#trying to make it clearer in this one where the quotes are from

[deadhawke]

Quotes from Rogue (novelization) by Kate Herron and Briony Redman

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.  

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land." 

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines. 

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face. 

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.”  She’s practically pleading now.  “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.  

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you. 

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.  

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days.  Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure.  You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last. 

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--" 

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late.  You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name. 

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her.  It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process. 

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes.  You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man. 

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika. 

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.” 

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices.  Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines. 

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face.  She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm. 

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?” 

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape. 

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are. 

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.”  Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.” 

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew.  In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity. 

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration. 

“I’m satisfied  – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling. 

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed. 

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched. 

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction. 

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way.  You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming.  She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel. 

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home? 

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle.  You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

[krisluxxeeempress]

Astrology Observations

Those with Mercury in Cancer tend to eat, to process their thoughts. For example, if a mercury in cancer individual has a paper to write and are struggling to formulate words, they will stop to get something to eat and while they’re chewing, their thoughts become clearer about the subject matter. Cancerians love food and when placed here, it helps their mental functioning.

Mars Square Pluto Aspect will force a MF to face and fight their battles, fears and WIN. Mars is the God of War ruling over soldiers, warriors, fighters, champions and heroes. You have the spirit of a champion but with every champion, you must TRAIN as such. Whatever sign or house Pluto resides in, will reveal the type of training you undergo during your “training camp. (ex. boxers do not train the same as soldiers but they both have an opponent they need to take out/ down)  The Individuals  who stick the course and endure- usually come out of mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually stronger. They come out on top! If you have Mars or Pluto (retrograded) , this aspect is fought within. You are fighting yourself, you vs. you. You are your enemy, and you will have to fight the version of yourself that is weakening, sabotaging, discouraging and ultimately holding you back. The battles fought could be fear, denial, self-doubt, insecurity, inferiority, addiction, abuse etc. Anything or anyone that makes you feel powerless, you will be forced to overpower it/them or die trying.

The quotes “only the strong survive” and or “ death before dishonor” can be used to explain this aspect.

Pluto in Capricorn 6th House ( especially retrograded) Makes individuals obsessed with achieving greatness and success on a grand scale. If this isn’t accomplished Pluto can also make one begin to self-destruct in such a way that it’s hard to bounce back from. This placement promises a slow grind and slow demise. Considering Pluto is farthest from the sun, that is seen by all, no one will notice the trials and tribulations one must overcome until they either overcome or succumb. This placement can certainly be discouraging if one is unable to handle the pressure that is placement gives.  We all want to be successful until it’s time to put in the consistent time, effort and energy required. It’s a heavy weight to carry. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown”.

Saturn in Aquarius 8th house ( especially retrograded) Individuals with this placement do like people at all. They are forced to experience and witness all the negativity humans are capable of. Because of this, these people are not only rebellious towards societal norms but also resentful towards all who uphold and live by these societal constructs. These individuals categorize everyone. If they experience rudeness from one person, they will conclude everyone is rude etc. This placement gives these individuals a solid reason to dislike everyone. The sign of Aquarius is naturally rebellious and different in comparison to most. They do not have to try; however, Saturn in Aquarius 8th house gives them a REASON to be rebellious. There’s a major difference. They are constantly in situations where they are forced to see what others attempt to hide about themselves including the corrupt in governments, business and other countries. They observe everything that is wrong and experience injustices to confirm what is wrong with everything and everyone. These individuals really would prefer not to be bothered by anyone and wouldn’t be if it was possible. They are pessimistic because they are realist. This placement will make these people extremely indifferent to the suffering of humanity because they “feel” it’s deserved. High levels of intelligence are granted to those with this placement making it difficult to tolerate many people who are simple/ narrow minded and impressionable. This placement is unbearable especially in their younger years because with Saturn’s influence, they must learn to control their anger, resentment and hatred towards humanity. These are our misanthrope’s, sociopaths, psychopaths and murderers. If this energy is retrograded in one’s chart- they have more control over their disdain towards others. They are more aware of the consequences that would follow if they acted on these violent urges deriving from hatred. When the government is lying, they know and can’t stand when others can’t see or worse- accept they’re being lied to. When workplaces pull some bullsh*, they see if before it occurs and can’t stand when others “fall victim” or willingly conform. When people get caught up, confused and taken advantage of in relationships- these individuals can’t understand how others can’t see it or won’t leave it. Everything that most find so complex and difficult is the complete opposite for them. Lastly, These individuals may enjoy reading psychological thriller books that involve crime, death, detective work and anything considered DARK.

[lenetaylor]

John Lennon's collage "for" Paul

I was very curious about the collage image going around tumblr (e.g., here, here, and here) that was identified as being made "for Paul" and titled "I Only Have Eyes for You", and done by John Lennon "at art school". Here it is; I scanned this from Julian Lennon's book Beatles Memorabilia: The Julian Lennon Collection (by Brian Southall and Julian Lennon, 2010)

You can see that Paul has written at the bottom "J.L. Collage - To Julian - love Paul x".

The book caption reads

A distinct and original collage of faces and bodies dedicated to Julian from Paul. It was created by John and given to Paul.

But the first time this previously unseen collage surfaced was in 2000. It was included in a show held by artist Peter Blake at the Tate Liverpool, called About Collage.

An article in The Independent at the time says

A John Lennon collage never seen in public is to feature in an exhibition that opens 30 years ago to the day the Beatles split... Lennon's collage, done at art school in the 1950s, comprises faces and figures cut from magazines, and features a number of eyes and lips pasted on images of girls. Blake said: "The style tied in with my Sgt Pepper's album cover, which was simply a more organised version, with bigger heads." Natalie Rudd, who helped curate the exhibition, said: "No one really knows much about Lennon's collage. … It has no title and is rather dark, with a lot of black and red and we can only guess at what he was trying to say."

In this 2009 Guardian article, Blake says,

By then I knew that Paul McCartney owned a collage that John Lennon had done, so I borrowed that. Paul also made a sound collage of Liverpool, and he made an artwork too.

Another quote from Eye Magazine in 2000:

He hopes to borrow an unseen art school collage by John Lennon, owned by Paul McCartney.

There was a book produced to accompany the show, called Peter Blake: About Collage (2000). The collage is reproduced in the book:

The credit reads "John Lennon 1940-1980, Untitled, late 1950s, Paper collage, 970 x 675mm, Private Collection". It does not have the handwritten note by Paul at the bottom.

Peter Blake's comments say:

I have followed Paul McCartney's career as an artist, so when About Collage emerged, I suggested that he made a collage, perhaps from sound, which he has pursued. John Lennon made a collage at art school during the late 1950s which is included in the show.

Paul did make a sound collage for the show, and released it as an album called Liverpool Sound Collage; some of it is on YouTube. (There used to be a website for it, long gone now, but you can see bits of it at the Internet Archive). Here's his artwork, titled The World, mentioned by Blake above (the central image is a back and white photo of Jerry Lewis):

So, to summarize:

The collage does NOT have an official title. I don't know where the "I Only Have Eyes for You" title came from

It's not clear that the collage was made for Paul specifically, only that it was given to Paul, date unknown

It's not clear if the collage Paul gave to Julian is the original or a copy

It seems unlikely that it was made at art school, as some of the images are of women in classically mid-1960s clothes and hairstyles. The only source for the date of composition seems to be Paul

It's not stated who gave the collage to Paul - it might have been John, but it could easily have been Julia or Yoko (or even Cyn?)

Paul's artwork was NOT made for John

PS. I looked through the book Paul McCartney: Paintings but the collage isn't mentioned.

PPS. I tried doing some image searches on the clearer photos of women in the collage, but got no results. Perhaps someone else will have better luck.

[riddles-n-games]

Hey guys, I've been seeing another rift going on in the fandom regarding TGG and TIG characters, so I've decided to make a statement that can hopefully make things more cohesive.

I understand that not everyone likes the new spin-off and honestly, I'm considering just stopping after GU. Personally, I don't have anything against the characters of TGG but my problem is that they sound too much like our old mains. However, that's not their fault. It's the author's. There's nothing wrong with JLB wanting to expand the TIG universe but it is problematic when you are repeating the same character arcs of the old characters that are also present and interacting with these new mains. The problem that we face is the fact while even in The Naturals there are similar characters, they are divided by different series. However, that is not going on here with TIG and TGG. TGG is a continuation of TIG and our TIG characters are still present. Heck, one of our old mains is a player and a love interest here to one of the new mains. And therein lies the issue. When you have a connected series, it's important to have distinguished characters with different voices, not carbon copies.

What I expected for TGG characters was that she would move from the character tropes we've seen already in the series and come up with new ones. I mean, come on, she's a psychology major, we bring that up so often but what's the point when she keeps going in circles and never brings up anything new? I pointed a lot of this out pre-read because I already correctly guessed where this was going within just a few pages of reveal. Don't get me wrong, if she wanted to, she could do it but it doesn't feel like she has new plans or plots. Be honest with yourselves and don't just praise because she's your favorite author. You can be a reader, a fan, and a respectful critic all at the same time. Don't lower your expectations just because they can't deliver every time.

The trouble is that when you go back to TFG, in the acknowledgments, she herself wrote she wasn't sure there was going to be a third book. And now look, suddenly two books were announced a month or two after she released the last book of the trilogy which introduced our mains and not the most fashionably. I do believe she had ideas but I don't think they were the best fleshed out. You have to realize that just reading TGG, how many of you recognized the obvious plots, the romantic subplots, the character arcs, and even the semi-hidden plots just getting to the halfway point? And how many of you said, hey, wait a minute, we've had this plotline before? You did, didn't you? I want to give Jennifer the benefit of the doubt but I truly think she is in over her head because I don't believe she quite thought that this is how long the series would go.

In fact, I think that she is making more trouble for herself in trying multi POV for this new series when really I think it should have just been Gray taking over. It would have allowed us to see how he's grown especially after the heartache and mental health issues he's had to go through to get here. It felt like the obvious next step, even the summary for TGG made it sound like that. However, the only thing that seems new to me is the hypersexual atmosphere which also makes no sense to me because teens may go through attraction but that doesn't mean they're horny all the time and anyone who's gone through puberty can attest to that. So I ask again, like one reviewer on Goodreads put, were the romantic moments in the room with us? 12 hours is not love or romance, it's lust, that's it. Couldn't summarize it clearer. If she wanted to make it better, it could have been that she made the book stretch over a series of weeks which is why I wonder what the heck will happen to any character development if this book series is done in like 3 days?

As I said, a lot of things feel very repetitive, the plot, word choice, thought processes, quotes and sayings, etc. We are in a loop. She's in a loop. I think that the best thing JLB could have done is leave TIG alone for a few years after TFG, make a new series or whatever works outside this series she wanted to, give herself time to truly see if she has new stories to tell for TIG by writing a spin-off and then come back to give us that content. Because it's really telling how forced things have been in the last two books, even here with GU and I really think this empire is toppling. As they say, quality over quantity and thoughtful than full of thoughts that are just a variation of one another. That's what makes me think more and more she should have left it at TFG.

Thank you for reading and I hope this gives a new perspective that can help you see some things more clearly.

[rachelsfav-queer]

Maybe A Boy? Pt. 2

(Part 1)

Yoko and Divina chat idly while they wait. They were told, very cryptically, to meet Wednesday here at the Weathervane to talk about something. They, of course, asked Enid to make sure that the seer wasn’t planning on killing them or anything, which the blonde assured them that the young Addams just had something to tell them and was simply anxious about it, while also drilling into them that Wednesday was being very brave doing this and that they, quote, “better be nice to my babycakes or I’m personally hunting you both down” which was… strange, but par for the course these days, honestly.

Eventually, the little devil arrived and quickly spotted them, and went to order a cup of coffee before joining them at the booth they chose, sitting down opposite the girls. And then Wednesday just sorta… stared at them, for a bit.

When they realized that Wednesday wasn’t going to speak first, despite calling them here, Divina opted to begin the conversation in hopes to start this off smoothly and friendly.

Divina: Hey, Wednesday! How are you doing?

Finally, after staring for a few moments more, Wednesday responds.

Wednesday: I am… well, Divina. I assume you’re both well, too?

The couple nodded together, so much for not making this awkward. Eventually, Wednesday sighs and looks down at the table, seemingly thinking deeply about something before speaking again.

Wednesday: I also assume that Enid, after you sought her to ensure this wasn’t a trap, told you that I had something to tell you both… and that I am particularly anxious about doing so. I first want to assure you both that my anxiety is in no way due to either of you or the merits of your characters, simply that the matter I wish to speak of is a… sensitive one and I am still in the process of figuring everything out myself.

Wednesday: Though Enid took it well, I also know that the nature of my relationship with her highly differs from the nature of my relationship with either of you or any of my other friends. But, you have both proven to be strong allies and are undoubtedly important figures in my life and I deem your opinions of me to be of importance to me.

Wednesday’s speech comes to a close and Yoko and Divina are left a little confused and a little concerned as well, as the slight anxiety in Wednesday’s voice grew clearer as the seer spoke. Something deep inside Yoko builds up, telling her how to respond. She’s not sure where it came from, but it feels… protective over the tiny goth. When she looks over at Divina, she can tell that the siren is experiencing the same feeling inside. Yoko looks back at Wednesday and speaks…

Yoko: Hey, little goth. Whatever it is you want to tell us, we’re a safe space, okay? We’re not gonna judge you or anything like that. I mean, unless you’re gonna pull us into a murder plot, cause then we might have a prob-

Yoko’s attempt at a joke is cut off by a sharp elbow to her ribs from her girlfriend and she’s a little grateful for it, as she realizes that it was very much not appropriate at this time.

Divina: What Yoko’s trying to say is that you don’t have to be afraid, Wednesday. We’re here and we’re listening. You can talk to us about anything, we promise. *lightly glares at Yoko*

The girls’ antics seemingly relieve some of the tension at the table and inside Wednesday, as the psychic’s anxious look turns into a tiny smirk for a brief second, but it’s more than enough and what comes next doesn’t seem so scary for Wednesday.

