#i think it's possible and probable he misunderstood what section i was asking about but seriously. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justonemorewallflower · 2 years ago

Text

REALIZATION - wednesday x tyler

REALIZATION - WEDNESDAY & TYLER

Requested by/for: @maryextrem

WORDCOUNT: 2041

Wednesday realized Tyler wasn’t all to blame. She had learned more about Hydes in the following weeks after he got taken by authorities and it helped her learn the whole ordeal was out of his control because once he became bound with his master he had to follow all orders and his Hyde has its own sort of personality and it can take over sometimes and if not helped, completely take over Tyler’s human self.

She couldn’t help but to guess that was what had happened to his mother and she didn’t want him to meet the same fate. Tyler was a good person outside of the Hyde and he had been hurting enough. She wanted to find him so she could admit to him she was wrongly angry at him and so she could help him before it would be too late.

She didn’t know where they would have sent him though so she did what she didn’t necessarily want to, talk to his dad. She showed up at his house and knocked a couple times.

When the Sheriff opened the door he was surprised to see the girl, “Wednesday? What do you want?”

“Do you know where they took Tyler?” She asked.

The man sighed, “I don’t see why you need to know.”

“I’ve come to understand and learn more about your son’s condition and want to find him so he can get help before he meets the same fate as his mother,” she said bluntly but also purposely, knowing the effect it would have on the man at the mention of his deceased love.

He wiped a hand wearily across his face, “do you actually think he can be helped?”

“Yes,” she said back sternly, starting to grow a bit impatient. So, he gave her the name of the place and she looked it up. It wasn’t too far away but far enough.

She’d take the journey alone with Thing only, it was too risky to get anyone else involved. She knew Enid and anyone wouldn’t join anyways because they didn’t understand Tyler as much and still thought of him as the monster that killed a bunch of innocent people, and only the monster. Most of the outcasts had seemed to forget there was a person within the Hyde, that it was more than just a monster.

She snuck out in the middle of the night, not wanting to try and explain to Enid what she was going to do. If possible, she wouldn’t let anyone know of her plan unless it worked though she did plan to share the information she’d found about Hydes as she didn’t want them, especially Tyler, to remain misunderstood and hated for things they can’t control.

After a long walk and an hour long bus ride Wednesday got to the asylum Tyler had been sent to and it was very comparable to a prison. She would have enjoyed that fact if she didn’t keep reminding herself of how terrible Tyler was probably treated within the walls of the building.

She sent Thing to distract the person at the front desk and was able to get in rather easily. She knew there were cameras though so she sent Thing to mess with those too so she wouldn’t get caught and get them both wanted by police.

She walked through the halls, trying to find where Tyler might be and when she noticed the camera’s red lights turn off she finally spoke, calling out his name in hopes he would hear her and respond so she could find him more easily.

Eventually she got to a section that looked very similar to solitary confinement and she froze when she heard yells of agony that sounded all too much like Tyler’s voice.

She followed the yells till she got to the cell she believed was his and spoke carefully, “Tyler?” The yells didn’t stop so she almost yelled herself, “Tyler!”

Silence.

She held her breath subconsciously as she waited to see if she would get a response.

After a moment she did and she let out a breath, “Wednesday?“

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?” She could tell he sounded exhausted, and in pain.

“To break you out,” she stated simply, as if it were obvious.

“Why? After all I did.”

“I’ve come to realize you’re not the one to hate and were a victim to Thornhill. She used you.”

He grew quiet, “yeah.”

“Stand back,” she then directed so he moved back and she used a small grenade she had brought along to blow up to the door and crack the lock on it. It worked and Tyler couldn’t help but to smile through his weariness at her.

Somehow they were able to successfully sneak back out without getting caught and she knew no doubt it was because of Thing. This task would’ve been a lot harder without him.

Once they were far away enough to be safe and Thing returned safely to Wednesday's shoulder, Tyler spoke to her, “thank you.”

Wednesday just simply nodded as he looked ahead of them, realizing it would be a very long and painful walk back for him if they didn’t stop for the night.

“Must we walk all the way back tonight, I don’t feel good,” he told her, being honest. He was exhausted and just wanted to get a good night's sleep, what would be the first in a while.

She looked over at him and noticed how much more exhausted he looked and she paused, “we can stay at a hotel.”

He perked up, “yeah?”

“Yeah, you must change first though. You need new clothes, those are filthy and terribly ugly,” she stated.

He couldn’t help but to laugh a little bit, “I don’t know where we’re gonna-”

Before he could finish his statement Wednesday pulled out some clothes from her bag that she had taken from his bedroom.

“Oh,” he said as she shoved them into his arms.

“Unless you’d like to stay disgusting,” she added and he shook his head.

“But I don’t necessarily want to change in the middle of the woods.”

She rolled her eyes, “no one will see you. Unless you’re scared of a squirrel seeing you naked?”

He gave her a look, “no.”

“Seems like it,” she said back.

He let out a sigh and she smiled ever so slightly, enjoying annoying him. While she was no longer mad at him, he at least deserved to be pestered some.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten to tell you yet but your smile is really beautiful and I’m lucky to have seen it a couple times,” he complimented, admiring the small smile that had come up on her face.

“You won’t get back on my good side with flattery,” she replied, quick to bring her expression back to neutral.

“Am I not already on your good side? Since you came all the way out here to break me out of that hell of a place?“ He questioned, seeming genuinely curious.

She scoffed, “I just want to help you with your Hyde.”

“And that means you care, at least a little bit.”

She turned away, not wanting to continue going back and forth with him on this topic, “just get changed.”

He let out a small laugh before changing silently. He let her know he was done by tapping her shoulder.

She turned around and eyed him for a moment, “you clean up well.”

He smiled, “a compliment from you?”

“It’s more of an insult since it suggests you were previously dirty, which you were.”

“Dirty and unattractive aren’t the same thing.”

“One usually insinuates the other.”

“But you didn’t spec-“

She gave him a glare. “Don’t push it, let’s find a hotel.”

He smiled a little as they carried on walking.

After a little bit they spotted one and walked in, Wednesday immediately going up to the front desk and saying, “I’d like a two bed bedroom please.”

“One,” Tyler said back.

She shot him what felt like the millionth glare that night.

“One is cheaper.”

“Need I remind you I come from a wealthy family?” She shot. Even if she didn’t, she was not going to share a bed with him.

“Oh yeah,” is all he said as he nodded and gestured for her to continue talking to the desk person.

***

Once they got settled into their room Wednesday immediately started making a cup of coffee for him using the coffee machine their room had.

He got into his bed and immediately laid down, taking advantage of the amount of space he had to lay however he wanted and stretch. And for it to be clean. It felt nice and he just melted into it, having missed what a normal bed felt like. He knew he was going to sleep well tonight.

“Sit up,” she directed a couple moments later.

He groaned. He didn’t want to move.

“Tyler.”

He knew the longer he waited the higher the chance of her dumping the hot coffee on him so he sat up to be handed the full cup and he couldn’t help but to smile a little. It was a small gesture but a big one for Wednesday who hardly ever showed she cared in any way at all.

He wouldn’t tease her about it though, knowing if he did it would lower the chances of her doing something like it again and increasing the chance of her murdering him in his sleep.

So he just thanked her as he sipped at it. She simply nodded before she started getting settled on her side of the room. Thing had made himself comfortable towards the end of her bed.

Tyler was nearly done with his coffee when he noticed she had started to undo her braids. He was transfixed, he hadn’t seen her with her hair down before.

After a moment she spotted him in the corner of her eye and spoke, “Do I need to move to the restroom just so you won’t stare at me?”

“I’m not staring at you.”

She gave him a doubtful look.

“I just haven’t seen you with your hair down.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He just hummed in response as he finished his coffee, setting the empty cup on the nightstand between their beds.

As Wednesday walked past she handed him an apple, “you need to eat too.”

He looked up at her and smiled, saying before he could stop himself, “you’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that because my hair is down.”

“I said it to you at the dance too, your hair wasn’t down then,” he pointed out.

“You’re biased,” she shot.

“Just accept the compliment.”

“You can’t te-“

Before she could finish her sentence he had gotten up and kissed her.

She kissed back for a moment before pulling away and scrunching her face up in disgust, “you need a shower, you smell awful.”

“Will you let me kiss you after that?” He asked, smiling like an idiot.

She only gave him a glare in response and he smiled more as he then went to the restroom to clean off the memories of the asylum.

***

Once he got out and opened the bathroom door she was there. “Eager much?” He teased.

“No.”

He smiled before he moved to kiss her but she brushed past him, “I need to brush my teeth.”

“Oh.” He felt embarrassed and scratched his neck a little before he left the restroom and went back to the comfort of the soft bed.

A couple minutes later she came back out and stood at the end of his bed, looking almost expectant.

He sat up and looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in a teasing sort of way, “are you going to let me kiss you now?”

“Yes.”

He smiled as he got off his bed and moved to stand behind her, turning her around before he kissed her, this time her melting into it more.

They kissed for a little before Tyler pulled away and teased her a little, “guess I smell better now, huh?”

She didn’t say anything as she pulled him down a little to kiss him again.

He couldn’t have asked for a better night.

54 notes · View notes

shatar-aethelwynn · 1 year ago

Note

Permit me to present some remarks on your reply to my last ask, even with some delay. I apologize from the beginning for the length of my text.

First of all, you have misunderstood me once more. I was not condescending in the introductory paragraph of my ask, I was just a bit playful.

In my last ask I simply presented the sources on the topic of the Babylonian "sacred prostitution" and the observations of some scholars on them. Concerning the Babylonian sources, I simply followed Benjamin R. Foster in his grouping and presentation of those texts of Late Period Babylonian literature in which (in his own words) "Ishtar tends to shed her militarism...to reveal her qualities as princess, lover, even prostitute' and which "provide glimpses into aspects of her persona that may have seemed horrifying and perverted to some Babylonians". So, permit me to say that your criticisms towards me about the many things that supposedly I would not have taken into consideration in my treatment of the Babylonian 'sacred prostitution" in my last ask are not founded.

I don't believe as you suspect in your answer that what Herodotus says on the Babylonian "sacred prostitution" should be taken "at face value". But I think that it is legitimate to search whether there is at least a kernel of truth in what he writes on this topic, although for sure there is much uncertainty around it.

Now, the truth is more generally that Babylonia does not have an eminent place in Herodotus' Histories: the description of the land and of the city of Babylon and the account of the customs of the Babylonians are presented in a number of chapters of the Book I, much less than the place devoted in Histories to Egypt and Scythia, which obviously interest Herodotus considerably more than Babylonia. It is doubted whether Herodotus visited Babylon and in fact he does not claim unambiguously such a visit. If he did visit Babylon, this must have been for a brief period of time and evidently the brevity of his visit and the linguistic barriers must have precluded any serious interaction with the Babylonian intellectual elites, even if we suppose that these elites were willing to collaborate seriously with a foreigner like him. But all this does not mean that Herodotus' account of Babylonia and of the city of Babylon is valueless, even if it cannot be any more a major source in Assyriology. For instance, a distinguished British Assyriologist, John MacGinnis, still active today, wrote some decades ago a paper on Herodotus and Babylon (Herodotus' Description of Babylon, available on the net), in which he assesses the merits and flaws of Herodotus' Babylonian logos, and his overall assessment is rather positive.

To return to our topic of the "sacred prostitution", it is I think undeniable that in Late Period Babylonia Ishtar is seen not only as Mistress of Love (belet ru' ame), but also as Prostitute (harimtu). It is also undeniable that, as Foster says commenting the Late Babylonian poem Erra and Ishum, "the cult of Ishtar was associated with prostitution". More specifically, it seems that female temple employees connected with Ishtar, especially the qadisthu and kulmashitu, had a sexual role as prostitutes.

On the other hand, it is true that Herodotus and the Letter of Jeremiah describe a Babylonian "sacred prostitution" (Herodotus writes explicitly about prostitution, the Letter implies it) which does not concern only some categories of temple employees, but larger sections of the Babylonian female population, and takes place in the streets of Babylon (around the temples, as Herodotus specifies). MacGinnis believes that the description of the women of Babylon in the Letter of Jeremiah is an 'interesting corroboration" of Herodotus' description, as 'it is not possible that we are dealing with a borrowing from Herodotus". In deed, it is implausible that Herodotus could have had an influence on a traditionalist Jewish author writing very probably ca 300 BCE, only a generation after Alexander's conquest, a period of time that I don't think that it was sufficient for the penetration of the Greek culture into such milieus, given also that the Letter does not show any other Greek influence or interest in the Greek culture; moreover, the author of the Letter of Jeremiah was very probably a Jew living in Babylon, who consequently did not need Herodotus to learn about the Babylonian customs.

This does not mean of course that we should accept that all Babylonian women were involved in the practice of "sacred prostitution", as the traditional interpretation of Herodotus wants. But I find philologically plausible the suggestion of Anagnostou-Laoutides and Charles that Herodotus' description of the Babylonian "sacred prostitution' of the Late Period means that only women who asked for a special favor from Ishtar and in a sense devoted themselves to her for a period of time were involved in the practice of "sacred prostitution". Such an interpretation is also plausible as reconstruction of the facts, as it is corroborated by the Letter of Jeremiah, which describes a phenomenon massive enough to attract the attention of an observer and be included in a virulent criticism of the Babylonian religion and way of life, without concerning necessarily all Babylonian women, and is not inherently contradicted by the Babylonian evidence: Ishtar was among other things the Prostitute, categories of female temple servants were traditionally active as prostitutes in association with the cult of Ishtar, and nothing excludes that this aspect of the goddess was imitated during the Persian period by many women who tried to obtain some special divine favor through the practice of 'sacred prostitution" once in their lives. But of course plausibility does not mean certainty and I follow MacGinnis in his conclusion that "sacred prostitution" is an uncertain/obscure aspect of Herodotus' account of Babylon.

Now, I see that you put more generally much emphasis on the principle that we should see a culture through the eyes of the members of this culture, not through the eyes of foreigners. This is a sound principle, but it has also limits and exceptions, as most principles do.

I say this first of all because the extant record from a dead culture is usually fragmentary. For instance, as MacGinnis points out, the Euphrates Bridge of Babylon, made by stone and connecting the two halves of the city, is not mentioned in any surviving ancient Babylonian text. It is mentioned only in Herodotus and later in Diodorus Siculus. But the Bridge existed and has been excavated by the German archaeologist Robert Koldewey (1855-1925), who, as I found after a bit of research, used Herodotus as guide in his excavations. Not that Herodotus' description of Babylon is flawless, but at least in this case the account of a foreigner like Herodotus permitted to fill a gap in the extant Babylonian literary evidence, with positive archaeological results.

Secondly, the extant record from a dead (and not only) culture is not only fragmentary, but almost always inherently biased, reflecting usually much more the ideas, habits, choices, and interests of people belonging to the elites of the culture than those of the rest of the population. As the distinguished (but perhaps unfortunate with respect to some of his students) British Egyptologist Bill Manley puts it in a remark about ancient Egypt (The Penguin Historical Atlas of Ancient Egypt, 1996, p. 13):

"Another distortion in the record arises from the ancient understanding of the earth as “twin lands”- a balance of opposites expressed in many forms: the land of the rising and setting suns; the fertile fields and sterile desert: the lands of the living and the dead and so on. To express this awareness, two styles of architecture, art and writing were devised: one lively, creative and temporary; the other formal, traditional and enduring. For example, the largest of royal palaces were built mainly of mud-brick -eventually to crumble- whereas even the smallest religious shrine were built of stone. As a result our received images of Egypt are funerary and religious and -since the ability to write was an indication of power- a typical Egyptian as transmitted into modern perception is likely to have been an élite male corpse!”

Even worse, the elites which control the record of a culture may try to "sweep under the rug" or give idealized and therefore distorted descriptions of unpleasant aspects of that culture. For instance, "sacred prostitution" of devadasi women was and perhaps is even today a thing in several Hindu temples, but the Hindu scriptures say nothing about it and many Brahmins defend even today the devadasi system, by giving totally idealized descriptions of it. Or, even more importantly historically, the sati (the Hindu custom of burning the widow on the pyre of her deceased husband, via social compulsion and in many cases via brute force) is presented in totally idealized and misleading terms in the traditional Hindu (Brahminical) record, but also in the modern nationalist, right wing Hindu literature. In both cases to understand such phenomena of the Hindu life one should rely till relatively recently (on historical scale) almost exclusively on testimonies outside of the culture, by Muslims and Europeans.

My conclusion to the last paragraphs of my text is that the testimony of a curious and inteligent "outsider" like Herodotus, who had as philosophical purpose of his inquiries to understand the vast diversity of human customs and ways of life but also the unity of human nature, may have, despite its inevitable flaws due to obvious historical reasons, more value than what you admit as source for the knowledge of cultures of the past.

