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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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scripturiends · 3 years

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law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.

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teawaffles · 3 years

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It Happened One Night: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Scandal in the British Empire arc (Chapters 17-23 of the manga).

Baker Street was full of people as usual. But in contrast to the hubbub, the entire street was enveloped in a vaguely unnatural, lonely atmosphere.

It looked like it was going to rain. That was what John H Watson thought as he walked down the street, gazing up at the heavily clouded sky.

“We should get back quickly, Sherlock.”

Saying that, he looked at the man beside him — Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock squinted and sniffed the air, as if trying to detect the smell of rain, and agreed with him.

“Right. And I also have some things here I don’t want to get drenched.”

Then Sherlock looked down at the items he was carrying. They each bore a large paper bag, stuffed to the brim with food and other sundry goods.

John furrowed his brows.

“Sherlock, haven’t you bought too many personal items? We’re even more broke than usual, you know,” he reminded.

But Sherlock wasn’t perturbed.

“They might be useless to you, John, but to me these are necessities of life. Please overlook this just once.”

“It’s no use, huh……”

It was better to avoid cigarettes at times like this, but John knew it was pointless to say that — hence instead of going on at length, he just gave a small sigh. Somehow, it felt like the bag in his arms had grown heavier.

As the two men walked on like this, they eventually drew near the flat where they lived. 221B Baker Street. This was the very place from which the great detective Sherlock Holmes, and his assistant, John H Watson, unravelled Britain’s mysteries.

However, they walked past their lodgings, not once slowing down. As they passed by, John glanced toward their flat.

There, remained the scars of appalling destruction. The building itself had retained its original structure, but the flat in which they’d lived had its windows all blown out; from what he could see through them, the walls and ceilings had been scorched to a miserable crisp.

They’d been unexpectedly drawn into the “Scandal of the British Empire” case, in which Sherlock had devised a bold strategy — blowing up their own apartment — in order to save Irene Adler.

They had achieved their goal, but at the cost of losing their home for the time being. As such, Sherlock and John, together with their landlady Miss Hudson, were staying in cheap accommodation a little ways from here until the apartment repairs were complete.

As they headed to their temporary lodgings, John’s shoulders drooped.

“Although all of us had agreed on it, in the end, it’s still tough to see the place you’ve gotten used to living in become like that.”

“Sorry about that. I had no other option back then.”

Sherlock kept his eyes forward as he apologised with sincerity. To that, John smiled gently.

“I don’t really mind — In any case, I’ve been put through many reckless situations like this before……. Oh—”

Right then, a drop of water splashed on his palm. Just as he registered that icy sensation, more raindrops came pouring down.

Sherlock looked at him.

“It arrived earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah, let’s run for it.”

Then, carrying their bags with both arms, the two men half-ran to their hotel.

When they arrived, they shook their heads slightly to rid the water from their hair, then walked past the front desk to their room.

After putting down their bags and opening the door, they found Miss Hudson standing in the doorway.

John tilted his head in confusion.

“Miss Hudson, what brings you here?”

As it would be improper for them to share a room with a lady, the two men chose to rent out a separate room despite the steep cost. Hence, John thought she would be in her own room now — why was she in theirs?

She smiled back awkwardly.

“Mr Mycroft’s here.”

“What?”

Instantly, Sherlock’s face morphed into one of displeasure. Without asking the details, he took up his shopping and walked into the room. Seated on a chair near the wall was his older brother Mycroft, looking out the window.

“……Damn you, Mycroft. Coming all the way to this hotel — what you do want?”

Distinctly uncomfortable dealing with his own elder brother, Sherlock spoke up first, his tone sour. But Mycroft simply turned to look at him, and responded without haste.

“That attitude again as always, Sherly. How about subverting my expectations sometimes and acting like a gentleman for once? Or rather, is it that you’re so frustrated by a case you forgot your manners?”

“Ugh……”

Mycroft looked around the cramped interior as he spoke, and the corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitched as he let out a groan. He didn’t regret blowing up their apartment itself, but hearing Mycroft’s calm, pointed comments forced him to remember his own helplessness back then.

“……Did you come all the way here just to make a fool of me?” he retorted, trying to defend himself. But Mycroft simply shrugged his shoulders in resignation, and got straight to the point.

“If you’re having trouble with accommodation, there’s a country house in the Cotswolds I can introduce you to.”

“……What’s this, all of a sudden?”

Country houses were often built by nobles and wealthy landowners as status symbols on their own land: it was ridiculous to suggest that someone would simply lend theirs out. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Isn’t it natural for an older brother to want to help his younger sibling in his time of need? Furthermore, although I’m sure they’d agreed to your plan, it pains me to think how Dr Watson and Miss Hudson have been caught up in it.”

“We don’t need your concern. We’ll do what we want, so just get the hell out of here.” Sherlock made a shooing motion with his hand, in a bid to chase Mycroft out, but was soon admonished by John, who’d entered the room afterward. John then calmly turned to Mycroft, seeming eager to listen.

“Do you mean that, you would be willing to lend us an apartment? Thank you very much for your offer — could you tell us more?”

Mycroft was smiling as he nodded.

“Actually, an acquaintance of mine — a noble — intends to stay in London for a week. They’re looking for someone to look after their mansion in the meantime, hence I thought it would align perfectly with your situation, Doctor.”

John nodded in understanding.

“I see. However, if that’s the case, why not ask their employees to stay behind?”

“From what I’d heard, they felt it would be a good opportunity to give their hardworking employees a vacation as well. Although if you aren’t able to accept, Doctor, they did say they would ask some of them to remain in the house……”

“In other words, if we were to take up the offer, then their employees would be able to take a break. Moreover, the three of us would be in charge of the mansion’s upkeep during our stay.”

“Not exactly,” Mycroft clarified, “They said you won’t have to concern yourselves with the maintenance and such. As long as it stays reasonably tidy, you are free to enjoy yourselves while keeping an eye on the house.”

It was a very generous offer, so generous it invited suspicion of an ulterior motive; however, since it came from Mycroft, perhaps it could be trusted. John wanted very much to accept — he couldn’t say he was entirely pleased with their current arrangement — but he knew his partner didn’t view it that simply.

As expected, Sherlock tutted in disapproval.

“This place suits us just fine: I don’t want to live in some boring mansion in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to take on clients when I’m away.”

Sherlock himself did harbour some guilt at making the two of them endure their present lifestyle, but following his brother’s opinion was simply anathema to him. As such, he couldn’t help but bite back in reply.

John understood that, but admonished him regardless.

“Sherlock, you shouldn’t talk to your own brother like that. Mr Mycroft was just looking out for us when he made that suggestion.”

“Pay no mind, Doctor. He’s been like this for a long time.”

Mycroft gave them a wide smile. Then, he directed a question to Miss Hudson, who had been keeping an eye on them from behind.

“We’ve heard what my little brother thinks, but how about you, Miss Hudson?”

“Eh? A-Ah~……”

Having suddenly been addressed, she responded in a faltering tone.

“Well, um…… To me, I think, it would certainly be helpful.”

In an effort to consider Sherlock’s feelings on the matter, she ended up replying in a roundabout way — but it was clear that she was in favour as well.

Mycroft turned to John.

“How about you, Doctor?”

For a moment, John was at a loss for words, but when he heard the floorboards creaking underneath his feet, he made up his mind. He looked at Sherlock as he nodded slowly.

“I think, that the country house might be more pleasant, compared to our current circumstances. Moreover, we could always receive clients via post.”

“…………”

Both of them had answered in the affirmative. Now, only Sherlock remained.

Despite the apparent obstacles being cleared, he still had his reservations. But eventually, Sherlock looked at the ceiling in resignation.

“Ah, bollocks. It would just be selfish of me to refuse at this point, now wouldn’t it? Alright. Please let us stay at that country house until the apartment is fixed.”

At that reply, Mycroft smiled in satisfaction, and Sherlock turned away to hide his frustration from those eyes.

The three of them drew up some agreements on their new living arrangements, and with that, until the flat at Baker Street was fixed, they would proceed to stay at a noble’s mansion out in the country.

Footnotes:

[1] The Cotswolds is a large hilly area to the northwest of London, further than Oxford and dotted with villages. (Wikipedia)

T/N: After the angst from the last story, I just remembered how much I love the Baker Street gang 😉

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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rreeaahh · 3 years

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Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

“Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

“No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms

#vogueweasley3k #draco malfoy x reader #ravenclaw reader #draco x y/n #slowburn #angst #arms tonite #draco x you #hogwarts #astronomy tower #tw death #tw blood #tw mature languge

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partangel · 2 years

Note

hi! i love your blog! i'm also considering doing a second bachelor and am genuinely curious as to how common that is in europe? xx 💝💐

hello! thank you dear! i cannot tell you based on all europe, only where i reside that is portugal. here i have the perception that if the bachelors dont correlate in a certain way, job entities can see it as a warning sign (eg: lack of certainty on your first choice, a waste, etc). in an interview, I believe it is possible for them to just straight up ask why did you make that choice, which if you are just a genuinely curious person may not be easy to answer in a productive, job-afilliated way. If they are concomitant it can be the exact opposite, because it means that you are really investing time & money becoming a rounded professional in your area of choice (for example, doing a bachelors in psychology and then taking a bachelors in another social science like anthropology). portugal is a traditional country with a fragile economic situation so older generations have very much ingrained in the youngsters to follow a restrict path which is to get one degree and then work on it their entire lives, personal development and an honest hungry for learning variated fields of academics is not particularly something valued. there's also this comprehension that apart from STEM, anything else is useless. where I come from there is a big decline of young people deciding to invest on humanities as a whole due to that.

because of those aspects (that are clearly deeply influenced by the social perception of what's worth in a career), I don't think its very common for people here to get a second bachelor. however in northern europe (norway, denmark...) I believe there is more openness to "trial and error" (way of expression.. its definitely not an error at all!), and the general public is more interested in pursuing and growing old in an active way (by remaing concerned with their formal learning but not just that... if you analyse the way they keep hobbies and invest in other things than work you get very different results compared to here).

this is a very interesting question but ultimately i dont think it's possible to give an overrall answer for the entirety of europe.. it is possible to group certain countries (portugal with spain and perhaps greece and italy; france with germany; denmark with norway; etc) and give an overall sense of it.. if im making any sense? but not europe as a whole, because it is too fragmented for that and the socio-political situation of each country is very particular to it.

if you ask for my personal opinion I think it's great that you are interested in doing another one! despite all the stressors the academic life provides you, it's absolutely wonderful to learn things and be acquainted with anything and everything. i'd love to keep learning and getting various bachelors on an infinite amount of subjects like history & anthropology & philosophy.

however i also want to point out that, for example, in brazil (not europe but worth mentioning) that is extremely common. at least based on the people ive known from there, many have double bachelors that are not necessarily correlated and they dont seem to have any kind of worries over the things ive mentioned and actually value it immensely, so i do believe that it is completely dependant on the country youre from or want to study/work in. ultimately i also think its very important the way you view it yourself, for that is what will shape the perception of others about your choice.

sorry if it got long! thats my personal take on it :) i dont know if you want to share your situation (go for it!) but im definitely cheering you. i personally think its very impressive and a valuable thing to aim for. the most important thing to invest on is definitely education

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knight-queen · 3 years

Text

Lunatic Parade Laito Sakamaki– (Chapter 4)

Place: ??? (BG black)

Yui: Nnh….

