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stxrvel · 1 year

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welcome home (1)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: when an accident makes you forget the last seven years of your life, you're lucky to have someone like Bucky to support you in your recovery. except he's not the Bucky you remember.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: angst. that's all.

note: this wasn't planned. at all. i had the day off and wanted to write something but nothing was coming to me enough to write another part of the outbreak or how to break a routine in one year, so i was just browsing tumblr until i saw something related to memory loss and this popped into my head. i thought i wasn't going to finish writing it but it came out more than i expected. and clearly this gives for a part two and even more, but at the moment i don't know when that will happen. also, i suck with titles, i think i'll change it later. meanwhile, i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated, thank u for the support! 💜

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Bucky was right to be scared. He was right to feel his soul leaving his body and his heart bursting with pain. He was completely right to be frightened, unsure of the future and the opportunities it had taken with it. Bucky was right to feel that his world was crumbling, that he was left with half a heart to survive for the rest of his life.

But he was also right in deciding not to show how scared he was. He could have his nerves frozen inside his body and feel his blood boiling inside his veins, his whole insides churning and messing up without any compassion, but he couldn't let that rule his life. He knew that the only solution was to cope rationally and objectively, even if he wanted to burst into tears every ten minutes.

“Okay, everything looks good for now,” Bucky heard the doctor, along with the others who were in the room.

He had been standing in the corner of the room the whole time, not moving a millimeter barely to breathe. The mood was so bleak and melancholy that he feared the sadness would rub off on him if he blinked any faster.

“So, can you discharge her now?” Tony Stark asked, his body closer to the door than any other.

“Yes, she can leave after you sign some paperwork. I'm going to need her to come back for some monthly checkups and let me know if she comes to remember anything.”

“Of course,” Steve Rogers stated.

Bucky wandered his gaze over the other two men in the room and the two women behind them, Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers. They all looked wary, not taking their gazes off your figure lying on the gurney after the doctor finished checking something in your eyes. He didn't like the way their bodies moved, anxious to talk, anxious to ask questions. He didn't like how Steve constantly opened and closed his hands; how Tony crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest; how Natasha suspiciously watched the doctor every time he approached you and asked what he was doing; how Carol glared at the man every time he told them there was no news or progress. They had overwhelmed you before with so many gestures and words that the orderlies had to take them all out almost by force.

In a way, Bucky understood them. He too had been terrified at the beginning, still was to some degree, but it had been a while before they began to regulate their behavior. Bucky understood that the situation was difficult for them, as it was for him, but they also had to think about what it was like for you.

You were on the brink of death and awoke to find that about seven years of memories had been erased from your head.

Bucky had not taken it well at first. He was in a constant panic and searched the internet for all possible solutions that could make up for the mistake that was made. He was anxiously talking to Wanda trying to convince her to find something to do. He had gone to Strange almost begging him for some spell that could fix everything. He had asked the doctor a hundred times on the verge of insanity if it was possible to fix it with another surgery. It had simply been the worst news he had ever been given in his life.

Until, by some divine miracle, the rational part of his brain took control of his thoughts and emotions. That's when his “there's nothing we can do” thought came. The rest of the team was surprised when they saw him calmly walking around the Complex and going on missions, when Bucky had finally understood that he couldn't stop his life for something he couldn't fix. He had to learn to live with that and he hoped the others would too.

But no, it seemed that moment of enlightenment hadn't come to anyone but him.

They returned to the Complex after signing papers and picking up medications with the orders the doctor had given them, some pills for the eventual migraines and muscle relaxants if needed.

The trip was tense. Everyone sent you wary glances and purposely averted their gazes when they saw you watching them. Bucky could tell you were starting to get nervous. Even more, anxious.

Lacking knowledge of your family's whereabouts and that your current address was the Complex, that was where you would spend the rest of the days of your recovery -although Bucky had other options in mind-. The doctor had put his buts in, believing that being in such a tense, busy and overwhelming environment as the main Avengers facility was could hinder your process of getting better, but Tony was very specific and quick to tell him that there was a part of the Complex, a wing, that they had almost completely isolated to keep you in a safe place and away from the stress of the job. The mechanic spoke confidently about how you would be totally at ease as if the decision was entirely up to the doctor, while giving Bucky a helpless look. Finally, to please Tony, the doctor agreed to let you go spend your recovery at the Complex.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Bucky was your husband.

The doctor who treated you for almost a year, from the time you arrived injured and near death, to your subsequent surgeries and recovery, always knew that the final decision was out of his hands. It was funny to watch Tony argue his points to influence his decisions, but in the end that was not something he had any power in. His gazes always turned to Bucky, waiting for a nod or a shake.

Tony knew that too. You had invited him to the wedding because you were closer to him than Bucky, plus they had to see each other constantly for work. They weren't best buddies, but they maintained a relationship that was professional and affectionate and friendly enough to keep you satisfied. That is, until the accident. Since that day, Tony had taken a completely different stance towards Bucky and he really didn't find it strange. He hadn't even been able to speak to him since the day he had almost apologized with his knees to the floor when they had to tell Bucky that you almost died because of a mistake.

Over time, Bucky had let go of the anger along with his realization that he couldn't do anything to change the past, but it seemed to him that Tony still felt guilty about what had happened.

