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casspurrjoybellbittner · 2 months

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Wreckless - Games

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

This morning, after Finnegan left, I finally got around to going through my mail from last week.

Most of it was crap, of course but one letter surprised me so much that I sat down before opening it.

I didn't expect to hear back, I just submitted a few photos on a whim while Finnegan was in Michigan.

I'd thought that having something to look forward was good even though I knew I didn't have a chance.

But now I'm holding a letter from the Maryland Arts Council.

Every fall they offer a class and then do a huge photography exhibition that gets seen by important people.

People who launch careers.

People who make money for people like me.

I guess they could be nice and respond to all the applicants.

That's probably it.

Until I open it I don't know if I've been accepted or not.

It's like that dead cat in a box.

I might have gotten in.

Once I read it, I'll know I didn't.

Not that I expected to, I've never been able to devote the time and energy into it that I want to.

Some people don't have jobs and bills to pay and have parents to buy them great cameras and all the lenses they want.

I have to make do.

This class, shit, I can't go even if I want to.

Job. See? So it doesn't matter, I'll just open it.

I rip it open and then pull the letter out gingerly.

It's folded in three and I slowly flatten it out on the table.

Dear Mr. Emmett Locke.

Shit... SHIT... Holy shit I'm in.

Damn.

I'm floored, honestly and damn proud of myself.

I can't accept... I'm not free from 9 to 5 for two weeks in September and October but that's okay, just knowing I got in is enough to get me excited about working on my pictures from the beach.

Unfortunately I have to work so the pictures will wait until Thursday when I'm off.

I head to the garage and let me tell you, Peter is glad I'm back if the sign, chocolate bar and little note saying 'better you than me today' is any indication.

We have cars in both bays and two parked out front, they got a little backed up last week so I spend the day doing two sets of brakes and some transmission work.

When I get home Wednesday evening, Finnegan is gaming.

His tongue is out and he's laser focused.

He's at least taken time to get out of the monkey suit and get himself a drink but he doesn't even look at me when I walk in.

"Hey darling."

No answer. Okay?

I go get cleaned up and out of my dirty clothes and then start on dinner.

Once the pasta is cooking I sit down next to him.

I didn't see much of him Monday or Tuesday, so much for not needing to be in the office, so I'm glad he's home for dinner tonight.

"Short day for you. I'm glad. Dinner in about ten minutes."

"Not hungry, wanna play."

Okay, I've been patient.

"Did you have dinner, Finn?"

Because if so, when I got home would have been the time to tell me.

"Nope."

"Then you'll eat when it's ready."

"No."

He's never been this bratty before.

I wonder if something happened at work today or if this is just from having no little time Monday and Tuesday.

Maybe he's in withdrawal after last week.

I snake my hand down behind him and press against his hole right through his undies.

"You'll do what I say, Finn."

He's still trying to play but I lean over and nibble on his neck.

"Emmett."

"For being a brat you can come set the table."

I know this game autosaves so I grab the remote and turn the TV off.

"No, Emmett. That's mean."

"Ignoring me when I got home was mean, Finn. Telling me you won't eat the dinner I made is mean. I think you desperately need a lesson in how to treat me."

He's not mad now, he's smiling.

"I like lessons."

He follows me into the kitchen and grabs the salad, taking it to the table.

Before long we're eating, I just had to drain and sauce the pasta and he is shoving food into his mouth.

Not three minutes later he hops up, drops his plate in the sink, mumbles a thank you and disappears back into the living room.

Nope, not happening.

I finish eating and when I head out he's playing the game again, of course.

He hasn't even sat down, he's right up against the coffee table as if it'll help him play better.

I haven't done that since I first started watching porn.

I decide that if he's going to play... I'm going to play with him.

I grab the lube and then yank him down onto my lap.

"A good little boy doesn't treat his master like this, Finn. Now you're going to make it up to me."

"No, Emmett. I'm playing. Gonna beat the boss."

"I'm the boss, babe but you can keep playing. In fact, I insist."

I grind my cock against his ass while palming him.

He squirms, pressing against my hand.

"It's hard, Em."

"Lots of things are hard."

Our cocks, playing while being messed with, life.

"Lift up."

I manage to wiggle his undies down and then I perch him on my knees so I can really play with him.

I decide to hold him by the balls and start opening him up with one finger.

His thighs are flexing and he's clenching around me but managing to play, somehow.

I wonder how long he can do it.

Eventually I have two fingers massaging his spot while I slowly jerk him off.

He finally tries to put the controller down.

"Feels so good, Emmett."

"Uh uh but you keep playing. Your game is more important than me, so you just keep going."

"Is not, I'm sorry."

He tries to turn around but I hold him in place.

"Not yet you're not. Keep going."

He picks it back up and I tease and mess with him for another twenty minutes.

There's a rivulet of sweat going down his back and I've lost track of how many times he's died.

"Please? Please Em. I need you."

"I thought you wanted to beat the boss and you haven't yet, have you?"

"Can't concentrate Em. need lovies."

"Is that so?"

I love playing with him but I only have so much self-control.

I nudge him forward and he ends up on his knees, chest resting on the coffee table.

"Keep playing, Finn."

"No, want lovies. Please Em."

Well, if his hands aren't busy holding a controller.

"Show me... hold that little ass open for me."

Damn that's sexy as hell.

I really like his hands back here and he does have a sweet, sweet hole.

"You've been a very naughty boy, Finn."

"I know, I'm sorry Em. Will you hurt me?"

He's begging for it, he wants it rough.

Fine.

"You deserve it. You shouldn't ignore your master because when you do, you'll get in trouble and you, little boy.... are in big trouble."

Time to make him scream.

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ooops-i-arted · 2 years

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Do you have any child development thoughts on the latest episode of the Book of Boba Fett? How do you rate Luke's teaching style?

@aspiringwarriorlibrarian said: I was waiting for your take on this because the instant I saw this I was like ‘has nobody in this show ever interacted with a baby’ and I like having the science back me up on it. WHY ARE YOU GIVING SHARP OBJECTS TO A LITERAL TODDLER LUKE? WHY?

LOOOOOL I was mentally drafting a child development post while watching the episode, I wondered if anyone would ask me anything! Let me see if I can organize my thoughts.

Tl;dr answer: No, it doesn't get my stamp of approval, but in a "I believe Luke would actually be a good teacher, he's just hindered by bad writing and How Teaching Is Typically Portrayed In The Media."

First off, no, I bet none of the showrunners have had to like, actually truly teach. Idk their family status but they run a high-demand job, they probably aren't primary caregivers to young children. I don't mean this to drag them at all, to be clear, just to say it's a different perspective when you're in a position to be in charge of kids like that for an extended time every day. So Luke's teaching is written by an outsider writing what they think a teacher would be doing (and what we do isn't always particularly glamorous/photogenic/good for storytelling) so it's really just like... highlights of what they think Jedi training might be like. (Also, most of it was CLEARLY supposed to be Callbacks To Other Things, not a thought-out lesson plan or anything.)

If you're new here, I teach preschool. I actually teach for a program meant to help lower-income students, so what I really do all day isn't usually letters and numbers and pointing at a chalkboard or whatever teachers do in media. My main focus is social-emotional skills, because that's what young children need. They can learn academics later, but not if they haven't learned how to sit at a carpet and listen to someone and respect their peers. This is where you get the "well they just play all day" thing, because they are, but children that age learn through play. You see a child stacking blocks, I see motor control, hand-eye coordination, etc and if they're with a friend learning sharing, teamwork, so on. Those are what I'm focused on, not the traditional academics you think of in elementary school on. The most important thing for Grogu right now isn't dodging laser blasts or handling a lightsaber, it's self-control. More so because he has the power to harm people if he doesn't have that skill.

Luke seems to be missing the mark with teaching Grogu emotional control. Grogu tries to eat a frog during meditation, so okay, he's hungry and distracted. Instead of getting Grogu a snack or taking a break, Luke lifts up all the frogs to show off?? What was the point? (It seemed ooc for Luke to torment the frogs anyway. Why didn't he say "We're here to feel the living Force. If you're hungry, let's get some food back at camp instead" and serve him rations or something.) Luke helps Grogu remember an Easter egg Order 66 flashback, but there's no reason why. Was Grogu still struggling with trauma? Then why didn't Luke talk him through it, help him face the memory before actually doing the trip down memory lane? Was Luke curious to know more about the original Jedi Order? In that case, why was he having Grogu remember instead of talking to him (which we know they can do) or asking Ahsoka instead? It's just "I'll teach you to protect yourself" but no in-depth acknowledgment of Grogu's fears, or Luke empathizing with him or connecting with him by maybe talking about his own fears, or reassuring Grogu that he is safe here and that won't happen again (sequels aside). A huge part of teaching is connecting with your students; a student that trusts you is going to learn much better from you when they know you genuinely care about them and have their best interests at heart. I wish we had seen more of Luke empathizing and connecting with Grogu. A conversation about their fathers would've been great, and more meaningful than just watching Grogu do Stereotypical Jedi Training Things.

Of course that's not to say other aspects are important. I've talked before about how Grogu needs motor development! An obstacle course is great fun and will promote those gross motor skills. The baby being stung with a laser? 100% inappropriate!! Grogu is a fresh recruit, and he's little! He needs positive reinforcement, not pain. Save the Easter egg laser ball for when he's older and training with a lightsaber. (But the real problem is in the writing. The ball is there to be an Easter egg, no other reason.) Also, Luke doesn't even explain the activity! He doesn't say "You're going to dodge these blasts to practice your reflexes" he just lets Grogu get zinged! If I started a dodgeball game by just throwing a ball directly in a child's face I'd get written up!

(That said we now know the real reason Din couldn't see Grogu, because he'd blast that thing in a heartbeat and then stage parent his way through Grogu's training. God, he'd be the woooooorst lmfao. He'd definitely be one of those well-meaning-but-misguided parents who tries to over-direct every action of their child's in the name of helping them learn, when the real way they learn is doing it themselves.)

On the other hand, I maintain what I said in my other post: how much worse do you think Grogu would feel knowing Din stopped by and didn't see him than if he did see Din and was conflicted? He didn't hear that conversation. He just knows Dad came by and left without seeing him. It had to break his heart. And Luke just goes straight into a jumping lesson. This needs to be talked about. Kids don't always have the language to express their feelings and need that guidance to experience and manage them. And missing a parent is perfectly normal! Of course Grogu misses Dad and is having a hard time adjusting! This should be a time to pause and talk about his feelings, acknowledge them, and Luke reminding him "It's okay to miss your dad. You're here to learn about the Jedi and it's important. Let's take a break and when you're feeling better, we can do some training again." This also would've been a great time for Luke and Grogu to bond over Feelings About Their Dads. (Again, it's Filoni's bad writing about the Jedi + attachments that's rearing its ugly head. There's no reason to assume Jedi kids were just yoinked without any sort of transition. TCW's episode about Cad Bane and the Jedi kids strongly implies parents were prepared and there was a transition period.)

I've seen a lot of upset over the choice at the end and I agree it's dumb af. Like I said in my other post, it's just not appropriate; Grogu has barely been trained (twice) but he's also chosen the life of a Jedi (twice; we don't know the circumstances the first time but the choice to be a Jedi is shown in canon, parents can choose whether their kids go, and even Ahsoka's TCW scene with Plo Koon shows her willingly taking his hand, implying that she freely chose to join the Jedi, as much as she could make that choice at a young age - which also can be handwaved in canon with The Force Told Them This Was Their Path). We've just seen Grogu do some Generic Easter Egg Filled Jedi Training with Luke while Luke himself is still adapting to the role of teacher; it's really too early for Grogu to make a true choice. It just seems OOC for Luke to force this choice anyway? Luke of all people knows the strength of healthy attachments so why is he forcing the no attachments narrative now? Bare minimum why didn't Luke empathize with Grogu by saying "It was a hard decision to leave my sister and friends, but I believe it's important to be here, training you. I understand you have conflicted feelings, and I want to help you find your path." This should've been a scene of the two connecting and communicating, not Luke forcing a sudden choice (when we already saw Grogu make this choice in the season 2 finale!!). I've seen speculation that Luke was just testing Grogu to see his true feelings and go from there, but I'm still just like. He's a little kid. This is new and big and A Lot. They should be talking about it. But I guess that doesn't make an exciting cliffhanger.

Anyway I guess what I'm trying to ramble out is we should've had training scenes about actual, meaningful connection between student and teacher instead of Easter Eggs. Because Luke is a kind and caring person who saves people with his healthy love and attachment (after Anakin destroyed people with his unhealthy, possessive love and attachment). So he of all people should be able to understand and guide Grogu through this huge transition, and a character development opportunity was missed in favor of the cameo and Easter egg parade.

Edit to add OF COURSE A DEADLY WEAPON LIKE A LIGHTSABER IS COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE FOR GROGU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING LUKE. It was so obvious I forgot to actually say it lmao.

#I have Feelings but I hope I expressed myself clearly #asks #baby yoda #grogu #baby yoda meta #was that my tag #bobf spoilers #tbobf spoilers #replies #anon #aspiringwarriolibrarian

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fanboyzuko · 2 years

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It’s great seeing Zuko take his heatbending to new heights (pun fully intended). I'm really interested in seeing how Zuko's bending is developing in general. How's his standard firebending coming along? I'd imagine he won't have nearly as much of a problem as canon Zuko with the concept that firebending comes from the breath.

So before I talk about Zuko's current progress, I wanna ramble about how I've been picturing firebending mastery. In Yangchen's memoirs, she talked about how to achieve mastery you defeat your teacher. But what about all the steps toward that? Obviously perfecting all the different forms and moves, but I imagine there's an additional factor before moving up in difficulty, which is in sparring against a partner. Because fire is dangerous both to you and your opponent if you don't have proper control. And even if you have perfect control by yourself, going up against someone else is a completely different setting.

That's the original reasoning for needing to excel in a sparring match against a peer and/or instructor before moving up in difficulty levels, but then it got warped thanks to ballsack sozin and became less a show of control/a safety measure and more of a show of power.

Turning this back to Zuko, I'd imagine he was probably sitting around lower-middle tier level of firebending before Ozai burned him. And then once he started his instruction again with Iroh, he was put back at level 1 to get reacquainted with his fire and to adjust to his disabilities... We touched so very briefly on Zuko's fear of fire and getting over that fear, and Zuko's very good at pushing things from mind if he doesn't want to acknowledge them.

And Zuko may have gotten over his fear of fire itself, but getting over going up against another firebender is a whole other can of worms to deal with that he's been able to just... ignore. First because he was slowly regaining his basics, and then he was able to start roping Bun Ma into firebending practice with him and there's no trepidation when he's playing instructor to his friend as they spar. And in sparring with Bun Ma, he was able to display enough control that Iroh moved him on to the next level. So Zuko doesn't feel like he's stagnated even if he's technically relearning things he should have already mastered.

And then Zuko spends several months undercover in the Si Wong and can practice his forms, but can't actually firebend to keep up his skills. So if his progress is a little slow when he comes back from the desert, well it's only expected.

And then Zhao guts his crew and Zuko isn't in any mood to have proper firebending lessons from Iroh and continues to stagnate in his proper firebending. But he's so focused on his heatbending, which he can do on his own, well it's fine. He'll get back to his firebending. He's busy with so many other things on his mind. It's fine.

