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thefanficmonster · 2 years

Text

Dodging Hints

Valkyrae x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Harmless, Non-Suggestive Flirting (idk if that counts), Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: One can easily overthink, overlook or misunderstand signals sent to them by the person they’re interested in. But, then there’s Rae who, according to basically everyone who knows her and Y/N, is actively dodging any and all hints thrown at her.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for request a fic with Rae, I don’t have many of those and it’s safe to say you made me super happy with your ask! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long for the fic to be written and posted but here it is now and I hope you come across it, give it a read and enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Corpse, is Y/N gonna be running late or what?“ Rae should’ve automatically known better than to ask that question while in the call with three of the biggest shippers of her and said missing player Y/N.

She should’ve known better than to literally paint a target on her back like this and be the recipient of Lord knows how many teases to come in the following four hours they have been planning to spend playing different multiplayer games. She doesn’t even have the stream shield today, the whole event happening off-camera has her defenseless against her friends who are not known for hesitating before being honest.

“Don’t you know?“ Corpse kicks off today’s ‘annoying Rae‘ session in his signature suggestive tone of voice when he answers her question with one of his own.

“How am I supposed to know, Corpse?“ Being down this road many times, Rae has grown tired of dealing with it and now tends to reply to their snarky remarks with a monotone, exhausted tone to let them in on how ridiculous she sees them as.

Her method hasn’t proven to be successful so far but she can always keep trying, right?

“Oh please, how could you not? You two are constantly in each other’s orbit there’s no way there’s something you don’t know about each other.“ He replies, semi-annoyed.

Well, there’s at least one thing Y/N doesn’t know about me, Rae thinks to herself, shaking her head to push the thought away.

Little does she know, there’s at least one thing she doesn’t know about Y/N as well.

She sighs, “This is clearly not going anywhere. Does anyone else know where she is?“

Poki cuts her friend’s losses, surprisingly withholding the urge to tease her even a little bit as she answers her question, “She won’t be joining us. Last minute event to attend or something, I don’t know, she was talking eleven miles an hour over the phone but that’s what I managed to comprehend...Sorry she can’t be here.“ Although the comment slipped her on accident, she said it genuinely and in no way with the intentions of getting on Rae’s nerves which she gladly appreciates.

“It’s ok.“ She says, faking a smile in her voice, However, if Rae’s being honest, it’s ok only partly. It’s not so much that Y/N can’t be here - that too, but not as much as it has to do with the second reason: she didn’t tell her. She told Poki instead. Normally, she’d be the first to know if her friend wouldn’t be attending a stream or join the call but today she was completely left in the dark.

She doesn’t say anything regarding those concerns, though, and allows the cheery and joyful atmosphere her friends have created take her over as well. As much as she can allow herself to get distracted, at least.

However, she doesn’t need to say anything for Corpse to catch onto that fake happiness in her voice. But he doesn’t say anything either, knowing better than to talk to her about it in front of an ‘audience’.

And so the round begins with so many things unsaid.

Rae’s rather uninterested in the tasks she’s completing or the game in general.

So much for taking my mind off of it, she scoffs inwardly, afraid someone might hear her if she says it out loud considering they’re playing with proximity chat.

And boy is she glad she didn’t say it because only seconds later, as she’s doing the wiring task in Electrical, Corpse waltzes in.

“Sup Corpse?“ She asks as she finishes said task, glad she’s taking suspicion off herself as the bar fills up a bit more as evidence that she’s in the clear.

“Ok, enough of that, either tell me what’s going on or I’m killing you.“ He threatens weakly, clearly repressing a grin as he says it.

Rae rolls her eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Corpsy...”, she trails off, thinking of a way she can get out of the situation. Truth be told, she doesn’t mind getting killed in the game. It’s just a game and she could really use a break to do something that totally has nothing to do with checking up on Y/N. Definitely nothing to do with that. No way.

“Don’t undermine my intelligence, Rae, I see right through you.“ Corpse replies, causing Rae to press her lips together in a line, finding herself backed up in a corner. “And if you don’t believe the threat...“ He jumps in the vent on his left real quick as to prove a point, not that he really needed to, anyway.

“Ok, ok, I get it! Come back.“ It’s only now that she realizes just how much she’s needed to talk to someone about it. But she’d be damned if she admitted it. “Since you’re so adamant on jabbing your nose where it doesn’t belong, I guess I’ll fill you in on....everything?“

Jumping out of the vent, Corpse doesn’t try to hide his enthusiasm, “I’m all ears.“

"Ok, ok, you're being too much right now. It's not like there's anything to tell really." Rae says, rolling er eyes, "I like Y/N, she doesn't like me back, that's that."

She can hear the sound of Corpse face palming and sighing like a parent would when their child disappoints them.

"It's getting real hard to believe you're not doing this on purpose." He says, exasperated.

She furrows her brows in confusion, "Doing what on purpose?"

"Ignoring Y/N's hints, damn it! You're practically dodging them and making it seem as though you couldn't care less about them and her altogether!"

She retaliates, "I'm not ignoring anything, you're just reading too much into it! You know better than anyone that she's like that with everyone! She's naturally sweet, kind, caring and flirty with just about every single person she ever meets." Her voice falls to a whisper when she finishes her statement, the words stinging, "I'm not special to her."

"Okay, fuck this, I'm done with this." Without a second to spare, Corpse kills Rae in an instant, earning him a surprised and downright offended scream from her.

"HEY! What the hell, Corpse?!"

"There, now you can give Y/N a call." He replies, sounding satisfied and smug as ever before walking off, leaving her and her dead body behind.

Still infuriated, Rae leans back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling as if that’s what’s gonna pick a solution for her and present it before her eyes so she can make her next move. Truth is, she doesn’t even know if she wants to make one. It’s confusing and risky and so overwhelming to think that with a single sentence she can ruin a friendship or make it awkward forever from this point onward.

She runs a hand through her hair, feeling stranded on a tightrope with a bottomless abyss below. On one hand, she cannot hold it in and keep herself in the dark like this anymore; on the other, however, the risk is too big. Either way, it doesn’t look like she’ll be able to make it across. Either way, she’ll fall, but ‘how?’ is the question that’s troubling her.

Oh, what the hell? A friendly phone call is the least I can resort to right now, she decides with a sigh, hoping she’ll be able to improvise in the moment and figure out what she’s gonna say or do. And as a person who tends to plan everything in advance, she’s terrified.

She sits in loud silence as the dialing tone pierces her ear, half hoping Y/N won’t pick up the call and then hating herself because of her because of it. The wait is what’s driving her crazy the most - it doesn’t sit right with her that a dial tone is standing between her and the potentially biggest confession of her life.

“Hey hun!“ The cheery and upbeat as always voice of Y/N’s surprises the streamer, freeing her from her thoughts. There’s some background noise suggesting she’s still out and about in the city.

“Hi Y/N. Um, is everything alright? Are you ok?“ She cringes - as mentioned, improvisation is not her typical choice of handling situations.

Y/N is quick to reply though, “Oh, didn’t Poki tell you? My friend’s baby shower is tomorrow and I need to get a gift. You know me and my procrastination.” She laughs, “Suggestions are welcome, by the way. That is if you’ve got the time, of course. Oh, and say hi to the others.“

Just as Rae is about to respond with a semi-dismissive and slightly indecisive response, she gets an idea and swerves in a different lane, “Where are you? I can come help you out in person.”

The bafflement is clear in Y/N’s voice when she speaks again, “Wait, what about the gathering?”

“Technical difficulties, my computer’s a piece of crap.“ Finally a proper improvisation, “So...where are you?“

“Aww, someone’s eager to spend time with me.“ She gushes teasingly, reddening Rae’s cheeks.

She rolls her eyes, “As if you’re not eager to hang out with me too.“

Scoffing playfully, the girl dodges a direct answer and instead tells the other girl her whereabouts.

* * *

“You’re a life saver, I gotta admit, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.“ Y/N says, taking a sip of her soda.

The two are sitting in the food court of the mall, a giant, thankfully folded, baby carriage sitting by Y/N’s chair as the two have lunch, chit chatting after the long day they - especially Y/N - have had.

“I indeed am, among other things.“ Rae shrugs smugly, “And also thank you for lunch, you really didn’t have to.”

The other girl shakes her head, “It’s the least of a thanks I can express. And plus, I’m chivalrous.” She winks, earning herself an eye-roll from her friend.

“Not you’re not! Corpse would die laughing if he heard that claim.“ She says, shaking her head with a smile on her face.

“He can knock himself out - I’m only chivalrous for you.“ She leans back, making eye contact with Rae, making her heart skip a beat.

Little does she know, Rae’s does the same.

That eye contact, that is enough to get the words out of Rae, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t joining the gathering?”

Y/N is not at all taken aback by the question and is instead quick to shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you. I can take the hint that you’re avoiding me.” She fakes a small curve at the corner of her lips to upkeep her ‘it is what it is’ appearance, “Didn’t think you’d even notice my absence, if I’m being honest.”

The streamer’s eyebrows furrow as her posture automatically shifts to slightly leaning over the table, eyes lingering on the hand Y/N’s rested on the table, barely managing to prevent her own from taking hold of it. “That was the first thing I noticed - and I don’t care how fake or cheesy it sounds to you, but it’s the truth. You’re the first person that came to mind when I accepted Sykkuno’s invitation to the event. I was so excited to talk to you and was hoping we’d get impostors together cuz....well, I don’t know, we just work well together.”

Y/N exhales defeatedly, but there’s also some relief in the mix, “You know I thought of the same thing but mirrored - I didn’t want to take part in the gathering in the first place, the gift was just a convenient excuse.” She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand, “I mean, it’s one thing to like somebody and give them subtle signs, and another to make them uncomfortable with said signs. Seems to me I crossed that line.”

Looking down, she fails to notice the shock and astonishment on Rae’s face as a result of her words, unable to believe what she heard.

“Wait...you like me? Like, like like me?“ She fidgets with her hands when Y/N’s eyes meet hers once again.

She shakes her head, “Thought I was obvious enough to have you start avoiding me. When your hints are that clear, it would only make sense for the other person to not ‘notice’ them if they’re purposely dodging them. Mostly cause they aren’t interested.” She sighs, fixating her gaze on the soda cup just so she doesn’t have to look at Rae, “Wish you’d just told me you weren’t interested. Would’ve made it a lot easier on me.”

“What do you mean I’m not interested in you?“ Now that manages to catch Y/N off guard finally, “I-I gave you space cause I felt like my feelings were making me suffocate you. I felt like I was pushing you away! I wish....I wish I didn’t let my mind talk me out of what my heart was telling me was the right thing.”

Raising an eyebrow, the other girl smirks, “So it did manage to talk you out of it?”

Rae returns her the smirk, “Not completely and definitely not anymore.”

Oh how Corpse would’ve been proud to see this take place. How he’d be overjoyed and/or yell ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’. How he’d make sure they know they owe him big time. Well, until he gets further disclosure, he’ll be in the dark about the kiss the two girls shared over a table in the food court of a mall.

@nyctophiliiiiaaa @squirreljoe

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hanazou · 3 years

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hello!! I am the anon who sent both fyozai smau au (more like idea that u expounded on dhfsjd) and the fyozai+ranpo college au asks haha

is it alright if i continue sending asks like these (and other kinds, like the one so we become friends [i hope i phrased correctly..])?

i often feel nervous to go off anon, so is it ok if i go by (^-^)?

and lastly!! i had another little idea for college au one.. since ranpo dazai and fyodor are all smart, once the tests were over and a groupwork started, everyone scrambled to be in a group with one of them for an "easy pass". by the second groupwork, noone wanted to be groupmate with them anymore bc 1 slacks off completely despite his intelligence, another has morbid ideas and execution on the project and the other gives u all the work to do while he socializes

thank you for listening to this lengthy ask haha

-(^-^)

scribing answer... ° • ° . 🪶

📜 : pumpkin it's MORE than okay I LOVE READING YOUR ASKS FyoZai is a small ship but the ship crew get along well 😔

ok here's my take for Dazai, Fyodor, and Ranpo as college students :

Dazai

the eccentric jock. always at least 15 minutes late, has loads of "friends".

His pictures are often on the campus' social media page for pretty/handsome students. HOWEVER everyone avoids working with him because his ideas are terrible and are impossible to execute.

His papers are messy, has a lot of energy drink stains, and his pencil case is full of eraser dust and leaked pen ink. He always borrows pens or pencils to the person next to him

Everyone knows he's smart but his grades are always average, not even the professors know why. It's painfully obvious to everyone that he purposefully screws up his test. Some professors think it's his late teenage angst

The only one who dares to make fun of Fyodor and doesn't cower away from his glare.

A lot of girls think he does one night stands a lot but the most he'll do is just making out. He has never actually done it with anyone

He never publicly debates or asks the professors, but if there's something he disagrees on, he's deadpan on expressing it in the exam paper where he knows the professors don't have the chance to refute

Fyodor

edgy, perfectionist, individualist. Contrast to Dazai, he's always at least 30 minutes early.

Sits far at the back alone. His handwriting is cursive and nobody can read that, but they're pretty.

Someone tried to take his picture for the social media page but he noticed and glared his way into making them delete the photo

Secretly relishes in people's fear of him

He forces himself to write normally for assignments because once he got a lower score than expected due to unreadable handwriting.

He's the only one who doesn't mind being paired with Dazai, partly because he wants to "tests" him to see his true intelligence he always hides.

When it's his turn to present, the classroom turns deadly quiet. Nobody wants to make eye contact with him nor ask any question. It's always the professor who ends up asking him, sometimes leading to a debate

His smile is a bad omen. If he smiles at you then best believe he's plotting. He never smiles sincerely unless he's genuinely amused

He always smiles when arguing with Dazai though

Ranpo

Either the professors' favourite or the hated one. He's always active in class, answering the questions nobody else can, but it's the lack of manners that's the problem

To some professors, that's interesting. To the rest, he's a talkative little sh*t. They want to give him the bare minimum passing grade but his answers are immaculate

Has a lot of friends, probably more than Dazai. He attracts people who want to "take care of him" because of how oblivious and clumsy he can be, and many of them are girls.

NEVER takes notes. He just skims over the textbook (rented from the library) in class and "listens", sometimes popping a question or two.

He debates a lot with the instructors, classmates either love it or roll their eyes.

Nobody really wants to take him as a group mate because of how cocky and lazy he is though. Hence, he's stuck with Dazai and Fyodor, constantly arguing with Fyodor with Dazai as middleman.

Only donates his ideas if he's irritated by the disagreement in the team or if he thinks they're stupid.

#[👻] — mystery visitor. (^-^).#bsd hc #bsd headcanon #dazai hc #fyodor hc #ranpo hc #bsd dazai #bsd Fyodor #bsd ranpo #fyozai #fyodor x dazai

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dodo-begone · 3 years

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See's Dodo and anons reaction to last ask.

Me: externally blushing like crazy. Internally AAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHA *squealing noise s*

Well you know what they say the show must go on.

Wilbur was the first of the royals to really notice, after all most of his time with you was spent inside in the library since he had convinced his father to allow him to teach you instead of hiring teachers, but you never had less than two layers of clothing on even when indoors you had a large shirt and coat on. Even if it was winter now you were first brought to the castle in summer but you attire remained the same a shirt two sizes too big and a coat also large on you it was a small wonder you didn't suffer form heat stroke, maybe it was a case of those being the only clothes you owned well that wouldn't do it would be a poor showing if visiting diplomats thought they treated their (new sibling) guests with such little care and honesty buying you a new wardrobe didn't even make a dent in his personal finances. Still it was strange that both you and Tommy insisted on your new clothes being a size or two too big and also made of lighter cloth not the wool that was so common for winter attire but at the very least your and Tommy's insistence meant that he got to choose the colours of the outfits in return. Of course the main colours were white and a navy blue you were a member of the Royal (family) Court now it was only right you wore their colours, still the insistence on lighter materials for your clothes did worry him a little the winters were harsh he didn't want his (sibling) little brothers friend getting sick maybe he should bring this up with the others maybe they would know why you never took off that coat.