"The Myth of Sacred Prostitution in Antiquity" by Stephanie Budin, chapter 4: Herodotos (via Sci-Hub)

"The Myth of Sacred Prostitution in Antiquity" by Stephanie Budin, chapter 5: Lucian and "Jeremiah" (via Sci-Hub)

“Prostitute, Nun or ‘Man-Woman’: Revisiting the Position of the Old Babylonian Nadiātu-Priestesses” by Susandra van Wyk

"Tamar, Qĕdēšā, Qadištu, and Sacred Prostitution in Mesopotamia", by Joan Goodnick Westenholz (via Sci-Hub)

"The kar.kid/harimtu, Prostitute or Single Woman? A Reconsideration of the Evidence" by Julia A. Assante

#can we just agree to disagree already

2 notes · View notes

reality-antidote · 8 months ago

Note

they blocked this blog (as is their right), but only after making a couple assumptions/accusations that I'm gonna address before I leave it alone:

A) the definition of the word 'abuse', and the qualification that it involves a fundamental imbalance of power is not my opinion, it's just a fact. so they can say OP is abusive and I can say they're victim blaming - that doesn't make it true.

B) I am someone with longstanding, debilitating mental health issues that affect my hygiene. I didn't mention it because, firstly I already did in the comment section, and secondly, I shouldn't have to. so it's alarming to me that this person's takeaway here is that I think people like me don't deserve support and are less important than the germs they carry - that'd be such a heinous mindset to have, not to mention extremely hypocritical. it's not what I'm saying at all.

I'm saying it's possible to have these very valid struggles while still doing your best not to violate the boundaries of those around you, or subject them to undue health risks. I'm saying a lack of consideration for these factors shows disregard for others.

personally, if I haven't been able to wash my hands on any given day, I'll use hand sanitizer and then minimize time spent touching communal surfaces, including animals. and I hope others would do the same for me - in fact, my health depends on it.

sure, it may be discouraging to restrict myself that way, but what's the alternative? to just say 'oh well', and carry on like normal without any regard for those in my path? this isn't about self-worth - it's about boundaries, but also safety and conscientiousness. we just had a pandemic (it's still not over), you know? casually causing health hazards isn't okay just because I'm depressed (again, speaking as a lifelong clinically depressed individual here). nothing is black and white, but each of us is responsible for our own actions, regardless of <insert mitigating factor here>. do I want people to be understanding and accommodating of my limitations? of course, but I can't ask of others what I'm not willing to give.

in the vein of this person's question to me, would they feel comfortable knowing they or someone they loved caused the illness or death of, say, an immunocompromised person just because they touched something they didn't need to, after not washing their hands? I know I wouldn't want that on my conscience.

my point is: the dad in this case doesn't have to pet the cat. in the context given, his insistence on doing so despite how it affects his family, indicates deeper problems with his character. he evidently won't even use hand sanitizer, something that would go a long way and require almost no effort. regardless of whatever underlying factors there are, his actions put him in the wrong.

of course the only thing we have to go on here is OP's side of the story, of course it's a subjective perspective. but if we aren't engaging with it on its level like the blog says to, then what's the point? and I won't make assumptions about the person I'm quoting here like they did about me, but I will say it's probably harder to see the red flags in OP's post if you've never dealt with an abusive parent before.

anyway this whole conversation's run its course and I know I'm probably being super annoying at this point, but I sincerely hope my meaning and intentions are clear.

and finally, even if they won't see this, I want to apologize if I truly did misinterpret what this person said. clearly they felt misunderstood just as I did, so I'll take this as a learning experience going forward.

WIBTA if I told my father to stop touching my cat because his hands smell?

🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋 -> so I can find it easier

Okay so I (f19) still live with my parents (m57 f51) and I decided to adopt a cat. After some talking they said they didn't mind a pet in the house (this was a change of heart btw, we never had a pet, they were always super strict about it) but I will be the one raising him. No problem there. Anyway, it's been a year now and they both have grown to love the little guy a lot and are actually taking care of him too.

Now here's the issue: my father doesn't wash his hands. It's enough to make me feel sick at the thought, but I avoid him and never touch him and barely interact with him. But sometimes he'll come over to where I'm sitting with the cat or where my cat is napping and he'll rub at the back of his head (the point the cat cant lick himself clean) and coo at him.

I noticed a few days ago, when I was inhaling his fur, as one does, and suddenly that part reeked. Then I noticed it more often, and it didn't take long to connect the dots. The worst part is that he usually finds the cat just as he's done with the bathroom. ITS DISGUSTING. My poor baby doesn't deserve to be touched with filthy hands. I'm always quick to clean him but the fact he's been touched makes me sick.

Two things you need to know about my father: 1) He is bad person. I won't get into details cause it will turn into an essay, but the more I know about him, the more distance I put between us. 2) The only correct thing he's done is provide for his children without complain or ever asking for anything back.

One thing you need to know about the family dynamic: My father's hygiene is a topic of discussion that comes up a lot in the recent years (by me to my mom), and her response always is that he's tired and he does so much for us, so are we really going to humiliate him over such trivial matters? (The matters are NOT trivial. He is genuinely disgusting).

One thing you should know about me: I have started arguments over his disgusting hygiene before and he instantly turns into a child going, "blah, blah, yeah, yeah, whatever, are you done?" which makes me become even more vile and mean and in the end he secretly tells my mom my behavior hurt him (and acts like a wounded dog) so that she will come and tell me that I broke my father's heart. Same formula each time.

So look. If I tell him he'll react the same way, and although I'm working on not feeling guilty over things like that, I'm not yet there. I know if I repeat the argument a couple times he'll get the memo and be so humiliated he'll stay away from the cat entirely. I also know that my mother will start a cold war with me if I do so. But I care about my cat a lot more, and I don't want dirty hands touching him.

So far I'm always taking the cat away before my father gets to touch him, distracting him with toys and TV mice. But I won't always be home to supervise.

So do you think it's an asshole move to essentially shame my father for the sake of my cat not coming in contact with germs?

Fyi the hygiene thing started in his 50s, he wasn't like that before

What are these acronyms?

#alright last time im reblogging this. sorry everyone #im just not gonna sit here and take those comments when my whole life has been plagued with crippling mental health issues lol #that said. with stuff like this i get so focused on conveying my responses clearly that i dont see how aggressive im being #so i definitely gotta work on that #it does suck when you put a lotta effort into making your case and its still completely misinterpreted #but hey. maybe they feel exactly the same way #or maybe people will just think what they wanna think. and thats ok #long post #unsanitary #disk horse

70 notes · View notes

yuyuntianyu · 4 years ago

Text

[2HA analysis blog] To love you is torment but leave you I cannot

I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.

Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !

Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.

Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.

1. I used to like you a lot

At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.

2. I gave you a new title

Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world. At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.

3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems

On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:

“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon. Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **

*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman ** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem

These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.

4. You are all I have left

In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:

“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…” “In the end, it’s just you and I”.

This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.

Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed

5. Are you still mad?

This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.

6. I did not think you would really leave me.

On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:

“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.

Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace. 7. Don't leave me, ok?

Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.

The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:

“Don’t betray me” “Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”

So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／

Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.

#2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #chu wanning #mo ran #mo weiyu #ranwan #taxian jun #chu fei #erha #husky is dumb but husky tried his best

518 notes · View notes

notsuchacleverboyq · 3 years ago

Text

This Scene Confuses Me

Since I was a child, my family enjoyed watching 007 movies (even if they used to stick more to the vintage versions of it).

So, I've never been new to this fandom nor to the general plot and everything that comes with it.

After becoming a fan on my own, my favourite 007 movies absolutely turned out to be Skyfall and Spectre.

More Skyfall, to be honest.

I was eight when it first came out, but I started questioning details (and getting obsessed over characters) only after nine years.

And it is my ability to overthinking that caused this shitty and useless post.

There are plenty of details that are worth a debate and I think that 90% of those are just how bloody lucky (and unlucky at the same time) Bond can be.

But today we'll be discussing about a specific scene, which involves Silva and 007.

What the hell is going on?!

This scene confuses me every time because I don't know what I'm supposed to get from all of the details in here.

The way Silva touches Bond, the way 007 reacts, their chat...the whole just doesn't make any sense to me.

1) Silva

Obviously, my queer brain jumped to conclusions: Silva is gay.

He does give off gay vibes, but it just seems random for a character like him to put up such a scene just for pleasure.

There must be something else.

This is the point in which I got lost under a comment section of another YouTube video.

I found out that there are three kinds of people:

Silva is gay;

Silva is trying to make Bond uncomfortable;

Both at the same time.

We've already clarified that we can agree on number 1.

What about number 2?

He has tied up Bond to a chair, he's basically undressing him and touching him in way too intimate spots, he's listing any of Bond's bad results from MI6 tests...

I think it might make sense for Silva to be doing anything he can to make 007 uncomfortable.

In that comment section, indeed, the most popular explanation was Silva hitting several weak spots at the same time, in order to open Bond like a can of tuna and leave him helpless.

Here are the things Silva tries:

He ties Bond to a chair: it's a detail that is so common in these movies that people don't even consider it. It is necessary for Silva to tie Bond, in order to prevent him from escaping; but when Silva unties him it is clear that he isn't worried about 007 at all. They're on a damn island where the only people are Silva and his men: it would be stupid to even try something on your own. It also was Silva's plan to be captured by MI6, since the beginning. Which leads to an only possible conclusion: 80% of the reasons why Bond was tied up was just to get him annoyed by it. It also connects to the following points;

Silva touching him: this is the part that made all of that confusing to my eyes. Being a former MI6 agent himself, Silva knows how double-0s work, think and act. That's they key of the whole scene. So he knew how 007 could have played it cool in any possible situation and that's why he tied him up. Double-0s can fake complicity even in the most horrible scenarios, but what if it is happening and they could do nothing about it? This was Silva's strategy: getting Bond in the position in which he can't switch from being a victim to being accomplice of it. Silva started running his fingers over 007's skin and scars, stopping on the weakest spots (such as the throat);

Silva attacking Bond's identity: it connects to point 2. This the moment in which Silva gets flirty, since I don't have a better way to call it. Someone's sexuality is part of their identity, so Silva attempts to overstep Bond's boundaries by violating both: his touch is intimate and gentle, despite the situation, his voice is soft and the gaze is too dary. But 007 quickly makes clear how he has no problem with all of that and how it isn't his "first time";

Silva attacks Bond's patriotism and loyalty to M: we well know how Silva has completely lost trust in M and it seems that, for a moment, he's trying to get Bond on his side. In my opinion, that's not completely true. At first impact, it's easy to miss it, but Silva attempts to get all of Bond's beliefs to falter. He firstly tries with M: he tells 007 about how disloyal and unfair the woman can be, reproaching him even how she has sent him on missions even after he failed all of the tests; then, Silva tries with England: he tells Bond about how the Country he still defends and believes in is already dead, fallen, and how useless it is to save it. Nothing of this works and it's misunderstood as an attempt to get 007 on the evil side, since Silva's lost trust both in England and M;

Sévérine: after all of the above didn't work, Silva is left with only one thing. We know know that Bond seduces Sévérine in Skyfall and then Silva finds out; so, he decides to put up a sadistic game to get rid of her and punish 007 at the same time. All of Silva hopes is that Bond got affectionate to the woman and he suffers as a result of the game. Eventually, Silva has to shoot Sévérine himself and Bond reacts as if he couldn't have cared less.

In conclusion, we can agree to point 2 as well.

So, yes: Silva might be gay and trying to make Bond uncomfortable at the same time.

Yet the most confusing part still needs to be discussed.

2) "What Makes You Think This Is My First Time?"

I have several questions, but the first is: what the hell does that mean?

He has already been in such a situation;

He has already slept with a man;

Let's consider the quote Silva's just said before James':

How you're trying to remember your training now.

What's the regulation to cover this?

Well, first time for everything. Yes?

Considering that Silva is trying to discard Bond's sanity, I guessed that he alludes to rape when he asks 007 what his training can do for that situation.

Double-0s are prepared to face anything and get out of it almost as nothing has happened. This might explain Silva's reference to the training.

Bond's reply suggests that he had already gone through that and could do it again if circumstances required it.

It all connects to Silva trying to make 007 uncomfortable through homosexuality.

It wouldn't be new that Bond, due to his job, has needed to seduce a man. We could expect such.

So he might fly over Silva's gender and sex.

I'm still really confused over this point and don't know what to think. But James being a rape survivor is somehow an underrated Headcanon and probable, considering his job.

If someone has different ideas and explanations they're all well accepted. Maybe we can end up to a conclusion that makes sense.

#007 #james bond #raoul silva #skyfall #what do you think?#what the hell #i'm confused

48 notes · View notes

trulymadlysydney · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere In Time: Eleven

“...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”

― Plato, The Symposium

tw: Death

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

April 25th, 2000, 12:06pm

It’s been a long, long few months for Roni.

Today is one of the first warm days New York has experienced in a while, and it’s one of the first times Roni has felt strong enough to actually leave her house without breaking down and sobbing.

Still, she’s aware she isn’t exactly at peak performance either.

Presently she finds herself at the supermarket, bare-faced and exhausted. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, which at this point burn permanently with how often she’s been crying over the past few months. She’s sure she must look a mess as she walks through the building, searching numbly for the few items her grandmother had sent her for.

Her grandmother, sweet and more than mildly concerned for Roni’s well being, had thought it would be wise for Roni to get out of the house for a bit. Over the past few months, Roni has gone on a few walks here and there, but each time she’d returned home looking more wilted and devastated than she had when she’d left. It was disconcerting, to put it lightly, but of course the older woman had comforted Roni through every minute of it.

That being said, however, she’d wanted to push Roni to make the effort to get out of this funk (or at least up and over the hump that stood before her), and although it makes Roni feel strange and disgustingly vulnerable to be out here among other people like this, she can’t say she blames her grandmother for trying.

Besides, there’s something that’s been on her mind for ages now, and she thinks today is the perfect day for it.

She has to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand first and foremost-- although she can’t for the life of her remember if her grandmother needs 2 percent milk or skim--, because God knows she wants this grocery store trip to be over as soon as possible.

She runs a hand through her hair, realizing dismissively that it’s a bit greasy and overdue for a wash. When was the last time she took a shower?

Ultimately, Roni decides on skim milk (she figures her grandmother will forgive her if she’s wrong) and plops it unenthusiastically into the shopping basket that hangs heavy on her arm. She scans the basket, mentally checking off everything she sees and searching her foggy brain to determine if she’s missed anything.

When she’s absolutely certain she’s gotten everything on her grandmother’s list, she takes in a deep breath, turning on her heel and walking--almost robotically-- to the next area of the store she needs to go to.

The little section of less-than-fresh flowers is located directly next to the produce section, right where it’s always been, and it’s a place that Roni has visited multiple times in her life since her mother’s passing. The task of picking out the prettiest flowers is one that Roni has never taken lightly, of course, and this time is no exception.

Because this time, she isn’t going to visit the grave of her mother. She’s going to find Harry’s.

There’s a pressure on her back mixed with a tinge of anxiety as she scans the colorful flowers in their colorful wrapping. It would be doing Harry a disservice to pick some that are anything less than perfect, but then none of these seem suitable at all.

Roses? No, too dark. Violets? Ironic, but still no.

Roni is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone behind her clear their throat. Expecting to be asked to kindly move out of the way, she shifts quickly to the right, preparing to offer whoever this person is an apologetic smile.

But then she hears her name.

When she turns she is met by none other than Oliver and his sweet, smiling face. Her heart sinks impossibly deeper into her stomach at the sight.

“Hey!” he greets, as pleasantly as he can manage. “I thought that was you but I wasn’t sure!”

Oliver looks good, save perhaps for the dark circles under his eyes that mirror Roni’s own. He seems far more well put together than Roni for sure, and she’s almost embarrassed by her own appearance. His dark hair hangs limp on his head, and the scent of his aftershave tells Roni that he’s probably just taken a shower before heading over here. She wants to hug him, purely for selfish reasons, but she thinks maybe that isn’t the best idea right now given the circumstances.

He seems to feel the same way, because he holds his hands awkwardly at his side— as if wanting to go to her, but unsure of how to go about it.

So Roni simply smiles. “Oliver,” she greets. “It’s so good to see you!”

And she does mean that. His face is an oddly comforting sight at a time like this.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ron! How have you been?” He asks this question quietly, as if he already knows the answer, but there isn’t a single trace of judgement on his face. That was something Roni had always loved about him, in fact. He never judged. He was always a much better person than she felt she could ever hope to be.

Still, it feels like a loaded question. One that she doesn’t quite feel prepared to answer in the slightest. How does one explain to their ex boyfriend of several years that they’re doing absolutely terrible?

So she shrugs, offering him a half-hearted laugh. “I mean, I’m here.”

Oliver laughs, a sympathetic smile on his face that tells her he feels the exact same way. A wordless sentiment is shared between the two in their smiles, and he nods when she giggles. “Same,” he says. “I’ve been better but… ya know.”

And god, Roni does know.

She gestures at him. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Been working out a lot. Changed my diet a bit. Just trying to be like, you know, healthier and stuff.”

