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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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Casting Couch {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I was driving home from work the other day and this idea just suddenly took over my entire thought process. so, naturally, I went ahead and wrote it up :)

warnings (what you see here is what you’ll get!): smut. the enemy of my enemy is my ally (with benefits). p in v sex. protected sex. rough oral sex. cum- swallowing.

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex.

word count: 3.2k

charlie’s taglist peeps! {charlie currently doesn’t have any taglist peeps} my general taglist peeps! @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1 @babbushka @safarigirlsp (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Two Years Ago.

“Y/N...she fucking did it again.” Nicole says as she barges through the door of hers and Charlie’s shared brownstone. “She got the fucking TV gig.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrow a bit before looking up at his wife with an empathetic expression, setting the notebook and pen he’d been using down on the coffee table.

“Bummer. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He says, elbows on his thighs as he leans forward a bit, folding his hands. “There will be other roles; I wouldn’t worry too much. You win some, you lose some; that’s how it goes in this industry. You’ve taken plenty of roles from her.”

She sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I know, but this one I was excited about. And I really thought I had it, too. It just stung a little extra, you know?”

Her husband nods, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “C’mere, sit with me. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

Nicole gives somewhat of a dreadful grimace, a clear sign she really wasn’t interested. Charlie’s been noticing this for the past few months, her disinterest in being with him as much as she usually was, but he figured it was just her being tired. She’s been doing a lot of odd jobs to make some ends meet lately, so it’s probably a result of that.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a twang of longing sadness in his voice.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Charlie just nods, picking back up his notebook and pen, continuing to review and add to his notes from the day.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He calls after her. “I love you.”

She only offers him a small smile over her shoulder in return before emerging into their bedroom, closing the door immediately behind her.

Present Day.

It feels strange, holding auditions for a female lead. He hasn’t had to do so in almost a decade; just yet another reminder of how much of his life has changed just in the past year.

The divorce had been painful, stressful, and he was honestly more relieved than anything when it finally came to a close, despite it not really turning out the way he’d hoped for in terms of custody over Henry.

Luckily, he’s dove deeper into his one true love, directing, as a way to cope with the loss of everything he’d worked so hard to build for himself; the marriage, the 'American dream’ family and home he wished he’d had growing up.

Now, after six months of weekly therapy appointments and keeping himself busy with work, he’s feeling more like the old Charlie he was back before everything went to shit. Actually, he’s feeling like an even better version of that Charlie, the best version of himself there’s been in a while, perhaps even before he met and married Nicole.

The first audition comes onstage and Charlie can’t decide what’s worse, her off-pitch singing or her monotonous speaking voice.

God, this was going to be a long fucking day.

You’d heard through the grapevine that the famed Broadway director had moved here to LA, and that he’d divorced his witch of a wife, Nicole.

Nicole Barber had been your biggest rival ever since you swiped that first movie role away from her. She hates you, and you don’t particularly like her, either, thus your rivalry began. And it was pretty heated, too; the two of you were always trying to one-up each other.

It really was a back-and-forth battle, her swiping roles from you, you returning the favor; it was a game, to put it simply. Although lately, you’ve been getting more roles than she has, not that you’re complaining, and there’s a part of you that hopes she quits the business for good.

Word got around that Charlie is heading his first LA Broadway production and what better way to hit Nicole close to home than to show up at her ex-husband’s auditions? Even better, what if you got the female lead in her ex-husband’s production? Oh god, that would be fantastic, not only for the rivalry but also for your career.

You’ve been looking to branch out into more theater roles, and this is as good an opportunity as to dip your toe in the theater world water. Plus, you’re not necessarily complaining about having the chance to look at and work with Charlie Barber every day...

So you prepared your piece of dialogue and a section of one of the choice songs, heading over to the theater fifteen minutes before your set audition time. Your knee bounces as you sit in the waiting area, eyes running over your script and lyrics sheet one final time, solidifying it all in your memory.

Your name is called a few minutes later and you head out onto the stage, handing over your headshot and qualifications resume. The agent hands over your profile to the handsome director, but he doesn’t even really look at it, already knowing exactly who you are. A small smirk grazes his lips as he flips to a new page of his notebook, clicking the top of his pen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

After you’re finished, Charlie scribbles one final thing in his notebook before looking up at you. His eyes trail over your figure for a moment, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Would you be comfortable coming back for a more intimate audition later this week? Maybe, Friday at four? I would like to get to know you better, see if you meet all of my... qualifications.”

The look in his eye tells you all you need to know about the true motivations behind his question. You nod, biting your lip.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Mr. Barber.” You purr.

He shifts in his seat suddenly and quickly crosses one leg over the other before opening up your folder, handing the top sheet to his assistant.

“Diane, go ahead and have Miss Y/N put down all of her contact information.” His gaze never leave you as he speaks to the timid-seeming young woman. “Make sure she gives her personal cell number.”

You pull a pen from your bag on the stage, clicking it open before Diane hands you the paper. As you write every means of contact you can think of, starting with your cell number, you playfully bite the end of the pen and tap it against your bottom lip, something that certainly keeps the already attentive director’s full attention.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Barber.” Your tone is innocent-sounding, but your gaze is anything but. It sends a chill down Charlie’s spine. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t.” A small tug at one corner of his lip accompanies his response. “See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

You offer him a nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

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In preparation for your upcoming...meeting with Charlie, you take a quick trip to the nearest intimates store, picking up a pretty little lace bra and panty set. Your lingerie wardrobe is long overdue for a bit of sprucing up, anyway.

When the time comes, you slip the fresh lace garments on before putting on your planned outfit, a cute-but-subtly-sexy low cut romper. You put on a light face of makeup, purely for professionalism’s sake, then head out with a small bag which contains various personal items as well as your script and composition page.

He’s not in his backstage office when you arrive, but he comes in a couple minutes later, a strong stench of cigarette smoke trailing behind him as he walks by your chair.

“I apologize for the delay. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

You shake your head as he takes a seat behind the ratty oak desk, shifting a few small stacks of papers around on the heavily scratched surface.

“No, no I wasn’t waiting long.”

He nods, then folds his hands atop the desk, eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, his eyes dart down to where your cleavage creeps out of your low-cut top.

“You’ve got the part.” Charlie says with a small smile. “You’re by far the best and most qualified audition we had yesterday, and I like the way you carry yourself. You’re exactly the type of person I like working with. Part’s yours if you want it.”

You’re overcome with joy, a wide smile spreading itself across your lips. “I’d love to be a part of this production, Mr. Barber. I’m really excited to get to work with you and the rest of the crew.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, smile widening when as he processes your acceptance. His delighted expression falls after a few moments, replaced by one much more salacious.

“Now that we’ve gotten that part out of the way...I think you know why I called a meeting of such, uh, privacy.”

You smirk softly, shifting around in your seat slightly. “I believe I do.”

His feet plant on the ground as he pushes the rolling office chair out from under the desk, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over you.

“Before anything happens, though, I want you to know that whether or not you do this with me will not affect my casting decision. Even if you decline, you still have the part.”

You nod before standing, quickly and swiftly, stepping forward to press yourself flush against him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands rest on his chest, neck craning slightly to look up at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

He laughs, massive hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he bends down and connects your lips in a passionate kiss. There’s nothing tender or gentle about this embrace, it’s all tongue and teeth, raw lust coursing between your two bodies.

“Couch.” His voice is soft but husky.

“Unzip me first?” You ask, turning around so he can unzip you. He does, then his hands slide down to your hips and pushes you towards the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

The material squeaks when you’re laid down on top of it, head resting comfortably on the cushy fabric accent pillow as he climbs on top of you. He presses his hips forward while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and plants kisses on the skin there.

Your eyes widen as his impressive bulge rubs up against your inner thigh and you quickly wonder how in the world you’ll be able to take him. His crooked teeth scrape over the taut muscles in your neck while his hands pull the backs of your romper down over your shoulders.

His hands grab and grope your breasts beneath where they rest in your nice bra, one you wore just for him, and your back arches slightly up off the cushions with a soft sigh.

A small smile crosses his expression, teeth sinking gently into your neck. “I like the little noises you make for me, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, running your hands through his hair. “Then I bet you’ll like my moans, too. If you think you can draw them out of me, that is.”

He laughs softly, sucking and licking at at the place his teeth have just abused. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, it’s more like an invitation to prove yourself, but ‘challenge’ is also a good word for it.”

Charlie pulls away with a smirk, shaking his head as he sits back on his haunches and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Brat.”

Once he’s undone his pants and pulled them down enough to expose himself to you, he leans down once more and pulls your romper the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare, minus your undergarments. His eyes roam your figure for a moment before he dips a hand beneath the patch of black fabric nestled between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as his fingertips swipe over your erect clit, giving it a few little circles before yanking the panties off your hips and down your ankles, tossing them down alongside your previously-discarded romper.

His eyes widen in realization, cheeks flushing pink.

“Do you have any, um, protection?”

You smirk, nodding as you sit up and pat his chest. “Indeed, I do.”

He crawls off of you and you walk over to your purse, grabbing a condom from the mini-stash you keep in your wallet, the one you replenished just minutes before you left the house this afternoon. He takes it from you and pinches the tip, rolling it down his shaft. For a moment, you’re worried that it isn’t going to fit, but he rolls it on with little issue.

His hips press forward, then, entering you slowly but steadily with a soft grunt. You whine as your insides stretch out around him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. “S-Shit.”

“You’re really fucking tight, jesus.” He growls between gritted teeth, jaw screwed shut as his hips begin to move. “I haven’t fffucked anyone in a while, Y/N, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll last very long.”

You nod, softly. “It’s alright, Charlie; it’s been a little while for muh--me, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut and your face begins to scrunch up with each time his fat cockhead brushes up against your cervix. His pace increases after a minute or so, a consistent slap-slap-slap noise now echoing off the drywall with each snap of his hips.

“You’ve got a nice little pussy, you know that? Always knew you would be, too, knew you’d be a good little cccocksleeve.”

You moan shakily as he adjusts his position, towering over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. Your body begins to bounce, tits, thighs and tummy jiggling each time he thrusts in.

He’s starting to sweat, a few dark hairs sticking to his dimly-glowing forehead, more and more accumulating there as his hair rocks back and forth in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Touch yourself, now, rrrub your little clit.” His voice is getting shaky as he draws nearer to climax.

Nodding, your hand slides down between your joined bodies until your fingertips settle onto the small bundle of nerves. The hand that’s still weaved in Charlie’s locks clenches and he lets out a sudden deep growl, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Ooooh, Charlie.” You moan, hips lifting and gyrating against both his cock and your fingers.

“God, fffuck I love this cunt.” A vulgar squelching sound knits itself within the quilt of your salacious symphony. “Wrapped around my cock like a vice, gonna pull the fucking cum right out of it. Swear you get tighter each time I push back in...christ, I’m not gonna last.”

Your fingers circle your clit faster, setting a desperate pace, one that almost matches his quick and sloppy thrusts. You’re close now, too, and it doesn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit.

You cream around him with a long moan and a string of various other noises, with a few profanities thrown in as well. The product of your release coats his shaft in a pearlescent sheen, dripping down his ball-sack soon enough.

The sensations your climax creates around Charlie forces him to pull away almost immediately after, quickly yanking the condom off and onto his office floor, squeezing the base of his flaming red length.

His hand seizes your jaw tightly, thumb pressing down on your tongue, prying your mouth open. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth and shove my cum down your throat, and you’re gonna take it all, isn’t that right?”

You’re nodding instantly, slacking your jaw to open even further in preparation for his upcoming intrusion. He smirks.

“Good. Now, on your knees.”

He sits down where you once laid, lazily pumping his throbbing length as you get into position between his spread legs. He pulls your hair up into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, then lines you up with his cock and eases your mouth down onto him.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, oh, gooooood girl.”

You start gagging about three quarters of the way down his shaft, but he still keeps pushing until you’ve got the whole thing in your mouth. Your jaw’s already getting sore as he begins thrusting upwards, fucking your mouth.

Tears swell in your eyes and begin to spill down your cheeks the more he goes, mascara surely ruined and running down your face. The sight only arouses him further, a low groan rumbling through his puffed chest.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, to stave off his orgasm for as long as he can manage, but soon he finds it next to impossible to hold back. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly as his length begins to twitch, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

You taste and feel the salty ropes shooting down your throat before he can even finish his warning.

“Ah, fffuuuuck.” His head falls back against the couch cushions, hips bucking gently as each bit of release is spilled into your mouth. His grip on your head relaxes after he’s finished, cock softening while he catches his breath and re-grounds himself in reality.

Your chest heaves as full airflow returns to your lungs, knees and jaw aching a bit sore from their exertion. You grab your underwear from where they lay discarded on top of your romper, putting them back on before standing up on somewhat shaky legs.

Charlie also redresses, standing and straightening himself out as you do the same.

“Mind zipping me back up?” You ask, turning around again.

He pulls the zipper up your back until it’s at the end of its tracks, then steps up behind you, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile grazes your lips. “No ‘thanks’ needed; the sweet taste of revenge and spite is payment enough.”

He laughs quietly.

“Well, I’ll certainly be available, should you ever need a little replenishing of those feelings.”

“Mr. Barber, you wouldn’t be saying that because you’d like to see me naked again, now would you?” Your eyebrows raise and you look over your shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He laughs again, blushing a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure, I'd like that a lot. But I’d also like to see you, um...not naked, fully clothed, maybe at a restaurant in the city for dinner sometime? I totally get it if you’re not interested, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to...”

Holy shit, he’s asking you out on a date. Well, he’s trying to, at least.

You laugh, cheeks warming at his proposition.

“Sure thing. I just accepted this new job, though, so I’ll have to get back to you about my availability...”

Charlie smiles, shoving his hands down in his khaki pockets. “I’m sure your new boss would be more than willing to accommodate. He’s a pretty cool guy, or so I’ve heard. Handsome, too.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you have a reliable informant.” You turn around as you laugh softly, grabbing your bag off the chair before stepping up in front of him. Your lips plant a quick peck on his, hands resting on his broad chest. “See you soon.”

He nods, biting his lip to hold back his big, goofy smile.

“Can’t wait.”

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acenancy · 3 years

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The Ace x Nancy x Tamura of It All

I’m here as a hardcore Nace shipper (see the URL) to throw my two cents into the Ace x Nancy x Tamura discussion.

Some of you straight up hate Tamura and that’s cool, I get it, no judgement, but I personally like him a lot as a character. And I LOVE the connection he and Nancy have. Their repartee is entertaining, they share a passion for solving mysteries which is key to being Nancy’s friend, and their very different life experiences help balance each other out.

You know, since one of them is grounded in reality and the other is navigating through life in a supernaturally charged hellmouth.

That being said, I hope they grow closer during S3 WITHOUT becoming explicitly romantic. And I think that may be exactly what happens! At most, I think that while solving magical mysteries, Nancy and Tamura will engage in a fun little flirtationship that will lead to genuine friendship. His partnership with Nancy would be solidified this way as well as his honorary membership to the Drew Crew. This could serve three purposes:

Forcing Tamura to accept the supernatural elements of Horseshoe Bay, thus weaving him more intricately into the plot.

Creating tension between Nancy and Ace 😏

Exploring and adding depth to whatever sort of relationship they’re trying to establish between Tamura and Ace.

I see all of this playing out fairly simply: while Nick and George are busy juggling real life and a wedding, while Bess devotes her time and energy into researching her family history and finding love, and while Ace prioritizes Amanda, Nancy finds herself without proper backup. So! Perhaps unintentionally, Nancy gravitates to Tamura. There's crimes and mysteries to be solved and since her friends are not fully available to her, who better to turn to than the guy who’s job it is to investigate these things? And so begins the Nancy and Tamura buddy cop comedy that is both dreaded and highly anticipated depending on what social media outlet you’re using.

Though let me repeat: BUDDY COP.

I really don’t think we’re going to have an Ed and Lorraine Warren situation on our hands with these two. Truly, if the S2 finale is anything to go by, I think S3 will allow Nancy to grow into herself outside of a romantic or sexual relationship. She’s not running from herself and into someone else’s bed anymore. She’s embracing and learning to love herself. I’d even go so far as to say Nancy’s love interest next season will be...Nancy lmao.

As for Tamura, if they decide to give him a romantic interest, I think they would either have his ex-fiancée reenter the picture or maybe even do him dirty and stick him with Temperance for plot reasons. A doomed Tamura x Temperance romance would actually be fun to see, in my opinion, and would be a great way to open Tamura’s eyes to the supernatural. That’s just me spit-balling, though. Whether it’s because of Temperance or not, I think Tamura is finally going to have to accept ghosts and witches and magic are real this season. It’s just a requirement for working with Nancy Drew.

MOST IMPORTANTLY, we have to address the Nace of it all. Sorry to Tamura but I do believe you’re being used as an obstacle in True Love’s way next season. I think fandom’s general consensus is that the more time Nancy and Tamura spend together, romantic or not, the more jealous Ace will become. While I agree, I think Ace’s jealousy will stem from somewhere a little deeper than just seeing Nancy with another guy.

Take Gil, for example. Ace was sort of jealous of Gil, but more than anything he was wary of him and concerned for Nancy’s wellbeing when she was with him. Unlike Ace, Gil never had anything to offer Nancy except for sex and a getaway car. He sure as hell was never her number one person. In fact, he wasn’t even Nancy’s number five person. There was never a reason for Ace to be envious of him.

Tamura, on the other hand, can prove to be just as much of an equal to Nancy as Ace is. As chief/lead detective, he also has power and influence that Ace and Nancy do not, and access to people and resources that Ace does not have (unless he can hack into them). Tamura can help Nancy bend and break the law without consequence if need be, too. And, although naive in regards to the mystics of Horseshoe Bay, he is just as smart as Nancy and has, on the rare occasion, even been one step ahead of her. Tamura is an asset, to say the least. Together, he and Nancy make a formidable duo.

That’s what will make Ace jealous. More than the prospect of romance between Nancy and Tamura, I think that Nancy finding another intellectual match is what will rub Ace the wrong way. They’ll find themselves at a brief moment in time where Nancy will turn to Tamura for assistance before anyone, including Ace, and Ace will realize he absolutely hates that someone who is not him is Nancy’s partner in crime now.

Maybe Nancy won’t notice, but Ace will probably realize his love for her is not of the philia sort. I’m sure Amanda also will. And? Maybe Tamura will see it too.

Which brings me to one of my favorite dynamics of the show: Ace and Tamura’s.

I’m not gonna sit here and spin my crazy conspiracy theory that they’re brothers. Though that idea will always hold a special place in my heart, slowly but surely I am accepting that Ace’s long lost brother really is Grant. I’m being a total grownup about it. I swear.

