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#inigo please text me back
kagedbird · 5 months
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TESSDE AU (+ Taliesin) Continuation from this
Allora: *out and about in the marketplace, chatting with Fralia Gray-Mane about the weather when she's tapped on the shoulder* Hm? Yes? Courier: Got something for you- your eyes only. Let's see here... ah, a letter from some interesting fellows in Riften. Paid me quite the coin for it. Here you are; have a nice day! Allora: Ah, thanks, you too! *takes the mail and carefully opens it, reading the text, 'She came. Hurry.'* ...Fuck. I need to get the others. *** Allora: *hurries and gathers everyone in the house, showing off the mail* We need to go. I don't want us to be here if she comes looking for us, and I need to know if the guild is in danger from not having captured me. Taliesin: Why bother with them? Those riff-raff started this problem in the first place. Allora: It's just as likely she just needed intel and can easily destroy them. We don't know what she can do, or those men that were with her. And I made a deal. I will uphold that. Lucien: Wouldn't going back just put you both in more danger? Allora: More danger than being unprepared and kidnapped? I have all of you with me now. I want us to stick together at all times- and someone with Kaidan and I should something happen. Taliesin? Taliesin: *standing tall* At your side? I suppose I can- Allora: No, love. I need you with Kaidan. Taliesin: *splutters* Absolutely not, I- Allora: You're a face that can blend in with any Thalmor representative, you can think quickly on your feet and lie to get yourselves out of anything, and you know magick. I need that sort of person with him in case Kaidan is in trouble. Taliesin: I... but... Allora: I'll have Lucien. He has healing spells, destruction magick, and conjuration spells. He has ties to his family and can think of any big names to link to me should anyone ask if we need an out. Lucien: I will do my best! Inigo: And myself? Allora: If we're separated, you go with those two. I can teleport you to me if I need you, so stick with them and be ready to swap. But you deny the spell if there is even a modicum of a chance that those two are in danger, do you hear me? Inigo: *frowning, ears falling flat* But, if you are to need me... Allora: I'll try again. If I do it more than once, you'll know I need you. Inigo: *sighs and nods* I understand. Kaidan: *scowling sharply* I don' like this. They took you from us because you were alone. I don't want t'give them another chance! Allora: They won't. Because I won't be alone. This is worse case scenario. If we need to split up, that's what we do. I won't take any arguments on it- and I refuse to let this woman get to you. She was after you, Kai. Just using me as bait. I don't want to know what she wants with you. Please don't offer yourself up for me. Kaidan: You can't ask that of me. Allora: I can and I will. I've all ready seen you tortured in front of my eyes, god damn it, I won't have that happen again! This is what we're doing. Now get packed, we're heading out soon. *turns and stomps up the stairs to grab her weapons* Inigo: *watching her go up the stairs sadly* Do not be too upset with her Kaidan. She is very scared right now. Kaidan: And I'm not? Taliesin: It's just as likely, and more accurate to say, that she does not want to feel incapable of protecting you like that again. Something you both share. Don't hold it against her, you imbecile. It just means she cares. *goes upstairs to gather his things as well* Lucien: *nervously watching Kaidan as he rubs his face angrily* ...I certainly don't get the best feeling from all of this... I hope this all goes all right. Inigo: *pulling his gear on from his pack* You and me both.
[Next one here]
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shreedle · 9 months
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ask a reader meme! B6, C3, D10. :3
Thank you for asking! :D
(From this Ask Meme here.)
B6. What is your favourite story trope? Why?
This might not surprise anyone that knows me and has read my works, but time/parallel universe shenanigans. I'm a HUGE sucker for time travel, time loops, parallel dimensions, and similar things. I'm not entirely sure what made me so interested in these kinds of things, just that every time I learn that something has shenanigans like that going on, I inevitably end up reading it. Hence: my huge attachment to Quint and R-Shadow from Megaman, and the Awakening Trio from FE.
C3. Is there anything that makes you nope out of a story? What is it?
Hah… there's actually quite a few things that'll immediately make me click the back button of a story. If I read the tags and clicked on the story in the first place, then formatting is a big red flag. I see a block of text, I see all lowercase, I see new dialogue not put in its own paragraph, that's a nope.
OOCness for no good reason is a big thing. I can handle most things, but I once clicked on a fic where Laslow called Xander "Xander-chan" not as a joke (he canonly calls him "Lord Xander" or "Prince Xander" in FE: Fates) and never had I hit the back button so quickly.
D10. What is one story idea you really want to read but no one has written yet?
Oh god no please don't do this to me. There are soooo many, and some of them I have drafted a couple of scenes myself, including the one I'm about to talk about myself -- which is that I'd really like to read a fic where Owain replaces Lucina in FE Awakening, where he's the character that arrives in the past to initially warn Chrom and his party (I would have said Chrom!Inigo, but believe it or not, I've actually read a fic where this has happened).
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betheal · 3 years
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You absolute little shit, say you like me back even though I've only confessed in my dreams
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septembercfawkes · 3 years
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Annoyance vs. Resonance--One Small Difference
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Audiences dislike story elements that are annoying. They love story elements that resonate. Surprisingly, annoyance and resonance are like two sides of the same coin. They usually appear for the same reasons, but one induces eye rolls while the other invites frisson. Let's look at these experiences in more depth, so we can bring more resonance into our stories, without annoying audiences.
What Makes Something Annoying
Author and writing instructor David Farland does a good job explaining annoyance and resonance. In a blog post of his (that is now apparently lost to cyberspace), he compares writing a book to playing a song. While the writer hits different "notes," there is an overall melody--an overall theme. But if the writer repeatedly hits the same exact note over and over and over and over . . . it can become annoying.
This is true of almost anything. The first time something happens, we may not think too much of it. It may be an inconvenience if we don't like it, but it's not that big of a deal. If the exact same thing keeps happening over and over and over again, we get annoyed.
It's like when your little sibling repeatedly pokes you during a long car ride. You dislike it the first time. But after the fifteenth, you're about ready to throw him out of the vehicle.
Too much repetition, without proper variation, gets annoying.
This isn't to say this is the only way annoyance may happen--for example, many audiences find being preached at annoying. Preaching usually happens when the text doesn't handle theme properly or fairly. When a text over exaggerates or over understates (😆 pretty sure that phrasing is inaccurate, but it works for now), it can become annoying as well. Though, to be fair, if these things happen briefly, the audience is probably not going to feel like they are suffering for it. If they happen repeatedly or for a long enough duration, they'll become annoying.
Usually, annoyance comes from repetition.
We almost never want to annoy the audience--unless of course, that's the point, in which case, you now know that what you need to do is repeat the same thing over and over and over again.
And if you find your protagonist in a situation where he or she has to deal with the annoying, it's usually a good idea to validate to the reader that the situation is annoying . . . should the reader's emotional experience be similar to the protagonist's.
. . . But most often in such situations, the reader's experience is deviated from the protagonist's, so that what the protagonist finds annoying, the audience finds entertaining or endearing.
And it's always worth mentioning that what may seem annoying to one person may not always be annoying to someone else. Nonetheless, I think we can agree that some things are generally annoying to most people.
What Makes Something Resonant
We've probably all experienced resonating stories, even if we didn't put that word to them. It may be a story that hits us right in the hearts and changed our perspectives, changed our lifestyles. It may be a passage that was reminiscent of another famous work. Or it may be a line of dialogue at a climax that calls back to an opening scene.
Resonance makes a text feel more meaningful, more intentional, more tied together. It might give the audience chills or a sense of rightness. Where annoyance is well . . . annoying. Resonance is pleasing. Maybe even a little magical.
Resonance can happen on a few different levels.
First, a story may resonate with a particular audience, because of a shared experience or perspective. For example, a story about owning a dog would resonate with me because I've been around dogs pretty much my whole life. Some subjects may resonate with a broader audience--everyone has to grow up, so a coming-of-age story is more likely to resonate with more people. (However, if the theme of the dog story is more universal and executed well, it can resonate with a more general audience, too.)
Second, a story may resonate with other stories that are similar. In some sense, one might argue this is why genres exist. If I like a paranormal romance book, I might want to read another paranormal romance book. Now, if the paranormal romance books are too similar to each other, they may start to get annoying.
Third, a story may resonate with itself. Motifs and callbacks are recurring concepts in a text. When Jack Sparrow asks, "Why is the rum always gone?" it ties back to an earlier moment where he said something similar. Likewise, when we see the totem spinning at the end of Inception, it ties back to earlier scenes that involve the spinning totem. Motifs and callbacks are probably, in most ways, two terms for the same concept, but I tend to see "motif" used more often in relation to theme and "callback" used in relation to dialogue.
In order for resonance to happen, something needs to repeat--it needs to resound, to echo. Maybe it echoes our own human experiences, other works, or itself, but it does echo.
And anyone who has played around with echoes, knows that they don't sound the exact same. The echo usually sounds a little different, and it certainly doesn't hit at the same volume.
This is what makes something resonate, without being annoying.
If I were to read a book that was the exact same as my life, ironically, it probably wouldn't resonate with me. It would be boring or annoying.
If I picked up another paranormal romance book that was the exact same as the first, it probably wouldn't be a great experience--especially if it's meant to be a different book.
If I had a character retell the same joke over and over again, it likely wouldn't be funny--it'd be annoying.
Resonance isn't a copy. It's a variation.
It will either vary within itself or it will vary in context.
For example, in Marley and Me, Marley is referred to as the "worst dog in the world." But at the end of the story, this is switched to the "best dog in the world." This provides a new perspective on Marley.
And in Mockingjay, the lyrics to "The Hanging Tree" stay exactly the same. But the meaning changes as the context shifts.
This is variation.
Variation helps create resonance.
Exceptions
I hope you realize by now that in writing, there are always exceptions. In some rare cases, exact repetition is the point. In The Princess Bride, Inigo Montoya repeats, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die" to the point of being a mantra.
The repetition is the point. (However, one may argue that the context of even that line changes slightly.)
But, the rule of thumb is this:
Exact repetition = More likely to be annoying
Repetition with variation = More likely to be resonant
If you want to learn more about variations that help create resonance, check out my article on callbacks and my article on motifs.
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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years
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We’ve Got Tonight
Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader
Word Count: 3,540
Square: Free Space, using “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger from the song list (song lyrics in bold type)
TW: Includes a brief re-cap of “Sightless in a Savage Land”, so a brief mention of rape murder; angst, hurt/comfort, implied smut
Tags: @thatesqcrush, @madamsnape921
A/N: This is a follow up to “An Exile of Our Own Making”. Sorry for the delay in getting this out. Everything was going fine until I hit a patch of writer’s block and bad mental health days. This starts prior to “Sightless in a Savage Land” and then jumps to immediately afterward. This also ended up being on the longer side. I feel like I threw everything at it, except the kitchen sink.
           After your fateful meeting with Rafael you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. The next day you went into work and everyone seemed to automatically know that something was wrong. Amanda and Kat eventually got it out of you. As expected, Amanda wasn’t thrilled that you’d gone to see your ex without her to back you up. Kat, ever the good partner, said she’d there to listen if you wanted to talk about it. You didn’t but thanked her anyway. Lucia Barba called three times, begging you to come to Christmas dinner and talk to her son. As much as you wanted one of Lucia’s home-cooked meals, you politely declined. You were working the Christmas shift. You did reassure her that you would speak to Rafael again, but only when you were ready to, and on your own terms.
           You also scheduled an emergency session with your therapist. She also wasn’t thrilled that you had gone to see Rafael, but she listened while you cried and dumped out the contents of your heart. It eventually led to a discussion about forgiveness, more specifically, whether or not you could forgive Rafael. You had told her that you thought you could, but you still needed more time to process your current emotions. You needed to sit down and have an actual conversation with him, you had barely given him an opportunity to speak when you’d last met. You figured that you should at least give him a chance to explain himself, even if it hurt to hear it.
******************
           Thankfully Christmas Day was uneventful. You caught up on all your paperwork, reviewed open casefiles, updated some profiles and case notes, and cleaned and reorganized your desk. Liv called a couple hours before your shift was over to check in and tell you to go home early and enjoy the rest of the day. You thanked her, and then called in your usual order to your favorite Thai takeout place as you were walking out the door.
********************
           When you arrived back at your apartment, takeout dinner in hand, you were met at the door by a talkative orange ball of fluff.
           “Mrow! Mrow! Mrow!”
           “Yes, baby, I know! Your dinner is late,” You said to your cat. You made sure your door was locked, then put down your food and work bag and shrugged off your coat and boots. “Just give me a sec- hey! Inigo! That food is not for you!”
           Inigo stopped sniffing the takeout bag and looked at you like he was insulted. You sighed and picked up the food, taking into your kitchen and placing it on the counter. You then grabbed Inigo’s food and water bowls. You refilled the water bowl and put it back down, hoping it would distract him while you opened the cat food can and used a fork to deposit the wet, squishy substance into his food dish. Because it was Christmas, you garnished it with few cat treats. You put the dish down next to his water bowl and he hungrily dug in.
           “Merry Christmas, Inigo,” you said with a smile.
           After changing into your pajamas, you settled on the couch with your dinner and a glass of wine and began your annual Christmas movie marathon. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stay awake, so you started off with Gremlins. You had just gotten to the part where Billy is starting to bond with Gizmo when you phone rang. You grabbed it off the coffee table and saw it was Lucia Barba wanting to facetime. You swiped to answer and were shocked to see Rafael’s face looking back at you.
           “Hi, I know that I’m probably the last person that you want to talk to, but I just wanted to say, Merry Christmas, Y/N.”
           “It’s okay, I’m glad you called, but next time, use your own phone, okay? Merry Christmas Rafael. How are you?”
           “I’m about as well as I can be. You?”
           “Yeah, I’m good,” you replied. A loud sound from your TV got both your attention.
           “Is that the sound of a Mogwai in distress?” Rafael inquired. “You’re watching Gremlins, aren’t you?”
           “Of course, I am, it’s my favorite Christmas movie.”
           At that moment, Inigo decided to jump into your lap and demand his nightly cuddles.
           “Wait, you have a cat now?”
           At the sound of Rafael’s voice, Inigo turned and looked at your phone, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
           “Mrow?”
           “Yes, I do. Rafael, meet Inigo. Inigo, can you say ‘Hi’ to Rafael?”
           Inigo gave a disinterested “Mrow”, and then curled up in your lap and started to purr. You massaged his head with your free hand.
           “Wow,” said Rafael, “I was not expecting that. Is he named after who I think he’s named after?”
           “Yes, he is,” you chuckled. “I adopted him about six months after you left. My therapist thought it might be good if I had an animal to take care of, and I’ve always been a cat person. He was an injured kitten when I found him at the shelter. I took one look at him, and I just knew. He’s been my fluffy baby ever since.”
