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cmyknoise · 2 years

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dream has put his lgbtq fans in such an awkward position. obviously he knows that none of us would ever invalidate anyone's sexuality so him coming out at ambiguous was kinda fucked up. ik we are all pretending to believe him for the sake of ACTUAL ambiguous ppl but aren't we all tired of pretending that he is anything but straight? I'll be the first queer person to admit that I don't accept dreams sexuality and I hope he comes clean

i dont normally answer discourse fueled asks. honestly i think you should sit back and think about what you said.

he's not put them in an awkward position.

you, and anyone else, as a decent human being shouldn't invalidate anyone's sexuality.

there could be a million and one reasons why someone defines their sexuality as ambiguous. it could be due to their peers not being accepting, it could be because they haven't figured themselves out yet, it could be public pressure, it could be because they don't know if a label applies, hell maybe they just want to keep that aspect of their life in private, and so many more.

it is not our job, or your job frankly, to decide whether or not someone is valid in saying they're ambiguous or not. people aren't believing him for the sake of others, they're believing him because that's what he said, and that's all anyone has to say.

no one has to prove their sexuality to you. no one has to prove anything to you to be valid and accepted in their identity.

frankly, maybe they don't need your validation or acceptance. they can get it elsewhere.

dream is no different just because he's dream.

and if you think they do then you need to revaluate yourself. this isn't just about dream. public figures do this all the time, coming out as some form of ambiguous for any of the reasons above and more.

you are not entitled to know the details of a public figure's life, especially who or what they find sexually attractive.

actually, even if he hadn't come out as being sexually ambiguous, that doesn't give you the right to assume he's straight and judge him off of it. straight isn't the default, and by pushing the mentality that it is, you are apart of the problem.

boxing people in based on your own interpretation of whether they have the right to be respected as a person is utter bullshit and i think you need to stop and consider: if this was anyone else, would you think the same?

the answer should be no, if it's yes, i think you need to just stop and look beyond yourself and the damage that mentality causes.

dream hasn't put anyone in an awkward position because he's sexually ambiguous.

i'll tell you, queer person to queer person, that the mentality you have right now is sour and sounds internalized. if he had come out as gay, or bi, or anything else i highly doubt there would be as many people skeptically looking at him and calling what he does queerbait, even though that is completely and utterly not true.

a person existing isn't queerbait. he's not disney or some large corporation slapping a rainbow on an object for 30 days to scam you out of money. he's not a tv show company making queercoded characters to kill them off or not put them into a relationship.

your "i'll be the first queer person..." schtick isn't true, or cool, and actually you should know better, being queer. do research, and stop doing this. no one has to prove their sexuality to you, or meet some sort of status quo to identify as anything.

if he wants to come out as ambiguous, which he did, he can, and that is what he is. it is not your right to determine whether he really is or not. it's not your right to pry into someone's sex life and determine whether they're queer enough to identify how they are.

if in a year's time, he comes out as something else, so be it. if he ends up retracting this and saying 'actually i do think i'm straight', so be it!

dream is 22. no one has their life figured out at 22. you can think you're gay one month, pan the next, maybe ace, maybe you go back to being gay. it's called discovering yourself. people do it all the time before they find comfort in who they are. this can happen in your teens, in your young adult years, hell some people might not settle on a label, if they even want to or do settle on a label, until their in their 70's! older even.

i know plenty of people who had a year or two period of believing they might be gay, only to identify as straight a year later. during that time? they experimented and found it wasn't for them. i know others who've done this with other identities too. i have a friend who'd flip flopped back and forth between pan and lesbian before she decided to settle with ambiguous/queer.

i can not emphasize enough how there is not some bar you have to meet to identify as a sexuality. you don't need to have a certain queer XP level before you can say you are. you don't have to define why you identify how you do, you don't have to prove it.

dream has come out as sexually ambiguous, and good for him! that is a huge thing, it takes a lot to come out, especially with how much of a public figure he is. he is nearly at 30 million subscribers. he has millions of eyes scrutinizing his every move. he is 22.

and he deserves respect as a human being. he deserves that respect, regardless of whether you think he does or not.

the amount of help he's actually provided his community and the lgbtqia+ community is insane.

he's donated tens of thousands of dollars (he's donated more than large corporations will do, he's donated more than people with 10 times his wealth will do), he's created a large community of queer youth where they have an open space to be who they are. he normalizes ideas of men being affectionate with friends, and not having to stand up to the toxic masculine standard. he normalizes things that need to be normalized, and he shows this to a wide audience of people, which is so so important.

i hope you realize your mentality is the one wrong here. and your queerness doesn't defend that.

fuck, even if he wasn't ambiguous, let's say he was straight. his harmless gay jokes about kissing his best friends isn't hurting anybody. making non-harmful gay jokes can be extremely helpful in normalizing being gay, especially with the platform he has. it can help people come to their own realizations about their identity, it can help normalize men liking each other, it can help tear apart the pedestals of toxic masculinity. it can help.

but guess what? he's ambiguous, which is still an identity, it is still valid, and everything above still applies.. it always has. it's harmless, and what he does in this aspects helps. there are plenty of reasons to not like dream, but this is not one of them.

rethink your mentality and what it actually means for people.

this isn't just about dream. this can be for anyone on the internet like this. ranboo and tubbo for example have stated their identity is private, which is their right, and they make the same jokes dream does.

cc's who identify as apart of the lgbtqia community such as antfrost, velvet, scoot smajor, and others interact all the time with dream and make the same jokes he does, and are overwhelmingly okay with it. if he were to say something wrong, they'd correct him.

you have no right to determine if he's valid based on your bias of him as a cc. you have no right to determine if anyone is worth believing their identity. if they say that is how they identify, that is how they identify.

have a good day

p.s. op is not a dream stan. op just believes people have rights and respect and thinks dream is not exempt from this.

#lgbtqia #discourse #dreamwastaken #lemon answers #ask #anonymous #further asks sent about this will be selectively answered and may not be answered at all #long post

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ruby-whistler · 3 years

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I think I’ve figured it out. The dsmp fandom is fucking entitled. In a normal fandom? You don’t get a say in how the story progresses. You just have to take it as it comes. You’re not talking with them through chat or Twitter or other social media. You’re not given the chance to change their minds about character arcs or story progression directly. You don’t write theories and half baked headcanons with the thought that the cc! Will see what you’ve written and incorporate that into the story.

Like, on one hand? It’s what makes the dsmp so cool! You get that chance to actually interact with the people behind the scenes, see their thought process, how they played their characters.

On the other? It’s a fucking nightmare. You have people left right and center talking about how this or that character should die, how much they’d hate a redemption arc, how much they dislike the current direction of the story and think the cc!s should change it to something else. They talk about how they “don’t think the cc!s can handle these themes”, or that “it’d be really difficult to pull off a redemption arc” like they have any right to decide that the writers of the story they’re watching, are incapable of telling their own story.

It’s like going to a fanfic, reading it, and then leaving a comment saying how much better the story would be if they told it their way. Only there’s a thousand other voices yelling the same thing.

Like, I get it. I get wishing for things to happen, I get wanting for characters to do something they probably wouldn’t do, or for the direction of a story to go somewhere it isn’t. But like, the cc!s aren’t obligated do the stuff you want to happen? So many people forget that the cc!s don’t owe us anything. That fanfic author you’re spamming at? They don’t owe you anything. They can take their story in whatever direction they like and they don’t have to give two shits about how much you hate it.

Of course this doesn’t mean the cc!s or that author can’t take ideas or suggestions other people give them, or that it’s wrong to share those ideas in the first place. They can and have canonized fanon ideas! But this doesn’t give any of us the right to think and say the cc!s are obligated to do so. That they owe us. Because at the end of the day they don’t, and to think or say otherwise. Well, how fucking entitled is it, to believe strangers on the internet owe you anything?

I am so sorry this got kinda long and rambly/ranty but it just made my blood boil reading about how people don’t think the cc!s should give c!dream a redemption arc like they have any right to— anyways, none of this is directed at any one specific person, any and all uses of “you” or “us” are meant to be generalizations of the fandom as a whole, and while I think it’s perfectly fine to share and discuss where you think the story is progressing and personal headcanons I also believe it’s very important that you do not seriously push those ideas into anyone else cc! Or otherwise. We are but the audience watching the stage, and to stand up from your seat and yell at the actors for the story going in a different direction than what you wanted is beyond rude and insulting.

Exactly what I'm saying! DSMP Tumblr is doing the same thing DSMP Twitter is, but over fiction. Attacking people over liking certain CCs/characters they dislike? Check! Feeling entitled to the creators' personal lives/story? Check! It's a lot less toxic on here, but it's still absolutely awful and the entitlement translates in both groups.

Neither of them - none of us - have a right to act like this, and to treat the content creators or our fellow fans like this! What the hell!

#negativity #my asks #anon #dsmp fandom critical

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

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“So you haven’t been eaten by a dragon yet after all,” Xiaan says, warm despite the wind A'Sharad can see whipping her lekku around her in wild gusts. “You had me worried, A'Sharad.”

A'Sharad snorts, tipping the holo a little as it fuzzes from the wind-blown sand. “You have more than enough to worry about already, Xiaan,” he says, and the distant hum of a speeder makes him raise his head, watching narrowly as a craft cuts across the top of a distant dune. Not close enough to be a threat, but—close. He’ll have to warn the tribe that’s hosting him. If settlers are encroaching, it might be time for them to move.

“Little enough that I can't worry about you as well,” Xiaan retorts, though she’s smiling. “Taking your leave right under the nose of the Hutts is a risk.”

“The Hutts won't bother the Tuskens,” A'Sharad says dismissively, watching her with narrowed eyes. She looks tired, and A'Sharad can't see much of the land around her, but she mentioned deployment somewhere cold. “You should wrap your lekku. If they get frostbitten, you're going to spend the next six months complaining about numbness.”

Xiaan rolls her eyes, just as there's a bark of laughter from somewhere beyond the projector. A'Sharad raises an eyebrow, well able to recognize a clone trooper’s voice, and says dryly, “I assume I'm not the first person to tell you that, Xiaan.”

“You're worse than Quinlan,” Xiaan complains, and then leans back. “Salvo, that was not an I told you so moment, you're not allowed to mark that down.”

“I did tell you,” Xiaan's commander says, leaning down into the projector and waving a heavy winter headwrap at her. “I said General Hett would tell you to wear a wrap. That’s a point for me.”

Xiaan pulls a face, but doesn’t argue as she takes the headwrap and slides it over her lekku, attaching it to her leather headwrap and then looping her lekku around her neck. “It feels stifling,” she complains, and Salvo snorts as he takes a step back out of view.

“So does the armor, General Amersu” he retorts. “But at least it’s warm.”

When Xiaan turns her scowl on him, A'Sharad raises a hand to fend her off. “You know what I normally wear out of respect for the elements, Xiaan. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”

That makes Xiaan pause, looking troubled, and her eyes sweep up and down A'Sharad’s form, then slide back to his face. “I do,” she says, and it’s even, measured. “Though I can't help but notice that you stopped dressing as a Tusken, A'Sharad. Even now that you're back on Tatooine.”

A'Sharad doesn’t answer for a long moment. It’s too easy to remember the roil of Skywalker's hatred, the fury he’d turned on the soldiers they faced. The fury he’d turned on A'Sharad, before knowing he was Human, and something dark and grim traced through A'Sharad’s bones can't help but draw connections in the fact that Anakin stopped trying to kill him once he knew he was genetically a Human. Even weeks together, with A'Sharad doing everything he could to teach Anakin, had been obliterated in a moment by Anakin's hatred.

It’s a powerful force. Too powerful, and A'Sharad has dealt with hate too often in his life, but—Anakin's unnerves him.

“There are fewer misunderstandings when I dress as a Jedi,” he finally offers. “I'm a Tusken, but…the galaxy sees Human and understands that more readily.”

“You were still dressed as a Jedi when you wore your Tusken clothing,” Xiaan points out, quiet. “You're a Tusken Jedi. Clothing doesn’t change that.”

The Order has certainly never objected to A'Sharad’s culture, or his struggles with anger in the wake of his father’s murder. Each Jedi is an individual, a Jedi first and foremost, but—none of them have ever had to give up the culture of their homeworlds.

Still, the memory of Anakin's fury and hatred, and what Anakin confessed, turns A'Sharad’s stomach, sends a thread of doubt rising. He’s a Jedi, and he always has been, has devoted himself body and soul to the Force, but—

People see the Tuskens as animals. Anakin saw nothing else, to the point that he slaughtered a whole tribe, to the point that he almost killed another Jedi because of it. The Order fights a war right now because there's no other option, and sometimes A'Sharad can't help but feel the emotions of those who stand against the Republic armies and…wonder. Wonder how much of the fear is because of what he is, and how much would be removed if he were simply Human. He knows how Anakin reacted to the removal of his mask, after all.

The pain of grief is something that A'Sharad can respect, and the weight of a secret that eats like acid at the conscience is a decent punishment, but his own decision to say nothing weighs at him. Anakin acted out of anger, and if anyone can understand the fall into Dark emotions, it’s A'Sharad. Repentance was lacking, though, and any sort of acknowledgement that the Tuskens he killed were sentient, and A'Sharad…worries. Worries what might happen if the war drags on, and Anakin becomes a Knight, and takes a padawan.

Rot spreads quickly, and the Dark Side is a habit too easily enabled when the whole galaxy lacks light.

“It’s your choice, A'Sharad,” Xiaan says, leaning forward, and her eyes are kind and a little sad. “But you should know that my best friend has always been a Tusken, and him dressing as a Human changes nothing.”

A'Sharad can't help but smile a little, and the ache of this war, of the loss of Bhat, of every clone trooper under his command, still lingers, but—death is a constant, and part of life. Bhat was taken by the desert, as he wanted, and A'Sharad saw to pyres for the troopers, and that’s the most he can do. They’ve departed, and he values them, so he’ll keep moving. And in the meantime, moments like this can offer a little bit of solace.

“Thank you, Xiaan,” he says quietly, and pauses, then offers, “Tell Commander Salvo that he is entirely entitled to his point.”

Xiaan makes a rude sound and closes the connection.

#xiaan amersu #a'sharad hett #commander salvo #my writing #anyway this will eventually be jaster/a'sharad #but for now i just have a lot of feelings about a'sharad and anakin #please take them away from me #it's the arrow in your heart

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mythvoiced · 2 years

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@theimpalpable | "I don't often get the chance to talk to someone like you." (Maybe for...Hae-Geon and Soleiel? IF YOU THINK IT'S FITTING, OF COURSE, IF NOT, FEEL FREE TO DISMISS UwU) 400 RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS

---

The intricacies of Soleiel’s mind are not for them to explore.

The mere acknowledgement that they’re indeed a possessor of wits that would qualify for the descriptive mind is perhaps already beyond the limitations of what a being of their calibre, of their essence, is supposed to busy themself with, but there’s a lot here that a handful up above might consider so truly and utterly beyond what Soleiel is meant to achieve on Earth, that this would be the least of the things mentioned on a list Soleiel is as aware of as they’re unwilling to vocalise.

It wasn’t their intention, they’ll be truthful in these regards, and in most others as well, not only because they understand the power of words intimately enough that they feel their touch on layers of their being nothing should be given access to, but because Soleiel simply wouldn’t lie to Hae-Geon. And that, too, wasn’t their intention.

Angels aren’t allowed favourites, they’ll make this clear for as long as they can, because it is safer to claim universal truths over and over again and let them defend your stance, rather than uncover the reality they’re hiding, and face the consequences that not even Soleiel can foresee. But as they do with places and colours, as they do with snow and sun, mountain and beach, up and down, left and right, they reclaim universal truths with meaningful stares and a gaze that won’t quite waver, deeply set on the back of Hae-Geon’s head as the tailor moves within his world in a way the angel imagines only he is truly allowed to.

Little crevices hidden within the vastness of the universe, how can Soleiel not be curious to uncover their little nooks and crannies? How can they resist, when something never seen before rounds the corner and smiles inwardly at the type of remarks that usually prompts strangers to issue demands that somehow always end with the entitlement to ask for the angel to claim and state things subconsciously meant to defend their existence before the stranger who has exceeded how far they can take their wits and allow them along for the unpleasant journey that is a conversation with none other than the angel of discordance themself?

Conundrums are their favourites, and novelties come in close second, Hae-Geon had made up a bit of both, beautifully private and surprisingly willing to engage only as far as he may, non-argumentative but a strong debater, a mind that have seen things if only that look in his eyes is anything to go by, the kind difficult to find within a being that hasn’t lived nearly twenty lives, metaphorical or literal as that statement may be taken.

He speaks as though he knows exactly what you want from him, as he’s spoken with enough people and knows his position in the world, the role he’s played in it, well enough that he won’t allow anyone to trick him into defending nor negating it. Which is just wonderful for Soleiel, who usually demands all of this and more, but finds themself wanting nothing in particular from the tailor.

Another problem.

This.

