#just realized it needed to be readdressed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wgc-productions · 6 months

Text

Liveblogging Small Victories 101: A Good Place To Start

Howdy!

I'm Jade the writer and creator of Small Victories and I am, fun fact, writing Season 3 as we speak. Season 3 will be the final season and, due to this, will need to wrap up the various plot threads I've put in Season 1 and Season 2.

I technically wrote Season 1 about 3-5 years ago now and hopefully, with new eyes, i'll be able to go back, find the things I've forgotten, and use those to expand the story and world.

I will say, I had a lot of ideas thrown around in the first two seasons. Somethings I just did not comit to, but still left enough room so that if I wanted to go back to them I could. I don't know how it will look in the end, but in the present it looks like a world of opportunity.

So, the blogs here will be highly-story focused, because this is essentially me taking notes as a larger function of my creative process.

Thus, we begin!

00:46- So, from the offset I wanted this monologue in the show. This is one of the few parts from the very very first draft that stayed the entire time in the show, though it did get split in half and suffered some serious cuts in the edit. I will say, because this show's underlying structure is cyclical, I think having elements of this popping the final season could be great.

00:56- I do want the final monologue of the show to be a sort of response to the ideas and attitudes she has in this one. In particular the "me, myself, and motherfucking, I" part is something I think needs to be readdressed because, of course, as the show goes on we see that Marisol desperately wants to be apart of a group and thus her insistence that she can do things on her own is more of a defense rather than an ideology she actually believes. Having a chance to have her respond to this could be a great place to display character growth.

1:19- In the second episode of Season 3 I have a moment where she is at the porch of her [REDACTED] house and she is smoking and talking to the Host and she, sorta to herself, mentions that it is a really beautiful day. This is what I meant when I said I want the last season to be a response to the other seasons because I think in this season 1 monologue a lot of the posturing is a performance meant for the audience, but her saying it quietly to herself as a way of showing that she is realizing that it truly is a beautiful day to be alive? That has the sort of completeness that I'm aiming for, because I think that is what makes a show feel full and finished.

1:36- Maybe we'll bring back Carl as the biking stranger. That'd be a deep cut.

2:02- I don't think I want Aaron back in the show. I think Episode 205 Decadence is where his story should end for Marisol. He serves as a mirror for her anyway, and so seeing that he gets to be a happy person who has a life full of meaning might be all that his character needs to serve.

3:06- I feel like something structurally can be done with the introduction/content warnings and finding a way to turn it on it's head to show Marisol growing away from the validation she craves from the audience and finding more steady footing within herself could be nice.

3:30- Fun fact, we recorded this line about a day or so before the show premiered. It sounds so natural you wouldn't even know.

04:04- Yeah, the Ollie Problem. So their relationship needs to be repaired in a big way. The way that I'm thinking about it now is that she is reluctant to tell Oliver that she is sorry because she is really ashamed of what she said to him (you know how it goes when you've done something really regrettable and you're so embarrassed and ashamed that you sort of wish you never had to speak about it ever again) but then Oliver comes back in town and they meet and she apologizes and then they have a sort of heart to heart. There is something juicy in the fact that Marisol, being so wrapped up in herself, also struggles to be a good friend to someone who also lost the same person. Sort of like how her father couldn't cope with her mother's death and so he couldn't help his kids grieve and then everyone ended up more messed up. (That's good! Marisol's dad is also a big foil for her and that's one more connection. Man this writing your thoughts out thing is really working).

04:26- Maybe I can have a sequence where Marisol imagines apologizing to Oliver (using this same background music) and she imagines it being worse than it actually will be. That could be fun.

04:57- Well, I don't want her to relapse in Season 3 again, because I think that would obscure from her character development.

05:18- Maybe Marisol can have a moment when she realizes and admits that she is a cokehead? Maybe she already had that in Season 2. I'll circle back on this one. I think she's already admitted it.

05:36- Marisol has anxiety which gets worse when she smokes weed. That could be something to work with.

05:52- Maybe we can have a moment where she acknowledges that she does sometimes think being high is being better than being sober and so she has to reckon with the idea that she has to build a life that's better than the fog?

06:12- So, as I'm writing Season 3 this little bit about imagining a better life comes back in a big way. I already re-referenced it in the season 1 finale where she tells the Host after the fake out that she does desperately want all of the things that she knows her brother and mother would want for her. That she wants that ideal future, she just doesn't have the internal oomph to get her there, but in Season 3 I think I can go further with it. Right now my idea is that Season 3 is sort of like a ghost story where she is not only haunted by the past (obviously since she is at [REDACTED] house) but she is also haunted by the future (which I think is universal. I think a lot of people my age feel they have this potential to do great things or even just be happy and they see what that end goal looks like but they aren't sure how to get there).

06:44- Oh! So in Season 2 the impulse of death follows Marisol throughout the season coming to a conclusion in episode 209. Right, so the whole show from the minute 110 begins to the end of 208 is pushing her to die, like it's a shadow that was following her. So I could do the opposite where from the end of 209 to the end of the show, the impulse of life is following her compelling her to live?

06:45- Also, there is the broader structural framing that I could use in Season 3 as well. Like, each season starts with a "death" (i.e. the S1 point of action is her almost choking to death, the S2 point of action is her surviving the stabbing, the S3 point of action is her surviving her attempt) and each season ends with a rebirth (i.e. S1 she decides she is going to be sober and embrace a new lifestyle, S2 she is given new life by The Stranger, in Season 3 she will be returning to her [REDACTED] house and reforming herself. So maybe for the rest of Season 3 we can turn that on it's head?

07:06- The Nina problem is also something I wanna swing back around on in a big way. I've actually already written the final scenes between them because I have a clear idea of where I want to go I'm just not quite sure how to get there.

07:55- So she decided to paint a self-portrait. That could go well with the Season 2 Episode 5 final scene where Marisol sees that Nina is working on a new portrait collection. Yeah, we'll make that work.

10:22- And I'm already trying to doing something with that connection between Marisol's lack of sobriety and it's relationship to her cooking (which I came up with when writing the Small Victories cookbook) so that is something that already has some ground in the show. That's good.

12:43- I can use this device again of her imagining talking to her friends/family/etc. That could be great. Maybe as a pre-cursor to her interactions to Nina's scenes.

14:56- Hey! I can bring that back. Oliver wants Marisol to make an effort for them and I think that could be a good thing to ground the relationship. Marisol making the effort could be where the rebuilding starts.

Okay, I think I got some good ideas out of this. At the very least I got some broad strokes that can be very helpful as I figure out how to navigate the next episodes I am writing. I will say this is giving my broad structure ideas and not plot ideas for real. It does remind me of how far I want the character to go though and what sort of distinctions need to be made in order to communicate growth

#small victories #small victories podcast #audio drama #fiction podcast #audio fiction #smallvictories #writing #small victories liveblog #Spotify

4 notes · View notes

secretaryunpaid · 1 year

Text

Eyes Wide Shut... The Argument

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Flared temper, Argument

Word Count: 2,700 approximately

#Eyes Wide Shut AU, @secretaryunpaid

Liam sat in his study, reviewing the renovation plans for a new property that he planned to give as a surprise to Riley. It was possible that all that was needed was a new start in a home that had no connection to the memories of loss. He tried on numerous occasions to change the atmosphere, even shifting living quarters to an unused wing in their Valtorian Estate and the Royal Palace. But somehow she always managed to end up on autopilot, walking through the rooms renovated to accommodate their growing family.

He had felt at one point that his wife had come out of her darkness, but now it seemed as if it was claiming her again although something was definitely different than before. She didn’t avoid interacting with him altogether as she had before, but intimacy was off the table. They had reconnected after the death of Anton Severus and things looked to be reaching a new normal, then she withdrew suddenly… refusing to seek counsel for her withdrawal… stating that it wasn’t what he thought it to be, only that she just needed time. He completely understood her trepidation and would never push Riley into unwanted intimacy.

Aimlessly eyeing the corner lounge chair situated just adjacent to the fireplace, memories filter in of Riley teasing him as he held a video conference which required his absolute focus. Clearing his throat, attempting to gather the response that the others were so patiently awaiting, his eyes involuntarily trailed behind her nails as they grazed up her thigh. The sheer camisole intimate lacing her body, allowing her nipples to peer through, falling open just at the apex of her thighs entices him away from all voices attempting to reach him. Fixed upon the sight of the playful teasing of her center, his eyes widen and then suddenly flit to catch the backward fall of her head as the lilt of his name falls from her lips. She finally lowers her eyes to meet his, as her tongue traces her lips seductively, ending with a quick bite. It isn't until he sees the sinister smirk on her face that he realizes how distracted he has become, finally hearing his title being addressed discreetly, "King Liam? Is something the matter?"

Quickly taking a sip of his mint julep, he readdresses the waiting counsel. Offering his sincerest regrets for having to conclude the meeting prior to its scheduled time as he loosens his tie, he explains that something has arisen unexpectedly that he must immediately attend to and after a quick reschedule to address the finalization of contracts, he ends the video call, rushing to satisfy his wife's need for him. The taste of her lips, her whimpers, and breaths meeting his as they passionately kiss begin to stir him, but the growing need is stifled immediately.

Riley burst into his office, throwing down yet another Cordonian newspaper discussing the amount of time the Queen has been in mourning since the loss of Cordonia’s only potential heir, blatantly calling for an heir by other means. She couldn’t believe that someone would rip open old wounds so callously. She had come so far in her recovery that she actually had become open to the idea of someone potentially carrying the heir for them. After all, it was her womb that was failing her, not her ovaries. Liam had no issues, so why should she allow further torment to their family. But it was never as easily done as spoken…

She began spouting off the quotes of very fertile women saying how they would love to bear the heir to the throne. She could feel them salivating over her husband by the mere writing on the page. “Thirsty bitches!” She spun around and headed for the balcony doors.

“Liam, do you know how tormenting it has been to be your barren Queen?

To see all of these un-noble noblewomen throwing themselves at you… Begging for a Cordonian arrangement? Hearing them whisper about how I failed you as a woman??? Like I’m some commoner whore who came to her fate for reaching so high above her status … “This is her just desserts…” Being in this sometimes godforsaken role, I have to hold MY emotion in when I would love nothing more than to drive those bitches faces through the very mirrors they glare at me through !!!”

“I love you Liam, but you can be so oblivious to the SHIT that I have gone through right in front of your eyes… not to mention the things you have no idea about… Your pressuring me isn’t helping any! Knowing the minute we lay together intimately, you’ll have the false hope and pretense that we’ve conceived an heir… that breaks me even more! Of course I crave your touch… your kiss… the feel of you consuming every inch of me passionately or ravenously… But I just CAN'T Liam !!!” He never gets a word in edgewise, standing flabbergasted at her temperament…

He tries pulling her into an embrace so that he can reassure her that not being able to bring their beloved Crown Princess Eleanor into the world hasn’t changed his love for her… and no matter if she could never physically produce an heir, he would love her just as he always has. Liam never gets a word in edgewise before she runs from his study, fuming and broken. Yes, she had decreed that anytime they found themselves in his study, he was to make her disappear … fogged by the emotions his lovemaking always flooded her mind and body with, but he had to see that she was not up for this… How is she supposed to be the co-ruler of this country when she can’t even be a partner to her husband?