(Somehow my body feels heavy...plus I’m having a headache…)

(But I must gotta get up now…)

*Screen’s back*

Laito: Ah, bitch-chan. You wake up? Good morning ~ ♪

Yui: Laito kun. You were awake huh.

Laito: Mhm, it’s been pretty while.

I’ve been thoroughly staring at your face like this.

While thinking that yesterday many things happened plus we had fun too, you know?

Yui: Kh...you’re really unbelievable…

*Laito backs off*

Laito: Well then, we shall get up and take preparations right away.

Yui: ...You’re right.

(It’s not like I can’t stand my current physical condition, so I’m fine.)

(Above that, I gotta get ready quickly…)

Place: 地下回廊 / Underground Corridor

Laito: Tell me, Bitch chan. Even though we get the mineral, but…

That‘s gonna be a secret to that boy, okay?

Yui: Eh, but why…

(That boy was the one who gave us a hint…)

Laito: It’s ‘cuz we still entirely don’t know what’s that boy’s true intentions.

We don’t have any reason to become nice this far, don’t we?

Yui: ...Well…

???: You were able to get that mineral?

Yui: (Kh...This voice…)

Laito: Ohh, it’s you. Who knows, you better take a guess?

Young vampire boy: Hmm— You’re not gonna tell me huh.

Laito: Nfu, you got the point ♪

Yui: ...Tell me, why are you willing to enter the Earl’s castle?

Young vampire boy: Eh? Umm, well…

He had stolen one of my precious things. I want to take that back from him.

Yui: ...A precious thing?

Laito: Heeh, it’s a coincidence because it’s the same case for us as well. ...So? What did he steal?

Young vampire boy: ...That’s...I can’t tell you…

Laito: ...Oh I see. Well then, we’re not gonna一

Yui: ...Did anything happen?

Young vampire boy: ……

Yui: (He’s looking down…)

*Laito holds her hand*

Laito: Hey, bitch chan. It’s enough already, isn’t it? We don’t need…

Yui: Listen Laito kun. Can’t we take this boy with us…?

Young vampire boy: Khh….!

Laito: Kh...Why are you saying these now? I told you before, didn’t I?

It’s the boy who doesn’t even wanna share with us if we ask his circumstances.

If that’s the case, then why do we have to go that far for him?

Yui: It’s because...we can’t leave him behind.

He’s facing troubles for getting something stolen, just like me一一kh!?

*Screen vibrates*

Yui: (...It’s getting dizzy....)

Laito: Wh...Yui chan!?

*Laito holds Yui closer*

Young vampire boy: Kh...big sis! You okay? What’s wrong so suddenly?

Yui: To say the truth...this morning I was a little…

(...No way...I am getting faint…)

(...It means I’m gonna drag Laito kun into trouble once more…)

Laito: Haah...So you caught a cold because of that yesterday huh?

Oh, it can’t be helped. We should go back to the hotel for now and…

*The boy holds Laito*

Young vampire boy: Kh...hold it for a sec’!

Laito: Haa? But why? This girl is sick so that’s the only option, right?

For starters, it’s none of your businesses to stick your nose in our plans or whatever, yes? So, let go of my hand at once?

*Take back his hand*

Young vampire boy: Kh...no way it’ll be allowed!

Hey everyone! Hurry up and capture these guys!

Yui: (...Everyone…?)

Young vampire boy A: Oi, hand over this woman to us!

Young vampire boy B: You gotta face me duh!

*Laito backs off*

Laito: ...Heeh, you have had so many companions huh.

What do you wanna do to bitch chan by making your friends deal with me?

Kh…!

*Punch*

Young vampire boy C: You keep your mouth shut!

*Punch 2 times*

Laito: Kch…

Yui: Laito kun…! No, stop, you can’t be so violent…!

*Holds her*

Young vampire boy: Fufu, rest assured. I won't be violent on you…

Instead of that big-brother, it’ll be a better match if you’re with me...

Yui: Kh…!

Young vampire boy: You all, I’ll leave the rest on you.

Young vampire boy A: Okkey! Count on us!

Laito: Kh...Wait up! Where’re you taking that girl...eekk…!

*Punch*

Young vampire boy: Fufu, it doesn’t matter right? Till next time, big-brother…

Yui: Laito...kun…

*BG black*

Yui: (...I’ve no strength left…)

*After a moment*

Yui: Kh…

(Hm…? What’s this cold thing…)

*Screen back*

Place: Underpass, the boy’s hideout / 地下道内少年のアジト

Yui: (Kh...my hands-legs are chained…!?)

Laito: ...You’re awake? Bitch chan…

Yui: gh...Laito kun…!

(It’s the boy’s hideout where we came before…)

Laito: Oh damn, we really had to face great troubles…

I told you earlier right? ...it’s a loss to trust unknown persons.

Yui: Laito kun...you okay? That’s...he hit you a lot…

Laito: Don’t worry. I'm a vampire at the end.

But as you see, it’ll be pretty difficult to escape if we’re chained up like this.

...More importantly, he had also snatched away the mineral.

Yui: No way…

*Door opens*

Young vampire boy: Heeh, you already got conscious huh? You two are unexpectedly strong.

Yui: Kh...you are…

It’s terrible...why are you doing such things…?

Young vampire boy: ‘Why,’ you asked….It’s because you haven’t listened to what I said at all.

You were trying to hide that you got the mineral, no?

Yui: ...That’s…

Please remove these chains. It will be okay if you just release Laito kun…

We will hand over that gem to you. That’s why let go of Laito kun.

Laito: Kh...Bitch chan!

Young vampire boy: Hmmm, you’re treasuring big brother this much huh…

...Alright though? I can free him just as you said.

Yui: You mean it…?

Young vampire boy: But you know, there’s one more condition. That is…

*Holds her hand*

You have to become mine…

Yui: Eh…

Laito: Ggh…!

Young vampire boy: Heh, to begin with, I think it’s a mismatch for you and this big brother as a couple.

For a person like this big sis who’s beautiful and kind to everyone…

一engaging with a man like this big brother who lies too much and doubts everyone, I don’t get it at all.

For this, break up with such a boy right now, and be my girl.

Yui: ...No way…

Laito: Hmm, you’re admitting it after all huh. Despite me being a liar and not trusting people, you entrusted the missions to…

Young vampire boy: Ngh...shut up!

Tell me big sis, what’ll you decide?

Whatever your answer is...if you don’t become mine then…

I’ll throw away this boy at the basin of that volcano.

Yui: Ngh....!

Young vampire boy: ‘Cuz you don’t need him right? This useless garrulous or something…

Yui: You’re completely wrong!

Young vampire boy: kh…

Yui: Laito kun is not a useless garrulous.

Certainly he don’t trust unknown people so easily,

And it’s sometimes they find it difficult to understand his considerations.

However…I do understand him. He had always been filling his head with many other thoughts.

Moreover, he was looking for the best techniques for my sake...

...and always sympathized with me...and I can clearly feel it...

Young vampire boy: ………

Yui: ...Another thing’s that, I am not a very amazing one as you’re thinking of.

I often make moves without consulting, and perhaps I have many disobedient sides I think…

But even though Laito kun is aware of my bad sides, he is still letting me be with him. That’s why…

(That’s why I like him…)

Young vampire boy: ...What are these. For a while you're just…

You mean this guy is outstanding than me…?

Laito: You should know that it’s not something related to victory or defeat…

I wonder if you can’t turn this girl by your side anymore? ...Such a poor thing, Nfu.

Young vampire boy: Gh...I can’t talk with you more than this! Do whatever you want!

*Goes away*

Laito: ...Haah. Can’t talk with you more than this...this was my line…

This is why companying a bossy kid is tiresome….But…

Yui chan...I’ve come to know that you were thinking about me that way…

....Thanks to this outcome for that, I guess?

Yui: ...Laito kun…

*Chaining sound*

Laito: Then, shall we do whatever we want as he said.

First of all, would you mind unchaining me with the key that he had thrown off?

Yui: Mhm, got ya’...!

*After he is released*

Laito: Hmm, oh my. Finally I’m free huh…

By the way, how’s your condition? Looked like you had a fever…

Yui: Ah…

(I completely forgot while I was obsessed with explaining that boy…)

(I think we’ve lost a huge amount of time...perhaps I got back to normal as the time passed…)

(Maybe as that boy said, I got so much strength…)

Laito: Fufu, can I say you will be fine in this state?

Yui: Yes, I am alright.

Laito: That’s good. Then we shall get go for taking back the mineral.

Yui: (...The mineral…)

Laito: Alright then…

Yui: ...Wait, Laito kun. I have something to say about that.

Laito: ...Something to say? What is it?

Yui: Aren’t we gonna leave this place for now?

Laito: …? I don’t mind though?

Yui: (I’ve finally understood the point after clarifying my feelings…)

(What’s the most important to me…)

(That’ll probably be…)

Place: Glimmer Main Street / グリンマーストリート表通り

Laito: You’re gonna give up on getting back your heart? ...What are you trying to say exactly?

Yui: You’ve heard it right.

...For this, there's a possibility for my lifespan to become shorter…

...But for having a temporary kleinod inside me doesn’t mean that I’ll die right now, am I wrong?

Plus, if I get my heart back, all it’s gonna do is to just turn me back into a human.

Unlike vampires, it’s not like I will be able to live forever…

Laito: ……

Yui: I got it. As I thought, you are the most precious to me.

Plus, I’ll hate to see if you are experiencing very dangerous things for these....

Since I have a limited lifetime, I want to cherish the time I can be with you.

...So, from now I don’t want to stop fussing over to get back my heart.

...By thinking these, I think it’ll mean opposing you…

Laito: ...Haah, certainly these days, you are opposing me a little…

Yui: ...I am sorry.

(Even though I have been companying with him this far…)

Laito: I always think you are very important to me, you know?

No matter how long’s your life-span, even it’s for one day, if there’s a way to live with you for a long time,

It’s very normal that I’d manage something about that right?

Yui: Ngh…

Laito: But it’s not that I don’t get what you meant…

And also you said that, yes? In front of that boy…

But even though I’m aware of your disobedient or bad sides, I am still letting you be with me….

Yui: (Oh…)

Laito: Then, as long you acknowledge it, then I can’t help it but to respect your opinions.

Yui: Laito kun…

Laito: So it’s decided then, okay?

Yui: Yes…!

Laito: Now that our intention is also settled, what shall we do now.

In passing, today is the parade’s last day, ya’know?

Yui: (Parade...oh that’s right…)

(I wanna extremely much enjoy the time we’re together...then…)

….Today is the last day, so what about enjoying the parade? ...With two of us together.

Laito: I know right. We gotta have fun! Then firstly...一

Place: Saint Honoré Park Street / サントノレパーク通り

Laito: Haah, the haunted house....it was so cool right...I ended up feeling chilly…

→ Selection

...I wonder? / ...そうかな? (+Correct)

Certainly… / 確かに...

Yui: (...I wonder…? That being said, Laito kun seemed like that was very easy for him...)

Laito: As if like, you were clinging onto me to show off the ghosts...

