “ AM I NOT ENOUGH ? “

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader (apocalypse!AU)

word count: 3,306

summary: the reader and alex become a duo while coming across each others paths during a zombie apocalypse. tensions rise as they set up camp in a warehouse, where alex begins to confess how he feels towards the reader. (angst into fluff <33)

tw: zombie apocalypse, blood (ment), cursing, guns, death, eating.

It had been three months since the fallen of mundane life. Three months of complete abnormality, everything known to be in existence that was worth caring about; completely gone. jobs, currency, education were becoming a historic relic. The world was put back to zero. Instead of cavemen and dinosaurs, the new species of flesh-eating corpse’s roamed in packs and seeked for fresh meat. They may have been slow, but they travelled in numbers and they could smell you from a mile away. I learned that your scent became less of a problem when you didn’t keep hygenic. My stence blended with the earth and blood and the roamers didn’t catch us out as much; so we used that to our advantage.

I only had one companion, his name was Alex. He was absolutely dumbfounded when I discovered him. I raided his abandoned home looking for supplies, and when I had to kill a roamer that vacaded in his bedroom; I found him curled up in a ball under his bed. He told me that he had been hiding the whole month when he realised help was to never come; so his only plan was to hide out until he ran out of supplies. That became a problem when I attempted to take them. We made the mutual agreement that if I was to take the supplies, he would come with me. I refused to stay and hide; that is how you get yourself killed. Thankfully he agreed to come with me, and we have been inseperable ever since. However, our bond is nothing close to a friendship, we just had to stick together to survive.

Alex’s main idea was to find a group, hoping by now someone had turned one of the surbubans into a mini civilization. We had travelled between three cities however and we found no sign of good company. As a duo, we have only killed one human within these three months. A man who tried to kill us at gunpoint in hopes of taking our things, to which we scarsely saved our lives by ducking behind a bar table. With one aimless shoot, I shot my gun and it pierced through the man’s chest. I saved our lives, but the sight of the man’s lifeless eyes still haunts me in my sleep.

One night, Alex found a two-store warehouse to shelter in while on a supply run. He suggested we camp on the second floor and catch up on our sleep and starvation, since we eventually got ahold of sleeping bags and tinned food. I agreed, but reminded him the stay can’t be perminant. He agreed also, still fixated on the idea of finding a commune.

While I made a fire and cooked food, I obvserved Alex drawing in a notepad. I failed to make out what he was doing so I asked, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m trying to draw a map.” He said to me, “It’s not accurate, but it will give us a rough idea of the roads until we find a map.”

“I didn’t take you as a smart person.” I said, hoping he didn’t think I meant it seriously. It was rare for me to joke in times like these, but when I did, my humour came off dry. Thankfully, my comment made Alex scoff out a chuckle.

“And I didn’t take you for a fighter.” Alex said. Since being with each other for two months, we both naturally adopted different roles that benefitted us. Alex was the navigator, the finder; he seemed to have a good sense of direction and I relied on him to not get lost. He also had a good eye and was always good at finding things such as second-way exits or food hiding in obscure places. For me, my job was a lot more physical. I was a good shoot, I knew how to make a fireplace, or bandage a wound. When things got dirty, I would get lucky and save our asses.

“Your food’s ready.” I said, handing him his warm can of chicken soup and a packet of chips. He thanked me, putting his notebook down and sitting cross-legged beside me. As we ate we sat in silence, the only sounds in the warehouse being our mouths chewing the food. We hadn’t ate in nearly a week. I tried my best to chew my chips before swallowing so I didn’t end up with stomache pain, but the instant flavour shot through my tongue and I instinctly ate them quickly. Alex finished his food within minutes, licking the chip packet and his fingers; scraping every last bit of soup from the can and into his mouth. I reluctantly did the same, feeling a little embarrassed; I have never felt so starved in my life.

“That was fucking amazing.” Alex sighed out, now heating his hands over the fire. I nodded in agreement, collecting the empty tin cans and keeping them next to our things. They will be handy for traps, tying them with strings and hanging them in the woods while hunting would let us know of intruders. It was the small things like that that has made us survive this long.

“Are you gonna go to sleep now? I could keep watch.” I offered, observing Alex’s bloodshot eyes. If we had mirrors, we would flinch at our reflections. Alex looked rough. He always wore his beanie, which he apparently did even before things got bad. He always had a collective spot of dirt on his nose and cheekbones no matter how clean we were, it’s where it always collected the most. His hands were the most dirty, dirt under his short nails and inbetween his fingers. From the rare occasions we touched hands, I felt the softness of his hands, compared to mine that felt aged and rough. His knuckles were stained with blood. Out of both of us, I was covered in the most blood. When I looked down, my hands had a reddish tint, observing more I could see small cuts on my hands from being idle with my knife when striking roamer’s heads. Without having to see, I knew I had sprays of blood on my face from the amount of times I killed roamers. To think when life was normal we cared so much about our appearence, but now activities like doing makeup, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth seemed so pointless. We were slowly becoming used to primitive life and deep down that scared me. I think it scared Alex too.

“I’m tired as fuck, but I know I won’t sleep.” Alex said in a low tone, looking at his hands full of shame. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing exactly how he was feeling. We hadn’t slept properly in months, instead when one person kept watch, the other just lay down with their eyes closed. We forgot what it was like to dream, or to feel hazy. We were constantly alert.

“Since we have no intention of sleeping. Why don’t we play a game?” Alex said. I cocked my eyebrow up in question. What game could we play that didn’t involve making noise and attracting attention?

“We ask each other 20 questions. Normally if you don’t want to answer a question- you would have to do a dare. But hey, wants the point in hiding nowadays?” Alex said, looking at me contently.

“We should be hiding ourselves more than ever, I think.” I said, adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning. “That way no one knows our weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust me?” Alex said. His question threw me off. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, but maybe I was unwilling to get to know him. I had already lost the people close to me, and I was still in grieving. I was too afraid to get close with Alex. I always had the thought in the back of my head that one day, I might end up losing him. His intelligence may only get him so far.

“I understand.” Alex said, taking back his question. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, he must have realized what I was thinking. He lost his close ones too. We both lost so much, we had a mutual understanding about that. Yet, I looked at Alex, and he still felt like a mystery to me. He always pulled out jokes, even in times like these. However, in moments when he thought I wasn’t looking, I could see the pain concealed in his face. Sometimes I even heard him cry at night when he thought I was sleeping. Maybe it was about time we opened up to each other, instead of feeling like we need to suffer alone. We could be there for each other not just physically, but emotionally.

“Okay then, since it was your idea, you ask the first question.” I said, hugging my legs to my chest. Alex smiled a little at me, going into thought as he tried to think of a question.

“So, what did you do when life was normal?” He asked first.

I let out a sigh then replied, “I had a very normal life. Lived with my family, did average in school, worked a job to get money. I actually had plans of moving out to the city, I always wanted to go to LA. I never really had aspirations, just wanted to be content.” It sounded boring, but I was happy with my life. I had my ups and downs like everyone else. “What were you like?”

Alex smirked and looked away from me, seeming to become bashful. “I was a twitch streamer.” He said. “And had a Youtube channel. God- it sounds so stupid now that I say it. Like it was all pointless-”

“Were you like- famous?” I asked, trying to conceal a smile.

“Um- I guess you could say that. I had millions of followers.” Alex shook his head, “But I also went to college. I was studying law. I was always staying up late, barely sleeping; both studying and streaming all the time. It took up my whole life, that I just kinda forgot about everything else.”

“Well, you were obviously not famous, because I didn’t know who you were.” I jokingly said, nudging his side. That seemed to make him smile and feel less embarassed.

“So how the hell did you learn how to shoot if you lived such a normal life?” He asked.

“I just learned while doing it. My dad kept a gun.” I admitted, looking at the very same gun I had in the holster wrapped around my thigh. “He would teach me now and then how to use it, but I was never a shooter. The more roamers I shot, the more I got used to it.” Thinking about someone close to me made me chew the inside of my cheek anxiously.

To deflate my melancholy, I asked the next question. “Did you always wear that stupid hat?”

Alex chuckled and rubbed the top of his hat. “Yeah, twenty-four seven. I don’t why, I just find it comfortable. My “fans” would joke that I was bald because I never showed my hair.” He said, “God- saying the word fans sounds fucked up . . .”

“Maybe you’ll bump into one of them.” I said, “Heck- maybe there’s a commune right now dedicated to you, trying to find you and keep you safe.”

Alex laughed again, covering his face with his hands. I laughed alongside him, the first time I genuinely laughed in a good few weeks. Looking at Alex, seeing how I uplifted him, it struck a chord with me. As much as I didn’t like to show it, but he made affects on me that were indescribable. He made me feel just a little more contempt, without him I would probably not be able to cope for this long. We eventually locked eyes with each other, Alex’s gaze being longer than I expected. If it wasn’t for the blood, my face would have exposed the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Have you ever fell in love, (Y/N)?” Alex then asked me, which set me aback. The question was out the blew and I think Alex realised that as he looked away shyly, his gaze fixated on the flames of the fire to avoid my gaze. I still stared at him, almost in amazment, trying to conjuct a reasonable answer.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “I have loved people, yes, but- I don’t think I have been in love. You’re suppose to know when things like that happen, right?”

Alex didn’t answer me, he kept staring at the fire. I found myself admiring his side profile, watching how he slowly bit his lip; concealed in thought. I noticed how the glow of the flames contrasted with the darkness of his eyes, how the light outlined his complexion. When I realized I was staring for too long, I looked away, instead my eyes looked out the warehouse window, my eyes tracing the stars in the night sky.

“I feel like I have known you forever.” Alex admitted all at once. “It’s only been two months, but I have gotten close to you more than anyone I have in my whole life. It might sound crazy but- I believe we were suppose to come together that day.”

My gaze turned back to Alex when I felt his eyes lay upon me. His stare was soft, something I only seen in passing times. I was able to admire him for the first time since we met. In this moment, in the dead of night, away from danger and suspicion; I could look at him with full sentiment. I didn’t need to admire him when he was less suspecting it, afraid of receiving decline or making things awkward. In this moment I realized, I may have developed feelings more than companionship towards him. That excited me. But also terrified me.

“I feel that way with you, Alex.” I admitted, “But . . .”

I decided to choose my words carefully. This conversation was heading in a direction that made me nervous. The world is falling apart around us, and I couldn’t help but question our motives. We should be focusing on survival, not developing a relationship that could be destroyed at any second. Once we step out this warehouse, our chances of losing our lives become high. I wasn’t prepared to damage my mental state, it was already bad enough. I realized my long pause was making Alex shift nervously, so I looked at him in hopes my words would slip from my mouth.