Doubts ingest every positive and loving memory she’s formed in her union with Liam, almost making him her enemy instead of the man tormenting her life… fueling the confusion that has become her existence… All she can do is distance herself from her one true love in order not to tear him down as she’s being torn… After all, she would sacrifice any and everything for his well-being…

Searching for a solution

Frustrated over not being able to reach a place with Riley that had them at least communicating better with each other, he phones down to the staff to have the mail and packages brought up to him, also requesting that Riley’s mail be sorted out and delivered to her private study. Reaching out to Madeleine next, Liam advises her that he will need her to begin a search for a personal assistant to cover things for the Queen that do not include decision-making… only appearances or follow-up correspondence and the like. All legal or political issues would be routed directly to him, and she and he needed to meet weekly to discuss the people’s outlook on the current state of their Queen and the affairs of the provinces.

As he ends the call, he notices that the mail has been placed before him, and the door is already being eased closed. Needing this as a distraction, he begins rifling through the mail,,, choosing anything that looks unofficial for his primary attention.

He accidentally receives the pre opened invitation to an exclusive masked party held by Dr. Ethan Ramsey. It included the list of invitees, along with the location and dress requirements for the event. Realizing that the Queen’s mail has been included with his inadvertently, he sits, working his jaw as his temple pulses… How dare someone send such a request to Riley? She hadn’t been intimate with him in the months following the loss of their first conceived heir… The mitigated gall of someone thinking that they deserved this special privilege!

Liam spins around in total anger, knocking books from the bookcase after reading the open invitation, really wanting to take his fury out on Ethan Ramsey instead. Instantly calming at the thought of staff possibly entering again witnessing his uncharacteristically destructive mannerism, he bends to clean his mess. As his eyes become focused on the book next to the one he is replacing, having gathered the fallen books from the floor… “Dream Story” by Arthur Schnitzler, he begins flipping through the pages to help buffer his mood further.

Unfamiliar with the book or how it even ended up on the shelf in his private study, he sits and begins reading through the preface. This rhapsody tells the story of a physician whose wife confesses having sexual fantasies about another man... “Is this what Riley needs? Should I pass this on to her?” Thinking of his own experiences during the Nobility Shuffle that he held with Riley’s approval, a selfless offer out of her love for him, the question arises. Surely if she chose to attend, he could swallow his pride and allow this. Opening the box the invitation was affixed to, he finds a Venetian mask inside, with details of the Eyes Wide Shut event underneath.

Although he had second guessed his decision many times before reaching their bedroom, Liam brings the mask, placing it on his pillow as Riley sleeps. When she awakens, she is under the belief that another Masquerade Ball is being planned. Her first thought is to immediately refuse to have such an event, not feeling ready to host a bunch of pretentious nobles, local and foreign, who truly did not respect her in the way they once had… but she knows that she cannot hide away forever, and that this would only make the Rhys monarchy look weaker in the eyes of its enemies.

He exits the shower wrapped in a towel only, beads of water still adorning his body, and makes his way into the wardrobe. Seeing her sit up and take the Venetian mask to examine it, Liam approaches a disgruntled Riley . “Is this for another Masquerade Ball, because Liam… I am so not- …” He takes her hand between his, “No baby… I wouldn’t push you into such large events without discussing your comfort beforehand. This is something that was sent as a personal invitation to an … Eyes Wide Shut event… hosted by … Dr. Ethan Ramsey…”

Riley shakes her head in confusion… “Why would he send you an invite… and what type of event is this?” Liam is surprised by the familiarity in her question, and inquires about Ethan and what capacity their relationship reached. For a man to have sent this type of invitation, in Liam’s eyes, meant that they were beyond simple camaraderie. The tone of his question immediately sets Riley on alert… This was someone from her past, why would it matter now, especially with the dedication she has shown to not only Liam, but Cordonia.

Not appreciating the inquisition, she immediately replies that she has never questioned his past relationships or intimacies with attendees of royal or private functions, nor his connections to any persons he may have chosen to be intimate with. Knowing this would only have prevented her from violently reacting should anyone make a point of discussing their attraction for her husband in her presence. Although she felt the need to give Liam these permitted dalliances, she was fiercely protective of her marriage and husband. There could be no benefit of her indulging his curiosity, although she would not leave his question unanswered.

“Liam… Ethan and I were in a relationship when I thought being a Pediatric Neurologist was my chosen path. I left, ending things abruptly, and have had no contact since. Just because the invite came from him that didn’t mean I would accept or that I would have guaranteed interaction with Ethan… It is a masquerade type of event! If you were going to be all jealous and possessive, why even show this to me? I understand that it wasn’t properly marked as confidential, pre opened, and “accidentally” placed in YOUR mail… Not accusing you at all… but I am highly suspicious of the person who made sure this would be conveniently given to my husband… as if I wouldn’t discuss it with you myself !!!”

“I was giving you a chance to have this experience with another man, my love, as DIFFICULT as it is for me to imagine!... “You can have these times whenever you need them, my love... I'd give you anything if it brings you back to me…” You have been generous with me in this area without invitation or request, how could I not allow this for you as well?” Taken aback by his proposal, “This whole thing has just become too much to entertain. How could you just be fine with me being with another man? If that’s how you feel, I might as well sleep with Drake or Leo!!!” (Liam stands with his mouth agape, unable to fully process the words coming from his wife’s mouth … Knowing goddamn well she didn’t just mention the two names that he clearly just heard.

“Yeah! That’s the exact feeling you gave me just now !!! You do realize the number of men and women I could have “been with” if I so chose to, right? It didn’t and doesn’t have to be Dr. Ethan RAM-sey!!! … I’m going to take a shower. You can discard THAT however you see fit my overly generous KING!” Liam cringes at the word, knowing that she is beyond heated when she calls him by his “persona of perfection”… being a flawed husband, but ever dutiful monarch. “Riley! Don’t be like this! I was trying not to be a hypocrite !!!,” pleading for her to calm as her back is already disappearing from view. “Your Queen has spoken… END of discussion,” she relays back to him, words not as harsh in tone as before.

He decides to give her space. Drake wouldn’t be the person to discuss this with, especially not after her comment… Just his luck, Drake attending in a guard capacity could land those two together, and Hell would freeze over before he allowed that union to ever take place. He loved him as a brother, and Riley was not someone he’d ever willingly share with Drake… secretly knowing that he has his own love for Riley.

It wouldn’t be a matter of trust… because when it came to Drake’s feelings for Riley, he could damn well trust that Drake would lay down his life trying to please her… and Liam would damn sure feel like taking the life he just laid down… So, instead he seeks out his trusted sister, Olivia Nevrakis. (Although Constantine would never stop turning in his grave, Liam had officially declared her his legal sister and Drake as his legal brother with consent from Leo.)

He’d discussed everything with Liv, and she quickly agreed to secure herself into the event, along with Bastien and Mara as masked waitstaff under aliases. Liam would also be included on the invitation roster under the pseudonym Alexander Cabot, a trillionaire that never revealed his identity and was mostly known to be agoraphobic, but enjoyed these masked events of the BDSM communities. Once Liam gave the word of Riley’s acceptance, all changes would be uploaded through professional hacking by the illustrious Queen Amalas, a close and highly trusted ally.

{prior, continue}

#Eyes Wide Shut au #EWS The Argument #@becoming mrs. dalton #@secretaryunpaid #becoming mrs. dalton #secretaryunpaid #choices fandom #aesthetic #Youtube #Spotify #SoundCloud #trr liam x mc #trr fanfic

9 notes · View notes

thenobleclearlightbulb · 2 years

Text

Can I just say that I hope to god the actual abusers and people like Kyle Rittenhouse try to sue for defamation after the Depp v Heard case. You have to prove that what was said was wrong and that it was said with malicious intent. Do they really think no one’s going to find out more about who they really are when lawyers start looking into their past? Do they think their victims are going to be lying about their ptsd and ones like Megan Thee Stallion are going to have doctors say it was self inflicted? It takes a special type of selfcenteredness/narcissism (one that imo Amber Heard suffers from) to ignore those whose lives have be destroyed by their lust for power. I feel bad for the victims who will have to readdress their trauma to satisfy these people’s stupid wish, but they should know that they’re not Amber Heard and many of the people cheering ‘justice for johnny’ want to believe victims when they come forward and only switched after her story made no sense with all the evidence. Having one picture of a split lip or one doctor finding scarring is worth more than 100 videos of a possibly puffy face or a red face that has been altered or your abuser with drugs. And that is true to all the alleged victims who the media has said dropped cases against their alleged abusers. You are not Amber Heard. You are not going in to tell an unbelievable story of how you covered up and broken nose and split lip with make up. You did not buy the person you thought would kill you a deadly weapon (or at least you didn’t after realizing they might try to kill you). You did not send a video to the paparazzi and then claim you didn’t. But if you are in the 0.00001% like her and are trying to play the victim as a form of revenge or to get money its a good thing you dropped your case. She’s already fueled enough people who think victims are all liars and we don’t need to give them anything more.

And to anyone who hasn’t watched the trial I invite you to clear your head and take a couple of weeks to listen before making a decision on the matter. If you think Depp is perfect or Heard wasn’t at least majorly exaggerating then you haven’t watched it. The courthouse website should have all of the evidence in an unbiased format as well

#heard v depp #depp vs heard #depp v heard trial #defamation #seriously why does rittenhouse think he can sue the media for calling him a murderer #he is a murderer since self defense is a murder defense #I’m sure the dude has more guns now despite carrying guns leading to him killing people #super disappointed in all the dv organizations taking heard’s side when her accusations don’t come anywhere close to what happened #she would have won if she said he’d only ever caused bruises and he never hit her face #since those rings would have destroyed her bone structure and she still looks beautiful #I’ve seen victim after victim who’s watched the trial say they see more of their abuser in heard than depp #there’s no reason for these companies to be siding with her aside from the fear of feeding the misogyny machine #which is a valid fear that I have to but supporting liars just fuels the machine further #the only fix is to be truthful #teenage boys that see feminists supporting a bad liar will decide that feminism is the problem and not that one individual #women like heard might feel empowered knowing the movement will never desert them no matter what they say #heard is a poison in the movement to end abuse #she shouldn’t be replaced by depp but the movement should be throwing her as far away from them as possible #the movement needs to support actual victims #not wannabes #ok I’m done now

5 notes · View notes

brownhairedbookworm · 4 months

Note

Sayori simply stands there for a moment, realizing that maybe it should be more active than passive. She blushes hard as she readdresses what she got a glimpse of. "I, ummm, huuuhh~?" She soon wavers her way after Monika to also get a Slurpee, needing to cool her brain down a lot now.

Miq is busy deciding between a banana or a pineapple, wondering what to make of trying this out. Oh, blegh, coconut. No thank you. She's very curious as she sees Monika and then Sayori speed by towards the Slurpee machine. May as well join them, right?

Coconut tastes like sunscreen smells, it sucks, right??????

Monika starts filling her Slurpee cup with the green, icy fluid. She... Has a lot of thoughts. Sure she does want Sayori to... Control her? No, punish her. She has to be honest with it. Her brain fought every letter of the word "control" as it passed through her mind.

And she feels guilty about it, really. Because that same desire for control is what she wants Sayori to take from her. Because she doesn't want to let it hurt Sayori, Yuri, or Natsuki, ever again.

Because some part of her demands to be in the position she's willfully putting Sayori in, with their bedroom plans, and she feels disgusted by it.

"Sayori? Can you... Turn my brain off with your powers, a little, when we get back to it? I feel awful, and I just want to let my body react to you..."