It was so unbearable arousing that I even started shivering! Haa~...

Yui: (That is…!?)

Laito: ...Then what shall we do next? Since we have gone through all the attractive things…

What about going to the spa around here?

Yui: Spa…?

Laito: Seems like we got sweat for bustling around this park like a crazy.

I can tell that the spa is over there. It’s at the Onyx Tower.

We can also watch the finale of the parade from there, yes?

Yui: Yeah, I see. Then let’s go there.

Place: スパ / Spa

Laito: Neh, Bitch chan? What’re you doing in that corner? Come over here.

Yui: Th- that’s because…!

(I didn’t even hear of any same gender-bathing…!)

Laito: Nfu, it can’t be helped. ...Here I come.

*Laito comes closer*

Yui: Kyaa!

Laito: Nfu. It’s fine...now

Yui: La- Laito kun…!

(He is close…!)

Laito: Eh~? No need to hold back. You were the one who said to enjoy the times when we are together.

Then it will be pointless if we don’t stick with each other, isn’t it?

Yui: You got a point but…!

Laito: I wonder if that boy has entered the caste using that mineral…

Yui: ...Yes…

Laito: It’ll be disappointing if he doesn’t enter. We had so many difficulties to get that mineral in our hands.

Yui: Fufu, you’re right.

Laito: And guess what, that situation of abusements while we were tidied up with chains was…

...It was a little exciting.

I’m thinking about role playing those moments this time.

Of course with you okay? Nfu♪

Yui: Eeeh…!?

Laito: Yep, yep, I almost forgot about our everyday-list. I’m gonna add this too.

If it would be you instead of that boy to look down on me at that situation…

Aaa~! I can’t help it just by predicting!

Yui: (...If it’s Laito kun then, then every situation is okay for him…)

Laito: Anyways, we should get prepared for watching the finale.

Yui: (...It’s time already. I didn’t even realize…)

Laito: But if you want to rush into the rest of the time having fun with me like this, then…

I don’t mind cancelling the plans of watching the finale. Nh…*kiss*

Yui: Kyaa…!

Laito: I ended up being in the mood to do this because of thinking so many reckless things….nnh…*muwah*

Yui: La- Laito kun…! Don’t do it in such a place…!

Laito: Eeeh? But isn’t this place so perfect for this?

Yui: N- no!

Laito: Haah...you’re refusing again huh. Well, it’s fine. I’ll continue it after we go back to the hotel.

But as a penalty for this, tonight, I’m really gonna do more amazing things, okay?

Yui: (Kh...Honestly, he doesn’t have any carelessness or weak-spots as he said these…!)

Place: Onyx Tower, Inside Hall / オーニュクスタクー内部ホール

Laito: Bitch chan! This way, this way! Hurry up~!

Yui: Laito kun, hold on…!

Laito: There’re a lot of customers who are visiting the finale.

Yui: By the way, what do they do in the finale?

Laito: Huh? I haven’t told you yet?

Everyone flies lanterns all at once from downtown.

Various lanterns of illuminating colors are gonna fly up from different places, and it’s so beautiful.

Since we won’t get to see this everyday, so I wanted to show you.

Yui: Heeh…

(I’ll look forward to it…)

???: You two over there. Please wait for a second.

Yui: Eh…?

Laito: ...Where is this voice coming from…?

*Normal crowd noises*

Yui: (...Could it be that only two of us can hear it…?)

???: My name is Walter.

Laito: Kh...Walter you say...Earl Walter…!?

Earl Walter: That’s right.

These few days I have been observing your actions one by one. Every single one, even the thing that you gave up on taking back your heart...

Laito: Haah...observing one by one means you got bad habits. Seriously, you’re being like someone from somewhere.

Then we no need to say anymore than this. We stopped thinking about her heart already.

That’s why can you stop dragging us into troublesome things?

Earl Walter: ...Fufu...Hahaha!

Laito: Kh...What’s so hilarious?

Earl Walter: Tell me young lady. Are you really okay with this decision?

Yui: ...No problem at all. It’s what Laito kun and I ended up making a conclusion…

Earl Walter: ....Fufu, oh yes. I see…

You two are far beyond stupid than I had imagined…

Laito: You’re spitting out pretty bold things...Not to mention that you’re not even showing your appearance.

Earl Walter: Hmph, but however...may be it’s also a truth in one kind of view.

Yui: ...What do you mean exactly?

Earl Walter: Well, do you know the reason that I took away your heart, lady?

Yui: ...The reason, that’s…

(I have no clue at all…)

Earl Walter: You know, the precious treasure that you were possessing...that is your heart…

I wanted to taste whether you’re worthy to have that treasure with you or not.

Yui: Eh…

Earl Walter: Thus, I put you into many trials and watched over your situations, but…

But I didn’t really expect to reach this conclusion…

Laito: Haah...our apologies that we couldn’t work out as your expectations but, we already decided. So leave us alone.

Earl Walter: ...Ofcourse I will.

However, just moving according to the plot isn’t everything. In short, it is great if you understand the point.

Alright then. I shall give your heart back.

Yui: Eh…!

Earl Walter: From now on, make me look forward with innovative strength and strong mutual feelings that you two have. Fufu…

*White flash*

Yui: Kh…!

*BG white*

Yui: (It’s dazzling…! What on the Earth is going on…!?)

(Kh...Earl Walter has…)

(...Could it be…)

Laito: Kh...Yui chan…!

*BG Fades to CG*

Yui: ...Laito kun…

Laito: Gh...You okay?

Yui: ...I am good. More than that...I think I…

Kh...Laito kun please, suck my blood right now!

Laito: Eeh? Right here?

Yui: Yes! Right now!

(This sensation...it’s no mistake. I’m sure, in my chest I can feel the…)

Laito: Nfu, I can’t hold back since you’re inviting me like this~

But you know, I can already understand just by hugging you like this.

...It’s alright. You’ve gotten that back inside you.

...You heart, right?

Yui: …!

(I really get back my heart…!)

Laito: Nevertheless, that Earl who puts others in troubles is really unbelievable…

That heart belongs to you in the first place,

Weather we’re worthy to have this heart or whatever, I don’t care about that either way now.

...But it comes out good right? For this, I can spend time with you gorgeously

Without having too many thoughts or worries, right? Nfu ♪

Yui: Laito kun…

Laito: Oh, well then Yui chan. Raise up your face?

Yui: Eh…?

Laito: It’s the finale of the parade, plus you get your heart back. Since we’re having just pleasure and pleasures...

So let’s kiss as a present for this celebration...nnh…*kiss*

*Fades to CG (2)*

Yui: Nh…*Kisses back*

(...You’re right. To us, these are full of pleasures and pleasures.)

(From here on, I’ll be able to live with Laito kun…)

(With two of us, together…)

一 The END of Chapter O 4

#laito sakamaki birthday 1/2 #laito sakamaki lunatic parade #lunatic parade laito sakamaki chapter 4 #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers translations #lunatic parade

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

Distanced, part 2

Summary: How are these useless students coping with life?

Note: This is a group chat fic, my first one so this might not be that good! Also this contains swearing. Eventual intrulogical.

Part 1 here!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 13:02

Hello, sorry to interrupt, but I just want to ask where you gathering your sources? Are there any particular databases you’re using? Thank you.

Remus Prince: I’m just going through the read list.

The reading list? But that only has one text that could be anything remotely useful for this topic!

Remus Prince: ye but it’s a starting point

Remus Prince: like u can read it and then read whatever it references.

Are we allowed to do that?

Remus Prince: wha

Remus Prince: DUH!

Surely that must count as plagiarism or something of the sort. You can’t use someone else’s sources.

Remus Prince: u sound so stupid

Remus Prince: u’ll read the book it references and form ur own interpretation.

Remus Prince: u’ll get different quotes

Remus Prince: u’ll be using it for a different argument

Remus Prince: why would u not be allowed to read texts!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:13

Okay I emailed Dr Smith and he said it was fine. Thank you for the advice.

Remus Prince: OMG

Remus Prince: You actually told the teacher on me!

The teacher agreed with you? You’re not in trouble.

Remus Prince: THAT WAS MY SECRET!

Remus Prince: now the teachers actually think I’m capable

If it makes you feel better, I did not mention your name.

Remus Prince: you really had to double check?

Maybe I was being a little paranoid but I don’t think you understand the crisis I’m currently having. I typically spend hours running around the library and searching random titles to figure out suitable texts. When all this time I could have just been using the references! I am beyond furious and relieved at this new technique to research.

Remus Prince: ah of course

Remus Prince: you totally came across that way in the 2 messages you sent

My world view has been fractured, I think that justifies not texting much.

Remus Prince: why did you apologise

Excuse me?

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: now who sucks at reading!

Remus Prince: You said sorry in the first message.

I wasn’t sure if you were in a lecture or class. It’s polite.

Remus Prince: nah

Remus Prince: I’d answer even if I was.

That is not nearly as comforting as you are intending. How far along are you in your research?

Remus Prince: honestly?

Remus Prince: I’ve read five pages in on a book on the reading list.

Remus Prince: I’ve done like nothing.

That’s indeed some amount of research. Again, as long as you are done by the 15th then whatever it takes.

Remus Prince: See you said no judgement but I picked up a lot of judgement

We have already agreed your reading comprehension is not the best.

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: so what are u up to?

Actually working on the research project.

Remus Prince: im bored

Remus Prince: I’ve been sitting waiting for my washing machine for like 9 hours

Remus Prince: maybe later I will do work

I sincerely doubt it has been nine hours. How come you’re washing your clothes at such an awkward time?

Remus Prince: Awkward?

I can’t think of many students who would wash their clothes in the middle of the week day with classes.

Remus Prince: every1 washes their stuff on the weekend

Remus Prince: plus everyone knows the weekend is for doing nothing. Might as well get all my jobs done now.

You really plan to do nothing during the weekend?

Remus Prince: hells ye

Remus Prince: maybe, at most, I’ll send Dee to campus coffee

As long as you’re done by the 2nd. Though I really should congratulate you on your superior taste to coffee shops.

Remus Prince: ?

If universal opinion existed, then Campus Coffee being the best coffee shop would be considered one. For whatever ridiculous reason, both Patton and Roman don’t really like it.

Remus Prince: really

Remus Prince: I thought I saw Ro go in.

Roman occasionally practises lines with his other theatre colleagues and that is always where they meet up. But he never buys a drink as he is apparently a literal man child and cannot cope with a drink that isn’t just chocolate and milk.

Remus Prince: RIGHT??????

Remus Prince: my roomie V likes to pretend he takes coffee but he can only drink hot choc.

Remus Prince: He doesn’t deserve coffee anyway

Exactly! Have you talked to Remy there?

Remus Prince: YE

Remus Prince: He practically forced me to be his friend with how incredible he makes coffee

Remus Prince: He’ll even add energy drink to mine!

Okay maybe that is a little strange. But I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. He finally convinced me to leave my usual order of a white coffee and I have not regretted it.

He doesn’t actually add energy drink to your coffee right?

Remus Prince: ye he does but don’t worry he bullies me for it

Remus Prince: The entire time I sit and drink it he’ll be holding up his phone with 911 dialed.

That seems fair.

Remus Prince: without being so incredibly forward

Remus Prince: do you want me to grab you a coffee now

What do you mean?