Wednesday: Thank you. Alright, I shall rip off the metaphorical bandage, I suppose. As I said, I’m still in the process of figuring it all out, but recently I have come to the conclusion that I no longer identify as a girl. I identify as a boy, or something along the lines of masculinity. I am… transgender.

Yoko and Divina don’t waste a second, they immediately accept Wednesday and begin lauding support.

Yoko: Oh thank the gods! I know I was joking before but I really was worried that you were gonna drag us into a murder plot! *turns to Divina* Hey! Don’t hit me again! I mean, you have to admit, it’s not exactly off-brand for he- Oh, shit! I mean, what pronouns do you go by now?

Wednesday: I would prefer he/him, but solely in private for the moment. I would like to come out to all the important people in my life first before I make my transition public. As for my name, I will be sticking with my original name. It is appropriately gender-neutral for my preferences.

Yoko: *nods* Of course. So, anyway, you have to admit it’s not off-brand for him to do something like that!

Divina simply rolls her eyes and ignores her girlfriend and focuses on Wednesday instead, looking him in the eyes.

Divina: Thank you for telling us this, Wednesday, and for trusting us with it. We’re both so proud of you.

Yoko: Yeah, like ‘Vina said, we’re damn proud of you, little goth. Coming out is never easy, even with people you trust and love, sometimes it’s harder cause their opinion matters more. But we still love you just the same, Wednesday. And hey, listen close.

Yoko leans in and lowers her sunglasses just enough to let Wednesday see her eyes and the seriousness in them.

Yoko: *lowly* If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to give you shit? You come straight to me, understand? I know you can more than handle yourself, but I’m not letting anyone get away with hurting my little bro, got it?

Wednesday’s eyes widen at the vampire’s vow of protection and he feels tears brim his eyes, but he fights them back and nods solemnly.

Wednesday: Thank you, Yoko. Thank you both, for your kindness and your support. Like I said, your opinions mean much to me and I am grateful to have your acceptance. Thank you.

The girls both smile warmly at Wednesday and then look at each other, before looking back at Wednesday. Their smiles turn conspiratorial and it sets Wednesday’s guard up.

Wednesday: *straightens* What is it?

Divina: *slyly* Welllll… this is an important moment in our friendship together, so you know what that calls for, Yoko? *peeks over to Yoko*

Yoko’s smirk turns almost evil, though still genuine…

Yoko: It calls for… A Bestie Group Hug!

Wednesday’s eyes widen further, nearly popping out of her head as the girls rise slowly from the booth and stalk towards him, their arms opening in perfect sync.

Wednesday: *backing up in the booth* Wait, no. Do not! Tanaka, Watson, I am warning you both! Do NOT! No, no! Do not! I will stab you both and happily accept the consequences from Enid! I swear, I will stab you! I have multiple knives on my person! A wooden stake for you, TANAKA!! NO DON-

Wednesday’s protests are cut off as the vampire and siren pounce on him, wrapping him up tightly in a “Bestie Group Hug” and various hissing and growling sounds erupt from the pile. Luckily for Yoko and Divina, they are, in fact, not stabbed as the raven not-so-begrudgingly extends his arms around the two girls, grumbling about revenge and how it will be “slow and very painful”, though they ignore the threats as they continue to hug the boy, who eventually folds and leans into the embrace fully.

End <3

(A/N: Hello! I hope y’all enjoyed this part 2! Idk if it’s obvious yet, but I do plan on making this a little series of Wednesday coming out to the important people in his life. I wonder if y’all can guess who’s next? Anyway, this is slowly becoming a very important story to me and I want to tell it in a way that does it justice, like it deserves. I hope that I’ve done so thus far. Thank you for reading <3)

[sugarsprinklesoul]

Your ultimate guide to glowing up physically and mentally in 2024.

This is a guide to glowing up physically and mentally in 2024, including skincare tips, hair care, mental health, vision boards, journaling, and creating new habits to achieve your goals.

Physical Fitness:

Incorporate a mix of cardio, strength training, and flexibility exercises into your routine.

Focus on a balanced diet with plenty of fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains.

Stay hydrated by drinking an adequate amount of water daily.

Skincare Routine:

Develop a consistent skincare routine with cleansing, moisturizing, and sun protection.

Consider adding products with ingredients like retinol and vitamin C for anti-aging benefits.

Hair Care:

Maintain regular haircuts and consider trying new hairstyles.

Use quality hair products suitable for your hair type to keep it healthy and shiny.

Fashion and Style:

Update your wardrobe with pieces that make you feel confident and comfortable.

Experiment with different styles to find what suits your personality and body type.

Mindfulness and Mental Well-being:

Practice mindfulness through activities like meditation or yoga.

Prioritize self-care and set aside time for activities that bring you joy and relaxation.

Create a vision board:

Identify your short-term and long-term goals

Collect magazines, newspapers, printed images, quotes, and any other materials you can use to represent your goals

Choose a board or poster as the base for your vision board. It can be a physical board or a digital one, depending on your preference.

Cut out images, words, and phrases that resonate with your goals. Arrange them on your board in a way that is visually appealing and meaningful to you.

As you place each item on the board, take a moment to visualize yourself achieving those goals. Feel the emotions associated with success.

Include positive affirmations related to your goals. Use words that inspire and motivate you.

Put your vision board in a place where you'll see it daily—this serves as a constant reminder of your aspirations.

Your vision board is a dynamic tool. Update it periodically as your goals evolve or as you achieve them.

Journaling:

Journaling can be a powerful tool for self-reflection, stress relief, and personal growth.

Establish a consistent time for journaling, whether it's in the morning, evening, or during specific events in your day.

Let your thoughts flow without judgment. Write about your feelings, experiences, dreams, or anything on your mind.

Include a section for things you're grateful for. This practice can shift focus towards positive aspects of your life.

Learning and Growth:

Read regularly to expand your knowledge and stay informed about various topics.

Set personal and professional goals to continually challenge and improve yourself.

Positive Relationships:

Nurture positive relationships and distance yourself from toxic influences.

Surround yourself with people who support and uplift you.

Cut off toxic people:

Detoxifying your social circle by cutting off toxic people is a crucial step for your mental well-being.

Remember, prioritizing your mental health and well-being is not selfish; it's essential for personal growth and a fulfilling life.

Organization and Time Management:

Create a schedule that allows for a balance between work, personal life, and leisure.

Declutter your physical and digital spaces for a clearer mind.

Hobbies and Passion Projects:

Cultivate hobbies that bring you joy and a sense of accomplishment.

Consider pursuing a passion project or learning a new skill.

Financial Fitness:

Develop a budget and savings plan to achieve financial goals.

Invest time in understanding personal finance for long-term stability.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore, contemplated su*cide, more gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

so the big chapter is here… bentleys plan goes about as good as you’d expect

part forty-two

❝ REALITY CHECK ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 8:01 PM

ONE THING BENTLEY HAD NEVER, EVER, EVER IMAGINED, IN HIS WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE, WAS FOR HIM TO ACTUALLY HAVE SUPERPOWERS AND ACTUALLY BE SUITED UP AS ROBIN. (But he was! And he did! And he had no idea what he was doing!)

It only took him about fifteen or twenty minutes to make it to the heat of battle with his water for transport. Most of downtown Gotham was a disaster. Everything was burning — literally, on fire, with flames licking out of piles of rubble that used to be buildings, and especially in the pitch black of night, everything was glowing. Two dozen buildings had to have been flattened, probably more — the destruction was moving and swirling in a circle around a tall, untouched building in central Gotham (the same one Asten tried to jump off of), which had a huge dome of fire on top of it. Bentley assumed that’s where he was. Every sound, the crackling of the fire, the crumbling of buildings, the shouting of metahumans — it all meshed together into one insanely loud, menacing rumble that never seemed to end.

Bentley stood (hovered) off to the side for a few moments, out of the radius of the chaos, kind of terrified. Firstly, Damian’s armor didn’t fit him right, especially on his arms and legs, so a nicely placed blow could probably knock it straight off. And his cape kept getting all in the way and whipping around, and while it looked cool, he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. (The answer was he didn’t. He didn’t like it.)

Secondly, he had no idea where anybody was. He was simply hovering on water a whole lot of feet in the air, high enough to be above the crumbling buildings, and he could hardly see down far enough through the smoke and fire to make out people on the ground. So he had no clue where his family or any metahumans were.

Thirdly… he was about to, like, fight people, for real. The only people he’d ever, quote-on-quote, fought, were Dick and Damian and occasionally Jason and Tim when they were training him in self-defense. Y’know, people without superpowers who weren’t actually trying to kill him.

But… there’s always a first patrol, right? Robin always had a first patrol. He just guessed this would be his. (He couldn’t back out now.)

As he drew ever-closer to the epicenter of the destruction (slower than Christmas, because he was pretty horrified), he turned his earpiece on so he could hear what everybody was saying. His line of sight was slowly getting clearer, so he was starting to see all the multicolored metahumans moving around on the ground through the smoke (and in the sky, in a few cases), with flashes of light and so many different… colors, and sounds, and things. He could see what he was pretty sure was Mandy Todryk flying through the air with her massive raven wings, and he knew exactly where The Void was due to the blinding flashes of purple. 

“Robin,” Bruce’s Batman voice came through his earpiece, gruff and serious and not happy sounding in the slightest. The tone was just sour and flat enough that Bentley knew he meant him and not the real Robin. “You are not permitted to be on the field.”

Bentley looked around from his spot in the sky, levitating on water, until he spotted the big black blob that was Bruce on the ground, fighting against a metahuman with blue hair. 

“Sorry, B! Please don’t be mad!” He replied shortly, his eyes darting every which way. Bentley wasn’t sure how good he’d do in an actual fight against any of these metahumans, but he was pretty sure he could help his family when they needed it. So that’s what he would focus on — helping them. When they needed it. “I just want to help!”

“You need to return to the cave immediately!”

Bentley cringed. “I’m sorry!” And then he clicked the earpiece back off.

Bentley didn’t have time for a lecture just then — he was too busy trying to figure out who the little figure was flying in repetitive circles around the giant glowing bubble of fire on the center building. It was a small person, with no wings or anything, and it only took another second for him to realize that… he was pretty sure it was… Nico, trying to get to Asten.

“I found him, Charlie!”

Bentley shouted in terror when someone grabbed him by the arms and violently ripped his feet out of the water that’d been holding him up. The beating of loud wings filled his ears — Mandy Todryk’s wings. 

She laughed maniacally, and Bentley nearly threw up on queue as he watched all of the destruction move under his feet. The feet in question were dangling uselessly hundreds of yards in the air, and the far-off ground was moving at least sixty or seventy miles per hour below him. “Let go of me!”

“You’re choice!” Mandy chided. She let go of Bentley and, before he could react any more than another shout of horror, dove down and grabbed him by his feet instead, so he was dangling upside down. His cape whipped around and covered his face, making it impossible to see. (Seriously, how did they wear those things?)

Bentley only narrowly missed slamming his head into the top of a building (that Mandy had to have dipped toward on purpose.) He couldn’t seem to think, couldn’t seem to breathe — the water he’d been standing on was following them, but he could only see half of the time and it wasn’t fast enough to catch up.

“Let’s test if little bluebirds can fly!” Mandy chorused, waving Bentley back and forth as she flew in a way that made him so very nauseous.

“It’s a Robin, loser!” Bentley looked up just enough to see a blob fly into his vision from the other direction, going at least the same speed as them. It and Mandy collided in the middle, and the little figure latched onto Mandy’s wings and jerked them with all of their might, twisting her entire body and sending her veering off-course like a broken plane. Bentley slid from her grip and was suddenly freefalling.

And then he was very suddenly not, but someone was holding onto his torso very, very tight. (Which also made him want to hurl.) 

“Jesus, your suit doesn’t even have blue on it,”

Bentley was only halfway breathing, watching the ground move what seemed to be miles beneath them, but much slower. “Nico?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,”

They hovered around in the sky for a few moments before Nico found a suitable, not-falling-apart or burning rooftop to set Bentley down on. It was on the outskirts of the circle of destruction where Asten’s power hadn’t reached yet.

He sat Bentley down (mostly) on his feet, and the redhead immediately sat down on the tar rooftop, relieved to be on something solid again. He was sucking in air like he’d never breathed in his life. “I’ve only been here five minutes and I already want to hurl.”

Nico landed next to him, panting like he’d been running a marathon. His t-shirt and sweatpants were both soaked through with sweat, and his hair was a floppy wet mess, probably from flying so close to the fire. He held up three fingers. “Three times already.”

Bentley furrowed his brow, pushing himself off the rooftop and peering off the building at the destruction around them. “You’ve thrown up three times?”

“These powers are trying to kill me, I think,” Nico stated, waving Bentley off. “It’s fine. It happens every time I use them.”

“You can go to the cave if you need to,” Bentley replied, watching a few metahumans move around on the ground, a couple losing a fight pretty badly to who Bentley was pretty sure was Red Hood. “Have you been able to get to Asten?”

“Nope,” Nico started, drifting up by his side and peering off the edge of the building. “The dome thing he has going on is way too hot to get close to. Air only makes it hotter. But you know what definitely doesn’t make fire hotter?”

Bentley looked over at Nico, who had a dorky look on his face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Maybe you could get us in there so we can talk to him,”

Bentley looked over at the dome of flame that was spitting and spinning like some kind of lava. “I could try. It looks pretty hot, though.”

“It is insanely hot, yes,” Nico agreed. “But getting through it is pretty much our only way to him.”

Bentley nodded, peering over the edge of the rooftop toward the dome. He could feel the water sloshing and moving in the pipes below them, and not a second later, there was a small pop, and water began to seep from the cracks and crevices in the tar roofing and slither over toward his feet.

“That’ll never look normal,” Nico muttered, and Bentley shook his head as the water wrapped around his feet and began to lift him up. 

Get to the dome. Put water on the dome. Calm Asten down. A foolproof plan. (Mediocre at best, really.)