I caved in, muttering lowly, “We should get some rest.” I got up on my feet and was ready to grab my sleeping bag and make up a place to rest, until I heard Alex get his his feet and say words that made my heart sink.

“Am I not enough?”

When I turned to look at him, the hurt was glistening in his eyes. He gulped dryly and he fumbled with his fingers. My eyes shifted from side to side as I was stuck with my words. I kept stammering, and I rubbed my face in stress, ready to plead my case. Until Alex jumped in.

“Don’t think I’m only saying these things to you because there is no one else, (Y/N). I have been thinking about this for a while, everytime I am left with my thoughts. I am certain I will still have the same feelings if we met when things didn’t go to shit. I don’t just think this because we have been the only people for each other. I really really like you, (Y/N). And because of the way the world is, I never want to lose you. I never want you to feel alone ever again. I not only want to protect you because we’re a team, I want to protect you because the thought of losing you pains me so much.”

For a split second I thought Alex was about to burst into tears. That was when I did something I thought I would never do again, which was pull him into my embrace. I hugged Alex so tight that I heard him gasp, freeze, until he eventually wrapped his arms around me and held me just as tight. My face buried into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his body, his soft hands caressing my back and brushing his thumb down my spine in a soothing manner.

“You are enough, Alex.” I said, my words muffled by his body. I reached my lips to his ear so he could hear my words clearly. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to like me, or be forced to like me just because we were brought together. I was afraid you thought you were stuck with me.”

I anticipated the day that once we meet other life, Alex would slowly fade away and forget who I was. Once he meets other people, we would go our seperate ways. I never knew why the hypothetical idea pained me so much, until now. As Alex pulled away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes in a loving manner that was foreign to me, his hands on my shoulders, I realized why that idea made my heart feel heavy. I never want him to leave me, I want him to always be by my side. Alex’s gaze was enough proof that he wanted the same.

Stimulated by his touch, I was taken aback when I felt his hand cup my cheek. The warmth of his breath breezing against my cheek, I inhaled as if oxygene was nonexistent. I never realized the proximity between us was slowly closing in and when I did my eyes fluttered shut. Alex hesitated for a split second before pressing his soft lips against my own. My neck bent slightly backwards and I shifted my head to the side to deepen into our kiss, my blood-stained hands grabbing the edges of his open jacket and holding him dearly close. The heat of the kiss intermingled with the heat from the fire, my cheeks and ears grew hot. Alex’s hands were surprisingly warm as he reached his hands under my shirt, pressing his fingers and palms on the middle of my back before running his touch down my spine. My breath became shaky and I felt my legs grow heavy under me, my hands cupped the back of his neck to keep myself uplifted, and luckily Alex’s arms held my weight and pressed my body against his. It felt like hours had went by between our lips moving in sync, our tongues grazing our bottom lip’s, our hands moving and resting on different parts of our bodies. His touch felt contagious, his kisses ranging between soft and passionate. I didn’t want to stop, I never wanted to let go. Between kisses I would mutter you are enough, you are enough which made Alex smile against my lips.

That night, everything we had to worry about became last priority. The focus all throughout was each other, making up for the days where affection couldn’t be shown. In the dead of night, there wasn’t a roamer in sight. Instead of hearing narls and groans or screams of pain, there was only the faint sounds of nature. The full moon glistened, as if to be a prediction for the emotions spilling between us. I promised myself from this moment on, as I admired Alex, I would protect him no matter what. I will make sure he always feels safe as long as he is beside me. He will always be enough, if not more.

TAGLIST: @momo-has-a-gun @diggorysmalfoy @quack42069 (join my taglist)

#quackity x reader #irl!quackity x reader #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity x gn!reader #quackity imagine #quackity fanfic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #youtuber imagine #quackity angst #quackity fluff #apocalypse!AU #mcyt apocalypse au #quackity apocalypse au

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arvinsescape · 3 years

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The Princess and the Guard.

A/N: I have finally started my series and I am so excited to share it with you all! I hope you enjoy and any feedback would be appreciated, I accept constructive criticism!

This series is not historically accurate and is not intended to be so please bare that in mind when you are reading, I am no real expert on how royalty works (even if I am from England).

This series will contain misogynistic language and views, violence, death and nsfw content. I will always put the relevant warnings into each chapter!

Warnings: None in this chapter (one mention of death but it isn’t bad or descriptive).

W/C: 2.8K (The rest of the chapters will be longer but as this is a starting chapter it is smaller).

Teaser, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter Three, Chapter four

Chapter One:

You sighed as you watched Annie pin up your hair through the mirror. You knew you should be more excited about tonight’s ball but you weren’t, you knew your mother and father would expect you to find a suitor by the end of the night. Although it was your brother’s engagement ball your parents were growing concerned about your status, you were yet to find anyone who you would want to be tied with for the rest of your life.

“If you don’t mind my saying Princess, you seem upset.” Annie said as she gave you a small smile through the mirror.

“Annie.” You sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, it is Y/N behind closed doors.” You smiled wide at her and she blushed slightly.

“My apologies it just feels improper.” She said, she was correct, if your parents were to find out that she called you anything other than ‘Princess’ or ‘your highness’ she’d lose her job in an instant, if not worse. You on the other hand, couldn’t care less, you hated the way people treated you differently because of the status you were born into.

“I do not mind.” You said and she smiled again as she put the final pin into your hair, moving to find the butterfly hairgrip your grandmother had given you so that she could finish off your look. “I just do not have the energy to entertain tonight.” You sighed and she smiled sadly at you through the mirror again.

“You never know, you might meet someone you like tonight.” She said hopefully and you scoffed.

“I doubt that very much. They are all too old or too arrogant, I do not know why mother insists I marry so quickly, I will never be queen.” You said.

“I suppose, if you don’t mind my saying, for a Princess you are quite old to not be engaged or married.” She said shyly.

“I am 23.” You laughed and she smiled. Annie was like a best friend to you, you’d grown up with her, her mother had worked for your own before her untimely death and Annie had started working as your personal maid not long after.

You heard a knock as Annie finished pinning your hair up and you sighed, it was time. Annie rushed to answer the door as you stood and removed the creases from your dress, the corset you had on tighter than usual, you couldn’t wait to remove it. She curtsied straight away, your brother coming into view.

“Little sister, if I may?” He said as he held his arm out and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Harrison, I am 23, I am hardly little anymore.” You said and he laughed as he stood closer to you.

“I am still taller and still older, therefore you will always be my little sister.”

“You are two years older than me.” You stated and he laughed as he held his arm out for you again, this time you took it. He started to walk with you, heading towards the ballroom. Your eyes fell on the figure stood just outside your door, Thomas. Harrison’s personal guard, he was the same age as Harrison, 25 and you found him extremely attractive, you wished at times that things would be different that you’d be able to marry a man like him.

“Thomas.” You greeted with a smile which he instantly returned.

“Princess.” He bowed and your heart fluttered, he was just about the only person you knew who called you princess and it had a positive effect on you. You bit your lip to contain your smile as you walked towards the ballroom, Thomas falling into step behind you both, you walked for a while before Harrison spoke.

“Mother wants you to find a husband tonight.” Harrison said and you sighed.

“I know. I really wish she would leave it alone.” You sighed.

“Y/N, you cannot keep rejecting people, you know it is only a matter of time before mother and father decide on a suitor for you. Pick someone you can somewhat stand.” He said as you came to the doors of the ballroom, Thomas moving in front of you as he opened the doors, your names being announced as you walked into the room. It all seemed so unnecessary, as if people didn’t know who you were before you yourself did.

“You look beautiful by the way.” Harrison smiled at you and you returned it, you were thankful for your brother, you were both close, he was by far your most trusted friend and relative.

You walked gracefully towards your mother and father, curtsying before you fell into place beside your mother.

“Now Y/N, I want you to behave tonight, there is a new suitor I would like you to meet, a Duke. He is the same age as you, so not too old.” She almost mocked and you had to bite back a scoff.

“Let us hope he is not as arrogant as the rest.” You said as the music began to play, drowning out your mother’s next words. You watched as people started to dance, chatter exploding throughout the room, Harrison was placed next to his bride to be, Ellie. You envied Harrison for finding someone so lovely in this society of people you were a part of.

Ellie was beautiful, a true lady and she was perfect for Harrison, perfect to be the future Queen. She was like a sister to you already, you had a close bond and you were glad that she would be a part of your life for the rest of it. Your eyes found Thomas as he stood close to Harrison, eyes scanning the ballroom before they landed on you, he smiled and you returned it.

“Your royal highness.” A voice pulled your attention from the man. You looked to see a man you’d not seen before, probably the same height as Thomas, much skinnier but good looking none the less. His green eyes raked your figure and you almost gagged, blonde hair slicked back in the same way all men of his status had. He held out his hand and you placed yours in his as he kissed the back of your hand. It was almost sloppy, you wanted to pull your hand from his immediately but forced yourself to be polite.

“I am Oliver, Duke of Oxford.” He said and you smiled down at him.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said as politely as you could.

“I hope to see you around my Princess.” He tried to charm and you wished you could have rolled your eyes but fought back the urge.

“See, he is lovely, very polite.” Your mother gushed and you hummed in response as he disappeared. You both watched Harrison make his way onto the ballroom floor with Ellie. A figure stood in front of you and your heart dropped to your stomach. Henry. You’d met him a few times and he was by far one of the worse suitors you’d met, arrogant, rude, you could go on.

“A dance your highness?” He asked as he held his hand out.

“Go on my dear.” Your mother urged and you huffed quietly before placing your hand in his as you made your way to the ballroom floor. He placed his hand too far down onto your waist for it to be appropriate. You moved his hand further up, to the appropriate level when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked over Henry’s shoulder and saw Thomas, jaw clenched as he watched the two of you interact.

You started the dance, you found it boring, you’d danced this dance many times over the years. Henry’s hand continued to wander and you continued to move it, eyes finding Thomas every so often, you watched as Harrison approached him before saying something to him. Thomas’ eyes never left you as you watched him nod at Harrison’s words, you got so lost in his eyes that you forgot about Henry and his wandering hand until it fell almost on your backside. You gasped slightly before stepping away from him.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, need I remind you who I am?” You snapped angrily and Henry smirked.

“Who would believe you? Honestly Princess.” He spat and you huffed before moving towards Ellie, who was now sat at one of the elegantly set up tables.

“Your highness.” She said and you waved her off slightly.

“Y/N, please, we are to be sisters after all.” You said and she grinned.

“Are you okay?” She asked and you huffed as you sat down, not very “princessly” like you were aware, if your mother was too see she wouldn’t have been happy.

“Men.” You uttered and Ellie laughed slightly.

