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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

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How would your muse react to being handed a baby? {Keni}

Soft, Silent, Sweet || Accepting

"Wait. W-w-what....what are you doing?"

The young Jedi stands surrounded by a group of village women. All of them seem to be petting and pawing at her. In the fading dusk the blood and filth of battle drying on her face looks like a primitive mask even as cooling breezes begin to tease her hair into ribbons the hue of dark wood flowing down her back after escaping their confining ties. For now her sabre is sheathed though for just a split second it looked like it was going to see further use with the way her fingers flex near its hilt on her belt. One of the bolder women offers her a gap-toothed smile, and murmurs in the local tongue, too softly to be heard. She takes hold of Melakeni's arms and pulls them away from her body. Into them is deposited an infant. It squirms and squawks. Gurgles spit bubbles on its lips. Keni’s stomach, no bigger than her fist, lurches at the sight. Tries to shrink into itself as much as the rest of her wants the very same. The Force becomes immediately awash with a deeply abiding sense of disgust, a shudder that could potentially if not so thoroughly repressed shake the ground and make the collection of huts around them collapse. This is one of those mammalian things that Keni has never quite gotten her head around. Certainly she has treated younglings by the score in the Temple, every kind of imaginable illness from the contagious poxes to scrapes and bruises and wobbly tummies. Almost to the last they have wanted for a small word of kindness, a kiss on the head. A promise that she can make them well again, but the younglings she treats are capable of speech, of independent thought. She has nothing to do with the creches where those too young to be sorted into clan are kept, tended like plants. Except most plants do not drool and do not defecate in their own clothes. They neither screech nor wail ~at least as far as most sentients are concerned~ with their little faces scrunched up and turning hues. They do not have that indescribable smell like old milk and crusty skin that particularly female humans seem so entranced with. She has often in the past teased Anakin that Zelosian nurseries are full of large jars full of nutrient rich soil and its own little watering apparatus, and sometimes, especially rare children of her species require an aquatic environment. None of that is true. As far as she knows, she doesn't remember that far back, after all, her people are born and raised in the same way. She just has no experience to mark the occasion and she is absolutely certain she'd never made a mess of herself or smelled like that. What's more is she doesn't understand the biological imperative of breeding. Her eyes turn toward Anakin. A human. And he is the depth and breadth of her soul. She has absolutely no doubt that the Force had made them for one another. And Melakeni has dreams. Some of them do involve him and the requisite acts that would be required to produce tiny offspring. All beautiful lines and commingled breath. The feel of his skin burning against her own. Tender kisses and every pleasure that is forbidden to them. Unbidden, others come along with those fever-dreams. She has at least once imagined what one would look like with his hair and long limbs, her eyes and teeth. But that was only once. The reality of it is, even if they were to ever desire such a thing, it would be impossible. They are genetically incompatible, mammalian and viridiphyta respectively. She could never imagine wanting a child of her own, she doesn’t even really want a padawan. And of those children she doesn’t fantasise about, the only possible source for one would be from Anakin. For all that some people might think otherwise, and to no shame, Anakin is not the kind of man who would make for a good father. He would want to be, he would love any child to the very depth of his soul, but therein lies madness. Anyone who has seen him with his droids and his Clones could predict a future where only tragedy could unfold. He would be unable to separate himself from his fears. They would become mania. She has seen what happens when Anakin loves too much. And she knows, much to her own regret, that sometimes, love is not enough. It would kill him as surely as poison. Children are not their future. They will both be content with that. The infant latches onto her hair and gives it a yank, a hideous little sound coming out of it that she soon enough realises is a laugh. Melakeni flashes Anakin a look that can be felt like direct shot from one of the blaster rifles carried by a nearby handful of Clones who immediately proceed to look away although one looks like he’s overcome with a fit of amusement that his brothers are now trying to save him from. As politely as possible Keni pries the little thing’s fingers apart and rescues herself from the situation. She turns to the translator who accompanied the women and murmurs platitudes. Yes, yes. Adorable child. Many blessings on the family, thank you. Excuse me please. She means none of these things but if she has one ability to surpass all others it is emotional mimicry. She hands the creature back to its parent. Hands come up in a peaceful gesture which she half nods-half bows over. Begins to extricate herself from the group. The translator asks if they need anything. Keni asks for a tub and as much hot water as the village can muster. They have already been offered food, and a few dozen spare huts at the far edges of the camp. It is all they have to give for their salvation. She tells them that everything is fine, and that they ~Anakin, herself, and their Troops~ will make as little trouble as possible. When they are finally alone, she allows herself to shudder all of her natural revulsion. “The Living Force spare me, it was so gross.” Her face screws up tightly, which pulls the corners of her mouth down, as if she’s having trouble trying not to retch on the spot. “And so...grabby. And squishy. Honestly, Anakin. I’d much prefer dealing with slugs.” There’s meaning in that declaration the likes of which only he can understand. After all, he’s been the one to rescue her from them for years now. She flings her tunic at him, and lets the rest of her uniform flutter and fall to the ground. She slips over the edge of the wooden tub and sinks into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a few seconds before rising back up. She can still feel all the infant’s various fluids on her skin. “Next time, you hold the babies and get fondled by the civilians and I’ll stay with the boys.” Anakin laughs and agrees with her before he climbs into the bath opposite of her and she can almost hear his bones shriek in gratitude.

~*~

The twin suns of this dying world bake the sand beneath her boots. There is little shade to be found anywhere and the air feels as if it is scorching her lungs from the inside out. She could never have imagined a time in all of her life where she misses the cold dark of space, nor that she would be counting the seconds before she could return to her ship and erase the memory of sunlight on her skin. She’s done her best to blend in with the locals. To survey her target at every opportunity while remaining out of sight. Until now.