Techno hadn't noticed the whole coat issue until his twin pointed it out but now that Wilbur had he couldn't stop noticing it. Even when you spared with him you didn't take off the coat heck you never wore armour saying that armour only slowed you down, you had even balked, gone pale when he offered you enchanted iron armour turning down the gift and walking swiftly away. At first he and chat had felt rather rejected (sibling rejection arc, pog, e, e, Technosad) after all you had even if reluctantly accepted Wilbur gift of a new wardrobe but you were rejecting his gift, he had wanted to give you armour so he could teach you his style of fighting but you didn't want that apparently. Though now he thought about it your and theseus's apparent insistence on lighter fabrics and the rejection of the iron armour might not be as coinsidental as he might have thought, after all he had seen you shivering a few times when you thought he wasn't looking but you had refused the much warmer wool for cloth so it wasn't just you being stubborn did, did you have some sort of skin problem or other ailment that caused you pain or irritation if you wore heavy clothes or armour. Oh of course you would go pale at the idea of wearing iron armour if that was the case plus it would explain the constantly wearing a coat since you probably didn't want them to know out of misguided fear of their reaction after all he had seen how superstitious some peasants could be about such conditions from his time training new soldiers. Theseus would know you did have such a condition after all you were practically joined at the hip, but it was getting very late, tomorrow he would find Theseus and ask if he knew the reason why now he needed to find his father.

Tommy most certainly did know the reason why you never wore armour and always had a coat on. He was currently sat on your bed, both of your backs to the door, preening the reasons why you letting out quiet chirps as he helped straighten and re-aligh your feathers, after all your wings didn't exactly appreciate being covered by your coat the whole day he couldn't even imagine how much worse your wings would have been if Wilbur hadn't listened and just gotten a heavy wool coat. He remembered when your wings first came through a few years ago when your friendship was still new, you had been complaining about a rash that had suddenly appeared on your back a few days prior only to fall to the ground in pain mid sentence, he was honestly grateful that his family didn't keep track of their potion supply considering how many regen potion you needed when your wings came out leaving rather large exit wounds on your back, if he wasn't able to get those potions he didn't even want to think about what could have happened to you. Now you were here though and he couldn't let anyone know about your wings if even a servant or stable boy saw it would trickle back to his brother and his dad if Philza found out he would never let you leave, you would become as trapped as him maybe even more so due to his dad's instincts. Unfortunately since both of your backs were to the door neither of you spotted the winged watcher peering through the cracked open door.

Philza was on his way to his newest (child) guests chambers after his eldest two had come to him with worrying news about their newest ( family member) permanent. Wilbur told tales of light clothing even in winter while Techno quiet shared his own worries of them being ill and hiding it from them but to him those weren't the signs of illness no they were signs that you were like... no he should get excited it was probably an illness after all his investigations had shown that it wasn't just bandits that ravaged his nation but hybrid hunters a particularly disgusting breed of bandit that targeted hybrids to sell as pets or in the case of winged hybrids to harvest their wings as decorations. That infuriated him after all he had founded this nation to be a safe haven for hybrids but due to his own negligence they were hunted down, if you were like... him it would be a small miracle that you hadn't been taken by those hunters. Reaching the room in question open a crack he went to knock when he heard a soft chirping pausing he looked through the crack to see his youngest preening his (baby bird) guest's wings, rushing back to his own chambers he could just hear chat cawing ( baby bird, dadza, dadza, protect, keep, baby bird) he couldn't keep the massive grin off of his face as it all came together. Of course you didn't wear heavy clothing you had been hiding your wings it would mangle your feathers if you wore heavier clothing over them, the iron armour was rejected because you couldn't wear it full stop even with your wings out your bones wouldn't be able to take the weight since they were partly hollow, oh he had a little bird to teach flying and how to properly preen. His emotional high crashed though as he realised that you ran your farm alone, were you alone when your wings came through, its was the worst pain on could feel wings slowly ripping their way out of your back plus you could easily bleed out or get an infection if the open wounds weren't taken care of properly, oh you poor dear no wonder you were so attached to Tommy he was the only flock member you had. No longer though he would look after you he knew his sons had grown to care for you as much as they had Tommy, his more bird like instincts rejoiced at the thought of a fledgling joining his little flock.

Ender-anon

This is quite a bit longer than I thought it would be also first time writing hybrid reader.

sorry i took so long to answer this!! This just rlly intimidated me and anxiety went brrrr- but anyways lemmie get into this ask!!!

YOU FUCKING DESERVE THE RECOGNITION MAN UR STUFF IS SO FUCKING POG

god i rlly love royalty aus, did i ever mention that??? i just lOVE- ANYWAYS

So Wilbur's curiosity about your clothing choice only lead him to believing that what you wore was all you could afford in your previous life. He wasn't exactly wrong. And even with the new clothes you got when you moved into the castle, you refused to wear them. It was rather peculiar. Wouldn't you want to get out of those nasty and worn rags you called clothes? But you were new to the castle. He went with the presumption that the shock from the change was frightening. You must've kept your previous clothes as a safety blanket of sorts. Though after a few nasty looks sent your way over your apparel and your very obvious discomfort about it, he decided to take the executive decision to give you clothes that fit your taste and the taste of the court. Your choice to have oversized clothing confused him, but Tommy's insistence just made him presume you were self conscious of your body. To be fair, he wasn't half wrong but he was.

At the rejection of his gift, his and chat's disappointment were more than evident. Was his twin better or something? Like you accepted his gift, although reluctantly. But you still accepted it. And yet you didn't accept him. Looking back on your fear of the armor, he thought more into it. Yes the skin issues was definitely something to consider, but maybe trauma? No, trauma of armor would be strange, right? Maybe you had a family member who wore armor yet died in front of you despite their armor being worn to protect them. Or some other fear. Yea, the skin issue would be much more reasonable, actually. He'll just bring it up with father, let him know of the possible issues with their new family member.

One of the activities you two did on the daily was straighten out your feathers at the end of the day or when they were bothering you. Though the latter only happened when you two were in private. Nobody could know your secret, after all. It was for your protection and to preserve your freedom. At first, when your wings were coming in, he was absolutely terrified for you. What the fuck was going on? This isn't normal! Oh god oh fuck what is he suppose to do?! With an oversupply of potions thanks to the paranoia of attacks on the family and accidents during training, it was beyond easy to take what he needed for you. If anyone was questioned about it, he could easily say that some trainees took some.

OMG ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME FUCKING CRY WITH THIS PHILZA PART?! BEACUSE I WILL CRY THIS IS SO MF CUTE- I JUST CAN'T I LOVE SO MUCH- I CAN'T ADD ANYTHING TO THAT PERFECT- I COULDN'T RLLY ADD ANYTHING TO WHAT YOU SENT ME AND I APOLOGIZE. I JUST LOVE AAAALLL OF THIS

#ask #ender anon #long post #royal au #c: phil #c: techno #c: tommy #c: wilbur #rambling with dodo

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Do you think that Tim saved Dick in a way? Because we see Dick getting better as he gets closer to Tim and healing and getting back into the family, and ig it’s Tim who initiated that.

I literally don't have a yes or no answer for this... like most things in the Batfam - it's complicated. (Following answer is informed by 90s-00s comics, i can't really speak for new52 because it just... has so many issues one of which being erasing the relationship between Dick and Tim for *checks note* no discernable reason other than possibly *checks note* Didio hates legacy characters and wants only bad things for them so he could have excuses to kill them off or cancel their comics... idk just a guess)

Warnings: for Bruce stans - just look away i'm about to bring up bits of canon you most likely don't like, for Dick stans - Devin Grayson's run is mentioned, for the lovely anon - i wrote an essay, hope you are prepared

Tim coming into the family gave Dick a reason to occasionally hang around Bruce and i'm not sure if this is an exaggeration or not but he did sort of save that relationship - but whether that was a good or bad thing at the time, i can't really say. For sure - it starts off good, Bruce is actually trying to be a good dad (he comes down to Blud to check on Dick, adopts him, trusts him with his own city, calls him for backup, etc.). But we also see throughout Bruce Wayne: Fugitive/Murderer how unhealthy the relationship between the two can be. Dick built his core values around Bruce - if Bruce had actually killed here it would have been devastating for Dick (he was pretty much on the verge of a mental breakdown simply because they couldn't find proof Bruce wasn't guilty). The two literally got in a fist fight during the arc because Bruce was being uncommunicative and Dick couldn't take it anymore, snapped, and punched him when Bruce said "Bruce Wayne is dead only Batman now" - this tied into Dick finally having the relief and validation of being adopted and he couldn't handle Bruce stripping himself (and by extension, his fatherhood of Dick) away. In this era of comics Bruce had gotten physical with Dick before (here's me venting like an annoyed loser), and here's a clip from Bruce Wayne Fugitive that i just, *sigh*, canon Bruce, my detested.

Now on the other hand - getting Dick involved in the batfam more doesn't just mean he was hanging out with Bruce. His relationship with Tim is pretty great and I can definitely see where it was healing for a while - but also - to give credit where credit is due, the healing he goes through during this era of comics can also be attributed to Barbara and the Titans (the fab five specifically). Wally literally joins the Titans to give Dick a "social life" (me - it's because he's gay and wants to spend more time with Dick, actually, screw you DC you know i'm right). Donna plays a major part in keeping Dick's emotional well being in check. So like everything was going fine - Dick was healing, spending more time with friends, spending a lot of time with people he loved, like Tim, except he was neglecting his health and not sleeping - but overall he was in fact, managing, and moving past the deaths of Jason and some of the other Titans. With the current Titans - he was a hardass (which like ~trauma~ so I understand), but like things were going relatively okay.

And then Donna and Lilith died. And hooof Donna dying was like really really bad for his mental health.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files (2003) #1

[Image ID: Dick sits in a room staring at a photo, the phone rings in the background, and he doesn't even acknowledge it, the voice mail plays: "I'm not here. Leave a message after the beep." The photo is shown closer in the next frame, it's of the five original Teen Titans - Roy kisses Donna on the cheek, tipping his hat his other hand making the okay sign, Donna has an arm around Roy, the other hand on Dick's shoulder, Garth proudly stands beaming with his hands on his hips, and Dick has both his arms around Wally's neck. Everyone is smiling in the photo. A voice plays over the answering machine: "Dick, it's Roy - pick up the phone... c'mon... please... I know you're there... just pick up. Dick, we need to talk... you can't just... please..." End ID]

For context - the previous page noted that this is Dick SIX WEEKS after Donna died. Usually Dick's the one who moves on quickly, but Donna dying broke him in a way nothing else had before - and that could be partly because he was still recovering from everyone else's death.

Up to this point, Dick had been healing and Tim was definitely a part of that, but then DC decided to throw the absolute book, bookshelf, and library at him. Reading Outsiders (2003) it's very clear he's very traumatized, and around the same time, Devin is literally whumping him like it's the whump Olympics, breaking him and Babs up, burning down his childhood home, blowing up his apartment complex (killing all but like two of his neighbors), he's literally sleeping on fire escapes using newspapers as covering because he has nothing, and the bad thing i don't like to think about (i'll let you know if you ask but that one needs lots of tw, but if you know where i'm going you know what it is already), Blockbuster is killed and he blames himself - and loses it over breaking Bruce's one rule, Bludhaven is nuked, and he pretty much tries to kill himself.

So basically, he was on the path to healing (with Tim as part of that) before he got absolutely destroyed (and almost killed off by Didio in one of the crisis). Tim in his own right, was also going through a lot in the meantime, his dad died, Steph died, Kon and Bart died, i don't remember what else happened and i haven't read that era of Robin yet. Things were good until they weren't anymore, and sometimes i think Dick would regret ever exposing Tim to the life they live, and questions whether he should have just sent Tim packing x2. They do get to spend a year together on a mental health cruise, but then Damian comes into the picture, Battle for the Cowl happens, and they have their falling out. But whatever happened on that cruise must have been really healing for Dick because he actually kind of rocks it in this era - he keeps things light with Damian, Alfred notes at one point how he makes things easy because he has lightness in him, and he patches things up with Tim - catching him in that panel of Red Robin - from there they kind of go back to normal, there's a lightness to the way they banter with each other (also here) and Tim returns the favor (from the Red Robin incident) by pulling Dick out of the water.

They've saved each other multiple times over (physically), and in both in the Black Mirror and Gates of Gotham, Tim helps out in a period where Dick is starting to fall apart from the pressure of holding things together for so long (something Tim might feel guilty for, because he did run away from Gotham on a wild goose chase for Bruce). In that period, it's really clear that Dick saves Tim (he reminds him in RR, that someone does actually care for him) and then Tim saves Dick from being torn apart by Gotham.

I should point out - Damian, while starting off as kind of a hinderance, does eventually start helping Dick as well. By the end of their relationship (before the New52 destroys everything i love), Dick has helped Damian grow emotionally, and through that process Dick probably finds meaning and value in their time together, probably a lot like he used to feel with Tim. And of course, physically, they've both saved each other multiple times by the end of the run.

So yeah. I think Dick finds meaning in growth in mentoring his younger brothers, and it's likely a healing process, that healing just has some twists and turns along the way, and sometimes, on bad days, he probably feels like maybe he shouldn't have intervened at all, but i think on most days, he's proud of what Tim's become.

...I hope this is coherent lmao

#the old: blame everything i hate about comics on Didio #thank god he got fired #tw suicide #i am so long winded oop #i'm in too deep #does this count as character meta?#maybe #Dick Grayson meta #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #i'm kinda sad that Dick and Tim's relationship is misunderstood in a lot of fanon - because it's something that can be so personal #it's not as black and white as people seem to think #as in like... they're usually really good for each other and have a healthy dynamic #even in RR (I haven't read all of it) people take things out of context and just... ignore that Dick reached out to Tim afterwards #and like asked him to go to therapy (not arkham why are y'all obsessed with Dick throwing his brothers in arkham get help)#Tim also straight up throws Dick over his shoulder and starts a physical fight in that series #so... it can be a toxic relationship too but idk i like to highlight the good parts #i see a lot of - Dick begs for Tim's forgiveness for taking Robin away fics out there #but like there relationship isn't that simple #if they ever talked it out in canon - they'd have to address Tim lashing out physically at Dick (Dick would probably not be having it)#and the writers might then be like - hmm maybe we should address all the times we had Bruce hit him too #so like yeah i get why we never saw their reconciliation on panel (they just kinda were like okay we're fine now :D)#but still it's something i'd like to see explored from a more balanced perspective - instead of a - i project on Tim so he's always right #i probably also wouldn't be the best person to write it because i project on Dick too much #not that i would make Tim beg for Dick's forgiveness - Dick would forgive him in like .000001 seconds and def doesn't hold it against him #that's just how Dick is (he'd probably prefer if it wasn't brought up and they just pretend it never happened)#but also knowing Dick he probably feels guilty as fuck for the way RR went - which like *sigh* martyr #batfam #batfamily #batfam meta

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Note

same anon again! and totally cool with the last request :) So I popped up with a new one. Same thing daphne x reader using 15 and/or 47 from the prompt list! (preferably daphne asking out reader but anything’s cool) :))

A/N: Hi lovely anon... You're the sweetest <3 I really think you might be my official fav person rn :D And yes, yes, I'm super happy to see you again in my inbox and... oh boy, I love Daphne x Reader so much. Here you go with with the requests you asked for :)

Warnings: Might add but I consider both of those works as children-friendly lol (maybe some alcohol but that's pretty much it)...

15: “Just tell her that.” / “Such a pep talk…”

"Pansy?"

You burst into the Slytherin common room with as much energy as your legs could carry you with at the late hour as it was. Exactly, 1 am, if to be radically precise. But getting acquainted with Pansy's strange late-night habits for over seven years, you knew you could find her sprawling over the large lounge, still awake, with the Firewhisky drink in her hand per usual.

As presumed, you were right -- she was sitting, still fully dressed in her school robes and staring aloof at the fireplace, drifting more in her perplexing thoughts than she would want to. Hearing your sleepy voice, however, made her tilt her head and glance at you, standing in your emerald-green pajamas, at the entrance of the stairs to the girls' room.

