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gravelgirty · 1 year

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Never too Late: PTSD and ISLAND ZERO

“Just..Spoilers. The elderly couple survives.

And what a delightful couple we have to view. Reviewer Sarah Budd of HORROR SCREAMS VIDEO VAULT said, ‘ really well acted by all involved but the absolute best characters are the elderly couple Ruth and Alvis who are by far the most entertaining’

In a film less than 2 hours long it boggles the mind how the cast shows depth and background. Now, I think all the characters are just wonderful, but in interactions, most of the people are so believable you want to smack them or stuff the number of your therapist down their collar. Imagine how infuriating your hometown would be if things got bad and monsters were coming...yeah, hold on to those cans of beans, folks. And maybe some spare sticks of TNT...

Ruth and Alvis are a long-lived, long-married couple--old-timers on a salty little island in the middle of utter nowhere, forty miles off the coast of Maine. Ruth and Alvis are the folks you want to root for, especially since our first sight of them is not really on a positive note...

After the opening scene where something unseen kills a marine biologist (the mother of the child in the above shot) some 4 years in the past, the film snaps forward to a quietly thumping heartbeat under a stethoscope. An old woman’s voice complains over this soft sound; this is Ruth, sitting in the back of the consult room and doing all the talking for herself and her husband Alvis while Doc Maggie tries to get some answers on Alvis.

Alvis is tall, getting stout about the middle, and white-bearded. He keeps his head down and does no volunteering while Ruth explains:

Alvis has inexplicably shut down, barely moving about and gaining weight. His equally-elderly (76 years) wife Ruth is explaining it all with her frustrations leaking out of every pore: He won’t do anything. This close to Christmas it is almost impossible to not think, “Oh, holiday depression?” He sure does seem depressed...shut down...minimalizing.

There’s another reason why Ruth is upset at Alvis; he’s keeping the house cranked up to 82-degrees F (that’s ~28-Celcius) and if you think that isn’t heatstroke worthy you are not a New Englander because those folks are tough as Okies and French Canadians). You know that joke about the town in Maine that never used a scrap of salt or sand on their roads for 20 years because ‘they might really need it someday?’ Yeah. That’s the culture. You say ‘blizzard’ and they say ‘spring break’. Your average Mainelander can do just fine at 65-degrees F (or 18.3C) because they know they have to pay for every thermal unit out of pocket. This is an island where the heat must be harvested from local firewood, or gleaned from washed-up sea coal, or brought over in drums of Diesel by the ferry or a friendly fisherman.

Ruth continues on, making it hard for Dr. Maggie to get information on her patient. She had to split half a cord of firewood all by herself. (FYI many houses use wood and another source of heat to get by for emergencies, so what she said is not unusual).

For rule-of-thumb, Ruth has split enough wood to keep 1 or 2 rooms warm for a brief time.

Her voice is strident and tearful; a tiny woman at her wits’ end. Doc Maggie asks repeatedly for Ruth to step outside so she can talk to Alvis privately. Ruth doesn’t understand. Alvis isn’t helping; he is in a fugue state until she asks Alvis if there was anything he couldn’t say better than herself. Alvis rouses enough to say, “Nope!”

But in all of this, Alvis only speaks when forced. Getting to the doctor was clearly not his idea but he isn’t going to fuss with her over it. It is all Ruth’s motivation and energy. Finally, Doc Maggie runs out of steam and asks what Ruth wants her to do. Ruth finally blurts out, “fix him!”

We see Ruth again later on...the ferry has failed to show; people are trapped on the island with no new fuel for the fishing boats or heating and lighting the houses. Food supplies are dwindling. Ruth stands in line at the only store and scowls at Lars, who has cleared all the beans off the shelves. She tells him to leave some for others but Lars is an opportunist and refuses. One of the island mothers asks the shoppers if anyone can spare a can of milk for her kids. Ruth scolds Lars to no effect, then yanks a spare can of milk out of his basket for the mom. There’s a scuffle but the only injury is from Sam, the biologist. Getting between two elderly islanders is never good for anyone’s health.

Things are pretty bad. Fishermen’s boats are found without the fishermen, and pools of blood and strange blue goop that we later learn is blood from an unknown species of cold-water creature. No radio. No VHF, no phone, no cable, no internet, no satellite no nothing.

Ruth and Alvis show up again after half the film passes; by then we learn that this undiscovered species, an apex predator, is hunting the fishermen who leave the island. Tucker Island is effectively cut off from the world. It’s horrible but everyone who is left on the island is relieved to know what’s going on. OK, now we have something to work with! Fantastic! Surely help will come, right? We’ll just stay off the water. Great!

Then Ruth and Alvis’ neighbor Nina is found, a gnawed-up skeleton on dry land in her own house and Sam thinks of the old couple. Something has knocked over their plastic Santa Claus; there’s a smear of Nina’s blood on the front door. He slips in and walks through an admirably tidy and clean house...to find them both alive.

Alvis is sound asleep on the couch wrapped in what looks like a million blankets and throws, snoring away in a boiling hot house while Ruth reads a book. He and Ruth have no idea their neighbor was just butchered a few feet from their house, and that whatever did it tried to come in but didn’t move past the front door.

“Are you ok?”

“Alvis ain’t up to speed, but, I’m ok.”

So everyone on the island is moved to the inn where they can theoretically all be safe together (ok fine, but it sounded better than being alone, right?) We see Ruth sitting on the stairs with her arm around the young waitress who lost her old beau Emmett--one of the first fishermen to go missing. She’s clearly not doing great. Alvis is glued by the fireplace with the same knit afghan he was sleeping under in his house.

We do learn that of the four people on the island who own firearms, Ruth and Alvis are half of them. Ouch. Ruth knows Arthur (another eaten fisherman) used to hunt and thanks to her more ammo is found in his house.

The next time we see Alvis, he has a front row seat to a monster attack.

The sea creatures rip Val in two. It happens so quickly and no one can see it moving at all; there’s a lot of screaming and in-shock reactions. But Alvis actually speaks up.

“They’ll...be back.”

Doc Maggie asks him for more information (after they recover their wits) and Alvis slowly explains that he hasn’t seen them before, but...he’s seen what they can do.

We learn from his halting, trembling words that Alvis is the sole survivor of a 13-crew freighter ship Dundee 30 years ago. First the dolphin vanished, then one by one, members of the crew. Bill. Jake. On the third night... Alvis almost chokes on the words about to come. The third time he tries, the words finally escape. He was working in the engine room when he heard gunfire. He laughs mirthlessly at how he thought pirates were attacking. He came up to see that everyone he knew was dead, slaughtered, and he couldn’t explain to the Navy what he even witnessed. In the background we hear his memory of the Navy chopper, a heavy weight pressing down on his health and sanity. There is no wonder he doubted himself; what little he saw didn’t make sense and had no frame of reference to a seasoned seamen from an fishing island.

“Just...on deck. A shimmer. Like...TV static...shimmering...”

“The Navy asked me what had happened....I couldn’t tell ‘em...!

‘...it was thirty years ago...”

So much about Alvis is made clear now. There is a strong suspicion that the timing of the past attack was at this time of year--Alvis’ depressive funk is not typical for him, or Ruth would have said something (we know she doesn’t hold back).

Alvis and Ruth are delightfully well-suited. One suspects she was the driving force holding them together and keeping them both motivated when Alvis struggled.

The situation suddenly gets worse. One of their group is a spy for said Navy and he has killed a young islander--barely out of girlhood--to bait the monsters. Ruth is all for shooting him if he doesn’t answer their questions. When someone protests, Ruth says, “I’m okay with this. You, Alvis?”

“Got nooo problem.”

Do not play higher moral grounds with old Mainelanders.

Rather than get his jewels shot off, the spy explains that the island is ground zero for the projected invasion of this intelligent, hunting, amphibious creature that doesn’t show up on sonar or radar or heat-seeking machines, nor is it visible to other forms of tech. He is supposed to be the diplomat to open negotiations and--way to go for victim blaming--he says everything is ruined because Doc Maggie shot one of them (because they were tearing Val apart, picky, picky) and he needs to try to negotiate with them. Hence why he slaughtered Jessie, a waitress who had a crush on him. He murdered her and left her out as a peace offering to the creatures, who mutilated her sad remains. So. This is negotiating, eh?

Cue Ruth’s reaction and the best damn line in the whole movie:

“You are...negotiatin’...with FISH!”

And it just gets worse; the Navy has decades of information on these things and are determined to use their elusive qualities for the war department. The whole island is a sacrifice zone for these goals where they expect the creatures to wipe out everyone on Tucker Island (thus getting rid of any witnesses). As a huge mass of these things crawl to the house, the spy yells to be let go, to let him negotiate.

Ruth is not pleased.

“Only negotiatin’ is gunna be with this heah shotgun!”

Things actually get worse when the spy persuades them to let him talk to the monsters. It doesn’t take long to realize his ‘negotiations’ are more in the form of, ‘eat them, not me’.

Everyone else flees to the attic, but Alvis is frozen in trauma. Ruth screams at him to come but he can’t move. It’s horrible.

In the attic the survivors can only hear screaming.

Ruth sinks to a trunk, shotgun in her lap, stunned. She is the picture of abject misery...

...until something wet and slimy splats on her hand.

Ruth doesn’t hesitate. Her head snaps up to the ceiling and she fires.

[INSERT GROSS MONSTER DEATH]

Seriously, that thing is nasty. I’m quite pleased that we don’t see a lot of it. I am GLAD they have a special ability to bend light and make them almost impossible to see. I mean, look at what we can see of them. Ack. Clearly, this was designed by somebody who had frequent nightmares about glass eels mating with cephalopods.

Not that Ruth cares. While everyone else is trying to recover from all this she weeps for Alvis...

Who is (despite all logic) alive and well. The creatures backed off.

The reunion is so adorable. “DAMN OLD FOOL! I THOUGHT I’D LOST YOU!” (more crying and huggin)

The Navy Spy, however...well, Alvis points to the various places the man is...er...residing...throughout the house when Sam asks where he is. When Lucy asks why Alvis was still alive, Ruth suggests he was too tough.

But no, he was too hot.

Doc Maggie figures it out! The creatures are cold-blooded and cannot stand heat. They never touched him on the ship because he had been in the hot engine room; they didn’t enter their house because the thermostat was cranked!

When the others wonder what the repellent temper could be, Ruth pipes up, ‘82 degrees’...the temperature he keeps in their house.

Alvis is a changed man after this. He is still taciturn; but he knows at long last what happened on his ship. He knows why he is the survivor now, shedding an eternity of fear and guilt. That tiny scrap of information from his story lets the survivors set a trap, a last-ditch shot so they can get off the island before the Navy comes and finishes the job the creatures started.

Of course, there’s always one last snarl, but...The end of the film is hopeful. The old couple and child are being rowed to safety and Doc Maggie, a veteran of two wars who has kept herself in lean fighting shape, means it when she says she can row the whole 40 miles to the mainland. She means it.

And as they row away, in contrast to their first scene together, Alvis and Ruth are holding each other tightly.

#Island Zero #Ruth and Alvis #Monster films #Donkey Universe Films

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octaviasdread · 3 years

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any girls! dark academia movie recs? i really struggle to find anything not about a group of boys (as much as I love them)

SO MANY!!! This is probably a far more detailed answer than you were expecting but this is a popular question and I want to keep a list for myself and others.

Feel free to add to it/give opinions. I've tried to give a tw for anything I can remember

Girls! Dark Academia Movies/TV Shows

Mona Lisa Smile (2003)

1950s Women’s college

Art professor! Julia Roberts

She’s legit the female Mr Keating of the art & college world

Feminism vs. Tradition

Maggie Gyllenhall x Ginnifer Goodwin; their characters were more than friends. Fight me.

Does not end how you expect

Strike!/All I Wanna Do/The Hairy Bird (1998)

MY FAVOURITE!!!

Free on YouTube under one of its various names

Comedy

1960s all girls boarding school

Young Kirsten Dunst

Group of girls plot to sabotage a merger with a boys school less prestigious than their own

Secret attic clubhouse meetings of the D.A.R aka Daughters of the American Ravioli (eaten cold, ew)

girls get political & advocate for their rights using ANY elaborate and chaotic scheme

TW: eating disorder, vomiting & creepy male teacher but the girls plot against him too

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969)

based on a short book I read for uni by Muriel Spark

1930s girls school in Edinburgh

Scottish teacher! Maggie Smith, controversial with a focus on romantic ideals

Spoiler alert, the liberal teacher is actually a fascist

Her group of fave students has cult- vibes and it’s fascinating

Picnic at Hanging Rock

1970s movie or 2018 mini series

Never watched either but I plan to

Wild Child (2008)

00s romcom every UK teen girl loves

Emma Roberts as the spoiled rich American teenager sent to a strict English boarding school

Plots to get herself expelled but oh no she’s making friends with the girls who help her

And the headmistress has a hot son, and he’s nice??? Double oh no

ICONIC SCENES

Everything! Goes! Wrong!

omg she burns the school down

Feel good, comfort, nostalgia

St Trinians (2007)

English girls boarding school

The kids are all criminals, no joke

So are the teachers

CHAOTIC

gay awakening for british girls

Art heist pulled off by school girls

Government tries to shut them down but oh no, the education minister & the headmistress are ex-lovers

Colin Firth x Rupert Everett in drag

Superior cast: Jodie Whittaker, Gemma Arterton, Juno Temple, Stephen Fry, Colin Firth, etc...

embodies the phrase 'problematic fave'

St Trinians 2: The Legend of Fritton’s Gold (2009)

Mystery, pirate ancestors, hidden treasure

omg Shakespeare was a woman

girls disguised as boys to infiltrate and rob the posh boys school

Villain! David Tennant in that ICONIC boat scene

Teen girls vs. ancient misogynist brotherhood

like the first film but MORE chaotic and BETTER!???

The Falling (2014)

1960s all girls school

best friends! but its unrequited love

Agoraphobic + distant mother aka mommy issues

Sudden death and the school suppresses/ignores the students grief, sparking mass hysteria & a fainting epidemic in the girls

Cast: Maisie Williams (GoT) & Florence Pugh (Little Women) & Joe Cole (Peaky Blinders)

TW: teen pregnancy, death, vomiting, underage s*x, sibling inc*st, past s*xual assault

READ THE PLOT SUMMARY FIRST

The Book Thief (2013)

Based on an amazing book by Markus Zusak

set in 1940s Nazi Germany

Daughter of a communist whose family were taken by the Nazis/died is fostered by an older couple who teach her to read & she paints a dictionary on the basement walls

Coming of age story about a compulsive book thief. No joke, this kid steals books from banned book burnings and breaks into the mayor's library through the window

Family hides the Jewish son of an old friend in their basement and he helps her to start writing about her experiences in the war

TW: death, bombings, WW2 anti-semitism

Mary Shelley (2017)

Overall good & roughly biographical

Pretty costumes and aesthetic

Modern feminist take on Mary Shelly in her own time period

So many INACCURACIES for the drama so don’t take it as truth

Percy Shelley slander and not all of it is justified

Cast: Elle Fanning, Douglas Booth, and Maisie Williams

The Secret Garden (1993)

Based on a fave childhood book

1901 colonial India & Yorkshire, England

Orphaned, spoilt & neglected girl sent to live with her reclusive Uncle in the English countryside

Gothic elements, mysteries, secret doors/passages/locked gardens

local boy with a flock of animals, magic, kids chanting around a fire and all around immaculate vibes

Happy ending!!!

Hidden Figures (2016)

African-American women as mathematicians for NASA

1960s space project

Women balancing a career and family obligations

Deals with racial & gender discrimination

Loosely based on the lives of Katherine Johnson, Mary Jackson, and Dorothy Vaughan who worked for NASA as engineers & mathematicians

Anne of Green Gables (1985) & sequel (1987)

Adaptation L.M. Montgomery’s ‘Anne of Green Gables’ books

Canada (late 1890s/early 1900s)

Highly imaginative & bookworm orphan is adopted by a reclusive elderly brother and sister duo

Small town & school years comedic drama

Unrequited Enemies -> Friends -> lovers

Inspiring new woman teacher

Girls re-enact Tennyson’s poem and nearly drown for the aesthetic™

Dramatic poetry reading with INTENSE 👀eye contact👀

Writer! Anne & English teacher! Anne dealing with unruly girls school antics

Collette (2018)

biographical drama on french writer Sidonie-Gabrielle Collette

Victorian & Edwardian era France

More talented than her husband so she ghostwrites for him

Fight for creative ownership of her wildly successful novels

Affairs with a woman called Georgie and also with Missy, born female but masculine presenting

Cast: Keira Knightly, Dominic West, Eleanor Tomlinson (Poldark)

Enola Holmes (2020)

Netflix book adaptation

Younger sister of Sherlock Holmes

Victorian era! feminism/suffragettes

Mother-daughter focus

Mystery, adventure, secret codes, teens running away & escaping from (and eventually fighting) assassins

Cast: Helena Bonham Carter, Henry Cavill, Sam Claflin, Fiona Shaw, Millie Bobby Brown

Ginger & Rosa (2012)

1960s England

best friends since literal birth navigating troubled teen years

poet & anti-nuclear activist! Ginger

off the rails but also catholic! Rosa

Shout out to Mark & Mark the gay godfathers we all want

family troubles

TW: older man has an affair with a 17 yr old

Testament of Youth (2014)

based on WW1 memoir by Vera Brittain

young woman (writer & poetry lover) escapes traditional family & goes to study at Oxford University

abandons to become a war nurse

romance, tragedy and war trauma

Cast: Alicia Vikander, Kit Harrington (GoT), Taron Edgerton (Rocketman), Colin Morgan (Merlin)

Little Women (2019)

Writer! Jo & Artist! Amy

Mother/daughter focus and sister dynamics

the March sisters’ theatre club is *chefs kiss*

champagne problems edits of Jo x Laurie are a mood

Ambivalent ending perfectly captures Louisa May Alcott’s dilemma with the book the movie is based on

set in 1860s America

ALL STAR CAST and a Greta Gerwig masterpeice

Lady Bird (2017)

coming of age in early 2002/2003 Sacramento, California

all girls catholic school

writer! Christine aka Lady Bird wants to get outta town and start her life again at college 'in a city with culture'

Mother/daughter dynamics - so realistic!

I live for that Jesus car stunt & the nun's reaction

school theatre program

Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Timothee Chalamet, Beanie Feldstein

Another Greta Gerwig gem

Beguiled (2017)

Virginia, civil war era

Girls school with only five students and two teachers left

Find an injured Union army soldier & bring him inside

Women & teenagers want his attention (v. problematic) before uniting against him

(tbh you'll either love it, hate it, or watch once & forget it)

Sofia Coppola film so its very feminine gaze

TW: violence, death, underage

Legally Blonde (2001)

No questions will be taken

Elle Woods was the blue print

TV series:

House of Anubis (2011-2013)

I know it’s a kids/young teen show but I still unironically love it

ANCIENT EGYPT!!!!

Modern day with Victorian era links to treasure hunters & Egyptian research expeditions (stealing from tombs)

Chosen one plot lines, curses, kidnapping, mysteries, secret tunnels under the school, elixir of life

Teens have investigate & protect themselves cus oh no the TEACHERS are involved in some shady stuff

new American kid at British boarding school is the actual premise not just a fanfic au

Nostalgic, light-hearted, funny, and kinda cheesy but I will accept no criticism

The Alienist (2018 -now)

Mid 1890s, New York

Woman’s private detective agency (Season 2)

Serial killer mystery

Woman secretary turns detective and teams up with a criminal psychiatrist and a newspaper editor to solve crime

TW: violence, child pr*stit*tion

Cast: Dakota Fanning, Luke Evans, Daniel Bruhl

The Queen’s Gambit (2020)

Woman chess prodigy

1950s & 1960s

TW: drug & alcohol abuse

Gentleman Jack (2019 - now)

Based on the diaries of Anne Lister

Victorian Yorkshire, England

Upper-class lesbians

Confident, suit wearing! Anne Lister x shy! Ann Walker

Business woman! Anne running the family mines

Cast: Suranne Jones (Doctor Foster) & Sophie Rundle (Peaky Blinders)

TW: violence

Gilmore Girls (2000-2007)

bubbly/ambitious single mom + intelligent daughter

bookworm! Rory Gilmore gets into a prestigious private school and then an Ivy League college

Small town drama is comedic gold

Fast dialogue packed with pop culture and literary references

Comforting & nostalgic

TEAM JESS

Anne with an E (2017-2019)

Loose adaptation of L.M. Montgomery’s ‘Anne of Green Gables’ books

they completely change the plot lines but it’s still very good content!

Orphan girl with trauma and a love of books/poetry is adopted by an elderly brother & sister duo, bringing light and fresh ideas to a rural community

Feminism, girls writing club, lgbtq safe spaces, girls eduction, black/indigenous representation

Miss Stacy as THAT inspiring teacher

Aunt Josephine’s lavish gay parties have my heart

TW: creepy male teacher tries to marry a student, racial discrimination, indigenous assimilation school

Victoria (2016-2019)

Adaption of Queen Victoria’s life

Victoria navigating her political, royal, and personal life

Albert’s involvement with The Great Exhibition, 1851 (on cultural + industrial innovations)

Alfred Paget x Edward Drummond is exquisite

Gorgeous costumes and aesthetics

TW: bury your gays trope

Derry Girls (2018-now)

1990s Northern Ireland during the troubles

Comedy, episodes 20-25 mins long

English boy sent to an all girls Catholic school with his cousin

✨Dead Poets Society parody episode ✨with a free-spirited female teacher

Sister Michael, the sarcastic nun who hates her job & reads the exorcist for giggles

Wee anxious lesbian! Clare Devlin (plus her friends wearing rainbow pins)

Badass with bad ideas! Michelle Mallon

Main Character! Erin Quinn

Lovable weirdo who would fight a polar bear! Orla McCool

Wee English fella & honorary Derry girl! James Maguire

Dickinson (2019-now)

Loose adaption of the poet Emily Dickinson’s life

Set in 19th century Massachusetts, US

Historical drama with modern dialogue & music that works SEAMLESSLY

gives a great understanding of Emily Dickinson’s poems

💕Vintage gays! Emily x Sue💕

Theatre club, writing, poetry, dressing as men to sneak into lectures, love letters, teen drama, feminism, and an underground abolitionist journal as a brief side plot in season 2

Wiz Khalifa plays death in a horse drawn carriage

TW: opium use

A Series of Unfortunate Events (2017-2019)

Based on great childhood books

Bookworm! brother, Inventor! sister, and baby sister with sharp teeth

Mystery, secret organisations, orphaned siblings figuring things out & fending for themselves against the villain after their fortune

Adults either cartoon evil, comedically incompetent, or SPIES

Boarding school, library owner, scientific researcher, and theatre episodes

Ambiguous time period which is really fun to try and pin point

Killing Eve (2018-now)

Classic detective who has homoerotic tension with the assassin she is tracking down

British Detective! Eve Polastri figures out the notorious assassin MI5 are investigating is a woman, is fired & then put on a secret MI6 case with a small team

Assassin! Villanelle, a psychopath with a tragic past and a mastery of both accents & fashion

Woman MI6 boss! Carolyn Martens, head of Russian section

Travel Europe following Villanelle’s killings and escaping the assassins sent by Villanelle’s organisation

‘You’re supposed to be my enemy and moral opposite but omg you’re the only one smart enough to get me and why am I obsessed with you????'