Roni nods. “That’s amazing, Oliver.”

She really does mean it. He does look great, especially compared to the last time she’d seen him. Fresh out of their breakup, running on a maximum of three hours of sleep per night, wordlessly helping Roni pack up her things into boxes and moving them, along with her grandfather, back into her grandparents house.

The first few days of the new year had been awful, to say the least. Roni had hardly spoken, hardly eaten, hardly done much at all except for cry; overwhelmed with sadness and a tinge of guilt— not only for leaving Harry, but for her sudden lack of feelings towards Oliver. And Oliver, the angel that he is, stood by her. Constantly worrying, making sure she was at least drinking enough water, and trying to coax her into telling him what was wrong.

The breakup had not gone at all the way Roni had expected. But then, when do breakups ever?

It was on the 6th day of January, when Roni found herself so completely buried in her grief that she couldn’t stop crying, even for five minutes, or bring herself to step foot out of her bed. Oliver had tried everything, and was obviously growing impatient himself. When he threw his hands up and exasperatedly told Roni he was taking her to the hospital, that’s when she’d done it. She’d blurted out that she couldn’t be with him anymore.

The look on his face was enough to shatter what little bit of her heart remained intact in her chest. He’d asked for clarification, then asked again, then again. When his tears started falling, that’s when the cycle of grief started for him. Denial, bargaining, anger.

Roni, of course, couldn’t tell him everything. She couldn’t tell him about the time travel, and about Harry. She couldn’t tell him anything, really. All she could do was cry.

And cry she did. She cried so hard she got sick, and poor Oliver, through his own tears, called Roni’s grandparents because he didn’t know what else to do. Even in the days that followed, where Roni stayed in the care of her grandparents, she couldn’t give him a straight answer. She wasn’t sure where she would even start, she only begged him to understand that this was the right answer for both of them.

And all the while, her heart had ached. It had ached for her mother, and for Harry. It flooded with overwhelming grief and guilt as Roni constantly wondered if she’d done the right thing leaving 1925.

It had taken a while, but it did get a bit easier after that. Two weeks later, Roni and Oliver ended things-- officially-- both with clearer minds and hearts. Oliver helped Roni’s grandfather move the rest of her things from her and Oliver’s shared apartment back into her grandparents’ home, and she and Oliver talked things through-- as best as they could.

The official reason Roni had given Oliver for their breakup was that she didn’t know who she was on her own and she needed to figure it out; which wasn’t a lie. She had told him, in more or less words, that she was feeling misunderstood and needed to really find out who Veronica Elliot was. After all, they’d been together for nearly ten years. Ten years of her adult life in which she’d done so much growing up, but with him. She needed to grow up on her own.

And Oliver had understood that as best he could. It didn’t make the breakup hurt less by any means, but it made enough sense. All he wanted was for her to be happy, which she appreciated more than she could express. So once she’d gotten settled in with her grandparents, she and Oliver hadn’t spoken again.

Until now.

Oliver nods his head in Roni’s general direction, bringing her from her thoughts. “What’s the occasion?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re shopping for flowers,” Oliver explains with a laugh. “For something good I hope!”

“Oh.” It dawns on Roni that Oliver may actually be able to help her, or at least somewhat understand her current situation. “Yeah. Kind of.” She shifts her weight to her other foot. “Actually… Oliver, do you remember Mr. Styles?”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows. “Who?”

“Mr. Styles. You were assigned to spend time with him in high school. Right before you graduated.” None of this seems to ring a bell to Oliver, so Roni sighs. “You knoooow,” she tries again. “He gave you the advice? About asking me out? You brought me to meet him?”

Oliver’s confusion only seems to deepen. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think--”

“He died like, shortly after I met him,” Roni says, growing a bit more impatient. “You went to his funeral!”

“Roni,” Oliver says slowly, “I think you’re confused. I was assigned to Mrs. Brown. Mildred Brown. You met her, but there was no one named Mr. Styles.”

Roni shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Oliver insists, then chuckles. “I would’ve remembered someone with a name that cool.”

“But Harry-- Mr. Styles… he--”

“I knew pretty much every resident in that place,” Oliver says. “There was no one named Mr. Styles. At all.”

Roni lets out a breath, blinking as she tries to process exactly what Oliver is telling her. Of course there was a Mr. Styles. She remembers him vividly, both in his youth and in old age. “No…” she says slowly. “No, there definitely was.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Roni, I’m not lying to you. I knew everybody there. There was nobody with that name.”

Roni is only halfway listening to him as her thoughts run a million miles a minute. “He… no, because...” She trails off, finally blinking confusedly up at Oliver. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Oliver watches her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After a beat, he speaks again. “You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just… I could’ve sworn--”

“Is that who you were planning on getting the flowers for?” Oliver’s confusion continues to show on his face. “Why?”

“I just--” Roni isn’t even sure where to begin. She sighs. “I just thought… he really meant a lot to you. I wasn’t at the funeral.”

“You’re thinking of Mrs. Brown,” Oliver insists. “I loved that woman. But I haven’t thought of her in years. I’m shocked you even remember her.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Roni jokes half-heartedly. Oliver laughs.

“Where did you come up with that name anyway? It doesn’t even sound remotely familiar.”

Roni, still confused, shakes her head. “I don’t know. I must have heard it in passing or… something.”

“Yeah probably.” Oliver nods towards the flowers. “Anyways. If you’re wanting to get some flowers for Mrs. Brown, she loved lilies.”

Roni glances back towards the cheap bouquets. Lilies. Those might be good.

Her confusion only fogs up her brain more than it already is, and try as she might to hide it, it projects very easily onto her face. Oliver eyes her, as if wanting to touch her but unsure of whether or not he should.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?”

“Yeah,” Roni says quickly, realizing she must look strange. “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just… brain fart I guess.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know how that goes. Had a ton of those the past couple months. Things have just been like, weird? I guess? That’s the only way I can describe it.”

“I know,” Roni agrees, a tinge of guilt striking her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Oliver says quickly. “Seriously. I didn’t say that to like, make you feel bad or anything. I’m just saying.”

The air is thick with tension all of a sudden, and Roni clears her throat, trying desperately to will it away. Oliver laughs awkwardly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you or anything. I’ll let you get back to your shopping. But it was really good to see you.”

The way he’s smiling at her makes Roni instantly relax, and any awkward vibes in the air fizzle away. She smiles. “It was good to see you, too. Seriously.”

There’s a brief moment of charged energy between the two, before Oliver decides to just bite the bullet and move. He reaches forward before Roni can really even process it and he wraps her up in a hug.

It feels ridiculously comforting in a way that Roni would have never expected, and she surprises herself when she feels her eyes grow misty. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a hug just in general, and she definitely hadn’t thought the most comforting one would come from Oliver himself. She relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a gentle squeeze in return.

They stay like this for a while, and Roni realizes that Oliver probably needs this just as badly as she does. She feels him take a deep breath in through his nose, burying it in her hairline and sighing quietly under his breath. He’s missed her. And Roni can’t lie and she hasn’t missed him, it’s just different.

She can’t go back to him. She absolutely cannot.

“Please take care of yourself,” Oliver mumbles, before finally pulling out of the hug.

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, Ron. Go easy on yourself. Please.”

His words touch Roni’s heart, and she smiles. “Oh. You too.”

He smiles right back at her, and there’s a long moment where she feels like he might say something else. Ultimately he decides against it, and he nods in finality. “Right,” he says. “See ya.”

He’s gone before Roni has even finished saying her goodbye, and she’s left feeling empty and somewhat melancholy. How is it possible to feel so simultaneously relieved, as if some unexpected closure has occurred between the two, and yet so hollow, as if far too many words were left unspoken?

Roni’s stomach churns and she clears her throat, trying to re-center herself.

Flowers. Harry’s grave. Right.

She knows what Oliver just said, and it confuses her to no end, but she isn’t going to give up that easily. She’s certainly not just going to take his word for it; she has to see for herself. She believes the finality of seeing Harry’s grave-- if there even is one-- will grant her the strength to push forward. To know in her heart that what she had with him is long gone. Otherwise, she fears she’ll never be able to shake the feeling that there is lingering unfinished business between them, and it will continue to haunt her until she knows for certain.

Even if Oliver insists Mr. Styles never existed. She has to try.

So Roni sighs, reaching for a bouquet of white lilies that seem to be the least wilted out of all of their counterparts, before making her way to the checkout line.

———————-

The cemetery is somber, but it brings a peaceful sense of calm over Roni as she steps through the gates. It’s colder and cloudier than it was this morning, and Roni finds herself wishing she’d brought a jacket. She takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed as she scans the many headstones before her. Finding Mr. Styles’ grave is going to be far more difficult than she’d anticipated.

She takes a step forward along the gravel road that winds through the expansive cemetery. She hadn’t realized it was going to be such a large place, with headstones covering the hills everywhere she turns. It’s only the slightest bit disheartening, but Roni is no quitter. If she can’t find his headstone today, she’ll return tomorrow; and if necessary, every day after that until she finds it.

Oliver’s words echo in Roni’s mind as she walks, scanning each headstone for the name she wants so desperately to see. Why didn’t he remember Harry? Surely she hadn’t dreamt that entire day in which she met the elderly gentleman; she has vivid memories of Oliver calling her cousin’s house where she was staying the day of the funeral and telling her how upset he was. That was real. The books on his nightstand were real.

Harry was real.

In the distance, someone sits on the balcony of their apartment and plays guitar. It’s a melancholy song, and although Roni knows they’re just practicing and this has nothing to do with her, it feels strangely fitting. Roni smiles to herself, enjoying the music, as she continues her way down the path.

It feels silly in a way, to be here without any knowledge of the location of Harry’s gravesite or if it’s even in this cemetery at all. In hindsight, she feels, she could have done just a bit more research. She could have called around, done some inquiring about Harry. To be fair, though, she had called his old retirement home only to find that it was no longer a retirement home, but a preschool; a fact that she found quite odd. The circle of life, so to speak.

As she scans the headstones, she reads each name quietly to herself. She figures it may be best to take the cemetery in sections; a section or two today, another tomorrow. It makes the task feel far less daunting and besides, she could use some more peaceful walks like this in her daily life.

She runs her fingertips along the rough top of a headstone, soberly realizing that there are caskets beneath her very feet at this exact moment. Realizing that everyone ends up here in their lives, and that one day she too will end up here. The thought of Harry being somewhere beneath this grass, however, makes her stomach churn. She hates that she’s here, and she knows it’s too late, but she’s hoping it will give her some type of the closure that she’s aching for.

Roni sighs, muttering a gentle “where are you?” under her breath as she scans the headstones.

She continues along the dirt path, shyly chuckling to herself at some of the names (and immediately feeling guilty for it). She switches the bouquet of flowers from her right hand to her left and wipes her sweaty palm along the thigh of her jeans.

As Roni continues her walk, she grows a bit colder than before. She wraps her free hand around her stomach, as if it’s going to help, and sniffles when the wind tickles her hair across her nose. Today had started out so misleading with such beautiful weather, and now she’s shivering against the chilly wind.

It’s about thirty minutes later when Roni happens upon a headstone bearing a name that draws her attention. The name isn’t exactly the one she’s been searching so desperately for, but it does interest her. She goes to it. turning off the gravel path and walking along the moist grass. As she approaches, she reads aloud from it.

“Mrs. Mildred Brown. Beloved wife and mother. Born October 12th, 1899. Died June 6th, 1990.” Roni sighs as she continues, reading the passage from the Bible written in script along the bottom. “‘Well done thou good and faithful servant.’ Matthew 25:21.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand,” she mumbles, squatting down beside the headstone to get a better look.

It all checks out, as far as Oliver’s story goes. She regrets not asking him for more information while she had the chance, however. How did Mrs. Brown die? What was it like the day Roni supposedly met her? Had Mrs. Brown been interested in time travel? Why is none of this making sense in Roni’s brain?

As Roni processes all of this, she suddenly gets the unmistakable feeling that she’s being watched. It isn’t a threatening feeling by any means, but she can practically feel a pair of eyes on her out of nowhere, and it is somewhat unsettling.

Of course, her logical brain thinks, she is at a cemetery. There are other people here, no doubt, visiting loved ones. She tries to brush off the feeling, running her thumb over the carved indentations spelling out Mrs. Brown’s name.

Roni notices a rock atop the headstone, indicating that someone has been here to visit Mrs Brown’s grave recently. She feels it would be disrespectful to touch the stone, so she refrains. Instead, she just looks at it, wondering who could’ve left it-- someone in Mrs. Brown’s family?-- and why she can’t, for the life of her, remember this woman.

She can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched, however, and she glances over her shoulder subtly to see if she can see anyone. She waits a moment, and just as she turns back to observe the headstone once more, she swears she hears her own name.

“Roni.”

The voice is feminine and foreign yet so familiar all at once, and Roni isn’t even sure she’s

actually heard it when she stands up. She turns to her right slowly on her heel, expecting to see someone and feeling slightly disturbed when she doesn’t. She licks her lips, feeling her heart rate increase.

“Who--”

She hears it again, closer now and coming from the other direction, and she turns to her left. Instantly, she is relieved when she realizes who the voice belongs to.

There, standing against a tree with that beautiful, all-knowing smile, stands Violet. Dressed as if she’s just walked straight out of the 1920s.

Perhaps she has.

A million thoughts run through Roni’s head; how did Violet get here? How did Violet know she’d be here? Violet nods, as if reading Roni’s mind.

“Hello, dear.”

Realizing she hasn’t said a word, Roni laughs lightly. “Violet!” She walks over to the mysterious girl, smiling wide. “God, it’s so good to see you.”

As she approaches, she wonders if it would be polite to give Violet a hug. Are they at that level of friendship? Do they know each other that well? Is it weird?

Violet doesn’t allow any more time for Roni to overthink, instead taking charge and pulling her into her arms for a warm embrace.

It’s so ridiculously comforting, and Roni hadn’t even realized just how badly she needed this. When Violet pulls away, she continues to hold Roni at arm’s length, scanning her face. “How have you been?”

“Well…” Roni trails off, then shrugs. “I mean. Not great.” She laughs. “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” Violet replies, voice calming and warm. “My, but it’s good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see you too, Violet. What are you doing here?”

Violet smiles, something subconsciously shifting in her tone, though not in a bad way. “I had a feeling I would find you here,” she explains.

“But how?” Roni asks. “Why today? Why right now?” She leans in. “Why me?”

Violet doesn’t directly answer Roni’s question. “I’ve come to bring you something,” she says, reaching into a satchel that rests on her hip. “Something that might be of great value to you.”

Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up that this gift has anything to do with Harry, but it’s too late. “Something of great value?”

“Sentimental, if anything.”

Roni can’t help but to deflate. “Oh.”

Violet finds whatever it is that she was looking for and retrieves it from the satchel. It seems to be a folded piece of paper, and she holds it out for Roni to take. Roni hesitates, eyeing the paper cautiously, before taking it from Violet’s hands.

“Read it,” Violet prompts. “It might make you smile.”

Slowly, carefully, Roni unfolds the paper. Her heart starts pounding as her mind runs through all the possibilities of what this could be. Before the note is even fully opened, she stops when she recognizes her own handwriting.

“I know what this is,” she says, looking up at Violet slowly.

“You do,” Violet says, nodding. “Read it.”

Roni swallows down the lump in her throat, casting her eyes back to the paper and reading silently to herself.

Harry-

If you’re reading this, it means that I left. I am safely back where I came from, proving you wrong-- just like I knew I would. However, it seemed rude to leave without a proper goodbye. So here it is. I know I only stayed one night with you, but you’ve been really great. I hope your new year is “swell” or whatever it is you’d say, and that all your hopes and dreams come true. Thanks for letting me stay with you. Sorry about the black eye. Take care.

-Roni

Roni looks back up at Violet, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “I wrote this the day after I got there,” she says, as if Violet didn’t know.

Violet nods again. “You did.”

Roni shakes her head, feeling tears prickle at her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she admits, shrugging in submission, as if Violet is about to play some trick on her.

“Harry’s kept it,” Violet explains, and the way she speaks of Harry in the present tense makes Roni’s heart pound.

“He’s…?”

“Kept it,” Violet repeats. “Yes. He found it under his bed a few days after you left.”

“Is he…” Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so she hesitates to ask. “I mean, are you... have you—“

“I have seen him since you left,” Violet answers, smiling knowingly. “Yes.”

Roni swallows the lump rising her throat as the wind whips her hair lightly against her cheeks. “Is he alright?” The question comes out in a whisper.

“He is alright.” Violet nods. “He misses you.”

For some reason, Violet’s words completely overwhelm Roni. She can’t stop her eyes from welling over with tears immediately , and she lets out a little choking laugh. “God,” she says, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Does he?”

“Yes, darling.”

“I miss him so much,” Roni says, only half-heartedly attempting to stop her crying. “Can you tell him that?”

“I can.”