She beckons the boy with a delicate, airy hand. Curiosity draws him near, of course it does. And something she does not possess cracks in her chest leaving a space awash with grief and love and a thousand different yearnings still. Though he’s approaching his tenth Empire Day, he is small for his age. Wind-whipped, carved out by the vast nothingness of his little kingdom. The same suns that sear down have bleached his hair pale gold and in places there are certain cowlicks that will never be tamed, no matter how gentle but unforgiving the hand is that attempts it. His eyes are painfully blue. More so than the sky above them, more than shimmer of sea that does not exist here. The shy grin he offers her harks back to another era that seems like lifetimes ago. If she ever had a doubt, it evaporates here and now. And this is how perhaps the most feared and loved woman in the galaxy comes to kneel before a child. Fixes the boy with a softly-shaped smile, one that hides the fine points of her teeth but that gives warmth to emerald eyes. From some secret pocket, perhaps from the force itself, a gloved hand produces not one but two crystallised honey-sticks, tinted by berries and juices into a chaos of colour. He is cautious. Does not immediately reach for them as one might expect. This pleases her immensely, he has inherited his father’s great wisdom. She continues to hold them out, and inclines her head. Nods a little. He takes them. But then his aunt calls for him, and he looks back toward her over one scrawny shoulder before returning his gaze to his mysterious benefactor. She lifts a finger to her lips. A secret it is to be. She is gone before Beru comes looking for him.

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twisted-fics · 4 years

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The Eel and the Sea Cucumber

(ft.new oc Kyuri Umi)

Jade watched as the new students of Octavinelle filed in, one after another, he peeked at Azul who had a neutral face and then to his own brother, Floyd who watched the new students with a large grin making Jade sigh.

"Well, now that you're all here allow me to introduce myself." Azul started before giving a long speech about how the dorm works and then asking each of the new students to step up and introduce themselves, the students did so but then came a certain one.

Jade felt his heart beat harder as he looked at the boy, he was short with brown hair that covered his eyes but then he had two strips of green hair coming down on each side of his face and green cowlick on top of his head.

"You, state your name." Azul told him.

The boy didn't answer and instead pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Azul who opened it up and read out the name.

"Kyuri Umi, age 18…is that so? Are you mute?" Azul asked the boy.

Kyuri shook his head and Azul sighed, "I hope you know we have no place for students who won't bother talking so you better train yourself to speak up or you'll never make it in this dorm."

"Mhm…" Kyuri hummed nervously and then walked back to the other students.

Jade felt his heart sinking, seeing Kyuri so nervous and upset, he suddenly wanted to grab Azul and yell at him but didn't.

"Alright, you all have a room number, if you aren't sure where to find it or need help unpacking Jade and Floyd are here, please ask them, I'll be in my office." Azul told the students before walking back to his office.

Jade helped the new students along with his brother when he suddenly felt a tug on his sleeve, he turned to see Kyuri standing there behind him, still holding his sleeve, Jade's face heated up quickly before saying, "H-hello…do you need any help…?"

Kyuri nodded and held out a different piece of paper, this time with a number on it.

"Ah, that room is right over that way, just walk right and then-"

"You know~ we could just show you ourselves~" Floyd said as he walked around Jade and putting his face right in Kyuri's giving him a toothy grin.

Kyuri backed up nervously and then looked back at Jade and nodded, Floyd laughed and backed up next to his brother, "Well then, come with us you little fishy~ You can hold my hand if you need to~"

Jade hit the back of Floyd's head, "Don't bother listening to him Mr.Umi, I'll show you to your room." He told Kyuri as he held his hand out.

Kyuri relaxed slightly and took his hand and began walking with Jade.

Jade smiled as the two of them walked, "You know, Octavinelle has lots of nice things to it, sometimes it can be rough but that doesn't happen a lot, if Azul is getting on to you please know he only means the best, I would hate to see you leave me."

Kyuri blushed and Jade had realized what he had said, "I-I mean I would hate to see you leave the dorm…! Yes! I would hate to see you leave the dorm, n-not me because we're not dating..! W-well we could date but that's not-OH HEY WE'RE AT YOUR ROOM ISN'T THAT NICE?!"

Kyuri looked at Jade and giggled softly before kissing his cheek and whispering, "Thank you" in his ear and then walking into his room.

Jade put a hand on his cheek and sighed happily, "You're welcome~"

A week had passed since Jade had first met Kyuri, Jade often stayed up at night, thinking about the smaller boy, how cute he was, how he kissed his cheek sweetly when they met, it all made him happy.

Jade was just about to head to bed when he passed by a room and heard gentle sobbing, he turned to see it was Kyuri's room that the sobbing was coming from, his heart felt heavy but he walked over to the door and knocked.

"Mr.Umi? May I come in?"

It took a minute but the door opened to reveal Kyuri in his pajamas with tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes still covered by his bangs.

"What's the matter?" Jade asked.

Kyuri opened the door wider and let Jade inside and let him sit on his bed before sitting next to him.

"Mr.Umi…you should uncover your eyes so they don't get irritated from your hair and the tears." Jade told Kyuri as he made a small hair clip appear with magic, he helped Kyuri pull his hair back and clipped it down, revealing his eyes, left one blue, right one green.

"Would you please tell me what's wrong?" Jade asked him.

"Azul…" Kyuri started as more tears welled up in his eyes, "He yelled at me…said I'm not doing my job and that I don't deserve to be in Octavinelle…" Kyuri started crying harder as Jade put a hand on his head and pet his hair gently making Kyuri look at him.

"Azul is just a strict man, he cares about you, if you're having trouble with what you need to do then just come to me, I'll help you with anything."

Kyuri smiled and nodded, "C-could I tell you something then?".

"Of course."

Kyuri got on his knees and whispered into Jade's ear, "I love you."

Jade's face flushed red not a second after Kyuri said that, he stood up from the bed, turned to Kyuri and then hugged him so fast it knocked them both down on the bed making them both laugh.

"I love you too, more than you could ever know." Jade told Kyuri, putting their foreheads together.

Kyuri giggled, kissing Jade's nose, "Thank you." He whispered.

"Anything for you." Jade told him before kissing him sweetly.

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland fic #jade leech #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Kyuri Umi

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anistarrose · 5 years

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A Morning at Sea (GF Stanuary Week 2 - Travel)

Summary: Stan has woken up in plenty of unfamiliar places before, but waking up in a boat out in the middle of the ocean is a new one. Especially in a boat that seems so… welcoming.

Word Count: ~2200

Warnings: very brief mention of alcohol and drugs

For @stanuary Week 2: Travel! (I technically did already write something for this week already, but that was pretty short and spur-of-the-moment, while I’ve had this fic as a WIP for over six months now, so I feel like it’s about time I posted it.)