Nevertheless, I do think they’ve been trying to build some kind of relationship between Ace and Tamura since before Tamura even met Nancy. What sort of relationship? God, I wish I knew.

They meet each other first, which doesn’t necessarily mean a lot, but it’s worth noting that they’re on each other’s funny little shit lists before Nancy even enters Tamura’s picture. It’s also Ace and Ace alone that hears from McGuinness that Tamura will be replacing him in the same episode. Then, of course, we have that crazy Shabbat dinner in 2x03 that exacerbates their antagonistic relationship further. Then there’s their snarky banter and all of those totally unnecessary side-by-side shots of them saving Noah in 2x10. Apart from Nancy, Ace is the only member of the Drew Crew that we’ve seen Tamura develop a real connection with, even if it is an unfriendly one. And, as of now, their relationship doesn’t even have anything to do with Nancy.

So where are the writers going with this hilarious and hostile bond between Ace and Tamura? Has all of this really just been buildup for a romantic rivalry? Hey, maybe! I really can’t figure out another reason why the writers have gone out of their way to create their dynamic since the Brother Theory has been disproven. But something tells me this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

And when I say “this”, I mean Tamura taking a step back from Nancy once he realizes he may just be filling in the love of her life’s shoes. Because that’s where I think all of this is going. Not necessarily anywhere romantic between Nancy and Tamura, but somewhere more friendly between Tamura and everyone.

At the end of it all, Tamura is going to finally embrace the supernatural, he’s going to become an ally to Nancy, Ace, and the rest of the Drew Crew, and, when the timing is right, he’s going to hop onboard the Nace ship with the rest of us.

I HOPE.

Side note: this is just where my head is at. I truly respect all of your opinions and ask that you respect mine too. If you agree with what I’ve said and want to talk, let’s talk! If you disagree and want to talk, we can talk too! Please, just don’t get nasty with me. This is a television show about fictional characters at the end of the day, and I am a real person. Much love to you all. ❤️

#nancy drew cw #nace #namura #abe tamura

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venusdeus · 3 years

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Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well. But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof @sassyglassesbunny @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

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a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

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Been wanting to do this one for a long while. Thinking a lot about Fire and Blood because House of the Dragon is coming up, and there are quite a lot of parallels between the Dance of the Dragons and the main ASOIAF series. More below...

The Dance of the Dragons happened, in part, because the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children was in question. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey (how fitting, two bastard children named Joffrey) had brown hair instead of the typical silver-blonde hair of Targaryen and Velaryon children, and their father was not Laenor Velaryon, but rather Harwin Strong. Because of this, Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne was contested, since her heirs would be bastards.

Not too dissimilar to the beginning of the War of the Five Kings, where Cersei, the beautiful queen of King Robert, fathered three bastard children in secret with her brother Jaime, all of them with the golden blond hair of the Lannisters. Then when Robert died, Joffrey ascended the throne, and Ned backed Stannis, who was in truth the rightful heir to the throne... we all know how that went of course. Also, while Rhaenyra's Joffrey was the youngest of the three, Cersei's Joffrey was the oldest of the three.

Rhaenyra and Cersei are very strong parallels. Rhaenyra was secretly involved in an affair with a family member (her uncle Daemon) whilst Cersei was involved in a secret affair with her own family member (brother Jaime). The difference, of course, being that Rhaenyra ended up marrying Daemon because Targs do Targ things, and Cersei just kept her affair with Jaime secret because they weren't Targs. In addition, Rhaenyra ended up losing all three of her children, becoming more and more bitter and distraught, becoming prone to paranoia.

Meanwhile, Cersei has thus far only lost Joffrey, but the valonqar prophecy states she will lose all three of her children. Like Rhaenyra, though, after the death of Joffrey, she does become more prone to paranoia and is increasingly bitter. Rhaenyra was eventually fed to Sunfyre by her half-brother Aegon. If Jaime is truly the valonqar, then Cersei might end up being killed by her brother as well. Eventually, Rhaenyra did end up becoming estranged from Daemon, and currently Cersei is estranged from Jaime.

However, a better Dance parallel with Cersei and Jaime is Rhaenyra and Criston Cole. They were lovers, a future queen with a member of the Kingsguard. They later suffered some sort of estrangement (the nature of which is a source of conflict in terms of what is real) that led to Criston eventually siding with the greens over the blacks during the Dance. Criston also was made Hand of the King, while Cersei presses for Jaime to be made Hand, but he refuses the position.

However, Rhaenyra isn't the only Cersei parallel. Alicent Hightower is another. Like Cersei, she supports her eldest son in claiming the throne against its lawful heir, and is the dowager queen of the former king... And she is the daughter of the Hand of the King, who is a member of one of the richest, most powerful families in the kingdoms. However, Rh

But the parallels run even deeper than that. It shocked me to see how far these go. The story of Aegon III and Viserys II as children is not too dissimilar to both the story of Daenerys and Viserys after Robert's Rebellion and some of the Stark children. Like Dany and Viserys, Viserys II ended up spending a lot of time in the Free Cities, specifically Lys, although he was captured in battle and returned as a hostage, whereas Dany and Viserys spent time in Illyrio's mansion as guests. Arya also went to Braavos, a Free City, but that's about where the similarities end so that isn't very intentional, I think.

Nonetheless, both Aegon and Viserys spent the majority of the war separated from each other and only reunited after it ended. Likewise, the Stark children were separated from each other for the majority of the war as well, and seem poised to reunite after the initial War of the Five Kings is over. And speaking of Starks, Aegon III does have a slight parallel with Bran.

As confirmed by George, Bran will be the King of Westeros by the end of the books, and there is a moniker given to him in the show that actually does appear in the books, of Bran the Broken. Meanwhile, at the end of the Dance, Aegon is now the King, and he is known as the Broken King, because of his extreme PTSD and depression from his traumatic experiences during the war.

Doesn't even end there. Now we get into some of, in my opinion, the biggest parallels with the Dance and ASOIAF proper. We all know about R+L=J, and the Dance has not one, but two big nods to this. First is the story told by Mushroom of when Jacaerys visited Winterfell. Supposedly, he fell in love with Cregan's bastard half-sister Sara Snow, and the two secretly wed before the Winterfell heart tree. Regardless of the validity of the story, Cregan and Jace did end up agreeing to what was called the Pact of Ice and Fire, wherein Jace's firstborn daughter would marry Cregan's son Rickon... son of a Targaryen king marrying the daughter of Lord Stark? Hmmm....

However, the other one is a lot more significant, to me anyways, and that would be the relationship between Crown Prince Aemond One-Eye and Alys Rivers. During the Dance, when Aemond took over Harrenhal, he took Alys Rivers as his paramour. The mysterious Alys was said to be a witch who was a bastard of House Strong, a House that has strong ties to the First Men. So, Valyrian crown prince and a First Man woman in love... but don't worry, it gets extremely apparent afterwards.

Aemond impregnates Alys and leaves her in a tower to go fight Daemon, during which Aemond is killed, leaving Alys all alone. Rhaegar impregnates Lyanna and leaves her in a tower to go fight Robert, during which Rhaegar is killed and leaves Alys all alone... then, years later, during winter, the Hand of the King Tyland Lannister tries to get together a force to retake Harrenhal, as it is held by brigands and thieves and broken men, only to find Alys there... with a young child she calls her and Aemond's trueborn son, and the rightful King of Westeros.

If that isn't enough for you, there is a very distinct similarity in the armour of Rhaegar and Aemond. Rhaegar's armour is mentioned to have been;

Seventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists.

And:

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate.

Compare this to Aemond's own armour.

Vhagar had come at last, and on her back rode the one-eyed Prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in nightblack armor chased with gold.

It seems clear to me that George is trying to tell us something. I think Aemond and Alys are a sort of dark mirror to Rhaegar and Lyanna. Rhaegar was considered a very noble, chivalrous prince who was well loved by the smallfolk, and Lyanna had a strong sense of Stark justice (as seen in the Knight of the Laughing Tree story). Meanwhile, Aemond was a narcissistic, psychopathic mass murderer who seems almost Ramsay-esque in his demeanour. And Alys seems more power hungry and eventually took over Harrenhal as its witch queen. But the fact they have what Alys claims to be their trueborn child and true king of Westeros does strongly suggest Rhaegar and Lyanna did eventually marry and Jon is their trueborn son, not a bastard.

I hoped I would be done by now, but there is still even more parallels. Cregan Stark and Eddard Stark are parallels and foils. Ned becomes Hand of the King and travels south to uncover who poisoned the previous Hand of the King, before the War of the Five Kings starts. Meanwhile, Cregan travels south and arrives at King's Landing after the Dance was over, then becomes Hand of the King to uncover who poisoned the previous king (Aegon II). However, while Ned was cautious and not really a big player of the game of thrones, Cregan was ambitious and knew what he was doing, even if his actions weren't always the best (attacking Storm's End, Oldtown, and Casterly Rock after the war was essentially over? Not a good idea, Stark).

The Regency of Aegon III in and of itself is a metacommentary to the writing process of ASOIAF. Originally, after GRRM finished ASOS, he decided to do a 5-year gap between that and what was to be ADWD. However, that ended up not working out, so he scrapped it all together. During that time, Tommen would've remained king, and his reign would be under a regency. So thus, Aegon III having a 5-year regency (from 131 to 136 AC) during that time alludes to that.

And then you get to Unwin Peake, my least favourite character in Fire and Blood. He appears to be a combination of Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly. Personality wise, he is very much like Randyll. He is a very outspoken misogynist, a very proud man, and a noted warrior wielding a Valyrian steel blade (that he likely stole from Tumbleton since Orphan-Maker was from House Roxton originally). He also changed out Aegon III's master-at-arms to be Gareth Long, who was a very harsh taskmaster, who routinely engaged in abusive tactics with the boys he trained when they didn't meet his expectations, including days without sleep, doused in tubs of ice water, being beat, and having their heads shaved, which is very reminiscent of Randyll's abuse of Sam as a child.

Unwin and Randyll also dealt with lawful punishment in very harsh ways, as seen by Randyll's treatment of those who break the law at Maidenpool, and Unwin's clearing the Red Keep cells during the Feast of Our Father Above. However, Unwin has a lot of similarities with Mace Tyrell as well. Mace is on the small council, and has routinely tried to engage in nepotism by implanting allies and family members of his into positions at the council and at King's Landing, including marrying Margaery to the king, becoming Hand of the King, having Paxter Redwyne be the lord admiral and Randyll Tarly the lord justiciar, try to bring his uncle Garth to become the new master of coin, and Garth's bastard sons to join the gold cloaks, not to mention the Conclave nearly sending his uncle Gormon to become the new Grand Maester (something Mace will surely approve of), Mace having his son Loras join the Kingsguard, and even try to betroth his heir Willas to Myrcella.

Meanwhile, Unwin engaged in much more rampant and unchecked nepotism. He was Hand of the King and Lord Regent, had Ser Gareth as master-at-arms at the Red Keep, since he was master-at-arms at Starpike, while his widowed aunt Clarice Osgrey was put in charge of Queen Jaehaera's household, Lord George Graceford (a member of the Caltrops that Peake himself was involved in) was appointed as the Lord Confessor, and Ser Victor Risley, the other surviving member of the Caltrops, was appointed to the position of the King's Justice.

He even dismissed Septon Eustace and replaced him with Septon Bernard, another relative of his. He also had his nephew Amaury and his bastard half-brother Ser Mervyn Flowers put onto the Kingsguard, while his uncle Gedmund was made the master of ships. Not to mention his attempted marriage between his daughter Myrielle and Aegon III. So basically the Peakes are the Tyrells of their day, trying to take control of the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne.

And that is all that I can remember! I'm sure there is a lot more, but it's striking to see just how many parallels there are between the Dance and ASOIAF itself.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #dance of the dragons #fire and blood #war of the five kings #asoiaf parallels

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.35}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"I'm going to die, am I not?" Robin sighed in a shallow voice before she could help it, while fear wrapped around her heart like a vine of devil's snare. "You wouldn't be sitting there like that if it was anything else."

Snape didn't reply, but his eyes found and followed Robin's as she toed off her shoes and then carefully maneuvered through the papers on the ground, hopefully without stepping onto any of them until she stood right before him. With a heavy weight in her chest that made it harder to breathe by the second, she looked down at him for a moment in silence, but it was only when she took his hand ever so gently that every bit of defeat and doubt faded from his features to leave only calm determination behind.

"I will not let you die, Robin. You know that." He finally spoke up in an overwhelming certainty that his eyes conveyed now as well. "No matter what these papers say, we will be fine."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, Robin gave him a nod and a half smile on instinct. If he seriously thought they were going to be alright, then they would be. Perhaps that had to be enough reassurance for now, enough for her to cling onto, enough to keep calm and deal with whatever was coming. With a sigh she finally sat down next to Snape in their small circle between the papers and took in all the different stacks of parchments spread around them. They were of various ages, in various stages of decay and with a multitude of different handwritings on them. Gods, where to start… perhaps, with the most obvious thing to do.

"Tell me about it." Robin merely said, calmly almost as if they were merely talking about a new kind of potion they were experimenting on, then looked up at Snape by her side. "What are we dealing with here?"

"A prophecy." He sighed in return. "An old prophecy that is, and I daresay those tend to be the very worst."

"Great."

"Perhaps you should read for yourself what it is about and how it came to be." Snape said, then frowned to himself for a moment while his eyes scanned the papers, before finally his features relaxed once more into calm factuality. "At least the most important parts of it all. The history around it up to the present day I might as well summarize for you afterwards."

"Have you actually read over all of these parchments already?! There are literally hundreds of them!"

"I read fast." He flatly defended himself against Robin's incredulous expression, but once she gave him a no-kidding look, he went on to elaborate. "But I also skimmed through a lot of it merely to be able to group it into categories. About half of these papers are mere copies of older texts that were only made to preserve the content and document the process thereof. The other half consists of about eighty percent personal accounts of those affected by the prophecy, and merely the remaining twenty percent are information abundantly necessary to understand the prophecy itself as well as its history. Those I have read entirely, yes."

"Wow…" Robin breathed, while her eyes drifted over the sea of paper in front of her. "It all sounds terribly complicated, if I'm honest."

"It will make more sense once you read for yourself." He replied almost reassuringly and handed her one of the smaller stacks of parchment, a mere ten pages, perhaps. "This is a late 19th century transcription of the first original text that was written in the early 14th century by the wizard who cursed your bloodline."

"What?!"

"Just read, will you?"

With a sound that started as a scoff but ended as a sigh, Robin let herself lean further into Snape's side before finally allowing her eyes to trail over the delicate handwriting as carefully as possible in the golden light of the fire. And boy, what she got to read right there she hadn't been expecting, not even anything close to it at all. It was a bloody mess, and not the least bit less messed up. But reading she did, and she started at the beginning.

It had all begun in the early fourteenth century, when an unfortunate man had fallen in love with an even more unfortunate woman. The man, a wizard born into one of the most reputational bloodlines at the time, namely into the family line of the Morgans. The woman, a witch herself, descendant of a rivaling family with no less power or influence than the former. The bloodline of the Bennetts. And as fate so often, so cruelly demands, the unfortunate man in line of the Morgans fell so deeply in love with the Bennett girl that before long, his love turned poisonous and into obsession. The young woman in return felt nothing but fear for the Morgan man, fear and even disgust perhaps, and she continued to condemn his countless advances, to flee from him whenever she could. Driven to madness by the girl's insistent rejection, the man set out to force her into marriage, to force her into loving him, but the Bennett girl would not be so easily subdued. Defying his will, she saw her last resort in fighting him as an equal, and he saw his last chance with her in fighting back. And fighting they did, to the bitter bloody end, to the very last draw. But as Morgan looked down at her on their moss covered battlefield, broken and shaking on the ground in her unwilling surrender, he saw that she would never relent. And if she would never come to love him, if she could never be his, then she ought to be no one else's either. He killed her in a frenzy of blind rage, a step further down on his descent into madness, and he only realized what he had done when it was by far too late.

Eaten up by grief and guilt, in unconsolable agony over what he had lost, he painted a portrait of his love, his eternal flame, to preserve her spirit for all the time to come. And yet he could never forgive himself for what he had done, could not live without the only thing that made his life worth living, could not live with the suffocating guilt.

Thus he took the painting, and the jewelry of his love; a locket which he had always adored, for it was a piece she had always worn with such intent adoration. He then had placed an intricate curse on the two objects, and on the two bloodlines of the Morgan and Bennett family in return. A curse that would make history repeat itself, generation for generation, until one day, the Bennett line would triumph over the Morgan one, and thereby give the original ancestors both their punishment and their redemption. The tragedy was to repeat until a Bennett girl would finally kill a Morgan man, or the two lines would be tied together for all the time to come. Having placed that curse, and having secured that the tokens of this prophecy would be found, the original Morgan had written down his sins and soughts, before finding his bloody end at his very own hands at long last. Cursed to suffer in death, until one day his distant heir would be defeated by the heir of his love.

Robin looked up from the papers with a deep frown, with lips parted in confusion and incredulity. "Is this some kind of joke I just don't understand?"

"I am afraid it is not."

"Well, either way, this can't have anything to do with me. I don't even know anyone by the name of Bennett! I mean sure, I have the locket, one locket, to be precise, and we don't even know if it's the one! This… All of this is just mental!"

"And yet in the light of the present ongoings, it would make perfect sense, wouldn't you say?" Snape's voice was surprisingly calm for the absurdity of the topic, and deep down Robin knew that this indeed was no joke, nor some goofy tragedy. This was perfectly real, and somehow, she was caught up right in the middle of it.

"I still don't understand why… or how… or… anything about this at all." She scoffed to herself, while her frown deepened to suppress the angry tears of helplessness. Fine, so someone in the fourteenth century had possibly cursed a locket she had in her possession, and a portrait Morgan had in his. So what?! She wasn't a Bennett, nor a Morgan for that matter. What on earth did she have to do with any of this?! Angrily, she ripped the locket off her neck in one abrupt yet considered movement, and the chain once again bit into her skin like a violent whip. But she didn't care, rather on the contrary, the pain posed an almost pleasant distraction from her mental state of utter torment. Without any remaining care, she tossed the necklace onto one of the paper stacks by the fireplace, then glared at it as if that would melt the piece of jewelry out of existence by the sheer furnace of her fury alone. But all it did was to make her eyes hurt, and to make them tear up even more as Robin failed to come to any other conclusion than the one laid out before her. She would have to accept the facts, if she liked them or not… but that didn't mean she had to understand them any more than this crooked tumble of words in her head allowed her to.