Roni laughs again through her tears and steps closer to Violet. “God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess. I just can’t believe you’re here, and I…” She trails off, looking down at the paper in her trembling hands. “It’s real,” she says, almost as if reassuring herself. “He was real. This is real.”

“It is real,” Violet says. “You didn’t imagine him.”

“I’ve felt so…” Roni gestures vaguely as she searches for her words. “So stupid, I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to tell anyone the truth. I’ve started doubting myself. I-- I mean it all just seems so crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t.” Violet shakes her head. “Not to me. Though I can understand the hesitation to share your experience with others.”

“And I broke up with Oliver, you know,” Roni continues. “Oliver, my boyfriend. We were together for so long and I… I didn’t love him. I mean I did, but not the way I love Harry. Or… loved Harry. I guess. But I--” she laughs. “God, I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I have in the past like, four months, and I-- I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to see you. To see… this.” She gestures at the letter, then speaks again; quieter this time, as if to herself. “Fuck, I miss him.”

“Your feelings are completely understandable, Veronica. And justified. You have been through so much. It’s only natural to feel confused. And the connection you have with Harry transcends time itself. But these are odd circumstances, and certainly not a situation that anyone should be expected to know how to navigate. You are not stupid for feeling this way.”

“No,” Roni laughs, almost bitterly. “No, I am. I know I am. It’s just… god, you’re helping me so much just by being here but I--” she sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, “I don’t know. I know I need to move on. I know I can’t go back to him but I want to. More than anything else in the world.”

“What would you tell him if you could?” Violet asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh god,” Roni says, dabbing at her teary eyes. “I would say…” she trails off, really considering what it is exactly that she would say to Harry if given the chance. She sighs shakily. “I would tell him he’s the love of my life. I would tell him he is the greatest thing that has ever and will ever happen to me in this lifetime. In any lifetime. That I regret leaving him more than anything I’ve ever done. That I miss him. That I love him.”

Roni doesn’t notice the way Violet’s eyes flicker behind her, because she’s still going. “And it’s silly,” she continues, “but I have never stopped hoping he’ll come. I cant…” she sniffs again, “Can’t bring myself to stop. Even though I know he isn’t coming, I’ve never stopped looking for him. I don’t know if I ever will, you know?”

Violet smiles like she knows something that Roni doesn’t, but before Roni can even question it, a voice comes from behind her.

“Well,” it says, slow and deep. “The funny thing about that is, he’s never stopped looking for you either.”

It takes Roni a full ten seconds to even process what she’s hearing, and Violet’s all knowing smile only deepens. Roni whirls around on her heels slowly, her feet still feel frozen into the muddy, damp ground.

And there’s Harry, as young and as handsome as ever, if not a little bit older than the last time she’s seen him.

He smiles, tears welling in his own eyes as he takes a step towards her. “In every timeline,” he says, and takes another step, “in every lifetime. He’s never stopped looking.” He stands only a few mere feet away now, and Roni notes the single tear rolling down his cheek, contrasting his unwavering smile.

“I’ve kept my promise, bunny.”

In a whirlwind, Roni is rushing to him. She trips and stumbles a bit on the mud, falling directly into his arms. She doesn’t even bother standing upright, melting instead into his embrace and wrapping her own arms around him. He does his best to straighten her on her own feet, his arms wrapping tightly around her back, but he loses his own footing and falls ungracefully onto his back.

Neither seem to care about their tumble, and Roni crawls up his body— kissing every possible inch of visible skin she can get her lips onto. Her tears blend into Harry’s own, and he laughs joyfully against her lips as he wraps a supportive arm around her back.

“My god,” Roni sobs into his neck. “My god, my god, what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Harry says, not even worried about the way his voice cracks. “I never stopped looking. And I found you.”

Roni giggles a wet, teary giggle, squishing his face in her hands and fastening their lips together in a clumsy kiss. He willingly kisses her back, stabilizing her with his hands and squeezing her as if he can’t hold her tight enough.

“Harry,” she sobs, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kisses her teary cheek. “So fucking much.”

Roni presses a few more haphazard kisses to his lips, as if terrified that she’ll lose him the second she stops. She pulls away after a moment, scanning his face through her own blurry eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “how did you get here?”

Harry beams. “Some people have the gift. Some do not.”

“And you have it?!” Roni asks. “You had it this whole time?!”

Harry laughs at the urgency in Roni’s voice, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess so. Violet helped me.”

“Violet!” Roni says, suddenly remembering the witchy girl’s presence. She turns to where Violet had just been standing minutes before, and is surprised to see that she is no longer there. Harry and Roni both scan the graveyard, but Violet is in fact nowhere to be found. Roni furrows her brows. “Where did she go?”

Harry doesn’t reply, instead he tilts Roni’s face towards him for another smiley kiss. Roni needs absolutely no persuasion, melting right into him and sighing contentedly.

“I’m so happy,” she cries against his mouth. “So fucking happy.”

“Yeah?” Harry pulls away, tears still streaming freely down his smiling cheeks. “Me too.”

“This feels like a dream,” Roni giggles. “Genuinely. And if it is, I hope I never wake up.”

Harry giggles. “It’s not a dream, sweet girl. I’m here. And I’m staying.”

Roni scans his face for any sign of sarcasm, taken aback by his words. “You’re… staying?” She asks. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but God the thought of Harry being hers forever makes her heart pound in her own ears. “Are you serious?”

Harry beams brilliantly at her, letting go of her back to shrug. “Better be prepared to teach me a thing or two about the future, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“Oh my god.” Roni slams her lips into Harry’s, so much so that their teeth clank together, and he chuckles lightly into her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, lips hardly moving from hers. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I don’t understand,” Roni says, pulling back but still holding Harry in her arms. “How did you figure it out? I mean like, the fact that you can time travel. How did you--”

“Trial and error,” Harry explains. “Violet wanted me to wait a while. She said that it would be difficult to learn if I tried right after you left. The broken heart would make it more devastating if we failed.” Harry smiles. “Smart girl, Violet is. But I couldn’t wait very long. About a week later, we started working together to get this all sorted out. We worked on exercises. We worked on visualization. We did everything.”

“And then?”

“It took some time. Obviously. Went to a few different places.” He grins. “The 18th century was a lot of fun.”’

“You went that far back?”

“Sure did. Almost didn’t want to leave.” A playful twinkle glistens in Harry’s eye. “Some old Victorian broad showed me her ankle and I was ready to propose marriage.”

Roni slaps his arm lightly. “Shut up.”

Harry laughs, finding himself so hilarious. “M’joking,” he says. “Of course that didn’t happen.”

“Where else did you go?” Roni asks, then softens. “What took you so long to find me?”

“Wanted to make sure I had the technique perfected,” Harry explains. “Wanted to be sure I knew how to control where I was going. The first time I traveled was only to 1899, and it was quite unintentional. The second time, I was experimenting a bit. That’s how I ended up in 1778. But there was a catch.”

“Which was?”

“It was a different 1778. Not one that you’ve heard of.”

Roni looks confused. “But… how--”

Harry grins like he knows something Roni doesn’t. “Ever heard of parallel universes?”

Roni can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “Well holy shit.”

“I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”

“I am,” Roni says. “You were the one who told me about it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, then immediately furrows them in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember—“

“As an old man,” Roni explains. “I met you when you were like… 90 something.”

“Oh.” Harry’s confusion softens. “No kidding. That’s neat.”

“No but… that would mean...” Roni trails off, confusion etched into her features, as she processes everything that’s going on. “I saw you… you were old…. you died. And Oliver said you… you always talked about this girl from your past... That would have been me, wouldn’t it?”

“I tapped into something even you couldn’t tap into.” Harry seems proud of himself, and he flashes Roni that smug grin she’s missed so much.

“What do you mean?”

“Alternate realities,” Harry explains. “Shifting into another dimension.”

“But how does that--”

“In another universe, yes. Somewhere in time, your memories are true. I was old. I was unsuccessful in finding you. In that universe--” he gestures vaguely around the graveyard, “--I’m six feet under somewhere around here.”

Even he seems to be hit with the somberness of his words. He takes a moment to let that sink in, and then he’s right back to his normal, cheery self. “But!” he says. “I shifted. Into this reality. With the help of Violet, I created a separate timeline.”

“At the cost of--?”

Harry sighs. “I mean. At the cost of some of the people I loved most back home.” He shrugs. “But that’s what alternate universes are for, I suppose.”

“Why couldn’t I have just… created my own alternate universe then? In which I could have kept my mom alive AND stayed with you? Why didn’t Violet give me that option?”

“You could have,” Harry explains. “But there wasn’t a guarantee you could have both. Plus, once you leave one, it is extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible, to get back. You weren’t willing or ready to make that sacrifice. I was.”

“So we’re in a parallel universe?”

“I am. You’re not. You’re in your regular timeline.”

“And you--”

“Shifted into it. Changed the fate’s design, so to speak. It did shift your timeline a bit, as far as my own existence goes. You remember me being old. You remember Oliver attending my funeral. But Oliver doesn’t. No one has any memory of me, in fact.”

“So who are you to everyone then?”

“That’s the beauty of it.” Harry grins. “I’m whoever I want to be. For all they know, I’m a famous singer from the UK who moved here for work.”

“Oh my god,” Roni giggles, leaning in to kiss all over his sweet, teary face once again.

Harry smiles that dimpled smile, obviously over the moon and basking in the way she’s loving on him.

“My sweet boy,” Roni says, lips smushed just below his ear. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

“Missed you,” Harry says quietly. “Couldn’t go on in a world without you.”

Roni bumps her nose tenderly along Harry’s. “I missed you so much.”

Harry laughs quietly to himself. “Can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when I ended up here. Cried with happiness.”

“How long have you been here?”

Harry’s eyes dart up to the sky as he thinks, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “Two days. Give or take.”

Roni feigns offense. “And you didn’t come find me right away?!”

“Tried. Couldn’t. Didn’t know where you’d be.”

“But how did Violet know?”

Harry smirks. “I don’t know. I don’t know how she knows anything. But it seems she knows everything.”

Roni chuckles. “Apparently so. God.”

Harry hums, brushing Roni’s hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her nose. “God, I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Harry. Thank you for finding me.”

“Promised you I would,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Was so hoping more than anything that you’d be waiting for me.”

Now Roni frowns. “You had doubts?”

Harry shrugs. “No. I mean…” he trails off, eyes scanning the sweeping hills of the cemetery as he considers his words. “No. I don’t know. I was hopeful.”

“But…?” Roni presses, leaning into him.

“But you lived in the future. You had--” he trails off, eyeing Roni carefully. “--have…. A boyfriend?” His statement turns into a question, and the look on his face makes Roni giggle.

“Had,” she answers. “We broke up. Very shortly after I came back.”

Harry frowns. “M’sorry to hear that. Was it… you know...?”

Roni shrugs. “I was hopeful, too,” is the only answer she offers him.

“Hopeful for me?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew I’d find you.”

Roni kisses Harry’s cheek. “I hoped you would.”

“Poor bloke though. I know how hard it is to live in a world without you.”

“Somehow I think he’ll manage.” Roni giggles. “No, actually, I saw him this morning. When I was—“ She trails off, suddenly remembering the bouquet of flowers she’d bought that now lays forgotten a few feet away. Harry seems to notice them at the same time she does, and he turns back to her. He doesn’t push for her to finish her thought, he instead strokes her hair and admires the way it looks in the wind.

“I was going to put flowers on your grave,” Roni explains, sheepishly. “I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen. Maybe… like, closure or something. I don’t know.”

“Closure,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Wanted rid of the haunting memories of me then?”

Roni rolls her eyes but she giggles that giggle that Harry has dreamt about every night since she’d left. “No, god, of course not,” she laughs. “It’s just that living with the weight of how much I missed you…” She trails off again, and Harry can see the gears turning in her head as she immediately processes another thought. “I still don’t understand,” she says. “I never believed you when you told me. You as an old man, I mean. I’d brushed it off. I hadn’t thought it was realistic.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to feign offense. “As realistic as time travel.”

“I know,” Roni giggles again. “It’s just that you were old when you told me. I didn’t know you.”

Harry grins now. “Was I a handsome old bastard?”

Roni’s giggles turn into full belly laughs. “I mean, I was like, sixteen. So I didn’t think so, no.”

“Bollocks,” Harry curses, and Roni snorts.

“This is insane,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m talking to you about… well, you… but as an old man. Memories I have of you, that you didn’t even exist for. But you did. I don’t know.”

Harry nods. “It’s an odd thing,” he agrees. “An odd situation we find ourselves in for sure.”

Roni hums in agreement, and a moment of comfortable silence falls between the two. She giggles after a moment, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her fingers and kissing his lips again, slow and smiley.

“God,” she says, when she finally pulls away. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

Harry pulls that cheeky look of his that Roni’s missed so much, wiggling his eyebrows. “You want me to pinch you, honey?” He squeezes lightly at her sides and she squeals, wiggling out of his grasp. He beams at the sound, wrapping an arm around her quickly and pulling her right back into him before smooching all over her cheeks and her nose. “C’mere,” he growls playfully. “Not getting away from me that easily. Never again.”

She continues to giggle, submitting completely to him as he tilts her head and kisses her. They laugh into one another’s mouths, their giggles dying down as their kisses increase in intensity. His tongue trails along her bottom lip, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Roni grants him access to her own tongue. She’s missed his taste more than she’d ever thought it possible, and she can’t help but to moan when her tongue slides along his.

“Fuck,” she whispers, completely unaware of the fact that she’s crying again.

“Hey,” Harry coos, pulling away and cupping her face with his hands. “Stop that. No more of that. No more crying.” He swipes at the tears under her eyes, stroking her cheek bones as lovingly as he can. There is no way to convey exactly how he’s feeling right now; he’s just so in love with her and so relieved to be holding her again. Seeing her cry, indicative that she feels the exact same way, makes his heart both sink and soar, and his eyes well up with tears all over again.

They both realize he’s crying too at the exact same time, and they laugh at how silly they’re both being. Harry, still holding Roni’s face in his hands, continues to wipe at her tears while she reaches up to wipe at his. They continue to laugh and cry and kiss, holding one another as close as they possibly can and forgetting about the entire world around them.

After a little while, Harry pushes himself to his feet with a little grunt. Roni immediately misses his warmth, which is pathetic, she knows. She can’t help the little whine that escapes past her lips as she reaches for him, and he chuckles as he takes her hand in his. “I’ll be right back, honey, I promise.” He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning on his heel to go retrieve her discarded bouquet of flowers.

Roni watches him, so completely enamored and in love with him as he walks. He’s dressed sort of funky, not quite in his 1920s style but definitely outdated by today’s standards. He isn’t wearing his cap that she’s missed so much, but his curls are styled messily-- which isn’t helped at all by the wind. He looks so handsome. So soft. So him.

Her Harry.

She still feels like she’s dreaming in all honesty, and as she keeps her eyes glued to him she revels in the fact that he’s here. This person that she’s quite literally ached for for months now, the person she didn’t think she could possibly live without, the person she never thought she’d see again— he’s here. He found his way back to her because he loves her. It simply doesn’t feel real.

Harry picks up the bouquet and buries his nose in them, taking a big inhale and smiling to himself with the cutest dimpled smile. He looks back to see Roni— his sweet Veronica sitting there on the grass, wind whipping her hair and a silly, sweet smile on her face. He’s overwhelmed, really, and he walks quickly to close the space between him and his girl.

When Harry arrives by Roni’s side he plops right back down beside her, kissing both cheeks and the tip of her nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling softly, and he nods down to the bouquet in his hands. “These were for me?”

“Yeah,” Roni says, somewhat bashfully. “I mean… for your grave. So. Yeah, for you but like… not? I don’t know.”

Harry chuckles, humming as he nods. “Mm.” He reaches into the cheap paper that holds the bouquet together and fingers lightly at a petal. “These are lilies.”

Roni, impressed by his knowledge of botany, smiles. “They are, yeah! How’d you know?”

Harry laughs. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Veronica, for heaven’s sake,” he teases. “In fact, I was born….” Harry scrunches his face, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “About a hundred and one years ago I think!”

“Holy shit,” Roni says, doing the math in her own head. “So you’re… old.”

“Technically, I suppose,” Harry chuckles. “But also, not actually.” He kisses her temple, then reaches into the paper bouquet. Roni wonders briefly what he’s doing, until she sees him snap a lily off of its stem. It looks so delicate between his fingers it makes her shiver, and she hardly has time to register what he’s doing before he’s tucking it gently behind her ear. He moves slowly, his thick fingers brushing lovingly against her skin.

Harry’s eyes scan her face, and in this moment Roni has never felt more loved. He cups her jaw and runs his thumb along her cheek, his green eyes still wet with tears. He hums, his mouth looking so irresistibly delicious, and Roni holds his eye contact with bated breath, waiting for him to do something.

“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, almost more to himself than to her. “My beautiful girl.”

