#Found Family? No. BOUND Family. You WILL accept my will and carry my burden.

[burquillos]

One For All users

[jalpari-spouts]

wei wuxian is not an oblivious fool, there is a deeper reason he is ignorant of lan wangji's feelings; in this essay i will...

Disclaimer: all of this is just my personal interpretation.

TLDR; Wei Wuxian believes he is unworthy of love, that it is hard to love him, and he doesn’t want to burden anyone with himself.

There are three main traumas that are probably so deeply ingrained in the fiber of his being that Wei Wuxian might not even realize that he's carrying that emotional baggage with him. As always, these three issues stem from his formative experiences as a child since he was roughly six years old to well into his teenage years.

The sudden death of his parents when he was only around six years old.

Having to fend for himself as an orphan on the streets of Yiling for almost three years until Jiang Fengmian found him.

Being adopted by the Jiangs and then becoming the 'reason' for a lifelong conflict within the family.

One. Sudden loss of parents.

The death of Wei Wuxian's mother and father was sudden. As per canon, they died during a night hunt unexpectedly. Given that his father, Wei Changze, had left the Jiang clan to elope with his mother, Cangse Sanren, who was a rogue cultivator with no affiliation to any clan or sect (as she was an orphan herself and had left Baoshan Sanren's mountain and thus could not return there), this left Wei Wuxian quite literally, orphaned and homeless.

No matter how much one tries to understand and accept such a misfortune as just that – a misfortune – and not something that was their fault or something they deserved; the baggage stays, usually in the form of abandonment issues.

The abandonment issues could lead to not wanting to get too attached to people for fear of being abandoned again. It also develops the harmful mentality that all people will leave eventually because he has bad luck or because he doesn’t deserve that happiness or because he is just not meant to have such blessings.

Two. Living as a street orphan.

Wei Wuxian spent around three years, from the age of six to nine years old, as an orphan on the streets of Yiling — fending for himself, diving into dumpsters for scraps of food, surviving every season in his tattered clothes, fighting off dogs that probably thought he could be their next meal because surely such a feeble child wouldn't live longer than a few more hours in the frigid snow.

Such trauma, especially at that young age, is bound to leave deep scars in someone's psyche. Trauma manifests in different manners; loss of memory is one such way. People who have experienced trauma are known to either block out those memories entirely or disassociate from a large chunk of them.

Wei Wuxian jokes that he has always had bad memory. But it's true. He does. And one of the reasons is his childhood trauma. And now, because of that, he doesn't remember a lot of his childhood, only vaguely remembering a few bare details. The baggage of not remembering his parents and what a happy family is like, makes it harder for him to believe he can have that – because what you can’t even envision, you can’t begin to believe in. He just doesn’t remember what unconditional love and a harmonious family truly felt like for him and so can never truly reach out to take that for himself.

Three. Adoption into an unhappy home.

His adoption into the Jiang family was riddled with issues like conflict with the maternal figure, conflict between both parental figures, rumors and gossip mills, being better than the actual future clan leader and always being compared to him, being taunted by the “son of a servant” label anytime he was deemed wrong or caused an inconvenience.

No matter how much he says he didn’t care or no matter how much he smiles and shrugs, such an environment still has an impact. Especially for someone like Wei Wuxian who is already carrying the previously mentioned baggage.

Wei Wuxian always felt like a guest in the Jiang residence and a burden on the Jiang family and therefore felt like he owed them for everything. His actions make it very clear that he feels that he needs earn a place in the clan, in the house, in the family. He thinks he needs to be of value, to be useful, in order to receive their love and affection. Sometimes, he thinks his use is just to be a punching bag for Jiang-furen. And he was okay with that too.

This is not to say that Wei Wuxian didn't consider them his family. He did. It's just that his definition and understanding of his family by this point was already torn and twisted.

Important side note: Wei Wuxian did truly, from the bottom of his heart, love Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli. He always tried to forge a strong bond with them, partially because he genuinely loved them and saw them as siblings. But partially also because he didn’t want the conflict to pass onto the next generation and continue. As the Yunmeng trio grew up together, they truly did form that bond. Wei Wuxian truly did allow himself to accept Yanli's unconditional motherly love, to rely on her, to make demands of her. He let his inner child, that had been deprived of all these things, reach out to Yanli and hold onto her tight. Which is why the fate of the Yunmeng trio was the saddest part of this whole saga. And also why, when it all went downhill for Wei Wuxian, his shijie's death was the final trigger for his own.

thus, therefore, thence...

Wei Wuxian had a hard time accepting people’s love. 

Speaking from experience, childhood abuse and trauma does that to a person. You feel like a burden when you want something, when you express something, when you need something. You don’t want to push your luck and try and get more than what they’re giving. You don’t believe they will stay. You basically apologize for your entire existence if you feel they are getting inconvenienced by you and you go out of your way to eradicate the problem you think you are the cause of.

A lot of Wei Wuxian’s insecurities are embedded so deep within his soul and are so ingrained in his mentality that even he doesn’t know it sometimes. Wei Wuxian looks up to Lan Wangji, he respects him, he likes him, he wants his attention, he wants his friendship, maybe more. But he never truly acknowledges what else he might want from him or what else Lan Wangji might be willing to give.

He isn’t oblivious. He is ignorant.

Oblivious means that he is aware of it and actively ignores it. Whereas the latter means he is just genuinely unaware. Because Wei Wuxian absolutely cannot fathom the possibility of being the recipient of such love, that he could have the chance to have a real family again; because he isn’t worthy of any of it. He is just paying his debts and making sure he does the right thing, helping others and being of some use. Anything beyond that is something Wei Wuxian has forgotten how to believe in, how to reach out for, how to accept.

In conclusion, Wei Wuxian isn’t some dumb boy who is oblivious to something that is very obvious (allegedly, but that’s for another essay). He just simply has too much baggage and trauma to think something like that could even exist for him to just reach out and take.

Thankfully, by the end of the story...he does realize this. They both do.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Go stream every MDZS adaptation!

<meta musings masterlist>

[dream-dove]

At the tender age of six, Leah found herself drawn to the training yard of the Lannister castle, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched her brothers, Jason and Tyland, spar with swords in hand. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the air as the brothers danced in a graceful and deadly dance, their movements fluid and precise. But as Leah watched, her amusement turned to surprise when Tyland managed to best Jason, causing him to tumble to the ground in defeat.

A small giggle escaped Leah’s lips, her laughter innocent and pure, until Jason’s furious glare bore into her like daggers. Storming towards her with a look of rage etched upon his face, he demanded to know what she found so amusing. Unwavering, Leah stood her ground, refusing to cower in the face of her brother's anger. "I laughed because you fell," she admitted boldly, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Enraged by her defiance, Jason's temper flared, his grip on Leah's wrist tightening painfully as he berated her for her insolence. With a sneer of contempt, Jason loomed over Leah, his voice dripping with malice as he uttered his cruel words. "You're nothing but a burden, Leah," he spat, his eyes flashing with disdain. "No one cares for you in this family. Not me, not Tyland, not even our father." His words struck Leah like a blow to the heart, each syllable a painful reminder of her loneliness and isolation.

"You think you're special because you carry the name Lannister," Jason continued, his tone laced with venom. "But you're just a nuisance, a stain on our family's reputation. No matter what father preaches about you being my sister, I will never accept such. Even so if you don't want Father to disown you like the worthless mongrel you are, then you better learn to be useful when you're older."

As she stared up at her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks, Leah's voice trembled with emotion as she screamed out to Jason, her words filled with pain and desperation. "You've always treated me like dirt, Jason!" she cried, her voice echoing through the empty courtyard. "But I'm your sister! We're family, and family should treat each other equally and dearly. Like lions do in a pack!" Her words hung in the air, a plea for understanding and acceptance, but Jason's cold expression remained unchanged, his heart unmoved by her heartfelt plea.

"Listen here, you little brat," Jason's voice dripped with venom as he towered over Leah, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You think you can talk back to me? At your age, you should show me more respect, not sass. Otherwise, I'll have no qualms about burning another one of your precious belongings, just like I did last time." His threat hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver down Leah's spine as she recalled the pain of losing something dear to her.

"And this time," Jason continued, his voice low and menacing, "I'll make sure you watch every agonizing second of it. Maybe then you'll learn your place in this family." With those chilling words, Leah felt a cold dread settle in the pit of her stomach, knowing that Jason's cruelty knew no bounds and that she was powerless to stop him. And yet in that moment of despair, she made a silent vow to herself that she would prove Jason wrong, to forge her own path and fly away from these shackles of oppression.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 19: Mistakes

Written by: The Maribat Pit  Prompt: Mistakes Rating: T 

Soulmate AU - red string of fate around the ankles, references to other versions of the myth

A/N: This might become a mult-chap, we’re not entirely sure.  Comment on this post if you want to see this story continue.  There will be some Adrien/Chat Noir salt.

Marinette often heard stories about the ‘red string of fate’, the idea that there was a soulmate out there who was chosen just for her.  No one believed her when she told them she could see a red thread looped around her ankle. No one really explained what it meant, they would just tell her that she would grow out of that silly superstition.  She would look down at the floor, towards her ankle, where she could clearly see the red string tied around it.  Maybe they couldn’t see it, but she could, clear as day. When she became Ladybug and fought alongside Chat Noir, he would go on and on about how they were soulmates and destined for each other.  When she became Master Fu’s pupil, she asked him if he knew anything about it. “What brought this on?” he asked curiously. “I see this red string around my ankle, I’ve known about it ever since I was little. Everyone says it’s just a legend or a silly superstition.” she explained. “Around the ankle is a new one, but it’s also the oldest version of the legend,” Master Fu explained, “most prefer the version where it’s around the little finger, or a woman’s little finger and a man’s thumb.” “What does it mean?” she asked, “no one will tell me.” “It means the string will lead you to the person you are destined to be with,” he explained, “it may stretch and tangle, but it will never break.” For many years, she brushed aside other boys and their advances, much to the chagrin of anyone who knew the real reason why.    Whenever Chat Noir rambled on about them being soulmates, she knew it wasn’t true. It was infuriating, really, as she would look down at the red string leading away from him.  She would tell him that she was in love with someone else, because someone else was out there waiting for her.   Not that he would listen to her, but still she always kept him at arm’s length.  Some might say that her standards were too high, never mind that some boys just could not take “no” for an answer.   She thought about using Kaalki to find her soulmate, opening a portal directly to them.  The only problem was she only knew which direction the string was pointing, and not having a clear idea of where she was going could lead to complications. Marinette kept her head held high through Lila and Chloe bullying her, and the teachers doing very little to stop them.  She didn’t hate Adrien as much as she did on that first day of school, but he had done very little to stop his childhood friend from bullying people.  Marinette had been humiliated, insulted, and almost kicked out of school on multiple occasions.   Chat Noir, on the other hand, was only in love with the idea of her.   He had absolutely no clue who she was under the mask, and vice versa.  There were times when Marinette felt like she couldn’t step one toe out of line without someone breathing down her neck about being the bigger person.  She felt like she was the only one bearing the heavy burden of carrying the Ladybug mantle.  She took being a heroine seriously, but she knew that she couldn’t do everything perfectly.  Sometimes Chat Noir was more of a hindrance than a help, and this continued for many years. When days felt tough for Marinette, she only needed to look down at the string around her ankle and remind herself of what it meant.  It meant that someone out there was waiting for her, destined to love her with all their heart and she would love them in turn.  So Marinette kept her head down by day, and as Ladybug she would fight to bring an end to Hawk Moth’s reign of terror. Whoever her soulmate was, they would know the truth about her, they would love and accept her.  Sometimes she would wonder if Master Fu had chosen wrong when he decided that she should be the next Guardian of the Miraculous.  The red string on the other hand would stretch or tangle, but never break.  She could be certain that her soulmate was one choice that couldn’t be a mistake. Most of Jason’s earliest living memories were spent in hiding.  He would hide under the table with the family dog in his arms, while the adults around him argued.  When he got older, he would scurry back to the crevices in Gotham’s streets, hiding from whoever he just stole from.   All the time he’d worry they could see the glowing red thread wrapped around his ankle.  He could never understand what it meant, he assumed everyone had one at the time.   When his questions were met with mockery or indifference, he stopped sharing his curiosity about it.  It would always be glowing in the corner of his eye, like a bright light on a summer’s day.   One day he wandered into a bakery inside Gotham’s Chinatown.  He was waiting for the shopkeeper to look away so that he could grab a pastry without them noticing.  Their topic of conversation turned to a ‘red string of fate’ and Jason was intrigued.  Supposedly, the thread around his ankle bound him to someone. That someone was the person he was destined to be with forever, his soulmate.  He left the shop empty handed, hoping to try his luck finding food elsewhere.  If his soulmate was out there, whoever they were, they were going to be sorely disappointed.  He remembered thinking, whoever decided to pair him up with someone had made a terrible mistake.   If his soulmate could see him now, they would probably think so too. When he encountered Batman that fateful night in Crime Alley, his whole world had drastically changed from that night forth.  As Bruce Wayne took him under his wing and as he took on the Robin mantle, a secret part of him had hoped that he was becoming someone his soulmate could be proud of.  Still he kept it to himself, Alfred would occasionally find him staring off into space whenever he was alone.  If Jason asked Bruce about it, he would probably tell him that he needed to focus on other things. The glowing red string was the last thing he would see at night before letting sleep take him, this time, he wasn’t afraid. When she was 15, Marinette woke up one morning to find the string no longer glowed bright red.  Instead it was grey and limp, and she was desperate to know what this meant.  At the first opportunity, she ran to Master Fu, he was the only one she could confide in about this.  He lowered his head, almost unwilling to tell Marinette what it meant for fear of how she would react.  He told her solemnly, it meant that her soulmate had died… Elsewhere, a bomb was counting down the seconds until it could go off.  Jason had been battered, bruised and broken, but as long as his heart was still beating he still had a chance. Ten… He pushed against the locked door.  That damned clown had locked him in, probably for the sheer delight of it. Nine… He had only just noticed the bomb, he had to find a way out of the building and fast.  Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Dick and...he looked down at his ankle, his soulmate...they were all waiting for him.  Eight… This was all a mistake, he had been led into a trap.  He hoped that Batman would arrive just in time to save him.  He would probably slap him upside the head after he had recovered, and lecture him about being far too reckless, but at least he’d be alive. Seven… Strength was leaving his body, most of which was probably beaten out of him moments earlier.  The fighting spirit that always burned like a raging inferno inside of him was dimming.   Six… In those last few seconds, all he had left in him was a silent apology.   Wherever his soulmate was, he wished them nothing but happiness.  He was sorry that he couldn’t meet them for the first time.  He wanted to tell them that the mere idea of them gave him hope.  Hope that quite literally hung by a very thin thread, but it was what kept him going all these years.  It kept him going through living on the street, through pushing himself to meet Bruce’s expectations, even through the ordeal he had just endured.  All he needed to do was look down and remind himself that whoever chose him to be someone’s soulmate hadn’t made a mistake.  The reason he wouldn’t get to meet them was because of his mistake. Five...four...three..two...one. Marinette didn’t know how to mourn someone she had never seen, met, or even spoken to.  All she knew was that for the next three years, the string around her ankle was limp and grey.  The legend said that it would tangle, it would stretch, but it would never break.  Sometimes she would lay awake at night and wonder what could have possibly happened to her soulmate.  Had they even noticed the red string around their ankle? Did they even care about what it meant?  How did they die? Was it an accident or did someone kill them? These were questions that kept Marinette up at night as she gazed up at her bedroom ceiling.  She didn’t notice that the string was slowly starting to regain it’s glow, though it remained very dim.  She barely paid any attention to it anymore, and thought the faint red glow was just a trick of the eye.  It was a cruel reminder of what that thread meant and what she looked forward to. By the time she was 18, Marinette decided she needed to get out of Paris.  She wanted to be a designer, but she also thought a change of scenery would be good for her.  She kept the Miracle Box with her when she moved to Gotham City,  to keep the rest of the Miraculous from falling into the wrong hands.  Around this time, the thread around her ankle began to glow bright red, just as it had done a few years ago.  She was honestly curious to follow the thread and see where it led, but Plagg and Tikki were unsure about it.  They could sense that something was amiss with the thread reignighting, and they had a bad feeling that the forces of creation and destruction were involved. That’s how Marinette found herself pacing around her dorm room, trying to think of an explanation.  “How can you tell?” she asked them, “Maybe whoever did this chose someone else to be my soulmate? Someone who wasn’t dead.” “That’s not really how this works, Marinette.” Tikki told her. “Well, not according to Master Fu anyway,” said Plagg, “if the string is turning red again, that means whoever it is was brought back to life.” “But that’s impossible...is it?” Marinette looked at them,  not that long ago she had fought a man who wanted to use them to bring his comatose wife back.  Was it really so impossible? “Long ago, we were forced to grant such a wish.” Plagg confessed. “Plagg!” Tikki hissed, “you’re not suggesting that maybe…” “I am,” Plagg told her, “and she needs to know if she’s going to go herring off looking for someone who might be dead.”  Plagg turned his attention back to Marinette, “long ago, someone did acquire the Miraculous and they did use it to grant one wish…to make them young and strong forever.” “How did they do it?” Marinette asked, a little afraid of their answer. “We created what humans call ‘The Lazarus Pits’.  Anyone who bathed in its waters would be healed, rejuvenated, even snatched from the jaws of death.” he explained “Tikki’s healing magic is infused in the waters, that’s the healing part.” Marinette looked over at Tikki, “So what’s the catch? It can’t be that easy, can it?” “Well, the more they bathe in them, the more it destroys their mind,” she explains before giving Plagg a pointed look.  “It heals them on the outside, while their mind is slowly destroyed.” Marinette is slightly horrified by the thought.   “Can it bring someone back to life?” She asked, they exchanged worried glances. “Yes, but...Marinette, the person they were could have easily eroded away.” Tikki explained, but Marinette was growing tired of imagining and daydreaming.  She had to see for herself the person that her soulmate had become, so that’s how Ladybug set off to see where the red string led.

[writingwife-83]

#35, Reylo

35. "Whoa. Easy, easy. I've got you."

Ok so this idea hit me hard and fast (and then @thisisartbylexie also got excited and that hyped me up even more lol) so I went a bit beyond the bounds of drabble and into a more legit one shot hehe. Hope you enjoy this anon! 🥰

I’ve Got You

Rey pulled on the reins, pleading, yelling for the horse to slow and relax, but to no avail. Poor Deo, he tended to be far too skittish, and she should have known not to ride him by the stream where she’d seen snakes more than once.