She smirked. "Insomnia playing over?" she asked, teasingly, her sparkling eyes locking with your fluttery ones.

"No," you answered carefully before covering your mouth from a yawn to which Pansy's smirk widened. You flopped tiredly on the sofa, next to her and laid your head instinctively on her shoulder. "There's something I wanted to talk with you about."

"That's why you got out of bed? To talk to me about something you could do as well in the morning but without bothering your pretty face?" she asked, and though you couldn't see her face, you imagined she was frowning in incomprehension.

"Well..." you drawled, already partly regretting you had decided to come over with such a sensitive issue to her. "It's the only time Daphne is not around."

"Oh...Is that--" Pansy gasped in enthusiasm, throwing your head off of her to which you reacted with a small moan of pain, to look directly into your face. "Are you going to finally admit you're so madly in love with her and that you drool at her every time she doesn't look?"

Well, that was straightforward...

"W-what?" you sputtered out, trying to make sense of what you wanted to express. But dealing suddenly with too much confusion and surprise, you found it to be a challenging task to perform. "How would you know? I've never told anyone!"

At the raised, almost frantic tone of your voice, Pansy grinned, probably satisfied with the fact she dared to shock you. "You are the worst player in this puppy-love game if you haven't noticed yet," she said, arching her eyebrows. "It's almost hard to miss you staring at her in the classrooms or... I don't know... even when you talk to her, smiling like mad. Only concerns are for Daphne, who seems to be totally oblivious to that."

"You think? I mean, hasn't she noticed? Did she s--"

"No," Pansy interrupted you intentionally, rolling her eyes. "I think she has other doubts than that. Besides... it's also she who attempts to hide her goo-goo eyes from you."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Ughh... She has a crush on you too! Happy?"

"No, she does no--"

"Of course she does, you unheeding dolt! One time, I even caught her scribbling your name in her notebook with small hearts around. What do you think it means?"

"I--" Momentarily speechless, you dropped your gaze to the hands and unconsciously started playing with your fingers. "I don't know what to say..."

"Just tell her that." Pansy shrugged, finding the simplest solution in everything while eloquently sipping her drink. "It's a normal thing to do. Go over to her during lunchtime and talk to her. Confess."

You huffed, suddenly feeling a stream of sarcasm dancing on your tongue. "Oh, really? Such a pep talk, you know... Thanks, Pans."

She nudged you with her elbow. "C'mon. You've wasted plenty of time daydreaming about her. It's a moment to take up action. Tomorrow, it's your round, or otherwise, it might pass."

Sighing, you peeked at her with seriousness. "I don't know about that."

"Then you'll never know," she commented aptly, and you knew she made her point. "I realize it might be confusing. But hey, no matter what happens, I'll be always there for you. Remember?"

"Remember," you repeated, somehow feeling more confident than you had been ten minutes ago.

XOXOXO

47. “Are you asking if I’m a single?” / “Okay… I-I will.”

The party night was... disastrous, to say at least.

And you really didn't want to be here. But all thanks to your best friend, Susan, who was definitely a go-go type of a person and had been insistently persuading you to get out with her ("This'd be so fun, Y/N!" said she with already a little too drunk tone), by now you were being pushed in the crowd of inebriated people, soaking in sweat due to the heated breaths that were puffing and blowing at your neck from all around. Making your best attempts to push your way, conflict-less, to some less teeming space, you met with a failure by being shoved to your previous position by someone's hips from behind and a loud 'Watch it!'.

Frustration and exasperation accumulated in you, and you felt truly flustered with a situation. As it turned out, flustered enough to provoke the combative self you hadn't known existed in you, to start jostling everyone around to move away from your path to freedom. It required a few angry 'ouches' and curses sent towards you, but finally...Finally, you succeeded in getting away from the bustle and a disgusting odor of sweat that hurt your nostrils just too much.

"Double Scotch, please," you said breathlessly to the bartender as you had reached the bar and casually leaned over the counter. "Triple if needed. Make it extra strong."

The bartender nodded merely, giving you a perfunctory smile, before taking care of your order by grasping some liquor from the shelf and pouring it professionally into the glass. Too distracted with exhaustion from too loud music and screeches from the crowd singing along the songs' lyrics, you hadn't even noticed a blonde girl with a glint of explicit interest in her eyes staring at you. Well, not until...

"Is it a way of dealing with the party?" the girl asked, smiling. "Or are you trying to forget you're here?"

"Both, I guess." You laughed, turning your head to behold a nice-looking gal who was casually sipping her Mohito drink. A really nice-looking, actually. Her hair was laid in the smooth curls on her broad shoulder, emphasizing her soft facial features and shiny, blue eyes. Dressed in the tight gleaming-black dress with the heals lengthening her legs, she looked more than appealing. "I was forced by a friend to come. Not my intention."

"Tell me about it," muttering under her breath, she playfully rolled her eyes and smirked suggestively. Then with an outstretched hand, she proffered you an inviting smile and introduced herself, "I'm Daphne."

You took a hand invitation, shaking in lightly and reciprocating a smile. "Y/N."

"So, you came here with a friend?" the girl, now as you knew Daphne, asked you with an arousing curiosity. "Or girlfriend, or boyfriend?"

Alcohol being the best solution for straightforwardness as it was, forced you to express your first-moment thought without any earlier contemplation. "Are you asking if I'm single?" You took a gulp of your drink and squinted suddenly at the realization of your words. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that! It's just--"

"It's okay, I'm aware of the after-alcohol effects," Daphne soothed you down and tried her best to hide her pre-momentary shock from her face, though you could still detect it.

You fucking idiot!

"Yeah, I've come here with my roommate. She loves parties and said it would be a crime to miss one, especially on Friday night," you answered her question, attempting to get slickly out of your faux pas.

Smiling, forgetting about your little confusion, and ignoring the noise from the background, you chatted, relishing each other's company and treating it as a make-up for ruined Friday plans, fault laying on both of your friends' sides. How much time had passed while you were sitting there, taking the next rounds from the bartender and goggling at each other you didn't know, but one thing was sure -- you both definitely enjoyed it.

The things came, however, to the end as soon as Susan, plastered as you had never seen her before, approached you in a stumbling manner. She was giggling like mad, which clearly indicated one thing -- it's about time to export her back to the house.

"What the heck?! It's not a funeral, peach. Come dance with me!" she screamed as if she was on the opposite side of the room, putting her arms around your shoulder and dangling on you to keep her balance. "Cooooommmmee..."

"No," you shot back, also drunk but much less than her, which made you take responsibility in your hands. Instead of looking at Susan, however, you glanced at Daphne apologetically. "We're calling a cab."

"But, I--"

"Shut it," you said, a little angry with her intoxicated state but yourself having a bit of a problem creating a coherent sentence. "The party is over. We're- are go-ing home."

Susan made a small groan but said nothing, to which you were very thankful because you wanted to end the conversation with Daphne. The sudden influx of bravery had overtaken, and you asked her to hand over her phone. So she compliantly did, and you tapped your phone number on the screen, saving it on the contacts list before handing it back to the proper owner.

"I'm sorry it turned out that way. In these circumstances," you apologized to Daphne, the weight on your arm becoming gradually heavier as your friend wriggled in her place, still grasping your shoulder like to necessary sanity. "It was nice meeting you."

Daphne smiled at that. "You too. Good luck with..." She didn't finish her sentence, but you concluded she was referring to the little situation with drunken Susan.

"Thanks. Oh, and..." You suddenly changed the timbre of your voice to a little deeper one, almost exigent actually. "...don't forget to call me."

A coy smile spread on Daphne's lips, and she said, more in the murmur than a normal tone, "Okay...I-I will..."

And then, you were strolling away, satisfied with how your Friday turned out, much less lame than you had initially assumed.

Maybe the party wasn't such a bad idea after all.

XOXOXOXO

A/N: I enjoyed writing those actually. These had to be drabbles but somehow turned out to be full-length one-shots. But no fault of mine; these were just my hands doing most of the job! I'm taking a break to spend some quality time with my friends (yes, it's me bragging I have a private life lol), and I'm sitting at my computer to write the next goodie :) See ya in some time!

Btw, as I've counted (via my computer) it's almost 2k words. What's wrong?!

#Daphne greengrass x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Drabble night #prompt list #asks #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter characters #slytherin #pansy parkinson x reader #Daphne greengrass #pansy parkinson #Daphne greengrass x pansy parkinson #draco x reader #requests #send them over #!!#lol

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poptod · 3 years

Note

Hi you beautiful person! If you’re still taking requests then I would like to request for Ahkmenrah! Sorry if this is too long but how about y/n is a cat burglar and breaks into the museum to steal sum shit (they notice the lights on beforehand but thought that it was just the night guard). But then they notice that there’s, like, A LOT of “people” still present at the museum. They already took a few things so they go to hide in the Egypt exhibit till the coast is clear but then when they notice that the sarcophagus is wide open and the mummy isn’t there they get rly freaked out and about to leave the exhibit but run into Ahk and he’s rly confused and notices that they’re a thief and even tho he was raised to be cruel to thieves he felt rly drawn and hypnotized by y/n (it was love at first sight for him). He simps so hard that he lets them go only if they leave the stuff they tried to steal but they refuse to leave empty handed so Ahk simps again and gives them one of his pieces of jewelry to have. They’re confused but go with it then dip through the window and Ahk watches them escape into the night from the window with a dreamy look on his face. And Larry’s behind him like “wtf just happened?” Sorry again if that was too long! Please take as much time as you need if you decide to do this <3

notes: anon. ANON. i love you and i love this idea, idk why i never thought of this but i fucking adore it thank you WC: 1.6k

Grappling hooks––the fevered dream of a madman that worked only partway in theory, and not at all in practice. Still, you liked the look of them, and kept one seated on your belt while you used a more practical means of breaking and entering.

Very rarely did you ever break into buildings who still had their lights on. For this you would have to make an exception; the museum, which you had scouted out every day for two weeks, always had its' lights on. That would not deter you. American and British museums were essentially always corrupt in some way, unwilling to return the stolen artifacts of foreign countries. You kept that at the forefront of your mind, a little smidgen of motivation, as you jammed the window lock open.

The wind brushing against your dark coat vanished as you entered, sudden air conditioning bringing the temperature to a more pleasant 70 degrees. Hanging off the side of a building with no leverage but a small, outer windowsill had left your fingers numb, joints aching with built up pressure. You shook them out, clicking your pocket knife shut and stuffing it in one of your pockets.

For a minute you remained in the shadowed hallway, listening closely to the sound of footsteps, and watching carefully the shadows casted on the wall to your right. Your brow furrowed––that couldn't be right. The only person who was supposed to be in the museum was the night guard, which last you checked there was only one of them, and maybe the director. You could hear the footsteps of a whole crowd, the murmuring hum of distant conversation, and the vibrating beats of music coming through stereo speakers.

Taking a tentative step forward, you kept your hand poised over your knife just in case. As many times as you've done this, you can't recall any time that you've robbed a place while the owners were still inside.

You came to find out about two minutes later that while the owners are in fact inside, it wasn't them making the noise. Peering out behind the wall, you could see far off the balcony, into the entrance of the museum where a congregation had gathered. It's not... normal, though. None of them are wearing normal clothes. Actually, it looked more like they stole all the exhibits clothes, which would partly explain why all the exhibits were empty.

"This is not normal," you mumbled beneath your breath to yourself, mimicking Harry Potter's voice. Third movie.

You quickly retraced your steps, returning to the window you crawled into. Once more you went through the hallway, double checking everything, and picking up what valuables you could find in the vacant rooms. The Greek section payed off, as did the Chinese, but before you could move to the next era the night guard came walking down the hallway with a group of people in tow. He doesn't seem all that bothered by the fact that none of the exhibits are there, and that all of his friends are wearing the clothes of the exhibits.

And then you saw it.

A monster of entirely bone, whose teeth bared constantly in sharp, jagged lines. The backbones creaked and cracked against each other when its' neck moved, pulling its' heavy skull to watch the people with empty eye sockets.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

Where was the exit? You'd gone down two flights of stairs, up one, and down one, but you couldn't remember the order. There had to be an exit on this floor. When the group passed by you, you darted in the opposite direction, paying no attention to the artifacts as the walls blurred around you.

Your breath began to catch up with you soon, heaving your chest up and down as your legs burned. Before your body could give out on you, you slid into the next hallway, ducking behind one of the massive pillars and finally collapsing. Three minutes passed before you could breathe normally. Only then, with most of your wits back about you, did you notice the hieroglyphs your nails dug desperately into on the pillar.

More footsteps outside the long, Egyptian hallway sent you padding deeper in, till you found yourself bumping against the open glass case around a golden casket. The face, which you would've expected to be on the head, was instead cast aside as the top was open. Inside––nothing. Scraps of linen and spells written in an incomprehensible language.

"What the fuuuuck," you whispered to yourself. "What the fuuuuck..."

What the hell is going on h-

Something bumped against your back, sending you stumbling forward before you could just barely stabilize yourself. You whipped around, eyes wide as you came face to face with a man bearing an outrageously golden crown, and donned entirely in Egyptian cloth.

Entirely dumbstruck, your mouth hung open, and you said nothing as the man stared at you in the same bewilderment.

"Why do you have that?" He suddenly asked, eyes falling to the gold and lapis necklace dangling out of your bag.

You stuffed it back inside and said, "mother's."

"Yes," he chuckled, "my mother's. I was buried with that and I'd rather appreciate it if you gave it back."

The narrowing of your eyes gave away what you tried your best to keep hidden––the numerous treasures concealed in your duffel bag.

"You're robbing us, aren't you?"

You said nothing.

"Why are you stealing our belongings?"

"Why are you acting like they belong to you?" You finally replied. "They belonged to people long dead. Just because you're wearing the robes doesn't make you the Pharaoh, and – and why the fuck are you dressed in Egyptian clothes?"

"Well I was, again, buried in this. It's this or the linen and the linen reveals a little more than people would probably like. My name is Ahkmenrah," he bowed slightly, taking your gloved hand and kissing the back of it, "the Pharaoh from the sarcophagus."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Doesn't matter what you believe. What matters is that you return what you've stolen," he said, straightening himself out and outstretching his hand. As if you'd return what you've taken.

He waited for a good minute, and when you didn't relent, his expression grew weary.

"Do you want me to get the night guard?"

"No," you said quickly, eyes darting up in panic.

"I will let you go, free of punishment, if you return what you've taken and leave. Come back when you're not looking to steal."

"I am not leaving here empty-handed," you hissed, stepping closer to get up in his face. To your surprise (though you didn't dare show your surprise on your face) a blush began to fill his cheeks.

"I... uh.. y - oh Gods," he grumbled, shaky eyes darting all across your face but never meeting your gaze. "Fine. Fine, you – take this. If you return the other things you can take this."

He stayed rooted to the spot, but bent to pull at his skirt. At first you almost stopped him, already convinced he was about to strip down, but when he ripped at the silk your mouth hung open in silence.

"Ever learn about the history of textiles?" He asked you as he handed you the long strip of golden fabric.

You shook your head no. The cloth barely weighed anything, softer than anything you'd touched, and nearly thin enough to see through it.

"Much Egyptian and Arabic fabric is revered for the talents your people have lost to time. It's a special recipe you cannot replicate with any modern tool. This'll bring you a fortune if you find the right person," he said, cocking his head to the side as he watched you carefully. "It's gold sewn into silk."

Only a moment of thought passed before you dropped your bag, kneeling in front of the Pharaoh and pulling at the zipper. His sandals slid away from you as he gave you space, and soon you were pulling out different necklaces and combs, setting them on the floor in front of him in silence.

"I don't know where the exit is," you mumbled as you carefully pocketed the silk, moving back to your feet.

"How did you get in?"

"Through the window."

"... ah. I'll show you to one of them, then."

He snuck you around the museum, showed you how to avoid the crowds, and at each turn you memorized the path. If you ever wanted to come back for anything else, you would need to know such tactics. Soon enough he was showing you to a window a story off the ground, and though he was hesitant to allow you to leave out it, you informed him you quite adept at climbing walls.