“Your beautiful girl,” Roni repeats, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I’ll always find you, Veronica.” Harry drops his hand from her jaw and wraps it around her smaller hand that’s placed in her lap. “In every timeline,” he leans in and kisses her forehead, “in every lifetime,” he kisses her nose, “I will find you,” her lips, “and I will love you with everything I have to give until my heart stops beating.” He kisses her lips again, slower this time, before resting his forehead to hers and allowing his eyes to close.

They sit like this, silently drinking in one another’s presence, and when a tear slips down Roni’s cheek neither of them mention it. Harry presses velvety kisses to Roni’s lips every few seconds or so, and even he’s crying after a bit.

No words are spoken, but no words are necessary. In fact, it doesn’t feel like there would be any words to even begin to describe the happiness in both of their hearts presently. Roni swallows down a lump in her throat and giggles, sniffling a bit.

“God,” she says, “I think I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in my entire life.”

“Well we’re fixing that,” Harry says, pulling away and wiping at her tears. “Effective immediately. No more tears. From here on out.”

“You promise?”

“Only happy ones. I promise.”

Roni licks her lips, then leans back in to kiss him again. “I like the sound of that.”

They stay like this for a while, disregarding the way it’s getting colder by the minute and the way that the tiny bit of sun that’s peeking through the clouds is beginning to dip behind the treetops. Roni catches him up one everything that’s happened in her life since she’d left him, and Harry tells her all about all the adventures he’s had while trying to find her. They laugh, and they continue to cry on and off (which makes them laugh harder) until Harry finally notices Roni shiver subconsciously at a gust of wind.

“Getting colder,” he observes, then adds “perhaps we should get out of here.”

Roni hums in agreement. “We should. You’ve got to meet my grandparents.”

Harry’s face changes into somewhat amused confusion. “Already?”

“What?” Roni says, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her jeans. “If you’re going to be staying with us you’re going to have to meet them eventually.”

“Yes, but….” Harry rises to his feet as well. “Don’t you think we ought to do this right? I mean, they don’t know me, you’ve just broken up with your long term boyfriend, they’re going to think I’m a creep.”

Roni giggles. “They won’t. I promise. I’ll say you’re a friend from college who’s recently moved to town. We caught up today and you needed a place to stay for a bit. They won’t care.”

“They won’t think it’s… I don’t know, improper?”

“You’ve never met my grandparents,” Roni says. “They’re like the chillest people ever.”

When she’s met with only a look of pure confusion on Harry’s face, she laughs again. “You’re in the twenty-first century now, Harry. It’s your turn to adapt.” She lightly pinches his side, causing him to laugh.

“Suppose so,” Harry giggles, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers. “Lots to learn. I have a feeling you’re an excellent teacher, though.”

Roni smiles, swinging their hands as they fall into step, walking along the gravel road winding through the cemetery. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she says. “It’s the least I can do for you after you bent the laws of time itself to come and find me and all that.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, nodding. “Although I won’t lie to you, Veronica, I’m a bit nervous to get it all sorted out.”

Roni gives Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be,” she replies. “We don’t have to have it all sorted out. When have we ever had anything sorted out?” She laughs quietly to herself. “I’ve come to find that life is much better unplanned.”

“Yeah?” Harry squints, eyes scanning the vast hills as the wind whips his curls messily. “Well, I’ve come to find that you’re right about most things.”

The silence that follows is comforting and soft, but both are thinking the exact same thing. Sure, it is a bit terrifying to start a life together--properly--like this. Harry is here to stay, and as wonderful and exciting as that is, they both know it’s going to be hard work. He’s going to have to adapt, and it isn’t going to be easy. He’s starting from scratch. No job, no house, nothing.

But he does have his honey by his side. And somehow that’s enough.

They exit the cemetery, hand in hand, and Harry tries his best not to look so clueless as he observes the world around him. Roni is patient and gentle with him, answering any questions he has and giggling when he makes jokes. They’ve fallen into their comfortable swing of things that they’ve both missed so deeply, and Harry reckons that with his Veronica holding his hand, he can conquer anything.

As they approach Roni’s grandparents’ house, however, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach begin to act up. His hands grow sweaty and he hopes Roni doesn’t notice. (She does.) He wipes his free hand on the thigh of his trousers and swallows, slowing the pace of his walking until he stops altogether.

He looks up at the big house, daunting but quaint and surrounded by a completely innocent looking white picket fence, and he can feel Roni watching him. She’s nervous, too, he knows it. She gives his hand a squeeze before letting go, and his hand falls dully to his side.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Roni asks quietly. “I mean, are you sure this is what you want? To be here, in a different time, re-learning the world and the people in it?”

Harry turns to her now. “Of course this is what I want,” he insists, almost defensively. “I just… it’s a bit more scary close up, isn’t it?”

Roni knows he isn’t talking about the house.

“It is,” she says slowly, after a beat. “But, if I know anything for sure, it’s that you and I make an excellent team. Whatever the circumstance, we can navigate it together, even if we haven’t got a clue what the right answer is. Somehow I know we’re always going to figure it out.” She lowers her voice, stepping in closer to Harry. “You’re the bravest, most wonderful man I know, Harry. You’re going to be fine.”

He turns to her, smiling as he swallows down the nauseous feeling in his throat. She beams. “You’re going to be just fine,” she repeats.

Harry reaches forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each of her knuckles. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’m ready.”

Roni smiles, squeezing his hand again and taking a deep breath in through her nose. “To our new life,” she says.

“To our future,” Harry adds. “To… forever.”

Roni nods. “Forever. Yeah.”

With deep breaths and trembling fingers, Harry and Roni step though the little gate surrounding the yard of the house and make their way onward. Into their future. Into the intimidating uncertainty of navigating a life brought on by such unique and odd circumstances. Two souls, interwoven and transcending time and space itself for the chance to be together, taking on the new set of challenges that await them because they have each other.

No matter where they end up in any lifetime, together or apart, they will always find one another somewhere in time.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles angst #Harry angst #One Direction angst #angst #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #One Direction fluff #fluff

131 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts, what about something where LXC discovered that JGY had altered the song of Clarity/Cleansing, before NMJ died? Is JGY able to convince him it was a misunderstanding, or does he realize the betrayal?

sequel to this

“This is the worst kidnapping ever,” Nie Huaisang moaned.

Lan Xichen had given up on not smiling about ten complaints ago. “You’re doing very well,” he said.

“I am not.”

“You got me to come with you to the Unclean Realm, didn’t you?”

“You’re the one that flew us here.”

“Well, I’m better at flying on a sword than you are. Still, you did get me here. Against my will, even.”

“You said you thought it was a bad idea,” Nie Huaisang said gloomily. “Twice. And then you stopped protesting.”

Lan Xichen shrugged. “I still think it’s more likely that you remembered the song wrong.”

“And I’m telling you that I am far too incompetent to accidentally come up with a variation that causes the exact opposite effect to what it’s meant to do,” Nie Huaisang said stubbornly. “We’ll go to the room and listen and then you’ll see.”

“But there’s no need to sneak around – we could just ask A-Yao to pay it for us, and we’ll be able to see –”

“No! This is my honor at stake here, er-ge. I’m telling you: if you’re there listening, there’s no way san-ge won’t worry about doing it perfectly right, and that means he won’t make any mistakes. You have to hear him when he’s not thinking about it.”

Lan Xichen’s hand was covering his mouth and had been ever since Nie Huaisang had said the word ‘honor’ which – fair. It wasn’t exactly Nie Huaisang’s concern the majority of the time.

Nie Huaisang only kept invoking it because every time he did, it made Lan Xichen giggle-snort in such an embarrassing way that he entirely forgot that he’d been opposed to this little trip.

Kidnapping.

Whatever. No one would ever believe he could successfully kidnap anyone, anyway, and they were probably right.

“Here, er-ge, come through this way,” he instructed Lan Xichen, pushing open a wall.

“Should you be showing this to me?” Lan Xichen asked, following him in. “It’s not a family secret, is it?”

“Only in the most technical of senses?” Nie Huaisang hazarded.

“Huaisang…”

“Listen, if da-ge ever wanted to actually keep a family secret, he just wouldn’t tell me about it,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “It’s a good system, and it works for us both.”

Lan Xichen was quiet for a moment. “What if there was a secret you had to know,” he finally said. “And he didn’t have a choice but to tell you –”

Nie Huaisang didn’t want to talk about the saber spirits, if only because his brother was much happier thinking he was ignorant of the whole thing.

“Shhhh, we’re almost there. San-ge should be getting started right around this time –”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, Jin Guangyao was halfway through the opening chords. Lan Xichen settled down in the chair that Nie Huaisang had brought for himself, head tilted to the side to better listen, a soft smile on his face.

That smile slowly faded as the song went on, even though they hadn’t even gotten to the relevant piece yet.

Nie Huaisang really wanted to know why, but he couldn’t ask without giving away their presence – something he’d overlooked. If only he’d brought paper and ink! Then they’d be able to pass notes.

Or possibly he should really give in to his brother’s urging and learn some hand-signs for communication purposes…

Jin Guangyao finally got to the part of the song Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen had been arguing about, and hah! Nie Huaisang had told him that he’d remembered correctly –

“Er-ge?” he asked, forgetting himself when Lan Xichen abruptly stood up and strode out of the room. “What –”

He ran after him, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch up before Lan Xichen burst into the room where Nie Mingjue was listening to the music.

“– are you doing, A-Yao?!” Lan Xichen was shouting. Actually shouting, which – wow. Lan Xichen never raised his voice; prior to this very moment, Nie Huaisang had honestly believed that his brother had laid claim to all three sworn brothers’ ability to speak at a high volume. “No spiritual power in the beneficial part, full power in the erroneous section –”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes were wide and frightened. “Er-ge, no, you don’t understand –”

“I don’t! A-Yao, why…?”

“I didn’t want to!” he shouted, his eyes darting quickly from side to side the way Nie Huaisang’s did when he was trying to come up with a good lie on the spot. “I didn’t – my father made me –”

“What exactly is going on?” Nie Mingjue said, rubbing his temples; he’d been meditating while listening to the music, and breaking the trance so abruptly had disoriented him. “And – Xichen. When did you even get here? And why are you here?”

Nie Huaisang stopped right before entering the door and abruptly reversed his steps as quickly as he could, even picking up his robes so he could better run away before –

“Huaisang!”

Shit.

Time to hide.

Nie Huaisang was never especially good at hiding; it wasn’t long before his brother had found him and picked him up by the collar – he felt and probably looked like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff of its neck – and dragged him back to the room, grumbling as he did.

Jin Guangyao was sobbing into Lan Xichen’s shoulder, and Lan Xichen looked upset.

“What happened?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“An excellent question,” Nie Mingjue said, and his face was black with anger, but that was pretty typical for him these days. “What was all that yelling about?”

Silence but for the sobbing.

“There was something wrong with the song,” Nie Huaisang volunteered, since no one else seemed like they were going to. “If you listen too closely, it has a negative effect rather than a positive effect. You see, I was eavesdropping and started coughing up blood –”

“You were what?! Have you –”

“The doctor said it’d be fine with some meditation!”

“Then you should go meditate!”

“Who says I haven’t?” Nie Huaisang protested, for which he got bodily lifted up and shaken like a disobedient puppy which…again, fair. “Okay, okay, I will, I will, I promise! But it doesn’t change the fact that he was trying to kill you!”

Nie Mingjue apparently hadn’t put that together yet and dropped Nie Huaisang like a sack of potatoes. “He was what?!”

“Not kill!” Jin Guangyao said immediately. “It was only supposed to disable you – to distract you –”

“Coughing up blood isn’t usually a symptom of distraction,” Nie Huaisang pointed out from the floor, a little skeptical.

Jin Guangyao wasn’t stupid – even when he’d been Meng Yao, he had always been very smart, very quick to pick things up, to put things together. How could he not know what would happen if he played music designed to destabilize instead of stabilize to a man already prone to qi deviations?

No, it was definitely a murder attempt. It might not have been much of one, but he was going to have to pay.

“You were using it to attack me?” Nie Mingjue asked, his voice low; anyone who didn’t know him might think he was bubbling over with anger – and he was, but to anyone who did know him it was clear that he was hurt. “After all the oaths we swore –”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Lan Xichen said.

Nie Mingjue snorted and turned his face away. “You always defend him.”

“I know that, but it’s different this time, I swear,” Lan Xichen said, and shook his head, his expression pained. “I believe him when he says he was acting under duress.”

“Er-ge…” Jin Guangyao said tearfully, his eyes starting to curve.

Nie Huaisang considered throwing his fan at him. Or possibly at Lan Xichen.

“But the consequences of his actions could have been serious, and that he did not consult us first – either of us – is indicative,” Lan Xichen continued, not looking at him. “Who knows what could have happened if I hadn’t listened to Huaisang’s wild story and even more wild idea of dragging me here?”

Nie Huaisang really wished Lan Xichen would stop giving him credit. Especially credit that might make his brother angry at his actions.

“The answer to that seems clear enough: he wouldn’t have repented even if I were in my grave,” Nie Mingjue said, crossing his arms; disappointment was writ large throughout his features. “Xichen –”

“You’re right, da-ge; and you’ve been right all along,” Lan Xichen said simply, and Jin Guangyao turned to him with an expression of shock. “Don’t look at me like that, A-Yao – we’re your sworn brothers. Even if your father was forcing you, you should never have lifted a hand against da-ge in violation of our oath.”

“But – I told you – my father threatened –”

“And I believe you, A-Yao, I do,” Lan Xichen said, sincerely, reaching out to put a hand on Jin Guangyao’s shoulder. “I’ve always believed you have reasons for everything you do, that the world has misunderstood you. But da-ge is right, too: I don’t know when or how, but somewhere you turned down a wrong path. Whether you thought what you were doing was justified or not, whatever reason there was to your actions, in the end you nearly killed da-ge..! That would have been unforgivable. For some things, it doesn’t matter what types of reasons you might have had.”

“I’m glad we agree on that,” Nie Mingjue said grimly.

“Da-ge swore to be your elder brother because he believed you needed instruction,” Lan Xichen said. “I thought he was being overly harsh with his assessment of you, but I realize now that he was right. We are your brothers; we will help you.”

“Help me how?” Jin Guangyao asked, his voice quavering. “What can the two of you do, one in Gusu and one in Qinghe, when I’m alone in Lanling and suffering? When my life is under threat, when my wife is under threat of even worse..? I have already accepted the name my father gave me, the position he has forced me into; I cannot disobey him without losing everything - what can I do?”

“It’s not what you can do, you – you idiot,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “We swore brotherhood. It’s what we can do.”

“We’ll need to consider the matter carefully,” Lan Xichen agreed. “Da-ge, come with me; I’ll play Clarity for you myself to help calm you, and then we will see about what must be done – both about A-Yao’s behavior, and about his father’s.”

Lan Xichen was probably the only person in the world who had the strength to pull open Nie Mingjue’s clenched fist, and the daring to do so; he led him away, still grumbling and shooting glares back towards where Jin Guangyao was standing.

Jin Guangyao in turn was left behind, gaping at the retreating backs of his two sworn brothers. In the end, he turned to look at Nie Huaisang as if he could offer some explanation.

“If you even think about doing anything to harm da-ge again, no matter what the reason, no matter how small, I will find your mother’s corpse and feed it to wild dogs,” Nie Huaisang told him with a bright smile. “And then you as well. In very small pieces. Are we clear?”

Jin Guangyao’s eyebrows went up, probably because he of all people could tell when Nie Huaisang was being serious, as he so rarely was.

His brother and er-ge might like Jin Guangyao enough to want to keep him around - Nie Huaisang couldn’t blame them, he rather liked the man too when he wasn’t trying to murder Nie Huaisang’s only living relative - but Nie Huaisang was going to make sure that he didn’t make the same mistake a second time.

He was going to make him pay - and then keep paying.

“Anyway, you’d better come with me to help me find my saber,” Nie Huaisang said, even though he really didn’t want to. “Da-ge will start yelling soon enough; he hates it when I don’t have it around when there’s a war on.”

“But the war is over,” Jin Guangyao said.

“The Sunshot Campaign is over, yes,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But the Jin sect leader just tried to assassinate the Nie sect leader, after having forced his son to participate against his own sworn oaths...did you really not realize that your brothers would go to war for you?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #in which jin guangyao's attempt to cover his own ass ends up starting a war #thanks jin guangyao #becomingatruelady

702 notes · View notes

the-crows-typist · 4 years ago

Note

hi hi lemilia~ can I get a ficlet with sebek and and fem reader using the word "flower" if you don't mind? thank you so very much~ -☁️✨

The Possibilities are Endless

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." - The Emperor, Mulan (1998)

The garden of the Ramshackle Dorm was known to be barren with no life seeping through its dry soil. The trees never bear fruit nor did the flowers ever bloom as the seasons passed. The dorm’s prefect was different from the dreary environment, she was bubbly, she was playful…She was happy. Despite her disposition, despite the fact she was not from this world, despite the fact she may never go home, the smile on her lips was as radiant as the sun’s rays in the early morning.

Something Sebek came to admire and envy.