#agoobersretreat #agooberscanons

1 note · View note

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #ya boy is a simp and also technically not a boy #i am ill defined and like it #please appreciate this #if you put nice things in the tags I WILL read it #and I WILL love you for it

253 notes · View notes

x-childish-x · 3 years

Note

Hello, i hope you're having a beautiful day/night ^^ I wanted to ask you if you could do a Kurt Wagner x female reader where the reader has a crush on Kurt but doesn't have the courage to go talk to him and every time he looks at the reader, talks to her or smiles she gets shy and looks away. Could you also make Kurt have a crush on the reader and be worried that maybe she doesn't like him at all. If you could make Peter/Pietro be the one to help them. Thank you ^^

Too Shy to Tell

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Fandom: X-Men

Warnings: shy reader, Peter being sneaky, fluff

Word Count: 1,056

A/N: Hello lovely! Thank you so much for this request! It's my first request without a prompt, so I was quite excited! I hope you enjoy and remember feedback is always appreciated! I hope this is what you wanted and that it meets your expectations!

Summary: You just happen to be very shy and have a crush on Kurt. Leave it to Peter to make you and Kurt work things out.

(gif not mine!)

At this point, you were pretty sure you had liked Kurt from the moment he'd arrived at the mansion. After everything with Apocalypse, you had become best friends with Peter, who was more than helpful in trying to get you to talk to Kurt. But it was hard! You were a shy person, and even more shy when it came to you having a crush on someone, let alone someone in your friend group.

"Just go talk to him," Peter nudged you, looking towards the area where Kurt was with Jean and Jubilee.

You quickly shook your head, "Nope! I'm perfectly fine, right here under this tree, away from all forms of confrontation."

Peter rolled his eyes, "You realize he'll never know you like him."

"That's kinda the point," You hissed, watching Kurt slyly.

God, how could anyone dislike him!? He was adorable! He was always so kind and friendly, trying his best to help everyone with every chance he got. He was always putting himself out there, trying to make more friends and make sure everyone knew that he was nice despite his slightly intimidating 'blue devil' look.

As if he could hear you thinking about him, Kurt looked over to you, a large smile on his face as he gave you a small wave. Immediately you looked away, heat overtaking your cheeks as Peter laughed.

"(Y/n), it's not that bad. I know he likes you back. You just need to talk to him!" Peter scolded you playfully as he watched Kurt's shoulders drop before he readdresses his attention back to Jean and Jubilee.

You scoffed, your cheeks still flaming red, "Peter I--"

"Hello (y/n)!" Kurt's voice suddenly rang in front of you as Peter now held him.

Immediately you flushed again, your gaze flicking from Kurt to Peter and settling on the ground, "H-hi."

You missed the way Peter nudged Kurt forward, an encouraging nod being sent from the silver-haired boy, "I uh.. how are you?"

"I'm good... how are you?" You immediately praised yourself for not stuttering.

"Good! I was going to ask if you and Peter wanted to join us, but he ran me over here before I could come myself."

Peter smiled proudly, wishing you would take your damn eyes off the ground and look at Kurt. Instead, you kept your gaze down, even as you slowly stood up.

"Thanks, Kurt, but I have to get going. I have a meeting with Charles."

Just like that, you bolted off, seriously making Peter contemplate the idea of running and grabbing you. But you made him promise not to, and contrary to popular belief, Peter kept promises quite well. Kurt sighed, turning to Peter with a frown that made the silver-haired boy want to slap some sense into you. It was so blatantly obvious that the two of you liked each other, acting like nervous kids and not superhero mutants! Everyone could see it besides you two!

"I told you she doesn't like me," Kurt sighed, patting Peter's shoulder once before he 'bamf'ed back to Jean and Jubilee.

Peter sighed in frustration as he watched your retreating form enter the mansion. He knew that you were shy, and he also knew that nothing would ever happen between Kurt and you if you didn't say anything. Kurt was so set on the idea that you didn't like him that it scared Peter. However, Peter was tired of all this waiting for one of you to do something and quickly decided to create a plan of his own.

It was only three hours later that Peter appeared in front of you with a devilish smile before you were in a different room, Peter seemingly gone.

"Pete?" You shouted, "What the hell?"

"(Y/n)? Do you know what's going on?"

You spun around in horror, a squeak leaving your mouth as your eyes landed on Kurt. Immediately you shook your head and bolted to the door, yanking on it as your face flushed in embarrassment. Peter, who stood happily on the other side of the door, gave a thumbs up to Jean and Scott.

"(Y/n)? That you?" Pete called teasingly.

"Peter, I swear to god, open this door right now!" You shouted, yanking desperately on the handle.

Peter rolled his eyes, "Not until you two talk this out! You both know what I mean! Kurt! You're not allowed to teleport! If you teleport, I'll just run you back!"

"Peter!!" You yelped, kicking the door.

Kurt gulped, watching as you seemed to begin panicking, "(Y/n), may I ask you a question?"

You turned slowly, trying to look at Kurt, but you decided you couldn't. You turned your gaze away but still faced him, your cheeks flaming red, "Y-yes."

"Have I done something to make you dislike me?"

Your head snapped to look directly at Kurt, and you froze for a second. He looked incredibly hurt, and it made you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. Had you really been giving the impression that you disliked Kurt? Surely not. Peter was constantly saying how obvious it was that you liked Kurt.

Realizing you had been silent for too long, you shook your head, "No... no, no, no! Kurt, I didn't mean to give you that impression. I just get so nervous around you. I always get all flustered and shy because I like you so much, and I--"

"You like me?" Your eyes widened as Kurt smiled, "Like, you like like me?"

"I uh..." You felt your cheeks grow flaming hot as you stuttered, "I... I uh..."

"This is great!" Kurt cheered, quickly walking up to you, "I like like you too!"

Slowly, a smile found its way to your lips as you gazed at Kurt, "You do?"

"Yes! I've been wanting to tell you, but I thought you didn't like me!"

You threw yourself into Kurt's chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he mocked your actions. His tail wrapped around you also, and you found yourself smiling impossibly wider as Kurt rest his head on yours. The two of you listened at the door opened, and Peter's 'whooping' filled the air.

"Haha! Yes! I told you guys!" Peter cheered, beyond happy at the sight of you and Kurt hugging, "I am the best matchmaker!"

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile, because truthfully, Peter was right.

273 notes · View notes

populationpensive · 2 years

Text

Conflicted

So I got an admission this morning who was super hypoxic. She is a DNR/DNI and VERY sick at baseline. Literally all the problems (HfrEF, COPD, GI bleed, clotting disorder with active DVTs on heparin, PVD, HTN, HLD, GERD, RA, CAD, Afib, breast cancer).

She came to me on a BiPAP barely saturating 83%. The internist said they were concerned about aspiration and I was like "ok then BiPAP actually isn't a good option because it just shoves everything down." She is in Afib with RVR with HRs 140-160s though maintaining her BPs. She is extremely uncomfortable. I confirm that she doesn't want intubation. Then I switch her to high flow nasal cannula and she does better for maybe 20 minutes but ends up getting REALLY hypoxic. She got as low as 69%. So back on BiPAP she goes and she hangs out in the 75-85% range.

Now, interestingly, she is still alert and oriented even with such low saturations. I explain to her that I'll do all the respiratory/medical/non-invasive stuff I can but that ultimately to correct her hypoxia she would need intubation. She declines. I explain that she could die if her oxygen does not improve with BiPAP. She expressed understanding of this. I explain that I can keep giving her all her meds or she could opt to be comfortable. In the comfort case, I'd give her morphine and get rid of anything that doesn't support comfort. She said she wants to be comfortable and see her family.

So, I make her "comfort care", delete all the meds, then call her family and update them. The patient had this interesting affect/realization of "yes I know I've been slowly dying."

The thing I feel conflicted about is that I don't think I did a good enough job explaining her medical options. I kind of laid it out as either "this" (all the things) or "that" (comfort). Really, there can be an in between. I could still continue her antibiotics and such. I'm worried I jumped the gun and didn't explain things well enough. Also feel like I didn't discuss with her that the BiPAP would probably come off at some point. She expressed a wish to see her family and I explained to her that I wasn't sure if she would survive that long. I kept the BiPAP on to at least give her a chance of that.

I have a personal bias that I freely admit where I believe people with severe comorbidities who acutely decompensate should opt for comfort. I know that about myself, for better or worse. And I also know that sometimes when you give patients too many options it is overwhelming. Sometimes you have to be simplistic. I guess what I don't want to happen is have her family come and be like "well you just MADE her comfort when REALLY all she wanted was to breathe better."

When I left, my patient was sleepy after getting morphine but it did help her breathe better. Her tidal volumes are still trash but at least she was getting better saturations. It's not sustainable but at least she is cozy now.

I guess the other thing that pushed me in this direction was that the patient was DNR/DNI. So, she's not unaware of how sick she is. She clearly values a quality of life that doesn't involved unnecessary stuff. ...I just wish I was more explicit.

I guess I don't want it to seem like I gave up on her or didn't try. And I don't want it to seem like I misrepresented what was going on, though I could have been more clear that her respiratory issues could be due to a reversible cause and that she could do better, potentially, though I doubt that with her severe comorbidities.

I mean...she was SO hypoxic and not making improvement. 100% FiO2 on BiPAP. 84% SpO2. Not sustainable.

So. Here is anxiety Poppen, sitting and worrying about it. I shared my concerns with the day team and they said they would readdress everything. It's not like we can't add her meds back on if she wants more workup. It's just...when I sit and think about it...I could have ultrasounded her heart and lungs. I could have done more investigating instead of being like "shit your saturations have been less that 84% basically since you got here (2 hours) this looks like this is it." I literally told her that I was worried she was actively dying and she was like, "I know, I have been."

*sigh* I don't typically take work home with me in this way. I think since I have started my ICU job in February I've had 2 other occasions where I came home being like "did I make the right decision?"

I feel like in her case, with how sick she is as baseline that comfort is the best option. And she said she wanted that. I guess I just feel like I didn't give her enough information to make the most informed decision. :-/

Update/Edit: bless the day team for contacting me and telling me that family was in agreement and that the patient wouldn't want any more intervention. I think this just serves as a learning point for me to be more clear. I can explain in between options without making it complicated. I'll be more diligent about this, especially in emergent situations, in the future.

#pa-c #physician assistant #physician associate #pre-pa #pre paid #critical care #icu medicine #medicine #caspa #originstory #palliative care #palliative medicine

15 notes · View notes

magic-and-moonlit-wings · 3 years

Text

Chapter 57: Gatto’s Keep

Becoming The Mask

Trollish and -text messages-

I hope we all enjoy the movie when it comes out this Wednesday! Remember, today’s the last day to start binge-watching and still have enough time to watch every episode of all three shows before the movie airs!

+=+

Four humans, one Changeling, and two unaltered trolls were scatted around an underground library, researching notable locations around the world.

"Whoa, listen to this," said Jim. "Surrounding the Hero's Forge of Heartstone Trollmarket is a chasm known as The Deep, which was enchanted through unknown means by the Trollhunter Kanjigar the Courageous."

They were hoping to find notable mountains, in particular, but 'caverns deep' had also been mentioned in the riddle, and hey, maybe Strickler had been wrong about where the Eye was before the Changelings got it.

"Anyone cast into The Deep will suffer death at the hands of their greatest fear. It has since been used as a means of execution for particularly heinous criminals. No troll is known to have entered The Deep and lived."

Jim frowned and traced over that last sentence with his fingertip.