When Stan woke up, there was a brief moment for which he didn’t feel like anything was wrong. Hell, he felt happy, which should have made it obvious that something was very wrong, but for about a minute, he just stayed where he was, and listened to the waves strike the side of the boat.

Then he realized: he had no idea why he was on a boat.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, body going stiff beneath the blankets of an unfamiliar bed. He’d known the hotel he’d checked into last night had been shady, but he didn’t think he’d get fucking kidnapped. And that had been in Oklahoma, hours away from any decent-sized body of water — how the hell had they had they even managed to bring him here, wherever here was? Had they drugged him? He was pretty sure he’d drank a little alcohol last night, but nowhere near enough to sleep though getting dragged out of his room and onto a boat, right?

And why would they go this far? Stan had plenty of people who wanted him dead, and maybe even a couple who might have wanted a longer, more drawn out revenge, but there had to be easier ways doing that than throwing him into a cramped — but actually kind of cozy — bunk on a random ship.

He laid still for a few more seconds, and once he was sure no one else was in the room, he finally stood up and took a second to look around. Dirty clothes were in a pile on the floor, about half T-shirts and half sweaters. There was a small nightstand crammed between his bed and the side of the boat, with an empty mug, a pair of glasses, and a picture frame on it. The mug smelled of chocolate, but the stains at the bottom suggested it had been used for coffee too in the past.

He figured that his kidnappers must have stolen the boat and been too lazy to get rid of the stuff they found in it, because he definitely hadn’t drank anything from the mug, he didn’t even own a pair of glasses anymore, and it wasn’t really the style of any of his serious enemies to keep a picture of their family lying around. The clothes didn’t seem like the type that any self-respecting revenge-bent criminal would own, either — too many colorful sweaters, and they looked hand-knitted at that.

For a second, though, he thought the kids in the photo looked vaguely familiar — a boy and a girl that were about the same age and had the same fluffy brown hair, as if they were twins. But the next moment the feeling was gone, and Stan realized he must have imagined it.

This whole cabin was throwing him off. It was just too… welcoming. Too caring. Too full of the mementos of some stranger’s loving family.

Stan didn’t belong here.

He sat back down on the bed and rested his head in his hands. How the hell was he going to get out of this one, even if he could get off the boat without anyone seeing? He was an okay swimmer under normal conditions, but the waves had sounded pretty rough, and if he was too far from the shore —

Stay calm, Stan, he told himself. He’d improvised his way out of worse things before. He just had to figure out what the hell was actually going on, and then he’d be able to bullshit his way through it.

The only door was just past the foot of the bed. He put his ear to it for a moment, and when he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the waves, he reached for the handle.

He’d expected it to be locked, which was why he hadn’t worried about leaning up against the door as he turned the knob. What kind of kidnapper didn’t lock up their hostage? But no, it swung right open under his weight, letting out a creak that had to be loud enough to hear over the waves. Fuck.

The room it opened into must have been a kitchen — it contained a tiny square table and two chairs on one side, and on the other side, a stove and a few other appliances. Facing towards that stove, his back to Stan, was a man who wore a red turtleneck sweater and had… gray hair? There were elderly people after him now?

“Morning, Stanley,” he called without turning around, and a chill went up Stan’s spine. The man knew his real name, even though he hadn’t used in years. The stranger had to have been at least in his fifties, maybe even older, but if he’d managed to track Stan down through all the fake identities… Stan wasn’t sure if he liked his chances up against this guy.

“I assume you’ll want coffee?” he asked, and for a second Stan thought that there was someone else named Stanley on the boat and that was who the man was talking to so casually, but no one else replied, and the stranger turned around to face him. “Stan, is everything alright?”

“What the fuck,” Stan whispered.

The old man’s expression turned into what Stan could have sworn was fear — except that didn’t any make sense. He slammed the mug he was holding onto the table and rushed towards Stan, reaching out with his left arm to grab Stan by the shoulder. “Stanley, are you —”

Stan caught the man’s hand, barely. His reflexes felt slower than they should have been.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled. “Tell me who the hell you are or I swear I’ll take you up on the deck and throw you off the fucking boat.”

For a moment, the old man just stared at him, and Stan wondered if they’d met before, even though he was pretty sure he’d remember if someone this old was after him. There was just something familiar about that confused, shocked expression, the way those eyebrows raised…

Then the man’s face crumpled. If Stan hadn’t been gripping his wrist, he might have collapsed to the floor.

“You don’t remember,” he whispered. “All this progress, and…”

He tried to gently pull his hand away, but Stan held it tight.

“Explain, old man!” Stan shouted. “You heard what I said about throwing you… I — I’ll…”

Looking at the man’s heartbroken expression, Stan found he couldn’t finish the sentence. Why was it that he cared so much about this stranger? Why did seeing him upset made Stan feel like punching something?

“Hey,” Stan said, letting go of the man’s wrist and taking him by the shoulder instead, if only to keep him from collapsing. “I, uh… I’m sorry. I still want you to explain what’s going on, ‘cause I sure don’t know, but I’m — I’m not gonna fight you.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man whispered, his head hanging low in defeat. “It’s not your fault — it’s mine. All mine. I thought… I thought that we’d escaped any lasting consequences, but… oh, if only I had the scrapbook here, maybe I could —”

“Hey, uh, don’t worry.” Stan awkwardly patted the man on the back. “I don’t actually know what’s wrong, but… but I’m sure we can figure out something…”

The man made eye contact with Stan, a short but painful shared glance, but he didn’t reply. He kept talking, but he wasn’t speaking to Stan anymore, not really — just talking to himself, berating himself.

“This is all my fault. I had to do this to you, because I was such an idiot I had to correct your grammar of all things —”

He raised a hand to the side of his face — and Stan finally got a look at his fingers. All six of them

“Ford?!”

Lightning-fast, the man grabbed him by the shoulder, and this time Stan didn’t stop him.

“Stanley? What do you remember?”

Stan didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

Of course it was Ford. He had the same glaringly large nose and ears, the same Pines cowlick, hell, even the same style of glasses as the ones he’d worn in high school. But his hair was dark gray with a lighter gray stripe running through it, and his face was worn and creased — perhaps by smiles, but more likely by frowns.