Bucky looked away from the road when he saw you stir in your seat as they were about to arrive at the Complex. The team tried to make small talk after several minutes of traveling in awkward silence, but it resulted in a much more tense atmosphere with everyone turning their heads to look at anything but you like fish out of water.

Bucky watched you from his position in the back of the van as you moved forward to view the Complex facilities in delight. He couldn't help but smile after spending months in constant stress, realizing that you had done the same thing the first time you had gone over ten years ago.

Carol and Natasha took it upon themselves to guide you through the isolated wing of the Complex to the room you would be staying in. Bucky stayed a few floors down along with Steve and Tony in the living room.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky heard Steve ask next to him, as Tony quietly approached the bay window.

“Fine.”

“Buck, you don't have to-”

“Really, I'm fine,” Bucky nodded, noticing Steve's incredulous look. He had to fight not to roll his eyes in disgust.

One thing the team had taken to doing constantly was treating him like a child, like someone who didn't know what he was feeling and didn't know how to control his emotions. That had been happening since the moment he accepted that he couldn't fix something that was out of his control. That you'd had an accident, you'd lost your memory, you'd forgotten him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried everything, and there was nothing.

But the team thought his attitude was that he was trying to hide his feelings and, well, in part he was. He didn't deny that it still made him scared and angry to think of all the opportunities and moments that were gone along with your memory, but he was aware that showing himself that way in front of you wouldn't bring you any good. Unlike him and completely unaware of the truth, the team believed he was in denial. They believed that Bucky had been trying for months to avoid dealing with his feelings and that at any moment he would break down and suffer fighting the horrible reality.

Bucky had only responded to their unconscious attacks and questions with the truth, but it seemed the team was in more denial than he was.

“The doctor said the chances of her regaining her memory were high. Don't worry.” Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder to accompany his words, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Steve, I'm not wor-”

“And she'll adjust well to the routine in this place. You know we'll be constantly keeping an eye on her and making sure she's okay, right?”

“I'd rather you stay away,” Bucky mumbled, his teeth grazing at the discomfort.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky kept his distance at first. He wanted to first meet and see how you were adjusting to your new home and how you related to others. Besides, he was also a little nervous about talking to you. You had done it before, yes, at the hospital. You had introduced yourselves and asked him a few questions when he was around. But when Bucky finally confessed to you that he was your husband, it was as if something had disturbed the gravity around the both of you. Clearly Bucky was quick to notice that change in your behavior and began to pull away trying to give you your space and not overwhelm you, unlike others.

You had some memories with him, Bucky was sure. You had lost the memory of about seven years, and you had come to the team ten years ago. That would have been good for him and your relationship, except that in the beginning neither of you could stand the other.

That's right. You two hated each other's guts. And Bucky eternally regretted waiting until the fifth year of meeting you to make his feelings known to you. Because, at that point, all you remembered about him were his stinging comments and his cold, calculating stares. When he remembered the things he had said to you to hurt you on purpose, he would cringe and his body would tremble in rejection.

Before confessing, he had thought about the possibility of keeping everything hidden, maybe try to win your trust again and suddenly have what you had before. And maybe the Bucky of six years ago would have done that, wouldn't have hesitated to keep the truth hidden just to guide you down the path he wanted to walk. But the Bucky who was there, in year ten, couldn't look you in the eye and try to keep something in the dark. He knew it wasn't right and that lies usually backfired on the person telling them. Besides, ever since you had decided to try to have a relationship, you had made him promise never to keep anything from you, no matter how stupid or horrible it was. You had been in such a toxic relationship with him before that you only wanted to look out for each other's welfare. A relationship based on trust and communication was a good relationship.

And Bucky wanted to keep his promise, even if you couldn't remember it.

So he was keeping his space, but he was always aware of what you were doing. And that's why he noticed every time you would give him a questioning look and then pull back and focus your attention on something else when you noticed he was looking at you.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good or bad idea what he was doing. He could just walk up and talk to you, maybe you were willing to do that. Or you might think he was crazy for watching you from afar like he was an eagle and didn't want you near him under any circumstances. Bucky didn't know what to do, and asking the team wasn't in his options, so he just decided to do what he thought best.

One day, a couple of weeks after you returned to the Complex, Bucky met you casually. Really, casually.

He had spent a whole week in constant stress so he hadn't even been able to get near the side of the Complex where you were staying. He had been assigned an undercover mission and it had turned out to be a little more complicated than it seemed at first. There were too many fights involved in the end, but he had achieved his goal.

The day he arrived at the Complex he took a long shower and a long nap. It was the least he deserved. After waking up, he went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee because it was just getting light, when he saw you leaning on the kitchen counter.

You froze at the same time he did. Bucky wasn't expecting the first person he would meet to be you, he didn't even know you were already freely leaving your safe place, but life is full of surprises, apparently. Bucky noticed your wary gaze on him, how the cup you held in your hands had been halfway to its destination and how your body moved only to breathe.

He moved, continuing with what he had gone to do, despite feeling that captivating electricity coursing through his body and asking him to move closer to you. Moving his eyes away from yours felt like a sin and his body was almost reluctant to follow the directions in his head.

Bucky finally approached the coffee pot to notice the steaming liquid coming out of it. So, it was coffee that was in your cup.