           You were surprised how easily the conversation flowed between the two of you. Neither of you brought up the elephant in the room, but that was okay. You weren’t ready to have that conversation yet, and when you did, you wanted it to be face to face. Right now, it just felt good to talk to him again. He told you about the legal work he’d been doing, you told him stories about your cat, and how Sonny was doing working in the DA’s office. And by the time you signed off the call, you felt a spark of hope growing in your heart.
********************
The time between Christmas and New Year’s came and went. You spoke to Rafael a few more times via facetime. You had time to think, and the more you thought about it, the more you wondered if a second chance was staring you right in the face. Life wasn’t a movie and most people didn’t get second chances, but every day that went by made you a little more sure that reconciliation was possible.
Rafael was on your mind so much that you were almost grateful when you were awoken in the wee hours of New Year’s morning by the Amber Alert on your phone. SVU was being called in to find a missing teenage girl, and it was just the distraction you needed. If only you had known the twists and turns that case would take, evolving into a rape, and then murder case, when’s the girl’s father, Mickey Davis, shot and killed her rapist.
Rafael stepped in and defended Davis. It was both heart-wrenching and exhilarating to watch him go up against Sonny in the courtroom. Sonny was your friend and former partner, and you knew he wasn’t happy about the situation. But watching Rafael strut around the courtroom, making his arguments, cross-examining witnesses, making objections, you couldn’t help but be completely in awe of him. He was wholly in his element, like he’d never been gone.
**********************
When all was said and done, Sonny walked away victorious with a guilty verdict. He should have been thrilled, but instead he was sitting in Forlini’s with you, Rafael, and the rest of the team, sulking into his beer. You stood off to the side, nursing your Jack and Coke, unsure of what to say or do to make him feel better. You and Rafael had behaved like complete professionals when you had to interact during the case, but that hadn’t stopped a stressed-out Sonny from snapping at you and calling your friendship and loyalty into question.
So, you kept your mouth shut and stared longingly at Rafael, hanging onto his every word. At some point he received a text from his mother and headed out, saying something about Lucia insisting on going to Miami to visit the rest of the family. You saw Amanda stand up and you thought she was headed back to the bar, but you then felt her elbow you in the side. You gave her a look of confusion.
“What are you waiting for? Go after him,” she told you.
You nodded in response, put the rest of your drink down, and grabbed your coat and purse.
“Thanks Coach, good pep talk.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied. “Now go get your man.”
You exited Forlini’s and looked up and down the sidewalk for Rafael, but he wasn’t there. You decided to check around the corner, and if you still didn’t catch sight of him, you would go back to bar and call him. You dashed down the street and around the corner. You stopped in your tracks when you saw him, his back to you, deep in conversation with Liv. Liv saw you, gave you a nod and smiled.
“Happy New Year, Rafael, “she told him, “Oh, and I think someone else wants a word with you.”
Rafael turned and smiled when he saw you, and you smiled back. Liv patted you on the shoulder she walked by, leaving you and Rafael alone together. You took a deep breath and walked toward him.
“Hi,” you said, when you got close enough.
“Hi,” he replied.
“You did really well today, Rafael, I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Y/N, that means a lot.”
“Look, “you started, “I know your plans don’t include me right now, but I was thinking that maybe, if you have time later, I’m ready to sit down and actually talk. I never gave you a chance to explain yourself, and I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that well.”
“Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t handle it well, either. Everything you said, I needed to hear.”
“All the same, please, Rafael?” You gazed up into his green eyes. You felt your resolve cracking again as a tear rolled down your face. Rafael gently touched your cheek, brushing it away with his thumb, and this time, you didn’t pull away from his touch.
“It’s okay, Cariño, if you want to talk, then we’ll talk.”
You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. And then you did want you wanted to do the first moment you saw him sitting there in Forlini’s: You wrapped your arms around his sturdy torso and buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life. You felt his arms circle around you, pulling you as close as he could. You breathed in his scent, a mixture of his cologne, coffee, whiskey, and something that was uniquely him. You felt him run his fingers through your hair and kiss your forehead.
“It’s okay, Cariño,” he murmured softly. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’m right here.”
“Then why am I scared that you’ll disappear if I let go?”
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there holding onto each other. It was obvious that neither one of you wanted to let go. Rafael massaged small circles into your back, whispering words of comfort and reassurance into your ear. You melted into him, just like you had so many times before. Any remaining doubts you had flew out of your mind. You loved him. You belonged with him. You forgave him. You wanted him back.
“Cariño? I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come have dinner with me and my mother tonight?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” your replied, shaking yourself out of your thoughts.
“You’re not imposing. My mother would love to see you, and you know how she cooks; there will be more than enough food.”
“I’d be late, I have run back home first. I have a hungry cat waiting for me, remember?”
“Then we will take a detour to Brooklyn on the way to the Bronx,” Rafael said with a chuckle.
“You do know that’s an out-of-the-way detour, right?”
“Cariño, as far as I’m concerned, it’s worth it. I’ll just text my mother and let her know that I’m running late.”
********************
Thankfully traffic wasn’t as heavy as it usually was, and you got back to your apartment relatively quickly. Rafael waited in the car while you ran in, fed Inigo, changed out of your work clothes, and ran back out. Then it was off to Lucia’s apartment in the Bronx. As promised, Lucia welcomed you with open arms.
“Hermosa!” She cried, enveloping you in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you! I missed you at Christmas! Come in! Come in! Dinner is almost ready. Rafi! Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing Y/N?”
“I wanted to surprise you, Mamí,” he said, embracing his mother.
“Well, consider me surprised then. I’ll go set an extra place at the table.”
She headed for the kitchen and Rafael took your coat, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He placed a tentative hand on your lower back, but once again, you didn’t pull away. You gazed into his emerald eyes, allowing yourself to get lost for a moment. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was caressing his cheek. You shuddered when he placed his hand over yours and kissed your palm. Your heart pounded like a jackhammer in your chest, and you started wonder what would happen if you just-
“Dinner’s ready!” Lucia called.
You took a step back and tried to pull your hand away, but Rafael held on and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.
“Shall we?”
You nodded and let him lead you to the kitchen, where you were met with a variety of delicious smells and a veritable feast.
“Oh, Lucia, you have outdone yourself again!”
“Just a little something to celebrate my son being back in court and doing what he does best,” she said with a grin.
“Mamí, I didn’t win today.”
“Rafael, that doesn’t matter,” you said, giving him a look. “You walked into that courtroom with your head held high and fought like hell for your client. Watching you, it was awe inspiring, it was brilliant, it was astounding. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” You stopped, realizing that both Rafael and Lucia were staring at you. “Maybe we should sit down and eat?”
“Yes, I think we should,” said Lucia, giving you a smirk and a knowing look.
Grace was said, dishes were passed, and between the conversation and shoveling forkfuls of food into your mouth, the time flew by. It had been so long since the last time the three of you had been together like this, but it felt like the years hadn’t passed at all. You had missed this, wanted it to be your normal again. Every time your eyes caught Rafael’s he would reach for your hand and give it a gentle squeeze, and you wondered if he felt the same way.
Before you and Rafael left, Rafael double-checked his mother’s flight information. She was flying out the next morning, and Rafael promised he’d be there bright and early to take her to the airport.
“Rafi, I am more than capable of getting myself to the airport.”      
“I know, Mamí, but I insist. I just want to make sure that you get there and don’t have any issues with checking in.”
“Fine, but don’t forget to bring in my mail every day and check the fridge occasionally. If something looks or smells like it’s going bad, throw it out.”
‘I will, Mamí, I promise.”
Lucia gave him a hug and kissed his cheek, then did the same to you. She made sure to hand you both large Tupperware containers with the all the leftovers.
“This is to make sure you don’t starve. And Hermosa, take care of my son? Make sure he eats something other than take-out?”
“I will, Lucia, I promise.”
**********************
You unlocked your apartment door, but before opening it, you turned to Rafael.
“You’re sure that you’re ready for this?”
“Yes, Cariño, I’m ready to meet your cat,” he reassured you for the umpteenth time.
“Okay…”
You opened the door and you and Rafael entered the apartment. You were promptly headbutted in the leg before you could even get your coat off.
“Mrow! Mrow! Mrow! Mrow!”
“Yes, baby, I’m sorry I went out and left you here all alone.” You picked up Inigo and cuddled him in your arms. “It’s okay, baby, Mommy’s home now.” You turned towards Rafael. “Rafael, this is Inigo. Inigo, this is Rafael.”
“Hi there, Inigo, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
Inigo looked at Rafael, then looked up at you incredulously.
“Mrow?”
“Inigo be nice…I have an idea! Rafael, his treats are in the corner cabinet, 1st shelf.” You pointed towards the kitchen. Rafael ran to your kitchen and came back with the cat treats. He shook a few into his hand and held them out to Inigo. The cat took a tentative sniff, and then gobbled down the treats, even licking the crumbs off Rafael’s fingers. “There, you happy now?” Inigo gave an affirmative “Mrow”, and you put him down.
“Sorry about that,” you said, standing back up and finally taking your coat off. “He can be a little grumpy around new people. Drink?”
“It’s okay, I get it,” said Rafael, removing his coat and suit jacket and draping them over a kitchen chair. “Yes, please, a drink would be great.”
You put your leftovers in the fridge and opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses.  You expertly poured and handed a glass to Rafael. He thanked you, and you took the other glass and motioned towards the living room. “Shall we?” Rafael nodded and followed you to the couch. You both glanced at each other awkwardly, not sure how to begin.
“I guess I should start by apologizing again,” Rafael finally spoke, “and I am truly sorry, Cariño, for everything. I never should have left the way that I did. After the trial, I really believed it was all over. I saw my future and all of my hopes fading away. I couldn’t go back to the DA’s office, couldn’t face the scrutiny, couldn’t face you, couldn’t even face myself. So, I took the coward’s way out, and I ran. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. I convinced myself that I needed time and distance to figure things out, but I wasn’t thinking straight, I know that now. I felt like I was suffocating. Everything was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it…”
“You could have come to me. We could have figured it out together…” You reached for his hand and held it between both of yours. “I never would have turned my back on you.”
“I know that, dear god, do I know that,” Rafael hung his head, tears starting to leak out of his eyes. “I thought I’d be sparing you so much unnecessary pain and humiliation. Knowing that I only caused you more…I’ll never forgive myself. I never should have pushed you away. I’ve spent every moment regretting it.” He turned his head and looked you right in the eye.” I never meant to hurt you; I swear I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” you said, feeling your own fresh round of tears coming on. “Come here.”
You wrapped your arms around him and held him close. He embraced you in return, placing his head on your shoulder. It was so rare for you to see him like this, opening up, letting his guard down, being vulnerable. He was hurting just as much as you were, longing for shelter, longing for an end to all the years of heartache. You gently cupped his face in your hands to that he was looking you in the eye again.
“I forgive you, Rafael, I forgive everything. Deep in my soul, I’ve been so lonely, and I don’t want to live like that anymore, and I don’t think you do either. Still here we are, both of us lonely. Let’s make it last, let’s find a way.”
“Are you saying- “
“Yes, I love you, Rafael, come back to me.”
Your lips found his. The kiss started out soft and gentle, but soon became deeper and more intense. You let go of his face and draped your arms around his neck. Rafael pulled you into his lap, one arm around your back, his other hand in your hair. You both desperately tried to communicate three years of pent up longing and desire without words. Nothing else mattered, just the two of you, in your apartment, and nothing was going to tear you apart again.
“I love you, Y/N,” said Rafael when you finally broke apart to catch your breaths.
“I love you, too, Rafael.”
“Look, I know it’s late, I know you’re weary, but I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to spend another night away from you.”
You kissed him again.
“Then don’t. We’ve got tonight, babe, why don’t you stay?”
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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years
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Number Cannot Be Reached
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Part Five of the Calling Series
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Naughty, Naughty Smut!
You stood in front of the door, biting your lower lip and staring at the message on your phone. You'd been up for hours debating whether or not this could wait until morning. Waking up Steve Rogers in the middle of the was not something you wanted to do. Still, every instinct in your being screamed to do something.
Taking a deep breath, you rapped on the door a couple times and stood back to wait. It only took a moment for Cap to open the door wearing old sweatpants and a tank. He looked half asleep until he got a look at you. His eyes perked up and he stood a little straighter.  
"Y/N," his voice sounded rough with sleep. "Are you okay?"
"I'm really sorry to bother you, but I just need to..." you stalled, not sure how to explain the problem without opening a can of worms.  
“Wait,” he stepped aside. “Please, come in. Sit down.”
Moving over to the sofa, you lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat. “I’m really sorry to wake you, Steve.”
“It’s alright.” He joined you on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”
“Okay,” You rubbed your forehead. “I know that I don’t have clearance to know what Bucky is doing on some of his missions.”
“I don’t really care what he tells you. I trust his judgement.” He shrugged.
“Thanks for that.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. The frown returned quickly. “Thing is, I don’t know what he’s doing this time or where he is. I need to know if you do.”
“Why?”  
“We’ve worked out keeping in touch. Codes for texts. Call times.” You turned in your seat to face him. “This morning he didn’t answer. I send a message, but he never answered. Then he never called when he was supposed to call tonight.”
“Y/N, I’m sure that...”
You cut him off. “Steve, when I tried to call after he didn’t call me, I got this message.”  
Showing him the phone, he read ‘This number cannot be reached. The number may have been disconnected or is no longer in service.’
“I know enough about Tony’s infrastructure. That message would only show up if someone deleted his phone from Stark’s database, if the satellite is totally down, or if someone is ghosting his communications.”
Steve handed you back your phone, his face growing hard.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Something is wrong.” You found yourself holding the phone close to your chest. “Bucky would have told me if he was burning his number. He would have sent a message. Hell, we have a plan for that.”
“What?” Steve stood up to get his own phone from the kitchen counter. “What plan?”
“If I need him and he’s not supposed to communicate, I have a burner phone that I’m supposed to use to text him a bogus confirmation. If it’s medical, I send a prescription refill confirmation. If it’s something here in the tower, I send a spa confirmation. If it’s something else and I need him to call, I send a package delivery confirmation. He uses the same ones, but if he’s going off the grid, he sends me a cancellation of services confirmation. If we use C to confirm in the message, then we can call the burner phone. If we use a number to confirm, then there’s no contact.”
“Wow. You guys have it covered.” Steve dialed the two numbers he had for Bucky. Both kicked back the same message. “Okay, yeah. Something’s not right.”
“Steve. I’m not supposed to know. Bucky wasn’t supposed to set up our communication like he did.” You slumped back into the seat. “I know you’re going to go do everything you can, and I don’t want to put you in a bad situation-”
His hand rubbed your shoulder. “I’m going to make sure you’re kept in the loop. In fact, I’ll go have a talk with Tony about your clearance.”