And how angel’s aren’t supposed to have favourites. And how perhaps they’re meant to pull out more truths and dig up more lies rather than spending their time here, getting acquainted with the insides of Hae-Geon’s parlour, with his hands as he sets to work and uses them, perhaps subconsciously perhaps not so, in all those characterising mannerisms that make up being, human or not as it may be - hell, they have been told to have some of them themself.

The problem of wasting time, the problem of talking for the sake of talking, of sitting on this stool as they don’t intend on being anywhere else, the problem of tilting their head at the first opportunity of eye contact with the one they’re forcing their status as guest upon - although, perhaps ‘forcing’ is not the right word, if the atmosphere elicits that line out of the other.

The problem of smiling, unblinking and unbothered, the epitome of still waters of an ocean for once not intending to take lives and corpses as deep into its depths as they may go.

“Is the vagueness of that sentence meant to serve a purpose? How I may interpret it as I find most fitting or as insecurities most demand of me?” The problem of sitting every chance they get because they can’t get enough of being at eye-level with him, the problem of placing both their hands between their thighs, holding onto the edges of the stool to lean forward, as if their siblings haven’t always wrongly referred to them as amongst the stiffest of them, firm, eerie, unmoving. “You could easily fool someone into a false sense of security like this, Shin Hae-Geon,” they lean back, it’s not a game, nothing is, but it can sure delight like one, the same way you can be delighted by a flower while knowing someone had to pluck it out of its home to leave it there in a vase for you to see. Inappropriate smiles to life as they know it, the pure and raw delight of speaking into the space of someone who will engage, and ask right back, while knowing, secretly, how they will always, inevitably and unavoidably, say hurtful things.

“‘Someone like you’ tends to make people still, have you ever witnessed this? The way they will freeze minutely, the smallest frown, as they begin to wonder what ‘someone like them’ means. All their flaws and virtues flashing through their mind, at varying degrees of accuracy, influenced by their own perception of the inherent goodness of their being, or lack thereof, the fear of the self-loathing, and the arrogance of the equally blind self-adoring ones. But you used ‘chance’, opportunity, the possibility to achieve something, never heard it used for working towards a loss considered as such.”

A chuckle. A slight shake of their shoulders, the scrunching of their nose into their features, the shutting of their lips, as if their body was readying for a flinch, the motion of someone with broken ribs trying to hold in a cough, lest they must endure more pain than being earnest is worth: they’re not used to laughing. “I do hope this is a positive assessment. One that insinuates you’d rather get more opportunities to talk to someone like me,” their smile fades into something softer, less trembling at the edge of their seat. “Although you’ll find conversations with someone unlike me are easier to hold. That’s what I’ve been told, at least. For what it’s worth, I don’t often get the chance to talk to someone like you either, Shin Hae-Geon. And I spend quite a lot of time talking to quite a lot of someone’s. I can’t often say, though, that I do it for the purpose of actually talking to someone. In earnest. And for nothing but the joy of talking. Of company.”

#theimpalpable #the wedge;soleiel #to be tagged;hae-geon & soleiel #I CAN'T-- I---!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i am already hooked on their dynamic I SWEAR I WOULD JUST... SIT NEXT TO THEM AND LISTEN TO THEM #TALK FOR HOURS I LOVE IT HERE SO MUCH AND ALSO I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE THE ABSOLUTE HONOUR OF HAVING SHIN FRICKING HAE-GEON #IN MY HUMBLE TEENY WEENY INBOX OM GSìRR PLS DO GET COMFORTABLE MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME TAKE EVERYTHING YOU SEE #IT'S ALL YOURSS PLS TAKE IT--#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN IT'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG I SEIOUSLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HAE-GEON I WANT TO CRRY OMG #AND IT'S HAE-GEON @ SOLEIEL OMG IT TAKES ME EXACTLY 0.00000002 SECONDS TO GET OBSESSED WITH OUR DYNAMICS #AND THIS WAS NO EXCEPTION I CAN'T----#I HOPE THIS WORKS?? AND?? YES?? LMK IF YOU'D LIKE/NEED ME TO CHANGE ANYTHING ;;;WWWWWWWWWWWWW;;;#i'll be super honest too Soleiel is so difficult to write still FDKLGJHHKJLFGHFGJKLHFGKLH I PLAYED MYSELF their voice is so difficult #BUT I WILL PIN IT DOWN AND THEN I WILL YEET THEM AT HAE-GEON SO HARD THANK YOU SO MUCH OMG--#also somebody tell me why Soleiel refers to Hae-Geon by his full name because I myself would not be able to tell you why IT JUST--#IDK IDK i don't even know why I'm mentioning this in the tags IT'S JUST THAT I was writing and just realised they'd-- IDK IDK FDGKLJHGFKLH ♥#I HOPE THAT'S OKAY? LMK IF ANYTHING I WROTE HERE IS JUST ABSOLUTE NONSENSE I'LL RECTIFY INSTANTLY >:333 #I wanted to use the TDJ pack you sent me - ALEX PLEAS ETAKE EVERRYTHING I OWN!!!!!!!!!!!! - then i realised that Soleiel #catapulted themself so hard into softs here that I needed Babi LIKE THE POWER OF SHIN HAE-GEON WHO ALLOWED HIM-#;queue

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

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I completely agree with your post about Tom. People’s entitlement over their favourite celebrities goes to far. And tbh I really hate when fans act like they know for sure how he feels and what he’s thinking based on very ambiguous “evidence”. This is usually done so people can align Tom’s views with their own which requires most of the time someone else to be villanised. What I mean is that fans have no actual proof that the writers, producers and director of Loki are bad people and that Tom is unhappy with the directions the show took. There is usually nothing to be inferred about who these people are beyond their merits as professionals. But fans present their assumptions as facts anyway and that has evolved into actual harassment of the production team. All the while piggybacking on this idea that Tom thinks exactly what like them. And I am saying this as someone who hated TR and thinks Loki was deliberately made weaker/less important so Thor could shine more. And someone who hates pretty much all of Mike Waldron’s previous work on Rick and Morty. But is still feels very presumptuous to act like these people deliberate compromised the their own work because they hate Loki and his fans. And that they are filled with every prejudice know to man. And it’s also very demeaning to victimise Tom in the process. Of course some of the people involved suck but most of the time these assumptions have no basis whatsoever. And there is also an over-identification going on between some fans and Tom which isn’t healthy for anybody.

Sorry it took me several days to get to this, anon. It took me a minute to get my thoughts in order. But in a nutshell, yeah, I agree with a lot of the things you pointed out here - especially with fans acting like they know for a fact what he's thinking or feeling.

Under the cut for length and a bit of wank and disagreement w/ the "Marvel hates Loki" discourse so please skip if you don't want to see it.

A lot of the Loki series wank is rooted in whether or not Tom actually likes the series and significantly contributed to it, or if he's just saying what he has to say for publicity and his ideas and contributions were largely ignored. None of us will ever know for sure, bc none of us are Tom and none of us were directly involved in the series, so it's moot speculation, really. But it seems to basically come down to people trying to reconcile their feelings about the show with their feelings about Tom.

I don't necessarily think there's anything wrong with believing that Tom's hands were tied to an extent and/or he just says things that he has to for promotion, but I also don't think that it should be treated as fact and then used as, like, ammunition against other people working on the show. I personally have not seen anyone I know or am friendly with taking their complaints to the level of harassment of actual people irl (that seems to be more of a twitter thing, as far as I can tell, and imo comes from an entirely different place than just hating the show [I think there's an inherent meanness in people whose instincts are to harass and bully bc they want to actively make others feel like shit]) but I do see it posted as fact, time and time again, that the showrunners had a personal vendetta against Loki and were intent on making the series as bad as possible, and that Tom was helpless to do anything about it.

Which I get, in a way, bc I personally believe that the Russos had, if not a vendetta, an active dislike of Loki and a vested interest in getting him "out of the way" in a manner that would make him look pathetic in IW - but, I certainly can't say that's the case for sure, and I also think it's a little different bc Tom's contractual obligations for his film appearances were likely very different than what he (and/or his people) negotiated for the show.

That's neither here nor there but my point is, I can understand where the theories come from but I just don't think that's the case here, and seeing it so often makes me feel kinda uncomfortable (for a lot of reasons but also) bc, imo, it undermines Tom's autonomy for fans to act as if he's little more than a puppet on a string, just saying whatever he has to say to please the powers that be. Like, yes, there are legally binding contracts that probably limit how candid he can be, and we all know that he sugarcoats things and never says anything bad about anyone, which can make him seem like a bit of an "unreliable narrator" when he gushes about the show -

- but, he's also a big name celeb (I mean, the studio has always banked on his name being attached to the project bc he's the one who would draw in the most viewers). He's got clout (is that the right word?) to back him up - they wanted him, specifically, to play Loki in this series. Without Tom, there's no show. So why would they want to alienate him, silence him, or dismiss him when he comes to the table and says "here are my ideas"?

My point is, it's unfair and, yes, demeaning to act as if Tom is this voiceless, powerless victim who has no choice but to act in a series he hated that was purposefully trying to destroy his character, and then to turn around and mindlessly sing its praises while promoting it.

I think that the truth is somewhere in the middle - Tom's creative control was likely limited bc he wasn't the director and wasn't the showrunner or head writer, and no one person is ever completely in control when it comes to the end result that we, the audience, end up seeing on the screen anyway. He may not have been entirely happy with every writing or directing choice that was made. But it's also very unlikely that he had no say at all or that any input he had was dismissed (or 95% of it, as it were); again, the series is banking on his name being the draw and he has the advantage of being an authority on Loki while also being intelligent and eloquent enough to convey his perspective on the character. I think that the real issue is that Tom's current perspective and/or interpretation of Loki no longer aligns with his interpretation of OG Loki from 2011-13. Which is, admittedly, a very hard pill to swallow.

Anyway, this may have veered off in another direction and idek if you wanted this answered or to have a conversation or maybe you were just venting - but, here we are.

To make it less about Loki specifically and more about Tom in general, though, yeah, ultimately I just wish his fans wouldn't feel so entitled toward him and his opinions, or his career choices, or his love life, or his clothes. I was browsing one of the Tom ask blogs (or maybe it was a Zawe one, I don't remember now) the other day and I find it really creepy, for lack of a better word, at how invested people are in Tom's, like, day-to-day whereabouts. Someone saw him at a restaurant in NYC - I wonder if he's still there today? Where's he staying? Is he there as a tourist or for work reasons? Who could he be meeting with in New York? A producer? Another play? Will he host SNL? Is Zawe still with him or did she go back to London? etc etc like, it really goes back to my original point in my original post which is, basically, who caaaaaaaares, why are you investing so much of your day trying to figure out what Tom is doing with his?

Now I'm just venting, but yeah ... shit's weird.

#asks #a nonny mouse #charlotte replies #tom hiddleston is my favorite unicorn #disclaimer - i know a lot of my mutuals feel this way about tom and my disagreement with those takes is not meant as a personal attack #but again if my opinions hurt your feelings or make you feel like you can't trust me #please just unfollow so i don't have to keep feeling the need to apologize all over the place #for shit i post on my own blog #long post

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bridgestorm · 3 years

Text

Seven Wonders at Night Raven College [Part 1]

Warning: TreyxJade, Alternate Universe, OOC

Disclaimer:

Disney Twisted Wonderland belongs to Disney

Art and Storyline belongs to Yana Toboso

Trey walked among the crowds alone. With piles of books and papers almost covers his sight of the hallway. He lifted up his chin and continuously said “Excuse me!” along the way. Bumped into someone in this busy day was the last thing he needed.

The clock on the hallway showed his little remaining time. One minute late and he will get scolded by Riddle, The leader of Students Executive Board, even though Riddle was practically one year younger than him.

Suddenly, Trey stopped. He felt like have bumped into someone.

Trey: “A-ah, my apologies!”

Trey was ready to accept his first scolding when instead of a loud thundering anger shout of someone, instead, he heard someone’s soft laugh. He looked beyond his books to see a tall man stood before him, with one hand placed on his piles, preventing the piles to scattered on the floor.

Trey: “Ah, it’s you, Jade. You saved me, thanks.”

Jade, smiled casually: “No problem, Trey-san. By the way, why these mountains of papers?”

Trey: “Ah, you see, the last year will officially renounced their position next week, so we need to prepare the ceremony.”

Jade: “Ah, you’re right. It slipped my mind. Then, I must excuse myself. You must be busy and I was on your way.”

Trey: “No, not at all. You helped me, even. Thank you.”

Jade: “No problem. Need a hand, Trey-san? It seems you would be bumped into someone else if this keep up.”

Trey, awkwardly laughed. “Well … if you’re not troubled, please.”

Jade: “Not at all.”

Then Jade took half of the books and papers. Most of it was from years before him, must be from their seniors.

Trey, approached Jade: “What’re you looking at?”

Jade: “Our Senpai was really awesome, don’t you think?”

Trey: “Ah, could it be … you’re interested in joining executive board?”

Jade, carrying half of the piles. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do that, Trey-san. My brother and Azul had really used me to the utmost extent.”

Trey went silent. Their walked through the corridor with no one talking as Trey recalled that it was indeed true that Jade was almost absent in every club and activities outside campus. Only in Mostro Lounge, the only official café permitted around the campus, he usually seen by. But nonetheless, rumors about him spread fast like a wildfire. Most of it was proven as a mere hogwash, from the rumor that he was the son of a mafia, he had an erased criminal records, and list goes on. None of them were proven to be true. That was why, Trey was so confused as why students avoiding him in they had a chance and always stay alert around him, while in fact, Trey was occasionally being helped by his sudden kindness like this time.

Trey: “It must have been rough, to have friends like that.”

Jade, shocked. “What?”

Trey, sympathetically turned at Jade: “If you’re ever feel tired or need someone to talk to, come to me at any time you want.”

Jade, smiled: “Ah, if that’s what you mean, then. I’ll gladly accept. To be able to receive such an offer from a man like you….”

Trey: “I didn’t know you thought about me that way.”

Jade only smiled.

Trey: “Well … it’s true that even our friends that always been by our side, has some unexpected side on them. You’ll only know that once you’re in different terms on them.”

Jade: “Ah, now you talk about that. You and Riddle-san was coming from the same town, right?”

Trey, solemnly nodded: “Yes, me and Che’nya came from the same town. But back then, Riddle wasn’t slightest like he is today.”

Jade said nothing. He listened carefully.

Trey, coughed awkwardly: “What I wanted said is, you’re entitled to slip up. So, don’t be shy to brushed them off sometimes and have a free time for yourself.”

Jade, smiled casually like always: “Yes, I’ll put that in mind. Oh, look, we’ve arrived.”

Trey, opened the door slowly and carefully: “Yes, and by the right time. Thank you, Jade.”

Jade: “You’re welcome, Trey-san.”

They went in the Student Executive Board Room at the same time. But Trey didn’t noticed the expression Riddle gave him when he witnessed him return with Jade. Only Jade realized this and even he didn’t pay much attention to it.

Riddle: “Trey.”

Trey: “Yes?”

Their duty for today have all finished. The books, paper, and every handover documents from their seniors have already been taken care of. Only Riddle and Trey left in the room.

Riddle: “I see you walked with Floyd’s twin.”

Trey: “You mean, Jade? Oh, it just coincidence. I met him on my way here.”

Then Trey realized the troubled expression on Riddle’s face: the frown on his brows and the way he glared to the floor.

Trey: “Riddle, what’s wrong?”

Riddle: “No, it can’t be overthinking. My judgment rarely miss.”

Trey: “Riddle? You troubled that much. Don’t worry, I didn’t talk about you.”

Riddle: “That wasn’t my only concern. Say, Trey, what else did you say to him?”

Trey, a bit confused, but completely honest: “Nothing much, actually.”

Riddle: “If you didn’t say anything about internal problem of Student Executive, then it should be fine.”

Trey, mumbled: “Seriously?” He shook his head. “You didn’t think all that rumors were true, did you?”

Riddle, confused: “What rumors?”

Trey, confused. If Riddle didn’t know rumors, could it be that he spoke the truth just now? : “Well … you see … there are rumors in every generation in this campus about seven wonders of NRC, right? And this generation, Jade was part of that rumor, it seems.”

Riddle, inclined his head. The way he stared at Trey seriously made Trey think about that warning once again. If Riddle really mean what he said then …

Riddle: “Well, I can’t hear such a rumors, can I? Seeing how much of works we need to take care of every day."

Trey, awkwardly laughed: “You’re right.”

Riddle: “Still, it wouldn’t be bad if we take precautions. So, Trey, what kind of exactly rumor you’re saying? Seven Wonders … I think I heard that names before.”

Trey: “Well….”

Then Trey told Riddle all of the story behind the seven wonders. It was all around the campus in every new generations arrived. The Student Executive Board was not missed either. In one of the seven rumors said that Student Executive Board has an irrational and unusual tea party, held secretly among them.

Riddle, scuffed: What a nonsense and baseless rumor! Who said that? We have irrational tea party? How could they say—

Trey: “Please calm down, Riddle. It’s just a rumor. Most of them didn’t know what they’re talking to. And besides, out tea party never got interrupted by anyone so far, right?”