And then he's off to the North Pole and oops can't openly firebend there either and oh- now we're back to business with no clear mission in sight and oh probably should get back on track with that--- Am I saying there's probably going to be some sort of blow out with all this sooner or later? Maybe lmao

As far as if his heatbending will allow him to better master traditional firebending than canon zuko well... He's been raised through Sozin's firebending techniques and despite the fact this dummy has already turned away from the sozin-school of thought to develop heatbending, he still sees heatbending as something other/separate from firebending. Sozin-school firebending is ingrained in his mind and he's still going to struggle turning away from it because Zuko's a fantastic mental gymnast :')

#avayarising #learning to fly #me: writes over 200k of coherent fic #also me: cant talk about said fic without rambling and wondering if im making sense l #lmao #hope that answers your questions hahaha

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neon-junkie · 3 years

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Ok this is gonna be a weird one but could you do a how the Vanderbois react to sitting around the campfire with the others but seeing u in ur tent touching yourself to get their attention. Like would they ignore, point it out, or head straight over to ur tent Idk how it came to me but I'm curious o.o

hi SORRY this took so long but here you go. reader is gender-neutral, nsfw under the cut:0

boys included are: Arthur, Dutch, Micah, Javier, Bill, Sean, Kieran, John, and Charles <3

To set the scene:

Let's say that where your tent is positioned, only the VDL boy of your choice can see you touching yourself. So, they'll be sat at the campfire with some other gang members, trying to focus on the conversation but you're in the background distracting them hehe.

Also, it's up to you if the boy of your choice is dating you or not!!

Arthur

Oh, you're really gonna work this poor man up.

It's pretty easy to turn Arthur into a blushing mess. Even just a small kiss on the cheek will melt him into putty.

But this? Making eye contact with him as you get yourself off? You can see just how bright his cheeks are, and the way he pulls at his shirt, trying to waft some air in to help cool himself down.

Arthur tries his best not to make it obvious but quickly decides that there's no way he can just sit here and watch you.

So, he excuses himself and heads to your tent, closing the flaps behind him.

"How's about you carry that on now we're somewhere more private?"

Dutch

The act of you teasing Dutch in public is so wicked to him. He views it as you practically toying with him, showing him what he can have but can't yet touch.

He relaxes and enjoys the show, all whilst managing to stay focused on the current conversation. He's so good at it that nobody picks up on the fact that Dutch's mind and eyes are elsewhere.

Dutch manages to hide how flustered and aroused he is, though he doesn't watch for too long.

He almost accidentally slips up, his hand going to palm his cock through his pants, but he stops himself just in time. He's quick to excuse himself and head to your tent.

Dutch is tutting you as he enters, shaking his head and telling you how much trouble you could have caused if anyone had caught you.

"A bold move but I do appreciate the show. Please, carry on, dear."

Micah

Do you want to feed Micahs ego? Because that's how you feed Micahs ego.

Micahs probably the only one who would subtly comment on it, randomly saying "y'all ever had someone tease you in public before?" mid-conversation, even if the topic isn't suitable for his comment...

His eyes are going to be fixed on you. It doesn't matter if someones speaking to him, his focus is on you and only you. He will eventually fully zone out of the conversation but that's fine as they didn't want to speak to him anyway.

The act gets Micah really hot and bothered. He'll enjoy it for a good few moments before excusing himself and making his way into your tent.

"You think you can just tease me like that 'n' get away with it? C'mon, bend over my lap. Time to teach you a lesson."

Javier

He's one of the few boys that can enjoy this experience without making it obvious.

Yes, he'll get a bit hot 'n' sweaty whilst watching you in the distance, maybe even undo his shirt slightly to let his body heat escape, but he doesn't make anything painfully obvious.

If anything, Javier is encouraging it, catching your eyes with a raised brow, giving you a look that simply says "carry on."

Javier knows when enough is enough, excusing himself and heading straight to your tent, ensuring the flaps are shut behind him.

"It's gonna be a long night after that stunt you just pulled..."

Bill

Bill.exe has stopped working.

You're gonna break this man if you do that. Have you seen how easy it is to turn Bill into a mushy, flustered mess?

Bill will react in two ways:

He'll either try his best NOT to watch you, mainly because he knows he'll get an obvious boner within seconds, and because he doesn't want anyone to notice that Bill isn't paying attention and try to figure out what he's fixated on.

OR he can't stop watching you. You've got that man in a trance, you're putting on a show for him, and all he can do is watch and completely forget that he's in the middle of camp...

Either way, he begins getting hard pretty quickly so excuses himself and heads straight over to your tent.

"Look, as much as I appreciate the show, maybe we could keep this private? I just... don't wanna risk gettin' caught..."

Sean

He's going to get so smug about this. Sean thinks it's so cheeky, so hot, so risky. He lives for it.

There's a permanent cocky smile on his face whilst he continues with the group conversation, though his eyes often flick over to enjoy the show.

Somebody asks him why he's looking more smug than usual, and Sean is about to reply something along the lines of "oh, I know why but I can't tell you why," but somebody else butts in saying "Sean always looks like that!"

He drags out your show but eventually, his own needs call so he excuses himself and heads straight over to your tent, ready to tell you what a "naughty minx you are. Might as well punish you for it, eh?"

Kieran

Poor baby boy is going to be SO FLUSTERED.

You're actually torturing him by doing this, even more so if you're making direct eye contact with him.

He looks like he's about to pass out, his face ghost white, minus the tomato red cheeks and the layer of sweat building up on his forehead.

Kieran suddenly forgets how to breathe and begins coughing to himself when his body remembers. It's awkward for him but it gives him the perfect opportunity to excuse himself and literally run into your tent.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack if you do that again!!!"

John

He is going to try SO hard not to stare and make it obvious but that man just can't help the way his eyes keep trailing over to watch you.

Somebody picks up on the fact that John is gorming at something in the background and they're about to look over their shoulder and figure out what, but John notices just in time and begins coughing loudly.

You realise why John is making a fuss and quietly get up and shut your tent flaps, not wanting to risk being caught.

But John excuses himself shortly after just so he can enter your tent and let out a deep breath whilst going "phew, that was close!"

And then... well, it's John, so I'm certain you know where this is going...

Charles

He tries not to notice it... Charles knows exactly what you're doing but he doesn't want to come across as rude to the camp members around him, not focusing on their conversation.

Plus, if someone notices that Charles is staring at something in the distance then they'll all definitely look over their shoulders to try and figure out what's causing so much fuss.

It's a good thing it's dark as Charles' rosy cheeks aren't as obvious. He's quite flustered, mainly because this is so risky... He's definitely going to give you a lecture on how cheeky that was.

But first, he's gonna excuse himself from the conversation so he can rush over to your tent.

"You need a hand with that?" is all he needs to say.

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damn-stark · 3 years

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To new friends

Chapter 6 of Different Light

A/N- So I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I am going to have some events from the books in this series, just to add more angst and more fun. So if you read parts that don’t show up in the movie, it’s becaue it’s either what I wrote, or something that happened in the books 👍🏽 hope you guys like the chapter and don’t be afraid to leave your thoughts!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

As the blissful daze of the Yule ball night passed, the last few free days passed swiftly, taking the memory of Fred’s kiss on your lips with it. Leaving nothing behind but the mental memory of such a delightful moment.

Albeit it was also a moment that wasn’t talked about any day after, classes started again and days would get busier for both Fred and you. Of course you didn’t want to force him into talking about it, you wanted the topic to come out, just effortlessly. Fred treated you kinder; that’s something you noticed, he was way more touchy than before. Usually before when you would sit next to each other, there was no contact whatsoever—sure your arms, or thighs brushed against each other’s, but that was it.

Now when Fred sat next to you in the great hall, or really anywhere else, he would place his hand on top of yours, or hook his pinky fingers with yours; sometimes he would place his arm on top the seat you were sitting on, but that was about it. Fred didn’t try and repeat what happened that night, or try and gloat about it. He simply just didn’t talk about it.

Which led you to think; what did he intend with that kiss?

You want to ask him, but then again you fear the answer he could give.

It’s not like you could ask George. One, because he was Fred’s twin brother and two, you didn’t want to put George in that position. It’d be better if he wasn’t in the middle, things would just flow much easier that way.

You still wanted help, but from who? Narcissa? You could specifically leave Fred’s name out and just ask for advice, but as you further thought about it, asking your mother wasn’t the best option; yet.

That left you with the lingering question of, who then?

“Y/N.”

At the sound of the small, sweet voice calling to you, you’re thrown from your train of thought and left to look over your shoulder and notice, Hermione Granger, striding towards you. At first you don’t know what to do, you’re actually utterly confused on what to do and why she has called you. But realization hits you as she finally falls by your side and offers you a small sweet smile—you had helped her that night of the Yule ball. She said words you’d never forget.

Regardless you didn’t really think you helping her that night was enough for her to reach out to you now. Maybe just simple “hellos” when you passed by the halls, but you didn’t think she’d actually call your name and hurry to reach you. That gesture was still so unfamiliar and new to you.

You smile and greet her however, regardless of how your thoughts churn. “Hello.”

“I saw you pass just now and thought it’d be nice to walk with you to Arithmancy.” Hermione explained kindly. “Is that alright with you?”

Of course!

You smile shyly and nod. “Yeah that's alright.” You feel your cheeks burn and a need to just walk in silence, but you also were desperate to make friends who weren’t just Fred and George—“I never got the chance to ask, did you enjoy the Yule ball? Before everything went down I mean.”

Hermione smiles wider and nods. “Yes it was absolutely great. I had a lot of fun. What about you? Fred mentioned he was going with you, how was that?”

“Oh well,” you smile shyly at the memory of that night. “It was amazing, Fred was a good partner.”

A new thought then invades your mind—you could ask her for help. Even ask her if she heard anything Fred mentioned of that night. After all they were part of the same house. She’s got to know a thing or two, right?

“Do—”

“Fred said you were a great partner too,” Hermione mentions as if she has read your mind. “He said he enjoyed that night with you.”

At the sound of her comment, you feel your cheeks burn increasingly hotter. You’re left stunned for a moment, left giddy and speechless, left trying to collect your thoughts and like you could explode from the inside—you had heard him say he enjoyed that night, but hearing that he had said that to other people just made it seem even more special. The knowledge of what he said made you smile wider. It made you want to know more.“Did he say anything else?” You turn your head to look at her and you see her shake her head.

“No, I’m sorry. He and his friends moved away before I could hear more.”

You hum softly and assure her. “It’s okay, thank you for telling me what he said though.”

Hermione just smiles as response before she changes the subject, not giving you the chance to ask for her help in your still troubled dilema. “What are you reading?”

You look down to the Daily Prophet in your hand and shrug. With all your running thoughts, you didn’t have time to read what you had in your hand. “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to read what,” you lift the newspaper and scoff, “Rita Skeeter wrote it, probably just rubbish anyway.”

Just as you’re about to shove it in between your books, Hermione stops you before snatching the paper from your hand. “Wait, what does this evil witch have to say now.”

Out of new grown curiosity, you look over her shoulder as she begins to read the paper outloud; “DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE

Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."

'I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything—”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your brother's name and anything else read after that just tunes out. The news of Hagrid being a half giant doesn’t even bug you, or register in your mind as someone dangerous (because he wasn’t). All you focused on was what lies your, weasel of a little brother had to say. It makes your furious, feel steam come out of your ears and feel your fists shake. The news on the paper even makes Hermione upset; albeit her reasons differed from yours.

Clearly—“how-how did she find out!” Before you could give your opinion, Hermione quietly seemed to ramble to herself, only raising her voice at specific points. “Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxine at the ball—but no, they would have seen her, she’s not even...” her voice goes quiet again and you’re left looking at her bewildered and still taken back yourself. As well as intrigued by what she had to say. Surprised by her suddenly asking you a probing question. “Did you see Rita Skeeter that day of the ball?”

You blink out of surprise, but manage to shake your head. “No, I didn’t. But maybe she was hiding in some bushes, like an odd-ball.”

Hermione bites her lip and shrugs before giving an opinion herself. “Maybe she has some type of invisibility cloak?”

You shrug, “maybe. I mean to get such a scoop on people, she’s got to have something up her sleeve.”

Hermione's eyes narrow and she seems to go into deep thinking before she comes up with a suggestion that surprised you even more. “We should try and figure it out. You’re smart, I’m sure if we got together, we’d figure it out.”

You scoff lightheartedly and stop before entering your intended class. “Why the need to get the scoop on her?”

“Because,” Hermione blurted passionately, “it’s not the first time she’s done something like this. Mysteriously getting news on people. She’s wicked and needs to be stopped.”

You smirk at her fiery spirit and can’t help but give in without much need of further convincing. “Alright, I’ll help. It sounds like fun.”

——

The day of the second game came and you couldn’t be dreading this one more. It was too cold and what was the point of having an audience? The players were going to be underwater and if they somehow have a way for you and the rest of the students to look in the depths of the lake without having to go in along with the players, then what was the point?

You were just going to unnecessarily freeze to basically watch players dive.

“ANY BETS! ANY BETS!”

“PLACE YOUR BETS!” George and Fred shouted in a booming voice to the passing students.

Yet with all you’re complaining, here you were, still teamed up with the twins trying to take bets from students.

“THREE LADS!”

“ONE LADY!”

“FOUR ARE GOING DOWN!”

You would’ve joined into their tactics, but you didn’t feel like screaming, so instead you held onto the box for them, watching them as you moved up and the students moved down towards the boats. Stopping only when their sister shoved past them and stopped to remark their rude persuading screams. “Don’t be so mean.”

The twins and you looked back to Ginny and you couldn’t help but agree, but the twins on the other hand turned back around and continued screaming to try and convince others to place bets. Stopping only minutes before the last boat could leave the dock.

“Finally,” you groan as you close the box and shove it in George’s hands. “I thought we’d never finish.”

Fred scoffs, “come on, you’ve got to admit that doing this makes the games more fun.”

“Hardly.” You retort as you shove your hands in your jackets pockets, “freezing to watch water is something I would hardly call fun.”

“You’re in luck then.” George assures you, “the game should be an hour long.”

You groan one last time before you reach the boats, looking to Fred as he pointed for you to get on first. “Ladies first.” He smirks before he follows after you, waiting lastly for George to go on before the person driving the boat began its short trip to the already packed and rowdy stands.

Luckily not having to wait too long for the game to start and beginning to watch with much more anticipation and stress than you intended after you watched Harry clumsily fall into the lake. While Draco, who was two people away from you laughed and pointed at Harry’s clumsy fall, causing you to shoot him a side glare. One he didn’t catch, but you meant with a burning dedication. He only shut up when Harry shot up after his worrying fall into the water, causing an uproar from the students rooting for his win. Albeit seconds after he splashed in, everyone, including yourself were filled with stomach twisting anticipation for anyone’s resurface from the water with their special lost thing.

You were also left with waiting, and endless waiting, growing colder as time ticked.

“Cold?” Fred asked you.

You looked to him and shivered slightly at the feeling of the bitter wind hitting your face. “what do you think?”

A half, smug smile tugged on his lips and he shrugs. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Then there's your answer.” You cross your arms over your chest and look out to the lake, feeling your shoulders jump slightly moments later when Fred wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“Better?”

You feel your cheeks burn and your heart skip a beat. It’s hard to think of what to say at the flustered feeling you got at the interaction, but you somehow manage to respond. Albeit stammering and sounding like you were terrified. “Y-yes, much better.”

You didn’t see but Fred grinned at your response. Choosing to stay quiet for the remainder of the game until the first contestant surfaced from the water; Cedric Diggory and Cho—you clapped, but didn’t feel much excitement like others did. Instead you felt as if your stomach twisted tighter knowing that the game was close to over and Harry hadn’t surfaced yet.