Remus Prince: Well im bored

Remus Prince: and it’s your fault for talking coffee

Remus Prince: now I really want coffee

Remus Prince: I’m now heading that direction.

I’m sorry but I cannot meet up right now. I’m doing work and then I want to be prompt coming home to help my roommate.

Remus Prince: fair thought id offer

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:20

If you’re still willing, I am sitting in the library and I would truly appreciate it if you could drop off the coffee.

I can pay.

Obviously this is up to you.

Remus Prince: soz was walking

Remus Prince: ye I can do that

Sorry for not being able to sit around, but I do appreciate this.

Remus Prince: ur fine

Remus Prince: what u want

Firstly, it is “you’re”. Secondly, without sounding like a cliche film character, just say my name. Remy makes an effort to give me a slightly different order every day to “widen my tastes”.

Remus Prince: wow

Wow?

Remus Prince: For the very epitome of the nerd stereotype, did you really hit me with that “just say my name and they’ll know” trope?

Please, I can be cool.

Remus Prince: Are you begging?

Remus Prince: Also

Remus Prince: what do you look like again?

I’m sorry?

Remus Prince: reading comprehension! Fairly simple question.

I am wearing a black polo shirt with a blue tie. Caucasian with shaved hair. 5′10.

Remus Prince: how efficient.

May I ask why?

Remus?

Remus Prince: Soz I just got our orders.

Remus Prince: I’m really bad at faces.

You could have simply asked where I would be. I’m on the second floor, computer room 209. There’s a few others here but I’ll wave once you walk in.

Remus Prince: okay maybe that would’ve made more sense

Remus Prince: shutup.

I know I have stated this before, but we have indeed talked before. You will recognise me.

Remus Prince: listen I’m not fucking around.

Remus Prince: I am genuinely shit at faces

Remus Prince: it was one question prick

I apologise. I didn’t realise.

Remus Prince: Hey I’m here, now heading up.

MESSAGES: To Padre!!

Friday, 16:00

Greetings wonderful Pat! Did you perhaps end up baking today like you said you would?

Padre!!: Heya Ro! Yeah, we made cupcakes! We didn’t fancy making icing but we did have choc chips!

AW YEAH! Just wanted to check so I know whether to buy cake. Anything I need to pick up while I’m here?

Padre!!: All good here.

Padre!!: Logan saw Remus today.

hE DID????????

Padre!!: Yeah, he brought him coffee. Some special coffee, not his white coffee.

ASJKDGA

(also how on this great big boundiful earth do you know his usual coffee order?)

Padre!!: Because that’s what family does!

Why would he bring him coffee?

Padre!!: I have no idea. Logan didn’t really talk about it.

He didn’t talk about it?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

Padre!!: I don’t know what to tell you. He got all quiet. He makes it sound like they don’t even like each other but he still brought him a coffee.

EWEWEW

YOU DON’T THINK HE’S TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE

Padre!!: I don’t know. It sounds like it but Logan said they had a bit of a tiff in the texts.

... a tiff?

Padre!!: Like a small argument.

No I knew what it means, I meant it in a “omg you’re so adorable for describing a disagreement as a tiff”.

Padre!!: I want to joke around Ro but I am a little worried about him. He acted fine after the coffee and he said they didn’t talk. It just seems like such a weird thing to do! I’m worried Remus would try and pull something. This sounds exactly like how all those stories you tell begins.

Lo’s not an idiot.

He’s a nerd.

There’s no way he would fall into his trap. He’d let us know if something wasn’t right.

Padre!!: Good point.

I’ll be home in like 5 mins. I’ll run.

Padre!!: You don’t have to Ro.

Padre!!: I’m just overreacting.

Padre!!: Ro?

Padre!!: You better make sure you’re still looking both ways even when running!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #fanfic #My writing #roman sanders #patton sanders

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foxofthedesert · 3 years

Text

So I just finished my 3rd watch thru of Merlin, and yet again am brokenhearted. Not only by Arthur's death and Merlin's grief, but by Morgana's tragic descent into madness. Though I loathed the choice, I always understood why the writers went the direction they did with Morgana. What I did not understand was the way they handled her relationship with Gwen. It just never made any sense to me that Morgana could be so cruel to someone she clearly loved very deeply - even if only in the platonic sense. To me, it seemed like the Morgana that existed at the end of season 2 was replaced by a totally different, inexplicably cruel and insufferably smirky one by the start of season 3.

Still, prophecies need fulfilled and such, and after all it is a fantasy series based on a complicated mythology where Morgana sometimes is portrayed as evil. I just wish it was handled better.

Be that as it may, as a writer I tend to gravitate toward the untold stories within canon. That being the case, Gwen and Morgana's relationship is a natural attraction. I adore their chemistry, which makes them so easy to pair up. Since I am also not necessarily beholden to canon, that means I can imagine whatever the hell I want for them. Such an AU where their potential is realized before Morgause enters the picture to warp Morgana into her father's daughter.

This little piece is part of that. I may or may not add more entries in the future.

As a side note, this was initially supposed to be much shorter, but my fingers wouldn't stop typing words. Silly digits.

Ficlet below the line!

Morgana awoke giggling in an entirely unrefined manner. Her uncharacteristic bubbly mirth, she discovered, was due to a gentle tickling sensation all across her face. Once the wispy haze of sleep was blinked out of her blurry eyes, a familiar shape resolved into an entirely too handsome face wearing such a love-sick expression that her chest reflexively suffused with an affectionate warmth that quickly seeped into her very bones.

“What time is it?” she asked to the person hovering above her, voice still gravelly and slightly slurred from having been roused out of such a deep, blessedly dreamless repose. The pleasant tickling sensation began anew immediately after her half-slurred inquiry, and when she lifted her gaze she was greeted by rich brown eyes she would swear on her life she could live and die in.

“Just after dawn.” The utterly enchanting creature paying her such lovely attention continued to delicately and reverently brush calloused fingertips across the expanse of her jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I meant to let you sleep in a bit longer, I just really couldn’t help myself.”

A pause allowed a full, dusky lip to be pulled rather invitingly between pearly white teeth before her beloved added, “It seems I never can where you are concerned.”

Morgana smiled. A genuine smile, too. Nothing like the false ones she graced her guardian with, full of barely suppressed loathing and rage. Lately she had been consumed by disgust for the man who so many times proclaimed to cherish her, a man who would see her burnt at the stake if he knew who she truly was. Uther Pendragon claimed to be a fair and just king, yet he waged unlawful wars against territories that dared stand up against his brutish rule and relentlessly persecuted innocents whose only crime was to be born different. People like her. People with magic.

Coming to terms with her gifts had cost Morgana both countless nights spent in wakeful torment over horrific visions that plagued her dreams and untold days spent wrestling with throat-clogging anxiety over the possibility of discovery. There were many occasions during that frightening period in which she felt as though tottering precariously over a dark, abyssal chasm at the bottom of which lie only inescapable madness. Every second spent at court was an exhausting exercise in choking down a nauseating terror of the tyrant who held the power of life and death over her and would surely decide upon the latter should he learn the truth about her magic. Meals were a unique form of torture due to the perpetual knot residing in her stomach and every event she would normally revel in was transformed into a dreaded affair during which she could scarcely breathe for the crushing weight resting upon her chest.

Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Guinevere and Merlin she is sure she would have already plummeted headlong into those foreboding depths, right into the waiting arms of a hatred no human heart could withstand without incurring irreparable damage.

If Merlin hadn’t told her the truth about his magic as he lead her to Aglain’s druid camp, the pervasive sense of isolation and desperation worming insidiously through her mind would have inevitably forced her into drastic choices. Even before her magic manifested she had silently nursed treasonous thoughts toward Camelot’s cruel monarch. What might she have done if the walls closed in so tightly on her she felt there was no avenue of escape outside of acting upon those unsavory impulses? It hardly bears thinking about for risk of inviting such evil desires back in to her heart when of all her attributes, it is her heart which makes her most special – or at least that is what Guinevere insists to be the case.

Thankfully, finding a steadfast friend and ally in Merlin had done much to ameliorate the suffocating feeling of helplessness she felt as a member of the court harboring so deadly a secret. With much diligence and patience he was teaching her to control her powers, to harness them for good, and to have faith that better days were ahead for their kind. It was also mostly due to the Merlin’s deceptive wisdom and boundless optimism – and to be fair what reasonable person could resist that impish, dimpled smile? – that she began to view Arthur through a fresh lens.

If she bothered to look deeply, as Merlin insisted, to ignore the chauvinistic bravado and infuriating superiority complex, it was not difficult to recognize Arthur’s innate nobility and compassion that existed despite his monstrous father. And seeing as Merlin was as stubborn as he was convincing, it did not take long for Morgana to accept with a cautiously hopeful heart that with the aid of loyal friends, Arthur had it in him to become to the greatest sovereign Camelot had ever seen, a king who might actually prove himself worthy of the people both common and magical to whom he would be sworn to serve. Of course, she and Arthur still had their mundane squabbles and butted heads frequently over political and legal matters, but in the months since Merlin began her training, Morgana had acquired a new appreciation for the young man who was to her as good as a sibling.

As much as Merlin had done for her, however, it paled in comparison to Gwen’s contributions to her health and happiness.

For as long as Morgana had known Gwen she had held the blacksmith’s daughter in esteem far higher than any Lady should their maidservant. What started out as mutual respect born from shared grief over the loss of a parent soon flowered into genuine friendship. For many years they were the best of friends, each providing for the other a refuge from the storms of life and a confidante more reliable and wise and loyal than could be hired with all of Midas’ gold.

By the time Morgana entered womanhood, her fondness for Gwen had only swelled to become boundless as it was profound. In her eyes, Gwen was the most wonderful person in all the world; none could hope to be her equal in breathtaking beauty, charitable kindness, seemingly endless stores of patience, altogether praiseworthy meekness, a silent strength surpassing steel, or in nearly saintly levels of graciousness. Gwen was the unfailing light to Morgana’s rapidly encroaching darkness, the quickening sun to her deathly pale moon, the Aurora to her Luna. She neither trusted any more deeply as she did Gwen, nor did she desire the company of another so keenly. As a result, they were rarely parted until retiring for bed, and then only by necessity of station. So inextricably attached were they Gwen’s friends often jested that she must have accidentally stitched herself to her lady’s garments at the hip. The noblewomen were not nearly so kind. Some of the more prominent Ladies in the castle questioned the innocence of their arrangement, going so far as to exchange idle speculation which painted them as clandestine devotees of Sappho.

If Morgana could be bothered to care about the rumors, she would have confronted the useless busybodies long ago. But quite frankly, their opinions on her relationship with Gwen mattered for naught seeing as Arthur dismissed them as absurd upon reaching his ears and, beyond even that, Morgana would rather die than provide the snide gossipers ammunition that might serve as tacit confirmation that their unwelcome conjecture was not without merit – which was in fact the case.

All the same, though, she took great pains to prevent them from reaching the ears of the king. Uther already disapproved of their unusual bond and reminded her of such every time she treated Gwen with an ounce of basic human dignity while in his presence. Rather than censure the prejudice as she might have no long ago, Morgana now bore the chastisement with pride. Were it required, she would gladly wear forty stripes upon her skin if that be the price of Gwen’s love. The haughty bigotry of her guardian could never dissuade her from the path her heart had chosen to travel. Gwen was far too precious to ever surrender without a fight, to death if she must.