"How does anybody know it works if no one has ever come back?" he said. "Maybe they just die on impact after getting dropped off a cliff. Or maybe there's, like, a little society down there now and they're just choosing not to leave."

"I saw a cartoon like that once," said Toby.

"Also," Jim continued, "I understand why, if you think somebody deserves to be tortured to death, you would use magical means to get them to come up with a customized torture for themselves to maximize their suffering; but why would you kill someone, who you definitely want executed, in a way that makes it impossible to check and confirm they're dead?"

"Isn't that how oubliettes work?" said Mary.

"Good point."

"You understand torturing people to death?" said Darci.

"I understand trying to do a thing a thoroughly as it can possibly be done."

"Maybe Kanjigar pretended to enchant the place so he could have a spot no one would bother him if he wanted to get away from his job for a while," said Toby.

"Surrounded by the bodies of executed criminals?" said Darci.

"Depending on how hard they landed, they might already be gravel," said Jim. "It's a little unsettling when you know that used to be a troll, but you get used to it. Besides, Kanjigar was only Trollhunter for … what, just under a hundred and seventy years? How many 'particularly heinous criminals' could there have been down here in that time?" He turned to Blinky. "No, really, I'm asking."

"Offhand I can only think of three cases, all involving treason. Perhaps Kanjigar can explain the enchantment next time you visit the Void. Ah!"

Blinky turned his book so everyone else could see the illustrated mountain.

"Gatto's Keep! Deep in the realm of the Volcanic Trolls, in what you humans call 'Argentina', under the volcano Ojos del Salado."

"The eye of the salty?" said Claire.

"Believed to be named for the many salt deposits found on its glaciers, forming eye-like lagoons of meltwater," said Blinky, brushing the interruption off.

"Salt gets expelled through volcanic ash," said Toby. "Or chlorine gas that fuses to nitrogen later. Underwater volcanic activity is part of why the ocean is salty."

"Fortunately, this particular site is not underwater," said Blinky. "Gatto's Keep, a vault of treasures untold – treasures deemed too powerful for the underworld to possess, and kept locked up by Gatto himself."

"Have you ever met this Gatto?" asked Jim.

"Uh … no. Truth be told, I've done everything in my power to avoid him. Very few ever return from his keep."

"I see." Jim frowned down at the book in his lap. "Then maybe you guys shouldn't come."

"What?"

"Are you kidding?"

"The last time we went on a Triumbric Stone quest, a supposedly mostly safe quest, we ended up in the middle of a violent revolution!" Jim reminded them. "I'm not leading a bunch of kids somewhere I know in advance is going to be dangerous!"

"He makes a fair point," conceded Blinky.

"But you can't just go on your own!" Toby protested.

"Of course I won't. Blinky's got to drive the Gyre, and I'll bring Draal for muscle, and –" Jim cut himself off, looking quickly around the room. "Maybe someone else, but I'll have to ask. And if she can, it'll have to work around her schedule."

"You're bringing your mom?" Darci asked.

"No!" Jim recoiled from the idea. "I – Look, there's a Changeling I know who might be able and willing to help, especially for a chance at a legendary vault of forbidden treasure, but I have to ask."

Toby got out his phone and texted Jim rather than asking out loud.

-It's the museum lady, isn't it?-

Jim just glared at him. Both boys deleted the message.

+=+

"Have you ever heard of Gatto's Keep?"

Nomura raised her eyebrow at the Trollhunter.

"Not much. It was one of the places we suspected a piece of the Bridge might be hidden, but considering it had a reputation of no one ever coming back from it, we weren't actually sure if it was real."

It was just as likely to have been an old story that got passed down until it became a figure of speech. The Janus Order’s references to it were all from before Nomura was even stationed on the surface – she'd happened upon them while on archive duty decades ago.

"Blinky says it's real." Jim shrugged. "Or at least Gatto is real, and lives in Argentina. We're planning to go see him about an artifact he might have."

"You're not looking for the Triumphant Stones, are you?" she asked. "Draal's told me that story." Years ago, back when he'd first tried to convince her to change sides. It was the closest he'd ever been to philosophical. "Building a weapon is one thing, but chasing prophecies is another."

Jim shrugged again. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well take every advantage I can. The Triumbric Stones might not be the key their reputation says, but they'll still help."

"Assuming the stones aren't just a trap that will put the Amulet under Gunmar's control."

He snorted. "Oh, come on. If they worked that way, Bular would've been the one to bring them up."

"Not if the conspiracy went deep enough." She snorted as well. "Sure, I'll help loot the place."

"If diplomacy fails," said Jim insistently. "I want to at least try cutting a deal first. When do you have time?"

"I don't work Wednesday or Thursday."

"Great. I'll text. Oh, also," he suddenly looked much more shy, "this comes with a risk of a human or several finding out about you. Still in?"

Nomura leveled a glare at Jim, letting him squirm while she thought it over. (He didn't squirm at all, the shameless wretch. Just looked at her with that stupid timid hopeful expression.)

"For a chance at a legendary treasure trove like that, I might transform in public."

Human public, where they could make up some excuse about hidden cameras and movie costumes and practical special effects, not Trollmarket public, but most Changelings wouldn't need to clarify that.

+=+

Nomura had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing a wide-brimmed brown fedora.

"Isn't that Stricklander's hat?"

"It's traditional garb for archeological expeditions."

"You stole it, didn't you?" His inflection made it clear this was not really a question.

"I'm going to send him a selfie and see how long it takes him to realize it's his." Nomura held her phone out and snapped a picture.

"Hi, museum lady!" Toby greeted. They were meeting in the canal. "I brought tacos!"

"… Why are we bringing him?"

Jim sighed. He hadn't wanted to, but Toby made a good argument.

"Diversity of perspective. A human might notice something a troll or Changeling would miss, just like vice versa. We don't know how organized this Gatto guy's collection is. We might have to go looking for the Birthstone."

Thankfully Claire had a 'family thing', Darci had an 'extracurricular commitment', and Mary had a date, all on Wednesday, and he had been able to get that information without revealing Thursday was also an option.

Inside, Nomura shifted to her troll form, keeping the hat showing. Toby gasped.

"You're so tall …"

"Toby, Nomura," introduced Jim. They started climbing down the glowing staircase. "Officially, she's one of Draal's old sparring buddies who's agreed to come on this mission for extra muscle."

So please do not address her as 'museum lady' where anyone can hear you.

"Isn't Draal coming too?" asked Toby.

"Which is how she got invited."

"I don't get it."

"She's going to meet Draal while you and I go to the library, and then we're all meeting up at the Gyre station."

"Why didn't she just –" Toby stopped and readdressed the question to Nomura. "Why didn't you just meet up with Draal at Jim's place?"

"I'm avoiding the chance Barbara will try asking me for life advice again," said Nomura lightly.

Jim's eyebrows went up. He hadn't questioned her suggestion to meet in the canal, but now he really wanted the story there …

"When did that happen?" asked Toby.

"We're in the same krav maga class."

Which did not completely answer the question, but Toby seemed to think it did, and Jim didn't want to push when Nomura was arguably doing him a favour.

On the one hand, he could claim to be doing her a favour, taking her along on a treasure hunt where she could sneak out an artifact or two for herself, but on the other hand, she was loaning her experience in identifying and handling ancient artifacts and dealing with stuffy curators. The situation was roughly neutral and Jim didn't want to tip it.

The walk to the library, and to the Gyre station after that, were peaceful. AAARRRGGHH accompanied them as far as the station entrance.

"Good luck," he said, tapping his horns against Blinky's, rubbing the top of Jim's helmeted head like he was fluffing his hair, and giving Toby a very gentle pat on the back.

"I will look after them," Draal promised, arriving with Nomura. "We will all return from Gatto's Keep."

"Well, now that you've said that," Nomura teased.

+=+

Jim's first impression was that Ojos del Salado looked like a construction project was underway. Or, maybe a mining operation? The mountain was hollowed out, with another mountain inside, and the inner mountain was covered with ladders and scaffolding.

"Ugh, it's so hot," Toby complained. "I know it's a volcano, but still." He pulled at his sweater vest but didn't take it off.

The local trolls wore what looked like welding masks over their faces, and had faintly glowing orange lines carved into their skin. Two appeared to be standing guard near the Gyre station – but facing in, towards the complex, rather than outwards to new arrivals.

Very few ever return, rang loudly through Jim's mind.

"Excuse me," said Blinky to one of the sentries. "We would most graciously request an audience with Gatto."

The troll wordlessly pointed them to the top.

"Ah … thank you, kind friend."

Toby was groaning after the first few ladders. By the time they neared the top, he had stopped, probably to conserve energy – but he managed another when they realized the platform was empty.

"Where is he? They pointed 'up' but there's no more 'up' to go … Did he leave while we were climbing up here?"

Jim eyed the stone the scaffold was built by. It might be climbable. There was a long but narrow ledge about level with the platform, and a tall, V-shaped protrusion probably taller than AAARRRGGHH, and – the ledge split apart. It glowed inside.

"Who has awakened Gatto?"

The mountain-in-a-mountain opened two glowing yellow eyes. A chuckle made the platform shake.

"A human Trollhunter?" the mountain-in-a-mountain said. "How interesting. How … unique. To what do I owe this … pleasure?"

Jim cleared his throat and leaned back a little so he could look Gatto in the eye. "We've come to ask –"

One of the masked trolls arrived, pushing a wooden cart of rocks. The delivery-troll darted away just in time to avoid a massive tongue, and ran back off the platform into the lower scaffolding. Jim reflexively summoned his knives. It was difficult to will them away.

"You must excuse me," said Gatto. "I never talk business without something to eat. Go on."

"We've come for the Birthstone."

"Birthstone of Gunmar?" The mountain troll chuckled again. "Very powerful. Tell me … why should I give it to you?"

"Of course we don't expect you to just give it to us."

Jim ignored Draal's quiet, "We don't?" He took off his backpack, handed it to Blinky, and unzipped the top.

"We've come prepared to trade."

"We did?"

The first thing Jim got out was black and rectangular. Its cord was plugged into a crystal array which some trolls used to substitute for electrical outlets, to power the neon signs and Christmas lights and televisions down in Trollmarket. Blinky had one for his phone charger.

"This is an uncommon human device. You activate and deactivate it with this button here." Jim pushed the button twice, demonstrating. "By turning these knobs, it's possible to generate a custom frequency of audible static."

He put the white noise generator back in his bag, and got out a lumpy object wrapped in a towel. He draped the cloth over his shoulder and held the item where Gatto could see it.

"This is the head of Bular, son of Gunmar, taken as proof that he was slain. Proof that Gunmar's line is not unkillable."

Gatto looked intrigued. Jim rewrapped the head in the towel and switched it for a book. Blinky grimaced during the exchange.

"And this is a document stolen from a Janus Order base; an unfinished medical study of foods that provide nutrition to both humans and trolls."

He flipped through a few pages so the text was visible, proof he wasn't scamming Gatto with a blank notebook, and put it away.

"Seller's choice. Rare artifacts that carry entertainment, power, and knowledge. Which of those would you accept as payment for the Birthstone?"

"Hmm …" The mountain troll pondered the selection. "I think I will have all three. Along with the answer to a little riddle. Answer it correctly – the Birthstone is yours. Answer it incorrectly – I eat you all."

"WHAT?" Toby yelped. "Did I understand that right? Did he say 'eat'? He said 'eat'!"

"Breathe, Tobes." The Sword of Daylight was in Jim's hand. His first instinct was to pick Toby up and bolt for the Gyre. He should be strong enough for that if he switched to troll form, right?