“Ready?”

With a heavy sigh, Nico shook his hands out by his sides and began to levitate. “As ever.”

Bentley looked at the ground below to find his family. It didn’t take long — Dick was the first he found, fighting hand-to-hand with a metahuman who kept throwing bolts of electricity at him. (It wasn’t the metal controlling guy, which was good.) Jason was still fighting a group of metahumans that were losing very badly. (No vines.) The Secret Keeper was standing on top of a turned-over car, doing nothing but watching and tugging on Davis and Titus’s collars every now and then. (Which meant she wasn’t with Tim or Bruce.) Damian was sword fighting a girl that had a sword made of green light coming out of her hand?

With an exhale, Bentley let the water carry him off the edge of the building and over the deafening chaos and destruction again. Buildings that hadn’t been touched yet were starting to fall now, the circle of terror was getting bigger. Bentley knelt down on the little surfboard-like oval of liquid and tried to focus really hard on the dome and not the war going on beneath him that was all his fault. All his fault. All his fault.

As he and Nico drew nearer to the dome of fire, the temperature raised exponentially, and a sound like a blowtorch grew ever-louder. It went from bearable to magma in a split second, and he still had to be at least half a soccer field away. 

Suddenly, a strange, shrill thunder-like noise sent them both whirling in the complete opposite direction of their objective. Bentley’s eyes darted around wildly, combing through the fire and rubble and fighting until he spotted a swirling purple portal high in the sky above them, in the center of the destruction with no buildings around it at all.

Not three seconds later, Damian fell out of it.

There weren’t any buildings for him to grapple to. At the bottom of the drop waited nothing but concrete and rubble and ash.

She wasn’t lying.

Bentley didn’t even hear his own shrill “No!” Before his instincts took over. And his first instinct was to absolutely throttle himself in that direction as fast as his water would let him move. 

By that direction, he meant toward the ground. Damian was far away, falling really fast, and the only way Bentley would be able to reach him was if he somehow went even faster. But closer to the ground meant closer to all the metahumans. And that meant…

That something really tight grabbed Bentley’s ankle before he could make it to Damian’s landing spot, ripping him off of the water with enough force to make his ankle pop and spike with pain. He only felt air for a split second before he hit the concrete and rubble, back-first, with a dull thud and an embarrassing noise.

With a groan at the sudden dull pain that was radiating through every bone of his body (had he really been that high?) he looked up (why was he seeing two of everything?) just enough to catch a glimpse of some gnarly looking, deep green vines wrapped around his ankle.

He didn’t even get to turn over before they pulled on him again. They drug him through the rubble and debris without remorse, scraping up his exposed skin and tugging at his Robin suit until the vines decided to pull him off the ground and dangle him in the air, upside down. (Again.)

He could see Damian falling. He could see buildings cracking. He could see a random, bright red fire hydrant, jutting out of the ground.

With as much power as he could muster (even with his whole body being in a state of pain, and being upside down, again.) he willed the water up and out with such force that the entire fire hydrant was ripped from the concrete and shot into the air with a dull thunk. 

Hundreds of gallons of water came spewing out, straight up into the night sky, and Bentley used them to make a massive pyramid-shaped cone of water what he was pretty sure was beneath Damian. 

But he didn’t have time to see if it worked. Instead, the vines around his ankle moved and crawled up his whole body in a split second, curling around him like ropes and tying his legs and arms down so they couldn’t move. The vines continued to move, to wrap around his face, his eyes, his mouth, like a blindfold and gag. He tried to make a sound, but all that came out with a muffled mmm.

“I’ve got the little runt, Charlie. He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Said a guy’s voice, only a little ways away from Bentley. He could feel himself moving, but he couldn’t tell what direction. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t see, and couldn’t hear anything but roaring destruction.

He felt Damian moving in the water. But he couldn’t see it, which meant he didn’t know what it looked like, which meant he couldn’t imagine it doing something else, which meant his powers were pretty much useless. 

Amidst all the chaos, he heard something akin to a shnnk.

Three seconds later, there was a shout of pain, and the vines loosened around Bentley, sending him crashing onto the concrete again. Head first, of course, and so hard that for a minute, he couldn’t see anything but stars or hear anything but a skull-piercing ring.

A moment (or a few? He couldn’t tell.) later, someone pulled him until he was sitting up. They were talking, but he couldn’t hear good, and he was pretty sure it was Damian, but it looked more like two Damians. 

Finally, as his vision and hearing started to come back fully, he forced himself onto his feet with a groan. His ankle (the same ankle he’d hurt by jumping out the window last year, by the way.) gave out halfway and he fell forward into Damian, who was literally Robin, (which wasn’t embarrassing at all.)

(Yes, it was.)

(Being a superhero was so freaking hard.)

Thankfully, Damian didn’t do anything like shove him or scoff at him. Instead, he helped him stand, and as Bentley’s cognitive abilities returned, he realized that Damian was squinting at him through his domino lenses. “It is absolutely idiotic for you to be here.”

A beat passed. Bentley’s eyes flicked down to the bloody katana in Damian’s hand.

“I suppose I should not have expected anything less,” Damian muttered, and he brought his empty hand up and touched Bentley’s forehead, which twinged with a sharp pain. “Your head is bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Bentley stated, looking back at the bloody sword, and Damian did, too. Bentley then scoured the nearby rubble for bodies, but the burning debris came up empty. There were no vines and no metahumans.

“I only cut some of his fingers off. Then The Void took him away,”

“Oh,” Bentley muttered, blinking twice. “…Thanks.”

“You kept me from hitting the ground. I believe we are even,” Damian replied. “You-“

Before he could speak again, a purple portal opened right over Damian’s head, and The Void fell out of it right on top of him, pinning him to the rubble below. Her purple hair was cut weirdly, shorter on one side like Damian had gotten it with his katana. “Got you, you little rat!”

In one quick movement that Bentley could barely comprehend, she ripped a batarang from Damian’s belt and lifted it over her head.

“No!”

In another quick movement that Bentley could hardly comprehend, a massive column of water flew over like a battering ram, whamming into The Void and literally sending her flying at least a few yards away from them. She kept the batarang dutifully clasped in her right hand until she stopped tumbling and settled in the debris.

“You’re a little nightmare!” She screeched. A portal appeared beneath her, and she fell into it and disappeared.

Bentley didn’t even have time to make it to Damian before a portal appeared right in his face, an arm came out, and something pinched Bentley’s chest. The portal disappeared.

It took him a solid five seconds to look down and realize what had happened. 

She’d stabbed him instead.

One half of the shiny batarang was protruding from the center of his abdomen, and his red suit was getting suspiciously redder. It didn’t even hurt that bad. Why didn’t it hurt that bad? It only felt like when Damian kicked him during a spar, but he could clearly see that half of the batarang was inside of him. He was stabbed. He’d been stabbed.

(Superheroing sucked!)

“Batman, Robin is compromised. I repeat, Robin is compromised,” He could’ve sworn that was Damain talking, but he couldn’t exactly hear right. His blood was pumping too loud.

He lifted a shaky hand and grabbed the batarang, jerking it out with a nearly inaudible whine. “It's okay. I’m okay.”

Bentley vaguely heard Damian giving Bruce a location, but he couldn’t hear very well over his own blood. Did blood have water in it? Bentley looked down at his own abdomen and focused really hard on the blood that was leaking out. Blood had water in it, didn’t it?

The bloodstain started getting smaller. Going away. Going… back in?

It was a strange sensation -- although, so was being stabbed -- that wasn’t exactly painful but definitely wasn’t comfortable. Bentley’s heart was pounding in his ears and he could hardly believe what was happening, even though it was literally happening.

“It… it's okay. I can keep myself from bleeding,”

Damian looked at him like he was stupid. “You have been stabbed in an area that houses many vital organs.”

In the distance, Bentley saw Batman coming.

If he went back to the cave now, they could still die.

What had he been doing? Trying to put out the dome of fire? To get in it, if possible? To stop this? To save his family?

He had to do this.

Water came up and around Bentley’s feet and picked him up, bloody batarang still in his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” Damian threatened, but Bentley was already off the ground and floating toward the dome.

…Sort of. His floating wasn’t all it used to be since he was having to focus so hard to keep his blood in his body. It was taking double the focus it usually took to keep himself in the air, and the punched feeling was starting to turn into searing pain, which made the focusing even worse.

Damian yelled. Bentley ignored it.

“You’re psychotic!”

Bentley turned until his eyes met Nico’s wide blue ones. He was flying down from the building with the dome, face panicked, gaze locked on Bentley’s abdomen. “You were stabbed!”

“I’ll be fine,” The redhead replied, floating past Nico at a glacial pace. “I just need to get to the dome.”

“I don’t think you’re comprehending the severity of this situation correctly. You were stabbed,”

“I know,”

“Stabbed,”

“I know!” Bentley replied, wincing at the pain caused by the effort. “I’ve been shot. That was worse.”

“You’re losing your mind!”

Bentley said nothing as he grew close to the dome of fire, the heat washing over him and making him feel ten times closer to dying. He held the batarang out just a little farther when he got as close as he dared. He had to be here to save them.

“You need to- wha… what are you doing? Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re…”

Bentley kept the batarang out there until it started to turn red hot (which took an alarmingly short amount of time, during which he was very thankful for the fireproof gloves.) and as soon as it was ready, he tore the Robin suit a little more at the hole and pressed the metal against his skin with no hesitation.

He wasn’t sure who screamed first — him or Nico.

Everything was a blur of white-hot agony, and for a second, he couldn’t see, the next second, someone was holding him under the armpits. The water wasn’t under him anymore. “Stop, no, no, I forbid you from passing out while we’re in the air. Absolutely forbid.”

A second (hour?) later, he was laid down on a rooftop. 

“Bentley, dude, buddy, stay awake. How do I work your earpiece? How can I talk to them without leaving you here?”

Bentley’s senses vaguely started to come back to him for a second time. “I’m okay.”

“Shut up,”

“I’m-“

“Shut up! Just tell me how to talk to your dad!” Nico ordered. His face was hovering above Bentley, along with a smoky, starry sky, but there were about three Nicos at the moment. 

“Am I bleeding?”

Nico looked down at Bentley’s stomach. “I-I… guess not, but-“

Bentley pushed himself upright.

And it was a horrendous idea. A wave of pain so absolutely devastating seared through his abdomen like he had gasoline for blood. It reverberated through every bone in his body, and the world went dark. He didn’t hear himself scream.

—

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came to, but when he did, he was still on that rooftop, and Nico was crying next to him.

He blinked and let out a groggy groan.

“Bentley? God, dude, stop passing out! You’ve done it, like, five times!”

Bentley blinked some more. Five times? He’d woken up and passed out five different times and he couldn’t even remember it?

Everything was starting to feel like a mixture of pain, pain, and more pain. His whole body was sore from being thrown around, his head was throbbing, his stab wound was still blazing with a fiery agony, and he was really tired.

Nico sniffled. Bentley was pretty sure his head was on Nico’s lap, because his face was upside down and right over Bentley’s own. “Jason has been talking to Asten. I think the dome is cooling down a little bit, if you think you can-“

Someone thudded on the rooftop next to them.

“So close, yet so… far, Whittaker. You really thought you could change the future I put in place,”

Bentley pulled himself upright with a grunt of pain, just so he could get a good look at The Secret Keeper. She looked giddy as ever, her bright, excited amber eyes making her twisted stitched smile look even more twisted. She no longer had Davis and Titus with her.

“You’re so… naive. I show you one little lie and you move forward without question. You don’t understand, Bentley, that I control you,” The Secret Keeper held out her hand, and Bentley felt something in his mind change. He started to move, but his brain wasn’t telling him to move, her’s was. “It’s all been games until now. Watch what Bentley picks, it’ll be fun. But now is the time that I get to win.”

Bentley watched Nico’s eyes turn amber, and not a second later, his nose began to bleed. “I have dominion over everything. I can control you. I can control your thoughts. I can control your powers.”

Water started seeping out of the tar roofing of the building they were on without Bentley telling it to. It floated into the air in a stream, like a rope, and began tying itself in a knot. Bentley tried to say something but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She couldn’t just… control him like that. There was no way.

“I’m going to kill you… and then I’m going to kill everyone you love. I’m going to watch this city burn,” The water rope twisted and swirled itself into a noose. “And you’re not.”

As hard as Bentley tried to fight, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t control the water. The noose came and went over his head, and then he walked to the ledge of the building even though he was telling his body to stop, even though his agony just got worse with every movement.

This could not be how it ended.

He was facing the building with the dome in the center, overlooking all of the destruction. He could see faint figures moving below. He saw The Void appear behind Damian and kick him in the head, sending him thudding into the rubble. He saw the guy with half-white-half-black hair shove Dick into some debris. He saw Tim and Bruce, back to back, with at least twelve metahumans around them. Duke and Steph and Cass were doing something similar with even more metahumans around them, far off.

The dome of fire flickered, then went away.

“Aw, pity. They were so close,” The Secret Keeper muttered, running a hand through Bentley’s hair from behind in a very creepy manner that he wasn’t allowed to move away from.

Asten and Jason were the only two on the center building’s rooftop, talking, but Bentley couldn’t hear them. Asten fell on his knees and more buildings shook, one in particular right next to them collapsing from the bottom up with plumes of smoke and a deafeningly loud crash.

The Secret Keeper’s breath brushed against Bentley’s face when she whispered: “Listen.”

Time seemed to move slower than normal, and Bentley could suddenly hear Asten and Jason even over the massive distance between them.

“-this out,” Was the tail end of Red Hood’s sentence that Bentley caught. Asten shook his head, his eyes still glowing a bright orange and overflowing with waves after waves of tears. 

“I-I can’t control it. I can't make it stop,”

“You can, I know you can,” Jason tried. He stepped forward and, ever so slowly, took off his helmet. “I believe in you.”

Asten’s eyes widened, but only for a second, because he flinched again when another building fell, looking off the roof. “I can’t. I can’t, Jason, I’m killing people.”