For what felt like ages, Morgana had believed her feelings would never be reciprocated. And that was perfectly acceptable to her, so long as Gwen remained an integral part of her life. The constant yearning that caused her chest to ache, sometimes almost painfully, was something she could endure so long as Gwen was happy.

That perspective radically transformed the night Gwen’s father died.

The midnight bells sounded in the citadel as Morgana slipped out into the upper town. Her intentions were pure at the time. She had only meant to visit her friend and offer what support she could, no matter the reckless impropriety of her visiting the her maidservant’s home so late at night. Instead, one glimpse of Gwen’s devastation over the pointless tragedy reignited her rage. All too quickly it boiled over, allowing those old, bitter feelings to spill out as impetuous threats of vengeance, and not only on Gwen’s behalf but for all those wronged by the merciless hand of Uther Pendragon. For what felt like hours she railed, heedless of the effect her malicious speech was having on the distraught girl she was supposed to be comforting.

It was only when Gwen – sweet Gwen, kind and thoughtful and selfless to a fault – had been pushed to her limits that Morgana’s perilous vitriol was interrupted.

Casting aside station, Gwen grasped her by the face and made her swear to never utter such dangerous words again.

“My brother has already abandoned me and now both my parents are dead,” Gwen had said, lips quivering and cheeks stained by tears. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

“Of course you would, Gwen. You’re the strongest person I know,” Morgana had replied, grasping reflexively at lean wrists, Gwen’s hands having migrated to the back of Morgana’s neck, thumbs cupped round the front of her ears. It was the first time she had been embraced so intimately, and if it weren’t for her anger she most certainly would have shivered with excitement at the surprisingly welcome contact.

“I’m not,” Gwen had half-sobbed, voice hoarse from hours surrendered to grief. “I’m only standing at all right now because the person I love most in all the world is here with me.”

Morgana hadn’t understood the nature of that declaration at first. Not until Gwen tucked her lip between her teeth, her nostrils flared with what could not be misinterpreted as anything but raw want, and her eyes went impossibly dark. A sharp gasp of realization was all Morgana could manage as a response, so stunned was she that her most secretive and treasured wish was being fulfilled.

But when Gwen nodded, chest heaving with emotion, despair and fear warring with adoration in her eyes, Morgana could no longer contain herself. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fused together, revealing the explanation as to why a simple smile from Gwen was able to chase away the storm clouds gathering above her head, or why Gwen’s chiming laughter kicked up butterflies in her stomach and a captivating warmth in her chest, or why even the most airy of touches from Gwen left a wake of goose-flesh in her skin. It wasn’t just love. It was destiny.

In retrospect, Morgana probably should have been as if not more terrified of crossing that final, socially forbidden line between mistress and servant, friend and lover, than she was of being magical. The thing of it was, the only relevant factors in that moment was Gwen willingly offering of herself more than she probably should and Morgana being selfish enough to accept.

They made love that night beneath Gwen’s threadbare sheets, and it was glorious, just as Morgana had imagined it would be.

All of their sorrows and anxieties and animosities drifted away like dandelion seeds upon a crisp summer breeze. Cliches regarding such unions suddenly made sense. Somewhere along the journey that began by laving the stiffened peak of a pert breast then languidly progressed into nestling her face into the delicate, aromatic flower situated between smooth bronze legs, she lost all sense of self. It was as if with each bruising kiss, playful nibble, and greedy draw with open mouth, she and Gwen were merging into one being. Gwen’s throaty noises and keening pleas reverberated through her every muscle fiber, down even into the very marrow of her bones. Gwen’s intoxicating flavor permeated her senses until it was all she could taste or smell. And Gwen’s gratification became hers as her hand slipped beneath her ridiculously extravagant undergarments to relieve the desperate pressure upon a mound so slick with arousal that the sound of her feverish rubbing was positively obscene.

Mere heartbeats after Gwen went taut with a silent scream, stars exploded behind Morgana’s eyes as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain engulfed her mind and set her nether regions aflame. Spent and unable to control her trembling limbs, she collapsed across Gwen’s heaving chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around underneath her arms to pull her in tight, and as she buried her nose in the damp curls at Gwen’s neck, all she could do was weep, utterly overcome by an unspeakable joy she understood without needing to ask was fully mutual. They fell asleep like that, Morgana stretched across Gwen, encased in an embrace that felt like a subconscious announcement of a claim upon her, heart and soul and body, something she not only welcomed but reveled in.

Wonderful thoughts about publicly belonging to Gwen lulled Morgana into a peaceful sleep that went markedly undisturbed.

In the pale light of morning she was still so drunken upon pure, heady, all consuming bliss to realize she would be missed if she did make an appearance in the castle. Had Gwen not pointed that out, she would have been more than glad to spend the entire day wrapped around her new lover, discovering every last spot that made Gwen’s toes curl ‘til the girl was too exhausted to move the tiniest muscle.

Alas, the constraints of reality marshaled both of them to action, and so once they had dressed, they sneaked carefully into the castle by auxiliary corridors during the changing of the guard. By only the slimmest of margins, they slipped into her chambers just as the fresh patrol rounded the corner in their direction. Once inside, the thrill of the close call and euphoria over their consummated love invigorated Morgana into a passion she could not ignore. Overcome by a need – more like an almost maddening hunger really – to touch, smell, and taste every delicious inch of the skin she had feasted upon last night, she unceremoniously dragged a breathless, ruddy cheeked Gwen straight over to her bed.

After that thorough christening, they lingered together in a tangle of limbs, both sated and happy. At least until the sound of Camelot’s awakening resounded through the chambers from the courtyard below and with it the first doubts crept in. Morgana could recall the subsequent conversation as though it had just happened.

***************

“I should see to my duties directly,” Gwen had said, immediately rustling to exit the bed upon hearing Arthur’s booming voice rattle down the hallway, clearly a response to the latest in an endless string of mistakes by his loyal yet tragically clumsy manservant.

Morgana hadn’t wanted to turn loose quite yet, so she tightened hold around Gwen’s waist, halting the undesired escape.

“They can wait,” she replied between leisurely kisses trailed up a shapely arm. “The laundry isn’t going anywhere, nor is the evening gown that needs mending. Stay with me a while longer.” She paused to nuzzle into Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

Rather than struggle, Gwen melted the embrace. “You know that is all I wish for. I love you, Morgana. More than anything. But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone catches us?”

Morgana scoffed, having missed the long term nature of the question in addition to the concern pouring off of Gwen in waves she should not have missed. It was not her finest moment. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, though. The idea had just seemed so preposterous at the time because she had thought Gwen was only speaking about the present.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my chambers without permission?” she had said. “Not even Uther at his most disrespectful would dare venture such a trespass. We are entirely safe here. No need to worry your pretty head.”

Gwen shifted in Morgana’s arms then so that they were face to face. “I do, though. Worry that is. And I have to ask: why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be? For that matter why should you be?” Morgana replied. And then she met Gwen’s eyes. Large, and impossibly dark, and unmistakably upset.

All of the sudden it was impossible for Morgana to ignore how frightened Gwen really was. In response, her stomach twisted almost painfully and her heart fell as the happy bubble she had been floating in abruptly burst.

What in all the world, she wondered in a moment of regrettable obliviousness, had Gwen afraid of them being caught? Her brow furrowed as deeply as it ever had as she mulled around potential causes.

Certainly they were going to have to be careful in the future to avoid exposure, she reckoned, but Gwen was as fully cognizant that there were more perilous secrets both were currently keeping. Morgana’s ability to pull the wool over Uther’s eyes was well established, and no one else besides the two of them had unfettered access to her chambers. Besides all that, Morgana knew every nook and cranny of the citadel and was able to slip out and into the upper town undetected at will, of which Gwen was also very well aware. So there had to be more to it. But what?

Only one other possibility occurred to her, and it was the one she least wanted to entertain. And yet...

“Unless you regret what has transpired between us?” she asked at length, unable to disguise her own fear, which manifested through a faint trembling in her voice. “No!” Shaking her head fervently, Gwen grasped Morgana’s face much as she did the night before. “Not even for a second. I’ve lost so much, and I have much to regret, but not this. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

Again Gwen trailed off, her hands retreating to clasp together against her mouth. And although Morgana’s anxiety had quieted with Gwen’s reassurance, there was clearly something still bothering her.

“Just what?” Morgana prompted, then reached out to stroke Gwen’s hair. “I hate seeing you so twisted up. Tell me. Please.”

A single, contrite nibble of a kiss-stung lip later, Gwen averted her eyes and gave her answer, “Don’t you wonder, even just for a second in the back of your mind, if what we did was wrong?”

Morgana very nearly sighed in relief. This was a problem she could easily remedy, as it was a one she had wrestled with for years only for Merlin’s simple yet profound worldview to unexpectedly resolve.

During the incident where Gwen was accused of using sorcery to heal her father, he had stumbled upon Morgana beside herself after a visit to Gwen’s cell. In her anxiety and grief she had confessed to having feelings for her handmaiden that although unseemly nonetheless had taken hold of her. Where she had expected disgust, she was instead given only understanding and compassion. In that endearingly provincial way of his, Merlin ensured her that love – if true and pure and unselfish, which he insisted hers for Gwen surely was – could never be wrong.

Morgana had felt something turn loose inside her at Merlin’s easy acceptance, as if her heart had been tied into a knot being slowly and perpetually tightened. Breathing became a relief once again. And as she learned to accept herself the way Merlin did, she began to hope that perhaps one day in the future a door would open for her to act upon her feelings without destroying what she and Gwen already shared. She could not have anticipated Tom’s death being the impetus for her to do so. Yet as awful as his tragic death was, it birthed something so infinitely precious that Morgana would never cease being grateful. And if only for the memory of that kind, thoughtful, patient man, she would never stop fighting for the love she shared with her beloved Guinevere.

“Gwen,” she had said, unsuccessfully vying for her conflicted love’s attention. Twice more she called Gwen’s name, and after receiving no response pushed up slightly on her elbow. “Look at me, Guinevere.” When large, uncertain eyes, brimming with tears, met hers, she leaned over so that she could press her forehead against Gwen’s. “We have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? If you trust me, if you love me as you assert to, believe me when I say this. Something so wonderful and beautiful and perfect could never be anything less than rightly divine.”

***************

That phrase that swiftly became Morgana’s favorite answer to Gwen’s occasional concerns. The world at large, and most definitely those housed within the vaunted halls of Camelot’s citadel, would most certainly view their relationship as wicked and immoral and perverse. If that was indeed the case, Morgana did not believe she ever wanted to be either innocent or righteous. Their love was wonderful, and beautiful, and perfectly divine; an immutable fact which Morgana was determined to never allow either of them to forget.

No doubt lurked within Gwen’s eyes this morning, however, only unadulterated affection. And that made Morgana exceedingly joyful indeed.

“I understand what you mean,” Morgana at last said after escaping that precious memory. She sighed contentedly and shuttered her eyelids as yet another reverent brush of fingers smoothed along the crest of her chin. And while the diligent attention felt incredible, she grew increasingly curious why Gwen’s focus appeared to have narrowly fixated on that one specific region of her face.