“Thank you.” You got up and he held out his arms for a tight hug.  
“Try to get some rest. Keep those phones close.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.”
As soon as you left, Steve threw on some clothes before leaving for the command room. The halls were empty and dark, only the building’s AI lighting his way. Upon entering the command room, default start up protocols began booting computers and turning on monitors.  
“Good morning, Captain.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filled the room. “How may I be of assistance?”
“I need an update on Bucky and Clint’s mission.”
“According to their last communique, they tracked Mihov to Tasucu, Turkey anticipating he would lead them to the target within 24 hours.”
“Can you reach Barton?” Steve leaned on the smart table.  
“Agent Barton’s telephone has been deactivated.”
“Other means?”
“No, Captain. His computer’s satellite connection is offline. There are no other mobility devices assigned for this mission.”
“Dammit.”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., begin bio-locator protocol for Agency Barton and Seargent Barnes, authorization Rogers two-one-papa-six-juliet.”
“Yes, Captain. Search in progress.”
He moved to the window, looking out at the night sky. Twenty-four hours. They’d dealt with longer periods off line. At least they had a solid time frame of their disappearance, thanks to the communications arrangement Bucky set up. Still, a lot of ground could be covered in that amount of time.  
“What the hell has you up at this seriously un-godly hour?” Tony walked in.  
“Clint and Buck are missing.” Steve frowned. “Somehow their phones, everything are totally unresponsive to the network.”
“What?” Tony called up a virtual screen, flying through data and system architecture at a pace that made Steve dizzy. “Son of a bitch.”
Cap just gave him a ‘what’ look.
“They weren’t destroyed. I have a damage report protocol on all our toys. They’re not just powered off. I can power them up from here. They’ve just been, wiped. Whoever did this knew what would trigger an alert and how to make them unreachable.” Tony turned fully to Steve. “How did you know?”
Steve lowered himself in a chair. “Y/N.”
He explained the system you and Bucky worked out. Tony chuckled. “Well, the Doc has it down.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We need to talk about her security clearance.”
“Hey,” Tony held up his hands. “I’m the last one to bitch. Do you have any idea how much Pepper knows? That woman could run the world if she wanted to. I’ll back you. Whatever you want to let her in on.”
“We’re going to need to send in an extraction team as soon as we have a location.” Steve chewed his lip.
Tony sighed. “You take care of it. Take whomever you need. I’ll give Rhody a call and we can take care of the Senators.” He tossed a sarcastic grin. “I’ll take them to lunch and watch them have a coronary when I act like I’m going to slide them the bill.”
“Thanks, Tony.”  
“No problem, Cap.” He typed in a few more commands on the interface. “This will kick of the detailed analysis of their mission so far. Locations, contacts, all of it. If you run into anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. can’t provide, have her call me.”
“I will.”
“You going to tell the Doc what’s going on, or wait until you have something?”
“I think she’d rather deal with the facts than be left wondering.” Steve sighed. “I’ll call her.”
o o o o o  
You curled around Bucky’s pillow, but sleep would not come. There could be no doubt that Bucky was counted among the most dangerous people in the world, one of the greatest survivors ever. If something bad happened, every logical argument could be made that if anyone would, survive, Bucky would. You should not be so worried.
Flopping over on your back you stared at the ceiling. Waiting sucked. Doing nothing sucked worse. You weren’t a soldier, or a strategist, or even a technician. Being a doctor proved to be no help in this situation. Waiting sucked balls.
Giving up on sleep altogether, you got up. Pulling on your yoga pants and one of Bucky’s sweatshirts, you moved to the sofa and flipped on the television. It turned on to one of the movie channels. You smiled at the scene.
Inigo Montoya fought Wesley, as the Dread Pirate Roberts, on top of the Cliffs of Insanity.  
You’d shown Bucky this movie a few weeks ago. He laughed at the Pit of Despair and thought Wesley should have just killed Humperdinck. Even explaining it was essentially a children's story, didn’t make a difference. The Prince should have died.
It’d been a great night, relaxed, and curled up on the sofa. He’d always been fine with casual touches in public, a hand on your back, touches on your shoulders, even a chaste kiss. But when you were alone Bucky had two speeds, full on fuck me mode or endless cuddles, No in between. You really wanted to be wrapped in his embrace.  
Lost deep in thought you physically jumped when the phone rang. You answered immediately. “Steve.”
“Hey, Y/N. You were right. The mission went sideways. I’m pulling the team together. If you want to hear what’s going on get up to the command briefing room. Do you know where?”
“Eighty-sixth floor. That’s all I know, I don’t have clearance to be up there.”
“You do now.” Steve assured you. “How long will you be? I can meet you at the elevators.”
“I’m leaving the apartment now.”
As you stepped off the elevator on the high security floor, Steve wrapped his arms around you again, whispering in your ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him home, no matter what.”
“Thanks.” You squeezed him back.  
“Come on.”
You walked into the room where Sam, Natasha, Wanda and Vision waited. They all looked at you with a bit of shock, all except Sam. He got up and met you half way across the room, giving you a brief hug. “Hey Doc, how you holding up?”
“I’m... okay.” You sat down in the seat Steve held out for you.  
“Captain Rogers,” Vision spoke up. “I was not aware that Dr. Y/L/N held a sufficient security clearance for this briefing.”
“Vision.” Wanda shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry, Y/N.”
“She does now.” Steve answered Vision. “In fact, her clearance has been increased beyond this briefing.”
“Very well.” Vision nodded a greeting your way.  
Over the next hour you learned everything about the mission, who Bucky and Clint were chancing down and why. It turned your stomach to think they were searching for someone who was selling reverse engineered space weapons to the highest bidder. Apparently, things went wrong somewhere on the coast of Turkey approximately nineteen hours ago.  
“Captain Rogers.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice interrupted. “I have narrowed down the location of Agent Barton and Sergeant Barnes.”
“Report.”
The AI projected satellite footage of a small town, on the outskirts of which were a complex of modern warehouse and ancient stone buildings. It was approximately one hundred miles inland from where they were last reported.  
The team listened to a detailed breakdown of the area and all potential threats. They asked questions, formulated a search and extraction plan. You barely heard any of it. Your eyes were focused on the image. Bucky was there somewhere.
“Suit up.” Steve stood. “We leave in fifteen.”
He stopped at your seat, “Y/N, do you want to come with us? You can stay at the safe house.”
“Okay.” You stood up, taking a deep breath. “I may not be a trauma doctor, but I could be of use in a pinch.”
“It’s not going to come to that.” Steve squeezed your shoulder.  
o o o o o  
You paced around the room. The clean minimalist design gave you nothing to focus on. Out in the middle of nowhere, Stark’s safe house looked like any other rich industrial mansion, but the interior held secret garages, a quinjet bay, and subterranean levels full of labs, storage and medical bays.  
A tone alerted you to the landing of the quinjet. You ran down to the bay entrance, waiting for the jet to land and the outer doors to close. As the rear ramp to the quinjet lowered, you ran out.  
Natasha and Wanda pushed Clint out on a stretcher. He was unconscious, filthy and had several fresh trauma dressings applied. Steve and Bucky came down next. Your eyes looked on him. A trauma dressing was wrapped around his right arm.  
His blue eyes went from confusion to an unreadable intensity. He strode forward taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard.  
“Doc!” Natasha yelled. “Barton needs help!”
You pulled away from Bucky, eyes locked on his. “Med Room! I’m coming!” You turned and followed them at a run.  
Natasha helped you cut away the clothes from his wounds. He had a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and wound to the back of his head. Evidence of restraint and abuse littered his body.  
“The shoulder is a through and through.” Natasha reported.  
“Okay, let’s focus on the head wound.” You checked his pupils, they were even. Good. Beginning to pull out the mobile scanners, you directed Nat to help you get set up. Soon you confirmed he was lucky. No sub cranial swelling. No skull fractures.  
You had Nat start him on an IV while you began suturing up his head wound. All you could do was stabilize his shoulder and temporarily close up the wound.  
“Y/N?” Steve came in.  
“He’s going to be fine. Lost a lot of blood. He should come around now that we’re getting fluids in him. No lasting head trauma that I can assess with what I have. I’ve immobilized the shoulder, he’s going to need an orthopedic in there sooner than later. He will be okay to fly as soon as we get his pressure back up.” You reported.
“Good.” Steve stepped a little closer. “As soon as you’re done your other patient won’t let anyone else touch him.”
You looked up into Steve’s eyes. Something between worry and amusement looked back at you. “He okay?”
“He thanked me for bringing you, and told me he was going to beat my ass for doing it.” Steve half smiled. “He’s going to need his arm cleaned and taped up until it heals. He wouldn’t let me do it.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.” You pulled off your latex gloves.  
You found Bucky in a room down the hall. It was just like any other basic examine room with an exam table, a wall cabinets, a counter with a sink and more storage. There were no windows, being underground. You locked the door when you came in.
As soon as the lock clicked over, he was on you.  
Bucky’s hands buried in your hair. His mouth crashed into yours, desperately drinking down your kiss. Tongues and teeth, you met his need with your own. He smelled of dirt, sweat and gunpowder. Still, you wanted to drink him down.
His powerful body pinned you to the door, thigh pressing between your legs and practically lifting you off your feet. You pulled at his shirt, desperate for even more contact. Bucky leaned back enough to pull the shirt over his head.  
“Your arm.”  
“Later.” Bucky growled as he tugged your clothes off. “Need you.”
His mouth latched onto your neck. Your breasts pressed into his chest, skin hot. The sound of his breath, the feel of skin, the press of his body, it anchored that he was safe. He was here, in your arms, setting you on fire.  
Bucky dropped to his knees, laying wet open mouth kisses across your belly as he undid and pushed down you pants. You toed off your shoes and he tossed your clothes away. The intense look in his eyes, as he ran his hands up your thighs, over your hips, your breath hitched.
He guided your right leg over his shoulder and growled as his mouth descended on your wet cunt. Bucky’s tongue delved between your folds, lapping up your honey. He sucked roughly at your clit, causing your back to arch and mewls of pleasure to pour from your mouth.
“Oh shit, Bucky.” You panted. “Need you. Yes.”
He suddenly stood, lifting you off your feet and planting your ass on the table. Bucky didn’t even loose the rest of his clothes, he just released his cock. You reached down, stroking him hard. He moaned, pulling you by the hair to possess your mouth again. Hitching your leg over his hip, you rubbed the head of his cock against your wet cunt. He growled.
Grabbing your ass, Bucky pushed into you. Inch by inch, you savored every sensation. The stretch, the weight. Your hands gripped his hair, teeth nipped his lip. “Fuck me, Buck. Hard.”
A raw feral sound erupted from his chest. His fingers dug into your ass, cock slamming into you with raw power. Yes. You just held on. Bucky’s groans and growled breaths filled your ears. “Fuck. Yes. Mine.”  
“Yes!” Fear, worry, anger exploded into overwhelm need. Pleasure tinged with pain swirled through your core, flooding your body in heat. Legs shaking. Fingers pulling at his hair. Skin slapped on skin. Your orgasm hit you hard, fast, sending a flood over Bucky’s cock. He pound into deep as you clenched around him.  
“Oh, shit, yes, Doll.” He panted. Buck press into you hard, hold you against him as he came. “Oh, fuck, yes!”
You clung to each other, not wanting to let go. Your breath slowed. Bucky’s lips trailed gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder. Tears you’d been holding back began to fall, only now they ran down your cheeks with relief.  
Still holding you tight to his chest, Bucky whispered. “How are you here?”
“Steve.” You sighed, rubbing your nose along his neck. “I went to him.”
“I need to thank him,” he breathed. “Then I’m kicking his ass for bringing you into the field.”
The laugh bubbled up from your toes.  
TAGS:
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airlock · 4 years
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alright folks, I’m back for more of those results from the anniversary poll; once again, I’ll be counting them as properly as I can because IS sure as hell can’t, and in the process, I will also judge whether the fans have spoken good choices
this time, we’ll be counting and criticizing the top 15 dancing duos! (disclaimer: I don’t dance. I still will attempt to comment on everyone else’s dancing)
#1: BERKUT & RINEA (9313 votes)
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tumblr won’t let me simply put two images next to each other in a text post, and I can’t be fucked to put them together in such a way that doesn’t make them un-transparent, so I’ll be putting them together with a simple color background; it’s a spot uglier and I will probably fail to spot some wonky pixels, but c’est la vie
anyways, I don’t like it, but like Byleth before, this is a natural afk pick; they’re some of a very small subset of characters in the series that we actually see dancing with each other, in a proper cutscene. a cutscene that, in fact, basically exists to tell us that they look good dancing, so one’s not wrong to vote for them here, I suppose. there are, in fact, a lot of people in this world who are fantastic performers and also would throw their spouses in a fire if they figured it’d make them feel good about themselves again
#2: OLIVIA & INIGO (2474 votes, including Laslow)
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this is actually sweet, though, mother-son dancing duo and all. one thing I do have to mention, though, is that you’d have to hope that our hypothetical dance-off was announced plenty of time in advance, there’s so much that could bring a performance between them crashing and burning if they don’t hash it all out for themselves first
#3: EDELGARD & DIMTIRI (1871 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)
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they sure do look fantastic, dancing with other people with their backs completely to each other,
might as well stuff this strangely popular nothing-of-a-choice with a little additional note: these paired votes are going to be especially harrowing on the split vote front, because any combination of two characters who both have split votes means they can be combined with each other in 4 different ways. like, most people probably won’t combine, say, someone’s PoR self with someone else’s RD self, but properly unsplitting votes in this is going to be a lot more of a challenge. and that’s to say nothing of byleth; there is a whopping 16 different ways to combine Byleth and any one Three Houses character
ETA: I. completely forgot about the thing where edelgard tried to teach dimitri to dance when they were young. okay, that kind of tracks. but also like, whomst the fuck got the idea that whatever they were doing there was building up to elegance
#4: ELIWOOD & NINIAN (1495 votes)
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I’m getting the lingering feeling that this fandom is a lot better at pointing out good dancers than good teachers-
this one’s another amazing pick; sure, not one you have to think a lot about, since they’re oft-shipped and one of them is an actual dancer -- but the beauty of it is that even the ostensible weak link still has much offer, between his flawless elegance and a love of dancing that we at the very least knows is in his lineage
let’s just hope eliwood would still prefer to keep the “special dances” private though-
#5: BYLETH & CLAUDE (1163 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)
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speaking of the ballroom cutscene again, man, Claude sure has left an impression on us all back there-
still, we don’t actually see the dance, and it’s probably better that we don’t -- I wouldn’t bet that Byleth is any more expressive with their moves than they are with their face. there’s really not very much of a reason to vote for this other than wanting to insert yourself into a situation where one dances with Claude. and I mean, mood, but let’s focus, please-
#6: OLIVIA & AZURA (996 votes)
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this is just a copout, though. this is like if I asked you about the best food in your town and you just told me that technically Gordon Ramsey was born there. ooo, hot take alert, two unrelated professional performers can probably put on a decent performance together!
at least their theme colors together make the trans flag, so I’ll give all 996 of you that much-
#7: ALM & CELICA (990 votes)
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was there like an actual thing where they dance, or were people picking this just because they’re good-looking and married? because like, in the absence of evidence, I cannot and will not assume that Alm is a remotely passable dancer.
in fact, here’s the drill: for this section, I can’t actually blame people if they’re just hornyvoting -- being hot is kind of a point-plus for this -- but I can and will blame them if they’re voting for their ships with no regard as to whether they’d look good dancing. so, accusations of hornyvoting shall make way -- to accusations of shipvoting! I believe that’s also going to happen on the other paired category, even if that one is a lot less about the chemistry (presumably)
#8: NILS & NINIAN (884 votes)
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this kind of a copout again, but it’s also a family dance again, BUT most importantly one of these two is not actually a dancer. like, sure, he plays the flute, but this isn’t a flute-and-dance duo poll, it’s a dance poll! although I mean, it does mean he must have a good notion of rhythm, and from the sprites we can definitely tell he’s got a spring in his step when he plays, and Ninian can teach him too, so... maybe? oh well, it’d be cute to see them try
#9: SIGURD & DEIRDRE (790 votes)
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eh, I’m gonna call shipvoting on this one too. like, sure, they’re both hot and they’re in love with each other, but even if you leave aside the likelihood that Deirdre was raised too shelthered to have danced like ever, any dancing they’d know of would be totally incompatible, considering their entirely distinct backgrounds.