“W-what the hell happened to you, Stanford?” Stan stammered. “How did you — how did you get so old?”

Ford seemed to relax ever so slightly, as if some realization had dawned on him. “All right, you’ve only forgotten… this is alright. You’ll be okay, Stan.”

His voice was oddly comforting — or at least, it might have been, had Stan not been bracing himself for it to turn resentful and betrayed.

But Ford guided him towards the table, gently and without incident. Stan almost protested that he didn’t need help, but just at that moment, a sudden, throbbing pain began to emanate from the side of his head, and he bit his lip. It dulled after a moment, but as Ford helped him ease down into the chair, he still felt feverish.

He knew he had some kind of amnesia; even he could put that much together. But everything else made so little sense — how long had it been, why was Ford with him again…

“You said I was… forgetting things,” he began, and Ford nodded, a guilty look on his face. “I don’t remember anything past ‘78, but… you’re older than — it’s later than —”

Ford nodded again, and this time he gently squeezed Stan’s shoulder too.

“Part of me doesn’t even wanna know,” Stan went on, “but… how old am I? How long — how much of my own life did I miss?”

Ford looked away for a moment, like he was pondering how to break the news most gently.

“It’s 2012,” he finally said. “September 27th, 2012. We’re sixty-one.”

There was something about the way he said we’re that felt so different from the last Ford that Stan remembered, the why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my entire future?! Ford from that horrible night after the science fair. This Ford did want something to do with Stan, it seemed — but he was different in other ways, too, like the way he gave off such a… such an atmosphere of regret and self-blame, so tangible that you could practically suffocate in it. This was a Ford that had taken something for granted and lost it, with the jury still out on whether he would ever get it back.

For the second time that day, Stan found himself blurting out: “Ford, what happened to you?”

“What happened to me?” Ford repeated incredulously. “You’re the one who’s —”

“Fine. What happened to us?”

Ford sighed. “That’s the million-dollar-question, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be making light of any of this. But if… if you think you’ll be alright on your own for a moment, I might be able to grab something that could help bring some of those memories back.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Ford gave him a suspicious look, like he was skeptical of how fine Stan would really be, but he got up and headed towards Stan’s room in the back of the boat —

Stan had completely forgotten they were on a boat. Had… had Ford really forgiven him so much that he…

A bolt of pain ran down the back of his skull, and he shuddered and raised his hands to cover his ears. But it didn’t stop words that were unfamiliar and familiar at once from echoing around him he was plunged into darkness, strange glowing blue symbols providing the only source of light.

“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

He gasped for breath, and suddenly everything was different, everything was lighter and warmer. Birds and insects were chirping all around him, as he stood outside a cabin — no, a shack.

“I don’t just want someone to come with me, Stanley; I want it to be you. Will you give me a second chance?”

Then someone was shaking him by the shoulder, and the same voice was speaking to him, sounding so much less distant all of a sudden —

“Stanley? Stanley, are you alright? Can you…”

The voice trailed off for a moment. “Are you crying?”

“Ford?” Stan asked slowly.

“I’m here,” Ford replied, quietly and slowly. In his hand was the picture from Stan’s room, the one of the two kids. “I’m here, Stanley.”

“Ford, what’s the name of this boat?”

For the first time that morning, Ford smiled. “We called it the Stan O’ War II.”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “That’s what I —”

(Guessed? Hoped? Thought, but was afraid to say, because he wouldn’t have known what to do if Ford had told him he was wrong?

...but as afraid as he’d been to put it to words, he’d known it was an irrational fear. He’d known he was right.)

He finally returned Ford’s smile. “That’s what I remembered.”

***

Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated as always!

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #stanuary #rosalia writes fic

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aethelar · 6 years

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You want to know a secret? Something Newt hides, something he spent years covering up? Something he hid so well not even his parents really know?

Newt has a stutter.

Oh, sure, they know he had a stutter when he was a kid. Plenty of kids do. They also know that they hired people to deal with that and that Newt grew out of it, like plenty of kids also do.

What they don’t know is that Newt was a quiet child not because he had nothing to say but because he’d learnt to be ashamed of how he said it. What they don’t know is that Newt chooses his words carefully not because he’s thoughtful and considering but because he’s trying desperately to avoid the sounds that trip him up. What they don’t know is that Newt learnt not how to cure his stutter but how to control it, and every time he opens his mouth he does it with fierce concentration and an ingrained fear of getting it wrong.

The fear fades, over time. It’s exhausting to carry it forever. It sinks and the shame sinks to the back of his mind, somewhere almost forgotten but never gone - he’s so used, now, to taking the time to shape his sounds before he speaks them that he barely registers the effort, and perhaps you might think this counts as fixed; perhaps, like his parents, you might think this is enough.

But - “These - these - these - these -” he says in excitement when his older brother comes home, too happy to care that he’s stuck on the eus that never comes. It sounds like theessie theessie theessie and people coo, because what a cute nickname, how sweet is that, a childhood habit that never went away.

And - “Can I can I can I can I can I pet your cat?” he asks, too delighted by the way the tabby purrs at him to concentrate on how to force his lips into the str of stroke.

And - “What’s her name her name her name her what’s she called?” because she’s rubbing her head against his fingers and tilting until she’s directed him right behind her ear where she wants him to go, and sometimes, sometimes Newt want’s to pay attention to cats and scritches instead of the way he stumbles over words when he speaks.

It eats at him. You’d think, perhaps, that it would be nerves that made him stutter, that when he was faced with a boggart turning into his worst fear he’d glance over his shoulder at Dumbledore and say that his w-w-w-worst fear was w-w-w-working in an office, but that’s not the way it goes. That’s the opposite of the way it goes.

The boggart turns into a desk and there, among teetering piles of paper and folders that crowd like cages around the straight-backed chair, are conversations and presentations and meetings and interviews; an intercom, an angry customer, an important guest to make a good impression on.

“Having to work in an office, sir,” he says, each word spoken slowly and with great care, and can you imagine what it’s like to be afraid of not being afraid anymore? To be afraid of being happy enough not to care, of being relaxed enough to stop watching yourself, of being excited enough to speak fast and forget that you can’t?