After a few long seconds at last, seconds she used to unsuccessfully sort through her own frenzied thoughts, she first felt the cool brush of Snape's fingertips on the soreness of her neck, then the soothing tingle of his magic on her skin as well as in her mind, and finally the welcoming softness of his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of her neck. Obviously he understood that no words in existence could better the chaos that had become of her mind right now, and in return those feathery kisses were all it took to break through the clouds of anger that surrounded her, like a beaconing ray of sunshine. Robin found herself sighing before she knew, and for a few silent minutes upon that, she merely enjoyed the comfort of his lingering embrace. She wasn't alone in this, and she didn't have to deal with it alone. Thus, the only question of relevance was how they usually dealt with these kinds of problems, and the only answer was the same as always: together. By taking on one piece of the puzzle at a time.

"So…" She finally started again, and turned her head just enough to look at Snape more comfortably now. If they would talk about this now, there was no place for stray emotions. If he could stay calm and rational, so could Robin. "Basically this means that ever since the fourteenth century, whenever a male descendant of the Morgan family lived at the same time as a female descendant of the Bennett family, the man slowly turned insane with love for the woman until matters ended in one final fight over life and death? And as of yet, the Morgan man has killed the Bennett girl every single time?"

"Yes, and no. It isn't as easy as that, unfortunately." Snape replied, but thankfully went right on to explain. "The cycle of repetition begins only and foremostly when the first of the two descendants comes into contact with the cursed item connected to their family line."

"You mean when the woman finds the locket, or the man finds the portrait?"

"Precisely. The curses placed on the objects ensure that both the witch and wizard will inevitably find their respective objects. Thus, when Morgan came across the portrait, you also had to find the locket not long after. Or the other way around."

"But I came across the locket all the way back in first year, entirely by chance! Does that mean I was the first to find my object? Assuming that I even am the person this prophecy speaks of, that is."

"Not necessarily. Curses as well as prophecies have a tendency to make everything seem like it happened by chance. In hindsight, you might as well have taken the first chance you got to acquire the locket. It was your first holiday outside of school, after all. The first opportunity to seek out your object by yourself after becoming aware of magic in the first place."

"That's just overly confusing, if you ask me."

"It is indeed confusing, and since there is no way to nor point in determining who came to their object first, it is luckily not entirely relevant for the matters at hand." He went on, to Robin's luck, with the more pressing matters. "Once both parties have found their items, the repetition of history as is dictated by the curse is inevitable. Which is what makes it inevitable for them to meet, and to hate each other from there on even without knowing of the whole history behind any of what is going on."

"But when the two people are doomed to hate each other until things escalate, where does the whole 'obsessive love' thing come into play?"

"From the accounts I yet went through, there seems to be an equal amount of love and hatred in both parties."

"I see. So basically, this whole thing can't be talking about me then." Robin concluded with a huff, and a shrug in useless defiance. "I just hate Morgan, and that only ever since he started being an arse. For the majority of my time at Hogwarts, I was almost indifferent to him, and even now I only hate and fear him because of what he's doing to me."

"That is indeed quite a peculiar fact we still need to consider." Snape mused, and yet again Robin found herself glad that he had already seen her every thought and emotion. He knew that what she said was true… she didn't harbour an ounce of affection for Morgan, and never had. They both knew that.

"As is the fact that I am not a Bennett. My parents are muggles, and I can almost guarantee you that I wasn't adopted." Robin added in to the argument, then found herself sighing once more. "Can we even be sure that I'm the woman in question? It seems so unlikely, especially since I could just have the locket in my possession by coincidence."

"You forget the perhaps most important piece of undeniable proof there is…" Snape gave her a meaningful look, as if he had only just now thought of it himself. "The portrait. It depicts the original Bennett ancestor, and-..."

"It depicts me." Robin finished the sentence in a quiet voice, and her shoulders slumped upon the final realization of what that truly meant. "So I really am the pendant to our very own lunatic Morgan ancestor, huh?"

"It seems so." Snape's voice was no louder than hers now, and he, too, looked quite as discontent with the facts as Robin felt on the inside. "I have no idea how or why that is possible in the first place, but seeing as it is the way it is, perhaps it would be wise to postpone this question in favour of more urgent ones."

"Right, yeah, you're right… We have the present and future to deal with, the past can wait. I just… have a difficult time thinking about the end of the story. If the curse and repetition, the whole bloody prophecy, is still in place today, does that mean that-..."

"Yes. Over the last five hundred years, the cursed descendants of the Morgan family have killed the cursed descendants of the Bennett family."

"Every single time… Don't forget to mention that." Robin breathed to herself, and yet the words sounded as strange and foreign as the idea was in itself. Twenty generations, and not once had her side won the fight. Not that she even felt like she had a side, no, it was rather the fact that this entire prophecy seemed like an ill-fitting garment that didn't belong to her that concerned Robin the most. It still felt like none of this had anything to do with her, even though it most obviously did.

"That is mere coincidence." Snape countered in a huff of defiance, much like the one Robin had displayed herself mere minutes ago, but it was his words indeed that made her snort now.

"Didn't you just say that there is no such thing as coincidence in prophecies?" She quirked an eyebrow up at him, and yet again couldn't help smiling at least a little. No matter how dim the situation, there was always a tease on either of their lips to make it better.

"I meant to say that there is absolutely no factor that predetermines the winning of the Morgan descendant over the Bennett one." He replied with a roll of his eyes upon her tease, but Robin could tell that he appreciated it as a shift of tone nonetheless. "If there was, the entire prophecy would be rather pointless."

"True."

"Thus, there is absolutely no reason to assume that you will suffer the same fate as did the others before you. In fact, you do have one advantage over Morgan that everyone who came before you did not."

"And that is?" Robin raised her eyebrows at him in question and curiosity alike, immediately catching onto the spark of hope that came with the prospect of an advantage indeed. Perhaps, not all was lost.

"Me."

______________________________

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY+‘s actions are indefensible, because the outcome of their decisions are BAD. Amity failed, no one showed up. They forgot about the knowledge relic and TOOK CREATION FOR NO REASON, ensuring Atlas will crush Mantle so the people can’t go back. Sending people to Vacuo was already bad because people dressed heavy to not freeze to death are sent to a DESERT, then Grimm start killing with only 3 to protect a crowd of MILLIONS. None of this matters, because Salem’s 2/4 away from killing everyone.

Personally, I don't think the problem is that the outcomes were bad — as RWBY has often shown us, you can be put into situations where there are no good outcomes — but rather because their choices were informed and, in making those choices, they continually chose what they knew was most likely to enact the most harm. It's like offering someone a mallet and a feather with the goal, "We want to bop someone on the head and do the least damage possible." Team RWBY keeps choosing the mallet.

Amity — Warning the world sounds great on paper, but RWBY's history (of which the characters are aware) shows that revealing the Salem secret has a very high chance of ending badly. The counter here — but we'll receive help — is very easily dismissed with the basic knowledge that there's no time for others to get to Atlas, combined with the fact that Atlas is the only one left with a stable fighting force. So not only did they choose the highest chance of panic (which equals death because grimm) against the lowest chance of help, but they implemented this plan through a hasty, unscripted message that neither clarified what was going on, nor presented that information in a way that would help to keep the people calm.

The Lamp — Ruby and co., unlike Ironwood, were well aware that the Relic still had a question left and thus should not be left out in the open. Their entire Volume 6 efforts were put towards getting this thing into a vault. Then, not only do they agree to keep it vulnerable, but they give it to the weakest member of their team. Yet they're surprised when it's eventually stolen?

The Staff — Same thing here. The group knows what the Staff is capable of, knows (as far as we're currently aware) that it has no limit on how many things it can create, and knows that Salem is trying to get the Relics for herself, bring them together to destroy the world if Oscar shared that very important bit of info off screen. They also know that the vaults exist to protect the Relics, that Penny is the only one able to open the Winter vault, that Penny is currently with them on her way to Vacuo... so they take the Staff out of the vault because...? They had the perfect recipe for keeping it safe and rejected that for unestablished "because plot" reasons.

The Destruction of Atlas and Mantle — This is a more complicated one because I agree with the logic in theory. Resources aside, a people will always be more important than the cities they're living in, so the concept of sacrificing a place to save the people is fine. The problem is, RWBY decides to do this when it's the least necessary. They know that Salem is currently out of commission. They know that her goons are scattered. They know that Ironwood has successfully been taken out. Depending on how we read the animation, they know huge swaths of her grimm were destroyed by Oscar. Yet they decide to evacuate everyone now? The flipside to this is refusing to take that course of action when it was far more justified, AKA, when Salem first arrived. Ozpin and Oscar always knew how the Staff worked, Penny has been with them since the beginning of Volume 8, Ironwood was not threatening to drop bombs until two days later, they know Salem is right outside and (they believe) poised to destroy them all, so why not implement this magical evacuation then? Obviously, from a meta perspective, because then we'd lose a filler volume, but in-world the characters come across as incredibly stupid. They insisted on fighting the immortal witch when they had no ideas how to beat her (that's inevitable death, as far as they knew) and then decided to escape when they'd succeeded in taking out her, her grimm, many of her followers, and an ally-turned enemy. Destroying a whole kingdom is no longer a tragic, but heroic sacrifice when you... no longer needed to do that... and had time to think up something else... or you could have done this from the get-go when it was actually necessary...

Vacuo — Exact same thing as above. Sending people to the very dangerous desert when it's the only way to escape the witch hell-bent on killing them is the best option out of two shitty options. Sending people to the very dangerous desert when the witch has been atomized, her forces scattered, and the cold apparently isn't killing anyone is just absurd. We could have easily had a "This is the best scenario we've got" if this evacuation had happened at the beginning of Volume 8. Instead, Team RWBY forced everyone to stay — forcibly kept them in danger — and then evacuated them to the hostile, grimm-invested desert when they were in the least danger since this whole crisis began. They know that Salem isn't after Mantle! She couldn't care less about the hole filled with people or the subway system! So why is evacuating them to the more hostile environment still a priority? It's all about what information the characters have at the time and whether they made smart, empathetic decisions based on that. They didn't.

Team RWBY knows everything at this point. They know about the war, Ironwood's plans, what happened inside the whale, they have a turned enemy in their group, they've got the Maiden, they had the Relic, they got another Relic... They are not ignorant heroes making decisions based on bad intel, or even heroes forced to make decisions with only bad options available to them (two roles that Ironwood fit instead). Sometimes shit just happens and it's no one's fault... but in this case, there are too many places we can't point to and go, "No, Team RWBY absolutely had a hand in that." They knew their options, they knew the risks, they had all the available resources, and they still chose to do the worst thing at the worst time, with the story trying to paint that as a victory rather than a failure. I've got no problem with a hero's decisions having a bad outcome (that's good writing!), but I do have a problem with that bad outcome occurring in large part because they rejected other options and then the story trying to convince me that this was the best plan, actually. If you give your audience all the information the characters have, don't be surprised if they go, "Hey, why are you having the characters ignore these very obvious options and make the worst possible decision here?"

#rwby #mymetas

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sineluce-velius-tristitia · 2 years

Text

This is Your Kingdom, This is Your Crown

Prologue

2nd May 1998 meant a lot of things to the Witches and Wizards of Britain.

It was the day a great evil was defeated, vanquished by a boy born into the role as a prophecy foretold. It was the day many had realized that finally, they can mourn those they lost and have a sliver of hope that there will come a tomorrow that they won’t fear for their own life. It was the day those too fearful, too weak, too helpless to do anything but hide emerged to celebrate.

Harry Potter was named the Man-Who-Conquered, his close friends and invaluable allies, alive or buried, awarded for their bravery.

2nd May 1998 marked the end of an era and the fledgling beginnings of a new one.

The dead were buried, the guilty imprisoned as much as a still corrupt system can manage, a castle held dear pieced back together, and one Hermione Granger, overachiever extraordinaire, got it into her head to work her way up to becoming the Minister for Magic.

No one was surprised. It was pretty much just the other shoe dropping.

Then to the disgust of many purebloods who remained faithful to the beliefs of old, but to no disbelief of anyone who attended Hogwarts at the same time as the driven muggleborn witch, Hermione Weasley nee Granger won on her second run for the office.

Turns out being a decorated war hero supported by the Man-Who-Conquered and married to a pureblood (no matter the status) was enough for a majority vote.

Harry called bullshit, if only because he and Ron also had to drag themselves up, up, and up the Ministry ladder until their position was incontestable by even the wiliest of politicians. Harry within the Wizengamot and consequently the ICW, and Ron within the Auror Corps.

Thus, the formerly called “Golden Trio” started the first steps of changing the Wizarding World of Britain. A change that would lead to a new era where there would be no more Tom Marvolo Riddles nor Severus Snapes. A society that would treat Remus Lupins as their equals, and look at Argus Filches and Rubeus Hagrids without scorn. A place where the Dobbys are not merely objects of convenience, and none had to choose as Draco Malfoy did.

It was a tall order, a task so daunting and insane it was a wonder how it would have been possible to do in the first place.

But all three of them together are a force to reckon with. Tempests, as Luna Lovegood had fleetingly called them. A Triumvirate, as Draco Malfoy coughingly remarked with near imperceptible respect.

So they’d just make it so, plant their feet in the ground. Drag the Wizarding World by the ear kicking and screaming.

After all, they had a brilliant witch who saw no wrong with unconventional blackmailing, a boy wonder whose lot in life was geared towards survival and what it entailed, and a red headed strategist who had a lot to prove. An entire generation who saw the wrongs of the past, who had to condemn their own kin to Azkaban, and said (whispered, screamed) stop, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

It would be a hard battle, harrowing and incredibly trying, but quick and far-reaching and world changing.

They will do great things. Perhaps some think them terrible, but great all the same.

“I’m really glad it turned out this way.”

Harry dragged his eyes away from the roll of parchment he was holding, more than eager to have something distract him from the dry, dry, and dull paperwork Hermione saw fit to owl him this morning.

The weather had been uncharacteristically sunny today so he’d gladly abandoned his office for the more pleasant fields of the Potter Manse in the Irish countryside. The manse itself was only big enough to house a small family and then some, but the property encompassed acres of land, most of which were covered in plant life, including a small grove that Harry liked to disappear into from time to time.

Ginny wanted the bustle of the city after growing up in the fields of Ottery St. Catchpole and Harry himself had had enough of rural England to last a lifetime, so great as the manse is for a family, it wasn’t what they wanted as their home.

Instead, the large open space and lush greenery served as a sanctuary for the creatures Luna and her husband, Rolf Scamander, couldn’t realistically keep with them. Sometimes it also served as a great venue for family gatherings, one where their children could merrily roam around and mingle with magical creatures without worry.

Today, it seemed, is one of the days Luna decided to drop by to check on the more permanent residents of the property.

Knowing better than to dismiss Luna’s throwaway comments, Harry hummed questioningly to let her know that he’s listening.

The blonde wisp of a woman plopped down right beside him, her long hair tied in a messy braid and adorned by twigs, leaves, flowers, and other ornaments that only made sense to her. A wave of a wand and Harry smiled in satisfaction as loose hair pulled itself back into the braid and the ornaments righted themselves.

“Oh thank you.” Luna said airily, touching her hair delicately before settling her hands on her lap. “The bowtruckles have been eager to please lately. It was lovely of them to give me parts of their home.”

Harry put down the parchment he was holding. “At least they don’t seem to miss you as much as they did. I never thought a bowtruckle could develop separation anxiety for a human.”

“Luxor spent the longest time with us so he’s a bit peaky when left for too long.” Luna fiddled with the grass, a serene smile on her lips. “I’m afraid Rolf spoiled him quite a bit.”

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly, amused exasperation coloring his words, “Rolf spoils every creature that comes into his care.”

“As they should be,” Luna shot back easily, tone almost lyrical in faux snobbishness, “The Blibbering Humdingers had been too shy to show themselves until they saw how Rolf treated that poor wampus.”

And oh, how that had been a shock to poor Hermione. She��d been so sure Blibbering Humdingers were nonsense, but Luna and Rolf had procured actual proof that the rabbit-falcon-fanged-and-horned thing classified as the only other egg-laying mammal exists. Then they proceeded to rub it in Hermione’s face in their own uniquely oblique ways.

(The screech Hermione had let out when Rolf somehow managed to smuggle a young ‘Dinger into her office was absolutely legendary. Rolf would deny it with wide-eyed innocence, but everyone knew the man was responsible for the recording of her following rant that became known as “Woman Screaming Nonsense at Stuffed Toy for 30 Minutes Straight” in both muggle and wizarding social media.)

Their conversation petered off into a comfortable silence, one which Harry shamelessly used to procrastinate his work even more. None of those reports were time sensitive, so he had some leeway for the day.

But eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, so he asked, “How else could it have turned out?”

Luna hummed, twirling the tail of her braided hair, “Death. Grief. Cursed fire and an end. Nothing at all like this world you’ve established with our family.”

"Oh." A part of him wished he hadn't asked, his mind already filling in the blanks. Inevitably, old and new doubts made themselves known. Questions of whether they were doing the right thing, of how much power could one person have before they forgot everything else but themselves, of how selfish it was that every change they are forcing was for their family instead of for everyone.

"There is nothing wrong with being a little selfish," Luna reassured him, a knowing look glittering behind her eyes. Then she smirked, mischievous and teasing. "But, I think you'd want to go home early today. I'm expecting a formal letter of request for being a godparent. I’ve made bramble frames to put it in. Invokes Madremonte’s blessing."

It took Harry an entire minute to process her words, not in small part due to the whiplash caused by her abrupt change in topic. He swore she did it on purpose.

When it clicked, his eyes widened, panic setting in before reason and logic could get to him. He scrambled up from his position, barely minding the rolls of parchment he'd been working through.

Luna laughed airily, flicking her wand to set the scattered and creased parchment to rights.

The last thing he heard before he twisted his portkey was a "Say congratulations to Ginny for me!"

So spelled the birth of Lily Luna Potter, third born child and only daughter of Ginevra Molly Potter nee Weasley and Harry James Potter.

It was a completely normal, insignificant day when Harry James Potter took his last breath. The month, though, meant a lot. Separately, so does the day.

31st May 2078, two years shy of him reaching a century, five years passed his retirement from the limelight. The Wizarding World was unrecognizable, completely in harmony with the existence of the non-magicals. Their children, the children of their children, and maybe even their children, never had to experience war as they once did.

But it was a lie to say that it was an insignificant day.

On 31st May 2078, the entire world stopped. It stilled, paused, crashed, blipped.

Seers and those with seer blood from all over the world fell unconscious, centaurs and other creatures closely tied to nature fell to their knees as the air filled with the static of swelling, pure, unadulterated Magic. The earth quaked, trees shuddered without the wind, magicals jolted as if electrified, and everyone else choked and coughed as if the very air in their bodies were sucked out.

Then, seconds later, the world...shifted. Righted itself as if something had been wrong. Everything was back to normal.