“I feel like I met a true gentleman the night I met your brother.” She swooned and you smiled, they really did love each other, it was warming too see.

“Unfortunately he is a rarity it would seem.” You sighed.

“They cannot all be bad.” She said and you laughed.

“They are not good. I just wish one man would be interested in me and not the title that would come with marrying me.” You spoke your annoyance, it had become an insecurity over the years. “You know I have rejected Henry more times than I can count and he still insists on asking for my hand.”

“I am sorry.” Ellie said clearly not knowing how to respond, she’d been luckier than you.

“No,” you sighed, “I am sorry, this is your engagement party and I am being negative, I apologise.” You said and she smiled.

“We need to stick together, this is a man’s world and if us women need anything, it is each other.” She spoke and you smiled.

You quickly grew bored of the party, too many men had heard, wrongly you might add, that you were looking for a partner tonight. You’d had numerous dances at this point, you’d spent the last half an hour avoiding Henry and his advances. You’d spoken to Oliver a few times and although he seemed nice enough there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, he seemed a little off.

“I am so happy for your engagement, but I am tired and need to retire to bed.” You said as you hugged Ellie.

“Goodnight little sister.” Harrison spoke as he hugged you. You playfully curtsied to him and he laughed.

You made your way out of the ballroom and headed in the direction of your bedroom, it was quite a walk but the halls were quiet, all the guards who were usually stationed were in the ballroom, seeing to your father’s and the King’s safety. You turned the corner and were instantly grabbed from behind before being shoved against the wall, you gasped out in shock.

“Leaving so soon Princess.” Henry.

“How dare you.” You almost screamed at him. “When I tell my father, the King, about this, he will have your head.” You spat and Henry laughed.

“How could you prove it?” He sneered as his hands trailed down your waist, you slapped his hands and he laughed. “You are going to have to marry eventually princess, why not pick a man who could give you a good time?” He smirked.

“Get your hands off of me.” You said as you slapped at his chest, trying to push him away from you, your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, fear setting in.

“You heard her royal highness.” You heard and you were instantly filled with relief. Thomas.

“This is none of your business. I hear you are Harrisons guard, you are not doing a very good job if you are abandoning him.” Henry spat as he turned to look at him, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look intimidating.

“The Prince is in good hands, I can assure you. The Princess however, does not seem to be enjoying her current company.” Thomas spoke and it was cool and calm, as if there was no fear there at all. It reassured you, made you feel safe.

“Stay out of this.” Henry tried again and Thomas stepped towards Henry and you almost laughed as Henry cowered back in response.

“Unless you would like me to personally tell the Prince what I have witnessed here tonight I suggest you leave and not bother the Princess again.” He spoke and you were impressed, most men would be intimidated by Henry’s status, it was like he didn’t care.

“You have no evidence.”

“I do not need evidence. I have worked for the Prince long enough for him to know I am not a liar and I am sure he will believe his sister over the man who has not so subtly been groping her all evening.”

Henry huffed as he took in his words, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you realised you were safe. Henry made his way down the corridor almost stomping like a child as he headed back towards the ballroom leaving you and Thomas alone.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He asked as he turned his attention towards you.

“I am okay, thank you Thomas.”

“Tom.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s Tom.” He said as he cleared his throat. “I was never the biggest lover of my birth name.”

“My apologies, Tom.” It almost felt intimate to call him by a nickname, in a very strange and new way to you, you liked it.

“I will walk you back to your room.” Tom said and you nodded as you fell into step beside each other.

“You know, I have known you since we were both children and I don’t think I have ever been alone with you.” You spoke.

“That would be improper Princess.”

“Y/N.” You corrected and Tom smiled.

“That would also be improper.”

“I am allowed to call you Tom.”

“I am not royalty, I do not have a title.” He said and you laughed.

“I will not tell if you do not.” You smiled and he returned it, you liked his smile, it was warming, comforting.

“I cannot afford to lose this position.” Tom spoke again.

“Should you not be with Harrison?”

“The Prince is well protected at the moment, I will return once I make sure you are back to your room and safe.” It made your heart flutter. “Besides, the Prince personally asked me to make sure you would be alright tonight, he did not like the way Henry was ogling you.”

“So you saved me because you were asked to.”

“Just because I was asked to doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” He spoke and you smiled, he’d dropped the proper speech and it made you smile. It made you feel something in your chest that he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Tom had worked for the palace for a long time, he was similar to Annie, Harrison had grown up with him and asked him to be his guard once he was old enough, you’d always somewhat admired the brown eyed, brown haired man from afar. You came to a stop as you reached your bedroom, you turned to face Tom and he you.

“Well, I am here and I am safe.” You said.

“You are here and you are safe.” He repeated.

“Thank you, Tom.” You said as you looked him deep in those beautiful brown eyes.

“No need to thank me.” He said and you smiled as you reached up and cupped his cheek. He looked confused for a second before he composed himself, you were looking at each other and it was intimate in a way you’d never felt before. You smiled as you reached up, standing on your tip toes as his hand lightly grasped the elbow that was holding his cheek. You placed a soft kiss onto his cheek, a way of saying thank you.

You pulled back blushing slightly to see he was already smiling, you moved away from him and smiled.

“Good night Tom.” You said and he gripped your hand gently in his own, it was soft, warm, and comforting. He placed a soft kiss to the back of it before letting go and bowing. You wished he hadn’t let go and where thankful that none of the guards were there to witness what had just happened.

“Good night princess.”

Taglist: @allthisfortommy

If you want to be added to this series taglist please let me know 💞

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #royal!au #tom holland x royal reader

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drwcn · 3 years

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Hi! I hope you are doing okay with all the discourse going around. Im white and raised in a very white society so i will never have a say in it, but i was wondering, is there any way i can educate myself more in asian/chinese culture? Im aware i consume content thru western lens and because of that i dont really get all the nuances of the shows, but i would like to have at least some backround. Im guessing just watching the shows doesnt give enough of that, can you maybe reccommend some blogs or books to check out? (If you dont thats totally fine and im sorry if i said anything offensive)

Hey friend! Not offensive at all, no worries. Honestly, I’m not too sure. I think just keeping an open mind about things is a really good start. I’m not really sure which blogs to recommend but if I could recommend some dramas? Since it’s probably easier to watch a show then read a book?

《The Story of Minglan》 is a good one to sort of parse out the intricacy of historical Chinese society in the Song Dynasty, keeping in mind that different dynasties have different practices, so even amongst different time periods there were differences. 《The Story of Yanxi Palace》 is another good one for Qing Dynasty (circa 1740s) if you wanna get into imperial harem stuff. (Or you can watch 《甄嬛传》 or 《如懿传》 for harem stuff. I just think The Story of Yanxi Palace is the most palatable, most aesthetic, and most fun out of the three. The other two are kinda tragic?) There are other dramas but I feel they’re not as... accessible?

Chinese historical dramas come in 3 flavours: serious dramas, idol dramas, and those that ride the fence. What I mean by idol drama is...everyone in it is young and hot and the writing is eh and the acting is eh. More often then not there’s a lot of modern elements to it. The Untamed is so popular because it’s idol drama done really well. (xianxia and wuxia genre used to be more quality when I was a kid, but now they’re kind of ehhhh.) I would say Minglan and Yanxi are both successful because they ride the fence.

On the other hand, serious historical drama has A LOT of politics and can be quite dry especially if you’re watching it through half-assed subtitles. The actors typically are more seasoned, older. People jokingly say that idol drama is what mom watches and serious drama is what dad watches, and honestly given my parents’ tv habits...it’s pretty accurate 😂.

Some really well known ones from the past 20 years are:

The 《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 series 1-4. I would only recommend part 1-2, 3-4 are not as great. This one has quite a bit of humour but it might fly over your head a bit because of the language barrier. The story surrounds a well known government official and scholar named Ji Xiaolan 纪晓岚, his frenemy and colleague the (EXTREMELY corrupt) prime minister He Shen, and the Emperor Qianlong. For better or worse these three are depicted as both liege and subjects as well as friends. Trying to see Ji Xiaolan and He Shen one up each other while Qianlong tries to balance his court and rule the country is quite interesting. I won’t pretend this is an easy series to follow, but it’s actually quite fun.

《汉武大帝》 - is about Hanwu Emperor of the Han Dynasty circa 150 BC? He’s one of the most famous emperors of distant history. It’s basically about the course of his life and the many people that featured in it.

《大明王朝》- my memories of this one is very vague, but it is about the Ming Dynasty (the dynasty before the Qing Dynasty c. 1500,1600.)

《The Advisors Alliance 军事联盟》- 2017 two-part television series based on the life of Sima Yi, a government official and military general who lived in the late Eastern Han dynasty and Three Kingdoms period of China. circa 150 AD.

As a side note, a lot of serious dramas for a while now have been focused on the Qing Dynasty, just because it’s the last imperial dynasty before Imperial China fell into decline, WWI and WWII ravaged the country and communism happened. Even a lot of idol drama are about the Qing Dynasty (I feel like I should do a post about this, just to string things together haha).

So for the Qing Dynasty, because they are Manchurian, their last name is Aisin Gioro or in Chinese Aixin Jueluo 爱新觉罗. Their earlier emperors are much more well known than their later ones and have been the focus of MANY dramas. (You’ll notice their names in the beginning spell very different than the Chinese names you’re used to, but once they take over China, the emperors’ names start to become more and more mainland Chinese and less and less Manchurian.)

Nu’er Hachi 努尔哈赤/ Nurhaci - The granddaddy of Qing Dynasty, but was never officially Emperor of China during his life time.

Huang Taiji 皇太极 - Nurhaci’s oldest son. He led the campaign against the Ming Dynasty but died before the campaign was over

Fulin 福林, Emperor Shunzhi 顺治 - Huang Taiji’s 9th son. He is the real first Emperor of the Qing Dynasty. His uncle Duo’Ergun 多尔衮/ Dorgon was his regent as well as his commander-in-chief. Dorgon was the one who won the war against the Ming Dynasty and instated his nephew as the Emperor. Fulin was 6 years old when this happened, and now you may wonder why the fuck is that? It’s because Fulin’s mother, Huang Taijii’s widowed concubine Consort Zhuang (name: pu’erji-jite bumubutai (pinyin) 博爾濟吉特布木布泰/ Bumbutai Borjigit, Da-Yu’er 大玉儿) remarried her brother-in-law Dorgon. Whether Bumbutai and Dorgon were actually in love is....contestable. Certainly one of my favourite serious dramas that depict this part of history is《大青风云》.