“You can,”

Asten’s eyes flicked up to Jason, and in one sharp movement, he jumped off of his knees and ripped one of Red Hood’s pistols out of a hip holster, pressing the barrel against his own blue hair.

“I’m murdering people and I can’t make it stop!” Asten shouted, a few violent sobs wracking his body. 

“Your death is not the answer. It’s never been the answer,” Jason shouted, moving closer, one hand out. “You’ve lost so much, but you still have so much to live for.”

“I’m killing people that have so much more to live for than that,” Asten replied, the gun shaking against his temple, tears streaming down his face. “I deserve it.”

“Asten, please, listen to me. I know how bad this world can hurt you, but giving up isn’t the answer. Kicking it's ass is,” Jason explained, stepping closer. “Please, give me the gun.”

Asten didn’t move. He just stood there.

“We’ll help you through this, but please… please don’t give up,” Jason moved his hand closer. “Give me the gun, kid.”

Instead of handing it over, Asten passed out. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the gun clattered on the rooftop. Thankfully, Jason managed to catch Asten before he hit.

“Poor little thing. It’s a real shame he won’t make it,”

Won't make it? The Secret Keeper was a dirty liar. How on earth would Asten not make it? His powers couldn’t kill him, could they?

Bentley watched Jason perform a few procedures that grew more and more frantic. Then he reached up and turned on his comm. “B, this kid isn’t breathing!”

And suddenly, Bentley couldn’t hear them anymore. All of the fire in the city died down, the destructive roar fading to a dull hum now that the source was gone. Everything seemed to still in a very eerie way, even the metahumans on the ground, who all looked around in confusion.

There Bentley was, stood on the edge of a building with a noose of water around his neck, and the Secret Keeper’s hands on his shoulders. Strangely numb, feeling rage and desperation and vengeance that he couldn’t display, not even in a scowl, because his body wasn’t his own. It was her’s.

“Forward,”

Bentley’s foot moved closer to the edge, tauntingly. He closed his eyes and focused hard on the Secret Keeper, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t sense her, or any water, or anything. He was blind.

“Go on,”

He stepped closer.

In the back of his mind, he heard something so softly he could’ve missed it. Something moving. Blood pumping. Bum, bum, bum, over and over, moving through veins. The Secret Keeper’s blood.

“Over the edge,”

Bentley, mustering up every tiny bit of willpower he had left, muttered through clenched teeth: “No.”

The Secret Keeper shoved him anyways.

Bentley wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like, but he didn’t exactly expect it to feel like his whole head was going to explode. He very suddenly couldn’t breathe, and it was difficult to move his arms to try and tug at the noose. The whole thing spun around with him in it so he was facing the Secret Keeper, who was smiling maniacally. 

Bentley was about to die.

Bentley Whittaker was about to die.

With one last push of energy, he channeled everything he had into her. Every little drop of rage he could muster from anywhere in his mind, from the pesky nightmares, to this, to chasing Asten the first night, for tormenting his family — every ounce of raw emotion and power he could force his body to give, he focused it all on her, on the blood in her veins, for one last, final hoorah.

(If he was dying, he wasn’t doing it alone.)

The Secret Keeper doubled over and vomited crimson all over the rooftop. But Bentley kept pushing. He kept going until

it was pouring out of her nose, dripping from her ears, running from her eyes like tears. The world was getting darker. He could feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding well over double or triple the speed it was supposed to, but he didn’t stop. She hit her knees and started screaming. Nico’s eyes turned blue again, and he fell unconscious behind her.

“You’re going to kill me!”

The screaming got loud and torturous then. Like someone was cutting her up piece by piece, as every once of blood was drained from her body, she screamed and she screamed and eventually… she stopped.

The water went slack, and Bentley started freefalling.

With whatever he had left, he formed a bubble of water beneath him that he could land in.

When he hit, everything was black. He couldn’t think. He was only just remembering how to breathe, and his head was throbbing like nothing he’d ever experienced. The water he landed in went slack around him and left him laying on a pile of wet rubble.

His body was in so much pain at the same time that it was so numb. He could feel everything and nothing, all at once. He felt that his stab wound had reopened, and was now pouring a warm liquid all over him that he didn’t have the willpower to stop. His neck was sore, maybe even bleeding, too. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t really feel it. He wanted to yell for Bruce but he couldn’t.

“You killed her,”

Bentley peeled his eyes open just enough for a hazy, tilting, doubling picture of a metahuman to come into view. It was the guy with half-white-half-black hair. There were metahumans behind him, looking around strangely, like they didn’t know where they were. Was Charlie really dead? Did that mean the mind control wasn’t working anymore?

The rubble beneath him shifted, and a large, mangled piece of metal began floating out of it. 

“You killed Charlie,” The metahuman repeated. The mangled metal made it's way to Bentley, hovering in the air straight above him. “You’ll pay for that.”

Was the Secret Keeper really dead?

The mangled piece of metal was thrusted into Bentley’s chest with force so strong that he felt it hit the rubble on the other side.

It was only then that he realized, this was what she showed him. 

Him and Jason, in the lazarus pit, him dressed as Robin. Dead, impaled by a piece of metal debris.

This…

This was the reality where Bentley Whittaker died.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, it's no surprise that I deeply enjoy Much Ado About Nothing as a play (and there are some truly delightful film and filmed staged productions), and there's a lot of talk about the scene between Beatrice and Benedick after Hero and Claudio's aborted wedding (Act IV, scene i).

What I don't see a lot of though, is how Benedick literally accidentally talks Beatrice into asking him to kill Claudio.

Yeah, Beatrice didn't walk into that scene ready to ask BENEDICK to make this right. Let's walk through the lesser-quoted lines from this scene.

We all know the iconic, "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while," but then we get this little exchange:

Benedick. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beatrice. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Benedick. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beatrice. A very even way, but no such friend. Benedick. May a man do it? Beatrice. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Benedick asking if a man may do "it" is a blatant offer to try to fix things, but it's pretty damn clear at this point in the text that he has big-ass heart eyes and hasn't thought this offer through, because the way to right Hero is to either get Claudio to recant--which he's not going to do because that is going to make him look like an absolute dingus and it will embarrass Don Pedro--or else to kill him in a duel. To ask a man to kill his best friend--even if that best friend is a complete and utter chungus--is cruel. It is one thing to call a friend out for being a dick to Hero, but to ask for Benedick's to be the hand that kills Claudio is a whole other level that Beatrice is going out of her way to excuse him from.

She is explicitly--and correctly, frankly, given the chains of command and power dynamics involved--excusing Benedick from being responsible for Claudio's behavior and correction. And while yes, part of dismantling the patriarchy is men holding each other accountable, murder is not accountability, it's the beginning of a goddamn blood feud. So Beatrice is over here very subtly going "You have clearly not thought this offer through, and I'm not going to ask you to kill your best friend." It is not his office.

And rather than hearing what Beatrice is saying, Benedick goes and MAKES IT HIS OFFICE by declaring his love for Beatrice. Which like...aside from this being not the moment, it just makes it even clearer that Benedick is not actually listening to Beatrice here. His focus is on her, but Beatrice is razor-focused on Hero and the fact that Claudio just more or less ended Hero's life. But here's the other thing.

I subscribe to the "Beatrice and Benedick had a prior relationship before the play and it ended badly" theory, because I think it explains a lot about their dynamics. But that also makes this scene a little bit risky and pointed. Because yeah, while Beatrice warns him not to swear he loves her and then eat his words, if they have a history, then her "Kill Claudio" is not just a request. It's a test.

He already didn't choose her once, presumably for way lower-stakes reasons. So to ask him to choose her, to be on her side, with all of what that means, is a test of a possible new relationship. And it's one Benedict comes perilously close to failing, because of course he's not going to kill his best friend and brother-in-arms.

And just like that, Beatrice is out, because Benedick "dare easier be friends with [her] than fight with [her] enemy." His choice is not her, and she will not be anyone's second choice. Especially given that choosing Claudio means that Benedick is engaging in the infuriating mental gymnastics where Hero can have been done badly wrong, but Claudio somehow isn't Hero and Beatrice's enemy.

This is not a complicated situation; Claudio was absolutely in the wrong, caused harm, and needs to be called on the goddamn carpet for it, and Benedick is over here trying to "both sides" it. I'd have been out too, and then he has the nerve to insist that he and Beatrice be friends before she's allowed to leave the stage! I adore that she then full-on goes off on him, and every single time Benedick tries to get a word in edgewise, Beatrice comes up with another argument and just cuts his ass off. There is no "letting him explain," there is no "I'm just playing devil's advocate," there is no "trust me, I know Claudio." There is only the facts of what happened, and Beatrice hammering them directly into Benedick's head. Lots of productions cut out the attempted interruptions by Benedick in favor of letting Beatrice run with a monologue, but if you look at the text, he tries FOUR SEPARATE TIMES to interrupt her.

But Beatrice just steamrolls on, and the thing is, it works.

Beatrice hits and refutes key arguments that we can just imagine Benedick bringing up. The bullshit logic of him being in a romantic relationship with Beatrice while supporting Claudio's actions. The undeniable public slander of Hero. The bullshit that is slut-shaming and measuring a woman's worth by her virginity. The divide between an "ideal" manhood and the reality of men's behavior. The nonsense that is how easily men are valorized for slandering women. Every point brought up and thrown in Benedick's face until he is left with only one final question; the only possible question that could matter at the end of this scene:

Benedick. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?

And Beatrice is very, very sure. Which ultimately is enough for Benedick to choose her, and agree that yeah, Claudio needs to be called out and corrected, and he is now on board with taking that responsibility.

It is kind of wild to me that this scene begins with Beatrice trying to protect Benedick from the reality of the situation, and insisting that if he wants to be in love with her, if he wants to be in her life again, then this time he has to choose her for all that that means. And as Beatrice makes clear, what that means is a disruption--if brief--of the patriarchy and the status quo. Being with Beatrice means that Benedick has to stop being the prince's jester and stand against toxic masculinity and harmful patriarchy in a real, concrete way.

It's Shakespeare, so that doesn't stick beyond the happy ending, but it is here, and Beatrice really said "if you want to be with me, you have to stand with and for me and the women around me" when it was clear Benedick wasn't taking no for an answer.

[ajlockwood]

I love how stroud created a sort of tied ending for the books and symbolised the development of lockwood and lucy’s relationship through necklaces. each one of them is a physical representation of the feelings blossoming between them, and since neither of them is emotionally able to put these feelings into words, I wrote a very tiresome 1700-word essay about that

[WARNING: major spoilers for all five books + the netflix show]

the first necklace is annie ward’s, in the screaming staircase. it’s a locket, a materialisation of a tumultuous love between two people, a toxic passion that leads to tragedy. extreme jealousy led to the loved one’s death. this necklace is a kind of presage of what’s to come in the next books, because from the moment lucy meets annie, she feels a sort of connection to her – that beautiful metaphorical image of lucy and annie underwater in the show speaks for itself – and this will also be reflected on her own romantic story.

this quote was a foreshadowing all along, but we only realise that much further. stroud suggested the importance of the necklaces given as gifts throughout the story – and their romantic meaning that should not be overlooked. (plus keep in mind george’s implication that lucy doesn’t know anything about love. it’s important, I promise).

[in the netflix show, this connection between annie’s relationship with fairfax and lucy’s with lockwood is foreseen when lucy relives annie’s last moments. she begins to caress a conflicted lockwood as if he were her lover, and this moment made it even clearer that even though both relationships were very different, they are correspondent. plus, the locket was replaced by a ring, and they also added a ring on lockwood’s finger. coincidence? I think not. but keep reading, I’ll elaborate on that later.]

the second necklace is a gift from lockwood to lucy in the whispering skull, and is the first one directly connected to their relationship. this necklace is made of silver, meaning purity, healing, patience, perseverance, balance, peace. the diamond too is a symbol of purity, commitment and faithfulness. in short, this is the first material implication that a healthy and easy affection is growing between them. even if it’s for the sake of a case, they’re going to a party, and all is well.

however, here I remind of george’s quote about lucy not knowing anything about love – though I wouldn’t say she’s ignorant, but more like unaware of it. lockwood is also unaware of it. the whole point of locklyle being so good is that they’re unaware of their affection’s depth for 70% of the story even though it’s so OBVIOUS. they’re young, and they work too much – lockwood’s life had been his job until then –, so much that what could have been a lovely moment with his gift is quickly dismissed in the book because they have a mission. so they don’t really have the time and mental health to dwell on it. we don’t have lockwood’s pov in the books (shoutout to mr stroud), and lucy knows she feels something for lockwood but denies it – though later we find that she preferred to keep wearing the necklace full-time.