This moment of distraction should have set off many dangerous procedures being done. And yet. Nothing. No one died in a surgery gone wrong, no explosions happened in any of the laboratories or pseudo laboratories, no vehicles crashed, no bruises formed on anything. Only one person was affected.

31st May 2078 was a quiet afternoon that was to be spent with his wife and watching over their grandchildren. Harry James Potter, aged 97, was reading with his grandson when his heart stopped. It wasn’t even before everyone in the room had recovered from the world’s stutter that he took his final breath, beyond the reach of any magic or science or miracle that could revive him.

On 31st May of different years, the multiverse and Beyond felt the Shift when a mad creature snapped his fingers.

READ THE ENTIRE FIC IN:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35909530?view_full_work=true

#fanfiction #Harry Potter #the avengers #mcu #crossover #tony stark #pepper potts #morgan stark #alternate dimension #harry potter is someone else #harry potter is morgan stark #domestic fluff #avengers endgame #fix-it #finished #completed

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

A Six of Crows Review: Final Thoughts

Well, I got about 60% of the way through Six of Crows and then the pacing kicked into overdrive (and it had already been pretty breakneck), so I didn’t see the point in breaking it down into just four or so chapters at a time anymore. Especially since many of the chapters in the last quarter of the book were barely more than a few pages long.

I have a lot of thoughts on this book and what I think is a lot of missed potential and some good concepts but poor execution. But in general, I think it would be most concise to just break it down into what I think Bardugo did well and what I think she didn’t do well.

What Was Done Well?

It’s refreshing to have a YA fantasy series centered around a city and set in a Renaissance-esque time period as opposed to a medieval one. That said, more could have been done in terms of worldbuilding (like, a lot more), but I liked what I saw.

Ketterdam has a lot of personality as a setting and Bardugo clearly has a very vivid image of it in her head. For that reason I wish most of the book had taken place there, as opposed to in Fjerda, which is… much more thinly sketched and doesn’t really feel like a real place with real people, but a general evil fantasy kingdom with some Nordic and Germanic inspirations. The icy place, icy people trope got played out very quickly.

The concept of the grisha and the magic system is pretty well explained in the book. I had next to no knowledge of it since it’s been years since I tried to read the Grisha Trilogy, but Bardugo does a good job of quickly breaking it down to the reader in easy to understand terms, and to repeatedly bring it back up in ways that don’t feel forced so there’s no confusion between say, a Fabrikator and a Squaller.

Kaz and Inej both have fairly well written backstories. Inej’s was done more sensitively than I expected, given the context, and I think it’s clear Bardugo was trying to be mindful of the pitfalls of writing about sexual abuse and exploitation.

It’s not perfectly written and I’m not sure it was necessary for both Inej and Nina to wind up in brothels, but I see what she was trying to do and I think she had good intentions. Kaz’s backstory stands out as being genuinely more interesting and compelling than most of the novel’s actual plot set in the present.

Action scenes. Action scenes are notoriously hard to write and I do think Bardugo does a decent job with them. Are they super realistic? No. Are they entertaining and fast paced without being too confusing or dry? Yes. She clearly enjoys the shoot-out, heist stuff and I wish she’d given herself the opportunity to actually focus more on it rather than heaps of exposition and long travel sequences.

What Was Not Done Well?

This book suffers from being the Kaz Brekker show. Kaz is given the most development and page time. Unfortunately, his present self is not that nuanced of a character or that compelling. This makes it even more frustrating when the other POV characters suffer for it.

Jesper especially was treated heinously by this book. We get next to no backstory on him and the reveal that he is a grisha is almost an offhanded moment. He’s essentially a walking camera for most of his chapters, with no introspection or reflection, just there to report events. Inej also has this problem, though this improves slightly over the course of the book.

All of the characters needed way more development and time put into making them seem like actual people and not quippy cardboard cut-outs. We could have spent far less time trying to hammer home how impossibly cool and edgy Kaz is.

The romances. There was next to no chemistry between Kaz and Inej as characters and thus all their romantically tinged moments came across as forced and awkward. I never got a sense for why Inej would be attracted to Kaz or vice versa. In theory, a slowburn allies to friends to lovers romance between them could have been very poignant and well done. In practice, it just didn’t translate well into Bardugo’s writing.

Matthias and Nina *did* have a lot of chemistry, but their characters wound up being unfortunately hamfisted and mangled by their own romance. Bardugo wants to paint the Grisha as both a persecuted minority and terrifying, valid threats who people are right to fear. The allusions to real world atrocities such as the witch trials and the weird Nazi imagery circulating around the Fjerdan nation does not help matters.

While I thought Matthias and Nina had some good, tense interactions, the reveal of their backstory made it lose steam because it involved them acting in seemingly ridiculously trusting and absurd ways. I was not enthused by the attempts to gloss over Matthias’ happy participation in war crimes by going ‘well, Grisha killed his family!’ and ‘Nina lied and got him thrown in prison!’.

It seemed like Bardugo was trying to portray Nina and Matthias being equally morally grey and culpable, when that’s obviously not the case. While Matthias could have been a very compelling and dark character who Nina must struggle to reconcile her feelings for, that just wasn’t the case, and their core ideological conflict ended up being brushed aside with Matthias deciding that Nina is ‘one of the good ones’.

The pacing is wack in this book. I understand Bardugo wanted to keep a very fast pace but the amount of chapters that were barely more than a page was more jarring and irritating than exciting. Many of them could have been combined into the same POV, especially since the POVs themselves were so poorly distinguished from one another.

Final thoughts: I didn’t hate this book. I found some moments frustrating or poorly written and I was very annoyed with the unequal balance of how the characters were treated. But I never wanted to rage quit reading it. On the other hand, while there were a few good scenes, I was never very invested in what happened or in the characters either.

So over all, I would rate it about a 5.5 out of 10, or something like a C or C-, I suppose. I don’t have much interest in the sequel, despite the obvious cliffhanger it ends on.

#six of crows #in review #ya lit

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sepublic · 4 years

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King and Lilith's Similarities

Another thing I love about King is that, as a rather stark contrast to his cuddly appearance and demeanor… He’s arguably the member of the main trio who is the darkest, in terms of how far he’ll go to be selfish, to hold onto what he does have, or to get what he wants?

I think the thing about King is that his issues of dependency are the worst, not just because he’s the most insecure of the main trio… But I also think he’s the only one of them to have been alone alone, in a sense? Back home, Luz at least had her mother Camila, who while not always the best, was clearly loving and contributed a lot towards Luz being such the kind and open-hearted person she is today! Eda had her sister Lilith as well as that one friend from the Bard Track… And while she WAS alone for a while, she at least had Owlbert and Hooty as companionship!

But what did King have? We don’t know for sure what his life or backstory was like, but the implication seems to be that, at least for a while… He literally had nobody else prior to Eda! And it’d definitely tie into his issues of loneliness and attachment, and King’s concerns of being abandoned as seen in Really Small Problems… This would’ve likely contributed towards his Napoleon Complex and desire to be seen and heard, to make up for constantly being overlooked! And his desire to have control over others could be a means of keeping them close at all cost…

Because King is the one who’s gone the farthest to get what he wants. There’s leaving Luz behind to be a famous author, and then that whole mess in Really Small Problems! He IS trying his best, but amidst his more experienced nature with Luz… He really does sometimes come across as, like, a KID who was forced to grow up very quickly? The thing about King is that he’s the most prone of the trio –if not the only one- to be prone towards jealousy! He doesn’t have Eda’s self-confidence or Luz’s unconditional kindness. He’s probably been lonelier than either of them, and unlike the other two, King doesn’t really feel like he has any other talent or power that could help him get through in life…

…Which, as @fandomfan2000 brilliantly pointed out, is a LOT like Lilith! Both characters feel like they lack talent and skill to make up for their shortcomings. They’re both people who DO legitimately love and care for the people in their life… But they’ll sink to lower depths than anyone else to hold onto what they have, or even get a glimpse of that unattainable dream that they KNOW they’re not good enough to actually get on their own! Lilith and King are both people who will do terrible things, hesitantly or otherwise, under the impression that it won’t last as long, or everybody else has it so good, so why not let themselves have a turn at being happy and selfish for once?

King takes advantage of Eda’s half-cursed state to take over the Slayground. Lilith curses Eda for what she thinks is only a day (and will merely weaken her magic) to get into the Emperor’s Coven. King accidentally causes Willow and Gus to shrink, after holding onto the potion without necessarily intending to use it, but not getting rid of it either, and decides to briefly benefit from the situation. Lilith did… well, EVERYTHING she did in Agony of a Witch, and then there’s also disregarding Amity’s autonomy and integrity to plant that Power Glyph onto her neck without permission!

Both King and Lilith, if they feel their singular bond with another being threatened, if they think that other person is going off to leave them… They WILL react negatively to those other friends ‘stealing’ their companion of theirs! Hence Lilith’s dismissal of Luz and King, or King’s negativity towards Willow and Gus! They’ll do it to maintain their sole connection in life, because isn’t it already enough for that other person to be so confident and meaningful, to be able to make friends on their own? Aren’t THEY enough as a friend???

It’s an almost willful ignorance, a hesitant dismissal of the ones they know and love, because… Look at them, they’re so much more confident than me! They’re always happier, they can make it on their own and recover, with or without me…! I can’t say the same for myself, it’s not really MY fault I was born without the skills or talent they have… Surely it’s not so terrible for me to be selfish just this once? I’m always being left behind and suffering, I have no other CHOICE…!

…But in the end, King has to admit that he DID have another choice. That his own pain is not at all, even for the slightest bit, justification for prioritizing his own feelings over the others’ in such a blatantly-disregarding way. There’s prioritizing one’s happiness in life, and then there’s hurting the ones you love to get what you want! And while it takes a few decades, Lilith finally also turns around… Because by the end of the day, both characters are also marked by eventual regret that they try to hide, and/or don’t handle productively.

Perhaps not just by circumstance and process of elimination, King was the one to vouch for Lilith! He was there when she recounted HER side of the story, and a jealousy of Eda’s strength that he feels guilty over is something he can relate to! Obviously there’s also the fact that Lilith hurt him the least of the main trio, not to mention the necessity of having her as an ally and all, but….

…I think all of King’s prior moments of selfishness and arguable ‘backstabbing’ have led up to this moment. Led up to this moment where he understands Lilith, and thus KNOWS what she means, and can recognize that she’s genuine when she wants to make up for things… Because he’s been in the same place. Obviously he never went as far as Lilith ever did… But that’s also because he had such a loving and reliable support network of friends! Eda’s connection with the main cast is more of a support network than what she and Lilith had with one another as kids, admittedly.

And I think it’s funny. King is –probably- younger than Lilith, or at least has a more childlike mindset… But he manages to come across as more mature and experienced than her when it comes to these sorts of things! King is a character defined by contrast; He’s cute and fluffy and adorable, but wants to take over the world and open revels in bloodshed and violence! He comes across as sweet and loving but he can also be dark and selfish! At times King is childlike, but there’s also a tragic experience and maturity to him from an implied loneliness in the past…!

Like, I think I want to see King and Lilith get along more in Season 2, or at least… Sort of bond over the mutual feelings of inadequacy. Of justifying themselves of needing to do the ‘right thing’, but really it’s for their own sake? These two are selfish in a dark way, they’ll resort to terrible things and they have uncomfortable thoughts and feelings in their hearts that they don’t want to acknowledge, but aren’t predisposed towards handling either! I can really imagine King and Lilith seeing themselves in one another… Learning to be more mindful of their own actions after considering what the other does!

Maybe the two will even learn to open up to one another about their more uncomfortable feelings and the thoughts they aren’t so proud of! But at the same time, these two will make sure to hold one another accountable… Tying back to this idea of contrast, Lilith and King know each other least out of the trio-plus-Lilith, and yet they have the most in common! And in the way of antics, I can imagine King affording himself some smugness over being the one to teach the former Head of the Emperor’s Coven, and Lilith having reservations over listening to this plush toy of a person… But ultimately, there’s a certain bond and kindred connection there that they don’t quite have with the others! Just as each relationship one has with another person is unique and meaningful in its own way, and one wouldn’t necessarily judge or compare the others as being ‘more’ or ‘less’!

The thing about King and Lilith is… After doing a bad thing and hiding it, they’ll try to work to approach the issue in a way that absolves themselves of the blame without outright admitting to how they caused it; Again, see Really Small Problems, or Lilith cursing Eda! Both King and Lilith will let themselves feel smug and triumphant over what happened, even if they aren’t always proud of it… Because they see themselves as people who’ve had to work smarter than others to get where they were, and do the pragmatic, necessary thing because pride and integrity are a luxury of the powerful and talented! They see themselves as underdogs and define themselves the most by this ‘role’ in life…

Fitting, given all of the comparisons of King to a dog in the past! Not to mention Lilith and King are both, well, DUMB, dumber than the others in the cast at least! And some of that ‘dumbness’ comes from willful ignorance no less…! And they’ve both had experience enjoying the role of being a teacher and possibly abusing that authority… In particular, I think Lilith and King are the ones most fascinated with the concept of having power over others and using that power a bit irresponsibly, or turning a blind eye to any issues that come with their support of a cruel system! It’s like Lilith is a dark reflection of King… Both are characters who will flex a perceived superiority over the rest and mean it, given the chance! Both view the role of teacher as that of an authority figure.

They can also be, well, cowards- When King’s antics begin to backfire on him, he quickly runs back to his friends, and with Lilith… Well, there’s her using Luz as a Meat Shield, her relying on the curse and doing it against her vulnerable sister while she’s asleep… King and Lilith aren’t as confident as others and are more likely to buckle in to their own personal fear and anxiety, so it makes sense for them to buckle into fear in general; As seen with Lilith’s less-than-dignified scream when she’s suddenly ambushed by Eda in Sense and Insensitivity! And THAT was a King-centric episode, no less! It’s that common theme of King and Lilith seeing themselves as inherent screw-ups and doubting their own abilities as a result, which leads to them using the abilities of others, just as Lilith has to buy a curse made by someone else instead of casting her own!

It’s such a fascinating parallel that I’d really never considered, and again, I feel somewhat personally-beholden to @fandomfan2000 for this BRILLIANT comparison! I know I’ve compared Eda to Lilith in the past, and Lilith to Luz… But I think in the end, she might actually have the most in common with King, the more I think of it? Maybe I’m just caught in the high of this revelation, but it really makes me think about how the parallels between Luz, Eda, and King, with Amity, Lilith, and Kikimora/Belos… It’s not just a one-way parallel, that these connections can also cross overas well! Eda and Amity are talented, Lilith and Luz are more like ‘underdogs’… Belos and Luz could have parallels amist the ones they already have, and King and Kiki are both tiny little gremlins!

These parallels are arguably interchangeable, and it’s fascinating to me! These characters overlap in a lot of ways, it’s not that they’re connected to THIS one person… It really contributes to this idea of everyone being inter-connected, almost like a community or unusual family of sorts! And it makes room for a lot of fascinating, alternative pairings that one wouldn’t consider, as well as connections and possibly precedents in-universe to compare with others and speculate upon!

And, it makes me wonder if we’ve gotten the parallels wrong all this time… If it’s actually Lilith-King, Luz-Belos… And if so, how do Eda, Amity, Kikimora, and Hooty factor into all of this? Or if it’s not REALLY that simple as one person is connected to another, in the end, because these characters don’t fit into neat little roles, they’re still their own people irrespective of that and allowed to form other bonds and connections as well! King can’t keep Luz to himself, he has to acknowledge that she has her own friendships…

Just as Lilith must do the same with Eda! And by having these other relationships and shared connections with others instead of just THE one, it allows these characters to be truly fulfilled, because unless the one friend they have is a complete and total clone of them… There are others who will relate to them more on other facets of personality! And that ultimately ties back into the idea of people who are independent actually forming more meaningful bonds with others than those who are just dependent! That it allows people to form more of an identity, then just their single relationship with this particular individual!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house king #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #narrative parallels #character analysis

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

the fault in our stars

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Claude & OC

Tags: #multiple dimensions, #dimension travelling, #platonic love, #mentions of major character’s death

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Claude receives a letter that states someone is out there able to help him fulfill his goal of unifying Fodlan and Almyra. Signed, “The Witch.” Of course he doesn’t trust this, but curiosity killed the cat, and so he sets out to find her and see what kind of help she can offer. It turns out, this witch carries more secrets than anyone Claude knows can carry and he, gentleman that he is, gladly lands her a hand.

Notes: A commission for @iam-miscellaneous

the fault in our stars

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Claude whirled, an arrow nocked and ready, but it was just a little squirrel staring at him with big, round eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and it scurried off into the forest and disappeared.

Claude relaxed. The forest was quiet again since most of its residents had fallen into a deep slumber from which they shouldn’t wake up until Lone Moon. But Claude had read about dangerous creatures that didn’t fear the harsh Syopyr Taiga of the Galatea region, and stalked through the snow to hunt their prey. He’d much prefer not ending up inside the stomach of a moonbear or red wolf, thank you very much.

He should have brought Ákos with him. His wyvern was big and he would surely draw attention—literally the wyvern in a porcelain shop, but Claude would be save from any beast trying to have him as a snack. Also, Ákos was warm. Warm and with his white skin perfectly blending in between the snow covered pine trees that stood vigil like the statues of the four Saints in the monastery. But it would be hard for Ákos to move freely, so Claude relished in the comfort to know he was but a whistle away and would barrel down and crash through the woods to save him.

Were it not for the letter, Claude wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letter before him, its existence ever-present inside the pocket of his trousers as if it emitted heat, burning against his thigh.

I can aid you in your goal, wrote the mysterious person calling herself The Witch.

What goal specifically? Overthrowing Edgard? Unifying Fódlan and his mother land? Striking down the borders of discrimination and bigotry so people would finally stop slaughtering each other over the colour of their skin or what god they choose to worship? So many questions, and Claude hated any of them remaining unanswered. But for that, he had to find the witch’s cottage first and he’d been wandering through these woods for hours.

The Everglow stone certainly did keep his fingers from freezing in this relentless cold, but he knew he’d reach his limit soon and would have to return to base. He knew this time, Lorenz and Hilda would not allow him to leave so easily.

They’d been wary of it the moment the unknown owl had landed on Ákos’ head, carrying a letter addressed to “the Prince of a far away land.” Claude’s blood had run cold.

“Prince of a far away land?” Hilda had squinted at the paper spread out in front of them on the war table they kept outside under an open tent. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“And the things she offers, this ‘Witch,’” Lorenz had agreed sceptically, and thus luckily not noticed the quick glance Hilda stole Claude’s way. He’d always known Hilda knew more than she let people on, and Claude had given her one of his rare, tired smiles. She’d made a very serious, very un-Hilda like face, and turned back to the letter.