Xuanye 玄燁, Emperor Kangxi 康熙 - Fulin’s third son. Very famous. Very long reign. Serious drama associated 《康熙微服私访记》，《康熙王朝》

Yinzhen 胤禛, Emperor Yongzheng 雍正 - Xuanye's 4th son. His reign was highly contested because some ppl believed he forged the succession document. It’s probably not true. He was an efficient emperor but very austere, very severe. Not well liked. The best serious drama about him is probably 《雍正王朝》and the aforementioned《甄嬛传》. The former is 100% politics and a fictional re-telling of historical events whereas the latter is 100% harem drama and 100% made up. 《步步惊心》is an idol drama about a girl who transmigrated back to this time and fell in love with Yinzhen. Lol.

Hongli 弘历, Emperor Qianlong 乾隆 - Yinzhen’s 4th son. I think he’s the longest living/reigning emperor of Chinese history. SOOOOO many dramas were made about him or set in his reign. Of the serious drama category: 《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 that I mentioned earlier is really good. There are others but I won’t name them here. 《如懿传》 is a serious drama about his harem, but really terrible? I really didn’t like it (just my personal view). Incidentally it was released around the same time as《The Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略》which is also about his harem and MUCH better in my opinion, because the actor for Hongli in Yanxi is much better skills-wise. 《还珠格格》was the OG idol drama about Hongli’s children. I gave a brief synopsis about it here. It was made in the 90s but damn...so nostalgic.

There’s many more emperors after him, but they’re not as important.

Okay yeah, so I’m not sure if any of this is really helpful, but definitely watching serious drama gives you much better context and understanding of Chinese culture than idol drama. I mean when the drama has flying and magic...the historical relevance sort of falls to the side. 🤣

ADDENDUM: I made a typo earlier. Fulin is Huang Taiji’s 9th son, not Nurhaci’s son. Also Abahai is Huang Taijii’s mother’s name (wikipedia lied to me on this one XD).

#culture #Anonymous #corie replies #recs

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myundeadgayson · 3 years

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Ahoy, We are Castaways AU, but not really because Gunk and Ishmael find Pirates:

@bluwards So.... I mayhaps wrote an entire thing for your idea?

For anyone wondering, here’s the link to the OG au idea post: https://bluwards.tumblr.com/post/661885099380506624/au-where-tommy-and-wilbur-were-part-of-a-pirate

This might not be exactly what you were hoping for of this, but I had an image in my mind and just went HAM on it. Like, I mean that as in I started this at like... 1am last night and I finished at like 4pm today??? I’m not saying I wrote that entire time, but I am saying that I literally just NEEDED to finish this because it’s SUCH A FUN IDEA. (I’m sorry for writing so much by the way! I got excited.)

Notes: None of this is historically accurate to literally anything, especially history and pirates. Instead, we’re gonna image this is some fun fantasy world where like. Pirates are out chilling in the world stealing shit and royalty exists somewhere enough you can be like “yeah, i’m royal. try to prove i’m not bitch.” (Also, I’ll post this on Ao3 later and edit with the link after I sleep. For now, please enjoy!) Words: 5160 Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Philza Minecraft, and Technoblade

The heat must be getting to him. It must be because there’s no way that’s a ship he’s seeing out on the horizon. It seems to be drawing closer, but it’s not near enough to tell, not that it would matter anyway. It’s not real. It’s not real, he tells himself. It has to be a mirage. As if their luck would ever be that good.

Wilbur rests his head back down into Tommy’s mess of curls. The two of them are curled together underneath the shade of the treeline. His back is pressed against the rough, uneven bark of a palm tree with his bare feet digging into the sand. Tommy’s eyes are closed. His little brother is tucked tight against his side, dozing softly as the slight breeze ruffles his dirty hair.

If Wilbur tried, he could pretend Tommy was just resting. He could pretend this was the two of them relaxing on some beach that they’ve gotten all to themselves. He could imagine that Tommy tuckered himself out, now the two of them were peacefully dozing off in the shade on a lovely Summer day as the gentle sea wind blew.

In that fantasy, they would have chosen to be here on this beach. A beach would make for a good day trip, he thinks. He imagines that it would be a beach off the coast of a small town. He’d take Tommy early in the morning down past the docks and watch Tommy hop along stones down a path leading towards the sand. Wilbur would make him carry a basket of bread and other treats that they might have gotten from a kind baker that didn’t mind that their pockets were a little low. Wilbur would smile and promise to repay them, and it’d be a real promise instead of a sharp-toothed lie.

He’d bring a threadbare sheet because they’d have one to spare for it. He’d spread it along the sand and bask in the sun’s rays. He’d open his eyes occasionally to Tommy’s excited shouts as his brother pulled odd shells and tiny hermit crabs from the ocean, then laugh as Tommy shouted obscenities when they inevitably fell from his hands because Tommy was anything but careful. A few shells would be saved though, and Tommy would make a small pile of them on the corner of the sheet for them to keep.

Tommy would eventually tug Wilbur up to join him. Wilbur would laugh and pretend to be reluctant as his brother guided him down towards the water until the warm waves lapped at their feet. Tommy would grin at him, bright as the sun overhead and his hair sparkling like strands of gold. He’d look so proud of himself as he showed Wilbur more shells and other interesting things he found.

Along the way, one of them would splash the other whether it be accidentally or not, and it’d start a war. Wilbur would laugh until his ribs were sore as he smacked water Tommy’s way and listened to the younger shout insults back at him. It’d all be in good fun and it’d show in Tommy’s toothy grin as the blond would get some harebrained idea of how to “win” their little game and it’d end with them both falling into the water. They’d be soaked to the bone and Wilbur would playfully smack water at Tommy’s face for getting them both wet, but it’d be fine in the end because they would sit out in the sun until their clothes dried. In this fantasy, Wilbur could imagine it wouldn’t matter anyway because once they went home, they’d have more clothes to change into and one pair wouldn’t be missed for a day.

When the sun started to set over the horizon, Wilbur would gather them up to leave. He’d gather up their food and make Tommy carefully fold up the sheet. It’d end up balled up instead and Wilbur would tease Tommy for his shit folding skills. They’d stay an extra few minutes to stare off at the sunset as it glistened over the calm waters. All would feel peaceful until Tommy ruined the moment with some joke that’d make Wilbur smack him upside the head, even though he’d laugh all the same.

They’d walk home with Tommy’s shells tucked safely into their pockets under the soft pink skies. A perfect background to a perfect day.

It would be nice, lovely even, because in that world they’d go home to some nice place Wilbur managed to keep for them in some nice town. It’d be real and theirs, and they’d each have a warm bed to sleep in and food in their stomachs. It might be small, but small was okay because they’d both be happy and they’d have nothing to fear.

If only life were ever so kind.

It was a nice daydream, but if Wilbur were to look down, it’d shatter. It’d shatter if he listened at all to the way Tommy’s breathing sounded off. With every low breath, his brother’s chest would shutter. Wilbur could feel it every time.

Tommy’s nose was red and peeling, as were his cheeks and shoulders. His freckles were hidden beneath the furious scarlet and white flecks. His skin had gotten tanner, but the dark rings under his eyes made him look ghastly. Wilbur was sure that he looked about the same himself, but seeing it on Tommy was different.

The boy was thin enough before they’d gotten stranded, but now his limbs looked just too small. Wilbur could practically see the bones poking through. If it weren’t for the blaring sun overhead tanning their skin, Wilbur was sure that Tommy would look more like a walking skeleton than a teenager.

They’d got thrown overboard days ago. Wilbur lost track of how many. He stopped really caring when he realized there were other things to care about, like keeping them alive.

Luck had never been on their side. Wilbur had known that since they were little and a twelve-year-old found himself in charge of a five-year-old.

The world’s always been against them. It started early with a mother too young to be on her own with a child. She was struggling enough as it was to keep them fed that when that one child turned to two, the odds for any of them getting by turned minimal. Even with Wilbur doing his best to help, swindling and snatching up food and loose change off of oblivious folk in the city, hope was running thin.

It was amazing she’d ever gotten so far. Wilbur hated to see it that way now, but it was the truth. The fact she’d ever made it to Tommy’s fifth birthday was incredible. When the sickness set in though, no amount of Wilbur’s efforts could seem to help her. Eventually, she’d stopped waking up entirely and Wilbur was left on his own to care for his little brother.

Luck ran out, but they made their own with time.

After losing their mother, Wilbur packed them up and they were off. He taught Tommy every trick he knew. They traveled endlessly, hopping from place to place just to keep moving whenever it seemed like any townsfolk around started catching onto their games. Wilbur tried a few odd jobs every time for money in places, and Tommy was tiny enough that he could sneak bread and other foods off vendors to bring back to whatever tiny hole they’d called home at that moment.

As they both got older, the tricks got better. Their stories were perfected and their act was flawless if ever they needed to talk someone into lending them a place out of pity, or a new job.

When Wilbur caught sight of a ship though, he’d thought they were golden. Sure, he only knew vaguely about working them. He’d taken on a few jobs on some docks before, but he’d never been on a ship himself. The thought was meant to be that if he could get on that ship for a job, he could bring Tommy along with him. They’d stay there and hop off at the first chance they could once they’d landed in a new country, then they’d start over for real. They’d start over fresh in a new place entirely and everything might be okay! They could make life whatever they wanted because no one would be able to know otherwise!

And everything did feel okay for a while. Turns out the ship Wilbur found was a crew of pirates, but like always, Wilbur managed to talk his way through. Tommy played along perfectly, and before they knew it, they became crew. Perhaps they were there for nothing more than playing clean-up, but they would take what they could get.

Their luck was turning up. As Wilbur started working his way through making connections with the crew, he was starting to think maybe he’d found a place for them. They wouldn’t stay, of course, but it made sense, didn’t it?

The constant traveling and plundering— that kind of life was meant for them. However, there were also rules to follow and heavy risks in not doing so. Neither of them were good at following rules, but they were good actors all the same that could fake it until their last breath. But for a short time, it felt like a good fit and Wilbur remembered telling Tommy as such.

Tommy was much more reluctant. He was getting by, but he didn’t like it there. Maybe Wilbur was succeeding, but Tommy was younger. His limbs were all thin and gangly, and it made him look weaker than he was. The crew would shove him around and they’d always be too loud in his ears. Tommy was rather loud himself, but when you’re trying to hold your tongue to survive, it wasn’t like he could exactly defend himself.

So maybe they didn’t see eye to eye about it, but that was fine. Wilbur agreed they’d only be there a little longer because the moment they docked somewhere new, they’d be off and onto wherever life would take them next.

Unfortunately, their luck ran out.

It all happened in a blur. Wilbur remembered when the storm hit. It was rougher than normal. He remembered fighting with the rest of the crew to take care of the ship. They were fighting hard to stay afloat as the waves rocked the ship from side to side so hard that Wilbur feared they would tip.

The ship didn’t tip, but Tommy did.