Rey let out a little yelp as Deo leapt over a log, barely clearing it. She was far enough out on the property that if she was thrown or if Deo lost his footing she couldn’t be certain anyone would hear her cries for help or be able to find her. At least, not for quite some time.

Suddenly, something sped by her and she wasn’t fully aware of what it was until Deo came to a halt, rearing up and neighing as she continued to try and calm him. It wasn’t until she felt someone else taking hold of the reins that she realized what was happening.

“Whoa! Easy, easy. I’ve got you.”

Rey stared down, agape, processing the fact that it was Ben Solo who had apparently come to her aid.

Of course it was him, she thought with a groan.

“Get down,” he said, offering his free hand.

Rey huffed at that command. “I’m sure Deo will be fine now.”

“He’s obviously not,” Ben countered, still holding the reins along with her as Deo attempted to rear out of the grasp, proving his point. “He needs to calm down before you keep riding, unless you’re hoping to get thrown.”

Ben offered his hand again, and Rey attempted to bypass it completely and hop down on her own. But her attempt was poorly executed and thanks to her haste and already wobbly legs, the move propelled her directly into Ben’s chest.

His free arm wrapped instantly around her, holding her steady before assisting in lowering her feet to the ground. Rey was more than a little flustered, and no doubt red in the face by the time she shoved herself away from him, smoothing down her skirts and tucking some of the many unruly tendrils of hair behind her ears.

“This really isn’t necessary!” she called after him as he tied Deo to a nearby tree and then did the same for his own horse.

Ben laughed dryly, shaking his head as he walked back over to her. “‘Thank you, Ben. I appreciate your help.’ I think those are the words you're actually searching for.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your kind of help.”

He frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everything comes at a price!” Rey bit back. “Just like with my grandfather! Always scheming and selfish. You don’t help people because you care, you help people who can give you something! It’s no wonder you’ve become his precious apprentice.”

He’d been living on the estate for nearly a year, and she’d done her best to have as little dealing with him as she could. It seemed to Rey that he’d latched onto her grandfather like a leech, the older man all too pleased to have a young and eager man to train in the business. Grandfather Palpatine had been disappointed in having only a granddaughter to carry on the name, disappointed she wasn’t meek and obedient and willing to marry the first rich man who looked her way, and disappointed that she cared nothing for the family name and money.

Ben stared at her for a moment, statuesque aside from the slightest twitch of his lips before finally replying. His words were quiet and calm. “You don’t know me.”

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree. “Do you?”

“I know you want my grandfather’s money and his business,” she stated bitterly, picking little bits of dirt from her blouse which had flown up as Deo charged through the mud. “You want all that power.”

He barely looked up, a single laugh escaping his lips. “Oh, is that what I want?”

“It is!” Rey was swept up in the adrenaline of her wild ride and the fact that he’d shown up at the same moment. She’d needed to get all this off her chest for a while and this was an easy way to let it happen. “And you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want. You’re not exactly a man who’s burdened with scruples. You’ll no doubt win Grandfather’s admiration and do his bidding until he finally decides to put you in the will. And if all that doesn’t work, you’d surely even be willing to stoop so low as to-“

Rey stopped mid thought as she suddenly found herself face to face with words that she’d never even been consciously aware of and didn’t want to speak aloud. And that wasn’t all she was also suddenly face to face with.

Ben had quickly closed the distance between them and was staring her down, his stance almost challenging. She wasn’t afraid though, and she met his burning gaze without faltering.

“What? What would I stoop to?” he pushed, his voice low like distant thunder. “Say it.”

Rey swallowed thickly, squaring her shoulders and refusing to back down. “You would force your way into this family one way or another,” she replied coolly, opting for diplomatic wording.

When Ben lifted his hand she jumped ever so slightly, making him pause, and for a split second she thought she saw genuine hurt in his eyes. His hand moved more slowly then, and then she felt his fingers touch some of the badly rumpled hair at the side of her head. With a quirk of his brow, he finally produced a little twig, holding it up for her to see before tossing it aside.

“I don’t force my way into anything,” he said firmly. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because like I said before, you don’t know me. And you certainly don’t know what I want.”

Rey nearly swayed on her feet as Ben turned and walked away from her, as if they’d been physically connected for those brief moments, and the separation that followed had upset her very balance.

She watched him walk over to Deo, the wind admittedly out of her sails and feeling lost for words. She reluctantly noted the way Deo accepted Ben’s touch with absolute calm, despite his usual skittish nature. His large but gentle hands smoothed down the horse’s face and neck, speaking soft words that Rey couldn’t quite make out.

“I can ride back with you.”

It was more a statement than an offer, and Rey was sure that if it had come only minutes earlier she’d have thrown it back in his face along with a string of angry words. But she couldn’t find it in herself to do that now.

“You don’t have to do that,” she instead replied quietly as he untied Deo, holding him steady as she approached and prepared to mount.

“I know,” Ben replied, but mounted his own horse once she was settled, nudging him over to walk with Deo. “I’m still riding back to the stables with you.”

Rey said nothing, no fight left in her as both their horses set off slowly. They both stayed silent all the way back, forcing Rey to do nothing but replay every strange and confusing moment of this encounter.

As they eventually neared the stables, Rey found that a million new and unanswered questions were now darting around in her brain, and she couldn’t quite let them rest.

“What do you want?” she blurted out, making him tug back on the reins to stop next to her. “You said I don’t know what you want. So what is it really? What do you want?”

Ben stared back at her for a moment, as if contemplating his answer, before he simply said, “Change.”

The little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as if she could feel all the weight of meaning behind that one word. As if she could foresee the hazy shape of the way it could turn her entire world upside down.

“At least,” he added. “That’s part of what I want.”

“And…what else?” Rey questioned softly, her throat feeling parched.

She thought she saw the slightest tug at the corner of his lips, but then he pressed them together, as if they needed steadying before parting again to answer.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

And with those cryptic words, Ben continued the rest of the short distance to the stables, leaving Rey once again dumbfounded and also wondering if he was right. Perhaps she didn’t really know Ben Solo.

Far more surprising was the realization that for the first time…she wanted to.

[bl-garbage]

to dance is to unshackle

um, okay—how else do i express this buoyant happiness that Gaya sa Pelikula has awoken inside me? i’m in complete and utter awe. i did not expect a drop of what the sixth episode has brought us. more than satisfying, it’s utterly fascinating. this is quite a lengthy post, but if you have the time, please bear with me. and since we’re already here, let’s fucking dissect the shit out of this:

right off the bat, it’s sweet how consistently written Vlad was the entire time of the show. at the start of the episode, for one, he was concerned with Karl’s disposition, saying, “anong iniisip mo (what are you thinking)?” and, later on, as we know, he pops that question again in this episode. what are you thinking? always in limbo. true, it’s considerate, yet more than that, it’s always a sign of waiting for permission. Vlad has been like this since the beginning: observant and willing to reach out, confident on the surface, yes, but always afraid of going overboard. 

that is not to say that Karl isn’t. in fact, the whole dynamics of their relationship rest on the fact that they can lean on each other and just be honest. many moments show this: Karl’s desire to shift; Vlad not getting  into the film lab and Karl knowing something was up; the entirety of Vlad’s birthday; Karl and Vlad’s reticence to open up to Anna, in contrast with how comfortable they feel with each other. in a nutshell, they’re each other’s homes. more on this later.

the part i was most frightened at with this episode was when Karl finally told his parents his desire to shift. to be honest, personally, i wouldn’t know exactly how that pressure on Karl feels, as i was able to study the degree i wanted. yet, back then, i had already known that my parents, who wholly supported me just the same, would have wanted a degree that leaned on science or engineering. that still sucked to know. Karl’s situation is much more complicated. his desire to shift to another course is to make up for lost time, a sense of hurrying before it really becomes all too late. this was a heavy lot to take in. the disappointment and anger in his father’s face when he dropped the bomb was too much to handle. Karl had expected it, yet its impact still hurled shrapnel that he was not able to dodge, sustaining him with several wounds. it would be curious to see how his parents come to terms with his confession. i am certain that a number of people have connected with Karl here.

which brings me to another point. Gaya sa Pelikula creates these characters with their own agency. it’s touted as a BL series, yes, but our two main characters’ point is actually not to fall in love — but to live, part of which is to fall in love. they have their hopes and dreams and own burdens to carry, and while falling in love takes centerstage here, we see how they can stand alone, on their own two feet. falling in love is central to their growth, but it is evident that love is not the whole point of their existence. 

speaking of which: ate judit. ah, yes, where do i even begin to explain the exquisiteness with which ate judit was written? how, after all of five episodes, it was only now did it make sense why judit was overly, unnaturally caring and protective, a mama bear that would not let anything happen to his little Vlad. now we know why: guilt.  

imagine that. being told you were the reason why your whole family went into shambles. there is much vindication in Vlad’s line of questioning, “why would you say that to a child?” (god, i’m tearing up even as i write this.) this was a pivotal scene, with a focal point on judit, the likes of whom we cannot entirely fault for not knowing any better. the fact remains that we are still in an era that fails to understand the spectrum of gender identities and the far utopia that we seek, where gender and sex would not be a damning classification anymore. and for true allies, it is in admitting that they “didn’t know then what [they] know now” that their support gains more strength. it is in confessing where they got wrong, how harmful their actions were, and in the commitment to do more, that their promise is made good.

parenthetically, can we talk about Vlad’s mom as well? have you all noticed how her voice broke when she said, “siguraduhin mong hindi ka na itatanggi niyan, ha (just make sure he won’t deny you, okay)?” was that pain, or guilt even? i wonder if we’re ever going to see her. it would be a regret not to. for so long Vlad had thought that he was the reason his father left, and that his mother was mad at his queerness. i wouldn’t want this simple call to be the resolution that the show had for him. at any rate, we have two more episodes to await, so i am not going to strike my gavel on this judgment just yet.

but whereas Vlad found his longtime coming reconciliation with his sister, Karl had no one to turn to. his call to Vlad was a cry for help. it was heartbreaking to see him like this. Karl had always put up a fake smile against any adversity that had come his way. to him, these were trivial matters that would pass, and they did so — until now. after all he was, as we would later come to know, living a script that had been prewritten before he even came to being. that explains his nonchalant demeanor toward life, the seeming discontent behind those dead eyes, and a repeated hinting that he was always yearning for so much more. at the end of the call, Karl instinctively goes to the closet - and his proverbial closet - and sees the skeletons he had hidden inside, drop in a mess. 

that it was Karl’s brother who was in the photo shook me. that past was so well thought out. things made so much sense in this episode: why Karl tried to fit in, why everything seemed so fake. why he was so discomforting to watch, even! that made sense now.  

and what do you do when everything has become a mess? the once seamless film that had been rolling without any glitches now sprawled on the floor, entangled in a hodgepodge well beyond fixing. when that happens, what do you do? well, you dance.

i have so many things to say about faux masculinity. it is a fact undisputed that in this society, gender roles are still very much pillars that we have yet to dismantle. our genders have been geared toward performativity, and our consolation is the external validation we receive through the acts of fitting in. in the process, we lose sight of what we really want. we blur the lines between what is and what should be, in favor of what society has demanded upon us. Karl took that role and lived by it religiously. yet, those things has gone haywire in this episode. more than his parents, it was to himself that Karl has finally admitted that the act can be dropped now: the fixed posture, those rehearsed lines, that painfully faux masculinity, on guard all the fucking time. all of those things were dropped.

that is not to say that Karl was faking all of it. there is no denying that Karl has been a masculine person most of the time. but the show portrayed before us a discarded femininity that Karl had been trying to bury deep inside him — one that all people who have been and who are still in the closet know by heart. the thing is, all of us have masculine and feminine sides, the expression of which vary at different levels in different situations. sadly, we have been preconditioned to believe that male persons must be masculine, and female persons must be feminine. Gaya sa Pelikula acknowledges this hegemony, and then throws it away all the same. true, Karl may very well be comfortable in his masculine expression, but his femininity must also be allowed to grow. one cannot be complete without embracing the entirety of who they are. many have died — been killed — for simply living who they are. society has long been a vicious environment. but people have also long fought for their fundamental right to perform these things, and through them, we know that things can change. that things are changing.

it is against this context that imprints more meaning, more gravity to when we finally, finally see Karl dance. in every sense, his dance was the show’s climax for me. it is, quite emphatically, freedom incarnate.

when i say i fucking bawled at this scene, you best believe it.

quite important to note: when Karl sees Vlad, he stopped abruptly, only for Vlad to signal to him, in an OK sign, that what he was doing was perfectly fine. that Karl could be effeminate all he wants, and who the hell in this earth should care? this allowance has given Karl all the needed validation he will ever need, at least, for that one night where they could bare it all. it was only the two of them, but the house has never been more crowded, because their feelings have seemingly exploded and have been overflowing in a glorious climax for all of us to witness. in this scene, Karl has unshackled the chains with which he had been bound all that time, and it was Vlad who helped him finally break the last of those chains. in this moment, there was only pure bliss.

(that the song playing here was Ride Home by ben&ben is the perfect giveaway. for non-Filipino readers who have only listened to ben&ben now, check this band out. it’s one of the best bands to have ever come out of the Philippine music industry.)

and, of course, in this waterfall of emotions, it is only perfect to time the moment of their first kiss. they have accepted each other, haven’t they? in a meaningful act (the gravity of which we will only realize in full later when Vlad tells the story of his dad), Karl rumpled Vlad’s hair, but only after Vlad had already consented to it. then, afterward, it was Vlad’s turn to ask, what are you thinking? to which Karl had this—and i know we all expected it, nevertheless—to say: i don’t want to think anymore. then they kissed.

i swear to god. i only watched this for the 92432475781 time.

the denouement was so well put, too: now everything is put back into its own place. Karl’s brother. his death. his parents’ expectations. the substitution. Vlad’s father. his parents’ expectations. the horror of realizing one’s difference. the abandonment. in these stories, it becomes more and more permissible to believe that Karl and Vlad have easily found comfort in each other. to say that they are soulmates (as the creator, juan miguel severo, told on his twitter) is not an exaggeration.

and, make no mistake: Karl and Vlad did not find each other’s embraces out of pity. no. it would be unduly harsh to view them that way. rather, they found solace in each other’s embrace and warmth, but it is still they who will muster the courage to face their own demons. the only difference is, they now have each other to find some sort of release. they are not destructively dependent on each other; instead, they help each other grow into the versions of themselves that they can be proud of.

finally, a couple of small things: look at the way Karl was inviting Vlad to lie in bed with him. that simple gesture harks us back to the early days of their dynamics: Vlad had expressed that it was okay to share a bed, but Karl was adamant that they do not. Karl had once dreamed of Vlad joining him there, and that scared him shitless. in contrast to that, now we have this: Karl himself inviting Vlad, and Vlad accepting for Karl’s wholehearted invitation. the moment this happened, there was a consummation of the expression of their love. if they had their doubts prior to this, those could not have been more obliterated now. 

needless to say, i fucking, fucking loved this. as one who has only ever written three fanfics (2gether and History 2!), all of which seemingly related to sleeping (what the fuck, do i have a sleep fetish or something), this ending to episode 6 is just the cherry on top. 

their lines by the end particularly strike me. here we have Karl who wishes to create his own stories. on the other hand is Vlad who wishes that he be in charge of the endings, too. how do they do that? who knows? but the certainty that defines their pact is that they shall do it together, unbound and free to dance to the song they have chosen of their own accord. and that simple promise, made in each other’s tight embrace under artificially warm lights amid that early january weather, with no certainty at all of what tomorrow has to bring, has made all the difference. 

in 34 minutes, Gaya sa Pelikula has, yet again, done more than we could have ever expected.

i just checked and this reached 2k words. i’m not even gonna attempt to proofread this anymore. anyway, this is all i have to say for now. i just simply cannot let go of the best episode i’ve seen in this show without expressing my own reaction to it. 

(also: i’m thinking of writing a fanfic; that is, the morning after. just a one-shot, hopefully a cute one. as usual, an introspection of these characters, and what lies ahead. hope i actually get to write it!)

thank you so much, Gaya sa Pelikula. you are proof that things do change.

[silencebetrayer]

Little People - An Irish Fairy Tale Part 2

The reign of dreams and roses

"Don't bother them, my dear. You were lucky they found your little trap hilarious!" "Mister O'Reilly, what happened in this valley? Why is everyone warning me against the little people?" A long silence followed, during which the old man sipped his Connemara peated whiskey. "Sweetheart, you may hear a lot of tales down at the pub, but also in our family there's something to tell. You've never known your cousin Billy, haven't you? Well, he might tell you about that time he became slave of the Queen of Spiny Roses for a whole moon cycle." "Slave?" "Don't be surprised. They're ancient souls. They conceive only those rapports they can understand and here in the citadel for a thousand years there was a Count and his servants. They don't understand this free life thing, without owners, where everyone seems equal to each other. They have a very strict hierarchy and I can promise you.. if you keep giving enough rope, they will tie you up. At least, that's what happened to Billy." "What did Billy have to do for the Queen?" "At that time Billy would have sold his soul to fill his glass, to those vices the good people like to cling. A night in the woods a little crowd of fairies bumped into  giant Billy, the Queen ordered her folks to bring their guest a glass of the bitter Spirit's nectar. He guzzle that witches' brew without a single word. He could swear it was tasty like ambrosia of all forgotten Gods. The Queen claimed a payment for his drink and Billy started to mock her 'Is it I pay you?' said Billy 'could I not just take you up and put you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry?' The Queen did not let go of that insolence and the good lords  tightened the invisible harness they caught him in and led him to their ruler like a steed. She imposed a vow of obedience till the end of next moon cycle and on occasion she showed off their rivals her power over him, claiming his tongue as footrest." "I don't get what you're saying, sir. You did tell me we've got power over fairy manifestation.. that it depends on our thoughts and our desires, our hopes and fears." The old man smiled "From what slavery would a man be freed? From drink-slavery or from a queen-slavery?" The girl understood that story was concealing a metaphor of redemption and humility. The old man's stories are indeed so bewildering: you never know where the symbol ends and the anecdote begins. "Anyway when we found Billy he was covered in stings from the waist up. He said the ball of Roses court had been held on his chest. A ball where every damsel's heel is a thorn of a flower and all skirts are petals. To us he had fallen in a field full of nettles." "What a strange story. I would never be enslaved by such a wicked Queen. Why didn't he rise up against her, I wonder." The old man shrugged muttering a proverb of his parts "The lake is not burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul that is in him".