Krum and...Hermione surfaced and you clapped excitedly for her, but you were still left with the increasing worrying, glancing repeatedly at the time and waiting as others did. Hearing whispers and the excitement for the game dwindled the more time passed and Harry showed no sign.

The worry now surrounding the crowd was replaced by short relief when Ron and a little girl surfaced, but that was short lived since Harry’s presence was lacking. It made you part from Fred’s side and grip onto the railing to look down into the water to watch and wait—and yes he was just a boy you hardly knew, hardly talked to and just thought of as cute and nice, a bit clumsy and dorky, but...you couldn’t help but worry and—

Before you could get deeper into your thoughts, Harry Potter shot up from the water and finally relieved the worry and stress that had grown increasingly higher those past few minutes. Making you push yourself off the railing to finally clap and cheer, turning to celebrate the win with the twins for a brief moment before you’re interrupted by Dumbledore's booming voice. “Attention! The winner is Mr. Diggory!”

The crowd for Cedric erupted with claps and cheering for him and his win. All them were forced to quiet down though as Dumbledore continued. “Who showed the need to command of the bubble head charm. However seeing as Mr.Potter would have finished first, should it not been for his determination to rescue not only Mr. Weasley, but the others as well, we’ve agreed to award him second place! For outstanding moral fiber!”

Again the crowd erupted into a roaring cheering, causing the twins to five each other and you in a form to celebrate. Ignoring as Draco, bitterly stormed off after the announcement of his rival's achievement. While the three didn’t waste a second for the twins and you to push through the crowd to walk down to where Harry, and the other contestants and the people they saved were.

The twins rushed first, greeting Harry with loud congratulating cheers and a tight hug that they backed from after feeling Harry all wet; letting them turn to their brother and in their own foolish way, worry over his well-being. Letting you be face to face with Harry and instantly feel a hotter heat crawl onto your face before and while you found the words to talk to him.

“That was amazing Harry! You did great!” You grinned, stepping into wrap your arms around him, but stopping as you took in his soaked figure.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “I wouldn’t, I’m soaked.” A timid and wobbly smile tugged on his lips and he continued. “Thank you though, y/n.”

You offer him another warm smile and last lingering stare before you rip your eyes away and turn your attention to Herimone next to him.

——

“Right on, all that moral fiber, eh?” George teased Harry as he walked onto the deck.

“That’s great.” Fred chuckled.

You smirk and tag along with the teasing. “All that moral fiber.”

“Blimey, even if you go wrong it turns out right.” Ron voiced with a slight smile.

“Well done, moral fiber.” Fred teased before lightly pushing Harry and then walking off with his brothers, Hermione and you, leaving Harry behind.

You wanted to look back, but before you could Fred’s hand on your arm interrupted your attempts before you could accomplish them. “So, y/n, I was thinking,” he began to say in a soft voice that was rare for him to speak in and off putting for you to hear. “How about we go to Hogsmeade together?”

You blink and begin to fall behind from the group, parting your lips to speak, but coming out with nothing but a breath of air. Proceeding to instead gently rub your arm nervously and letting your eyes flicker from the ground to Fred before managing to speak just as nervously. “Like George, you and I?”

Fred chuckles and shakes his head. “No you goof, just you and I.”

Your cheeks burn again and you giggle and whisper, “oh,” before smiling warmly and nodding. “Sure I like the sound of that, when?”

Fred shrugged, trying to hide his cocky smile. “I’ll let you know, alright?”

You nod, “okay.” Before you both catch up to the group you had been with, picking up your pace smoothly, so you could catch up with a grinning Hermione that already knew by the smile on Fred and your faces what had gone on.

In that moment letting a thought begin to unroll in the back of your mind. Not one having to do with Fred, nor George or Harry. But about Hermione. Odd thing especially after getting asked out by Fred, but it was a thought that just grew; even if Hermione and you had just started talking and a friendship was beginning to develop. It still felt refreshing, assuring and exciting that you had someone else as a friend. Someone who could relate to you in other ways Fred, or George couldn’t. You felt happy that you were beginning to be her friend, that she viewed you like hers and not like the other girls would in Durmstrang. She viewed you like a friend now. She viewed you differently.

——

“HARRY POTTER IN A BURNING LOVE TRIANGLE

A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would suffer through a trouble bigger than any he has faced, choosing who to love and who to leave behind broken hearted.

In the recent events of the Triwizard tournament, Harry has been spotted in the arms of new transfer student to Hogwarts, Y/N Malfoy. At first it had seemed that it was nothing but platonic, but their affectionate embrace and caring and lovable words told us otherwise. Yet as loving as they are, Harry is still caught in the middle between Herimone Granger, who is not innocent as she portrays to be.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potters well-wishers must hope that he opens his eyes and sets his heart upon his Slytherin lover.

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. No. Your father...your mother….your father. He’s going to kill you before disowning you. No. This isn’t what you wanted. Even if it was false information when it came to your part of the paper, it was still going to get to your parents before you had the chance to explain. You’ve done good to hide the truth of your friendships from them when Draco snitches, but this...this can ruin everything and take you back to Durmstrang.

“If that’s the best Rita can do, she’s losing her touch,” Herimone says, beginning to giggle and causing you to snap your head from the paper to look at her with a perplexed, widened gaze. “What a pile of old rubbish.” She proceeds to take the paper from your hands and throws the paper into an empty chair. The action leaving you shocked and speechless—wasn’t she worried to?

On how Rita Skeeter found out about the obvious private conversation that went on between her and Krum? Why wasn’t she worried like you?

“Why-why are you so calm?” You manage to ask with your perplexed and widened gaze.

Hermione looks over to a group of Slytherins to see if they’d be upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and turned back to pretend to focus on the parchment in front of the both of you to finally talk without giving your question an answer. “There’s something funny though, how could Rita Skeeter have known?” Her face went red and she pressed her quil to her chin. “How did she know Viktor asked me to visit him in the summer?”

You shrug and push your worry aside for now, “maybe someone’s her spy?”

Herimone shakes her head, “no, couldn’t be, he pulled me away from the judges after we got our blankets and we were in a spot surrounded by his friends. They’d never do anything to Viktor.” Her face grew increasingly more red and her eyebrows furrowed deeper as she mindlessly pressed her quil on the parchment now. “But how could Rita have heard. She wasn’t there...or was she? Maybe she’s got an invisibility cloak?”

“Perhaps,” you muse along with her, “but there were too many people on that platform, someone would have bumped into her and found her out.” You tap your fingers on the tabletop as you begin to brainstorm a possibility, muttering to Hermione as you did so. “What exactly happened after Krum and you got out of the water?”

Herimone began to explain every exact detail of the events after Krum got her out of the water. Every single detail from climbing onto the platform, to mentioning that Krum flicked a beetle off her wet hair and lastly the moment you had finally come along.

“Hmm,” you rest your elbow on the table and rest your head on your hand as you continue to think and throw out ideas that came to your mind. “Well there wasn’t much room for her to hide at all. She couldn’t be under the water, and it’s doubtful she used polyjuice.”

“You’re right.” Hermione agrees.

At a incoming thought you begin to snicker, “maybe she temporarily transformed into your towel.”

Suddenly Hermione shoots up and her eyes gleam with what seems to be excitement. She steps towards you and manages to pull you off your chair to hold your hands in hers and basically shout out. “I’ve got it!”

“Hermione Granger and Miss Malfoy, please be quiet unless you both want detention!” The professor scolds you, making Herimone quietly apologize before she pulls you back to your seat and continues quietly. Disregarding the warning you both had just gotten.

“She couldn’t have turned into a towel, or risked using polyjuice, but she could have transformed into something else. Something smaller and easy to blend in and be disregarded by any person.”

You blink in astonishment by her quick thinking and fast investigating skills. You don’t say anything, just listen completely mesmerized.

“Rita Skeeter was the beetle in my hair,” Herimone whispers in a loud excited whisper, “of course I thought nothing of it before because it was just a bug, but now it all makes sense; how she can catch all the scoop and hide without without being seen. She’s an animagus.”

You smirk and squeeze in your own thoughts. “Probably an unregistered one too, or else Dumblrdore would have taken extra precautions to keep her off the castle grounds.”

“Yes!” Hermione exclaims with a joyful and yet mischievous grin, “she kept her secret well until now. I’m going to make sure that she doesn’t have another chance to spread any more cruel, dishonest stories.”

“What do you mean?” You gasp with a deeply puzzled and slightly fearful face.

“I’m going to make sure she doesn’t write any more stories from here until the tournament ends. I’m going to catch Rita.” She explains in a loud whisper once again with a dangerous mischievous look still painted in her eyes. “Do you want to catch her with me?”

“I,” you pause to think before you have the chance to abruptly answer. Beginning to go over the fact in your head, that Rita didn’t also make a lie about Hermione, but one about you. One that could cost you heavily. And the days before Herimone asked about helping her, you were down to pair up with Hermione because you didn’t want to lose a friend. Now you were doing it because, well you didn’t want to lose a friend and two, you had motivation of your own.

A smirk creeps onto your face and you meet Herimone’s gaze to share that same dangerous mischievous gaze. “I’m going to catch Rita with you.”

Even if you knew you were still going to get hell from your parents….especially your father.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence , @ilovespideyyy

#Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x malfoy!reader #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagines #different light #Draco #Herimone granger #Malfoy!reader #angst #SLOWBURN

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zinkuldump · 2 years

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Cyberpunk 2077 drabble

prompts "nightfall" "silent fury" "breeze"

Corpo V teenager, first meeting with Jackie

The teenager took off the braindance gear with a groan and massaged his temples. Sliding slightly in his chair he unlocked his computer and looked at the cursed mail again.

"Party at the [...], Heywood"

The mail was cursed, the place was cursed, the time was cursed and people were going to die.

He could ignore the whole thing and let it all go to hell. But at the same time, he couldn't. He sighed again, leaning back in his chair.

It was already nightfall, he had to go soon, see the chaos unfold with his own eyes. He took a gun from his drawer and left the room, and then the apartament, heading towards where the supposed 'party' was said to take place.

The whole biz stank like a rotting corpse, but getting involved was a matter of pride, which is never to be taken lightly in the underbelly of Night City. Jackie wasn't a Valentino for long yet, but he knew that much. They got a tip that Maelstrom was doing an operation on their turf and someone needed to be taught a lesson. That much was sure.

He was there mostly as back-up, to call people if things got hairy and what-not, so he stayed behind with a few others. He was young, but he wasn't stupid, he knew that if Maelstrom got involved here, there had to be something bigger going on. Some kind of opportunity that they couldn't lose. So he was ready for anything.

Except for a skinny, red-haired, corpo teen actually sneaking up on him and dragging him into a back alley, before he could even think about overpowering him.

"I don't want to hurt you, please be quiet and listen," the boy said, letting him go, with a hint of desperation in his voice. After a moment of confusion and panic, Jackie quickly calmed down and just looked him up suspiciously, but nodded.

"Look, your guys getting here, both a curse and a blessing. I got—" he suddenly grabbed his head and squirmed in pain.

"Hey choom, you ok?"

"They fucking hacked me. I'll be fine. But I need to leave, now. I think shit is gonna go down soon, and they already know I nicked their shard. You guys want to know what they were doing here? It's all there. I'll give it to you if you help me get away. And..."

"And...?"

"I don't know. I just saw five people I was meeting every day drugged and chopped up. I kinda feel like puking and it's probably not the best time."

They didn't speak for a moment and Jackie could see silent fury in the boy's eyes and in that moment his smart dress and expensive cyberware felt like an afterthought. There was something real in those black, cybernetic eyes. And just like that he knew, that maybe he's gotten over his head, but he'd help the guy.

"You're definitely right it's not the best time, hermano," he put his hand on the red hair's shoulder, snapping him out of the trance. "Let's hurry then, before you destroy my clothes."

The two boys were riding for a long while on a stolen motorbike, the red haired holding onto the young ganger for dear life. As they finally stopped, the first thing that the student felt was that the wind was still strong, in fact, it must have been like that because of the nearby water. The bigger teenager jumped off the bike and stretched, muttering something in spanish that the other didn't bother focusing on for the translator to work. He also got off the vehicle and sat on the pier, focusing on the unusually fresh breeze for Night City.

"We're in Pacifica?" he asked, even though he knew the answer, realizing that his voice is much more sore than he'd hoped.

"Si," his new acquaintance said when sitting down next to him, and the Maelstrom's shard changed hands without mention. "Gracias amigo," he only said, pocketing it.

"I should be the one thanking you. You really saved my skin. And you still have no real reason to trust me."

"Maybe not, maybe I do," the ganger shrugged. "I'm Jackie by the way. What about you?"

The red haired boy was silent for a moment before replying. "...V," he finally said. "And that's my contact, in case... well, I'd be grateful if you didn't use it to extort me or something. But I want you to have it."

Jackie looked seriously as V's been sending him the data. "Hey, who do you take me for?"

"I don't know actually. You seem alright. I've never dealt much with the gangs though."

"Well, you seem alright for a corpo kid too."

"That's probably an insult, but thanks anyway."

"Not at all choom! What are you planning to do now, anyway?"

"...get home probably. There's not much I can do at the moment."

"I see. Well," Jackie also started sending him the data. "if you need anything or just wanna grab a bite, then I'm down. But I probably need to report back for now, so see you later, V."

"...see you later, Jackie."

#cyberpunk 2077 #male v #corpo v #jackie welles #zinkulwriting

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for sticking with this. It’s quite fun to write for this ship, and I hope you’re all ready for homoerotic exercise and another argument between men who don’t know how to communicate :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Three - Proving a Point

Day Two: Tuesday

Gajeel woke in a pissy mood. This wasn't going like it was supposed to.

Freed was meant to be a smug, self important man with no practical skills, no world-hardened experiences, and no way of keeping up with what Gajeel was demanding of him. His three day plan had focused around humbling Freed, telling him that he wasn't hot-shit like he clearly thought, and making him realise that his cushioned life didn't mean he was Gajeel's equal.

What was not meant to happen was for Freed to be competent! He wasn't meant to make a shelter, he wasn't meant to be able to make a fire without a match, and he wasn't meant to be able to cook the damn fish and make them taste good! Even Gajeel couldn't do that.

Worse, the fucker knew. Oh he knew what Gajeel wanted but wasn't getting.

He hadn't been so smug when he'd lost though, had he? He hasn't been running his mouth when he'd been in the stream, gurgling his pathetic little surrender. Nah, he'd looked exactly how Gajeel wanted him; weak, embarrassed and unable to deal with the fact he was out of his league.

Sure, it hadn't taken long for Freed to recover and spout some bullshit about Gajeel being intimidated by his magic, or whatever the hell it was he said. He was trying to save face and Gajeel wouldn't let him; he had lost their fight because he couldn't live without his spells. That was impractical, short sighted and the way a spoiled brat of a man worked. No doubt if he had to rely on his fists more, he would have seen the stream as something to take advantage of and used it, rather than falling into Gajeel's trap.

Hah. At least one thing had gone Gajeel's way.

Mostly.

Kind of.

Look, Gajeel might hate the man and the things he seemed to stand for, but Freed wasn't bad looking. And Gajeel was just a man, who had been stripped to the waist with Freed in the same state of undress, wrestling one another. He was bound to get distracted for a moment. Thankfully, Freed's nasty kick to the balls and the ensuing tantrum after had quickly quelled any growing interest.