Riddle, still angry: “As I said, it never been too careful. Then, what else rumors out there?”

Trey: “Well, in this generation, they said “You’ll get eternal bad luck if you’re mess with Leech Twins”.”

Riddle scuffed again: “Another baseless rumor.”

Trey, hesitated: “Is that so?”

Riddle, then corrected himself: “You really need to be careful around Jade, but not to that extent. After all, this is educational institute. One wrong move and you’ll be expelled.”

Trey laughed hesitantly: “Though, I’m afraid our director would say things differently.”

Riddle didn’t satisfied: “You’re right….”

Then the red-haired boy looked at the clock on the wall.

Riddle: “Come on, it’s already this late. We should head back too.”

Trey, also turned at the clock on the wall: “Ah, you’re right.”

They prepared to leave and the next thing they knew, they witnessed some groups of students walk on the hallway. Some familiar faces came around.

Trey: “Ah, it’s Jade.”

Riddle, hold him in his place. His face stern: “I don’t want to meet them, especially Floyd. Let’s walk slowly.”

Trey nodded and do as Riddle said when he spotted Jade was between the familiar faces. By his sides, the other Twin, Floyd walked and smiled cheerfully. They have identical face, with slightly different features: like Jade’s sharp eyes, the hair bangs, and the position of their heterochromia eyes.

Floyd: “New students are so funny this year too! They look like horde of mackarels!”

Jade: “Floyd, watch your mouth, please. They are still your juniors.”

Floyd: “E~h? But isn’t it better to teach them some little things, like whoever they must not disobey?”

Trey, whispering sofly: “Ah, he was forced again.”

Riddle, raised one of his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Trey: “There, you see. He was being manipulated and pushed again, right?”

Riddle scorned. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Then he turned to the groups once again. “You need to get a new glasses soon.”

Trey: “H-huh? But my glasses were just fine.”

Riddle: “If you can’t see simple things like this, those glasses are really useless.”

Trey: “What do you mean?”

Riddle: “Just watch.”

That time, slowly, Trey heard a familiar laugh from afar. He turned once again to Jade, who slowly let out a smirk Trey never seen before. A wicked smile. Trey’s eyes widened in surprised and he almost lost his posture, but he swallowed all of his shock and walked besides Riddle.

Jade: “Scared them the moment they entered this campus? I think we’ll have plenty of moments like that later, Floyd.”

Floyd: “E~h, but straightforward is more fun, you know?”

Jade: “Fear is an important factor, indeed, but what I desired the most was chess pieces that can be used on our behalf. That’s why, first impression was very important.”

Besides him, the glasses man smirked.

Azul: “As expected from you, Jade. You understand very well. The rumors that had been spread would be our obstacle, but depends on our way to handle it, they can be our advantages at the moment.”

Floyd: “I don’t get it~ both of you always thinking the most boring way to solve things.”

Jade, laughed softly: “Not everyone had a unique and amazing way to solve problems like you, Floyd. This time, we will present Azul as the leading actors. The rumors of us needed to be taken seriously, indeed.”

Azul: “Yes, a capable senior would be fit to any juniors that just entered this campus now, shall we.”

Jade, smiled wickedly: “We should be able to get as much attention as we want if they prostrate themselves to us without even realizing it. And we will become the reliable senior for their poor unfortunate fate.”

Both of the student’s executive committee watched everything in silence.

Riddle: “You think Jade was willingly accepts orders? You should really observe people more carefully before commenting on them, Trey.”

Trey, sighed: “You’re right. I guess … it was all on me.”

Riddle: “What are you talking about?”

Trey: “Never mind … it’s just … this is different from what I had in mind.”

Riddle: “I told you, you need to buy new glasses.”

Then Riddle told him that even in their junior year, Jade was always made his skin crawl. He didn’t get to know why before, but this time it was different. He already seen another sides of Jade that Trey incapable of seeing before. Trey thought Jade was a humble, hardworking student, but that was all just façade. The truth, Jade might be responsible for some of their fishy actions. Riddle reminds him of the accident in the previous year when exam’s grade was exponentially increased but the cases of violence in campus backyard was also rocketed. That was particularly because of them too.

Riddle: “I don’t want to go near him, as much as I don’t want to be anywhere near Floyd. Sometimes, I felt like he was the one who controlling them, not the opposite, and even enjoying it.”

Trey smiled, but the smile didn’t even touch his eyes: “You speak like he was some kind of a sadist.”

Riddle: “You still think that way?”

Trey, heavily sighed. “Not anymore. Still, to have such impact, even though they are just students … who are they exactly?”

Riddle, empathically looked at Trey: “Don’t worry, once our seniors renounced, you’ll know.”

Trey, confused: “Know what?”

But then he realized, Riddle was looking at his pen, the one he placed on his chest. The special pen that marked him as a part of Students Executive Committee. The mark of special one. Special Humans.

Trey: “I understand. It seems there are so much thing I need to learn from you, Leader.”

Riddle: “I won’t be in this position if I wasn’t competent enough, would I?’

Trey laughed awkwardly. The mistakes couldn’t be undone. He was almost digging his own grave by leaking some information on his own accord. His mistakes. His weakness. And his feelings, to someone he easily trust just because he occasionally helped him. When he thinks about it again, Jade helped him with nothing big. Most of them were simple tasks like bringing him a copy of a lost paper, helped him with piles of work just like today, nothing specific.

If Trey saw on the darker side, it was as if … Jade tried to slowly approaching him. He helped in with purpose in mind. Not that mattered, though. He occasionally did that as well to some people, but feeling that himself was a different thing.

Trey: “Well … I probably need to work up more next time.”

Riddle: “What do you mean?”

Trey: “So I can catch up with you.”

Riddle: “You are done enough already, Trey. On the other hand, our new member, is the opposite.”

Azul: “Well, well, if it isn’t Riddle-san and Trey-san.”

Riddle, calmly approached. Trey realized he walked faster so he matched his speed: “Yeah, excuse us, we need to get home soon. Let’s go, Trey.”

Trey: “A-ah, Yes.”

Trey walked fast passed them. Riddle didn’t event flinched and Floyd, with his brother and Azul around, behave more accordingly towards them, unlike his free and wild usual self.

Jade: “Trey-san?”

Trey stopped midway and turned to face a smiling Jade: “Yes?”

Jade, smiled innocently: “Congratulations on becoming Students Board Committee. Look forward to you this year.”

That smile wasn’t so innocent anymore in Trey’s eyes. It was a mocking smile, directly heading towards his recklessness and easygoing attitude. Then Trey smiled to himself and looked at Riddle. He really had a long way to go than his childhood friend.

Trey, reciprocated Jade’s smile towards him: “Likewise, Jade.”

Then, they parted ways. Jade with Azul and his twin brother, while Trey walking away with Riddle to their home. While they were walking away, Trey could feel some of his inner magic leaked and evaporated to the air, but before it vanished, it triggered something. He saw sparks of light in the night, glittering around him and flew away to Jade’s groups. There, his magic resonates and burst in blue light.

The light he never watched before.

He then remembered what his father said, that magic of humans resonates with magic from the other sides. It couldn’t be resonating with magic from humans also. It only resonating with magic from the other side: the side that not human can ever enter.

The non-human side of this world.

“Don’t worry, once our seniors renounced, you’ll know.”

Trey remembered Riddle’s word, that he would know something once he joined thr Students Committee. He, unlike Riddle, who joined a year before, didn’t know anything. But, both Riddle and he came from the same roots of world. The only reason he could thinking of when Riddle said those puzzle words was ….

Trey shook his head. He once blinded by his own judgment, he can’t be fooled twice by his blinded visions.

Riddle: “Trey, what are you doing?”

Trey, realized he was left alone, quickly catch up with Riddle: “On my way!”

This was the Night Raven College, a college in another world where two kinds of world trying to coexist. Through rumors and gossip in the crowds, the coexistence remained on the neutral side up to this day, until the day they can finally coexist on the same stage, a Committee to watched over the border of the world was needed.

Who could’ve thought that the small step of that coexistence, began with one simple accident in the middle of a night?

But that was another story, for another time.

#disney #disney twisted wonderland #fanfiction #fanfic #twisted wonderland #trey x jade #jade leech #trey clover #yana toboso #octavinelle #riddle rosehearts #heartslabyul #au #college #magic

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renaerys · 3 years

Note

I know in BTM the guys are estranged at the moment (*tear*) but in the sequel as they start to repair their relationship will the apologies be from all of them? I know that in BTM it ended with Brick causing a lot of emotional damage which he did need to apologize for however imo I feel like all of them owe each other an apology. It's obvious they don't get each other and there's been underlying tension brewing for years. Boomer and Butch don't get that Brick wasn't controlling all the time because he necessarily wanted to be but because he had to in order to ensure their survival. They're products of shit parenting and because of it the oldest sibling had to step up and become an adult way before his time. As as result he wasn't there for his brother's the way they needed. He supported them financially but was never there emotionally. He was dismissive of their feelings and internal struggles. Basically miscommunication from all ends. Brick doesn't get his brothers and they don't get him. I know in the sequel after all the angst and tension dissipates they'll have that hallmark worthy reconciliation we all can't wait for but what I'm hoping is that in the uncomfortable conversation that needs to had. Not only are the apologies coming from all of them because they all owe each other that(though it mostly should come from their "parent") but most importantly they at the end they come out of it with an actual understanding of each other and a real brotherhood with no toxicity or lack of boundaries running rampant. Love your work. Looking forward to the sequel. I had to get this out because it was a nagging thought in the back of my mind for awhile now.

Thank you so much for reading Beyond This Morning! I’m always delighted to hear from readers. This is going to be a long answer, but it’s extremely important to me that these points make sense and are heard. You’re right that the brothers’ relationship will be more of a focus in the sequel. However, I want to be clear: Butch and Boomer do not owe Brick anything, not an apology and not their forgiveness. I think you may have missed some of the point of the emotional climax of BTM, so I’ll try to explain it here.

“Boomer and Butch don't get that Brick wasn't controlling all the time because he necessarily wanted to be but because he had to [sic] in order to ensure their survival.”

That’s not true. In Chapter 14, Boomer admits in his POV that he understands exactly why Brick did what he did, and how he will always be grateful for the sacrifices he made. That’s not at issue. What is at issue is Brick’s subsequent treatment of his brothers over the years since they left Mojo’s care. It was Brick’s choice to be a controlling asshole, just as much as it could have been his choice not to be that way. For example, Boomer flat out tells him that four years ago, he didn’t need Brick’s money, he needed emotional support and understanding when he was going through a difficult time after breaking up with Bubbles. But Brick never asked what Boomer wanted four years ago, or even what really happened. Instead, he threw money at him and threw a tantrum, and Boomer realized that there was no way he could leave Brick because Brick was no good on his own. This is emotional manipulation by a person with more power and authority in the relationship (Brick) at a time when the party with less power (Boomer) was in an emotionally and financially vulnerable place. That was all Brick’s choice to make, which you can piece together through the various hints and foreshadowing through the fic up until that confrontation in Chapter 14. It was also Boomer’s choice to stay because, and this is a little fucked up but realistic imo, Boomer loves his brother and let that behavior slide at the time for the sake of preserving the relationship. But the confrontation in Chapter 14 is the breaking point when Boomer has had enough and will no longer put up with Brick’s toxic behavior.

By contrast, another choice Brick makes is to let Butch leave Townsville to join the military overseas. Butch talks to Buttercup about this in Chapter 8 when they are talking about what it means to be a leader. Letting Butch go was a choice Brick made because, as Butch tells Buttercup outright, they both knew Butch would never learn unless he experienced leading and failing himself. This too is a type of manipulation by Brick, but like Boomer in the above example, it’s a manipulation Butch fully understood and went along with to get what he wanted and needed. And of course, Butch comes back in the end because he was always going to come back. That’s the relationship the brothers have, for better and for worse. They stick together. Brick demands blind loyalty from both of them, as Boomer said, and yet he manipulates and controls them to his own ends. Sure, he does this out of a sense of love and loyalty himself, but it is grossly misguided and often executed for the wrong reasons.

“They're products of shit parenting and because of it the oldest sibling had to step up and become an adult way before his time. As [sic] as a result he wasn't there for his brother's [sic] the way they needed. He supported them financially but was never there emotionally. He was dismissive of their feelings and internal struggles.”

You’re right about Brick’s behavior here, but not for the reasons you stated. When Brick got them out of Mojo’s house when they were 16? Yeah, that was him making a difficult choice to ensure his brothers’ survival, using the tools he had at the time and doing what he thought was the best thing he could have done. Boomer explicitly tells the reader how he and Butch understand that sacrifice, how they are grateful for it, and how they will never forget the solid Brick did them for as long as they live. But that is the past. None of it excuses or absolves Brick’s subsequent behavior up until the present, which included controlling, manipulating, and being emotionally unavailable to his brothers and to pretty much everyone else. Having shitty parents may explain, but in no way excuses, absolves, or forgives a person’s terrible treatment of others. That kind of thinking harms real life people who are the victims of this type of toxic treatment. I made an effort in BTM to call this out. I will make an effort in the sequel to show how people who genuinely want to make positive changes in their lives might go about doing that.

Brick’s shitty treatment of his brothers is not the product of a “miscommunication from all ends”. It is squarely a product of his own bad choices, which are informed but in no way excused by his troubled upbringing. In the sequel, I will examine the steps Brick chooses to take to make positive changes in his life. I will show how his brothers react to that effort he makes, and how it might improve their opinion of him. But I will also be extremely clear that they are under no obligation to forgive him, and how that has nothing to do with Brick’s decision to try to be better anyway because that is what it means to grow and be a good person. I think Brick as he will appear in the sequel does deserve empathy, patience, and understanding for the work he does on himself, and I am interested in showing that journey for him as he rebuilds his support system. Many people who put in the effort to be a better person deserve that chance to build new relationships and move forward. But they are not entitled to the forgiveness of their past victims, no matter how much progress they make.

All that said, I am very glad you sent me this Ask. I suspect that there are others with similar views or questions that were raised here, and it’s very important to me that you all understand the type of story I’m telling. There are a lot of stories out there that do apologize for Brick’s shitty behavior, that ignore it, that even romanticize or glorify it. And yeah, they’re just stories and people can write what they want. I’m not here to police anyone or ruin their fun. But stories don’t exist in a vacuum, and media and culture are reflections that inform and influence each other. For me and my fics specifically, it’s important to me that I do my best to tell a story that calls out bad behavior unequivocally and holds that behavior accountable, even if the character exhibiting that bad behavior is the hot, cool love interest. Perhaps even more so because of that, since that’s a Venn diagram with a lot of crossover in general. I do not think I’ve done a perfect job, far from it. I don’t think I haven’t made mistakes (I know I have). But I work closely with my beta, I talk to other writers whose work I admire, and I listen to smart, feminist people whose opinions I respect. I use everything I glean from them to try to write a story that is sensitive to these types of topics. I’ll keep working to improve, as I think all creators should.

#i won't put this in the brick tag #but as far as my stories go this is it people #ppg btm #Anonymous #ppg meta

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messiisgodibeliveinhim · 3 years

Text

Taeyong

I just wanted to rant about everything that happened. So here I am.

So initially I didn't want to watch the concert because of the obvious lack of Taeyong. But i did watch it (ill*gally) on Twitter Live Stream, to see who would cover for Taeyong and how.

Okay, first of all, is it just me or was there an actual lack of preparation and production for the concert??? Like, compare it to SuperM's Beyond Live. The VCRs, the camera direction, the stage, the AR effects... Everything looked so good and exciting. But for this one, they didn't even try. The production was lacking severely and the AR effects were barely used. Everything looked rushed as if they didnt actually plan it set by set. The VCRs were just all the footages from other videos clamped together. There was nothing new or cool about this Beyond Live, even with the increased price. Overall, it looked cheap. I think, the only saving grace of this online concert were the boys themselves.

Secondly, the boys who covered for Taeyong did a good job. Obviously, no one can come close to even performing and delivering like Taeyong but the boys did fine, considering that they had to practice his parts for only 2-3 weeks. And it's a daunting task to fill such huge shoes. The pressure that the boys felt, especially the newbies Shotaro and Sungchan, to try to fill that gap, must have been immense.

But of course, NShittyzens took this as an opportunity to sh*t on Taeyong, saying stupid things like 'XYZ ate Taeyong up', 'ABC made Taeyong's song his own', 'MNO killed Taeyong's part and I think he should've been part of the original line-up instead of Taeyong', 'I hope my bias gets to shine now', 'My faves really took this "opportunity" and showed the world' etc.... Like??? Are you really that dense or just spewing bs like this cuz y'all want attention??? The same thing happened when Taeyong missed the KBS mid-year festival and the other boys covered for him for Kick It.

If y'all truly believe that you're bias only shines when Taeyong is absent, then it shows how insecure you are about you're faves talents and abilities. If you truly think Taeyong's injury is an "opportunity" for your fave, then there is clearly something wrong with you. If you think you're fave ate Taeyong up in any manner, then it shows that you just hate Taeyong. If you think Taeyong is replaceable, then you're doing piss poor job of convincing yourself. Taeyong doesn't need NCT, but NCT needs Taeyong.