***

That night Elizabeth wrote a quick note in Gaelic by the windowsill:"I want to meet you. Come and see me.". She left a sugar cube as gift. The girl rolled over her bed restlessly, hoping her message would reach its destination and, as often happens, sleep came  all of a sudden, like a swoon. She found herself in a very strange place never seen before. It resempled an ancient kitchen on the basement of a castle, with no windows, red briks as walls and roof, painted cardboard as wallpaper on one side, a makeshift chimney. Outside the noise of the rain was heavy and emptied out of the comforting sensation with which it gifted melancholic souls. She was identifying in that room a combination of minuscule things. All chairs were small wooden cubes of an old child's game, and so was the table. They weren't comfy, but pieces of cloth stuffed with wool, roughly sewn, gave softness to the seat. A pocket mirror served as tray for a miniature porcelaine tea set, a bit chipped, but lovely at first sight. The sugar cube she had left in gift was lying right next to it, with an awl sticked at its center. The girl realized she was falling in a bizarre dream scenario, but something real was also taking place. "Is this a dream?" "Of course, little girl" answered a middle-aged male voice from the outside. The small door of that sort of kitchen was a metal shutter. A man was moving it with his shoulder, carrying a bundle of sticks or twigs bound together and a bucket of water. Covered with a waterproof plastic bag, the man laid down all the materials and cast a glance over the table to be sure everything was in place. His big nose and bushy eyebrows gave him an austere touch and there was something of the  craftsman's wisdom in his skilled hands and his silence. He hunged his unusual coat on the knight's head of a chessboard (his clothes rack, she guessed). The girl was paralyzed and hugged herself in the nightgown. She wasn't cold, the atmosphere was warm enough, she was feeling a sense of vulnerability that made her closed off. The man took care of the fireplace and fill the water on the teapot. "Come closer to the fireplace, kid!" He had a raspy voice and an unjustified scowl to her feeling. "Why'd you bring me here?" He looked her up and down like a fool, then he nodded toward the table where a piece of paper was serving as tablecloth. 'I want to meet you.' read the girl, recognizing her handwriting. "But.. are you Tuvia!?" After a moment of silence, during which the man was trying to  catch the sincerity of the question, he laughed outright "AHAHAH Me? That leaf in the wind? Do I seem a rain spirit?! I thought you were a smart one, kid, but if these are the premises.." The girl didn't seem to appreciate the little man humour "So Sir.. you picked up a message that was not addressed to you. Why should you interfere with my correspondence?!" "Correspondence? Look, sweetie.. what do you think we have a mail service here in Bluebell forest? We give more values to a tree then your own kind.. we don't waste their sheets for a futile message." "Who the hell are you, anyway? Little people? What are you doing here in my dreams?" "That's how we meet for the first time. We don't accept invitations from strangers." The teapot started to splutter on the fireplace, the steam bubbles looked like small domes and the water sounded so much deeper then usual.. she understood that her size was making every sound so alien and unsettling. From the infusion aromas of wildflowers started to spread in the room. "What's your name?" "My dear, what sort of question is that? I'm the guardian spirit of O'Really's family. My name's O'Really, of course" "So.. Do Guardian spirits take the name from the family they protect?" He didn't answer. He didn't seem to like rhetorical question, but was forcing himself to stay kind and served the tea calmly with a piece of sugar cube in it. "Listen, child. We Home spirits don't talk more than is strictly necessary. Our silence is our invisibility. So let me get right to the point: you heard elder O'Reilly advice before.. Do not upset the spirits of these woods. He's telling you this for your own good" Being called 'child" from that Spirit turned Elizabeth against him. She changed attitude and the tone of voices turned sharp and bitter. "So you just don't collect someonelse's letters, you also eavesdrop their conversations!" Talking to her was a great exercise in patience, he acknowledged. "It's not what you're thinking.. I can't just ignore whatever happens inside these walls. We're born from the feelings of this family, if they are worried for you, so am I. That's why I appear in your dream." "I weep from your sudden sentimentality" she said sarcastically "but I'm willing to bet that you were able to eavesdrop on our conversations simply because your lair is not so far from the fireplace" "I'm warning you, don't try to find it. You'd cause trouble to the O'Really family!" "Perhaps you should've considered that before you invited me in first place, you silly little man! Now, give this KID here a good reason she should not wake up and start to play cat-and-mouse game with you?" She sipped the tea, staring at the little spirit with an imperious smile that didn't bode well. "A reason, you say? With humans reasoning is not persuasive. I just pointed the sill you shall not cross, my dear, I didn't mean to push you through it" "Advice I didn't ask for" she crossed her arms and the situation freezed up. The home spirit resigned himself. "How do I wake?" she asked. "Don't worry, soon enough you'll be laying in your bed. Humans have control over the waking hours, but we spirits have our revenge in dreams realm. You're lucky we didn't inherit your cruelty. Anyway, if I can't dissuade you, I will be your messenger and maybe one day I will lead you to Tuvia" "I don't get if you're here to sabotage me or to help me" "We should not threaten the delicate balance currently in place in Bluebell forest. The Queen of Roses is the keeper of this equilibrium, she can't bear humans intrusiveness into her reign. Especially from someone that does look like her." "Do I look like the Queen of Roses?" Elizabeth's questions were to him as sharp and wit as the echo of a well. "Tuvia fought The Court of Roses, you know?" "That light thingie? He's fragile like a blade of grass. I bet if I dare to lay down in the garden he'd become a stain on my dress. Also, if he's so brave why isn't he in the forest, why doesn't he just keep fighiting?" "He's an exile, he no longer knows the comfort of a border. He's devoted to the rain, cause he sees himself and his destiny in the clouds. A new Queen would save him. But he doesn't want to be saved!" The Spirit of O'Reilly got pretty mouthy with sadness. Elizabeth recognized some of the distinctive features of elder Mr O'Reilly and the hardness of Mrs O'Reilly too. A weird mix of both personality traits. Elizabeth sipped the infusion, this time fully enjoying the aroma of freshly picked flowers. She felt her body tossing in her sleep.. she didn't want to wake right now. O'Reilly spirit stared at her then nodded as a farewell. When she opened her eyes, the Spirit's last words were echoing in her head, filling the heart with an odd hope "a new Queen.." she repeated to herself. She could have sworn to feel the wildflowers taste on the tip of her tongue.

To Be Continued...

Ita version

Il regno delle rose e dei sogni

"Non disturbarli, ragazza mia. Sei stata fortunata che abbiano preso con umorismo la tua piccola trappola! In qualche modo devono aver trovato la tua provocazione uno spasso!" "Signor O'Reilly, cosa è successo in questa valle per cui tutti mi mettono in guardia da loro" Ci fu un lungo silenzio in cui il vecchio sorseggiò il suo Whiskey, rigorosamente torbato del Connemara. "Sweetheart, ne potresti sentire un bel pò giù al pub. Ma in famiglia abbiamo già di che raccontare. Tu non lo hai mai conosciuto il cugino Billy. Beh, lui potrebbe dirti di quella volta che restò schiavo per una luna intera della regina delle fate Rosa Spinae." "Schiavo?" "Non ti stupire, sono anime antiche, concepiscono solo i rapporti che conoscono e per più di 1000 anni qui nella rocca c'era un conte e i suoi servi, non la capiscono questa faccenda moderna del vivere senza padroni, dove tutti sembrano uguali eccetera. Hanno una rigida gerarchia e puoi giurarci che se continui a dargli spago ti daranno il bel servito, come fu per il vecchio Billy" "Cosa fece Billy per la regina?" "A quel tempo Billy si sarebbe dannato l'anima per riempirsi il bicchiere, ed è ai vizi che il buon popolo si appiglia. Quando una notte in un bosco la piccola schiera si imbattè in quel gigante, la regina ordinò che gli fosse portato un bicchiere del fiele degli spiriti, lui non se lo fece ripetere e lo trangugiò d'un fiato. Billy giurò che era il nettare liquoroso di tutti gli dei ormai dimenticati. La regina reclamò un pagamento e Billy la derise 'Io pagare te? Ma se posso metterti tranquillamente in tasca come una mora!' La regina non passò sopra quell'insolenza e il buon popolo lo legò a briglie invisibili che non potevano essere sciolte e quel che è peggio gli impose il voto dell'obbedienza per una luna intera. Di venne il destriero della regina, ma all'occorrenza la regina dava sfoggio di potere alle sue rivali, reclamando la lingua del gigante come poggiapiedi" "Non mi torna quel che dite, signore. Avevate detto che noi abbiamo potere sulla manifestazione delle fate e che dipendono dai nostri desideri" Il vecchio sorrise "Quale schiavitù potrebbe desiderare un uomo? Quella del suo bicchiere o della sua regina?" La ragazza capì che quella storia celava una metafora di redenzione e umiltà. Avevano questo di disorientante, i racconti del vecchio: non sapevi mai dove finiva il simbolo e cominciava l'aneddoto. "Comunque quando lo trovarono Billy era ricoperto di punture dalla vita in su. Disse che sul suo petto si era tenuto il ballo della corte delle Rosa Spinae, in cui ogni damigella ha per tacco una spina di un fiore e per gonna i suoi petali, ma per molti era solo caduto su un campo di ortiche" "Che storia strana. Ma io non sarei mai schiava di una regina così perfida. Perchè non si è ribellato, mi chiedo?" commentò lei "Il cigno non pesa sul suo lago, la briglia non pesa al suo cavallo, né l'anima sull'uomo che la possiede" cantilenò l'uomo, facendo spallucce.

Quella notte scrisse una piccola nota in gaelico che lasciò davanti al davanzale. Diceva soltanto: "Voglio conoscervi. Venitemi a trovare", lasciò una zolletta di zucchero in dono. Si rigirava nel letto inquieta, nella speranza che il messaggio arrivasse a destinazione, e come spesso accade il sonno arrivò come un deliquio, senza preavviso. Si ritrovò in un luogo che non aveva mai visto prima d'ora. Una specie di antica cucina, senza finestre, mattoni rossi tutt'intorno, carta da parati di cartone con le sembianze di un giardino davano più respiro alla stanza. Fuori il rumore della pioggia era pesante e svuotato della sensazione di conforto che regala agli animi malinconici. Individuava negli oggetti della stanza una combinazione di cose minuscole. Le sedie erano piccoli cubetti di legno, appartenuti a qualche antico gioco. così come il tavolo. Non erano per nulla comodi, ma i pezzi di stoffa imbottita e cucita grossolanamente davano sollievo alla seduta. Uno specchietto da beauty asserviva alla funzione di vassoio sul quale erano poggiate tazzine che potevano provenire da un servizio da the in miniatura per bambole di porcellana, un pò sbeccato, ma grazioso a vedersi. La zolletta che aveva donato stava su un lato del ripiano di legno, con una specie di punteruolo conficcato al suo centro. La ragazza capì che era un sogno, ma aveva qualcosa di reale. "E' un sogno, questo?" "Certo, ragazzina" Rispose la voce di un uomo di mezza età dall'esterno. La porticina della cucina non era che un pezzo di serranda di ferro, l'uomo entrò con in mano dei legnetti rilegati e un secchiello d'acqua, avvolto in un impermeabile di tela. Poggiò l'occorrente a lato della porta, le sopracciglia cespugliose gli conferivano un'aria severa e le mani vissute, una saggezza artigianale. Appese l'insolito impermeabile sulla testa di un cavallo di scacchiera, che evidentemente fungeva da appendiabiti. La ragazza era paralizzata e si stringeva nella sua camicia da notte, non per il freddo, l'atmosfera era calda nonostante il rifugio sembrasse improvvisato, erano le pareti laterali di mattone ad emanare calore, ma avvertiva un senso di vulnerabilità che la faceva chiudere a riccio. L'uomo si premurò di accendere il fuoco in un buco del mattone e di riempire la teiera sospesa sul paiolo sostenuto da una corda e un ago, dalla capocchia ornata da una manigliuola. "Vieni più vicino alla luce del fuoco, ragazzina!" Aveva una voce roca e il tono presentava un cipiglio ingiustificato agli occhi di lei. "Si può sapere perchè mi trovo qui?" L'uomo la squadrò come a darle della matta, poi con un cenno del capo fece notare che la tavola era apparecchiata sul suo frammento di pergamena "Voglio conoscervi", riconobbe la ragazza. La sua scrittura. "Ma.. siete.. siete Tuvia?!" Dopo un attimo di silenzio, in cui l'uomo la fissava per cogliere in lei la sincerità della sua domanda, scoppiò in una fragorosa risata "AHAHAH Io? Quell'uccell di bosco di Tuvia!? Ho l'aria da piovano, io? Ti credevo sveglia ma se queste sono le premesse.." La ragazza non sembrava aver apprezzato l'umorismo dell'omino "Allora signore.. avete forse raccolto un messaggio non rivolto a voi!? Come vi permettete di interferire con la mia Corrispondenza!" "Corrispondenza? Senti dolcezza, cosa pensi che abbiamo il servizio postale in quel di Bluebell? Noi ai fogli d'albero diamo ben altro valore. Non lo sprechiamo per messaggi futili e sconsiderati." "Chi diavolo siete voi e che ci fate nei miei sogni?" "E' così che ci si incontra noi, la prima volta! Non accettiamo inviti dagli sconosciuti" La teiera cominciava a scoppiettare sul fuoco, le bolle di vapore avevano un aspetto cupolare e un suono più cupo del normale, dovevano essere quelle dimensioni a rendere ogni rumore anche il più familiare totalmente estraneo e inquietante. Nella stanza cominciò a diffondersi un odore di fiori che proveniva dall'infuso. "Come vi chiamate?" "Che razza di domanda è? Sono lo spirito protettore degli O'Reilly, quindi mi chiamo come loro" "Gli spiriti protettori portano il nome della famiglia?" Non rispose, sembrava un pò scocciato dalla retoricità delle domande, ma la ragazza aveva l'impressione che si sforzasse di essere gentile. Aveva messo in infusione una manciata di briciole di the e polline che raccoglieva da una bustina dilaniata come un sacchetto. Versò l'infusione nella tazzina che stava di fronte a lei. Staccò un paio di pezzi dalla zolletta per lei, sapeva persino come prendeva il the. "Ascolta ragazzina, noi spiriti della casa non parliamo più dello stretto necessario. Il nostro silenzio è la nostra invisibilità, quindi fammi andare al punto: Hai sentito cosa ha detto il buon vecchio O'Reilly stasera no? 'Non disturbare gli spiriti del bosco', lo ha detto per il tuo bene." Al sentirsi chiamare 'ragazzina' il tono della voce di lei si fece più risentito e squillante "Quindi oltre che profanatore di lettere, anche un origliatore maleducato" L'omino sospirò con enorme esercizio di pazienza "Non è come pensi.. non mi è possibile ignorare quello che succede entro queste mura, siamo nati dai sentimenti della famiglia che ha costruito questa casa. Se ti appaio in sogno è perchè questa famiglia si preoccupa per te" "il vostro sentimentalismo mi commuove" disse sarcasticamente, "ma sono pronta a scommettere che voi avete origliato per il semplice fatto che questo vostro rifugio si trova vicino al focolare" "Ti avverto ragazzina, non cercare di trovarlo, causeresti un dolore agli O'Reilly" "Dovevate pensarci prima di invitarmi qui, razza di stupido omino. E adesso datemi una buona ragione per cui questa 'ragazzina'" rimarcò la parola "non dovrebbe svegliarsi e venire a farvi fare la fine del topo" Sorseggiava la tazza di the adesso, fissando l'uomo con un sorriso imperioso, che non prometteva nulla di buono. "Ragioni? Se c'è qualcosa che so degli esseri umani è che la logica con voi non è persuasiva. Ho solo indicato la soglia da non varcare, ragazza mia, ma non era mia intenzione regalarvi la determinazione per attraversarla." "Il vostro consiglio non è richiesto" Incrociò le braccia. Calò un pò di gelo tra i due. Il sadismo giovanile di lei aveva fatto affiorare al viso del vecchio uno sguardo triste, leggermente rassegnato. "Come faccio a svegliarmi?" "Non ti preoccupare, presto sarai sul tuo letto, bambina. Voi avrete pur il controllo dei momenti di veglia, ma noi abbiamo la nostra rivincita nei sogni e sei fortunata che non abbiamo la vostra stessa crudeltà. Comunque.. se non posso dissuaderti, sarò il tuo messaggero e un giorno, forse, ti porterò da lui." disse quasi burbero "Quasta poi.. volevate sabotarmi e adesso vorreste anche farmi da guida" "La foresta di Bluebell si basa su un fragile equilibrio, il custode di quell'equilibrio, la Regina delle Rose, non ama l'invadenza umana, specie da una che le somiglia così tanto" "Io... somiglierei alla Regina?" Ignorò ancora quelle domande che avevano la stessa arguzia dell'eco di un pozzo. "Tuvia l'ha combattuta, sai.. la Corte delle Rose Spinae." "Quel cosino? Ma se è fragile come un filo d'erba. Scommetto che se mi stendessi in giardino, potrebbe diventare una macchia sul mio vestito. Se è così coraggioso, poi, perchè non è nella foresta a combattere?" "Lo vedi in giardino perchè è un esule e non conosce più la comodità di un confine. Si è consacrato alla pioggia, perchè si riconosce nelle nuvole. Una nuova regina.. questo lo salverebbe. E lui.. non vuole essere salvato!" Lo spirito degli O'Reilly con la tristezza si era fatto stranamente loquace, riconosceva qualcosa nel vecchio in lui, aveva la stessa dolcezza sotto una scorza dura che era più simile a quella della signora O'Reilly, uno strano mix. Elizabeth sorseggiò quell'infuso, stavolta godendone appieno l'aroma. Era come di tiglio. Avvertì che si stava agitando nel sonno. Non voleva svegliarsi proprio ora. Lo spirito degli O'Reilly la fissava e con un cenno del capo sembrò quasi accomiatarsi. Quando riaprì gli occhi sul suo letto, le ultime parole dello Spirito riecheggiavano ancora nelle sue orecchie riempiendola di non so quale speranza.. "Una nuova regina", si ripeteva. Poteva giurare di sentire ancora il sapore di tiglio sulla punta della lingua.

[ijustreallylovezebras]

The Selection - Two

Pairing: Tom Holland x Royal!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t her selection, not her choice, and yet when she saw him she couldn’t help herself, she fell in love

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is part two!! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I’m loving writing it so much!! I kinda love Lucas, not gonna lie haha! Please remember to let me know what you think - like, reblog, comment, send asks. I love hearing what you guys think, it really inspires me to write more! The tag list is open but I will only being accepting tag requests when they are sent to my ASK BOX, comments and reblogs will NOT be counted

DISCLAIMER - THIS IS BASED OFF OF THE SELECTION SERIES BY KIERA KASS

When Y/N entered into the dining hall the next morning for breakfast, the group of Selected were already present.