I suppose I will lend credence to the idea that Sigurd’s at least experienced as far as dancers go; it’s not like he was studying back at that academy,
#10: BYLETH & EDELGARD (735 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)
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since most of the votes on this are for post-timeskip edelgard, this appears to be unrelated to the ballroom scene, for once
that said, I can’t think of anything to this other than regular shipvoting -- and not even shipvoting of much quality, because besides the above-mentioned on whether byleth can dance, I have a nagging feeling that the kind of dancing Edelgard would genuinely be interested in would be strictly for fun, without any sort of elegance or other things that an outside participant would enjoy watching
#11: TSUBASA & CAEDA & KIRIA & THARJA (687 votes)
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don’t let the fact that I found a transparent tsubasa but not a transparent kiria distract you from the absolute trainwreck that resulted from the naming scheme used in FEH for TMS#FE characters crashing into the notation I’m using for the duos here- ahem, well, please be distracted from both of those things, anyway
assuming this is just between the two mirage users and we’re not talking about the most awkward foursome in history, well... I once again have not played TMS#FE, so uh, they sure are both pop idols and I think people ship them, I guess?
#12: MARTH & CAEDA (596 votes across all appearances)
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I mean... there’s a lot that can be said about their individual qualities and their dynamics, but I have absolutely no idea how any of it would translate into a ballroom. and if we’re any inclined to believe that skill with words and skill with bodily expression tend to be opposite skillsets, then theyyyy are both screwed.
#13: PENT & LOUISE (508 votes)
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I get it, I do. they both look sparkly beautiful and haute and classy and like everything around them is prettier for them being there. but let me categorically tell you that neither of these two dance.
neither of these two dance because one, Pent is an absolute potato, and two, Pent specifically chose Louise because she didn’t try to impress him with a dance.
#14: SAUL & DOROTHY (495 votes)
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regardless of any merits they may or may not have, this is 100% just to get them into heroes, isn’t it. alright, I can respect that
but as for whether they can dance... sure, maybe? Dorothy is full of hidden talents, and Saul has probably tried to dance enough times to guide her along at least
#15: CORRIN & AZURA (476 votes across all genders)
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alas, there’s no way this can work out, because we all know corrin has two left feet.
thank you, thank you! I’ll be here every night!
HONORABLE MENTIONS (highest vote in their continuity, without reaching top 15)
Ike & Soren (344 votes across all appearances): disappointingly, of the stark few Tellius pairs that got on this list, the best-ranked of them is 100% blatant shipvoting. I mean, sure, Ike’s got moves, but Soren?? at least vote Ike & Ranulf you cowards
Eirika & Ephraim (323 votes): first, we’d have to extensively train Ephraim on how to not make this experience entirely embarassing for Eirika, but that can be said of most anything they could do together in public-
Triandra & Plumeria (280 votes): yep, still unfunny. and now all of you 280 assholes are stretching it
Ferdinand & Lorenz (95 votes, possibly with uncounted change): I’m just mentioning them because I’m one of these 95 people. and so should more of you have been! don’t you know elegance when it’s right in front of you? huh? huhhh????
and that’s it, you’ve endured me attempting to talk about dancing for several minutes when I have no knowledge or experience on the subject! I eagerly await your input in my replies and reblogs, especially from those of you who do dance.
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pokemagines · 5 years
Note
hnnh if you're okay w it, could I please request 💔 & 💌 w inigo?? thank you aaa I love ur stuff so much!!
❤ - a yearning text +💌- a confession text
a/n: thank you all for sending in so many !!! LMAO i’ll try to do them all if not i’ll do the first 10 n open them back again later !!! so text memes r CLOSED as of now ^^
[inigo, 1:34 am]: sorry this is so late, but i needed to tell you this... if i don’t tell you now i’m sure i never will
[inigo, 1:35 am]: i love you, [name]. i think i have for a very long time i was just too blind to recognize it. 
[inigo, 1:35 am]: i know you may think i’m joking but i assure you my feelings towards you are so real. it hurts me to think of how much i love you, sometimes.
[inigo, 1:37 am]: if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine too. rejection from you is like the sweetest kiss from any other. 
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morgansmornings · 5 years
Note
ship meme Jayden and Beth
leaves their dirty clothes on the floor:
It was hard to tell who’s clothes belonged to who. Red, greens, and blues clashed with pastel and paisley. Skirts and jeans tossed about being left where they landed. Fabrics of all sorts scattered and making a collage of colour across the dark brown floor that was standard within the dorms of the campus. 
“Beth…. Have you seen my green shirt?” 
Wha kine?
“The green spaghetti strap. I want to wear it for my date tonight.”
A pause, the shift of an over sized sweater being pulled around tawny slender shoulders. 
Nooo…
“Are you lying?” 
Nooo…
“Are you lying about lying.”
Mebbe…
A sigh.
“Blue one it is then.” 
forgets to run the dish washer:Neat freak. Organized. Dishwasher always running both us stairs and down stairs to keep up with the health standards. 
At least that was how it usually was. 
But there were times that the Janissary couldn’t be assed to use Forces or Correspondence to poke one stupid button. It was usually after covert missions where she had the hardest time having the will to do much of anything but breathe. During those times she had given Beth permission to make sure that the mountains of leftovers found homes in the bellies of those that needed it most. 
On this night however, Jay was not as bad off as she usually was. No, this night she was just tired. Prue was off digging into a rumor to see if it was something that she could deal with at a later date or not. So she had the brownstone to herself. Finally a moment to unwind. To come down from the soul crushing pain that was both inflicted to her prey and that she received herself. 
She pulled the dishwasher open, taking a cup from the top rack and poured herself a healthy amount of cold coffee. She reached up and scratched the back of her feeling the grime clinging to her skin. Taking a long pull she immediately turned and spit the mouthful out. 
“God… Damnit.” She held back the sudden urge to gag as the taste of dish soap. 
“I love her… I love her so much Andy…” Jay whipped the back of her hand across her lips. “One of these days, I might strangle her.”
Though it wasn’t Beth’s fault. She did wash the dishes. She just forgot that the dishwasher was there to make things easier. pumps gas for the car:“Onna d’ese days, I’m gonna do it.” Beth said curling her legs under herself to rearrange the knitting supplies she had brought with her. 
“I’ll let you pump gas into the Caddy the day you can see over the wheel kid.” A ball of yarn bounced off the door. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle. With all the powers Beth had it was a miracle she was still the same sweet tiny and innocent soul in the world. Jay was certain that Beth could achieve peace among the others and bring the Wyrm to heel and purify whatever had driven it off the deep end. 
There was some mumbling that Jay chose not to make out because they wee already behind their, her, schedule. It was going to be a long drive to the east coast. Sure Jay could have gotten tickets, but there was not enough tranquilizers to put Beth to sleep long enough to fly that distance. Which is why there was a cruise bound for Hawai’i waiting for them in California. drives when they’re going somewhere:
“And then when we get there… Beth are you even listening to me?” 
“Mm-hmm.” 
“Really?” 
“Mm-hmm.” That was the moment Jayden pulled over into a parking lot. She knew Beth wasn’t paying attention. That much was obvious by how she was leaned against the passenger door with her chin propped on a delicate palm. Green-hazel eyes were glazed over not yet realizing that they had stopped. Jay reached over and took Beth’s hand in hers, tugging gently.
“Hey Tiny Dancer?” 
“Huh?” The Hawaiian turned to look at her best friend over many lifetimes. “Did we stop?”
“Figured we could stretch our legs. And after…” Jay shrugged a shoulder and pulled her hand away leaving the keys in Beth’s hand. 
“But ya alw-”
“I’m tired.” She wasn’t. “Not safe for me to be behind the wheel Tiny Dancer.” 
A light began burning that settled whatever worry had come over the Janissary.
“Copy d’at Rubba Ducky.” 
rearranges the furniture:It was mapped out clearly in her mind. To the point that she could walk around with her eyes closed and not once drop, trip, kick, or stumble over anything. Every item had a place and every item was kept just so. Even when she cleaned. Some called it obsession. Other called it a well maintained lifestyle. 
So when Jayden opened the door and dropped her keys to the floor she knew something was wrong. Looking around her living room, pool table, and most of the bedding from her guest and master bedroom was strewn about. Cushions and fabrics lay draped up over each other and her staircase leading up to the master bedroom floor had been turned into a keep of sorts. 
“Beth?” 
“D’e no be a Beth. Bu’ Lady WiggleWag an’ her fai’ful sworn hound Bitestwice.” 
“Don’‘t forget me!” 
“An’ Lord Noah of da far off lands to the South.” 
“Beth.” 
“Have ya tribute ta lay before mah noble feet?” 
“Beth!” 
“Wha?!” 
“Next time, just text me when you plan on babysitting.” Jay shook her head shrugging out of the leather coat she was wearing. Next came the heeled boot. “But if the Lady, Noble Knight, and High guard dog would allow, the council hath sent me, a humble peasant to bring tribute of cake and cocoa.” 
There was a moment of muttering, hushed giggles, and the soft bouf of Prue before she was answered. 
“Da lord bide ya welcome, stranger. As long as d’ere be ice cream.” 
“But of course.”
falls asleep with the TV on:Beth had always had a hard time sleeping. The Sandman kept away from her and when he did come, so did the Night terrors. Which is why Beth was always working strange hours at the hospital. Or going on late night ride alongs with Luc.  But on occasion there was a movie night. 
And this time, the soft sounds of Beth’s little voice spoke along with Inigo Montoya as he advanced upon the six fingered man. She mimicked his elegant moves with her own hands. Thrust. Parry. Block, slash, parry. Her slender form twisting on the recliner only once nudging the familiar once.
She turned to take Jay’s hand to find the younger woman asleep on the other recliner. one foot thrown over the arm, her head lolled off to the side and one hand still in the mixing bowl of Popcorn and M&Ms. 
“Good Night Jay. I mos’ likely kill you in da mornin’.” gets to use the bathroom first:Pulling herself up and out of the chair every joint she had creaked and popped as protest. Shuffling more in the style of a zombie rather then a human being she headed upstairs for the master bathroom. One hand ran through her hair  to push it from her face. She could already smell the coffee which meant Prue had set it up before the sleep over ended.
Rounding over the last step she could hear her shower going. A raised brow, a deep frown, and one arm crossing over her chest to scratch the back of her shoulder. The Janissary pushed the door open with a yawn. Sitting on the counter, a toothbrush moving with far more vigor than was humanly possible at this early time of the morning. “Dude, did you even sleep?”
“MMM!!” 
“Sorry. Knock first I know. But you’re dressed and a nurse. This isn’t the first time another woman has walked in on you.” “Mmm!” A finger waved way too close to Jay’s face for comfort. 
“Alright downstairs it is. But I’ll remember that the next time you have to piss.” Jay moved just fast enough to dodge the tube of toothpaste. But not the bar of soap that came right after. decides the temperature for the ac/heater:“Beth… it is 89 degrees. How can you be cold?” 
“Please?” 
“Oh.. My Gods okay! Fine!” Jayden flipped the switch for the seats heating coils built into the Cadillac. “Now flip the vents on your side so I can run the AC.” 
“But d’at doesn’t..” 
“Ah! Tch!” A hand puppet came up from the steering wheel. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m hot. Driver gets control that was the deal.” 
“Okay, but ya have any kine blanket?”
A pause. A sigh. 
“For the last time… NO!” sets up holiday decorations:When Christmas comes to town
The lights were strung over all the windows. Garland hung from the banister and the pegs for the stair case. Gingerbread wafted through the air. The Polar Express was playing just loud enough that the girls could sing along.
And all the dreams of the children
Flour coated the front of Jay’s apron, while steady hand folded the shortbread batter together. Small feet galumphed around chasing the clicking of sharp nails. The youngest chuckled at the panicked look in betrayed dark eyes. 
“Don’t look at me, you promised.”  
Once lost will all be found
“Traitor!” A pathetic whine came as the Hawaiian grabbed Prue from behind, with the over sized sweater. 
“Gotcha!”
It took several moments for Beth to bend in ways that would have been painful to others to get the familiar into the human made sweater. It was just this side of Ugly Christmas sweater. The soft fabric all hand woven from well kept and happy Angora Rabbits. 
That’s all I want when Christmas comes to town
leaves the lights on:Prue panted hard and heavy. She was struggling to stay up right but it was hard to do with a gaping hole that the burglar left as a parting gift. The storm raged outside and had knocked the power out a few minutes before hand. Limping across the wooden floor she collapsed not but three feet from the entrance. 
“Jay!” Beth’s voice echoed down the hall from the stairwell. At least that is what Prue assumed as she let out a whine. 
“Beth! Hurry! She’s been shot!” Jay all but sobbed as she dropped to her knees and began petting the dog’s head. 
“I..” 
“Beth please!” 