He was a little hesitant to drink from the coffee you had made because he didn't know how you would react to his intrusion, so he decided to move to the other side of the kitchen where the drawers were and grab the first cereal to be found.

“You can have some of that coffee,” you spoke to him suddenly, resuming your movements and he could barely turn to look at you over his shoulder. “Clint did it.”

Bucky followed your eyes moving all over the instance, anywhere but on his, and even though he felt he'd had a year to prepare for this, it seemed completely insufficient: nothing would have prepared him to ever again hear your nonchalant voice directed at him the way you spoke to him before you decided to become a couple. Bucky thought that those years had been buried in the back of his head, that the situation you were going through wouldn't bring back memories he preferred to keep hidden, but thinking about doing it was easier than actually doing it.

He moved his body almost groaningly until he was back in front of the coffee pot next to you. Hearing you talking to him like that had knocked his mood to the floor. He wasn't too high either, that mission was both physically and mentally exhausting, but he was more relieved to be back at the Complex.

“I didn't see you this week,” you spoke again as Bucky thought you were about to leave the kitchen. He moved his head to look at you, his expression indescribable, you could barely describe him as dumbfounded and bewildered.

Bucky mumbled a few words before responding. “I was on a mission. Far away.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, and Bucky nearly melted at the sound. Even though he recognized your demeanor, because that was how you acted before when you wanted to get information out of him or when talking to someone you suspected was hiding something from you, he couldn't help but rejoice at finding little gestures that made him reminisce about the good times he had with you.

With more encouragement, Bucky poured his black coffee under the umbrella of your expectant indifference.

“How have the others been?”

He moved to stand in front of you with the cup in his hands, and could notice how subtly your shoulders slumped a little. He couldn't define whether in calm or ennui.

“It's been… complicated.”

“Are they very insistent?”

You turned your head to look at him, and Bucky nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. He thought you'd keep visually ignoring him and not turn to look at him like he was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.

“They're horrible,” you barely whispered, your head bobbing closer in complicity. Far gone was your mask of coldness the moment you found someone to complain to about how terrifying those weeks at the Complex had been. “I feel like I can't move my hair without having someone behind me asking me if I want my hair combed for me or if I was moving it because I had a headache. Anything I do is over-analyzed and that's so…ugh, so frustrating.”

Bucky definitely didn't expect you to spew all those words in front of him, but he did understand how overwhelmed you must be and mentally berated himself for agreeing to you having visitors from the moment you arrived. His idea was that you would have time to clear your thoughts and to adjust to that new place on your own, but somehow the team managed to convince him to let them in from time to time to greet you because being alone too much all of a sudden wasn't good for your sanity.

He should have known better knowing how clingy and pushy his teammates were.

When he was around you, they behaved, but they seemed to pretty much take advantage of the times when he wasn't around to behave as they pleased.

“I hate being treated like I'm a piece of glass. I understand well what happened and its aftermath and that it affected them too much, but I can still live peacefully without needing them to do things for me. I'm not incapacitated or anything like that.”

“I understand.”

Wow, Bucky, couldn't you have said something much more interesting?

“I'm fine,” you continued speaking as Bucky noticed how your eyes were lost in the distance in the kitchen. “I really feel fine. But they're always on me like trying to convince me otherwise and talking about my memories every other time.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and suddenly felt the sting in his chest from anger. There was only so much Bucky had in life to control his temper and that was you. With anything else, Bucky was nothing but walking indifference. He didn't care about the fights the others on the team had, he didn't care about the decisions that had to be made, he didn't care about what the majority chose, he didn't care about the discussions about the rooms when they had to stay in hotels. But when it came to you, there was no stormo chaser that could withstand his tempestuous attitude.

The limit was that the others could get angry, fight and argue about whatever they felt like, but the moment that started to affect you, Bucky didn't hesitate to step up and shut them all up. That was one of the reasons he was the leader of the mission most of the time. It was easy to recognize his leadership ability, even if he tried to hide it through that window of indifference. He was very objective when it came to making tough decisions and was very capable of organizing whatever chaos had been created around him.

And, at that moment, Bucky felt he had reached his limit. He had let himself be convinced by the team to bring you here to carry out your recovery contrary to what he had thought of leaving you in the city with one of your closest friends that you remembered very well; and then he had let himself be convinced to let them invade your space when it was clear that they were not going to know how to behave around you and would overwhelm you just like they did in the hospital.

Bucky couldn't understand how he could have made such bad decisions about you. He felt he had completely failed you as your husband by not giving you a truly safe place in which to heal.

“I'll tell them not to come back,” Bucky told you after a few seconds in silence and your blank stare focused on his suddenly elated face.

“What?”

Bucky met your gaze. “This wasn't the way I wanted you to spend your recovery, and it's certainly not the way you should spend it. You should be calm, but I don't see that happening. I'm sorry.”

You watched his face, transfixed. Bucky looked quizzical for a few seconds at your dumbfounded stare and no response. His eyes moved around your face trying to figure out if he had said something wrong… until it all clicked in his head.

You didn't remember.