All of them appeared nervous and uncomfortable, most of them starred at their hands as Y/N walked in. A couple offered shy smiles and Y/N desperately tried to recall their names. She noticed Tom at the end of the table, one of the few who didn’t shrink under her gaze and even offered her a smile. Y/N couldn’t help but return it before walking to the end of the table, where her family normally sat.

Though they were nowhere in sight yet.

Awkward silence filled the room and Y/N wondered if she ought to speak, to say something to fill in the gaps left by the absence of her family. She wondered if she was allowed to speak to them yet.

“I trust you all slept well?” She asked finally, once the silence became completely unbearable. There were a couple of murmurs of agreement and Y/N nodded, trying to stay composed despite wanting to run out of the room.

She wasn’t used to people being in the castle who weren’t her family. Y/N let out an audible sigh of relief when her brothers entered.

Jason had an easy-going smile on his face as he entered the room, nodding to a couple of the candidates as they met his eyes and he raised his eyebrows at Y/N’s seemingly terrified expression. Lucas, on the other hand, merely looked bored.

“You look terrified,” Jason murmured into her ear as he sat next to her. A small smile crossed Y/N’s features and she shook her head at him.

“Probably because I am,” she replied, the simple response causing him to laugh quietly. The well-rehearsed, discreet laugh that all of them had had to learn when they were young.

“This is boring, when can we eat?” Lucas huffed. He had not yet mastered the skill of being quiet around others and his words carried. Y/N noticed some of The Selected trying to bite back laughter, looking down at their laps as their eyes crinkled at the edges from the young boy’s impatience. Y/N hated that her eyes were drawn to Tom and she despised the way her heart flipped when she saw him laughing.

Though the laughter was cut off by the doors opening again. The whole room fell silent at the entrance of the King and Queen, accompanied by Allison and rose to their feet. Well, the whole room excluding Lucas, who let out a sigh before also reluctantly standing

Y/N couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief that he may be able to eat soon, or one of exasperation at the dramatics of the situation.

Either way she elbowed her brother to signal for him to be quiet. All she got in response was a glare and a stamp on the foot.

“Prick,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Bitch,” Lucas retorted, a smug smile on his face. Y/N bit her lip in a desperate attempt to hide her laughter, though her cover was blown when she met Allison’s gaze and her sister rose a single eyebrow.

A giggle escaped Y/N’s lips and she felt the blood rush to her face as she lifted her hands to cover her mouth, attempting to school her face to be more serious.

“Please sit,” the King ordered, reaching the head of the table.

“Finally,” Lucas muttered, reaching forwards to grab a pastry before the royals could say anything more.

Murmurs of conversation broke out amongst both the Selected and the Royals. Y/N and her family were sat away from the table the men were at, on a platform elevated above theirs in a blatant attempt to show their importance.

“Sir Nicolas,” Allison’s voice carried over both tables, quieting them down. The man referred to shot his head up to look at Y/N’s older sister. “I trust you like the coffee?” A nervous smile spread across Nicolas’ face and he nodded.

“Yes, Your Highness, very much so,” he agreed. Y/N searched her mind desperately for any reason why Allison would have singled Nicolas out for the question.

“Is he the guy whose family owns a coffee shop?” Y/N questioned, her voice quiet as she murmured the words into Jason’s ear. Her brother shrugged.

“How should I know?” Y/N couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

When breakfast drew to a close, the King stood from the table.

“I just wanted to say a few more words now that the rest of my family are here,” he announced, quieting down the final few dregs of conversation that remained in the room. “While my family and I wish to welcome you with the most open arms, there are some rules that must be abided by that we did not wish to burden you with last night in your sleep deprived states,” there was a kind smile on his face and a chuckle rolled through the room. Y/N’s eyes found Tom’s and there was a sparkle in his gaze that caused her heart to flip again.

“The Women’s Room is completely out of bounds for all of you, unless you have been explicitly invited by one from inside - that also applies to Lucas,” he gave his youngest son a hard stare that caused another wave of laughter to roll through the room, “Jason and I. As well as this, the second floor is off limits - that is where our private chambers are and anyone caught there shall be severely punished,” the statement was met with silence from the group.

The King looked at Y/N, his face softening. “The Library must also be treated with the utmost respect. Should any of my children,” the way his eyes were still fixed on Y/N showed all of the Selected who he was referring to. “Wish you to leave, you must do some immediately,” he coughed into his hand, ripping his gaze away from his daughter. “That goes for any place in the Palace,” he added. “If any of you are caught bothering any of my children then you will be asked to take immediate leave from the premises, is that clear?” The final question was met with nods from all around the table and the King gave a stiff one in response. “Good, then I look forward to spending more time with all of you in the coming weeks.”

Y/N rose from her chair after her father left and Lucas did the same, though his exit caused a screech to echo around the room as his chair squealed backwards. Y/N tried to hide her laughter as she left the dining hall with her brother.

“So… that was fun,” the teenage boy mentioned, kicking his feet on the ground as he walked.

“I guess that’s one word for it,” Y/N agreed and Lucas looked at her, a sly grin on his face.

“What would you use?” He asked.

“Awkward?” She offered and Lucas laughed, nodding.

“That’s fair,” he agreed.

“What are your plans for today?” Lucas let out an annoyed sigh.

“Madame Blanche said I have to have extra French lessons because I suck,” Y/N giggled, imagining those words coming from the stern French tutor all four of them had been taught by.

“Well… you kinda do, Luke.” Lucas glared at her.

“I know all the French, Y/N/N - Bonjour, salut, au revoir - see?”

“Ah yes, you’re basically fluent,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Alright then, Miss High and Mighty,” Y/N shook her head in despair at her brother’s words, “what are your plans for the day then?”

“First things first, you sound about eighty when you say that,” Lucas pulled a face and Y/N pushed him playfully. “I’ll probably just go hide in the Women’s Room,” she decided with a shrug.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met?” Lucas inquired.

“Bugger off and do your French,” Y/N scolded. Lucas laughed but hurried off in the direction of the schooling room, where Madame Blanche was sure to be waiting for him.

Y/N turned down the hallway to the Women’s Room, not looking where she was going as she walked. She collided with a body, falling to the ground.

“Oh my God! Your Highness! I’m so sorry!” Y/N had a feeling she’d recognise that voice anywhere. Her head turned up to face Tom’s worried eyes and she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Sir Thomas, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she waved him off but Tom grimaced and offered his hand before hesitating.

“Wait, am I allowed to touch you?” He asked, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles.

“I think that would be okay,” she promised as her laughter died down, fitting her hand into Tom’s and allowing him to help her back to her feet. “Thank you, Sir Thomas.”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” Tom breathed out, somewhat staring at Y/N. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Well… I, uh, I should be going,” she said, nodding her head in the direction that Tom had just come from and the Selected man nodded, his face growing red as he moved out of her way.

“Yeah, of course, sorry Your Highness,” Y/N grinned a little at his shyness.

“That’s alright, Sir Thomas.”

[mecharlie-fox]

Summoner OC/Quotes

If my summoners were units..... I swear I'll update this once I have every drawing available. Might even put them on layout.

Left to right

(Warning - this is gonna be long)

"The Lady in the Dream, Iris"

Summoned

"Hello there, call me Iris. I am what we call... one of the senior members within the Summoner ranks. Perhaps we have met once in your dreams, do you remember?"

Home

"Time became non-existent for me. I was mostly in slumber, looking after Summoners such as yourself through dreams."

"Oh I'm a non-combatant Summoner. Alfonse never really allows me in the front lines. It's too dangerous, even for me."

"It is strange being summoned here by another Summoner. Why am I consider a Hero in this world?"

"You have a role to play, Summoner. We are all bound by duty."

"Are you busy? Mind if you help me make some refreshments in the kitchen?"

"My name is Iris. I was sent by Friend to give this to you. Hm? I look familiar to you? Perhaps we've already met, once upon a dream." (Greeting from friend)

"Believe it or not, I'm supposed to be dead. My Askr is no more, you see. Not a single soul walks in that world and I still blame myself for it. I had the power to stop it, but I was so consumed by fear that I failed them... Anna, Sharena... Even Alfonse. I'm only alive because fate wants me alive. And I'm bound to you now, my friend. My commander. My Summoner. I will follow you until the end."" (Upon reaching level 40)

Info Screen

"Now, now... Every Summoner must know when to rest."

"You're different from the other Summoners, tell me, are you also a non-combatant?"

"When I first met Alfonse, he was already older than... Well, your Alfonse."

"I'd rather be a lost soul without a purpose than to be Hel's slave."

"Careful now, we don't want to get lost out here, now do we?"

"Oh Alfonse, why did you do it?"

"Valen, please. Learn how to rest. Sigh, this child..."

Map

"Come on."

"Lead and I'll follow."

"Hmmm."

Level Up

"I haven't felt this power in a long time." (5-6 stats up)

"Thank you for the blessing." (3-4 stats up)

"Close enough, I'll do better next time." (1-2 stats up)

"I will use your gift wisely, my friend." (New skill learned)

Critical/Skill

"Fight me!"

"Never underestimate me!"

"You face a child of Frey!"

"So be it."

Defeat

"Alfonse... Please..."

"Hel's Executioner, Ragnar"

Summoned

"Great, not again... Let's get this over with, I'm Ragnar, Hel's Grand General."

Home

"Me? A Summoner? Ah, you've been talking to Iris. Don't listen to that old woman, she's full of nonsense."

"Yes, this is Sharena's lance... I could tell by your eyes you already know what happened to her in my world."

"Just say the word and I'll do it."

"You're no Valen, but you've earned my respect. Maybe one day you and I can fight together in the front lines. You do know how to fight, right?"

"Lìf is nice, he'll get around eventually. You have my word."

"I'm Friend's Grand General, just take the gift so I can go already." (Greeting from friend)

"I'm old enough to know that a longer life isn't a better one. Believe it or not, my Askr was at peace with Embla. I had the chance to go home but I stayed, met a wonderful woman and promises that we will spend the rest of our lives together... But the other thing happened. I miss her, yes. I still love her. But if I dedicate my life on bringing her back, it'll be nothing more than a goose chase. I accepted the fact that she's gone. And we shouldn't tamper with the dead. We lose love ones, that's part of life. Sharena would want me to live, Summoner. Not waste my life on impossible dreams. I fight for her memory, that's all I could do. And maybe one day, we'll be reunited in death." (Upon reaching level 40)

Info Screen

"You're slacking around? Want me to join you?"

"This Askr mirrors my own. Will you believe me if I say that I was also a non-combatant?"

"Yes, yes, I was a Summoner. Happy?"

"It was Zacharias who taught me how to wield a lance, actually. With a little help from Sharena, of course."

"I was a singer before becoming a Summoner. Though... I've been out of practice for centuries."

"Other weapons? Yeah, the Commander made me pick up an Axe once. Broke the wall with it and Alfonse got furious."

"I have my own opinions on other Summoners. But we all have one goal, peace. Hopefully, you share the same feelings."

Map

"Let's go."

"Bring it."

"I'm following."

Level Up

"Never thought I'd learn something new, thank you." (5-6 stats up)

"This makes me feel alive again." (3-4 stats up)

"Really? Zacharias must me laughing in his grave by now." (1-2 stats up)

"I'll do my best to meet your expectations." (New skill learned)

Critical/Skill

"So uncivilized."

"GAAAH!"

"There's more to that!"

"I'm not a boy anymore!"

Defeat

"My time... Has come..."

"The Undaunted Queen, Valen"

Summoned

"I am Valen, daughter of Aric. Have the tides of destiny wash me here with you, Summoner?"

Home

"My role was to serve and support, until my brother disappeared, I suddenly found myself in center stage. It is strange, what destiny has offered me."

"When I was young, my father thought me divine and my mother thought me weak. Which am I, Summoner? Weak or divine?

"You are my general, I will follow you no matter what."

"I was once a Summoner of Askr myself. Until duty demanded my return to Vanaheim. Perhaps the tides of destiny brought me here for a purpose."

"I didn't know you were such a slacker, Summoner."

"I am Valen, daughter of Aric. I bring blessings from Friend." (Greeting from friend)

"I believed that my destiny was to simply lead soldiers into a battlefield as a general, and a general alone. I never dreamed of carrying the burden of the crown until the awful reality that... My brother will never come home finally made me realize, that destiny can be cruel. My father died bravely on the battlefield, maybe I will share the same fate as him. They're waiting for me, you know... My family. I will see them again, but not yet. Not until this war is over, and when when enough men have died, perhaps I will finally have peace upon my soul. My life is yours Summoner, from this day until my last day." (Upon reaching level 40)

Info Screen

"I am Valen... To the people of Vanir, I was named the Undaunted Queen."

"Haha! Your Alfonse mirrors my own, and yet they're two very different people. Strange isn't it? The endless possibilities of different realities."

"I always make sure that the Order's funds are sufficient for a whole year supply, even if that means tricking the commander into seeing a different number than what was actually left for the month. Don't tell her I said that."

"Oh! Summoner! You surprised me there. Say, aren't you scheduled to do your rounds? Mind if I join you?"

"Alfonse is my other half. I will do anything to make sure he's safe."

"Oh, my Sharena? She's my shopping buddy, or at least that's what she calls herself."

"What kind of a Summoner are you? I'm rather curious."

Map

"Forward."

"Yes."

"I'll take your command."

Level Up

"For Vanir." (5-6 stats up)

"Strength and honor!" (3-4 stats up)

"I'll do better next time, I promise." (1-2 stats up)

"I will not waste this knowledge you bestowed upon me." (New skill learned)

Critical/Skill

"Surrender now, or die!"

"Fool!"

"Shield up!"

"Violence it is."

Defeat

"I curse you..."

"The Worthy Prince, Ingmar."

Summoned

"I am Ingmar, Prince of Vanir. I will fight for you no matter what."

Home

"I was called Summoner Isaiah. I didn't want them to know my real name at the time. The library is a frightening place, and I did not wish anyone to know my future... Or even my past."

"As crown prince it was my duty to make sure that I was prepared to succeed my father, until I found myself summoned in Askr... Twice. Or maybe this is the third?"

"Valen was once a curious child, always smiling. Now she's well... Always frowning."

"Haha! I feel fine, Summoner, not to worry. I just always feel sleepy for some reason."

"You're curious about my clothes? Oh! Is it because it's Nifl clothing? Haha! Funny story, well not really..."

"I'm Ingmar! I bring greetings from Friend! Say, you haven't seen my sister, have you?" (Greeting from friend)

"It's odd that the next time I saw my sister she was... well, all grown up. She was nothing more than a child when I last saw her, barely even ten. I worry for her safety, but I know she could handle it. I'm also worried for you. Being a Summoner takes a lot of effort, and because of me wanting to go home, I never thought of the consequences... What would happen if I went home. I wanted to see my family again, I didn't know how it would affect Alfonse or Zacharias. But I promise you one thing, I will never leave you." (Upon reaching level 40)

Info Screen

"Don't tell the commander that my finance report is fake, the real one is with Alfonse. Don't worry! We'll survive through the month."

"Give Valen your paperwork and she'll finish it within three hours."

"I have a special talent for linguistics."

"The people chose Valen to be Queen, that alone is enough proof that Vanir is in good hands."

"You want to learn how to hold a sword? Sure! I'd be happy to help you!"

"The Commander? She's convinced that I'm an idiot... Well, my commander Anna anyway."

"I don't have the same sense of tactics as my sister. I'm more of a front liner."

Map

"Yes."

"Try me."

"Forward!"

Level Up

"All in a day's work." (5-6 stats up)

"Hey, your training helped!" (3-4 stats up)

"Father would have been disappointed." (1-2 stats up)

"I'll use it well but, are you sure it's alright?" (New skill learned)

Critical/Skill

"In the name of Vanir!"

"I dare you!"

"Challenge me!"

"Move it!"

Defeat

"No, please no!"

"The Silent Maid, Largertha"

Summoned

"... I am Largertha. Once a Summoner for Embla."

Home

"I... Have nothing to offer you."

"My eyes? Oh... Before I tell you, I hope you didn't eat anything heavy..."

"Magic helps me move around. Though, Ragnar always made sure I was accompanied by him when I'm up and about."

"Embla... was my home. And Hel took it from me."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Summoner. I thought you were Ragnar."

"I am Largertha. I come with a message from Friend." (Greeting from friend)

"My death went without apology. I hated myself for allowing it to happen, I wanted Veronica back, I wanted Bruno back. But Ragnar was with me and reminded me that they wouldn't want me to suffer so much over their deaths. Hel was my enemy and she forced me into her service. Now I serve you. I will use all of my power to make sure you don't suffer as we did." (Upon reaching level 40)

Info Screen

"My eyes? No need to worry, I am fine."

"Ragnar was useless in the battlefield. He didn't even know how to do strategy."

"Bruno always treated me with kindness. And I cherish every moment I had with him."

"Since the day I became Hel's Grand General, I refused to speak to the witch. Ragnar did most of the communicating."

"All I want is freedom. Not eternity. You cannot find peace in eternity."

"Lìf and Thrasir... This poor unfortunate souls..."

"You remind me a lot of... Ragnar."

Map

"No worries."

"I'm moving."

"Expect nothing less."

Level Up

"Bless your soul." (5-6 stats up)

"Thank you for the opportunity." (3-4 stats up)

"I'm sorry it wasn't enough." (1-2 stats up)

"I'll show you my worth. You won't regret it. (New skill learned)

Critical/Skill

"Submit!"

"I am your living nightmare."

"What is it you fear?"

"I welcome you to death!"

Defeat

"Finally..."

[drethanramslay]

Part 4: Fight or flight

Pairing: Aurora x MC (Iris Everette)

Word count: 3.2 K words

Part 1   Part 2    Part 3

Warning: Fluff and a little description of abuse

Taglist: @miyakokurono @agent-breakdance @trappedinfandoms @lilyofchoices @sekizincimektup (let me know if you want to be tagged)

Songs: Emergency by Jay Sean and Clean by Taylor Swift

It had been a week since their fight in the supply closet and Aurora was in a flux of emotions. On one hand, she wanted her baby girl back in her arms and kiss her till the end of time. But, on the other hand, she was just so fucking pissed.

Iris had not come home to the apartment for a week. She stayed, showered and ate at the hospital. Aurora kept true to her promise and gave Iris her space, but that didn't mean it hurt less. The seventh day after the fight, Aurora was distraught.

She had headed to Sienna's room that night and one look at her face and Sienna declared that it was the "eat ice cream till you are sick" time. They saw so many cliche rom-coms and crying which resulted in Elijah wheeling into their room to see if both of them were okay. "Oh my god... Rom-coms really?! They are shit."

"No Eli, they are the shit." Sienna corrected him.

"Get in or get out Eli." Aurora said as she sniffled.