“Get da flashlights!” Jay nodded and turned on her phone’s light. She was speaking in half words and muted cries of heartbreak. Soon she started getting the mag lights to help illuminate the apartment. Soft but firm hands covered in some kind of gloves started prodding at the wound. Prue whimpered and yowled, but was not willing to snap out. 
“Jay, ya need for get me some candles.” Beth’s voice was a salve to adrenaline fried nerves. 
Minutes, hours it was hard to tell but the power came back on and Both Beth and Jay were sitting on the floor near the couch. Jay’s eyes were bloodshot while Beth’s were sympathetic. Even though all the lights were on, neither moved to turn off the flashlights or put out the candles. 
uses the bathroom with the door open:Beth always had the door closed when she went to the bathroom. It was habit. In through the door, turn, close, lock. When she was done it was unlock, open, and leave. Between the Admiral and her brother it was just a habit that had been instilled into her at a young age.
So imagine the heart attach she had the first time that she came back from class to find their shared bathroom wide open. And a nude Jayden backside pointed towards her. One strong leg propped on the bathroom ledge with razor in hand. 
“I’m sorry!: 
“Oh hey kid. Was wondering where you ran off too. Can you do me a favor and grab me my underwear. I left them on the dresser.” 
“I…” Beth learned and then made Jayden promise to never again, leave the bathroom door open after that. fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber):
Beth reached as far as she could while keeping Jayden pinned onto the couch. It would be the best, fastest, and the least amount of explaining needed. Jay however was of the opinion that He was a last resort call. Plus it wasn’t like he wasn’t already there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to interrupt the squabbling. 
“I said no.” 
“But he’s good.” 
“No. I am not letting that happen.” 
“But d’ats my phone.” Jay put her hand in Beth’s face to try and push her away.
“Ow! Stop with the biting!” 
“Den gimme da phone.” 
“No! I’m not calling Clint!” 
“Good thing I’m standing right here then. Things would get a little awkward if the pipe keeps leaking and you both fall on the floor. Might give the next person the wrong impression.” 
“HOW?!” 
“I texted him before ya took my phone.” Beth said with a victorious tone as she gave a sun-bright smile. 
This Meme: Accepting.Honorable Mention: @brooklynislandgirl and @multi-mused
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aadmelioraa · 6 years
Note
Hi!! I saw your holiday fills and like… yes. Please. Could I request a modern AU with Madi who totally ships it and Parent-Trap style fun ensues?
Thanks for the prompt @montygreens! This turned out a little different than the prompt, bc I ended up making Madi younger than originally planned, but here ya go! Happy Halloween part 2:
“I finished my broccoli, time for candy!” Madi crowed, showing Clarke her empty plate.
“I guess it is!” Clarke chuckled. “Alright, I’m going to clean up, you go get dressed…you have your bucket for candy?”
“It’s on the porch,” Madi called on her way up the stairs, “Let’s go, Mom!”
Clarke quickly tidied up the kitchen and followed Madi upstairs to help her change into her costume.
It was Madi’s first Halloween in their new neighborhood, and Clarke was determined to make it a memorable one. They had decked out the front porch in cobwebs, carved a whole family of pumpkins, and prepared festive cupcakes for Madi’s classmates. Most importantly, they had collaborated to create the perfect costumes. 
Madi’s favorite movie at the moment was The Princess Bride, and her favorite character was Inigo Montoya—she would reenact the fencing scenes for hours, much to Clarke’s amusement. Clarke found her a linen blouse, brown vest, and tiny leather belt that she wore over her favorite leggings. A plastic sword completed the look. Madi had requested that her mom dress as Princess Buttercup, so Clarke found herself a long sleeved red dress that Madi approved. She even, in true mom fashion, let Madi do her hair earlier that day. The braid was rather lopsided, but Clarke loved it.
Since the move several months earlier, Madi had made a few neighborhood friends. A girl in Madi’s second grade class, Ella Green, lived right next door. Ella’s parents—Lincoln and Octavia, both cops—seemed nice enough. Clarke got along very well with them, and Madi and Ella were practically joined at the hip when they were together.
Clarke had made tentative plans with Lincoln to take the girls trick or treating together, so she looked for him as they stepped outside into the crisp October air. Madi instantly smiled when she saw her friend waiting on the sidewalk in front of her house. Ella was wearing a floaty purple dress and sparkly butterfly wings, but instead of standing next to her parents she stood next to an unfamiliar man in a plaid shirt. Clarke frowned, trying to determine his identity as they approached. He was almost as tall as Lincoln, with glasses, dark curly hair and, she had to admit, a nice smile.
The stranger waved to Clarke as they approached. “Hey, you must be Clarke and Madi. I know you were probably expecting Lincoln, but he had a work emergency come up so Ella’s stuck with me for the night. I’m Octavia’s brother Bellamy.” He extended a hand and Clarke grasped it back.
“Oh, ok,” Clarke replied, taken a bit off guard but trying not to show it. She was always a bit wary around strangers, especially since adopting her daughter. “Hi, I’m Clarke Griffin, this is Madi.”
Bellamy grinned down at Madi, who was showing Ella her swordsmanship. “I like your costume, Madi.”
At this moment, Clarke heard her phone beep. She retrieved it from her pocket to read a text from Lincoln.
Lincoln Green 10/31 6:09 PM
Hey Clarke, I got called in for a case and since the wife has to work too Ella’s with her uncle for the night. Just thought I’d let you know since we had plans. Have fun!
Clarke replaced her phone and relaxed a little. Part of her knew it was silly to be so apprehensive. Another part of her also knew she would never cease to be fiercely protective of her daughter. And now, she thought, she was free to enjoy the company of Madi’s friend and her (unfairly attractive) uncle.
“We’re going to start now,” Madi stated matter of factly, and taking Ella’s hand walked ahead, leaving Clarke and Bellamy trailing them at a slight distance.
“Have fun storming the castle!” Clarke called in jest. Madi giggled and Clarke smiled appreciatively.
“Nice costume by the way, princess,” Bellamy commented as they waited for the girls to knock on the door of the first house on their route. “I feel a little underdressed, but this was very last minute, you must understand.”
“You’re forgiven,” Clarke chuckled, giving Bellamy a sly glance as she adjusted the flowing sleeves of her gown. “Besides, this was all Madi’s idea, I can’t take any credit.”
Bellamy chuckled. He had kind eyes and a cute dimple on his chin. Of course Octavia would have a brother even more attractive than she was. And of course he was great with kids. She considered flirting with him in the future, when the kids weren’t around. 
They made their rounds, the girls quickly filling their baskets with candy and growing tired of the growing chill in the air. Ella almost tripped over a tree root on their way home, and Bellamy swept her up into his arms before she could cry, her basket of loot dangling from his elbow.
“Mom,” Madi asked as they approached their house, “Can Ella come over tonight?”
“Yes please!” Ella chimed in, looked up at her uncle with wide green eyes that Clarke was fairly sure he could never say no to.
“Well, it’s not a school night…” Clarke considered, glancing at Bellamy and Ella, “So if it’s ok with Ella’s uncle, it’s ok with me.”
Bellamy caught Clarke’s eye, then grinned down at his niece. “I guess that’s that.”
“Ella and I want to watch Moana,” Madi declared, and Ella nodded. “So you and uncle Bellamy can do something else.”
Clarke chuckled. “Sure, Madi. That sounds fine.”
Clarke set Madi and Ella up in front of the television when they got home, after allowing each of them a reasonably sized ration of their candy.
“You want a drink?” she asked Bellamy, who followed her into the kitchen. “I have a red wine or beer…”
“Beer’s great.”
“Cool,” Clarke grabbed two bottles from the fridge, “That will pair nicely with the halloween candy.”
Bellamy laughed. “I always wondered if parents really did steal their kid’s candy.”
Clarke smirked. “Of course, we take our cut. It’s the best part of Halloween. Besides making the kids happy, of course.” She pulled Madi’s basket towards her. “Alright, good haul this year. Lots of chocolate and no Candy Corn bullshit.”
Bellamy glanced towards the living room to make sure the girls were fully engaged in their movie as he began to sort through Ella’s candy. “Hmmm, she’s got a lot of Reese’s here…trade you for a Snickers?”
Clarke laughed. “How did you know Reese’s were my favorite?”
Bellamy grinned and adjusted his glasses. “Just a hunch. I’ve got to make sure I save the Kit-Kats for O or she’ll never forgive me.”
They spent the next hour or two getting to know each other over a couple drinks, but finally had to admit it was getting late and the girls needed to be in bed. Madi was barely awake, and Ella was already asleep when the movie finished.
“You need help getting her upstairs?” Bellamy whispered, gesturing to Madi who’s eyelashes were fluttering with sleep, despite her will to stay awake.
“I’ll manage, but thanks,” Clarke replied sincerely, brushing her daughter’s hair back from her forehead.
Bellamy gently lifted his niece into his arms for the second time that night, and made his way towards the door. Turning back for a moment, he whispered. “Thanks for the beer. It was nice meeting you, Clarke.”
Clarke smiled. “Nice meeting you too. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
A smile pulled at the corner of Bellamy’s mouth, but he simply replied, “As you wish.”
Anyway, now I really want to go watch that movie and also write a (gender swapped?) Princess Bride Bellarke AU.
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thecreativeangel · 7 years
Text
Dancing (Peter Parker x Reader) Hogwarts AU
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Part four of the Improper series
*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*
Summary: Between the upcoming Yule Ball and the completely biased new Daily Prophet column, you still find time to fight with Peter on most everything. 
Warnings: Swearing, attempted assault, Peter being a little bitch... 
Words: 2,570
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“What is this rubbish?”
You peered over the paper Abigail was reading, eyeing the bold Daily Prophet title wearily. She rolled the newspaper shut and thrust in in your hands, tapping her foot under the table rapidly. You flipped through pages until she gave another growl, signalling this page was the one. Scanning the article became harder and harder with each word that you read, every paragraph more unbearable than the last.
“Followers of the Dark Arts and believers in blood purification may have found their way into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” You read aloud, that sentence alone grabbing Erin and Keira’s attention. “‘The Ministry suspects that they are the children of Voldemort’s old followers, influenced by their wicked parents’ says Teah Craffmann, senior undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. ‘They were most likely chosen to be in the same house as their parents, further influencing them to become the next generation of renegade witches and wizards.’”
Erin blinked twice, processing the information. “Did they imply what I think they did?” She asks menacingly, ripping the Daily Prophet from your hands and spreading it out on the table between her and Keira.
“Concerning Hogwarts,” Keira quotes. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is yet to be apprehensive about the subject, but sources admit they have gotten reports that the rush of interest in blood purity and Dark Art practices may have spread to more than one house.”
“They’re barmy!” You exclaim hotly.
“Of course they’re barmy, it’s the Daily Prophet!” Erin cries. “So are they really-”
“Yup,” Abigail confirms, snatching the paper back. “The entire article is just one big conspiracy by the D.M.L.E. to lowkey say ‘Hey, those kids that like the Dark Arts are all in Slytherin.’”
“Don’t forget them saying this might span more than one house.” You remind sourly. “‘By the way-Ravenclaw seems to be friends with Slytherin so fuck it, they’re guilty too.”
“Get Michelle and Stella over here, they need to see this.” Erin says, pulling out her phone to text them.
“You don’t need to,” Abigail warns, scanning the Great Hall, her eyes flicking from one table to another. “Look.”
You followed her gaze, dread seizing you. All across the hall students were also reading the paper, flipping through its pages. Some were already looking over at the Slytherin table with skeptical eyes. Over at the Gryffindor table Peter was squinting over Inigo’s shoulder to look at the Daily Prophet. You watched Inigo slap the newspaper down on his empty plate and grin with glee, pointing out something to Peter. Your heart sank down to your feet but somehow managed to beat a thousand times per half minute.
“It’s too late,” Erin says, laying her phone down. “Mick says everyone at the Ravenclaw table saw, and Merlin knows they figured out what all the fancy wording means.”
Her phone dinged and another text popped up on the screen. “...And Stella says the Hufflepuffs figured it out too.” Erin informs with a tight tone. “...And the Gryffindors overheard.”
Keira gives a dry laugh. “Awesome.” She says, layering the sarcasm on thick.
Erin checked her phone again. “Stella’s asking if it’s true.”
“It’s probably a fake created to fill up a page in the Daily Prophet,” Abigail says, glaring at the paper like it bit her. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Absolutely great timing, as usual. Can’t wait ‘till the other houses start teasing us about this.”
Students began to file out of the Great Hall so you and your friends stood up first, eager to go.
“So it’s true,” A pleased voice behind you announces. “The weirdos who like Dark Arts have spread from Slytherin to Gryffindor. I told Pete, but he wouldn’t believe me.”
You tense up instantly and slowly wheel around to face Inigo. “Didn’t you love the Daily Prophet today?” He taunts, blocking your way. “Peter seemed to enjoy it, didn’t you Pete?”
Peter passed you to stand Inigo’s side, his face completely unreadable. “Enjoy isn’t the right word,” He says stiffly, watching you closely. “She chose her friends, not me.”
“C-Chose?” You sputter, a couple actives higher than intended. Tempers were rising fast; you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool for long. “The bloody hell you mean I chose my friends? What d’you think, being around him is a good influence.” You jabbed your thumb at Inigo.
“You are in no position to judge my choice of companionship.” Peter deflects, still serene and poised. That angered you like nothing else; him being so impassive.
“Why is that, eh mate?” Erin asks venomously.
“Because she’s surrounded by freaks idolize the Dark Arts.” Inigo states. Peter looks ready to say something but closes his mouth. “Merlin, and I thought you couldn’t get any creepier. Cruciated anyone lately?”
“No, but I’m about to.” Abigail threatens, her hand darting to her pocket.
Erin pushes you away from Inigo and Peter, leaving them standing there. She had to grab Abigail by the collar to prevent her from pulling her wand out and hexing Inigo in the middle of the hall.
“Not now Abby…” Keira whispers through clenched teeth. Abigail tried to wrench herself from Erin’s grip but the latter held on tightly.
“Just one spell!” Abigail snarls, starting to swirl her wand to cast a spell. “I could stuff his body in the closet and no one would notice! Peter too for hanging out with him!”
Erin snatched Abigail’s wand away and held it above her head. “Or we could go to the secret room and chill there,” She suggest. “Find Mickey and Stella so we can go steal popcorn from the elves. My mum sent me another Muggle movie, should be great.”
Abigail grabbed for her wand. “But -”
“It’s fine, Abby,” You reassure. “I’m tired of thinking about Peter, anyway.”