He could still vividly remember Tommy slipping. He’d watched in horror the way his brother scrambled for purchase on something, anything. He’s just barely caught the side of the ship.

Wilbur went after him, not caring in the slightest for whatever task he’d abandoned. He’d tried to help yank Tommy back aboard. Tommy, who held on with white knuckles and fingernails digging into the wood with fear in his eyes. Wilbur tried to reassure him, but he was sure his words got lost in the raging winds. He’d tried to pull Tommy back onto the deck, and for a moment, he was succeeding. He almost managed to pull Tommy back on board.

Right as he thought he’d gotten Tommy back though, the ship hit another furious set of waves. The brothers got thrown hard, and suddenly they were both going down.

It was a miracle they didn’t drown.

Wilbur sighed, closing his eyes once again. He tried to block out the memories of rushing water and Tommy’s screams of his name. He could still taste the seawater on his tongue as it tried to flood his lungs.

They’d gotten tossed endlessly in the waves. The ship was forgotten in the battle to just hold on to each other.

He combed his fingers through Tommy’s hair. The boy didn’t even respond. He must have finally fallen asleep, Wilbur thought to himself. Sleep hadn’t been easy to find since they’d woken up ashore. Though the island seemed abandoned, neither of them could be sure there wasn’t some hidden danger lurking somewhere. Their sunburns didn’t make it easy either with the way their skin would ache. Even in the shade or the dark of the night, they’d struggle to find enough comfort to rest at all.

He was glad Tommy was getting some sleep now. He was getting rather tired himself. As much as he’d like to give in, one of them needed to stay awake just in case.

Wilbur groaned as he forced his eyes to peel open once more. As his vision started to clear, he noticed the mirage was getting closer. The blurry shape of the ship was getting bigger. It was looking like it was getting ready to dock at the edge of the island at any minute. Or at least it would if it were actually real.

Wilbur huffed, resting his cheek on Tommy’s head. He watched idly as the ship grew closer and closer to the edge of the shore. It wasn’t coming straight towards them. It was heading more towards the left edge of the island where the trees were a bit more scattered, but the shoreline was still mostly clear of rocks.

It wasn’t until it was starting to look suspiciously more and more lifelike that Wilbur started to get more intrigued.

Furrowing his brows, he lifted his head. He pulled away from Tommy some to sit up further. Tommy groaned in protest. The motion caused the boy to slide down, his head resting more on Wilbur’s chest than shoulder. Wilbur wanted to hush him and whisper soft apologies for disturbing him at all. Unfortunately, the ship’s drawing nearer by the second and Wilbur could feel something akin to hope bubbling up in his throat.

He frantically nudged at Tommy’s side, “Tommy. Tommy, wake up.”

“Augh…” Tommy rolled his head, burying his face further into Wilbur’s shirt with an annoyed whine. He weakly smacked at Wilbur’s arm, “Fuck off, Wilbur… M’tryin’ to sleep, asshole…”

As much as Wilbur wished he could agree, he needed Tommy’s eyes. “Get up! I think I see something,” Wilbur urged. He shoved Tommy off him until the boy got the hint to sit up on his own.

The blond looked absolutely pitiful. Tommy rubbed at his tired eyes with his fists. Wilbur’s chest ached with remorse for having bothered him, but he told himself that again, it could be for good reason.

“What the fuck’re you on about?” Tommy mumbled irritably.

“Look! Look there,” Wilbur hissed, pointing out at the ship. It seemed to be getting ready to dock. Tiny figures could be seen moving along the deck, grabbing at ropes and such. “Do you see that?”

It took a moment for Tommy to follow where he was pointing. The boy was still getting his bearings on being awake again. Wilbur almost turned Tommy’s head himself to see though. Patience was growing thin as their potential hope of being able to escape was growing stronger, but he needed to be sure. It could be his mind playing cruel tricks on him. The exhaustion could finally be taking its toll, and maybe Tommy would be of no help because he could be seeing nothing as well, but the chances of them imagining the same ship with the same little people had to be high.

“See wha’?” Tommy’s voice was still groggy from sleep. The boy’s eyes slowly followed Wilbur’s finger towards the ship. Wilbur watched as the recognition clicked into place and all at once their hope seemed more plausible. Tommy’s eyes widened, “T-That’s— Wilbur, that’s a ship!” His head whipped around to look up at Wilbur. “That’s a real ship, innit?! Please tell me that’s real!”

The brunette was already grinning and nodding along with that same spark in his eye. “Oh, thank fuck! You see it too then! I thought maybe I was just imagining it.”

For the first time in days, Tommy looked excited. “Holy shit, Wilbur, we might be saved!”

He tried to stagger to his feet. Wilbur had to rush to catch him before he stumbled to the ground, “Tommy, careful!”

He caught the boy before he could fall. Tommy winced, teeth gritting to bite back a cry. Wilbur noticed it instantly. He dropped Tommy’s arms at once, moving to take the other’s wrists where the burns were less present. The younger steadied himself on his feet with Wilbur’s cautious guidance. Once he was stable, he passed Wilbur a sheepish grin, “Heh, oops?”

Wilbur heaved out a sigh. There was no way he could be mad at that, not that he ever planned to. He shook his head, letting go of Tommy completely now that it seemed his brother could stand on his own. He straightened up, looking out towards where the head of the ship was disappearing behind the treeline. Taking a deep breath, Wilbur ruffled a hand through his hair before looking back to Tommy, “I think they’re planning to dock on that side. If we go now, we might be able to get on.”

“Then what are we waiting for?! Let’s go!” Tommy shouted excitedly. With that, he turned to march ahead.

He barely got a step before Wilbur was catching him by the wrist to stop him, “Wait a second! I wasn’t done yet!”

Tommy practically whined as he was stopped for the second time. He turned back on his heel with a loud groan, “What? The ship’s right there, Wilbur! We need to go!”

Wilbur could understand his enthusiasm. He wanted off this island as much as Tommy did, but if they were going to get onto that ship, they needed a plan.

“Listen to me. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sneak on without getting found out and I don’t know about you, but I really don’t feel like getting tossed off another ship,” Wilbur told him honestly.

Tommy’s nose wrinkled at the reminder. Sniffing, the boy turned to face him better, “Then what? You want us to go and just ask them? Like ‘hi, Mister Captain, sir! Could we please jump on this here ship you got? I know you don’t know us and it’d be really to leave us for dead, but I think if you’d really just considered it for a second deep in your heart’— honestly, that’s sounds really stupid, Wilbur. No one’s going to fall for that!”

Wilbur sputtered, trying not to choke on a laugh. “No, no! As if that’d ever work.” He cleared his throat, pulling himself back together quickly. “We don’t know what kind of ship we’re dealing with yet. I say we go stake out the ship first and plan from there. But if we get caught, I think I already have a few ideas in mind. But whatever we do, we just have to stick to it well enough to get to their next stop.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Sounds easy enough. Now can we just go already? I’m so tired of all this stupid sand.” ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ****** ******

“So…” Phil dragged out the word. Techno remained tense behind him, leaning against the side of the ship. Phil didn’t need to look behind him to know the man was glaring at the pair of boys in front of them, searching for some sign to not trust the two. Phil held up a hand as if to silently gesture his first mate to settle down. He could handle this. “How about we start with your names, alright, boys?”

The two young men before him traded a look. Whatever mental conversation the two had ended in the span of seconds before the older of the pair was clearing his throat. The brunette was suddenly holding out a hand, “Captain Ishmael. Honor to meet another Captain”

“Ishmael?…” Phil slowly repeated, taking the man’s hand. He’d give it to the kid. For someone that was clearly on the verge of exhaustion, he had a good grip. “Really?”

“Uh huh!” Ishmael took his hand back with a rather proud grin, “It’s a family name. Passed down from generation to generation! I’m Ishmael the 3rd actually, in case you wanted to know.”

Phil did not. He couldn’t care less about this man’s history, but he did care about the fact that he could have sworn the man didn’t have as much of an accent before. And it seemed to be growing thicker with every word (as if “Ishmael” was getting his bearings on his new voice).

“As you can probably guess, we’re a very long way from home, you know?” Ishmael went on without missing a beat. “We had a ship of our own, but huge storm took it out with the rest of our crew and, well, you can see how things turned out.”

Phil only arched a brow further. He was sure the disbelief was heavy on his expression, “Right…” He turned his attention to the young boy beside the self-proclaimed captain. He’d been mostly quiet since boarding. “And what about you, mate?”

“Gunk,” the boy croaked up after a moment. His voice was incredibly hoarse. He had the same accent as Ishmael, lending slight credit to their tale, not that Phil believed either of them in the slightest.

“Gunk.”

The boy hummed, leaning heavily on the young Captain’s shoulder. “Yep. And that’s Gunk Gorbachev to you,” the kid added, weakly lifting his head enough to shoot Phil a glare, pointing a finger as well in a way the older blond assumed was meant to look threatening. “Heir to the Gorbachev throne, I’ll have you know.”

Phil only stared blankly at the kid. Blinking slowly, he settled on a simple, “Okay… So, we have Captain Ishmael and Gunk…”

“Gorbachev,” the kid corrected.

Phil nodded, “Gorbachev. So tell me why exactly should I let you on my ship?”

Ishmael cleared his throat first, “Well, as I mentioned before, our ship got destroyed in the storm. I know you’ve got no reason to believe us, but I assure you when we get back to the nearest mainland, I can find you all the proof I can to prove Gunk’s father is a highly influential man. He would waste no time to give you as much money as you wish for his son’s safe return.”

Before Phil could answer, Techno was doing so for him. “If he’d only send an amount for the kid, then why should we bother to keep you?”

To Ishmael's credit, he held his own well. Phil knew exactly how intimidating Techno could be, especially when he was trying. The man could make most men cower with a single look. Ishmael, however, held Techno’s look head-on, lips stretched into a firm line, “Well I’ll have you know, I’m one of King Gorbachev’s most trusted Captains. I’m now Gunk’s primary caretaker as well, seeing as the rest of our people were taken down in the waves. The bounty for my safe return will be high. Not as high as Gunk’s, but it’s still more bounty for you, isn’t it?”

“But you still crashed his ship,” Techno bluntly pointed out, much to Ishmael’s disliking. “Someone who can’t take care of their own ship and out of their crew, only manages to keep themselves and some kid alive doesn’t sound very worthy to me. At least, that’s not someone I’d wanna take back.”

Ishmael narrowed his eyes sharply, “I think as someone who lives their life on the water, you would know how unpredictable the sea can be, Sir…”

“Technoblade,” the said man gruffly answered.