🚨 GO IN FOR A KISS AND THEN STAB YOUR ENEMY 🚨

Cable Girls/Las chicas del cable (2017-2020)

Spanish drama set in 1920s Madrid

Four young women at a telecommunications company form a group of friends and help navigate the difficult situations they are all in

Secret identities, dangerous pasts, murder, crime, lgbtq couple & throuple, trans man character, feminism/suffragists

girls commit crimes for humanitarian reasons and cover! it! up!

UNDERRATED SHOW!!!!

Gorgeous costumes and set

Haven’t finished it yet and I’m catching up

TW: abuse, violence, death

Outlander (2014 - now)

haven’t watched yet but plan to

Woman time travels to Scotland, 1743

Rebel highlanders, pirates, British colonies, American revolutionary war

Time jumps between 18th & 20th century

#CO posts #answered asks #asks #dark academia girls #dark academia recommendations #dark academia recs #dark academia women #dark academia movies #dark academia tv

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sumsebien · 3 years

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by design pt. 3// Prince Friedrich

series masterlist

summary: friedrich and y/n’s arrival in prussia! ft. frederica ;))

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none

a/n: apologies for the long wait darlings. here she is though. and she is a long one. also a side note for those who love symbolism as much as i do 💐 ;) also, my banabaer @milkbaer this one is for u baby. thank you for all of your help!!!

a german lesson: Gänschen means goose🦆 (that’s a duck but we can pretend) and schloss means palace/chateau/mansion

The massive railway station stood proudly as the gateway to Potsdam, located right where the forest met the city. Three archways made of worn bricks welcomed old friends and strangers alike. There was something in the slightly tinted mossy green that offered you an odd sense of home. Like you had been here before.

Friedrich stood next to you near the exit. You had had breakfast together, then got ready separately before meeting each other again here.

“I had a lot of memories with this train station,” Friedrich said as the train finally passed the great archway.

You didn’t realize that you had been holding your breath the entire time, waiting for the wheels to come to full stop. You had been storing information from Lea and Ilse about Friedrich’s mother all morning. Anything that might help you strike up a decent conversation with her from her favorite flowers (gardenias) to her pets (a schnauzer named Fifi). Since then, you had been a little preoccupied by your own imaginations of her as a mother.

From the way Friedrich talked about her, your first guess was that they were extremely like-minded. Aside from that, there was the fact that she was a Queen to consider. She obviously must be extremely elegant and poised. Even her dog sounded posh-Fifi the Schnauzer...

You were still listening to Friedrich though, just not closely. “Really?” you asked, your eyes following the platform numbers as they passed by.

He nodded proudly. “I ran here from the Palace and caught the train to Berlin for a boxing match.”

You laughed, now entirely engaged in imagining little Friedrich fleeing from his guards. “And how old were you?”

“Thirteen. I skipped a dancing lesson.”

“Shame. You could have become a ballerina and outdone my stunts at your Christmas party.”

“Who’s to say that I did not? There are still many shocking things that you don’t know.” His plan to distract you from your own nerves had worked wonderfully well. You two continued to discuss his boxing match up until you were escorted out of the station.

There, you were greeted by a great spectacle of carriages and a horse parade. Everywhere you looked there were men in uniforms. They were on horses, in open top carriages, on the streets, all waiting for you and Friedrich.

Back in London, your family frequently had two to three carriages to accompany you to social functions. It was already considered excessive for the ton. You would have laughed at the idea of this. Or to be honest, wouldn’t have even been able to imagine having an entire parade to accompany you a couple of blocks down the street.

And of course, you could not forget the icing on the cake-the largest carriage you had ever seen. The one you saw in France could not compare and certainly not the one in England. This one was completely enveloped in gold from top to toe-or rather from roof to wheels. On the top of the roof, there were golden cherubs holding up an olive branch and flowers.

It was a harsh reminder that Friedrich, someone who you had grown to identify as your friend over the last several hours, was also the firstborn son of the King, heir apparent to the throne. And you were his wife. Whatever agreement you had made with each other in private was not valid in the public eye. Here, you were a Princess. The Princess.

As Friedrich watched you marvel in the magnificence of the royal parade, he turned to Heinrich with a last minute decision. Well last minute for his father and valet but not for him. Friedrich had wanted to visit his mother for ages.

“I’m heading to my mother’s. We’ll catch up with the staff afterwards and meet you at the Berlin Palace.”

All of this was not on the schedule his father had drawn out and Friedrich was well-aware. He had even cancelled the state train that Friedrich specifically ordered to Potsdam just to make sure he would not take you here first. But Friedrich was not one to lose.

At the same time, however, he knew that his valet was absolutely terrified of his father, as did most people. Soon enough, when his father found out that his son was not on the train to Berlin and was nowhere near the Royal Palace, he would definitely not be happy.

“But your Highness, we really must get going now or we won’t reach Berlin by noon.”

“If he asks, just blame it on me. I’ll be in and out in one hour.”

Heinrich didn’t say anything after that, just nodded. For that, Friedrich was thankful, he did not want to ruin this magical moment for you. It was not going to be this magical for long.

As Heinrich left with your staff, Friedrich turned back to you. “Y/N?”

“I-Is this for us?”

The look on your face made him laugh. Your jaws were grazing the floors, your eyes slowly sweeping across the scene then glanced at him and back to the carriages again.

“I believe it is,” he smiled, offering you his arm.

…

The entire ride back to the Palace was essentially just for you to fathom the welcome wagon.

You could barely string a sentence together, nodding along as Friedrich picked out places that he mentioned in his stories last night, especially enthusiastic about the candy shop he was never allowed to go in.

Potsdam was charming. You could certainly imagine a very fulfilling and peaceful existence here where it wasn't hectic like London but not entirely placid like the countryside.

Just when you thought you could not be more impressed, you arrived at Sanssouci Park.

When Ilse briefly mentioned it, you had expected a park. Like Hyde Park or Regent’s Park or the little garden behind your house that your parents insisted was a park. Whatever you had imagined, however, could not hold a candle to what it was in reality.

“Welcome to Sanssouci Park,” Friedrich said casually, casting a brief look out the windows while your eyes were completely glued to the towering gates opening up for your parade to pass through.

The name was not meant to refer to a park. It was definitely not a park. It was a bloody forest. As you entered the road lined with dense trees, the temperature dropped slightly with the shade, effectively cooling you both from the outside in.

“This is what you call a park? Whatever do you two think of Hyde Park then? A child’s sandbox?”

Before he could answer, your attention was quickly captured by a glimpse of something magnificent as the carriage passed a gap between the tree trunks. You pointed towards the dash of yellow you’d seen. “Is that where your mother lives?”

Friedrich followed your gaze and promptly nodded. “That’s Sanssouci Schloss. Here is the back of it.” Just on cue, the carriage rounded the corner and headed towards the back of the Palace.

Your jaws were officially off now as your eyes feasted on the very picture of splendor.

From personal observations, people usually spent a great deal of time and fortune on making the fronts of their homes as extravagant as possible. It was all in the face, as they said. But not here. Here, even the rear side was grand.

There was a huge water fountain in the middle of the yard, the blue sky printed on the surface. Naturally, your eyes followed straight ahead, past the window behind Friedrich’s head towards the most elaborate set of marble stairs you’d ever seen. On either side were tall walls of hedges and rose bushes that covered the hillside.

“Can we walk up those steps?”

Friedrich turned to look at the steps and then back at you again.

It was not a steep hill. More of a gentle slope but exactly because of that, the steps were long and the landings were wide. Anyone in breeches would find it challenging enough as it was. But you were in a gown, in the sweltering July heat and you were volunteering to walk. “You can. People usually go straight to the entrance though. Are you certain you’d want to walk? It is a long way.”

You nodded, brushing off his concerns. All you cared about was the sight.

Per your request, the carriage stopped right before the grand stairs to Sanssouci Palace. You and Friedrich got out of the carriage.

From where you stood, you had to crane your neck up slightly to be able to see the Palace up the top. The strip of yellow you’d seen from afar turned out to be much more intricate than you’d expected. Beautiful white windows lined the yellow walls, right in the center was an oval shaped room with a cyan dome on top, perfectly aligned with the stairs. Even though it only had one story, its width certainly made up for its height, stretching across the hill.

As you walked ahead, Friedrich decided to stall a little bit. Memories of endless summer days spent on these lawns came flooding back.

He had missed this.

The last time he was here was the summer before he left for England. It was actually here that his aunt Charlotte came to visit with an invitation to Cambridge-the day that changed his life.

And now he was here with you. Someone he had dreaded to marry a mere few days before. Now a dear friend to him.

Straight in front of him, you were marching up the steps with admirable determination, your hands holding onto your skirt, lifting it off the ground. With sun on your skin and wind in your hair, you laughed and told him to hurry up. For that split second, he wished he was not just your friend. Though he discarded that thought as quickly as it came, it stayed stuck in the back of his mind as he matched your pace.

“These are a lot of steps,” you remarked after the first flight of stairs was behind you. There were at least five more ahead. The excessively wide spaces between each step did not help with the general morale either.

“I did warn you,” he chuckled. “It was too exhausting a trip that Marie Antoinette rode a horse up these steps after her stroll in the garden.”

You paused for a moment.

Friedrich thought you were imagining the French queen trotting up the steps with her stallion. But as it turned out, he was wrong.

“Did he invite her over during one of the military clashes between Prussia and France?”

To say that Friedrich did not expect that was an understatement. You had told him you read but he never asked for the specifics on what exactly you were interested in. At that moment, he simply thought you’d be interested in a made-up tale to forget about the stairs. He did not think for a moment you’d be interested in foreign conflicts enough to know the feud between Prussia and France. He knew he certainly wasn’t as a student.

“You can’t fool me. I know,” you said, laughing at the shock on his face.

Pleasantly impressed, he remarked, “Full of surprises I see.”

“You’ll see that in this friendship,” you motioned between yourselves, “you’re not the only one who can shock.”

He gave you a nod, lowering his eyes and watched his steps before he murmured to himself. “Friendship, yes.” He reminded himself of how grateful he was to be your friend. And that maybe pining over you for the rest of his life was better than having you hate him.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that you two would not repeat his parents’ mistakes.

“Darling!”

The voice caused Friedrich’s eyes to snap upwards, slightly alarmed as they weren’t expected on this side of the Palace. Everyone was supposed to be at the front.

The first thing he saw was that you had stopped as well, only standing two steps above him. And then, on the top flight, he saw his mother, waving at him. She wasn’t supposed to greet them outside. At the same time though, he wouldn’t expect her to wait that long for anything anyways.

He waved back with a laugh. She hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw her nearly a year ago. A straw sunhat on top of her head, a basket of flower and gardening tools in her hand.

“I-is that-“

Friedrich nodded. “Yes, that’s her. That’s my Mama.”

The nervous jitters came back to you. You knew how much his mother meant to him. She was the true hero of his childhood and you were just excited to meet her. However, you also knew that in no way was this arrangement made by her. And no matter how friendly you were with Friedrich, as his mother, she would not easily trust you.

You quickly masked your nervousness with a gentle smile. It was the safest route after all. Better look like a smiley fool than a grumpy idiot. You thought.

The Queen began to walk down the steps briskly, meeting you halfway up the last flight of stairs. Immediately, she threw her arms around Friedrich, pulling him into a bear hug. “There you are, you Gänschen! You’ve kept your mother waiting long enough!” She said, messing up his hair and only letting go of him once he was shaking with laughter.

When he and your maids said she was very carefree in private, you did not expect her to be this carefree. A lady was not supposed to be out in the sun like this, no less a queen. She was also much more beautiful than you could ever imagine, with her honey blonde curls tumbling down her back in waves and her big blue eyes which were now on you.

“Apologies, Mama,” he stepped back, allowing you to take a step forward. “This is Y/N, my wife. And Y/N, this is my Mama.”

“It is such an honor to meet you, your Majesty,” you said, bending your knees into a curtsy, praying you wouldn’t stumble backwards and ruin the first impression.

You had an overwhelming want for her to like you. And you felt like this first meeting was of paramount importance in deciding that. If it did not go well, she would never see you as anything more than a girl her son was forced to marry. And that was terrifying even in the case where Friedrich remained a good friend.

You were not wrong. Frederica did not expect much from a match made by Louis, a man who clearly did not know his own son or even cared to try. Assuming he did know his son, it would not even be of any matter at all. The only thing he had ever cared about was grooming an heir. This arrangement, no doubt, served that.

But Frederica could not ignore the large smile on her son’s face as he ascended the steps with this young lady.

That? That was not by design.

Frederica shook her head and offered you her hand to help you stand up straight. “I prefer Frederica. At least when we are not in court.”

She gave you a cheeky wink and plucked a gardenia from her basket, tucking it by your ear. “Come on now! I am sure it has been a long trip for the both of you. Let us have some tea before you go.”

...

Frederica led the both of you into the Palace through the doors into the oval room. Inside it was just as spectacular as its exterior. Tall columns held up the painted dome where a chandelier was hung. The three arched windows looking out to the gardens were pushed open by three footmen, allowing sunlight and fresh air to gush into the space, lightening up the entire room.

“Please have a seat, dears,” Frederica said, gesturing to the rounded table in the middle of the room.

You were still too in awe to be able to settle down calmly in your seat but obeyed her anyways. Beside you, Friedrich was glancing around the room, like he was in search of something.

“Is Fifi not here?” he asked as a butler approached the table with a cake stand.

Just on cue, Fifi-his mother’s Schnauzer, shot through the doors. You nearly gasped out of sheer excitement when you saw the ball of salt and pepper fur fly into the room like an arrow. You had always shared a fondness for dogs. Yet you never had one. The only dogs you had were your father’s hunting hounds and he made sure you remained far away from them.

“Speak of the devil...” Friedrich turned to you, “this is Fifi, hated by most but very loved by my mother. Mostly because she smells like fish.”

He kept his eyes on the dog as she strolled around, heading in your direction and getting alarmingly close. “Fifi!” he said, shooing her off. The dog didn’t care, just kept on going forward.

“Oh, it’s quite alright! I love dogs,” you said, fighting the urge to pet Fifi who was quietly sniffing at the hem of your skirt.

Frederica was absolutely surprised when she saw her Schnauzer so quiet. Her dog was not friendly with strangers. By this time there should have been an accident.

The delayed accident happened right after that. Fifi bit down on your dress, tugging at it playfully.

More surprising, however, you didn’t seem scared of the feisty little old thing either. You just laughed.

“Fifi! Leave the poor girl alone!” Frederica said, tapping her shoes against the floor.

Friedrich quickly leaned forward and picked her up. Being lifted off the ground, she released your skirt and focused on wiggling out of Friedrich’s grasps instead. When she eventually succeeded, Fifi headed back to you, circling your feet, her tail wagging.

Friedrich clicked his tongue, about to bend over again to shoo Fifi off. Not that she would care. But the dog plopped down between your chair and his mother’s, out of Friedrich’s reach.

She looked up at you with big eyes, begging for a pet, which you were happy to provide. You reached down and scratched her ears. It was all rather brave, if he must admit.

“I know it is hard to believe but she seems fond of you,” Frederica mused, seeing Fifi transform into a whole other dog under your touch. She was not usually this sweet.

Friedrich scoffed. “The devil almost ripped her skirt off,” he gestured to the hem of your dress, and glared at Fifi.

“It’s fine, honestly. I think it was a compliment if anything,” you said with a smile.

He sighed. “Don’t defend the perpetrator! She has a terrible temperament. And you know it,” he turned to his mother.

“Fifi does. as much as I love her,” Frederica nodded. Fifi’s ears perked up at the mention of her name, blinking at her owner. “But you seem like a very experienced animal whisperer.”

“No, actually. I never had one.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You’re great with Fifi. And if you can handle her, you can handle any dog.”

“Any dog is better than Fifi,” Friedrich said under his breath. Nevertheless, he was glad to see the two of you bond. Even if it was over Fifi the Ferocious.

On the bright side, at least she wasn’t coming back with them to Berlin. It was the only thing Friedrich and his father had ever had in common-a dislike for the Schnauzer.

...

Heinrich was being escorted into the Palace towards the audience room. A place he would much prefer not to go to on his own. He had arrived for over an hour and still you two were nowhere to be found and it was only for so long he could hide the train of carriages. Eventually, one of the butlers alerted the King of his presence and he was immediately requested inside.

Heinrich had suspected that you would arrive slightly late. He just didn’t think it could be this late. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. One misstep and off with his head.

When the doors to the room were swung open, the King was throwing a fit. His deafening yell rang across the room and bounced against the tall walls. It certainly did not help with the nerves.

“WHERE IS MY HORSE?” he demanded, rising up from the throne. From where he stood, he towered over the poor footman. “I am late for hunting!”

“Your Majesty, you cancelled today’s hunt.”

“And why on earth would I do that?”

Heinrich kept quiet, remaining invisible as he approached the throne behind the butler. He was not about to be caught in the middle of a crossfire during one of the King’s fits.

The footman blinked. Heinrich could see the man debating whether or not to answer, lest it was a rhetorical question.

“B-because the Prince is back from England, sir?”

“Oh,” the King said. His voice quieter than before and sat back down again. The crease between his Majesty’s eyebrows disappeared, his expressions softening slightly. Then he turned to the footman with a quizzical look. “And where is the Prince?”

The footman turned around and met Heinrich’s eyes. And then the King followed his gaze. So much for not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

“I-“ Heinrich began, his mind drawing a blank.

If he were to tell the truth, Friedrich and you would no doubt be in trouble. However, if he didn’t tell the truth, he’d be in trouble and so would you two. And if he just said he didn’t know, he’d be on the first ship to an island far far away.

“Well?” The King barked.

“I’ll go get them, your Majesty!”

“Don’t just stand there. Hurry along then! Before I chop all of your heads off.”

Heinrich had never walked so fast out of a room his entire life. His heart was pounding as it began to dawn on him that he had just lied to the King. Well, it was not exactly a lie. He was going to get them. They just weren’t here yet. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. There was no reasoning with such a powerful man. All he could do was hope that he would still be alive to see another day.

Just when all of his luck appeared to have run out, he heard the distinct sound of hooves against cobble and rushed outside.

Friedrich helped you out of the carriage, still engaged in the never-ending tales of Fifi the Ferocious. You were laughing when you caught sight of the magnificent Royal Palace-Berliner Schloss. It was much boxier than Sanssouci Schloss with towering walls that casted a great shadow over the front lawn.

Household staff lined the steps on either side, straightening up as Heinrich dashed past them. Some had their heads turned, the younger ones especially, their curious eyes on you, trying to catch a glimpse of the new Princess. The more seasoned staff near the top stayed perfectly still, resisting the urge to look anywhere other than straight ahead.

“Your Highnesses!” He said, bowing so quickly you were worried his head might snap off. “Your presences are requested. Immediately!”

...

Through the doors you could faintly hear your titles being announced. Your palms were clammy so you hid it behind you, focusing on what you might say in a couple of moments.

Friedrich was not nervous, of course.

He was the one who planned the detour in the first place. And while you had enjoyed the time with Frederica very much, perhaps a little too much, it had delayed your schedule by well over a couple of hours. It meant that you made the King of Prussia, your father-in-law wait.

The only person more nervous than you was probably Heinrich. Every time you caught a glimpse of his face, he seemed more haggard than the last. You were not certain whether he was really sick or just worried.

"My father will say things. Things that are aimed to test you. Do not mind any of it," Friedrich said quietly.

"Something tells me I should take that as a suggestion. One look at Heinrich and I know what I am in for."

Friedrich sneaked a glance at his valet and gave you a small smile. "Heinrich has always been that way. Worries a little too much."

"Maybe that is for good reason-"

The trumpets sounded, prompting you to straighten up, smooth your dress and put on a smile. In the corner of your eyes, you could see Friedrich cracking up. Had it not been for the fact that you were being presented right then, you would have given him a slipper to the chest. He was still smiling up until you had to walk through the doors.

Then, his demeanor shifted completely. You did not dare to make eye contact with the King. All you saw was brief glimpses of a man, wearing a red cloak on the throne. But Friedrich, he was looking straight down the room, challenging his father.

From the stories he had told you, you knew that Friedrich had a rough relationship with his father. Once he got a chance to break away, he vowed he would allow his father to have full control of his life again. And from the suffocating tension in the air, you knew his father would not make it easy.

“The Prince and Princess of Prussia, your Majesty,” a footman announced.

"Your Majesty," you said, giving the King a curtsy.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope the journey was not too rough for you.”

You smiled and nodded. Not a bad start.

However, it was a completely different story when you saw Friedrich’s face. He raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced by his father’s concern. "You do, father? Wasn’t it on your orders that the state train never arrived?”

“Now, now, Friedrich. That was none of my doing.” The King turned to you with a small smile. “I must say, you are much prettier than I expected, my lady.”

He had made such an effort to emphasize the last two words that even if you weren’t listening, you still would have caught them. The King was smirking on his throne, his icy eyes sending chills down your back.

“I believe it’s your Highness, father.”

This row was your fault. You could tell.