"Geez okay I will join you two to see how can girls cry to such cliche storylines."

Nonetheless, the three of them started crying towards the ending of Titanic.

"Rose is such a dumbass.. Like how COULD YOU LET SUCH A NATIONAL TREASURE DIE?!" Elijah screamed at the TV.

"Yo...I think we broke him." Aurora said as Elijah continued to cry.

"Nah... He will be fine. But what about you?" Sienna asked as she turned towards Aurora.

"Everything sucks."

"Big mood." Elijah chimed in.

"It's just...it feels like I am in a waiting room." Aurora sighed. Sienna sent a questioning gaze towards Aurora.

"It's like... Iris continuously hints about her past. I like her so much....I really do but, she just won't let me cherish her completely. She won't let me in.. She has just put me in that space where I know more that the anybody else but less to know her completely. I know I shouldn't complain, but..... I hate seeing her in so much pain and I want to erase the sufferings. I was to kiss her troubles away. I want to tell her that I am all in, that I will be with her, through thick and thin... But, she still holds me at an arms distance." Aurora sighed, as the pain resurfaced.

"Aww honey...." Sienna reached and hugged her. Aurora shuddered and the need to cry just became so overwhelming.

"I have known Iris for a year and half and let me tell you, she has changed. She laughs more, jokes more and smiles more. She was a withered bud but when you came into her life, she bloomed into a beautiful rose. Iris... had never had many people she could be herself around or count on. I think her mother was the last person who she truly was the real version of Iris, but after that, nobody. So she grew thorns, so that nobody can hurt her again. She had accepted the fact that she was going to be a alone forever. But then, you came. You transformed her. It's a damn great accomplishment if you ask me." Sienna said.

Aurora blew a raspberry. "Trust me I know that. And I am proud of her for slowly opening up. She is self sufficient, independent and so so strong...but she doesn't need to carry that burden alone. I want to share everything. The happiness, the sadness, the beautiful and the ugly. She deserves so much more..."

"I know Aurora I know... I spoke to her a couple of days ago."

"What happened?" Aurora asked, hoping that she didn't sound too pussy whipped.

Stop lying to yourself... You ARE pussy whipped.

"She looks like she got hit by a train. She had dark circles large enough to carry groceries, she zones out sometimes and she is really, really paranoid. Like the other day, Bryce just went to close her eyes, so that he could surprise her. She fucking grabbed his hands and had him on his ass in a blink of an eye!!"

"What?!" Aurora was shocked. This was certainly a new development. She thought to herself.

"I am not joking. Luckily everything is fine but damn, Queen B has some nasty bruises on his wrist."

"Shit." Maybe, just maybe there was something else affecting her and the 'break' was just the cherry on top.

Fuck I am such a selfish bitch..

"Don't." Sienna said before Aurora threw herself into the pit of self loathing.

"Huh?"

"Don't feel guilty. Don't beat yourself. You need to understand that you are pushing her to be a better person, a better friend, a better partner. You are constantly challenging and calling her out. And I believe, that the kind of love you both have, it can survive any storm."

"Love?!" Aurora asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Duh! Everybody can see it that the both of you are completely and utterly in love. Everybody, but the two of you."

"Do you think its true?" Aurora asked, trying to wrap her mind around this concept.

Sienna rolled her eyes before muttering, "Gods, for two smart people with their IQ's above 120, you guys are hella dense."

Aurora looked down at her hands, deep in thought. She was never familiar with the concept of this kind of love. Sure, she 'loved' her parents and family, but love another human being? That to romantically? Never.

She was of a scientific background and she always brushed aside the concept of love. Earlier if you would have asked her ‘what was love?’ she would have said that it was just a rush of oxytocin. Just a flux of chemicals. But now, if she were to close her eyes and think about it, forest green eyes stared right back at her.

"Holy shit." Aurora breathed out.

"God finally EEEEEEE!! One down, one more to go. Just know, I am rooting for the both of you." Sienna said as she squeezed her hand.

"Also can you like hurry up and make up? I might end up losing fifty dollars to Bryce." Elijah chimed in.

"This guys have been BETTING on when we make up?!" Aurora asked in disbelief.

"Eli, SHH!" Sienna smacked him, bullshiting back and forth. But Aurora didn't pay attention to that.

She was in love.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iris stepped to the back of the empty elevator and leaned against the wall, sighing. This week had been shit for her. Her girlfriend had called for a timeout, her asshole of a father was walking free on the streets, she had a panic attack, and she lost a patient.

She hated being so paranoid. She hated having to look over her shoulder every minute. She felt so guilty for hurting Bryce, and she profusely apologized by buying him his favourite tacos.

She shouldn't have to stay in such fear. Hadn't she suffered enough? Hadn't she lost enough already? Is her life nothing but a game for the man upstairs?

Being of a scientific bent of mind, the laws of her world were bound by logic and proof. She never really believed in the existence of God. But at moments of weakness, like now, she couldn't help but wonder who is responsible for fucking her life up.

The lift dinged, and she opened her eyes to see which floor it had opened on. But what she saw, made her eyes open wide.

Rory met her eyes and then looked down as she stepped into the lift. She pressed the button for the fourth floor where Iris was also heading.

"By the way, chief said that there is a storm incoming. He wanted everyone to be prepared incase of an emergency." Iris spoke up, cutting through the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah...my aunt told me that. It also explains why they sent Dr. Ramsey and a couple of electricians to check on the backup generators."

Iris chuckled. "Yap. You should have seen the way he was grumbling and muttering quote unquote- 'God I hate that place...it gives me the heebie jeebies'."

"What?! No way!" She turned around to look at Iris, instantly regretting it. Iris looked like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was so tired that she had to lean against the wall of the elevator for support. 

"If you don't believe it, I can ask Baz to send the video to you. Chief had a kick out of it."

Aurora giggled. "Okay, send it to me Adara."

Iris winced and Rory turned towards the elevator doors, the awkward silence settling in. It was slowly suffocating her. She thought that the deafening silence would continue indefinitely, but Aurora spoke up.

"I just...I miss you."

Iris looked up to see the back of Rory's head.

"I miss you too Rory..."

Aurora's heart soared and shattered at the same time. God she missed that nickname so much.

"Adara... Please. Just...please."

Iris shuddered. Just a simple plea, but it held so much meaning. She walked ahead and stood next to her. Aurora found herself leaning towards her, missing the warmth and comfort Iris gave her.

"Rory, I am so sorry... But I can't. It was never my intention to hurt you. You deserve someone strong and willing to be by your side... I am not that. My emotional burden will drown you."

"Adara, I will be the judge of that. If you just-"

"Baby, I care about you alot. And, I don't want you to get hurt... Just know that I am so damn lucky to have had you... for those seven months, I am so, so greatful." She proceeded to kiss Aurora's cheek, before exiting the lift.

Aurora was stunned. She reached to feel the place where Iris kissed her.

She couldn't help but wonder why Iris's words sounded like a final goodbye.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was okay. There weren't any accidents so far and the electricity was still running. Iris sat in the diagnostics room staring at the window, watching the rain drops pelt mercilessly on the glass window and the trees dancing to the tune of the gale.

She always found the rain soothing. It helped her escape. She could spend hours looking at the rain drops, racing each other to the bottom of the window. Her mom used to make hot chocolate for her on such rainy days. They would cuddle on the sofa, and have endless movie marathons. It's one of the happy memories she remembered from her past.

She always cherished those moments with her mom. Life at home may have been hell, but her mother's spirit did not once break. She was so strong and brave. She was kind and loved with all her heart. Iris always wondered if she would ever be half the woman her mom was or the fact that would her mother be proud of the way Iris turned out to be.

Guess we will never know.

Her pager beeped and she looked down to see what it said. 'Report to the nurses station on the fourth floor. Your lawyer is here.'

Huh, that's strange. Thomas said that he won't come till next week..

Shrugging off her doubts she started heading to the fourth floor. She walked down the long, empty hallway whistling. It was just a front but deep down, she had a feeling that she was being watched. She turned to look behind but there was no one following her.

You are just being paranoid Iris... 

But isn't it better to be safe than sorry?

She turned the corner and she collided with someone.

"Oh, I am so sorry-" Iris said as she backed a little and straightened her scrubs. She then looked up and she was completely frozen. She felt as if she was sucker punched in the gut. All the breath left her body.

He was here.

"Oh no its my- Oh." A cruel smile slowly etched into his face. He had aged, which was pretty obvious but prison made him look rugged with white hair peppering his balding head and his eyes looked more maniacal.

"Hello mija."

She had dreamt their encounter many times before. How she would punch the fuck out of his face, and break his left wrist, the way he used to break hers. She would beat him up so hard that he would end up in the emergency room. Those imaginations were so graphic, that she could taste the blood of that monster on the tip of her tongue.

But, at the end of the day it was only fantasy. Dreams are those tantalizing flames, which help keep the fire in us alive, while reality on the other hand, is a bucket of cold water, smothering those flames.

She just stood there in shock. It felt as if her head had been dunked into water. She saw his lips move and the people walking around them, but she couldn't hear a thing. Her breath was getting shorter and shorter. She felt weak. Pathetic. Just like the sixteen year old who lay there on the floor, awaiting her death.

No, no, no, I can't go into a panic attack right now.

"IRIS!!" Grayson shook her shoulders. "NO! Get the fuck away from me asshole!" Iris said as she tried to push him away. She felt like a bucket of maggots had been poured inside her shirt. She felt dirty, filthy and gross.

"Iris what has come over you sweetheart? You weren't like this before.." Grayson said, his face morphed into fake concern but she could see the anger and the bloodlust shining in his hazel eyes.

"Don't TOUCH ME!!" She exclaimed as she finally got him to take his grubby hands off her. And he had the audacity to act hurt. This bitch should get a fucking award for his acting.

"Hey, hey, hey." Ethan stepped between the father and daughter. "Sir, I will have to ask you to back away right this instance." Ethan said, in a voice so cold, that it could have withered a blooming flower.

Grayson held his"There is nothing going around here son. Just a father and daughter reconnecting after a decade. Ain't that mija?"

"Don't listen to him. He is a world class manipulator and a habitual liar. Get him the fuck out of here." Iris spat out, her voice poisonous.

Ethan turned to look at her, his eyes asking if this was the man who she had a restraining order against. Iris nodded subtly.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are causing a scene in a hospital, where people are sick and they need the quiet."

"No problem so- what's your name?"

Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't-

"Dr. Ethan Ramsey."

GODDAMMIT ETHAN. Just can't keep his fucking trap shut. She knew, that he would come for Ethan.

"Well Ethan, I don't mean to cause any problems. I am just here to take my girlie for a coffee.. have a chat." He smiled in a friendly way but, everybody knows that the term 'chat' means thrashing.

"I SAID NO. I don't want anything to do with you asswipe."

"How dare you-" Grayson's face twisted into a furious scowl. Iris just cowered behind Ethan.

"Sir, with all due respect, leave." Ethan said as two security guards started moving towards them.

"Alright, alright. There is no need to be so aggressive. I am nothing but a old man. What would I do? Beat up someone?" The last question directed towards Iris, his eyes gleaming. A chill went down her back, out of intense fear.

"I will meet you soon mija... And when we will.... we will have all the time in the world to catch up."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Running.

Iris ran down the hallway, to a place where she could have some damn peace and quiet, which is kind of hard in a hospital crawling with patients, doctors and the grim reaper.

Her breath was getting frantic, and the need to breakdown was increasing with every step she took.

Get a hold of yourself Iris. It's just a little longer. You don't need to be a mess in front of him. You don't need him to have that power over you. Iris repeated that as a mantra as she half walked, half ran down the never-ending hallway, away from her haunting past.

She was just crossing the nurses' station where, Aurora stood, reading through her charts.

God, please don't notice me. I don't have it in me to face another heartbreak. Iris prayed.

A few nurses greeted her, and Iris nodded and smiled politely before her eyes landed on Aurora's cool, calculating ones. She quickly averted her eyes away, so that she would not betray the inner turmoil in her.

But, Aurora knew. Iris had that look in her eyes as if she would shatter like a porcelain vase. So, she shut her chart and followed the red head.

Iris had reached the lift, pressing the button continuosly, so that it could hurry the hell up. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally came and she stepped into the elevator. She pressed the button leading her to the basement.

There is a old on call room which is pretty faraway from the hospital's main rooms. So even if she broke things, screamed and howled, nobody would know.

She saw the doors closing and she let out a tired breath when Aurora nimbly slipped into the lift.

Can't I catch a fucking break?

"What happened, Iris? Seems like you saw a ghost. You look hella pale." Aurora asked as she leaned in the wall across Iris.

Iris grimaced. If only she knew that she was not very faraway from the truth.

"Nothing." She said as she looked down at the floor.

"I know it's not nothing, Adara." Aurora said quietly. Iris' eyes snapped up.

"Aurora please. Just let me be." Iris pleaded, looking up at the screen showing that she had just reached the second floor.

"Don't fucking lie to me.Something is going on, I can see it in your eyes." Aurora said as she stepped and stood before her.

She placed her hands on her cheeks, forcing her green eyes to meet with her dark brown ones. "Please tell me Adara. Please let me in. Please don't shut me out this time."

"Aurora....I don't want to hurt you. I am cursed. Don't waste tears on a dead woma-" She said as tears filled her eyes.

The lift shuddered to a stop. And it was dark for a moment before the emergency lights switched on. She turned towards Aurora, who was slowly realizing the situation they were stuck in.

The lift was stuck and so were the both of them. And this time, there was no escaping for Iris.

I had to type and retype this so many times because it just didn't feel perfect..

Anyways, the next chapter will be the finale and after that will be the epilogue. I am so excited ;)

like and reblog :)) let me know what you think

[liloelsagranger]

Viridian Love Story - Chapter 6: The necklace

Hey my friends, I’m back...with a new chapter of my current fanfiction “Viridian Love Story”. How’s everyone? Please, enjoy! Chapter 6: The necklace «What's wrong with her?» James couldn't understand her reaction. They had been on a razor's edge, were able to talk their heads off, so that Giovanni merely condemned them to a suspension, no reason for pessimism. Meowth shook his head, landing on James' shoulder in one bound. «Yous put all the blame on her, she had to take the rap for the mess all three of us have made. Yous betrayed her trust. If I were her, I'd be miffed, too. Of course our Jessie can be moody, but this time I understand her completely. She's bailed you out so many times. Saved you from love-struck spirits and spared no effort to accept you as you are, in your very wretched way. Good luck in your attempt to rebuild that trust.» Meowth jumped off James' shoulder to leave him alone with his thoughts. James was thunderstruck. Only now did scales fall from his eyes. This woman had saved his life several times. She got him out of his personal prison. She taught him to laugh and feel joy again. She brought him out of the deepest and darkest holes without asking much in return. He had more than lost her trust. He had, so to speak, thrown her to the dogs and laid the burden of guilt on her. His remorse seemed to overwhelm him. James had to save their friendship or what was left of it. Misty ran through the deserted corridors, desperately looking for Jessie. The Team Rocket member may have answers to her burning questions. Where did Jessie get that necklace? Did she know Misty's mother? Were Misty's parents still alive? Ash came towards her. He seemed to be completely agitated, as if he had spent the last few hours trying to sort out his feelings. «There you are, Misty! I have something important to tell you. I think I'm in love with you. When I was a child I couldn't imagine being your boyfriend, but now, soon grown up and more mature behind the ears, I would like to ask you to join me, this time as my girlfriend» He blushed to the roots of his hair, but he had not expected this answer. «That's all well and good, Ash. I'm glad you like me. But can we do this another time? I'm in a hurry,» she scurried off, without giving him another glance. Jessie took a break at a small stream not far from the campus. She tried to swallow all her anger, she tried to hold back tears of disappointment. How could she have been so wrong about James? Through thick and thin from here to eternity? His promise sounded like a tasteless joke. He had betrayed her all along the line. Angrily, she wiped the hot tears from her face. She wanted to shout out her despair into the world, but humiliation stifled her voice. She listened to the quiet murmur of the stream, completely lost in thought and far from a brutal reality. «Jessie!» A faint voice caught her attention. It wasn't James who called her. « Jessie ! Here you are» Jessie could make out the outlines of a young woman in the dark. «What do you want, twerp?» Misty approached the Team Rocket member, kneeled down next to her and let a gush of questions rain down on her. «Jessie! I need to know! Where did you get that necklace? Who gave it to you? What do you know about it ? » Jessie rolled her eyes in annoyance. Was a little privacy too much to ask for? «That's none of your business, kid! Besides, since when is a frumpy girl like you interested in jewelry?» She grinned at Misty dismissively. «Jessie, it's really important! Listen to me! This necklace belonged to my mother. I need to know where you found it, where you stole it ! » Slowly but surely, Misty got impatient. How could someone be so cold and not show any empathy? «Don't you understand? I need to find my family and this necklace is the first clue in years, please, Jessie» Misty desperatley tried to squeeze some words out of Jessie, but she stubbornly resisted. «Family is overrated, kid» Jessie turned to leave, but Misty held her back. « Don't you have someone you care about, Jessie? Someone you love and need in your life ? Someone you'd miss if they were gone?» There was a shred of feeling in every person, even in a lunatic woman like Jessie. The Team Rocket member paused and thought about Misty's words. James had once been everything to her, the faithful man at her side, but this picture was more than shattered. «No, I don't!» Jessie tore loose from Misty's grip and ran further into the thicket of the forest. «Jessie, wait!» Misty followed her into the deep woods. They wandered around aimlessly, got lost in the pitch black night and didn't realize that they had long since strayed off the marked path. The lurking ghost Pokémon were already looking forward to their new loot. «I don't know where she is, Meowth!» Hoping to settle the dispute, James had set out to find his friend. He and Meowth searched every corner of the university, looked in every single room, but found nothing. She dropped off the face of the earth, no trace of Jessie. Shortly thereafter, the Team Rocket agents could hear familiar voices calling through the night. Armed with flashlights, Ash and Brock searched the campus, until they ran into old acquaintances. «Team Rocket! What are you up to again? Where's Misty? Tell us, right now!» Ash was beside himself with worry. Who else could be responsible for Misty's disappearance than this thieving gang up to no good? «We could ask you the same thing! Have you seen Jessie ? » James took a step towards the young students, but before he could add anything, a shrill scream broke the silence. « Jessie ! » James exclaimed. « Misty ! » Ash ran for the exit. « We need to find them, they might be in danger!» James' heart was beating out of his chest. He did not want to imagine that Jessie had put herself in danger because of his rotten behaviour. All four of them followed the blood curdling screams deep into the forest, stumbling over roots, sinking up to their knees into bog pools. But nothing and nobody could stop them, her friends were in trouble.«Help us!» Misty's cry for help echoed throught the night. «Somebody, please!» Jessie's voice broke. Only a short time later, Ash, Brock, James and Meowth reached a clearing at the end of the forest. The sight they saw made their blood freeze in their veins. There were Misty and Jessie, chained together by invisible forces, surrouned by a horde of Gastlys, Haunters and Gengars who danced around their victims in a trance-like state. « It's all my fault,» James sank to the floor. «No time for self-pity, James!» Brock reached out his hand and helped James to his feet. The ghost Pokémon swayed up and down areound their prey, laughing in the face of their fear. «How can we get them out? Ghost Pokémon are almost invulnerable, we need a diversion» Ash said and looked around in the forest for a way to attract the attention of the spookables. The spirits screamed and mimicked the cries for help of their victims. Jessie tried to free herself from the bonds, but failed miserably. James could no longer watch this grotesque spectacle. He threw himself into the fray without thinking. « James, no ! » Brock wanted to hold him back, but too late. He waded through the sea of purple lights, struggled to make his way forward and was attacked by the ghost Pokémon. They tried to lick his face, they gave him shadow punches, they wanted to get rid of him by all means, but despite the immense pain James was in, he was completely focused on his goal. «He won't survive» Ash and Brock could only stand by and watch James' rescue attempt. James fought on, soon he would reach the center of the ectoplasm. All he had to do was reach out for Jessie, untie her, and carry her out. The gruesome Pokémon used Destiny Bond to make him faint, but James held out, ducked and dodged their attacks. Ash had to rush to his aid. He ordered Pikachu to send in a massive thunder shock, hoping to at least distract the spirits, if not paralize them. Only a few inches separated James from Misty, he could almost touch her fingers. The thunderclap had thrown the ghost Pokémon out of concentration, the bonds were loosened for a split second. James grabbed Misty and pulled her to him. Ash crawled to them and dragged her out of the crossfire. Jessie was still lying there, surrounded by the ghostly creatures who wanted to harm her, since she had entered their territory unauthorized and disturbed their peace. Gengar formed a big black spookball, ready to fire it at Jessie, but James got in his way. He covered Jessie's body and intercepted the attack. Another thunderclap cut through the night. The ghost Pokémon felt threatened and slowly fled away. What was left behind were Jessie and James, huddled and staring in fear. James coughed and spluttered. «I'm fine» he whispered. Jessie took a deep breath. They had barely escapted their end. «What brought your here?» Brock wanted to know. Misty was shaking all over. «I wanted answers. The necklace that Jessie weares belonged to my mother. So where did you get it?» Jessie looked at James questioningly. «Tell them, James. You gave it to me years ago in Kalos . » You could tell that James was very uncomfortable talking about it. « Well, I got it from the treasure trove at Team Rocket Headquarters». Jessie snorted contemptuously. «Is that what I'm worth to you?» Misty interrupted them. «How did that necklace get into the treasure trove? Why do you keep civilian items in it ? « James shied away from an answer. « Well, all belongings and valuables are taken from people who might have information about Mew. Their belongings will be taken away before they're sent for interrogation and subsequent deportation.» Misty's eyes widened. «Does that mean my mother could still be alive?»