Gajeel knew what he had to do today, though. Because if he was going to fight with Freed at the end of the week, he needed to respect the man. He wasn't going to respect Freed if he couldn't take a defeat, and if he couldn't handle himself without his magic. So today, Freed was going to prove he had the ability to back up his words.

Okay, it was a tenuous reason for what he had planned, but fuck it. Fuck Freed too.

It was tempting to wake the prick up by dumping some of the water Gajeel had gathered over his sleeping face - a nice little reminder of how the fight had ended - but he decided against it. He needed to have everything prepared before he woke up, so it would be better to check that everything was in place. That, and Freed apparently snored a little when he was sleeping, and Gajeel certainly didn't want to interrupt the possible blackmail that could come from it.

And perhaps it was nice to have something cut through the silence of the forest.

Gajeel had trained in this forest many times, and as such had come to know how to utilise it's assets. He wandered slowly, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, and eventually found what he was looking for. A large tree that had fallen down years ago, and stumbled down a hill. What remained was a leafless trunk at the bottom of a steep incline, perfect for strength training.

Next, he walked to the largest upstanding tree within reasonable walking distance. Gajeel had often climbed this tree to push his agility and upper body strength, and it was the perfect way to test Freed's practical skills. The tree was still standing tall, the branches Gajeel used to climb still attached. Perfect, no excuses for when Freed fucked up.

When he got to the lake, Gajeel grinned a little. The morning was cold and the water would be freezing, the worst temperature to take a swim in. Normally Gajeel would have hated to swim in weather like this, but it would certainly be a nice wake-up call for the spoiled little Prince.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun. For Gajeel anyway.

——

"I think yesterday proved pretty damp conclusively that you're out of luck if you don't have your magic," Gajeel said with crossed arms, looking down at Freed. "So, today I'm gonna teach you a couple techniques that'll come in handy when you're in a situation where you can't spell yourself out of trouble."

Freed clearly wanted to make a comment, but held his tongue. He was learning, huh.

When Gajeel had returned from his check of the forest, Freed had woken up, set up a new fire and was using the rest of the fish (and a few berries that he had picked) to make them both a breakfast. Gajeel had wanted to reject it out of hand, but it had smelt great and if it was anywhere near as good as his meal the day before, refusing it would be a mistake. It had tasted amazing, so Gajeel had huffed out a thanks and gave a short nod of thanks.

Soon after that, Gajeel had motioned for Freed to follow him. Freed had done so without complaint - Gajeel couldn't prove it, but liked to think it was because the asshole was too embarrassed after his loss - and allowed himself to be led down the stream, towards the lake.

"You've got wings right, when you use yer magic?" Gajeel asked. "So yer probably gonna use 'em to get over every little thing, right?"

"Like you do with your little cat friend, I expect," Freed commented, and Gajeel stiffened slightly. Freed noticed and smirked a little. "My apologies, I interrupted you. Please, go on."

"Don't need yer permission," Gajeel grunted, more to himself than to the man standing before him. "But if yer using yer wings as much as I think you are, you ain't ready to deal with terrain that ain't easy to walk through. So, if this week's about improving then this is gonna help you get over that flaw. We run from here towards the lake, taking us through forested ground which ain't even and ain't safe, and then we swim from one side of the lake to the other."

"So it's a race then?" Freed asked, annoyingly not intimidated by the proposition.

"If you want," Gajeel shrugged. "But I ain't got a prize or anythin'. Definitely not one for participation, like yer probably used to."

Freed rolled his eyes at that, but didn't ride to the bait. Instead, he said, "Perhaps when I win, you'll cook for once."

"You ain't gonna win," Gajeel claimed.

"We'll see," Freed hummed a little, far too smug for his own good.

"Stretch up," Gajeel muttered, even though he wanted to push the man further, maybe even see if he could add an actual forfeit for losing, something to really make the fucker squirm. But, well, Gajeel didn't know for sure he would win, so couldn't risk things just in case.

Just as Gajeel went to start stretching his calves, he heard the sound of ruffling fabric and frowned. He ignored it for a moment as he felt the gentle burn of his muscles working, but caught sight of Freed's white - now dirt stained and crumpled - shirt now hanging over the branch of a nearby tree. With slightly furrowed brows, he turned towards Freed to demand an explanation, only to see him kicking off his pants and placing them right next to his shirt, leaving him only in his boxer-briefs. His tight and eye-catching boxer-briefs.

Before the thoughts could even form about how Freed was wearing his underwear to perfection, Gajeel forced his memory back to the night before. About how he'd acted and how he had tried to make Gajeel feel like crap just to feed his own ego.

Freed had lost a wrestling match, and had thrown a fit about it. Gajeel couldn't respect a man like that, and he couldn't find a guy hot if he didn't respect him.

"The hell are you doing?" Gajeel demanded.

"If we're going to swim, then I'd rather not get my only set of clothes wet when it could be avoided," Freed explained, and Gajeel was momentarily thankful that he didn't look ready to remove his boxers. He couldn't think like that, so spoke again.

"Cause you can't stand a bit of discomfort, right?" Gajeel grumbled.

"No, I just don't see the point of making things worse for myself to prove a point," Freed looked pointedly towards Gajeel when he said that. "The water is clearly going to be cold and the weather doesn't look like it'll improve, meaning it'll be a struggle to dry ourselves already. The fire can only do so much, and we'll either have to lounge around in wet clothes out of stubbornness, or remove them and wait for them to dry while we ourselves get dry. That extends the time we'll be cold, making us both uncomfortable and wasting time before whatever inane task you've got next. That, coupled with the fact that this is flu season, seems like good enough justification for avoiding a stupid problem."

Gajeel could hardly argue the point, so instead he mumbled, "We ain't gonna be lounging around."

"What an astute and well thought out argument," Freed deadpanned, and Gajeel wanted to punch him again. He didn't, instead averting his eyes as Freed started to stretch his arms. "Nobody is forcing you to do the same if you're shy, Mister Redbox. To me it just feels like the reasonable course of actions."

Rather than speaking, Gajeel turned his back. He also removed his shirt and boots; but he wasn't getting half naked like the pervert next to him.

Calling him a pervert was maybe a stretch.

He pushed back that thought, as well as the thoughts of how damn good Freed's ass looked in those boxers - Gajeel was only a man, and he couldn't deny what he saw - and instead got himself into line with Freed. The race is what he should have been focusing on, not the fact that Freed didn't look half bad when he was taken away from his pampered and luxurious sheen. Tangled hair and the odd spec of dirt really did wonders for the pretty-boy.

The race. Focus on the race. And the fact the guy couldn't deal with a loss.

"Ready?" Gajeel asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Go."

He lurched forward before he could think, sprinting through the undergrowth of the the forest as he ran towards the lake. Years of guild work in places like this had allowed for the perfection of running through the forest; you kept alternating your gaze between the ground and on the trees.

Usually he would have turned his skin to iron so he wouldn't have to focus on the branches in his way, but he was trying to prove a point. He winced a little as a sharp end to a twig scraped against his cheek, far too close to his eye, but didn't let it stop his pace. He could hear Freed's breathing very close behind him, so evidently Freed knew how to run through a forest as well as Gajeel did, so he couldn't let up for a moment.

When they were out of the forest, there was a short run towards the lake with more space than there had been in the forest. Gajeel forced himself to run as fast as he could, not wanting to let Freed overtake him now he had the width to do so. And not having a view of the man's body might-

The race. The way he'd acted the night before. Focus dammit!

If telling himself wasn't enough to cut off his libido, the face first plunge into freezing, dirty water certainly did. He let out a shuddering gasp when his head broke the surface, but couldn't allow the ice-cold water to stop him. He quickly started to swim, smirking a little when he realised he still had the lead.

The smirk died when Freed overtook him pretty damn quickly.

Gajeel saw nothing but ripples of water ahead of him, and gritted his teeth as he tried to speed up. He was a man built to brute force his way through a problem, while Freed was apparently more agile. He should have expected that, but he had wanted to leave Freed in the dust during the run so it wouldn't be an issue.

All he could do now was swim to the other shore of the lake, pissed off.

When he reached the end of the lake, he saw Freed resting on one of the large boulders that made up the shoreline. He was panting, soaking wet and still wearing those fuckimg boxers. When he saw Gajeel haul himself up from the water, he looked towards him and smirked.

"That didn't end up how you wanted, did it?"

"Shut up," Gajeel snarled. "Get yer clothes, we've got a busy day."

When Freed laughed, Gajeel nearly pushed him into the lake again.

——

"So, you think ya can beat that?"

Gajeel had more than got his confidence back now, and he was smirking at Freed with his arms flexed intentionally.

Both he and Freed were stood at the bottom of a steep hill, where the dead tree-truck sat. Gajeel had explained this challenge; they would both have to push the tree-truck up the hill as far as they could. The justification for this exercise was that Freed might one day find himself in a situation where he was trapped without his magic and needed to force his way out with his strength alone, and the exercise was meant to simulate that. Freed clearly saw that Gajeel just wanted to push his limits, but he didn't say anything.

This was the last task of the day. They'd already attempted the tree climbing that Gajeel had planned, and Freed had been obnoxiously good at it. Gajeel had been faster, but they both knew that he had a natural advantage because he'd had practice. Gajeel could hardly boast about being slightly better then Freed at something he had done many times and Freed was new to.

Gajeel had just finished his attempt at pushing the trunk, and was fucking delighted when he saw he'd beaten his own personal record. This was how he would regain his control over things.

Freed didn't stand a chance.

"I'm sure I'll be a worthy contender," Freed stated, walking towards the tree-trunk. "Which is a feat, I expect, given that you've clearly been setting me up for failure from the beginning."

"Maybe if you weren't so predictable then I wouldn't have been able to plan things out so well," Gajeel grunted.

"So you predicted that, in everything other than tasks that relied solely on physical strength, I have exceeded your expectations and beaten you in completion, I suppose?" Freed taunted quietly as he positioned himself against the tree-trunk. "I expect you did all of this simply to prove your inferiority."

"Inferiority?" Gajeel scoffed. "You ain't done anything but bitch about this because it's not going yer way."

"Not going my way?" Freed laughed, turning from the log and looking at Gajeel again. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"All you've done is make yer little comments about how you don't think it's fair," Gajeel challenged, taking a step forward and glaring the other man down. "And when ya lose, you throw a tantrum."

"I throw tantrums," Freed demanded, sounding equal parts exasperated and annoyed. "As opposed to you, who has been acting perfectly rational throughout this? It hasn't escaped my attention that you clearly see Makarov's initiative as some sort of personal affront to you, and you have apparently seen it fair to force all of these grievances onto me. So for you, a man who has been as close to stomping his feet and wailing as his pride allows, to complain about me throwing a tantrum is practically laughable."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Gajeel took another step forward. "I'm doing this because yer clearly a spoiled little city-boy and I ain't associating myself with something who can't-"

"Can't what?" Freed snapped. "Can't make a shelter? Can't start a fire? Can't swim across a lake faster than you? Because I've done all of this despite your clear hopes otherwise. Or would you rather judge my worth as a mage by seeing me push a dead tree up a hillside, or to wrestle you without the weapon I use nor the magic I wield? Because, Mr Redfox, if you need to force such strict parameters to best me and you consistently lose, then perhaps your plan isn't a good one."

Fuck, he wanted to punch the guy. Fully encase his fists in iron and beat the shit out of the guy. It would be damn satisfying to see the guy knocked out, while the smugness straight out of him.

"Nothing to say?" Freed continued, a patronising look on his face.

"Fuck off," Gajeel growler, turning around and going to walk away. Before he could take a step, a wall of glowing runes shot up in front of him, blocking his exit. He turned to Freed with an expression of fury. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You," Freed snapped, and magic seemed to emanate from him.

He looked feral in that moment, with all the shields of fancy clothes and smart ass words replaced by anger and magic. His shirt was billowing in the magic induced winds, and the glare on his face was accentuated by the purple swirling in his eye. Fuck, he looked like a man on the edge and it shot straight to Gajeel's dick. Freed was a gentleman gone wild, and if that wasn't one of Gajeel's most well-buried fantasies then he didn't know what was.

The expression was gone as quickly as it came, and the magic swarming Freed's eye fell away. For a moment, Freed looked worried, but he was talking again before Gajeel could understand why he looked like that.

"Neither of us are happy about this, but at the end of the week we have to fight side by side, and the biggest issue we have right now is that we can't stand one another," Freed seemed more calm now, as if the bubble of anger had burst. What the hell had caused that? "So, either you plan something that might make us work together, or at least respect one another, or we both stop trying and say to hell with the consequences."

Gajeel didn't say anything. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him.

Suddenly, a wave of shitty realisation hit him. Freed had a point when he said he was taking his anger out on him, when he really just didn't want to do the damn training thing at all. He wasn't being fair.

"I think that's enough," Freed sighed. "I'll gather my things and go home. You needn't contact me again."

Freed was walking away before Gajeel could react, and the walls of runes fell around them both. A horrid feeling of regret filled Gajeel, and he quickly jogged to catch up with Freed, who was clearly ignoring him. He kinda deserved it.

"Shit, Freed, wait," He placed a hand on the man's chest, and Freed glared at him. "Yer right, I ain't been fair," It wasn't a fun thing to admit. "I had some ideas about who you were, and didn't wanna let ya prove me wrong, even when you were kicking my ass," He sighed. "And yer right about me wanting to fuck you over, that's why I did this shit, and it wasn't right. That was shitty of me."

"Well, I can hardly blame you for judging me. We were both guilty of that," Freed admitted. "And thank you for admitting that. But I don't see how we could suddenly become a cohesive, effective team, we're hardly compatible."

Gajeel sighed, Freed had a point.

But if a Fairy Tail mage was good at anything, they were good at being stubborn.

"What if we have a fight?" Gajeel proposed, and Freed frowned at him. "Talking like this ain't gonna get rid of the attitude we have for each other, right? You're still pissed at me, and you said some things that made me wanna sock a punch in yer jaw. Maybe having the chance to beat the shit outta each other might break through the attitude problems we have."

"That's not too bad an idea," Freed admitted, glancing at the evening sky for a moment. "It would be cathartic to make you scream."

"Buy me dinner first, city-boy," Gajeel teased before he could think. Freed all but gaped at him, and Gajeel was speaking to fill the silence before he could stop himself. "Y'know, I ain't ever seen you fight before. Don't know how you work."

"Then I have the advantage," Freed grinned slightly. "And you're voluntarily giving it to me. Perhaps you really are repentant."

"Nah, just wanna kick yer ass without you having an excuse."

"We'll see," Freed smirked, and Gajeel found himself grinning back.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #gajeel redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #canon divergent #multi chapter #chapter three #word count: 3.6k

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aros001 · 3 years

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Going in blind: Watching season 1 for the first time. Random thoughts.

This show is kind of nice because I have no memories of the original She-Ra show, or even any of He-Man, honestly. I'm not sure if I ever watched the original, so I have no frame of reference for how the series is "supposed" to be. I can just take it and judge it as is.

Of the bat, all I know is that supposedly She-Ra and Catra get together as a romantic couple later, but I'm also a huge My Hero Academia fan and the fandom around me ships every character with every other character, so for all I know that might just be shipper wishful thinking I've been seeing and hearing. Given fandoms for Gravity Falls, Thor, and Supernatural ship even siblings together, I've learned not to trust anything except for what I see in the series for myself.

By the way, this isn't a review, just random thoughts and comments I'm having as I'm going through season 1 for the first time.