“What’s the matter?” Gwen said after a bit of easy silence.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?” Morgana replied, still basking in the glow of Gwen’s magical touch.

“You have that telltale crease between your brow which means something is bothering you.”

This time Morgana opened her eyes. “I’m not bothered, merely at a loss as to why you suddenly find my chin so hypnotizing.”

Gwen sucked at her lip momentarily as if weighing whether to answer before a crooked smile bloomed across her handsome features.

“Well, not just your chin, but if you must know it’s all these little hairs…” And then she stroked Morgana’s chin again, this time allowing her fingers to feather over said hairs all the way down her jawline.

“Are you saying my face is hairy, Gwen?” Morgana asked, frowning as a thread of hurt pulled taut.

As should be obvious, she didn’t appreciate it pointed out that her alabaster skin failed to conceal what otherwise would have been a nearly invisible coat of fine hairs that covered all humans male and female alike. Arthur teased her about it relentlessly when she was a blossoming teenager, and even now some of the noble ladies who envied her would snidely comment upon how it clearly indicated that she was a witch destined for a life of barren unhappiness.

Up til now, Gwen had made no mention of that peculiar feature and Morgana would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t wounded that it would be brought up only now that they were in an intimate situation.

“No!” Gwen’s eyes went wide as the full moon. “No, not at all! I mean...well, yes, it sort of is.” A huffed breath of remorse followed Morgana’s gasp of offense. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I swear I meant no insult. I have some too, after all. It’s just less visible because of my skin tone probably. And don’t worry! It’s nothing like Lady Johanna’s fledgling beard. Not even close. On the contrary, they’re so tiny and delicate and wispy and soft, and I really am utterly obsessed with them because they are part of you and you are perfect, so they are also perfect by extension, and I just can’t get over how adorable they are, and I am currently babbling like a lunatic with zero manners. I am so sorry, milady.”

At the end of that adorable ramble, Gwen’s shoulders hunched in as her cheeks darkened and she yet again sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Any insult Morgana felt evaporated as quickly as it formed. How could she be upset with such an enchanting creature?

Reaching across Gwen’s waist, she pulled her abashed lover down until they were flush, skin to skin from shoulders to hips.

“Oh, Gwen, there is nothing to be sorry for,” she said, legs instinctively parting as Gwen’s familiar weight settled against her. “My reaction is habit, I’m afraid, due to Arthur’s derisive mocking. It’s actually quite nice to hear a compliment for a change.”

“Are you sure you’re not cross with me? I’d understand if you were…”

No one with a functioning soul could be cross with those doe eyes staring at them, Morgana decided. She danced her fingers with lighthearted mirth across Gwen’s cheeks and over the ridge of her nose.

“Nonsense, sweetling. It’s no different than me admiring your freckles.”

Gwen’s features relaxed into a flattered smile. “You like my freckles?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not? It’s like you said, they are a part of you, and you are perfect, therefore they are perfect by extension.”

In response, Gwen gave her an appreciative little smile before arresting her hand to place a kiss upon the inside of her wrist.

“So you won’t mind to be awakened like that again should I fail to curb my weird fascination?”

“Only if you won’t should I wake you by mapping the stars written across your cheeks,” Morgana said, then returned Gwen’s tactile affection with some of her own by again acting out her words with her own fingers. She was pleased when Gwen leaned in to the touch.

“I promise I won’t. I think I’d quite fancy that, actually.”

“Then I promise, too. And if you’re a good girl today, perhaps I will indulge your fancy tomorrow morning.”

“Well, then, I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?”

Eyes flashing with eager anticipation, Gwen threw the covers aside and made to get out of bed – a development Morgana was not prepared to authorize. Not only was she of a mind to lounge abed and cuddle away another hour or two, all of Camelot was blanketed in snow and she was loathe to be deprived of Gwen’s heavenly body...heat.

“Now, now,” Morgana tugged at Gwen, almost desperate with a need to curl right back into Gwen’s warmth and never move again while hoping she sounded at least somewhat the dignified noblewoman she was supposed to be. “Don’t be so hasty. Have you forgotten yourself and your duties to your lady? I haven’t yet had my good morning kiss.”

Gwen tumbled back into bed giggling merrily. “For shame! I have failed my lady most unforgivably. I shall rectify the trespass immediately.”

“See that you do, Guinevere, and promptly,” Morgana said, her eyes twinkling as her own merriment curved her lips into a smile. “As you know, your lady does not appreciate being made to wait.”

After a deliberately silly half-curtsy, Gwen draped herself across Morgana’s body, and once settled whispered her reply against Morgana’s already tingling lips.

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

The brief peck that followed was not enough for Morgana. Fingers winding into dark curls, she pulled Gwen into a much more passionate kiss, which lead to another, and another, until the embrace quickly evolved into tangling tongues and undulating hips. Soon enough, Gwen’s head was disappearing beneath the sheets and Morgana was having to recall how to breathe due to the magnificently excruciating pleasure coursing through her loins.

And that was how she came to be late for her first appointment of the morning, where she was relentlessly lectured about the importance of punctuality over manchet, eggs, sausage, and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. It was worth it, though. Her giddy grin throughout breakfast only made Arthur more bewildered and Uther more angry.

#bbc merlin #gwen #morgana #morgwen

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naivesilver · 3 years

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@bewilderedmoth FINE. Fine. Since today is a Monday and therefore a day much more suited for a vitriolic commentary on terrible insects, I shall fulfill your request and the anon’s. I’m warning everyone in the premises, though - this is a “no fucks given” list, so it may get ugly at any time. Also, as usual, this is only for things that I’ve already watched, so if you know of some cricket horror and don’t see it mentioned, assume I’ve yet to get to that specific adaptation.

Alright then! To the barricades!

1) Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)

The first of his genre. Look at this asshole - he’s literally the last creature I’d entrust my child to. The fact Pinocchio had to spend his first couple days of life with this guy shadowing his every step is mind-boggling, and it’s made even worse by the fact that the Blue Fairy put him in charge of another man’s kid, as though she had the right to make that choice.

(I won’t fall for the desire of dunking on the Fairy more, as this is a Cricket list, but believe me, the temptation is there. It always is.)

As Disney sidekicks go, he’s one of the worst. He’s not funny, and despite having literally ONE job he manages to fail spectacularly at it. He’s snappish at Pinocchio, he abandons his charge about two hours into the new day, he spends a much longer time flirting with female-presenting inanimate objects/animals/supernatural beings than doing any actual childrearing. He should have been forgotten the instant the movie left the theaters, but instead Disney made him one of his main mascots, giving him the role of storyteller or ghost or whatever the fuck they need him to do at the time. So not only is he single-handedly responsible for every other entry in this list, I keep finding him everywhere I turn my eyes to. A knock-off version of his Ghost of Christmas Past self was in the new Ducktales, too, so my friend freenklin (who already has had to endure many of my complaints) received some VERY disappointed scream-texts as I was liveblogging my watch.

Just...no. Get him out of my sight.

(Also Ewan McGregor is bound to voice him in the live action and like??? Excuse me??? Are we supposed to not make Obi Wan jokes??? Will he abandon his young padawan Pinocchio to the evil Strombolitroopers???)

2) Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night (1987)

This movie is at the bottom of my Pinocchio adaptation ranking, and boy, does it deserve the dishonor. The story is a weird mixture of adaptation and sequel, approximately a tenth of the characters actually appear in the book, and I can’t forgive them for ruining what could have been the coolest concept ever (Pinocchio as a pawn in a fight of good vs evil) into this disgrace of a cartoon.

As for the Cricket, in this case he’s not even a cricket. He’s a glowworm, and he’s a goddamn puppet too, to whom the Fairy gave life. I wonder, is the entirety of her job just...transforming people’s creations into sentient beings so that they can lead others to a honest life? Tell me, ma’am, do you want to breathe life into my disappointing Powerpoint presentations too, so that they might bully me into graduating?

Anyway, if you’re wondering what purpose Gee Willikers (sigh) serves, the answer is NONE. Pinocchio gets rid of him at least twice (good for him) and as easily as drinking a glass of water, he’s a burden to the (admittedly cooler) additional characters, like the aviator bee, and not only is he ugly as fuck, but also so annoying every time he gets a chance to speak that it’s a miracle he wasn’t cut out in post-production.

In short, disgusting. If he entered my home I’d swat him with a flycatcher until he leaves.

3) Pinocchio (2009)

This is essentially Disney’s Jiminy Cricket, but female, anthropomorphic, and with a passion for books instead of pretty ladies or ladies-adjacent objects. Mind you, a sapphic Cricket would perhaps have saved more than one adaptation, this one included, but I’m glad they skipped that part altogether. This miniseries has enough issues as it is.

I’m sorry, she’s just too annoying. Luciana Littizzetto can be funny, but in small doses, otherwise her jokes start to become repetitive. Two hours straight - and yes, it’s that much, because SOMEONE decided to follow Disney’s footsteps a little too well - are too long even for the strongest of hearts. Plus, none of the characters’ costumes are very flattering, accurate or well-made (except for Lampwick 💖), but hers just might take the cake. It looks like a mixture between a teenager’s first attempt at steampunk fashion and a Mardi Gras costume lifted from the discarded items’ bin at a cheap store. Takes you out of the fantasy more than anything else.

4) Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio (2002)

I’ve talked at length of the weirdness of this movie, but all in all it’s a pretty accurate transposition of the story, from the dialogue to the scenery.

Except for him.

The Cricket in this case does appear in the scenes belonging to him, but ALSO in a long and extremely useless sequence where he tries to find Pinocchio in the Land of Toys and gets kicked around by literally everyone present. Don’t get me wrong, that’s something I would have liked to do as well, but it was totally unnecessary, and it gave nothing to the overall story. This movie still holds the record as the most expensive Italian movie ever made, so wouldn’t it have been better for everybody to skip that part entirely? Not only it would have saved them some money, but also it would have saved me from seeing this guy for an additional fifteen minutes on my screen.

Still, pretty tame compared to some of the others. Could have been worse.

5) Once Upon A Time (2011)

I debated long and hard before making this choice, and I’m not putting him in with a light heart, but before you come at me with pitchforks, please listen.

I like Archie, okay! He’s a fun character, the human side of his backstory was great and gave him a lot of depth and inner turmoil, and the concept of Jiminy Cricket being a therapist is amazing and hilarious. But he’s kind of a shit therapist, whose actions aren’t always what you’d expect from someone who’s supposed to be a conscience and a guide. And despite the show giving us the impression that he and Pinocchio had the same adventures as in the Disney movie (which doesn’t exactly endear him to me - if it wasn’t for his later character development he’d already be Lil Nas X-ing his way down to the bottom of my list), he and August never interacted on screen after the First Curse broke. Not once. And if there’s someone who needs therapy and support, that’s August Wayne Booth.

Yes, I did say at some point that I’d like to fix this in a fic. I’ll write it when I don’t have like eight projects on my table at the same time.

Finally, two scenes settled the matter for me: one, him pontificating at Snow about her trying to do everything on her own, without even pretending to help her set up the stroller she was struggling with at that very moment. I work with kids every day, I know exactly what she’s going through. Shut your mouth and open the damn stroller, Archie.