Clambering out the window, you paused with your foot notched into a dip in the outer wall.

"Why are you helping me like this? You didn't have to do that," you asked, and though it wasn't a question you had been thinking of, there was a very sudden urge within you to have it answered. "Aren't you a Pharaoh? They hate thieves, right?"

"I.. um, well, there's... I suppose – you caught me in a good mood," he very obviously lied. You raised a single brow questioningly, but made no further attempt to pull the truth out of him.

Instead, you ducked out the window, falling quickly into the snow and rushing off into the dark of night. A moment later he heard the revving of a car, and then the squealing of tires sliding against the pavement roads. Ahk sighed softly, the tension in his chest giving way as he rested his elbow on the window's sill, his palm pushing against his blushing cheek.

"What the fuck was that about?" Larry asked from behind him. His dreamy expression immediately gave way to embarrassment.

"Nothing," he quickly insisted. "Just... being a little softhearted."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

[This Anon is referring to this game theory.]

...I can see that happening, yes. Crowley must, after all, appeal to those with a preference for glasses on their pretty boys.

This became its own set of shitpost headcanons in of themselves, but I will allow it for now because it supplements my ever-expanding pretty boy game theory. I only wrote for the students, NOT faculty because the list of students itself is already super long.

Enjoy.

Riddle wrote an entire speech to the headmaster about how he will contribute to NRC and improve the school community if he gets accepted. All of that went right out the window when Crowley clasped his hands during the interview and shouted about how Riddle is perfect. That strict persona, coupled with the contrast of his boyish appearance...it is perfect for appealing to those that like the youthful look, but still want someone respectable!

Trey had a relatively normal interview. Crowley was impressed by how reliable Trey seems to be--he’s sure to make use of Trey’s “big brother”/”boy next door” vibes for NRC advertising. He didn’t find out about Trey’s thing for dental hygiene until after Trey was already accepted, but Crowley was quick to dismiss it as a real concern because it’s not like he’s going to sell pictures of Trey brushing others’ teeth for extra profit (well, not unless there is a high demand for that).

Cater was very relaxed, even slouching a bit in his seat. He interrupted Crowely in the middle of one of his questions to ask to take a photo for his MagiCam account. Though Crowley found this to be a little irritating, he knew that social media is a good way to reach a wider audience. Having a handsome student well-versed in the use of the web and able to capture candid photos of his peers seems like a huge advantage to NRC’s social media presence!

Ace was super casual. He showed up a few minutes late and sat down without being given permission to. He’s nothing like his older brother, according to the records Crowley consulted. Ace’s brightness was able to charm Crowley in the interview, and he allows the trickster in just because of that infections, albeit shit eating, grin of his.

Deuce tried very, very hard to show off how “reformed” he was. Came to the interview in a full-on suit and gelled back hair so he looks like a responsible young man. Lost his shit mid-interview when Crowley brought up his past delinquency as a potential issue. He was still let in because Crowley knows “bad boys” with a soft side can be appealing to some.

Leona got to skip the interview. Not because he’s royalty or anything, but because Crowley knew just from reading Leona’s application and seeing his picture that he would be a worthwhile student to slap onto advertisements. THE ANGST PRACTICALLY WRITES ITSELF. Look at how handsome Leona is, and how dark his backstory is. You can change this arrogant, broken cat boy, Crowley will hawk at his audience, all you need to do is donate your money to NRC!

Ruggie was accepted for his mischievousness--and partly due to his sad history in the slums. He didn’t show up to the interview wearing the fanciest clothes, but there is a charm to his humility, his frugality. Crowley thinks that winsome laughter of his will net the school some extra cash. Some would love to dote on people like Ruggie, after all!

Jack has muscles, and that’s all Crowley needed to see to accept him. Sure, he may have only responded to interview questions with simple, short answers, sometimes punctuated by grunts, but...muscles. Crowley’s already thinking of throwing as many sports-related events as possible for the upcoming school year, just so Jack can get all hot and sweaty in front of a live audience. NRC merch sales will go through the roof.

Azul groomed himself for several hours in advance, and practiced interview questions with the Leeches beforehand. First impressions are very important, and attending NRC would be the opportunity of a lifetime! He performed very well and dressed sharply. When his interview wrapped up, Crowley started questioning his eyeglasses, which confused Azul a lot. He was told that he is accepted, granted that he maintains wearing spectacles. Azul, being the big brain octoboi that he is, understood Crowley’s game and complimented his shrewdness. Crowley killed so many birds with one stone by accepting Azul...he appeals to those that like smart boys, glasses, and...well, tentacles.

Jade & Floyd spent even more time preparing than Azul did. They are concerned about Floyd making an outburst or a comment that could jeopardize their acceptance--and if they don’t also get into NRC, then Azul will be all alone. To their surprise, Crowley accepted them a few minutes into the interview after he asked them to sit and just...interact with the other brother. He was shouting something about how twins are a “rare find” and that “people love having two lovers tease them” while furiously shaking both of their hands. They left the office very confused, while Crowley was smirking to himself about his great find. Not only do the Leeches have a strong brotherly bond that will melt people’s hearts, but their whole butler/bodyguard dynamic will play well off of Azul. And those fangs...that’s the cherry on top!

Kalim is automatically in thanks to that massive donation the Al-Asim family oh-so-generously gave to the school. It didn’t matter if he was bouncing off the walls and veering way off topic during the interview. Crowley knows that Kalim’s endless, youthful cheer is sure to appeal to someone.

Jamil is calm, poised, controlled. Almost too much so. Crowley was on the fence about him--doesn’t Jamil seem a little too boring upon first impression?--but his beauty is nothing to sneer at. He allows Jamil in, if only to be a companion to Kalim...and boy, does Crowley not regret that decision. People sure do love the “super repressed crazy one”, huh?

Vil came with a perfectly coordinated outfit and makeup, ready to kill the interview. A shame that Crowley cut it short to congratulate him on his acceptance. Such beauty and confidence will do well at NRC and shilling NRC merch...! His status as a MagiCam influencer and model is also sure to attract Crowley some sweet, free publicity!

Rook was dubbed “the token pervert” in Crowley’s mind the moment he strolled into the office for his interview. He took a great fascination with the headmaster himself, asking many personal questions and even if he can touch Crowley. A very forward lad, even back then. Still, there’s a market for these types of things! Rook’s French (one of the romance languages!) also played into his acceptance--multiingual people can have a broad appeal...!

Epel’s innocent outer appearance instantly won Crowley over, even though he didn’t speak clearly and didn’t wear nice clothes at the interview. Sure, he’s just the son of some farmers from a backwater town, but Epel is just so meek and beautiful! He’d be perfect for those in the public who want someone to take care of. That mild rebellious streak of his may also be popular!

Idia almost didn’t make it. He stuttered and mumbled through his interview, avoided eye contact, and sweated bullets the entire time. It also didn’t help that he looked so disheveled. Crowley forced Idia to change his clothes and wash his face to see how well he cleaned up--and Idia cleaned up very well. The headmaster let Idia in after that to have “otaku” type for advertisements and to potentially beg the Shrouds for donations. Plus, having another sharp-toothed boy doesn’t hurt. The Leeches can’t be the only ones that appeal to the public’s fang fetishists!

Ortho didn’t really have an interview. It was more like Idia made him one day and asked if Ortho could be enrolled as a student. Crowley just shrugged and let it happen. He’s sure that someone out there is into robots in “that” sense.

Malleus did not need an interview. His magical ability already speaks as to why he was an instant acceptance--and he’s related to the Great Witch of Thorns! That, combined with his commanding presence and mysterious allure, makes him a powerful force to be reckoned with. Plus, he has an emotional vulnerability behind all of that...

Lilia spooked Crowley by dropping in from the chimney. Despite this, he nailed the interview and now supplies Crowley with all the content he needs for his “thousand year old vampire that looks like a 12 year old” trope folder. He looks young, but he’s wise and will bite if you’re not careful! On top of all of that, Lilia has a fatherly side, which Crowley knows will make him endearing to some.

Silver fell asleep mid-interview...! Oddly enough, Crowley still accepted him despite that. Soft, sleep boys, after all, have their own sense of charm! Besides, what kind of self-respecting pretty boy fan wouldn’t want to stare at Silver’s peaceful face as he rests?

Sebek’s booming voice nearly sent Crowley flying out of his seat. So loud, and so assertive--yet Sebek also expresses his strong, burning desire to be at the Young Master’s side. Crowley knows that such devotion and boisterousness can be a charm point, so Sebek was accepted!

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Promised: Part One (The Great mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,878

From this Anon Request: ahhh im so happy that you'll write for grigor, gwil seems to be under hyped these days. can i request grigor having to be in an arranged marriage because peter somehow fucked up another treaty and the only way of fixing it is through an alliance (we can just ignore grigor being married already)

A/N: Of course! I hope you are okay with it being a fem! Reader. If not, just let me know and I’ll write a neutral version!

Anyways, enjoy the first part of this mini series of Peter being...Peter and you are Grigor getting into an arranged marriage to fix it up!

“This wine tastes like shit, where’s the vodka?”

The bread roll you had been chewing on nearly fell out of your mouth in surprise. This was the man you had been expecting for weeks. The Lord and Sovereign of all of Russia. The son of Peter the Great, a legendary warrior king beloved by all who knew him. He even shared a name with this godly figure.

The second he announced his arrival sent everyone in your house into a giddy panic. The manor was cleaned inside out. Every butler and maid lined up outside for his entrance in their most pressed uniforms. Your family and you had put on your finest garbs as well. You had even bought a new dress for the occasion, a pink silk gown with white cloth down the sleeves, and a white middle part while long bows decorated your cream stomacher.

Every soul in the manor was there when his carriage arrived to greet and curtsy to him and his friend, tour the house, and serve him a meal featuring the best cuts, foods, and drinks available, some of which were gifts from the locals honoring his appearance.

And he just called your finest vintage wine shit.

Every pulse in your house was heard in that moment. Your mother gasped a little at the sound of such language used at the table. Especially from him.

“We…we have whiskey to be served after, it’s stronger” you suggest meekly.

“I suppose, just something stronger than this,” his companion next to him reasoned.

He was a man who was perhaps in his thirties at most, brown hair barely seen beneath his dusty wig and in a dark green jacket, only a few steps below Peter’s finery. He swirled the glass with his large hands and took polite sips of it. You looked for a reaction to the taste and barely saw one.

“You want the emperor to drink shit wine, then!? What kind of hosts are you?” Peter asked, leaning back in his chair.

He was far more relaxed than the sea of straight backs of everyone at your table. He even tossed the glass over his shoulder.

KKKK!

A servant behind rushed up with a broom to sweep up the bits.

Your mother and father looked at each other questioningly. Your brother normally had a healthy appetite, but his fork paused in mid-air since the wine complaint.

With a little sigh, your father turned to a butler and asked him to retrieve a bottle of whiskey and to look for any spare vodka at once.

Looking at your brother, the sanguine chatterbox, you saw his face had paled and his jaw was still tight. Looks like it would have to be you then to alter the mood and keep the peace.

Turning to the Emperor’s companion on Peter’s right, you began to shyly greet him “Sir...uhm…I’m sorry, I forgot your last name…”

“Dymov,” he answered kindly.

His eyes softened. At least he seemed less of an unpredictable bull as his friend.

“Sir Dymov, what is the weather like in Russia? Is it as cold as everyone says?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes, very! Some winters have crowds of people wearing fur coats indoors and gathered around the fire,” he explained.

Peter cut in, chewing on the meat with an open mouth as if he were a cow in a field, “which is why we need to drink vodka to stay warm. Speaking of which, where is your butler and why the fuck hasn’t the vodka gotten here yet?!”

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Later that evening, there was some parlor entertainment as usual. Coffee, whiskey, and vodka were all served and seemed to be drank in generous amounts.

It began with you showing your musical gifts. You were to sing as your father accompanied you on the pianoforte. Your breath was feeling higher than what was needed for healthy singing. You could not help but gape at the two Russians who seemed to analyze you. They were hard not to ignore since they were both astoundingly tall, Peter only barely taller. Sir Dymov listened attentively, hands leaning against him as he and the emperor were offered the softest chairs.

But Peter was somehow enraptured. He looked right at you and was still, listening to it the whole time.

You noticed his eyes were not on your face. And your pink dress was as modest as your mothers.

Forcing yourself back into the music, you picked a spot in the parlor, near a bookshelf, and stared at it, trying to focus on the music and words. Lose yourself in its brief escape.

There was polite applause following. When you curtsied, you put a protective hand over your chest.

Your brother, more inclined to the world of theater, offered a reading of some texts by the finest playwrights of your land. Everyone listened to him as they settled for cards at a table, but you stood a while to focus on your knitting. Nerves had shot through you and you had to do something with your hands that would calm you more than cards with the boorish guest.

“May I sit here, Miss Y/L/N?” Sir Dymov asked to the spot next to yours.

“Yes, you may…” you answered, finishing a row of purl stitches.

As he sat down, he even offered to hold your yarn and straighten any strings.

“Thank you for the dinner, and the reading, and the music and everything, it was nice, far more peaceful than at home! And God knows, I could…we all could use some peace…,” he turned away briefly to keep a small eye on Peter.

“Sir Dymov, why would you need peace? Is it the war with Sweden?” you asked curiously.

His angled face looked oddly dark, despite the glow from the fire.

“No…Just a little bit of personal heartbreak, Lady Y/L/N. And your song was about love, so I was reminded of her.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” you asked

Flinching away, you cursed the impulse. It might be too personal.

“She rejected my marriage offer. She’s uhm, uh…how do I put this politely… she’s Peter’s mistress,” he explained

“Oh.”

“And she said she would not give up her position after our marriage, so she said I could either have to be married to her but share her with Peter or she would not consider my offer at all,” he sighed.

Setting your knitting away, you looked up at him with empathy.

“Sie Dymov, that sounds hard. But I can’t imagine how her saying yes would make anything easier…”

“I do miss her, and she’s in court so I see her still every day,” Dymov complained.

“You’ll find a way through heartbreak. I’ve had some of my own, but something better might happen!” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Once you set things down and decide to join the card table, you see Peter look up from his cards and scowl.

“You know, this is dull. Where is the louder singing? The wild dancing? The animals? No wonder people die here so much, they become bored!” he spat throwing off his hand onto the table.

“Things here are…a little quiet compared to your mighty empire,” your mother answers with a plastic smile. “But we make do…”

“I’m practically dying of boredom. How the hell was my father friends with you lot?” Peter asked.

Your father’s head ticked to the side, his eyes getting bigger.

“We were friends since our youth, and he loved all of us,” he said, words tinged with a subtle venom.

Your mother cleaned up the cards, and your brother paused his dramatic reading.

“Your highness, we can all retire if you don’t want to play anymore. I think traveling all the way here from your palace must have been exhausting. Is there anything else you need to make your stay here more comfortable before tomorrow?” she asked.

Peter’s eyes glinted up at you. Your body cinched as if ready to fight or flee.

“How about you offer to bring your daughter Y/N to my bedchambers for tonight, that would make me a lot more comfortable!”

Dymov’s jaw dropped. Your father stood up a little to get out of his chair but he was beat. In a flash, your brother slammed his book shut and rushed over, staring the ruler of Russia in the face.

“How dare you treat my sister like one of your whores?! Never!” he yelled.

“It’s my right as your guest?” Peter rebutted with a bizarre calm.

“After we’ve been kind to you? Gave you our best food and wine, housed you in our nicest room?” your brother roared.

You wanted to shrink yet you were frozen. Your father walked to your side and put an arm around you.

“You can have anything you want, but you’re a married man, Peter. My daughter’s dignity is important to me, as is your own wives. I don’t want to insult her as well,” he reasoned.

“Honor? Honor? You all only spit about honor when you live shit lives with shit food and shit company!” Peter argued.

The warmth of your father’s presence left you as he walked forward. Scuttling, your mother stood by you to take your hand in his place.