He is not just the leader, but also the main dancer, main rapper, sub vocalist, the center of the group and the face of the group. He has also contributed to the group with over 30 songs and has choreographed for some of NCT songs. He is NCT's idea bank, with the numerous times he has come up with something new and interesting for their concepts or choreography (For Example: The Jungle Gym for Neo City tour, the epic finger move and Mark stepping on Taeyong for the Kick It choreography, the chandelier scene in MAW, etc) . Many professionals have constantly praised Taeyong for his creativity and excellent inputs.

Taeyong was there from the very beginning of NCT and has carried the group on his back for 4 years now. And he has always remained kind and humble, even with all the misdirected hate that he faced for years. He always puts himself down and praises all the members, no matter what. He has juggled between groups, 5 comebacks and numerous concerts, this year alone. His schedule list looks like the Bank Statement of one whole year. The way the man has worked for the past 2 years is insane. And upon that, the burden of being the leader of a group with 23 members??? Can y'all even imagine the amount of weight on Taeyong's shoulders???

And yes, the injuries he has constantly sustained for over 4 years now. We have seen various footages of him having neck braces, holding his waist and limping. He has also talked about the continuous back pain or how he was sick for 3 days after shooting a MV. SM had known exactly the extent of his injuries and still overworked him to the bone. Now his waist disc injury has relapsed and we still dont have a statement on his health or time of recovery on ANY of the SM Official Accounts. Not one word. We had to find out through a platform that's barely used and most non-twitteratti NCTzens didn't know about this whole ordeal until after the concert began.

What boils my blood is that SM knew about the relapsed injury way before, gave the boys enough time to practice Taeyong's part, but announced the concert by advertising Taeyong all over it, last Monday. And they literally only made the announcement after the concert ticket cancelation period was over. F*cking money whores! F*ck SM!!!!

The worst part of it all are the NShittyzens. Most of you didn't care about the fact that SM not only neglected the leader's health but also scammed Taeyong's fans. When TyongFs began to get refunds for the concert, some of you accused them and started dictating what they should do with their own money, pulling sh*t like- 'Taeyong as a leader, wants his group to do well. Now he would be sad knowing that fans dont care about the group cuz y'all are getting your refunds'. Really? Cuz most y'all who said this watched the concert illegally, makes it even more funny to me. And its none of you're business, how anyone else spends their money. And if you think Taeyong cares about SM losing money, then you're just stupid. If it's anyone in the whole group who'd say 'F*ck Capitalism!', it's Taeyong. So STFU!

Also, when TyongFs started demanding an official statement from SM about Taeyong, some of y'all went- "You're just a fan. Y'all dont have any right to cross the boundaries of Idol-Fan relationship and ask for personal stuff. Other artist fans didn't get any official statement, so why should you?'. We didnt ask for his f*cking medical records. We just want a statement from SM's official accounts about his health and his time of recovery. That's it. SM has refused to acknowledge the injuries of other artists before, doesn't mean that this pattern has to continue. And as fans, we are entitled to know about the artist, cuz WE CARE...! Cuz a waist disc injury relapsing aint a small thing. The amount of pain that Taeyong is probably enduring right now.... We dont even know the extent of it. We dont know how long he needs to recover or even how long SM will give him to rest. We don't know anything and we are scared. So just wanting a statement about it, isnt 'crossing the boundaries' as you put it. So again, STFU!

Y'all don't care about Taeyong, fine. The least you can do is respect him and not discredit his hardwork. After everything he has done and continues to do for NCT, y'all keep going with the 'Taeyong is the villain' narrative. He isn't stealing your faves lines or screentime. He isn't pushing them back to 'shine more'. He isnt the bad person you think he is. Y'all rejoicing now that he is injured, happy that your faves got to take up Taeyong's part or just hateful saying your fave was better than Taeyong.... It just ain't it.

No other group leader gets the kinda hate Taeyong does, even though he does 5 times the work for the group than any other leader. Yes, Taeyong has multiple positions the group, all deserved. Yes, he is a very charismatic and an amazing performer on the stage, that lures new fans in. Not his fault that he grabs everyone's attention. Yes, he is very talented in so many aspects. But that doesn't mean you get tobblame you're faves mistreatment on him, cuz he himself is being mistreated by SM. So don't come at me with you're 'SM's golden boy' bs! I will taze your ass and watch supernanny as you crawl under the carpet!

Maybe you're right about how you're faves dont get to shine enough when they're on the same stage as Taeyong, cuz his charisma and aura is very magnetic, you can't help but watch him and him only. I thought only TyongFs have this kinda tunnel vision but apparently, all of you have it as well....

Here's the thing. You don't like it when Taeyong gets praised all the time, whether its his dance or rap or anything at all. Cuz you don't like Taeyong. So why are you even focused on him and TyongFs. If I don't like anything, i simply ignore it. So instead of focusing on Taeyong, focus on hyping up your fave (again, by not dragging Taeyong, not even subtly). It ain't hard, trust me.

At least have the human decency to not rejoice over the fact that he is injured. The sh*t i see online everyday, some of y'all have totally lost it.

And lastly, no one can eat up Taeyong. No one can do his part better than him. Hell, no one can even come close to doing what he does. So get that delusion outta your heads. Its embarrassing.

#Taeyong #Lee Taeyong #Bubu #NCT #NCT 127 #NCT 2020 #Beyond Live #RESONANCE #Kick It #Respect Taeyong #Get Well Soon Yongie #We Miss You🌹#Take As Long You Want #We'll Wait #Thank You Taeyong #F*CK SM #F*CK NshittyZens #F*CK Taeyong Antis

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wrappedinamysteryy · 3 years

Text

Many women get married and quite naturally find themselves giving their heart and soul to their husband. They make their husband their world. They put him on a high pedestal and go out of their way to please him.

If the wife does her best to please her husband, knowing that by striving to please her husband, she is also pleasing Allah, then this is a good thing and comes with abundant reward.

The Prophet (saw) said:

أَيُّمَا امْرَأَةٍ مَاتَتْ وَزَوْجُهَا عَنْهَا رَاضٍ دَخَلَتِ الْجَنَّةَ

“Whichever woman dies while her husband is pleased with her, then she enters Paradise.” (Jaami’ Tirmidhi 1161)

However, every believing woman must be careful that she does not step beyond this remit. Her trying to please her husband must purely be for the sake of Allah and nothing else.

Just as people can make their desires their god, a woman can raise her husband to that ranking also. And what dangerous grounds these are.

Allah swt says:

أَرَأَيْتَ مَنِ اتَّخَذَ إِلَٰهَهُ هَوَاهُ

“Have you seen the one who takes as his god his own desire?” (Surah al-Furqan, verse 43)

The manner in which a woman so willingly submits herself to her husband can be very dangerous when it is not done with the correct intentions, for the sake of Allah alone. She can raise her husband’s status higher than it should be, higher that even Allah asks for.

In doing this, a woman can lose her sense of self and her own sense of happiness. Because her whole being becomes dependant on her husbands approval and disapproval.

A believing woman’s happiness and sense of self should come from none other than knowing Allah, loving Allah and placing Him swt above all of creation. Indeed, a woman who knows her Lord, will come to know herself. And a woman who truly knows Allah, will find that her happiness and sadness will be connected to the pleasure and displeasure of her Lord.

If as a believing woman you do not find yourself in this position, and your happiness or sadness is deeply connected to the status of the creation and and created things, then this is a great indication that you do not truly know Allah swt.

So, yes, a believing wife should aim to please her husband, but it will be only for the sake of Allah, and when she finds herself involved in a conflict between her and her husband, she will refer it to Allah swt and His Rasool (saw) and what is pleasing to Allah. In this manner, she will always find peace and never lose her sense of self.

What can make matters worse is, when the wife strives to serve her husband well and to please him for the sake of Allah, that the husband feels entitled. This is more than likely connected to the manner in which he was raised to be entitled.

So dear sisters, whether you are married or unmarried, find your happiness through seeking and knowing Allah, and never raise the status of anyone above what their Lord has ordained, for even in testing times you will find solace in knowing Allah and pleasing Him.

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ashandboneca · 4 years

Text

Racism, abuse, and why I don’t consider myself a part of the ‘community’

I’d like to talk about the event that pushed me away from the idea of a pagan community, and forced me inwards to further develop my own practice - and about the events of the last few years in regards to continued abuses in the pagan community. About 6 years ago, I started to look into the Norse pantheon. I had worked with Thor in the past, and about 6 or 7 prior to that I did an experiment where I worked with the Aesir for a month. At that point in my life, I didn't connect with them. I don't know why I didn't, I partially blame the terrible book I had for guidance, and the fact that the person who initially agreed to guide me flaked out. However, this time around I endeavoured to learn as much as I could from a reputable source, because the last time I had no idea what I was doing. I approached my friend, who is a practicing forn sidr heathen, and they agreed to teach me what they knew. We spent a number of sessions discussing cosmology and theology. I felt confident going forward, armed with book recommendations and a passion to learn further. I wrote a bit about my experiences openly on my previous blog with Odinn. Interactions with him were not sought after, but something that merely happened. When gods or spirits or ancestors come calling, you answer in some way out of respect. I wrote more about my experiences, and different techniques I utilized to connect with him. None of them were specifically Heathen - but I don't soley identify as Heathen, so I figured if that was an issue, Odinn wouldn't have shown up in the first place.

Some time later, my friend had messaged me to let me know they had gotten some hate mail about me via Witchvox (which no longer exists, but used to be a connection board for finding pagans and witches in your area, as well as open groups, etc). I was initially gobsmacked. Why the hell is someone emailing her in regards to something I did? Wouldn't have been more productive to email or message me to resolve whatever issue? I found it who it was. This person was, at that time, a member of a well recognized organization locally who put on events and rituals - an organization whose first mandate is "We hold that each one of us has their own path to follow to truth and spirit." To be honest, I had never really interacted with this person beyond being paid to do so in my former job at a pagan bookshop. We attended a few of the same events, but never really interacted. There was no real beef. I wasn't particularly fond of said person, but I had no real issues with them - so this came sort of out of left field. I sat on it for a bit. I did not reply to the sender. Instead, I decided to post the initial email on my previous blog. Inevitably, someone is going to disagree with how you practice or what you do, even if you're not doing anything wrong. The point I think is important to underline is that you do not need to stand for other people trying to tear you down, assert some kind of moral superiority over you, or telling you how and when you should be practicing, unless your practice is appropriative - in which case you should be taking a long, hard look at yourself. As heathenry is an open tradition, I had no concerns. I also think transparency is very important, and when people behave badly they often do so to gain something from it. Whether it is attention, drama, or they feel they are in a safe space to do so due to anonymity. So, by posting the email (albeit in edited format - I removed all identifying information about said person, because I wanted to focus on the behaviour, not the person), I felt I was addressing something that more people should have been addressing. Afterwards, my friend received a few more emails about how I was 'pissing on their ancestors' and etc. My friend told them, in no uncertain terms, that the emails were unwelcome, the issue was none of their business, and to fuck off. I also got a few emails, a few messages on Witchvox, a few comments, and a lovely comment from a sockpuppet account here on tumblr, as well as finding out my writing was posted to be mocked because I wasn't 'heathen' enough - with screenshots! I did not respond to anything, just kept record of everything in case it was needed. I disagree with the idea of bringing in some third party who is uninvolved to do one's dirty work. If someone has an issue with how someone else is practicing, they need to question whether it's something to address. Bringing in someone uninvolved is both cowardly and childish. They did not ask to be involved, and I'm not sure what involving another person serves to carry a point. Fight your own battles, or say nothing.

There were a few other instances. A series of screencaps of this person’s continued racist, sexist, and abusive behaviour was provided to a few of us. A known leader was accused of racism and verbal abuse by other members of the community with credible evidence. This leader had a pattern of setting up multiple Facebook accounts and when one was found they would set up a new one with a new name. They talked at length about their feelings on immigration, POC in the Heathen community, and interfaith. They advocated violence and celebrated terrorist acts. Some really troubling, disgusting stuff.

We did what we thought was right - we emailed the organization to tell them and offer proof via said screencaps. In the response, we were told, and I am not bullshitting, that this person was a valued member of the community, that they are 'proud' of their heritage (uh, so am I, but I don't run my mouth off about diversity being white genocide), and that we could essentially go pound sand. I quote "own personal outlook on (their) culture and (their) path. (They are) entitled to (their) own practice as much as anyone of us are, and (they) cares deeply for (their) culture. (They) makes a significant contribution to the Pagan community with (their) efforts through (group). (They are) a hard worker and has accomplished a great many things in (their) time on the board, a commitment that is not to be taken lightly. (They) fulfill (their) duties as a board member admirably."

Do I agree with their hot take on this? No. I think if someone comes to you with an accusation of that kind of wrongdoing, you have a duty to do some manner of preliminary investigation, because if you are in a position where you are teaching people and have authority, those students need to feel safe. You need to determine if the accusations have any truth, and if they are found to be false, feel free to stand behind and assert your belief in the accused. I truly believe the harasser/abuser showed their group the email, and they spun it in some way to discredit us.

Complicity via ignorance is still complicity - it's enough to tarnish an organization's good name. In the working world, business owners have been hung out to dry because of their racist, homophobic, or sexist employee's actions. The whole Kenny Klein situation happened for years because people excused his behaviour and allowed other people to be abused. We are all finger-wagging and clucking when people try to bring up this behaviour - don't be starting drama, oh that's just how (name) is, oh that's just rumours. Look, everyone - assholes, creeps, criminals, and predators exist in every faith, every organization. We are so quick to sweep it under the rug, so rushed to prevent judgement, that we always forget that one important fact. While I think it's important not to jump on every bad thing you hear about people, I do think it's important to have an open and frank discussion about proper behaviour while in a position of power. Especially if proof of misdeeds are being offered.

This group, and their lack of action, stood complicit in this person's bad behaviour. If they made the choice to stand behind a racist, bigoted person who spends their time trying to harass people online (I am not the only one, I have been told - there have been multiple people, including some of their own family members), that is their choice. They have made that choice, and they have chosen to accept any repercussions going along with it. They chose to stand behind an abuser.

Sarah Lawless, back in 2018, named a number of known abusers in the wider PNW community. The flack she received for being brave to stand up and call that shit out was disgusting.

Abusers are coddled and protected in pagan communities. They are viewed as elders, as productive members of the community, as local heroes. While I have been fortunate to encounter very little sexual harassment in the pagan community, I have suffered other abuses and harassment that has shown me that, just like the priests and cardinals in the Vatican, pagans protect and believe only those in their clique. And there are cliques in the community, have no doubt about that.

Sarah pointed out that the ideal community is a fantasy - I agree. Stories I have heard from others about their own experiences in the 'safe and welcoming' pagan community would break your heart. One person I spoke with said 'it's scary to even fathom trying to approach anyone, because it's hard to know who to trust, who might lure you in and take advantange of you'. That is a sad statement, and one I know too well. I have a tendency to keep abuse like this close to the chest because I have been burned by people in the past. There is no spiritual support for people who get abused - no chaplains, no pastoral care, no therapists.

These were people who were putting everything on the line to be heard, and the vitriol and hatred and lies I had seen made my blood boil. This is precisely why people do not come forward. They could put everything on the line - in Sarah's case, the safety of her partner at the time and children - and people will still find a way to claim the survivors are lying. Why? What do the survivors get out of lying about their abuse? What person would come forward, knowing they will be attacked, confronted, slandered, and encounter more abuse, if they weren't telling the truth? Why would any survivor put themselves through that unless there is truth? The most stalwart defenders claim 'they couldn't have done it, I've never seen them do anything to me!' Humans are complicated and complex beings, with many facets and many faces. The face you see may not be the same face others see. The John Doe you know and the John Doe I know may be the same person, but very different relationships.

It comes down to this: You can't 'believe survivors' if you're supporting abusers.

You can't support survivors if you're sheltering abusers.

You can't help survivors if you're siding with abusers.

You can't call it a safe community if you don't protect it's members.

Standing up for myself and others lost me “friends” who ditched me about the ‘drama’, and my community. Something needs to change. It is inevitable that change will befall the community, and those denizens had better wise up quickly. There are a lot of young, vulnerable people looking for guidance and safety, and the community better fucking step up and prove they are willing to protect their members, or they have become no better than the Christian groups who continue to enable their abuse. We need willing leaders to push forward to make the community better. We need dedicated, smart, and savvy people to navigate a new and better future for paganism, because it's got a death rattle going on and it needs the kiss of a new life.

Burn the whole of the modern pagan community down. Burn down the groups that perpetuate abuse, that enable abusers, and grow something better and safe from the ashes. Dismantle the sexist, enabling, racist, oversexed community with it's abusive elders, cleanse it with fire, and create a place where people can come together without having to fear predators.