We’re so grateful, his parents said to the therapist they hired. So glad this nonsense is behind us now. They turned to Newt with happy smiles and showers of praise, gifts and star charts and relief. Did they love him that little bit more when he could pretend he wasn’t broken?

“I hate it,” he confesses to his dragons, pressing his head against their muscled shoulder and wrapping his arms around their neck. “It’s stupid, it’s nothing - no one cares. Why the fuck do I?”

The dragon croons, low and throaty, and curves round to whuff soothingly into his hair. It leaves it sticking up in a messy cowlick and any other time Newt would protest and smooth it down, but this time he just grits his eyes closed and presses closer until the dragon’s scales leave imprints on his forehead, and he doesn’t know if he hates that he stutters or he hates that he cares but either way, the only thing he knows is that he hates it.

“Private Scamander,” his commanding officer says after the next debriefing, gesturing him to stay behind. “A word.”

Newt slinks over to him like a dog with his tail between his legs and wonders how many times he can fail at apologise before he gives in and says he’s sorry instead.

“Up there, the only thing that keeps us a team is our communication,” the man begins. “We’re only as good as we are at understanding each other, am I clear?”

Newt hunches further. “Yes, sir,” he says. Crystal, he wants to say, but he doesn’t dare.

“Good. I assume you’re familiar with the seven colour variations of the flare spell?” Newt blinks, but manages a confused nod; the officer doesn’t wait for him to elaborate. “Practice them, Scamander. Do them in your sleep, do them without your wand. I expect you to have taught the other riders a working code by the end of the week - and for god’s sake, keep it simple. Basic commands only, no one needs Shakespeare on dragonback.”

Newt nods again, then straightens and sharpens his nod into a crisp salute, mind whirling. “Sir,” he says, bewildered but determined.

The officer’s gaze gentles, just a fraction. “Tell them it’s storm protocol, if you like,” he offers. “Difficult to hear each other over the wind, even with a sonorus on.”

And Newt is so damn tired of being afraid. “With all due respect, sir,” he says, slowly, careful on each sound, “Anyone who wasn’t there has heard by now. The storm protocol won’t fool any of them.”

The officer shrugs. “Tell them what you like, Private. A stutter’s nothing to be ashamed of. Screwing up a raid and nearly losing a dragon because you can’t talk to your squad - that can’t happen again, so get to it with the flares and don’t disappoint.”

“No sir,” Newt confirms, something unnameable fighting within him (you aren’t a baby anymore, it’s not cute to talk like one so pay attention to what you say) and when he plans his flares he sticks to colours that not only the riders can see but the dragons too, and of all the aerial squads in the war there’s only one that never screws up a raid and never loses a dragon and it’s the one that glows pyrotechnic in the sky and stutters happy and relaxed in the mess hall after.

“These - these - these - these -” he says in excitement when their squads meet up for the battle of Amiens.

“Hey, Newt,” Theseus says, tired and worn down by fighting and still not ready for his baby brother to be all grown up in army greens. He pulls Newt into a quick one armed hug and catalogues how thin he’s got and how his hand is still shiny and pink from a healing burn.

Newt drags him to the mess hall. “Guys,” he says, breathless and happy. “Meet my meet my meet my meet my -”

“Boyfriend!” someone hollers from the back.

“Brother?” someone else offers from the front.

“Childhood nemesis,” a third suggests from the side.

“Holy shit that’s Theseus Scamander,” a fourth breathes and the room falls into an awed hush.

“Sibling,” Newt confirms proudly in the sudden silence. Theseus squints warily at them, waiting for someone to notice and someone to comment on the odd word choice. No one does.

“Is it true,” someone finally asks, “What they’re saying about Passchendaele - that really happen?”

Theseus pauses. “Depends,” he says. He flicks a glance at Newt but all he can see is happy and relaxed and among friends and so he cautiously lets his guard down. “What’re they saying?”

They start slow but soon they’re all talking at once, throwing out rumours that are half fantastical and half true and all painting the picture of the sort of mad Scamander captain they could see being related to their Newt. Theseus accepts a pint at some point and seats himself on a bench next to his brother and sorts through the exaggerations and what, officially, he’s allowed to reveal of the truth. All the while Newt beams by his side and when he talks he talks fast with his hands moving for emphasis and his eyes shining in excitement and words going in circles until he tosses them aside for different ones but the important thing is that he talks like he’s not afraid to.

I thought you’d lost that, Theseus thinks to himself. Newt the man in his army greens overlaps Newt the gap-toothed child before he learnt that stuttering was wrong and Theseus buries his smile in his drink. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help before, but I’m glad someone did. He glances over the soldiers of the dragon squad and it doesn’t matter, really, how they did it. Just that they did. He toasts them in silent thanks and turns back to his grinning, stuttering, excited brother.

I’m glad you found it again.

#newt scamander #theseus scamander #stutter #stuttering #psa that quirrell's stutter is not the only way to stutter #but you knew that #newt at war #and theseus being the best big brother #because i really want them to have a good relationship with each other #my writing

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 5 years

Text

I’ll be rolling out the tags around about the time of this post.

Sarazanmai 3

Kisu = kissu (kiss). Update: Or kisu (on the right side of my equation). You do you, subbers.

Goma-ae.

Gomennassara! (Oh, I get it…!)

It never occurred to me that a “micanga” was a bead or small pierced round object of some sort. I thought it was a race track sort of thing, but for soccer. Update: It’s a bracelet/anklet thing.

Wait, so what brought on this change of heart from Kazuki??? Is it like the 1st episode, where it was a daydream that was cleverly presented as real? Update: Yep.

Oh…have you noticed all the victims of Reo and Mabu’s scheme are men of the NEET/freeter age, or approaching that?

Notably, the signature pose of the Sarazanmai seems to be similar to the one Kazuki and Enta did in the soccer team.

I find it interesting that Enta is now the initiator of the Sarazanmai and thus the one to steal the shirikodama. I mean, he used to be the one with the least stakes in the Dish of Hope scenario…and now look at him!

Ooh, Toi is sharpening his ruler! (Or whatever you do in Touken Ranbu with that lil’ beater of his.)