“Your highness, I knew him like a brother. If Peter the Great was here…” your father warned.

“He isn’t here! And I’m the Emperor now! And he isn’t!” Peter bellowed.

So on. And so on.

You retired early, your mother by your side to escort you as you saw your father and brother arguing back and forth. The only ally Peter had, other than his title, was Dymov holding him back. To protect or stop him, you could not tell.

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The next two days there was such bad blood it was unbelievable. There were no fun outings as planned. You ate alone. You hardly saw anyone. Any room you walked into; you could hear yelling.

Your father made sure you weren’t alone with Peter, but it seemed his eyes had gotten distracted with the fighting. Hopefully, he was joking. Partly.

One night you snuck downstairs to have a glass of water and heard a few words despite yourself.

“That’s it! I leave tomorrow morning! And you can forget my support and all your fucking soldiers, too!”

“Your highness, our money is about to get tight. And our people need it even more than us!”

“Too fucking bad, then!”

Oh no…Russia is our enemy.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. The idea of now starving. And your brother was about to marry a woman he loved in a fortnight. How could he provide for her or any future children? How would all the people who depended on your generosity fare with reduced funds? Worst of all, Peter had his quick moods and ideas. What if he declared war out of spite from this one visit?

You never met Peter the Great. He sometimes seemed like a kindly fairy god father in some ways he had been mentioned. His love of your house and your country and his friendship with your father. Financial support given when needed. How so much was funded and gifted and provided thanks to his generosity.

How could any of you live after that? Even with the embarrassment alone of being insulted by an emperor?

As you woke up, you only had barely time for breakfast when your mother entered.

“Y/N…we would like to talk to you.”

“Mother, I have breakfast. And I was hoping today I’d practice my music and finish that scarf,” you dismissed.

But from the look on her face you had no choice.

“It’s important. And you must be there.”

She walked you over into the main table where days ago everyone dined awkwardly. The Emperor and his companion were there. Peter pouted yet Dymov’s face looked as if he had seen a ghost and his folded hand were shaking a little.

As you sat down in your chair, every eye looked at you, there was a moment of tense silence.

“Well, what is it?” you asked.

“We’ve reached an agreement with Peter…” your father began.

“Are we going to lose…lose everything?” you asked anxiously.

Your heart was tolling in your eardrums as the words left your lips. It had been the question that kept you worried for days.

“No, your family is going to be fine…” Dymov assured, a hand placed over his mouth.

“You can still have some of my father’s money and support from the Russian crown and our fucking alliance even!” Peter threw in, hands going up.

“But…”

“But what?” you said.

“You have to bring half of your army to fight for me, Sweden’s trying to invade us and we need men. And some of your relatives have to swear loyalty to me. But that promise needs to be secured.” Peter continued

“How? We are already sending you soldiers and subjects? What else would do it?” you asked. Although your gut was telling you the answer.

There was a little pause, but quite an evil smile from Peter.

“There has to be a marriage. Your brother’s betrothed. So you’ll have to marry into Russia to secure it!” he revealed.

Blinking, the wind was knocked out as if you had been punched in the stomach.

“Sir, you’re married to…to Sophie! That Austrian girl!” you cried.

“Sophie? She isn’t Sophie anymore; she’s already christened by my church with a new name: she’s Empress Catherine of Russia now. And since she will be your ruler and you will address her as such! Might as well christen and give you a new name too!” he scolded.

“Of course, I mean I will but…but…who do I have to marry? Do you have any…any brothers?” you fret.

Numbness gripped your hands and nausea gripped your stomach at the thought of marrying a copy of Peter.

“I’ve got no brothers, no male relatives of age or alive for you and I want this contract done soon so…”

His head turned to Dymov with a congratulatory pat on the back.

“It’s Grigor here you’ll have to fuck for life in about a month!”

Grigor’s ears turned pink and he looked up at you, lips tight.

And if I say no? you start to wonder, tasting the words.

But what choice did you have?

“Lady Y/L/N, I promise, this isn’t any easier for me either…” he finally said. “I know this arrangement isn’t coming the way you expected…and I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Would you put your family’s and your people’s future down the drain? Would you let them become bankrupt, ruin your father’s memory of his friend, and make enemies with one of the richest, largest, and most powerful countries because of your selfishness?

Besides, no suitors had been calling you, really. None likable or with good intentions at least. You were getting to the age of spinsterdom. You knew you had to be desperate if you wanted any sense of security for yourself or your family. Who knew if another offer like this could be made?

Taking a deep breath, you looked Peter in the eye.

“I will do it. For my family and for everyone who we look after.”

Peter produced a document agreeing to the engagement, marriage, and benefits it brought. You and Dymov signed it.

Afterwards there was a small service in the chapel to pray for the future and for this marriage. But you were half in another world, unaware this was happening. Dymov seemed to flush between being pale or being red.

Immediately later, they decided all was well and to make plans to leave. Before packing, Dymov approached your parents and you in the parlor.

“I have to alert you of something that will happen, when Lady Y/L/N arrives…there will be a test done by the priests to see if she’s, uh, pure…and it involves checking her…” he gestured to his pants.

You let out a shocked gasp. What kind of kingdom were you about to be thrown into?

“I just wanted you to know, so you wouldn’t be shocked,” Dymov added on.

Your mother took your hand again and rubbed your knuckles soothingly.

“We have family physicians here. Trusted friends. They will do the examination and sign a document right before she goes. There will always be a chaperone until the marriage, to make sure everything is by Russia’s standards,’ she insisted, squeezing your hand extra tight.

Before they left the whole family saw off the Russian party. As Dymov turned to you, his blue eyes darkened slightly. He bowed lowest for you and kissed your hand.

“I’ll write to you as much as I can. You can call me Grigor,” he said.

“I guess you can call me Y/F/N…Grigor,” you replied

“Goodbye, Y/F/N. We will see each other…before the wedding. Soon.”

As kind as the gesture was, your brain had not stopped reeling. It remained even as you stood there, watching the carriage trot away. A pair of blue eyes even looking at you sadly from the window.

He seemed to have the same concern

How could you travel to live in another country ruled by someone like Peter?

And how could you love, much less marry, a man you just met?

Taglist: @queenlover05

The Great Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen @itsametaphorgwil @freaking-nix @im-an-adult-ish @grigorlee @themficsilike

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 3 years

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As I watched the Louis-cooking video, I couldn't help thinking of the promo interview where Louis said something about how he was so used to having a stylist from 1D, he could no longer style his own hair--he just wore a cap. I.e., he paid someone to do his hair because he couldn't/didn't want to. To me, it seems not improbable that he might also outsource cooking. There's almost no way I can imagine Louis cleaning a large house -- so he definitely has staff, whether by contract or on salary, and quite plausibly a live-in or daily housekeeper/cook. (I also can't imagine Eleanor cleaning doing heavy cleaning). I don't think him not being able to cook (as a male multi-millionaire with delivery apps and an enjoyment of straightforward food) says much of anything about his domestic partner.

I am curious about your take on the invisibility/presence of domestic and personal staff for the various 1D guys from a labour/work or class perspective and from a brand prspective. (I'm US-based; really love reading your blog for the social/political/economic perspective that aren't necessarily typical for US discourse -- always makes me think -- and thank you for sharing your takes!)

That's an interesting set of questions anon. Particualrly the comparison with not doing his own hair (which I don't remember myself - I'd love to know where the interview is). You sent some COVID specific anons - so I'll get to those as a follow-up. I also don't have any 1D related thoughts about any of this - so it'l be some random musings.

There are some reasonably straight forward things going on here - questions of relatability when you're a multi-millionaire. I also agree that Louis pays people to do cooking and cleaning - although I think there are lots of variables about how very rich people get their needs met in normal times.

But I think lurking underneath it is a more complicated set of questions about the range of consequences of refusing to see reproductive labour (or beauty labour) as work. Someone could celebrate having their car detailed on social media - and that wouldn't be unrelateable (there's even a special language to it to make sure it's not associated with women's work).

I think it's important to emphasise that nobody does all their own reproductive labour. And that it's not new that we make choices between time and money when it comes to how those basic needs are met (for example, with takeaways, grocery delivery and meal kits).

And I struggled to answer this question, until I realised that I think the problem is that I don't think you learn a lot by talking about it through the lens of people as rich as 1D (which is strange, because talking about the world thorugh 1D is this blog's whole purpose. And I think the fact that it is so different is a sign of the weird status of reproductive labour in our society). Partly because focusing on how the very rich navigate this, suggests an individual rather than structural approach.I

I think the interrelationship between the invisibility of unpaid reproductive labour in the home, and the mixed visibility and meaning given to marketised reproductive labour are deeply tied up in everyone's lives and the ultra rich are if anythign the most boring examples. Basically both unpaid labour outside the market, and marketised reproductive labour are deeply exploitative. And the reason that they're hidden in the way they are, is because if the reality of that labour was truly visible and intergrated into our understanding of the world, then the lies that capitalism relies on would be unsustainable.

#I think the slogans #wages for housework #and also wages against housework #are very important #and the idea that fundamentally capitalism is based on discounting reproductive labour #but that incoproating things into capitalism #just leads to more exploitation #(I got part II - but I won't publish because I ended up going off on a huge tangent)

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22drunkb · 5 years

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Please could you talk about the weird and specific visual language of person of interest? I haven't noticed it before but now I'm intrigued

Hi, Anon. You sent this ask 8 months ago. I took this long to answer because I wanted to really lay it all out for you, with the right screencaps and reference images and a whole theory of why the show looks the precise way it does. But the fact is, that’s not going to happen. I don’t have the time or mental energy to do it properly, and I have finally accepted that because the almost completely written long-ass answer to a different question about a different show that’s been sitting in my drafts for about as long is still languishing! and it’s almost done! wild what grad school can do to a person.

So since I have accepted that I can’t do the Full Treatment I wanted to, I’ll just do the quick explanatory version.

POI has 5 main visual ideas it returns to over and over. These are:

1. Surveillance footage. This is notable because it tends to look, by normal framing and cinematography standards, bad; they are very deliberately putting out “bad” images to tell the story, which after all is in large part about surveillance and privacy. I can’t remember now where I read/heard this, but the EPs definitely talked about the struggle to get cameras into these really inconvenient spots to get the properly terrible angles that would play as plausible CCTV-type footage.

2a. Edward Hopper’s style. By this I mean less his use of color than his tendency to show one or a few static figures, small in relation to their (usually urban) surroundings, often locked off by a frame-within-the-frame (someone framed in a window within the larger setting, for example); and significant contrast in lighting. The emblematic example for me is the wide shot of John cradling Carter’s body next to the phone booth, right after the moment of her death. But a lot of the comedic exterior shots of a bar or other establishment inside of which John is wreaking havoc actually fit as well.

2b. Noir, which was probably influenced by Hopper in the first place (or at least was responding to similar aspects of the zeitgeist). “POI noir” is a very popular thing in the fandom, and I assume you don’t need me to explain it. I will say, though, that as a film genre noir is about the failure of institutions, loneliness, isolation, and doom, so the choice is both telling and appropriate. (The same applies to the Hopper point.)

3. This is related to 2 and 3, but there is a broader theme of small isolated figures against a big, empty (or sometimes empty by virtue of being anonymously crowded) urban backdrop. (This is something noir does a lot also.) The reason I’m separating it here is that POI does this a lot of the time without making it noir; it creates something lighter-colored, lower-contrast, and more contemporary-looking, but maintins a similar effect. Takeshi Miyasaka’s work evokes it very directly for me. What’s interesting about his paintings as well as these compositions in POI is that they often come off as unstudied, not overthought or excrutiatingly composed. This is not the case; they are very carefully thought out (in both cases). But they convey a sense of naturalism you don’t get from a traditional noir composition (or most of Hopper’s noirish work--some of his other stuff is different, but not relevant here), while maintaining that feeling of a small subject in a big, uncaring, not particularly beautiful world.

4. Comics. POI is often compared to Batman; in some ways it more closely resembles Batman’s even noir-ier antecedent, The Shadow. It obviously leans into this in 4x06, “Pretenders,” but it’s there in a lot of the action sequences. I’d cite the one where John goes after Quinn in “The Devil’s Share,” a lot of “Relevance,” or this as examples.

5. The “interior,” thinking/processing shots of the Machine and Samaritan. For these they obviously invented a lot. They definitely drew on what was at the time cutting-edge data visualization as well as the marketing materials of some leading tech and security companies to create them, but I think it’s one of the ways in which the show was most original. (Interestingly, you can see some of this idea being worked out before the show even began in the movie Eagle Eye, which had the same producers. It’s not a good movie, mind you, and its notion of AI is super simplistic, but some of the visualization in this area is clearly prototypical of what would play out on POI.)

A lot of these visual choices don’t stand out as noticeable (aside from the AI visualizations, which of course are unmissable). There are two main reasons for this. One is that none of them are constant. POI never set out to make every shot a stylistic masterpiece, the way a show like Hannibal more or less did. I assume this was partly because of the logistical realities of a 22-episode season, but it also works with the show’s storytelling. The idea they want you to get, that they reiterate over and over, is that the world looks normal but isn’t underneath. So the 5 stylistic ideas I mentioned above tend to appear in short spurts--an action sequence, a shot framing Harold against a New York skyline or the whole team by a bridge, etc--stitched together by pretty standard TV framing (shot/reverse shot, close-up, medium). This allows them to kind of ramp up and ramp down the level of visual intensity, using noirish or comicky compositions, or particularly intense AI visualizations, in line with the storytelling. It is also a kind of metaphor for the entire premise: things look regular most of the time, but they aren’t if you pay attention.

The second reason is that we are so incredibly used to surveillance footage! It doesn’t stick out to us anymore! This is actually very significant because, as I noted above, surveillance cameras are not positioned for aesthetic value. The point is coverage, not composition or image quality. So this is a cinematic product (a television show) that is working overtime to give you technically “bad” images. But those images don’t really stand out as ugly, per se; instead they denote truthfulness. So for example, the Machine’s POV (as opposed to its thought process, which is digitally animated) is almost always in this surveillance style. This reminds us of what the Machine is and how it works, and it also tells us that what we’re seeing isn’t subjective. It is not someone’s memory or their perception. It is a literal recording. This allows the Machine to act as our guide through the whole timeline, moving us back and forth through that horizontal scroll, zooming in on a moment or incident for replay. We never have to question if the Machine is lying to us or mistaken (aside from 5x02), because its memory is a video archive presented to us with all the hallmarks of video that means “proof,” not video that means “feelings” or “perceptions.” Once we’ve been transitioned into a flashback scene, that style can go away so that we can abandon the distance that surveillance introduces to engage with the emotion of the flashback scene, but they use that device to move us around because it automatically tells us “this is true.” Simultaneously, the ubiquity of surveillance-style shots reinforces that same message I talked about above: that we are being watched (because the world has gone sideways).

(Perhaps I should mention that Nolan and Plageman said a big goal of theirs with the show was to make people more aware of how profoundly the technological and therefore social world around them was changing with little notice or fanfare. One of the obvious ways they were trying to direct our attention on this point was to issues of privacy. Finch helping John out of a sticky situation by exploiting a homeowner’s smart TV isn’t just a matter of making Finch look clever. They wanted to let us know that if your smart TV has a camera, someone can remotely turn it on. [I know this is common knowledge now, but that episode was like 2012. I found out what Palantir was because of POI!] Just to contextualize why to me, “you are being watched” and “the world has gotten very weird” are basically the same message in the context of POI.)

One of the show’s key influences is The Naked City (the show and the film). The film version of The Naked City is notable because it was one of the first post-WWII movies to shoot on location instead of on a film set, and it was shot in NYC. It’s also one of the earliest police procedurals, in the form we know the genre today. It’s not exactly noir, but it’s not exactly not noir. It’s based on the photography of the famous ambulance-chasing, poverty-documenting photographer Weegee; you could say it’s an early example of a “gritty” film. It doesn’t have the elegant devastation of The Third Man or the deep shadows of Double Indemnity. It was all about bringing audiences the amazing spectacle of a real place; the paradoxical insistence on authenticity in cinema goes way back. The Naked City to me is somehwere between noir and cinema verité, and in that sense, POI is true to it as an influence.