But they needed the Birthstone …

"Master Jim, we must not enter into this binding agreement," Blinky hissed in English. "I'm beginning to catch on why so few trolls ever leave this domicile."

"We'll play!"

"Nomura?!"

"It's simple – either we figure out the riddle and he gives us the stone, or we refuse to answer, which is not technically answering incorrectly, and fight our way out."

"… When you're right, you're right," Jim agreed.

"You think you are clever," said Gatto. "So answer me this. What begins and has no end, and ends all that which begins?"

Blinky blinked, in full unison for once, all six eyes together. "… I have absolutely no idea. Those words mean nothing! Indecipherable!"

"Begins and has no end," Jim repeated to himself quietly, "and ends all that begins."

"I … don't think I can help," said Draal reluctantly. "Rocks for brains, remember?"

"Well, that attitude's not helping, for sure. Begins with no end, ends what begins …"

"School bus?" Toby guessed, switching back to English. "Uh, meatloaf? Hair?"

"Let's think logically," said Nomura, also in English. "In these situations, the answer is almost always one of four things: death, nothing, eternity, or a riddle itself." She counted them off on her fingers. "The answer to a riddle is its end. Eternity by definition doesn't have a beginning or an end. So it's either death or nothing."

"Ten more seconds," said Gatto ominously.

"You didn't tell us we were on the clock!" Blinky protested.

"What begins and has no end, but doesn't end when it begins –?" Jim punched his hand. "Shoot, that's not it! Could you repeat the question?"

"Kangaroo! Golf! Socks! Magic! Warhammer! Baby deer!"

"DEATH!" shouted Nomura. "The answer is death!"

"What?" Gatto gasped. "No one has ever answered that before … and lived to tell about it."

The celebration at getting the correct answer ended immediately.

"And that's the hazard of riddle games where the answer is death," said Nomura. "Most riddle-givers pick that answer because it's what they plan to give the riddle-solvers anyway."

The group was surrounded by four masked trolls, all armed with axes about twice the size of the hammer Toby carried.

"Your entire keep is a trap!" Blinky accused Gatto. "You hoard treasures as nothing but bait!"

"Oh, come now. A mountain has to eat, you know." He opened his mouth, like he expected them to just obediently walk in.

Jim summoned Daylight. The volcano trolls all flinched back from the burst of light.

Nomura lunged at the guard nearest to the ladder. She caught the axe between her swords and twisted it out of the masked troll's grip, flinging the weapon into Gatto's mouth – he yelped when it caught his tongue – and in the same spin she kicked the masked troll off the platform.

Draal punched a masked troll, then grabbed them and another one and bashed their heads together.

Blinky swung Jim's backpack like a flail at anyone who got too close to him. Jim heard a cracking noise, either from the head or the white noise generator, but that wasn't important.

Jim swiped a masked troll across the belly, leaving a shallow cut and causing them to bellow in pain. He threw a knife at another one that was going after Toby, who was doing his best to parry their axe strikes.

Nomura kicked another one off the platform, and Draal threw a third, but more were climbing up, and driving the group back towards Gatto's mouth.

"Get them!" Gatto egged the smaller trolls on. "Prepare the chimichurri!"

A masked troll landed a punch on Nomura and knocked her backwards into Toby. Gatto's tongue flicked out and tossed them both into his mouth.

"I don't want to be food!" Toby howled, before Gatto's jaws snapped shut around them and the mountain gulped.

"Toby! Nomura!" Jim screamed. "TOBY!"

"RAH!" Draal charged Gatto –

"Draal, no!" Blinky shouted.

– and Gatto simply opened his mouth again and swallowed the rolling troll.

Jim's helmet sealed as he switched to troll shape. He threw a volley of knives at their attackers, who backed off for the few seconds he needed to shove Blinky to the ladder.

"Get to the Gyre!" he roared. At one level down, below that horrid mouth, he turned and lunged at Gatto.

Swallowing wasn't instant. If he could get the throat open, he could still save them. He didn't know if he could gut a mountain but he'd find out if that was what it took to get Toby back –

Daylight was a sword, not a pickaxe. Jim slashed and stabbed, and scratched with his now-clawed gauntlets and boots, and made barely any headway.

"Jim!" Blinky was now several levels of scaffolding lower, and fending off more of the smaller volcano trolls with an axe he must have grabbed from one of them. "Were we not attempting to vacate?"

Jim let go of Gatto and slid down the mountainside, and with another roar he stabbed the troll nearest to Blinky through the eye with one of his daggers, shattering the lens on that side. The troll bellowed in pain and clutched their face, dropping their axe. The dagger vanished, leaving an open wound, and reappeared in Jim's hand. He sliced into the arm of another attacker.

The troll with the injured eye staggered and, between the pain and the sudden loss of depth perception, knocked the other masked trolls off the platform. Blinky threw the ladder after them, reducing pursuit from above.

Jim turned to start burrowing through Gatto's hide again.

"Jim!" said Blinky again. "We must leave!"

He barely heard Blinky. He certainly didn't hear his phone, chiming the alert for an incoming text.

+=+

The stomach was even hotter than the 'outside' had been. Toby had gone through both his water bottles during the climb up to meet Gatto and didn't have any left. Not that this was his primary concern at the moment, considering –

"We just got eaten!"

"I noticed," said Nomura scathingly.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, this isn't happening, this isn't happening –"

"Do you have an international plan?" she said, interrupting his entirely justified freak-out.

"What?" asked Toby. "What does that have to do with anything? We're in a stomach! It doesn't matter what country the stomach's in!"

"Ugh. I'll take that as a no." She got her phone out of the duffle bag she carried and shoved the device into Toby's hand. "Text Jim. We're alive, Gatto's Keep is Gatto's gut," gesturing at the gold and artefacts around them, "and we're going for the Birthstone."

Assuming the lava-acid, which was rising, didn't get them first.

Draal came down the tunnel, fast enough he shot over their heads and over pool of lava-acid, skipping once (with a roar of pain) and landing on the other side.

"Draal! Are you okay?" It was a stupid question that Toby asked without any conscious thought.

Draal uncurled and growled. He gingerly touched his right arm, which looked shinier than usual and must have been what touched the lava.

"Where are we?"

"Gatto's Keep," said Nomura. "I guess that's one way to deter theft. Find the Birthstone. And be careful what else you touch, some of this might be cursed." She put a triangular thing with green gems on it into her bag. "We'll crawl up his throat and choke him or something once we've got it."

Wow, Nomura was not a detailed texter. Toby saw the last few messages she'd exchanged with Jim while he was typing.

Jim: -Today still works to check that collection?-

Nomura: -16:30- -canal-

Jim: -Okay, see you there!-

Toby, on Nomura's phone: -still alive- -gatto's keep in stomach- -going for birthstone-

Toby put her phone in his pocket and started digging through the piles of gold.

Curses or no curses, if Nomura got to take souvenirs, Toby was totally stealing some of these gold coins.

And maybe that glowy purple rock –

Wait –

"I think I found it!"

+=+

Jim – Jim couldn't do it, he couldn't stab deep enough to cut Gatto open and protect himself and Blinky at the same time –

He kept having to abandon his spot and climb down a few levels, and start over at an even thicker part of the mountain's hide –

Blinky kept urging him to the Gyre, but they couldn't leave, not yet, they had to get Toby back, they had to get Nomura and Draal, they couldn't just leave them behind –

Jim drew one of his poisoned knives. He carried more varieties on him than just Creeper's Sun. Gatto couldn't get away with this. Jim was the Trollhunter, he wasn't going to let some troll eat a human right in front of him. He wasn't going to let some troll eat Toby and live.

He drove the knife into a cut he'd already started with his sword, and left it there while fending off the masked trolls again, then ripped it out.

If Jim didn't manage to kill Gatto today, the troll would suffer a much slower death.

+=+

Draal had been favouring his burned arm. He looked up the steep tunnel of Gatto's throat and tried to lift his burned arm, and grunted in pain.

"I … I can't climb out. You'll have to leave me behind."

"What is wrong with you today?" Nomura demanded. "You've never been this – this fatalistic before."

"Guys," Toby interrupted. "There's another way out, but you're not gonna like it. If this is his stomach, then there's a 'back door', and if we upset the stomach," he tossed a nearby crystal into the acid, where it dissolved with a flatulent sound, "then we might have a chance to be passed through."

Nomura grimaced. "We're going out that way eventually." She started tossing things into the acid as well. "I'd rather go out alive."

"What are you both –? Oh." Draal's eyes widened and he looked like he might have an upset stomach himself. "That's – ugh. The shame of being remembered for that."

"There's no shame in survival," said Nomura.

Draal grabbed an entire shelving unit of bottles and threw it into the acid, where the potions exploded with blue light. He fell back and began coughing.

"Draal?!" Toby cried.

"I'm alright, I'm – is that my voice? Is that my" – he coughed again – "voice?" The high squeak had gone back to its normal gravelly depth. Draal shook his head and helped Nomura shove a heavy crate into the acid.

Toby started coughing too. It was so hot and smoky …

The troll, the Changeling, and the human climbed onto a boulder that hadn't melted yet. The lava continued to rise. They balanced precariously. Draal and Nomura were both forced to duck as they got closer to the ceiling.

"I guess this is my last chance to eat these," Toby lamented, taking out a taco. Nomura's eyes widened. Toby had only taken a single bite when she snatched the food and the bag out of his hands and threw them into the gut-lava. "What –? No! Those were Diablo Maximus!"

"And if this doesn't work, you'll die with that taste in your mouth."

The acid level started to drop – spiraling like it was going down a drain. Draal wrapped his arms tight around his two smaller companions.

"The back door!" cried Toby. "It's open! I gotta text Jimbo!"

All three of them screamed as they surfed on the boulder through Gatto's volcanic intestines.

+=+

Blinky kept an eye on Jim as they climbed and ran and fought and climbed some more. It had taken until they were nearly halfway down Gatto's sides to convince Jim to flee instead of continuing to attack. Blinky was ready to physically pull the boy along if he tried it again.

This was awful. Horrible. And all Blinky's fault, besides. Coming to Gatto's Keep had been his suggestion, and it had cost three lives already, and if they died here as well, the Amulet would become another part of Gatto's collection, no good to anyone.

But there would be time for blame and grief and stewing over what else might have gone wrong once Jim and Blinky were out of there and no longer in mortal peril.

Gatto tried to grab them with his craggy hand. Jim roared and nearly deprived the mountain troll of a finger.

Gatto said something, but his head was too far away now for Blinky to make it out. It might have been 'nachos'?

Another taunt about how he intended to eat them, no doubt.

"No more guards?" said Jim. They were off the scaffolding now, and it looked like a straight shot to the Gyre station.

The ground started to crack and rumble ominously. There were spurts of lava, and a smell Blinky hadn't expected but regretfully recognized. They ran faster.

Someone screamed behind them.

"Start it up! Start it up! START IT UP!"

"Toby!" Jim yelled.

Tobias, Nomura, and Draal erupted out of a rock wall nearby. They all cried out when they crash landed, and then ran for the Gyre just as Blinky and Jim were doing. Draal grabbed the Gyre's outer wheel and, with a bellow, set it spinning to jumpstart the vehicle. They piled in, and zoomed away.

It was a miraculous escape. Blinky would have to record this for the history books.

"I am – so sorry," he said to them all. Even at the Gyre's speed, it would take some time to get to Arcadia from Ojos del Salado. "If I had realized the nature of Gatto's Keep, I never would have brought us there."