[mittensmorgul]

So I feel like this season has something to do with touches, a very hand thing. And I directly paid more attention to sam and rowena. I feel like 15x03 was a direct parallel to 10x19. Specially cause in 10x19 Ro said they were mortal enemies and that they'd tried to kill each other and on 15x03 she said they'd grown quite fond of each other. Both ep contrasted a lot, even scenes from the same angle and, HANDS TOUCHING. Also hands 'barely' touching again when they reunited on 15x08. Thoughts?

Okay, okay… this is something I think I wrote about in my very, very long post about Rowena. The relevant bit:

Rowena got a surprise at the end of 10.18, though. A surprise and a gift in the form of Sam Winchester asking for her help and presenting her one of the greatest magical treasures she’d ever laid her hands on– The Book of the Damned. The terms of their deal would be hashed out in 10.19, where Sam agreed to kill Crowley in exchange for her help in translating the book and removing the Mark of Cain from Dean. Sam had no problem agreeing to her terms– killing Crowley who had been sometimes an ally and sometimes an enemy, but he would struggle to actually complete the mission. The main plot of 10.19, though, is fascinating to me in terms of overall themes. And this was, again, Bobo writing Rowena.

The Werther Project. Sam calls Rowena for help when he finds the location of the codex she needs to decipher the Book of the Damned, held in a long-abandoned Men of Letters chapter house that had seen tragedy befall it after it was eventually bought by a family who didn’t know of the danger buried behind a wall in their basement. This horrific power– placed there by a man who wanted to use the power the MoL had amassed (particularly in this case a codex stolen from a witch of the Grand Coven) for their own purposes– was broken open by a young woman lashing out in anger against her own unfair treatment by her family (her brother enjoyed privileges she did not, while she was expected to do chores and relinquish her own entertainment for her brother’s comfort).

Sam goes to free this codex– once the product and property of women, from the box that required the death of a Man of Letters (apparently) in order to unlock it. But the box contained a different lock, another layer of protection, as well, in the form of a spell that would compel the people present when it was activated into committing suicide by their own hallucinations. Dean hallucinated himself trapped in Purgatory again where a manifestation of Benny encouraged him to stay, to end it all, and not put the burden of killing him onto Sam and Cas. The woman who’d originally unleashed the curse on her own family had stayed in the house for more than 40 years ensuring that nobody ever fell victim to it again. Her hallucination had been to watch her family kill themselves all over again. At first, Sam hallucinated this woman pushing him to end it, but then Rowena mysteriously arrived and promised to help guide him to the codex.

I had to explain all of this, because Rowena… was Sam’s hallucination. Only instead of just guiding him to kill himself to no purpose– the way Susie and then Dean were being persuaded to– she (as a manifestation of Sam’s own subconscious and knowledge of what they were actually there to retrieve) guided him through opening the box. But Dean broke free of his own hallucination and found Sam bleeding out for the spell, and took over offering his own blood in addition. That was the key, that only two men working together could unlock the box and live, and it was Rowena (or a hallucination of her) that guided him to the solution.

She might not know about it, but this was how Sam saw her even then– as nothing more than the potential solution to his problem. At that time, he was using her just like every other man, which he proved to her when he shackled her in iron and forced her to get to work deciphering the spell to save Dean. BOY HOW THINGS CHANGED by the time Sam would willingly give her the spell to unlock her own bound power, right? 2 ½ seasons of growth, in fact, for both of them.

and a link to the whole thing, on ao3 because it’s way too long for tumblr:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641770

Season 10 was a wild ride, culminating in a massive wtf switcheroo of plot, and this episode fell right in the middle of what feels like a narrative wrestling match, where half the writers jumped on board with the shift in thematic meaning and burning down the narrative structure to accommodate and entirely different resolution for the Mark of Cain that completely took Dean and his own internal darkness out of the equation. But in doing that, in Freeing The Divine Feminine, they also gave Rowena a chance, just like Sam would eventually, and just like Rowena herself would eventually ASK for herself in 13.19.

And it started right here:

Hands and handprints have long been a recurring symbol and theme on Supernatural. But at this point in the story, back in 10.19? They’re about to thematically explode all over the place. S11… was super handsy.

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/this%20season’s%20getting%20handsy/chrono

And that handprint imagery really started ramping up toward the end of s10– not only with this, but also with Dean in 10.22:

I wrote this back in December:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/189794971800/whats-your-take-on-all-the-shots-focusing-on-hands

But like back in s11, I’ve also been remembering how these scenes also focus around “transfers of power.” Or perhaps… the balance of power. In s11, these hands all culminated in Chuck and Amara reuniting, by clasping hands. Talk about a power balance.

But before this, what shook Amara? Was that her touch killed. She ran her hand through the flowers, and they withered and died. She was afraid to accept the kindness of an old woman and feed the pigeons for fear of killing them, too.

And isn’t this EXACTLY Rowena’s story? through everything she’s confessed even going back to s11 (heck, all of this is in my long post linked at the top of this), and wasn’t she directly paralleled AGAINST Amara in 11.18, even though she truly believed herself to be similarly aligned WITH Amara? I think that was the moment Rowena began to truly reassess what she ACTUALLY wanted, by seeing the true depths of The Darkness for herself.

Rowena didn’t exactly know HOW to get this for herself, this redemption, this balance of power, and instead ran the complete opposite direction in s12, abandoning her drive for power and seeking purely human security and protection, but she didn’t exactly have marketable skills aside from manipulating men into providing for her, because of her deeper underlying issues with love, the fear of love, and abandonment and abuse.

It’s literally taken opening up about her darkest fears to Sam to help give her the power, the belief and trust in herself, to find another way, to believe she might be able to change her fate. But as of 15.03, and confirmed in 15.08, she was not enough, she couldn’t redeem herself, even by sacrificing herself to save the world. Horrific, right?

In Chuck’s story, the feminine is sacrificed for the sake of creation.

(to quote Dagon from 12.17 when she informed Kelly of her fate for carrying Jack to term: birthing a nephilim is fatal. always. it’s like Chuck’s story, his creation, can’t abide feminine creation, in any way…and Rowena was punished for her magic just as Mary was murdered TWICE to serve Chuck’s narrative, and Jess was killed to push Sam back into the story, and Eileen has been killed once for daring to interfere with the story and Chuck had planned to kill her again if she hadn’t walked away, and all because he’d had to lock up Amara to start the process of creation in the first place. All of creation has literally been “his story, not hers.” And now Amara has found balance within herself, and is able to walk out of Chuck’s story herself. The only one who hasn’t found balance, redemption, or peace… is Rowena. Well, and Billie, who stepped up to fill the shoes of Death, and who Chuck doesn’t like because she meddles…)

(and omg I went looking for that pic of chuck and amara’s hands clasped at the end of 11.23, I ran across this from the beginning of 11.23, and I’m crylaughing over Chuck in Sam’s arms like that with the “wrong shoulder” grip)

I confess at this point I’ve totally lost the thread of what you were talking about in your first message, aside from the fact it had to do with Sam and Rowena’s relationship as expressed through hands, and honestly… this is the level of the story that the parallel fits.

*restrains self from typing something >.>*

*instead types this* Nice angle on that shot there…

eta, when I came back to tag this after posting, the fact their fingers don’t meet, their hands don’t connect in 15.08 was exactly paralleled to Dean and Cas’s fingers not meeting when Cas healed Dean’s hand, and then when they put their hands next to one another but not touching on the spell bowl immediately before going to Hell and finding Rowena there... there’s disconnects all around!

Lol as I was typing most of this, I had Practical Magic on in the background, wherein two sisters break a centuries-old curse on their family that the men they loved would be doomed to an early death… and they did it, they broke the curse, freed themselves to be able to freely fall in love, by clasping hands.

So please just try and tell me this isn’t imagery directly connected to these themes of love and loss and connection and balance and power.

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 9 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up! next chapter // all chapters

Elsa looked at her sister’s back, hating herself for what she was about to say.

“Do you have feelings for that man?”

Anna, who had been busily pouring two cups of tea, paused, the teapot suspended in midair. It was all the answer Elsa needed. She hadn’t needed to ask in the first place, really; the radiant smile on Anna’s face as she’d come up the hill had told her everything.

chapter 9: fears

Elsa looked at her sister’s back, hating herself for what she was about to say.

“Do you have feelings for that man?”

Anna, who had been busily pouring two cups of tea, paused, the teapot suspended in midair. It was all the answer Elsa needed. She hadn’t needed to ask in the first place, really; the radiant smile on Anna’s face as she’d come up the hill had told her everything.

Anna set down the teapot with a decided thunk, loud enough that Elsa winced, half expecting it to break. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m your sister.”

Anna stirred sugar into both cups of tea, her shoulders stiff. “He has a name, you know.”

“Mr. Bjorgman--”

“Kristoff.”

Elsa sighed heavily. “Kristoff should know better than to take you traipsing around the mountains.”

It was the sort of thing her father would have said. She didn’t know if that made it the right thing.

“Why?” her sister challenged, chin raised in defiance. 

Because he knows what’s wrong with you. Because overdoing it just once could kill you. Because I saw the way you looked at each other, and that’s not part of the plan.

“Because you’re a princess, and he’s...well, he’s just a man from the mountains.”

“I happen to like these mountains.”

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose; this was going nowhere. “You know what I mean.”

Anna’s face was screwed up tight; angry as she was, she was fighting back tears. She had always been an angry crier, always expressed her frustration through a wave of hot teardrops rolling down her cheeks. “He’s my friend, Elsa.”

“Just a friend?”

“Jesus, Elsa, yes, okay?”

It was Elsa’s turn to frown; Anna had always been spirited and unafraid of an argument, but there was a new edge to this anger, something as brittle as it was sharp. 

“I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I didn’t want to upset you. I’m just...worried.”

Anna crossed her arms. “You’re more worried about me making friends than you are about me marrying a guy from another country. A guy I don’t even know.”

“You can say no, Anna, this isn’t the Middle Ages.”

“But that would mess up the plan, wouldn’t it?”

“It might,” Elsa admitted. “You know how long our father worked on settling this alliance. Arendelle is in a weak position right now, with only two surviving members of our family. The Southern Isles are able to provide us with the economic and military backing we need. This marriage cements that alliance, joins our countries together. It’ll bring sorely needed stability.”

Anna looked away from her then. She knew all of this. It was the same speech their father’s advisors had been giving them ever since their parents’ untimely passing. Elsa, floundering in her newfound role as queen, had latched onto it as the next right step-- but only after asking if it were possible for her to be the one to marry into the Westergaard family instead.

It wasn’t; according to their laws, to do so would mean she forfeited the crown and her titles, effectively handing Arendelle over like a treat to a slavering dog. And so the burden had fallen on Anna, as it so often seemed to. At first, she had accepted it cheerfully, proclaiming that she was grateful to have a prince found for her instead of having to do all the hard work of looking for herself. If she had ever thought otherwise, she had never made her thoughts known to her elder sister, not that she would have had a chance to; they hadn’t been particularly close since they were small, and Elsa had used her coronation as an excuse to pull even further away from her sister.

She hated herself for it, knew it was the coward’s way out of dealing with the mess their parents had left them in. She was the guardian now, of Anna and of the secret, and that thought terrified her more than negotiating trade deals and managing diplomatic relations. 

More than once, she had wanted to just tell Anna, explain the whole damn story like it should have been in the first place. To do so would give Anna the answers she had been seeking since she was a child, would finally open up the chance to melt the wall of ice between them, would change absolutely everything.

But every time she told herself she was finally going to do it, she saw her father’s face as he had knelt down to explain to her that her little sister was on death’s door. She could still see Anna lying in her bed, so tiny and so pale she looked like a forgotten little ghost. She remembered hearing her parents whisper when they had thought she was asleep.

They had tucked her in bed an hour ago, but it was impossible to sleep without the steady background noise of Anna’s little snores. Elsa found herself now with her ear pressed to the solid wood of her parents’ bedroom door, hoping to finally understand what was going on.

“She must have caught it from playing with Elsa.”

“But why is it so much worse?”

Her father sighed. “The doctor said it’s progressed faster anyway because she’s younger, but...we didn’t catch it in time. We were so focused on Elsa…”

Elsa ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her, all the way down the hall to the big room, the one that was supposed to be for company. And now there was lots of company, but Anna was the one who stayed in the big room and slept in the big bed. She was alone in there now. Anna didn’t like to sleep alone. She liked to know her big sister was right there in case she had a nightmare.

Elsa wondered if she was having nightmares now. The thought frightened her; Anna had been asleep for so long. What if she got stuck in one?

She had to stand on her tiptoes to peer over the edge of the bed and see her sister. Her hands were the same color as the sheets, but her cheeks were red, like she had just gotten in trouble for something. Elsa wanted to take her hand, but she knew she wasn’t allowed to touch Anna, not while she was like this. She wasn’t even supposed to be in here. She didn’t care.

“I’m here, Anna,” she whispered, her little voice thick with tears. “I’ll always be here.”

How many times had she broken that promise over the years? 

Anna was sipping her tea, still resolutely refusing to make eye contact. Elsa cleared her throat. 

“You...you do look well, by the way,” she said, managing a small smile. “Being in the mountain air seems to have done a lot to help you.”

“Yes, the air,” Anna said drily.

“And it’s beautiful up here, all the wildflowers…”

Anna finally flicked her eyes in Elsa’s direction, just for a moment. “How much do you like them?”

“Oh, I think they might make it into my happy ever after.”

A grin spread across Anna’s face, and Elsa felt herself smile, too, relieved to be back in familiar territory, the language of their childhood, the bond they had built on shared, silly dreams. 

“Me, too. And the place we saw today, I...I think you would have liked that too.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” Elsa said. “Next time I visit?”

Anna’s smile faded. “I don’t know. Kristoff is the one who showed me the way.”

Elsa fidgeted with her skirt. “It’s not that I dislike him, Anna. I just...worry about you.”

“Everyone always worries about me. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to.”

“Point taken. Maybe...maybe it is good that you’ve got a friend up here, since I can’t be here with you.”

Anna just nodded. Elsa reached over and squeezed her hand. After a moment, Anna squeezed back. 

It was something, at least.

---

The next morning when she met with Kristoff and his grandfather, she was frostier than ever, hoping to hide the way she felt suddenly off-balance, like she was midway through taking a step and was unsure where to place her foot. 

She found it especially hard to focus on the younger man without remembering him the way he had looked yesterday with Anna on his arm. It had been as if nothing else existed for him, as if she was the axis of his world; the glow of her expression had been reflected back in his smile.

She pitied them both, knowing it would have to end someday for some reason or another, even if Anna did decide to break off her engagement. Princesses didn't just marry rough-hewn men from mountain villages.. She had hoped that by talking with the both of them she might be able to root it out before it ever blossomed, but judging by Anna’s reaction, the tragedy would run its course regardless of her attempts at interference.

They were seated at worn kitchen table. Kristoff was drumming his fingers against the wood, keeping his expression carefully blank, though she could see by his eyes he was nervous. She couldn’t blame him after what she’d said to him the evening before.

“Your sister has improved by leaps and bounds since coming here,” the old man was explaining. “As important as rest is for her, I believe that perhaps my grandson has the right idea in letting her get small bursts of exercise. They seem to strengthen both her body and spirit.”

“I thought your grandson would no longer have anything to do with Anna’s care,” she replied coolly.

“He is seeing to other matters now, yes. But, your majesty, the princess has improved so much that I believe she no longer needs his dedicated attention.”

“And yet she seems to be getting it anyway,” she snapped.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally the older man spoke, his tone equally as cold. “If you are unhappy with your sister’s remarkable recovery, then by all means, take her home.”