Yes, it seemed stupid because he'd been living with that thought all last year, but apparently he had to remind himself. For a moment, he had gotten so lost, not only in the familiarity of your ramblings and gestures, but also in the annoyance and self-reproach, that he had forgotten for a few measly minutes that you didn't remember. You didn't remember that protective side of him. You didn't remember how much he loved to sit and listen to you talk about others, good things or bad things. You didn't remember how much it made him angry when other people made you the least bit uncomfortable or angry. You didn't remember the way he showed that appreciation, that love for you.

That attitude Bucky was giving you was completely new to you. Surely it was like seeing a different person. Bucky mentally cringed at the thought that you must be thinking of him as a jerk who acted like a teenager and said hurtful things just for the fun of it.

At that moment, he would have liked to take more time when you were in the hospital to talk to you, so he could get to know you and you could see that he was different and not the same person he was six years ago. But at that time he felt so scared. Just the memory of your face contorting when he had told you he was your husband still sent shivers down his spine.

One thing he couldn't deny was that he had lived constantly, even up to that moment, in fear of rejection. When you had reacted that way that time at the hospital, Bucky had at first turned away in fear. But then he had tried to be nice to you, as if nothing had happened. However, he could tell that it was much more strange for you to see the flowers on the table in the room or to have him bring you lunch because the hospital food was so simple. It seemed that no matter what he did, that reluctant expression on your face would not go away.

Then, he stopped trying. He would only show up in your room when you were sleeping, in the daytime or at night, and when everyone gathered for the doctor's checkup. Bucky didn't know how to get back into your life and the very idea was driving him to the brink of panic again. So he tried to have that moment of enlightenment again, but all he got in response was that maybe he should continue to keep his distance.

At that point, Bucky didn't know what to do. It wasn't your fault to react that way because it wasn't what you remembered about him, that wasn't wrong. He felt again that incessant need to pull away and go back to watching over you from a distance, because the look you had given him was so similar to the others that it was scary. Too scary. The possibility that he could never get back even half of what you two had before danced around him like a taunt. The ring on his ring finger too heavy to bear.

“Thank you…? I think,” you replied at last, but without changing the quizzical look on your face.

“I'll talk to Steve,” Bucky announced, a little more impassively than he had planned, and took the cup tightly in his hands with the thought in his head to get out of the kitchen so he wouldn't keep invading your space.

He felt your gaze follow him until he was near the living room.

“Hey, wait.”

He heard your footsteps following him and planted his feet on the floor. He gave you a questioning look over his shoulder, waiting for you to say something. Bucky watched you move from side to side, shifting your weight on your legs, a clear sign of your nervousness. When you looked directly at the contents of your cup instead of his eyes as you spoke, he couldn't help a small smile.

“I'm sorry about that. It's just… This is too weird for me. I wish I could get close and talk to you because that's what my body wants, but my head keeps me alert and defensive when you're around. What I remember about you is not…”

You cocked your head and twisted your lips. Bucky thought that had been the kindest way to describe it.

“You don't have to apologize.”

“But I do have to!” you exclaimed, scowling at him. “It's been a year and you've been nothing but kind to me. You've given me space and time, unlike others-”

Bucky nodded strongly at your words.

“-but I've given you nothing in return.”

He relaxed his features, letting the tension dissipate away from his body. He momentarily pushed away his worries and negative possibilities because you stood there in front of him with such a contrite expression on your face that it caused him physical pain.

“You don't owe me anything, Y/N, okay? What I do I do because I want to, not because I'm expecting anything in return from you. If you feel like you need another week before you talk to me, that's fine, take it. If you feel it's a month, six months, a year, it doesn't matter. Take as much time as you need. Either way, anytime, you know where to find me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Bucky hadn't missed the journey of emotions that roared across your face and he was genuinely happy about it. It had been a while since he had seen you feel not only comfortable but joyful around him, that he had begun to think that those moments would only live on in his memory from now on. But, perhaps, that might not have been the case…

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured after sighing, and if Bucky hadn't been so attentive to you he surely would have missed it. Along with the small smile you gave him that would be enough to keep his sanity afloat for the rest of the month.

You saw him give you a small nod and then begin to walk away, leaving as the sun's rays began to appear through the living room window. A strange feeling settled in your chest, and it seemed like a turf battle was taking place between your reluctance to accept that Bucky had changed and that you two had taken your relationship four levels higher than expected, and this new feeling that was akin to hope. You could barely recognize it.

You didn't know how you were going to begin to deal with the reality that you were married to Bucky, but you suddenly felt a little less afraid to know the history of the decisions that had brought you to this point.

You remembered the wedding ring that was tucked away in your nightstand drawer and how it shone just as brightly as the one you saw on Bucky's finger. Maybe you felt a little closer to being ready to start dealing with it.

#bucky imagine #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x fluff #avengers #bucky fluff #bucky x you #marvel #calmly remember

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burningvelvet · 1 year

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excerpts from lord byron’s letters that read like tumblr posts from the 1800s

(diary version: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/708562718092836864/random-excerpts-from-lord-byrons-diaries-that)

“We of the craft (poets) are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.”

“Remember me to yourself when drunk. I am not worth a sober thought.”

“Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go, it is useless to inquire. In the midst of myriads of the living & the dead worlds — stars, systems, infinity — why should I be anxious about an atom?”

“I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.”

“I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.”

“I do not believe in any religion. I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.”

“Venice and I agree very well - in the mornings I study Armenian, and in the evenings I go out sometimes - and indulge in coition always.”