“Technoblade,” the name almost sounded cruel on Ishmael’s tongue, “I’m sure you know exactly how unfair the tides are. You can’t always predict the storms when they come, neither can you always get away from them in time. I’ll have you know, Technoblade, I did my damned hardest to save my crew, but the waves separated us and took my ship down with it. You don’t think I haven’t spent days searching the shores for signs of my crew? Because I have.” Ishmael’s voice was getting louder and more emotional with every word. “The best I could do was to do my sworn task, which was keep Gunk here safe…”

Phil could see the sheen of tears behind the young captain's eyes as he choked on those last few words, and if he was lying, Phil had to admit the kid was a pretty damn good actor.

Ishmael’s arm was wrapped protectively around the Gunk’s shoulders, keeping the boy close to his chest as if it really were his sworn duty and he couldn’t handle the thought of failing another task, especially one so crucial.

Gunk was in on it as well. The boy played a pretty convincing part of the sad child that’s lost his people. Phil might feel bad if it turned out to be true because he did look awfully pitiful. He had his head tucked against Ishmael’s chest. His eyes weren’t closed, but they stared ahead, unblinking yet filled with sadness as if he were reliving the painful memories.

“Now I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my loss,” Ishmael finished, squaring his shoulders once more. The man’s dark eyes were hardened over in a way that almost made Phil believe his story. That was a soldier’s look if he knew one. “It isn’t as if I haven’t been thinking about them enough for the past few days… How would you like it if the seas turned on you and took your crew?”

Techno seemed to have nothing more to say to that. This talk seemed to have turned much more emotional than he planned. He crossed his arms with a grunt, breaking Ishmael's gaze to glower at the deck instead.

Ishmael broke the gaze as well, huffing loudly before turning his attention back on Philza. “Now as I was saying, you can offer me up as well. If the king offers you nothing, you can kill me, that’s fine. But I think you’d be wasting your effort if you did so now and lost even more bounty. You seem like two very smart men, so I don’t think you’d want to pass up on a good deal for nothing, would you?”

“I suppose not…” Phil hummed, leaning back in his seat. “But how do you know we won’t kill you after the payment?”

Ishmael shrugged, “Then that’s the risk we’ll have to take, isn’t it? It’s sure better than dying alone on an island, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Fair enough,” Phil decided. He pushed himself to stand and motioned to a nearby crew member towards the boys, “They can stay. We’re keeping the same route as we were without them.”

“You can’t be serious,” Techno spoke up, standing up to follow after him. A few crewmen were already passing them by to start prepping the ship for departure once more. Techno dodged between them, growling as he hurried to catch up to Phil’s side, “Please, Phil, you can’t really believe any of that, can you? That was the fakest story I’ve ever heard! C’mon! I mean, did you even hear that sob story?! The kid’s claiming to be a prince?!”

Phil only hummed noncommittally, “Now, Techno, I don’t think I ever said I believed them. I said I’d let them stay.”

“Phil, that’s two extra mouths to feed,” Techno sneered back. Phil didn’t need to spare him a glance to know how disgruntled his companion looked. “That’s two extra people wasting space that we don’t need! We could have just left them there! No one would notice! We probably won’t even get any bounty from this! It’ll just be a waste of time!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Phil answered, patience holding strong as ever. He’d already prepared himself for Techno’s barrage of questions. He had a feeling his first mate wouldn’t be thrilled about keeping a new pair of strays, especially ones that tried to lie their way into staying. “They’re only a couple of kids, mate. They’ll only be here a few weeks at most, then we’ll be rid of them for good. It won’t hurt us to babysit for a while.”

“I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter, Phil! I don’t even like kids!” Technoblade was starting to sound more exasperated by the second. It took everything for Phil not to smile. His normally composed partner was throwing a fit over a couple of stowaways, as if their crew wasn’t built off similar strays. Though Phil supposed the difference was those strays were a little more honest. Phil couldn’t tell if that was the problem, or if Techno was taking difficulty sharing space with more newcomers. Apparently he wasn’t done, so Phil would soon find out.

“I mean, really, Phil. We could take in so many other things. But you choose a couple kids lying that one of them’s some fake king’s heir and the other’s a— a fake captain? Who fakes being a captain! You’ve gotta agree with me here, Phil. ‘Cause I’m sure lying about being a captain is normal,” Techno snarked, “totally normal kid things.”

Phil sighed, and paused in his step. Techno paused with him, just a step behind. Phil turned to face his partner. Techno only stares back at him, expression stoic as ever, but Phil could see the heavy annoyance in his eyes. If Phil hadn’t known him for all the years he had, he would never guess the man was only about as old as the self-proclaimed captain. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t starting to show currently, which Phil deemed for better or worse. For as old as he tried to seem, Techno was still quite young.

Phil placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “You worry too much, mate. Yes, it is probably a lie. Honestly, I can’t say I ever believed even a second of any of it, but you saw how they looked. They were sunburnt and thirsty, and likely going to be stranded for the gods only know how long. Do you really think if you were stuck in their situation, you wouldn’t try to say anything you could to make sure you stay alive? Even if it sounded absolutely ridiculous?”

Techno went silent for a moment. Phil watched him mull over his answer. Finally, his partner averted his gaze towards the horizon. “Well I wouldn’t be as obvious about it…”

Phil cracked a laugh, “Oh, I wouldn’t either. It was really obvious, wasn’t it?” He chuckled, and gave Techno’s shoulder a soft squeeze before pulling away to continue walking, “We’ll keep a close eye on them. You can watch them as closely as you want, if that makes you feel any better. If anything seems too suspicious, then we’ll handle it. For now, let them recover. Let them rehydrate and eat, and we’ll just listen to see how their story changes. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll be worth their weight after all. It’s just a few weeks.” (Spoiler: it was more than a few weeks and Dadza Phil did the Dadza attachment thing as always.)

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calwrites · 4 years

Text

The Illusion (part 1)

Summary: Reader has tried her hardest to keep the rest of the BAU from learning about her past. When her father dies and she has to go home, her secrets might come out.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Umbrella Academy!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.8k

This is kind of a crazy, stupid idea, but I’ve read a couple fics where the reader is like an Avenger or a vampire and the team finds out and I think they’re really fun, so I decided to give it a try. Part 2 will come out in a few days probably. I’m trying to decide how far into the show to go.

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“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I am so ready to go home,” Derek groaned. The rest of the team echoed his sentiment as you all followed him into the small town police station that you had been in way too much this past week. You were more than ready to get back to your apartment and not talk to anyone until Monday.

In the back of your mind, you knew that Allison’s new movie had just come out. She had probably been getting ready for the premiere as you were tackling the unsub. Still, you should probably see the movie this weekend, while you had some free time without a case. Even though the premise didn’t exactly entice you, you should at least see it so you could text her about how good she was in it. It had been too long since you had talked to your sister. A few texts after the news of her divorce broke and some empty promises to hang out soon, but you hadn’t had a real conversation with her in over a year. It had been a lot longer since you had talked to the rest of your siblings, with the exception of Diego, who would appear occasionally to ask for your help in whatever “case” he was working. You had learned that it was easier to help him find whatever information he was looking for and then send him on his way. He was less likely to break into your apartment or try to hack your work computer that way.

Still, it would be nice to see Allison again, even if it was just on a screen. Your eyes flicked to Spencer before you could stop them. He invited you to so many niche events that maybe he wouldn’t question why you wanted to see the new Allison Hargreeves movie so badly or why you invited him.

You weren’t really sure if you two had been on any actual dates or if you were just two friends hanging out. He always had some reason why he was inviting you specifically. You knew Russian, so he wouldn’t have to translate the movie for you. You knew Roman comedy, so the two of you could discuss whether the performance was historically accurate. You knew Japanese art history, so you could carry out a conversation about the new exhibit. None of those reasons stopped the crush that you had on Spencer Reid.

But you couldn’t say anything. Besides the fact that he was your coworker, you couldn’t risk him getting dragged into any family drama. None of your coworkers knew about your family. As far as anyone was aware, you didn’t have a good relationship with your family, and you certainly didn’t like to talk about them. They probably had their own theories about why. What had your family done that made you not flinch when cases took a turn like this last one did? Why weren’t you surprised that a father could kill his child and then pretend to be the picture of grief? Because as far as you were concerned, your father had killed two of his children and had killed everything good about the other six.

These thoughts ran silently through your head as you helped the team pack everything up. Soon, you would be on the jet, heading back to DC. And tomorrow, you would see your sister’s new movie. Hopefully, with Spencer.

A noise from the TV in the corner of the station shook you out of your thoughts. Breaking news, apparently. You turned back to the papers you were organizing, prepared to ignore whatever celebrity cheating scandal they were about to break.

“...the death of the world’s most eccentric and reclusive billionaire…”

The words made your breath catch. There was only one person they could be talking about. You made yourself look at the TV. Staring back at you was your father’s face. Or a picture of it, at least. Though really, you saw pictures of your father more than you had ever actually seen your father in person.

“Wow.” JJ’s voice beside you startled you a bit. “Reginald Hargreeves. I haven’t thought about him in forever.”

“I can’t believe he died. I kind of assumed he would live forever,” Emily said from your other side. It seemed the TV had caught everyone’s attention. “I mean, he was a crazy billionaire. Aren’t they supposed to find the secret to eternal life?”

“Y/N, are you okay?” You met Spencer’s kind eyes, but couldn’t find any words for a few seconds. Finally, you managed a smile.

“Of course. It’s just kind of shocking, I guess. Why?”

“You’re rubbing your arm. You do that when you’re upset.” You hadn’t even realized that you were doing it again. Had you always done it? You must have, if Spencer had noticed.

You could still remember the first time. It was a few days after you had gotten the stupid tattoo. Your skin was still sore, but you had scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to get the tattoo to wash off, until your skin was red and raw. You knew it wouldn’t wash off. You knew, yet you tried constantly. Even now, apparently. Now your father was dead and you would still have that stupid tattoo that marked you as one of his. As one of the Umbrella Academy kids. A freak. A soldier. A pawn.

Shaking your head a bit to clear your thoughts, you looked at Spencer. “I think I’m just ready to be home. It’s been a long case, and this is weird news to get at the end of it. I’m just tired.”

You weren’t sure if Spencer believed you, but he nodded and didn’t question it. The team continued packing up in silence. It wasn’t until you were back on the jet that anyone brought it up again.

“So who was your favorite Umbrella Academy kid?” Derek asked, breaking the silence of the jet.

“Let me guess, yours was Spaceboy. You wanted to be super strong like him,” Emily teased lightly.

“For your information, my favorite was The Kraken. If he was that good with knives, imagine how good he would be throwing a football,” Derek corrected her, an easy smile on his face. How strange that everyone else could talk so casually about them. Of course, as far your team was concerned, they were just names and faces from TV or trading cards. They weren’t real people.