Episodes 1 and 2: Right off, I really like Catra's "No duh" response to Adora about the truth of the horde. She knows they've been lying to them and have been doing terrible things, she just doesn't care. If she and Adora play their cards right they could end up being the ones in charge and then they'd have all that power. Not necessarily to make things better but enough to where they could do whatever and live however they want. That's a good build for an antagonist. Not ignorant to the fact what they're doing is wrong, just simply so selfish that they don't care.

Episode 3: It really feels like there was no good reason why Glimmer didn't just outright introduce Adora to her mother and every reason she should have known it was a bad idea to try and hide her for a surprise. Being a former horde soldier she'd probably get treated with hostility if Glimmer brought her to the front gate but you'd almost guarantee Adora would get arrested or outright killed if she got caught while no one else knew she was there.

On the other side, we have Hordak being pretty intelligent in promoting Catra. He probably knows Shadow Weaver already doesn't like him, so it's not like he's losing anything making her upset with him, and it's clear she favors Adora way more than Catra, so that little bit of advancement towards Catra probably goes a long way in earning her loyalty to him and a person on the inside with Shadow Weaver.

Also, I'm not the only one who saw Madam Razz and immediately thought Adora had found her Yoda, right?

Episode 4: I don't know how it was in the original She-Ra and He-Man series but I kind of like She-Ra being this title from legend. Adora is not the first She-Ra, given what Razz was talking about with a Mara, so instead of being something new, impressing everyone with abilities they've never seen before, and creating the legend, Adora is placed in a position WAY over her head where she's having to live up to what came before her.

Episode 5: Calling it now, as long as her personality is genuine I think Scorpia is going to be one of my favorite characters in this show. She's...endearing, I think is the best word. She's like a mix of Kronk and a nicer Shego.

For a little bit I thought Mermista was voiced by the same actress who played Poison Ivy in the Harley Quinn animated series. She's not but they do have the same kind of Daria-ish inflections, thus by confusion. Given the prom episode, Sea Hawk feels kind of like her Kite Man.

Episode 6: Okay, now it's between Scorpia and Entrapta who are likely to be my favorites by the end of this. She's fun and quirky.

Episode 7: Quite the lore drop. Shadow Weaver was once a Mystacor sorceress known as Light Spinner. I like to imagine we'll get more on that later. Her haunting Adora reminded me of the Teen Titans' episode where Robin was similarly haunted by Slade. This didn't go as far as that but that's probably for the best, since TT had two and a half seasons to build that dynamic up with Robin and Slade while we're only now halfway through the first season.

Episode 8: Well dang. Again, I don't know for sure if Adora and Catra do end up together but boy do I buy why they're shipped together after that dance. Also, good on Bow for standing up for himself. It's clear that he'll always be Glimmer's friend and this won't change that but that doesn't mean he has to just accommodate her. I understand where her issues stem from but I am still glad he gave her a reality check. It helps him feel a little more like his own character.

Also, another nice little bit of lore and worldbuilding. Scorpia's a princess, the horde landed where her people lived, and they seemed to join them willingly.

Episode 9: Surprisingly don't have a lot to say about this other than I don't buy for a second that Entrapta is dead (EDIT: She's not). This was mostly action.

Episode 10: Not going to lie, this one kind of annoyed me a little, at least the first half. The conversation between Glimmer and her mother saved it a bit. It was a bit of a trifecta. You have the alliance breaking apart, saying that the loss of Entrapta only happened because they were all together...even though Entrapta only "died" because of her own machine obsession that caused her to deliberately walk back into the purging chamber. You have Entrapta who might be turning to the horde's side because she feels abandoned by the other princesses...even though they thought she was dead, and again it was her fault they got separated. And you have Glimmer refusing to tell her mother that Shadow Weaver's dark magic has caused her powers to go on the fritz and is causing her great pain. It just feels like none of this would be an issue if most of these people would stop being self-absorbed for three seconds and talk like any normal person would. It feels very CW drama, like something I'd see in a bad season of Arrow or The Flash. The only person whose issues I buy is Adora, who is basically a soldier who was never properly raised to deal with emotion or loss and is already struggling with the burden of being She-Ra, the legendary savior. I get why she's beating down on herself for not being able to do more even if nothing that happened was her fault.

Episode 11: JEEEEEEEEEZZZZ, that was such a good episode! Focused entirely on Adora and Catra and their past together. Like, just showing someone this episode alone could probably get them to want to watch the series. That was everything you needed to know about their dynamic and history together.

Also, that moment when Catra and her past self are looking at each other, while obviously Catra takes the opposite lesson, it reminded me of this fanart I'd once seen of Jason Todd, the Red Hood, looking at his past self as Robin. The past says to the future "You ruined everything". Catra could be happy but, ironically for someone who hates Shadow Weaver, she's probably going to be a lot like her, sacrificing everything for power and ambition.

Given the way she looked, I'm guessing Shadow Weaver is either addicted to the power of the Black Garnet or she suffered some kind of past injury and its power is the only thing keeping her going. Or both.

Episode 12: I'll be honest, Swiftwind being able to talk kind of gobsmacked and I needed a moment to recover. What a great voice they chose for that character.

So She-Ra is kind of like the legendary heroes from Rising of the Shield Hero, coming from a long line of people chosen to wield the sword. I tend to dislike chosen one types of stories because I think prophecy takes a lot of weight out of the character's actions, so this and Avatar are more what I like. The MC is special but not the only one who's ever been special and they can still easily fail. Their destiny was only to be able to use the weapon, not that they would succeed in any specific purpose.

And dang, Catra's turn against Shadow Weaver happened faster than I thought it would but I'm not complaining. That great "This is what you've really been preparing me for" speech and Hordak, again, being an intelligent villain. "Oh, this experiment could net me a MASSIVE gain and all it could potentially cost me is this rock I already gave away to someone who lately hasn't been producing any results and has been consistently disobeying me. Yeah, I'm going to let this play out."

Episode 13: That was kind of a brutal fight between Adora and Catra. Not the worst I've ever seen even in other shows for this age range (Samurai Jack, for example) but those punches are connecting and those claws are leaving marks.

Also, maybe I'm just misunderstanding the exact situation but shouldn't the good guys' side be called the Resistance instead of the Rebellion? Being a rebellion would imply they are rebelling against an established power or rule over them, but the actual conflict we are shown is the established power and rule that is the kingdoms of Eternia resisting an outside force that wishes to establish a new order over them.

Season 1 verdict: I'm into it. I'm definitely more invested in the villains' side of things but that's not a fault of the series, that stuff is just way more geared towards me than the current princess stuff. I actively am at attention whenever the horde main characters are on screen. For the good guys it's mostly Adora and the She-Ra stuff I'm invested it. That isn't to say I have any real dislikes for that side. Bow especially I'm liking much more than I thought I might. He has kind of this gravitational pull around him. You will be his friend regardless of how much you might want to resist. He's definitely the rock for everyone else to hold onto.

Minor side note, kind of like Korra in Legend of Korra, I love how even when her powers aren't active Adora is shown to still be pretty strong physically with how easily she was lifting people up at the prom.

And I was right, Scorpia is my favorite side character.

On to season 2!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/nyll2e/going_in_blind_watching_season_1_for_the_first/

#she ra #she ra spop #random thoughts #reddit repost

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true-neutral-earth-elf · 5 years

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Primal Arcanum: Analysis and Speculation pt. 1

*Spoiler Warning: This post contains information pertaining to “The Dragon Prince” season 2. If you have yet to watch s.2 and don’t want the final episode to be spoiled, then please hold off on reading any further. You have been warned.*

Fans were introduced to the arcanum at the beginning of season 2 by Lujanne as she explained what exactly it was that enabled creatures to connect to the primal sources. To put it simply, the arcanum is the understanding of the the primal source’s form, function, and essence and how it connects to our body, mind, and spirit. This connection is something felt and is not easily put into words, however both Lujanne, Callum, and Rayla give it their best shot and (excluding Rayla) did a pretty decent job of it! I’d like to begin with the primal arcanum we know enough about then compare them to the Primal descriptions given by the dragon prince main website, that way we might be able to guess at the other four primal arcanum.

The Sky Arcanum:

“It’s not one simple thing, it’s all the things. They just had to...come together, you know? It’s like, I used to hold the sky in my hand, right? But now that’s gone. But, Rayla, the whole world is like a giant primal stone, and we’re inside it. I’m inside sky magic, but it’s also in me, with every breath I take.” - Callum

"I am the wing!" - also Callum

According to Callum’s description, sky magic exists within the air, the very air we breathe, and is ,therefore , in everything. This corresponds with the primal description’s beginning statement, “Sky magic draws on the vast sky.” Where does the sky end and begin? On earth, it ends at the ocean and solid ground, which is the lower atmosphere (the air we breathe). That part is simple enough, but there’s another meaning to breathing when dream Sarai is speaking with Callum. She urges him to slow down, stop focusing on the mess in his head, and breathe, to let his body and spirit catch up to his head, and breathe. She’s telling him to calm down. His anxiety about not being able figure out the Sky arcanum, was what kept him from learning the Sky arcanum! (Ain’t that a doozy?) When Callum declares, “I am the wing,” he’s saying that the wind is carrying him, like it does with birds and sails; in other words, he’s going-with-the-flow! In “Avatar: Legend of Korra” (in the only episode I actually paid attention to) they had a test at the air temple, the goal was to navigate a series of rapidly rotating panels and make it to the other side without touching them, this was achieved by allowing the air currents to direct your body around the panels; an excellent visual representation of this very process! Now, going with the flow does not necessarily mean being directionless. That’s why creatures of the Sky primal must be quick and clever enough to predict the flow, to work with it not against it! To sum it up: the Sky arcanum is (a. understanding that sky magic is in and around us (b. understand that you need to take a step back and feel where the sky magic is directing you (c. work with sky magic, don’t suppress or fight against it, flow with it!

I hope that made sense, cause we're moving on!

The Moon Arcanum:

“The arcanum of the moon is about understanding the relationship between appearances and reality. Most people believe that reality is the truth and appearances are deceiving. But those of us who know the moon arcanum understand we can only truly know the appearance itself. You can never touch this so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception.” - Lujanne

Dear god, this some Rene Descartes level sh*t....that’s exactly why I’m going to use him to explain what Lujanne is saying; get ready for a quick philosophy lesson!

So Descartes was a French philosopher who had this policy of never accepting anything as truth unless there was absolutely no way it could be false, this led him to question his own existence. He began asking things like, “How do I know what I’m experiencing is real?” or “Do I even exist?” (He was having the mother-of-all existential crisis). Desperate for answers, Descartes decided to examine himself as though he were a jigsaw puzzle. Taking apart everything he had originally thought to be true of himself and set them aside. He began looking for the single thing that would prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was real (like when you look for the corner pieces to get the puzzle’s outline). That’s when he realized that the ability to doubt his existence, to question his very being, was proof in itself of his existence. Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. That was Descartes’s conclusion. From there he began inspecting the other pieces of his puzzle and finally put “himself” back together.

How does this apply to the moon arcanum? Lujanne explained that most people believe that appearances are deceiving while reality is truth. But how can one determine the truth of reality when it is only the appearance that can be seen? To further clarify; appearance in this case refers to something that is perceived by an entity. So we, being separate entities, view things from our individual perspectives; hence, when we perceive something we are viewing its appearance. Reality is often considered separate from its appearance, but is it really? Or is it, perhaps, the collective appearance (all perspectives in one)? Remember, we are constantly perceiving ourselves from a standpoint others could never dream to, which means how we view our appearance may be different than how others do. Does that make our self image false? No. It’s simply a piece of our reality. Descartes feared that his appearance was not reflecting his reality (whither or not he existed), he discovered that there was, indeed, truth behind his appearance, and eventually rediscovered his appearance - his piece of reality. Therefore, appearance is not a lie, but a separate truth; reality is not necessarily truth, but the sum of all appearances.

So those who know the moon arcanum are aware that reality is not independent of its appearance and appearances are not necessarily lies. This is how moon mages are able to use illusions and can connect with spirits; illusions rely on the caster to consider the appearance of their subject, meanwhile spirits live on a separate plane of existence and cannot appear in the same manner as items of this plane.

When you consider the nature of the moon the arcanum makes a little more sense. The moon appears to glow at night, yet it doesn’t. It’s just reflecting the light of the sun. Then, as it wanes, it appears as though parts of the moon are gone until we can’t see it at all! Guess this is why the writers chose this arcanum for it. Since I’ve already taken enough time to explain the moon arcanum I’ll just list the basic points going along the lines of its form, function, and essence: moon magic is (a. understanding that it comes from the moon and will have low and high points depending on the moon phase (b. provides an alternative view of the world and its reality (c. understanding that reality is not independent of appearances, and appearances are not lies but alternative truths (alternative truths do not equal lies, politicians simply enjoy perverting the English language)

From this point on is all speculation based on the previous arcanum patterns; 100% theory time!

According to the Primal description, earth magic comes from two domains: the geological components of the world, and the life that inhabits it ( flora and fauna). I believe this means that there are actually two arcanum for earth magic (7 arcanum in all). Because the source of the magic is different, then we can only assume that the arcanum which draws it out is different too! This could be wrong, but I’ll separate them anyways.

Life (flora, fauna) Arcanum:

Based on the description, life-earth magic of this sort comes from the life that surrounds us: plants, animals, even elves and humans! The potential application of this magic is wide open for speculation, a few possibilities are: floral manipulation (which would be an awesome way to make tree buildings or plant furniture, maybe even weapons), telepathic communication with animals (or just being able to understand animal languages), being able to sense the life force in creatures while meditating (like what Eragon learned to do from Oromis in book 2 of the Inheritance Cycle (god, I’m a nerd)), and healing (instead of it being quick panacea spells, I’d like to think of it’s a strenuous process of understanding the cell structures and their function in the body, then having to focus on certain cells to reproduce rapidly thereby speeding up the healing process; also like in the Inheritance cycle). These are all incredible abilities that have the potential for being applied in so many horrific ways; what’s keeping elf mages from asking animals to maul their enemies? Or inflicting their own plague on man kind? This is where the meaning of the arcanum comes in! I believe that the arcanum of life-earth magic is the understanding that all life has a significant role to play in the world. There’s no such thing as a “major” or “minor” role for all are necessary in maintaining the equilibrium (balance) of the world. Creatures of the Earth primal respect this relationship, and probably view other creatures as equals, if not kin. Death will also, probably be an important factor in understanding the arcanum. Consider the circle of life (I’m going Rafiki on y’all, sorry); when we die our bodies go to the earth, the plants and bacteria feed off of the nutrients our corpses provide, then an herbivore feeds on the plants, later on a carnivore will eat the herbivore and feed their young, later on the carnivore will either die naturally or be eaten by another creature; and so it goes on! Death is a necessary antagonist for life, and earth mages must recognize that. To put this in terms of form, function, and essence: (a. life-earth magic dwells within the life force of all living things, (b. life-earth magic sustains the equilibrium of the world through the continued growth of its inhabitants, (c. life-earth magic requires an understanding that all life plays a role in the world and that death (natural death, this does not condone murder or negligence) is necessary to the continuation of life.