"He did have the Birthstone," said Nomura. Blinky turned just enough to see her with his outermost eye. She seemed unscathed, and was still wearing a hat. Her bag was now bulging with whatever else she'd … claimed as recompense for the trauma of today's experience.

Blinky turned the other way to check as best he could on Jim and Toby. Draal was in the centre of the Gyre bench and hardest to see without turning around, though Blinky could at least tell he was there.

Jim was wrapped around Toby. His helmet was open again, and his eyes were glowing. Toby was clinging to Jim as well, and breathing hard.

"I saved us," Tobias bragged. "My tacos were the key to our grand escape." Jim tightened his grip.

He didn't let go of Toby until they reached Trollmarket. AAARRRGGHH was waiting for them at the Gyre station. (And oh, that made Blinky's gut twist, to think AAARRRGGHH had been sitting there awaiting their return and they might not have come back because Blinky had led them into danger.) AAARRRGGHH reached into the basket to help Toby and Jim disembark.

Jim let go of Tobias and swiped at AAARRRGGHH with Daylight.

AAARRRGGHH recoiled, unhurt physically – Blinky had seen the distance between his hand and the sword – but wounded all the same.

"Jim?" said Toby. "Dude, calm down."

"Red eyes," said AAARRRGGHH. Jim's eyes were still glowing. "Hurt?"

Draal, who had been climbing down the other side of the Gyre, grunted and lost his balance. When he got up, Blinky finally got a proper look at him.

"Great Gronka Morka, Draal, what's happened to your arm?!"

His right arm was half grey, with pits starting to form where the dead stone had cracked, and the patches that were still blue were far glossier than was natural, like he'd spent a month buffing and polishing his hide.

"Gut-lava," said Draal. His eyes were out of focus. "And straining. And that fall, just now."

"He used his arms to shield us while we were – getting out," said Toby, giving a sideways look to Jim before finishing that sentence. "And he landed badly coming in."

"Need Vendel," AAARRRGGHH decided. He offered his open hand to Jim and Toby again. Jim growled and readied his sword.

"You two take him," Nomura said. "Jim can't go through the market with his eyes like that, and he's not going to calm down until he stops thinking he has to protect his human from another troll any second."

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH looked at each other. Blinky split his focus to look at AAARRRGGHH, Jim, and Draal at the same time. AAARRRGGHH looked from Blinky, to Jim, to Draal, then back to Blinky, and nodded.

AAARRRGGHH moved to stand on Draal's injured side. Blinky climbed out of the Gyre – Jim turned the sword towards him for the moment it took to get to the steps, moving closer to the human and Changeling than he'd been whilst at the controls – and stood at Draal's other side.

He was loath to leave, but Draal needed medical attention, and Nomura was right that proximity to larger trolls seem to be increasing Jim's distress.

Blinky turned an eye back to Nomura.

"What about you?"

"I'll stand guard and make sure no one else walks in on this." She sat on the floor and opened the bag she'd been carrying. "I can get started on cataloguing while I wait."

"And will you be alright, Tobias?" Blinky asked.

"I think so?" The boy looked at Jim uncertainly. "Dude, it's Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. They're not gonna hurt us. Shouldn't it be my turn to be freaking out right now?"

+=+

"I'm sorry," said Vendel to Draal, as gently as the brusque elder was able. "The damage is … severe. I suspect your arm cannot be saved. I advise that we amputate, to keep the cracks from spreading higher, so your shoulder can be fitted with a prosthetic."

Draal grimaced. He stared at his cracked, pitted arm and flexed his fingers with a wince. A few more chips came loose. He touched one of the worst with his uninjured hand.

For the examination, the leather strip that usually wrapped around his right wrist was removed, showing the scarred crack that extended onto his hand. Vendel remembered treating that wound – he'd been worried Draal would lose his hand then as well.

"What if we used metal packing?" asked Draal.

"You lost some mobility in your wrist last time," Vendel reminded him. "If we tried that now, with your more extensive injuries, the amount of metal necessary and immobilization while you healed would likely lock the joints in place for good. And we would need to clear out the dead stone before we begin. Depending on the depth of damage," which was already and obviously deep, "your arm might come off in any case."

"… Can I have some time to think about it?"

In a sense, no, because the longer he went without treatment (beyond the painkillers Vendel had already given him), the worse his injuries would get, and the more likely it was the decision would be made for him.

"If you can remain still while you decide, I can give you a few hours."

"Thank you."

Vendel was not a prayerful troll, but he prayed he wasn't just giving Draal false hope.

+=+

"Hey, your eyes are blue again!" Toby cheered. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Maybe."

"And you're using words!" He patted Jim on the shoulder. "Think maybe we can get off the Gyre now?"

Jim looked at Nomura, still sitting on the station floor in troll form with her stolen treasures spread around her, and shook his head.

Early on in her sorting process, she'd propped up one of her treasures next to the Gyre – a trident with a red gem set on a ring below the fork. The red gem had started glowing when she'd turned the ring and seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room, which was an incredible relief for Toby's overheated skin.

"Dude, come on. I thought she was, like, your friend?"

Nomura laughed. "Oh, we go way back."

"… I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not."

"It wasn't," said Jim.

"So why is she scary to you?"

"Excuse me, are you not intimidated by me?" she asked, casually running her finger along the length of one of her cool swords. Which seemed like kind of the opposite of helping Jim calm down.

"You helped us," Toby reminded her.

"And we're all richer for it," she agreed.

Seriously, was she being sarcastic or not? Or, maybe not sarcastic, but … teasing? Was that it?

"You got eaten," said Jim, as though Toby could possibly have forgotten this. "By a troll. You getting eaten by a troll is literally one of my worst nightmares. I can't … I can't let you be in Trollmarket right now. There's too many trolls I don't know. I probably shouldn't fight them all, but I'm going to want to."

Toby sighed and turned back to his phone. He loved Go-Go Sushi, but there were only so many times he could play it in a day.

Oh, hey, wait, phones.

"Here, you should take your phone back." He put it as far down the Gyre's foldaway steps as he could reach without getting off the boat and having Jim grab him again. Nomura waited until he was back in the boat before standing to get it.

"Why do you have Nomura's phone?"

"From when we texted you we were alive. She's got an international plan and I don't."

"I didn't notice the text come in," Jim admitted.

"That's fair. You would've been pretty distracted."

+=+

Draal didn't want to lose his arm.

He had no regrets about what he'd done – if he hadn't been there, Nomura or Tobias would have been the ones hurt, or might even have fallen off the boulder and died – but he would rather have been able to save them without ending up in this position.

Draal liked his body. He liked his arms. He liked his strength and agility, and his reach, and how easy most weapons were to use, and how easy it was to switch between going on two legs, all fours, or a roll.

Whatever happened now would change that. Patch job or prosthetic, he'd have to restart his training to compensate for the change in balance. He wouldn't have the same reach or flexibility anymore. His grip on two-handed weapons would change.

It would have been easier, in a way, if he'd been hurt badly enough for the arm to come off on its own. Then at least he wouldn't have to decide whether to have what was left of it cut off, or to try and salvage it and risk seeing it crumble away in any case.

He wished his mother still lived in Trollmarket. Ballustra was a weaponsmith, but she had done prosthetic work as well, and helped with injuries that needed metal packing. He trusted Vendel to give him good advice, but … Draal wanted his mother.

(She'd gone back to the Old World a few centuries ago, after she and Kanjigar had divorced. Draal hadn't actually seen her in person for almost twenty years now. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until he started thinking about her.)

He sighed heavily. The movement of his chest caused his arm to move on the table. A few more pieces flaked off. Had they been already broken and sitting there, or had they just broken away? Was it his imagination, or did some of the cracks just get a little bit longer?

With the depth and spread of the fissures, metal packing would noticeably increase the weight of his arm. Draal would be fit to return to the field far sooner if he accepted a prosthetic, which could be graded to a compatible weight. He'd have use of two hands again more quickly, too.

Draal's blue hide had been nearly seared off in some places, exposing the veins of purplish crystal underneath. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing some of it. So smooth; a bit itchy at the edges.

Vendel had not simply left him alone. The Elder was looking through his supplies, giving Draal an illusion of privacy while keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't aggravate his wounds.

"Vendel. If … If we try to save it. What are the odds it'll work?"

"Very low, I'm afraid. We can keep it attached, if that's your wish, but it would likely not be functional."

"Meaning?"

"In the worst case scenario, it would be like an immobile prosthesis with bits of your living stone embedded in it. In the best case, you would recover about half the mobility you had before."

Draal grimaced. He studied what was left of his arm again. Gorgus, some of the pits were so deep they nearly went halfway through.

"Cut it off."

+=+

"Then we all reached the Gyre, and Draal worsened his injuries to start the mechanism."

They were waiting outside the Gyre station. Blinky had just finished reciting the day's events to AAARRRGGHH.

"This is my doing. I knew Gatto held a place on the Tribunal, but never even thought to ask Vendel's assessment of his character. So now Jim is terrified of us all, Tobias is probably also mentally scarred, and Draal is grievously injured for my failure as a researcher."

AAARRRGGHH, always a troll of few words, had no words that could make Blinky feel less responsible for what had happened. He tried anyway.

"Attacking was Gatto's choice, not Blinky's."

"He didn't attack us, AAARRRGGHH! He made his terms clear, and I knew better than to accept but I did anyway, and now –" He flailed his arms. "I can only be thankful Jim didn't actually hurt you, and no one actually died."

"I'm sorry about that."

They both jumped, and turned to see Jim and Toby. Jim's helmet was sealed, and he was between them and Toby, but he was unarmed.

"I shouldn't have agreed to the riddle game either," said Jim. "That was a stupid gamble. I should've just stabbed him in the face the second he started talking about eating us."

"I feel like that's not the lesson we should take from this, but at the same time I can't argue," said Toby.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my fears get the better of me when I – I trust you. I know you would never."

"Forgiven," AAARRRGGHH assured him at once.

Blinky looked passed the boys, into the Gyre station. It stood empty.

"Where has Nomura gone?" And how had he not noticed her leaving? She would have had to go right past them.

"She wanted to see Draal before we left," said Jim.

+=+

"Hey," said Nomura.

"Hey." Draal lifted his new prosthetic hand in greeting. It made a faint clanking sound.

"… I came to show off all the stuff I took," she claimed, rather than admit she'd been concerned and wanted to check on him. Draal leaned forward.

"Show me."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Otto keeps unintentionally sabotaging his own coup.)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (As though Draal hasn’t been through enough, he turns human.)

This was the longest chapter yet! Helped along by how I had a few hundred words already prepped from the early days of fic writing, back when I thought they would be doing to search for the Triumbric Stones in canonical order and Blinky was still going to be the troll who turned human. How far we've come, eh?

There are two non-Tales of Arcadia cartoon references in this chapter, one to a show and one to a movie. Spot them for imaginary prizes! I'll reveal them in the notes for the next chapter.

I do not know what regular lava would do to a troll, but since Gatto digests that poor unfortunate troll in his introductory episode (seen sinking into the gut-lava when Toby and Blinky arrive in the stomach), I assume that particular type of lava can mess stone-flesh up. The term 'gut-lava' was used in one of the spinoff comics.

Out of curiosity, I looked up 'Ojos del Salado', which is a real place. Some fun facts: It is the highest active volcano in the world, and the second-highest mountain in both the Western Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere. It's actually on the Argentina-Chile border, and the mountain has two summits, one in each country. There is a crater lake on the eastern side that is believed to be the highest lake in the world.