[the show also made a really important addition by showing lockwood entering jessica’s room to fetch the necklace, an indication that his love for lucy is making him have to face his trauma. and the moment when he gives lucy the necklace was much more meaningful: it was right after lucy had told him for the first time about norrie. he wanted to tell her about jessica as well, but he hesitates – he says, “it belonged to… someone I was very close to.” he wants to open up to her, although he’s still not ready to do so. jessica’s door being opened by the end of the book/season is obviously a metaphor for the door to his inner self, and just when he is ready to at least try leaving a crack for lucy to enter, stroud wrote the next book.]

the hollow boy is where everything begins to falter. lucy still wears the necklace – as skull points out right at the beginning – and she even uses it to save them during a mission, but it’s the last time we see it. in fact, the very last time it’s mentioned is a scene where lucy is watching lockwood fondly; she touches her necklace out of reflex, and then he makes the decision that (as he will think later) ruined it all: to hire a new agent.

holly’s arrival is conflictuous for various reasons, notably MISCOMMUNICATION and JEALOUSY. remember what I said about annie’s necklace being a presage? yes, the prophecy is fulfilled! these two aspects almost led to lockwood and lucy’s ruin. however, in the end it wasn’t jealously that made them part, but very ironically it was their love. the “come off it, lucy, you know I’d die for you” was one more of lockwood’s not-so-subtle occasional demonstrations of how much he cared about her, but given the context, lucy was scared. because for the first time she realised lockwood really was committed to her, in his own way. the silver necklace was forgotten: their affection (which had been easy before) became heavy on lucy’s heart and conscience. she didn’t want his commitment like that. so she left, hoping that it would make it go away – and with that, leaving a hole in lockwood’s heart.

the creeping shadow tells us that their departure made it worse for both. and amusingly, even though this is one of the books with most deepening on locklyle, it’s the only one without a single quote from any necklace. why? because they’re confused. everything to them is nebulous and indistinct regarding the other. for the first time they’re beginning to acknowledge the fact they love each other, as they feel the effects of it directly on their skin, but they simply don’t have a proper conversation so they don’t know what the other is really thinking. lucy missed lockwood and co more than she would care to admit; she wanted to keep in touch with them, even if she was away for a good cause, but lockwood didn't make himself reachable in a way that wouldn't suggest his wish of her backing down from her decision. he fortified his walls again and became obsessed with a plan of getting her back no matter what, and only then he’d think of how he could earn her affection. I like to think that lockwood only realised he truly loved lucy in her absence; I imagine him lying awake at dawn repassing every conversation, every moment (especially the argument at the cafe); wondering when did it all begin to crumble and when was it he got so inattentive to her, sinking into new cases to run away from these feelings and to ironically have an illusion of self-control (add that to his trauma and consequent perspective that everyone he’s ever loved is taken from him). and somehow lucy is even more oblivious than him, so this moment is one of confusion and maybe even self-discovery for them. as a rule I wouldn’t gift someone a piece of jewelry meaning “hey so I’m a mess rn I kinda like u but idk? anyways lol let’s go to work”, therefore the lack of promises or anything like it. but when lucy comes back – and lockwood reaches the goal he had been planning all winter for – they are not the same anymore. their feelings didn’t change: they matured into something they still cannot name, but a lot more tangible than before.

at last comes the empty grave. after everything they’ve been through (see literally going to hell and back), though they haven’t officialy settled what they are to each other now, it’s clear to both of them that they’re not only coworkers, or simply friends. the shared trauma made them even closer than they were before, as lucy states here:

and this same shared trauma made lucy – with her self-consciousness and all that – doubt even more if lockwood truly loved her, or if it was something else. it’s fair; they hadn’t been on good terms for a while, he suddenly appeared on her doorstep again and then they nearly died together, now all of the sudden they couldn’t be apart?

of course their relationship would never be the same again, but all this situation just reinforced whatever affection they already had before. for once, lockwood was finally allowing himself a few moments of vulnerability around lucy (like when he showed her his family’s grave, or in that scene of quiet solace when he allows her to sit beside him in the library and he shares his theory about who killed his parents); but as stroud himself has said, “lockwood is a nightmare”, he never talks openly about his feelings.

so what does he do to declare that his love is true, tangible, eternal and devotional?

he gives her a necklace. again.

but this time, the act carries much more depth than before with the silver necklace, of which we don’t know much about in the books. because while that one was a reminder of someone dear to him, this one has its own story, a story that really touches lockwood inside. it represents his parents’ love, seen by him and his sister as an example since their childhoods. his father gave it to his mother as a symbol of his undying devotion. gold represents happiness, peace, stability – something lockwood and lucy did not have by the time he first tried to give her the necklace, since portland row was about to be attacked (and that’s why they were interrupted by kipps), while the last part of the book (paradoxically called “the beginning”) was the perfect moment to do so. the sapphire summarises everything lockwood wants to say out loud, but never does: it brings serenity and peace of mind, symbolises truth, restoration of balance, celestial hope, holiness and connection to the heavens.

this is lockwood's conception of the apex of love, and he is sharing it with lucy because she is the one that completes him, that makes his days have a meaning, the one with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with. after five books, he is certain she is the one for him – and has always been. even when they didn’t know so.

and even after all this, lockwood doesn’t say it out loud, for fear of being rejected again. this moment is too important for him (he’s even put on his new coat I mean, honestly, just for a stroll?? he wanted to look good for her), and he didn’t want to ruin it. he hesitates, leaves the necklace there for lucy to find. rather than force her hand or try to influence her, as he had done before, he gives her a free choice. she can go for that stroll with him if she wants. she can also not go, if that’s what she wishes. if she wants the necklace, if she accepts him and his love, it will be her choice. he’s practically on his knees, begging her to say yes and accept him; he needs her, but he doesn’t want to impose himself on her: he wants her to choose him voluntarily. the necklace is a silent question. a proposal. and even though it took lucy the whole book, the whole series to realise that this love was real and mutual, she is ready. it’s not with hesitation that she says yes to him twice.

[and remember lockwood’s ring? the books begin and end with a necklace – tied ending! – and my theory is that the show might have intended on doing so as well. it all started with a ring and it would end with one, but a ring is a lot more clearer to read through the lens of romance. as of now, the show is constantly focusing on subtle hand touches – pride and prejudice fans howling –, which I found a rather suggestive detail, and at some point by the end, he would take it off his finger and put it into hers, an explicit exchange of vows, and my heart that has survived of only crumbs from jonathan until now found this change brilliant.]

so yeah, this is just one of the hundred reasons why I consider locklyle to be one of the deepest relationships ever written. good night, listeners, good night

[death-himself]

ok episode 6 thoughts

decent episode, doesn't top episodes 4 or 5 for me but it was good

kronos being portrayed by his headmaster is an interesting choice

the iris message is so much blurrier than I always imagined i'm crying

144p iris message you would think it would be clearer but nope that's so funny to me

with how involved rick is with the show that means that's always what he imagined iris messaging looking like I can't iris messaging is ruined for me

we didn’t get percy talking to the zebra T-T it’s fine tho i forgot that even happened in the book until i checked after watching

their whole conversation while watching the animals escape i love them

their chemistry is perfect in this episode

THE LOTUS CASINO HAS A ROLLER COASTER WHAT

i get people wanted poker face, but the dua lipa song is perfect, it’s like a slightly more modern version

i don’t know fashion throughout the centuries so i can’t really say anything about the costume designs, but i kinda wish there were more obviously out of place outfits in the lotus

is augustus mentioned at all in the books? i don’t remember a satyr named augustus so i guess he was made just for the tv series?

luring grover in with pan is a cool change

grover slowly losing his memory was played pretty well

i keep getting impressed by how good these kids are as actors

i honestly don’t know why people hate on lin manuel miranda so much, i think he made for a pretty good hermes this episode

but also the way they’re portraying hermes feels a little bit off?? i don’t really know how but something didn’t feel right about his character

i do feel like he’s the most “human” out of the gods introduced so far, and i think that came through pretty well

“to be so close to someone you love, knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?” that line is just-

as someone with a really complicated relationship with my dad that line just hurt goddamn

the flashback percy had??? i feel like that line doesn’t 100% relate to percy and sally’s relationship, but i see how that’d be how percy would feel

unless i’m dumb and that was referencing his relationship with poseidon lol

ok the end of their talk with hermes i wanna talk about that a bit

parenting sometimes being watching your kid struggle and being powerless to stop it: completely true

“we’re all just doing the best we can” now that’s some godly bullshit

the difference between that first quote and gods being parents is that they’re literally capable of doing anything

they could be more present in their kids lives, they just CHOOSE not to, that’s how it works in the books

sure it’s coming from a place where he thinks interacting will only make things worse but???

i can’t articulate my thoughts, i liked this scene tho, my thoughts on hermes are mixed as they should be

ANNABETH STEALING HERMES’S KEYS

“i’m multi-talented” I LOVE HER

percy forgetting grover felt so unsettling to me

hermes driving a taxi so real

percy trying to drive, i’m not gonna lie, that scene went on a little too long for me, but i was laughing the whole time so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok percy getting 4 pearls instead of 3??? idk why but that change pissed me off

i paused to get out the book, and i guess it makes more sense then hades just deciding to return her

but at the same time there’s the line in the prophecy, he’s supposed to leave her in the underworld for that part of the prophecy

are they just going to end up accidentally breaking one of the pearls or trading it or something? that’s the only way i can see that still working out

i feel like these episode reviews always turn out sounding more negative than positive, but i swear i’m enjoying the hell out of this series, i just have trouble articulating joy lol

[rayclubs]

Do you have any advice on how to improve writing characters and character interactions?

Yes! Oh my god, this ask got me so excited I’m actually typing out the response in a word document. Let’s fucking go. I’ll try to omit any well-known advice like “read other books” and “practice a lot”, y’all know that already, so I’ll get straight to practical tips. I’ll also be bringing up examples from my TF2 fics because it’s easier for me to make my points this way, and also because my fics are epic and you should totally read them.

Branch out from the widely recognized go-to emotion signifiers. Watch the people around you and notice how often they raise an eyebrow when confused, or tilt their head when inquisitive, or clench their fists when angry – it’s not entirely implausible that they do it, but chances are, they also do something else that’s way more unique, more interesting, more “them”.

It makes emotions personal, but it also makes gestures and non-verbal interactions personal. In the beginning of my fic “Kill the Red”, Soldier salutes Pyro in the way of encouragement because that is how Soldier acts when he’s trying to be reassuring and confident. At the end of the fic, this happens: “(Pyro) glanced up, found Soldier’s eyes, and gave him back that salute he owed.” It’s a very small bit, but it reinforces Soldier’s characterization as an assuring, commanding presence, as well as Pyro’s impressionable but proactive personality, and helps define their unique dynamic. I could have had Soldier give Pyro a pat on the back instead and be done with it, and the fic wouldn’t suffer too much, but what I went with in the end is way better.

Dialogue is my favorite part of the writing process, but it’s also the easiest to mess up. Here’s few important things to keep in mind when writing dialogue.

Get to the point. Skip the vocal fills, greetings and goodbyes, and all deceivingly human junk that is so easy to get caught up in. Have your characters say what they want to say, in the way that only they would say it, and be done with it. If there’s no consequence or weight to the way someone says “sorry”, write simply that the character apologized, but don’t dignify it with quotes and a dialogue tag. That’s for special occasions only.

Make dialogue tags into actions. There’s a bunch of examples for this in all my fics, here’s some from “Close Call”.

“Coming to a professional?” Spy smiled, eyes narrow like those of a mischievous cat.

“Where?” Soldier squinted and leaned forward but seemed to be looking in the wrong direction, just slightly too far to the left.

“I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.” A cardboard folder was pressed into Sniper’s chest. Spy grinned proudly. “Take a look.”

He clutched the steering wheel. “It’s the only big enough clearing in these bloody woods.”

Like, it’s such a technical advice, but I read fanfiction and I know how many people struggle with this, and it just helps the flow of conversation so much? You can say “said” and “replied” and other such words, but it really does wonders to intersperse them with actions that do not imply speaking at all. This is also how I manage conversations among multiple people without constantly going “X asked” and “Y answered”. It establishes the presence of every character in the scene in a proactive manner but doesn’t overburden the text with needless clarifications.

Count your lines. That’s a simple one. Count your paragraphs to make it so the characters’ lines alternate. Even if nobody says anything, count that paragraph as a line too. It just makes text so much clearer.

Make characters say what they think. This is so basic but like. I saw the exact opposite advice once and it bugs me so much. No, you don’t obscure the characters’ intentions and feelings in fifty layers of unnecessary misunderstandings to create pointless drama, that’s the opposite of a good story! That’s how you get the one part of Shrek 1 that literally everyone criticized! Goddammit!

There’s a weird example of this with chapter three of my “Vignette Collection”, ironically titled “misunderstanding”. The gist of the fic is that Pyro communicates via gestures and social cues that Medic is too autistic to understand. It works – again, ironically – because both of them say exactly what they mean, even if they don’t understand each other and see the world differently. The resolution is fucking hilarious fitting because the conflict doesn’t exist strictly on the level of phrasing, there is an actual clash of interest in there. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t make sense. Good god.

Make characters be wrong. It’s hard to explain but there’s a really good example in my “Acceptable Losses”. The context of the scene is that Medic is injured and Spy is worried about him, though, importantly, he doesn’t say it verbally. The story is from Medic’s POV, and at some point this happens: “Spy reached into his front pocket for the cigarette case, but reconsidered, for some reason.”

The “for some reason” bit is Medic’s thoughts. I know the reason. You – the reader – know the reason. The reason is that the man is concerned and doesn’t want to smoke up the kitchen when his friend needs clean air and a healthy meal. The only one who doesn’t get this is the point-of-view character. This characterizes him as someone who is accepting of other people’s occasionally strange disposition, but ultimately oblivious to social clues.

This bit alone doesn’t amount to much, but this trait reinforced like fifty times throughout the story works to built that character trait well.

Incorporate metaphors into characterization. I fucking love doing this so much. I have two fics that practically do nothing but this – “What’s it called, Engie?” and “Seasons”. I could write fucking essays about my thought process for both of them but this is already so long so let’s just briefly consider the former. On a side note, I hate that I named it that, I usually have nice names for my fics but that one fucking pisses me off. Anyway.

In “What’s it called, Engie?” Soldier and Engineer alternate POV’s as the story sees them build a close relationship over the course of several unconnected scenes. The core theme is that Soldier cannot express his emotions verbally in a manner that makes sense, so he works through associations instead, and Engie helps him navigate it, all while learning more about the way he sees the world in the process. Well, within this metaphor, Engie is a bee – a busy creature with a nurturing nature and an unexpected sting, while Soldier is an old tree – big and easy to stand out but purposeless and “dry”, as in emotionally. So here’s a few lines from the fic that practically state that directly:

Dell’s voice sounded like watching a bus leave seconds before you could reach it. Like waking up in the middle of the night finding no water at the bedside. Like winter striking too early and forcing the bees to hide.

Bees picked the nicest flowers with open petals, overflowing with nectar and so full of pollen it made people sneeze. Jane couldn’t imagine why such a hard-working genius bee would waste its time trying to nurture a dried-out old twig.

He stayed quiet. Like the silence of a flower to the buzz of a bee, sometimes no answer was an answer too.