The only I have learned from watching my and other’s experiences is that we shouldn't call out wrongdoing in the community, because I have gotten abuse hurled at me for it and I have seen others who have done the same get more and worse abuse. People get mad, they accuse those who come forward of 'causing drama' or 'rocking the boat'.

That is a terrible lesson. A witch is sovereign unto themselves.

Bitches, this boat is rocking. Grab on, or drown.

This is my own story. I have posted links for further review down below.

Further reading:

Dealing With Toxic People in the Pagan Community

Sarah Lawless’ post about her suffered abuse, via the Wayback Machine

Abuse, the Pagan Community, and Our Commitments

Abuse Within Paganism - a taboo topic?

A Crisis of Faith

Authenticity and Racism in Contempory Paganism

This is not a new issue - via livejournal, 2006

Cultural Appropriation in Neopaganism

#Ash and Bone #ashandbone.ca #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #heathenry #The Crooked Path #tw abuse #tw racism #pagan #paganism #yes i wrote a whole damn paper

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Run

Part 2

A/N: Here is part 1 in case you missed it. So I lied. This is not the final part to this little mini series. I’m going ONE more part. One more. Just one. I keep reminding myself just one.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warning: none, maybe angst?

Summary: Geralt meets a princess who is bored with life and wishes for excitement.

You’d been in your room for two days now. You refused to leave, refused to interact with anyone. Any semblance of hope you had for escaping the hell that was your life died the night Geralt so quickly shut down the very idea of him assisting you in escaping.

You were resting on one of the ledges in a window in your room, eyes focused out of the window. Your legs were curled up alongside you, a pillow in your lap.

From as high up in the castle as you were, you could just barely see the city walls and the green rolling hills that rested beyond it. It was heartbreaking to be able to see what you wanted, what you longed for, but never actually being able to get there.

There was a knock on the door to your room. You paid it no attention, instead sighing softly.

“Princess?” Mousesack opened the door and stepped in. “The Queen sent me to check on you.”

You didn’t acknowledge him.

“I know you can hear me, princess.” He moved further into the room, hands clasped behind his back.

Your fingers tightened on the pillow in your grip.

“Something troubles you.” He stated. “Your grandmother says that you haven’t spoken to anyone in two days. The garden is completely dead. Your precious flowers-,”

“I don’t want the gods damned flowers!” You cut him off, turning your head to look at him. “I don’t want to talk to anyone, Mousesack!”

He watched you for a few moments, holding your fiery gaze. You looked away, shaking your head.

“Fate is a cruel whore.”

“All this anger over something which you cannot control.” Mousesack leaned against the wall that your window was cut out of. “Anger blinds the body of any other emotion. It makes its captor fixate on what makes them angry.”

You were silent.

“You’re young, princess. Once you’ve become queen, you can have anything you want in the world. You can travel and visit places you’ve never been.”

His words did little to comfort you. You didn’t want to be queen.

“You haven’t eaten in two days.” Mousesack said. “Tonight is your grandmother’s birthday celebration. She’d love to see you there.”

When you offered no reply or even so much as a look in his direction, he left.

***

Outside of your room, Mousesack found Geralt. The witcher has been busy with the duty he was given by the Queen.

“Have you ran into Calanthe yet?” Mousesack asked.

“No.”

“Good. Avoid her at all costs.”

“That’s what I try to do.”

Mousesack stopped and turned to face the witcher.

“What did you do to the princess?”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt drew his brows together.

“Two nights ago at the gala, Calanthe saw you leave with the princess. One of her guards followed you both but he said he was blocked from entering the garden. Ever since that night, Y/N has been in her room. She hasn’t spoken to anyone or eaten anything.”

“And you suspect I did something to her?” Geralt tilted his head to the side just a little.

“You’re the last one she spoke to.”

Geralt locked his jaw, looking to the door of your room. Should he tell Mousesack what you asked of him? Or should he cover for you in case you did plan to run away?

The White Wolf could hear footsteps coming up behind him. It was Calanthe and a group of guards.

Calanthe pulled a sword from one of the guards and placed the blade on Geralt’s shoulder, ready to behead him.

“What did you do to my granddaughter, beast?” She growled, hardened eyes focused on him.

Geralt turned, unaffected by the blade now being pressed against his throat.

“I’ve done nothing to her.” He held her gaze.

“You did something. She’s fallen ill-,”

“She isn’t ill. She’s sick of this place.” Geralt swatted the sword away from him. This caused the guards flanking the queen to draw their swords. She put her hand up to stop them. She wanted to hear what the witcher had to say. “She told me of how she doesn’t wish to be queen. She wants to leave, to flee Cintra before she becomes queen.”

“I know Y/N hates the thought of being queen, but she’s never expressed a desire to leave.”

“Then you’ve clearly not been listening to a damn thing she’s said. The second I saw her, I knew she couldn’t stand being here. She doesn’t want to be here. She longs for more than royal duties and banquets.”

“Mousesack, did you try to speak to her?” Calanthe took her eyes from Geralt to look at the druid.

“I did, but she didn't want to talk to me or anyone else.”

Calanthe was silent for a few moments, trying to think of what needed to be done.

“I expect you to complete your job by tonight’s banquet, witcher.” She told him, passing him to go to the door to your chambers.

She knocked twice before opening the door.

You were still sitting in the window ledge, the anger that had once crossed your features was replaced with something more docile, something more saddening

Calanthe moved to sit on the ledge by your feet, reaching up to gently stroke your hair. You turned your head to her, meeting her worried gaze.

“I know this isn't easy for you, Y/N.” Her words were soft and gentle. “But your blood entitles you to this life.”

“I just want to see more than Cintra, grandmother.” You murmured quietly, leaning into her touch as she stroked your cheek.

“You know that I keep you from leaving the city because it's dangerous out there, Y/N. You are the heir to the throne of Cintra. Our people’s future rests on your shoulders and because of that, you can't be putting yourself into potentially dangerous situations.”

You turned your head away from her, nodding softly. Hearing what she said made you sick. It made your stomach twist and knot up.

“Have you a dress for tonight’s banquet?” Calanthe stood to her feet.

“Yes.” You gave a monotone answer. You didn't really have a dress. You had plenty in your wardrobe to pick from. But you wouldn't be attending the banquet.

“I’ll see you tonight, my dear.” Calanthe leaned down to kiss your forehead.

The door to your room closed quietly behind her.

You brought your knees to your chest, arms wrapping securely around them.

***

The falling sun was warm as its light peaked through trees at the far end of the garden. Your fingertips brushed across the stone wall that surrounded the garden you once deemed a haven.

You stopped at the entrance to the garden, your hands tugging the hood to your dark red cloak over your head. Then one of your hands went to the strap to the bag tucked safely beneath your cloak.

Though your mind was running at a speed which you couldn't keep up with, you couldn't find a single thought to focus on. Your heart was beating slowly, steadily.

This was your only chance to escape, your only chance for freedom. Everyone within the castle was bustling around to make sure the queen’s banquet was perfect and last minute things were taken care of. No one would focus on you and your whereabouts. You'd stayed in your room for the last two days. For all they knew, that was where you stayed.

You stepped into the garden, guilt weighing heavy on your heart. The plant life had suffered greatly with your sour emotions. Everything was wilted and dead, a nasty brown color opposed to beautiful green.

You moved through the garden with slow and quiet steps, breathing evenly as you focused on bringing the garden back to life.

You stopped at one of the ponds, spotting a frog sitting on a lily pad. You knelt down by the pond, dipping your fingers into the cold water.

You could feel someone enter the garden, their footsteps nearly silent but weighed heavy on the vines that crossed the walkway. You looked over your shoulder to see Geralt. Quickly you looked away from him and stood up, making your way towards the back of the garden.

“I can hear your footsteps, Princess.” His voice was low but bounced off of the stone walls within the garden.

You said nothing in reply to him. Would he try to make you stay? Or would he tell your grandmother of your escape? Would he notify the guards and have them chance you down before you could get very far?

At the very back of the garden in the southwest corner was a thick hedge, nestled into the stone wall. As you approached it, the hedge died, it's decaying branches falling to the ground to reveal an opening in the stone wall. You stepped over them and just as quickly as you slipped out of the small opening, you made the hedge come back to life and sealed the exit with thick vines.

You turned your back on the castle, eyes gliding over a small meadow just beyond castle was.

When you were young, you'd sneak out of the castle and sit in the meadow at night. You did this for weeks until one of your servants noticed your absence. After everyone freaked out and panicked, your secret escape was discovered.

The sound of something heavy landing behind you made you spin around. Geralt stood there in his armor, looking down at you. He had scaled the wall and jump down upon seeing you exit the garden.

“You can't stop me!” You told him, taking a step away from him. Your hold on your bag tightened, fearing you'd have to run from the witcher.

“I'm not going to stop you. Where do you plan on going?”

“I don't have to say shit to you.” You turned away from him but he wasn't letting you go just like that. He placed his hand on your arm and turned you around to face him.

“If you haven't got a plan, you'll end up dead in a week.”

“Good.” You jerked your arm out of his grip and started through the meadow. The moon wasn't full but it was bright enough to light your way.

You couldn’t hear his footsteps but you could feel them through the grass. He was a surprisingly silent walker.

Irritation festered in your veins and you couldn't handle it for very long. You turned to face him.

“Why are you following me? Just two days ago you said I could find out how to escape on my own. I have, so let me be.”

“I didn't think you'd actually be stupid enough to do it.”

“Is it stupid to want more from life? To want to make your life better?” You asked him, tilting your head to the side. He said nothing to you. “You said that you were dealt a life you didn't ask for. Have you made any attempts to make your life what you wanted from it?”

“Why can't you just be happy to be alive?” His words came out through gritted teeth. He was at war with himself, trying to tell himself that he needed to go tell Mousesack or even Calanthe that you were trying to run away. But another part of him wanted to go with you, to leave for Kaer Morhen where you'd be safe and where you had the potential to be happy.

“I want more than to just live, Geralt of Rivia!” You raised your voice, though it threatened to crack as you continued. “I want to feel the rain against my skin without a servant hurrying me inside in fear that I will catch a cold! I want to witness the sun rise from a cliff top in Skellige! I want to taste the salt from the sea that linger in the air in Novigrad! I want to hear music from the famed bards of Oxenfurt and not our shitty ones here in Cintra!”

You paused for a moment, searching his eyes as tears glossed your own. You weren't too sure why you were crying but you were sure it was because you thought he wouldn't let you leave Cintra.

“I-I want to meet a man and-and fall in love with him on my own terms. I don't want my life set out in front of me like some strategic plan for battle. I want to live not knowing what I will have for dinner tomorrow or even not knowing if I will wake the next morn.”

When the last word rolled off your tongue, you took a shaky deep breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“I can't allow you to make me stay here.” You told him, softly shaking your head. Your hand by your side turned so your palm was towards him. You lifted your hand up and as you did so, vines shot from the ground and wrapped around his legs.

“Y/N!” He growled, fighting the plants that were rendering him immobile.

“I-I’m sorry, Geralt. You left me no choice.”

You turned away from him and crossed the meadow, disappearing into the forest on the other side.

***

A twig snapped, making you still your movements.

The night was quiet. Some time ago, the sounds of wildlife had fallen silent. There was no longer the chirping of cicadas or the chattering of raccoons. You were left in complete silence and it made your skin crawl.

You looked around, eyes wide as you searched for anything but you could see nothing. Everything was black.

You began to turn around, feeling as though there was some force behind you.

A hand clasped around your mouth, covering your nose too. In the same instant, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back into a hard chest. You tried to cry out, tried to scream, but the hand muffled any noise and stopped you from being able to take in a breath.

“It's just me, princess.” Geralt breathed against your ear. You muffled out a few curse words, throwing your elbow back in an attempt to catch him in the ribs. It didn't seem to affect him. “I'm going to let you go but I need you to be silent. There's a foglet not too far from you.”

Your heart was beating in your ears and you couldn't help but struggle against him. Your lungs screamed for oxygen.

“Stay still.” His voice and breath sent shivers down your spine.

He was suddenly gone and you could breathe, though you did your best to keep quiet.

Something cried out and then there was the sound of a sword cutting through a body.

You could no longer stand to breathe through your nose, unable to pull in enough oxygen.

A hand was placed on your shoulder.

“How did you find me?”

“You've managed to go in circles for the last two hours. Tracking you wasn't difficult.”

“How far away from the castle am I?”

“Perhaps an hour’s journey.”

“Fuck.” You cursed, bringing your hand up to rub your temple.

“If you would've listened to me earlier, we'd be further away from here than we are now.” Geralt muttered. His touch left your arm and you panicked for a moment, fearing he was leaving you. Then his hand was placed on the small of your back.

“You…. You were going to go with me?” You furrowed your brows together.

He hummed an affirmation.

“Why did it take you so long to find me?”

“After escaping those damned vines, I returned to the castle to finish my job. Calanthe paid me and sent me on my way.”

“Did she say anything about me?” You asked.

“I heard her a few times mention you but my guess is that she just assumed you were staying in your room.”

In the darkness, you didn't see a tree root jutting out of the ground. You tripped and stumbled but Geralt held you firmly, one hand on your back and the other on your arm.

“We’re nearly there.”

“Where are you taking me?”

With your sight being useless, your ears picked up on his breathing. It was steady and quiet, something that you found oddly comforting.

“To the main road. Roach and your horse are waiting there for us. Once we get to them, we’ll travel until sunrise.”

“What after that?”

“I'll tell you when the time comes.”

You stopped suddenly. Geralt sighed heavily and tried to budge you to get you to move. If he tried hard enough, you knew he could make you move, but he only gave you a firm nudge.

“I don't want to be kept in the shadows, Geralt. I've been kept from things my entire life. If you are going to travel with me, you're going to tell me everything. I want no secrets.”

“If I were to leave you to travel alone, you’d wind up right back at the castle. Your sense of direction is horrendous.”

He had a point, but you were too stubborn to say he was right.

“When the sun comes up, we will hopefully be in a village six hours from the castle. There's an inn there we will stay at until early evening.” He gave you one final push and you moved, allowing him to guide you to the main road.

“Is that how all of our traveling is going to be? Moving at night and resting during the day?”

“At least until we get to Redania.”

When you finally got to the road, you could see the faint outline of your white mare. You smiled, happy that you wouldn't have to leave her.

Onc Geralt was sure you were on your horse, he mounted Roach and held on to the reins to Boots. This allowed him to guide your horse since you couldn't properly lead yourself.

You were overjoyed and excited. Geralt would ensure you got to wherever it was you wanted to go.

***

When the sun came up, Geralt made sure you had your hood on your head. He told you to keep your head down while he went in to the inn to get a room for the night. You offered him some of your coin but he declined, muttering a ‘no’ before moving away from you and the two horses.

You kept your head down, brushing your fingers over the fine leather of Boots’s saddle. You were exhausted, having traveled all night. You hadn't gotten much sleep in the few days leading up to your escape from the castle. But you forced your eyes open, wanting to take in every little detail of your journey.

Geralt returned to you shortly.

“I’ll take you up to the room and then take them to the stables outside of town.”

You nodded softly, sliding down from your horse with ease.

The second Geralt closed the door to your room behind himself, you settled on one side of the bed, closing your eyes.

***

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, braiding your hair over your shoulder as you watched the sun set through a window in the room. You'd been up for a while but hadn't ventured out of the room. You weren't too sure if leaving the room to find Geralt would be a good idea. You didn’t want to jeopardize your escape by risking the possibility of someone recognizing you.

Just as you finished the braid, the door to the room opened.

“Good. You’re awake.” He crossed the room to pick up his bag from the floor. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You firmly nodded your head, a little smile coming to your lips as you looked at him. “I never had a chance last night to thank you for helping me.”

“Don't thank me yet. Calanthe is sure to have the entire Cintran military searching for you. Perhaps even Skellige.”

“Is leaving now safe?”

“We leave now, or we risk running into a caravan of soldiers later on tonight. Word’s spread quick. I overheard someone downstairs saying they're coming to every town and searching every household.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You shook your head.

“You're the only heir Calanthe has, and she loves you dearly. She'd do anything for you.”

“Not anything.” You picked up your bag after slipping your cloak on. “I am ready.”

***

The sun had yet to set but you two were making good time on your journey. You had decided earlier to give him a break so you were walking. Geralt walked alongside you, humming every now and then to something you said but he didn't really care to listen to.

You came to a stop. You turned your head to survey the woods to your right and then to your left.

“Come on, princess.” Geralt told you.

“There's something in the woods.”

“It's hard to tell what-,”

“It’s dead.” You passed him the reins to Boots and took off into the woods, grabbing fistfuls of your skirts.

“Y/N!” He gritted his teeth together. “Damn it!”

You moved swiftly through the trees and undergrowth. Your heart was beating heavily in your chest. While you were unsure of what exactly made you dash off in such a hurry, you knew exactly when to stop. Laying in a patch of sunlight that broke through the canopy was the corpse of a deer. You stopped just a few feet from it, your heart jumping to your throat at the sight of the creature. The air in your lungs was forced out with a shaky breath.