Draal's mom Ballustra was named in the spinoff novels. I have not yet decided how much of the novels' depiction I will use, beyond the name and the job and the bit about her and Kanjigar being divorced. Or separated? The novel does not actually use the word 'divorced', but it does say they were married when Draal was born, and heavily implies they were not married anymore by the time Kanjigar died without providing a word for how the end of a marriage is described in troll society.

#Trollhunters #Changeling Jim #Becoming The Mask chapters #Tales of Arcadia #canon divergence #tw: loss of limb #Draal #Nomura #Tobias Domzalski #Blinkous Galadrigal #Vendel #AAARRRGGHH #Claire Nuñez #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

21 notes · View notes

svgurl410 · 3 years

Note

If you could rewrite the women on Smallville, how would you?

Thanks for the question! Huh, interesting. I'm going to say this may not be realistic or fitting for a show on the CW, which relies on love triangles and romance but it's just my personal wishes.

The only thing I'd change about Tess is that she doesn't die. Otherwise, she was great as she was and her arc was great to watch.

Lois- again, close to perfect. I would take away her romance with Grant in s7. I don't care that she dated her boss as much as her haters did (and used as a way to slut shame her), but I didn't like Grant and I didn't feel any chemistry between them. More importantly, she had such limited screen time back then that I hated that it wasted on a pointless romance. I wish we could've seen her react to Jimmy's death too.

Lana- no Kryptonite suit. I wish she didn't feel like she needed to get powers to be strong but I kinda get it. I think Isis was suited for her because she did always want to help people and in s7, I would have liked to see Clark and Lana pulling away from each other, with Lana finding escape in Isis/something similar and Clark ending up following Lois & Jimmy on stories, realizing his own interest in journalism. Also I wish she would've chosen to leave at the end of s7 rather than it being revealed that she was forced.

Chloe- I have mixed feelings on this character. I liked her at the time, though I had a lot of issues staring in the second half of s8 and now I just don't really think about her much. Don't know how I would change her. I feel she didn't get held accountable for some of her more questionable actions, like the stock piling weapons, stealing from Oliver, or spying on Clark (he forgave her too easily). They pushed Lana into being this "grey" character but oddly enough, Chloe would've been the more fitting option. I would've cut the pining for Clark a long time ago, because it just got kinda ridiculous at some point, and during her conversation with Ollie in "Escape", it really should've addressed Jimmy and Davis and what that did to her, not readdressed a guy she hadn't kissed in almost 4 years and hadn't had anything more with in even longer.

Hope that answers it! I haven't rewatched the show so I can't remember the points where things could've changed as much as I should.

#answered asks #anonymous

9 notes · View notes

astrologanize · 4 years

Text

universal year 4 & personal year

(in numerology)

“the 4 noble truths”

find your personal year by calculating your birthday & the year in question (2020) and simplifying to a single digit

ex: birthdate: 07/06/1980. their personal year number is calculated as so -

7 + 6 + 2020 = 2033

2 + 0 + 3 + 3 = 8

it is a personal 8 year for them

personal year 1: (probably my favorite to write about for this year but at the same time i don’t have too much to say) cause lmao it is not what you’re expecting. it is filled with surprises! you’ll even surprise yourself. after last year’s juggling act, “embracing of the madness” as it was put, you are now in a place where you are desperate for a simple/pure feeling and/or total lightheartedness. all the words and feelings you made a message of a bottle out of and tried to throw out to sea have washed ashore by now. you don’t want those sentiments left in a bottle anymore, you don’t want to hold it in, you want something to hold.

personal year 11/2: alright, so last year was tumultuous and it’s time to take it down a notch...or two (ha) and explore other ventures, quietly. you’ve taken the past year to “redefine” yourself, oh so clumsily, and now you must *refine* that person. your limits were bypassed in an effort of self-expression but now you are aware of, or will be made aware of, what lines need to be drawn so that you may express yourself properly, without flying off the handle bars. it’s a year of softening your expression from the rough draft of last year. you see you but you need to learn how to relay this You to others and that requires you to mend/redress/readdress so that you are able to mediate. meet others, listen to others, take the backseat.

personal year 3: last year was like being a lab rat stuck in the maze and having to handle situations with others that you’ve never had to before. it was an “off-color” year but this year you’re inspired and although there may be setbacks that take you out of the game for a moment, you are only getting closer to understanding yourself on a deeper level. what is ‘personal’ to you? what is it that matters? the lyric “it can happen, the more we imagine. feel the deepest part of your heart and what it's saying” comes to mind. this is a year of exploring all these questions and notions.

personal year 4/22: the shaping and shifting of last year has grown tiresome - talk about puberty in overdrive. like okay!!! i’ve learned a lot!!! and now this year you are seeking out better resources with this new knowledge. you have stripped the paint and modernized yourself but this year everything catches up with you (both the good and bad) so that the rest of your life can be up to date. you feel of a new form now, a form that needs to find its place in the grand scheme of things. it’s time to build your security.

personal year 5: this year is a lucky break and/or a “cats out of the bag” moment. last year examined the places of your life that felt unfilled, a year of detaching yourself from what you knew and walking through life as an observer. “i don’t know” could be a description itself for this past year for you but there was something about the year that had this low vibrating quality to it, at least that’s what i keep envisioning; it’s not that your life was necessarily violently shook but it felt more like a slow rattle. this year you’re going to see how fast life can change.

personal year 6: remember the thick skin you developed last year because this year can throw you for a bit of a loop in terms of assurance. this year questions what you know, what you’re used to, critical points (milestones) of your life happen that you would think would be gratifying but it just creates more questions and challenges. it’s this silent realization of commitments (or lack thereof), that moment of “oh this is my life now.” and you’ll have to have a conversation with expectations, it will not be an easy conversation but you’ll be better for it. sometimes things don’t happen the way you imagined but things have a way of working themselves out too. this year will be an era in itself for you.

personal year 7: so last year was a marker that something needs to change and this year is a, or the, turning point. you are falling far down the rabbit hole of the past and you’re starting to notice how different memory lane looks. your hindsight is 20/20 (im sorry but lmao) and you could try to rehash past quarrels with this newfound insight. reminds me of those posts that are like someone arguing with another and they say “remember x years ago on x day when you did x thing?” out of nowhere. this is a ‘galaxy brain’ year for you. even while i’m thinking of how to explain it i keep coming up with new ways to word it, if i had to describe it with a phrase it would be “wait a second...” (🧐) this is a year of processing past years and it’ll be hard not to stick your foot in your mouth once it starts externalizing.

personal year 8: some disgraceful moments & some moments of major affirmation are in store. this past year has been releasing for you in some way, you had to learn how to handle both being thrown out by your lonesome and how to catch yourself - as there were situations you had not yet been confronted with until recently, situations that were yours alone to experience. while you may feel that you’re up to the challenge of taking more on after such a year of self-reliance, remember in 2020 that the greater the risk the greater the fall and this year may teach you lessons about risks of the current and those of the past, and how they may be connected. last year tested what you could do on your own, this year tests your character when facing feelings of rejection/criticism.

personal year 9: this personal year is exemplified with all that is happening in capricorn - it is truly a year of climax for you. first of all...what in the world was this past year? you were certainly...different? and being viewed as such. but “you’ve changed” doesn’t always have to be a bad thing or a life sentence. you did things you wouldn’t normally do in an effort to conceal hurt parts, it happens to the best of us. this year certain foundations are coming to a close, parts of your life that begin to wither and you may feel slower than usual, as though you don’t have the same touch anymore. or positively it’s life that slows down because you’ve decided to not limit yourself to one thing, one experience, you want other parts of yourself to find unity and in doing so life flows better. so you can either resist life and deny your instincts or you can welcome a change in pace.

#numerology #2020

709 notes · View notes

double-knots-archive · 3 years

Text

hi ive had clarke for 10 minutes but if anyone stepped on her, i think i’d cry

1) shes not as pale as all the other elves due to not being white, however, she’s still pale-r because they never go outside

2) she has too long pink hair, and always has hellebores (aka: christmas rose) in her hair, and a lot of them

3) her hair is almost always down, and typically pulled out of her face with a crown braid

4) she works in the toy department as a quality checker and WILL break a toy in front of the other elves if she deems it to be under-quality

5) she also threatens other elves with a pair of knitting needles that she keeps in her hair. She will use them to stab if needed.

6) she keeps a piece of mistletoe pinned to her shirt so that way no one gets too close to her. This way everyone stays OUT of her bubble cause otherwise they have to kiss her, and she’d stab them if they kissed her. She replaces the mistletoe on her shirt every three days to keep it fresh

7) she loves eggnog, but cinnamon rolls are her go to snack

someone: so how old are you

Clarke: old enough to kick your ASS

clarke x steve ( @plasticsouled) ?

basically a gen z going “okay boomer” before they kiss and i need that to be known

also she calls him “Steven” to piss him off

okay so the oldest elf that we *know* the age of was alive in 1812. if we assume the movie took place the year it came out (2011), that means that elf is over 200 years old.

Grandsanta was santa in 1902-1941, and he said he’s over 130. We Know Malcom was born before 1941 due to evie’s “deconstruction” and stuff, plus he’s on his 70th thing. So like no idea how *old* he Really is.

okay, so elves and the claus family live for a long ass time, cool, cool.

if we rough estimate normal human life spans to about 80 years and most elves to about 250-300 years.

Then most elves would be reaching “puberty”(14) at about 43 human years.

so rough estimate her to be 28 in human years, she’s about 86 in elf years.

Boom. Clarke is 86 elf years

Bernard as Head Elf: *screaming in a freezer*

Clarke as Head Elf: *eye twitches, and more mistletoe is added to her shirt to keep people away*

the horrifying realization that if Bernard marries Arthur, he gets the “Mrs Claus” role, meaning-

Clarke would become head elf since she is only a step below Bernard

cute the “Never mind, I’ll let them suffer through this stupid mutual pining.”

Head Of The Toy Quality Check Center.

That’s Clarke’s official title.

Her Job is to ensure that every toy is properly made to every specification, properly wrapped, and properly addressed before being sent off to final checks in the sleigh packing center.

Aka: Clarke is the step below Head Elf.

The Head Elf that makes sure that everyone falls in line, does their job, and that everything in on schedule for Christmas Eve.

Clarke is the more... personal side of things. Her job isn’t dependent on anything or anyone else. She doesn’t care if there’s only 20 days until Christmas or 20 minutes, her job is to make sure that what is being sent out is of utmost quality. And she will force the elves to remake, rewrap, and readdress a toy if she does not deem it to be of “santa-quality”. Does this annoy toy maker elves? Oh yeah. Does she care? No. She has her job, and her job wouldn’t exist if they just did theirs right the first time

Clarke has her own small office, with a few conveyor belts running through: One has the toys, one has the gift tags, and one has wrapped gifts. She spends many hours a day in there running through the lines and checking things over. Misprinted doll faces, toys that easily break, misprinted names, and gifts with too much wrapping paper are things she sees quite often, and those are the ones that get sent down the “Garbage” shoot. (it used to have a different, head-elf approved title but Clarke painted over it, and kept painting over it until Bernard just let her keep it that way.)