It wasn’t long until Malleus and the prefect would meet under the moonlight one fateful night and would quickly become friends. Two quiet and misunderstood people finding solace in one another where she was not judged because she was different and he was never feared for how powerful he is. It was a trusting connection, a pact, a willing agreement to keep each other company.

Sebek first heard of this friendship not long after Malleus eluded his guards’ search and was soon found inside his room. There was a small smile on his face as he talked about her, how nice she was to him despite not knowing who he was. The first year blinked, never ever seeing the prince look so calm, so happy, so open.

He wondered if the prefect was capable of magic…But that soon changed when he saw her in the garden trying to plant in dry soil.

“The land is infertile.” He said, appearing behind her in an instant. This human. Just looking at her eyes, Sebek knew she was not capable of magic and yet, someone as protected and secretive as Malleus was quickly disarmed in her presence. “No matter how many times you plant, those flowers will not grow.” He explained, the self-appointed guard explained.

“I’ve purchased some fertilizer so it should probably help.” She explained, her eyes holding a kind gaze under the sun hat that protected her head. “The dorm looks really sad so I thought it would help to plant something colourful.” He looked at the pack seeds next to her. Petunia, stock, and sweet alyssum. Flowers that burst with color. He knew those plants would help liven the otherwise uninhabited dorm but with the dry soil, she was just scattering seeds for the passing ravens and crows to eat.

He took his pen, kneeling down next to her and giving her a look of contemplation. “Before you can even think of planting these flowers,” a hand went up to her hat covered head then pushing it down her face making her squirm. “You must make sure your soil is fertile. No matter how many seeds you scatter, nor the times you try to water it, nothing will happen.”

His pen glowed, the tip touching the soil and letting its energy flow within the barren ground.

Sebek did not know why he was helping someone like her, they did meet up until the night Malleus decided to walk around alone but he knew of the things she had done for the school, for the people around her. She was one of the three first year students that broke the magic chandelier but at the same time she was the one who risked her life to save the people she considered friends, despite it being obvious that they thought the opposite, from overblotting and burning themselves dry of their magic, their life force.

Each battle, each injury, each blot of ink that stained the otherwise pristine crystal of a magical pen, she was able to stand against it...All with a bright smile on her face. She was a strong individual, Sebek affirmed to himself.

Something he’d only ever hope to be.

His magic flowed through the ground like tree roots, enriching the soil with his energy then disappeared when his pen was pulled away. “That should do it. I’ll let you do the rest from he—“

“That! That was a revitalizing spell, right?” She asked, her eyes shining in curiosity and excitement. Sebek found it endearing almost immediately. “Professor Crewel demonstrated it to us during alchemy class.” He gave her hand for her to take and lifted her up, her hat now adjusted to hang by the string around her neck. “It’s another version of it. I only gave energy to the soil so your flowers can grow and bloom.”

“Thank you so much! The garden will look beautiful thanks to you.” She smiled at him, her palm feeling warmer in his hand. She was precious.

“Sebek Zigvolt, Diasomnia, I’m a first year just like you.” They shook hands, her own were warm against his gloved ones. It was a nice feeling.

“Sebek.” She blinked a few times, holding his hand in her own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

His visits to the garden were frequent from then on with each greeting consisting of him coming from behind and tipping her hat over her face to tease her. “The garden is looking good.” He commented, seeing sweet alyssum growing nicely on the steps to the dorm. The petunia sprouts growing along the allotted sections of the garden that overlooked the walkway to school and there were even clumps of grass that began growing in patches.

“Yup, the spell you put on the garden did wonders.” Water was sprayed along the budding flowers. “I can’t wait to see it in bloom. I even thought to get other seeds so the garden would look nice during the summer!”

“Oh? What were you planning on getting?”

“Sunflowers! Oh, and maybe even some magnolia. The color would go great with what I have now, don’t you think?” Sebek nodded his head and pointed over to the side far side of the garden. “You can line the sunflowers by the perimeter to create a natural barrier.”

“And the magnolias can go by the dorm’s pathway! No wait, I have pots near the door. I can place it there!”

“Can magnolias handle pots?”

“Only one way to find out.”

It was concluded that Magnolia cannot handle pots a months into its growth. Sebek and she watched as the Magnolia tree was carted off to Pomefiore since their garden could handle such a big tree.

“We should look into smaller plants next time.” The prefect commented to which Sebek nodded his head.

“We should.”

With each visit, Sebek began to learn more and more about her, how her world was so different from his, what her own family was like, what they were doing the last she saw them...Sebek’s heart twisted seeing the sad expression on her face.

“I hope they’re doing alright.” She said, snipping some petunia of their leaves. “I miss them.”

He placed a hand over hers. “They are. And I’m very sure that you’ll get to see them soon.”

She smiled at him, but this smile lacked the vibrant shine he was so used to seeing.

The garden continued to grow with every meeting until the once dreary dorm transformed into a haven of reds and oranges, of yellows and greens, of blues and violets. It was a beautiful sight to behold for Sebek and his partner, his confidant...his...someone whom he cared for very much.

The winter holidays were fast approaching and Sebek decided to spend his last day with the prefect in the garden that both of them worked hard on. The two exchanged parting gifts with one another with Sebek receiving a pack of chocolate covered sunflower seeds and the prefect receiving a lovely scarf that was decorated with sunflower patterns,

“Oh, thank you so much. It’s beautiful!” She twirled around it, the cloth swaying with her movements. “It’s so warm too.” She pressed the cloth to her face and giggled as she felt the softness of the fabric. Sebek sat there for a moment and readied his magical pen.

“I have one more gift to give you.” He turned around, back facing her.

His pen shined brightly against the dim light of the winter sky. The same spell he used that would give life to the otherwise barren land that was once Ramshackle’s garden. The green energy travelled through the ground and breathed life to the freezing flowers. “I don’t want your work to be put to waste because of a few inches of snow.”

“I won’t be able to help you during the breaks so this should lighten your work load while I’m go—”

A sniffle and a sob, the prefect’s eyes were suddenly full of tears. Her form shivering and Sebek catching her as she went over to hug him close. “Thank you...” She sobbed into his shoulder; her shaking shoulders were calmed by his hands. “Thank you for being with me.”

“Thank you for being there, Sebek.”

As he held her crying body in his arms, he remembered all the trials she had to endure, the battles, the confrontations, the overblots. One way or another, she had to face them alone. There were moments he wondered just how much she had to cover herself to be able to smile the way she did.

She was the strongest person he knew, but even the strongest person had a breaking point.

“I’m sorry. I must look like a mess right now.” She sniffled again, wiping her hands over her tear stained face.

To his side, he leaned down to pick a single flower from the stem.

Stock.

The flower slipped into her ear, his hand cupping her cheek to wipe away one last tear that fell out of her eye. “The winter holidays won’t be long. When I get back, I’ll come to you. I promise.” Their foreheads pressed together as the winter wind blew through, the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, and the flowers dancing around their feet.

#requests #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek ficlets

154 notes · View notes

lokislittlesigyn · 3 years ago

Text

//okay just a personal post, carry on and ignore it if you like!

//tw for mental health mention, ptsd, some.. general vent-but-good stuff

So. Ah.

I’ve been wanting to make another personal post for a while. It’s just never felt right. I don’t want to upset people,or seem like I’m begging for attention, or over-share, but I also really appreciate the kind words and support people have. And.. I think I’m supposed to share? I should talk, if the time’s right? I won’t say it’s comfortable, because it isn’t always, and right and comfortable aren’t always the same thing. But I think this is right, even if it may not be comfortable.

Long story short, I brought my parents along to a therapy meeting with a new specialist that my original therapist transferred me to. I was worried my first therapist didn’t have a full grasp of the severity of what’s going on, and I needed my parents help - as the people who spend the most time with me - to express just how bad things are. The new specialist was.. Incredibly kind. He listened and cared and believed us, and suggested two things.

1. We pursue a higher level of care. Because of the severity, meetings every few weeks (or, maybe even once a week) might not be enough.

2. We conduct a series of screenings and tests to gauge what we’re dealing with, and the severity, with the possibility of getting medical necessity for further help/testing.

So this Thursday, we did the tests.

It’s a strange thing. I’ve been desperate to know what exactly is happening. What’s “wrong” with me so to speak. I suppose wrong isn’t a kind word for it, but it’s certainly not fun, the things that are going on... But I digress.

Only one came back truly negative: turns out I probably don’t have ADHD.

But depression? Positive. Moderate-severe. Anxiety? Positive. Moderate, but only because I have coping mechanisms - the specialist thinks it’s more severe than the test shows. OCD? Positive. Extremely high. Stress? I tested in the highest possible section. The same section as first responders. As people who charge into burning buildings. In the specialist’s own words, my stress levels were “off the charts.” And PTSD... I was abundantly positive and severe on that. He said if the population of the US were likened to 100 people, me and only 3 other people would be dealing with the level of PTSD I do.

And after talking to him, he confirmed my suspicions. I struggle with complex PTSD. Multiple traumas happening multiple times over... Years. Over almost my entire life. CPTSD, with symptoms of depression, anxiety, OCD, and high stress, all stemming from the underlying trauma. It was both validating and humbling to find all this out.

On the upside, these are all connected issues, like a bundle of roots from an invasive plant. On the downside, these are all connected issues, compounding on and feeding off one another.

I did another test too. A test for a certain “disorder” that came back two points away from positive. The specialist recommended better testing on that, because the written tests are flawed, and can be biased, and depending on the day results can be different. As I think about it, I realized, I think I answered some of the questions wrong. I misunderstood. And if I’d answered differently - more honestly - I think it might have been positive. I’m not sure.

I’m a little scared, honestly. I desperately want to know what’s going on. To have a name for all of this. To have a name so that I can start knowing what to do. But if I do have this... I’m going to need time to accept and process it.

I had a feeling this summer would bring a lot of self-discovery. I felt I’d find out a lot more about myself this year. Maybe these tests are part of how that happens.

For now, I’m grateful for what we know. We’re pursuing more treatment. We’re getting help. My parents have asked me to make lists of things they can do to help soothe me and make everyday life less hard - even just little things, in the hopes they’ll compound on one another. Good to balance out the bad.

It sounds very strange to me. I can’t help but wonder why we’d change anything. I’m coping well enough as is, aren’t I? I haven’t given up yet, so why should we change anything? But I think that’s the coping talking. I’ve learned that life will only ever get worse. Maybe things can get better? I just have to put faith in the fact they can... Which is immensely difficult. So many other things in my life have proven just the opposite.

But I hope I’ll be victorious one day. I have to hold onto that, right? Hold onto that and keep trying?

For what it’s worth, everyone I’ve told the test results to has been extremely kind. I wasn’t expecting it. I was expecting people to treat me different, I guess, and maybe reveal how exhausting and frustrating I am, or have been, and.. Leave.

But they didn’t.

I’m glad.

if you read this far, i commend you. this is very long and probably a lot of information. i don’t know if this will help anyone but... if you’re struggling, with anything, and you’re able? maybe try to get help. i know it can be hard, and scary, and it might not make sense. but even just in these sessions, i’ve tasted a little bit of kindness, a little bit of relief, a little bit of validation and understanding and proof that what i feel is real. i’m not just making it up or being dramatic. and that alone is worth the trouble.

be gentle with yourself.

#sigyn says words #personal #woah im a person??? wild #tw ptsd #tw mental health #tw ocd #tw ocd mention #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw adhd #tw #in which sigyn says a lot of words and proceeds to go collapse in bed #i am so tired.#i am just so tired...#but i hope this will lead to good change #onwards and upwards #right?#sigyn the victorious

17 notes · View notes

msawesomegeek · 4 years ago

Text

Alita battle angel – Movie review

A/N: look at me, watching a movie. Yay. However it might be me thats hungover and procrastinating doing an exam. Anyways. I have a lot of thoughts on this movie.

SERIOUSLY SPOILERS AHEAD, skip the whole first section if you wanna avoid.

Okay, so, Alita battle angel, is a two hour movie that came out last year. It is about Doctor Ido, who in the scrapyard finds a core that's still alive and gives her a body. Alita wakes up and doesn't remember who she is. She learns the ways of this world in Iron city and about the floating city Zalem, and we meet (I'll be honest here, I liked him but I cannot for the life of me remember his name right now so let's call him whatshisface for now.) whatshisface, he is the love interest and he really wants to go to Zalem. We are also introduced to Vektor a rich guy who runs motorball, a popular sport. He is working with Ido's ex wife and she also has a hard on for going back to Zalem. A bunch of stuff happens, Alita finds out she's a marsian warrior, gets in a fight with a bounty hunter after becoming one herself. Enters the motorball tournament to get money to give to whatshisface so he can go to Zalem, action happens. She finds out no one goes there intact only in the creepiest way possible, talks to the person whose been the puppet master all along. Enters the big tournament to become an ultimate champion to go to Zalem. The end.

Mostly spoilerfree zone now.

So. Normally I do not go into that much detail about a movie's plot, but I wanted to do it here to show just how much this movie is just far too complicated. It suffers, sadly like a lot of action movies these days, from sequel syndrome. In which you can tell they wanted to cram a lot of info into this movie but also have a lot of exposition for the sequel, which ends up needlessly complicating and confusing the plot of the movie that you're already watching – think Suicide Squad or Justice League. The worst part of this is you're watching a movie hoping for an ending and then you're not getting it. A movie should be a story told from beginning to end, not beginning and then we reveal that there is a final boss and you just killed the small boss.

Besides that, I also wanted to write out the storypoints to show how weird and confusing it gets. I get wanting to build tensions and conflict, but I honestly felt like it tried to do everything, meaning we didnt really have time to get interested in any of the plot points in depth. (oh my god I just remembered whatshisface's name!). And that way it also feels like you're not watching a cohesive plot but like a sequence of events that are sometimes related. That lack of focus even extends to the characters. Alita spends the first half of the movie really wanting to kill this dude, and then just forgets about it until the end of the movie. Like, what?

And that also brings me to another problem with this plot, *sighs* it suffers from Spiderman 3 disorder – and by that I mean, this movie, has a villain problem. The villains are far too many, and also almost constantly has weird motivations, like there are logical motivations that would make sense for them to become antagonistic, but the movie just opts for the weirdest ones. Like the bounty hunter, wants to kill Hugo (whatshisface), and they spend like 10 minutes on it, and it seems like it is because he wants revenge on Alita from earlier, but then he just does not try to kill her or anything when she shows up! I had to rewatch those scenes, and I still have no god damn clue why he wants to kill Hugo! And that is a problem! AND then, you have Vektor sending all these other bounty hunters to kill, which is, fine. But again, I have no f*cking clue why HE wants to kill her? Why does the evil overlord that controls everyone want to kill her? Like, the fact that there are this many villains is a problem on its own, but then I at least need to know WHY all these villains are there (okay I am gonna do something that is normally illegal on the internet); I mean at least in Spiderman 3 we all knew WHY they wanted to kill Toby Maguire! How, just, how, do you mess up something so fundamental?!

Sadly the next problem is kind of related. Most characters. Look I get that there are some conflicts that are needed. But like, especially Hugo, what?! Like I get his crime thing being wrong and why it would create some conflict, but it seems so forced somehow. And like, when his girlfriend wants to do something really dangerous to make his dream happen, he tells the others he quits. But then why from there not just come clean to Alita, and be like, sorry babe I used to do this because I was in a desperate situation, but now I have learned something. It would have been compelling for his character. Because honestly he has some sweet moments, but otherwise I feel like he is just selfish. And that is fine, but make it compelling selfishness! Also except for the last 10 minutes of the movie, why does the Ido's wife have to be there? It seemed weird. The only antagonist I actually enjoyed was bounty hunter guy because he had just a pinch of a personality sprinkled in there. Alita is fine, maybe a little op, like let her train or something. Ido was good and honestly probably the best character in this movie, but his motivations are so weird sometimes.

So, uhm, what was good? Well, the fight sequences weren't bad, I liked them. The special effects were pretty cool. I loved what they did with those extreme zoom ins on her eyes. The acting was good. Cinematography was pretty good, not noticeable, but also weren't any scenes where I didn't know what was going on. The soundtrack has a very James Cameron vibe to it, which was okay.

Overall, did this movie suck? Yes. For multiple reasons, the story is weirdly paced and put together in a way where it feels like they wanted to cram like three books into one movie (or as I like to call the "opposite Hobbit effect", I'm sorry, I dont know why I have started making weird names for things to amuse myself during this review but here we are I guess.). And a lot of the plot points seemed forced, there are too many villains and all characters need to be tweaked so we actually understand their motivations for things. But visually it was pretty. But I'll be honest, I dont even recommend watching this as a its so bad its good. It is just weird, confusing and bad.

1 out of 10 stars (and that one star is for the actors and the visual teams only.)