And two...That one fucking scene where he’s jumping out of Snow White’s cleavage. Honestly, what the fuck??? I wouldn’t even have remembered it if Libby hadn’t reminded me, so I suppose my brain tried to remove the traumatic memory before it caused any further damage, but it exists, and I’m still wondering why. What exactly was the deal with the writers, when they made that choice? I want a glass of what they were having, because by God, does it sound like a trip-inducing cocktail.

Aaaand we’re done! Remember, this is all part of my personal opinion, and I’m not to be taken seriously even on the best of days. Plus, my favorite cricket-esque character, aside from the book-accurate ones, is Gina from Piccolino no Bouken, who is a duck, a sassy little bastard and no closer to Collodi’s canon than any of these fuckers. So yes, when it comes to choices dictated by the heart, I am an hypocrite. Au revoir!

#the amount of time I spent of this is not comparable to the lampwick post #but it's still A LotTM for a cricket rant #meme gif included #pinocchio

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padawanlost · 4 years

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Can I confess something? I know that positivity is “better” than negativity, and people are allowed to have their opinions, but there is something about Pro-Jedi “they did nothing wrong, absolutely no flaws, but were ONLY destroyed by Palpatine” arguments that makes me kind of uncomfortable. Nevermind that half of it is sourced by Disney revisionist canon, it’s just… there is something in the “the intent was good, but this is harmful” “NO ITS 100% GOOD ACTUALLY” that makes my skin crawl. Sorry

I feel you, anon. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. It worries me how defensive some people are getting. I mean, I love my favorite fictional characters too. I think that’s absolutely normal, and loving a fictional character whether they are the heroes or the villains doesn’t say anything about who we are as people. Admitting we love Anakin or Darth Vader doesn’t immediately make us favorable to torture, war, fascism, murder and corruption.

However, the arguments we use to explain a characters behavior do say something about who we are. And some arguments being used by the star wars fandom are downright scary. You know, there’s a difference between saying ‘I don’t like Padmé because she’s not the type of character I’m usually interested in’ and saying ‘Padmé is useless weak bitch because she died’. One is about you expressing your taste and the other is you showing the world your sexism.

It’s the same with Anakin, Vader and every one fictional character in existence, regardless of fandom. there’s nothing wrong with loving Anakin, but when you start advocating that genocide is a valid option, if you think women belong to men, that torture works and authoritarianism makes the world better, I’m not gonna lie, warning bells do go off in my head.

It’s the same with the Jedi. there’s nothing wrong with loving and supporting them because they were designed to liked by the audience. but once you start advocating that child slavery is not that bad, that war crimes are justified, that indoctrinating children is healthy, that mind controlling people against their will is a kindness, dismemberment is compassion, that child soldiers are a valid option and that the enslavement of poc characters is a necessity…MAYBE the issue here is no longer about fictional characters.

It’s ironic because if an Anakin fan says Anakin was right in slaughtering the tusken raiders, most people – anakin fans included – will be outraged by notion that genocide and mass murder should ever be considered the right solution to any problem. we love Anakin but we also know he made mistakes and what those mistakes were. it’s not about defending him, it’s about acknowledging certain things are simply wrong even if they are done by fictional characters we love.

Weirdly enough, when it comes to the Jedi nothing seems to be wrong enough to some people. everything is justifiable: war crimes, child endangerment, slavery, etc. Nothing seems to be bad enough that they can’t find a way to justify it. And that scares me. because it has become so obvious these issues only matter when the jedi are harmed by them.

The most current example of this is the The Clone Wars series finale. The episode was heavily focused on the massive loss of clones lives that happened during Order 66 and yet some fans were outraged that their white favorites weren’t the main focus of the episode because THEY SUFFERED SO MUCH MORE. It’s the same with fans rapidly turning on Ahsoka, the Martez sisters and even Filoni for so much as hinting they didn’t agree with the Order’s decisions.

You know, it’s not about them defending the Jedi is about how and why they defend them. Saying I don’t care what the jedi did because I love them is fine. Saying I love the Jedi because they never did anything wrong and then writing a long ass essay on why the lives of POC characters don’t matter is not. It sickens me to see people spend a lot of time writing fucking books desperately trying to justify why not helping Kitster, Ahsoka, Barriss or the younglings hunted for sport was the right call at the same they romanticize Obi-wan’s short enslavement as the one of the most tragic things that has ever happening the entire franchise.

Imo, that’s pretty telling. I don’t know if they are racist or just really, really insecure about their own taste but it does makes me wonder about who they are as people. it sounds harsh even to me to say this but the truth is this does goes beyond fiction. this shit has affected people in real life. I mean, every once in a while I see a jedi ‘stan’ telling someone Karen Traviss hated the Jedi and that she was the personification of everything that’s evil about people who criticize the Jedi Order. Look, I don’t know anything about who she is a person but I do know the same Jedi stans spent years sending her death and RAPE threats for being critical of the FICTIONAL CHARACTERS even after she wrote a long letter explaining she didn’t actually hate the Jedi. I don’t know where everyone moral compass is pointing at but *I* was raised to believe that wishing a woman dead and/or raped is NEVER the best answer.

But somehow people who say ‘I love the jedi even if they weren’t perfect’ are being portrayed as the villainous, irrational fans who are ruining everything and attacking everyone. I sleep well at night knowing i never tried to pass actual crimes that harm actual people as good, righteous things just to make fictional characters look better.

It’s not about hating the Jedi the same way that acknowledging Anakin’s crimes is not about hating on Anakin. It’s about recognizing that something that is legally and morally wrong in real life is also wrong in fiction, specially when the fiction world was build as a political parallel of our own. We are not saying war crimes and slavery is wrong because we hate the say, we are saying war crimes and slavery are wrong because THEY ARE WRONG. If our love and support for fictional characters can so easily blind us to real life morality then maybe we should do some soul searching before going to such lengths to justify something considered a heinous crime in both fictional and real world

A few days ago I was trying to get a coworker to start watching Breaking Bad. We were talking about Walter White and why he was such iconic character. he’s clearly not a great guy but that doesn’t mean we don’t love the character. I think that’s the difference some fans have a hard time grasping: the difference between a good character and a good person. I have seen many fans saying WW’s actions were cool, badass, ‘manly’ or whatever but I’ve never seen anyone trying to pass drug trafficking and murder as morally superior choices.

That’s what I’m trying to say. We can love (or hate) fictional characters for whatever reason we want. but how we go about justifying their actions and how we react to those who disagree with our views do say a lot about who we are. I mean, there’s a big difference between saying ‘it was so cool to watch Darth Vader is laughter all those red shirts in Rogue One’ and saying ‘and war crimes are a necessary part of life, Darth Vader was morally justified in slaughter them all and those who disagree with me are haters’.

Taste doesn’t really said anything about who we are but behavior does. Loving or hating a fictional characters doesn’t make us better or worse than anyone. But what we have to say about fictional and how we behave around other fans do say a lot about who we are.

Fandom is a community and like any community nothing and no one is perfect. Pretending ‘everything is awesome’ is choice, of couse, but one i’m not very fond of.

#ask #anon #sw meta #meta: fandom #jedi order #txt

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cdelphiki · 3 years

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From one homeschooled person to another, do you ever have to deal with people chalking up any of of your flaws/eccentricities/gaps in your education to being homeschooled? If so, how do you prevent yourself from a) exploding b) exploding privately or c) complaining to a complete stranger over the internet? Apparently it's totally okay to be ignorant so long as you spent eight hours a day in a public education facility from k-12, but heaven forbid your homeschooling parents neglected anything.

The good news is, the older you get, the less people care. But the bad news is, they never stop attributing anything they perceive as negative about you to you being homeschooled. I remember having people go ‘oh’ in that, ‘ah that makes sense’ kind of voice whenever I said “actually I was homeschooled” in response to being asked which high school I went to. It’s sadly just something you have to grow a skin against, and kind of stand proudly on the fact you were homeschooled.

So, I usually like going the route of “yeah well eat it I’m doing great” when someone says anything negative about homeschooling. MY opinion is actually high school is completely useless and NO ONE needs it. People get real ticked when I say stuff like that, especially people who worked their butts off during high school and did all those fancy AP classes and extracurriculars. In my opinion children should be taught the basic foundations, reading, writing, math, science basics, and general overview of history and then allowed to learn whatever the hell they want. The whole ‘unschooling’ or ‘montessori’ methods of schooling. Far better. Produces children who want to learn, rather than children miserable because we trap them in prison for children for 8 hours a day for 13 years of their childhood. Honestly.

So, I was homeschooled throughout high school and my mom did not pay one lick of attention to my education. She had a kindergartener and a 6th grader, both with serious learning disabilities to homeschool, so me the seemingly well behaved, self motivated 9th grader who SAID ‘yeah I did my schoolwork today’ was probably doing fine. Whatever. (spoiler alert, I never did my schoolwork. Ever) Fast forward to when it was time to start college, I literally made up a report card. It was based on the curricula my mom handed me, that I did sometimes read. But the grades were just me going ‘yeah I’m really good in history, A there. Math? Eh I’m pretty bad. How about a low B. Yeah that looks good.’ My mom signed it and I sent it in with my college applications. I took the SAT and did fine. Nothing spectacular, but I did slightly above average, which was well enough to get into the local state universities.

Then I pulled a 4.0 my first semester. And that opened all the doors. I was able to transfer to any school I chose (and wanted to pay for lol).

So whenever people start to balk about me not even doing high school, much less being homeschooled, I point to that.I ended up graduating with honors, then went on to grad school with a full ride and did pull a 4.0 that entire time. (I got mostly As in college, with a few Bs and one D. In spanish 101. So it hardly counts 😬) Now I’m doing well in a federal career, and no one cares whether I did high school. Because, guess what? High school is useless.

Basically, you just have to develop a thick skin and take on the attitude of “Yeah, well, shove it I’m awesome. Sorry your parents made you go to prison for 13 years.” 🙃

I will say my parents highly sheltered me as a child. I was not exposed to lewd stuff as a child, and most definitely never got the jokes and innuendos people around me made or were made in movies and TV and such, if I was allowed to watch the TV program in question. I grew up on discover channel. And obviously that translated to me being very sheltered in college and not getting it when people made a ‘funny joke’ that was really just some sexual something or another. And really, my attitude there was, instead of get all embarrassed when they laugh I didn’t get it to ask “Yeah, and is it a problem I don’t have a dirty mind?” Because, well, is it? Even now, at 28, while I’m far less sheltered than I was at 18, I often tell people “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know” because, really, I don’t want to know about so much of the nasty stuff out there. 😂.

That’s my long, rambly thoughts on that. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with people’s crap in this matter. If I were you, I’d feel sorry for them for having to endure prison for so many years. Sounds awful, tbh. 🙃

#dont @ me im not changing my opinion on how much i hate our school system #private or public i think its all dumb #down with school up with unschooling 😂#let kids lead their own learning #obviously SOME kids wont do well with that tere are SOME kids who need structure #so i get that #but in general i think school is dumb and counter productive #kids learn far more if they're able to choose the books they read and topics they research #when given the tools and access to those things as well #which i understand not all parents can provide like i GET it ok so there dont @ me about those points lol

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pynkhues · 4 years

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In a previous ask I asked if you thought the writers dumbed the ladies down, thanks for answering by the way, but what about Rio. Do you think they dumb Rio down so Beth’s ideas look good? Like this episode wouldn’t Rio know that about the car wash? It seems easy enough to figure out?