Geralt was right behind you, brows drawn together and ready to shout all the reason why you shouldn’t have run away from him. He noticed the way your shoulders slumped and how your heart was beating fast. Your lips were parted and tears were in your eyes.

“It-It’s dead.” You whispered. He looked past your shoulder to see the animal.

“Looks like it had a broken leg. Starved to death.” Geralt took note of the lack of scavenging. It must’ve died within the day.

You moved towards it, hands fisting your skirts so that it wouldn’t be tugged on the undergrowth. You all but collapsed to your knees by its head, your hand stroking the reddish brown fur on its neck. Its dark eyes were glazed over.

Geralt wanted to say something but he could feel a sudden rush in his head and he felt a little dizzy. There was a shift in the energy in the air. Your magic was strong and potent. It was electrifying and made his skin tingle.

With your hand on its neck, you breathed evenly, focusing on healing the doe and bringing her back to life. Within seconds, the creature blinked and jolted awake, scrambling to get to her feet. You watched in awe as she ran off into the woods, making her hasty getaway.

Geralt’s enhanced hearing was able to catch the sound of beating hooves against the dirt road where he’d left Roach and Boots.

“Princess, we must go.”

You nodded softly, standing to your feet and rubbing your hands together. But as soon as you were on your feet, your head spun. Geralt was by your side in an instant, his arm sturdy around your waist.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded in reply.

***

You knelt down by the small fire, warming your hands a safe distance from the flames. Geralt sat across the fire from you, messing with one of his swords. You stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from your skirts, then sat down against a tree not too far from the fire.

“How did you do that earlier?” He lifted his head to look across the fire at you.

“I did the same as I do with my plants.” You shrugged your shoulders softly. You weren't entirely sure what you had done, but you did it the same way you fixed your plants that were wilting or dead.

“How could you sense it all the way from the road?” Geralt sheathed his sword and placed it aside.

“I can…. I don't know. It’s like I can feel things through the plants. Like….” You looked around the little makeshift campsite. Your eyes landed on Geralt. “Just behind you in the woods behind a honeysuckle bush is an animal. A fox.”

The witcher nodded. He could hear the quiet creature’s heartbeat.

“Is it weird that I can do that? I can move plants?” Your voice lowered to a timid murmur.

“It isn't something that the average human can do, but I wouldn't call it weird.”

You dropped your gaze to the fire, a soft smile finding its way to your lips.

A sudden gust of wind blew through. You shivered, holding your cloak tight to your form.

“You chose a shit time to leave.” Geralt sighed as he stood to his feet and moved around the fire to get to your side. “Traveling north isn't something many do in the winter.”

You watched him closely, unsure of what he was doing. He sat down beside you.

“Want me to keep you warm?” You asked him, softly teasing him.

He muttered something incoherent under his breath. You scooted closer to him so you could tuck yourself into his side. He hesitantly put his arm around you, allowing you to sink further into his side.

***

As days passed, you drew closer and closer to the border of Cintra. Geralt said you would go through Sodden to cross over the Yaruga river. From there, he said you would have better luck traveling without worrying about Calanthe’s military.

It was a calm night. The air was bitter but the moon was shining brightly in the sky. The canopy above the trees prevented you from seeing the moon but you didn't mind.

You sat near the fire, playing with a twig to keep your hands occupied. Geralt had gone off into the woods to search for better firewood. Apparently just any log wouldn't work.

You had enjoyed every second of your journey with the witcher. A ball of tension was knotting up in your stomach. He mentioned earlier that you'd only have two more days until you reached Sodden. After that, you'd part ways. You'd never see the White Wolf again.

You jumped when an armful of logs hit the ground with a loud pound.

“Thought I told you to listen for any unwanted company.” He sat down a few feet away to mess with the fire.

“I was.”

“No, you weren't. If you were listening, I wouldn't have scared you.”

You brought your eyes down to the twig in your hand.

Geralt could see that you were deep in thought still. You were physically there next to him, but your mind was a hundred miles away.

“What's on your mind?” He asked quietly. You shrugged your shoulders. “Are you regretting leaving?”

“No.” You answered quickly, bringing your eyes up to him. “I regret nothing.”

“Then why do you look so lost?”

“I was just…. just thinking about the man my grandmother was going to marry me off to.” You brushed the pad of your thumb over the twig. “His name is Phillip. He’s a knight.”

“The one you were dancing with at your banquet?”

“That is him. He was the one who gave me the rose the day of my banquet.”

Geralt watched as the twig in your hand trembled and turned green. A red rose bloomed right before his eyes.

“I feel quite sorry for him.” You leaned forward to toss the rose into the fire. “He thought he had a chance at taking my hand, at being king. He always treated me like a child. And his chivalry….” Your nose crinkled up like you were disgusted by the thought.

Geralt chuckled just a little.

“Don't get me wrong. He was handsome.” Your eyes flickered over to the witcher. “But he only had flowers to give.”

“And you want more than just flowers.” Geralt remembered the conversation you had the day he found you sitting in the window in the library. “Tell me, princess. What is it that qualifies as more than flowers in your book?”

A grin cracked across your lips and you brushed your hair back.

“Well, master witcher. For example, all Phillip had to offer me was his bad jokes and long life within the castle. You….” You trailed off, unable to catch yourself.

Geralt tilted his head up a little more, holding your gaze. You cleared your throat and directed your eyes to the fire.

“A man like you, for example, would have more to offer. A life of excitement and adventure.”

“You’d be mistaken if you think my life is all excitement and adventure, princess.”

“Oh, I know it isn’t. A life of excitement and adventure doesn’t gift you with scars.” You lowered your voice to be more gentle. “I’m not naive to the cost that comes with being a witcher, Geralt. I’ve heard of how terrifying and traumatizing it is to become one. Very few chose to become witchers.”

You weren’t even sure where you were going with your rambling anymore. You couldn’t explain to him what you meant when you said excitement and adventure. You couldn’t explain it without letting him know that the journey with him had been one you will never forget. It was exciting and wondrous. The thought of parting ways with him saddened you.

“It’s getting late.” Geralt commented, ending the very poor conversation right there.

You nodded your head and watched him settle down. You shivered a little, crossing your arms tightly over yourself. You stood to your feet and moved around the fire. His eyes followed you the entire time.

“I’m cold.” You told him, laying down in front of him. You scooted back until your back was pressed to his chest. He seemed to stiffen up at your actions but said nothing. With a heavy exhale, which tickled your neck, he put his arm around you and held you close.

You smiled a little, glad that he didn’t try to stop you.

Geralt couldn’t deny that he wasn’t looking forward to leaving you once you reached Sodden. While he didn’t usually care for company during his travels, he enjoyed having you by his side. You were fascinated with everything. You’d stop at the sight of rabbits running across the road, smiling as you watched where they disappeared in the undergrowth. You’d stop to marvel at a mother goose that was herding her little goslings around a pond. You giggled rather joyously as a flock of little birds emerged from thick bushes, chirping and flying towards the canopy that provided shade over the road. You’d gasp at the sight of a butterfly, watching it flutter past you. Your happiness was contagious, your smile made him smile.

Geralt had never been able to smell your happiness. At the castle, you were bitter and bored, but in the woods you were free to do whatever pleased your heart.

Geralt swore he’d never seen someone so fascinated with every little living thing in the forest. He knew the time to part ways was drawing near, but he couldn’t help dragging it out. Leaving you was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Unbeknownst to you, he chose the more scenic route to offer you different views and sights he thought you'd like. These scenic routes were out of the way but your reactions were well worth the added on time.

It was a shame he couldn’t keep you by his side after you reached Sodden.

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heroinepose · 4 years

Text

two a.m.

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader Word Count: 2,316 (Yes, I lost control of this.) Warnings: None. We’re in fluff land again, friends. Someday the porn fairy will visit, but today is not that day.

Finals are stressful, even in your second year, and sleep doesn’t come easy with such a tall order ahead of you. It’s a damn good thing the company is so good.

This was written as an entry to @heroheads’ 500 follower contest! Congratulations on hitting a milestone -- your work is amazing and you deserve it!

The looming final exams are becoming a menace in more ways than one. Almost all of your spare time has been dedicated to studying, training or sleep in the last three weeks. The challenges your teachers will issue in realtime are less worrisome to you as a second-year than the ones that come on paper, now that you think you know what they’ll be like. They’ll focus more on problem-solving and working on the fly; beyond making sure you’re as physically prepared as possible, you know your time is better spent studying for the written exams and making sure you’re rested.

… which makes it all the more infuriating that you can’t sleep.

The last couple of nights in particular have been rough, but at least last night you’d managed to get a few hours of good rest. Tonight it’s been a fruitless endeavor, and the weariness settles down to your very bones as you shut the door of your dormitory behind you as quietly as possible, stepping out into the faintly humid night air with a mug of tea clutched securely in your hand. Sitting on one of the steps leading up to the entryway, you heave an exhausted sigh as you settle down, lifting your mug to your lips and inhaling the sweet, herbaceous scent of chamomile and honey.

Heights Alliance is peaceful at night. It is the one blessing attached to being up so far into the wee hours: the solitude is truly tranquil out here on the front steps, with little but the humming of the streetlights and the rhythmless chirping of crickets to distract you. With the light pollution from campus and the surrounding area, you can’t see the stars as well, but the moon hangs full and only a little hazy above the treeline, dampening the orange glow from the always-on walkway lighting. Sipping carefully at the hot liquid in your mug, you tip your head back and close your eyes, pulling slow even breaths through your nose to try to lull yourself into some kind of meditative state. If you could just relax, force your body to slow down …

You’re not certain how long you’ve been sitting like that when you hear the telltale crunch-and-slide of someone’s footfalls up the walking path to the building, eyes snapping open to see who else could possibly be up at this hour. It takes a moment for you to refocus, tired eyes struggling to make out the figure from this distance in the dark. It isn’t until he passes directly under one of the lights lining the pathway inside the gate that you can clearly make it out as your classmate, Shinsou Hitoshi, very clearly out past curfew. His hands are jammed in his pockets, eyes low but ahead of him, lost in thought. You’ve watched him for so long -- since that first Sports Festival, naturally, but particularly after he joined the Hero Course -- that it’s a posture you recognize almost as much as you recognize your own tells, and while you’re no stranger to his dark circles, you would never have called seeing him here, now.

It makes your heart swell to aching to cross paths with him alone in daylight, but the lack of sleep and the stillness of the night makes it worse. You’d tried, you really had, to simply be content with a collegial relationship with the boy who didn’t join the program to make friends, but somehow that had twisted itself into the kind of friendship he had been avoiding so adamantly. … and then, on your part at least, it had gotten worse. He's clever, straightforward, and although he's certainly reserved, he’s been a remarkable support in the last year. In hindsight, it seems natural that it would have evolved on its own, out of control. You can’t help your feelings, but you do keep them buried, certain that he’s not at all interested in you.

Rather than call out to him, you choose to wait it out, sipping idly at your tea. He doesn’t appear to notice you as he draws closer to the front steps, hidden as you are near one of the columns. You’re not actually trying to scare him, but with his face tucked penseively into the top folds of his capture weapon, he won’t notice you at all if you don’t say something. Swallowing the tea in your mouth, you manage a smile as his foot hits the second step.

“Someone’s breaking curfew,” you singsong from your perch in the shadow of the dorm, watching his shoulders hitch slightly. His hands remain in his pockets as he turns, and you lift one hand from your mug to wave good-naturedly at him when he registers your presence and inclines his head to glower directly at you.

“Someone should speak for themselves,” Shinsou mocks, although there’s no venom in it. “Should you be out here?”

“Ah, but I’m still on the front steps! I’m not out anywhere,” you reason, pointing at the remaining stairs that lead to the footpath he’s just taken through the courtyard. “Can’t get in trouble for breaking curfew if I never left, can I?”

You hear him chuckle before he changes direction, walking across the steps to sit next to you and finally removing his hands from his pockets. “I think your Hero Law scores have gone to your head. You’re drunk with power.” The backhanded praise and the grin that lingers on his face makes the heat creep into yours, and you take a long sip of hot tea to cover it.

“If only!” It’s a wistful sigh, head tipping back dramatically as you roll your eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m mostly drunk on lack of sleep.”

“Which is why you’re sitting on the steps at two in the morning,” Shinsou guesses, and you confirm the assumption with a slight shrug, turning your mug around in your hands.

“I’ve tried everything else, so I thought fresh air might help.” You nudge him with your shoulder, jostling him only slightly in his seat next to you. “Now, why are you sitting on the steps at two in the morning?”

He leans in conspiratorially, and you find yourself leaning too, before you can stop yourself. “Because some creepy woman lurking in the shadows startled me.” Your face falls.

“Shinsou,” you scold, and he cracks a smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Seriously, you were already gone when I got out here and you’re only just getting back. Where did you go?” A thought occurs to you, a mild tightness in your chest, and you risk asking the question in the form of a joke. “Did you get a secret girlfriend when none of us were looking?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmurs, averting his gaze and dropping his hand so both of his elbows rest on his knees. There are a few beats of silence between you.

“... secret boyfriend?”

He moves, as if to stand, with a great sigh. “Okay, I’m going inside --”

“I’m joking!” You’re whisper-shouting, to avoid calling attention to either of you, tugging on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Shinsou, please. I know, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry I asked.”

The movement stops, and he settles on the step next to you, reaching over to take your mug right out of your hand. You’re so startled that you don’t stop him, watching him lift it slightly. “If that’s what you think, maybe you’re drunk on whatever is in here, not power. When would I have even had the time?” He reaches behind the both of you to set it down as your fingers slip from his sleeve, the dull clink of ceramic against concrete surprisingly loud in the quiet of the night.

“It’s just tea,” you grouse, but you make no move to reclaim it. The brush of his arm against you is comfort enough to replace its warmth -- that and the relief that he isn’t off seeing someone, not that you have any right to feel that way. “Anyway, I’m entitled to be a little worried when my friends wander home so late.”

“Your friends come home after midnight that often?” Shinsou’s tone is light; he knows he’s caught you out. He’ll make you say it, though, because that’s always his game.

“No,” you sigh. “You’re the first. Still ...”

There’s another lull where he says nothing, considering you as you look out into the empty courtyard. Your brows are furrowed, like you’re thinking much too hard about something. Maybe it’s the late -- early? -- hour, but he seems emboldened slightly by your aversion to looking at him.

“Still …?” He presses. “Why would you worry about me?”

Your breath hitches a little when you draw a breath to respond, cutting your eyes over to him briefly as you choose your words. His dark circles are more pronounced here in the shadows, and maybe it’s the way the fiber of his capture weapon looks like spun silver at night, but it brings up a flood of concern you haven’t voiced since he was accepted to the hero program at the start of the year.

“You worked so hard to get here,” you say, words slow and deliberate. You’re concentrating so hard on being careful that you fail to notice how he stops breathing. “I think you might have worked harder than anyone else I know. Saying it out loud sounds stupid, I guess, but I worry about how you handle it all.” One breath and you’re rambling, mind racing with the effort to dance around what you want to say: that you care for him, that you’re always cheering him on, but how much he worries you. “You deserve to be here, Shinsou. You deserve to become a hero, and you’re -- you’re my friend, and sometimes I worry that if you’re not taking care of yourself --”

It happens so quickly you’re not quite sure how he’s done it, but you’re silenced by the assertive tug of fingers beneath your chin, pulling you to face him. Then all you can feel is his lips on yours, the scent of cedar and something faintly minty overwhelming you, and even the crickets seem to stop. All you can process is the fact that oh, he’s kissing you. Shinsou Hitoshi just kissed you.

You feel as if you might implode. It’s soft, and warm, but unpracticed -- somehow, though, it’s everything you’d imagined it would be, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. You didn’t think he’d be the type to really go for it on the first try like others you’ve kissed who were all teeth and tongue right out of the gate, and a private part of you is gratified to be right, a shiver working its way down your spine as he adjusts his fingers against your jaw.

He pulls away carefully, but the warmth in your chest spurs you on, looping your fingers in the capture weapon draped around his neck to pull him in again, lean in further. You feel him sigh against you, a soft exhale through his nose, and can’t help the twitch of your lips into a smile against his. You hold him there a few long seconds more before you pull away, realizing how warm your face is now that he’s not so close.

“Finally,” Shinsou breathes, his voice close to a whisper. “Took you long enough.” Your jaw drops immediately, hand still curled in the fabric draped along his shoulders.

“Me?” You say, loud enough to actually get him to shush you quietly, reaching up to grab your hand where it rests against his capture weapon in an attempt to distract you, calm you down. It works, if only because the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours sends something akin to electricity rocketing up your arm. You take a breath, release it in a huff, before lowering your voice. “What about you, Mr. I’m Not Here to Make Friends, and Therefore Not Date People?”

The man in question quirks a brow, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I don’t believe I ever said that last part.”

“Does one not kind of preclude the other?”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” he laughs, “but we can argue semantics in a few hours if you’re really that hung up on it.”