“The great object of life is sensation — to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming — to battle — to travel — to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.”

“If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.”

“When I am ill or unlucky I philosophize as well as I can.”

“Cant is so much stronger than cunt.”

"I have such a detestation of cant ... that I make myself appear rather worse than better than I am."

“There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.”

“Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.”

“I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?”

“Why should Queens not be whores? every Whore is a Quean.” [Context: 1. Queen Caroline was being tried for adultery 2. “Quean” was another word for “prostitute”]

“But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.”

“To be perfectly original one should think much and read little, and this is impossible, for one must have read before one has learnt to think.”

“I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.”

“I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation. They are all better than us, and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.”

“I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.”

“Hate is by far the greatest pleasure; men love in haste, but detest in leisure.”

“Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk.”

“In the last two years I have been at Venice, I have spent about five thousand pounds, and I need not have spent a third of this, had it not been that I have a passion for women which is expensive in its variety every where, but less so in Venice than in other cities.”

“I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long, – I am such a strange mélange of good and evil, that it would be difficult to describe me.”

[on a lover, Margarita Cogni] “I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross herself if she heard the prayer-time strike — sometimes when that ceremony did not appear to be much in unison with what she was then about.”

[on his future wife] “I am quite irresolute — and undecided — if I were sure of myself (not of her) I would go — but I am not — & never can be — and what is still worse I have no judgement — & less common sense than an infant — this is not affected humility…”

“I was the fashion when she first came out; I had the character of being a great rake, and was a great dandy — both of which young ladies like. She married me from vanity, and the hope of reforming and fixing me.”

“I read ‘Glenarvon,’ too, by Caro Lamb — God damn!”

"I have seen three men's heads and a child's foreskin cut off in Italy.”

“What could I do? – a foolish girl – in spite of all I could say or do – would come after me... I could not exactly play the Stoic with a woman who had scrambled 800 miles to unphilosophize me.”

“I have fallen in love, which, next to falling into the canal (which would be of no use, as I can swim), is the best or the worst thing I could do.”

(on the possibility of spies being sent for him during the Greek Revolution) “If these Gentlemen have any undue interest and discover my weak side — viz — a propensity to be governed — and were to set a pretty woman or a clever woman about me — with a turn for political or any other sort of intrigue — why — they would make a fool of me — no very difficult matter probably even without such an intervention. But if I can keep passion — at least that passion — out of the question (which may be the more easy as I left my heart in Italy) they will not weather me with quite so much facility.”

[on a Venetian lover, Marianna Segatti] “I am sure if I put a poniard into the hand of this one, she would plunge it where I told her, — and into me, if I offended her. I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed.”

[in response to a fan letter] “You tell me that you wished to know me better, because you liked my writing. I think you must be aware that a writer is in general very different from his productions, and always disappoints those who expect to find in him qualities more agreeable than those of others; I shall certainly not be lessened in my vanity, as a scribbler, by the reflection that a work of mine has given you pleasure; and, to preserve the impression in its favour, I will not risk your good opinion, by inflicting my acquaintance upon you.”

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happyandticklish · 1 year

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wait no because those rants are so relatable??? sometimes I find myself questioning if I'm still even ticklish, like I remember what it was like from when I was younger but now it can be so hard to laugh and it sucks because I really really want to. there are acceptions like if I go to get a checkup and they're checking heart rate or if I'm getting a back scratch I suddenly cant keep myself still or quiet, but then??? for example just last week a friend offered to tickle me when they came over and I was ecstatic that they'd offer, agreed like it was the best day of my life, only to barely feel it at all. It's genuinely upsetting and I was a little surprised to see these rants under your blog because whenever I get sad about not being as sensitive as I'd like I always think about your tumblr @ name and how great it is that people out there get to experience it to a fuller extent even if I got a smaller end of the stick. like no cap that has genuinely been my thought process and it's what brings me to a melancholy conclusion almost every time. Didn't know it was common to be like this? made my week seeing to I'm not the only one. like I actually dont know what to say this feels so refreshing thank you!!!!!????? ( + the anons :)

Aaaaaaa I'm glad you could take some comfort in this anon!! ^^ Even if it was born out of an intense lee mood and hormonal shit at 3 in the morning, it's cool that it actually resonated with some people! I COMPLETELY get your first point, there's so many moments of things that aren't supposed to tickle tickling (like shower pressures or putting your hands on the outside of a blender or someone pinching me) and it's hard to be chill about it, but then the second you ACTUALLY get tickled it's just,,, nothing.

If it makes you feel any better, I genuinely do believe that it is purely a matter of technique. The fact that other things are tickling you shows that at the very least you are ticklish, it just has to be unlocked through other methods.

A lot of times if you're anticipating the tickling, it can be easier to control your reactions, because you feel in control with it. Obviously most people aren't comfortable with this right away and you don't have to pick this option, but something as simple as tying your hands up so they're unable to help you can work, as it immediatelly increases vulnerability. Blindfolds and teasing can also help with that.

Also, sometimes it's about directing your ler, even if it feels awkward or stilted. If they stumble across something that even slightly tickles, have them stay there, maybe try more or less pressure, show them whether scratchy tickles or poking works, whether your need rough digging and grabbing or gentle traces. Everyone's different, and a lot of times the things that work on one person will be rendered null and void on another. Using tools can be useful too, or lotion, anything to increase your sensitivity.