You’re welcome, anon! And I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this. The pandemic just sort of threw a grenade into my life in many respects, and I still feel like I’m scrambling to catch up on things – including my ask box – particularly for asks I have longer replies to like this one!

As for your question – it’s a really interesting one! I don’t disagree with the sentiment at all, and can completely understand where you’re coming from. It is obvious, and seems a bit of a convenient pivot for a character who’s generally been depicted to us as very intelligent, a step ahead, a kingpin, etc. etc.

Probably surprisingly, my answer as to whether or not they’ve dumbed Rio down in s3 to make Beth look good is actually no though. I mean - gosh - think of his re-introduction this season which was entirely about showcasing how well he was able to play Turner and ‘handle him’ in the way Beth had no capacity to. In fact, a lot of this season was about positioning Rio as competent, powerful, and aspirational overall for Beth, but actually in some ways Ruby and Annie too. He’s really their yardstick in how they measure themselves and their own success, and I think a lot of this season was trying to add dimension to that and him overall, both in the slightly softer ways (i.e. Rhea, Marcus, and even Mick) and the harder ways (Lucy, Turner and even Beth).

Which brings me to something I’ve actually thought since 2.04 but never really elaborated on here beyond brief mentions, haha.

I think the show is running a subtextual storyline with Rio. I think it’s been running that storyline actually since Turner’s introduction in 1.04, and that it’s been on-and-off successful on a textual narrative level – mostly because they don’t give us enough of it. I do think it’s there though, and pretty consistent if you’re keeping an eye on it, but it doesn’t really bleed through enough to sate audiences beyond that. (And hey look! I’m one of the people who doesn’t usually have too big of an issue about Rio’s lack of screen time!)

But yes, haha.

What I’m getting at is that I think there’s a parallel, very present storyline that is trying to tell us that Rio’s business and operation was already under the microscope by the feds before the show had even started, and that Beth and the girls getting him arrested in 1.10 has been a hurdle that’s had major ramifications.

So let’s break that down a bit.

I feel heat on, I shutdown.

The seed for this storyline is, in many ways, planted with Beth’s monologue in 1.02 where she tells Rio that if he kills her, Ruby and Annie, he’s ultimately playing himself (there are hashtags and movements after all, haha). The set-up here is that Beth is an outlier for Rio in more ways than one, but there’s also an inference that Rio’s used to pulling the trigger first, and dealing with the fallout later – something that’s reiterated through his handling of Eddie in this very season, and then later Lucy in s3.

But we’ll come back to that.

The point here is that Beth calls him out on not being as subtle as he thinks he is, which is a fact that the story doubles down on with Turner’s introduction two episodes later in 1.04. Turner’s FBI, and he’s in town specifically investigating Rio. It’s immediately clear that there are a lot of gaps in that investigation, and in a lot of ways Beth bridges those gaps for Turner, but still. Turner was always onto Rio before Beth was ever in the picture.

In this sense, Rio’s seeming position in the crime world is already splintering – he has the feds on his tail already. Something happens – we never find out the details – in 1.04 which has one of his boys shot badly (Eddie), and Rio deliberately drops him off with somebody who’s very much on the perimeters of his operation (Beth). That same boy is later pinned by the feds and blackmailed by Turner (1.07) and something happens that quickly leads to Rio not only shutting down business, but seizing all of his assets from everyone, including Beth and the girls (1.08).

He has Eddie killed, orchestrates a test in 1.09 to see how much information Eddie actually leaked to the feds – a test Beth took personally – before he tries to cut her out and Beth retaliated by having him arrested in 1.10.

I’m out, I’m done, time for something new.

Which means starting s2, Rio’s business hasn’t actually been up and running since 1.07, and he’s now got a very public arrest on his record too.

I don’t think it’s an accident that Rio’s shown as virtually alone in s2 outisde of Beth, Marcus and Gretchen, rather I think it’s a deliberate effort to show where his priorities have resettled – which is in business (which Beth is, which I’ll come back to shortly), his son, and his freedom respectively.

But yes.

Let’s talk about work.

Rio tries to get Beth to handle Boomer (2.01), the key witness in the case she’s just given a lot of weight to through the Fine & Frugal job in 1.10, but generally speaking, I think Rio’s still technically, professionally shutdown for the first half of the season. Not only that, but he seems to be trying to disentangle from fake cash generally to get into prescription pill distribution – a pretty distinct pivot for him.

This could be a bit of a controversial opinion, but I don’t think he printed any new cash in s2. I think everything he left for Beth was stuff he had before she’d gotten him arrested, and I think that that’s demonstrated with him giving it to her in the first place (Beth says it herself in the same episode – if they can’t wash it, it’s just paper) and with him flipping his game overall.

In other words, I think Rio was still shutdown and trying to figure out how to redistribute the work he could operate, while he handled the court case and no doubt tried to cover his losses.

And in that incredibly stressful set of circumstances, I think Rio threw a line out to Beth as someone who owed him and was unencumbered by other networks in the crime world, and she bit, she delivered, and then Rio took advantage.

Something that was only ever made more complicated by their relationship, of course, haha, but even after that, I think he justified her presence in his life as a useful and unexpected card in his deck, and someone to keep his bed warm. In that capacity too though, I actually don’t think Rio ever intended for Beth to find out about the pills. I think he was already building that operation, saw an opportunity in Boland Motors, and worked it.

The point is that things were fraying for Rio back in s1. I think that things were getting back on track for him at the start of s2, but then fell apart in a way that was bigger and worse towards the end of it.

Beth successfully wrangled half his business, sure, and he not only let her, but he made a bad choice in investing too much in Boland Motors because he thought he had a better handle on her overall. Boland Motors ended up not just being the front for him to wash the cash he’d made via the girls, but was now the key stop-point for the drugs he was bringing across the border.

I’m sure he did have other operations at this point, but Boland Motors was BIG, and it blew up for him twice over.

First when Beth dumped him in 2.09.

Then with the FBI raid in 2.10, which ultimately rendered their cash useless in 2.12.

Something I imagine was only made worse by Ruby dumping the pills that would ordinarily be delivered through the car airbags in 2.10 too.

So who made your money?

Which brings us to where we are in season 3, where actually a lot of this seems to come to a head off-screen. I think this season actually really quickly established three things that work together and with the information of previous seasons pretty effectively, just that it was hindered by it being too subtextual, and not quite textual enough in certain parts.

1. Rio’s operation is still kicking, albeit not without challenges. He’s able to set up other crews, while mobilising his own to assassinate Turner from what is essentially a lockdown situation. The first episode is devoted to telling us exactly how powerful Rio is, while also how much he isn’t. We get Rio playing puppeteer with Turner and the crime world, but we also get the disconnect from his child as symbolised through the model airplane, and the lack of connection he has to his family through Beth and Rhea’s relationship. It’s a really great character breakdown to parallel Rio’s control over his professional life, and lack of control over his personal one.

2. Rio’s lost professional networks and is struggling to re-make them. This is actually the point I think we needed more of in the show, because I do think it’s there, but I don’t think it’s as textual as it should be. I’ve said it on here before, but we know from 1.03 that Rio’s never designed his own money – it’s what he sent Beth, Ruby and Annie to go collect from Canada after all, and that design was cooked by 2.12.

We also know he was washing cash through a variety of local businesses prior to his arrest in 1.10 as per the news report in the same episode, and from the fallout in s2, it seemed like those networks had dried up, hence him giving Beth the money to wash in 2.04 and then jumping all in on Boland Motors.

Beth also latches onto this concept in 3.04 when she tries to negotiate with Rio for her life, telling him “no cars, no pills, no cash, it’s gotta hurt”, and he responds, pretty simply with “You don’t know my interests.”

Which she doesn’t, particularly as she latches onto the idea of Rio needing money, because I don’t think he does, and I think the introduction of the G Wagon this season was a significant symbol in teling us that as an audience.

I don’t think Rio needs money. I think he needs to be making other people money.

I think he needs the business.

It seems to be something underlined in Rio’s confrontation with Gil in the bar later in the episode. He’s holding Gil to get the name of the person designing his money, because Rio knows the value of the product, and he needs to rebuild professionally after the arrest, raids and his own disappearance, and it’s only re-emphasised by Rio taking over Beth’s operation when he finds out. She owes him enough, is on the backfoot enough, that he can own all of it, knowing she’ll let him.

3. Lastly is that Rio is, and always has been, a dangerous person with a ready and willing trigger finger. He handles his rotten eggs – for better and for worse.

Sophie, what are you going on about??

A good question, me, haha. I guess my point in all of this is the fact that I think Rio’s comfortable financially but is in deep in crime and as a result has a lot of people relying on him (both above him and below him) to build business. Since the shutdown in s1 and his arrest then disappearance, I think shit’s hit the fan, and a lot of his old professional avenues have been cut off, and that Beth presents to him as this sort of perfect in to a world he’s just been re-ostracised from.

The carwash was obvious, of course it was, but I think that was sort of the point? I think it was a narrative signpost of how many steps backwards Rio’s operation has had to walk, and how far Rio’s been boxed into a corner (something I actually do think would have re-emerged on a textual level this season given we know we were supposed to be meeting Rio’s crime bosses).

I think he wanted another Boland Motors sort of operation, and forcing Beth’s hand created Boland Bubbles, and I think the prospect of that was a relief to him in more ways than not (hence his tone shift in 3.11).

Beth is, after all, a logical person in many ways for Rio to invest in because she owes him, and because she has no other ties in the crime world. I’ve said this in multiple other posts, but I think Rio’s really deliberately kept it that way. I think he sees her potential, yes, and I actually do think a part of him wants to protect her (again, 2.07 being the clearest example of that), but I also think he sees her as an asset for himself. She’s quick on her feet, exists in a world he can’t – that world being middle class, white mama – and he can throw down a challenge to her, knows she’ll rise to meet it, and present a solution.

She did it unprompted in s1 with the secret shoppers, prompted when given the means in s2 with Boland Motors, and then prompted with a threat in s3 with Boland Bubbles.

For all his talk of not knowing how to incentivise her in 3.10, he really does know, and more than that, he knows how to prompt her to level up in a way he can then take advantage of.

Does this mean that Rio can’t or doesn’t come up with the ideas? Of course not! (Athough I do think he likes outsourcing them, haha) But I think he’s aware of where he stands and who he is and what he looks like, and I think that’s been compounded by a period of time that’s been dangerous for him both personally and professionally, and fuck - - exhausting too. I mean – he was shot! Three times! In the chest!

But I do think Rio’s a kingpin too. It’s just been a hard year, y’know?

(Because I think it mostly has just been a year? There’s something to be said here after all given we know there was only eight months between early-s1 and 2.12 given the timestamp, and now only two months apparently between 2.09 and 3.03, so it very well could’ve been only little over a year in canon? That said, requesting any sort of logical timeline on this show feels like a trap, haha).

I don’t know though! This is just my theory. What do you guys think?

#beth x rio #beth boland #rio #gg 3.11 #3..10 #gg 2.12 #missing scenes #rio the mvp #crime time #welcome to my ama

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