“Shinsou!” It’s more of a hiss than anything, trying to regulate your volume as he lets go of your hand, reaching behind you for your long-forgotten mug and standing up at last. You’re pouting up at him when he offers you the other, his grin only a little smug as you take it and allow him to pull you up. He uses the momentum to pull you into just one more kiss, little more than a brief peck against your lips, a way to silence your argument for now. You let him, breathing deeply as he pulls away.

“It’s late. Just sleep on it,” he offers, “and if you still feel that strongly about it in the morning, let me walk you to class so you can yell at me some more.”

That sly bastard. You smile in spite of yourself, watching him as he pulls you up the stairs, closer to the door. Once inside, he keeps hold of your hand as you deposit your mug in the sink -- you can deal with the whining about leaving things there in the morning -- parting ways with you only when you need to split up and head to your respective sides of the building, barely-there whispers of goodnight and seriously, go to bed the last of your affectionate gestures for the moment. The full weight of what’s occurred on the front steps hits you as the elevator doors close, leaning against the interior wall and looking at yourself in the reflection of the metal.The smile stuck on your face widens a little, giddy with the knowledge that he likes you back.

Suddenly, a peaceful few hours’ sleep doesn’t seem so difficult.

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #heroheads 500 follower writing contest #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #i still don't know what tags to use aaaaah #anyway i'm glad i could write this!!!#even if i lost all control over it at some point

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years

Text

Chamomile {Part III}

Eda and Amity share a cup of tea.

In front of her, her chin resting upon sharp and well kept nails, her eyes that had seen so much so intense, the Owl Lady, Edalyn Clawthorne, watched in expectancy, hardened eyes. Her posture relaxed still, no overt animosity. At least none directed towards the girl, the woman seemed to simply try to convey the weight behind the question, to tell the young Blight that all sincerity was needed now. She was face to face with the still most powerful witch in the whole of the Boiling Isles. No loss of magic, no curse, no cheap tricks her enemies pulled off would ever change that. Magic was not the cause for her overwhelming power, curses were no impediment, tricks were no obstacles for a woman such as this. The surrogate mother of the one who changed Amity in so short a period sat in front of her. The queen, sat upon her throne, undisputed with her crown above her head, awaited for Amity, the Blight,’s answer.

Amity took a long sip of her cup of chamomile, still hot enough, but not scalding anymore. There was no right nor wrong answer to a question like that. Emboldened by the warm drink, her Blight composure, her heritage, restored. Amity chose to take yet another leap of faith, a firm unwavering voice offered.

“I am Amity Blight. A student at Hexside, top of the class in the abomination track. Sister to Edric and Emira Blight. Daughter to Alador and Odalia. Used to be captain of the Banshees. I used to dream about joining the Emperor’s coven. I used to have light brown hair, but that’s green now. And a witch in love with a human.”

Eda’s eyes still studied the young witch. Her unchanged posture not giving away whether Amity’s answer had had any results. Still, the girl couldn’t help but to pride on her own composure. Taking a sip of her own, Eda finally answered.

“You know that none of that answers my question, don’t you? But it sounds like we’re getting there. We have time. Maybe we should keep with the theme instead. Why don’t you tell me about Willow? You messed her head real good that day of the photo class incident, you know?”

Looking off to the side, a different kind of blush coloring her pale features, Amity shrunk slightly.

“Yeah... I learned my lesson though. I won’t be messing with anyone’s memories again, I promise.”

Eda let out a chuckle.

“That’s not what I mean, kid. I mean how you messed her head after that, when you went there with Luz to fix things. I had a little chat about it with plant girl. She’s got no idea what to make of you, but, honestly, I don’t think she needs to. It should come from you, your initiative. You left the work unfinished, that’s what trying to get at. Still, I’m curious as to how the two of you got to that point. She told me what she saw there, inside her head. So did Luz. I know how it all started. That doesn’t explain how it went so far. How you, Amity Blight, allowed things to get so out of hand. And look, I’m not a cop, and in case you didn’t know I’m not in that bastard’s coven either. This is not an interrogation, if you don’t want to answer we can just finish our tea and that’ll be it. But…”

“No, I do need to answer that though. Don’t I?” Amity blurted out, cutting Eda’s words short. “Did they tell you what my parents told me that day? About what they’d do to Willow if I didn’t cut ties with her?”

“They did. It explains a lot, but not everything.”

“I know. She was my best friend, my parents were a threat to her. I wanted to protect her.”

“By pushing her away? That hard?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was like 9 when that all happened. So I figured that if I made her not want to be around she’d eventually just go away. But… I don’t know. You’ll probably think I’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me. I’m used to crazy.”

“I… I know you have no reason to like me, I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation. It just feels so weird, and I think you’ll end up hating me by the end of it.”

“I won’t hate you kid. I promise you. That ship sailed away long ago. Look, Amity, I’ve been in your shoes before, kinda. I know where you’re coming from and I don’t plan on hating you, nor do I have the right to.”

Amity wanted to believe Eda’s words, but, in the end, whether she did so or not was entirely irrelevant and she knew it. The conversation needed to continue regardless. Even if she couldn’t tell if it was due to fear of failure, the woman’s intimidating figure, or something else. Lifting her hands she drinks of her teacup, Luz’s human folksy wisdom, as Eda put it, seeming to be right. The tea and the image of her paramour helped her gather some much needed courage, even if the conversation clearly didn’t relate to her anymore, that still helped. Tucking a strand of green behind her ear, she continued.

“Okay then. Well… She insisted, for a while at least. A long while. Couple of years at least. Everyday she came to me during recess and I pushed her away and made her cry. And I would go back home after class, lock myself in my room and do the same until I fall asleep. And that would keep repeating, at least once every week, a cycle. I hated when that happened. And she would always approach me with this shy smile, calling me Ami as she used to. But… I was trying to bury this Ami girl, I thought I didn’t need her, worse yet, I thought this Ami girl was a danger to Willow herself. And Willow insisted on bringing her back… I…”

“You had to up the game, right?”

Eda’s motivations were still a mystery to Amity, she couldn’t fathom where this barrage of question was coming from. The did seem to come from a place of genuine interest however, way beyond idle curiosity. Whatever it was, it imbued Amity with a sense of being compelled to answer Eda’s questions. For an inscrutable reason, Amity wanted to answer. She didn’t owe Eda anything, she had no obligation to, but she wanted to answer. It was as though this nearly perfect stranger cared enough to want to hear what she had to say. Such generosity shouldn’t go unpaid.

“No, not myself at least… I had to find others and let them do it instead. I couldn’t bring myself to actually be as cruel with her as I needed, or as I thought I needed to be. But I knew people who could be just that. I tried to nudge her in the right direction, I knew her grades were slipping. Help her in a brutal way, in short that was the idea. All while surrounding myself with the people who were actually capable of hurting her. A buffer, I guess… Mother had already started dyeing my hair by that point. I tried to convince her not to, she told me tantrums were unbecoming.”

“So, that’s it? You were trying to help Willow. A twisted kind of tough love? Why can’t you bring yourself to look at me while you’re telling me all this if that’s the case?”

“No… That’s not all. I think... I lost sight of things in the mean time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t see Willow anymore. Like, literally. I wouldn’t see her face when we’d come across each other at school or in her last few attempts to approach me. Her hair was green, sometimes brown, her voice was older. And I tried to see her as her younger self sometimes. To see the girl I was trying to protect, the girl I took swimming lessons with, my best friend. My old friend. But I couldn’t anymore. She stopped calling me Ami, just Amity, or even Blight sometimes. That last one stung the first time I heard it. Anyway. I couldn’t see my friend in her anymore, I’d gotten used to pushing her away as hard as I could. It became second nature. I think the scariest part was this one day, when I suddenly realized I was at the school halls looking for her. Actively looking for her. No one in between us, just me and her. I wanted to be the one to hurt her this time. I don’t even remember what caused it, it doesn’t matter now. I was actively looking for her as a target. I think a part of me felt entitled to do all that, maybe even liked it. Yeah… I see your face, there’s no denying I liked that though. Up to a point at least. Once I realized what was happening, what I was doing, I managed to turn around and make my way back to class. But, just when I turned the very last corner. There she was, green hair and all. You can imagine how that played out. At least it wasn’t that long before Luz arrived, just a couple of months, I think.”

“What do you make of her nowadays?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about her so often, I try not to.”

“You should. You should try to think about her as much as you can. he believed it, you know? That half-a-witch thing, she bought into it hook, line, and sinker. And then someday you just show up and turn everything upside down. You show her that she herself was not the reason for anything that happened, that she was not the reason why called herself half-a-witch for so long. I think you’ll be friends again, eventually. That, what you did when you fixed the mess you made in photo class, when you showed her what your parents did to you, that was a firm first step. But the journey before all restorations are made is much longer than just one firm first step. You need to think about her, Amity. You need to talk to her, really try and patch things up. Not just for her sake, really.”

Eda sighed, Amity couldn’t voice her cowardice, not again, especially when it came to someone who had offered this so rare courtesy. She didn’t want to disappoint Eda. Amity felt like a baby or toddler must feel when held by their parent, not that this is how she’d describe it. She couldn’t show her shame to someone like that, not with words at least, and that seemed to be a sentiment the woman was familiar with. After a long moment of pregnant silence, Eda continued.

“I get it. I really do. For what it counts I wouldn’t paint you as a monster for what happened, it wasn’t just your fault alone, you were powerless for the most part. But at the end of the day, shared guilt is guilt all the same. Whether you threw the stones, whether you threw the first one, whether you were just supplying stones for someone else to throw. At the end of the day you had a crucial part in it, and you can’t do anything about that. Those stones flew because you either let them or made them do so. Asking Willow to just forgive you, with nothing in return, that’s the same as just throwing yet another stone, straight at her face. Probably that’d be the heaviest stone yet. Let me put it this way, when you were going after Willow, or pushing her away as you put it, she wasn’t seeing anyone other that you, Amity. Not your mother, not your father, no Blights. Just you. Worse yet she probably was seeing that Ami girl you mentioned. She isn’t any older than you, after all. She may know now that that wasn’t entirely the case, but you made your choices. Wrong ones maybe, you were a child too after all. A child put into a very bad spot. But you did those mistakes, and you kept on making them for years, and she had to pay the price as much as you. But then again, Luz told me something weird about you the other day. How she caught you at the library reading to kids, putting up a whole performance. Otabin, wasn’t it? You told her it was for extra credits, right? Yeah, I don’t really buy that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you also made a choice there and I don’t buy that extra credits bullshit. Those kids will probably remember you as the nice and weird girl that read wholesome stories to them. You chose to let them remember you that way the same way you chose to make Willow see you as more and more of a monster.”

“I don’t… I never really put a lot of thought on that to be honest.”

“You also chose to go and play grudgby against that girl, Luz told me the two of you are, or were, friends with. Boscha, isn’t it? And you did it to defend both Luz and Willow, despite knowing full well there was likely to be some kind of backlash. And you chose to go back screaming bloody murder, jumping from nine feet up in the air – seriously, how did you even get up there? - all to help Luz fight Grom. You chose those things the same way you chose to push Willow away or to duel Luz at the covention.”

“That note, the one Grom shredded. It was meant for Luz, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I told you that, didn’t I? Why does that matters here?”

“It matters because you also chose not to give her that note, the knowledge of your feelings for her. You chose to hide yourself from her, and then you chose to come here for this sleepover.”

Amity finally made eye contact with Eda again. Her image of the woman, from the stories she heard of the dangerous criminal, from Luz’s motherly mentor, from their few interactions before that night, was of a youthful, energetic, and powerful witch. The gray in her hair but a footnote. Now, however, the difference of age between the two of them couldn’t be ignored. She saw the wrinkles, the gray eye, matching her hair. She briefly wondered if this was how Luz saw Eda as well. For the first time Eda looked tired.

“I… didn’t want her to reject me.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious. But why did you think she would do that?”

“I just told you didn’t I? All of that, all I did to Willow. Isn’t that enough.”

“She did invite you over today, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but...”

Amity couldn’t continue with her answer.

“But...?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know why she decided to invite me, why she wanted to be my friend despite everything I did to Willow, and even to her. I know that I can’t have left the best first impression.”

“She still invited you though. She chose to. Why would she reject you?”

“Its not… Its not like that, I guess. You’re right, she’s not the type to just turn her back. I love that about her. But I can’t help the feeling that if she knew me, really knew me, she’d do just that. Just turn around and leave me behind. And we were still just starting to become friends then, so there’s that.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear once more. If Eda had tried to keep track of how many times Amity had done that she’d sure have lost count by now. But seeing the older witch leaning towards her with a kind smile, placing her hand in her shoulder, squeezing it lightly but firmly, she doubt she had made such attempt.

“Kid, I gotta tell you. That’s by far the dumbest thing you’ve said all night.”

#sho #THE OWL HOUSE #amity blight #luz noceda #edalyn clawthorne

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 41: The Dementor

Regulus had never considered the rocking motion of the train any comfort. In fact it made him sick to his stomach, this bit of transportation was as good as the embodiment of every expectation he'd ever had put on him in his life. Now he was trapped in a compartment with a list of people he'd never have asked for, and the book chose to fall onto his head.

He rubbed the spot and glared up at the luggage compartment where he was unsurprised to see Hedwig snoozing in her cage next to a very battered briefcase with a tag hanging off the edge, but he was distracted from making out the handwriting by the cat carrier still sealed shut. Crookshanks was obviously still inside, he could see his squashed orange face trying to peer down below. Regulus briefly wondered why Scabbers wasn't present up there as well, but perhaps if he'd remained on Ron's person he wouldn't be present?

The pets were the lucky ones, remaining up there while a thick layer of tension sat on all the seats. The Marauders were clearly no happier than the other three to be forced back into such a small space, Evans had made quick work of checking the compartment door to make this otherwise. Nothing came of it, so Regulus was left in the awkward position of sitting across from his brother next to the window with two groups of people on each side. One thought his brother a cold-blooded murder in this future, the others insisting otherwise. He kept waiting for someone to demand he pick a side.

Yet no one had. Sirius hadn't asked him what he really thought of this, nor had his fellow purebloods in Longbottom and Smith turned to him and tried to say their point on the matter to him. This time, he was really left to make a decision. He tried to imagine what his mother would say about this, stand by the purebloods side and defend such accusations, or would Sirius being who he was would not get such a reprieve from their mother. It seemed like an honest toss. Then he remembered his mother didn't always know what's best anyways, she'd been wrong about the Dark Lord and who knew what else. So maybe, for once, he should come to his own conclusion without an outside voice.

He licked his lips with nerves and instead began flipping through to the new slot of empty pages for now. As always words materialized at the new chapter, entitled The Dementor. For a moment he was sure that one lone word would break the heavy silence around him, nobody could disagree those scourges of the Earth could mean anything good to come. Rain continued to lash upon the windows outside, the train rocked violently and kept trucking on no matter the gale force winds making it all so much worse, and the luggage above creaking was still the only accompaniment noise, until, "hope the food trolley still comes around," Pettigrew said into the awkward silence.

Regulus chuckled with agreement to that at least, glancing around to see every one of them making some indication of agreement as he began.

James was grateful Harry didn't get the chance to repeat any of this to his friends while the Weasley family was scrambling to pack for the train. He didn't need any of the vilifying comments against Sirius repeated, least of all the ones concerning Harry. It was all ridiculous to the extreme and he hoped something changed soon other than having to hear of this horrid news.

He'd really been hoping nothing of interest would take place, for once, but Harry didn't even get a chance to hop aboard the train before Arthur Weasley was pulling him aside and laying it all on even worse. Even if some You-Know-Who supporting murderer was after Harry, which wasn't Sirius!, who on Earth was crazy enough to think his son would go looking for him? It somehow even made less sense than putting Sirius' name into the mix, and he wouldn't have thought that possible moments ago.

Remus was already exhausted by the constant glares being shared across the small space. Squashed between Sirius and James, he was getting the majority of them. It's not as if he wasn't used to such looks, their group wasn't exactly popular when they were the reason a whole corridor was ducking for cover. Not to mention Evans seemed to have made it her personal mission to glare at them as many times as was humanly possible and beyond. It felt different now though, that they didn't have a corridor to exit from, a class to get to, something else to occupy their time in between constantly having to put on a face for others.

Time was a wonky mess, and it had been since all this started. He was sagging back in his seat in a dead exhaustion, eyes heavy lidded and ready to take a long and restless sleep from a full moon he hadn't run. He could feel it in his bones though, that it should have happened, and this had been going on for, days? It was impossible to tell.

Regulus' voice was calm enough though as Harry began looking about the train for a place to sit, and he was quite warm. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lolled off to sleep, and Sirius' shoulder just so happened to be rather comfortable... "Professor R. J. Lupin."

Said man snapped out of his seat as if he'd been electrocuted, suddenly wired and quite alive, chest heaving as he looked from Regulus to his friends and back as if waiting for someone to scream, 'gotcha.'

None did. His three friends were looking at him like he was a ghost, the other four had their faces scrunched up in a variety of expressions stating incredulity this news existed.

"Well, there goes our idea the rest of us are dead," Sirius spoke, his voice barely heard in the howling wind.