And here are a few lines that are not about any of that at all:

“Here, how’s that feelin’?” – and up went the metal case, unfolding into a dispenser, adding its soft hum to the buzz of the workshop.

The clock ticked and tacked like a woodpecker fussing over a worm-eaten tree trunk.

There was a long pause before more words followed, shaky like tree branches in the wind.

“Can I still keep coming to your workshop though? I like how it buzzes.”

Here’s the kicker: THEY’RE ALL THE SAME IMAGERY. They’re the same fucking thing. Trees, bees, hums, buzzing, they’re the same metaphor. There’s one metaphor in that goddamn fic. This is so easy to write but can be so effective, it feels like it should be illegal.

(Another side note: I could write a dissertation about all the shit going on in that fic, like, there’s the naming of characters, the vibrant metaphors of Soldier’s POV contrasting with the practical view that Engie has of the world, the tiny little bits of blink-and-you-miss-it characterization, etc etc okay sorry to brag so much I’m just insane)

This is getting REALLY long so here’s just a few more points with very brief examples to wrap up, and let me know if you want to hear me ramble about writing some more because I love it to a ridiculous degree like. Okay.

You can use association to built unique metaphors. Try to imagine a feeling in your head, pick a few things that feel similar, and then tweak them so they fit the overall theme. My favorite theme is nature and weather metaphors, and my favorite example of this is this line from “Falter” – “Demo plowed through the ocean of their misfortunes with the ferocity of a steam engine, and Soldier clung to him like a flea to a fur coat.”

A character arc does not necessarily have to change your character in a big way. Sniper goes through a character arc in “Close Call”, but it manifests in really small ways, such as him resolving to call his parents, or him letting Spy have his coffee maker.

Also like. Basic but you need to have an idea of where the story is going and why, even if it’s a really small-scale story with very low stakes. That way you can introduce things in the beginning and then call back on them at the end. It’s called a circular plot structure, but on a smaller scale it does not have to be the whole plot, it can just be individual elements that aren’t plot-relevant, like the coffee maker described above.

Use nomenclature as a tool of characterization. Decide what words your characters use to refer to others and to themselves, and stick by that. Differentiate them this way. It’s fun.

Anything can be a bit of characterization. It never exists in a vacuum. You have to get into your character’s brain and just sit there all the time. Good luck.

Hope this was at least a little bit informative. Cheers!

[annbourbon]

Flowers inside the Cheritzverse

For the sake of this I'm gonna derail the post a bit because otherwise this is not gonna work lol we need to talk about fairies first~ fairies and flowers. Yes, the two of them are closely linked and I do not dare to make a different post for it. If we are to talk about the Wizard of Dandelion and The Cheritzverse, we need to talk about the fairy concept in general. I already talked about the magic contracts and karmic laws which in theory are not linked together irl but write do use it together, because it's kinda cool (?) but whatever~ so let's begin with the fae world. I'm not gonna delve a lot into it, just gonna touch the basics.

So 101 here~

They are not called fairies but fae. They are divided by Seelie and Unseelie Courts. And please, do not let your human thoughts think that ones are "good" and the others are "bad" or something like that. Actually, representations like that are more harmful than anything. They're not supposed to be similar or have affinity to human standards. So whatever you consider beautiful, ugly or inappropriate, it's different for them. I believe the same concept it's applied to good and bad for them. And that they have particular affinity to change if they see you want to "like them". It's fun to consider that the books of YA can't be more inaccurate sometimes *sighs* I won't try to fight those cause it's difficult to change an idea once established but, At least that's what I have gathered from the fairytales~~~~~

* Some devas are associated with fairies.

* Random fact that doesn't come on the fairy bible but~ did you know the earth has chakras too? And when connecting chakras with some powerful places (where several ley lines touch) it can create weird events.

* Water is a conductor. Always. And not only electricity but also ley lines can drift because of that.

* Seriously read about ley lines because these can be used as a method of transportation. If you want to read how would that work, you should read Kim Harrison's series, The Hollows. Which could tie my theory on how witches and fae folk and demons too btw~ can work all along the Cheritzverse. This is not exclusive on her works but it's where I have seen the idea explained in a better way. Which makes me think of several myths and stuff that has been going around for ages (big fan of supernatural and so weird series here so lol i've been studying mythology a lot.)

* Fae folk are diverse. So even if someone, yes even me, says one thing, another can say whatever and we're all free to enjoy them as we please.

So how does this ties to the Cheritzverse will you ask? Well~ that's why flowers and trees have a long and ancient culture around and even their own meanings.

Although there are versions in Greece where the Hesperides Garden contains several "sacred trees" (among those apparently it's the pomegranate. Which ties to Jaehee~ and others like The Monkey King legend in China where you can see the Garden of Immortal Peaches. it's all about paying attention to the detail to see the patterns.)

BTW I found the Fairy Bible so useful to help me in my defense and to build up how the Cheritzverse would work. Really, I wanted to create more on this but I had to cut it cause the post is so long already. For now let's delve into the language of flowers~

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From now on~ I grabbed the links, I copied/pasted and added everything I know so here till the end I'm gonna be quoting A Guide for the Flower Language and adding a lot of insights from A victorian flower dictionary, Le Langage des fleurs by de Latour (1819) and Floriography, among other notes I have. Check bibliography at the end of the post for more notes.

To make it clearer, I'm gonna quote it in bold. I'm also gonna go a bit more deeper than what the Mint Eye package and Cheritz said because I have some books and knowledge on mythology, and some knowledge (although not extensive or this post it's gonna become giantic) I have on medicine to add onto this, so be warned; this is gonna be a long post, but here we go~

Disclaimer: I'm not a medical professional. My family however has been dedicated to this for ages so I do have some knowledge on this, HOWEVER please do not take my word for this and attempt to self medicate. Thank you.

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For people who need to know only the flowers that are displayed here, in case they find another different~~

♡ Anemone ♡ Almond

♡ Bluebell ♡ Baby breath

♡ Bracken*

♡ Clivias ♡ Cactus

♡ Chrysantemum ♡ Clover

♡ Daisy ♡ Dandelion

♡ Daffodil ♡ Delphinium

♡ Daylily

♡ Eustoma/Lisianthus ♡ Forsythia

♡ Fritillaria Thunbergii ♡ Forget-me-not

♡ Geranium ♡ Gooseberry*

♡ Hyacinth ♡ Hydrangea

♡ Hypoxis Aurea ♡ Lily of the Valley

♡ Lily ♡ Lilac

♡ Mistletoe ♡ Myrtle

♡ Michaelmas Daisy ♡ Narcissus

♡ Rhondanthe (Paper Daisy)

♡ Rose ♡ Orchid

♡ Peony ♡ Pineapple

♡ Pomegranate ♡ Palm Tree* ♡ Serbian Bellflower* ♡ Sansevieria*

♡ Plumeria*

♡ Primrose (Cowslip) ♡ Tulip

♡ Weigela ♡ Willow

** Honorable mentions: Jonquil and Adonis.

* Working on this because they were late additions.

***Plumeria and bracken are mentioned by Henri during The Ssum. Henri says Plumeria means "I'm lucky to have meet you" but i will try to expand more onto it later on. I have zero knowledge on bracken.

**** Sansevieria is mentioned by Jihae in Dandelion. Thank you so much!! @cherrychipheart 😭😘 i'll be looking into it later and adding it here soon.

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A

Anemone - Forsaken, abandonation(?) Mentioned by Ray during a call. Also: Truth. Transitory. Endangered Love. Anticipation.

* Adonis is another flower related to this myth. The flower means sad memories.

Because the anemone's blossoms were thought to open on windy days and they're also short-lived, they have become a symbol of a transitory love that moves like a breath of breath wind. The original bloodred wildflowers were associated with Aphrodite upon the passing of Adonis from the earthly scene.

Then another paragraph comes like this:

These beautiful, fragile flowers come from the near East and the Mediterranean, and were first brought to Britain at the end of the 16th century [....] Their name comes from the Greek anemos, meaning 'the wind', because their delicate flowers appear to open in a gentle breeze, but are so short-lived, like a breath of wind.

Then it proceeds to describe the how the goddess was besotted with Adonis and he was fatally wounded by a wild boar and died in her arms.

She sprinkled nectar on his blood and fron that comes the anemone. Love is fleeting and doesn't last. That is what the flower represents. There's a representation in The Awakening Conscience from William Holman Hunt's 1853, where a small vase of anemones appears. Hinting that the affair will not last. Although it's not the only thing that hints that. The room is full of objects that talk of her predicament.

Although today they have more resilience, they still have the meaning of fading youth behind.

Almond blossom - Hope. (see birthday flowers down below for reference.)

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B

Baby breath - Pureness. Freedom. Innocence. Undying Love. (Usually seen and mentioned during Dandelion & Mystic Messenger) Also: Love Everlasting.

Bluebell - Humility. Also: Grief. Either the loss of a loved one or the end of an affair. Constancy. This flower is also known campanula, which depending on the location can be or not the same flower and mean Gratitude.Thankfulness.

*there's another 'bell' called harebell. This is why I prefer their scientific names. No way you can confuse them. At least ut hasn't happened to me just yet. anyways~ bellflower is gratitude, or an indiscretion, and bluebell (ironically i think they're not blue lol) mean grief. Do with this what you want lol

Bouquet of withered flowers - rejected love mentioned by Unknown in Another Story Also: Constancy. Dead leaves means sadness.

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C

Cactus - endurance (V's favorite) Also: Warmth

Clivias - Happiness, passion, kindness (Saeyoung Choi)

Also, fortitude, unyielding, modest and gentle. In many culture, clivia flowers are seen as a luck symbol for happiness, wealth and abundance, which is also one of the reasons why clivia plant is widely loved.

Chrysantemum - you're a wonderful friend, cheerfulness and rest. Condolences.

Used in funerals and placed on graves. This ritual may derive from the practice of decorating graves on All Souls’s Day, a christian holiday occurring in early November, when many blooms are difficult to find.

Red: I love. Love at first sight. Yellow: slighted love. White: Truth

The Japanese, who have made it the emblem of their emperor consider the orderly unfolding of its petals to ve symbolic of perfection. [...]

The essence of the flower is unravelled just as the truth is so often revealed: at first hidden, then brought into the light.

The flower didn't arrive Britain until 18th century. And in the 1800s the French had a craze for these flowers and a bestselling novel of the time was Madame Chrysanthème by Pierre Loti, who drew upon a lifetime of travel for the plots of his exotic romances.

Pair with: Willow for a friend grief, gladiolus for a broken heart.

Clover - Life to come. Be mine. Think of me (if it's white)

Credits to: @cheritzheadcanonz

Where? Jiyeon gives it to us in Dandelion.

Symbolizes: luck (green). Fortune. Yellow: hope and divinity, success, romance, red: love, white: purity. Purple: royalty. pink: admiration.

Also: marriage, faithfulness and protection.

A four leaf clover is considered as a sign of extraordinary luck. In irish culture, the shamrock variant is tied to St. Patrick Day and the Holy Trinity. The clover is also a way to enhance the connection to nature.

The ancient Druids in Ireland believed that carryng a clover allowed one to detect evil spirits approaching, while carrying one in Middle Ages led people to believe they could see fairies.

Clover" has roots in Old Germanic, evolving from "Klaibron" to "clæfre" in Old English, and eventually to "clover" by the 18th century.

Trefoil" derives from Latin, with "tri" and "folium" meaning three and plant, respectively, leading to "Trifolium." It was shortened to "tri-foil" in Middle Ages Anglo-Norman French and settled as "trefoil" in Middle English.~ HelloFearless

If paired with apple blossom and dandelion, shows hope that the recipient’s wishes will come true.

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D

Daisy - not really appearing but the closest flower to V's Rhondante aka Paper Daisy.

However and just for the sake of it let's do daisies. White: innocence. A love that conquers all. Wild: I will think of it. Oxeye: Disappointment. Patience. Also: Perseverance. Childhood

Back in the day, and sometimes today too~ people used to play adivination with daisies, by picking petals one by one ~ 'he loves me, he loves me not' was and is still known. Tied to Freya in Norse mythology. Goddess of fertility, motherhood and childbirth. In Celtic tradition, daisies grew for the spirits of children who died in birth.

Paired with baby’s breath as a gift for a newborn baby.

Paired with peony and violet for an expression of childhood bliss.

Dandelion - Smiling on all. Or as Cheritz would say~ Wishes brought to you. Divination and fortune telling.

The myth behind the «Dandelion»

Okay~ so I wanted to recollect everything I could before starting on the legend:

♡ Symbol of the Sun

♡ "The Teeth of the Lion"

♡ Enjoyed by Ancient Geeks, egyptians and Romans. Even used by traditional chinese medicine for overa thousand years.

♡ One of the most nutritional vegetables you'll ever find btw!

♡ Masters of survival

♡ The roots clone when divided

♡ It can cure the liver

♡ It's diuretic

This is one of my favorite flowers, now, the mystery is that no one really knows where the myth of wishing upon dandelions comes from, sone say it can be traced back to the Celts and other to the French. Some myths say that if you blow all the seeds off a dandelion with a single breath your wish will come true but if seeds remain, then it may depend~

Others think the dandelion tells the time or the weather. From food to medicine to dye, to carry dreams and wishes, every part of the dandelion has found some utility.

Daffodil - admiration. new beginnings. regard (Rika's favorite)

The lovely golden daffodil is a welcome, heart-lifting sight, as it marks the end of winter and the beginning of a new season. It comes into full flower around Easter time, when thoughts turn towards the renewal of life and the Resurrection. It is also known as the Lent lily or the Easter lily.

* Kind reminder that Rika is Catholic and also, this is another way of hinting she's not dead.

A more sombre note might prevail in rural areas, where it was said to be unlucky to bring the flowers into the house of anyone who kept poultry because this would prevent the eggs from hatching. (...)

(...) In some places, Wales in particular, the daffodil was used in traditional practice of "flowering the graves" (...)