The Yule Ball was today. Right now, to be exact. ‘Yule Ball’ were two words that made you want to roll your eyes and scream into a pillow. It was just an excuse for unreasonable amounts of drama, which definitely came. You had a dress and all that, but the outfit was the least of your worries. Michelle, you and Abigail practically begged Professor McGonagall to let the group skip, but she wouldn’t budge. Something about “good school spirit” and “getting out more”.
“Erin, Keira and Stella don’t have to come,” Abigail grumbles, staring down at her shoes. “Lucky little-they’re only a bit sick too! Probably just their excuse to ditch.”
“We could run for it,” Michelle suggests, looking very uncomfortable in her dress. “The library doesn’t close until nine. If we hide in the bathroom that’s cool too. I’m down with anything but this.”
You wished that were possible. There were so many things that could go wrong. To put it simply, you plus the Gryffindors who hate you and the tension between houses, minus strict supervision of a teacher equals... Me, probably dead, bleeding out on the floor. 
The three of you were already late and the doors to the Great Hall were closed. While reaching out to tug them open, Abigail stopped you. “I wasn’t kidding (Name). I don’t want to do this. Let’s find a good hiding place and stay there.”
You swat her hand away and begin to pull the door open. “We’ll make it. It’s just a couple hours,” You say. “Stay together, remember?”
Abigail heaves an overdramatic sigh. “Fine.”
The heavy door is swung open and light from the corridor streamed into the dark room. Everyone nearest to the exit froze in place, disrupted by the late arrival. You took a step forth, and then another, and another until your legs carried you into the Great Hall. There was a silence and then; Abigail shut the heavy oak doors, and everything went back to normal.
Michelle gave a low whistle of approval. “They went all out this year, huh?”
You could only gawk at the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling was showing a dark starry sky, the bright moon illuminating the room a gentle silver. The brick arches were turned to towering trees, the marble floor was soft grass. If you squinted you could see the little balls of floating light were fairies, peacefully drifting from one person to the next. Water cascaded off a stone fountain in the center of the Great Hall, splashing into a pond surrounded by lush greenery. A band you didn’t know played on stage as everyone danced to the beat.
Abigail tapped your shoulder. “Corner?”
You nodded before spying Peter twirling Liz Allan around near the stage. I’m not jealous. They looked so happy. What even is jealousy? Peter laughed at something Liz said. Never heard of it, never felt it… Liz leaned in and kissed Peter on the cheek. Okay, that’s enough torture for a lifetime.
Most of the Yule Ball is passed in the following activities: Abigail would carry plates of food to the small uncrowded corner that you found, Michelle would complain that there were too many pop songs playing, you would agree with her and silently hope they played some alternative rock. After half an hour of peppy pop songs the music changed to Nirvana.
“Oh thank Merlin.” Michelle yells over the noise, pulling you to the dance floor. “I was about to throw up.”
You swayed to the song, albeit somewhat awkwardly, but were slowly becoming more relaxed. Michelle was mouthing the words to “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, a constant smile on her face. You excused yourself to go get a drink and strolled over to the drinks table, pouring butterbeer into your goblet. 
A pair of hands latched onto your arm, causing you to spill some butterbeer on the floor. You assumed it was Abigail or Michelle, you prayed it was them, but the hands held on too tightly. They began to drag you from the ball, out of the Great Hall. You screamed at the person but one hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling the cries. They shoved you into a broom closet, slamming the door. You could feel their breath on your face, smelling strongly of firewhiskey.
“Geroff!” You yell, grabbing his (you figured out it was a boy) shoulders and shoving him against the wall. The broom closet was so small he only stumbled back an arm's length, clumsily falling on an old Cleansweep, snapping it in two. You scanned the person, remembering him from your bathroom encounter with Inigo. He was the same burly brunette who slammed your head against the mirror. The boy didn’t speak but pinned your arms above your head before you could punch him. He grabs the skirt and pulls it up, revealing a good portion of your legs.
“I said get off! I’ll tell McGonagall! I’ll have you expelled!” Your voice is slightly hoarse and all of you is revolted when his hand moves farther up your leg.
The door bursts open and the boy’s hand drops down off your thigh. “Petrificus Totalus!”
Your attacker falls to the ground, arms and legs pinned to his sides, stiff as a board. Peter stands with his wand raised, his face contorted in rage. You realize you’re panting and lean on the wall, not wanting to face Peter yet.
“Are-are you okay?” Peter asks, stuffing his wand in the pocket of his dress robe.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” You challenge, stepping over your attackers stiff body.
“Didn’t you have yo-”
“No, I didn’t have my wand!” You snap hotly. There was little fear in you, just anger and frustration. “He jumped me! He jumped me and I couldn’t do anything!”
“Bran’s drunk. I told Inigo it wasn’t a good idea to bring firewhiskey.” Peter says bitterly and slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s picking out the right words to say. You know that. “It’s not his-”
You growl like an animal, lip curling up in a scowl. “Don’t tell me it’s not his fault!” You snarl fiercely.
Peter’s hands ball into fists inside his pockets. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, no, no. I heard you. You were going to say it wasn’t his fault.” You step on the boy’s sleeve, twisting it under your shoe. “How can you say that? How can you defend him?”
“You defended your friend when she punched you.” Peter grumbles, thinking you wouldn’t hear him. He thought wrong.
“Are you still on about that?” You marvel at his pettiness, your chest growing tight. “That was last year. How can you compare Erin to this twat?”
You prod Bran’s cheek with the toe of your ankle boot, moving his head to the side. “He was going to-to abuse me!” You shout and stomp down on Bran’s face, hearing his nose give a satisfying crack. Raising your foot again, you kicked the side of his head as hard as you could.
“What are you doing?” Peter yells, grabbing your arm and throwing you out of the closet, away from Bran. A trickle of blood was flowing out of Bran’s nose and pooling near his mouth.
“I’m, I-dammit I don’t know!” You sputter feverishly, throwing his hand off our arm. “He deserved it! He deserved being hurt!”
“That’s out of order.” Peter says, dangerously calm. “You can’t kick him like that for anything.”
“I’ll do what I want!”
“My god-you’re supposed to be brave and selfless, not-”
“Not what?” You ask shrilly.
“Cruel, inconsiderate, temperamental, dense, tactless…” Peter says. “The list goes on! You. Are. A. Gryffindor. Start acting like one.”
You stand there, processing his words. Angry red blotches appear on your cheeks, your entire face heating up as the anger set in. “And you were supposed to be my friend!” You bellow, blinking rapidly.
It takes a moment for you to cool down. You look straight forward and set your jaw, glowering at him. “Peter Parker, you are a shit friend.”
And then you ran. Past him, past Bran in the closet, past the closed doors to the Great Hall until your feet were splitting and only stopped when you reached the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the carpet with your feet tucked under your legs. One of the robes you lost is laying neatly folded on the couch, probably found by a house elf. You reach over and snatch it, pulling it into your lap. Peter’s words swirl around your head, repeating over and over again like a chant. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. The pad of your thumb glides over the sewn on Gryffindor crest on the robe. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. You clutch the robe tighter, resisting the urge to throw it in the fire.
If being a Gryffindor means being like Inigo or Peter… You tear the crest from the robe and chuck it in the fireplace, watching it smoke and curl at the edges, turning ashy and black.
Then I will never be one.
The next morning you thump down the stairs before anyone else even woke up to retrieve the robe you forgot on the floor. In your fury and tiredness, it slipped from your memory to take it back last night. You slide on the carpet, still in your pajamas and fuzzy socks to see the robe yet again folded, sitting on the coffee table. Picking up the article of clothing and inspecting it, you conclude it wasn’t jinxed or tampered with as a prank and everything seems normal, except for one thing-
A new Gryffindor crest was sewn back on the front. You frown, having mixed feelings about the house elves fixing the garment. It wasn’t until breakfast later that day you realized that the crest was sewn on rather poorly, and that no house elf worked past dark yesterday.
Tag: @madithemagicalfangirl, @makaylahoran,  @girlygirlbishop, @kaitlynthehuman, @inelasco, @mcheung0314, @damnedangel98
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toomanyfeelings5 · 7 years
Text
happy, part 5
drama! intrigue! sexual tension!  
the fic continues. here’s a post i made that links to the other parts.
9. the door closes. there’s a long, embarrassed silence. 
then, finally, after a brief cough:
“sorry about that.”
rosamund doesn’t look up from her laptop. she has a fashion design exam tomorrow morning. “no problem.”
chelsea doesn’t take the hint. she keeps talking. rosamund hears her shift from foot to foot. “no really, that wasn’t cool. i should’ve, um, texted you or something--”
rosamund shakes her head, sits straighter at her desk, skims the title of an article she has to review. “just let me know next time. it’s alright.”
chelsea almost says something, mutters under her breath, and then she asks, “are you sure?”
textile design in the industrial age: a comprehensive summary. that’s the article she has to review. she leans closer to the laptop--the text is tiny.
she tries to read, but she can’t focus, not really. chelsea doesn’t answer her texts promptly. chelsea hadn’t bothered to tell her that she had someone coming over. chelsea hadn’t bothered to answer when rosamund had texted her to ask if she could use the room to study. chelsea hadn’t even bothered to lock the door when her and some girl decided to make out on her bed and--and-- 
the other thing is that chelsea’s half of the room is decked out in punk aesthetic--band posters, embroidered patches, a guitar rosamund hasn’t ever seen her play--it’s a disaster. an absolute disaster. 
rosamund squeezes her eyes shut. she doesn’t want to think about opening the door, about seeing her roommate half-dressed in an entirely new context, about any of it. she opens her eyes. it was just a lack of communication. that’s all. she’s just tired from schoolwork. chill. she needs to chill.
rosamund says, “it’s fine.”
chelsea probably runs a hand through her dark hair--it’s probably a mess, all tangled and loose--but rosamund doesn’t know for sure, because rosamund stares at her laptop. rosamund does not look at her. eventually, chelsea apologizes one more time, gets the hint, and leaves to get dinner with friends. 
rosamund gets an A on her exam. she grips the paper tight in her hands, and it still doesn’t feel like a victory. 
10. it’s been a month since dorming with chelsea beatrice, and thankfully, there has only been one other time in which chelsea forgot to text her about having "a friend” over.
chelsea doesn’t have hook-ups over often--she doesn’t seem to hook up with a lot of people anyway. mostly she skypes with her grandma and her mom and her younger sisters, hikes on the weekends, and has her artsy-music-STEM friends over occasionally, and ok, rosamund has to admit it: chelsea isn’t an awful roommate. not ideal--the sex pistols, really?-- but not awful.
there’s one friday night in early october when they both finish all of their work around the same time--this is a bit of a minor miracle, since chelsea double-majors in physics and political science, and rosamund double-majors in business and fashion--and chelsea suggests that they watch the princess bride to celebrate. 
“you said it’s one of your favorites, right?”
“yeah,” rosamund smiles, pleased that chelsea remembered. “yeah, it is.”
“cool, it’s one of mine too. let’s watch it.”
it’s all well and good, sitting on rosamund’s bed, watching the princess bride on chelsea’s bigger laptop, until chelsea points to the screen when the dread pirate rogers makes his first appearance and says, “you know, i think that this movie would be a lot better if wesley was a girl.”
rosamund frowns. “i....suppose that would be nice--”
“i mean--” chelsea pauses the movie, waves her hand. “i mean like, wesley is a super hot guy, don’t get me wrong.”
rosamund nods, because of course, of course he’s a super hot guy.
chelsea continues. “so like, wesley was one of my biggest crushes when i was little, but i also totally loved buttercup. and my point is that the princess bride should have had wesley be a girl. it’d have the whole True Love theme be so...revolutionary, and...” her voice quiets. she picks at the sleeve of the weathered leather jacket she wears all the time. “i think i really needed that kind of stuff, when i was a kid.” 
rosamund hums. “yeah.” she shifts slightly. she doesn’t know what to say, has never known what to say when things like this come up. “can we keep watching?”
“yeah, let’s do it,” chelsea enthuses too quickly.
rosamund wants to enjoy watching it, and in some ways she does: she likes laughing with chelsea at all of the funny parts, she likes telling chelsea her favorite moments. 
the problem is that she gets distracted whenever wesley and buttercup hold hands or kiss or say, “as you wish,” because rosamund keeps picturing wesley as a girl, and she she shouldn’t want to, and it’s distracting. 
the movie ends, rosamund almost flinching when wesley and buttercup kiss for the last time, and chelsea leans back against a few makeshift pillows after she’s put her laptop away. “man, that’s a classic. fezzik and inigo are totally married.”
“totally.” rosamund lets loose a laugh, a bit higher than her normal one, but at least she knows exactly how to talk about this. “my brother fred says the same thing! his friend max always says that wesley and inigo should’ve ended up together.”
“oh my god,” chelsea grins, and she shifts slightly closer to rosamund: when had she moved away? why is she so much more relaxed now? “oh my god, wesley and inigo! i hadn’t thought of that.”
“yeah, fred and max argue about it a lot.”
“it’s worth arguing about!”
they chat about it some more, and they talk about the costuming in the movie, and the sword fight choreography, and eventually chelsea nudges rosaumund’s shoulder and asks, “hey, you’re taking dance classes, right?”
“yeah,” rosamund says, raising her eyebrows. “why do you ask?”
“oh, well, you know.” chelsea adjusts her thick-framed glasses. “do you need a partner still? you were saying something about it to your friend dana--?”
“oh right,” rosamund says, frowning slightly: since when did chelsea remember so much about her, or care? “yeah, i need a partner for next week. we’re practicing the waltz.”
“cool,” chelsea almost mumbles, and stares at her hands. “i just--i did a lot of ballroom dancing when i was younger, and i’m looking to get back into it i guess. i hope it’s not weird or anything, but--” she looks up at rosamund, plaintive, and asks, “but is it ok if i’m your partner? for next week?”
rosamund raises her eyebrows, feels her shoulders tense. she had been planning to ask robert or emmanuel or jason, guys from the dance class, or even luke from the student association, but chelsea...well, she’s apparently an experienced ballroom dancer. it might be useful. 
“i suppose--yes, that would be nice of you.”
“awesome,” chelsea beams. “thank you so much, i’m so excited to get back into dance--i’m a little rusty but i shouldn’t be too awful--”
“not a problem, i have two left feet most of the time anyway--”
“so i could teach you,” chelsea laughs, and rosamund shakes her head: chelsea had never teased her before. are they friends now instead of semi-cordial roommates?
chelsea is expecting a response, so rosamund says quickly, “i’ve always wanted to learn to dance. i’m just not very good at it so far.”
“that’s alright,” chelsea shrugs easily. “you’ll pick up on it the more you do it.”
“yeah. practice makes perfect.”