#person of interest #anonymous

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timetravelingheart · 5 years

Text

My Side of the Fence Part Seventeen: A.M. Imagine

For those concerned about a heartbreaking moment, it does not appear in this chapter (this one actually turned out quite fluffy!) but it is on its way. This chapter kind of sets up that moment. That’s as spoilery as I’ll get since this is all still a work in progress and ever-changing! Thank you for following along. I love when you send in ideas that fit these characters SO well; it’s like you’re in my head!

ALSO - to the anon who sent in the Vance Joy “I’m With You” song association, thank you! I thought this would be an appropriate time, for those who are unaware, to mention that this story is semi-based off of “My Side of the Fence” by Dan+Shay whose latest album is on repeat for me. Highly recommend listening to it! :)

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

For the first time in a while, Savannah was uncomfortable in Auston’s presence. She could tell he was deep in thought, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. While she wanted the conversation they needed to have to be over with, she knew that it wouldn’t be wise with him in this current state.

“So how come you didn’t drink tonight?” Savannah asked, trying to break the tension.

“When you said you were coming and that you might drink, I wanted you to be able to have fun without worrying about getting home,” he kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, rain now coming down and causing him to be a little more cautious.

“You didn’t have to do that. We could’ve just taken an uber home.”

“I know. But it’s not a big deal. I get more nights out than you do anyway. There’s always an opportunity to drink,” he shrugged nonchalantly, still not sparing her a glance.

“Well, thank you,” she replied awkwardly. Auston finally turned to look at her, suddenly seemingly aware of the effect his mood was having on her. He smiled tightly, reaching over to squeeze her thigh in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry about Melanie,” Auston apologized, wanting to clear the air before they reached her apartment. He had assumed he was going up with her, but after the night’s events, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh, don’t be. She was really nice,” Savannah replied.

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed, not knowing what else to do. He wanted to know what was said, and based on how Savannah was acting, he knew she knew something, he just didn’t know what version of the story she got. He wanted her to ask him for his side, much like she did the night they played 21 questions.

They pulled into the complex parking garage and Auston turned off the car, but neither made any move to get out of the car. Auston waited, tapping his wrist on the steering wheel. Savannah unbuckled her seatbelt and turned in her seat to face him.

"Are you still okay with our arrangement?” Savannah all but whispered, her voice shaking, giving way to her uncertainty. Auston whipped his head around the face her. Fuck.

"What do you mean?” Auston willed himself not to overreact.

Savannah sighed. Specificity was probably necessary here, but she hated confrontation. “I mean, are you okay with us just being casual?”

Auston sighed this time, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He should have known. "Sav, what did Melanie say to you?”

“I promise I didn’t pry, she just…word-vomited all over me,” Savannah explained, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “She said that you ended things with her because you realized you wanted to be in a relationship. I’m not asking you explain your past, but I just need to know if what we’re doing is still okay with you.”

"That’s partly true,” Auston admitted, glad to have an opportunity to explain himself. “I told her that I was done with hooking up with random girls and that if I were to be in a relationship, I didn’t see that happening with her and I still don’t.”

"Harsh,” Savannah visibly cringed.

"I know, and I feel badly about that, but I thought it was best to be direct,” he paused, not sure how his next statement would be taken. He watched as she fidgeted with her hands, unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached out to grab them in his. He was relieved when she visibly relaxed at his touch. “I didn’t tell her I was actively seeking a relationship or that I needed to be in one, Sav. You’re not keeping me from anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

"So you are still happy with keeping things casual?”

“Sav, I’m happy with you,” Auston squeezed her hands, bringing them to his lips.

Savannah fought the urge to give in to his sweet gestures. She needed to know the complete truth before she felt comfortable moving forward. “That’s not answering my question. You know how I feel about a relationship right now and the last thing I want to do is lead you on or feel like you are waiting for me. You deserve more than what I could give you in a relationship right now.”

Auston bit his cheek to keep himself from audibly sighing. He adored Savannah, but sometimes she just worried too much. “You need to stop assuming you know what I think I deserve and what I would want in a relationship.”

Surprised by what was easily the harshest tone Auston had ever used with her, Savannah cringed, worried she was making this more difficult than it needed to be. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” she relented. “But I just need to know because if this is more than casual to you, I think it should end for both of our sakes.”

Red flags rose in Auston’s mind. She was willing to end this if she thought he wanted to be in a relationship with her, or in general. He needed to salvage this before it was too late. "I am okay with it being just casual, Sav. It’s not more than that,” he lied.

"You’re sure?” she looked doubtful and hopeful simultaneously and Auston hated himself.

"Sav, we have a good thing going right now, don’t we? I mean, you’re having fun and you’re happy, right?”

"I am,” she answered honestly. And she really was, other than when she spent way too much time overthinking moments with Auston, almost searching for reasons to doubt him.

Auston reached his hand out to cup her cheek, relishing in Savannah sinking into his touch. “Then please stop stressing and letting outside factors influence this. It is what it is right now and as long as we’re both okay with that, I don’t see why it would need to end. Okay?”

Savannah nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. She had to trust that Auston wouldn’t lie to her. She got the answer she wanted, so they could continue. She pushed aside the nagging feeling that something was amiss, but she wanted so badly to continue, to stay in his presence. She didn’t even remotely acknowledge what wanting to stay in his presence meant. If he could keep it casual, so could she. “Okay. Let’s go upstairs.”

After having a long hot, and productive, shower together, Savannah and Auston were tangled up in her sheets, listening to the rain and continuing their game of 21 questions. It was nearing 1am, but neither felt tired. They lay naked, Savannah leaning on her crossed arms on Auston’s strong chest as he lay propped up against her pillows.

“You can’t say that!” Savannah exclaimed, raising her head to admonish him.

“Why not?” he retorted, the gleam evident in his eye. He was relieved that nothing felt different from the moment they left the car and entered her apartment. It was as if the events from the night hadn’t happened and things were back to what was becoming their normal.

“Because, you can’t possibly believe that. There’s no way I’m friends with someone who believes that. I can’t accept it.”

“Well, you better believe it, baby,” Auston laughed.

“Nope, no way. Hedwig’s death was not more emotional than Dobby’s. It just wasn’t,” Savannah shook her head defiantly. Who was this person she was laying here with who had these terrible Harry Potter takes?

“You asked my opinion! That’s my opinion!”

“Your opinion is wrong,” she plopped her head back down on her arms aggressively, earning a grunt from Auston, who barked out a laugh.

“All I’m saying is that Hedwig was there from the very beginning. She was a loss of his innocence. She symbolized that end,” he reached one hand out to push her sexed-up hair behind her ears. After the rough night they had, he was so content to be in this moment with her. His favourite version of Savannah was the one he got to be with behind closed doors, in their safe spaces. She was light; at peace with their privacy and joyful in his company. He felt like he was simultaneously floating in the clouds and being grounded to something good; something real. He had a feeling this is what love felt like.

“I agree with that part. I just don’t agree that it was a more emotional moment.”

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree, won’t we?” he teased, tapping her twice on the nose and laughing as she stuck her tongue out to lick his palm.

“Whatever. It’s your turn.”

Auston hummed thoughtfully. He ran one hand leisurely up and down her side, sending shivers up her spine. “What is one of your favourite childhood memories?”

Savannah didn’t have to think twice before answering. “As you know, my dad is one of the biggest hockey fans out there,” she paused to roll her eyes as Auston mouthed a faux cheer of ‘Go Leafs Go!’. “And when none of my siblings took a serious interest in playing the sport, I was kind of his last hope. I don’t know if I told you, but he used to coach some of the kids’ leagues at our local rink. He coached my brothers in baseball, too actually. Anyway, the problem was, when I strapped on those black hockey skates, I would see the girls at the rink in these clean white ones doing spins and jumps and just looking like angels on ice and suddenly that’s all I wanted. My parents have actual video of me playing away from the puck and just trying to do pirouettes and mimic the moves I saw these other kids do, but in my hockey skates.” Savannah laughed at the memory.

“I need to see those videos someday,” Auston laughed picturing an even tinier Savannah doing spins in hockey skates. “I didn’t know you were on a hockey team though.”

“For an inconsequential period of time,” Savannah laughed. “It took my mom to convince my dad to let me switch from hockey lessons to figure skating. But she did, and even though he was disappointed, he was there for every single practice of mine and even helped me pick out some of my leos. One day, I skated off the ice after practice just fuming and in tears and when he asked why, I told him that some of the kids I used to play hockey with were teasing me for moving to the ‘weaker’ sport instead saying only ‘babies’ figure skated.”

Auston grimaced. As a hockey playing kid, he was definitely on the side of the teasers once in a while when they had to share the ice with the figure skaters. He now felt like sending personal apologies to all of the kids he mocked from ages 8-12.

“So my dad, all 6′2, 200 some-odd pound of him, got himself a customized pair of figure skates, made in white no less even though men’s figure skates are usually black, and skated out on to the ice with me at the next practice. And I never heard another comment again. These kids revered my dad. He was Coach. And now he was out there in figure skates, nearly dying and killing his knees trying to spin. It was just...everything,” Savannah smiled, feeling her heart squeeze at the thought of her big teddy bear of a dad.

"That’s amazing,” Auston laughed. “So are you a daddy’s girl?”

"It depends on the day. I think because I moved away from home at such a young age, my parents have done their best to spend time with me together and individually so I’ve gotten a bit of both,” Savannah reflected on her relationships with her parents. “My mom is all-knowing though. My dad is pretty unobservant for the most part, so most of our more meaningful talks come from me approaching him or outright expressing an emotion. My mom reads between the lines. She reads body language. She listens for the unsaid. I think it comes from being a teacher for students with special needs who can’t always communicate quickly or in what we consider to be the easiest way so she has to really pay attention.”

"She sounds a little like my mom.”

“Oh, after meeting your mom one time I could tell she was the kind of woman who could draw blood from a stone. She had my whole life story in under ten minutes of knowing her!”

Auston’s heart soared at how affectionately Savannah spoke of his mom after meeting her only one time. “Yeah, she has the affect.”

"What about you? Are you closer to one parent?”

"For a long time, it was my dad. He was my best friend. And still is,” Auston ran a hand through his hair, thinking back on the last few years with his parents. “But when I lived in Switzerland, my mom moved in with me for the year and we really bonded. I think we missed a lot of that because of how often I was away for hockey as a kid. She can still make me feel like a kid too sometimes, especially when I’m home visiting. But it’s just how she shows love.”

“You have great parents, Auston.”

“It sounds like we both do,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, watching as she tried to hide what appeared to be a rather large yawn. He glanced at the clock on her bedside table, seeing that it was nearly 3am. They had nowhere to be in the morning, and he had no intention of leaving her apartment the next day until she all but kicked him out, of course before what he assumed, and hoped, would be a very late breakfast. “All right you,” he pecked her lips, dragging her up his body. “Time for bed.”

“Mm,” she moaned, leaning in to kiss him deeply and then snuggling herself into his side, head tucked under his chin. She felt warm and safe and happy. This still worked for them, and she was so relieved. She could focus on the Olympics without the added pressure of balancing a relationship, and still have this safe space with Auston. As long as he was happy with what she could give, she was happy to stay right here for as long as possible. “Good night, Auston.”

“Good night, Sav.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey imagines #hockey writing

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brettonio-one-chicago · 5 years

Text

Troublemaker

This is a long overdue story. I owe an anon reader this story. I was requested to do prompt #16. Sadly, I didn’t get to know which #16 it was as I have many prompt lists out there. So, this is a Brettonio story with the following prompts:

- “I ship us.” - “Why are you always so stubborn?” “I’m not.” - “What do you have?” “Pizza rolls & Cup O’Noodles... that’s about it. So... Popcorn?” - “Aaah... I can’t stop blushing... No... you’re not helping at all.” Please note that for the purpose of this story, Antonio and Sylvie made up and have since moved on since the incident with Laura. They’re still together. So without further ado... Troublemaker!

“Sylvie!” Antonio called out as he came into the apartment. “Babe?” He saw her coat was hung on the hook and her boots were by the door. He hung up his own coat and took off his shoes before going to the kitchen.

Sylvie wasn’t there. He went to check the master bedroom and saw she wasn’t there either. That was when he heard sounds coming Eva’s room. He went over and could see light coming from under the door. He leaned against the door to see if Eva was alone.

“Eva... you know that your dad’s going to eventually figure it all out.”

“I know Sylvie, but... I don’t know how to tell him.”

“It’s not going to be easy... considering it’s really big.”

Antonio had no clue what was being discussed but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he probably wasn’t going to like it. He took a breath and knocked on the door. “Sylvie?”

“Coming.”

There was some more whispering that Antonio couldn’t make it. He backed away from the door so that neither Eva nor Sylvie would know he wasn’t there.

“Hey.” Sylvie opened the door and walked into the hallway. “When did you get home?”

“Just now.” Antonio wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “How was your day off?”

“Zumba... went grocery shopping... met with Gaby for lunch... picked Eva up from school... and I was just helping her with her bio homework.”

“Fun times. Do I want to know what they’re teaching my daughter?”

“Didn’t you take biology?” Sylvie chuckled.

“Uh... I can’t remember.” Antonio smirked.

“Yeah... I bet.” Sylvie poked him in the ribs. “So... I was thinking about your offer from the other night.”

“Which one?” Antonio batted his eyes at her, feigning innocence.

Sylvie smacked him in the chest. “You know which one.”

Antonio sighed. “Yeah... I remember asking you to move in with us.”

“I told you I needed time to think it over... and I did.”

“What’s your final decision?” Antonio whispered.

“I’ll gladly move in.” Sylvie whispered back. “I just had to talk to Eva and Diego first... it’s their home too.”

“So, they gave their blessing?”

That was when Eva emerged from her bedroom. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Antonio said. “How was school?”

“It was okay. I was happy to finally see Neil get kicked out of Chemistry today.”

“What did he do this time?” Antonio asked.

“Tried to use acid to burn through his textbook.”

Antonio sighed. He knew that this Neil kid had been a pain in almost every class that he shared with Eva. “How long?”

“No clue. Headmaster had him in the office the rest of the day.” Eva shrugged. “I got an A on my History paper... and I’m meeting with the counsellor about my college choices tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a busy day.” Antonio was extremely proud of his daughter. Eva had been achieving new heights since she’d moved in with him. Sylvie had been a big help in having her adjust. “So, anything else new?” He looked between Sylvie and Eva.

“Turns out 51 has a new thing going around for ‘ships’.” Sylvie said. “Weird names for them... made no sense to me.”

“They’re talking about boats?” Antonio knew that Chief, Kelly and Matt fished often, but he was sure that none of them owned anything larger enough to be considered a ship.

“Sylvie... Dad... a ship isn’t a boat... like the traditional meaning of the word.” Eva spoke up.

“Then what is it?” Antonio was genuinely perplexed.

Eva sighed. “And people think Millennials are bad... okay, a ‘ship’ is a nickname for a couple... like ‘Brangelina’ or ‘Kimye’...”

“So... a ‘ship’...” Antonio used his fingers to simulate quotation marks. “Is what people call couples as a cute thing?”

Eva rolled her eyes. “It’s not a cute thing... it’s just a way that people talk... those tabloids started it... normal people kept it going.”

“So... what ships were they discussing at 51?” Antonio turned to look at Sylvie.

“Well, Dawsey...”

“That’s probably Aunt Gaby & Uncle Matt.”

Sylvie nodded. “That’s what Otis said.”

“Any others?”

“Well, there was Plouch, but that’s obviously Mouch and Trudy...” Sylvie said. “Then there’s the bromance going on with Otis and Cruz... they call themselves Crotis...”

“Typical bromance name.” Eva snickered.

“There was another one, but I didn’t catch it all... probably because they froze when I came into the kitchen.” Sylvie sighed.

“They probably have a ship name for you and Dad.” Eva looked to her dad. “I see it.”