Geological Arcanum:

Referring back to the Primal description, geological-earth magic comes from within the minerals, stones, and crystals of the earth. Theses materials have been around since the dawn of humanity, they’re often viewed as indestructible and even eternal elements. However, this is not quite true. As any child who paid attention to the geology portion of their science class will tell you, the components which make up the earth are always undergoing some sort of change! Some changes are slow and require a mixture of different temperatures and pressure (think diamonds & oil). Others are quick, unpredictable, and destructive (volcanic eruptions & earth quakes). Yet the earth remains to be the most reliable source we know of. Earth is ever changing, but also consistent. It’s this dual nature that I believe is the key to learning the geological-earth arcanum. The application of this magic is difficult to speculate on; it has the potential to be like earth bending in AtLA, but at the same time stones and minerals have been believed to provide remedies for particular ailments, it could have certain healing spells. Crystals are often associated with spiritual energy, maybe the magic works with that? This is what I’m assuming for the geological-earth arcanum: (a. geological-earth magic dwells within the earth’s crust and its components, (b. it provides stability, consistency, but also change, (c. one must understand the dual nature of the earth: it is always changing, yet remains the same.

This is where I'll end part one for now. Feel free to share your thoughts, opinions, or critiques on the arcanum!

Thank you for reading!

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp headcanons #tdp theory #tdp arcanum #arcanum #earth primal #sky primal #moon primal #tdp callum #tdp lujanne #tdp rayla

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leonawriter · 5 years

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Place A Flower Crown Around Your Neck

Also on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, the Sheep, the Port Mafia, Kouyou.

Pairings: Dazai/Chuuya

Summary: Soulmates AU. As long as Chuuya can remember - which is far shorter than most people by several years - flowers have appeared on every area of his body. Supposedly, or so they say, it's because there's someone out there who has the same happen to them when he gets hurt.

The flowers only appear because he cares. The realisation that the one on the other end is Dazai makes him wish that he didn't.

...

Chuuya looks in the mirror, which isn't much of one, and sees shapes blossoming over his chest, his legs, his his arms.

Nakahara Chuuya, the plastic bracelet he'd had on during his first memories, had said. Age. Gender. Birthdate. Blood type.

None of it explained why there were flowers currently all over his body, that he hadn't put there.

Just one more thing I can't explain, he decided. Something else he could only figure set him apart from the rest of the kids who were a part of the group that'd taken him in when they'd seen him wandering the streets with no clue who he was, where he was, or even what he was, given that his last real memory was of some great hand reaching for him, and that felt more like some sort of weird dream, or nightmare, than something real.

Even if nothing else, it wasn't human.

Maybe this wasn't either, he wonders, and picks his clothes up from the floor, putting them on one by one, readying himself to go back out and pretend to be normal again, for another day.

...

"Oh, ouch," Yuzu says at the dinner table one day, wincing as she looks at him. He doesn't get it - he's not been injured, hasn't been since he burned his hand on the stove by accident, trying to grab at a pan with his ability before it could topple and send the food flying, and that was long enough ago that it'd healed over.

"Ouch what?"

Shirase and a few others start to lean in, to get a closer look, and the moment they look at him, they all wince in their own ways.

Honestly, if people keep doing this and not telling him what was going on, he's just plain gonna get pissed off real soon-

"What, is this new? C'mon, Chuuya, if you had someone, you should've told us!"

"Pfft, look at him! I don't think he even knows what we're talking about!"

"What, seriously? But everyone and their mom and big sister knows about that one- ohhh! Right."

The rice he'd been shovelling into his mouth suddenly becomes a lot harder to swallow as he's reminded of how there were such basic things that even the smallest of the kids who'd come to the Sheep had just by the fact that they'd been born, had parents, had homes...

"Look, it's fairly simple." The calm voice that had started to explain belonged to a girl several years younger than him. Younger than he was supposed to be and how people saw him, at least. "The idea is, that there are some people who have someone else in the world, and when that person is hurt, flowers show up where the hurt is. I heard someone say that it's because when the world was being made, there were two people who always wanted to know if the person they loved was okay, so the gods gave them a way to find out, because they didn't have phones yet."

"So," someone else said, taking off where she'd left off, "that means you've got someone like that, Chuuya!"

"Yeah," and this time it's Yuzu again, "which would be great, if it weren't for how there's like, a ring of flowers right now all around his neck. I'd say it's pretty, but honestly, it's kind of morbid."

It was tempting to roll up his sleeves, just to see if some of the flowers he'd seen before were still there, but he stops himself before he can do more than tug on a cuff.

Whoever they are, they're either being kicked around like some weak kid who likes to pick way too many fights, or they don't take nearly enough care of themself, he thinks to himself.

Conversation drifts on, and people talk about soulmates, even though the subject of Chuuya's pretty much gets dropped aside from a number of curious glances, often accompanied by a sympathetic wince.

Someone brings up that they knew someone from the other side of the slums, and her soulmate was her twin sister, and someone else argues back that twins didn't count, and someone else argued the point with what little they'd learned of history from the books they'd been able to scavenge from the deserted shops and houses.

Chuuya just carried on eating his food, and hoped that whoever it was on the other end would be a bit more considerate and not make this thing so obvious in the future, if they couldn't just stop getting hurt.

At least, he thinks to himself as he forces another mouthful down, hand going to his throat without thinking, it's something human I can claim as my own.

The flowers fade by the time they've finished eating and clearing up, until eventually there's nothing left of them at all. Even so, part of him worries, because those are just the flowers, he knows, and if that means there's an actual injury on some poor person he's supposed to care about, then...

It's easier not to think about it, than to consider the idea that he might have lost them before he's even found them.

...

He kicks the Port Mafia brat into a wall, digs the heel of his foot into the guy's chest, and kicks him again not long later just to get rid of that nullifying ability of his, and doesn't even think anything of it until he gets a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirrors later, and wonders who the hell his soulmate could be, that he's now got something or other trailing all the way down one of his arms, and something pale just over one of his eyebrows.

It's a good thing he's taken to wearing clothes that cover him up, ever since he found out about this.

(He'd seen Dazai walk in with a cast over his arm, but figured that the two couldn't be related, it had to just be coincidence, because that explosion had covered a wide enough area it could've been anyone, and maybe it was weird, but people busted up their arms every day.

Besides, the world was big, and it didn't have to be the one Port Mafia kid he'd already declared he couldn't stand.)

...

The first sign he really should've paid attention to, that he shouldn't have just filed off as weird and ignored, was when he'd seen himself with something small and dainty flowering on his cheek while going through the house that was where the explosion had been.

A small flower, in the same place he could see Dazai now had a small cut, probably from one of the bullets the GSS soldiers had been aiming at him.

Dazai ignores it. Or he seems to.

But then, Dazai, with his bandages all over and his boredom and the way he acts like he's already an adult when he's younger than Chuuya, is weird enough that maybe he sees, and he just doesn't care.

...

Maybe it says something, that he doesn't even figure it out while they're fighting Randou - Rimbaud, he should say, now - and maybe that's all down to adrenaline and the fact that neither of them were injured in places that they'd be able to just look at during the fight, or maybe it was something else entirely, but-

At some point he gets a glimpse of flowers fading from his chest, and his mouth goes dry, remembering all too clearly the small blossoms that had grown around his neck hardly even just once, or twice, in his life.

And the bandages that still covered Dazai's.

...

(He takes to wearing a collar-type choker. Dazai might make fun of it, but Chuuya doesn't want to see flowers in the mirror the next time Dazai tries hanging himself, because he knows what's underneath those bandages better than anyone. He's seen most of those scars come into existence, after all, even if he's never seen them in person.

So he never makes fun of the bandages, even though he could. He isn't going to sink to Dazai's level, and unlike some, he doesn't take pleasure in someone else's pain like that.)

...

"...Ane-san," he says, halfway through a private session focusing on manners and how they relate to tactical warfare, "the whole... soulmates, thing. D'you know of any where they just, don't even like each other?"

The look she gives him says that she understands why he's asking, and that would be bad enough, but she looks like she pities him, and that's ten times worse.

"None that I know of," she says. "After all, the story goes that the gods granted the ability to see the harms of others because both people involved cared, Chuuya-kun."

He scoffs at that, almost laughs at the very idea, because this is Dazai they're talking about, but she gives him a level look, reminding him that they had been in a lesson about manners.

...

The worst times are when he doesn't see any sign of flowers at all, and he learns to dread not seeng anything at all because when the injuries are all internal, the flowers don't appear.

He can't know to run to the last person to see Dazai and ask where he's gone to cut him down when he sees flowers beginning to bloom out from behind his choker, he can't know to run home if he sees something trailing across his wrists, can't know to go anywhere, if he can't see anything at all.

He's scared shitless the first time he sees Dazai floating face down in a river, and screams profanities at him for what feels like an hour, maybe more, until Dazai puts his fingers in his ears and complains of hearing loss.

Chuuya doesn't care, and nor does he care about the fact that he's going to be seeing the marks on his skin from the way he'd beaten at Dazai's chest a little too hard, and hit him knowing that the flowers would fade in a few hours, but at least Dazai would be alive to make them bloom.

He hates Dazai for doing this, hates him for doing this to him, hates him for making him care.

...

("You're late," Dazai says, "because of that, they were able to hit me three more times."

He knows, he wants to say, because he still has the flowers fading on his wrists, where the cuffs are chafing, his sides, where Dazai's been kicked, and Dazai can probably even see the ones on his face that match the bruises still forming there.

"Poor baby," is what he says instead, "want me to pick up where they left off?")

...

The aftermath of Corruption is probably the only time he feels like it's all worth it - the use of that much power and the loss of control, and the entire flowers thing in general.

He'll come back to lucidity to see Dazai's face, invariably covered in flowers, almost always blue and white.

It's a small reminder of what everyone kept on telling him, and even if it only remains for a short time, he'll burn the sight into his memories best he can.

They're only there because he cares, they only can be there because he cares, he tells himself.

...

He isn't there, when Dazai vanishes, and Mori tells him on the phone about how Dazai has betrayed the mafia, and will from here on in be treated as a traitor.

My condolences, Chuuya-kun. Perhaps if he chooses to come back of his own accord, some argument for leniency might be made, Mori had said, but such leniency can only exist if Dazai-kun allows it to. As I'm sure you understand.

The worst thing is, he does. He understands, he gets it - it makes complete sense in his head, that they can only help Dazai as far as he'll let himself be helped. Which has never been much, if at all, what with the way he's always just done everything on his own and in his own way.

But that's his head, and his heart - that he'd once denied existed, because a heart like this was something more human than he could lay claim to, as some force of destruction in a mortal body - told him that it hurt.

At the very least, Mori's words mean that he doesn't feel like he has to constantly be hyperaware of his own reflection, that he won't wake up one day with flowers having blossomed red on his chest, and trailing down from his jawline.

At least, he thinks, he might be given enough warning before that happens that he won't have to worry about being in public and having all of his enemies and subordinates alike know that his very own soulmate had been executed as a traitor to his very own organisation.

Idly, he wishes that whoever the hell had come up with this stupid idea in the first place, whichever god or goddess it was, had thought to make internal injuries visible as well - maybe then, Dazai might see the way Chuuya had been hurt because of him.

If he even cares, that is, and this isn't just one sided now somehow.

They'd seen each other's pain on their bodies since well before they'd even met, but it wasn't impossible. He'd heard stories, everyone had, and he wasn't so oblivious that he didn't hear people talking about him, wondering if that was what had happened to him.

The marks are only there because you care, he reminded himself, but they don't say anything for a shitty mackerel that's never cared more about you than his love of suicide.

Just forget about him, he tells himself, tired of this already, when a few days later the flowers appear again, around his neck, as if his choker had gained lace and frills, and he calls in sick so that he's just going to do paperwork and won't have to go out in public like this.

Kouyou doesn't question him. But then, that's helped by the fact that he'd wound up throwing up when the flowers still hadn't faded after several hours, and he's driven to nausea by the images his mind throws at him of Dazai hanging from some beam, some low-hanging tree branch, the life draining out of him and the flowers around Chuuya's neck never fading, because the wounds are never going to heal.

He gets dressed and goes out and manages to look and act normal, but marks on his skin are still fading, days later.

...

He starts to get used to Dazai not being there, and starts to grow accustomed to the flowers showing up and not being able to do shit about it, though it helps that he doesn't see anything near as bad for a long while, and when it does, they fade more quickly.

People learn to stop bringing it up, and each new subordinate he gets learns quickly not to ask, enough that he wonders if it's something people just pick up on, or if people think he'll somehow blow up if they mention how the 'tattoos' on his arms have changed since yesterday.

...

Just forget about him, he'd told himself, just stop caring so much, and it'll all go away and life will be that much easier. You know that. Yo do.

His heart still stops for a moment when he sees the fresh splashes of colour on his skin, and he grinds his teeth at his inability to do anything about it.

He's not coming back, he's not worth the damn effort of caring, he keeps thinking. If you stop caring now, you won't have to be left with being unable to get rid of the evidence once the bastard actually gets what he wants and finally kills himself.

It doesn't work.

It never does.

...

Four years on, and he's not even thinking about Dazai at all until he looks down at his wrists and sees soft white covering his skin. He doesn't even feel worried at this point, just angry, angry that he knows that if anyone looks at him, they'll wonder what kind of partner he has that would do such a thing.

He's still on the train and looking out of the window when he sees his face burst into flower.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and briefly wonders what sort of mess the bastard had got himself into this time, and by the time he opens them again, he forgets to breathe, for just one moment.

The flowers had covered almost his entire face, colours deep enough to mean it'd be a while before they went down, and he could only imagine what could possibly be going on to cause that.

But he can't think about that, and doesn't want to think about that, so he just pushes his hat down over his head, and pointedly doesn't think at all about Dazai for the rest of the journey, so that when he gets the call telling him that Dazai was in mafia custody, his hand doesn't shake when he puts his phone away again.

...

Dazai is spotless aside from the bruises all over his face and the numerous cuts and scrapes he'd doubtless gathered from just being hung up to dry in their interrogation cell.

Even though Chuuya knows it's because he hasn't had any injuries to make anything show up, it still pisses him off enough that he acts without thinking to try and goad Dazai into a fight.

All he winds up doing is adding to the number of flowers on his own body, and the irony is that anything that Dazai might have done to him, would have been covered up by those damn bandages anyway.

...

He doesn't care, he told himself, later, and even if he did, he doesn't care enough about you to let you know there's anything left.

He gets drunk anyway, and pretends it doesn't hurt that most people seem to take his word for it, that the bastard has it coming, that Akutagawa had looked him in the eye, knowing what he'd done, and maybe if he's drunk enough, it won't hurt as much that Mori wants Dazai back, and both of them know he won't.

He's happier there, come the drunken realisations, that's the first time in ages I've seen flowers that big.

He tries to tell himself he's angry, and maybe when he's sober then he'll be able to be again, but while he's drunk all he can think of is the fact that the flowers are fading, and the way Dazai had laughed at him.

...

He really should have known that Dazai's arm hadn't been damaged - or at least, not here - when his own skin was left clean of any colour that hadn't already been there.

And again, Dazai doesn't seem to notice, doesn't seem to care, about the flowers that spring into existence on Chuuya each time he gets hurt, because why would he? He always has been careless like that.

He might be happier where he is now, but he had left Chuuya behind along with the mafia, and sooner he learned to deal with that, the better.

...

The first lucid sight he has after being pulled out of Corruption and a haze of destruction and despair and the increasing call of the familiar void, calling him to something he had once been, something he could never be again, something where he wouldn't care about anything because he wouldn't be anything-

Other than the cracked ground underneath his feet, the blood dripping down his arms-

Is Dazai.

It's already hard to breath evenly, and the sight of Dazai's face in his hands, unmistakably Dazai but covered in flowers like he hasn't seen in years, is enough to make him almost pass out there and then.

"I wanted to," Dazai said, a smile on his face, "but it was fun."

Liar, Chuuya wanted to say, liar.

Maybe he would have believed, even, if it hadn't been for the evidence that was literally staring him in the face.