So those were my thoughts, tell me what you thought? If you disagree with me and I completely misunderstood your favourite movie! Or if there is any other movie you wanna talk about or want me to watch and review – send me an ask. :)

- Em

#alita battle angel #battle angel alita #alitabattleangel #alitaarmy #James cameron #Movie #movie recommendation #movie reaction #movie releases #movie review #movie reviews #movie recc #movie recs

13 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years ago

Note

which bmc scenes make you the softest bc for me it's gotta be most of the stagedorks scenes ESPECIALLY a guy that i'd kinda be into. mostly bc of christine cause her and michael are my favs (i love them all sm though) but also bc of jeremy because he is a close second to both of them. also vimh but vimh makes me cry a lot although nowadays i can hardly watch one scene without at the very least tearing up. anyways yeah which ones make you soft

i simply rewatched bmc and took notes for this and really got off track at points in the sense of sticking to What Makes You Softest but that’s how it goes babey

ACT ONE - in mts when jeremy is just having a whole moment being smitten in christine's presence while she's inelegantly picking herself up off the floor and smearing on lip balm and adjusting a skirt wedgie - jeremy and michael just being default that glad to meet each other in the middle of a random schoolday - michael hyping up jeremy's crush on christine and just encouraging this momentum to get jeremy to sign up for the play - ilpr.....that christine stops after like, the first two verses and goes back to her book b/c she doesn't figure someone's looking to listen to her beyond that but then she sees jeremy's still 110% paying attention and the whole rest of the song enfolds with increasing enthusiasm - jake doing that whole bit "all the pressure i feel to be the best at everything all the time" lmao classic stuff here, depressing content delivered in this humorousse way. charming moment - "leave me alone, i've had a bad day" - 2pg......when michael taps jeremy on the shoulder to get jeremy to join in on his choreo, which jeremy then does.....that michael asks if jeremy will be too cool for Video Games and jeremy just responds Emotionally Directly......we love the Favorite Person moment......that this song just ends with the two of them grooving 2gether god bless - jeremy stammering and Tics and Fidgeting when the squip remarks uponst it - jeremy delivering the Looking Pretty Sexy Brooke as awkwardly as possible and she's just like "thanks :)" - jeremy's own Theatricality coming out......hey hamlet - jeremy spinning around in place alternately addressing both brooke and the squip with "oh i'm supposed to meet my friend michael" - nice little detail wherein brooke signals for chloe to join in on her choreo - speaking of, v fond of the Moment jeremy is in on both their choreo......brooke sort of alarming jeremy with her whole attempted grande finale, straw and all, ft. the first instance of her messing with his hair so much she's just tugging his entire head around - cute that jake and rich have a sort of 2pg-esque handshake routine too - jeremy's "that's sad, what should i do" reaction re: jenna - rich's Earnest invitation to come over and play xbox... - "bonjour, jeremy" "ooh brooke!" and this whole exchange, her complimenting him, him laughing at "That Was French" and remembering to ask about pinkberry - love the whole choreo sequence/s in sync up, especially fond of his Moments with the girls, bumping hips with chloe (twice), hearing some Gossip from jenna, posing with brooke.... ;__; - the bowling alley performance art exchange before agtikbi ;____; - agtikbi......the glittery hearts choreo.....the whatever! the interlude or whatever!!! the I Guess A Part Of Me section hhhhoughhh ;o; ;o; ;o; ;o; ;o; that she pulls him into a hug and puts her head against his shoulder omggg ;_________; - brooke just trying to interact with jeremy the Right Way w/o any guidance on the bleachers and it continues to be awkward and funny....like comforting just his Leg while he converses w/his squip.....how she just ends up Physically pushing him around by the hands and head and shoulder and etc......whole situation here in upgrade.mp3 clearly less than Ideal but jeremy and brooke are nevertheless very cute individually And together - meanwhile jake also trying to genuinely Be With christine in upgrade is also charming lol, quitting archery to hang w/a girl like her.... - i always love when the Playful Shove brooke gives jeremy at "but at the mall, you looked at me" pushes him back a whole few steps....this moment of them truly Getting each other sans anyone else's interference.....tres magnifique - jeremy being That psyched to see michael for the first time (in like, less than one full day lol)....michael being That psyched just hearing that jeremy's cool scifi thing worked out after all - lgw ;_________________________; - like i'm some normal, handsome guy..... - giving us All that silence after "The Problem Has Always Been Me" - the whole bit where he launches into the "I'm Not The [series of insults]" and i've realized it's really especially a stretch to say i'm Soft for these moments in lgw but i Am vulnerable and that's its power. little 1" tall will roland on my screen here just made me shed a real tear doing That.....

ACT TWO - brooke's Howl at the end of her verse lmawooo - oughhh jeremy and brooke Greeting each other at the party too, jeremy unable to disappoint her and going for the Real Compliment, just v charming. rip - jake and jeremy's danceoff lol hell yes and then jake just having Misunderstood the costume plan between him and christine lol - the squip getting in on the dancing :) go you funky little ai - jeremy and brooke singing that last verse of Halloween v enthusiastically at each other, - again that jeremy is just genuinely glad to see michael.... - the inherent intimacy of singing mitb b/c your bff dumped you..... - AGTIKBI REPRISE..... ;______________________________; hhhhuouuuoh my god :'3 the lil detail that at the Height of things christine is Shy and turns away.....just. This Scene oh my god - soft in a vulnerable way like, rip to jenna where we're seeing chloe's Lack Of Enthusiasm in accepting a call from her :[ - the Shift at the start of the pants song :] - and the lil mitb reprise during said pants song lmao, also always having a great time w/this concept of "maybe this teen having a rough time needs some guidance from someone grown w/all that bonus maturity here" - i wish there was a way i could help everyone but i don't know how so i guess i'll just do theatre..... - jenna being Moved simply being asked for the first time ever How She Is u_u then her being like "....Okay!" lmfao jenna's great - just have to say in whatever context i'm v fond of pitiful children there at the end lmfao the bass kicks in like that and we're having a great time - the audience always having that response to "all the way to broadway" - jeremy going "you came to see me in the play? :)" like, that he's processing the significance of that in the middle of these Very Raised Stakes - i'm soft for will roland's vocal glitching mouth noises live every night!!! - jeremy like "ha! >:)" flipping his squip off after he's successfully Apologized lmfaoooo love him - but then having that real And I'm Stronger Than You Think I Am victory like :'| - that michael's been by like a ton btw during jeremy's probably somewhat concerning coma. also cherish the lil dance he does while they're celebrating mr. heere's bepantsedness - jake and jeremy sharing a Dab - and just the Popular Kids actively seeking him out to help re: christine b/c they just Want To Be Supportive.....very nice - this vimh interlude or whatever with christine and jeremy like jlsdfhh i think of this all the time - me and the voices in my head have made up our collective mind ;__; what do they say we should do ;______; and the Woohoo! ;_______________; - huoughh kiss and you KNOW especially the [jeremy spinning away in sheer enthusiasm] of 2.0 just KILLS THE MAN ;O; - jeremy not missing a beat despite the squip's interruption leeet's GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - the more than survive na na na na na na na na na na na's but they're all So, and jeremy ending With everyone but also there with Himself and it's so Good and Everything Wants What Vimh Has!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hhrough ;0; - that jason does that spin at curtain call w/his excellent squip costume... - that in virtually any given curtain call when they get into line together there's that lil ritual of george smacking will's ass lmao love languages

i mean tl;dr quite Same in that like, most likely to inspire tearing up over something or other includes agtikbi reprise and vimh which is just like, again any finale wants what it has, and the I Guess A Part Of Me bit of the non-reprise agtikbi like Oof augh this is so cute, and lgw always Gets me, and while i was rewatching speaking of being soft and move-able i was also just continually struck with delight over various moments throughout, and noticing little details for the first time thank god. just Vulnerable the whole time

#anonymous #Great Ask thank you for sending it #bmc

29 notes · View notes

thebluelemontree · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, sorry to be a bother but do you know any metas about Driftwood and the mythological significance of have Stranger called such? If not, could you please help me find any metas about the importance of Stranger (the horse and the god) to Sandor's future? Thank you!!

It’s no bother at all. I love talking about this stuff. I don’t recall any other metas specifically on that topic, but I do go into the meaning of Driftwood/Stranger in Part VI of my Winds prediction essay for Sandor. I’m staying narrowly focused on your question here, but mythological significance branches out much farther and features heavily throughout each section of that essay if you have any further interest.

And the seventh face … the Stranger was neither male nor female, yet both, ever the outcast, the wanderer from far places, less and more than human, unknown and unknowable. Here the face was a black oval, a shadow with stars for eyes. It made Catelyn uneasy. – Catelyn IV, ACOK.

Of the Seven, the Stranger is the one most regarded with fear for his/her association with death and the unknown. He/she’s either depicted as a shrouded half-human, half-animal, or with a blacked-out void for a face. Sandor has that thematic aesthetic going on with his hound’s head helm, which gives him the appearance of being both a man and a beast. That is a reflection of the duality of his identity between Sandor and the Hound. He frequently enters a scene by stepping out from the shadows, so he also fits with the shadowy figure version. Sandor also isn’t one to allow others to know his true self, at least until Sansa, Arya, and the Elder Brother. Rarely does any worshipper pray to the Stranger as few are eager to invite death itself in, of course. It’s no wonder that the outcasts of society might identify with that lonely aspect of being an unwelcome presence and having nowhere to belong.

For Sandor to give his horse such a blasphemous name, it’s because he views himself as someone who is feared and misunderstood, and as an outsider who stands on the outside looking in at the world. This is especially true as he is immersed in the culture of knighthood but emphatically rebels against it. There is much of ordinary life that is closed off to Sandor, and it’s not all due to his trauma response and poor coping skills alienating him from other people. A lot of it is just unfair. His perceived ugliness in a society that overwhelmingly favors physically beautiful people and despises disability or disfigurement has hindered his ability to create meaningful connections with others. That resentment has only built up throughout his life. He’s a second son who is forced to make his own way in the world since Gregor is the sole beneficiary of the Clegane lands and incomes. It’s Gregor that got the home and wife (three to be exact), which is the domestic life that would normally ground a man, giving him a sense of purpose and satisfying his emotional needs. Gregor doesn’t care for any of that, but there is a hint that Sandor feels this is something that has been denied him. Since many people fail to distinguish Sandor as different from his brother, Gregor’s infamy and the rumors surrounding the deaths of his wives and family members really don’t help either. After the BotBW, Sandor is really cut adrift from society by his desertion. He’s unfairly marked as a craven, and then in a tragic case of mistaken identity is wanted for the rape and massacre of the Saltpans. That’s about as hated and reviled as one can get.

Like other instances of named horses being a reflection of their riders, Stranger’s nature says a lot about Sandor’s. He’s proficient in battle, brave, disciplined, but extremely ill-tempered, and dangerous; however, with gentle handling from a master that has earned his trust, he’s able to respond in kind.

The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick.

There’s a bond there. The horse isn’t just a tool or weapon to be used. Sandor cares for this big, scary boy that no one else can get close to. After rescuing Sansa from the riot, his next thought is to go back to find his horse in the chaos and fire. Because Sandor gave him the name, it shows that he has the self-awareness of how his issues and anti-social behavior have only served to increase his sense of isolation and cement other people’s negative opinions. The only reason an animal would so readily bite or kick indiscriminately is that it’s in constant fear of being hurt by people (*sob*). It’s possible Sandor recognized a warhorse that was trained with brutal methods, not unlike his own childhood and adolescence. One can imagine how much patience, kindness, and courage it took to bring such an ornery beast to the point where he can trust and reciprocate.

People are more complicated than animals, of course; however, this is definitely meant to mirror his relationship with Sansa and her gentleness, compassion, and courage in the face of his anger issues. Though not many are not keen on giving attention to the Stranger in their prayers, Sansa does pray for Sandor’s safety and well-being. The Stranger is the last deity people turn to for comfort, and yet Sansa views Sandor as her protector and ally. She wishes for his presence at times, even after seeing him at his worst. And I love, love, love this line from Cersei about Sansa, who is deep into the unkiss rabbit hole at this point:

“… but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss.“ – Cersei IV, AFFC.

So that brings us to Stranger’s renaming to Driftwood, but first, we need to ask what exactly is the Quiet Isle? Quoting from Part IV of my essay:

“The Quiet Isle is also a place to cross over into the afterlife in more than one way. Sometimes the dead and dying wash up on the shores, as did the Elder Brother. Sometimes they are brought there like the Hound or the people of the Saltpans after the massacre to die or be healed. The metaphoric and most common way is for penitents to abandon their old lives to be reborn in a new monastic life. In a sense, the brothers on the isle are dead to the outside world. They don’t speak with few exceptions. Many cover their faces as well, obscuring their past identity. Their brown robes and cowls are like the dead driftwood that washes up there, but even driftwood gets reborn as beautiful polished furniture and cups. If you want to come on the Quiet Isle, you need Elder Brother’s or one of his proctor’s permission. There’s a ferry to the isle which is evocative of Charon. So that makes Elder Brother, like Garth Greenhand, a psychopomp. He’s a gatekeeper between life and death, literal and metaphoric, and can also return people to the world of the living. The imagery is evocative of the Elysian Fields and especially Avalon, where King Arthur was taken to recover from wounds sustained against Mordred at the Battle of Camlann and is destined to return from. ”

Driftwood was dead and washed up, but then it is collected, reshaped and polished into something beautiful with a new purpose in its second life. Driftwood in this context is a metaphor for healing and redemption.

“The furnishings were strange but simple; a long table, a settle, a chest, several tall cases full of books, and chairs. All were made from driftwood, oddly shaped pieces cunningly joined together and polished till they shone a deep gold in the candlelight.” – Brienne VI, AFFC.

Amazing Grace, How sweet the soundThat saved a wretch like meI once was lost, but now am foundT'was blind but now I see

I zero doubts that Sandor’s character is undergoing a radical and profound transformation on the Quiet Isle. He was broken down enough to be open to it when the Elder Brother picked him up from the shore of the Trident. Also kinda miraculous that Stranger must have allowed himself to be led by another person while Sandor was incapacitated; however, it’s obvious Stranger is never going to spend the rest of his days as a plowhorse.

Brother Narbert sighed. “The Seven send us blessings, and the Seven send us trials. Handsome he may be, but Driftwood was surely whelped in hell. When we sought to harness him to a plow he kicked Brother Rawney and broke his shinbone in two places. We had hoped gelding might improve the beast’s ill temper, but … Brother Gillam, will you show them?”

Brother Gillam lowered his cowl. Underneath he had a mop of blond hair, a tonsured scalp, and a bloodstained bandage where he should have had an ear. – Brienne VI, AFFC.

This makes me laugh because although I believe Sandor has learned to have a healthier mindset through humble service and meaningful penance, he probably has been a veritable pill through the process. As Stranger kicks and rebels, we should definitely conclude that Sandor’s time with the holy brothers is not permanent. Especially considering that the horse adamantly refuses to be gelded, Sandor will not be submitting to the celibate life of a monk. The new name likely won’t stick, because Sandor didn’t so much need a whole new identity, but to restore his original one. The Hound is dead, but Sandor Clegane lives, polished and remade with a new purpose to his life.

#valyrian scrolls #sandor clegane #sandor clegane meta #asoiaf meta #twow spec #twow theories #stranger #driftwood #the quiet isle #elder brother #mythological references #mythology in asoiaf #symbolism in asoiaf #sansan meta #asoiaf characterization #my meta

129 notes · View notes

nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

Text

Felix Month - Bad Luck (Felix Culpa)

@felixmonth

Hope nobody minds if I do these out of order.

So, by special request...

Seven is supposed to be a lucky number.

But it was the seventh time he’d been able to meet his friends for a group outing and yet again, Marinette wasn’t there.

He’d been getting worried, since she had seemed more distant lately. When he talked to the others about it, their responses varied. Some of them waved it off as just “Marinette being Marinette”. Others seemed a bit worried as well. Alya in particular had been grumbling about her best friend bailing on yet another hang out. And even Nino commented on how much less they’d been seeing her lately.

It hurt.

He knew she was having difficulties lately. Marinette always seemed so busy and overworked. He half wondered if he couldn’t lend her aid somehow. Like help her with time management. Or maybe ask Nathalie to make a schedule for her!

Not that she would likely take that well, now that he thought about it. But still…

Marinette was clearly overwhelmed with all the projects she’s taken on. Especially if they were keeping her from being able to spend time with her friends or just relax. Honestly, he was getting worried about her.

So were the others. He’d spoken with Alya and Nino. And even the members of Kitty Section. They all had mentioned not seeing Marinette much lately. And particularly worrisome was this continuing trend where she would agree to meet up with them somewhere to hang out only to never make it. It was disheartening, and some of the others had given up on inviting her out because of it.

But not Adrien. He cared about all of his friends and Marinette in particular was very dear to him.

It was this latest time when he tried talking to his friends about Marinette’s whereabouts when Lila happened to overhear their conversation and chose to interject.

“Well, she probably ran off with Felix again.”

Adrien froze. “What?”

Lila gasped and covered her mouth, as if she hadn’t intended to reveal that.