“You think we’re like a celebrity couple?” Antonio arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Well, you’re way better than ‘Kimye’.” Eva commented. “And you’re definitely way cooler than Brangelina.”

Sylvie’s head was spinning. “Okay, Eva... what would you call your dad and I as a ‘ship’?”

Eva thought about it for a couple minutes. “That’s not so easy... your first names don’t mesh really well... and well, last names... people could confuse it as a team name for Aunt Gaby & Sylvie.”

“Well, how about this... you think about that while we make supper?” Antonio proposed.

Eva nodded and headed to the kitchen.

Sylvie kissed Antonio on the cheek. “No matter what name she comes up with, I ship us.”

Antonio groaned as the two of them made their way to the kitchen. He was worried about whatever it was that Sylvie and Eva had been discussing in Eva’s room and now this. He strongly suspected he may need help falling asleep tonight. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“What do you have?” Sylvie asked.

Antonio and Eva were going through cupboards and the fridge. “Uh... Pizza rolls... and Cup O’Noodles... that’s about it.”

Eva held up a box of microwave popcorn. “Popcorn?”

Sylvie groaned. “No, no and no... we definitely are not have any of those for dinner.” She looked at her watch. It was too late to hit any decent market to get food. “Okay, coats, shoes... we’ll go to my place... I left all my groceries there...”

“Why didn’t you bring them here?” Antonio asked.

“Because I was thinking you’d actually have groceries here... and those groceries were partly for meal planning for when I’m on shift... they were going to be a surprise.”

“Oh... oops.” Antonio said sheepishly. “Okay... let’s hit the road.”

Once at Sylvie’s apartment, Sylvie quickly whipped up some grilled chicken with a salad. While they ate, she heated a frozen cobbler for dessert. After dinner, Antonio and Sylvie cleaned the dishes and Eva went to find something on Netflix.

“You okay?” Antonio asked.

Sylvie nodded. “Yeah. Just long shift...”

“Let’s make some popcorn and go watch a movie. It’ll be a good way for all of us to unwind.”

“Eva definitely needs to unwind.” Sylvie sighed. “She’s worried about getting into a good school... exams... prom.”

Antonio cringed at the last word. “She’ll get into a good school.” Antonio knew his daughter was a straight ‘A’ student and had sent in applications for every school possible as well as been applying to a multitude of grants and scholarships. Eva didn’t know, but Antonio had been putting money aside every month since she was born to help her go to a good school. He supported her fully in whatever she wanted to pursue. Prom, that was another subject. Prom meant his little girl was growing up and he’d have to see her move onto new and bigger adventures. “I’m a little more worried about this Prom thing though.”

“Antonio, I don’t think Eva is one of those girls.”

“I’m not worried about her... I’m worried about the boys.”

“Antonio... any boy that knows Eva knows that her dad will sic the entire CPD on them if they so much as have an inappropriate thought about her.”

Antonio had to laugh. It was true. Almost all of Eva’s class had met Antonio through the years when he came to do ‘Parent Day’ events at the school. “Okay, okay. I’ll ease up on the Prom thing... I just want her happy. That’s all I’ve wanted for Eva and Diego.”

“You’re a great dad, Antonio.” Sylvie nodded over to where Eva was browsing Netflix. “You’ve got two great kids who love you. They’re happy, but they’re always looking at you and wanting you to be happy too.”

Antonio put the popcorn in the microwave, hit start and then took Sylvie’s hand. “I am happy. This... us, the kids... what we have... that makes me happy.” He sighed. “You know... you never answered what the kids thought about us moving in together.”

“Oh.” Sylvie snickered as she pulled the popcorn from the microwave. “They said it was cool... they just don’t want Laura to find out.”

“I don’t blame them on that.” Antonio held the bowl while Sylvie poured the popcorn. “But... she’s moved on, I can too... and I have... and I will not let her come between us again.”

They went to join Eva and watching ‘Stranger Things’.

Halfway through the episode, Antonio’s phone rang. He grabbed it from his pocket and scowled. He left the living room and headed to the bedroom to take the call.

Eva paused the TV and looked to Sylvie. “Work?”

Sylvie shook her head. “Not likely... I think it’s something more close to home.”

Eva sighed and leaned against the bean bag chair that Sylvie had bought her for movie nights. “Mom?”

Sylvie nodded slowly. “I’m pretty sure that’s who it was. Your dad doesn’t doesn’t usually get that grumpy, that fast for work.”

Eva groaned. “I think movie night may be over.”

Sylvie motioned for Eva to come sit next to her. “I know that this whole thing is tough.”

Eva leaned against Sylvie. “There are days I wish you were my mom, Sylvie. You listen to us... you’re fair to us... you just care.”

Sylvie had no clue what to do in this occasion. She cared about both of Antonio’s kids and it hurt her to see them be stuck in this mess. Antonio had explained a bunch of the things that had been going on. She knew that Laura was fighting to not allow Diego to choose which parent he wants to live with. He’d wanted to move in with Antonio but he was still too young according to Laura, to make that decision. The courts however had to review the report completed by a child psychologist and all other evidence before making any determination.

Antonio came back into the living room, flustered and running his hands through his hair. “Okay, I’m going to go pick up Diego... be back in a bit.”

Sylvie looked to him. “At Laura’s?”

He shook his head, fists clenched. “No... she left him on my doorstep. A neighbour just called.”

Sylvie knew who he was talking about. The neighbour across the hall always kept an eye out on his place and knew the Dawson kids well. “Ah... well, we can go with you.”

“Uh, no... I think we’ll stay here tonight... maybe get a head start on your packing?”

Sylvie knew that wasn’t the real reason, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to say it in front of Eva. “Sure.” She turned to Eva. “How about we pick a movie while we wait?”

Eva started browsing Netflix again while Antonio left to pick Diego up.

6 weeks after the most recent drama with Laura, Antonio and Sylvie walked into the courtroom. They were here for the judge to rule on if Diego was old enough to decide which parent he wanted to live with and if he was old enough, the judge would listen to Diego’s choice. Since the recent episode, Diego had spent five and half weeks with them at Antonio’s. Laura never called Antonio to check on him until the day she showed up on their doorstep demanding Diego go home with her. Antonio had had enough by then. He’d called in some favours from when he worked for the State Attorney’s office. He was tired of seeing his children being used as pawns for his ex-wife in their divorce proceedings.

Another issue that had arisen since that night was that Sylvie had officially moved in with Antonio and was fully into being the kids’ step-mom. That had further enraged Laura, but it didn’t get to Sylvie. She stood her ground and stood by her new little family.

Court was called to order. The judge read the file and then spoke to Antonio and Laura’s respective lawyers. He then looked to the seats where Antonio, Sylvie and the kids were sitting. “Diego?”

“Yes, sir?” Diego stood.

“Come up here, son.”

Diego walked up closer to the bench.

“Now, you are 13 correct?”

Diego nodded. “Yes, your Honour.”

“And you’ve spoken to both your parents about how you felt? That you wanted to choose who you wanted to spend the majority of your time with?”

Diego nodded again. “Yes, sir. I have.”

“How did those conversations go?”

Diego took a breath. He wasn’t under oath, but he knew that lying to the judge wouldn’t be good. “When I talked to my dad and his girlfriend... they said as long as I was happy, they supported my choice.”

“And your mother?”

“It wasn’t so much a talk as her yelling about how my dad was corrupting me and making me go against her.”

Laura’s attorney had to put his hand on her arm to stop her from causing a commotion.

“Continue, Diego.” The judge nodded.

“She didn’t want me to live with Dad because then it meant less money for her and that I was doing it to hurt her because Dad was never there for me like she was.”

“I see.” The judge, as unbiased as he could be, scowled at Laura. “Well... what would you like?”

“I’d like to live with my dad. He supports me in my goals... and he always comes to tournaments and school activities if he isn’t working... and when he can’t come, Sylvie and my grandparents are there with my sister. There’s no yelling and fighting like there used to be. I feel like it’s a family.”

“I see. Okay, Diego, you can go sit with them.”

Diego came back and sat next to Eva who hugged him tightly.

“Detective Dawson.”

Antonio stood and went to stand where Diego had been. “Yes, your Honour?”

“I understand your work, I’ve had you testify in my court before... do you feel Diego would be better at home with you and your girlfriend, with his sister?”

“I do... not because of the divorce, or because I wish to spite his mother. I want my children happy. I only want what’s best for them. In the past six weeks, we’ve really grown as a family. They’ve welcomed Sylvie with open arms. There’s always going to be that part of my work where I may not be home because of a case, but we’ve always made it work.”

“You’ve worked out a plan with your attorney, to allow your children to spend time with their mother as well?”

“Yes, sir... they also contributed to it. Seeing as Eva is almost 18 and Diego is a teenager, I felt it was in their best interest that they be part of the discussion.”

“I’ve read your proposal, and I feel it is very fair.” The judge smiled. “Thank you, Detective.”

Antonio took his seat again and squeezed Sylvie’s hand. He was cringing to think what Laura would have to say. To his surprise, she barely said anything, only responding ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the judge’s questions.

“We’ll take a 20 minute recess. I’ll go over it all and provide my ruling then.” With that he banged his gavel.

Laura stormed out the courtroom. Sylvie looked to Antonio. She could see the worry in his eyes. She gently stroked his cheek. “It’s going to be okay.” She whispered.

Antonio sighed. Deep down, he knew she was right, but he would have that knot in the pit of his stomach until the judge passed his ruling. “I know... I just... I want this to be over with.”

Sylvie kissed his cheek. “20 more minutes... then whatever happens happens and we’ll all learn to live with whatever ruling he comes back with.”

They were the longest 20 minutes in their life. The judge returned just as Laura took her seat again.

“Now, I’ve reviewed all the information provided by both attorneys, I’ve read Eva’s testimony and heard from Diego as well as both parents.” He looked over his glasses. “The only person I haven’t heard from is Ms. Brett.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened. She slowly stood. “Me, your Honour?”

“Please.” The judge motioned to her.

Sylvie moved to the front of the room. They hadn’t discussed this. She had no clue what to say. She took a deep breath and waited.

“Now, Ms. Brett, you’re a paramedic with the CFD?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your partner is Detective Dawson’s sister?”

Sylvie answered. “Yes.”

“How has his family reacted to the two of you being together?”

Sylvie was confused as to what this had to do with Diego living with Antonio, but she answered none the less. “At first, they were a little shocked... seeing that there’s quite an age gap between us... that he’d been married and had children and I never have been married. But, time went on and people got used to it.”

“How do the children feel about it?”

“They’ve never said they’re against it, sir.” Sylvie sighed. “They just asked that we not break up again... that they didn’t want to see their father hurt again.”

“What caused this ‘break up’?”

Sylvie quickly looked back to Antonio before answering. “Uh, a conflict with his ex, Laura.”

The judge looked to all parties before saying. “Go on.”

“Laura came to the firehouse... I had picked Diego up from his grandmother’s house because Antonio had been called on a case. We’d done it many times before and never had a problem. That day, Diego had told Laura where he was. She was furious that Antonio hadn’t picked him up, so she ambushed me at work. She commented that I was blonde. She also ranted that she didn’t want a ‘strange’ woman driving her son around. She then went on to get upset because I’d learned to play chess so I could bond more with Diego.”

Laura stood up. “This is pointless.”

“Sit down, or be charged with contempt.” The judge ordered. He looked to Sylvie. “Please, continue.”

“Bonding with Eva was easier, she’s a teen girl and I remember what being a teenager is like.”

Laura muttered under her breath. “That’s because you’re barely an adult.”

This earned her a glare from the judge and a loud ‘HUSH’ from her attorney.

“I wanted to have Diego feel like I cared about him and that I would be there too, if he needed me.” Sylvie took a calming breath. “I, by no means, want to replace their mother, but I do want to be there for them... be an shoulder to cry on, someone that can just sit and listen while they vent. I’m not their mother and have no claim to them but I want them to be happy.”

“So I am taking that Laura isn’t happy with your current living arrangements?”

“I would say that, yes.” Sylvie smiled. “Antonio and I live together... have been for the last month.”

“Does your work interfere with your home life?”

“No more than it would for any other first responder.”

“Thank you, Ms. Brett.”

Sylvie quickly returned to her seat.

The judge cleared his throat. “Now, in most situations, the law prefers that the children stay with the mother. Eva, being almost 18, was able to decide that she wanted to live with her father. Detective Dawson’s proposal for joint custody of Diego is very generous, and I strongly support it. Now, why does this need to be settled in court, instead of between two attorney’s in a cushy office?”

Laura’s attorney stood. “My client doesn’t feel it’s generous or fair. She feels that with her ex-husband’s career and choice of new partner that Diego will not thrive.”

“Judging by what I’ve seen as evidence provided by Diego... his report cards, extra curricular activities as well as a report done by a child psychologist. There isn’t anything in there to suggest that living with Detective Dawson and Ms. Brett, along with his sister, that Diego would not thrive.” The judge adjusted his glasses. “Diego himself wants to live with his father.”

“He’s just a boy, he doesn’t know what he wants.” Laura blurted out.

“One more time...” the judge cautioned her. “Diego, please, for the record... do you want to live with your mother... or your father, Ms. Brett and your sister?”

“My dad, Sylvie and Eva.” Diego answered clearly. “I want to stay with them.”

“Then, it is my ruling that Diego will live with his father and that his mother will follow the terms in the agreement drawn up by Detective Dawson’s attorney.”

Laura just gasped. She couldn’t believe it.

He banged the gavel one last time. “Court is adjourned.”

Diego hugged his father tightly. “So, I’m staying with you?”

“That’s what the judge said.” Antonio hugged both his children. “Let’s get out of here.”

Laura stopped them. “When are you going to come get his things?”

“Tomorrow.” Antonio wasn’t going to draw this out.

“When do I get him again?”

“Ask your attorney, Laura. It’s all in the paperwork.” He turned to leave.

Laura grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You know she’ll never be good enough.”

Antonio pulled his arm back and motioned to Sylvie to take the kids and go to the truck. “Laura, we’re divorced. Done. What I choose to do with my life and who I want to have in my life is no longer your concern. And just because you have joint custody, it doesn’t mean you get to dictate my life anymore. I don’t care who you date or fuck... as long as they don’t hurt my kids. You walked out on me... just remember that. My happiness no longer depends on you, but on myself. So, I will be there with Diego tomorrow at 10am to pack his things. In two weeks, he and Eva have agreed to spend the weekend with you, starting Friday after school. If that doesn’t work for you, then you’ll have to wait until it works for them. I won’t force my children to do anything they don’t want to.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving Laura standing there alone.

Prom was just around the corner and Antonio was a wreck. He knew that someone had asked Eva to go to prom with her. He just didn’t know who and it was driving him batty. He looked at Sylvie who was helping Eva pulled dresses from the rack to try on. Part of him wanted to have Atwater or Halstead to do a search on who this guy could be, but he knew he had to trust Eva.

“We’re going to go try these on.” Eva said as they walked passed him.

Antonio looked to Sylvie. She just smiled at him. It was then that Antonio wished Diego wasn’t at a friend’s for a sleepover.

While Eva tried on dressed, Sylvie went and sat next to Antonio. “Everything okay?”

He nodded. “I guess... I just... Eva’s almost done high school.”

“Antonio... you knew that that was going to happen, right?”

“Yeah... I just... I guess... I missed a lot of her growing up... being under cover a lot and all that.”

Sylvie hugged him. “It’s going to be okay... we’re just buying a prom dress, not a wedding dress.”

Those last two words made Antonio’s eyes bulge. “Don’t. Even. Go. There.”

“Just breathe, babe.” She squeezed his hand.

“Do you know who’s taking her to prom?”

“She didn’t say... but, babe, it’s going to be okay. Whoever it is.”

“Hey, do you if we’ve had any mail come in the last couple days?”

“Mail?” Sylvie shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Just, hasn’t been any when I go check it afterwork.”

“Maybe the kids get to it and bring it in if there is any. They generally get home before us anyhow.”

Antonio had thought that too, but he had been expecting some papers to come in. Maybe he’d just call to see if they’d been sent.