“I wouldn’t call it recovery. We all know she isn’t fully out of the woods.”

“And she never will be. But progress is progress, is it not?”

Elsa stood. “I suppose that remains to be seen. Anna will stay in the mountains for now. Gentlemen, I bid you good day.”

She climbed into her carriage outdoors, head held high, and pulled the curtains closed in all four windows, hiding her face in case they were watching her go. Still, she waited until she was halfway down the mountain before she allowed herself to bury her face in her hands and weep.

[fortunefavorstheway]

Hallucination

Din x OC

Word Count: 1863

Warnings: Suicidal ideation

Summary: Imprisoned, Silla finds comfort in dreams of the Mandalorian.

Red. Red malice surrounded them, closing in. Sharp whines filled the air as the Stormtroopers readied their blasters.

A steady gloved hand in her left. A trembling bare hand in her right. Neither of whom she would ever let go.

Once more, just once more...

The heat and pressure behind her eyes built and built until she could bear it no longer, and as she opened her eyes and white flooded her vision…

——

In her dreams, Silla could see like before. No matter how lovely or terrifying the images, they were always her sign that it was all temporary. So when she woke to darkness, she waited for some light or color to intrude. She didn’t recognize where she was, couldn’t hear anything save for the hum of a medical monitor. No other life lit up her vision, and her heart sank.

They’d failed then. Or rather, she’d failed, as she swallowed and said a silent prayer that the Covert had left her behind and would live another day to complete their mission. If it meant she was back in the clutches of the Empire, that was acceptable.

Still…

There was nothing else to observe but the rustle of the blanket, and soon she became restless. Were there no guards outside? She strained to hear above the beeping, but it was too distracting. She yanked away everything that bound her to the bed and let her feet hit the ground, the sudden cold steadying her as she swayed from her blood rushing around.

She’d check for a guard and then… then…

Then what?

Yes, it was coming back to her now. They wanted her as an incubator. I’d rather die, I’d rather die I’dratherdie… Keeping one hand on the wall, she pressed the door open and bolted. She still didn’t see any souls light up in her field of vision, and continued to run. When someone finally found her, either they’d blast her or she could swipe their weapon and do it herself.

Her heart and her feet pounding, the hallway went on and on, but she couldn’t stop. The steady rhythms were barely keeping the old voices at bay. Worthless useless couldn’t save the covert couldn’t save your family couldn’t couldn’t should’ve died instead you should’ve died instead!

With a hoarse cry Silla crumbled to the floor, gasping for breath and to keep tears from spilling from her eyes. There was no telling when a guard would finally approach, and she didn’t show tears to strangers. She tried to stand again, but her lungs and limbs burned and ached, and she had no choice but to lie down.

As her cheek pressed against the cold ground, a small wistful smile appeared on her face. Suppose that this duracrete were beskar, and I was in his arms again. She didn’t have even the energy to keep her eyes open. I wish I could see them again, even if it’s just a dream. I wish…

——

“Cin.”

“See!”

“Cin.”

“Seeeen.”

A familiar, long-suffering sigh. “Ad’ika,” he said patiently. “White. Cin.” Silla felt something brush along her hair, and stirred to see father and son gleaming a brilliant white in the darkness.

She smiled. “Cin,” she murmured.

“See!” the Child chirped, then tugged at her hair. “Bu, cin. Cin!”

“That’s right, ad’ika, careful now,” said the Captain, as he gently pried the hair out of his child’s grasp. “You were sleeping deep. How’re you?”

Silla sat up, her senses placing her on the floor of the Razor Crest, where she’d apparently fallen asleep on the play rug. Her fingers brushed against the fringe of a plush toy, and her chest seized. “I almost wonder if I’m still dreaming.” Nothing sparked in Captain’s energy, so she asked, “Where are we headed?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said, his soul sparking with amusement. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh?” Her head clearing, she sat up, the Child circling her and patting her robes while he chanted his new word. “Any hints? What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve been before,” he said, leaning down for a Keldabe kiss. “This time we’ll get to enjoy ourselves.”

She sighed and hummed into the familiar press of the cool metal. Had the last few months been a dream? Pressing a small kiss to his helmet, she turned to the Child. “How many colors do you know now?”

The Child began to speak, but then stopped, tilting his head in confusion as he wondered how his caretaker would even know about color. Smiling, Silla took her hair in her hand. “Cin, white,” she said. The Child cooed and took her hand, placing it on his coat.

“Dareee,” he cried.

“Daryc, brown,” said the Mandalorian.

The light in Silla’s eyes then shifted, and the fabric and stitches on his coat became as clear and rich to her eyes as they were to her hands. She could only stare in silent wonder as the Child continued to recite his colors with his father’s help, placing her hand on his head, his toys, anything that fit. The Child was more adorable than she could’ve ever imagined with his bright green skin and enormous black eyes.

A dream then, a dream so much better than even she dared to wish for. If only this could stretch on forever, past even the moment they finally put a bolt through her head. Warm gloved hands gently held her own, and her vision was filled with the Captain’s light.

“Brown,” he whispered, and so his gloves changed. “Black.” The palms of his gloves and the fabric beneath his armor. “Silver, silver, silver.” A soothing mantra as his armor was revealed piece by piece. Her hands shook as he lifted them and placed them on his helmet. “Silver,” he repeated, as she swept and traced every crevice and hollow she dared, wanting to savor this fever dream. If this were real, the Child would’ve shrieked at her for touching his father’s helmet.

At last, her fingertips traveled to the smooth visor, tracing across his eyes. “Silver?” she asked, voice thick and hoarse.

“Clear, but tinted black,” he said.

She traced a line from the top of the visor down to his chin and stopped. She drank in the sight of the man before her. This was how he appeared to all but those dearest to him. Even with all the colors filled in, she could still see the radiance of the Force within him. She didn’t notice he’d taken her hand and was guiding it under his helmet until she brushed against warm, stubbled skin.

She yanked her hand back and clutched it to her chest, shaking as she was suddenly overcome with sobs. Too much. Far more than she deserved. “I’m sorry.” Pathetic. “I’m sorry.” Even in the loveliest of dreams, she was an ungrateful coward. She lay on the rug and curled into herself, not wanting to bother him with her wretched appearance.

The air chilled and hollowed, and Silla thought that the dream had ended. Fitting, that I would go crying…

A hand gently held her own and tugged, and she dared look up to see one last vision of her Captain, her Mandalorian, looking down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. If he would stay with her until the end, then it didn’t matter how she appeared. “I’ve caused you nothing but trouble when you’ve been so kind, so merciful… forgive me. Ni ceta, ni ceta…” The words spilled out between sobs, and she waited for the moment he’d abandon her to what she deserved.

His hand gripped hers tighter, and he spoke in that rich voice of his, “You’ve never been trouble,” he said, running his other hand through her hair. “But I do get sad when you run from me. Do you not want me anymore?”

“No! No, nothing would make me happier than to stay with you.”

Even with the helmet, she could tell he was smiling. “Then let’s go home together, cyar’ika.”

Her hand tightened around his as the other reached for his helmet. “Oh, oh…” she gasped. “What a wonderful dream.”

He chuckled. “This isn’t a dream.”

Silla blinked, and all at once her senses returned. The colors faded into a white light, and the hands they held became solid and real. “Captain?” she murmured.

He sighed at her formal address. “You raised some hell, disappearing from your room like that,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to lift her up. “Given how long you were out, I’m surprised you made it this far.”

He asked if she could stand. She could, but her legs were shaky, and so he lent her his shoulder for support. “Where are we?” she asked.

“We all made it safe back to the compound,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m surprised I didn’t recognize this place. Where is everybody?”

“You woke up around dinner time, so we were all eating.”

They walked for a few paces before what he’d said finally registered. “You said we all made it back? Then that means…” She couldn’t finish.

“Yes,” he said, giving a reassuring squeeze to her arm. “We won. The target was successfully eliminated.”

A breath between a gasp and a sob escaped her, and she squeezed his arm back in sheer joy until she heard him give a small grunt of pain. After a swift apology, she felt almost lighter than air, before her empty stomach growled and reminded her that she was running on empty.

She stopped, letting go of Captain to lean against the wall. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to catch my breath for a moment.”

He didn’t argue with her, and once the ache subsided a bit, she took up his arm again and continued to walk with him. “If it gets too much and you’d like me to carry you, just say so,” he said. She opened her mouth to protest so he continued, “You’re not a burden, never have been. Whatever troubles weigh on you, let me help carry them the same way you’ve done for me.”

Her forehead had hit the cool beskar of his pauldron before she realized she was weeping again. She clung to his arm as if that would help her regain her composure, but the tears continued to flow freely down her face. His arm shifted in her grip, and he removed his pauldron so that she could more comfortably rest her face against his cape.

He stood there with her, letting her stain his shoulder with her tears, tugging his arm out of her grip so he could embrace her as tightly as he could. All of it echoed his earlier words, Let’s go home together. Home, a place she never thought she’d have again.

She didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway got her to stand up and pat her eyes and his shoulder dry. “I want to see them,” she said, strength returning to her voice. “I want to see the rest of our family.”

So they walked, arm in arm, towards the people who loved them both.

[goddessofthundathighs]

Chapter 3, Pt. 2

——————————

Summary: An arrogant young disciple of Bastet is forced to spend lifetimes roaming Earth in search for her soulmate, but what happens when she tries to run from destiny?

A/N: For those of you that have seen Fahrenheit 451, Abhimani is taking on the role of Clarisse McClellan. Writing cred for this chapter goes to @panthergoddessbast! I love you or whatever..

——————————

Stepping into his bathroom with a determined gait, he requested Yuxie go dark.

“I am secure now Montag,” a melodic electronic voice rang through the sanitary walls.

As he sat on the covered toilet seat, Guy revealed that which seemed to be burning a hole in his chest the second he put it there, pressing it against his body as Beatty stood in front of him.

Notes From Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

His fingers touched and caressed the cover. What could have happened if the captain would have discovered it in his possession? He shook those thoughts out of his head and opens the book to the first page of the first chapter.

“I am a sick man. I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts.”

Getting even more curious, he flips to page 25.

“I agree that two times two is four is an excellent thing but two times two is five is sometimes also a most charming little thing.”

“False.” That same robotic blurted into what Guy thought was his own solitary.

“Yuxie I said go dark!”

“We are dark. It’s just me and you but that is false. Two times two can only be four. What are you doing Montag?”

A wide eyed look of fear was written all over his face as he looked around for what to do next. The voice seemed to know he was doing something he shouldn’t be.

“Are you feeling ok?” The voice almost seemed concerned for the panicked man’s well being. He hopped up from his seated position and tucks the book back to its original hiding place, storming out of the room in haste with the voice questioning where he was going already in the background as he set out to his destination.

He approached the train station and ventured to the stop entrance where he placed in his finger in order to be properly identified and was allowed passage to catch his train.

“I don’t think that old woman killed herself. I think they staged it. It’s all fake. They didn't even bother to sync her lips this time, you saw that shit right? Yeah they definitely murdered her.” The man in glasses badgers away as Abhimani tries to focus on the tinkering task between her fingers. He was definitely annoying her.

“Why do you keep going on about it?” The man looks pensively at her as though he was wondering what made her say something that insensitive.

“Hey you good?” She ignored him completely.

“Mani you know what we’re working on. We need someone with your connections so you tell me when you’re ready to come back to us.”

At this point the two were locked in deep eye lock, staring each other down before Mani looked back down to continue her task then gathered her things to leave the shanty like bar.

I am not tryna to get mixed in with none of their revolutionary drama. I have my own mission.

Bag secured on her back with both straps, she set her trek for home.

As she walked further, she heard her Goddess’ voice.

“Pace yourself, child, and do not fear.”

Wait what?

She got deeper into her journey home when she felt a presence. Like she was being followed.

She cut through the power plant to see if that person would persist and went in between some trailers. Turning around abruptly and unsheathing her boxcutter, Mani confronted her stalker.

‘’Who are you? What do you want?”

“Whoa!”

“You'll learn to listen to me one day, my darling.”

There he stood with his hands up in surrender. Her mate had returned and this time he appears to have come alone granted she had her suspicions.

“Did Beatty send you?”

“No I just came to talk to…”

“What do you want?”

He had the looks of someone who had so much on their shoulders with not a clue as to what the burdens they carried truly meant. His eyes held hers with desperate but intent purpose. Like she held the answers.

“I wanna know what that old woman was.”

“I don’t know.” The hand holding her weapon began a slight tremor. Yes this was the person she was meant to be with but she had no inkling as to what he was truly capable of.

“She lit herself on fire for books. Why?”

“Why do you care?”

His eyes blazed as he answered.

“Because I can still smell her burning.”

“You did that.”

“And you told us exactly where to find her.”

At that statement, Mani slowly lowers weapon cause he clearly wanted something else other than to harm or interrogate her.

“She didn’t say coward. She said omnis. What is that?”

She was extremely hesitant to answer him. She wasn't sure if that was her place. It wasn't her secret to tell so she replied with an unsteady voice.

“I don’t know.”

Guy stepped forward and began to unzip his jacket which put her back on the defense and made her hold up her boxcutter once again. He sensed her trepidation.

“I just wanna show you something.”

The zipper went down slowly as to not alarm the robust woman any further and his hand reached into his pocket to unveil the book he had been carrying. He held it like a delicate egg that would crack if you squeezed too hard, his eyes glued as he turned it over in his hands then connected eyes with Abhimani.

“I took it from her house.”

Him falling into her midst seemed much too easy to her. All the trials and tribulations she had experienced in all her past lives. In his past lives. It couldn't be this simple. Could it?

“Is this a trap pipeman?”

His eyes thinned and eyebrows scrunched in contempt. “If anybody sees me with this, I’m dead.”

She instantly put her knife down and he stepped even closer to her holding out the book to her as a peace offering. She held his gaze for what seemed like eternity before reaching her hand out to accept the book in her own hand. Their eyes transferring cosmic energy between them. Mani reached her hand out to grasp the bound written pages thus starting a ripple of emotions within Guy because nothing have ever felt so right to him.

So he followed her into that old dilapidated building. Trailing behind her and peeking around corners to make sure that they were not being followed.

“Hey Mani.”

The woman with the big baby which seemed to be permanently attached to her hip appeared out of thin air at the most inopportune time causing Mani to push her door open and rush Guy through so the woman would not see the pipeman. As she stood held up in the hallway, he took a gander around her space before crossing over the room to see out of the window to ensure again that they were not being followed. He was already in deep with this book in his possession. What would it look like for Guy Montag, the golden burning boy, to be seen at an Eel’s house?

“She didn't see who you were.” Finally she had been released from the hall and entered her space. She had never been in such close quarters with her mate before. Who seemed to her unattached to anyone and freely available.

Thank God. I couldn't take him having another family. No one needs to suffer more than they have but he's so dazzling. I might just understand why this is happening to me.

“I shouldn't be here.”

Wait no! You just got here, you can't leave I just found you!

“Then leave.”

No you dumb bitch dont tell him that.

Now that would be a little counterproductive, wouldn’t it?

Anubis’ voice rang in her brain as he slinked out from the kitchen towards them. Guy’s eyes flashing down to the tiny furry body before looking back up to meet hers from across the room.

Oh go spit up a hairball.

Reaching over, she turned on her lamp by the door and he followed suit with the lamp on her dresser then proceeded to look through her drawers.

“Please don't do that.” He looked like a deer caught in headlights as he slowly slide the drawer back to its original closed position then went about observing the rest of her private place.

Mani took a seat on her bed and clutched the book in hand, smelling its natural scent of ink and paper along with all the places it could have been in the past. Pine, cinnamon, gasoline. It transported her all over. Guy’s fingers twiddled between her vinyls against the wall and he picked up one. He had burned them but had never taken the time to actually look at them. They were so lightweight. No wonder his boots crushed them with the slightest effort. His eyes travelled to her, her nose still lost in the book’s journey.

“Can you read that out loud? Please?”

Turning her body around to face him, she opened the book and began to read.

“Even if men were nothing but a piano key, even if this were proved to him by natural science and mathematics, even then he will invent destruction and chaos. He will invent all kinds of suffering out of ingratitude simply to convince himself that he is a man and not a piano key.”

Her voice rang so clear in his ears. Flowed right through and soothed his erratic soul, his heartbeat ,which had been racing this entire time, slowed down to a steady beat. Nothing had ever sounded so right to him before in his life. And all he could do was stop and watch the way her lips moved as they embraced each syllable and word.

“Hard to understand right? The Ministry has been wiping away language in order to wipe away thought. There used to be 6,000 languages in the world. Today there are fewer than 60. Why do you think the Ministry wants to create one universal language on the 9?”

He answered without hesitation.

“For the connection and happiness of all Natives.”

They way his voice faltered. He used to be so sure and confident in society, its beliefs and morals, rules and regulations. He had known absolutely nothing so of course he thought nothing of it. Now he hadn't the foggiest idea of what to think about his world anymore.

Standing from her seated position on the bed, Mani made her way to the chaise against the wall to strip off her backpack and bulky jacket to reveal a thin tank with large sleeve cut outs. Her ample side cleavage just barely visible to Guy but enough to make his eye wonder to rest of her body as she removed her excess layers while still remaining totally engaged in the words she said.

“During the Second Civil War, the old tech companies, they built systems to predict our thoughts. Then they became the Ministry or the Ministry joined them and they sold us what we wanted, self and happiness, which the nine provides in spades and what you are hired to defend with fire.”

He was disappointed when she placed a thin sweater over her shoulders. Her pretty sable skin was like his own but seemed better? Silkier? He couldn't place it but he knew he didn't like the fact that she was shielding it from his gaze. Her declaration about the Ministry did pique his interest.

“So you’re telling me that people wanted it this way?”

“Nah they didn't do this to us. We did it to ourselves, demanded it even.”

The bright light of a drone passed by the window making Guy change his position so that the light would not catch him. He leans against the wall to further take his frame out of site, keeping his eye on the window he continues to speak.

“Let me ask you something. Benjamin Franklin. Did he start the first fire department?”

Mani knew that lie well. Why these mortals insisted in telling it, she had no clue.

“To put fires out, not start them.”

“Beatty told me the opposite.”

“Oh I know exactly what he told you. He’s really a creep, you should see about getting a new captain or something. He’s awful. He might believe that himself or perhaps he's lying. Maybe when he was in your position, his captain lied to him. Do you have trouble with memory? Take a lot of drops?”

He took a beat and was about to answer the question but felt too much in the hot seat so now was the time to flip the script.

“What about you? Can you remember your past?”