“I think I should check it out,” Claude had said, and their reaction was understandable, if a little too dramatic for his taste.

“If you die chasing this witch, could you die knowing you leave the Alliance in someone else’s hands?" Lorenz had said. That was very unusual for him. It had taken them five years to get there, and Claude wouldn’t just throw away that trust.

“What if she turns you into a frog?” Hilda had asked. That was very usual for her, and Claude was thankful for her effort to ease the mood after all the losses they’d suffered in the Battle at Gronder Field.

“Then you guys better start looking for a princess right about now,” he’d replied, his tone breezy when inside he’d been a storm. The only princess he knew had charged into the role of Emperor and would surely make frog leg soup out of him, and the only prince he’d known laid skewered without even a proper burial on a vast field that drank itself sick from all the blood spilt on it.

Things did not look good for the Alliance. As Claude had filed every advantage and disadvantage seeking out this mysterious person in alphabetical order, he looked at the owl that had delivered the message. Its black eyes were fixed on him expectantly, as though he should be well aware of what it sought as reward, but Claude didn’t know of course, and a second later, its sharp beak split open the skin at the back of his hand, drawing blood. It ruffled its feathers and took off to the sky, hooting in offence.

“Let’s hope you’ll start off better with this witch than her familiar,” Lorenz had commented, leaving Claude to tend to his wound. He’d hissed a curse, pressed his mouth against the wound and levelled a disbelieving look at his animal companion. Usually Àkos was no friend of man or animal. He barely tolerated Claude’s closest companions to saddle or care for him, but he’d allowed an unfamiliar owl to use his head as a seat, and peck at his friend and master.

Claude still pondered about that even after a week’s worth of travelling through the Alliance territory to reach the north of Faerghus. He didn’t like being short of options, but with the hand dealt to him by Fate, he could really use an ace up his sleeve.

The witch could have been more specific about her location though.

Come to the Okhotsk Forest and you will find me.

Well, that was a lie. He’d been out here for hours now, and still there is no sign of her, or her hut, or anyone living out here for that matter.

Claude would be mad furious if this turned out to be one of Hilda’s jokes. Though he doubted even she would go this far, especially during a time like this. War changed people. She wasn’t the giddy girl anymore, batting her eyelashes to let other people do her work. And yet he remembered this one time when his grandfather Oswald had celebrated the Leicester Alliance Founding Day and Hilda had written him a secret note to meet him, pretending to be his first crush. He’d been waiting in the cold until servants found him with a fever the next morning. But instead of getting angry, Claude was really impressed by Hilda’s lie and persuasion, and decided to have her as a friend rather than an enemy.

Claude shivered. Pegasus Moon was drawing its end. He could smell it in the crisp air—the time of new beginnings dawned. An opportunity for new plans, new schemes, and he wouldn’t be Claude von Riegan if he would pass up on them. That was, if he found his hopefully new ally. And just in that moment, he turned his head and caught sight of something dark in the corner of his eyes.

A hut.

Out of nowhere, a little hut stood in the middle of the clearing, looking as if it had been there since the beginning of dawn. It blinked into existence where seconds ago the forest ground stood empty. Claude blinked, thinking out of desperation he’d imagined it. But no matter which way he turned his head, what angle he leaned into, the hut didn’t magically disappear like the Fata Morgana he’d encountered during their trip around the Sreng Desert, where instead of finding one of the lost Saint’s weapons, they had stumbled upon an ancient, sentient beast.

Claude shook at the memory, feeling his mouth go dry just thinking about the scorching heat. Even days after their return to Derdriu, he’d found sand in places it wasn’t supposed to be.

Luckily, the forest was the complete opposite. It was eerily quiet. No birds heralded the spring, no foxes scurried through the underbrush in search for smaller prey. Among the blinding white of the freshly fallen snow that clung to everything, the black stoned hut with its small, red chimney looked like a picture out of a fairy book. Claude grimly remembered stories Dimitri had told him in front of the fireplace in one of the monastery’s big common rooms about a witch living in the deepest forests of Faerghus called baba yaga. Her house stood on chicken feet and she snatched away little children who went astray or lost their way through the forest.

But this was real. Claude had finally found her.

Approaching the hut carefully, his fingers danced across the hilt of the short sword attached to the belt around his hip. He wasn’t a fan, but since early days, Nader had taught him the way of the sword.

“You won’t always have the luck to find a bow,” he’d said after knocking little Claude to the ground for the fifth time in a single sparring session. Claude had endured without complaining, but he’d also made up his mind that day that the sharpest weapon on him would always be his mind.

Claude braced himself. Having finally reached what he’d been venturing to for the last weeks was wind in his sails, propelling him forward and lifting his hope. He knocked against the wood with his knuckles, once, twice. A third time.

Nothing.

Off to a good start.

“Hello?” he called through the door. His fingers itched to the letter as he wondered if he was supposed to say a secret code word. But he’d read the letter over a dozen times, analysed everything from the way she dotted her i's and crossed her t’s to how she constructed every sentence.

No secret password. No secret behavioural code. Nothing.

Claude decided to go for the doorknob. But when his hand hovered inches away from it, it turned by itself and the door creaked open. Claude shuddered. Inside, everything was dark. Heavy vermilion curtains didn’t allow any sunlight to stray inside. A minty scent lied in the air, not unpleasant, as if someone had recently taken a hot bath and thus steam still lingered in the air. He cautiously entered the hut, eyes straining to see any kind of movement. Everything was still.

Fabric rustled—no, not fabric. In one corner stood a perch, and on it sat the owl, regarding Claude with its black eyes. They stared each other down for a moment, in which Claude wondered if it had been the witch all along, playing with him. But the owl just regarded him sleepily, then turned around and chose to ignore his presence.

Claude allowed himself to relax a little. From outside, the hut looked small, barely the size of his bedroom at the monastery. But inside was enough space to hold multiple work stations and contain additional rooms to the east and west. One wall was completely lined with bookcases tall enough to reach the roof, neatly stacked with leather-bound books. When he looked closely, he could see gold letters shining off their spines. In front of if stood a large table that was buried under dozen maps, showing star constellations he’d never seen before. To his other side crinkled the fire place. A black kettle hung above it, and he could hear water boiling.

Claude approached the shelves standing beside the fireplace, filled with all kinds of different objects in containers and glass bottles. Glowing flowers, insects with rainbow coloured wings, sharp claws and large teeth swimming in murky liquid. He realised only then that he’d been expecting dead animals lying around with their abdomens wide open and jars filled with organs. But this place looked cosy. Like someone actually lived here instead of using it as a crazy laboratory.

“I see this place is to your liking?” sounded a voice from his right. Claude jerked back from the jar he was observing. He hadn’t even heard a door opening behind him.

She’d just appeared like a dream. Claude’s first thought was, She is very small, and for a moment he feared to meet with a child because he’d turned down the wrong path and missed his designated location completely. But then she opened the curtains with a flick of her wrist. Claude, blinded by the sudden light, flinched. He’d seen sorcerers and the like at the academy, had seen Marianne and Lysithea work their spells and yet he knew this girl in front of him was unlike any spellcaster he’d ever met.

Not girl, he realised as she stepped into the light, and he found her gaze linger on him. Those were no eyes of a young girl. For a brief second, Byleth’s face flashed in front of his eyes. Claude missed her. He did not look forward to face her once they’d reach the Imperial capital. If she didn’t come to him first.

“It is certainly … unique,” Claude said, moving back to the centre of the room with his back to the door. He didn’t like to be cornered, and though he guessed his chances weren’t bad facing an opponent a whole head smaller than him, he didn’t want to challenge Lady Luck. She didn’t appear to be very fond of him lately anyway.

“Shall we talk business then?” he quickly followed on, watching her move to the fire place. Taking the kettle, she poured steaming water in two prepared cups. He immediately recognised the smell, Almyran Pine Needles, his favourite tea. If there really was a spy among them, he’d have to find them quickly. Or she really was a witch and had insight in many things which meant he needed her on his side before Edelgard found her.

The Witch gestured to two heavy armchairs sitting in front of the fire and after a moment of hesitation, Claude crossed the room and sank in the cushions. Only then did he realise how exhausted he was from wading through knee-high snow. He took the cup from the witch’s small hands, but didn’t drink yet even though his body couldn’t wait to warm up quickly after the freezing temperatures outside. Besides, sometimes it was more about the company of a warm beverage. And he wanted to make sure she drank first to see if it was poisoned.

The witch took her first sip without hesitation, then looked at him daringly as if she knew exactly what he was waiting for. Claude didn’t trust her. But if she really would aid him, then he wouldn’t pass on that offer.

Bottoms up then. Tasting the nostalgic flavour, Claude immediately relaxed. There was the right amount of sweetness too, meaning she’d put in the right amount of sugar.

“Who are you?” Claude asked finally, the question burning on the tip of his month since he left Derdriu. The Witch took another sip. Her gaze roamed over his features, calculating yet at the same time somewhat caressing.

“A friend,” she answered, “who only wishes to see you win the war.”

Claude took that in for a second, allowing the tea to warm him from the inside. “I think I’d remember if I had someone peculiar like a witch as friend. And what exactly makes you think I need help?” he asked. “As far as I know, the Alliance is holding up pretty well.”

He had to test how much she knew. If there really was a spy, they had to find and eliminate them quickly.

The Witch placed her porcelain cup aside, and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, she looked like a mother about to scold her child.

“The Alliance is a powder keg about to explode,” she said calmly, yet with a voice that didn’t appreciate Claude trying to deceive her. “You can’t find a way to convince Lord Gloucester to join your forces and usually a nation divided does not win wars. Especially not against an opponent like the Emperor.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair, dragging his tongue over his lower lip, his mouth suddenly dry. Straight to the point, just how he liked it. “It doesn’t stop with getting old Gloucester to unite with House Riegan,” he said. “We need food, weapons. A new base of operation somewhere more central to send out our forces. Unfortunately, I doubt The Enlightened One will let us stay anywhere close to the Garreg Mach monastery.”

Something flashed in the Witch’s eyes when he mentioned Byleth. She pursed her lips, reminding him of Judith whenever she received a particularly unpleasant information.

“I see,” she said after a moment. “Your old teacher leads the Black Eagle Strike Force. That does make things more difficult.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Interesting how she knew about the Alliance’s status but not that his old professor was on the enemies’ side. “Difficult how?”

“Let me deal with that once the time comes,” the Witch said. Claude wasn’t happy. He knew trust was a little too much, too quick given they knew each other for about five minutes. But she could give him a little more to work with here.

“Pardon me, but so far you haven’t really convinced me to accept your help, little witch.” He had to test the waters, see how far he could go in before the current dragged him under. The witch didn’t even blink at this nickname.

She mirrored his movement and locked her fingers in her lap. “Let’s just say my knowledge about certain things would aid you greatly in winning this war.”

“What things, pray tell.”

“Your plan to fend off the Imperial forces stationed in Daphnel. You won’t be able to occupy it for a long time before the Imperial army takes it back. You wonder if those knights and soldiers are better off stationed in Goneril to guard your supply shipments coming from Almyra, but you can’t say if your people would prefer to see an assertive ruler adamant on fighting the Empire or a generous ruler who cares more about protecting and nourishing his people.”

Once she finished, only the crackling fire made conversation with the burning wood. Claude didn’t avert his eyes from her piercing gaze, and she didn’t shy away when he cocked his head to the side, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

“So you do know a few things about me,” he said, and now he was the one mirroring her movement, leaning in closely. “But if you know about what keeps me awake at night, what do you know about my enemies?”

“Enough to end this war,” the Witch said, her eyes blazing with resolve, “if you listen to me.”

Claude raised his hand and pressed his palm to his heart. “I promise, should there be method in this madness, I will lend you my ear and listen what you have to say, little witch.”

She exhaled softly. Relieved, and Claude wondered how much of that conviction she’d shown was act. But he couldn’t begin to doubt this early, for the doubt would eat away at him and just this time, he wanted to believe whoever was their benevolent maker, he’d finally nudged Claude on the right path. He’d been without hope for so long, he’d forgotten how it tasted.

Claude stood, antsy to get back to his city and scheme away and finally, finally turn this war around. “How long do you need before you can join me in Derdriu?” he asked, moving towards the door when he noticed a strange apparatus next to it, showing a circle painted in different colours and a little arrow pointing at the part that was coloured a dark purple. When he turned, the Witch had followed right behind him, and Claude took a step back in surprise, his back gently pressing against the door.

She was smaller than him, yes, but her presence filled the whole room.

“I will finish a few things here, and then I will meet you there,” she said. She stretched her hand and rested in on the doorknob. Claude stepped away, allowing her to open the door, and was surprised when he saw Àkos waiting for him at the door step, liking snowflakes off his snout. When Claude raised his hand to pat him, he sneezed in his face.

Claude pulled a grimace. “Good to see you too, my friend.”

The witch followed him outside, and for the first time since their meeting, a smile had strayed on her face. She offered Àkos her hand, and before Claude could tell her to be careful of Àkos’ sharp teeth, he sniffed her fingers and gave a little confused huff before leaning in and allowing the witch to caress his smooth, leathery skin.

Now that was unusual, and maybe just a tiny bit, Claude felt betrayed. He swung on Árkos’ saddle, immediately relaxing at the familiar feeling of his wyvern’s steady, warm body. Before he took off to the skies, Claude turned to the witch and said, “You have to tell me who spies for you inside the Alliance. I might hire them as my new spy-master.” But she didn't give him a name, she didn't even smile thinking it was a joke. Her gaze was fixed to the woods stretching before them, her jaw set, and Claude knew that look. It would stare back at him in a mirror whenever he tried really hard not to cry.

“Your name,” he demanded. “I still don’t know your name.”

The Witch straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I will tell you once we win the war. Once we win, I will tell you everything.”

* * *

Claude tried to wipe the exhaustion away with his sleeve, but closing his eyes for even a second ran the risk of him dozing off. There was still so much to prepare for their defence of Derdriu. He had to block off the city, occupy the naval port and lead the reinforcements to each city gate leading to the heart of the capital. There was no moment to rest.

Fresh air. He needed cold, fresh air to clear his mind and wake him up.

Outside, knights and soldiers on night duty greeted him. They had nothing unusual to report, everything was calm. No movement from the enemy so far. Somehow, that didn’t reassure Claude at all, though he couldn’t say if he’d rather want the opposite.

His feet carried him to the outskirts of their camp, and there it was—standing out from all the other tents was The Witch's tent, its leather roof mirroring the constellations of the starry sky. Judging from the light inside, she was still awake, probably pondering about the upcoming battle just as he was. Claude crossed the clearing and opened the front flaps only enough for his voice to come through.

“It’s Claude. May I enter?” he asked. Something rustled. As if paper was quickly wiped away. A moment later, her voice called back to him, “Please come in.”

He ducked and entered her tent. Again, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, yet just like her cottage, it was still simple. Instead of expensive, luxurious furniture, she decided to fill every nook and cranny with her magical apparatus’ and ingredients.

The Witch stood in front of a cherry wood table, wearing a simple, dark gown. From the way she tried to appear taller and held her hands behind her back, Claude knew immediately she was hiding something. He thought back to the sound of paper being quickly gathered and tried his shot.

“Writing to your lover?” he teased, settling in an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

The Witch blew back a black lock that stubbornly clung to her forehead. She crossed the room, and within a blink, the papers in her hands vanished. Claude gave an impressed whistle.

“He is more than that,” she said without any hesitation. “But are we lovers? No.”

“And how does one become become friends with a witch?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. She sat in the empty seat beside him, not bothering in the slightest about her posture. Claude liked seeing her relax around him. For the past few days, she’d been all over the camp, tending to the wounded or helping magic battalions with their spells.

He was surprised how easy it was to work with her. She effortlessly followed his train of thought and anticipated questions or knew exactly were to probe whenever he wasn’t certain about something and hoped no one else would notice. But she always noticed, as if she inherently knew his faults and weaknesses and therefore watched his back. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume this wasn’t their first time working together.

“I call everyone friend who offers me toffees,” the Witch said now, taking off her boots. Even though she’d been outside the whole day, there was no speck of mud on them, whereas Claude’s boots wore a mud crust he wasn’t proud of.

“Toffee.” Claude playfully stroked his chin. “I think I can supply some.”

“I would be so ever grateful.” She gave one of her rare smiles, growing slowly like the moon slipping slowly beneath the waves of a lake. Whenever Claude was capable of making her smile, pride bloomed in his chest.

He didn't know what it was about the Witch that made all the tight and careful knots inside his chest uncurl. Maybe that was what people meant when they said someone made them feel undone.

“How do you feel about our stand here?” he asked. “Do you think we’re prepared for Edelgard arrival?”

Immediately, she tensed, and Claude regretted bringing it up. They talked about tactics so much every day, they should be spared of it inside their tents, the only place of comfort and peace, but it seemed Claude had forgotten how to do small talk.

But the Witch just shifted her weight a little. “I don’t like lying to you, but the truth isn’t pretty.”

“I still want to hear it.” He needed to know their chances of winning. The truth might not be pretty, but more than that, he didn’t want to be lied to. He couldn’t say why, but especially from her, he didn’t want to hear a lie.

They held each other’s gazes, and Claude was impressed again by how black her eyes were. Darker than a starless night, he couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. Yet there was kindness in her eyes. Kindness and experience that told stories older than she appeared to be. But with no time to dwell on his theory, he tucked it away in a safe corner where he’d access it later. When this was all over and he’d have enough time to listen to her story.

After a moment, the Witch spoke, “I wish your success wasn’t depending on anybody else. I have prepared you to all my capabilities, but...”

“But we can’t say for sure what Edgard will do.” Of course they couldn’t. No one of them could read thoughts or look into the future. Claude was usually all for unpredictable variables to keep his mind reeling and working, but even facing Edelgard gave him more headaches then he asked for.

“No matter the outcome, I can promise that your city and its people will be save,” the Witch said. They’d been working together for a couple weeks now, but Claude had learnt early on that she kept her promises and it was nice to lean on someone for a change.

“That’s all that matters to me,” he confessed. “I don’t care what happens to me. But I cannot let down my people. The Alliance. Its future. It’s all that matters.” Because how else would he begin his peace-mongering without his Leicester Alliance unifying with his Kingdom of Almyra.

A dark shadow settled on the Witch’s face. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his features as if she wanted to commemorate them. Claude had to fight the urge to fidget, to flee from her keen gaze.

“The nation will learn how to move on when you are no more,” she said quietly. “But what about those you leave behind. Do you not care about your friends and comrades?”

“I care about what becomes of them after the Emperor captures my city and they are no more masters of their own fate.” Claude didn’t want to think about such a future. It would make him turn mad if he did.