“eh,” chelsea shrugs again. “perfect isn’t the goal anyway.”
rosamund’s not sure what to say to that, and then she feels inept about it, so she’s almost grateful when chelsea changes the subject and asks, “is it ok if i have a girl over next week? i’ll definitely text you in advance and we won’t be long, i--”
“alright.”
chelsea frowns. her voice cools. “you’re doing that thing again.”
rosamund’s jaw twitches. “what thing?”
“that thing where you freeze up whenever i mention being with a girl.” chelsea squints. her brown eyes harden. “you didn’t do that when i brought a guy over.”
rosamund opens her mouth, closes it. her face is heating up, she can feel it. her nails dig into her palms. “i’m not prejudiced, if that’s what you’re asking. i don’t care who you have relations with--”
“i’m not saying you’re a total biphobe,” chelsea interjects. “jeez, i’m not saying that at all. i’m just....look, i have to ask: do you have a problem with me being bisexual? do you have a problem with me being with a girl?”
“no, no of course not!” rosamund smiles slightly, because this is a ridiculous line of questioning. there’s a stab of guilt in her chest--she sees max at his first pride--but she elects to ignore it this time. why does everyone keep asking her this? why does everyone assume that she’s--that she’s--“i have no problem with you being bisexual, or being with girls or guys or otherwise or whoever you want to be with. my brother’s gay, and max is basically my second brother and he’s gay, and i’m--”
“ok,” chelsea raises her hands. “ok, i get it. sorry for asking, it’s--i’ve had shitty people say shitty things to me before, and i wanted to make sure, that’s all.” her tone remains light and casual, but rosamund feels the air still when chelsea continues. “when you, uh...when you walked in on georgia and i, you’d looked--”
“terrified?”
the word slips out of her mouth, stark and open in the air.
rosamund wishes very much that chelsea would move away so their shoulders are no longer touching. she needs her space. she needs to control herself.
“i was going to say horrified,” chelsea says slowly, frowning slightly. she does not move away. “which like, yeah, it was an awkward situation--sorry again--but like, anyway. glad this is all behind us now. rosamund vincy is the one true ally, everyone.”
irritation prickles up her spine. “guess i am.”
“there it is,” chelsea mutters. “there’s that tone again.” a long pause. rosamund takes a tiny breath. she hadn’t realized she’d been holding it for so long.
in a quiet voice, chelsea asks, “why did you say you were terrified?”
rosamund forces herself to uncurl her fists. “i was surprised, that’s all.”
chelsea stares.
rosamund changes the subject. chelsea is getting way too TMI. “i’ve never danced with another girl before.”
chelsea startles, face no longer closed off. “what?”
rosamund nods rapidly. “i mean, i’ve danced with groups of friends before, but never one-on-one.” she doesn’t know why she feels this urge to prove herself, why there is this angry, heated feeling building in her chest, but she lifts her head and stares at chelsea and tells her, “i guess you’ll have to teach me.” 
chelsea makes some sort of spluttering, strangled noise, and rosamund smirks a little: finally, chelsea’s the one at a loss for words.
she doesn’t realize that she’s been leaning towards her until chelsea manages, “i guess i will,” breath hitting her face.
rosamund’s smirk grows wider. “good.”
“yeah?” chelsea’s voice is low. she is looking at her in a way she never has before, and rosamund--rosamund thinks of chelsea looking at georgia--she thinks that this is a similar kind of gaze, that maybe--
slowly, carefully, chelsea murmurs, “do you want me to teach you?” 
she is so close. rosamund sees the mole on her neck, the collection of freckles near her right eye. rosamund swallows, her entire body warm and tense and waiting--her hand grips the lapel of chelsea’s jacket, and chelsea is so close, chelsea is going to kiss her--
rosamund jolts back, yanks her hand away.
chelsea, dazed, hoarse: “what--?”
there’s a loud buzzing in rosamund’s head. her hands are shaking. she’s trembling all over, god, what was she thinking, what was she thinking, what was she thinking--
“i have to go.”
rosamund doesn’t hear chelsea’s reply, doesn’t sleep in the dorm that night--she stays with dana, dana has space on her couch, dana has lots of beer she’s more than happy to share--and rosamund doesn’t look back. 
“so why, exactly, do you plan to move into my spacious, bodacious single?” fred’s voice is too loud and too demanding and too annoyed for rosamund’s hangover right now, so she snaps, “my roommate and i had creative differences,” and that’s the end of it. rosamund texts chelsea goodbye, that it was nothing personal, that she’s dropping dance class because it’s too time-consuming, and she moves into fred’s that saturday morning. 
that’s the end of it. 
she ignores chelsea’s phone calls and texts. she ignores the static in her head, the ringing in her ears, how her lungs feel constricted, how it’s difficult to breathe sometimes--there are marks on her palms from her nails digging into them, from making them bleed--
she goes by rosy now. it’s shorter, it’s what fred calls her time. rosamund is too stuffy. rosamund is too proper. who’s going to marry someone named rosamund? rosy is easy, rosy is girlish, rosy is confident, rosy is fun. 
eventually rosy hears about a video project fred is helping out with, about a handsome, brilliant pre-med student named thomas lydgate who, according to dana, has spent the past semester in london and who has recently returned to middlemarch. she thinks of her list--1. find the man of your dreams--and that’s the end of it. rosy beams into the camera lens for the fifth time in a row. it is. 
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betheal · 3 years
Text
You're asking me if I've finished my essay and I said no. You asked why I haven't when it's been two days since I told you I started. How do I tell you that I've spent majority of those two days thinking about you?
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unassumingvenusaur · 7 years
Text
So, hey! Aaages ago I claimed Cynthia/Kjelle, and I did end up submitting it, but it was right in the middle of the Floranslaught (Floravalanche? Florapalooza?) so it might’ve gotten lost? And then I got kinda nervous so I didn’t submit it again for a while;; But here it is now!
A note: I based this on the idea of them both having fangirls. For Cynthia, that’s revealed in her Inigo C support. But for Kjelle, I first read it in the trivia section of one of the wikis, but when I skimmed through her supports, I couldn’t seem to figure out where it was revealed in the text? It’s (hopefully) not too implausible anyway, though - Fire Emblem certainly seems to take the view that all girls are really gay for butch girls in general, anyway. :P
C Support
(“Eeee! It’s her! It’s really her!”)
Cynthia: Hehe, hey girls! Back again today, huh?
(“We love you, Cynthia!!”)
Kjelle: *enters* …Cynthia.
Cynthia: Hey, Kjelle! Come here to train, too? We should team up!
Kjelle: I did. But there’s a more pressing issue right now…
Cynthia: What do you mean?
(“Oh Gods! It’s Kjelle too! I knew we’d see her!!”)
Kjelle: …what, precisely, are all these girls doing here?
Cynthia: Ahah, well… I guess I kinda tend to get a lot of fan mail, from place to place?
Kjelle: As do I.
Cynthia: Ooh, I thought so!
Cynthia: Well, anyway, since we’re camped pretty close to a city this time, I guess word got ‘round!
Cynthia: So, they’re here to see us!
(“They’re talking!! I can’t hear, what are they saying?!”)
Kjelle: They’re certainly…enthusiastic.
Cynthia: Haha, yeah…
Cynthia: But, don’t you think it might be kinda fun, actually? We could show them all our coolest moves!!
Cynthia: Having such an immediate audience could really help me work on my poses!
Kjelle: …I really don’t care about that at all. Having so many people gathered around is quite tiresome.
Kjelle: But if they’re going to be watching anyone, it’s probably better that they’re watching us.
Kjelle: They’ll be able to learn what true strength looks like.
Cynthia: Exactly! The opportunity we have to inspire all of these girls is amazing!
Cynthia: So, what do you say? Work-out buddies?! Kjelle: …just this once.
Cynthia: Yay!
B Support
(“Is Kjelle here yet? I really hope we see her again today…”)
Kjelle: *enters* Cynthia.
Cynthia: Hey girls! We’re both back here again!
(“They’re standing together!! They’re so gorgeous I can’t breathe…”)
Kjelle: …over the past few days I’ve noticed something.
Kjelle: These girls… aren’t interested in our training at all.
(“Cynthia’s so cute, she’s a perfect partner to a cool girl like Kjelle!”)
Cynthia: Hm?
Cynthia: Oh, I guess not. They’re more interested in the two of us, really!
Kjelle: *sigh*
(“Are they fighting?! I don’t think my heart could take that…”)
(“But they’re so perfect together! They must be a couple!”)
Kjelle: …wait, what was that?
Cynthia: Ehe, they’ve really gotten into it!
Cynthia: Hey girls! Having fun over there?!
(“Ahh, She’s talking to us!! You guys are totally dating, right?!”)
(“Kiss her! Kiss her!!”)
(“Kiss!” “Kiss!” “Kiss!”)
Kjelle: What?! There’s no-
Kjelle: Mmph!
Cynthia: *kisssss*
(“Oh Gods! Oh gods!! They’re kissing!!! CynKjelle is real!!!”)
(“This is the greatest day of my life!!!”)
Kjelle: Mf- Cynthia! You’re coming with me. Now.
Cynthia: That’s right, girls! If you work hard and always keep up the fight for justice, you too could meet the girl of your dreams!!
*scene transition*
Kjelle: Cynthia. What the seven hells was that?!
Cynthia: Huh? I just…
Kjelle: Encourage your own annoying fangirls all you want, but I have no interest whatsoever in taking part.
Cynthia: Oh… oh! Oh Gods… I’m so sorry!
Cynthia: I just got so caught up in the moment… I didn’t think at all! Kjelle: No. You didn’t.
Cynthia: I’m sorry… I promise I won’t do that again!
Kjelle: See to it.
*Kjelle leaves*
Cynthia: Oh man…
A Support
Kjelle: *enters* Cynthia.
Cynthia: Ack!!
(*crash*)
Kjelle: …are you done?
Cynthia: Sorry, you just… startled me.
Kjelle: You’ve been avoiding me.
Kjelle: And considering how loud you always are, it’s pretty obvious.
Cynthia: Oh…sorry.
Cynthia: I just still feel so bad for what I did before. I should never have kissed you without asking you first.
Cynthia: It was an awful violation of your boundaries. It’s not what a hero would do.
Kjelle: Hm? I don’t care about that at all.
Cynthia: You – what?
Kjelle: Oh, please. I’m not some wilting farm girl. I’ve faced attacks from some of the crudest and most brutal enemies known to Ylisse.
Kjelle: I can handle one single little kiss.
Cynthia: Oh. Then…what were you mad about?
Kjelle: I was mad that you drew me in to your silly, unnecessary sideshow!
Kjelle: I was willing to tolerate those girls as long as they might be able to learn what a proper soldier looks like.
Kjelle: But they have no interest in that whatsoever. Only the stupid fantasies of weaklings.
Cynthia: …is that what you really think about them?
Kjelle: Yes. They are weak. I am not going to encourage that.
Cynthia: Don’t say that about them.
Kjelle: What?
Cynthia: Call them annoying, or silly, or invasive, or loud, or whatever else. But don’t call them weak.
Cynthia: I mean, what do you expect them to do? Just conjure up a suit of armour and single-handedly enlist on the spot?!
Cynthia: These girls are just villagers, y'know?! They don’t have the money for that!
Cynthia: Not to mention, like, families! Even children! And farm stuff to take care of!
Cynthia: They haven’t got time to spend six hours a day doing push-ups, or whatever it is you do every morning!
Cynthia: They watch us because we give them a glimpse into the life they could lead. The heroes they want to be, but can’t.
Kjelle: …you know an awful lot about them.
Cynthia: Yeah. Because they’re the people we’re trying to protect, you know?
Cynthia: What’s the point of all this if we’re not actually helping people or making the world a better place?
Cynthia: Working to make peoples’ lives better… And serving as an inspiration to keep everyone’s spirits high…
Cynthia: That’s what I mean by 'true strength’.
Kjelle: …I have to admit, I didn’t expect this from you. I admired your ability in battle, but I never knew you had this fierceness in you.
Cynthia: Well, yeah. I know you think it’s silly, but being a hero of justice… that’s what it means to me, deep down.
Kjelle: I underestimated you. I apologise.
Kjelle: And… I will concede that you have a point. I…may have been too harsh, earlier.
Cynthia: Well, I got someone to shoo them away, so you won’t have to deal with them any more, anyway. No more yelling, no more training buddies.
Kjelle: I’m very grateful for the former.
Kjelle: But I see no reason why we can’t continue to train together, on our own.
Cynthia: Really?! Hehe, yay!
S Support
Cynthia: Hey Kjelle! Ready to begin our morning training?!
Cynthia: Ooh, you look mad already. Meet some dumb boy on the way? Kjelle: Not this time. Ugh, on my morning run I happened to see another one of those fangirls.
Cynthia: Oh no! What’d she say?
Kjelle: She was just sad that I wasn’t with you, actually.
Cynthia: Aww, hehe! It’s probably a good thing they don’t know we’re still training together, huh…
Kjelle: Absolutely. Honestly – I can understand why they would look up to us individually.
Kjelle: But why this fixation on the two of us as a couple?! Cynthia: Heh, well… it probably means different things to different girls. Cynthia: But, um… For a lot of them, I’d probably say… it’s that they themselves have a girl they have a crush on.
Cynthia: And by watching us, they can imagine what it’d be like to be with their crush… And know that it’s possible…
Kjelle: Tch. More pointlessness.
Cynthia: …
Cynthia: I wanted to ask you something.
Kjelle: Go ahead.
Cynthia: Why do you think romance is pointless?
Kjelle: I don’t.
Cynthia: It’s really just another – wait, really?!
Kjelle: Yes. As I said before – I’m not a blushing maiden. There are people I like and people I don’t, like anyone else.
Kjelle: And I have no objection to finding a partner to spend my life with, as long as they are worthy.
Cynthia: So…
Kjelle: What I find pointless is projecting your own feelings onto totally unrelated people.
Kjelle: If you like someone, just tell them. Moping around isn’t going to do anything at all.
Cynthia: …
Cynthia: …okay.
Cynthia: All right then. In that case…
Cynthia: Kjelle, I like you!
Cynthia: You’re totally cool and strong, without even trying to be like I’m always doing!
Cynthia: Even if I must seem childish to you, I’m always really pleased when I can impress you or make you smile!
Cynthia: When I kissed you back then, I did it because of the heat of the moment. But also because I really, really wanted to kiss you!
Cynthia: So – go out with me!
Kjelle: Heh. Good work.
Kjelle: I accept.
Cynthia: !! Really?!
Kjelle: Yes. You are an adept soldier – I know how much strength it takes to keep yourself on those pegasus steeds, and how much skill to fight there.
Kjelle: You are the least cowardly person I have ever met. Almost to a fault.
Kjelle: But… you are honest and determined. You never give up. I have always admired that.
Cynthia: O-oh wow… I never thought I’d hear you say something so nice to me…! Kjelle: It’s just the truth. I couldn’t deny it.