Oh wait, I forgot Ikuhara always has a last-minute twist! Go back, go back!

It seems like Haruka has some kind of illness…hmm. Update: Oh, it’s not an illness per se…spoke too soon.

Haruka’s talking about the Little Prince…hmm. Last time I really bothered to engage with that story in any form was Star Driver.

Fruits Basket 2

I don’t think I ever really chose a side on the Kyo vs Yuki debate, but I guess I always subtly sided with Yuki (even though the end pairing is Tohru and *bleep*). <- sorry, had to censor myself

“It’s important for me to get to school every day!”

Kabedon! Eeeeee! (LOL, I really am a squealy person at heart, aren’t I?)

The writing says “she misheard [what Yuki said] as ‘being sick’”, so it was quite lucky that the word “sickened” worked in context.

Yuki has some mad ninja skills…LOL.

Shigure in a suit looks goooooooooood, man (<- gender neutral use of “man”).

“…the days ahead will be fun.” – Oh, Tohru, you don’t know how wrong you are…(says someone who completed the manga)

Fruits Basket 3

I’m hearing the OP for the first time…and it sounds like an ED. (Probably because I read some impressions that said the same thing earlier today.)

“…included in the zodiac?”

Ooh! Momiji! Wait, er…I didn’t expect him to be so high-pitched…

Lookit the tiny cat icon on the side! It’s cute!!!

*yells* It’s Kagura!!!!!!!! She ain’t my favourite, but man, is it great to see another familiar face!

I’ve been wondering what the title meant when it said “what year is she?” It means “year of the zodiac”.

Fruits Basket 4

“Shii-chan”…?

Kyo-kun ran away before Kagura even started making dinner…

Was Kyo’s katsudon a joke…? (Cats-udon, geddit?...No?)

“…marriage is a girl’s greatest dream.” – That used to be so, Tohru…nowadays, it ain’t.

Lookit how Kyo’s eyes lit up when he talks about his teacher!

OPM 2 2

That title’s…even more counterintuitive than “OPM 2 1”…hmm.

It’s…kind of dark right now.

I think there was bourbon on the counter. Someone likes to drink around here…

I guess with the mass animation exodus, OPM seems kinda…monologue-y. And cheap…

…nope, I take back my words. They were merely saving up for this action scene.

BSD 28 (S3 Ep 3)

Seriously, what are those metal things Dazai was wearing? Anyways, I like how it’s absolutely the norm that Chuuya swears now and I was part of forming that. Because I don’t swear a lot, I think Chuuya makes a nice outlet for my own frustrations...that’s what could be said, anyway.

D’aww. Someone acknowledges Chuuya’s identity. Ain’t that grand? (Now you see why I like Chuuya more than Dazai these days, huh?)

Come to think of it…a person hasn’t died in this show for a while, have they? It just goes to show you that despite one of its major stars being a guy obsessed with shinjuu (double suicide), the creators seem to be emphasising the sanctity of life itself.

Oh, I never thought they had an explanation for Dazai’s coat…

What is the age difference between Chuuya and Dazai anyway??? They’re both 15 during the LN that’s called that, but the exact difference…what is it? Update: Dazai’s birthday is June 19th and Chuuya’s is April 29th, so the difference is 1 month and 21 days (using the idea that 7 days = a week and May is 30 days, that’s 51 days in all).

Ooh, we’re getting Fyodor, Ace and the unnamed kid soon, aren’t we? That also means we’re in unknown territory for myself, too…hmm.

OPM 2 3

When did Saitama last meet Charanko anyway? Charanko is voiced by Toshiki Masuda, so I would’ve kept an eye out for him, but the art shift and the years between seasons mean I don’t remember anymore.

Oof, “justice crashed Mumen Rider’s head” is more like it.

CGI banana…Just saying “CGI banana” is funny.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 4

Headpats, headpats all around!

Hooo…boy. I already knew Sabito and Makomo were dead because Crow and Irina’s collab post was called “The Names of Dead Children”, but how it was delivered…was such a powerful move.

I saw the blonde boy who’s in the OP…hmm. Update: His name is Zenitsu, according to the next-ep preview.

OPM 2 4

When comparing this dissection of monsters against Mob Psycho…the biggest monster Mob has is himself…hmm.

I didn’t expect Saitama to actually enter under Charanko’s name with that wig he got…

“…name as a martial artist.”

Mojo for the dojo, it seems this man wants.

I think the centipede senpai is CGI. Hmm…

It’s been years…I’ve forgotten what Ponytail Head’s name is! (And I call OPM one of my favourite series in anime…!)

Sarazanmai 4

“Writers exist between life and death.” – …is Ikuhara expressing his own thoughts on how anime writers are treated…?

I anticipate a soba pun (soba = noodles and soba = beside [someone]).

“…gives a s***…” – Says you, Toi, with the “Golden Poop” in the background. Then again, that’s just an English pun. Don’t mind me.

Comic Sans…you can’t escape it, even in this day and age…

Yude = to boil, soba…is the noodles. (The “o” on the end of the Monster of the Week’s first name means “man”.) Ikuhara uses Monster of the Week names in service of symbolism, while Takamatsu uses inconsistency for the sake of humour.

Intetestingly, there’s a spiralling blue thing in the background of the dance number and it says “soba” (katakana) and “desire” (yokubou, in kanji).

The headline translates to “Tragedy! It was next to me, but then…” (Kigeki! Sakki made soba ni ita noni…) The subbers had to accommodate the soba pun though, so they went with “so bar away”.

Hmm…now Toi takes centre stage…

2007, huh? How old are Kazuki and co. again?

This is probably the least surprising secret of all, y’know. Also, I think Keppi and Kazuki have cucumbers in their mouths.

They have subs for Stand By Me now!!! Oh mai globbb!

W-Wuh?! I can see why he’d hate Haruka (feelings of “why don’t my parents look at me the way they look at him anymore?”), but…this really turns this entire story on its head!

Kimetsu no Yaiba 5

Interestingly, the “My” in the episode title is Onore (an “I” indicating professionalism).Come to think of it…what is Tanjiro’s pronoun of choice?

Aww…the fact Tanjiro kinda looks like the demon’s (previous body’s…?) bro made the scene kinda cute. Possibly, it could be even enough to drive someone to tears…not that I was driven to tears, of course.