“I know you think everyone has the might to forge their own paths. That fate is not absolute. But there are some fates you cannot change. You can only bow to them. Believe me. I’ve seen it many times. Too many times.” The Witch immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away as if that would undo the words she just spoke. Claude hesitated. He wasn’t equipped to handle her surprising honesty. Honesty meant being vulnerable, and he’d never seen her like this. Sometimes it was easier to handle battalions and war generals than raw emotions, and Claude was thankful for the distraction fluttering it.

The Witch’s owl, that had been sitting on its trusty perch, flew through the tent and settled on the Witch’s shoulder, nuzzling it’s soft head against her cheek. The Witch smiled and scratched its chin. In return, the owl hooted and then proceeded to give Claude an accusatory glare as if he’d been the very reason for its mistress’ distress.

“Your little friend doesn’t like me at all,” Claude observed a second time since making acquaintance with with her feathery companion. “It’s like I offended him in some way.”

“She,” the Witch said mildly, “is fond of you. In her own way.”

Claude doubted that. “An unusual way to show her fondness of people. Pecking at them. Must your secret friend also endure this bullying or is he spared of it?”

“She treats everyone equally,” the Witch answered, and now he could see amusement crinkle in her eyes like the flying sparks of a fire. “My friend is no exception.”

“And is he a wizard like you? Or like us common folk?”

“He is,” the Witch began tentatively, “a just, young boy who heard the sound of flowing water in a world of sand and thus began to believe in hope. And this belief is a strong weapon, but the strongest weapon on him is his sharp wit and gilded mind.”

“Sounds like you hold him in high esteem.”

“I would burn cities and dethrone kings just to see his greatest wish fulfilled,” the Witch said, her gaze burning holes in Claude’s eyes. Something hot whipped through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy. Hot-white jealousy burnt inside him to have a friend this dedicated to him. Maybe that was what books spoke of when they told stories about soulmates, and right now, his soul longed for a relationship like that. To be understood and accepted without having to give anything in return.

He took a deep breath, and banished those thoughts where they didn’t hurt. “Your friend sounds like someone I could become friends with.”

“Yes,” she said, turning her eyes away from his. “You two are quite similar.”

Claude wanted to know what it would take to meet him. To sit alone with him and have a chance at hearing all the Witch’s secrets, unravel them one by one and learn more about her. But she did tell him she’d explain everything after he won the war, and Claude held onto that promise like a drowning man.

After he wished her good night and left her tent, Claude remembered Nader had told him a story once. Claude, barely seven years old, had strayed into the desert bordering a small port city in Almyra where his mother loved to take him on vacation. After hours upon hours in the scorching heat, when he’d already made peace with the thought that the wide sea of sand would be his burial, he’d stumbled upon a small oasis. To this day, he remembered the sound of rushing water from the small waterfall and diving into the cool depths until he finally was found by Almyran soldiers looking for him. He’d never told this story anyone. Now he stopped, turned around and nearly ran back to the Witch’s tent only to be stopped when horns blared through the night’s quiet, waking up the whole city.

The Emperor had arrived.

* * *

Smoke rose to the grey sky that looked as if at any moment, the clouds would open to lament and cry. When she descend the cobblestone streets, her head a melody of pain and anguish, no one stopped her. No one could stop her because no one could see her as she hurried through tight alleys and corners, her spell making her invisible to the untrained eye.

The port stood abandoned. Now that it was occupied, there was no reason to guard it, and the Imperial troops had moved on to the centre of Derdriu where the important buildings stood. The embassy with its golden roofs, the Leicester mansion with its hundreds rooms and the famous Round Table.

But she didn’t care about silent stone monuments that would live to see another thousand years. She only cared for the one person who could have held it all together.

The Witch found Claude von Riegan lying on his stomach, his face drained in his own blood. The gaping wound in his chest still bled, a horrible hole left by none other than the nasty bone shards of Aymr. His eyes were still open but unfocused, staring ahead at the darkening sky.

Her stomach churned. No matter how often she saw him like this, it never got easier. The Witch sunk to her knees, and gently cradling Claude’s body into her arms, she whispered, “Forgive me, old friend. I was unable to save you yet again.”

There was no answer. As always, silence was her only companion, and grief her only caretaker. She teleported herself and Claude’s body outside the capital city where she looked for a secluded space outside the city, and using her own hands, she dug a grave deep into the earth. He deserved to be buried in his home land, the place he loved more than anything, but there was no time. There was never enough time.

She finished when the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and pink. One moment, she stood in front of the mound, and one single blink later, she walked through the front door of her cottage. Exhaustion bled her dry when the door closed behind her, and with a slow twist of her wrist, she turned the doorknob. A click sounded next to her, and for a second, everything turned black.

When light returned, everything was the same, and yet everything had changed.

On her way to the bathroom, she put water to boil in a black kettle hanging above the fireplace, and laid out a nice porcelain set of cups and Almyran Pine Needle tea for her guest.

The bath was already ready for her. She shed her dirty, ragged robes, and lowered herself in the hot water, feeling it immediately sooth her hurting limbs. As always, it took some time to clean the blood and dirt under her fingernails from digging Claude’s grave. She scrubbed herself raw until nothing was left of the previous world, and stepped outside the bath like a new born child. When she dried herself, she heard three sharp knocks at the door, and a voice calling out. Willing her new, clean robes to come and dress unto her with a flick of her wrist, the Witch took a last, long look at herself in the mirror.

Thirty tries. None of them had succeeded, and she was becoming so very tired of it all. With every try to save her friend, she’s learnt new things about the worlds and dimensions, and yet none had been enough in the end. She knew that chances to succeed were higher whenever Byeth was leading the Alliance. In some rare cases, in little pocket dimensions that would immediately dissipate when she tried to set foot in, the remaining Kingdom forces had joined the Alliance and victory would lay at the tip of her fingers. So close, and still unreachable.

But she would never cease her fight against the world that wanted to see her dear friend suffer and fail. Even if that meant bending rules, and changing to something that wasn’t human. She would make death bow to her, and once he was her servant, she would put her dear friend free of his curse of never-accomplishing happiness.

The witch squared her shoulders, and swallowed these thoughts and her still-fresh grief deep down where they didn’t hurt anymore. When the door quietly swung open, and she saw Claude von Riegan inspecting her shelf of ingredients, she said, “I see this place is to your liking?”

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #claude von riegan #fe3h claude #fe3h claude von riegan #fire emblem three houses claude #fire emblem three houses claude von riegan #fe3h original character #platonic friendship #dimension travelling #sort of au

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littlemisssquiggles · 4 years

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Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar’s Sacrifice For His Rose

Guys, I’ve been thinking. And y’know what happens when this squiggle meister muses about something; especially if it’s related to RWBY.

For most of V8’s promotion, the showrunners and the CRWBY kept hinting at how much “darker” this new season to be. And as daunting as that may sound to me as an audience member, the obvious question I ask from this is:

“…Exactly how dark are we talking?”

After all, RWBY has done dark before. I mean look at V3 and the events of the Fall of Beacon. V3 is still considered to be RWBY’s darkest season to date. Beacon fell leaving Vale Kingdom broken and vulnerable without the protection of its main huntsmen academy and a handful of important lead characters from that arc---heroes and villains alike---died. So keeping that in mind, how really dark can V8 be compared to that? What can the showrunners do for this season that they didn’t already do season prior? And here in lies, my hunch.

Well…not real a hunch. Just a thought. An idea. For me, V8 being darker wouldn’t just represent the Fall of Atlas and the death of lead characters important to this volume arc such as General Ironwood or Winter Schnee or even another member of Team JNPR like Ren or Nora.

Nah son. To me, that’d be way too simple for my taste since, as I mentioned earlier, it’s already been done before so fans are already going to expect that, right? For V8 to be dark for me, the showrunners would have to do something incredibly ballsy. Something that’ll really catch their viewers off guard.

I’m not talking about Ruby Rose losing an eye. As much as I’m not really a fan of that popular fan theory, even that seems too light. Not to mention that Ruby’s development as a Silver Eyed Warrior has been quite inconsistent over the past few seasons and is the aspect of her character that’s been the least challenged.

So I’m going to just toss this one out there because it’s been on my mind since I saw this particular shot from V8 opening visuals. It’s the shot of RWBY falling into an abyss of darkness with Ruby reaching out to grasp what appears to be the Relic of Creation while Grimm hands---the same ones conjured by Salem back in V6 to apprehend Hazel as punishment for his failures---restrain her to drag her further and further away from the light.

Imagine if…Ruby dies?

And I’m not just talking teasing her death like how they did it with Weiss back in V5 with Cinder Fall or with Blake in V3 and V6 with Adam or even Yang back in V3 with Adam.

I’m talking, straight up having Ruby Rose be killed instantly by Salem and her corpse is just left behind for her allies to find her dead. An unquantifiable spark snuffed out after the villains had won yet again. And on this grim tone, V8 just ends like THAT.

Mantle Kingdom is no more; just another graveyard for the Grimm like the former Beacon Academy.

The People of Mantle are all dead; tragic victims of a failed attempt at saving them.

Atlas Kingdom has fallen with its own people about to meet the same horrible end as their former Mantlese brethren.

Salem has succeeded in claiming the Relic of Creation and relishes in her triumph by the restored communications to broadcast a cryptic message to the rest of the world. A message unveiling the Fall of the formerly powerful Kingdom of Atlas at the mercy of her Grimm army; letting the leaders of Vale and Vacuo---the last two remaining kingdoms standing in her way of claiming all the Relics; know that they were next in her conquest.

Our heroes have sustained yet another heavy loss. And what’s worse this time is that now no longer had the guidance of their leader. Ruby Rose is dead. Made to be the martyr this time. And on that note, the volume just fades to black on the echoing cries of our heroes and the victims of Atlas as everything falls to ruin.

It’ll be just like the opening foreshadowed. Happy? Never Again…because the simple soul who was meant to be our hero in the end to rise above everything else and vanquish the forces of evil was now gone. Died another failure to a cause like so many others who died in vain throughout Remnant’s history; just as Roman Torchwick predicted that she would. And such a tragedy this is since this girl. This single rose---this true rose--- was meant to be unique. She was supposed to change everything, right? But alas, her fate was no different than the ones that came before her.

I’m bringing this up because I have this rather farfetched idea involving the Rosegarden pair that I really wanted to share. It’s not exactly a theory per say. It’s definitely not something I expect the canon to do. Shoot, I highly doubt the showrunners would actually pack the chops to kill off their main protagonist.

However the RWBY V8 opening really got me thinking.

“…We said goodbye to all the things we loved. Gave up our lives just to find that it was not enough…”

In a discussion regarding the ending of the Little Prince story, an anon-ninja informed me about there being an alternative interpretation of the conclusion to the prince’s story wherein, instead of perishing from the snake’s venomous snake bite, the prince succeeded in returning home to his beloved rose on their planet...only to discover that his rose had died in his absence with his care and love.

Putting that together with the V8 opening visuals, it made recall a show I used to watch on Lifetime called Witches of East End. I quite liked it. It's a shame it got cancelled after only two seasons though.

Anyways, why I remember this series in particular is that; spoilers but…at some point during the show’s main PLOT, it did the unexpected and had a series villain kill two of our three main characters. And what made the visual even more horrifying to the audience was that the corpses of these characters were left on display for the surviving third main character to find. It doesn’t help that the two characters were also the beloved children of our third lead who she has watched die countless of times since the head witch---Johanna (I believe her name was) was cursed by her father so that each time her daughters died---she would be forced to give birth to them again and watch their life and death happen again and again. And it doesn’t matter what she did or how hard she tried---even when she attempted to hide her family’s identity as witches from her girls---her daughters STILL never lived past the age of 30.

They always died somehow and it didn’t matter if only one of the daughters died either. When either died, the other one would surely follow. So Johanna would give birth. Raise her two girls into fine young women and…watch them die. Living the same vicious cycle.

This is why the V8 opening visuals made me think of the prospect of Ruby dying. That shot that I showed of Ruby being dragged down into the dark abyss by the Grimm far away from the light made me wonder.

At first I figured this was a sign that we going to see some mental machinations at the hands of Salem. Basically Salem trapping Ruby and her friends in this cryptic illusion where she tortures them with surreal images of their worst fears incarnated in order to break our heroes down both emotionally and psychologically. So that’s one idea.

But then I thought, …what if…instead that moment is meant to be symbolic. Like the Staff of Creation symbolised life while the Grimm and the void represented death and at some point, Ruby will straddle the fine line between the two for this season.

So with all that in mind, this is what I thought. This is the scenario I concocted from this interpretation.

Let's say...

It is the inevitable Fall of Atlas and Salem kills Ruby Rose.

Instead of the wicked witch being dead, it’s our little red rose and because of this, our heroes are left distraught (Yang in particular, not just because Ruby was her baby sister but also given her doubts over her sister’s judgement and all that jazz). However our remaining heroes aren’t given time to really process Ruby's death. All they could do is take her corpse and attempt to flee since Atlas was falling and our remaining hero team needed to leave if they were going to make it out alive.

Since the show hinted at this bit back in V6, my assumption is that at some point, Vacuo Kingdom will answer the call and come to aid the People of Atlas. While they're unable to salvage the kingdom, the least their forces are able to do with the aid they could provide was evacuate the Atlesians to safety in Vacuo.

So ultimately our heroes are rescued by their allies from Vacuo and reunite with teams CFVY and SSSN respectively. However there is no real time to celebrate their reunion since...well...Ruby is dead. Salem is on her way to Vacuo to claim the Sword of Destruction next and, the group are at a loss on what to do next. Not to mention that certain characters---like WBY (mainly Yang) and Oscar---aren’t taking Ruby’s death too well.

Since the usual gimmick for when a main character dies is for their allies to somehow figure out a way to bring them back from the dead, in respect to Ruby, I had this idea of...perhaps…while staying in Vacuo at Shade Academy, Oscar discovers a way for him to somehow bring Ruby back from the dead?

Let’s say…it has something to do with his semblance or magic. The thought process I had behind this was that considering that Ozma is technically the only living soul to have ever traversed the line between life and death as an immortal being, imagine if...this somehow made Oscar some kind of human life line or spiritual anchor---A being who is connected to the Realm of Life and Death via his rather unique predicament as a member of Ozma's lineage.

And thus, using magic (or his semblance or whatever---I dunno) Oscar is easily able to travel the Realm Between Life and Death. Y'know sorta like the Avatar. Maybe?

Basically the notion I had was that

Oscar would go to the Realm Between Realms.

Y’know the same white void where we originally saw Ozma meet the God of Light for the first time in the Lost Fable.

Picture it, Oscar mirroring his predecessor in the Lost Fable, awakening in the Realm Between Realms. In this vacant world, let's say…we get another call-back to the Lost Fable where for the first time since his lifetime as Ozma, a Wizard of Light is reunited with a God.

Imagine if...as a nice parallel, Oscar encounters the God of Darkness in the Realm Between Realms. Much like Light to Ozma, Darkness chose to appear before Oscar since the all-knowing God was already fully aware of what the little prince’s intentions were daring to come to such a world. He knew he was coming to find his rose.

Let's say...to entertain his own amusement, Darkness agrees to give Oscar a helping hand with his quest for Ruby. The God informs that Ruby’s soul was located in the After Life and even takes Oscar to her so that he may reunite with her. However being the cunning God that he was, what Darkness failed to inform Oscar of was that even if he succeeded in finding Ruby amongst the sea of souls in the After, that didn’t necessarily mean that the boy would be permitted to just bring Ruby just like that.

And since Darkness had dominion over Death (as Light had Life), even with his title as his brother’s cherry picked “champion of humanity”, Darkness wasn’t going to give Oscar that respect in the slightest. For in Darkness’ eyes, this foolish boy lost that mercy the instant he dared to defy the order of the world he and his brother fashioned together to step foot into what he described as his domain.

After all, there are rules to this game; naturally. Life and death go hand in hand---always in perfect balance.

In a nutshell, to Oscar's detriment, Darkness informs the little prince that the only way that he would be allowed to revive Ruby is if he gave up something equivalent in exchange for her salvation.

An eye for an eye. A soul for a soul. So this presents Oscar with a predicament where in order to save Ruby, he had to sacrifice himself in the process. There was no other way. Ruby will be allowed to return to the Realm of the Living to reunite with their friends waiting for her but this also meant that Oscar would be forced to part ways with everything he and everyone he had grown to love.

This included Ruby despite defying the odds just to find her. He wouldn't even be able to be with Ruby as they once were. Not as teammates. Not as friends or anything more. His life would be gone…and Darkness informs the young boy of all of this; expecting him to fold.

But despite the God's warnings, Oscar agrees to the terms. Without question. Out of his devotion to his rose, the little prince was willing to make this great sacrifice for her. And even when questioned by Darkness of why Oscar would dare to commit himself to such a foolish feat especially for a single girl when there were probably a thousand more exactly like her back on Remnant, it is here where we can get the Fox’s lesson to the Prince, in Oscar’s own words.

Yes Ruby was no different from any other rose. Just as Oz once told him, Ruby had her faults and her quirks just like any other person. She’s remarkable yes. Strong. Brave and Kind. But she’s not perfect. Oscar had experienced the consequences of her flaws and learnt that lesson for himself.

But this wasn’t what truly mattered. What made Ruby important to Oscar was that…she was his. His teammate. His friend. His rose. The girl he…loves. The love and respect that Oscar had for this one girl due to the bond they shared together was enough to make Ruby more special to Oscar than any other girl in Remnant.

His love for her was what made her unique to him. A proclamation which genuinely stunned Darkness as he recounted a time when another poor unfortunate soul, blinded by love just as Oscar was now, came before him for the same reasons as Oscar was doing for Ruby.

Only this other helpless soul didn't make the same bold choice as Oscar did. Unlike Oscar, this soul didn’t understand the value of the life they claimed to love. Essentially a comparison between Salem and Oscar.

So for the meat and potatoes of this post, Oscar sacrifices his soul to restore Ruby to the Land of Living, bolding choosing to take her place in the Afterlife. As Ruby's soul returns home safe, Oscar's descends slowly into the Void of Death.

But despite this, the little prince bears no remorse. No regrets. He wears nothing but a smile on his fate; perfectly content with his sacrifice as he reached a hand to the light to bid one last tearful goodbye to his rose.

His one true love as he slowly closed his eyes and awaited death's embrace.

And…that’s it. That’s the idea. Obviously me being me, there is definitely more to this concept that I had in mind however this post is already getting a bit too lengthy so I’ll just stop right here. (If anyone is curious about the rest of this headcanon, feel free to ask me in my inbox if you’d like).

But for now, yeah, this is the idea I had. Now as I said, this is only a thought. A mere musing. As I’ll repeat again, I don’t actually expect the show to really kill off Ruby for V8. In another different story, this could’ve happened but I’m not expecting this at all from RWBY even it would’ve made for a very interesting twist.