"I, I don't understand!" He choked out, gazing up at the luggage rack where it still sat, plain as day. Fingers trembling so hard he could barely grasp the handle, surely his shaking hand would make the weather beaten suitcase come apart before he found the latch.

"Obvious ain't it," Evans muttered, her eyes now narrowed even farther with mistrust.

She was ignored, finally Peter took pity on him and reached over to release the contents. Maybe it was some insane coincidence with some other man's initials, but that idea was ruined as Remus couldn't keep his fumbling hold and everything fell to the floor.

There were a few different sets of patched robes that were several sizes too large that covered most of the foot room now, a bar of chocolate that had landed half under Frank's seat, and a few bathroom belongings that could have fairly belonged to anyone.

Then there were the rest of the things peeking out that only the Marauders could have known to associate with their friend. One of those articles of clothing was an old threadbare cardigan all four of them had taken turns wearing so many times, none even knew who the original owner was. Several books were dog eared with messy scribbles in Moony's handwriting all over varying Dark beasts of the world, bits of parchment on a mound of subjects all bound together as if waiting for notes to properly be taken, and on the bottom inside of the suitcase was a crudely hand drawn circle.

All four of their eyes were drawn to it, lost in the memory of choosing something so simple yet personal to them to put on every bit of luggage they owned. A full moon, a letter in each of their chosen names, something with no ending or beginning and was simply meant to last forever.

"Moony," Sirius broke into his frozen mind, but the expression on his face left him clueless what was coming next. "Congratulations on making something of your life, at least one of us did."

That smile was fake, the jesting tone was forced, but Sirius was making an effort not to let the others see the pit twisting him up inside at the idea now being presented before them. That their friend was alive and well, and a teacher of all things, while Merlin knew what was going on with Sirius.

Regulus just snorted and muttered about the odds as he continued, but the Marauders couldn't bring themselves to pay attention to anything else he said. The kids dissolved into talking of Hogsmeade and all sorts of things, even Sirius again, but they were pretty fixated on this new bit of information and had no way to get it out of their system.

What had Remus been doing all this time if not spending every day with the Marauders? What was this future like if Sirius had really been in Azkaban this whole time and Prongs long dead. What about Wormtail, had he just moved on with his life as well? Did the two even keep in contact? The idea seemed ludicrous to question now, but all four of them were suddenly faced with the very real idea none had ever questioned before now, what was really in store for them?

Alice watched with curiosity, and even some worry, as the more that was exposed this year the quieter the Marauders got. It wasn't natural. Not once in the years she'd been in their vicinity had they ever been any such thing even close to this. Even if they weren't laughing obnoxiously, shouting to each other about all their jokes, or whispering in the corridors, these pale wide eyed faces looked alien.

When Regulus mentioned Harry's birthday Sneakoscope going off and the silence persisted in here, she got up curiously and located Harry's trunk above her head. She had to rummage for a few moments before finding a nasty pair of yellow socks the little top was indeed inside of, but even as she held it out for inspection it wasn't going off now.

"Wonder what's got it in a twist round them then?" Frank happily picked apart this new puzzle, hearing nothing but the younger Black reading this whole time was starting to get eerie.

"Maybe Lupin's not really sleeping, he's faking it," Lily pointed out, still with a heavy look at him where he'd slowly sunk back into his seat, now sitting on the very edge though and looking paler than usual, which was really saying something.

"That's Professor Lupin to you now!" Potter tried to correct with his usual boasting and cocky grin, but even as Lily watched something seemed off about it. He seemed stiff, his eyes out of focus instead of trying to catch hers. She found that unnerving, and then with a horrid self reflection, she realized she felt bad for him. James Potter! She really couldn't help it though, no matter how hard she tried to shove the feeling away. The poor teen had learned that he was to die, where his kid would be relocated, and now two of his three friends had some pretty shoddy things going on in their future lives all in a matter of days. It was a lot for anyone to take in.

For a moment Lily thought the deep lurch had come from inside her, but then she nearly fell out of her seat as the train did come to a screeching halt.

Regulus fumbled with the book and only just managed to keep hold of it, words stumbling a bit as he got to the same part. He shivered in trepidation, for what he didn't understand, until he shivered again and realized it wasn't just some feeling. It was true, bone deep cold, the windows were icing over and he could see his breath.

"Wha-what's going on!?" Pettigrew demanded, his voice shrill as he recoiled from the door, wand already drawn.

The others had already done the same, even as the answer was presented. A dementor was aboard, and it had its sights on Harry.

The youngest Black was reading in an outright panic, flying through words to try and get this chapter over with before they were forced to experience anything similar. Sadly even after he got past the part of Lupin in the book banishing the creature, they remained in the black void. Regulus could feel his chest rattling, his mind was buzzing painfully as whispers from his past began cluttering to the forefront and he could barely concentrate on the words in front of him.

He wanted his dad to put a big, warm hand on his shoulder and tell him his plan. He wanted his mum to tell him what there was to do and how to solve this. More than anything he wanted Sirius to wrap an arm around him, like he hadn't done since before before that Gryffindor nonsense began. He wanted his big brother to promise their parents weren't really mad at Regulus and he would handle everything. He couldn't grasp that feeling, that emotion, just kept stumbling along through Harry's bizarre recount of a woman screaming, Malfoy being his usual petty self, and finally as he felt his soul rattling in his chest as if it could sense the monster beyond that door, they were in the castle and McGonagall was looking into the incident.

His eyes flinched without his permission, to the door and back to the words in a panic as he kept waiting for it to happen. Smith was beside him shaking in her seat, a silent scream trying to pass her lips. Sirius was still across from him, his hand clutching his chest and mouthing something unintelligible, the horror on his face unmatched. He checked again, and just beyond the window pane he saw a tall, dark, cloaked figure with grotesque, misshapen looking digits reaching for the handle.

In one last desperate breath, he declared Hagrid and Lupin being made Professors, then Harry finally getting safely into his own dorm, and finally they were out.

#PoA #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #Jilly #Wolfstar #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

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Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

VII

September 20, 2277.

Percy paces around in the room, looks for something to write on, then settles on the couch again. “Charon… you were saying something about your orders from General Chase in your dream. General Chase was a prominent figure in the Sino-American War 200 years ago. My God, were you there during the Battle of Anchorage?”

Hearing ‘Anchorage’ felt like wires crossed in my brain. The itch in my brain when I saw her in the stealth armor for the first time started to make sense. Anchorage is where I first saw it, worn by enemy troops. Crimson Dragoons, some of them snipers, just like her. My throat feels tight, and I cannot answer. I just nod.

“Charon, I won’t be asking about the details of the dream, but was the dream showing a traumatic event? Like, someone dying, or you getting hurt?”

“Yes. It’s... weird,” I manage to rasp. “There are some parts that I know did not happen recently. Then, there are events which happened within the past week.”

“I see. Did you feel like you were living in that moment again, instead of being at my house, on this day?” she asks me, and I nod. She continues to scribble on the piece of paper that she found.

“Any idea what might’ve triggered it?” she asks me, and I shrug. “Anything? Like a sound, or an object that reminds you of the event?”

I pause for a second. I remember the feeling I had looking at the power armor in my room before my body forced me to sleep.

“The power armor, in the room you gave me,” I tell her, and her eyebrows perk up. “I think I used to wear one of those.” Percy puts her pen and paper down, and stands up.

“I’ll refrain from discussing it further unless you want to talk about it, but holy shit,” Percy exclaims, running a hand through her hair, back turned from me. “I’m so sorry for exposing you to that, if I only knew…” Percy sits back down and her eyes drift to her stealth suit that she stripped for maintenance. “Did my armor remind you of Anchorage too?”

“Yes,” I tell her the truth.

“I’ll stop wearing it, if it makes you relive those memories. I’ll remove the power armor from your room too.”

“I appreciate it, but your armor does not upset me, miss. Please, keep it. You have a higher chance of surviving combat situations with it.”

Percy sighs. “If you’re sure that it doesn’t upset you, okay.” She clears her throat when she realizes the professional facade she’s been putting on slipped off.

“Anyway, I’ve yet to observe arousal and mood symptoms, but, Charon, you’re showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder,” said Percy after a few minutes of tense silence, who’s now looking at the book she was occupied with earlier. “I still need to observe you further. I don’t want to make a hasty diagnosis. If you do have it, I can assure you that it’s possible to get better, and I can help you.”

“It is not necessary, miss.”

“You can’t keep saying that whenever something concerning is happening to you,” the mistress scolds me. The dog jumps between us and starts burying his head on my lap.

“Miss, it is not your responsibility to look after my well-being. It is my own. You should not concern yourself with such things.”

“As someone who’s training to be a doctor, I just can’t ignore someone who’s clearly in need of professional help. What kind of doctor would that make me?”

“As my employer, however, it states in the contract that it is not your responsibility. You would know that if you’ve read it in its entirety,” I argue back, and Percy’s frustration grows. She rubs her hands against her face, and throws it up once again.

“But I- what if we weren’t… Why is it so hard to talk to you?”

My throat hitches at her outburst. This is the first time she raised her voice at me while I’m under her employ. Percy sags in front of me, eyes wild in her frustration, but it isn’t anger I am seeing in her face. Frustration. Worry. Sadness.

“If you think having me in your employ is more than you bargained for, you can sell my contract.”

“Wait, no! No. I can’t do that. I can’t just sell you like, like a rifle or-or a piece of armor,” Percy exclaims, holding her forehead with one hand.

“You are not selling me, miss. I belong to no one. You will be selling the ownership of my contract that entitles the holder my services in combat, and my full loyalty.”

“You’re not making it sound any better. Plus, we’re straying from the topic.”

Putting her legs on the couch and crossing her legs, she turns to me.

“How do I put this in a way that you’d understand? Charon, you and I are lucky that this happened in the safety of my home. I can’t have you slipping into an episode in the middle of the wasteland. You won’t be able to protect me, or yourself. You'd become a liability instead of an asset.”

“I think I understand now. Very well. I shall allow you to treat me,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief. I look at her expectantly, and she gives me a questioning look.

“What?”

“If you have any procedures to do, I’m allowing you to do so.”

My mistress rubs her face. “This isn’t like the time I patched up the wounds on your back, Charon. This process could take months, or even years. It’s a gradual thing.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“But we can take small steps. Just one thing at a time,” she continues, a slight smile on her face. Percy picks up her book again, and scoots a little closer, the dog nestled between us.

“Do you have any hobbies? Things you do for fun or leisure?” she asks me, that expectant look on her face again. I pause to think. I couldn’t answer. “None.”

“None? You do nothing in your spare time?”

“I wasn’t given the luxury of having ’spare time’ by my previous employers, miss.”

Percy’s shoulders sag further. There’s a look on her face that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time. Pity. Most people would have fear on their faces when they see me. Not this one. She smiles. She feels worried for me. It relieves and overwhelms me at the same time. But pity? I don’t need it. Especially not from an employer. My function is to serve them.

She must’ve realized the look on her face, because she clears her throat and shrugs her shoulder. “Well then, we have plenty of time to look for activities you’ll enjoy.”

As my mistress continues to flip through her book, Dogmeat perks his head up and gives my ruined face a lick. His fur is no longer as dirty as it was when he found him. Probably Percy’s doing. I couldn’t stop myself. I ran my rough hands on his head to pet him, and the dog started wagging his tail. I glanced at Percy, and she was looking, that smile on her face again, and looked away just as I saw it. She clears her throat and flips to a page.

“Let’s start with grounding techniques.”

December 26, 2277.

It’s the day after Christmas. I can’t remember if I even celebrated it before the war, but Percy’s father insisted we stay with him to celebrate. Percy pulled me aside and told me that her father is religious, and though she never was, she still celebrates religious holidays with him and asked me to play along. My mistress looked uncomfortable and on edge the entire time. Though James was all smiles the entire time, there’s a scrutinizing look on James’ face; Percy shares the same look when we talk to strangers. It makes me feel wary.

Hours before James’ death, I was returning from an errand Percy gave me when I can vaguely hear her argument with her father from another room, muffled by the walls of the memorial. I wasn’t supposed to listen to a private conversation between a father and his child but I heard my name being mentioned by the doctor.

“Persephone Zhou! That is malpractice! And you’re living under the same roof too?!”

“He has no one else! What, just because I patch him up and I help him cope with his problems -” Percy’s. Her father cuts her off before she can finish.

“Honey, you are Charon’s doctor. And from what you’ve told me, you’ve been providing him services as a psychiatrist too. I can’t even find the words to describe how unethical this… dalliance of yours with him.”

“Dad! Oh my God, we’re not in a relationship! Where are you even hearing those rumors?!”

Though the mistress had been good to me, I can imagine the look of disgust on her face when her father suggested such a thing. Ghouls and smoothskins don’t do relationships, no matter how kind a smoothskin may be. That’s just the way things were.

“I’m sorry, Percy. Word travels fast. I’ve heard some concerning rumors about you and your ghoul friend.”

“Dad, if I did stay in the vault and became the head physician because you left and they killed Jonas, would I be disallowed to pursue any sort of connection because I’m the only doc in that hole? I’d be married to the job like you were after mom died? Is that it?”

“The circumstances are different and you know it. The vault is a very insular community so we had to rely on each other for social support. It would die out if its members did not reproduce or adapt to changes.”

“Dad, you’ve been in the wasteland. There’s just pockets of settlements here in DC, and doctors are scarce. Psychs and people training to be one are even scarcer. Would you call it unethical if they pursued friendships or fell in love with someone who they patched up so many times from being shot at by raiders? Or someone they counseled from all the violence in the wasteland? Jesus, dad, the American Psychiatric Association doesn’t even fucking exist anymore. It’s in ruins. I can even take you there.”

“Watch your language! I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful, Persephone.”

“I’m sorry. But how I say it doesn’t change the fact.”

“The fact is it’s still highly unethical. There are still institutions that exist that teach medicine and they would not approve of your point of view. How did you think I became a doctor?”

“I’m not arguing with you any further, dad. I’ll go run your errands now.”

“Fine. But we’re not done talking, young lady.”

December 27, 2277.

It’s two hours past midnight. Percy’s screams and the sound of her baseball bat crashing against the metal of an old car echo through the scrapyard.

Only after accompanying the scientists to the Citadel, getting in a fist fight with a Brotherhood paladin for almost not allowing us inside because of my presence, and locating a thing called a GECK on the Brotherhood’s computers, did she finally allow herself to grieve her father. And she grieved hard.

At the sound of the bat snapping, she let out another scream and threw the broken weapon across the threshold. On her hands and knees, her glasses fell from her face, then she bruised her knuckles punching the dirt. Only then did I intervene, gently holding her arms and keeping it to her side. To my surprise, she doesn’t thrash or fight back. She froze for a minute, before curling into a ball and crying out as she settled against my chest.

The events that led to James’ death play over and over again in my head. If I hadn’t slowed her down…

“Percy, may I say something?”

She looks up to me, nodding, fresh tears staining her cheek. Her lips are trembling. She finally allowed herself to cry.

“I slowed us down. If I had overcome my episode faster, we would have gotten back to the rotunda and prevented the incident. It cost your father’s life. If you should punish me, or sell my contract, I will accept-”

“No!”

The word came out of her mouth as a broken cry.

“Don’t blame my dad’s death on yourself, Charon. It’s the fucking Enclave’s fault, and no one else’s. You- we, we did the best we could,” said my mistress, sniffling.

“I understand.”

She draws closer and puts her arms around my neck, and my brain misfires at the gesture. It’s like someone set me on fire, but it doesn’t hurt. I had carried and held her before, but nothing like this. My heart was jumping to my throat. Warm against me, she buried her wet face at the crook of my neck. Another sob wracked her body and before I could think, my arms pulled her in an embrace, stilling her.

This isn’t the first time she sought comfort from my presence. She did so every time there were thunderstorms. I never dared to touch her, though a part of me wanted to draw circles in her skin and watch it bounce against my finger instead of flaking off, like mine does.

This is the first time I allowed myself to hold her too.

We remained like that for the next twenty or so minutes, then Percy breaks the silence.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever leave me. Please?”

“I’ll stay by your side as long as you will have me.”

Her arms stiffened in response.

“Are you saying this just because of the contract, or do you mean it? Please. Be honest.”

There it goes again. My breath hitching in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond. My mistress looks at me expectantly with her bloodshot eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She pulls away from the embrace, and she doesn’t look at me as she picked up her glasses and collected herself. Dogmeat, who was terrified by her venting, finally sidles up to her side again and licks her hand. Percy pets him and embraces him in return, burying her face in the mutt’s fur and planting kisses on his forehead.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what that would feel like every time Percy does it to the dog.

On the way to Megaton, she tinkers with the radio on her Pip-Boy, and a broadcast neither of us ever heard before comes in.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home.”

When we arrived at the entrance of Vault 101, only then did I realize that she didn’t mean her house in Megaton. She let out a shaky exhale as the heavy vault door started to open after she put a password in the terminal.

“Welcome to my childhood home.”

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #charon fallout #fallout charon #james #fallout james #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout #fallout 3 fanfic #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr #tw: trauma #tw: ptsd

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