“Well I wanted to be The Rumor. Imagine how much easier sneaking out would be if you could just tell your parents to let you go.” Emily laughed as she said it. She didn’t understand how easy it was to get caught up in that power. You had seen it happen, though.

“I always liked The Illusion. I mean, making people see whatever you wanted them to would be so cool. Plus, reading minds would be helpful. It would make interrogations go a lot quicker.” It was only because of years of practice that you didn’t react to JJ’s words. The rest of the team began discussing how helpful it would be to be able to read an unsub’s mind. Not that you would know. You refused to do it.

“Project your consciousness into their brain. Know their thoughts. See what they see.”

Those words were some of your earliest memories. You would stand across from one of your siblings, reading their thoughts, seeing through their eyes, hearing through their ears, feeling what they felt, while your father kept repeating those words. That was before you had realized the true extent of your powers.

“Y/N, who was your favorite?” You blinked in surprise at Derek’s question. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“It changed, I guess.” It was a lame answer, but they accepted it and continued to argue amongst themselves about who was the best. It was the truth, though. You had always been close with Allison. That had never changed. The girls had to stick together. You guessed that you were probably close to Vanya when you were younger, but you saw her less and less as you got older and training began to occupy more of your time. You certainly weren’t close to her now. Not after what she had written about you.

You and Five had been close for a time. Both of you were desperate to prove to your father that you were more powerful than he thought. That you weren’t worthless just because you were on the lower half of the rankings. But then Five had disappeared, and you discovered a new aspect of your powers.

It was because of Luther. A few weeks had passed since Five’s disappearance, and Luther, in a horrible attempt to “be a leader” and “boost morale” had said that Five brought the disappearance on himself because he hadn’t listened when Dad told him not to try time travelling. Something in you had snapped. You wanted Luther to experience what you had imagined Five did. Lost in darkness, unsure of where or when you were. Just an expanse of nothingness.

You didn’t even know you were doing it at first, but Luther started to scream. It was over as quick as it began, thanks to the shock of Luther’s yell. He shivered as he explained that suddenly he couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything. It was like nothingness. Luther never quite forgave you for that, but you would never forget the joyful look in your father’s eyes as he realized that it was your doing. That not only could you tap into another person’s brain. You could manipulate it.

But it was harder to control. And after you accidentally left one criminal permanently blind, you were scared of your powers. Klaus and Ben understood how you felt, and the three of you became inseparable. Even after Ben died, that didn’t change. None of your siblings knew that Ben was still around, but you did. Klaus would let you use his eyes and ears so that you could talk to Ben. You missed them. Klaus would show up at your apartment sometimes, looking for money. You would get him to stay for a few days and take some time off work so you could watch him. The three of you would hang out like old times. But eventually you would have to go back to work, and you would come back to find an empty apartment and missing cash.

Despite the fact that Diego was the one you talked to most often now, you two hadn’t gotten along as children. There were rare times when you would click, but for the most part it was constant bickering. You two were too much alike. Quick to anger and slow to forgive.

You were stuck in these memories for the rest of the flight. No one said anything about your silence, but you did feel Spencer’s gaze on you often. You continued to rub your arm, like you would be able to rub off the tattoo that was always covered by your sleeve.

Most of the team left the office pretty quickly once you arrived back in DC. They dropped off whatever needed to be dropped off, then headed home. You lingered, wanting to catch Hotch alone. It would be easier if there was no one around to question what you needed to talk to him about.

“Do you want me to wait up, Y/N? We can take the metro back together.” You smiled genuinely at Spencer’s question. The two of you lived close to each other, so you often left together, either carpooling or taking the metro together.

“No, it’s fine. I need to talk to Hotch before I leave. I’ll see you soon.” Spencer gave you a small wave as he left. You watched him go, feeling strangely sad. How you wished you could walk out with him and ask if he wanted to go see a movie tomorrow night. It seemed so long ago when that had been your plan.

“Hotch.” You knocked on his door, waiting for his answer before opening the door. He was looking over paperwork, as usual, and barely looked up when you came in. “I was wondering if I could have a few days off.”

That made him look up, his eyes drilling into yours. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” No. “I just need a few days. I don’t want to be gone long. It’s my brother.” It was the same thing you said whenever Klaus or Diego showed up. You waited for Hotch’s answer, a carefully blank look on your face. There were always a few seconds where you would worry that he had somehow figured out who you were. That the fake last name and fake childhood records weren’t enough. But they always were.

“Of course, Y/L/N. Take as much time as you need. And we’re here if you need anything.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled at him as you walked out of his office, though smiling was the last thing you wanted to do. Now you had no reason not to go back home. You would have to try to mourn your father. You would have to see your siblings.

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

The house looked exactly like you remembered. Big and empty. The sound of the door echoed as it closed behind you. You wondered if anyone else was here yet. You heard the steps of someone walking towards the entryway. Allison, if you had to guess, based on the footsteps.

“Y/N!” You were right. The smile that lit up your face was mirrored on Allison’s as you two rushed to hug each other. “I’ve missed you.”

“You too. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t make it to your movie this weekend.” The two of you laughed for a few seconds before remembering why you were there. “How are you doing?”

Allison shrugged and shook her head slightly. “I already lost my husband and I’m not allowed to talk to my daughter. Now my father is dead. It’s been a rough year. How are you? How’s the genius you’re almost dating?”

“I’m good. We just finished a rough case yesterday, so I’m a little bummed that I don’t get to relax this weekend. Spencer is also good. The other week we went to a shadow puppet theater festival. He said that he was glad he had a friend who was willing to go to stuff like that with him, so I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

Allison linked her arm through yours. You walked slowly through the halls, not talking. It was comforting enough just being with someone who understood what you were going through. With Allison, actions spoke louder than words.

“Is anyone else here yet?”

“Diego and Luther. I haven’t seen Klaus or Vanya. Who knows if they’ll show up.”

“Klaus will show up if he knows about it and isn’t in rehab. I wouldn’t be surprised if Vanya doesn’t show. She’s already said a lot about Dad. I don’t know if she has anything more to add.”

“You’re still mad.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “You know how excluded Vanya was growing up. Can you blame her?”

“That wasn’t our fault. If she wanted to tell her story, that’s fine. If she wanted to drag Dad’s name through the mud, that’s fine. He more than deserved it. She didn’t need to write about the rest of us though. I mean, my coworkers read that book. One detail that’s too specific and they could have figured out who I am. ‘So desperate to prove that she’s worthy of being called a hero that even now she devotes her life to fighting crime.’ She might as well have told everyone that I’m an FBI agent. I’ve tried so hard to build a normal life, and she could have ruined it all.”

A car pulled up outside the house as we passed by a window. You paused, watching as Vanya got out of the back. “Speak of the devil.”

Allison gave you a disapproving look. “I’m going to go see her. Coming?”

“Definitely not. I’ll see you later.” You could hear the door open and Vanya’s voice come floating up. You continued walking until you found myself outside of your father’s room. You could hear the floor creaking inside. Too heavy to be Diego. Must be Luther.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you walked into the room. Luther was standing by your dad’s bed, inspecting it. He was a lot bigger than the last time you had seen him. And his mind seemed to be screaming about why. You tried not to read his thoughts, but Luther’s head had always been a bit of an open book.

“This is where he died. Where Pogo found him.” Didn’t really explain what he was doing, but you could guess.

“No sign of a struggle.” You walked over to a window. It was locked. All of the windows were locked. “No sign of forced entry. No way someone could sneak in without Pogo or Mom knowing.”

“She’s right.” Diego entered. His eyes widened when he saw Luther. “Oh, you got big, Luther. What’s the secret, huh? Protein shakes? Low carbs?”

“What do you want?”

Diego pulled some paper from his pocket, holding it out to Luther. “The autopsy report.” Of course, being Diego, he pulled it back when Luther reached for it. Anything to rile up Luther.

“And you have this why?”

“Well, that’s because I broke into the coroner’s office. And surprise, surprise, Dad’s death was normal.”

“Y/N, he’s not allowed to do that,” Luther said, pointing an accusing finger at Diego as he looked at you. “You’re an FBI agent. Arrest him.”

“I’m not arresting my brother at Dad’s funeral. And I’m not on the clock. Grow up, Luther.” You took the report from Luther, glancing over it quickly. Heart failure. Normal. No reason to question it. But Luther would, and you didn’t want to be there when he and Diego started to fight. “I’ll leave you boys to it. I’m going to see if I can find Klaus.”

You left quickly. Where would Klaus go if he was here? You rolled your eyes when you realized the obvious answer. Dad’s office. Not only would there be valuables there, it would also be like giving the old man a giant middle finger. Typical Klaus.

Sure enough, you could hear him rummaging around the desk before you could see him. “Looking for something?” His head popped up, a grin splitting his face when he saw you. You wouldn’t stop him from taking anything, and he knew it. You didn’t need to enter his mind to know that he was high. You could see it in his eyes just as clearly as you could see the fresh rehab bracelet on his wrist. “Fresh out of rehab and already high? I don’t know how you manage it.”

“I guess I’m just incredible.” You rolled your eyes at him, but still accepted his hug with a smile.

“I know that this is hard for you, but Ben should be here. Even if the others can’t see him. He should get a chance to say goodbye.”

Klaus’s eyes were glued to the floor as he spoke. “I know.”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Allison came in. It was nice, just the three of you. You three never fought. Mostly, you and Allison used to just laugh at whatever bit Klaus was doing.

“Number Three,” he was saying in a bad impression of your father’s voice when he was interrupted by Luther.

“Get out of his chair.” Of course. Perfect Number One was still so worried about following your father’s orders. Even now, he made Klaus empty his pockets as the two of you tried to leave so Luther and Allison could talk in private. But once you two were out of the room, you grinned and handed Klaus some things that you had snuck in your pockets before Luther came in. Nothing important or too valuable. It was really just a gesture to tell Klaus that you were on his side.

“And whatever is in your pants, make sure it’s nothing important before you sell it.” Being Klaus, he pretended to have no idea what you were talking about, but he shot you a wink before he wandered away.

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

You stood at the bar next to Klaus, wondering who was going to speak first. Your money was on Luther. You accepted the drink that Klaus handed you without bothering to ask what it was. Any alcohol would help you get through this.

“I guess we should get this started.” You were right. You took a seat as Luther stood up. You mostly tuned Luther out, as you always had. He was talking about scattering your father’s ashes.

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison asked.

“You know under the oak tree.” Everyone looked blankly at Luther. You remembered watching your father and Luther talking there when you were younger. It used to make you jealous. Now, it just made you mad. “We used to sit out there all the time. None of you ever did that?”

“No, Luther. We didn’t. He didn’t like any of us.” You gestured to the rest of your siblings as you spoke. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be lashing out. You were an FBI agent. Surely you were better than that. But there was something about being in this house with your siblings with the focus on your father that turned you into a child again.