She totally did.

“I’m so sorry!” She falsely apologized. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything untoward between them!”

She smiled sweetly and started to speak lowly, as if sharing a secret. “It’s just that I’ve been seeing her hanging around a lot with Felix nowadays. Given everything, it’s almost as if she prefers his company.” She looked away, giving the appearance of looking concerned. “They seem to be awfully close lately, don’t they? It just seems like Marinette has been looking for any reason to be around him.”

Adrien’s smile became more strained. “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

It couldn’t be the case. Because Marinette like making friends, but she certainly wouldn’t just up and abandon them all like that.

Lila frowned, appearing put off at his reaction. He wasn’t sure why, but it did make him question what her intention was.

“Well, if you want to find one, you only need to find the other.” She told him, almost teasingly. As if she knew exactly what she was saying and the implications.

Adrien...was trying very hard not to think about it.

If Marinette was distancing herself from them for Felix...

He felt a pang in his heart at that.

But…Lila lied.

Maybe she was lying about this, too? Or maybe she simply misunderstood. It wasn’t like Marinette would be the type to abandon her friends just to spend time with Felix.

That’s what he kept trying to tell himself. After he left the group. When he entered the school. As he made his way through the courtyard. Until he heard a familiar voice and couldn’t stop himself from turning to look, and in doing so, he felt his stomach sink.

Because there she was.

With Felix.

Always with Felix now.

Just as Lila had said. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, it was...seeming only more truth. It was like she didn’t have time for the rest of them anymore. She was regularly missing get-togethers and didn’t seem to want to be around them as much anymore. But somehow, someway, she always found time for him.

Didn’t she like them?

Didn’t she trust them?

A lot had been happening lately, he knew. But for all that Adrien tried to support her and keep the peace, it felt as though Marinette was slipping away. And to his consternation, nothing he tried seemed to help.

She only ever seemed to want to be around Felix.

…

In fact, a lot of the changes and troubling signs seemed to be directly tied to the other boy. Before, everything seemed fine. But since he showed up…

It was like Marinette wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Or with him.

Adrien rubbed his chest where he felt a twinge of heartache as he watched the way she smiled at the other boy.

Was this what it was like to be losing a friend?

What would happen? What would it be like without Marinette around? Not seeing her. Not getting to talk to her. No more video games. No croissants or random pastry days. No movies or hangouts.

An image came to mind, one that was all too familiar. Of him. Alone. Missing someone who left without a trace before he could even get a chance to say goodbye. With no idea where she was or what happened to her. And this time with only only a lucky charm to remember her by.

He winced.

No.

He couldn’t lose her.

He needed to talk to her.

Adrien wouldn’t just give up on a friend.

___________________________

When Felix returned to the classroom, it was to find it empty of anyone else and all belongings still in pace.

“Thank goodness.” He muttered to himself as he went up the steps to his shared desk with Marinette to retrieve the sketchbook she had asked him for. He gave a quick glance through and was pleased to find it was the correct one, filled to the brim with costume designs of older period clothing, armored knights, and a princess gown. All thankfully unmarred during their absence. With the way things had been going lately, he had half expected something to have torn or damaged it.

At least SOMETHING was going right for once. Felix wasn’t one to believe in luck, but he might have considered this to be a sign of of his fortune changing. Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

It had...not been the easiest of days. Or weeks for that matter.

The play was more stress than he realized. Taking on an assistant managerial position had probably not been one of his better moves, but…no, there was no “but”. It was a lapse in judgement on his part and he was still kicking himself for accepting the role.

The script was, to be honest, a mess. He’d had to edit and rewrite a few of the scenes just to deal with some of the errors or glaring issues. The set designs were horrendous to look at—and whose bright idea had it been to let Raincomprix get the paint supplies? Anyone should have been able to tell that was a mistake when she was always at Bourgeois’s beck and call, especially when Bourgeois was still upset about not getting the part she wanted. At least the members of the art club were involved. Marc was willing to look at the script and iron out the writing while Alix and Nathaniel both stepped up with extra supplies to make a set that was at least satisfactory for the production. So a couple of crises were averted, even if there were still other fires he was constantly putting out. There was a lingering feeling of paranoia, however, which wasn’t helped by the way Rossi was hanging out the set up areas more than she had any reason to be. He tried to keep an eye on her as much as possible, but there was only so much attention he could afford to waste on her when he had so much else to do.

Marinette had been a great help throughout it all. She had been working on the costumes, so at least he could rest easy that this was one thing that was actually going well. But while her designing and crafting was unparalleled, her acting needed work. She was a mess around Agreste even under normal circumstances and Felix had doubts about her ability to perform once with him on stage. When he was practicing with her alone, she seemed fine, but knowing her previous antics with the other boy, he was still worried.

Then there were…other issues of concern. She had been pouring her all into the performance—more than she should, if he was being honest. She’d been spending more time alone lately. And though he didn’t pry, he still expressed concern. The things she’d told him…were infuriating, to say the least. Her “friends” cancelling on her last minute or giving her the wrong times or locations for meet-ups, only to come in talking about it the next day like they hadn’t intentionally left her out.

He couldn’t fix that. She didn’t want him to, for all that she cried her tears over the matter. It seemed having something to focus on and at least one person willing to stay by her helped. If it was all she needed, Felix found little trouble allowing himself to be available, even if it was nothing more than someone to share a desk with while she worked. It allowed him to give more input on some of her designs and for the two of them to coordinate on the play and the stress of their roles, at any rate.

Having someone to talk to and vent with was…nice.

The time they spent together was…pleasant.

And despite himself, Felix found himself enjoying her company.

Whether happy or sad, whether talking or in silence, he didn’t mind her presence. And she in turn seemed to appreciate his. They had been spending their free time together, discussing the play, schoolwork, home obligations, or just anything that comes to mind. Alternatively, there were the times they sat together in silence, each working on their own projects, only making comments when necessary.

It was a nice way to get his mind off things. A distraction from the daily doldrum. He had a lot on his plate as it was even under normal circumstances. But with the play and the situation with Marinette and their classmates, he had been feeling more stressed.

…

Then there was also the matter of Rossi in particular. And that was one headache he wanted to not bother with right now, for all that he knew he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

The Italian girl had been a consistent thorn in his side since that first disastrous day he was forced to make her acquaintance. His hopes that she would decide to ignore him have yet to come to fruition as she continued her attempts to worm her way into more of Felix’s life. Not that he understood why since he had made it clear he would not encourage her delusions and he was certain that she was more interested in attempting to pursue Agreste anyway. He had thought that the other model would be enough to keep her attention since she was aware he knew her lies for what they were and yet saw fit to enable her regardless. But to his annoyance, it seemed the liar could multitask and was intent on covering her bases. The fact that he didn’t want to be one of said bases seemed entirely lost on her.

It seemed she saw fit to try to infringe on his life outside of school as well as in it. He was getting notice from acquaintances and staff he worked with about the girl trying to make appearances in places where he knew she should not be. Modeling jobs, meetings, outside activities. Things he wished he could attribute to Agreste but knew with unsettling certainty that there was more to it. He was only fortunate that he had managed to prevent her from making contact with his parents. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

Felix half wondered if the girl wasn’t trying to build herself a harem. Or just liked having the idea of a backup in case Agreste ended up with someone else...or if she got bored with him.

It was fully possible. Likely, even. Felix had concerns about the way Rossi almost seemed more...lively when faced with someone who didn’t believe her. Either she enjoyed the challenge or she had a compulsive need to break anything she didn’t have, either of which was worrisome.

He had hoped his general personality would be off-putting enough to dissuade her interest. But looking into things, it seemed that Rossi has something of a ‘history’. One that left a trail of tears, broken promises, shattered dreams, and decimated relationships in her wake. She had all the makings of a serial killer, only she didn’t like to get her hands dirty and tended to target people on a much more personal level to cause them to destroy themselves. Ruined lives, discredited schools, and entire communities torn apart wherever she goes only to conveniently have to move just in time to avoid any fallout herself. Then rinse and repeat. His research into her past was...very informative. He had an entire file about it by this point.

Part of him was tempted to pass this file off to Cesaire just to see her reaction—or rather he would be if he wasn’t already certain she would only dismiss it out of hand.

A pity.

But it only furthered his paranoia about the matter. Especially concerning her targeting of Marinette, who had only made herself an enemy by directly challenging her. Not that it would have made a difference if she hadn’t from what Felix observed. Rossi had an MO, and was prone to targeting people who were competition, regardless of whether the target even knew or cared.

And Marinette, whether she knew it or not, was competition. Popular, kind, accomplished. If anyone could have outshone Rossi, it would be her. He had little doubt that if Marinette hadn’t known and refuse to go along with her plans, Rossi would have tried to ride off her coattails while also slowly sabotaging her.

She had done it before.

Marinette may not been fooled, but Rossi has been given just enough time to build her influence enough over others in her general area. She wasn’t content with just that, of course. And for all that Felix tried, it was taking too much of his time as it was just to try to block her from spreading her influence to anyone truly dangerous. And that was only as far as he knew and could redirect.

Which was certainly not helping his paranoia. Or his stress.

So it was understandable that he really REALLY didn’t have the patience to deal with a sudden confrontation with Agreste.

“Oh, hello Felix!”

“Agreste.” He answered back, distractedly as he picked up the sketchbook. He needed to get back to the theater so Marinette could start prepping.

“What are you doing with Marinette’s design book?”

“She left it behind when we went to the theater area and she asked me to come and grab it for her.”

Agreste brightened at that as if struck with a brilliant idea. “How about I take it to her then?”

“Hmm?” Felix asked, barely paying attention.

“I mean, you’re so busy. I can save you the trip. I need to talk to Marinette anyway, so this works out for both of us!”

“I have already told her I would.”

“I’m sure you have other things to do.” Adrien replied with an all-too-bright smile as he attempted to pull the book out of his hand.

Felix’s eyes narrowed as his grip on the sketchbook tightened.

As if he was going to trust Adrien Agreste with something like this. Knowing him, the fool would probably show it off to others who don’t need to see it—Bourgeois, Rossi, or some other designer who could either destroy the book or claim ‘inspiration’ from the designs.

“I can handle it, thank you.” Felix replied, trying to pull the book back.

But Agreste’s hand remained firm, and surprisingly stable for a teen of his frame. Felix looked up in confusion only to be met with a hard and very determined stare.

“I insist.”

Felix raised an eyebrow.

This was new.

Normally, Felix would be content to ignore him and go about his business, but Agreste was being particularly stubborn today.

Unfortunately, as his bad luck would have it, this was the day Agreste finally decided to stand up for himself. Also unfortunately, the one he was choosing to get out of his comfort zone to stand up to was Felix.

Any other time, he might have been impressed. Any other time. But Felix had not been having a good week to begin with, was not in the best of moods, and for all that he normally tried to stay out of personal conflicts with his peers, he had been repeatedly dragged into some sort of drama he honestly knew nothing about. The classmates had been giving him darker looks lately, and while he was content to ignore them, there was an increasing tension in the class that was starting to wear on him. He wasn’t sure what it was, though given how they had been treating Marinette lately, he had a good guess.

Rossi’s manipulations at work, no doubt.

And this may very well be part of it, as well.

Felix frowned. “If you need to talk to her, surely you can do so at any time.”

Agreste only frowned back in response. “That’s a little hard if you’re always there.”

He blinked at that. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think you’ve been taking up a lot of Marinette’s time lately?”

That made him freeze.

“What?”

“It’s just...Marinette hasn’t been spending as much time with her friends lately, and we’re all a bit concerned.”

...What?

“She’s been getting rather distant and we just want to look out for her. I’m sure whatever’s been pulling her away can be fixed if we can talk this out.”

He wasn’t actually…

Agreste smiled brightly. “So if it’s all right, I’d like to take this to her and have the chance to talk to her a little.”

That made logical functioning return with one resounding thought:

Hell no.

Within a second, he glanced over Agreste’s form and already knew everything he needed to know. The boy was smiling, but he wasn’t happy. He was tense and defensive. He seemed to be leaning forward in a way akin to trying to cover the sketchbook, almost as if he was trying to defend it—and by extension, Marinette. The problem was that his gaze, his posture, his position...it was clear the only one he was trying to defend anything from was Felix.

And that brought back his irritation tenfold.

Felix had never trusted Agreste in the first place. And everything he had seen since that initial meeting only helped to further cement that stance.

Agreste was almost like a puppy. Innocent, unassuming, and completely oblivious to any damage he caused around him. His idealistic view of the world would be endearing if it wasn’t so harmful to everyone around him. As it stood, Adrien’s naivety and expectations were downright infuriating.

And he wanted to protect Marinette from him? Like Felix was the one of the two of them who was the actual threat to her? When Agreste could break her heart with a word and not even notice?

Felix only found his ire growing.

“It’s no wonder that your career is a model because standing by and doing nothing is practically all you’re good at.”

Agreste balked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

That only seemed to upset Agreste more as he bristled and increased his grip on the sketchbook. “No, you need to back off. You’re the one who’s been alienating her from her friends and keeping her to yourself.”

Felix almost growled. “I’ve only been keeping her company while her so-called ‘friends’ ditch her.”

He could see the rage in the other boy’s expression. Interesting, as he had never seen Agreste look so angry before.

“Is that what you’ve been telling her?” He demanded. “That we don’t want her around?”

Felix’s eyes flashed at that. “I haven’t had to say anything. You’re the ones who have been jerking her around.”

“Jerking her around?!”

“Well, what would you call it then?” He demanded. “When your group invites her places only to cancel and then come in the next day raving about how ‘awesome’ the event they kept her out of was? Or when she’s given the wrong information so she constantly misses out? Is it any wonder she’d give up?”

Agreste shook his head, furious. “We’ve never done that! That sounds like the sort of thing you’d make up just to have an excuse!”

Of all the stupid...really? Was that the best he could come up with?

Felix was honestly beyond caring by this point. He had a schedule to keep and a friend in need of her designs.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Agreste glared. “Funny, you seem to have all the time in the world when it comes to stealing our friend.”

Stealing? STEALING? He was speaking as though Marinette were something to take! Like her time wasn’t something she happily shared as long as those involved actually wanted her to.

And that was just it, wasn’t it? They didn’t want her. He’d seen the texts. He’d seen the look of disappointment on her face each time she learned they had left her out again. He’d listened to her frustrations of being misled and lied to by her own friends.

All while Agreste—perfect little can do no wrong Adrien Agreste did nothing. And yet here he was, trying to play the hero? Like he hadn’t let this happen? Whether it was by allowing Rossi to lie or by doing nothing to include Marinette himself, Agreste LET this happen.

And most of all, it infuriated him that Agreste was blaming him for issues in a friendship he hadn’t yet lost and wasn’t doing anything to try to keep.

If Agreste cared—if he really cared so damn much, why hadn’t he done more? Why hadn’t he reached out to Marinette on his own? Why hadn’t he stood up for her any of the times she needed him? Why had he done nothing before now? When Marinette was finally starting to move forward and gain at least some peace of mind?

“I can’t steal something you’ve thrown away.”

“I haven’t!” Agreste hissed out. “I’m just trying to look out for my friends! She doesn’t need someone like you corrupting her!”

Was he serious?

Felix already knew. He’d known since that first day. Agreste was weak. No, even more than that! He was an ignorant—

—close minded—

—pretentious—

—stuck up—

—self-righteous—

—arrogant—

—petulant—

—jerk who only upset everyone around him—

—fool who was only a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to call him a friend—

—he shouldn’t even be here if he hates it so much—

—no business being anywhere near Marinette after the stunts he’s pulled—

—trying to hoard Marinette to himself—

—only exposing her to more harm—

—making Marinette distant—

—making Marinette sad—

—keeping everyone else away from her—

—putting all of the burden on her—

—I wish he would just—

—if only he would—

—disappear!

He was drowning too much in his anger to notice the flapping of wings or the feeling of a weight that settled in the book he held. By the time the light flickered over his eyes and he felt the intrusion into his head, he was hardly concerned.

“Battle Royal, I am Hawk Moth.” A voice—a point of calm in the storm of his mind echoed his thoughts. “You wish to protect the one dear to you from those who would cause her harm. I can grant you that power. All I ask for in exchange are the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Felix hesitated.

He should say no.

There was...a reason he was supposed to say no...wasn’t there?

But in that moment, he was stressed, distressed, and couldn’t focus past his anger. There were too many threats. Too many people seeking to harm himself and Marinette. And it was just getting too much to watch out for them all.

This...sounded like a perfect deal. Why refuse it?

“I accept.”

It was only after he said it that Felix realized he hadn’t been the only one to speak. His gaze snapped over to an enraged Agreste bearing a butterfly insignia all too similar to himself just as his eyes widened in shock as well. The boys had only just realized the implications when the wave of black overtook them both.

#ml au #ml fic #felix month #felix july #felix culpa #ml felix #felix agreste #adrien agreste #no #hawk moth no #don't do it #you idiot #marinette dupain cheng

807 notes · View notes