It is said that the connection with mournful and unlucky matters comes from the old story that the name daffodil is said to derivr from the medieval Latin affodilus abs asphodelos in Greek ~ The asphodel, the plant that grew in the meadows of the underworld.

The Greek legend of Narcissus tells of a handsome and proud hunter who upon seeing his reflection in the waters of a spring, falls in love with himself and drowns. Daffodils were born to mark his grave.

If you pair a camellia with a daffodil, it means unrequited love.

Paired with clove, for hope and change.

Paired with sweet pea to indicate giving up on an ill-suited romance.

Delphiniums - big hearted person, dignity and grace (V) Also: Happiness. Levity.

Daylily - romantic love, forget painful events from the past. It's called the flower that helps to forget sorrows. Green: harmony, growth, rebirth. (Yoosung) White: fleeting beauty. Blue: Coquetry.

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E

Eustoma - mentioned with the latin name Lisianthus when you get to ask Ray for flower meanings. Everlasting Love.

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F

Fritillaria - Persecution.

Forget Me Not - True love, love at first sight, , memories, don't forget me. Also: I will never forget you. Remembrance.

The name of this pretty and delicate flower, which enamels riverbanks and garden borders with its miniature sky-blue petals, speaks of human longing for loyalty and lastingness. Its name comes from German folk tale about a couple who, on the eve of their marriage, take a walk by the banks of the Danube. The young bride admires a cluster on the flowers, and her fiancé goes forward to pick them for her, but falls into the river. Before he is carried away by the turbulent waters, he throws the flowers at the feet of his betrothed, crying, 'Vergiss mein nicht!'

Forsythia - Anticipation, new beginnings. Its early bloom, often before many other flowers have awakened from winter slumber, signifies hope and the promise of change. This makes it a perfect emblem of the optimism and renewal that come with spring.

In traditional Chinese culture, it is revered for its resilience and bright, uplifting appearance. In Western cultures, it is often planted in memory gardens to symbolize the continuity of life and nature’s enduring cycles. Forsythia was mentioned by Rika when meeting Yoosung, she said Yoosung looks like a bouquet of these flowers.

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G

Geranium - I'm happy because of you. Also: (oak leaf): friendship. Pink: preference. Scarlet: Comfort. Consolation and melancholy. White: gracefulness.

When its flowers drop, the exposed fruit is revealed to be pointed in shape, like a crane’s bill. The Greeks noticed this resemblance to the bird and called the flower geranion, from geranos, meaning “crane”.

Scarlet geranium is a very popular bedding plant that was originally sent to Europe from South Africa back in 1609. The sailors for the Dutch East India Company would pick them cause they would last through the voyage without perishing.

Gooseberry -

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H

Hyacinth - Games and sports. Rashness. Blue: Constancy. Usually seen in MC room in Magenta. Purple: forgiveness. sorrow. White: beauty, unobtrusive loveliness. Yellow: jealousy

The hyacinth takes its name and meaning from the Greek mythology. Hyacinthus, a beautiful young man, beloved by Apollo, died during a game of discus throwing, Apollo’s discus was knocked from its course by a jealous Zephyrus, striking Hyacinthus and thus, killing him. It’s said the flowers were grown from the blood that fell from his head wound as Apollo begged his forgiveness.

Paired with olive for peace and forgiveness.

Paired with pansies to indicate you betrayal haunts you.

Hydrangea - Truth, thank you for understanding, frigidity, heartlessness, (here's my own interpretation of this flower), seen in Ray's garden.

Also: Calm, dispassion.

Hypoxis Aurea - Symbolizes health. Very appropriate for a doctor (Henri)

Belongs to the Orchid-Lily Family. From Greek, words “hypo”, meaning “below” and “oxy”, which means “sharp” or “pointed”, referring to the ovary which is pointed at the base. Also called Golden Star Grass. Native from Indo-China, Malaysia. Asia.

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L

Lily - feminity, innocence and purity. Majesty. (Jaehee) Purity of heart. Fertility. White: Purity and rebirth. Sweetness. Usually for both funerals and weddings. (Yoosung's Christmas) Pink: Love, feminity and admiration. Red: Passion. Orange: Confidence and energy. Yellow: Friendship, thankfulness and joy Purple: Royalty, elegance spirituality.

Also: False and gay (outdated: gay meaning happy)

The lily name meaning comes from the Old English lilie, from Latin lilium and from Greek leirion. Originally, we took lily from the Hebrew word “Shoshannah” (שׁוֹשַׁנָּה), which was borrowed from the Egyptians. This name became popular in almost every culture across the world. It's Italy's national flower.

Please take note that daylilies are not considered true lilies. But then again there are at least 100 species of lilies so~

**Some parts of lilies and only some variants of lilies have been used in traditional medici e and culinary dishes to treat digestive issues and skin conditions. But most of them are not, and it can be dangerous if you don't know~ so please avoid intake if you're in doubt.

Lily of the Valley - Return of Happiness. Healing heartbreak. Unconscious sweetness.

This is one of my big peeves, you'll see, daffodils and lillies unlike dandelions, are actually poisonous. Or at least, this one, it's poisonous. And here they are in Cheritz saying to us that we need to believe in MC? Do we? Is the lily of the valley true happiness, or shadows of something else lurk around?

Also called sometimes Lady’s tears. There’s a short story where it is said that the Queen of the fairies asked a group of gnomes for a drink, so they had to gather nectar from blossoms in little porcelain cups. But it was late in tha day and the gnomes were worn out, so they tried, but fell asleep. Next morningm the gnomes awoke to find fast-growing grasses had lifted the little cups out of their reach, luckily the Queen saw their plight and cast a spell so that each cup became a white flower bell and any blossom they reached for became the correct cup to choose.

Lilac - For more of my rant here~ but the meaning of this flower it's first emotions of love. Love at first sight.

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M

Mistletoe - I surmount difficulties.

On a winter’s day, when the sun is long and the shadows long, the mistletoe is revealed in all its unearthly beauty, hoisted high in the leafless trees. It appears to have no roots, no means by which it can obtain nutrients and water, and yet remains fres and green when everything around is lifeless. Surely it cannot live? And yet, against all odds, the mistletoe flourishes. Hope. (appears during Christmas DLC ofc, 😉) there's a little story on my book of fairies that talks about the fairy of the mistletoe.

Myrtle - Love. Frequently associated with Venus, the myrtle bush offered her protection while she bathed. Since ancient times it has symbolized the chief of passions, love and according to classical tradition, it has the ability to both inspire and retain that emotion.

Michaelmas Daisy - A farewell, a departure.

Michaelmas Daisies are also frequently known by their Botanical Latin name of Aster. The name ‘aster’ is from the Greek for star, and refers to the shape of the flower heads.

As Aster: Wisdom, faith, valor. Greek name for star. According to the legend, the goddess Astraea cried because there weren't enough stars in the sky. Her tears fell to earth and turned into star-shaped flowers now called Asters.

Fun fact? It's one of the Flowers of Bach. Used to relieve fever, stomach ache and apparently has some specific vibration. Absorbs the full expression of the sun's communion with the earth at an exalted vantage point of altitude.

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N

Narcissus - Self love. Narcissism. Egotism. Overconfidence. So, people tend (me included) to confuse jonquils, daffodils and narcissus. While I already talked about this, I'll talk about it again~ here you go:

BTW~ if we talk about jonquils as korean birthday flower, it would mean answer to love. While narcissisus would mean mystery lol (see birthday flowers)

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R

Rose - The meaning it's quite simple. Love. Red: Passionate love. White: happy love. A heart unacquainted with love. Worthiness. My heart is free. Loyalty, pure love, commitment (Zen/Hyun Ryu) Pink: Grace. Modesty. Infatuation, beauty. Mildness, persuasion. (Zen's Christmas.) Orange: fascination. Yellow: jealousy, infidelity. Pale peach: Modesty. Burgundy: Unconscious beauty. Purple: Enchantment.

So for example if you gift someone a yellow rose, it's supposed to be jealous love. However the meaning might change if you put other flowers around.

In the Greek myth, Chloris, the goddess of flowers is said to have turned a beautiful, dead nymph into a rose, she invited Apollo to warm the bloom, Aphodite to lend it her beauty, Dionysus to add sweet nectar and the 3 Graces to supply charm, joy and magnificence. Chloris called her the Queen of flowers.

On a high note: I never liked roses because I thought of them to be too common. However, way before they were produced in mass, roses were so rare and difficult to find, so people would hold onto the petals even as they fell and dried. So it's interesting to know that, roses were once a symbol of fragility and rare.

Rhondanthe - Romance. Rose flower. According to Wikipedia, is supposed to be the name of a Corinthians Queen in Greek mythology who attracted a great name of suitors due to her beauty. Such beauty was a blessing and a burden so she sought protection in a friend and a goddess (different mythology here~ romans) Diana. The flower comes in pink and white. But there are little to no information that I could find for now~

BTW it seems this is another flower heavily associated with Adonis and Aphrodite myth. Also called paper daisy.

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O

Orchid - Refined Beauty. Love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady, chinese symbol for many children.

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P

Peony - Happy life, happy marriage. Bravery. Bashfulness.

Also: Anger. Shame and ostentation.

The chinese call the peony "sho yu" meaning most beautiful. The ancient Chinese believed peonies were created by the goddess of the moon to reflect her beams at night. It was also viewed as a major healing plant. And in ancient Greece it was said that nymphs could turn themselves into peonies to avoid being seen by humans.

Paired with hyacinth and violet to apologize and ask for forgiveness.

Pair with: Foxglove as a gift for a secret admirer.

Pineapple - Cheerful welcome and warm reception. Symbol of hospitality. Good luck. I'm having a blast looking at Harry's flower cause he is definitely~ lolol

Apparently back in the day, it was really hard for European farmers to cultivate pineapples and it took them 200 years to make it work. So it became a symbol of royalty and privilege. You can read the whole story on the links, I'm not posting it because the post is getting so long~ but it's quite fascinating.

Primrose - The meaning is unconscious beauty. Winning grace. Also named as cowslip. (It seems Ray mentioned it's his favorite flower in a call.)

Pomegranate blossom - Elegance. Sanctity. Abundance. life, fertility. Eternal life. Good luck. Strength. Does anyone here remembers the myth of Persephone? I think these days it's one of our internet favorite couples lol so I won't really delve into it but~

I do want to point out the similarities between the games in the Cheritzverse and the myth. This however will be delved in another post and dropped into my References of pop culture~ masterlist I'm creating on the Cheritzverse.

Palm Tree -

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S

Serbian Bellflower - Everlasting love, gratitude, constancy. (Jumin Han)

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T

Tulip - Declaration of love. Arrogance. Perfect lover. Smile of sunshine. Joy in love and life. Yellow: Friendship, beautiful eyes (Jaehee's Christmas. Found other tulips on Harry's route but they were orange.)

A Turkish legend tells us of two lovers who longed to be together, Ferhad and Shirin, but their love is forbidden. So when Ferhad hears rumors that Shirin has taken her own life, he kills himself in order to be with her for eternity. Tulips~ symbols of his devotion, spring up where his blood is spilled.

Tulips are iconic flowers from the Netherlands, although they originally came from Persia. It became really expensive after being introduced from Turkey.

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W

Weigelas - faithfulness, grace and charm (Saeran Choi) Also: Riches. Maiden beauty.

Willow - (branches) bravery. Mourning, melancholy. Brought to Britain in the 18th century, originally from eastern Asia, usually lives by water, a trabquil slow-running river its favoured spot. Its branches are pendulous and low, and when the wind catches its leaves~ seems to be whispering sad and sorrowful things. The willow usually represents grief and sadness at the death of the lovers, remaining the same, trembling in the wind, watching the tragedy unfold. (See birthday flowers down below)

⋆ﾟ☽ *₊⋆ Birthday Flowers ⋆ ₊ﾟ☽ *⋆

There's another thing, in Korea your b-day has a flower that corresponds to the day you were born and not just to the month.

In this case:

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆For Mystic Messenger⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

♡ Zen [Apr 1st] ~ Almond (Faithful Love) Also: hope

♡ Yoosung [March 12] ~ Weeping Willow (The Sadness of Love) Also: Mourning. Bravery.

♡ Saeyoung & Saeran [June 11] ~ Fritillaria Thunbergii (Charm) Also: Persecution

♡ V [Sept 9] ~ Michaelmas Daisy (Memories)

Rika [Nov 3] ~ Bryony (Rejection) Also: Be my support

♡ Jumin [Oct 5] ~ Palm Tree (Victory)

♡ Jaehee [Dec 28] ~ Pomegranate (Mature Beauty)

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆For The Ssum⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

♡ June [Feb 9] ~ Myrtle (Whisper of Love)

♡ Harry [Dec 20] ~ Pineapple (Absolute perfection)

♡ Teo [July 7] ~ Gooseberry (Expectations)

♡ Henri [Aug 26] ~ Hypoxis Aurea (Looking for the light)

*LMAO they definitely knew of this which means I'm on the right track! Because Harry has a pineapple tattoo e.e which also means, V is the Wizard. I mean~ at least is heavily implied since he is the one who keeps all the memories. I remember what the V told to Jumin one night during Another Story common route~ and he really went for misdirection I'll misquote but it's about the same: "Jumin is my memories/ He remembers better than me~"

Sure~ whatever you say V 🙄

**In case you're curious about your own flower go to the links~

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Final Notes:

It took me at least three weeks and I had some help to finish this post and it's not even fully finished 😭 while I don't like to post things like this, sometimes people around me have much more knowledge and can help me better. At this point it's kind of traumatic to publish it like this but please be aware I'm burned. I will keep updating. I just need to take a huge week or something because I also spent 3 days straight without sleeping because of stress so I'm posting this one and I'll edit it later on to add the stuff I didn't add yet like the mistletoe fairy and more on fairies.

I have yet to add some more from Dandelion, Nameless and The Ssum. If anyone wants to collaborate, do tag or rt with the flowers and dates of the guys of the Cheritzverse for me so I can update it with the new info. I'm already working on Harry's but it's taking me forever so any help it's welcomed and appreciated. You'll be added and credited ofc.