“No, I don’t think it is. You didn’t get married.”

“We did.”

“That did not count.”

“How? Because you weren’t invited?”

“I see all of your manners have gone out the door since you stepped foot out of this country.”

Friedrich wanted to scoff. It was always going to be about England. If they were going to have this conversation, he was going to do it properly. But not in front of you.

He turned to Heinrich. “Take the Princess to see the chambers.”

You didn’t want to leave. You were responsible for this in one way or another. You should be here to take the blame. But Friedrich shook his head like he knew what you were about to say. “Come with Heinrich. I’ll meet you later.”

“No need for that. Lady Brandt, your chief lady-in-waiting, will take you for a tour. Bernadine?”

You remembered Lea and Ilse mentioning her as well. However, at that time, she didn’t have a name or a face for you to attach her to just yet. You just knew that she was going to be in charge of all of your affairs like Heinrich was doing for Friedrich. Now she had a name and a face.

At the mention of her name, she nodded and stepped forward from the line of staff on your right. She was dressed in a blood red dress, a strand of pearls wrapped around her long neck. She came towards you, giving you an impressive curtsy, tipping her head forward slowly yet keeping her hat perfectly still on her dark raven hair.

When she looked up, you were finally able to see her striking hollow eyes, tall cheekbones and an ever so slightly upturned corner of her lips. She looked awfully familiar. Like a much younger version of your mother actually. And she was just as terrifying.

“Come with me, your Highness.”

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter one

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rating: M (drug abuse, mention of sexual abuse in later chapters) word count: 2,100

ao3 link

“Any messages, Gina?”

Beca Mitchell strode out of the elevator, high heels clicking on marble flooring on her way to her office.

Her assistant rushed to walk alongside her, notebook opened as she handed Beca her second coffee of the day, which Beca took with an appreciative smile.

“Mr. Mendes needs to push back his meeting to Thursday, and Mr. Hozier-Byrne is waiting for a call back, preferably before 2 as he’s five hours ahead.”

Beca rounded the corner to her office and dragged her leather desk chair back, shrugging off her woolen trench coat and draping it over the back. “Got it, remind me what I have planned today?”

“You’re having lunch with Mr. Zimmer at the Plaza to discuss Jesse’s project, and apart from the weekly team meeting at five, you’re expected at Edgy Reggie’s party from 10 pm at the Sapphire.”

A groan surfaced from Beca’s throat and her eyes slammed shut as she plopped down on her chair. “I forgot about that. Luke can’t go?”

Gina winced and shook her head. “Family dinner.”

“Family dinner, my ass. His whole family lives back in fucking England,” Beca muttered before she could help it, throwing her assistant an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks, Gina. Hold my calls until ten, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Mitchell.”

As she did every morning while sipping her coffee, Beca listened to demos over the next hour, forwarding them to Luke if any of those yet-unknown artists spiked her interest enough to sign them into their label.

The rest of the day consisted of two meetings, a dozen calls, countless email exchanges, and not enough studio time. A thick blanket of darkness had veiled the city by the time she closed her laptop and called it a day. She stretched her neck and took a moment to gaze at the lit skyscrapers through her floor to ceiling windows, sighing softly.

It was sometimes weird to think about how this was her life. How the asocial, grumpy freshman from thirteen years ago had made it to the top of the music business and now co-owned one of the biggest labels throughout the country.

Scratch that, throughout the world.

Snapping out of her daze, Beca stood and slipped on her coat, plucking her phone off the desk to call herself a Lyft home. She had just about time to take a shower and eat dinner before heading to that stupid party.

Beca could think of a million things she’d rather be doing right now as she strode down the wet sidewalk towards the lit GIRLS red neon sign in the distance a couple of hours later.

She told herself one drink, an hour tops, then she could head home, put on her pajamas, and finish that true-crime TV show she started yesterday.

“Name?” A dude bulkier than the freaking Rock asked her as she made it to the club door.

“Um, Beca Mitchell. I’m Edgy Reggie’s producer.”

Her artist had privatized a strip-club for his celebration party over his album hitting Platinum, and Beca couldn’t not show up, as... well, he was an important client and brought her label the big bucks.

The guy checked his clipboard and nodded, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”

Casting the bouncer a nod, Beca ducked inside the dimmed, crowded club, wincing at the crappy music heavily pumping through the speakers. Three girls in bikinis and heels stood on platforms, twisting their bodies around dancing poles as dozens of dudes reclined back in leather sofas, shamelessly ogling their forms.

Beca’s nose crinkled as she scanned the room for her artist.

“Yo, Beca!”

Her gaze snapped to the left corner, catching sight of Edgy Reggie (he didn’t want to change his stage name, no matter how much Beca insisted) waving her over.

“Hey,” she cast him a tight-lipped smile, tucking her straight hair behind her ears. She nodded at the other dudes sitting around the low table. “What’s up.”

“Guys, this is the girl behind the magic of my album,” Edgy Reggie explained, throwing an arm over her shoulders before Beca could squirm away. “She is fire. ”

Beca chuckled awkwardly, then pointed over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink.”

Maybe two come to think of it, so she could get herself through this.

She headed to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, fishing in the inside of her coat pocket for her credit card.

“Thanks,” she muttered when the barmaid (also clad in a bikini that left very little to the imagination) came back with her drink, handing her her card just as the club’s speaker made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage… Ariel! ”

The crowd cheered and hooted, Beca glancing over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no amount of alcohol that could have prepared her for the scene unfolding before her.

There, on the main stage, strutted in a redhead, only wearing a silver g-string and high heels. Beca would have recognized that shade of hair anywhere, and while the lighting in the club was low, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this girl -- Ariel -- was her former best friend.

Her former best friend who had dropped from the face of the Earth almost five years ago, without so much as an explanation. She hadn’t just stopped talking to Beca, but to all of them, even Aubrey. She was nowhere to be found on social media and when Beca had tried calling her after six months without news, she found out Chloe’s phone number had been disconnected. It wasn’t like they talked on a daily basis before that. After three years spent living on opposite sides of the country, the texts started coming further in between, their communication coming down to a few check-ins a year and on birthdays, until they eventually stopped.

Fearing the worst, Aubrey had called Chloe’s parents, who assured her she was fine, working as a vet in NYC and in a committed relationship. While relieved, the news stung Beca, as it was clear Chloe had deliberately ceased contact.

It took some time, but Beca eventually stopped thinking about her so much, especially when she started getting successful as a music producer and pouring her time and energy into her projects. She soon won her first Grammys, Gold, and Platinum records featured in notorious magazines and talk shows. She could stop working tomorrow and money wouldn’t become an issue, but Beca didn’t like to boast about her fortune, or fame, for that matter.

Despite being insanely busy, she still kept in touch with the other Bellas in their group chat, but she hadn’t seen any of them in a couple of years, missing the last reunion because of her job.

Beca’s mind steered back to the present, where the once most important person in her life was currently dancing for money. Men were staring hungrily at her as she sensually moved around the pole or bent over with her ass in the air to collect dollar bills from the floor, and Beca suddenly felt sick.

This couldn’t be her dream job, right? Something had to have happened for her to settle for this.

Beca grabbed her drink and knocked it back, flagging the barmaid down for another as her mind reeled as to what to do.

She needed to talk to Chloe. In private. Tonight, as soon as she finished… parading in front of these disgusting fuckboys. Only… she wasn’t sure Chloe wanted to talk to her.

“Hey,” she said when the barmaid came back as an idea struck. “How do I get a private lap dance with one of the girls?”

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow. “Backroom, hun. Who do you want?”

“Ariel.”

The platinum blonde let out a curt laugh. “Ariel doesn’t do lap dances, babe.”

Beca’s eyebrows knitted together in a heavy frown. “Why not?”

“Because she’s the boss’ favorite.”

Beca didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out as another wave of nausea swept over her insides. “Is your boss here tonight?”

The barmaid scanned the room quickly, nodding. “He’s the guy over there in the suit.”

“Thanks.” She took her drink and headed over to where the fifty-something dude was talking to another guy. Stepping up to them, she ignored their glares over her interrupting their conversation. “Hey. Are you the manager?”

The dude who looked like he ran a mafia mob turned a bit more towards her. “What’s this about?”

“How much for a private dance with Ariel?”

His gaze flickered over Beca’s shoulder towards the stage, then sized Beca up, unimpressed. “She’s not available, kid.”

Beca gritted her teeth at the condescending tone of his voice. “Not even for ten grand for twenty minutes?”

He slow-blinked, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious. Ten grand, twenty minutes. Alone in a room, just the two of us.”

The man’s expression hardened. “And I said she’s not available .”

“Twenty grand.” Hell, she’d throw half a million on the table if that’s what was needed to talk to Chloe. After a beat, she added, “And no touching. That’s not what I’m here for.”

The manager seemed to consider her offer for a handful of seconds. “You got the money?”

Dammit. She couldn’t withdraw that much right now, she needed to call her bank. “Tomorrow night.”

He smirked, snickering. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turned back to his buddy, leaving Beca grumbling under her breath as she turned around and stalked out of the club. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand the sight of Chloe objectifying her body for money.

As soon as she got home, Beca fired up her computer and typed in Chloe’s name in her browser. Apart from old stuff on the Bellas, she found nothing relevant. Chloe appeared to still be MIA from any social media.

Beca grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, bringing the device to her ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“We call each other twice a year on our respective birthdays and stick to the Bellas chat for the rest.”

Beca nibbled on her bottom lip. “I found Chloe.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end of the line followed. “What?”

“I saw her tonight, Aubrey.”

“Where??”

“At a strip club. She’s… a stripper.”

“What? Did you talk to her?”

“No. She was performing on stage. But I will. I’m… buying a lap dance from her tomorrow. I figured… she’ll have to listen to me since she’s being paid for it.” Her eyes slammed shut, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know. It might be a bad idea, but-- I just wanna make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yes, of course. Keep me posted?”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Beca shuffled to bed after that, but sleep never came. Her mind kept reeling about Chloe, about what she might say to her once they were face to face, and the possibility that Chloe might shoot her down and refuse to talk to her.

She spent her Saturday trying and failing to make some progress on an ongoing project, willing time to tick faster so she could head back to the club. Mid-afternoon, she headed to the bank to withdraw twenty grand, tucking the envelope in her purse.

“Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal, Beca?” She muttered to herself on her way out of the bank, slightly paranoid about carrying so much cash on her.

The club was just as crowded when she got there around 10 pm. A different girl danced on the main stage and the manager was nowhere in sight, so Beca perched herself on a stool at the bar, ordering herself another old-fashioned.

“Is your boss around?” She asked the barmaid, a different girl from last night.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the person who wants Ariel is here.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up at that but she didn’t say anything, nodding before strutting away. Beca sipped at her drink for the next twenty minutes, keeping her back to the stage.

The manager eventually appeared in her peripheral, and he leaned an elbow over the counter, lacing his fingers. “So what’s so special about Ariel?”

Beca slowly set her drink down and fished for the envelope, pushing it towards him while keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I like redheads.”

He plucked the envelope off the counter and peered inside. Twenty stacks of ten hundred dollar bills in exchange for twenty minutes with Chloe.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Beca finished the rest of her drink, the alcohol managing to muffle her nerves some as she followed the manager towards the back of the club, and down a set of stairs. Her heart pumped hard in her ears and her palms started to sweat as she was led inside a dimly lit room with a handful of sofa chairs and a small stage with a dancing pole, some kind of music that seemed straight out of a porno carrying through the speakers. A spiral staircase was tucked in the right corner, and she guessed that is where the strippers made their entrance from.

Beca wondered how far things usually went in these kinds of private rooms.

She wondered how far Chloe went.

She cast the guy a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he closed the door, and paced the room for a little while, eventually lowering herself on one of the leather chairs and wiping her palms on her designer slacks.

The clicking of heels over metal made Beca’s spine snap straighter. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the steps grew nearer, digging her nails into her thighs as a new round of nerves gripped her insides.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” the huskiness of Chloe’s voice made Beca swallow, and she felt a hand run over her shoulders as Chloe approached from behind.

Glancing up, Beca met familiar, ocean blues.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pieces

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pterodactylterrace · 3 years

Text

Guys Like You Chapter 17

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 17

Chapter Summary: We'll get through this, I promise.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: I'm almost 100% sure this is legally inaccurate. It's a work of fiction, though so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, vomiting and mentions of anxiety/poor mental state. Mentions of prior abuse.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15} {Chapter 16}

Lawyers, attorneys, case building, legal proceedings and court dates all swam around Faye's head to the point she was dizzy. Henry had taken immediate action and gotten in touch with his legal team right away, ultimately being referred to someone more specialized in custody cases who agreed to work with Faye's sister on the case. He as not about to let that slime ball come back after years and take their baby from them.

First, they had to file for Faye to be the sole parent and guardian of Briar, sighting the years long abandonment for terminating any rights he may have had. Then, they had to gather up everything they could proving he was an unfit father, picking at old wounds that Faye would rather be left alone. All she'd had to do was get in contact with her sister and within minutes she had over a dozen pictures of just as many occasions with Faye battered and bruised, or with her fingers in casts, or her lip split. Faye hadn't even known her sister had been taking them, but she had also blocked out a lot of that time of her life. Her sister had always been the more responsible level headed one anyway. She'd probably taken them just in case something like this ever happened.

Her sister had also filed for a restraining order against him on her behalf. She knew what kind of person he was and having a legal order of protection against him was a solid idea. It prevented him from intimidating Faye or trying to just take Briar.

Overall, they were assured by almost everyone that he stood no chance. He had walked out of her life before she was even born and never tried to be in contact since. No judge in their right mind would listen to a word he had to say.

That did very little to settle Faye's anxiety. Over the next few weeks Henry would often find her crying silently, her mind a million miles away dwelling on the what ifs. Briar had moved to sleeping in their bed the same night they had gotten the letter, more for Faye's sake than anything else. Having her daughter close was one of the few things that calmed her down anymore. Henry had tried everything he could think of to take her mind off of what was happening, but with little success. All it would take is one look at Briar and Faye would start tearing up again.

Faye had gotten so bad she would barely eat. She would only pick at her food, nibbling on a few bites here and there. Henry could tell she was losing weight, but he was unable to convince her to actually eat more. She just kept telling him she felt sick all the time. A few times she had even worked herself up into such an anxious mess that she was physically sick. Henry had yet to meet her ex, but he knew he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. Whoever that slime ball was, he had severely crossed the line. The woman he loved was a wreck because of him, something had to be done.

Henry took it upon himself to pack everyone for the trip to the states, not wanting to add anymore stress to Faye if he didn't have to. Briar had been given Dramamine before the flight and again almost halfway through to keep her from getting sick. Faye's chronically empty stomach faired far worse. She was in and out of the small airplane bathroom, Henry dutifully following each time as she brought up bile or nothing at all, her stomach desperate to rid itself of contents it didn't even have. She even threw up the Dramamine he'd gotten her to take. It was times like this he was eternally grateful he was able to fly privately. The entire flight would have been a nightmare if they had to deal with other passengers at the same time.

He had booked the biggest suite he could within a reasonable distance of the court house where hearings were meant to be held. They wanted to have some privacy before everything happened, though they were planning on staying with Faye's parents afterwards until they went back home. Faye wanted to be impressed and thankful for everything he was doing for her and her daughter, once again, but she didn't have the energy to do much more than squeeze him tight, resting her weary head against his strong chest.

"It'll be alright, darling. No one is going to take our princess away." Henry assured, tilting her head up to kiss her gently.

"It's just dredging up so many bad memories." Faye admitted shakily, wiping her eyes before more tears could fall. Between throwing up and crying she was sure she was dehydrated, her head pounding in synch with her heart to prove it.

"I know, but they're in the past now."

"But they're not." Faye hiccupped, hiding her face in his chest again. "All of this is happening right now."

"This is the last time he is going to have any contact with either of you. Go and take a long shower, darling. Try to relax. You need your sleep."

"I know I look awful." Faye sighed, reluctantly stepping away from him.

"Just as beautiful as ever." Henry corrected, digging through the bags to find Faye's shower bag and something for her to change into. While she was in the bathroom, Henry convinced the half asleep toddler to get ready for bed, handing her a pair of zip up pajamas along with her diaper, reminding her to go potty before he would zip her up.

The child was tucked into the middle of one of the beds, hugging her stuffed bunny tightly and falling asleep almost instantly. Henry went to check on Faye once he was sure she was asleep, smiling softly when he saw her stepping out of the shower.

"Feeling any better?"

"Not really." Faye sighed, letting Henry take the towel from her and dry her off.

"It will be over soon, I promise." Henry assured, pulling one of the shirts she had stolen from him over her head.

"Not soon enough."

~*~

"She ran out as soon as she found out she was pregnant. I tried to track her down for years, but I never could find her. That's the only reason I haven't been in my daughter's life. I could never find an address for either of them. She just vanished."

Faye felt her skin crawl at his words, physically shrinking away from him the moment he laid eyes on her. Everything just came flooding back, and suddenly she was right where she was years ago, having to put up with his lies and manipulations. She could feel more bile threatening to creep up her throat every time she looked at him.

"As you can see, the defendant never filed for sole custody of the child until very recently. It is our belief that she is using the child against my client for some perceived wrongs. She has even fled the country to make sure that my client has no access to the child."

"Alright. Miss Warren?" The judge shifted his attention to the other side of the room. "Is the plaintiff the biological father of the child?"

"Yes." Faye answered softly.

"And did you try to reach out to him after the birth of the child?"

"No, I did not. He left the second he found out I was pregnant. He avoided my attempts to contact him up until I gave birth. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with us."

"And did you in fact leave the country with the child in an effort to avoid contact with the plaintiff?"

"No. I left because I had a job offer in another country. My daughter came with me, because she is my daughter."

"Your honor, if I may?" Delilah stepped in, squeezing her sister's hand supportively.

"Go ahead Miss... Warren."

"As you can see from the documents I have provided, my client has only moved three times in the last five years. The first was into an apartment in the same town she resided in with the plaintiff before their split. She held a lease in that same apartment until a year and a half ago when she moved to England. She only recently moved from there into a home that she shares with her current boyfriend. For the plaintiff to be unable to locate my client, he would have had put little to no effort into actually looking for her."

"Does Mr. Young have any evidence of him attempting to locate the defendant? What efforts did he make?"

"My client did the searching by himself, there is no paper trail of his efforts."

"So you cannot provide any evidence of his attempts to locate the defendant or the child in question?"

"No your honor."

"Now, Miss Warren... the lawyer, do you have a statement to make?"

"Yes, your honor. As you can see from the documents I have provided you with, my client suffered abuse at the hands of the plaintiff for years. There are not only pictures of the injuries, but also documentation from several emergency room visits due to 'blunt force trauma' along with multiple domestic violence reports against the plaintiff. The plaintiff left shortly after my client revealed her pregnancy and no attempts to contact my client or the child in question are able to be confirmed. Tell me, Mr. Young. If you were so invested in your unborn child, what was the child's expected due date? On what day did my client suffer a miscarriage of one of the children she was carrying? What do you even know about the child you want in your life so badly now?"

"I don't know anything, that bit- the defendant kept her from me."

"Kept her from you, or you didn't try to make any contact?"

"I tried to make contact!"

"Enough, Mr. Young." The judge sighed, leaning back to look at the papers in front of him. "Tell me Miss Warren, what does the child in question know about the plaintiff?"

"Nothing." Faye replied softly. "She didn't have a father in her life."

"Would it be alright if we spoke to the child?" The judge asked, looking over to where Briar sat in the back of the room, playing with her stuffed bunny under Henry's watchful eye.

"Briar?" Faye called, the child popping up and running over to her mother. "Would you be ok talking to everyone?"

"Ok, Mama!" Briar eagerly accepted, scurrying over to the chair she had seen everyone else take a turn sitting in.

"Hello Briar." The judge greeted, smiling warmly at the child.

"Hi." Briar giggled, squeezing her bunny to her chest.

"I like your bunny. He is very well behaved."

"We be good." Briar confirmed, nodding her head surely.

"Now, Briar, can you tell me about your family?"

"Yeah! I have my mama and that my aunt Lilah! I see Nana and Grampy on the phone too! Oh! And I met Papa family too! We play in the big yard, then we all went to sleep in the couch room and they were all giggling, but I was good!"

"You met your Papa's family?" The judge asked, his brow furrowing.

"I like Papa family." Briar giggled.

"Mr. Young, has the child had contact with your family?" The judge asked.

"Yes, she has recently met my family."

"Mama?"

"Hold on sweetie, Mommy needs to talk to Aunt Delilah." Faye rushed out, turning her terrified eyes to her sister. "What is he doing? Briar has never met his family. I've never met his family!"

"I thought he just congealed in a gutter somewhere. What is Briar talking about? Who's family did she meet?" Delilah whispered back.

"Henry's. She calls him Papa, we met them just a few weeks ago."

"That's kind of adorable, we will circle back to that after we deal with this douchebag. Can you prove she's never met dingus's family?"

"We've only been back in the States for two days. I don't even know where his family lives. Like I said, I never even met them!"

"That's something. Where's her passport?" Delilah mumbled to herself, shifting through the various papers in front of her.

"Papa? Papa, I gotta go!" Briar whimpered, squirming in her seat.

"I'll take you since Miss Warren is too busy." David quickly offered, popping up and reaching for the child before anyone else had a chance to react.

"No!" Briar screamed, kicking and wiggling when he picked her up. "No! Not Papa! Not Papa! Help! Mama!"

"Hey, it's me. It's Papa!" David tried, attempting to wrangle the thrashing child.

"NOT PAPA! WANT HENRY PAPA!" Briar screeched, hitting him in the face with her stuffed bunny.

"David, put her down! You're scaring her!" Faye yelled, anxious tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was her heart in her throat, or if the water she'd been sipping on was trying to make a reappearance. The sight of him touching her daughter was enough to make her sick.

"Mr. Young!" The Judge barked, finally succeeding in getting him to release the struggling child. Briar dashed to the back of the room, throwing her arms around Henry's legs, frantically trying to climb him as she cried.

"Hey, it's ok Princess." Henry soothed, lifting her up and holding her tight. "Can you go and sit by Mama after you go potty?"