Well, here’s Zenitsu.

This angry kid reminds me of Mike Teevee (from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). He seems like a rival, but he’ll disappear soon enough. Also, LOL, a sparrow instead of a crow.

“…my whole body hurts.” – Welp, that’s what happens when you lose sleep fighting demons for 7 days straight…

Why the obvious names? (re: Haganezuka – that is, hagane means “steel”…also, Nichirin contains the character for “sun” (at least, I think so…?) and Yoko can be understood to be/homophonous to the word for “sunlight”)

Tanjiro, son of Tanjuro…LOL. That was probably deliberate – it means the first son follows in the father’s footsteps.

For some reason, I wanted Haganezuka to pop out of the comic for the next-ep preview…aww.

Shield Hero 17

How many times did Fitoria say “I’m going to kill the heroes” and Naofumi say variants of “no”? Because of that, I had half a mind to jump ship and head to RobiHachi instead…but keep going.

That cowlick stuff was probably the most fun I’ve had with this show in a while…heh.

Oh great…Naofumi expanded his pseudo-harem to two bird waifus…then again, I had a stupid grin on my face seeing Fitoria’s old master, so maybe it’s not all bad, y’know?

Post-credits scene…keep watching!

Wah-wait…what the heck was that explosion???!!!

BSD 29 (S3 Ep 4)

That’s…Topaz (unofficial name)…ohhhhhhhh dear…

Oooh, Katai! Katai! Yay!!! (As you can tell, I had a very small thing for Katai. He reminds me of En-chan, y’see.)

The CGI in this OP…you can tell there’s quite a bit of it, huh?

It’s Deadmau5 (as the fandom used to joke)!

Fyodor’s eyes of disgust as Topaz dries his hair…hmm.

Older Topaz looks surprisingly like Oda…I don’t remember that exact shot, but it might’ve been in the manga. His background also reminds me of Chuuya’s.

OPM 2 Ep 4 (OPM 18)

“Irksome insect”…says the giant insect.

I think I saw a 7-11 pastiche in the background.

Why does the bird have a human hand in his belly? What??? (LOL)

This tournament arc don’t feel so hype, now that MHA’s is over…

Someone likes Donkey Kong… (referring to Marshal Gorilla and the other Kong guy (Heavy Kong))

Sarazanmai 5

…oh wow. Y’mean Kazuki is adopted???

“Why don’t you say anything, even though you know about me now?” (from Toi) – Probably because Kazuki is as f***ed up as you are, if not worse.

What are those sparkles coming off Sara’s face…? Not sure if they’re a shoujo thing or just…gratuitous sparkles.

LOL, Nioino Fukuro. Basically “pouch of scent” when you insert a space between the second I and the second N and change the first name kanji, plus change the “no” to hiragana.

I know the title of the song is Kawausoiya (translates to “awful otters” or something like that), but “soiya” doesn’t make much sense on its lonesome.

Wait…does that mean Sara is the creature? Or there are two Saras that can look the same, but one looks like the human and one is more kappa-like???

For some reason, I’m getting changeling vibes here…that Kazuki wants to look different to the rest of his family because he knows he’s different.

Hey…there’s this thing called the tourist gaze. It argues that because people create notions of reality differently, people have different ideas of what makes a trip “good” and “authentic”. In the same sense, Haruka’s “false” connection with Kazuki!Sara has become his reality, so it’s not wrong to say this Sara is real for him.

Oh…I just realised some kanji that appar early in the OP are the kanji for “extraction”.

So, uh…in a sense…can I interpret Kazuki’s love for his real mother a Fruedian thing? It seems all men’s love can be interpreted to be Freudian in some way or another…also, Sara kind of looks like his mother in a very “surface” kind of way. That is, they have a very passing resemblance to each other. Update: I’ve been reading some Stephen King lately and if I took anything away from that experience, it would be that everything is Freudian when it comes to men’s experiences. That’s why I say that.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 6

…*remembers something from the collab that was along the lines of “Astral doesn’t like Tanjiro’s green jacket”* Astral’s not gonna like this, then. (For those who don’t know the context, “Astral” is AstralGemini of the Zodiac Room.)

*Tanjiro is told he might not go very far with his demon slaying* *Tanjiro reacts with happiness that he’s on his way to get Nezuko human again* - Uh…I know I’ve watched my share of shonen, but I kind of didn’t expect that and yet also did.

Ugh…it’s the return of CGI Tanjiro…the vegie patch looks good in CGI though, for some reason.

Lemme guess…with a title like that (Swordsman Accompanying a Demon), could it be that Kazumi is a demon???

“I don’t get it at all.” – LOL…that was unintentionally funny (for the second time in this show, the first being Hand Demon).

BSD 30 (S3 Ep 5)

Moby Dick crashing into Yokohama? It was literally years ago for us!

I’m pretty sure these Park guys didn’t exist in the manga. Update: Nope, they did. I’ve read the corresponding chapter, it’s just that that was also 2 years ago…just like the last we saw of the anime.

I love how the “gyaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” ended in blood splatter, literally.

The Park guys apparently come from ch. 44 but Katai comes from ch. forty…what? One? Two? It’s not 40 (Hitori Ayumu), that’s all I know.

Katai is a good boy. You’ll see why in…oh, a few seconds.

Oh, I love the ending of this story. I already know the ending, but seeing it again will be a whole new bag of laughs!

Uh…I forgot how much of an interruption the anime’s humour is. My dream of a “whole new bag of laughs” is at least half dashed…*shoulders slump*

Apparently Atsushi cut his hair himself…not sure if that’ll be a spoiler for later, but it’s still something cool to know.

“So it’s your letter?”

Katai is basically me when it comes to my husbandos. See why I love him???

Come to think of it…I haven’t properly listened to the ED yet! Better do that while I still have the chance.

Fruits Basket 5

Shigure is such a troll…just like I remember him.

Fruits Basket 6

Hatori! Ooh! He’s hottttttt! Sizzling!...Okay, I think you get my point already…

I think someone else (Amelia from A Girl and Her Anime…?) pointed this out…but I don’t understand a speck of German outside 1 – 10 (I remembered the German word for “six” way too well when I was younger). So it would help if they bothered to make the German English as well.