Tagging: @smol-grey-tea and @cherrychipheart who have been waiting for me all this time~ thank you so much♡

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Links:

♡ Part of the credit here goes to:

Megami605Sama on X

♡ Ray's Guide of the Flower Language on Amino

♡ Reddit - The flowers and their meanings from the latest CG

♡ Your Birthday Flower

♡ Pineapple hospitality

♡ Pineapple story

♡ More on Clover

♡ Hypoxis Aurea

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Bibliography: *i'm updating this

♡ Teresa Moorey - The Fairy Bible (2008) [Pages: 15, 24, 25, 38, 46, 47, 56 - 60, 78 - 87, 90, 91.... ]

♡ A Guide for the Flower Language

♡ A victorian flower dictionary by Mandy Kirby (found it on archive.org)

♡ Le Langage des fleurs by de Latour (1819)

♡ Floriography by Jessica Roux (2020)

[linkspooky]

hi 👋

i was wondering how do you go about writing mai zen’in?

i wanted to write more about her but I don’t think I have her character voice completely right yet. 🫠

and out of all the fics I read that focused on mai (it’s not a lot 😭) i think you wrote mai the most accurately.

I'll do my best anon, but fair warning ahead of time what you're going to get isn't exactly canon Mai, because Mai as a character has about three major scenes in canon, her introduction, her fight with Maki and then her death. I've done my best to flesh out Mai based on my interpretation of those three scenes. This is basically how I characterize her in my fics Werewolf and Inugami Family.

To understand Mai you have to understand Maki

As much as I enjoy Mai as her own character, the way Gege writes her within the story itself is basically as a tool to prop up Maki. Which means a lot of Mai's characterization is derived from how she relates to Maki, and also her relationship with Maki.

A lot of this is going to sound like, if Maki is X, then Mai is Y.

I think as a character Mai is designed to be everything that Maki is not. Nobara in fact makes that comparison between the two of them, that Mai is the shitty knock off version of Maki.

Maki looks at her situation in life, and doesn't mope or whine about it she earnestly works hard to improve it. In comparison, Mai not only pities herself a lot more than Maki does, she also blames the people around her (even her sister who she loves) rather than herself. Mai's the kind of person where if you were sitting there listening to them complain, you'd eventually get fed up hearing them and say "Well, aren't you going to do anything about it or are you just going to sit there?"

Mai's basically designed to be sort of unlikable, to make Maki look better. As an unintended side effect, she actually shows the symptoms of her traumatic upbringing in the Zen'in a lot clearer. Maki for someone who has apparently been violently abused her entire life, doesn't really lash out in anger that often, doesn't act up, and is for the most part just kind of introverted and a loner. Her worst quality is that she doesn't really respect or trust the people around her.

Mai on the other hand shows a lot of symptoms of what she endured. She's interalized the fact that she's weak and helpless and doesn't try to step beyond that. Mai is one of the complacent women of the Zen'in Clan like her mother. Naoya even says in his assessment of the twins that Mai may have a bad mouth but she ultimately knows her place. Mai acts oversexual and flirtatious when she's engaging women around her and seems to just get plain annoyed by men. Mai says the nastiest things imaginable, and she's totally willing to throw the same emotinoal abuse the clan constantly threw at Maki (you're weak, you're useless without a cursed technique) if she thinks it'll get attention from her sister. Mai's trauma is actually a problem which shows up in her everyday behavior. Nobara says trauma isn't an excuse to just do whatever you want, and like that's a quote from an unsympathetic source but I do think Mai has a tendency to play the victim.

Mai's also defined entirely by her cowardice. She just wants to run away and hide rather than face things. Part of the reason she wants her sister back is because her life would be easier if someone else was there to either protect her or suffer with her, even if that's not what's best for Maki. Mai's one backstory moment is her being so terrified of curses she wanted to close her eyes to everything and cling to her sister's hands rather than face it.

Mai's eternally running away from her problems, but if anything to me that makes her a far easier character to write than Maki. The best advice I can give about Mai is try to make her as unlikable as possible. She's whiney, mean, and rude. If you had her as a friend you'd probably get sick of her pretty quickly.

A big basis of my characterization for Mai is Faith from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, if you want a show to watch for inspiration. Faith is the negative character foil for the hero Buffy. Because Faith is first an anti-hero, and then an anti-villain she's allowed to have a lot more negative traits to explore than Buffy is as the hero. Faith is not required to be likable, she doesn't have to appear moral and because of that there's a lot more flexibility with her character. So, Faith to Buffy is take the heroes flaws, and make them more ugly. Mai to Maki, is lets take Maki's flaws and make them more annoying. What if Mai had Maki's exact same trauma, but she was annoying about it and nobody respected her?

As a character there's a lot you can work with for her, because she has a lot of flaws to overcome. Not only that but her internal world is very complex, basically nothing that comes out of her mouth is the truth and she never tells anyone how she really feels. Which means you can show a lot of that complexity by demonstrating say, the difference between her words and her actions. Or say, the difference between how she really feels about someone like her sister, and the things she says because she's trying to cover up that vulnerability.

My last advice is Mai is kind of in a continual state of pain. It's not like she's not getting over her childhood abuse as an adult, she's literally still living in that abusive home with really no way out and no therapist to talk to or adult figure to rely on. If she's not strong enough like Maki to just overcome it, then everything she does is a sort of twisted attempt to cope with the pain, like someone who drinks just to get through the day. If your every day reality is to be stuck in a painful home where you're continually reeling from that pain and feeling like you're in danger, then it's going to be hard for you to think straightforwardly about things or even try to self improve like Maki does because your brain is in survival mode.

That's all I've got for now, hope you had fun.

[h4rr0wh4rk]

Harrow Cosplay Planning 2: The Hard Part

Friends, the harder yet more fun aspect of this cosplay is designing my version of Harrow's necromancer robes. While one could look at the series as sci-fi and have a lot of fun trying to design something more sleek and futuristic, like Harrow's canonical cover outfit, I have a deep love for historical costuming and overly ornate bullshit of all sorts, and as such will be leaning heavily into anachronism for the Reverend Daughter of Drearburh's more officious garments.

The line from chapter 7 about Harrow's disembarking outfit reads,

"Harrowhark did not care for any herald. She had drifted out like a black ship in sail, a bony figure wreathed in layers and layers of night-coloured cloth with a lace overcloak trailing behind her; adorned with bones, painted like a dead woman, eyes blindfolded with black net."

"Layers and layers" and "ship in sail" are the first things that give me ideas. When I think of the silhouette of a "ship in sail" I think long not wide. Now, maybe most of the train comes from that lace overcloak, but I think we would have more fun if the main gown itself had some volume in the skirt. I want to avoid any horizontally boned skirt supports, (so no drum farthingales, panniers, or crinoline cages) in order to maintain that long not wide effect. Initially, I thought about basing the main gown on a houppelande, specifically the one pictured here:

Rogier van der Weydan, c. 1443-1445

But as I thought about the practicalities of cloth usage in the ninth and this line Harrow has in chapter 6 of HtN, where she notices Jod's all-black attire, "he was dressed simply, as per usual, in a black shirt and trousers. The lack of tint had always pleased you. It was very Ninth, even the collar and the cuffs of his shirt that were scruffy and pilled from too much wearing," it became clearer to me that the houppelande was too wasteful in its fabric use. That fits more with one of the Tridentarii's diaphanous dresses than Harrow. So I looked instead to a much less wasteful garment, the kirtle:

Dieric Bouts, ca. 1455

Specifically, one that has the opening on the side like this example.

Daisy Viktoria Medieval Dress Pattern

But with more of this shape when standing. I like the continuous cut of the front pieces of the bodice and skirt, and we can add volume and length at the rear gore without adding bulk or extra fabric to the front or side gores.

I want to do a side button (because they actually have buttons! Woo not the 13th century!) opening to try and do something stupid. Given Harrow's propensity for turtlenecks, I want to try and add a side buttoning high neck collar, though whether that gets added to the kirtle or lace overcloak is anybody's guess right now. But if it does end up on the kirtle, getting into the gown will probably be easier if all the openings are on the same line.

To create the "layers and layers," the black kirtle will get a black shift and petticoat, an apron, a shawl, maybe a separate collar garment, kind of like a structured fichu, and the lace overcloak, which will objectively be the hardest thing to source. I'm not adding a surcoat because this is my design and I don't feel like it, it doesn't fit my goth 13th-century rococo vibe.

Speaking of rococo, I am tossing around the idea of adding robe-a-la-francaise-style box pleats to the gown to help support the length idea, but that might be too much.

The veil is a tad confusing. The way it's described in the quote above, as Harrow's "eyes blindfolded with black net," implies it may be more of a fascinator or even a true blindfold, but earlier in that same chapter, Gideon describes how, “The expression on the other girl’s face wasn’t disinterest or distraction, as she’d assumed; even through a layer of veiling, she could tell that Harrow was near-incapacitated with concentration,” making it seem like the veil is over her whole face. Out of a deep love of overdramatics, I'm taking the executive decision it's a full-face veil.

The veil I'm taking from Victorian mourning veils. I know it describes it as "net" in the quote, but in HtN, the Lyctor Hood is contrasted with it as such, "your new hood, unlike good Ninth House furze, was transparent enough to let you see quite clearly". I did some googling, and today it seems like "furze" is just a plant otherwise known as gorse, not a type of cloth or veil. However, if Harrow's veil were simply netting, she would be able to see out of it easily. I think this is a case where Gideon's unreliable narration and inattention to detail is kicking in. As such, I feel justified in using a more densely woven fabric for the veil itself.

The Met, Mourning Veil, 1900-1920

While this is technically probably Edwardian, the crepey silk used was common throughout the Victorian era.

I also like this type of headband I keep seeing fan artists (I will try to find sources and links in the coming days) put Harrow in to anchor the veil, so I would make a version that is not 50 dollars and is probably smaller.

ZiptieJewelry

The shoes would just be the shoes I get for the other version of this cosplay.

Adding all of the bone beading to the gown will be a bridge I burn when I get to it, it's going to be rough rough rough. I have no idea what I want to do in terms of rococoing this up, so expect at least a part 4 of the HCP series about that, (3 will be grease paint research) even if HCC (Harrow Cosplay Constructing) begins in the meantime.

If you made it all the way down here, thank you for reading all of that I am excited to work hard on it and show you what I come up with, and if you didn't:

TL;DR Gonna make a black kirtle for the necromancer robes and add some accessories

[adamwatchesmovies]

Miller's Girl (2024)

I suspect that on another day, my rating for Miller’s Girl would vary wildly from the one I’m giving it now but that’s ok. Sometimes a movie hits you at the right time. There are too many flaws for me to call it "good". It's not "so bad it's good" and it's not a fascinating trainwreck, but it is the kind of movie you keep watching even when you recognize all the flaws.

Cairo Sweet (Jenna Ortega) has to write a college admission essay for Yale University when she realizes she has nothing worth writing down as “her greatest achievement to date”. Her best friend Winnie (Gideon Adlon) suggests having an affair with a teacher - she’s trying to do the same with the school’s gym coach, Boris Fillmore (Bashir Salahuddin). Cairo chooses her creative writing teacher, Jonathan Miller (Martin Freeman).

Miller’s Girl is an erotic thriller, though admitting that makes you feel a bit dirty. At first, the film comes off as simply weird. Cairo Sweet lives alone because her parents (whom we never see) are wealthy lawyers working in some faraway country at the moment. Their house is an enormous mansion on the side of a large forest perpetually covered in thick fog. Everyone talks like they’ve been pulled out of a classical novel - not a bad thing, but it does make it feel more otherwordly than it normally would. Combined with the premise and the heavy emphasis on the written word, this film often feels like the novelization of some provocative short story… but it’s an original piece written and directed by Jade Hally Bartlett. Until Cairo decides to tempt Mr. Miller, you don’t think Winnie is seriously trying to seduce Mr. Fillmore so you have no idea where things are headed. Then, we get a clearer picture of Miller’s home life. His wife, Beatrice (Dagmara Domińczyk) is a successful writer that’s too busy for him. He's only written one book and that was years ago. When Cairo gives him extra attention, all sorts of alarms start going off because you think you know where things are going… but you can't say for sure and you're not certain if you should be creeped out or not. In your defense, the film never tells you how old Cairo is supposed to be but Jenna Ortega is 21 and as performers who have to convince us that an affair might happen, she and Freeman have good chemistry.

The thing is, Miller’s Girl is not a romance film; it’s an erotic thriller. Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman may be attractive on their own but when put together, you're supposed to forget that. You’re supposed to dread what might transpire because your pheromones aren't more powerful than your brain. You recognize how creepy a scenario this is. Depending on the scene Mr. Miller or Cairo might be the villain and before you call foul, let me explain. You might think that the teacher is the adult, that he’s completely in the wrong until we learn some things about Cairo that prove she’s a high-school femme fatale - if that wasn’t already clear from the fact that she’s looking to wreck a marriage and destroy a career out of boredom.

Although Miller's Girl kept me invested, there are several aspects of it that I have to call out as being either disappointing or problematic. I once again find myself quoting Promising Young Woman:

“It’s every man’s worst nightmare, getting accused of something like that.” “Can you guess what every woman’s worst nightmare is?”

I’m not going to say that you can’t make a story about some innocent man who gets entangled in a nefarious sex thing by a young woman but your story better be airtight if that’s the subject you’re tackling. Miller’s Girl has plenty of leaks. Even if it was a steel trap for most of its 93-minute running time, the conclusion is unconvincing, unsatisfactory and unrealistic. It’s not conventional - which is something - but that’s not the same as great.

Something about Miller’s Girl appealed to me when I saw it. I know I’m in the minority. I would have a hard time defending myself to anyone who asked me why but it's not like I’m the only person on earth calling it watchable (we'll say that it gets a mild recommendation but a recommendation nonetheless) and I bet I won’t be the only one. (July 13, 2024)