"NO!" Briar squealed again. "Papa stay! Bad man! Mama!" Briar blubbered almost incoherently, squeezing her bunny tight as she gasped between sobs.

"Ok, ok. I'll be right here. I'll make sure the mean man doesn't touch you or Mummy again, I promise." Henry assured, grimacing when he felt a warm wetness soaking through his shirt. "Princess? Did you have an accident?" Henry asked her quietly, glaring daggers at the other man when she shakily nodded her head.

"He... he scare me."

"I know, it's alright. We'll get you cleaned up, ok?"

"Your honor, may I ask the child a question?" Delilah ventured, standing up and placing her hand on Briar's back to get her attention. "Briar, who is your Papa?"

"Papa." Briar sniveled, hiding her snotty, tear stained face in Henry's neck.

"Your honor, as you can see from the copy of the child's passport, she has only been back in the United States for just over two days. She has never met the plaintiff's parents in her life. She is clearly terrified of him, too. Can we please stop all this nonsense?"

"I've heard all I need to." The Judge decided, turning to look at David. "Mr. Young, you have lied to me several times and provided me no substantial evidence regarding any of your claims. The child does not feel safe with you, and for good reason considering the numerous cases of domestic violence against you. Your parental rights are hereby terminated, and the defendant's request for an order of protection is granted, effective immediately."

"You can't be serious!" He growled, turning his furious eyes to the judge.

"I am very serious, Mr. Young. Even if you did genuinely want to be in the child's life, your previous convictions against the defendant prove you to be unfit to care for her." The Judge continued.

"She's ok." Faye breathed shakily, finally forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, Henry instantly wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her.

"I told you everything would be ok." Henry whispered, kissing her forehead softly. "No one is taking our princess away."

"I sorry Mama. I had accident." Briar sniffled.

"It's ok baby. Did you pee on the mean man?"

"Uh-hu. He scary." Briar mumbled. "No sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to him." Henry assured. "How about we go back to the hotel and get you a bath? We can go out for ice cream after."

"Please." Briar whimpered, continuing to hide in Henry's neck.

"No need to be upset. You're not in any trouble." Faye soothed.

"How about you? How are you doing?" Henry asked Faye, gently leading her out the door.

"Better? I don't know. I'm happy but still so anxious." Faye admitted.

"After all of this I don't blame you, but it's over now, darling. It's all over."

Faye and Briar ended up sharing a long bath when they got back to the hotel, giving Henry time to use the exercise room to relieve some of his own tensions. He had no idea what he would have done if they had been ordered to share custody. He hadn't known the little girl for very long, but she was still his world. He was willing to give up anything if it meant keeping his family together.

When he had gotten back to the hotel room, both of his girls were dressed, Briar happily attempting to dry her mother's hair while she sat on the floor, calling out directions to the little girl. She handed the dryer off to her mother as soon as she saw Henry, happily throwing her arms around his legs.

"You back!"

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm back." Henry chuckled, picking her up and kissing her forehead. "You have to try harder than that to get rid of me."

"Ewww! Papa you smelly!" Briar whined, covering her nose with both hands.

"The audacity!" Henry gasped, hugging her even tighter, laughing when she groaned in protest. "I in no way smell like a sweaty gym sock."

"You icky, Papa!" Briar repeated, pushing his face away with one hand, the other covering her nose. "You take a bath. I get you toys!" She decided, wiggling to be let down. Both adults nodded along as Briar monologued her choices in what Henry should take with him, tossing each one into the tub. She had decided upon a rubber duck, a wash cloth, a Captain America action figure, a horse figurine, the hotel mouthwash and carefully placed his razor on the side of the tub, sternly reminding him not to cut his hair again.

"Ok, princess. Promise I won't cut my hair again." Henry agreed for what had to be the hundredth time since he'd had to cut his hair for work months ago.

"Briar, how about we go finish getting ready, and then when Papa's done, we can all go see Nana and Grampy?" Faye offered, wincing at the decibel of the scream that erupted from the little girl's chest.

"NANA! GRAMPY!" She cheered, racing past her mother, digging through her bag to look for her shoes.

"You might want to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep her here." Faye chuckled, her brows crinkling when she saw the look on Henry's face. "What? You said you were ok with meeting my parents..."

"No, it's not that. That's the first time I've seen you laugh in weeks." Henry pointed out, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm trying to do better. Sorry I've been miserable to be around."

"Don't apologize for how you feel. Anyone would be upset if they had to go through that. I want you happy again, but I don't want you to force it. I want you to be really happy."

"Well, you can make me happier if you showered. The man stink is overwhelming." Faye teased, Henry rolling his eyes at her. "I see how it is, right back to teaming up on me. Just so you know, Kal is usually on my side."

"Guess we'll have to have a tiebreaker then." Faye shrugged, smirking as she left him alone in the bathroom with a shocked smile on his face.

When they finally arrived at Faye's parents home, Briar was about to burst from her seat in excitement. Faye barely got her out of the car before she was scurrying up the front steps, frantically ringing the doorbell. Faye followed behind her daughter, relaxing even more once she was in the familiar surroundings.

Delilah was the one to answer the door, her hair still up in it's sleek, professional updo, though she had changed into more comfortable clothes once she had gotten back to her parent's house. Briar audibly groaned when she saw her aunt for the second time that day. "Aunt Lilah! Where Nana?"

"She's in the kitchen, waiting on you." Delilah laughed, moving out of the child's way and wrapping her sister in a hug. "Told you we'd get through this."

"My sister, always there to save my ass."

"And you thought law school was a stupid idea."

"You said the same thing about art school, and look what it got me." Faye teased, nodding at Henry as he made his way up the stairs.

"Ok, you got me there. No one in my law firm looks anything like that. All the ones that ask me out for drinks are fat, bald and married."

"Is that where your standards are now?"

"Basically." Delilah laughed, ushering the two inside.

"Faye!" A short older woman cheered, bustling in from the back of the house with Briar on her hip.

"Hi Mom!" Faye greeted, pulling away from Henry to hug her mother. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my partner, Henry."

"Partner?" Her mother questioned, giving her daughter a strange look.

"It just sounds better than 'boyfriend'. More sophisticated."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Warren." Henry cut in, offering his hand to her only to be pulled into a surprisingly tight bear hug.

"Now, now! We hug around here!"

"Papa give good hugs!" Briar giggled.

"Yes, he does." The older woman agreed, patting his shoulder before venturing back into the house.

"Dad is around here somewhere. Probably break-fixing something." Faye mumbled, taking a quick glance around in an attempt to discern where he was.

"Just follow the sound of objects crying, you'll find him." Delilah laughed. "I think he said something about fixing the ceiling fan in the gremlin's room."

"Which one are you staying in?" Faye asked.

"I'll bite the bullet and sleep in the gremlin room. Not very often you have the chance to score in your childhood bedroom." Delilah teased, Henry shifting his gaze uncomfortably anywhere else.

"Like that isn't what happened when we visited your parents." Faye scoffed, grabbing his hand to lead him down the hallway.

"That's different." Henry mumbled, hefting their bags up as she pulled him away.

"How?"

"They're my family. There's not much I could do by now that one of us hasn't done before."

"Relax, I'm pretty sure my sister knows we've had sex by now. I would know, I told her."

"Only good things I assume?"

"Well the conversation started with me telling her she gave me the wrong size condoms when I moved away."

"Wonderful." Henry sighed, fighting back a laugh when he was led into a room with two twin beds against opposing walls.

"If you want I can help you push those together." A voice from behind offered. "Hi, I'm the dad."

"Hello, sir. I'm Henry." He greeted, setting the bags down and offering his hand, the other man gripping it firmly and resting his other hand on his elbow, giving a curt nod.

Faye's father wasted no time in sequestering Henry off into a different bedroom to hold up the ceiling fan while he worked on it. Henry wasn't sure what he was doing, and he had a feeling he didn't know what he was doing himself. He was either trying to find a bad wire, or attempting to electrocute both of them.

Faye and her sister had wandered back to the living room, curling up on the couch with her head in her sister's lap catching up on everything that had happened while they had been apart. Delilah had been killing it in her law firm, to say the least. She'd bought her first condo and a cat to go with it. The cat hated her, despite her many attempts to befriend the feline now sharing her home.

Briar spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with her Nana, 'helping' her make cookies and brownies. Naturally, she had to sample everything that was being made. She also got sole ownership of the spatula, and she made sure everyone knew it, loudly yelling it to the rest of the house.

They weren't all back in the same room again until dinner time, Briar happily explaining to Henry that she had been the one to make the 'sketti' as she kept calling it. He had doubts to the validity of that statement. He also quickly figured out where Faye had learned to cook. Faye finally did more than pick at her food, actually inhaling three plates of her favorite comfort dish. After they had all stuffed themselves, the three travelers decided to head to bed, the combination of jet lag, the day's events, and the amount of carbs they had just consumed almost putting them into a coma at the table.

Briar went straight into the room at the end of the hall as soon as her pajamas were on, happily leaping onto the giant canopy bed. Surrounding it were stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes, along with tumble mats, a slide, a small ball pit, a mini trampoline and the biggest dollhouse Henry had ever seen. One wall was a chalkboard, several of Briar's artworks still decorating it from the last time she was there, the other walls were painted a soft purple, her name written in big silver letters on the wall behind the bed, peering proudly through the posters of the canopy.

"It's her room at my parent's house." Faye shrugged.

"Tell me again how I'm the one that spoils her?"

"There's more stuff in here now than there used to be."

"No there's not!" Delilah called from down the hall, Faye shooting an annoyed look over her shoulder.

"They're her grandparents, they're supposed to spoil her."

"Is this the biggest room in the house?"

"It used to be our playroom. Dad wanted to turn it into a home theater before I had Briar."

"Papa, watch!" Briar gasped, picking up a remote and turning on the TV mounted on the wall across from her bed.

"A TV of her own in her room." Henry half laughed. "And I get yelled at for sneaking her a biscuit!"

"You sneak her cookies just before dinner!"

"Your mother has been stuffing her with cookies since we got here."

"She hasn't seen her in a while?"

"That settles it, until I end up getting that kid her own pony I don't want to hear another word about me spoiling her." Henry snorted.

"She asked you for a pony, didn't she?"

"It's come up." Henry confirmed, tucking the sleepy, squirmy child in tightly with her bunny under her arm.

"She's not getting a pony." Faye grouched, kissing her daughter's forehead.

"But I want a pony." Briar pouted.

"Where will you keep a pony?"

"The stable where Papa ride horseys."

"You know, Mommy is pretty sure she asked Papa not to take you out there." Faye grouched accusingly, glaring at Henry as he pointedly avoided her gaze.

"She started crying." Henry mumbled, giving her a pathetic look. "I can't say no when she's that upset. It was just the once, I promise. She only pat them, she didn't get on a single horse."

"Wanna ride horsey."

"Anything else you do that I should know about?" Faye asked, raising a brow at her boyfriend.

"I leave my underwear on the bathroom floor every night then put them in the hamper each morning before you wake up."

"Strangely specific."

"It has been eating me up inside for ages. I finally feel free."

It felt like no time at all that Faye was curled up in her old bed, Henry sleeping in the one that used to be her sisters. It felt like even less time before she was jerked out of sleep, her stomach protesting strongly, bile rising into her throat. She jumped out of bed and rushed across the hall to the bathroom, not even taking the time to turn on the lights before violently emptying herself of everything she had eaten that day. Henry was right there only a few seconds later, having been awoken by her frantic rush to the bathroom. He held her hair back at the base of her neck, rubbing her back softly and trying to focus on anything other than her vomiting. He should have been used to it after Faye being literally worried sick for weeks, but the smell got to him every time.

"I think I ate too much." Faye whimpered, using some tissue to wipe her mouth and tossing it into the bowl, flushing it along with everything she'd just thrown up.

"You haven't eaten much in weeks, darling. Maybe you should try pacing yourself more?" Henry suggested, slowly helping her to her feet to rinse her mouth out.

"I know, but I just love my mom's spaghetti so much." Faye whined.

"I'm sure she'll make it again if you just ask her."

"Well that seems obvious now."

"Think you can go back to bed?" Henry asked, leading her back across the hall at her small nod.

After another two days of feeling nauseous, they had all come to the conclusion that her immune system must have been weakened by the stress of everything and caused her to catch some stomach bug. After a week and a half, she was wondering what kind of super bug she had managed to contract. The only time she could keep food down was when she would nibble at things throughout the day. Just how long would it take for her stomach to get used to food again before she could keep it down? She'd hoped she would be able to stomach something more substantial on their last full day with her family, muscling down her mother's homemade waffles until lunchtime. Two bites of mashed potatoes was all it took to tip her over the top, landing right back in the bathroom with Henry holding her hair back.

Thankfully they had noticed the pattern of small bits of food staying down in time for them to fly back to England. The fatigue of her being sick, along with how emotional she was about not being able to actually spend as much time with her family as she would have liked while she was there had her sleeping almost the entire flight. That left Henry dealing with Briar's motion sickness. He was slowly becoming convinced his entire world would be nothing but vomit for the foreseeable future. Faye finally gets to where she can eat just fine, only for Briar to be throwing up kool-aid and vanilla wafers while her mother got some well deserved rest. It was a good thing he loved his girls, otherwise he may begin to resent them soon.

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @nostalgicb-txh

Ok, my taglist got deleted somehow. If I missed anyone, I’m sorry. If you want to be added, let me know. I’m doing my best to make the tags work, but it’s not going great, my dudes.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old.

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

youtube

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

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henrycavillobsessed · 3 years

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Porcelain

Characters: Henry Cavill x Anwen Evans (fictional fiance)

Summary: Henry and Anwen’s life was perfect. Until one day, one phone call, changes everything.

Words: 3,444

TW/CW: Death, car accident, description of injuries, hospital, grief. Slight mention of implied sex; some bad language.

Notes: So here it is, my latest fanfic. It’s been a while, due to a bit of a mind block. The idea for this came to me, after being inspired by the song Porcelain by Emarosa (link below in case you’re interested). This one is different to my other fics, for one it’s not the usual Henry x reader narrative. I have created a character this time to act as his partner. Also this one is LONG (3,444 words). I have enjoyed writing a longer and more complex story and I hope you enjoy reading it. (As a warning, it’s SAD. I am not ashamed to admit I cried just writing it.)

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7rk8cH53nI8ffb5ZccjfpT?si=QMVvEmA3TK-3WuQXJanMmQ

“Oww! Shit!”

Henry looked up from the book he was reading in bed. Anwen was rubbing her forehead and looking very wounded. She’d clearly just walked into the doorframe. Again. Henry laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh at me!” A pillow flew through the air and missed its target of Henry’s face by a considerable amount. He laughed again.

“I can’t help it. You are so clumsy!”

Anwen climbed into bed, still massaging the sore spot on her head. She scowled at Henry. “If I remember correctly Mr Cavill, it was because of me being clumsy that meant we met for the very first time.”

“Hmm,” Henry reached over and gathered her up in his arms, leaning back against the headboard. He kissed her gently on the faint bruise that was blooming on her pale skin. “I do remember,” he said fondly.

It had been over five years ago now. Henry was out with his friend and colleague Simon Pegg, drinking their way through some of London’s best nightclubs. It had been a great night so far, with both men enjoying their freedom; they’d recently finished filming their latest movie and were celebrating. Henry was feeling happily tipsy, and when Simon offered to go to the bar for another round, he didn’t refuse.

“Get some shots too!” he shouted at Simon’s back as he left their table. Simon waved a hand in response; Henry took that as a yes and smiled. He was just checking his Instagram on his phone when something- someone- crashed into him and he felt the cold wetness of a spilt drink over his shoulder and down his shirt. He looked up incredulously. A woman was stood there with an empty glass and an equally shocked expression.

“Oh, my go- I am so sorry!” she said in a very attractive Welsh accent, Henry thought. He felt his annoyance dissipate immediately.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, accidents happen. How much have you had to drink anyway?” he asked cheekily.

The woman’s ivory skin blushed, contrasting prettily with her ebony hair, which was cascading around her shoulders in thick waves.

“Um, I actually don’t drink,” she admitted. “I have just shown you how uncoordinated I am; I really don’t need to throw alcohol into the mix.”

“Very wise. Hi, I’m Henry Cavill.”

“Anwen Evans, nice to meet you.” They shook hands and were making pleasant small talk when Simon returned with the drinks.

“What on earth happened to your shirt?” he asked Henry.

“Anwen happened. Anwen, this is my friend Simon Pegg.”

Anwen’s face lit up. “I love your movies! Hot Fuzz is just hilarious!” she said to Simon, who smiled widely and they spent the next few moments quoting lines from the film. Simon looked sideways at Henry, and saw the way he was looking at Anwen, and cleared his throat.

“Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I must get on. Henry, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, winking at his friend. Henry mouthed a silent thank you, grinning.

After Anwen explained to her girlfriend’s that she was going to continue the night with Henry, prompting a lot of excited giggling and whispering, she sat herself down at Henry’s table. The hours flew by as they got to know each other. Anwen was an up-and-coming chef, who’d recently opened a new restaurant nearby in London. She told Henry about the restaurant’s menu, and Henry promised to try it out soon. In return, Henry told her about the films he’d been in. He was mock-outraged when Anwen admitted she’d never seen a Superman movie, let alone Man of Steel, and laughing, she promised she’d check it out soon. Conversation naturally flowed between them, Henry felt so at ease with her, and it turned out they had quite a bit in common. As Henry told Anwen about his akita Kal, Anwen told him she also had a dog, a golden retriever named Ciri.

“Ciri?” Henry had asked. “As in Ciri from The Witcher?”

“Yeah! I’m such a huge fan, I’ve read all the books, and I’ve played all the games!”

Henry laughed. “You are never going to believe who I’ve just been cast as for my next job…” Anwen’s jaw dropped to the floor when he told her.

The night ended with Henry walking Anwen home to her nearby townhouse, and they shared their first kiss on the doorstep, swapping numbers with the promise to meet up again soon for a date.

Now back in the present, nearly six years later, Anwen had moved into Henry’s penthouse, with Ciri who Kal adored. Both dogs were curled up at the end of the bed now, fast asleep.

In Henry’s arms, Anwen cuddled in close. “Yes, so if it wasn’t for me tripping and drenching you that night we wouldn’t be here now, so stop taking the piss!”

“Okay, okay!” Henry laughed. “I do worry though, you know. You’re like… like porcelain. So easily broken. Be more careful, I’d hate for something to happen, for me to lose you. I love you so much, my Annie.”

“Don’t be so soft! I’m not going anywhere, not for a long time. And I’ll love you until the day I’m gone, and if I can love after, then I will then too. So shush,” Anwen replied, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Anyway, I’m not that breakable, I don’t think. Wanna test this theory?”

Swinging her legs around Henry’s waist, Anwen straddled him and seductively removed her top. She was braless underneath. Henry whistled low, and licked his lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

Henry and Anwen’s life continued in perfect bliss. Both had never been as happy as they were with each other. Anwen was now an established celebrity chef, having opened many more restaurants worldwide, written a few cookbooks and even been on television a couple of times. Henry’s career as an actor was skyrocketing, his role at Geralt in The Witcher making him a household name. This meant that he had to travel all around the globe for work, however this didn’t impact his and Anwen’s relationship in the slightest, as she regularly went with him, using the time to research new recipes for her business. When they had spare time, they enjoyed exotic holidays, and it was on the white powder sand of the Maldives that Henry proposed. Anwen had burst into tears and accepted immediately, and they’d spent the rest of that holiday on their private island mostly naked, enjoying each other as an engaged couple. Their home life was refreshingly normal however. Behind closed doors, they were just Henry and Anwen, not the famous actor and the celebrity chef. They both took in turns to cook dinner, did the housework together and spent the evenings cwtched up on the sofa watching old movies. Laughter was a staple in their home, in fact they only ever rowed when England played Wales at rugby during the Six Nations. Life was indeed bliss, and it seemed nothing could burst this content bubble they were living in.

One average day in late autumn, Anwen was sat at the kitchen table, with her laptop open in front of her and Ciri snoozing quietly at her feet. Dressed in a pair of comfy sweats and a loose off-the-shoulder jumper, her hair piled artfully messy on top of her head and holding a large cup of coffee in her hands, she was looking at wedding venues online, finally making a start on planning their special day. A huge binder was also open on the table with multiple sheets on paper sticking out of it. She’d made plenty of notes and had lots of ideas; it was now time to put them into action. Henry walked into the kitchen, looking very stylish in back jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was holding Kal’s lead and the akita was tip-tapping on the tiles behind him, clearly very excited about going for a walk. Ciri didn’t even raise her head, happy enough to stay in with her mum and continue her nap.

“I’m going to take Kal with me to the meeting with my manager,” he said to Anwen. “Then do you fancy meeting me after with Ciri and we’ll take them for a walk in the park?”

“Yes, my love, sounds lush. How long will you be do you think?”

“Not sure, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“What are you up to today?” Henry asked, walking over to Anwen and kissing her on the top of her head. “Wedding stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna send off some emails now this morning and then go to this bakery and try out some wedding cake samples,” Anwen smiled.

“Well, I’m jealous! Have a great day honey, I’ll call you later. Love you!”

“Love you, bye!” she called as he walked out the front door.

Henry’s meeting was going well. His manager had quite a few prospective roles lined up for him, and Henry was interested in the majority of them. His mind wandered to Anwen every so often; he still missed her when they were apart. As the meeting was coming to a close and Kal started getting excited again at going for another walk, Henry’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID- withheld number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr Henry Cavill? I’m a nurse here at London hospital. We have you down here as Miss Anwen Evans’s emergency contact.”

Henry paled. “Is she okay?”

“I’m afraid Miss Evans has been involved in a serious accident. We have her here at the emergency department. Can you get here straight away?”

Henry had never moved so quickly in his entire life. After giving his manager a hurried explanation and asking him whether he’d look after Kal, he’d gotten in his car and sped through the streets of London, not caring that he was breaking the speed limit. He parked illegally, jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting into the hospital. His mind was in overdrive, all sorts of scenarios going through his head. He felt sick with fear and exertion. Flying into the emergency room, he looked around wildly, finding a nurse sat at the front desk.

“Anwen Evans? I’m here for Anwen Evans, I’m Henry Cavill,” he cried desperately. The nurse didn’t hesitate.