Being ticklish is just as much a state of mind as it is a physical ability, so getting to a place where (a) you feel comfortable laughing and reacting around your ler and (b) you also kind of DON'T feel comfortable around them, more in the, 'they make you nervous and giggly right off the bat' type of thing. Our inhibitions can often choke up our responses, so teaching yourself to relax in those circumstances can greatly help.

It might also be that you're just not that ticklish, and that's okay too! Being a lee/switch is entirely based around how you feel about tickling as opposed to actually being ticklish. You can be a barely sensitive at all lee who still enjoys the feeling, or a hyper ticklish ler who can't stand to be touched, and both are incredibly valid! You should never feel like you're of less value because you feel like you aren't meeting certain "qualifications" of what a lee/ler/switch should be.

Here's to hoping you can get tickled to your heart's content in the future!

#tickling #asks #answered ask #the fact that you thought that about my blog specifically is both mind boggling and flattering ajsgjji #but nope im afraid i also experience this and also havent even gotten tickled that much in my life haha #although if it does bring you comfort i have gotten like #LEGIT tickled once #and even if it wasnt as bad/intense as i thought tickling was supposed to be #they more than made up for it with the teasing and mood of the session and it did genuinely get hard to sit still through it #more than a couple times actually lol #and i even apologized probably too much about not laughing and they assured me it was cool #cause they could just watch my facial expressions instead #which was infinitely flustering let me tell you #all that to say the right ler will completely understand if youre not immediatelly responsive right away ^^

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izmooi · 5 months

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izi’s Random Movie Review

The Room, 2003 dir. Tommy Wiseau

This post contains spoilers.

"This movie, while not the supposed intention of the writing (which seems like a first draft that went all the way through) is about a woman, Lisa, going through a downward emotional spiral."

For this new year, one of my resolutions is to watch more movies. The best way to do this and stay engaged is to share my movie reviews on my tumblr. It's not a new concept and by no means uniquely exciting, but this is for me and to have fun sooo I do what I want! What better way to start the new year, and to start a weekly movie review challenge than to start with the critically acclaimed, best bad movie nearly ever recorded and recognized by the mass public, The Room by Tommy Wiseau. I was first introduced to this movie during a storyboarding course at school a few years ago. Since then, I have read parts of the script and heard remarks, niche inside jokes, and references about the film, yet I had never seen any of it until now.

Overall, I found myself interested in the characters and their dynamics, despite being frustrating to watch and confusing to piece together. Something I like about movies is when there are pre-established relationships between characters, and that is prevalent in this film. Despite that, issues lie with how these pre-determined dynamics give characters a lack of motivation. Other issues, of course, lie in the movie's infamously catastrophic audio and dubbing issues, and the sometimes shaky or unskilled camera movements and cuts that don't always make sense.

This movie, while not the supposed intention of the writing (which seems like a first draft that went all the way through) is about a woman, Lisa, going through a downward emotional spiral. This is seemingly caused by undisclosed past experiences and her outbursts in taking it out on others, attempting to regain control over a life she never felt like she had control over in the first place. This I've pieced together due to her mother's manipulation, her dissatisfaction with her relationship, and her overall loss of interest in the things she used to love. Johnny, her fiance (played by Wiseau), is a sensitive guy who is trying to do the best for his future wife, but his efforts aren't what she wants. Her love for him is gone, and she's cheating on him with his best friend, Mark. Mark wants his best friend to be happy but keeps giving in to the temptation of Lisa.

We see Lisa change a lot throughout the film, turning from a cheeky person to one of more melancholy as the chapters of this story and her downward demeanor continue. Mark changes through the film too, at a point realizing he doesn't love Lisa and favors his friendship with Johnny over her. He shaves his beard and gets a new clean-shaven look. Johnny more-or-less stays the same throughout the film, which leads him to be in his own head and causes him to push everyone away from him at the end, leading to the very surprising climactic end of the film.

I think this movie has a deep takeaway on male fragility and an interpretation of the relationship between men (a lot of these scenes are summarized by simply "football"). Johnny and Mark have an intimate relationship as two men, which isn't romantic but is one of deep connection. Lisa plays into the fragility of these two men and comes between them to pit them against each other simply because she knows she can. She's doing this because she wants to do whatever she wants (but, due to the lack of motivation why, it pushes further into my interpretation of an emotional spiral with no direct root cause). She manipulates the two men into tarnishing their relationship, but in the end, Mark stays true to Johnny through it all, and their bond isn't broken by Lisa's ploy.

There's a lot more I could talk about this movie, from the beautiful San Fransisco scenery (one shot, in particular, being reused many a time but with the panning direction and focal point switched each time on the same piece of footage), the relationship Johnny has with his adoptive son Danny, and even more so in the relationship Lisa has with her mother. The film is a mess but that makes it so great. There's so much more about this film than I thought I would take away. Each time I watch this film, there will be something new for me to take away from it. That's what makes a cult classic, in my opinion; Repeated viewing, and the interest of a niche audience.