Regardless, I do still love the concept of Oscar Pine---as our titular little prince, declaring his love for his rose by giving his life to bring her back from the dead should she perish in battle. It feels like such a poetic thing to do. But like I said. It’s just another idea I wanted to toss out to the Rosegardening Pinehead and Rosegarden community.

Take it as you will and maybe you all might like it. Who knows? X3

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #rwby volume 8 theories #rwby volume 8 spoilers #squiggles pinehead headcanons #pinehead headcanons

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go-go-devil · 4 years

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The White Eye of Emeritus

Alright motherfuckers, it’s been too damn long since I last posted any Ghost headcanons, so here’s my own lore about the white eye we’ve come to know and love, specifically how it first came to be as well as the dubious origins of how the Emeritus “family” was created!

Since this is over 1,000 words I’m gonna submit this as part of Emeritober this year, since I quite like this one. Also available to read on AO3!

Strap in folks, this is basically gonna be a Demon Pope history lesson!

TW: Mentions of sexism and body horror

Of all the traits that each of the abbey’s unholy popes possessed, there are none as unifying and diabolical as that of The White Eye. Always on the left eye, always as pale as the full moon, it is the ultimate symbol for which one reveals their unyielding devotion to Lucifer and all the Great Demons that serve under Them, and it is through this property that each Papa is granted the ability to perform black magic in our mortal realm.

It was a gift first earned by The Original Papa Emeritus Nihil back during the Middle Ages, after the sacking of their original abbey in Florence. Even after the surviving Siblings of Sin were left without a home or leader (their first elected pope having been captured and subsequently burned at the stake), his devotion to the art of black magic and natural leadership skills played a significant role in helping the survivors make their exodus to the north. Upon settling in Linköping he found himself powerful enough to attempt a direct contact with The Olde One, asking for Them to grant him the magic of Hell itself as a means of assuring his people’s prosperity in this new land.

His request was granted. He used his magic given to him by The Eye to summon the first ghouls into our Earthly plane, and with their superior strength and elemental powers they helped construct the Unholy Abbey of Linköping for the Siblings of Sin to reside and worship in. With the further aid of these ghouls alongside the skills of many witches, he then weaved a dark mist to shield the abbey from discovery by those who fought for God, granting access only to those who wished to serve the Will of Satan. Those Christians back in Florence had mockingly named their previous pope “Papa Emeritus” after his forced retirement, so Nihil chose to keep the name to show how even death cannot stop one so devoted to the devil, and thus the unholy title of all future Papas had been born!

Now as to how The Eye can be earned, well… this is where things get complicated.

For a long time, there were no consistent guidelines for electing someone as the next Papa. Some were able to perform either the same or similar contact rituals that the original Emeritus 0 was able to do, those of which were always incredibly dangerous and could violently kill the seeker attempting spiritual communication with Hell. There were even others that had arrived already possessing this white eye by some chance supernatural event, having instinctively searched out the Unholy Abbey through supernatural guidance, although these cases are significantly rarer.

As for gaining The Eye via rituals, the only criteria they had back in the olden days were that the person needed to have lived and studied in the abbey for at least 10 years and completed seminary, be highly skilled in the art of black magic, and needed to possess a penis (The Serpent with Which They Could Use to Deceive). Unfortunately, sexism in regards to leadership roles affected even the protofemenist teachings of the Satanic Church for the longest time, and nowadays the abbey is sure to teach of the multiple women & trans men of the clergy who most likely did possess the abilities needed to become Papa but were not allowed to.

Well to be fair, there were two Papas elected that were not cis men: an intersex person and a woman, those being The Original Papa Emeritus Secondo and Terzo respectively. Emeritus II was "traditionally masculine" enough to be allowed an attempt at the contact, while Emeritus III had come to them already possessing The Eye, and thus they could not ignore her rightful title (although they did still refer to her through he/him pronouns, stubborn bastards....).

And that's how it was for much of the abbey's history. Emeritus was merely a title to denote whichever random person was lucky enough to achieve it, nothing more. However, everything changed during the early 1800’s when a single idea dawned on the current Papa of the time. The previous two Papas before him had both happened to be his father and grandfather, so if that were the case, would that mean that the power of The Eye could be inherited?

Testing his Lamarckist hypothesis, he waited until both his sons had come of age and then forcibly subjected them to the contact ritual under the implication that their bloodline would automatically grant them access to this magic, which caused one to die horribly and the other to successfully be gifted with the coveted white eye. Through the combination of this “successful discovery” alongside a desperation to reclaim the earthly magic that was starting to disappear as well as the backing of an upper clergy becoming more and more corrupted with each passing decade, the title Emeritus had been officially morphed into a dynasty.

Perhaps there was some truth in the inheritable properties of magic, since more Papas were made from that starting lineage. Yet when put into perspective, the costs of this practice were truly far too great to justify the means.

Dozens upon dozens of teenage boys were subjected to these premature contact rituals and suffered disgusting, needless deaths at the hands of their fathers, all in the hopes of finding the one “worthy” heir to the Papacy. Harems, which were once simply a source of pleasure for a Papa, became a mandatory method of producing enough sons. These women were impregnated so often that many ended up dying from birth complications, and those who were able to successfully give birth either had to raise their daughters all on their own or risk seeing their sons bodies be twisted and shredded beyond recognition after an unsuccessful ritual.

Our current day Nihil had four brothers before him; three whom he never knew, and one he was forced to forget. They did prove to be failures after all, so why memorialize them? It truly was nothing short of a miracle that he was able to survive the ritual at such a young age. Once he got The Eye and all the magic it provided him, along with the aid of one Sister of Sin allied to his cause, he wasted no time in usurping his wicked father. To further emphasize his separation from his father's legacy, he reset his title back to Emeritus 0 as a symbol of how he was going to lead the Satanic Church into a new Golden Age, one where he would never subject his heirs to such needless destruction.

Ironic how he ended up accidentally achieving what his own father always dreamed of: three sons that proved themselves apt enough to survive the ritual and earn The Eye. Granted, he did forbid his children from attempting the contact until they had fully developed their knowledge of black magic and had completed seminary, but it is quite intriguing how he managed to produce this many heirs to the Papacy in such a short span of time.

Could an outside force had helped him in some way, possibly enhancing the heritability of his magic with supernatural means for the sake of their achieving their own ends?

…

Of course not! Who could possibly do something like that?

#papa nihil #the papas #ghost headcanons #the band ghost #emeritober2020 #my headcanon #my writing #if anyone's wondering #Copia was born with the eye #and Sister Imperator's connected to the mystery of Nihil's magic fertility #girl needs her a good vessel!#and if anyone's wondering why I refer to Lucifer as 'they' and not 'he'#it's because I want to make my worldbuilding more of my own thing #and don't want people thinking I really know what I'm talking about #when it comes to the actual practices of Satanism #I'm far from an expert in that field!

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darkestdawnhq · 3 years

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GRETA CATCHLOVE is a 23 year old HALFBLOOD, a former HUFFLEPUFF, and a BOOK SHOP-KEEP who is a CIVILIAN and uses SHE/HER pronouns. They are categorized as CODE THREE. They are currently CLOSED.

HISTORY.

Greta Catchlove was welcomed into the world by two loving parents, who were beyond thrilled to have a beautiful baby girl. Her childhood was almost idyllic – she spent her time doing things that she loved with the people that she loved. Her parents fostered her creativity. Together, Greta and her parents would paint nonsense on blank canvases, read in the afternoon sun, hike, and spend their summers swimming and kayaking at nearby lakes. She was always fascinated by the beauty of the world around her, spending hours sitting in the back garden, just taking all of the beauty in. Watching the ladybugs, caterpillars and ants go about their days, marveling at mushrooms and ferns and oak trees. Greta quickly became the kind of person to give bees water or to save a worm from the pavement. The Catchlove’s never had an excess of money, but they were happy.

Her fascination with the world prompted Greta to start writing at a young age, at first making detailed notes about her observations, but then starting to run away with her imagination. She dreamt up tales of Princesses and Knights, life-sized ladybugs who could sing, tap dancing dragons, and much more, letting her vivid imagination run wild. When she was 11 and she received her Hogwarts letter, she was both excited and terrified. She’d never known anything other than life with her parents, but she was excited to embark on a new adventure, just like the ones that she made up in her imagination.

Tall and gangly, even for an 11-year-old, Greta made her way to Hogwarts, and was immediately sorted into Hufflepuff house. It wasn’t until she got to school that she realized the simple fact that not everyone was nice. She also had no idea how important blood status was becoming in the Wizarding world. Both of her parents were magical, but her Grandma was a Muggle, and Greta didn’t know how anyone could look down on someone as lovely as her Grandma. She never really excelled at her studies, but she never did poorly, either, enjoying subjects like Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic more than Transfiguration or Charms. Greta enjoyed learning new things, but was never able to stop her imagination from running wild in the middle of her classes. She was friendly and warm, making a few friends, but was always a bit too introverted and sensitive to form any real bonds, worried about rejection from her more outgoing peers.

When the war started to rage, Greta knew that, while she absolutely held sympathies for those who were standing up to He Who Must Not Be Named and his band of bullies, she had nothing to offer the Order. She stayed neutral in the war, not because she didn’t support the cause, or think that everyone deserved to be treated equally, but because she was terrified for herself and her family. Greta was a writer, not a fighter, and didn’t feel strong or brave enough to make a difference. Her neutrality landed her the code three status, and even after the war ended, she has continued to try to keep her head down so as to not draw any attention. She may have been introverted before, but by the time the war ended, she had pretty much cut herself off from everyone, even her parents. They had both gone into hiding with Greta’s Grandma for her safety, and Greta is terrified for them all. She’s afraid that if she steps out of line, that something bad will happen to her family. There have been few who have been reaching out to her, and Greta appreciates it, trying to push herself to really form some deep connections.

After the war ended, Greta started to be plagued by guilt about her inaction, but she is very careful with who she lets her sympathies be known to. It is these sympathies that Sirius Black seems to be very aware of, and though her interactions with him have been pretty few and far between thus far, she’s incredibly worried of the dangers that come with being associated with Order members. It’s flattering that Sirius seems to think she’s capable of more than neutrality, but a small voice in the back of her head can’t help but think that he’s just grasping at straws for an ally. As usual, there’s an internal war raging inside her head - she’s still absolutely terrified of stepping a toe out of line in the new world order, but she’s starting to think that she needs to do more than just sit idly by while injustices happen. Greta is, of course, completely unaware that she’s being closely watched by the new regime, which is probably for the best, as knowing would completely ramp up her anxiety.

If there was one quality that her parents instilled into her, it was kindness. People tend to underestimate Greta because she’s soft spoken, gentle, and kind, but she thinks that there’s a great strength and courage in being kind in a cruel world. She is incredibly observant, noticing things about the world around her that others might miss. Though Greta is very sweet and kind, she tends to be quite sensitive, overly anxious, and overthinks things a lot. She’s more of a dreamer than a doer, letting herself get more lost in her imagination than she is grounded in reality. She has a good sense of humour when you get to know her, tries her best to be hopeful, is very down to earth, and cares incredibly deeply about others. Greta tends to be a bit gullible and naïve, is easily flustered and embarrassed, and certainly isn’t the most skilled witch of the bunch. She is, however, a very talented writer, and hopes that one day, by some miracle, the reign of terror will be over, and she’ll be able to publish one of the many books she’s started writing.

CONNECTIONS.

SIRIUS BLACK: Recruiter. Greta has caught him several times since he went into hiding along with the other newly minted fugitives of the law. She would never turn him in, since she doesn’t agree with the new Ministry or the treatment of muggleborns. However, she does wish he would stop coming to her and looking for her to join their cause. She can’t say how she truly feels about him seeing some strength in her that not many others have, but she doesn’t want to get involved in the dangers of the defeated Order of the Phoenix. She offers him all the help she can each time without accepting his offer to join.

ASLAN SHAFIQ: New Friend. They met at Flourish and Blotts when both were looking over books on herbology and charms. Truthfully, they both reached for the same book at the same time and their hands hit. Greta started talking to Aslan then and discovered that they had a lot in common in their interests and their views. She’s been keeping in touch with him since then and a new friendship is budding between them. It’s such a relief to her in these new days for her to find a new friend to fend off the darkness of the world with.

MOLLY WEASLEY: Companion. Greta started interviewing Molly for a book she was considering writing before the Death Eaters took over. She’d been playing with the idea of a book on charms one uses in the kitchen or one on herbology for your home. Over the afternoons with tea and little babbling babies on Molly’s knee, Great came to really appreciate the kindness, warmth and knowledge of the older witch. However, all hopes of her ever publishing a book like that, or about any topic, came to an end when the Ministry declared that only code ones could be published. She still enjoys talking to Molly when she can, even if it is no longer in pursuit of her book.

LUCINDA TALKALOT: Classmate. Though Lucinda was in a different house, Greta always admired her from afar when they were at Hogwarts. The two knew of each other, of course, being in the same year, and Greta always wanted to befriend Lucinda, but wasn’t entirely outgoing enough to know how. Greta always admired Lucinda’s take no prisoners attitude, respecting that she was a fighter who always stood up for herself. Lucinda always had qualities that Greta wished she could have more of – she would have loved to be able to stand up for herself more, but confrontation terrifies her. Since graduating, she’s seen Lucinda around, and always thinks about reaching out. She has nothing to lose, and isn’t quite sure what’s stopping her.

Currently portrayed by NATALIA DYER

#Greta Catchlove #Natalia Dyer fc #skeleton rp #hp rp #new rp #Natalia Dyer #female #halfblood #hufflepuff #civilian #code three #closed

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merelliahallewell · 3 years

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Questions and Answers: The Threats

The Curse and the Fae - - The Old Oak - - The Threats - - What Remains

With the most pressing and deep questions answered, the stage was set for the remaining protectors of Autumnhearth to answer. Kyuusei and Weslynne both fell quiet and shifted back. A new voice broke the quiet: an astute, intelligent one. Deeper in tone than the others who had come that day, the once-apprentice of @eldridgecandell, Josiah, made himself known.

“What was the purpose of the giant spiders?” he asked with a pen and pad ready to record. He had already scribbled down notes for the other answers recieved, and now was ready to take down this one. “And what was your relationship with their queen?”

The spiders had long troubled Drustvar’s people, from the Bleak Hills to the Autumnvale and even down to Fletcher’s Hollow.

"Many years ago, their queen was an ally of mine, and of the wilds. At the call of the Stag and Doe, we and a great falcon came to aid them in a desperate battle against evil powers. We battled against the land that has now become Kul Tiras... and from this great battle, it came to be tainted with death's influence. In those days, she was a foe of the darkness just as I am now. She and her many children wove traps to ensnare and hamper our foes, and prevented them from retreating into the darkness of the caves and caverns. When the foes were defeated and cast down, we buried them deep beneath the land just as the Travelers did before us. Though our methods were different, we hoped that entombing them would prevent them from rising again.”

The attentive inquisitor’s pen scratched, quickly taking down the notes. Kindly, the unicorn waited until the bespectacled man looked back up before continuing.

“Our work has held thus far. We appointed two guardians over these boundless evils. One was the queen, who watched over the caves of the mountains as well as the deepest portions of the woods, where her children could thrive and flourish. In time, their closeness to the tombs of our foes drove them to either madness... or they fell willingly seeking power. I do not know. We were great allies once, but now we are enemies. I work to make sure her children do not venture too far from their domains.”

Thanks was given, and the inquisitor settled back in to ponder over the answer as others took precedence. The young squire Ayalisse spoke next, her own question inspired by Josiah’s examination of their enemies.

"I really gotta wonder, with all the witches an' what have you.. why are there so many around these parts? There's gotta be a reason witches are so common compared to other places. Maybe we could work to nip em at the bud?"

"There are many of them. Once not so long ago, these witches spread all over Drustvar- finding or forcing recruits from the populace. Though most were defeated and slain, the remaining ones fled here. This place is considered a backwater and wild land by mortals. They thrive in the way that it has been ignored, but also are supported by some unseen hand I cannot see. It was the perfect training ground for them to use until recently. Somebody in Kul Tiras- outside these lands - feeds the Soulthorn Coven recruits drawn from the dispossessed and broken."

"The last great war left some embittered against the world. Those of the House Ashvane, destroyers of natural places, seek revenge for their losses. The fallen Tidesages, with the death of their god, seek new things to worship. The poor and dispossessed have long been ignored during Kul Tiras' stagnation. All of these offer a steady source of recruits to be tempted into evil. I wish I could say where they are guided from, but even I do not know."

Corynne speaks up, the Drust-blooded woman patting the skull-mask besides her as she spoke to Gwain. The last question had prompted her own, it seemed. "What marks the difference between the sorcery of the Heartsbane and these new witches we find ourselves plagued with now? Assumin' there's anything of note, of course." There's an air of concern mixed with morbid curiosity in the native's words.

"There is no difference. The Soulthorn Coven is the Heartsbane reborn, but also freed from the Thorned King's command. They seek power at any cost, and make bargains with the other dark powers of Thros. These other powers have turned the magic of that realm in unusual and strange ways. One of their new masters uses it to influence the seas, another the deep places of the world. They have evolved their craft as all spellcasters do, turning their sorceries in new directions. They are more powerful and more wise than their predecessors were."

Cori grumbled out some incorrigible string of curses at the mention of the Soulthorn and their ilk simply being comprised of the since-evaporated Heartsbane coven. “Very well. Hope they like starin’ at the business end of this mask once more,” she replied with a momentary tilt of her head toward the whittled piece of wicker resting in the crook of her arm. “Old spirit like you oughta have some sorta blessing to offer up, hm? Little somethin’-somethin’ for a disgruntled native.” Her words were filled with an uncharacteristic curiosity. Quite the departure from the typical gruff tone.

If the unicorn could have smiled, he might have. There was mirth in his tone as he responded. “You have all the might you could ever need to face them, Barrowguard. Still, if you seek a boon of me, find a place of power within the woods. You will know it by the great standing stones that still remain there even to this day. Speak your name into the forest and place two things upon the altar: a trinket taken from your foes, and a sacrifice of something you will miss. A few drops of your blood sprinkled upon the stone will be needed as well.”

#Tales from Autumnhearth #Questions and Answers #RP Story #Autumnhearth

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.8}

*Severus Snape x OC*

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.6k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

It was the middle of April when Robin finished the very last of Snape's book collection. The day she returned the very last book to him was both a sad and an exciting one, for Robin wasn't entirely sure what he would give her to do next. To her disappointment, he merely remarked that she had read everything he could give her at the present time, and then continued with his work as if it was nothing special. Maybe it wasn't… but somehow Robin had hoped for a little praise at least, if not a prospect of what to do next. Thus she stuck to doing class assignments and readings for a while (she managed half a week, which was already more than anticipated), until at last she just couldn't handle the lack of private studies anymore.