“Come with me.”

She explained to Henry what had happened on the way. “Anwen was crossing the road at a zebra crossing when she tripped halfway, according to witnesses. There was a speeding car, who didn’t see her. He… he ran right over her. He didn’t stop. There are police looking for the car and driver as we speak.”

The flash of anger that Henry felt was so severe that his steps faltered for a second. But then he pushed it away, to be dealt with later. All that mattered now was Anwen.

“Mr Cavill, Anwen is in a bad way. She has a serious brain injury, and multiple body fractures. The trauma team managed to get her stable, but it’s touch-and-go. The next twenty-four hours are critical,” the nurse said gently. “Prepare yourself before you go in.”

She opened the door to the dimly lit room. The sound of machines beeping dominated the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Henry moved closer to the bed, his mouth dry, hands shaking. His Annie was lying in the bed, connected to the machines, wires snaking out from every part of her it seemed. Her beautiful black hair was covered by thick white bandages wrapped around her head, and every part of her skin was purple and blue bruises. Her striking green eyes, usually so full of love and sparkle, were swollen shut. Henry had never seen anything so heartbreaking; tears coursed unbidden down his cheeks.

“Can I sit by her? Hold her hand?” he choked to the nurse.

“Of course, pet.”

He pulled up a chair to her bedside and ever so gently took Anwen’s hand in his. It was reassuringly warm. He could do nothing for a moment but stroke it slowly. Worry filled every part of his being.

“I’m here Annie. It’s your Henry. Come back to me, you can get through this,” he whispered, and then as sobs wracked through him, he added, “you said you’d love me until you’re gone and I’ll be damned if you’re going anywhere yet.”

For the next few hours, Henry didn’t leave Anwen’s side; he didn’t let go of her hand. He held onto hope that she would get better. After all, porcelain could break yes, but it could also be fixed. And he would do anything to fix her.

As it approached eighteen hours since Anwen’s accident, a nurse came into the room and caught Henry fighting not to fall asleep. She softly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr Cavill, go and get some rest. You’re more than welcome to use the family room just next door. Freshen up, get an hour or so sleep. If anything changes, I promise I’ll come and notify you immediately.”

Henry considered this, torn between not wanting to leave Anwen’s side and the need to at least wash his face.

“I’ll be half an hour, tops. Annie, I’ll be right back.” He put her hand down, and exited the room, rubbing his tired eyes as he went.

He hadn’t been gone five minutes when a terrifying beeping screeched out from Anwen’s room. He ran out of the bathroom still with wet hands, his heart in his mouth. He halted in the doorway, petrified at the scene unfolding in front of him.

A team of medics were working hard on her, the unrelenting beeping just adding to the frenzy of the situation. Anwen’s heart had stopped; someone fired up a defibrillator. The shock that went through her echoed in Henry. He just didn’t know what to do. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to lead him away but he just couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away, panic rising, threatening to overspill. His Annie, his Annie was there dying on that bed, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. And then suddenly, the most sinister sound yet. A flatline. Followed by a voice.

“We’ve lost her. Time of death, eight fifteen AM…”

Then silence.

The sound that tore its way up and out through Henry’s throat was that of a wounded animal. He screamed, the feeling pure agony.

“No! NO! There must be something you can do! My Annie! Annie…”

The doctor looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “I am so sorry, Henry. So sorry. Please, everyone, give him some space.”

The rest of his team followed him out; the nurse that had told Henry to go get some rest was crying silently.

Henry stood rooted to the spot, in a state of absolute denial. Only a day before they’d been in their kitchen together, making plans to walk their beloved dogs, she was planning their wedding. Their wedding. Agony ripped through his chest, sobs wracked his body, his breathing erratic, his heart shattered, never to be healed again. Broken, like porcelain.

Henry didn’t know how he got through the funeral. He’d been to the funeral home, and dressed her in her favourite dress and shoes, and spent a long time brushing out her hair; he’d done that when she was alive, but the familiar act did nothing to ease his pain. When he got to the church, he walked down the aisle with her coffin on his shoulder, his heart heavy because he should have been watching her walk down the aisle in a white flowing dress towards him, he should be becoming her husband, not burying her. When it came to reading her eulogy, he was overcome with emotion, for the first time in his life not able to talk in public. His mother helped him down from the podium; his father continued the speech. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

At the wake, he got blind drunk. No one saw him for a week afterwards.

The news of Anwen’s death was plastered all over the newspapers and online. Headlines such as “HENRY CAVILL FIANCE KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT” and “CELEBRITY CHEF ANWEN EVANS DEAD AT 27” accompanied photos of the both of them. The hole in Henry’s chest got bigger each time he saw it. He threw himself into his work; being someone else for at least 12 hours a day was easier than dealing with real life. Because the grief was all consuming, terrifying, never-ending. When he got home to his cold and empty penthouse, he couldn’t escape it; Kal and Ciri looked at him sadly every night, the question in their eyes: “where is our mummy?” Henry had no answers for them. He spent each evening sat in the dark, in silence. There was no laughter, no enjoyment in life since she’d gone.

A few weeks later, Simon came to visit. He’d been dropping in regularly, terribly worried about his friend. Henry looked, quite frankly, awful. His hair was long and the curls unkempt, he’d let his beard grow out and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. He’d lost a lot of weight too, although he hadn’t stopped working out. Simon sat down next to Henry on his sofa, nervously voicing the question he’d come round to ask.

“Henry, it’s the awards ceremony tonight. Will you be going?”

Henry looked at him like he’d gone mad.

“Look,” Simon continued. “You’ve been nominated for Best Actor. It’s highly likely you’re going to win. Remember how she… how Anwen was really looking forward to going.” This was true. The red dress she’d been planning to wear was still hung up on the back of the bedroom door. “If you don’t want to go for yourself, why don’t you go for her?”

Henry thought it over. He hadn’t been out, apart from work and the gym, since before the accident. The thought of going to such a high-profile event caused panic. Yet… an image of Anwen, smiling before him in that red dress suddenly entered his mind. She had been so excited; she’d even helped him write his acceptance speech in case he did in fact win Best Actor. Go for her, Simon had said…

And that’s how, just hours later, Henry found himself back on the red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and crazed shouting as paparazzi tried to get his attention. He posed for a few photos before hurrying inside and taking his seat. He ate the extravagant three-course meal without really tasting it, drank the wine without really feeling it. Simon sat by his side, a welcome support; a truly great friend. Then, finally, it was time for the awards to be given.

Henry clapped and cheered as each person won their nominated categories; showing his support for his fellow actors and actresses. Seeing them so happy actually lifted his spirits for the first time since… before. Then it was time for the winner of the Best Actor award.

“And the winner is… HENRY CAVILL!”

Henry sat in shock as the cameras and spotlights panned to him. Simon was on his feet, screaming “I knew he’d do it!” and then he was helping Henry up. “Go on mate, to the stage. You won, you bloody won!”

In a daze, he walked towards the stage, then across it, accepting his award from the host. The applause was tumultuous; it took a few moments for it to die down, and then everyone in the audience was waiting expectantly for his speech. Henry drew a blank; he had no idea what to say.

“You can do it, handsome!” a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered in his ear. He looked to the side and his breath hitched in his throat. Anwen was stood there, a wide grin all over her face, looking devastatingly beautiful in the red dress she’d planned to wear tonight.

“I’m right here with you. I love you.”

Tears welled and spilled from Henry’s eyes as he turned back to face the audience.

“This award,” he started. “is for my Anwen. My Annie. I couldn’t have been the actor who deserved it without her love and encouragement. She was my everything. She still is. I owe this, my entire career, my entire life to you, my angel. I miss you more than words can describe, and I love you even more.

As he left the stage to even louder applause and cheers and flashing lights, he looked up, seeing the love of his life again, smiling, tears sparkling on her cheeks, blowing him a kiss as she faded away.

“Goodbye my Annie,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill angst #henry cavill sad #henry cavill obsessed #HenryCavillObsessed

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newagesispage · 3 years

Text

OCTOBER 2021

THE RIB PAGE

*****

We miss U Charlie Watts!!

*****

The Stones performed at a private party for Patriots owner Robert Kraft of all people. The test run looked like just that. Shark jumped. I am becoming disillusioned.

*****

SNL is back with Owen Wilson as first host of season 47. Kacey Musgraves is the musical guest. Episode 2 will have a ridic choice for host. Halsey will sing. I suppose $ is power with the Kardashians. I could think of about 10 million other people to host but more and more Lorne goes for the shiny object , what he THINKS people want instead of taking risk. Beck Bennett is out.

*****

Is everybody watching the Amber Ruffin Show?? I loved her before but now… I learn so much from her show. Sometimes it takes a comic to get to the real serious shit. For example: Have you heard of drowning towns? Towns like Oscarville, Kowaliga, York hill, Seneca Village, Prentiss and countless other black towns that were drowned out to make lakes for the local whites. Central Park was also made after a black community was erased from history. Development displacement? Alleyway dwelling authority? Even those rabid for history can find out new things everyday. Thanks Amber!!

*****

Bob Woodward and Robert Costa are finally giving us Peril !!!!!! I’ve been waiting!!** I was in political nerd heaven on Sept. 24 when Yamiche hosted Robert, Bob and Weijia Jang on Washington Week. All of my favorite pundits all together at one table, my dream team!!

*****

Iman looked great at the Met Gala!! Other great looks belonged to AOC, Tessa Thompson, Maluma, Helen Lasichanb and Pharrell Williams. Gigi Hadid, Kiki Layne, Ashton Sanders, Hailee Steinfeld, Kehlani, Zoe Kravitz, Michaela Cole, Lili Reinhart, Kate Hudson and Shai Gilgeous- Alexander were great. Whoopi Goldberg seemed a bit off.

*****

Jason Isbell is back with his latest offering, Georgia Blue.

*****

I see a lot of Title Max type establishment are closing down. Are they a thing of the past? Let’s hope.

*****

Law and Order is coming back to NBC for season 21. Dick Wolf will own 2 entire nights of television. Some of the old cast is reported to be returning.

*****

Britney Spears Father was suspended as her conservator.

*****

Timothy Chalamet, Rowan Atkinson, Sally Hawkins and Olivia Coleman will star in Wonka.

*****

The 2022 Super Bowl halftime show will bring us Snoop Dogg, Eminem, Mary J. Blige, Dr. Dre and Kendrick Lamar.

*****

People are doing test runs for school board positions to see if their political ideas will play well for the big leagues. If they don’t seem to work, at least they can sometimes change the rules in their own area.

*****

Joe Rogan got Covid.

*****

Lake Michigan beaches were closed down thanks to a US Steel plant chemical leak.

*****

Is this country the master of endless administrative work? None of us should have been surprised at the red tape that the slowed down the end of the war in Afghanistan.** Uber donated 50k for rides and meals to the Afghans when they arrive.**And why do so many waste taxpayer $ on useless recounts and recalls when people need real help with food and healthcare? They must really hate humanity.

*****

R. Kelly was found guilty of 8 counts of sex trafficking and 1 count of racketeering.

*****

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. – Dwight D. Eisenhower

*****

Texas has put a law into effect to allow most Texans to carry open without permit or training.

*****

Texas has banned abortion at about 6 weeks. Uber and Lyft will pay drivers legal fees if sued under Texas abortion law. Lyft donated $1mil to Planned Parenthood. ** Look for the ruling in the Mississippi law over Roe V. Wade in June 2022.**Hear us roar!** BTW.. Go Jen Psaki!!!!!!!

*****

They seriously banned plastic straws and abortion before assault rifles? – Eden Dranger

*****

Please stop banning abortions, the last thing the world needs is more Americans. –Sarah Beattie

*****

Women don’t inseminate themselves. Vasectomies are reversible. Should every man have one until he’s deemed financially and emotionally fit to be a Father? – Bradley Whitford

*****

90 year old William Shatner will go to space for Blue Origin.

*****

The Q Anon Shaman pled guilty to a felony for obstructing the Electoral College proceedings. I say 20 years and a $250K fine.** 600 others have been indicted.

*****

Days Alert: The Beyond Salem thing was ridic but it was so great to see some old characters. Days is so great at visiting old family. Who can resist Shane, Austin and Carrie, Billie and the old Kristen? I do wish that Peacock would get their kinks out!! Back to the real Days: Are we smelling an Emmy for Susan Seaforth Hayes and Bill?? ** Good to have Abigail back. It is always fun to wonder which actress and or personality it will be. ** Deidre Hall got her star on the walk of fame.**And just in time for Halloween, the Devil is making a comeback. The end of the year in Salem is always the best!! It is so brave to give the 96 year old man the old switcheroo into the Dark Lord. It was fun to see the grandkids discover Grandma Marlena’s story. Delicious!! Hail Satan!!** It is past time for Tate and Teresa to come back to town. Brady needs to be put in his place. And thanks for the Philip and Chloe flashbacks!!

*****

The breakdown of the vaccinated: 90% of Atheists, 86% Hispanic Catholic, 84% Agnostic, 79% White Catholic, 73% White mainline protestant, 70% Black mainline protestant, 57% white evangelical. 1 in 500 Americans have died of Covid.

*****

So Mike Lindell and Jim Baker have teamed up to sell children’s Bible pillows.** Piers Morgan has returned to the Murdoch organization by joining Fox. That sounds about right.

*****

Please stop saying the vaccine does not have severe side effects, I took my shots and now I’m alive and have to keep working. –Mohand Eishieky

*****

In theatres Oct. 22: The French Dispatch.** October also brings us a new season of Curb your enthusiasm and Oct. 17 will catch us up on Succession. Whew!!!

*****

So people under conservatorship are not free to marry who they want? What?

*****

46% of Americans believe in ghosts.

*****

Simone Biles, Mckayla Maroney and Aly Rasiman testified at the Senate judiciary hearing about the FBI’s handling of accusations against Larry Nassar and it was eye opening!

*****

We wanted a no -nonsense Dem who pushes on and does not puss out. I am a bit surprised to see we have it. There are so many pressing issues that I hope Biden works a bit more on Haiti though.

*****

The National Police Act was passed to celebrate cops. Still no police reform.

*****

John Mulaney and Olivia Munn are going to have a baby.

*****

The Emmy’s were a little different this year with more of a Golden Globe look. Cedric the Entertainer hosted with Reggie Watts as DJ. Lots of minority noms but barely a win. It was a white people night. Ted Lasso had a great night. Mare of Eastown took home a few with Evan Peters, Julianne Nicholson and Kate Winslet. Now, Kate is great but how did Anya Taylor- Joy not walk away with that? Queens Gambit did win a couple and gave the longest speech with the seemingly arrogant director Scott Frank who opened up 2 page acceptance. Categories were tough but I was routing for Renee Elise Goldberry and Bowen Yang but perhaps next year. The people in England who had their own party for all the statues that the Crown won seemed to be having more fun! Hacks won for writing and directing and Jean Smart!! It was nice to see the Norm Macdonald love which was barely mentioned by Lorne but celebrated by John Oliver. Colbert ‘s election night special won as did JB Smoove. Hamilton won and Debbie Allen got the big one. I do not understand why real singers and or musicians have to be there for the in Memoriam. It takes me out of it a bit and concentrates the focus on them. Do they think that people will pay attention more? Do they want to keep the home audience or live audience from the bathroom? My best dressed were Anya Taylor-Joy, Michaela Cole who won for I may destroy you, Jean Smart, Josh O’Connor, Kathryn Hahn, Billy Porter, MJ Rodriguez, Keenan Thonpson, Leslie Odom Jr., Catherine O’Hara, Trevor Noah, Eugene Levy, Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys, Bowen Yang, Anthony Anderson, Leslie Grossman, Amber Ruffin, Allyson Felix, Renee Elise Goldberry, Samira Wiley and Rege- Jean Page. My worst were Sarah Paulson, Gillian Anderson, Beanie Feldstein, Elizabeth Olsen and Aidy Bryant. To me the best part of the show was the enthusiasm of Conan and the way he injected himself into much of the evening .He was the show. Go Conan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*****

Next year there must be some Emmys for Sarah Paulson and Cobie Smulders in Impeachment!!!!!

*****

Oh Boy!! The Eyes of Tammy Faye!!

*****

Looking forward to the Electric Life of Louis Wain with Benedict Cumberbatch and Claire Foy.

*****

Abba has a new album!!

*****

Shang Chi is the biggest Labor Day opening with a $71.4 mil opening.

*****

Sen. Amy Klobuchar has announced she has breast cancer.

*****

Is it the 70’s? A streaker ran past the studio of the Today show.

*****

Rascal Flatts Joe Don Rooney was arrested for DUI.** Nicholas Cage was thrown out of a prime rib pace in Vegas after being drunk and disorderly.

*****

Jennifer Eckhart has filed a lawsuit against former Fox news anchor Ed Henry for rape and retaliation after allegedly being handcuffed and beaten.

*****

Scarlett Johansson has settled her Disney lawsuit.

*****

Pete Buttigieg and Chasten had twins they named Penelope Rose and Joseph August.

*****

I noticed a commercial for Dancing with the Stars. Are we onto the E list because I have heard of hardly any of these people. ‘Stars’is really stretching it. And as I post this I see there are some covid issues there as well.

*****

Virgin River was renewed for 2 more seasons.

*****

Trevor Noah is right? Why do they stop giving lollipops to adults at the doctor?

*****

Jon Stewart is back on Apple tv with ‘The problem with Jon Stewart.

*****

Brooklyn 99 had about the best finale (other than Newhart) that I can recall. I had my fingers crossed that Chelsea would be back. Will they honor us like they did in the show and come back for a special about once a year? That would be fucking awesome!!

*****

Don’t expect compliments from an insecure person.- Mr. Pickles

*****

Thousands and thousands of people are in need. Haitian refugees and other immigrants have seen nothing like this what with assassination, a hurricane and earthquake. The Southern border is a mess.** Why does Fox news keep telling refugees the border is open as they sit back and laugh at Biden’s predicament. Spreading false info to intentionally hurt poor, distressed people has no end for them.

*****

Do companies know how fucked up their employment websites are? It is true that some people do not want to work. It is true that people schedule interviews and don’t show up. It is also true that companies have made it so hard to apply that many can’t. I suppose it is easier for them but the poor who may really want to work have a hard time. Paper applications are almost completely gone. The old fashioned way of walking into low paying job sites and finding a connection with a manager rarely exist. Some places only accept texts or have long ridiculous psych tests that a working Mother may not have time for. A Father working many hours already, may not be able to go to the library to get online if they cannot afford a computer. Many websites tell you that there no positions available in your area while there is a huge sign in front of the establishment. Can’t find people to work.. Gee I wonder why?? And treat people with respect once you find them, how about that?

*****

Keep your head up in failure, and your head down in success. –Jerry Seinfeld

*****

Hey.. There was a van air B’n B biz going that got busted. Hey.. The poor need vaca’s too. It is wrong but If they are willing to sleep in a van, why not. I truly think that many do not understand how much people are struggling.

*****

Free coffee day came and went but only a few places really gave you free coffee without rules to govern the promo. Some places wanted to sell you something else and some made you belong to their club. Starbucks held that customers had to come inside for the free cup of Joe, handicapped or not.

*****

One would think the Republicans would run out of $ for recounts but they have deep pockets. Just think how much good they could do for the huddled masses with that scratch.

*****

Sad to lose Mick Brigden, protégé of Bill Graham who managed The Stones and worked with Frampton, Dylan and Santana.** And the comics were very vocal about the loss of Norm Macdonald. He was one of a kind and he will be missed!

*****

R.I.P. Ruth Marx, Lee Scratch Perry, Willard Scott, Jean-Paul Belmondo, Isadore Bleckman, George Wein, Michael K. William,George Holliday, Anthony Johnson, Basil Hoffman, Al Harrington,Willie Garson, Mick Brigden, Tommy Kirk and Norm Macdonald.

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pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Good Omens] Winging It - Epilogue

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Aaand we finally made it to the end! Which is a beginning in many ways. How is it going to go? Beats me, but it probably won't be boring. Also yes, I am just posting a Christmas-themed chapter right before Easter. So sue me. I had a blast writing this one - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

***

“Unionize Hell. You’re telling me we should unionize. Hell.”

“Well, it would be a first step towards giving you some bargaining power. Once demons begin seeing Satan as someone you can bargain with through the sheer force of numbers, it will be easier to convince them they can decide to walk away.”

“This is the single dumbest idea I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Sitting beside Gabriel, Michael stiffened and glared daggers across the table. “If this is how you believe you can address us, we may as well end the meeting--” she began, only to trail off when Gabriel grinned, resting an elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“That’s blatantly untrue,” he said, still smiling at Beelzebub. “You’d ve heard dumber by far.”

The prince of Hell’s lips curled upwards for the briefest moment. Michael shifted a little on her seat and glanced over at Dagon, who just so happened to be sitting beside Beelzebub for the meeting. She met her gaze briefly, but it was enough for Michael to know she was not the only one to be mighty uncomfortable at the turn Gabriel and Beelzebub’s formerly entirely professional relationship had taken. That was an odd sort of relief.

Unaware of their second-in-command’s discomfort, or just blatantly ignoring it, Beelzebub let out a thoughtful, buzzing sound. “... Hmph, I suppose I have. But I am ready to be you are not inclined to have the Heavenly host unionize.”

“Ah, actually,you’d lose that bet. We have given the go-ahead.”

The Lord of the Flies blinked. “... You have?”

“Yes. It worked out for my friends back in Southampton, so I figured, why not Heaven?”

Michael briefly wondered if she was supposed to remind Gabriel that Heaven was not precisely the same as a port city on England’s south coast, but in the end she decided against it. She was a warrior, had always been, but a good warrior knows how to pick battles and that was not the hill she was ready to, figuratively speaking, die on.

Across the table, Beelzebub raised an eyebrow while waving away a few fies “And God is not displeased?”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back on his seat and spreading his arms a little. “I have not been fired yet, and I am taking it as a good sign. I suppose it may create a precedent for angels to leave, if so they wish, on more amicable terms than you did. And possibly with some severance. Who knows, perhaps if you had formed a union in the first place instead of going immediately for full-on rebellion--”

All right, they got sidetracked far enough. “Gabriel,” Michael spoke up.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Apologies. Never mind the past. What I am saying is, it might be a viable path forward now - for beings on either side. Do give it some thought.”