Cynthia: Hehe… Wow, who’d have thought those girls would become right about us being together, after all?
Kjelle: Ugh.
Cynthia: Don’t worry – we don’t have to tell them. Just being with you is enough for me!
Cynthia: But… well, I can’t say I can blame them, at this point. We make a pretty sweet couple!
Kjelle: Now that I can agree with!
Ending text:
Cynthia never gave up on becoming a hero and traveled the land in the name of justice. Kjelle joined her as her shield, and together their names  were spoken throughout the land - especially by women.
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vicey-vice · 7 years
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Tag 9 -Getting to Know You...
Tagged by: @impracticaldemon Thank you for tagging me, this was so fun I may have written more than necessary.
I apologize if you have been tagged already, but I don’t know many people, so I’ll tag : @hakuokifirst, @daddytrash, @annahakuouki​, @shenanigumi​ @thetastyturnip, and anybody else who wants to give this a try. Please tag me so I get to know you better :)
Rules: Answer the questions and tag 9 or more people you want to get to know better
Relationship: Single. Favourite colour: I like color combinations more than individual colors, and these have changed over time. When I was like eight, my favorite colors were pink, purple and sky blue.Nowadays, it’s:1. white, black, poppy red, ochre,2. burgundy or burnt orange, powder blue, white3. forest green, black and gold. Pets: None yet, but one day I would like to adopt a white cat, give it a red collar with a tiny silver bell and call it Mogget. If you have not read The Old Kingdom series by Garth Nix, I highly recommend it. Wake up to: The dreadful sound of a standard plug-in alarm clock. Cats or dogs: Cats. I don’t think I have what it takes to be a dog person, though I still think they are cool.
Coke or pepsi: Neither. I rarely drink soda/pop/carbonated beverage, but if I do, it has to be Squirt. It’s a nostalgia thing. Day or Night: Night because it’s when I do my best thinking without interruptions. Text or call: Texting, is so much easier. I feel like a rambling fool if I have to leave a voicemail message. Lipstick or chapstick: What shade of lipstick? If it’s too bright or dark or red, I prefer chapstick. Muted rose  is my shade of choice. Also, no glossiness or sparkles.
Last book I read: Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden was the last book I completed. I am currently reading Japanese Tales edited and translated by Royall Tyler for the Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library. Next on my reading list will be an autobiography called Geisha of Gion by Mineko Iwasaki, a retired geisha, who sued Arthur Golden for basing his book too much on her life. Last song I listened to: “We Are the Dead” from the Diamond Dogs album by David Bowie. I’ve been playing it on repeat. Love the melancholy in the lyrics and instrumentation. Last movie I watched: Hacksaw Ridge (2016). A bit  bloody (well, it is a war movie), but the story was interesting, and the patriotism wasn’t too over the top. Top 3 TV shows: In no particular order, Sherlock BBC, Blackadder, also from BBC, and to my shame, Game of Thrones. Top 3 characters: Oh my! There are sooo many characters to choose from!
Again, in no particular order, I’ll pick Inigo Montoya (The Princess Bride book version) his back story at the end of Buttercup’s Baby made me sad :(
Next, I’ll choose Sherlock Holmes from the BBC series. I can relate to him so much.
Finally, I’ll choose Sabriel from the Old Kingdom Series, she is one of the few female hero characters I know that is still a badass in her 40s. Not that I’m in my 40’s, but sometimes I feel like it, and I know I’ll get there eventually.
Top 3 ships:How to begin…Shipping is a subject in which I don’t have much practical experience. This makes my tumblr account feel existential. I have seen/read enough to understand it, so here I go! I hope I’m doing this right. I’ll make a canon ship, a non-canon ship, and an OTP (Guys, I am  using the right lingo, right?)
1. Howl and Sophie (Howl’s Moving Castle, book version), the arguments between them are hilarious!)
2. Amagiri and Kimigiku from Hakuoki (I had to mention Hakuoki sooner or later in this post). They seem to be the more mature characters, and I feel they many things in common *coughdealingwithoniroyaltycough* they could at least be friends.
3. Mango slices and Tajin chili powder- I can’t have one without the other!
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isoscele · 7 years
Text
from dream to whispered dream
Summary: Rose wants to destroy the patriarchy. Bismuth wants her passions to be recognized. Pearl wants to have a School Improvement Committee. Ruby and Sapphire want to play softball and watch each other play softball. Blue Pearl wants a nap. And Jasper just wants people to stop sending her pictures of dogs.
or, the first gem rebellion as told by the dumbass teenagers who started this whole mess.
Blue to Pearl
Blue: were you listening during calculus
Pearl: Yes.
Blue: did you happen to write anything down
Pearl: Why? So you could copy off of me?
Blue: ideally
Pearl: Fine. They’re in my bag.
Blue: ur the best!!!!!
Blue to Pearl
Blue: what tf is this
Blue: pearl
Blue: pearl what is this
Pearl: I write in shorthand now.
Pearl: Much quicker! : )
Blue: . . .
Blue: ur cruel
Bismuth to rocks with feelings
Bismuth: doggo!
Bismuth sent prince.jpg
Rose: give him pats from me!
Bismuth: already did!
Rose: tell him i love him
Bismuth: he loves you too!
Jasper: no godam way
Jasper has left rocks with feelings
Sapphire: she’s just jealous
Bismuth: i gave him pats from you 2 sapphire dont worry
Sapphire: . . .
Sapphire: good
Ruby to Joan of Arc deserved better
Ruby: Go Pearl!
Blue: go pearl!!!!
Ruby: Kick Their Butts!
Blue: all those butts!!!
Ruby: Debate The Heck Out Of Them!
Blue: just imagine you’re arguing against us
Blue: as in, don’t hold back
Blue: but don’t cry
Blue: wait do you get pity points if you cry
Ruby: There’s No Shame In Pity Points
Pearl to Joan of Arc Deserved Better
Pearl: Thank you for all your support!
Pearl: “Pity points” don’t exist in debate, I’m afraid.
Pearl: Also, I resent the idea that I can’t argue without crying.
Pearl: I have several trophies to back me up.
Blue: what activity doesn’t have pity points
Blue: my entire life has been upheld by pity points
Ruby: OK But Did You Break Into Song?
Pearl: No.
Pearl: Maybe.
Pearl: Only on the bus ride back.
Rose to rocks with feelings
Rose: i wanna overthrow the patriarchy
Bismuth: go to bed
Rose: ok
Ruby to Sqawwwwd
Ruby: Can I Play Softball With You Guys After School
Navy: of course! the more the merrier
Army: ARE YOU GOING TO SKIP OUT ON US AGAIN
Ruby: No
Doc: we need to have a Conference.
Ruby: OK.
Army: I DON’T TRUST HER.
Doc: she has been found consulting with the enemy
Navy: she deserves a second chance!
Ruby: Guys?
Ruby: You Didn’t Kick Me Out Of The Chat
Doc: the enemy, navy. the enemy
Ruby: I’m Still Here
Army: WE DO NEED A THIRD BASEMAN
Ruby: I’ll Just Go
Ruby has left Sqawwwwd
Leggy: wait whats happening?
Blue to Pearl
Blue: where were you during lunch?
Pearl: Talking to administration.
Blue: about?
Pearl: The water quality in the fountains.
Blue: ur really invested in this
Pearl: You could say that.
Pearl: Hydration is an important factor in energy and brainpower.
Pearl: What if someone gets sick?
Blue: no1 drinks from those things
Pearl: Yes, because it’s dirty.
Blue: howd it go?
Pearl: . . .
Pearl: Not great.
Blue: that sucks
Blue: want a hug?
Pearl: Yes, please.
Jasper to this was supposed to be a study chat
Jasper: no more dogs
Sapphire: leave the chat if you care so much
Bismuth: this is a democracy.
Rose: how about a fish?
Rose sent bubbles.jpg
Rose: look at its squish face!
Sapphire: The squishest
Jasper: you are all fucking useless
Bismuth: seriously feel free to leave at any time
Sapphire: yeah jasper
Bismuth: yeah jasper
Sapphire to Ruby
Sapphire: call me if you have the time
Pearl to pearl cant argue w/out singing
Pearl: I stopped by the Y earlier today.
Pearl: They have swordfighting lessons!
Blue: cool
Pearl: If I start working more weekdays, I can even afford a few of them. Oh, can you imagine it?
Ruby: I Can Imagine You Going All Inigo Montoya On Jasper’s Butt.
Pearl: Oh, yes. So can I.
Blue: do they have a sword rack
Blue: and a hairy guy saying “choose wisely. it is to become an extension of yourself”
Blue: or some crap like that
Pearl: I think it’s “bring your own weapon.”
Ruby: Do You Have A Weapon
Pearl: Well. No.
Blue: you r ur own weapon
Blue: follow ur dreams
Pearl: . . . Thank you, Blue.
Blue: no prob
Ruby: I Can Maybe Hook You Up
Blue: omg what
Blue: ruby has Sword Connections ™
Blue: they grow up so fast
Pearl: Really?
Ruby: Not A Done Deal.
Ruby: I’ll Check It Out.
Pearl: Thank you so much!
Blue: i need someone else to acknowledge that swordfighting has been dead for centuries
Blue has been blocked from pearl cant argue w/out singing
Blue to Pearl
Blue: rude
Blue: let me back in
Pearl: No.
Blue: at least send me a video of you stabbing someone
Pearl: Okay.
Blue: i’m proud of you
Blue: your picture shows up when you google carpe diem
Blue: legit
Pearl: Thank you. Sorry I’ve been snappish lately.
Pearl: I’m kind of stressed.
Blue: it’s cool
Blue: oh look i found the pic
Blue sent partypurl.jpg
Pearl: I was going to unblock you, but good luck with that now.
Pearl: I thought I told you to delete that!?!?
Ruby to Sapphire
Ruby: Yeah Just A Sec
Incoming Call: Ruby
*Hey, Sapphy. Everything okay?*
*Yes.*
*Good. What do you want to talk about?*
*Nothing in particular. I just wanted to hear your voice.*
*Aww. That’s so sweet!*
*. . . How sweet?*
*Sweeter than the first day of summer vacation.*
*Wow.*
*Sweeter than our official first date meal.*
*Cotton candy?*
*Yeah! That. Cotton candy ain’t got nuthin’ on you.*
*I can’t believe you remember that.*
*Heh, well. My memory may not be great, but I make exceptions for important stuff.*
*You’re making me melt.*
*Like what?*
*Like mint chocolate chip ice cream all down your arms two Sundays ago.*
*Ha! That was pretty messy, wasn’t it?*
*It was adorable.*
*. . . Sapphy?*
*Yes?*
*I love you.*
*I love you, too.*
*I’m playing softball after school today. The team’s finally letting me back on.*
*Really? That’s great!*
*Yeah! I wish you could come, but the girls might not like it.*
*You’ll have to sustain me with pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.*
*Okay. I will.*
*Will you have the uniform and snapback again?*
*Probably!*
*Lots and lots of pictures.*
*I have to go to English. Text me later?*
*I can’t wait.*
*Bye!*
*Bye, Ruby.*
Blue to Swordfighting is a Respectable Art
Blue: thx for letting me in again
Blue: u know, the person who dragged u kicking and screaming into the technological era
Pearl: You’re welcome.
Blue: i was being sarcastic
Pearl: I know.
Blue: how goes the fight for water u can see through?
Pearl: Not well, but I refuse to give up.
Pearl: Do you think I should start a petition?
Blue: i’d sign
Ruby: Me Too
Pearl: Historically, petitions at this school haven’t worked very well.
Ruby: Get Teachers To Sign.
Pearl: Say, that’s not a bad idea! Not very many of our teachers seem to like me that much, but they surely feel the absence of clean water as much as we do.
Pearl: We should have a School Improvement Committee.
Blue: it would be a full-time job
Pearl: Filled with volunteers, obviously. Dedicated students, parents, and staff.
Pearl: Oh well, it’s just an idea.
Blue: u can try
Ruby: My Parent Would Join
Pearl: Ooh, yes! Could you perhaps speak to them about it?
Ruby: Sure
Blue: hey don’t u have softball
Ruby: Yeah. Sitting In The Bleachers
Ruby: The Girls Are Still Arguing About Whether Or Not I Can Play
Pearl: They told you that you could. They can’t go back on their word.
Ruby: I Don’t Know If They Remember.
Blue: that team is nothing w/out you
Blue: they should’ve begged u to come back
Pearl: That’s right! Get out on that pitch and show them what they were missing!
Ruby: OK
Ruby: Yeah
Ruby: Just Ran Around The Bases
Ruby: To Show How Fast I Am
Ruby: They Looked Impressed
Blue: knock em dead
Pearl: Good luck!
Rose to why is jasper still here
Rose: ughhhhhhh
Bismuth: you okay?
Rose: the entire student gov rejected my proposal to partner with ps-847 for the dance
Bismuth: that sucks
Bismuth: you knew it wouldn’t be a popular idea, right?
Rose: yeah
Rose: i thought at least one person would be neutral or smthing.
Rose: all violently opposed
Bismuth: the road to change is filled with potholes
Rose: who said that?
Bismuth: me
Sapphire: she’s right. it’s good that you’re doing something.
Rose: i occasionally want to bash pd’s face in
Bismuth: the road to change is also filled with bashing faces in
Jasper: finally a line of chat i agree with
Sapphire: @jasper have you just been . . . lurking there
Sapphire: also no bashing faces in
Jasper: jesus
Jasper has left why is jasper still here
Ruby to Sapphire
Ruby: I Forgot To Ask Earlier
Ruby: One Of Your Friends Is Into Forgery Right?
Sapphire: blacksmithing, yes.
Sapphire: forgery is like with art and money
Ruby: I Knew Something Was Off
Sapphire: her name is Bismuth
Sapphire: why?
Ruby: Can She Make Swords
Sapphire: she loves making swords
Sapphire: she owns so many of them
Ruby: OK Well I Have A Friend Who Needs A Sword
Ruby: For A Class She’s Taking
Sapphire: i’d have to talk to her about it, but it seems doable
Ruby: She Can’t Really Pay
Ruby: I Mean She’ll Probably Try To But
Ruby: She Goes To My School. That Probably Says Enough.
Sapphire: Bismuth’s worked in favors before
Sapphire: she’d do it again i think
Ruby: Pearl’s A Really Cool Person.
Ruby: She Knows So Much About Swords
Sapphire: theyll get along well then
Sapphire: i’ll talk to Bismuth and pass along her #
Ruby: Thank You So Much
Ruby: Oh Almost Forgot
Ruby sent pic_0412
Ruby sent pic_0413
Ruby sent pic_0414
Sapphire: ur so cute :)
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