Molly Weasley watched her third oldest son turning his back to their family but never gave up on him.
Molly Weasley saw her husband at his weakest moment as he laid wounded in St. Mungo’s hospital. She never understood what muggles thought when they started praying to their god(s): But that night as she sat at her husband’s hospital bed she couldn’t help but fold her hands, close her eyes and just hope that there was indeed a greater deity that could bring her husband back to her family.
Molly Weasley put a bandage around her fifth son’s head when he was bleeding onto her sofa, his ear ripped away. She did not let her heart and actions be ruled by panic and fear. She would not risk her son’s life like that.
Molly Weasley saw her son that wasn’t her son dead in Hagrid’s arms and did not show how she broke inside. Instead, she gripped her wand a little tighter, bit her lip a little stronger and started to fight a lot grimmer.
Molly Weasley cried over her fourth son’s cold body, his last laugh still etched into his face. She witnessed her fifth son crumbling right then and there. She saw her family grieving and crying. She went through hell but reminded herself to keep going.
Molly Weasly got up and stared straight into the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.
Proud woman, blonde hair, pale skin.
Split lips, bloody cloak, sad eyes.
They did not exchange one word.
But one glance was enough.
Narcissa’s eyes darted to Fred, to Harry, then back to Molly. Her lean finger’s tightened indiscernibly around her son’s bony shoulder.
The war had taken enough lifes. Enough children.
And as one mother to another, Molly Weasley nodded back.
And yeah I gotta say sorry because you guys probably had so much trouble bc of my uggo designs hahahaha. Thanks for being so on board w my crazy stuff and being patient and just really awesome people!
Anyways, they are all amazing!! Please shower all of them with the love they deserve 💕💕 We hope you’ll enjoy the fic and the artworks! We’d love to know what you think about them hehehe! :D Have a great day!!
#lets acknowledge the fact that root never ever wanted more from shaw than she was able to give #she never crossed shaw’s boundaries #she never wanted to make shaw uncomfortable etc #she just wanted HER and was willing to be patient until shaw was fully ready to go THERE #so root’s reactions to shaw’s more playful/intimate moments with her are the most precious cause you can tell shaw being that vulnerable catches her off guard #she never expected ANY confession of feelings so imagine how much root is internally screaming inside #shaw making it known that she indeed loves her back was all she ever wanted
at long last-- the small translation difference I noticed!
Disclaimer: I’m not perfectly fluent in german! But I’ve been studying it for many years and I can definitely call myself proficient. Sorry if there are small mistakes; if anyone is fluent let me know if anything’s a bit off!
SO! During the battle against Vah Ruta, Sidon will explain the strategy to you and then tell you to climb on his back. There are two text options:
If you pick the second one, as you can see, Sidon basically reassures you that yes, indeed, the two of you together can defeat Vah Ruta.
In the german version, the same thing happens: Sidon explains the plan, then tells you to get on his back. But my curiosity was piqued when I saw the two text options, because the second option in german reads differently than the english version. Here, Link uses “darf”, which is a conjugation of the verb “dürfen”, which means “may”. So, Link is asking “may I really?”. I thought this was a bit strange, because it seemed to me that it would’ve made more sense to have Link ask “can I really?” if he was concerned about whether or not him and Sidon could really defeat Vah Ruta, and that no one would really ask for permission to try to stop an evil beast terrorizing a city.
However, once you click the second option, Sidon essentially says “When I say that [you can climb on my back], naturally you may! Now come!”
So, in short, in the english version, Link is concerned about whether or not they can defeat Vah Ruta, and Sidon reassures him and is certain that together they will defeat the divine beast. However, in german, Link is instead concerned about whether or not he’s really allowed to climb on Sidon’s back, and Sidon reassures him that yes, Link may indeed climb on his back.
I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.
I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.
“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”
The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.
“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”
I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.
“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”
The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.
“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”
I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.
“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”
The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.
“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”
Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.
“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”
The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.
“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”
I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.
Again, a beep and a flash of red.
“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”
And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.
The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.
“TOO MANY ERRORS DETECTED. REBOOTING. RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC. NO DISCREPANCIES FOUND,”
I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.
The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?
“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”
I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.
“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”
The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.
“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”
I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.
“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”
The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?
“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”
I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.
“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”
The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.
“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”
I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.
“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”
The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.
“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”
I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.
“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”
The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.
“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”
I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.
“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”
The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.
“Yes, if you like.”
I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.
“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”
A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.
“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”
I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.
“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“
“ERROR: NO A-”
“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”
A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.
“That…what purpose would that…why w-”
Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.
“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“
“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”
A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.
“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”
I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.
“It was intentional.”
The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.
I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.
“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”
A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.
“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”
I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.
“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:
I wanted to take this oportunity to talk about Richie’s canon personality/sexuality, since there was a bit of (good) fuzz at the last chap.
I take for master canon what it’s said on Mr. King’s books. And what he makes perfectly clear about Richie is that he’s very smart and he is just unable to “be serious” due to the lack of emotional attachment with his parents.
He uses humor as a shield of his own insecurities, as an easy way to interact with people without them truly know him (Even though this constantly get him into trouble). As in one chapter (Eddie’s POV) It is said that “the trouble about Richie is that he never stayed still for more than a minute” and that “you never known what he was all about” – aka Eddie couldn’t tell if he was ever serious about anything–
His relationship with women: In a chapter where he runs into Beverly, he analices a bit about her, he admits to himself she’s beutiful and feels a bit curious ( of her underwear) but all the features about her he finds atractive are masculine, he even thinks she’s a pretty boy. I’ll quote below:
“…he had once or twice caught himself wondering what color underwear she was wearing under her small selection of rather faded skirts, and that was not the sort of thing you wondered about the other guys, was it? And, Richie had to admit, she was one hell of a pretty guy.”
Also, as a grown up he never could have a serious relationship.
So, I’ve may said he’s bisexual… but now that I think it…it was the 80′s and if you think there’s homophobia now, man, back then was worst. So, maybe Richie was indeed plain gay, just very, very blocked and scared and unable to admit to himself something that serious as being in love with his friend…
You are part of the first ever time-travelling expedition. You and your fellow chrononauts travel back in time to discover that magic has indeed once existed! This leaves an interesting question: what happened to it?
Anthony Hopkins pretending to be Loki pretending to be Odin was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I was in stitches. Good thing I didn’t watch that scene with a full bladder because I would have pissed myself. Say what you will about the movie or loki but that shit was hysterical and unmatched.