“Mmh.” Beelzebub crossed their arms, leaning back against their seat with a foot braced against the table. To Michael’s surprise - and to Dagon’s utter bewilderment, it seemed - they seemed to be truly giving it some thought. “I suppose that perhaps, this does fall into the ‘so dumb it might just work’ caregory. And it’d make Hell worse for Reagan and Thatcher. I will consider it.”

“Very well. I do believe that concludes the meeting.” Gabriel said, and smiled. He’d been smiling an awful lot throughout the meeting, and not the kind of insincere business-like smiles he would usually sport on such occasions.

No, Michael thought, not usually. Before.

“Actually, there’s more we need to discuss,” Beelzebub said, standing. “Privately, if possible.”

“Ah, of course. Right this way. You’re all right wrapping this up, Michael?”

Trying with all her might not to wonder about their private discussion, Michael nodded mechanically. “Of course,” she droned, and busied herself picking up papers once they were gone, trying to ignore the demon who was very much not gone.

“... For the record, the cold shoulder treatment only works if the one receiving it cares about getting the cold shoulder,” Dagon spoke up after a few minutes, filing papers away in a folder she had seemingly summoned out of thin air. “And I do not care.”

And yet you had to remark on that.

Michael let out a snort, choosing not to argue. She hadn’t been trying to remember the being they had known before their rebellion and Falls, or at least not as hard as Gabriel probably wished her to - Sandalphon and Uriel were fairly ahead of her there - but she did have the uncomfortable sensation she had known Dagon, whatever she was called before, quite well.

Awkward, considering she was rather certain it had been her to cast her out.

“Have you had any success in tracking down the Duke of Hell?”

“Hell has a great many Dukes. You will need to be more specific.”

“I believe there is only one who is currently a fugitive,” Michael said, her voice sharper. “Hastur. The one who kille-- who almost-- sort of killed Gabriel.”

“... We lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but I am certain we will catch up with him eventually.”

“Are you always this inefficient?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try catching him yourself,” Dagon snarled, snapping the folder shut. It seemed the perfect moment for her to disappear in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, but she did not; rather, the Lord of the Files seemed to hesitate. Michael had just enough time to wonder if she may have remembered something from before that Michael did not before she finally looked up and spoke again.

“All right, since we are suddenly supposed to have opinions now, what do you really think of this… entire… thing?”

“You mean, Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plan?”

“Calling it a plan seems more generous than I’ve ever known you to be.”

That was true, Michael had to concede. When she had tried asking Gabriel if there was a plan they should know of, he’d only replied that he was ‘sort of winging it’. It certainly was a complete u-turn from how things used to be, but if he had been brought back and… not yet cast out again over his unorthodox involvement with Beelzebub, there had to be a reason.

Perhaps whatever he had learned in his time on Earth would be the key to everything. After what she had done to him by blindly following orders, Michael was willing to heed his words now, and so were the others. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would face whatever consequences there may be as one. Never again would she lift a sword on her friends.

“... No, it is not a plan,” she finally said. “I suppose it is more of a leap of faith.”

“Faith in what?” Dagon made a face. “In God?”

Michael did not take the bait. “More in our own ability to figure things out, I suppose.”

“That’s the sort of thing humanity is all about,” the Lord of the Files muttered, and blinked when Michael let out a brief laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is precisely the point. Try being more human.”

“... Have you hit your head? From the beginning of everything, it has always been human who tried to become more like u--” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose as though she had just sunk her fangs into a lemon. “You. More like you. And from the beginning, you have encouraged that.”

“Maybe that is where we went wrong after all.”

A pause. “Are you seriously suggesting it should be you-- us-- to lower ourselves into being more like them? Really?”

“Well. It is what Yeshua did, and perhaps it was a lesson meant for us,” Michael shrugged, and tuned to the door. “After all it was humanity, and not us, to be made in God’s image.”

***

“Oh, look at that. Another wedding invitation.”

“Shadwell and Madame Tracy?”

“How did you guess?”

“They made it abundantly clear during Anathema and Whatshisface’s wedding reception.”

“Ah, fair. Do you think they’ll allow us to take Warlock to their wedding as well? He got on well with the Them, and Madame Tracy has surely invited those children.”

“Can’t see why not. Are you sure they meant to invite us?”

“This is marked for the Serpent of Eden and the Southern Pansy.They did mean to indeed.”

“No clause against witches?”

“Oh, there is. It is to be a witch-free wedding. The only exceptions to the rule are dear Anathema, Adam, the two of us, and the bride herself.”

“You’d think that by now he would have noticed she only has two nipples.”

“Don’t be crass, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think he’ll ever stop thinking we’re witches?”

“Unlikely. And I am not particularly inclined to disrobe and let him count nipples.”

A hiss. “Old fool.”

“An old fool who managed to swindle both of us for a few decades.”

“... Don’t remind me.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and settled more comfortably in his armchair, setting aside the letters to pick up a book. Wrapped around the back of said armchair, the Serpent of Eden leaned his head on top of Aziraphale’s own. He tended to enjoy inhabiting that form, Aziraphale had found out, when the weather outside was cold and the fireplace was lit.

Amazing, how many more little things about Crowley he’d found he didn’t know, after so many centuries of… acquaintance. Sharing a home with someone really did lead to a lot of interesting discoveries. For one, he could now see the appeal of laying in a bed and hallucinating behind closed eyelids for a few hours.

“I could make my entrance in a cloud of Hellfire,” Crowley muttered, tongue flicking against Aziraphale’s hair as he reached to pick up a book.

“I suspect giving the groom a heart attack would put a damper on the wedding.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“No, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached up to scratch the scales on Crowley’s side.

He hissed again. “Spoilsport,” he said, but he leaned into the touch all the same.

“Heh. Either way, we have plenty of time to make plans for the wedding, whereas Christmas is around the corner. Do you have anything in particular in mind, Crowley?”

“You do realize demons don’t really celebrate the birthday of your boss’ son, right?”

“Ah, I suppose that’s fair. But I wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in, perhaps bake some cake,” he said, faintly wondering whether Crowley would object to mistletoe.

“Oh. Well, then I could help with the tasting, I guess. And-- wait. There are presents, right? Do you want presents?”

A chuckle “I am rather content as is, but thank you.”

“Ah. Of course,” Crowley seemed to stammer, which was no mean feat considering he currently had a mouth whose anatomy was not meant to utter words in the first place. His head slipped lower, and ended up resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “... You wouldn’t happen to know anything about whatever Heaven’s planning, would you? Things have been… quiet.”

“Not at all. Nor you have the foggiest idea as to what Hell is on to, I’m guessing?”

“Nothing whatsoever. I think I’ll wish them luck and keep it this way.”

Aziraphale smiled, took a sip of wine, and opened his book. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

When he tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of his head, Crowley did not protest.

***

Did you throw out another of your angels?

Not to my knowledge?

You must have. Someone just got through all layers of Hell all the way down to Satan’s lap. Sliding down a pole and singing. What the Heaven is going on up there?

Let me check with Uriel.

***

“Uriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of any angels being cast out? Beelzebub insists someone just got there, and I quote, ‘sliding down a pole’.”

“We have cast out no one. Their security must be really lax. Didn’t they have a similar problem with a poet from Florence at some point?”

“I don’t think that one came in sliding down a pole, but fair.”

***

I can confirm we cast out no one. Must be a mortal.

Wonderful, more paperwork and security checks. Thanks for checking, I guess. At least he seems to be keeping Satan distracted from anything we do.

Dare I ask how?

Don’t.

All right. Have you changed your mind about coming with me to the Christmas party?

Absolutely not. But I will meet you afterwards for carnal relations.

Are you aware that it does not count as a sin and therefore it is not the middle finger to God you think it is?

Are you saying you’re not interested?

No. Usual place?

Usual place. Don’t be late.

I wouldn’t dare, Gabriel wrote with a smile, and his finger lingered over the send button for a few moments. I love you, he almost wrote, but he did not and in the end he just sent out the message as it was. Beelzebub would have found it both saccharine-inducing and redundant, and for good reason. There was no need to spell it out, really.

They were both very much aware of it.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for usual celebrations?”

“Rather certain, yes. My former colleagues on Earth invited me to join them so long ago, it would be rude for me to cancel on them.”

“Yeshua might actually show up this year.”

“Ah, I am doubtful. He never did attend his birthday party, did he now?”

That was true, although not something any of them had really felt entitled to comment on. Sandalphon knew that Gabriel had taken it… not quite as a slight, but close enough. After all, the celebration was about a birth whose annunciation he was most widely known for.

Now, on the other hand, he seemed too taken with the idea of celebrating it on Earth to be bothered in the slightest. “... I suppose he didn’t,” Uriel conceded. Gabriel closed the drawer with the last of his work for the calendar year, straightened his tie, and smiled.

“Why don’t you come with me? You could use getting to know more humans, too.”

Both Michael and Sandalphon blinked. Uriel raised an eyebrow. “To celebrate Yeshua’s birthday on Earth with them?”

“Why not? I am sure they won’t mind if I bring some friends. And you could use a break, Uriel. You’ve been working on reorganizing the lower spheres for months now.”

“You know I do not get tired,” Uriel informed him, but she was already glancing over at Michael and Sandalphon.

In the end, it was Michael to shrug. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be interesting to see how the celebrations have changed since last time I took a look. They were not precisely cheerful, back then.”

“... When was the last time you did check?”

“Sometimes in the mid-fourteenth century,” she replied, and Gabriel laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah,” he said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

***

“... And this is why it’s either panettone or pandoro, and anyone claiming not to take a side is coward and a liar, and--”

Fabrizio rambled on, clearly rather satisfied to have finally found an attentive listener in Sandalphon, and Gabriel chose not to interrupt him. Somewhere at the other side of the room, Łukasz was staring in absolute disbelief as Uriel drank the twenty-second shot in a row without seemingly feeling any effects, and he might just be starting to fall in love.

As he stepped towards the door and passed by a table, Gabriel chuckled. “Go easy on them,” he muttered, and Michael just raised an eyebrow at him, effortlessly beating yet another warehouse worker at an arm wrestling match. In the end, Gabriel decided that as long as the only thing getting bruised were egos, there was no reason to intervene.

He stepped outside into a cold, clear night. No comet in the sky, but he had felt a pull to come out all the same. He let his gaze wander down the street and there it was - a shadow crouched in an archway, barely illuminated by a street light and covered in blankets as he tried to keep warm. Somehow, the blinking lights of Christmas decorations on the building made the figure seem even more lonely. And that wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all - especially not that night.

“Excuse me,” Gabriel called out, approaching the man. “Would you like to come inside? It is quite cold, and my friends and I are having a party - I am sure they wouldn’t mind.”

The man looked up. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal dark brown eyes, and his features were just barely illuminated by the street light - but it was enough for Gabriel to trail off, taken off guard. The man smiled.

“Thank you for your offer, Gabriel. I think I’ll take you up on this one.”

Ah. Well. It made sense, come to think of it. He’d always been original like that. Past the initial surprise, Gabriel straightened himself and smiled. “Any particular name I ought to call you by tonight?”

“In this time and age, Joshua will do. It's nice to see you guys paying more attention to humanity. I look back fondly on my first lifetime among them. Most of it at any rate,” Yeshua added, and stood. He straightened his back with a groan. “Ow, my spine.”

Gabriel was unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is this how you’ve been spending your birthday for the past two-something thousand years?” he asked. Until not too long ago, he would have been offended by the notion. Now he felt rather foolish for not having thought of it.

“More or less. No offense, but I enjoy Earth. Corporate events were never quite my thing.”

“None taken. I hope your mother is well?”

“The one who cast you out of Heaven, or the one who hit you in the head with a clay vase?”

“... The latter.”

“Ah, yes. She is very well. Still rather sorry about the incident, but maintains you should have knocked if you didn’t want a vase to your head.”

“That’s… understandable. But we have amended records to omit that part, so no harm done.”

“I am aware. So, is there anything I may do to thank you for your hospitality tonight?”

“... Do you still do the thing with the water and wine? Because I believe we’re running low.”

A laugh. “Ah, yes,” he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as they headed back inside. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

Somewhere, Crowley is losing his entire MIND over the fact this guy got to use a pole on his way in.

#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #aziraphale #crowley #winging it

17 notes · View notes

cibeewastaken · 4 years

Note

So like your ficlets destroy me EVERY time they cross my dash. DESTROY. In the best way. They're gorgeous. So here I am, asking for more destruction, apparently?? For the way you said "I love you" game--nr 18, from very far away? ❤️

WOWOWOW Thank you!!! I’m so glad you like them!!! They’re really fun to do and I like trying new things with them, so really bless yall for sending prompts

18. From very far away

Draco had been away from England for three weeks, and Rome for two weeks when he stepped foot on Capri Island. He knew he should contact Pansy first, but he hadn’t found a payphone yet, and the magical office at Rome told Draco that none of the Capri residences were magic; uses of magic should be limited or preferably not at all. Draco privately thanked this little miracle, no owls, Floos, Apparition or Patronus was allowed! That way Pansy couldn’t be able to tell where he was from his magic, and she won’t be able to show up at his doorstep like in Rome. Draco was just relieved that she didn’t go as far as telling his location to Harry, or any of his cronies.

After Pansy showed, Draco had found a new flat the next day, leaving the old one and a note for Pansy, and didn’t leave his room until he was sure Pansy had given up and left Italy. Then Draco spent his days sitting in numerous cafés, ordering coffee after coffee, basking in the sunlight, staring at the crowd and not bothering to see anything.

And his plan at Capri was similar, except sunlight was practically nonexistent this time of year, and it was drizzling when he stepped off the ferry. When Draco looked out to the ocean, he could only just make out the outline of Italy. Faint enough to pretend it wasn’ t there, and that England wasn’t somewhere beyond that, too.

By the time he arrived at the lodging, the sky had turned purple, and his feet ached from traveling without magic. Draco didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even a cabbie. His place was more of a villa than a flat, with ivy-wrapped pillars on the balcony, overlooking the foggy ocean and lights of houses. Draco dropped his satchel, shot a hazy spell at his feet, then fell asleep on the couch.

---

Little shops and narrow alleyway painted pale yellow comprised the region Draco was staying. It seemed lemons were a symbol here. There were lemon trees everywhere. Shops sold lemon themed everything: tea towels with a map of Italy and it’s various kinds of lemons (they all looked the same to Draco), plates, espresso cups, lemon tree seeds, lemon candies. Delizia al Limone and liqueur limoncello was on every menu. Draco wandered into a small shop to smell the place more than anything, but he left with a bag of candies. Instead of sitting down in a café, he found a bench by the port and allowed the fog to permeate him as he chewed on sticky, sour treats. Before going home when the sky went dark and remembered he hadn’t called Pansy. There was a payphone some distance away from the villa, Draco pushed in coins until it beeped, and he called the rarely used number.

It took a while for her to pick up, Draco suspected it was because she didn’t remember where the phone was.

“Hello?” Pansy said through statics.

“Hi,” Draco said, tapping up the glass walls of the phone booth.

Pansy didn’t say anything for a beat, then, “Potter came this morning, again.”

“Did he.”

“He’s been driving me mad, just send him an owl so he’ll get off my arse, will you?”

Draco humphed, not responding to the jab. “I’m just calling to tell you I’m okay.”

“If you were okay, you wouldn’t be Morgana knows where right now!” Pansy said. “You could have just stayed with me! I could have warded my house so hard that Potter’s balls would shrivel into raisins if he even thought about coming near.”

“Your house wasn’t far enough,” Draco murmured.

Pansy sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we all know Potter didn’t mean any harm. He’s truly incapable of it.”

“I know that, Pansy,” Draco said. “But what does it matter if he meant it or not, when he ends up hurting me anyway?”

“He’s fucking dense, that’s why!” Sounds of clacking: Pansy drumming her nails. “He didn’t realize he’d been taking you for granted.”

“I know he didn’t!” Draco snapped, really pushing down the urge to blow up this payphone so Pansy’s eardrums would burst before the line cut off. “I know I’m being stupid, and selfish, but he was back to England for a week and he didn’t tell me! I went home after work, every day, waiting for his owl, not even his person, just his stupid, fucking owl, to let me know he was safe and home, and not bleeding out in St Mungo’s or worse!”

“Draco — ”

“And I wouldn’t even know if Granger hadn’t had the decency to tell me, so — so — ”

And so what? Draco didn’t know, so he slammed the handset back and buried his face in his hand, tears welling up, telling himself it was because Pansy was being annoying, that’s the reason. Draco fell to a crouch, ceremonially refusing to admit he was crying over stupid Potter like eleven-year-old Draco had done.

---

Capri’s weather didn’t let up in the following week. Draco had gotten used to walking out in a drizzle to the port and finding something to sit. Cats around the neighborhood had taken to following him because Draco put on warming charms before leaving the house. He sat by the port and chew on lemon candies until his stomach hurt. He walked back and listened to the portable radio he brought so he wouldn’t be completely lost when he decided to go back. Then he slept on the couch, the huge bed untouched still.

---

Draco was opening a bottle of cheap red he got from the market when the radio’s regularly scheduled program was interrupted by a special interview. Draco rolled his eyes and took a sip, sighing in content. Even cheap reds here was better than most things sold in England. The host prattled on excitedly before a throaty laugh interrupted her, and Draco stopped in his movement.

“Mr. Potter, I cannot say enough how honored we are to have you,” the host said.

Harry laughed again, an uncomfortable one, but it didn’t seem like the host could tell. Draco dropped down to the couch, sinking into the blankets and pillow, red spilling.

“What changed? Why do you suddenly want to take up this offer?”

“I admit it’s for a selfish reason,” Harry’s voice said. Draco’s heart pounded. His limbs felt weak and tortured. There was a steadily spreading stain on his shirt.

“And what’s the ‘selfish’ reason?” the host asked, as though they didn’t believe Harry was capable of that emotion.

“I’m looking for someone, and I know he listens to the radio every day … ” Harry’s voice trailed off and broke near the end. There was a stretch of deep breaths.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sorry,” Harry said, though his voice was still hoarse.

“Who is this person that made you take such a measure to look for? We all know how much you value your privacy.”

“He’s — was, is? My boyfriend,” Harry said. Draco wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Oh,” the host said, clearly taken off guard yet pleased they got the scoop. “So you’ve been in a relationship.”

“Yes. For a while now.” Harry went quiet. “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m really not here for an interview. I just need him to know — I miss him, so much, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being so stupid and scared and just, not realizing how much you thought of me. That’s … I didn’t think someone would care about me so much. I’m sorry — ”

The host sounded scandalized. “Mr. Potter — ”

“ — for not realizing,” Harry sniffed. Draco closed his eyes. He’d never seen Harry cry before. Draco had always been the one to tear up first and Harry would always stop whatever they were doing to hold him. Harry continued, “ — I had been using separation to run away from separation,” Harry said. “For not seeing how much ache I was causing you. For thinking that I didn’t love you so outrageously that nothing should have been big enough to scare me,” Harry sucked in a shuddering breath. “Yes, I love you. Please, I love you. Where are you?”

Draco slumped into the couch. His face dropped backward like his neck had decided to stop working. He squeezed his eyes shut at the ceiling even though there were no one here to see him cry. Across the ocean, in England, Harry was sniffling for the whole world to hear. And that did Draco in. He didn’t want Harry to cry.

Draco stumbled out of the door into the rain. Cats were hiding under his belvedere. Draco paused to cast a warming charm until they all stopped shivering. Then he went on, felt his way around the streets until he saw the tiny light in the distance.

The glass was slippery when Draco pushed it open, and he shivered, fingers gripping the phone as he pushed in coins and coins. The Wizarding Telephone Centre did not appreciate Draco’s shivering speech, but passed him along to the Wizarding Wireless Network. The employee there was even more grouchy.

“Mr. Potter is in an interview right now!” the woman said.

“Please,” Draco said. “Just ask, please? If he refuses, then hang up.”

She grumbled and muttered. Whooshing sounds signaled the memos being sent out, and Draco dropped his forehead to the glass, focusing on the rain hitting it instead of the clattering of office noise. He was in the only bright thing within miles. Capri was asleep in the dark, except for a tiny phone booth with a tiny lightbulb amidst tiny raindrops.

Then, “Uh,” she said. “Mr. Potter is here to take — ” Then sounds of the phone being wrenched away, and Harry’s frantic “sorry, sorry!”

“Harry?” Draco said, quiet.

Then Draco could hear Harry’s shivering breaths. Surely it wasn’t cold and raining at the Wireless office. Surely Harry wasn’t coming down from bearing his heart out to everyone for the slight chance that one person would hear it. Surely Harry wasn’t holding back tears at hearing Draco’s voice, that would just be unthinkable.

“Draco,” Harry said. “Draco, it’s you. It’s you?”

“Yes,” Draco said. Then, disconcerted, “You’re not still on air, are you?”

Harry laughed. A nasally sound. “No. I don’t — I don’t know what they’re doing now.”

“Okay,” Draco said, unsure now what the next thing to say was. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone in such a long time.

“Draco, Draco.” Harry was saying, as if he was making up for lost times. “Draco, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Harry,” Draco said. “I know you are, but — that doesn’t change — ”

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m really awful at this, Draco.” Miserably. “You’ve just always been there, and I really thought you’d always will, but that’s not how this works, is it? I didn’t realize I’d been doing that. I didn’t know you’ve been waiting. I was so scared of you thinking I was a burden, someone you had to make an effort to take care of. I’m terrified one day there’d just be too much you think that comes with me and decides I’m just not worth the effort.”

“There seems to be an abundance of you thinking what I thought and nothing about you actually asking me what I thought,” Draco said.

“Hermione said that too,” Harry said. “She was really angry when she found out I hadn’t told you I was back. She said not wanting you to see me recovering isn’t an excuse.”

“It’s not,” Draco blinked slowly, tiredly.

“I was afraid you’d ask me to give up the Aurors.”

“And you know this how?” Draco said, pressing his aching eyes to the cold, gently vibrating glass. “You asked me, did you? Wrote me a little note, hm? Asked me when I was asleep and wonder if my snores are actually Morse code for ‘Quit your job and be my trophy husband’?”