And it didn’t matter whether you added fuel to the fire or not. Someone was bound to set everything off.

“Listen up. There’s still some important things we need to discuss.”

“Like what?” Diego asked. You knew what Luther was going to say before he said anything.

“Like the way he died.”

“And here we go,” Diego muttered.

“I don’t understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack,” Vanya said, confusion evident in her voice.

“Yeah according to the coroner.”

“Well wouldn’t they know?” You hated to agree with Vanya, but you had to.

“Luther thinks that there was foul play,” you explained. “However, there was no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle.”

“Well, Y/N is an FBI agent. Why don’t you trust her?” Allison asked Luther.

“Look, I’m just saying something happened. The last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange.”

“Oh, quelle surprise,” Klaus interjected as he gurgled his drink. That wouldn’t help Luther’s anger.

“Strange how?” Allison asked.

“He sounded on edge,” Luther explained. “Told me I should be careful who to trust.”

“Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man, who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles.” Of course, Luther defended your father before turning to Klaus.

“Look, I know you don’t like to do it, but I need you to talk to Dad.”

Klaus laughed. “No I can’t. I’m not in the right frame of mind.”

“You’re high?” You didn’t know how Allison was surprised. It was obvious.

“Then there’s the issue of the missing monocle.”

“Who cares about a stupid monocle, Luther?” you groaned. You noticed the way Diego’s face shifted for a second. So he had the monocle. Or he at least knew what happened to it. “No one is going to break in without alerting Mom or Pogo, kill Dad and make it look an accident, then take the stupid monocle. No one that smart would be that dumb.”

“Exactly! It’s worthless. Whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone with a grudge.”

“Where are you going with this?”

You shook your head as Diego said what you were thinking. “Isn’t it obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed Dad.” The stunned faces of your siblings looked at Luther. You shook your head in disgust.

“Way to lead, Luther,” you said sarcastically. Allison and Vanya both got up and left the room.

“Can you blame me? I mean, you’ve never tried to hide how much you hate Dad. And Diego’s some sort of vigilante now. Both of you could easily sneak in and kill him.”

“You’re crazy, man. You’re crazy.” Klaus shook his head as he got up and headed back to the bar.

“I can’t believe you, Luther.”

“Do us all a favor and go back to the moon, monkey boy.” Luther’s eyes widened at my words before his face turned red with anger.

“Get out of my head,” he growled.

“I don’t need to be in your head to figure it out. Besides, your brain is so empty that your thoughts come floating out begging to be heard.”

“Neither of you are denying it,” Luther said finally. You threw your hands up and Diego stood up suddenly.

“Why would either of us decide to kill Dad now. What’s the trigger? It doesn't make sense. Unlike you, Luther, we moved on with our lives,” you explained slowly, like he was a child.

“Don’t talk down to me just because you’re an FBI agent.”

“You think there’s a murder. I catch serial killers. You should be begging for my help.”

“Unless he thinks the two of us teamed up to kill Dad,” Diego said. The two of you turned to look at Luther. He at least had the decency to look a little ashamed that he was thinking that exact thing. At that point, everyone’s voices had risen so much that you barely noticed the knock at the door.

“I’m out of here,” Diego said softly when Luther didn’t respond.

“No you’re not. Not until we figure out what happened.” Luther grabbed Diego’s arm, so Diego, of course, punched Luther in the face. Within a few seconds, they were fighting in earnest. Diego had his knives out and everything.

“Oh, you guys, don’t do this now,” Klaus whined from the bar. “Y/N, will you do something? Take away their sight or something. I’m too sober for this.”

You hadn’t used your powers in years. Ideally, Allison would come in and rumor them to stop, but you didn’t know where she had gone. Taking a deep breath, you focused your consciousness like your father had taught you. You were careful to only enter Diego’s and Luther’s minds, leaving Klaus out of it.

Darkness.

You focused on darkness, blocking out everything that your brothers were seeing. You could do this. You could control it, at least until Allison was back. Of course, being unable to see didn’t stop your brothers from blundering around.

“Y/N, stop!” Luther’s words were accompanied by a sharp blow to the back of your head. “Oh no, Y/N, I didn’t know you were right there. I can’t see anything. Just stop this, Y/N.”

“I’m just trying to stop you two from destroying the house. Besides, isn’t this a great way to honor Dad’s memory? Fighting with each other is what he always made us do.” You tried to stand back up, but your head was spinning from the blow and from the strain. There was once a time when you could hold ten people in the darkness with ease, but you weren’t used to using your powers anymore. You no longer had to spend hours each day inside other people’s minds. You could feel your control slipping, but you couldn’t stop. Your head hurt.

“Y/N!” Klaus yelled in terror. “I can’t see, Y/N.”

You had to stop. You had to stop. You couldn’t. Your head hurt and you couldn’t seem to find a way out of their minds. You were aware of other minds in the house. More than there should be. But why? And why did your head hurt so bad?

“Y/N, what are you doing? Ahhh my head!” Diego yelled. He sounded like he was in pain. You were making him feel your pain. Since when could you do that? Your Dad would have been so happy.

“I heard a rumor that you stopped.” Allison’s voice rang out. Suddenly, you were back in your own head and the splitting headache was just yours. Diego and Luther both collapsed on the floor with you. Klaus was by your side almost instantly, a new glass in hand for you, which you gulped down quickly before handing it back to him for a refill.

“Remind me not to mess with Y/N again,” Diego sighed. You met his eyes with an apologetic smile. It felt so much like you were kids who got a little carried away during training.

“I guess I got a little carried away.” The two of you laughed, and even Luther joined in eventually. The laughter stopped abruptly when a new voice spoke.

“Y/N?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x y/n #calwrites

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

Text

An Interview with Mr. Toshiyuki Toyonaga about Fire Emblem (Claude‘s Japanese VA), Pg. 6

The Process of Creating a Historical Story that Feels Realistic

When you went to record your lines, were you given any directions about Claude’s role?

Toyonaga When I got to the recording site, before we started recording, the development staff explained to me that the Golden Deer “give off the sense that they are really relaxed, and want to differentiate themselves from the other classes,” or, in other words, they make you feel like you’re home. So I decided it was best to make Claude sound like he was a part of the class that seemed the most comforting.

About how long did recording take?

Toyonaga About two months or so. I remember that about ten days of my schedule during that time were devoted to recording. I think the total number of words I recorded was around twelve thousand.

Were you shown the game footage after recording?

Toyonaga I was shown the animated event scenes as I recorded for them. Besides that, the action scenes were recorded similarly to conventional anime, so they were easy to voice. It was also easy to do things like ad lib.

How was the dialogue recorded?

Toyonaga We usually recorded by ourselves, even for the dialogue, but for the scene in Claude’s support with Annette where she sings, I didn’t know what kind of song it was, so they let me hear it.

It would be difficult to know how to react otherwise!

Toyonaga When I asked “Does the “creepity creep” song in Claude and Annette’s C Support Conversation have a melody?” I was told, “We have a recording of it, so we’re going to play it now!” and thought ‘Now I understand!’ as I recorded the conversation.

In that scene, you see a different side of Claude, so it’s really impressionable.

Toyonaga In scenes where he is joking around a bit, like in his supports with Annette and Ingrid, I wanted to express that it wouldn’t be historically accurate for him to always be on guard. It left an impression on me whenever I tried to portray the feeling that he really is joking around when he jokes around, and his love for parties as what he’s like when he “switches himself off.”

(above) Claude’s support with Annette. Be sure to listen to Annette when she sings the “creepity creep” song!

Are there any other scenes that left an impression on you when recording?

Toyonaga (Spoiler warning for the War Phase of Verdant Wind, the path followed if you choose the Golden Deer.) The scene after you save Lady Rhea. Claude usually doesn’t get very angry, and he wasn’t really meant to be very angry in this scene either, but… because he has such a broad outlook on the world, I wondered if this would be a moment when his anger would come out. Lady Rhea was still being vague about the truth that he’d wanted to know for so many years, so it seemed impossible that he would just let it be. Because of that, I performed him raising his voice towards her, regardless of how it was originally written.

That certainly is a scene that leaves an impression!

Toyonaga It was the first time he raised his voice when he wasn’t on the battlefield, so it likely left an impression on everyone. Thankfully, everyone directing me gave me the okay to go ahead with the idea, so I felt really accomplished.

To hear that Claude raising his voice came from such a story makes the scene all the more enjoyable!

Toyonaga Thank you! To all of the readers out there, please play the game after the five year time skip once more after reading this.

(above) Rhea, the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, which controls all of Fodlan. This screenshot depicts Claude and the others getting closer to finding the true history of Fodlan so they can bring the continent closer to peace.

Spoiler warning!

Claude von Reigan’s True Character and New Reality

We were wondering if there were any documents that stated that Claude is actually a foreigner to Fodlan, or the Prince of Almyra, or anything like that.

Toyonaga The documents weren’t that detailed; it felt more like I was reading from the script. I got a grasp of what kind of person he probably is from the flow of the story and conversations.

Did you know that Claude isn’t his real name?

Toyonaga Yeah, about that! Is it okay that I didn’t know…? I have something to say to the staff that announced it. Laughs.

The DLC gave us the hint that it might not be his real name.

Toyonaga It did, but because he didn’t reveal his past in the beginning of the game, even though he hinted that Claude isn’t his real name, I said, “I mean, I guess so,” and couldn’t accept it. I also thought, ‘You just have to trust what he says.’ But he’s wise and cunning, and if he’s using a fake name to help bring peace to the world, then I thought it must be for a good reason. I was just so surprised! I thought, ‘What?! Claude isn’t his real name?!’

Because you thought you were performing the role of Claude.

Toyonaga Yes! I thought that I was performing the role of Claude von Reigan. Now I feel like I can’t trust anything about Claude anymore, even though I’m his voice! Laughs.

They didn’t have the opportunity to tell us in the game, but they revealed in an interview that his real name is Khalid.፠

Toyonaga Huh!? Gasps while reading the script. What!? Laughs.

Both Laugh.

(above and right) In the Cindered Shadows DLC, Claude hints at “Claude” actually being just a nickname. In FE Heroes, this form shown here presents Claude with the title “King of Almyra.”

፠ “His real name is Khalid”: From a Three Houses staff interview published in Nintendo Dream’s May 2020 issue. It is also available to read on the website’s archives (https://www.ndw.jp/).

#fire emblem #fe #fe16 #three houses #claude #claude von reigen #toshiyuki toyonaga #toyonaga toshiyuki #nindori #nintendo dream #nintendo #switch #nintendo switch #japan #japanese #translation #claude va interview

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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