These “unusables” are then re-added to the list of things to be made by the elves that check and write up the issues with the current unusables so that they are not mis-made again. (They have a tally for how many times the toy elves have to remake one toy because they didn’t listen to the reasons why it was sent back, there’s also an on going betting pool for which type of toy will have to be remade the most. Bernard does NOT know about said pool)

The only reason Clarke isn’t as stressed as the Head Elf is because she is only responsible for herself, and herself alone. She doesn’t worry about the other elves. No one works under her, they all work under the Head Elf. Everyone listens to Clarke, but that’s because of how important her job is. But she technically doesn’t have any elves employed under her or in her division. That said, she will go down to the toy building department or any other department and give them a piece of her mind if she notices too many under-quality items coming in at once. TLDR: Clarke is no one’s boss, but everyone listens to her because no one wants to face her wrath nor Bernard’s.

Clarke is fucking lost without Bernard ( @thcsevoices ) there to keep her on schedule. Without him, the toy department would fully break down because they would take their sweet time working on toys without worry, and Clarke probably wouldn't notice how long stuff was taking because she’d be too busy trying to check quality and just–

Clarke needs Bernard, and in the verse where she eventually becomes Head Elf, the elf she has to promote to her previous position is no where as good as she was. And that bothers her so much, because now she is basically doing her job as Head Elf AND as quality checker because she can’t trust anyone else. It takes her a while to figure out the whole timing thing and she turns into an anxious, stressed, absolute disaster

Aka: Clarke’s Head Elf verse is her just quietly “I hate all of you, none of you do your damn job, do I not strike as much fear as Bernard? Was Bernard just better than me? Please explain why you don’t do your jobs for me.”

Clarke is one of the prettiest elves, not the prettiest unless u ask steve probably, but she certainly can get her way with just a bat of her eye lashes.

Grandsanta and Malcolm have fallen for her charms more than once

if your muse could go anywhere, without any restrictions whatsoever, where would they go? why would they go there?

Clarke would like to go to the catacombs in Paris, she thinks it’d be interesting to see the history that lies underneath people’s feet. But she knows she’d never be allowed, hell, she’s not allowed to leave the north pole.

if your muse could ensure one thing for certain in their future to come, what would it be?

She’d ensure happiness. Doesn’t matter what it looks like, as long as she felt it inside and out. She doesn’t just want to be the cynical elf everyone’s used to her being, but she’s that way for a reason, and she’d love to be as happy as some of the other elves seem to be.

does your muse have a ‘bucket list?’ list some things your muse wants to accomplish before they die.

Nope, Clarke has a long long time before she even needs to think of that. Plus, she’s living in like the safest place possible, no need to think about death. Especially her death. But there is one thing she wants to do before she dies: See a big city outside of Christmas. She wants to see people bustling about, and she wants to stand in the middle of a crowd. Maybe even go inside an actual store. A toy store, hopefully.

Clarke & Steve have about a ~12 year gap in human years

& In their Non-Santa verse, (aka: the one where Clarke actually gets a non-elf family and such) Clarke’s family doesn’t not approve of her dating Steve, when Clarke first mentions how much older than her he is, they do get a bit judgey thinking that he may be using Clarke. However, upon meeting him, and seeing how much he genuinely cares for her, and how much she for him, they ease up, and only judge him on his lack of PURE GENINUE Christmas cheer.

As an elf, Clarke’s hair is naturally pink

But, as a human, it’s naturally a light brown, and she normally dyes it in her bathroom sink like every two months.

#tw death mention #tw long post #--; i always forget just how much i have for her until i have to type it all up #HC. || CLARKE;#NO ONE WILL BE SLEEPING ON THE NIGHT OF CHRISTMAS EVE. || CLARKE&BERNARD;#MEET ME UNDER THE MISTLETOE. || CLARKE&STEVE;#TW CHRISTMAS

2 notes · View notes

jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Fate’s Arrow: Chapter One

Today’s entry I actually started before Valentine’s Day, and it was supposed to be for the holiday. But I fell behind on my goal line - then FG week was announced with the exact theme I was using for the entry I decided I would repurpose it for the shipweek instead.

And I still didn’t finish this one.

So I’m cheating a little bit. Unfortunately, for as great as I have done for the week (and I won’t lie, I’m very impressed with myself) a month to do seven stories is VERY demanding for me. I’m just not fast enough nor do I have enough free time to make it happen without my quality dipping. And I want y’all to read a product I’m proud of.

SO, all this to say... that this is the first chapter of this tale. I will readdress it at a future time, but I hope you enjoy this one!

Day 4: Soulmates

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 1.4k

Ao3 Link: Chapter One

Summary: It was said to be the work of Fate: A date etched one’s wrist, in the color of another's eyes, that foretold a destined meeting with one's soulmate.

Qrow took one look at his and decided the person with teal eyes he was meant to encounter on February 14th was more trouble than they were worth. [Modern Soulmate AU]

Qrow was pretty sure when he was born, Fate took one look at him, laughed hysterically, and then, like the conniving mistress She was, etched in the color of his other half’s irises what had to be the most ironic date in the world to find his soulmate:

February, 14th

That’s all he got. A day and an eye color. Nothing more, nothing less. Not even the year – for all he knew, he’d met his soulmate before he could even talk.

He thumbed at his wristband, where below the teal green ink was hidden. Then scoffed at himself when he realized what he was doing.

Soulmates, pah! What good was a soulmate, anyways? He’d seen what it had done to his best friend, how Tai had practically danced on Cloud 9 for five years only to lose Summer and trade in all that joy for Stage 5 depression instead. There was nothing romantic or fulfilling about that. It was just sad. And to think the same could happen to him?

Qrow was pretty sure he had enough problems to fill out the Dignostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders himself, thank you very much.

He reached across the bathroom sink, plucking out his contact lenses from their case and placing them in either eye. He blinked rapidly a few times to get used to the feeling, looking into the now blue orbs staring back at him.

He had no intention of being a pawn of Fate whom was already twittering away over destining them to meet on the so called “Day of Love”.

He set the case aside, gave himself one more appraising look, before heading out the door.

Besides, with his luck, even if he did find them, his soulmate wouldn’t even like him.

Tai was intent on giving him hell for it – just like every year before.

“I just don’t understand why you insist on making yourself unhappy.” He was saying as he slowed the car down for a stop light.

Qrow looked up from the emails he was riffling through (mostly junk about it being the ‘Last day to buy for his one and only!’), to frown towards the blond. “Hey, who says I’m unhappy?”

Tai rolled his own naturally blue eyes at him. “Oh, I don’t know, why don’t we ask Jack Daniels?”

He rolled his eyes right back. “Just because I knock back a few every now and again-”

“Every now and again? Qrow, for awhile, it was almost every night!”

“Yeah, and I got better. What more do you want from me?” He huffed. As the light turned green and they started moving again, he added, “What does this have to do with anything, anyways?”

“Because I don’t want to see you like that again man! It was, scary.” Tai brow had furrowed with stress, a crinkling at the edges of his eyes that made it look like he might cry.

Gods, Qrow hated it that expression. It made his gut twist in unpleasant ways.

So, he looked out the window instead. “And what, finding my soulmate will be the cure to my alcoholism?”

“No, but it would be something positive for you. Which you do need more of in your life.” He replied, taking a right onto Beacon Boulevard.

Leafless trees framed either side of the street. Last night’s snowfall was still heaped heavily into the knots of trunks and today’s sun caused the icicles clinging to the branches to shine brightly. They only had a few houses to go before they pulled up to the curb of their destination – a moderately sized two-story house that sheltered a rather unusual collective within its walls. Oz’s Home Away From Home was a group home for recently orphaned kids as well as teenagers who fell out of unfavorable foster home situations. The facility was meant to provide a safe space for kids to recover from or deal with trauma and grief rather than immediately allow the government social workers to chuck them into the system and forget about their pain.

Having been fosters themselves during a time when the organization was an even more unfavorable mess, Tai and Qrow had both been volunteering for nearly a decade now at Oz’s. They came by every other Saturday, working with the kids there to rehabilitate or counsel them. It was difficult, trying to instill hope into the children when Qrow knew they felt at their lowest. He’d been there right along with them once, and hoped that the man they could see now acted as an example that things did get better. That there was still a future out there for them.

Tai pulled the break and cut the engine, but that did nothing for his motormouth. “Look, all I’m saying is, are you really going to be satisfied letting the opportunity to meet your soulmate pass you by?”

He shrugged as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “There’s plenty of people who don’t have a date on their wrist and they seem to make it through life just fine. I don’t see why I’d be any different.” He threw open the door, adding as he got out. “Just ‘cause I have one doesn’t mean I need them.”

“It’s not-”

He slammed the door closed before he had to hear anymore.

He enjoyed the blissful silence for all of two seconds, when Tai got out from the other side, “You bast-”

This time he was saved by the front door flying open. “Oscar-!” He heard Oz yelling from inside.

But it did nothing to pause the freckled-faced boy from running down the steps of the stoop, calling brightly, “Mr. Qroooow!”

Qrow grinned, swooping up the little five-year-old in his arms and lifting him high just like he liked. “Hey you lil’ rascal.”

He giggled holding his arms out. “I’m the crow now.”

“That you are.” He laughed. As he peered past the boy, he could see Ozpin making his way over.

It was easy to tell from his unusually rumpled appearance that it had probably been a hard morning for the caretaker. “Sorry, he got away from me.”

“No need to be sorry, I can’t think of a more wonderful greeting.” Tai said as he made his way around the car. He held out his hands, letting Qrow deposit Oscar into them.

“Mr. Long!” The boy immediately started fiddling with the fringed ends of Tai’s yellow scarf. “Did you bring gifts?”

The blond made a show of thinking really hard. “Hmmmm, I can’t recall. Maybe we need to check the trunk and see?”

“Need help carrying anything?”

The new voice was unexpected and had Qrow looking towards the door, eyebrows rising at the man coming down the steps. He remembered Ozpin mentioning a new volunteer would be joining them today – a friend of a friend, was what he had said. But he hadn’t mentioned more than that. Like, perhaps, the slightly more interesting fact that he was from the military.

From head to toe, the new fellow was decked out in the white uniform of a navy officer, even the circular, wire-frame sunglasses. The only thing he didn’t have was the low-brimmed cap. Probably didn’t want to contain that slightly ridiculous updo he had, which reminded Qrow of a crest of feathers certain birds had. Something glinted on his chest, catching his eye, and he tried to make out what it was.

“Any help would be appreciated!” Tai called from where he was trying to juggle Oscar and get the trunk open. The new guy hurried over to relinquish him of the boy which turned out to be a bit more difficult when he refused to let go of Tai’s scarf.

Oz joined in the effort, helping to untangle them, and once he had a good hold of Oscar, the soldier stepped back to stand beside Qrow instead.

It gave him a chance to get a better look at the medallion on the collar of his shirt. He snorted as he realized it was a brooch in the shape of a four-leaf clover. “Hey shamrock, I think you decorated for the wrong holiday.”

“Huh? Oh, you mean this?” He flicked one edge as he adjusted his grip on Oscar. “Nah this is just an old keepsake of mine.”

“Mr. Bee? Can I wear your glasses again?” The little boy asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Sure kid.” He lowered his head so he could reach up and take them.

Qrow snorted again. “Bee?”

“Ebi, actually. Clover Ebi.” The other man corrected, looking up at him with a grin that was almost blinding.

But only almost – and almost just wasn’t enough.

As he stared into the other’s teal green eyes, Qrow swore the sudden rushing in his ears was the sound of Fate pouring Herself a glass of well-deserved wine.

Oh fuck.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

40 notes · View notes