Harry sounded oddly pleased when he said, “Husba — ” before Draco cut him off,

“It’s so stupid,” Draco said, now really getting into it. He’d not said a word for the last three weeks and Harry always was the best person at getting Draco to break. “It’s one of those things I hated because everyone liked it, and as far as I could tell, this thing made people miserable than happy more often than not and then I hated it until I tried to think, maybe this thing is actually nice and there’s a reason people like this — this stupid, wretched thing. So when I got over being mean and childish about it I had allowed myself to finally fall in love, and after I did I wondered, oh god, god, why weren’t more people doing this?”

“Draco — ” Harry breathed. And Draco cut him off once again,

“No, no. I understand. I’ve never said it to you as well. But can’t you understand that it’s difficult for me, more so because it’s you? Did it make any difference that it was you? Perhaps if I had fallen in love with anyone else, it would have been just love. But to me, when it was you, it scalds me. Of course it made a difference when it’s you. And it never really occurred to me what happens if I had been falling in love alone. And for someone who has been doing most things alone for most of my life, I should have really thought about it before letting myself think it was safe to do so.”

“Draco,” there Harry went again, saying his name like he was using it to cast a Patronus. “You weren’t doing it alone.”

“I know that now,” Draco said petulantly. “Found out on the radio!”

Harry laughed, and Draco knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t think his heart could take it the second time if Harry wasn’t there for Draco to fall into. And he was dangerously close from saying the words himself, like a little monster had crawled from his chest and was trying to pry his lips open. So Draco stared at the glass of the phone booth very hard, enough he’d only see the night outside, and said, wetly, “I would have never asked you to quit.”

“Draco. Draco, are you crying?”

“No,” Draco said, crying. “It’s just raining here.”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

“Not saying. I won’t have you Gryffindoring here like some … some … ”

Harry sounded like he was smiling. “Like some Gryffindor?”

“Yes, that,” Draco said lamely.

Harry started to laugh. “God, I miss you. I keep … I keep wanting to talk to you. The other day Ron wore a bright purple robe with neon pink and orange patterns — ”

“Oh god,” Draco choked, delighted at the image. “Oh my!”

“Yes, yes!” Harry sounded so happy. “I knew you’d like it, and I just wanted to go home and tell you about it, but — ”

Draco’s laughter died down. He chewed on his bottom lip.

When Harry spoke again, his voice was soft. “I wrote it down, in a notebook. Other stuff, too. Things I saw that reminded me of you, or things I wanted to tell you. Things I knew you would get a laugh out of. I just … ”

“Harry,” Draco said.

“I miss you,” Harry said again. “I know I messed up, can I … can we … ”

Harry sniffed. Draco felt very sad, and very cold. He could only fix one, so he cast a warming charm.

“I’ll be at home,” Harry said. His voice was getting statics.

Draco banged his knee against the glass, cursing himself for forgetting he was using a completely muggle phone. “Harry, wait — ” Draco didn’t think it was wise to use magic to fix it. He fumbled for his wallet, but his fingers were stiff from the cold and gripping the phone too hard; coins scattered across the floor. “Wait — ”

“I’ll be,” Harry’s voice came through weakly in pieces. “Draco? I — ”

Draco dropped the phone and crouched to snatch up a coin blindly. Even one penny would be plenty more time. When he pressed his ear back to the phone, he caught onto the last of Harry’s words, “ — home.”

The rhythmic beeps of disconnect tone continued until the payphone finally gave away.

“Harry?” Draco said into the phone, pressing the switchhook and got nothing but silence. “Harry? Harry. Harry — ”

---

Draco put out some food by the door and renewed the warming charm. “I hope you all won’t get attached,” Draco said to the cats; none of them were paying him any attention. “But I shan’t be here any longer to help you. Go find someone else tomorrow. Stay dry, stay fat, and maybe I’ll see you again one day.”

He wired the rest of the rent over to the owner and left the key under the flowerpot, then he made his way back down to the port alone for the last time. Draco bought a ticket for the next ferry and sat down to wait. Then he felt a little odd sitting there with nothing but his luggage. Draco squinted up at the bright sun, and took one last look at the pale yellow walls and narrow roads before jumping up and dashing into one of the little shops.

“Silly me, almost forgot,” Draco said to the shopkeeper as he placed a bag of lemon candies on the counter. “Souvenir.”

The shopkeeper rang up his purchase. “So you do talk.”

“Just in a good mood.” Draco grinned at her. “I’m going home.”

(The way you said “I love you.”

Other “I love you”s)

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #h/d #darry #my fic #prompt: I love you #tepre

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump

"Oh, I want this one!" Sirius said at once.

Lily couldn't help cracking up laughing, she never would have believed Sirius would get so enthusiastic about reading a children's story, but no one protested as he began.

Of all the strange things he'd heard while here, Harry decided this one had to hit his top ten. What about a crazy rabbit now? Cackling Stump? Professor Sprout had sure never mentioned that.

Sirius began, much to no one's surprise but everyone's amusement, in a highly respectable tone as if reading a letter from the Queen of England herself. Shoulders held strait and mock pushing glasses steadily into place, he had the others shoulders shaking even as he carried on like this.

A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic.

"Right, I'm sure that worked out for him," James rolled his eyes at once.

He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a Brigade of Witch-Hunters, and issued them with a pack of ferocious black hounds.

Sirius said that with a little too much pride, and Harry honestly couldn't help but smile at the display.

At the same time, the King caused proclamations to be read in every village and town across the land:

"Wanted by the King, an Instructor in Magic."

No true witch or wizard dared volunteer for the post, for they were all in hiding from the Brigade of Witch-Hunters.

"Well that plan rather backfired on him right away," Lily chuckled.

However, a cunning charlatan with no magical power saw a chance of enriching himself, and arrived at the palace, claiming to be a wizard of enormous skill. The charlatan performed a few simple tricks, which convinced the foolish King of his magical powers, and was immediately appointed Grand Sorcerer in Chief, the King's Private Magic Master.

"That's quite a title," Remus yawned. "I feel bad for the person who had to announce his entering a room."

The charlatan bade the King give him a large sack of gold, so that he might purchase wands and other magical necessities. He also requested several large rubies, to be used in the casting of curative charms, and a silver chalice or two, for the storing and maturing of potions. All these things the foolish King supplied.

James scratched at the back of his neck as he thought about it, wondering why the Muggle thought they'd use any of that, and clearly missing the snickering line about the foolish King.

"My question is, wouldn't he already have those things, being such a skilled sorcerer and all," Remus couldn't help but mock before Sirius shushed him.

The charlatan stowed the treasure safely in his own house and returned to the palace grounds. He did not know that he was being watched by an old woman who lived in a hovel on the edge of the grounds. Her name was Babbitty, and she was the washerwoman who kept the palace linens soft, fragrant and white. Peeping from behind her drying sheets, Babbitty saw the charlatan snap two twigs from one of the King's trees and disappear into the palace.

The charlatan gave one of the twigs to the King and assured him that it was a wand of tremendous power.

Here next he actually switched, to a poorly accent of a Cockney man, reminding Harry a bit of Stan now in this roll, which Harry was sure Sirius had done on purpose.

"It will only work, however," said the charlatan, "when you are worthy of it."

Every morning the charlatan and the foolish King walked out into the palace grounds, where they waved their wands and shouted nonsense at the sky. The charlatan was careful to perform more tricks, so that the King remained convinced of his Grand Sorcerer's skill, and of the power of the wands that had cost so much gold.

One morning, as the charlatan and the foolish King were twirling their twigs, and hopping in circles, and chanting meaningless rhymes, a loud cackling reached the King's ears. Babbitty the washerwoman was watching the King and the charlatan from the window of her tiny cottage, and was laughing so hard she soon sank out of sight, too weak to stand.

"I love that feeling," James's smile grew back at once, Sirius just read this with such unrestrained enjoyment, his tone promised they should all be feeling the exact same way now.

"I must look most undignified, to make the old washerwoman laugh so!" said the King.

For this he'd actually used his own voice, still in a bit more dignified tone, causing James to snort harder than ever and Remus to mutter a few big headed comments that Sirius took no notice of.

He ceased his hopping and twig twirling, and frowned.

"I really wonder how it took him so long to realize that," Lily couldn't help but agree.

"I grow weary of practice! When shall I be ready to perform real spells in front of my subjects, Sorcerer?"

The charlatan tried to soothe his pupil, assuring him that he would soon be capable of astonishing feats of magic, but Babbitty's cackling had stung the foolish King more than the charlatan knew.

"Tomorrow," said the King, "we shall invite our court to watch their King perform magic!"

The charlatan saw that the time had come to take his treasure and flee.

"Alas, Your Majesty, it is impossible! I had forgotten to tell Your Majesty that I must set out on a long journey tomorrow."

"Oh yes, slipped the mind till this very moment and all-" Remus stated in a posh voice, clearly trying to mimic Sirius who elbowed him amid more snickering.

"If you leave this palace without my permission, Sorcerer, my Brigade of Witch-Hunters will hunt you down with their hounds! Tomorrow morning you will assist me to perform magic for the benefit of my lords and ladies, and if anybody laughs at me, I shall have you beheaded!"

The King stormed back to the palace, leaving the charlatan alone and afraid. Not all his cunning could save him now, for he could not run away, nor could he help the King with magic that neither of them knew.

Seeking a vent for his fear and his anger, the charlatan approached the window of Babbitty the washerwoman. Peering inside, he saw the little old lady sitting at her table, polishing a wand. In a corner behind her, the King's sheets were washing themselves in a wooden tub.

"How reckless," Lily raised a brow. "The King's on a manhunt and she's doing that in broad daylight, after drawing attention from laughing at them."

"Lily, you're getting as bad as Remus. Enjoy the stupid story," Sirius huffed without breaking character, and Lily had to bite her lip harder than ever to stop from falling off the couch laughing.

The charlatan understood at once that Babbitty was a true witch, and that she who had given him his awful problem could also solve it.

"Crone!" roared the charlatan. "Your cackling has cost me dear! If you fail to help me, I shall denounce you as a witch, and it will be you who is torn apart by the King's hounds!"

"I'm sure if that was actually a bother to her she wouldn't be in this situation to begin with," James took his turn poking a flaw in this, but Sirius blatantly ignored him as well.

Old Babbitty smiled at the charlatan and assured him that she would do everything in her power to help.

The charlatan instructed her to conceal herself inside a bush while the King gave his magical display, and to perform the King's spells for him, without his knowledge. Babbitty agreed to the plan but asked one question.

"What, sir, if the King attempts a spell Babbitty cannot perform?"

For this, he tried to imitate Lily, which she cottoned onto at once. "You little toerag, I am not your wash woman."

"Whatever do you mean Lily?" He batted his eyes and refused to acknowledge he was doing any such thing, or change as he continued.

Lily fingered her wand and considered, but the others were just laughing too hard, and finally she gave in to take the joke.

The charlatan scoffed.

"Your magic is more than equal to that fool's imagination," he assured her, and he retired to the castle, well pleased with his own cleverness.

"Most idiots are," she still couldn't help but mutter.

The following morning all the lords and ladies of the kingdom assembled in the palace grounds.

The King climbed on to a stage in front of them, with the charlatan by his side.

"I shall firstly make this lady's hat disappear!" cried the King, pointing his twig at a noblewoman.

From inside a bush nearby, Babbitty pointed her wand at the hat and caused it to vanish.

Great was the astonishment and admiration of the crowd, and loud their applause for the jubilant King.

"Next, I shall make that horse fly!" cried the King,

"Now that's a complicated little spell, putting wings on a horse," James grinned, "or does he mean turning it into an actual fly?"

"I'm guessing your mum used different spells this King was performing," Lily asked curiously, but Sirius cut them off by pouting, "would you lot quit interrupting! I'm giving you a show over here and you lot have no appreciation."

Remus arched a curious brow at him when he told, "Sirius, I was under the impression you've been doing that over ten years now. I'm still waiting for my first intermission to take a piss."

Sirius huffed and muttered some more about ingrates before continuing louder.

pointing his twig at his own steed.

From inside the bush, Babbitty pointed her wand at the horse and it rose high into the air.

The crowd was still more thrilled and amazed,

Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump and they roared their appreciation of their magical King.

"And now," said the King, looking all around for an idea; and the Captain of his Brigade of Witch-Hunters ran forwards.

"Your Majesty," said the Captain, "this very morning, Sabre died of eating a poisonous toadstool! Bring him back to life, Your Majesty, with your wand!"

"This one was the same though," James whispered quietly to Lily, his parents first time ever telling him everything had a limit, even magic.

And the Captain heaved on to the stage the lifeless body of the largest of the witch-hunting hounds.

The foolish King brandished his twig and pointed it at the dead dog. But inside the bush, Babbitty smiled, and did not trouble to lift her wand, for no magic can raise the dead.

When the dog did not stir, the crowd began first to whisper, and then to laugh.

"This King is of poor showman ship," Sirius couldn't help but interrupt himself this time at no lack of recovery for this. "He could have made up anything, these people have no more clue than him. He hasn't gotten that far along with his magic training yet, or the truth even."

"No one can be like you Sirius," Remus happily reminded, who preened at the snide comment and kept going.

They suspected that the King's first two feats had been mere tricks after all.

"How do you make lifting a horse a trick?" James rolled his eyes, honestly, Muggles really would believe anything.

"Why doesn't it work?" the King screamed at the charlatan, who bethought himself of the only ruse left to him.

"There, Your Majesty, there!" he shouted, pointing at the bush where Babbitty sat concealed. "I see her plain, a wicked witch who is blocking your magic with her own evil spells! Seize her, somebody, seize her!"

Babbitty fled from the bush, and the Brigade of Witch-Hunters set off in pursuit, unleashing their hounds, who bayed for Babbitty's blood.

But as she reached a low hedge, the little witch vanished from sight, and when the King, the charlatan and all the courtiers gained the other side, they found the pack of witch-hunting hounds barking and scrabbling around a bent and aged tree.

"She has turned herself into a tree!" screamed the charlatan and, dreading lest Babbitty turn back into a woman and denounce him, he added, "Cut her down, Your Majesty, that is the way to treat evil witches!"

Harry couldn't help but shake his head sadly. Though he was confident that hadn't been Babbity's actions, it still saddened him this man really went through with killing some innocent person just to save himself. Making him question more every day what exactly blurred the line between those Wizards who thought themselves better when there were Muggles who would do the same.

An axe was brought at once, and the old tree was felled to loud cheers from the courtiers and the charlatan.

However, as they were making ready to return to the palace, the sound of loud cackling stopped them in their tracks.

"Fools!" cried Babbitty's voice from the stump they had left behind. "No witch or wizard can be killed by being cut in half! Take the axe, if you do not believe me, and cut the Grand Sorcerer in two!"

The Captain of the Brigade of Witch-Hunters was eager to make the experiment, but as he raised the axe the charlatan fell to his knees, screaming for mercy and confessing all his wickedness.

"At least someone got their dues," Lily chuckled for this woman's quick thinking, not nearly as sour at Sirius anymore trying to feign her voice into the story.

As he was dragged away to the dungeons, the tree stump cackled more loudly than ever.

"By cutting a witch in half, you have unleashed a dreadful curse upon your kingdom!" It told the petrified King. "Henceforth, every stroke of harm that you inflict upon my fellow witches and wizards will feel like an axe stroke in your own side, until you will wish you could die of it!"

"I always did like this story, Babbity's a great role model," James happily agreed. She was taking this opportunity to do right by everything, instead of say, just asking for those riches again like some would have.

"What about Babbity then?" Lilly couldn't help but challenge. "If we were to have a little girl."

James hummed thoughtfully but gave nothing away.

At that, the King fell to his knees too, and told the stump that he would issue a proclamation at once, protecting all the witches and wizards of the kingdom, and allowing them to practise their magic in peace.

"Very good," said the stump, "but you have not yet made amends to Babbitty!"

"Anything, anything at all!" cried the foolish King, wringing his hands before the stump.

"You will erect a statue of Babbitty upon me, in memory of your poor washerwoman, and to remind you for ever of your own foolishness!" said the stump.

"Ah, guess I don't blame her having one thing for herself though," Harry couldn't help but keep snickering away at this comeuppance.

The King agreed to it at once, and promised to engage the foremost sculptor in the land, and have the statue made of pure gold.

"Can't do anything halfway though," Remus chuckled.

Then the shamed King and all the noblemen and women returned to the palace, leaving the tree stump cackling behind them.

When the grounds were deserted once more, there wriggled from a hole between the roots of the tree stump a stout and whiskery old rabbit with a wand clamped between her teeth.

"She's an Animgaus," Lily said in surprise.

"Yep," the other three said at once, little smiles still in place.

"Such a silly little tail, but McGonagall actually referenced it in her lecture about Animagus', so we just had to look it up," James chuckled.

"Apparently it was one of the first and only times used in a children's tale, but then from there we really started digging into the subject, and," Sirius trailed off suggestively with an unneeded wave at himself.

Lily just kept smiling in surprise that such a thing would mean so much to one person, and Remus shaking his head affectionately at his friends all these years later still proved as much.

Babbitty hopped out of the grounds and far away, and ever after a golden statue of the washerwoman stood upon the tree stump, and no witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the kingdom again.

Albus Dumbledore on "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump"

Sirius couldn't stop now, and instead adopted the phony voice of Dumbledore, honestly managing quite a good impression.

The story of "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump" is, in many ways, the most "real" of Beedle's tales, in that the magic described in the story conforms, almost entirely, to known magical laws.

It was through this story that many of us first discovered that magic could not bring back the dead "and a great disappointment and shock it was, convinced as we had been, as young children, that our parents would be able to awaken our dead rats and cats with one wave of their wands.

Though some six centuries have elapsed since Beedle wrote this tale, and while we have devised innumerable ways of maintaining the illusion of our loved ones' continuing presence, wizards still have not found a way of reuniting body and soul once death has occurred.

Harry watched Sirius read that with a heavy burn in his throat that he'd felt every time he looked to his parents as well. He looked quickly away and adjusted his glasses, determined not to let his mind linger and dredge that up again so soon, he was going to enjoy these moments!

As the eminent wizarding philosopher Bertrand de Penses-Profondes writes in his celebrated work A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter:

Sirius had to stop and actually take a breath after such an exquisite title, honestly going cross eyed at the idea of that being on the spine of a book, before finishing.

"Give it up. It's never going to happen."1

Then promptly started laughing like a madman, the others not resisting joining in.

The tale of Babbitty Rabbitty does, however, give us one of the earliest literary mentions of an Animagus, for Babbitty the washerwoman is possessed of the rare magical ability to transform into an animal at will.

Animagi make up a small fraction of the wizarding population. Achieving perfect, spontaneous human to animal transformation requires much study and practice, and many witches and wizards consider that their time might be better employed in other ways. Certainly, the application of such a talent is limited unless one has a great need of disguise or concealment.

"Honestly I don't think about that part too much," James shrugged. "It's not like it comes in handy when running to spontaneously burst into a deer and keep running, then you can't shoot spells back."

"I can see the convenience for smaller animals though," Sirius corrected with a curious look. "I could fit into smaller spaces as Padfoot, duck out of the way and honestly run faster."

"I still can't believe you fools convinced the whole Order of your stupid nicknames anymore than the school, it's not like you're subtle," Lily told them affectionately.

"They'll get the joke when we tell them in a few years," James waved off.

It is for this reason that the Ministry of Magic has insisted upon a register of Animagi, for there can be no doubt that this kind of magic is of greatest use to those engaged in surreptitious, covert or even criminal activity.2

James and Sirius looked highly offended their one and only way to help their friend was deemed like this, but Remus just looked sad. His friends foolish attempt to help him turned out to be the first time in his life he'd ever felt like he wasn't bearing a curse. It's not as if he'd ever ask another wizard to try the same, to help more werewolves in this way, but was it so unreasonable to realize help was out there?

Whether there was ever a washerwoman who was able to transform into a rabbit is open to doubt; however, some magical historians have suggested that Beedle modelled Babbitty on the famous French sorceress Lisette de Lapin, who was convicted of witchcraft in Paris in 1422. To the astonishment of her Muggle guards, who were later tried for helping the witch to escape, Lisette vanished from her prison cell the night before she was due to be executed. Although it has never been proven that Lisette was an Animagus who managed to squeeze through the bars of her cell window, a large white rabbit was subsequently seen crossing the English Channel in a cauldron with a sail fitted to it, and a similar rabbit later became a trusted advisor at the court of King Henry VI.

"Oh, well that's not suspicious at all," Sirius cackled, while Lily twirled a bit of hair around and wondered why that sounded vaguely familiar. Probably something she'd blocked out from a History of Magic Essay.

The King in Beedle's story is a foolish Muggle who both covets and fears magic. He believes that he can become a wizard simply by learning incantations and waving a wand. This may have contributed to that Muggle King's reputation for mental instability.

He is completely ignorant of the true nature of magic and wizards, and therefore swallows the preposterous suggestions of both the charlatan and Babbitty. This is certainly typical of a particular type of Muggle thinking: in their ignorance, they are prepared to accept all sorts of impossibilities about magic, including the proposition that Babbitty has turned herself into a tree that can still think and talk.

"Honestly, that was the most ridiculous part," Lily agreed.

(It is worth noting at this point, however, that while Beedle uses the talking-tree device to show us how ignorant the Muggle King is, he also asks us to believe that Babbitty can talk while she is a rabbit.)

"I thought she was just curled up under the stump and changed afterwards," James said in surprise.

"Details," Sirius waved off.

This might be poetic licence, but I think it more likely that Beedle had only heard about Animagi, and never met one, for this is the only liberty that he takes with magical laws in the story. Animagi do not retain the power of human speech while in their animal form, although they keep all their human thinking and reasoning powers.

"Tragically, Sirius never did recover from his first transformation though and now retains the idiocy of a puppy," Remus sighed deeply while mock wiping a tear away.

"Don't be ridiculous Moony," James said pleasantly that did nothing to make Sirius believe defense was coming. "He's always had the attention span of a pup, now he just has a better excuse."

"I hate you all," Sirius huffed.

This, as every schoolchild knows, is the fundamental difference between being an Animagus, and Transfiguring oneself into an animal. In the case of the latter, one would become the animal entirely, with the consequence that one would know no magic, be unaware that one had ever been a wizard, and would need somebody else to Transfigure one back to one's original form.