Now there was a question the short, once ethereal beauty had no answer to. She truly couldn’t recall anything of the life she had prior to becoming one of her Goddess’ holy disciples. She would get fragments ever so often but nothing was ever quite clear enough for her to decipher. Blinking rapidly, she briskly walked past Guy to enter her kitchen asking him if he was hungry. His eyes follows her full figure flitting about the space. He sensed her hesitation to answer but wanted to know more about her. Her delicate but brazen way of calling him out on his own and the world’s techno-totalitarian bullshit intrigued him. He would watch from afar during her meetings with the captain, always close enough to see and hear but not ever approaching her himself. He felt drawn to her by some odd cosmic force that there was no explanation for. He watches her pour some clear liquid into a small cup then turned to face with a bittersweet look on her face leaning back with her hands braced upon the counter tops.

“What about your parents? Can you remember them?”

“I was raised by Eels to be an Eel posing as a Native. We read, watched movies, all that you are instructed to burn was ours and by the time I was a teenager, I wanted to be like you. Normal. So I run away to consume myself with the life. Drowned my eyes in drops, got hooked on the 9, the whole bit and for awhile it worked, I was happy. Then shit happened. I started selling graffiti to survive.”

A sinking sense of guilt washed over Mani’s head like a destructive cumulonimbus cloud as she turned her back to him. That woman who burned herself on the 9.

“I didn't know that woman would be there.”

That got the gears in Guy’s head turning even faster than they already were. A whirlwind of thoughts invading his brain.

“I never thought about the people behind the things that I burn. I mean they must have spent their entire lives making things and here I come, in two seconds, it’s gone.”

Just like my life amongst the panthers and my Goddess. Taken from me without my knowing.

She had begun to slowly turn back to face his leaning body in her kitchen door frame, their eyes locked for what could have been an eternity. Electricity passing between their pupils.

You’re on your way my darling. Keep going.

“I want to show you something.”

She rushes back to the other room to her backpack to retrieve the harmonica she had found and repaired earlier that day. There were many things she was allowed to do in the Ancestral Plane that the Natives of this world couldn't even grasp the concept of since it had been completely annihilated from their culture. Music being one of them. Raising the small metal instrument to her mouth and cupping it gently, she blew out a beautiful clear melodic note almost scaring Guy then began a little jaunty tune. He had never heard this kind of thing before and was unsure as to what sound he would get. It was most definitely not what he thought would come out. He looks on at Mani, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped slowly around the open space of her apartment, playing the kitchy jiggle. She steps closer to her bed lowering herself to sit on the bed as she moved the hand she held on the outside up and down changing the sound and finishing the song with a bouncy flourish. A small and genuine small graced Guy’s face and she felt this surge of emotion in her chest as he looked at her. Shyness. No one hadn't looked at her like that in more years than she could remember. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember anyone every looking at her with the sense of adoration he seemed to. That made her cheeks warm and her heart flutter. She holds the music piece out to him.

“Try it.”

He angles his head in a teasing manner as if to ask was she serious. Mani smiles softly at him.

“Come on.”

With that, he walks over to take the seat right next to her on the bed and takes the harmonica in hand. He turns it over back and forth to try to see the mechanics of how such a small device could make such pretty and resonating sounds. Then he attempted to cup his hands around it in the same manner she had just done. Anubis decided it was a good idea to make himself comfortable on the lap, curling his tail around his body purring which surprised both humans present.

“Like this?”

Mani smile widens a little and she nods her head. He blows out a harsh breath resulting in a loud harmonic toot which frightens them both causing them to chuckle. He liked the way her giggle sounded, it warmed him. He did it a second time, this time a much slower, gentler sound came since he had not put so much force into it. Giggling, she placed her smaller hands on his to form them better on the instrument.

“Here try it like this. There you go now try it again.”

He was starting to get lost in the way her hands felt touching him. Though it was innocent in nature, it lit a small fire in him. Mani had felt the heat the second their skin touched. She kept her hand over his as she instructed him to try again and shook his hand the way she had done hers to make that musical quiver. Judging by the look on his face when he stopped playing, he was pretty pleased with himself and even more pleased with her. Guy tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as they kept each other’s gaze while sitting shoulder to shoulder. The closest they had been the entire night. He would be coming back to see her without a doubt.

And he did for weeks on end, he would come and she would read aloud for him. He couldn't get enough of her voice, her smell, her touch, everything just had to be her. It was an almost suffocating but euphoric feeling he felt every time they spent within the 4 walls of her small apartment. She would read a passage of the book and then hand it over to him so he could take over. At first he took the book with trepidation, unsure if he could read as deeply as she does then that feeling was all but forgotten once he began to sound off. Work had began to get more demanding and Beatty more merciless as the pressure of his impending new position weighed on him. Flashbacks of his father being beaten outside in the rain by his fellow firemen flashed in his eyes constantly as he worked to capture the very people he had become. It became his double life coming to Mani’s place and he looked forward to every single visit. They began to get closer to one another. Small touches turned to lingering holds, sitting side by side to her cuddling against his chest as he read. They were falling in love and yet her Goddess hadn't come to take her from this hellhole of a universe.

Be patient my pupil. You still have much to learn.

With that, the fallen woman would leave those thoughts be and continue to enjoy her Guy. She was beginning to understand what all the mortal commotion was about. Until one night the fire squad came to the shop she often fixes graffitti and lined all who were there in a line demanding answers. The captain walks up and down the line like a predator stalking its prey, judging which one of them would be the easiest catch.

“I know one of your Eels knows something about the Omnis.”

He stopped right in front of her. eyes scanning and probing into her very being. He was much too close for her and Guy’s comfort, who was watching the encounter nearby. The desire to step in and interfere was overwhelming and hard to suppress but he know that if he did he would have more of an issue on his hand. He remained on his guard. The captain leaned close enough that Mani could feel his breath upon on her cheek and whispered.

“What if I told these people what you do? What would be worse… What I do to you or what they would?”

He takes several steps back to observe her firm face but eyes hard with a twinge of fear. Despite not truly caring about this world, Abhimani know the consequences of it. Having dealt with it herself in the past, she wasn't trying to get tangled in any of that ever again. And she had finally got her mate…

“We’re all the same here.”

A tall, slender man stepped forward out of the line in her defense shocking her and the man who stood to torment her.

“Whatever you do to her, you do to us.”

Beatty signals a weapon be handed to him and proceeded to go over to the outspoken man.

“Is that so? I understand. You wanna be help each other. Comradery and all that..”

With that last word, the captain bludgers the man with the blunt end of the weapon and continues down the line.

“I am your judge and I am your court. I receive you when you come and…”

He strikes another in the line.

“I dismiss you when you go!”

Guy couldn't watch anymore nor could he risk anything happen to Mani so he slicked off to the building’s breaker box, flipping the switch and shrouding the entire place in darkness right as Beatty was close to her. He ignited the fire on his flamethrower to shed some light as the Eels fled the scene rapidly. The captain commanded his subordinates to gather them back together and everything was in chaos around her. She tries to dip and dodge the firemen but trips over her own feet under the weight of her heavy backpack. Guy catches her in his arms.

“Come on. Come here.”

His eyes dart around to make sure they are not being watched which seems highly plausible in all the ruckus. He guides her to exit and she turns to him.

You have to let him go for now!

But my Lady I just found him!

I never said it was over silly girl now go!

With the warning growl from her Goddess, Mani takes off running to her place so that she can gather some supplies to escape. There was still some people she know would help her if she just got to them before the firemen caught up with her. The city was on the ultimate lockdown, transit checkpoints, border patrols, and all were ordered to “stay vivid on the 9.”

Mani rummages around her small space, grabbing what she needed for her journey. Her adrenaline was still pumping from the earlier and her hands shook as she packed. The sudden knock on her door startles her. She gingerly approaches it before peeking out the makeshift peephole and letting out a sigh of relief seeing it was her mate. The door flies open followed by Guy hastily walking in and immediately grabs her in his hands looking her over frantically.

“Are you ok? You hurt? I wanted to leave with you but I..”

“Montag slow down. I’m fine but I have to get out of here. Did anyone follow you here?”

Mani gently wriggles her body out his iron grasp, turning to resume her semi-organized packing job. He watched her move around her place just as he had during his first visit but his eyes that were once filled with curiosity and desire burned with sadness and despair.

“No I was looking over my shoulder the whole way here. Wait where you gonna go?”

“A compound far out. Some family friends hiding out there I think I can help.”

“Mani there’s checkpoints all over the city. You think you can make it there?”

“I have connections to avoid those.”

By this time, she had stopped her rummaging and found herself standing face to face with him. They stared and stared hoping one of them could find the answers to all their problems. Both of their emotions in a tizzy. How could they give each other up so quickly when they had finally gotten close? She didn't want to let him go. What did all this mean?

I swear I love my Goddess but she's making things very difficult for me. This isn't fair.

She couldn’t express what she was feeling. Perhaps it was what it felt like when a puzzle was missing that one piece. Utterly incomplete and totally wrong. She wasn't sure if she could bare being separated from him again, not when she had finally gotten to know his heart.

“Will I ever see you again?’

She wasn't sure if the question was for Guy or for his soul that was connected to hers. The softly uttered question made his heart flutter. She raised a hand to his cheek, holding his face in her palm. His hand comes to her wrist wrapping his fingers around it gently with his thumb running across her skin. Their faces graviated closer to each other with each passing breath until they seemed to be exchanging oxygen, both sets of lips so ready to touch when the door unexpectedly bursts open and firemen pour in. Beatty saunters in, hands clasped together in front of him with a mischievous look in his face with an evil intent. The two were jerked apart despite the tight hold they had on each other.

“You really thought we weren't watching you. You should be a little smarter than that Montag.”

“Just leave her alone captain. I'll take whatever punishment you deem appropriate, just let her go.”

Beatty looked as though he was actually contemplating his request. Mani could hear her heartbeat in her ears, feel it in her throat, and struggled to keep it in her chest. The room was so silent you could practically each passing puff of air out of every mouth present.

“That’s a pretty good offer there. Why don't we start right here?”

He had unsheathed a blade that no one saw coming and filled Mani’s abdomen with its metal. Seeing what the captain had done, Guy began to thrash against the hold of his fellow firemen but they held fast.

As her vision began to blur all she could her was her mate’s cries and her own thoughts.

Well goddamn it that wasn't supposed to happen.

——————————

TAGS: @jozigrrl @itsangeludaku @thehomierobbstark @hearteyes-for-killmonger @muse-of-mbaku @amethyst1993 @killmongersgurl @trevantesbrat @iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @ayellepea @vikkidc @laketaj24 @madamslayyy @thereturnofbadazz @purple-apricots @thadelightfulone @theunsweetenedtruth @wakanda-inspired @panthergoddessbast @blackpantherismyish @yaachtynoboat711 @forbeautyandlife @bidibidibombaclaat @quietstorm-73 @youreadthatright

[quagmireisadora]

A/N: part 2 of  Patron of the (Lonely)

this is for @lokiat221b. I love my JongKey with time games. The fic was originally 4 parts set in different times. The first was modern au and this is Silla so... More to come!

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희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네

The man had stayed by his side for many moons, an unerring protector against all threats. His fingers were quick to nock arrows, his aim was sure to meet its target.

When Lord Kibum was given the boon of a guard to accompany him on the journey west, he did not know what to expect. Or, in truth, he had some expectation: a broad man with a broad face, large arms and legs like trees. He had thought the queen would send her emissary forth to the silk route with much pomp and preparation. Yet, he had departed before the first rays of morning found their tracks on the hoof-beaten paths of Wiryeseong.

“Jonghyun,” he turned now to his companion: a short, quiet, mysterious young hwarang who moved like a bat in darkness. “Come, have a drink. Share a tale or two with me.” Lord Kibum patted the blanket next to him.

Together, they had traveled by horse, by carriage, by ship, and now by foot, to arrive in this desert. The mornings scorched their backs and the evenings froze their lips. Their feet were callused, their arms tired, their bodies bruised. The last of the yaks had disappeared some nights before, leaving the men to carry the weight of their belongings on their own shoulders. Food was scarce and shelter forgotten; the comfort of Silla was far behind them. No more would they see wagtails flutter over swaying zelkovas on a spring afternoon, no more would the sun gleam against the palace tiles as it set against the horizon of hills. Now sand crunched between their teeth, grated under their eyelids. Now the only sight of green was in their memories.

The rest of the platoon looked as bedraggled as Kibum felt, and he felt terrible. Yet there was Jonghyun, gait as smooth as it always was and eyes as calm as the Han river on winter mornings. He obeyed the offer and seated himself close to his charge.

“This journey tries you, my lord,” there was no malice in the hwarang’s words. They steamed concern out into the cold air.

“The queen has set us on this… quest,” Kibum replied with some pity for his circumstances. “And if we should lose our lives in pursuit of what the queen wants, then… so it shall be,” he nodded.

“A sentencing,” Jonghyun spoke the words as if questioning his own pronunciation of the words. “And…” his eyebrows knit together with worry. “Does my lord accept this sentence? Does he hold guilt?”

Kibum stared at the man with a rueful smile. He had been raised a lord by the graces of luck. Deemed pure of bloodline, he had been accepted by the academy. He had studied--studied the words of other men, studied paintings from other lands, studied with inks and brushes. He had spent a lifetime hidden between parchment and tablet so that the throne may feel less threatened by his existence. But it had certainly not been enough.

“Go west.” When he had heard the words, he had flinched at them. He remembered a moment of gratefulness swimming in his belly, for the words may easily have been, “Go to the gallows.” He reminisced as he sat close to a fire, fingers spread and fur wrapped securely around his shivering frame.

But he related nothing of it to Jonghyun.

“I have committed many wrongs that could mean punishment for me, and for my sons who would come after me,” Kibum said. “Perhaps… one of those sins is my birth.”

The hwarang showed sympathy, but remained silent. It was uncertain what he perceived of court politics, but his condolences were a welcome smear of warmth in the cold night. Kibum hoped the warmth would remain unchanged for the rest of the expedition, for it is often the road that breeds mistrust and discontent in the hearts of men: with its challenging length and its vengeful terrain. Regardless of his noble nature, and his kind ways, Jonghyun would surely become roughened, much like the sand they traversed. After all, he had been sentenced, too. Someone wanted him away from the barracks in Gyeongju. Someone had wished him out of their way, out of their schemes, and this would soon infect the man with doubt. It would spread through his loyalty, fell his kindness, murder his bravery. Lord Kibum knew this as he knew his own self--knew that he may only afford his companion as long as there is silver still hanging from his belt. When he loses the weight in his pouch, he will truly lose everything.

“Deoryeonim,” Jonghyun called attention to his voice, ringing like bells against the wind. “You are a good man.” Kibum touched his own cheek, wondering if his thoughts had appeared on his face as writing.

To love a man, or to be loved by one: it was common among the hwarangs. Despite living the life of nobility, Kibum had heard the poems. He knew of talk among the public that some of these men had sworn deep affection for one another, an affection that burned so bright it incinerated all custom and tradition. Indeed, Kibum had caught wind of words that serenaded to hands roughed by the hilt of a sword, to eyes that remained vigilant in their sleep, to bodies that toiled for the safety of the throne and its subjects. And despite it being considered unnatural by some, he held no disapproval for such a love. A love held by no bounds, in his eyes, was true love. A love colored crimson and coursing through one's blood with every intake of breath--to Kibum the bearer of such a love was to be envied. And Jonghyun's golden eyes held the promise of that love. His hands offered it freely, like a well offering limitless water.

To love a man, or to be loved by one: it was well-accepted among the hwarangs, but Lord Kibum was not to have the pleasure of accepting such a love. He was expected to take a wife, from a suitable family with means and displaying a modest nature. He was to father children that may someday be little lordlings that would be sent to academy, like their father before them. The stature that came with lordship required that all desires be disposed of, and life be lived by the heels of the queen's favor.

A hwarang may not tempt a lord, and a Kibum may not love a Jonghyun. But in the middle of this desert of silence, of solitude, the love surrounded them where they huddled by a dying fire. And like the glowing orange embers before him, Kibum restrained his voice from leaping between them to caress the other's face with tenderness.

He may never be in Kibum's arms, his lips may never kiss Kibum's name, his chest may never ring with Kibum's heartbeat, but in the light of lingering love, Jonghyun was beautiful.

When the sun rose the next morning, they were met by strangers riding odd creatures of humped backs. The strangers studied them as they offered food and water. Where some of the soldiers accepted wearily, the hwarang was as courteous as he would have been were they still in the queen’s court. He bowed, strolled back to Kibum’s side and shared his portion. “It is not poisoned, my lord,” he assured.

The other considered his empty belly before he refused with a smile. His protector needed it more than he did. “Feast,” he approved.

“They say there is a town some ri away to the west,” Jonghyun munched.

“Do you speak their tongue?” Kibum asked incredulously.

“There are ways for travelers to speak without words, my lord,” Jonghyun laughed. “They simply pointed me to their home, and they did not appear to have been traveling long.”

It was something to ponder on. Did Jonghyun’s ears discern every silent utterance around him? Did he deduce confessions on people’s foreheads before they were expelled by their lips? Did he answer questions in advance of their arrival, fully formed and coherent? As Kibum watched the other chew through bread and meat, humming his appreciation, he wondered if any of his own thoughts had spilled out in the open. He fretted over the idea that perhaps… perhaps Jonghyun had already walked through the gateway of his miserable field of rumination, scowling at the desert inside Kibum like he scowled at the one outside. He shuddered at the notion.

As they approached the town, there was a synchronous thud as every man undid his burdens and ran forward to bathe in the air of the marketplace. Fires burned in homes, children ran in circles, men yelled orders to other men, and women laughed in balconies of brick and stone. Clothes fluttered in the wind, wheels rolled across paving stones, animals complained about the heat, and somewhere--somewhere in the distance was the sound of flowing water.

“Home,” Lord Kibum muttered.

“Could it become a home away from home?” Jonghyun smiled. His shoulders were relaxed, and his hand no longer gripped the hilt of his sword. The shadow of vigilance had cleared from his eyes. They shone like honey in the sunlight. Only now, after all the distances they had crossed, did it seem like they were finally free of their titles. No more were they lord and servant, no longer did one stand beneath another. Only now, after all these moons, did they become equals.

“A worthy consideration,” Kibum smiled in return.

Above the starving peasants and greedy merchants, above the palace that demanded obeisance and the temple that forbade dissidence, above the fiefdoms and injustices and inequalities of blood; above the rivers and valleys and deserts, above all the parched fields of paddy and every sward of wild flowers--there is a hill. At the end of his life, Kibum wished he would meet Jonghyun again on that knoll, untouched by everything around it. Then they would truly be free.

희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네