He cares, the flowers told him. He cares.

"Red spider lilies and camellia, Chuuya? I'm flattered."

He blinks, never having bothered to learn any of the meanings behind any of it, figuring there wasn't much point.

He still pushes his fist into Dazai's chest, wishing he could punch him for holding out on him all these years, but not having the energy to do more than say he could at least take him back to the extraction point, after making him go so far, before passing out.

...

He asks Kouyou what red spider lilies and camellia mean, and she looks at him in surprise for a moment, before answering.

Something lost, or abandoned, she says, and then, after a pause, one who is in love. Perishing with grace. Chuuya-kun, is there something you want to tell me?

His explanation is to ask, without words because he worries that if he tried to speak, his words would fail to come out, by holding out the arm with the still-fading white flowers.

Kouyou looks up at his face, sharply, and he worries that something is wrong, if he had misjudged-

Gardenia, she says, pointing at a small bouquet of the delicate-looking things. White roses. Even just these two speak of a secret love... and devotion. If these are from Dazai-kun, then he must have grown a great deal, in these past years. And perhaps your feelings are not so unrequited as you fear, lad.

What he doesn't say, is that he's seen those same white flowers, among others, for far longer than just the past few years.

...

"You know," Dazai says some months later, his head leaning onto Chuuya's shoulder, "for a good long time, I thought it'd have to be someone a lot younger than me. I didn't even think it could be you when I saw we matched."

"Hah? Really?" He thinks about it for a moment, and still can't understand how someone that smart can be that dumb. "How would that even work?"

"You looked my age." Some hint of nostalgic whimsy entered into Dazai's voice, a fair bit colder than most people would be comfortable with. "I've never told anyone else, who wasn't there, but... the first time I ever saw these, I was seven years old."

"What's that- but... it doesn't..."

"Of course it makes sense, Chuuya. It's made sense to me ever since I heard you say it yourself, that you only really remember starting to exist as yourself, at that very age. The person I was linked to wasn't just Arahabaki, and it wasn't just whoever "Nakahara Chuuya" was before, but you."

His throat constricts, his heart beats too fast, his eyes sting.

He shifts out of Dazai's grip, only to see Dazai looking uncertain and floundering. The closest thing to actually scared that Chuuya thinks he's ever seen on him.

"The hell are you doing, saying sappy things like that?" He groans, covering his eyes with his arm, knowing damn well that it's going to come away wet.

"...Chuuya?"

"You absolute dumbass. You could've told me years ago."

Beautiful, Chuuya remembered him saying as they looked through the restricted files, when they were sixteen and Chuuya was still coming to terms with his own humanity.

He understood now, even if Dazai looked as though he was so close to shutting himself off again.

His touch, when he reaches over to hold Dazai's face, to tell him in actions what his words weren't good enough to begin to explain at the best of times, not about this, is gentle, running ungloved fingers over the red roses and morning glory on Dazai's face from when Chuuya had been earlier in the day.

The kiss, which isn't their first, is soft. For once he isn't searching for something, isn't hoping for something he half expects won't be there. He's showing, making sure Dazai can't mistake what this means.

I love you, it says. I care.

I don't want to let go, it says, as he puts his other hand on the other side of Dazai's face.

I love that you love all of me.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd stuff #Leona fic #soukoku

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astoria00 · 5 years

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Salem and Cinder's connection is deeper than we think

So, in another post I talked about the possibility of Salem having shared some of her magic with Cinder to keep her alive. Now, I don't want to entirely debunk my other theory, but maybe what Salem shared with Cinder wasn't so much her magic, but a part of her aura/soul. And having a part of someone who is literally immortal attached to them...tends to keep one alive as well.

The show even offers us possible facts that could strengthen this theory. So for the sake of this argument I will go through them chronologically, starting by vol 3 episode 7, our very first Cinder flashback episode.

Besides Cinder's semblance (yes, I still attribute those explosions to her semblance), which resembles Salem's own signil eerily enough on certain occasions and which she could use way before obtaining the Fall Maiden's power, there is a short little dialogue I want to point out:

“The huntsman severed the connection before it was complete.

Yes...it's an emptiness. It burns...like hunger... I like it.

Yes...I will claim what is ours.

Thank you.“

That whole scene was, of course, a black screen scene and for a while I had just assumed Cinder would talk to Salem via a scroll or this seer grimm, but let's be real. Salem doesn't strike me as someone who owns a scroll and Cinder was definitely not talking to Watts or Tyrian here. A seer grimm might be possible, but...it depends on where Cinder was staying at that time and how many of these type of grimm Salem even has. So yes, it's still possible for this to be a one-sided phone call of sorts, but it could also be our first clue for Cinder's and Salem's connection. This whole conversation could have been telepathic...in a sense.

But let's look at another scene. In vol 3 episode 10, we see Emerald, Mercury and Cinder on the rooftop with the latter telling Mercury to focus on the Atleasian knights. When he states he will, Cinder adds this little tidbit.

“Good, continue the broadcast until the end.

(Ground/rooftop shaking)

And do not miss what happens next.“

This is of course referring to the giant grimm dragon breaking from the mountain. Now, Salem could have told Cinder about it and how to get it to emerge, but this shaking could have been anything really. Maybe one of the elephant grimm trampled over a house and it crashed into another, or an explosion caused a little quake in its aftermath. So Cinder knowing exactly what the shaking meant was pretty...specific and well timed.

But it gets even more interesting in vol 3 episode 12 when the grimm dragon first lands on Beacon tower:

“Shh...this is your home now.“

Now, first of all, the dragon seems to know exactly where it has to go. It could be beacuse Salem ordered it to...but why would it look so grimmly at Cinder then, when he first spots her? Why would Cinder need to calm it down? And more importantly, Cinder CAN calm it down! Sure, she could have just said it because she felt like it, or she thought it could help, but the dragon literally reacted to her words, its growl even softened somewhat. And who else have we seen talking to grimm like this? Salem!

So what does all of this have to do with Cinder and Salem's soulbound connection? Well...let's first try to find out HOW they talk to grimm.

In all honesty, I haven't seen other people in Remnant who attempted to talk to grimm, nor were they mentioned (well maybe Merlot did, but we're not counting him XD). And how would they even understand one? They are soulless creatures, but...they are drawn to negative emotions. Which means they have a 'higher' empathic sense of sorts. We also know they are somewhat intelligent. So maybe Salem is able to communicate with them via that sense. Yes, we have seen her directly talk to some of them, but talking helps us visualize or feel certain things, so this might have been for her own or Cinder's benefit. And we should also keep in mind that the seer grimm gave his report...via his clicking noises...so...the trick behind that 'language' could be interpreting certain feelings and pictures that are send via that sense.

We haven't seen Ozpin being able to do the same, so it could be an ability Salem aquired after jumping into the fountain of the god of darkness.

Now, if Cinder is being able to communicate with grimm as well and Salem is the only other being in Remnant who is known to have this ability, it certainly could allude that it got shared when Salem attached a part of her soul to Cinder.

Also, if we look further at her fight with Pyrrha, the grimm dragon tries to help her somewhat and not once did Cinder look surprised by that. Not when it suddwnly flew away, nor when it changed its course to speed up back at them to crash into the dome of the tower.

So why did I talk about how communication with a grimm might work? Because I believe Cinder and Salem to be able to communicate on the same level, via that empathic sense.

But let's take a look at vol 4 where we actually see both of them interacting.

We have vol 4 episode 3 where Salem gives Cinder a 'control your new arm' lesson. What exactly is she saying there again?

“Do you feel it?

Don't fight it, girl.

It can sense your trepidation.

You must make it dread you!“

Trepidation...alright... How do you know that, Salem? Cinder doesn't look frightened at that scene at all, a bit uncomfortable and probably in pain, but I wouldn't have said she was afraid. So not only 'it' was able to sense Cinder's trepidation, Salem could as well it seemed. And if we watch a bit longer we get the whole :

“Did you kill Ozpin?“

A question Cinder has to answer all by herself, even though she clearly can't really talk at the moment. And why was that important for Salem? Because Cinder literally wouldn't be able to lie to Salem's face if they're in fact connected like this and it would also explain why Salem looked so pleased after she gets her answer. She doesn't question it, she simply believes her when she says yes. Furthermore, there is this moment where Salem raises her voice and slams her hands on the table...but Cinder doesn't even flinch, as if she already felt something like this would happen.

Speaking about lies. In vol 4 episode 11 we have another instance of...interesting phrasing from Salem:

“Enough!

I thought you were the girl that wanted power.

Did you lie to me?

Then stop holding back!“

Stop holding back? Well, to me it certainly looked like Cinder gave it her all, no holding back, just being tired because she clearly pushed herself very hard, so I ask again...how did Salem know that? She would only be able to make that point if she either already witnessed Cinder handling her powers and knows she can do better, which didn't seem to be the case with how frustrated Cinder got at the end, or like with her trepidation in ep 3, Salem was just able to feel it. Something else that stood out to me in that scene was Cinder's reaction to Salem's: Did you lie to me? She flinches. Not when Salem says it's 'Enough', not when she throws Cinder's desire for power back at her, no, she flinches when she is accused of lying. And if we go with their connection theory...she literally wouldn't be able to pull that off, because Salem would know it immediately...somewhat like a lie detector. So Salem asking her this, was kinda a dig at her that she couldn't.

If we keep focusing on Cinder here when Tyrian comes back and begs for forgiveness, she only looks at him for maybe a split second, before her attention is solely on Salem again. And Cinder seems to look almost uneasy....lost of sorts? But why would she? Tyrian is the one getting focused on by Salem for now. He is the one in trouble. So could it be, that Cinder actually picks up on Salem's 'emotions' again, as she may have in ep 3? If they do have this bond, then it probably goes both ways. So Cinder might get some puzzling or worrisome readings from Salem in that scene, and we know from vol 6 just how much Salem can repress her anger...well until she doesn't, but still XD

Another scene that might strengthen this theory happens in vol 5 episode 2, when Lionheart tells his report to Salem. After she gives her orders to all of them and ends the 'call' she immediately looks over to Cinder, as if she knows right away that something is troubling her.

“You are free to speak your mind.“

She even sounds somewhat amused and as we have already seen, this isn't the first time Salem is awefully intuned to Cinder's feelings.

There are a few other small things that I have found throughout the series, but these are the most interesting ones I think, so let me talk about how I even got this idea in the first place and let's jump straight into vol 6 now.

After we got our first episode with Cinder it was clear that she had woken up a month after the attack at Haven. And she immediately seemed to know what to do. Sure, a lot of people were saying she couldn't very well go back to Salem empty handed, and although I'm not really agreeing with that, even if that is the truth, what stops Cinder to contact Hazel and get where Ruby and co. are from him? Or Emerald and Mercury? What stops her from reaching out to them? Her scroll seems to work just fine. Is she aware of Salem wanting her to “toil in her isolation“?

When we got episode 4, Salem is indeed aware of Cinder being alive. A lot of people seem to believe the reason for that is Cinder's grimm arm. Personally I don't agree with that. Yes, Salem is the master of all grimm and can control them, but firstly, we don't know how much at once and at what length she can do that. Secondly, she probably is not able to connect to a soulless creature, not even mentioning having the ability to keep tabs on them. 'Talking' and controlling them? Sure. But being outright able to feel when one of them evaporates? That would mean she would be able to keep tabs on all the grimm over the world...and I don't think that's the case.

So Salem attaching a part of her own aura/soul to the girl she definitely needs to survive against all odds and keep somewhat control over her, does sound plausible to me. It would certainly explain her leniency towards the Fall Maiden and why she is not even questioning her loyalty once. It is hard to betray someone who you're directly tied to after all.

But then again, that's just me theorizing again. I could be proven wrong next episode, but hey, analyzing these things is fun XD

#cinder fall #rwby spoilers #rwby theories #salem rwby #rwby volume 6 spoilers #just my theories #i need a new au for this #salem's one scary mom xd #that's some way to monitor your fire daughter xd #team firefly

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chasholidays · 5 years

Note

I really like a Timestamp for Time Enough for Rocking When We're Old with the prompt "Graduation"

Original fic here!

Bellamy knows that Octavia didn’t pick a college in the Boston area just to delay his impending freakout about her growing up and moving away, but that was a side-effect of Boston College being her favorite place that she visited. It had felt like a good kind of compromise, her leaving the house but not leaving, and Bellamy hadn’t even minded that much. He loves his sister, but he really shouldn’t have had Octavia in the first place. When she left for college, his life fell into the place where it was probably supposed to be: he was a twenty-seven-year-old guy with a good job, a house, and a wife. If anything, he was ahead of the game.

So he was doing well. Octavia was close enough that she came home to do laundry sometimes, but it was mostly just him and Clarke, living in something like domestic bliss. There wasn’t any reason to think that would change, once Octavia finished college.

It’s about a month before said finishing of college when she says, “Hey, I got a job.”

“Yeah? Awesome, congrats. That’s amazing.”

“Right? It’s a one-year gig teaching English in Japan, but if I like it I can extend my contract for longer.”

Bellamy’s heart stops. “What?”

“Did I not tell you I was applying for that?”

“O–”

“It’s a job, and a cool one! I get a place to live and I get to see a whole new part of the world. How is that not awesome?”

“If you really thought I’d think it was awesome, you would have told me.”

“Just because you don’t think it’s good, that doesn’t mean you’re right. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t want to have this fight unless I actually got it. Which I did.”

There’s an undeniable logic to it, not that it helps. His paranoid overprotectiveness is something his sister can plan around, something she has to factor into whatever she tells him. How many things must she have thought about doing that he doesn’t know about because she didn’t trust him not to blow up?

“You did,” he agrees, releasing his breath on a long exhalation. “And you’re excited?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Tell me why, so I get it.”

And to be fair to Octavia, she’s not lacking in reasons. She’s never left Boston and has always wanted to travel, she actually kind of likes teaching, and she wanted to see what it was like to be on her own without completely giving up a safety net. She looked into dozens of programs, compared them, and applied to a bunch, but this was her favorite, and she got in.

The least he can do is be happy for her.

“Sorry,” he says, soft. “That you couldn’t tell me.”

“I learned my lesson from the college conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I loved BC, but every time I talked about liking anywhere out of town, you shut down.”

Bellamy doesn’t remember it like that, but he’s never had as good a poker face as he thinks he does. He goes blank and thinks that will solve the problem, but his sister knows what a blank face means. He wasn’t fooling her.

“I know it takes me some time to get used to–I just want you to be happy. I’ll get over myself.”

“I know,” she says, her tone an eyeroll. “You haven’t stopped me doing anything I want to do, Bell. I just don’t tell you everything all the time.”

“I guess that’s probably fine. Did you tell Clarke?”

“Some, not everything. I told her I got this first so she’d be ready for your freakout.”

“You know you don’t have to manage my emotions for me, right?”

“I don’t do it for you, I do it for me. I want to minimize having to fight with you. Don’t act like you don’t do it too.”

She’s right, of course. He picks and chooses his fights with his sisters as much as he can, avoids it as much as possible, which is most of the time, these days. He doesn’t need to run his every decision by his sister, not even most of them.

“I know I do,” he tells her. “When do you leave?”

“A week after graduation.”

“Congrats. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks. I’m so excited,” she admits, sounding like a giddy little girl, excitement gushing out. “I can’t wait.”

He’s not going to miss out on these conversations; he doesn’t want her to have to weigh whether or not it’s worth the fight to tell him what’s going on in her life. He’s going to deal with this, be better.