For some reason, the stick figure was both obviously a cost-cutting measure and also elevated the hilarity of that scene…!

I don’t quite know what the Japanese equivalent of the “macaroni and cheese” thing was, but it conveys the same idea in the two languages and makes people laugh along the way, so…*shrugs shoulders* Makes sense, I guess.

Tohru is kandou about meeting an author. Kandou means to be deeply moved (noun form).

LOL, Hanajima reading the book.

…Oh my goodness. I just realised Fruits Basket has a lot of characters with fringes. 90s fringes for everyone!

“…a cartoon about a cat and a rat that are always fighting…” - Come to think of it, Tom and Jerry is popular in Japan.

Shield Hero 18

I think this episode title ends in inbou, which means “intrigue”.

This show is clearly trying to play the same cards over and over again…

Shield Hero 19

Hypocrites! Hypocrites everywhere! *does Buzz Lightyear hand gesture from the meme*

OPM 19 (S2 Ep 6)

The reason the fat guy is called Dave is not just because of B/V confusion, but because debu (without the line in the middle) is a slang word for…wait for it…”fatty”.

Interestingly, Murata previously worked on a oneshot called Gokiburi Buster. I wonder if this Cockroach Boi is from there…?

Did you notice the guys behind the umpire, who had a stretcher at the ready…?

“Mr Saynuthin” seems to be “Nanmoien-san” in Japanese.

“Waganma” seems to be a play on wagamama, or selfish. However, I can’t pin down the pun in the father’s name...

Well, well, well…at least someone acknowledges Speed of Sound Sanic (the ninja, not the CGI abomination or the monkey) is hecka-speedy.

Charanko (the real one)…he has ashi no ura (the back of the foot) written on his bandages…LOL.

Sarazanmai 6

Apparently Kazuki’s (foster) family all wear the same kind of stripes…which is what Kazuki means when he doesn’t want to wear the same kind of clothes as his family.

Okay…so the first set of kanji that appear in the OP are the one for “desire” and the ones after that are “extraction”…geddit? (LOL)

Oh my glob…how in the name of Iyami does Osomatsu-san get so popular that after I watched the first season of that show, it starts appearing in other places as well????

I saw a translation of the Reo and Mabu tweets and apparently at least one of them can make ningyoyaki (a type of cake you can make in all sorts of shapes – scroll down a bit on that page and you’ll find the description of ningyoyaki there).

Uhh…ghh…Keppi pole dancing was disturbing…*soul floats out of body temporarily*

Reo (I think that’s Reo, at least) has ningyoyaki…Update: Yup, that’s Reo.

“Headdress”, huh?

Why does this episode 6 feel like ending material…?

Wait…you’re saying Reo and Mabu are princes of the otter kingdom??? Wuh???

BSD 31 (S3 Ep 6)

(Lucy blushes) Wow…now there’s an option for a het ship right there…not that anyone will take it.

I saw a GIF of Atsushi floating naked and face down in the water (because Irina), but…I forgot exactly how the scenario before it went, so I LOLled.

Oh yeah…this chapter had a tie-in with Mizuki Tsujimura, because Mizuki knew Kyoka’s mother. Also, it shows you can inherit Abilities…

It’s Truck-kun and the curse of the isekai!...Okay, I’m kidding.

Oh yeah…this is the chapter about the Headmaster…

I haven’t been in a good place mentally for the past few years or so, due to my world basically fragmenting around me, so the words “don’t hate yourself” are strong ones coming from a place both nostalgic and new.

Dazai inherits a particularly interesting space in Atsushi’s life. He’s like a brother and father wrapped up into one (Kunikida is the nagging mother in that analogy, LOL), but also obsessed with suicide to the point he can also be a liability.

“…didn’t tell anyone…”

It’s also interesting to compare Tohru (of Fruits Basket) and Atsushi. They’re both selfless, but Tohru’s selflessness is shown to be a double-edged sword while Atsushi’s gives him a lot of resentment but is overall a positive thing.

Aww…seeing Atsushi slowly tear up almost made me tear up too…

Fitzgerald Rising…that’s the name of the chapter where…oh, sorry. It’s been years, so I’ll let it all play out for you and me again without mentioning any spoilers until they happen in (close to) real time in the show, okay?

Fruits Basket 7

This is the first time there’s been English lyrics on the OP for this show…I think.

Who’s this “he” Tohru’s referring to when examining the woman’s picture? Akito, probably, but I’m not 100% sure…Update: It was Hatori, actually.

“Shii-san”, “Haa-san” etc. is…cute. *cue “O kawaii koto…” from Kaguya-sama*

I get the feeling that Shigure is almost like a prototype Dazai (Bungou Stray Dogs). Or they just have a lot in common.

“Are these my just desserts?”

Demon Slayer 7

Nezuko’s playing whack a mol-er, demon, isn’t she??? (LOL)

Whoa…it must be mighty freaky to be floating in a swamp of dead people’s possessions…

Welp, Tanjiro…that’s one way to say “hands off my sister”. *nods* By cutting the demon’s hands off…

I like the contrast between Tanjiro’s callused hands and Kazumi’s smooth ones.

Hey…why does food always get wasted in movies and other media…? I know I’m applying real-life consumption habits to media, but it always looks quite wasteful, y’know…?

OPM 20 (S2 Ep 7)

I never noticed that shot of Watchdog Man in the OP before…huh.

Pig God’s shirt says DEV. It’s a pun on debu (fatty)…again.

Ooh! I saw him in the OP! Flashy Flash! I’ve never seen him in action outside the OP before, but I know his name and appearance from reading around.

“You all are the strongest swordsmen we have.”

Seriously, Saitama, just get something to stick the wig on and you wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. Maybe superglue…(okay, I’m kidding about the superglue).

OPM got really childish this time…

#simulcast commentary #one punch man #Fruits Basket #The Rising of the Shield Hero #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer #Sarazanmai #Bungou Stray Dogs #chesarka watches bsd #Chesarka watches Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari #Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari #Chesarka watches OPM #Chesarka watches Sarazanmai #Chesarka watches KnY #Chesarka watches Furuba

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