She had already finished most of the library books about potions, herbology, and magical creatures, which is why she decided to find a new topic to read up on rather than trying to find more books on the topics she already had studied profoundly. Thus she started reading all the books about the dark arts the library had to offer, but more out of interest in the mysteries that hid behind the generic title than out of preference for the correlating class. And really, it was a weirdly broad topic. Everything that wasn't allowed or was dangerous to use fell into this category, but more often than not Robin wondered why exactly something was considered 'forbidden' or at least unappreciated to use. Sure, most of the things described in her newest reads were potentially harmful for someone involved, but honestly, so were kitchen knives, or golf clubs, or cars. And nobody bothered forbidding them either.

That's the only revelation she's had by the time exams rolled around, and the exact point where she found herself stuck at now as she sat in the potions classroom like always, on a Friday evening in the second week of June. Not even a week before she would have to go back to her parents' house for the summer.

"Do you have a minute?" Robin asked as she looked over at Snape to her right with an inquiring expression. Some time in March she had started sitting at the side table next to his desk rather than at her usual seat in the students' rows when she came here for coffee and work at night. Admittedly, she'd occasionally been sitting there way before March already, whenever students were in the classroom for detention, but somehow after one particularly detention-heavy week in March, she hadn't bothered going back to her original seat, and he hadn't bothered asking her to. That's how she came to sit at the table next to his desk permanently now, in the evenings at least.

"Of course. I wanted to talk to you about a certain issue anyway, but feel free to start." He replied and closed the book he'd been reading for the last hour to meet Robin's gaze.

"You probably noticed that I've been reading up on the whole 'dark arts' thing over the last weeks, except for the week studying for my exams that is, and well… I just don't understand why there is such a thing as dark arts in the first place." Robin shrugged and closed her own book as well. "It's just more spells that happen to be a tad more dangerous than others. But the danger is just a potential, isn't it? I mean… the magic isn't good or bad in itself, it's the person using it who determines that. And calling it 'dark magic' is kind of taking the responsibility of making this choice from the witch or wizard who makes it."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean…" She sighed and paused for a second to think of a good example. "Take a kitchen knife, for example. It's just a tool in itself, and only because some people use it to stab others doesn't make it inherently bad, nor do the people who use it to chop vegetables make it an inherently good thing. It has the potential to be both, and if one isn't aware of that, there always is a danger in its use."

"I agree."

"So why do we learn in school that there is good magic and bad magic? Why don't we learn to work with the responsibility of dealing with a neutral magic that leaves it entirely up to us how to use it?" That was the actual question Robin had been meaning to ask, but it had taken a while to find a way to phrase it.

"Because it is easier to keep people on a predetermined path if you map it out in front of them. Tell them what you think is good by giving them something that is bad in contrast, and the majority will let it guide them according to your very wish. That is how politics work, and as despicable as it is, the school is a political issue no matter what the headmaster says. Also, the dunderheads we teach couldn't deal with such a responsibility."

"That doesn't sound like an answer a professor would normally give." Robin smiled in amusement at his last comment.

"Your questions aren't something a student would normally ask." He returned with a shrug and an expression that made Robin chuckle.

"I guess you're right about that. And I do see your point. Thanks for the honest answer." She sighed and felt like he was probably right. What is taught and what isn't was all politics… and that meant it didn't always make sense. Huh, what a sad end for her private studies of the mysterious dark arts.

"Of course I'm honest with you, there would be no point in anything else."

"So… what issue did you want to talk about?" Robin inquired a few seconds later and tried not to showcase her curiosity all too much.

"There have been rumors for a while now…" He started, and Robin grew nervous immediately. Rumors were always bad, and somehow she always seemed to be entirely oblivious to them. Most of them at least.

"If it's that one that I failed transfiguration, that is entirely made up! I got an 'Exceeds Expectations' on this year's exam, and McGonagall was merely making a joke when she said she would give me a 'Dreadful' if I kept going over the maximum essay length!" Robin blurted out before Snape even had a chance to continue with what he meant to say.

"That is a rumor I have been entirely unaware of, but seeing as I know of your grades, it is also entirely irrelevant." He replied with a doubtful expression. "Is that the only rumor you have heard of?"

"Well, yeah…" Robin shrugged and looked down at her table as she bit her bottom lip. "Recently, yes." Maybe she shouldn't be so exclusively concerned about her own issues and actually start taking notice of the real world more often.

"There has been talk for a good two weeks about an unofficial end of term celebration. A party, hosted by a group of sixth years for the entire house and whoever is invited. Obviously the professors are not to know of this happening, but I like to pay attention to the ongoings within the student community. You don't happen to know anything more about the issue, do you?" His eyebrows rose in question, and for some reason Robin felt as if he seriously expected her to know what he was talking about.

A Slytherin party everyone was invited to… well, everyone except for Robin as it seemed. She didn't usually care about these things, but somehow it hurt a little nonetheless that absolutely nobody had bothered inviting her. Did her roommates know about this? Or were the first years generally excluded? She had absolutely no idea, she hadn't even heard of it at all. Hell, even Snape knew more about it than she did! A burning shame with a hollowing tail of pathetic sadness crept from the pit of her stomach up to her heart and wrapped it in a veil of unwanted shadows.

"I… didn't even know there was a party at all. This is the first time I hear about it." She finally managed to reply, but her voice was way too quiet for her own liking. Really, this shouldn't even be bothering her! "I would tell you if I knew anything about it, I promise. I'm sorry…"

For a moment, Snape actually looked fairly uncomfortable upon her words, and Robin wondered if she had said anything stupid yet again. But she had no idea what it could be, and therefore she simply looked down at her book in silence. She would like to help him, really… but there was little she could do now.

"Do you even speak to the people in your year at all?" He asked after a moment, honestly inquiring rather than scolding her.

"I do talk to Theresa usually…" Robin shrugged. "Only about class issues though. Some other people outside of my own house too. But the only students in Slytherins I talk to are Cas and Jorien, and while they're both extraordinarily bright and truly lovely girls, they're far from being familiars to me. Maybe they know more about the party than I do though. I could ask them, if you would like."

"There will be no need for that. I was hoping you knew about it, but otherwise I have no intention to intervene."

"You don't?" Robin looked up with a frown. "But aren't they breaking a bunch of rules?"

"I would assume so. However as long as they stay within the castle and do not wander… I usually ignore occurrences like this."

"Why?"

"Because there isn't even half a week of term left, and I would rather spend that in peace and quiet than with fifty students in detention. As long as they do not cause or suffer any harm, I let them proceed and get it over with."

"Then why did you ask me about it in the first place?"

"I was wondering what kept you from attending, seeing as you still were here and not on your way. And I was curious about the specifics of the event, which I unfortunately have not had the luck to overhear."

"Even if I had known about this stupid party, I probably wouldn't have gone anyway." Robin shrugged with a badly feigned indifference. "I'm no fan of those events, nor would I have been appreciated there as it seems."

"Then why does it upset you that you were previously unaware of it?"

"I'm not upset." Robin shot right back, but upon his 'who are you kidding' expression, she rolled her eyes and gave a truthful response. "I mean… yes, I'm inattentive to these things sometimes, as I don't particularly care about the students' world, but if even the professors know about this stupid party… I just can't imagine that I merely missed the talk about it, which obviously has been going on if you could overhear it. Which in return means that I was intentionally excluded. That's just… I don't know. I shouldn't be upset about it, I don't even like these people. It's unreasonable to be sad about it."

"Emotions usually are unreasonable." He mused in return and Robin found herself nodding on instinct. Emotions are unreasonable, but they are an unavoidable pain in the butt nonetheless.

"So… that party is tonight?" Robin asked then, for she didn't know what else to say.

"It should be happening right now, however I am unaware of the specific location. You are intelligent though, certainly you could find out where it takes place."

"Oh, I wasn't asking because of that. I know when I'm not welcome. And as I said, I don't care about parties. Or crowds. Or other people. I'm quite happy with the company I have." She stated and hoped that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable again, but he just listened to her words with the usual undivided attention, which brought a small smile to Robin's lips as she added, "The only thing I miss is the-..."

"Music?"

"Yes!" Her smile widened to a visible degree where it reached her eyes as well. "How did you know?"

He didn't reply, and only kept looking at Robin for a moment in silence accompanied by an expression of contemplation. Finally he turned away, and stood up. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Robin frowned as she complied though and followed Snape out of the classroom, which he locked behind them before heading down the hallway.

"You will see." Was the only and very much cryptic reply he gave, and somehow Robin didn't feel as much nervous about the situation as purely excited. She didn't bother hiding her smirk, and only ignored the renewing waves of pleasant tingles on her skin as she followed him up the stairs and through the empty castle.

They passed by any location Robin could've imagined Snape to lead her to, and only moved from one story up to the next until they arrived on the seventh floor. What the hell was he up to? Robin didn't have an inkling, and only grew even more confused when he told her to stay standing in the middle of a random crossing of hallways. But she obeyed without questioning him (he wouldn't have given an answer anyway) and stood frozen to the spot as she watched with a humored frown on her face how he paced up and down the hallway in front of her. Upon her chuckles however, she received a small glare that made her bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from straight out laughing. Whatever he was doing, it was both irritating and amusing.

Both sentiments faded from Robin's mind in a moment's notice however once a large door started materializing in the very wall she stood facing. It was almost as large as the one leading to the great hall, but undoubtedly more ornamented, and Robin's lips parted as she stared at the unusual occurrence in awe.

"After you." He said in manner that for him was unusually smug, and Robin's heart skipped a beat as she moved to open the door indeed.

What lay beyond it was undoubtedly the most peculiar and yet the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. A room larger than she could fathom currently, larger than she ever would've imagined to be found inside this castle, filled with mountains upon mountains of various objects stacked upon each other in complete randomness. The things found in here were absolutely overwhelming in their incredible amount and diversity, and Robin didn't even know where to look first as she stood helplessly frozen in the doorway. It was rather overwhelming indeed.

"Welcome to the room of requirement, or in this instance, the room of hidden things." Snape said in a more quiet tone now, as he steered Robin further into the room by her shoulders so that he could close the door behind them.

"What on earth is this?" Robin wondered as she let her eyes travel over the mountains of objects. There was one of everything in existence in here, she was absolutely sure of that. Maybe she was just dreaming all of this. She didn't care to wake up though.

"A mystery, and a secret. The room of requirement is a peculiar piece of magic, as it turns into whatever someone needs the most in the instant. It can be made to appear in the way you just witnessed, by having a clear picture of what it is one needs in mind. The room of hidden things is one of the countless forms the room of requirement can take on, and it has been used to hide and store any kind of thing for centuries."

"It's absolutely incredible, it's…" Robin replied quietly, too awestruck to even bother hiding the sentiment, and finally unfroze enough to saunter through the mountains of things. "Something so entirely impossible that it just has to exist."

"Indeed. It is almost impossible to find by accident, and the vast majority of people is unaware of the existence of this room in the first place. I would like for it to remain that way."

"I won't lose a word about it. I promise." Robin finally could tear her eyes off the room to look at Snape once more. "Why did you bring me here though? If it's such a secret, why take the risk?"

"You are no risk, I am well aware of that." He replied easily, and Robin felt an immediate sense of pride in that. "I brought you here because in a place where there is everything, there is always what you are looking for."

Before Robin could ask what exactly he meant by that, he spoke a few more muttered words and then the deep silence of the huge hall was replaced by a crackle, and finally by the sound of music. Robin looked around to find a possible origin of it, but the source remained hidden from her sight. The sound alone sufficed to brighten her smile though, and she closed her eyes to simply listen in contentment. It had been so long since she had gotten to enjoy music without the disturbing sounds of people talking or dancing or moving… and music at Hogwarts generally was scarce anyway. So now, for a long while, she simply stood there in between the mountains of fascinating things with her eyes closed and let the sound wrap around her senses. She breathed in the music like the cold air of the night that didn't exist in here, for time wasn't a dimension of relevance in this place. Everything about this room was timeless, ancient and modern at once, and Robin felt like she had entered a different reality beyond the limits of imagination. An impossible reality indeed.

It was one of those rare moments where she felt flooded and filled up by an infinite number of highly intense emotions that blended together like colors to form a blinding white light. A moment where an unimaginable intensity of feeling didn't cause her to implode into darkness but to explode into blissful light. A moment she wouldn't forget. At last she opened her eyes again, and found that Snape was looking at her with a doubtful expression yet again.

"What?" She asked with a smile, frowning at him in return.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you concerned?"

"Yes."

"Wow… good to know that me being happy is such a scary sight." Robin let out a laugh she couldn't help and shook her head to herself. "Sorry, sarcasm isn't an appropriate answer to honesty. I'm very alright, actually. As close to perfect as I could be, I believe. Thank you for that."

"Get over it already, will you... It was merely music and a dusty old room, hardly something to be so very delighted about."

"You cannot seriously deny that you did something nice by bringing me here. It's not even possible to deny!" Robin laughed again and didn't even care if he scolded her for it.

"I can try." He replied with a glare and a scowl, and Robin smiled to herself as she looked down at the ground in a defeat as feigned as his distaste. Maybe she should help him with the trying.

"So, if you didn't bring me here to be nice, what did you hope to find in here then? Maybe I could help looking for it." She suggested with an innocent smile she actually could convey for once, even if only due to the fact that she would seriously love to have a look around.

"I shall see to that myself. Go ahead and look around if you wish to though, but I ask you to be careful and not to touch anything. Many of the objects in here are more harmful than they look."

"Well, if something happens to me, you could just leave my body in here and nobody will ever find it. Problem solved." Robin shrugged with a nonchalant expression, but a smirk came onto her lips nonetheless as Snape rolled his eyes in return.

"If you keep sassing me, I might actually consider that." He replied and turned to walk off without another glance, and Robin's jaw dropped in sheer amusement. Then, with the biggest grin on her face, she went to take a look around at last.

… … …

It was after almost an hour of searching through stuff by herself that Robin found something that made her stop and stare. Not because it was particularly noticeable or interesting in itself, but because it existed in the first place. That was odd enough to give Robin some serious chills. Maybe she should tell Snape about it… or better yet, show him. Because nobody would believe it otherwise.

"Uh, professor?" She called into the open room in the hopes that he would hear her, wherever he might be. "I… found something you should take a look at."

"Is it urgent or merely interesting?" He asked from somewhere off to the left, and Robin thought for a second.

"Well, urgent is the wrong word, but I don't think I want to leave this room without you seeing this. It's… remarkable." She finally replied with an insecure frown to herself, and at the object in question.

"Could you be even more imprecise than that?" He sounded annoyed, but was getting closer at least.

"It's no threat, if that's what you mean. Just… eerie." She finished the statement in a tone too quiet to be heard far, but a mere few seconds later he was standing next to her already.

"Now, what is so remarkable that I needed to see it?" He sighed with a look at Robin instead of the pile she stood in front of, but his eyes followed her line of sight even before she could answer his question and he froze at the sight just like Robin had. "That… is remarkable indeed."

"Told you so." She replied before she could decide better not to, but he let it slip anyway.

What they were both looking at now was a large, framed, but unmoving portrait. A portrait of a young woman who looked exactly like Robin, only perhaps a few years older. But the similarity was undeniable.

"Did you touch it?"

"Of course not!" Robin protested immediately. "I actually do take advice when I deem it useful!"

"Did anything else happen that might be considered unusual?"

"No… I was just looking at all the things, and then I saw this. Nothing moved, or glowed, or changed or whatever it could have done. A perfectly ordinary painting." She shrugged and finally averted her eyes from the image.

"Perhaps it is only a coincidence. Over the course of the centuries there surely have been a few people who look like you." He tried to reason, but also didn't sound too convinced about what he was saying.

"That would explain the similarity between her and me. But then how do you explain this?" Robin asked quietly, and pulled her necklace with the locket on it over the collar of her shirt into the open. "Look what she's wearing around her neck… A different necklace, admittedly, but the locket is the very same as mine."

For another two seconds he inspected the painting, then stepped so close to Robin that he could take the small piece of jewelry out of her hand and study it with the same intense gaze. Bloody hell… she would've taken the necklace off if he had just given her a moment longer to do so. Instead, he now stood so close that every single sense of hers was heightened to the unbearable. Hopefully he couldn't hear the ridiculous pace of her heart as it almost leapt out of her chest with every beat… if he did, she might just have to blame it on her scary similarity to the painting.

Somehow, the more she tried to ignore these things, the feelings and tingles and thoughts, the stronger they came lashing back at her in the end. It really was unfair. She didn't want to like him so much… and she didn't want to enjoy it. Hopefully this stupid teenage-crush thing would be over soon; she's had enough after a full year of repressing it.

"You have had this for a while, haven't you?" He finally spoke up again before he looked Robin in the eye for a few silent seconds, then dropped the locket and took a few steps backwards.

"What?" Robin's mind was in a minor haze, and she needed a second to remember how to breathe. Gods, this was ridiculous. It was torture and bliss at the same time. Maybe she could blame it on hormones, or something likely unlikely.

"The locket has been in your possession for how long?" He repeated, but without the feigned annoyance Robin had expected.

"I… bought it in an antiquity shop in Diagon Alley during the Christmas break of my first year here. That would be three and a half years ago." She finally got her brain to work again, and shook the unnecessary feelings out of her otherwise functioning system.

"And you have been wearing it ever since?"

"Yes."

"Anything unusual?"

"No. Not at all. I put the same charm on it as on my backpack though, but it has never caused me any problems." Robin shrugged with a calm expression. "Do you think this portrait is anything more than just a big coincidence?"

"I have no idea. But I have seen coincidences far stranger than this one, so it is very much possible that it is nothing more."

"I mean… last year, when we made that potion to see which spells had affected me, there was no influence of another kind on me other than that prank thing, right? So this shouldn't be affecting me, seeing as I've had the locket for far longer than that."

"I hadn't considered that, but I do agree. Perhaps it is merely a coincidence. Still, I-..."

"You expect me to tell you immediately when or if something odd occurs." Robin added before he could.

"Indeed." He replied with a small glare in return, but Robin didn't let it fool her at all as they left the portrait where it was and made their way back towards the doorway back into the real world.

"Did you find what you were looking for, by the way? The reason we came here?" She asked with a new smile, looking up at Snape once they stepped through the doors and into the dark hallway.

For a moment he simply returned her gaze in silence, giving her one of those enigmatic looks that said everything and nothing at once, until he finally replied with words once they started making their way back towards the dungeons. "Yes, I believe I did."

And yet, he hadn't taken a single thing out of the room he hadn't brought there himself in the first place; it was only Robin, and the very smile on her lips.

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