So he goes to Clarke, sinks down next to her on the couch and puts his head in her lap with a sigh.

“Octavia told you?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“I feel like an asshole.”

“If it helps, she’s twenty-two, which is how old I was when I wasn’t telling my mom that I was marrying some random guy I found on craigslist. So you could be doing a lot worse.”

“Jesus,” he says, with a soft laugh. “I can’t believe we did that. O’s way too young to get married.”

“We weren’t really getting married. I didn’t think it was going to last.”

“It shouldn’t have.” He takes her left hand, turning it over to look at the rings on her finger. The first is still his grandmother’s, but he bought her another on their fifth anniversary, a plain gold band, but it matches, makes the engagement ring look like part of a set. He never gets tired of seeing them on her, the tangible proof of their marriage, modified and improved after years together.

“I guess going to Japan for a year is a less major life decision than getting married to a stranger.”

“If she doesn’t like it, she can get out of it easier, yeah.” She gives his hand a squeeze when he lets go of the ring. “Do you want me to distract you?”

He frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a come-on.”

“It’s not, no. I have news.”

He straightens up, frowning. “News? What kind of news?”

“I’m pregnant.”

It’s somehow not a total surprise and a complete shock at the same time. They’d talked about the possibility of kids a few months back, at Christmas, and decided that they could handle having some, and they could start trying, and if Clarke wasn’t pregnant by the next Christmas, they would reassess. If he’s honest, Bellamy had been assuming that would happen, without any good reason. When he was younger, he was convinced he’d gotten someone pregnant every time he had sex, no matter how much protection they used, but somehow marriage had him convinced that trying to get pregnant would never work.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Really?”

“According to the test I bought, yeah.”

“When did you buy it?”

“This morning, when you were in the shower. I went around the block to CVS.”

That stops him short. “Why then? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She buries her face against his shoulder. “Honestly? I felt kind of stupid even buying it. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I couldn’t believe I was right. I didn’t want to tell you until I took the test. I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” he says, smiling and kissing her hair. “That makes total sense. I just, uh–after the thing with Octavia, I was kind of worried you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to overreact.”

She kisses his shoulder. “No, I don’t do that. I’m not Octavia, don’t worry. I tell you stuff. I would have told you if the test had been negative, too, I just–I needed to know first. If I was right or not.”

“And you were.” He exhales. “And you’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant. Probably like–seven weeks along, maybe? I don’t know. I missed two periods, so something around that, but we’ll have to go to a doctor to be sure.”

“I really didn’t think it was going to work,” he admits. “Not this soon, anyway.”

“It did feel kind of theoretical, yeah. It’s weird that you can decide you’re ready to maybe have kids and just start trying and then–that’s it. Not that this is–it could be a false positive, and it’s still pretty early, and–”

Bellamy tugs her closer, gives her hair a kiss. “Breathe. Are you happy about this? You don’t have to be.”

“I am.” She laughs, a strange, disbelieving kind of laugh. “I think I was just so focused on reminding myself that it wasn’t going to happen overnight and I needed to be patient that I wasn’t thinking about it actually happening, you know?”

“I definitely know.” He lets out a breath. “Okay, so, uh–pregnancy. That’s happening. Let’s say you’re eight weeks along, that means we’ve got about thirty weeks to go, which is–seven and a half months? And the baby’s due in October or November?”

“Something like that. I’ll call the doctor on Monday and set up an appointment, and then we’ll get more information.” She groans. “Fuck, I’m going to have to stop drinking.”

“We’re going to have to clear out the computer room and make it into a nursery.”

“To be fair, no one has a computer room anymore,” she teases. “Not even us. It’s just storage.”

“Which means there’s way more to clear out than there would have been if we just had a computer in there.”

Clarke’s smile is still growing. “Remember when you tried to convince me I could live in there?”

“Your standards were just way too high. I figured anyone who was marrying some guy on craigslist to save on rent would be happy to get whatever room I had. And wouldn’t actually want to share with me.”

“Instead you got me,” she says. “And your kid’s going to be the one who gets the room.”

“Fuck,” he says, dropping his head back onto the couch. “Our kid. We’re actually having a kid.”

“Assuming everything goes well. It’s still early, so–”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “Fuck.”

“We don’t have to keep it.”

“No, that’s not what I–I just can’t believe it. Unless, uh–do you want to keep it?” he asks, a little belatedly.

“Yeah, I do. I think I was just expecting more of a break between Octavia leaving and us having another kid.”

“She’s leaving in a month,” he points out. “We’ll have a while between that and the baby.”

“Spoken like the guy who isn’t going to be growing a human inside him for that whole time.”

“Good point. But we’re doing this.”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “We’re doing this.”

In theory, Bellamy shouldn’t actually need anything to distract him at the end of the semester. The end of the semester is basically hell for him, and the fact that he’s thinking of AP exams as something that’s distracting him from Octavia leaving and Clarke’s pregnancy is actually kind of worrying. AP exams are supposed to be the worst part of every spring.

And in a way, of course, it is the worst part. In no universe is his wife’s pregnancy bad, let alone his sister graduating college with a good job she’s excited about. That’s all awesome, and in some ways not nearly as stressful as the end of the semester and wondering how his kids are going to do on their tests.

But at least with the tests, he feels like he has some degree of control. The kids are the ones taking the actual exams, but he gets to prep them and answer their questions and he has a good idea of what success looks like. It’s largely out of his control, but he resent them if they fuck up.

It’s not pleasant, but it’s not an existential issue, and that makes it a novel distraction.

Unfortunately, it only lasts into mid-May, and then the tests are over and the distraction is just gone, the relief he usually feels when exams are done immediately eaten up by anxiety about the baby he can’t even tell is there yet, this kid who might not actually make it to being born.

So he calls his sister.

“You’re calling me?” she asks, frown audible in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s actually wrong. I’m freaking out and I figure you’re an adult now, so I should talk to you about it before I do something stupid.”

“Let me guess, you googled something about my new job and you think I’m going to die. Did you check Snopes? It’s probably bullshit.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s, uh–Clarke is pregnant.”

He did tell Clarke he was telling O, so it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, but it feels a little anticlimactic, a little risky. It should be a big deal, and they should be telling her later, when it’s less likely to jinx it. They should go out to dinner and make a production of it, but there will be time to do that later. Clarke’s pregnancy isn’t going anywhere.

“Congratulations. Are you not happy? I feel like you should be happy.”

“I don’t want to let myself be happy yet. I’m thinking about everything that could go wrong. There’s so much.”

Octavia pauses. “Oh wow, yeah. This must be like a pretty major crisis for you, huh? Like–pregnancy is a minefield.”

“Pretty much.”

“So why are you telling me?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m asking you for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“I want you to let me stress out about you so I won’t be worrying about the baby.”

Another long pause, and then she laughs. “Seriously, Bell?”

“I think it would help.”

“It would help you.”

“Yeah, we’re talking about me.”

“What do you even have to worry about? With me, I mean. It’s an established program with a good reputation. This is, like, really normal. Not a crisis.”

“I can find something. I’m really good at worrying.”

“But you don’t want to be worrying about Clarke.”

“I don’t need to do anything else to stress her out. We’re already going to be–there’s so much that can go wrong, I don’t need to be dwelling on it.”

“So you want my permission to find stuff to worry about with me so that you and Clarke won’t end up in some stupid stress spiral.”

“There’s only so much we can do to avoid that. But yeah, I want to get it as under control as I can, so–”

“You know how weird this is, right?”

“I do, yeah. You’re an adult now, right? That means you get involved in adult conversations, like how having a baby is scary and I’m going to be melting down for the next eight months. And that’s assuming everything goes well.”

“You know, you sounded less worried about marrying a stranger from craigslist than you do about having a baby with her.”

“Marriage is less of a commitment than a baby.”

She goes quiet again, and this is the time it occurs to him how rare that is, how encouraging. His sister is actually thinking things over, measuring her responses, taking care. She really is growing up.

“I really thought you were ruining your life for me, you know. When you and Clarke got married.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Yeah, but I never felt like you got it. I didn’t know how to explain it.”

“Sorry?”

“No, it’s just–I don’t know. You’re having a baby, and it should be the best news ever, and you’re telling me you need me to be your distraction. You need to work on appropriate emotional responses.”

“I’m happy. Jesus, O. I’m so happy I don’t know how to be this happy. I’m not going to figure it out until I’m holding the baby, and maybe not even then. I’m not supposed to be this lucky.”

“Okay,” she says, in her most authoritative, decisive tone. “Here’s what we’re doing. I’ve got another week of classes and then exams, so I need to get through those. Feel free to read every horror story you can about Americans getting stabbed abroad. Pretend I’m going to another country if it helps. And then once I’m done and on my way to Japan, I’ll send you updates on how I’m doing that you can’t verify that are full of red flags.”

“You’re going to send me fake crises?” he asks.

“Yup. Nothing that bad, always stuff I can deal with, but something you can fret about as much or as little as you need to.”

“Is it bad that that sounds really good to me right now?”

“It’s like subscribing to one of those puzzle of a day things, but specially tailored to your neuroses.”

“Thanks, O. Really.”

“If making up stories is going to help you get through this pregnancy, it’s the least I can do. Is Clarke there? Can I talk to her?”

“She’s in the other room. I can get her.”

“Yeah, I want to tell her congratulations and make sure she’s doing okay. See if she needs any weird services from me.”

“You actually turned out all right, huh?”

“I tried, anyway. Really, though,” she says, serious. “Congratulations. You guys are going to be awesome parents.”

“We worked all the kinks out on you, so–”

“So you’ve got this.”

It’s not exactly easy to believe, but it’s getting easier.

“Yeah,” he says. “Somehow.”

“Is this Octavia thing going to help you too, or am I the only one with that specific hangup?”

Clarke has her head in his lap as she reads, which is nice, and Bellamy can’t help letting his eyes stray to her stomach, even though her pregnancy being obvious at this point would actually be a huge red flag. It’s not like he actually expects to see anything, just the knowledge that a few cells will be a living, breathing human in under a year in there is almost unreal.

He remembers his mother being pregnant, of course. He was old enough when Octavia was born that he followed a lot of it, helped out when Aurora was achy or cranky or needed some obscure food from the store. But he hadn’t really cared much about Octavia until he saw her, until she was this little, wrinkly thing staring up at him in awe. That was when he had a sister.

Children, apparently, kick in earlier.

“She did ask if I wanted her to do anything for me.”

“And?”

“And keeping you distracted is a public service.”

He kisses her forehead. “I haven’t been that bad, right?”

“No, you haven’t.” She grins. “Your paranoia about worrying means you’re really holding back on stressing.”

“Good for me. You don’t need anything?”

“I told Octavia she should send me updates without any lies in them so I can give you answers if you’re worrying too much.”

“Probably a good idea. But you know you can tell me how you’re feeling too. I’m not too far gone to help with whatever you’re going through.”

“I’m trying to be fine,” she says, with a determination that makes him smile. “Nothing bad has even happened yet. If we start overthinking now, we’ll melt down before the end of the first trimester.”

“So how are you avoiding it?”

“For one thing, I don’t have summers off and I’m not worried Octavia is going to die.”

“And that helps?”

“You’ve got two big changes and no distractions. Which is why I liked the Octavia plan.”

“Because I’m going to distract myself from one crisis with another one?”

Clarke smiles. “The two crises being your sister graduating from college and the baby we’re excited to be having?”

“That would be them, yeah. I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s a lot of change all at once. I was hoping the baby was going to help, but I should have known it was too much.”

“I feel shitty that I’ve just been stressing non-stop since you got pregnant.”

“I get it. You were going to be stressing non-stop about this anyway, the pregnancy is just the icing on the cake. But you’ll get over this hump in a few weeks.”

“You think?”

“As soon as I start having actual pregnancy symptoms and we have real information about how the baby is doing, you’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“And once Octavia goes to Japan and doesn’t die.”

“I know. I just–”

“It’s a lot.”

“It’s good. I should be happy.”

“You are,” she says, with reassuring confidence. “Right?”

That’s less reassuring. But the answer is still easy. “Incredibly. My life is amazing.”

“Your brain just needs to catch up. It’ll get there.”

“And you’re good,” he says. “You’re not keeping anything else quiet because I can’t handle it, right? Because I could.”

“I’m not. I’m nervous, but you know that. Mostly we’re waiting. And I’m glad you’re outsourcing your stress to Octavia.”

“Yeah, me too. I figured she’d be pissed, but she actually sounded kind of excited about making up lies to try and fool me into thinking her life sucks.”

“I think she’s going to be really good at it.”

“Me too.” He sighs. “She really is growing up, huh.”

“She is. And it’s good. We’re going to need her room in a couple years. The baby’s going to grow out of the computer room in no time.”

It seems unthinkable right now, that they’ll not only have a child, but that said child will get bigger and bigger, until they take over Octavia’s room, until they won’t want to be in the house at all. Somehow, in less that twenty-five years, Bellamy is going to be doing this all over again, worrying about what his kid is going to do after they finish college.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “They grow up so fast.”

By the time Octavia is actually graduating, Bellamy’s gotten his head screwed on straight enough to be unreservedly proud and happy for her. It should have been a pretty easy bar to clear, of course, but, as Clarke said, he had a stressful month. He had a lot to process in not a lot of time.

Not that Octavia graduating was actually a surprise, but Japan was an unexpected twist, and even without that, it was always going to be a lot. This is his baby sister, all grown up and ready to take on the world.

Both more and less literally than he was expecting; teaching abroad is a pretty lowkey occupation, relatively speaking. She could be doing something way more dangerous and combative. She could have decided join the army or become a professional bodyguard and he wouldn’t actually have been surprised. But instead, she’s going to another country, having a fucking adventure.

It’s exactly the kind of thing she felt bad he couldn’t have done because he had her, and the second he has the thought, a weight lifts off his shoulders and pieces slide together.

The relief must be visible, because Clarke asks, “Are you okay?”

“I just figured out it’s good Octavia is leaving.”

“Wow, it only took a month and a half,” she teases, but her voice and smile are warm. “What happened?”

“Even before my mom died, I was always–I felt like I was responsible for Octavia, for taking care of the family. That I couldn’t just have my own life. I didn’t raise O feeling like that. She can just go off and do whatever she wants. Plus, she’s kind of following in my footsteps. Teaching.”

Clarke leans her head on his shoulder with a smile. “She is. You did a good job, Bellamy.”

“You helped.”

“I came in when she was pretty much raised and helped get you over the finish line. I’ll take partial credit, but she was pretty much set before I came along. You’re a good–family member, I guess. That’s part of why I married you. I knew that no matter what happened or how everything turned out, you were loyal and kind, and you’d treat me well even if the whole marriage blew up in our faces. That’s what made you a good brother, what makes you a good husband, and what’s going to make you a good father.”

“How long have you been waiting to tell me that one?” he asks, putting his arm around her and kissing her hair.

“Since about a month after we met. It’s pretty obvious.”

“But not always relevant.” The music starts up, indicating the graduates are coming soon, and he lets out a breath. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. My whole life since you told me you wanted to marry me in that coffee shop has seemed fake. And all this stuff–I was so fucking scared everything would go wrong, and everything went right instead.”

“Things have gone wrong,” Clarke points out, not incorrectly. “But yeah, the general arc of our lives is skewing good, getting better. We got lucky.”

It really is something.

“Yeah.” He kisses her hair, disentangles himself so he can join the crowd looking for the graduates. This is his sister’s day, after all; he and Clarke can be sappy any time. “We really did.”

#dutch-tv-fan

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