"Why did McGonagall have to change Malfoy back from a ferret again?" Harry muttered of no one.

I think it possible that in choosing to make his heroine pretend to turn into a tree, and threaten the King with pain like an axe stroke in his own side, Beedle was inspired by real magical traditions and practices. Trees with wand-quality wood have always been fiercely protected by the wandmakers who tend them, and cutting down such trees to steal them risks incurring not only the malice of the Bowtruckles3 usually nesting there, but also the ill effect of any protective curses placed around them by their owners. In Beedle's time, the Cruciatus Curse4 had not yet been made illegal by the Ministry of Magic, and could have produced precisely the sensation with which Babbitty threatens the King.

1Wizarding photographs and portraits move and (in the case of the latter) talk just like their subjects. Other rare objects, such as the Mirror of Erised, may also reveal more than a static image of a lost loved one. Ghosts are transparent, moving, talking and thinking versions of wizards and witches who wished, for whatever reason, to remain on earth.

2Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, has asked me to make clear that she became an Animagus merely as a result of her extensive researches into all fields of Transfiguration, and that she has never used the ability to turn into a tabby cat for any surreptitious purpose, setting aside legitimate business on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix where secrecy and concealment were imperative.

Sirius couldn't help but burst out laughing again, and honestly the others couldn't blame him.

"Was McGonagall reading these notes over his shoulder and told him to put in that postscript, so that any mad man reading these as well would think, oh, so sorry for thinking otherwise!" Remus tried to demand while holding his sides.

"Yes," James said at once, the lot of them hardly intelligible they were giggling so hard.

3For a full description of these curious little tree-dwellers, see Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

4The Cruciatus, Imperius and Avada Kedavra Curses were first classified as Unforgivable in 1717, with the strictest penalties attached to their use.

"Hey, I actually knew that one," James muttered, trying for a proud tone, but merely shivering all over again of all those curses had done to his family.

As intensive studies in the Department of Mysteries demonstrated as far back as 1672, wizards and witches are born, not created. While the "rogue" ability to perform magic sometimes appears in those of apparent non-magical descent (though several later studies have suggested that there will have been a witch or wizard somewhere on the family tree), Muggles cannot perform magic. The best - or worst - they could hope for are random and uncontrollable effects generated by a genuine magical wand, which, as an instrument through which magic is supposed to be channelled, sometimes holds residual power that it may discharge at odd moments. See also the notes on wandlore for "The Tale of the Three Brothers".

"Well that's done." Sirius said in just a bit of disappointment as he reluctantly handed over the last story to James.

"How come you don't do those voices all the time?" Harry couldn't help but ask with amusement. "I'd like to hear you try me, or Ron and Hermione."

Sirius eyed him critically for a moment, before clearing his throat dramatically, and instead used a high nasally voice, "sorry, best I can do is more Prongs."

James whacked him upside the head.

Sirius hardly blinked and kept going in a more normal tone, "and I've never actually heard your friends voices, but I can do some guesses-"

"That's alright," Remus waved his hands pleadingly for James to go on or they'd be here all day.

James still had to pause for a moment and get his laughter under control before he could.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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allroadsareconnected · 4 years

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Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! Let's talk about interconnectivity. What are some ways your worldbuilding links together? Do you have elaborate political maps with dynamic group interactions? Or delicately balanced ecosystems, where your flora and fauna have detailed relationships? Complicated mgaic rules? Elegant family trees for your gods? Draw some connections today--maybe even between things you didnt previously know were connected

Happy (belated) Worldbuilding Wednesday!

So the because of the way that my brain works, in the same vein as a year old beagle catching a whiff of a beggin’ strip on the wind, one thing always leads to another.

This, after having written it, is long! So I’m going to put my infodump after the break. It doesn’t get into everything that I consider to be connected in terms of worldbuilding within Roam, but its a fairly accurate example of how one thought began the process of working on Roam as a whole.

Short answer: My worldbuilding tends to link together through extant historical examples changed just enough to suit my needs for magical/narrative purposes. I cant think of anything that has appeared in Roam not inspired by something else already there.

The idea for Roam began from an idea I had while I was getting my first tattoo, in honour of my mother. She would say not to worry because “All roads are connected” (this was because she was constantly getting turned around while driving, but the sentiment was one I could get behind.) So, while I was getting the tattoo I let my mind wander and wondered, what if that were true? Of course, physically, it is essentially true, yes, but I meant in more of a magical metaphysical sense. So, if all roads are connected, and all roads lead to Rome, how would that work?

Well, the beagle was off and running, then. What was interesting about Rome, to me, was in learning just how the Empire got to be as powerful as it did, and then how it collapsed. What if the thing that led to its pinnacle was also that which, once gone, led to its decline? Keeping the quote in mind I decided to use the technologically advanced system of roads to put the magic in, and if they were magic roads then they should lead to a magic place. Rome, homophone for Roam, another word for wandering which was a nice little link to roads.

Then everything stopped and I went on vacation to England and by chance and proximity I was able to go to the city of St Albans where the ruins of Verulamium (a former Romano-British settlement) are. Britain has a long history with the Roman Empire, and not only a great set of Roman roads, but also ancient, ancient trackways and Neolithic “roads” that are still extant, and many modern cities built on the ruins of Roman ones. With this in mind, I looked for a town to use as a sort of base of operations and I found Crowthorne, in Berkshire which appears along the route of a Roman road that was named The Devil’s Highway, which leads from London (Londinium) to Silchester (Calleva Atrebatum) which was a main route west toward Bath.

Crowthorne is also just north of Sandhurst Military base (and academy) and is the location for Wellington College, a very high ranking and very expensive private boarding school. From there, the fictional Roaman society came into focus. A society of the haves and the have nots. An elitist society that uses its “lesser” members to do the work they see as beneath them, and viciously keeps them under thumb in order to ‘maintain the status quo’. A Society so focused on how great they used to be that they cannot see what they have become, and refuses to change. (Too on the nose?)

But one country doesn’t make an empire, and to claim that the UK was the centre of all of this seemed.... disingenuous. So, I went back to the history and created 7 modern provinces, and named capitol cities for each, reporting to the Imperial Capitol in Rome. From the top down there is an Emperor (Empress, in this case), 2 Consuls elected from the Senate and 1 Tribune elected from the general population. The Empress has final say, and is counselled by the Consuls and Tribune. Those four preside over the Senate (10 members from each province, Senator title inherited) and the decisions made in the Senate are relayed back to the provinces to where provincial Ministry’s deal with the actual day-to-day issues.

But, since I decided that its a world of the haves and have nots, and this is a ‘democratic’ system, I had to figure out who benefits from it and who doesn’t. So, three social classes (four if you count those who aren’t in Roaman society, non-magic Plebs), sort of low, middle and upper class but its more like low, upper and uppiest. In decending order we have the Senatorial class (the only ones who are able to hold the title of Senator and cast votes within the Senate. Very old money, very happy with things the way they are), the Patricians (these are families who HAVE a vote to cast, but must align themselves with a Senatorial family in order to have that vote cast. Well off, sends their kids to like, oxford and shit without much financial worry usually. Can serve in the Ministry, sometimes serves in the army.) and finally we have those who are considered “Citizens”.

Citizens are magical enough to qualify as having Roaman blood, but their lineage is either mixed with Plebian or “Beast” blood that excludes them from holding votes. (“Beasts” are creatures from the myths and legends from each province, Roamans believe they came from the Roads themselves and when the ancient empire fell and the Roads were disconnected, the Beasts were stranded and began to interbreed.) They are given protection from Plebian discovery by Roam, and are given the opportunity to work in Roaman venues where they might not be able to in the Plebian world, but they have no say in how their world works. They do not benefit from the high-class eduction or job opportunities that the other classes get.

Votes, as you can see, are almost as valuable as actual currency, and this leads to a huge emphasis being placed on alliances, marriages and feuds between family lines. It’s not a 1-1 scale of Family to votes, though. A family gets their votes based on property holding, assets, vassals (citizens who might live on their land or other lower status families who pledge to support them). Also, the number of magical Prices you hold count toward votes.

So, all this to say that things in Roam are at a tipping point, which is precisely what my BBEG is all about. They want chaos, and they know precisely how they want to take advantage of that chaos. They are the ultimate puppet master, showing one face to someone and turning around with another.

I’m trying desperately to make Roam grounded in fact, in history, because the point I want to make is that the things going on in Roam are the things that I am seeing. The magic is background, almost, maybe just icing or decoration. Quarantine and Tr*mp have started my brain beagle sniffing in the direction of learning more about what an Empire really is, what happens when Fascist ideology starts to take hold in a society and what can be done to heal the wounds of a fractured nation. The answer is love, partly, but I’m no so naive that I don’t also think that what is needed is decisive action, by and in support of the people who have been suffering in an unfair system.

#worldbuilding wed asks #worldbuilding wednesday #wip #roam #fantasy novel #my writing #infodump #worldbuilding

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strahd-von-asthmavich · 3 years

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The Dread Lands of Ravenloft - Mod Van Richten’s New England In-Table Campaign [Session 6]

Session Highlights

Did you know that this is technically the party’s third official combat? We’re a pretty role-play heavy group.

They’ve angered six very hungry vampire spawn last time! During the lead-up to this session, my players were so scared of TPK. But, spoiler alert, I’m not that cruel. I planned this out to a T!

Side Note: Any art that I share of NPCs within these highlight posts is my (Mod Van Richten’s) original and fan art. Any art that I use for my players that wasn’t created by myself but by other artists is kept private and within our friend circle.

Abrascus Barbarian (4) Path of the Ancestral Guardian Race: Tortle Background: Haunted One

Direthorn Rogue (4) Swashbuckler Race: Drow Background: Urchin

Flopsy Barbarian (4) Path of Wild Magic Race: Rabbit Man Background: Experiment

Mangus Monk (4) Way of the Open Hand Race: Half Elf Background: Urchin

Neracahne Wizard (4) School of Evocation Race: Eladrin Background: Noble

Nyra Rogue (4) Phantom Race: Fairy Background: Noble

CW: decapitation, sensual themes, gender dysphoria

Let’s see how the battle went under the cut!

I made a grave error when writing session 5's recap. I missed a lot of details! Good thing my players don't read these bc they would laugh at me for missing this!

Nyra made two discoveries during the day. While inside the Blue Water Inn, she notices something while Ismark is flirting with Rudy. There's a spirit hovering near the half elf. He looks like a young human boy, and he seems slightly surprised when Nyra suddenly tries to talk to him aloud. After the spirit fades, she hears a voice telepathically:

"I wonder if she can't hear me either."

At the dinner, Nyra can't help but notice the same phenomena again. Instead, she sees multiple tortured spirits around the dinner table and throughout the mansion. It appears that they're all in agony.

The session begins back on Direthorn, who was away from the other adventurers most of the day. They’ve been trying to scavenge for where they can find more pie, without realizing that Flopsy still had pie left despite not being addicted anymore. They’ve gone through garbage cans and different alleyways in vain, scaring townspeople all the while with feral noises.

They’d been so caught up in trying to find pie that they’d completely forgotten about the Baron’s dinner. The only thing that snaps them out of it is Vasili, who catches them scavenging through garbage in the noble district. He snaps them out of it by asking where their friends are. They have no idea, for they weren’t with all of them when they went to the coffin shop earlier that day. Shortly after the conversation starts, however, Adelaide rushes out of the manor and comes up to Vasili to exclaim her worries. She was worried about Escher, but she was also able to tell Vasili and Direthorn where they were. With that, they head straight to the shop.

By the time that the official combat begins, Direthorn, Vasili, and Adelaide are at the entrance. Here are some very notable highlights:

(A/N: Nyra’s player wasn’t able to play for the encounter, but she allowed me to use Nyra’s stats to run her on autopilot during the fight. Unfortunately, I had shit dice rolls)

We had two critical hits: One from Mangus and the other from Abrascus.

Vasili was able to very quickly join the fight, and he had a very powerful rapier. Its blade was pure black, and a lot of its damage was necrotic.

This is the first time that Adelaide shows off her spellcasting to her new friends, but unfortunately it’s not as effective as she’d want it to be.

Izek and four guards arrive at the scene a couple rounds into the fight to help.

Mangus got the first kill of the fight.

Flopsy dealt the most damage in the fight.

Direthorn spent most of the fight antagonizing one vampire spawn in the back corner of the shop. They have spiderclimbing ability and were able to climb up to the window right above the door. Afterwards, they proceeded to mess with this one spawn until it got bored of them (aka: Izek hit them with his hurl flame ability)

We had four critical failures:

Vasili accidentally stabbed Flopsy with his ridiculously powerful rapier.

Mangus lost his quarterstaff by throwing it across the room.

Nyra accidentally pierced Neracahne with one of her arrows.

Abrascus accidentally strikes Adelaide with his greataxe, which leads to major consequences.

After Abrascus hits Adelaide with his greataxe, she looks so angry as she tries to cast a spell on him with little success. However, Escher also saw what happened, and he then cast the same spell on Abrascus, which did success. Abrascus ended up going unconscious because of seeing horrific images.

After the fight was over, Henrik was under arrest. Henrik was terrified and constantly tried to say that he was innocent and was framed. Izek did let the party briefly talk to him, but that ended up being inconclusive. Henrik said he couldn’t say the name of the person that made him do it. Aloud, Flopsy simply said, “It was daddy,” which made everyone very uncomfortable. Again. Henrik was crying out that he was innocent as he was being dragged out of the shop. Vasili left shortly after.

Because the investigation was a success, the adventurers are all considered “guests of honor” during the Festival of the Blazing Sun. What this means for them is that food expenses are all paid for during the festival, and they’re allowed to spend the festival with the baron at his table whenever they wish to.

Ismark arrived with Rudy during the aftermath. One of the vampire spawn was burnt to a crisp by Izek, and Rudy proceeded to decapitate the body. After this, Rudy looked at everyone in confusion, claiming that they needed to decapitate the corpses and then burn the bodies in order for them to die. Flopsy looked confused and told him about how he killed Doru. Even though Doru’s head was bashed in, Rudy tells Flopsy that because he wasn’t decapitated, then he’s technically still active and can eventually regenerate from that.

Rudy is dumbfounded by the party’s lack of knowledge, until he realizes that they’re not really from here. He explains to them that because Barovia is run by a vampire, then vampires that live here are stronger than vampires that would typically be found in the Material Plane. So, it takes more effort to kill them. However, after seeing that Flopsy has Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires, he seems really disappointed that he doesn’t know more about vampires. That is, until he’s given the book and sees that many pages on how to kill vampires are missing. Flopsy tells him that he’d gotten the book like this from Vasili.

When Abrascus wakes up, he’s suffering from an effect of longterm madness, experiencing tremors and feeling shaken up. Rudy quickly takes care of it before it gets too out of hand, and he and Ismark work together to heal the adventurers. When Rudy does this, he holds onto his pan flute while Ismark plays his balalaika to cast his healing spells.

More Content Warnings: Misgendering, trans pregnancy mentioned

Before resting…

Abrascus ended up staying behind at the coffin shop to sleep in one of the coffins. Rudy took exception to this, and he told Flopsy to place a holy symbol on top of the coffin. Just in case. Ismark stays the night with Rudy when they all part ways.

When the rest of the adventurers return to the manor, Flopsy goes inside and can hear Adelaide crying while Escher is tending to the wound caused by Abrascus’ greataxe. She’s devastated that someone she thought was her friend would hurt her like that. Escher tries to assure that things like that happen sometimes, but he will do anything to defend her. Adelaide then asks him, “Is Father going to do something to him?” His answer to her is to not worry about that, for that’s his business.

Flopsy soon makes his presence known, or rather, Escher begins to notice him. He stops talking with Adelaide, and she decides to go see what the girls are up to at the guest house. This leaves Flopsy to continue the conversation he had with Escher earlier that day.

Flopsy insists that Escher needs to tell him who his host was so that he could become a vampire too. Escher refuses to give the name, for it’s too dangerous, but Flopsy can conclude that Strahd is Escher’s host. To challenge that, Flopsy asks, “What if I ask her other dad?” That makes Escher go from deflective to immediate defensive, now that he knows how much Flopsy heard. It’s then that he tells Flopsy that Adelaide having two fathers was supposed to be kept a secret. Escher is transgender, and he left his old life to escape a forced marriage. How that led to him being in Barovia and being one of Strahd’s consorts is unknown.

Escher makes a promise to Flopsy. If he were to tell anyone that Escher was a vampire and that Adelaide is a dhampir, he would know that it was Flopsy that did it. Essentially, he was going to kill him if he told.

Direthorn, Nyra, and Neracahne all go back to the guest house when everything was cleaned up. Some time later is when Adelaide comes over to see them for comfort. They all decide to have a girls’ night where they drink wine and get to know each other. Adelaide quickly starts getting tipsy, and Neracahne and Direthorn immediately pounce on that as a way to get information out of her. They ask her about her papa, and she tells them that he had raised her mostly on his own and that she’s her favorite person. They then ask about her mom. She seems confused, and after some explaining, she tells them, “I don’t have a mom.” They ask if she’s adopted, but that also needs to be explained to her. She says no, and then she explains how Escher came out to her when she was a child.

Even though Escher had said that her body is similar to hers, that doesn’t change the fact that he is a man. Even if he gave birth to her, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s her father. She’s very adamant about that, but she’s relieved that Neracahne and Direthorn respect that. The conversation gets a little more personal when they start asking about who her other dad is. They’d noticed that when she laughed, Adelaide had fangs. She gets scared when trying to explain herself, and it eventually comes out that her other father is Strahd.

When Escher came to Barovia, he was with his party of adventurers in Vallaki. The way that Adelaide described their union was that it was… not exactly a conventional one. But in the end, they’d “married,” but before Escher could be turned, they found out that he was pregnant with Adelaide. They had to wait until after she was born, or else risk her dying in the process. Escher had almost died when she was born, but Adelaide perceives that her papa turning into a vampire saved him. She also tells them that although Strahd hasn’t really been in her life during her childhood, she knows that he cares about her.

She begs them not to tell and makes them promise. Even though they promised her that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, Adelaide knows that people will kill her if they find out. They will also kill Escher, and even though it seems like she knows a lot of people hate Strahd, she doesn’t want him to get killed, either. She soon relaxes once she’s reassured, and they’re all able to open up about their personal lives and experiences.

Direthorn talks about being orphaned and running away from the orphanage at thirteen. They’d been alone for the longest time, after they’d lost their best friend. That makes Adelaide feel a little sad as she expresses her sympathy. Neracahne then talks about how she ran away from an arranged marriage. As she’s explaining her story, Adelaide perks up. She exclaims, “That sounds a lot like my papa!”

She then tells Escher’s story to them, or at least, what she knows of it. Escher was a student at a wizarding school before he came out, and he excelled in his studies. Something happened, however, that made him earn his teachers’ ire. He had crafted his very own spell, which was the spell demonstrated at the coffin shop against Abrascus. In response, the teachers lambasted him and told him to stick to his studies. Escher was angered by this and felt like he was being held back.

That story felt so familiar to Neracahne. She’s heard something similar to this in the past.

Adelaide continues the story. After Escher dropped out of school and took up apprenticeship with a necromancer, he started his transition. It was shortly after this that Escher was forced into a marriage. She didn’t quite remember the name of his husband. “...Reginald?” It was their wedding night that Escher used his spell against someone for the very first time. After his husband was knocked unconscious, Escher escaped and became an adventurer.

Now this was too familiar to Neracahne. It’s then that she remembers a story that she overheard when walking through town one day. That person’s name wasn’t Reginald. It was Roland, who was a middle-aged elf that was a well-respected noble. He’d just stepped out of a chapel holding his head. Different people asked what happened to him, and he started talking about his wedding that was roughly a week earlier. He took a young wife and thought that the union was a success. But then, “that crazy bitch stabbed me in the shoulder,” and she then had cast a spell on him that made him go crazy. She then disappeared without a trace.

It’s then that recognition spread across Neracahne’s face. She realizes in that moment that her old friend is Escher.

After the revelation, the night between the girls continues as normal until they all fall asleep together.

There’s one unfortunate problem that night. Mangus was left alone to wander. He didn’t know where to meet everyone, so he ended up in the dark manor while everyone else was at the guest house. Not a single light was on inside the manor, except for in the closed off study. He checks the door and sees that it’s locked, annoyed that he didn’t have any thieves’ tools on him to try and break in. He doesn’t dwell on that thought for long. When he realizes that whoever’s in there is coming out, he hurries to hide so that he’s not noticed.

From his hiding spot, he can hear Vasili walking out of the study, lightly beating something against his hand. He didn’t see what it was, but it was something with a bit of weight to it. Mangus then hears Vasili go back into the room and douse the fire before leaving it with the door locked shut behind him. In the pitch black manor, Mangus hears Vasili walk up the stairs. Mangus tries to go back towards the study to check the door, but in the process, he hears Vasili call, “I know you’re down there.”

Vasili then walks down the stairs in the pitch black manor, appearing to navigate fine despite being a human. Mangus is a little perplexed and tells him that he was trying to find the others, to which Vasili laughs and tells him that he’s in the completely wrong build. But Vasili does offer to take him back to the guest house.

On the way there, Vasili engages in small talk with Mangus in the dark. He asks about Adelaide, but Mangus can’t seem to get his words out. During his fumbling, Vasili asks Mangus to look at him. It’s here that suddenly Mangus finds himself to be charmed. He sees Vasili as a trusted friend to be protected. He can tell him anything, so he does. He’s able to get his words out that he’s interested in Adelaide in a romantic sense, but he’s still trying to process his feelings. It’s what Vasili says that causes the air around them to still.

“You better be careful with that. You do not want to get on Escher’s bad side. Or mine.”

It’s then that Mangus let’s Vasili bite him, revealing himself to be a vampire. After a considerable amount of damage, he says this to Mangus:

“You will not speak of what happened here, you will not tell anyone I spoke with you, and, if I can help it, you will not remember what happened here.”

Flopsy soon comes to the door to the guest house after they’re done, and Vasili briefly engages in pleasantries before going back to the manor. Flopsy drags Mangus into bed to sleep, and from the other room it sounds a little bit awkward. But the session ends there, as the adventurers take their rest.

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