Eva appeared before them in one of the many gowns she was going to try on that afternoon. “What do you think?”

“I love the colour, Eva.” Sylvie smiled. “Really pretty for sure. How does it feel?”

“A bit tight.” Eva adjusted the top of the dress. “And I’m not sure I like the fact that the dress has no straps.”

“I’m inclined to agree, Eva.” Antonio motioned for her to spin around. “The neckline is a little low... and it doesn’t look like you’d be able to dance or move much without risking it falling down.”

“I’ll put it in the no pile and keep trying them on.”

3 hours later, they walked out of the store with Eva’s gown and shoes. Sylvie would take her for jewelry a little later on. The jewelry was going to be her gift from Sylvie and Gaby.

Once home, Eva rushed to put her things away while Antonio made supper. Sylvie put the laundry to wash and went to see Eva.

“Dad’s onto me?” Eva asked.

Sylvie nodded. “He knows the mail hasn’t been getting ‘delivered’.”

“I don’t know how to tell him.” Eva sank into the bed. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to follow your heart.” Sylvie said. “I would suggest over dinner.”

Eva nodded as she pulled out a pile of envelopes from under her mattress. “Thanks, Sylvie.”

“You’re welcome, Eva.” Sylvie smiled before heading out to help Antonio finish dinner.

While they ate, Eva thought about what she would say, or how she should bring it up. Finally, she went with the band-aid method. She dropped her cutlery and blurted. “Dad, I have something to tell you.”

Antonio froze mid-bite. “Uh, okay?” He looked to Sylvie then back to Eva as he put down his fork.

“I’m the one who’s been hiding all the mail.” Eva’s cheeks flushed red.

“Why?”

“I... I didn’t want you to see... these.” She pulled a pile of letters from her hoodie pocket. She handed them to Antonio.

He took them and looked at all the return addresses. “These... are all from universities and colleges... and they’re not exactly thin to be rejection letters.”

“No, Dad... they’re all acceptance letters.”

Antonio knew that Eva had been applying to various programs, but he didn’t realize she’d applied to this many. “How many schools did you apply to?”

“As many as I could.” Eva replied. “Ms. Jones, the guidance counsellor... she said the more options the better.”

“Did she say to apply to every university in the whole country?”

“No.” Eva laughed. “I just applied to the ones that had programs that really interested me.”

“Which are?”

“Law or medicine.” Eva blushed. “I thought about teaching, but after shadowing a few teachers at school, realized that’s not what I wanted. You need to be a special kind of person to be a teacher... I don’t think I have the patience.”

“So you want to be a lawyer?” Antonio arched an eyebrow.

“Maybe... or a doctor. Maybe a nurse?” Eva sighed. “I don’t know yet. I was thinking doing a year of general studies to figure out what my real calling is.”

Antonio thumbed through the envelopes. While there was great pride in the schools who wanted to have Eva study there, part of him ached knowing that some of them were clear across the country. “Eva, some of these are Ivy League schools.”

“I know.” Eva said. “I... I didn’t think I’d be good enough for them... I didn’t think I’d get in.”

“Eva, you underestimate yourself.” Antonio and Sylvie said together.

Eva laughed. “You two definitely are a ship.”

Antonio, ignoring the quip, asked. “Which school do you want to go to?” He handed her all the letters.

“I’m really torn between Northwestern and the University of Chicago.”

“Not Harvard... or Stanford?”

“I... I don’t know, Dad... it would be cool to have a degree from them, but... I want to stay closer to home. Both schools here are really good... some of the best of the world.”

“You don’t want to just stay here because you feel like you have to, do you?”

“At first, a little... but then I see what you, Sylvie, Tia Gaby and everyone else does to make Chicago a better place... I want to do that to.” She smiled. “I want to stay home and keep making Chicago a better place.”

“I support you no matter what.” Antonio smiled. “Doctor, lawyer, nurse... or anything in between. I just want you to be happy with whatever you choose to do.”

Prom night was finally here. Antonio still hadn’t figured out who Eva’s date was but he hadn’t pestered her. He was proud of his little girl. She’d chosen to go to the University of Chicago. She’d start in general studies before making the final decision of which program. He was pacing in the living room while Sylvie helped Eva finish getting ready. Diego was sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Diego?”

“Why are you so nervous? It’s not your prom.”

Antonio had to laugh. “I know, but one day Diego, when you have kids, you’ll understand. No matter how old your kids get, you’ll always be worried about them.”

“You still worry about both of us?”

“Always, buddy. Always.” Antonio stopped pacing and sat across from Diego. “Even Abuela worries about Tia Gaby and I on a regular basis.”

“I know that... she said she says three rosaries a day... one for you, one for Tia Gaby and the other for the rest of us.”

Antonio knew that this was true. “Yep, so I’m way older than either you or your sister and my own mom worries about me all the time. She always told me... especially after Eva was born, ‘Once a parent, always a parent’. I never knew what that all meant... until I watch you guys grow up.”

“Dad, you know that we don’t want to make you worry, right?”

Antonio nodded. “Yeah, I know you don’t... but I’ll still worry... even Sylvie worries about you guys.”

Just then Sylvie appeared in front of them. She cleared her throat. “She’s ready.”

Antonio slowly stood up and watched as his baby girl came out of her bedroom. She looked beautiful. “Eva, you look amazing.” He went and hugged her.

Eva did a little spin. The sparkles and crystals on her dress caught the light. “You think so?”

Antonio kissed her forehead. “I know so.”

“Wow, sis.” Diego whistled. “You look great!”

“I like how Sylvie did my hair.”

Sylvie grinned. “It works better for you. You have natural curl.”

Eva hugged Sylvie. “Thank you.”

There was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Diego bolted from the couch to get the door. “Uh, hi?”

“I’m a little early.” A young man’s voice said from the entry way.

“Come in... Eva’s ready.” Diego came back to the living room.

“Hi, Neil.” Eva’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “You look really handsome.”

Neil stood there in his tux, clutching a small plastic container that held Eva’s wrist corsage. His jaw dropped. “Uh, wow.”

Antonio was still processing his daughter’s date’s name. “Neil...” He was whispering to himself.

“You look beautiful, Eva. Just, wow.” He awkwardly opened the container and pulled out the wristlet out. “I got this for you.”

Eva extended her wrist, letting him slip it on. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Neil.” She gave him a small peck on the cheek.

Sylvie, not phased by what was going on, took some pictures with her phone. “You two look really dashing.”

“Thanks, Sylvie.” Eva grinned. “Uh, Dad... you okay?” She took Neil’s hand and made formal introductions. “Dad, this is Neil... from Chemistry.”

The lightbulb in Antonio’s head lit up. “Ah, yes. Hi, Neil... it’s nice to meet you.”

Neil cleared his throat. Sylvie saw that there was a small amount of fear in Neil’s eyes. It was obvious that Neil knew what Antonio did for a living. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir... though, we’ve met before... at the career day.”

“I knew you looked familiar... you were interested in the CPD.”

“Still am sir.” Neil was feeling a little more at ease. “I actually... just got my acceptance letter to join the next Academy class.”

“Congratulations!” Eva exclaimed.

Antonio could see it then. “So... this is what you’ve been so secretive about... that you and Neil are... dating?”

“Dad!” Eva gasped.

“He didn’t know?” Neil whispered.

“Not until now.”

Eva’s cheeks were burning even more. “Ahh! I can’t stop blushing.”

“Eva... I don’t think...” Neil tried to calm her.

“No, you’re not helping... at all.”

“Okay, everyone.” Sylvie stepped in. “Let’s not get ruffled feathers now. Everyone’s happy, yeah?”

Antonio took a glance between Eva and Neil. “Yeah.” He extended his hand to Neil. “Have fun tonight... and be safe?”

“Yes, sir.” Neil nodded. “We’re going straight to the prom and then I know Eva promised she’d be home early enough... I’ll make sure she gets home on time.”

“Bring her home when you’re both tired.” Antonio took Sylvie’s hand. “Just be safe, and don’t make me a grandfather.”

“DAD!”

Sylvie slapped Antonio’s chest. “Antonio!”

“Hey... it’s better than what I was originally thinking.” Antonio whispered.

“More pictures.” Sylvie said. “Then they can go dance the night away, and we can eat dinner.”

A/N: There we go... a very long and very over due story. Hope you all enjoyed it!

#Brettonio #Antonio Dawson #Sylvie Brett #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #OneChicago #ChiHard #Brettonio4ever

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elliemarchetti · 6 years

Text

Somewhere to Start

A cute Krumione fic nobody asked for. Probably a series’ first chapter.

Masterlist (where you can find Slytherin!Hermione, Dramione and Fremione)

If you find any grammar mistake I’m sorry, you can point it out in DM or if you want to stay anon drop the correction in my ask box.

Words count: 1531

"Do you hear something?" Ron asked, breaking the silence. A loud and strangely mysterious sound came toward them from the darkness, a rumble and a stifled suction.

“The lake!” screamed Lee Jordan, pointing at its center, where a strange and seething turbulence sent waves crashing on the muddy banks. Something that looked like a long pole began to slowly emerge from the heart of the vortex and Ron explained to her that it was a mast, as if she hadn’t already known.

Slow and majestic, the ship rose from the water, shining in the moonlight. It looked strangely skeletal; a wreck whose dim lights in the hatches looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great lapping, the ship completely emerged, floating on the rough water, and began to slide towards the shore. A few moments later, they heard the thud of an anchor thrown into a shallow seabed, and shortly afterwards the shapes of the passengers, who wore frowned furs that made them all look the same, went up the meadows that separated them from the castle.

"Dumbledore!" yelled warmly the tall, thin, gray-haired man who led them. "How are you, my dear friend?"

"Very well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore answered.

"Dear, old Hogwarts." he said, looking up at the castle, and smiling; his teeth were yellowish and Hermione noticed that the smile didn’t extend to the eyes, which had remained cold and penetrating. She didn’t like that man, and for as long as he would be there, she would’ve avoided him and his students like the plague.

At the end of the welcome banquet, Karkaroff summoned them to go back to the ship. As soon as Viktor got up, the headmaster approached him with a paternal gesture, asking him how he felt and whether he had eaten enough. Viktor barely had time to answer, that immediately another question followed the previous one, and mentally thanked Poliakoff for having entered the conversation and thus attracted the principal's attention.

They reached the door with the other students, and a younger, thin, pale-skinned boy with dishevelled black hair stopped to give them way. The principal thanked him, barely giving him a glance, and then stopped and turned back to the boy. Viktor also looked at him curiously, until Poliakoff nudged Darina and pointed openly at the scar on his forehead.

“Yes, he’s Harry Potter.” a corpulent man with a wooden leg and a glass eye said in a growling voice. Karkaroff's face lost colour but a girl who was waiting beside Potter had attracted Viktor’s attention: she had curly brown hair she probably had absentmindedly tried to comb and penetrating hazel eyes that seemed to want to set fire to the whole Durmstrang delegation. Before he could ask her what led her to detest them so much, the headmaster took them away, heading quickly toward the entrance; he calmed down only when they finally reached the quiet of the boat.

"What do you think happened between Karkaroff and that man?" Andrei asked him, when he was sure no one could hear them. He was his assistant and didn’t wanted to be downgraded in that situation; he wanted to have a career in the M.o.M., and if the news had arrived at Crouch or Bagman, he wouldn’t have made a good impression. Viktor shrugged, but he had a doubt: the glass-eyed man could only be Mad-Eye Moody, the one who had sent the principal to Azkaban.

The following day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go visit Hagrid. They found him particularly strange, with combed hair and even wearing a suit that he had to define beautiful. Everything was explained when it was time to return to the castle for the announcement of the Tournament’s champions; the giant half ignored them to go up the hill with the principal of Beauxbatons. Just like for the Durmstrang delegation, Hermione couldn’t stand the French. At least it was what she kept repeating herself, despite enthusiastically pointing out to her friends that even the Nordic delegation was going up from the lake towards the castle. Ron also looked enthusiastic, and followed Krum with his gaze, but the latter didn’t even look around as he reached the main door and crossed it before them. Just like Ron, Hermione was also partly disappointed.

When they entered, the Great Hall was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; now it stood in front of Dumbledore's place at the teachers' table.

"I hope it's Angelina." said Fred, who seemed to have taken well the disappointment of not being able to stand as a candidate, while Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats.

“Me too!” exclaimed Hermione, nearly breathless. “We’ll discover it soon!”

Instead the banquet seemed to go on longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second in two days, perhaps because of the impatience, perhaps because she knew who was to prepare them, perhaps because she felt strangely observed, but Hermione didn’t enjoy the extraordinary dishes as she would’ve done under normal circumstances.

When the gold plates finally returned as immaculate as they originally were, the noise in the Hall grew brusquely, only to disappear almost instantly when Dumbledore stood up. At his side, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime seemed tense and anxious like everyone else. Hermione followed the Durmstrang headmaster’s gaze, who was inevitably resting on Krum. He was his favourite, it was obvious, but he was also the whole delegation’s and of many Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione also found herself cheering for him when Dumbledore took the first piece of parchment in his hands, announcing that the name of the Durmstrang champion would be written on it. When he finally said his name, she too rejoiced. For a moment, she even seemed to meet his gaze, before the boy moved awkwardly from Slytherin's table to Dumbledore and disappeared past the door into the next room.

He was in the boat’s living room when Andrei entered, the expression of someone who has a funny story to tell.

"You cannot even imagine what's just happened in the castle's basement. Two fourth-year students challenged each other, but neither hit the other, and both hit an opponent's friend."

Poliakoff laughed, and Darina asked who the two idiots were.

"One is a Slytherin, they say his father is a Death Eater, and the other was Harry Potter himself! I cannot believe that such an incompetent has defeated You-Know-Who” replied Andrei.

“And now he’s also a Tournament’s champion!” exclaimed Poliakoff disdainfully.

"And their friends? Did they get hurt?" asked Darina. She was a good and selfless girl, but when she got angry, she was scary.

Andrei shook his head: "Nothing important, but they say that Potter's friend, the one you find pretty," he specified, turning to Viktor, "have grown huge teeth."

Viktor didn’t waited a second longer and snapped to his feet, overtaking Andrei before he could stop him from doing what he intended to do.

He reached the infirmary in a few minutes, when anyone would’ve taken much longer, and as soon as he opened the double-hinged door of the hospital wing, he met the girl's moist and reddened eyes. Madam Pomfrey, or at least it seemed to him that the woman who cared for sick and wounded at Hogwarts was called like that, had already returned her teeth to a normal size but something in her expression told him that the girl was still suffering.

"If you're looking for Goyle he's willing to hide behind that curtain until his nose is normal again." she said, quickly looking away. Viktor frowned, wondering who could be Goyle.

"I'm actually here for you." he said, approaching with measured steps.

"Do you want to make fun of the big-toothed girl too?" she asked, stubbornly looking away.

"No. I just wanted to ask you who attacked your friend."

When she finally looked at him, her expression seemed surprised. Then she recomposed, and mumbled that it didn’t matter, that he and Harry were even.

"Then I'll ask you who made fun of you." he added. He wouldn’t have left that infirmary until he had someone on whom he could avenge her.

“Everyone.” she said, hiding her face in her hands.

“Miss Granger, you can…” started Madam Pomfrey, but she stopped suddenly, looking at an indefinite point behind his shoulders. “And who are you?"

Viktor turned and met Poliakoff's mortified gaze. He probably hadn’t even understood what the woman had just asked him: his English was terrible.

"Professor Karkaroff asked me to come looking for you shortly after you left the boat, but I didn’t know where to find you." He looked slightly out of breath. "They want you on the ground floor, for the Daily Prophet’s photos.”

Viktor stopped himself from snorting, but it bothered him beyond all limits.

"So, Miss Granger, I suppose we'll see each other later." he said, before getting up from the cot on which she too was sitting.

"Hermione, my name is Hermione."

Viktor nodded, as a sign that he had understood, and a faint smile appeared on his face as he descended to the lower floor. It wasn’t really an answer, but at least it was somewhere to start.

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