4/10

Check out this review and more on my Letterboxd

#the room #tommy wiseau #the room 2003 #tommy wiseau's the room #movie review #izi's random movie reviews #movie #cult classic #good bad movie #movies #film review

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carcinized · 2 years

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hiya ollie ollie friend beloved hru !! im about to get off of tumblr because i am currently procrastinating a Big Project that i shouldve started like a week ago so uhhh. ye. but !! wanted 2 say hi

you are a little bit unhinged sometimes and i love that 4 u tbh u deserve it. not sure where that thought came from. youre also super cool i like the things that make you happy and i like how now whenever i see smth i know you like it makes me think of you

you're like. the reddish-pinkish-orange colors of a sunset. that's you. and upbeat but calm and a bit melancholy/nostalgic acoustic music. and sunlight shining through the blinds and the kind of rain where you can walk a block and it'll be sunny again

i think that you and me should be cats together. i dont think this is physically possible but i would like to be a cat and also with you. i think we would be really awesome cats together. like that one cats in love thing that you tagged me in saying it was c!tob and c!rain. that sounds neat

my school has a therapy dog who comes during lunch block sometimes now ! i met her today she's the sweetest <3 i am going to spend all lunch time with her tmrw tbh i think tomorrow is gonna be a day </3

OKAY uhh i gotta go put my laundry in the dryer and do this ffhfhfjghfjing project but !! was nice 2 pop in and leave a thought dump in your asks :) like old times hehe

btw do u like the url change :P charlie & some of my kotlc friends pressured me into it ToT but like. its kinda really funny,,,,

OKAY AGHGHFH its 8:30. i am not getting any sleep tonight huh. pensive. anyway !! love u ollie if i end up sending u a lot of random messages in the near future its bc i wanna talk 2 u more. no pressure obviously real life comes first but. you :)) cool friend :DD i just rly like talking to u owo

OKAY . BYE LOVE U !! how arre u also? how was ur day? give your kitties pats for me :3

HIIII SLAY KING!!!! GL ON THE PROJECT I ALSO HAVE TO WORK ON SOME OF MINE SOON LOL.

honestly i love being unhinged u should see me irl. Today one of my teachers nominated me to be a like idk student embassador thing and i told my friend and i was like “why would they pick ME to settle disputes??? id be TERRIBLE at that” and he was just like “yeah you would be.” 💔 he has no faith in me anyways i decided not to fill out the form to become one 😭 (also it just sounded like a lot of effort and talking about feelings neither of which i like)but awwwww thank you <3

but :OOOO that is very kind of you… also the rain thing that is so interesting to me, i think that you are right but also we dont have that sort of rain here it’s all or nothing here LOL i never really considered that!!! I think u are right tho

dont call me a cat boy 💔💔 im not a cat boy i swear

AWWWWW DOG WIDEPEEPOHAPPY!!!!! have a good Dog king that sounds nice

Ur skaying and yeah gl with all that!!! Its nice to hear from y :]]]

Im gonna be honest when i first read that i was like “what url change” and it took me like a solid 10 seconds to find it. Very subtle but yes i do like it :]

and yasss slay that assignment king. I need to start my 10 page paper on amongus soon it’s due like November or something and its Long but i want it to be good so i must start early. Early birds get the 10 page among us paper worm. And yaaaaa no worries king ! I am bad at messaging first so u can always message me, im just a little guy also my one incident whefe i was like IM DELETING ALL MY SOCIAL MEDIA I HATE THE INTERNET i chilleded now. i do hate the internet but also i like some parts so im just Cutting Back you are a good part !!!!! <3

WEEEE IM GOOD. I GOT KIND OF PISSED OFF LIKE 6 TIMES TODAY BUT IM NORMAL AGAIN. EXCEPT MY MANAGER DIDNT CALL ME BACJ YET AND IM READY TO THROW HANDS. but yaadssss im good i went and got boba today and dill pickle chips so <3 i willo7

#ask #stardust !

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twopoppies · 4 years

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hiii, i love ur fic recs so much and i rlly want to ask if u know any similar fics to the strawberry milk fanfic? like the softness and the love and like almost soulmate-y vibe to it. it's so fluffy and cute and i went through all of ur fic rec categories similar to what im looking for and i love all of them so i was wondering if u had some more!! dont mind if they're a/b/o either- i loved them aswell

Hmmmm.... That’s sort of a tough one because there are some super specific aspects of that fic that I don’t think I’ve read elsewhere (or, at least, not done as well). I think what I can suggest are a collection of fics that are soft and gentle, with sort of a soulmate vibe... and hope that these work for you!

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by flowercrownfemme / @lesbianiconharrystyles (E, 26K) I loved everything about this fic, from the setting to the characterizations to the slow way Harry discovers himself and how Louis supports everything about him. It’s just beautifully written and wonderfully moving.

heart-shaped bruises by moonshinelouis (M, 2K) This was so sweet and touching and tender. I love reading Louis supporting Harry, encouraging him to paint his nails and be who he is, and reminding him that he loves him in every way.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by @disgruntledkittenface (M, 43K) This was just a really unique and beautiful story about loss, grief, and learning how to open up to someone.

A Slow and Steady Rush by godots (E, 12K) I really enjoyed how this one was almost all internal monologue and how the slow build up led to a sweet and awkward first time for them. Just really nicely written.

An Invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 45K) This one is mine, but you might like it. I think it’s got that vibe you’re looking for (although there’s some angst... but a very happy ending).

we can take the long road home by @pinkcords (E, 46K) This was absolutely gorgeous. And it made me cry, damn it. Seriously though, the writing is so beautiful and I just loved how wonderfully they wrote the two of them––their vulnerability, the slow way they fell into each other, the passion (so hot). And all the lovely details––I felt like I was there with them, in the sweltering heat and the shitty motels and exploring the beauty of the coast. I loved everything about this.

Under the Hide of Me by Blake (E, 3K) This fic is honestly just beautiful. There are so many sentences in it that just make my heart break and then soar. And it says so much in such a few thousand words. I could read it over and over.

all my love was down in a frozen ground by navigator (E, 16K) This is an old one that I didn’t have bookmarked for some reason. But it’s a favorite and I love everything this author wrote. This is one of those quiet, soft fics with a bit of angst and a lot of internal monologue and gentle conversations. I don’t know, there’s something so touching about it.

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (M, 113K) Always a favorite author, this one is beautifully descriptive and moody and charming. I was anxiously waiting for this one from the first drabbles I saw on Tumblr. I loved the way Harry’s character unfolded and let Louis in, the way Louis made space for him in his life (and heart), and the way Harry’s character struggled with and eventually found a way to live and be happy with his fame.

Caught By the Sun by metal_eye / @metal-eye (M, 19K) Sometimes you just stumble on a fic that moves you deeply and makes you feel a lot and sits with you after you’ve finished it. This was one of those fics for me. It’s beautifully written in a quiet, poetic way. It’s thoughtful, and intimate, and full of memories that are both melancholy and beautiful in all the right ways and at all the right times. And it’s a fic that’s not been read nearly enough.

we can take the long way home by eleadore (E, 27K) You mentioned ABO and, while this isn’t actually ABO, it’s a canon divergent future fic where Louis is a “carrier”. It’s beautifully written (like everything this author does), so well-paced, and I just find the way their relationship is written to be so touching and realistic.

Some Clear Jellyfish Don't Sting by gloria_andrews / @gloriaandrews (E, 32K) This one is a such a beautiful portrayal of summer love with some pining thrown in to make the resolution that much sweeter. And yes, it made me teary.

A Red-Dusted Planet by onewasturning (E, 38K) Hey look! Another fic by this author. Can you tell I love their writing? It’s all SO GOOD! This one is so dreamy and sexy and this is one of those fics where the the smut (especially in the final scenes) is so emotional and revealing and I just really love this fic.

Make Your Words A Weapon by @helloamhere (E, 36K) I love everything this author writes. This one just really hit me hard for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the way they explore Louis’ anxiety and coping mechanisms and pain and the way he pushes people away and protects himself, but also wants someone to push back just a bit and love him despite all of that. And the way Harry is the perfect foil for all of it, while also feeling like a fully developed character himself. Yeah, it’s probably all of that. Plus soul marks!

little black dress (it's all right) by istajmaal (E, 8K) I think this might have been one of the very first genderfluid Harry fics I read; this author was ahead of their time way back in 2013. It’s so sexy and incredibly gentle and tender and I just love the way they write.

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (NR, 209K) this fic will run you through the wringer, so I wouldn’t say it’s “soft”, but it’s really a great read. I really like the way the author took the boys from enemies to friends to boyfriends, and how we got to see how protective and supportive Louis became towards Harry.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante (M, 24K) This actually might be my favorite of this author’s fics, although I know it’s definitely not the most popular. It’s just soft and romantic and sweet and I’m a sucker for tattoo artist Louis winning over slightly uptight Harry.

and here’s the one you mention: strawberry milk series by wankerville (E, 158K, 3-part series)

“So here's the thing,” he starts. “I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions shouldn't matter, you know?” Louis takes a breath, finally glancing over to see the boy wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. On a whim, he adds, “And like, I noticed you scraping it off and you haven't been wearing any and I think you should because that's what you like.” or an au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis' just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

#if you liked #strawberry milk fic #my fic rec #larry fic rec #Anonymous

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leamy-world · 3 years

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Some afterthoughts on The Devil Judge (spoilers for all the drama!)

Hello everyone! I hope you’re doing well!!

I wanted to write my thoughts after the finale aired because ep. 13-14 made me a mess and were too nerve-wracking! After these two episodes, i only wanted the week to go by fast to see how the finale unfolded (but at the same time, this drama entertained me sm i didn’t want it to end haha).

Watching this drama each week and reading your reactions and thoughts made me enjoy it even more, i’m glad i came back on tumblr! It was a really nice ride (more like an emotional rollercoaster haha)! It motivated me to write my thoughts and analyses on fictions i watched in the future, especially My Mister and Beyond Evil!! I forgot how much fun it was to do that and putting my thoughts into words gave me a little closure to my watch haha

These are just some afterthoughts & personal interpretations i had and were maybe probably already discussed, but i couldn’t get them out of my head haha

See you around and take care!!!

THE CAST. It left a strong impression on me and i can’t see other actors playing their respective roles!

— Yohan portrayed by Ji Sung … i have no words, this devil judge left me speechless! His character, to his Devilish Smile (and hollow laugh in front of CKH and his son, or Gaon), his variating voice intonations (like damn, he’s a living ASMR like Lee Sung Kyung), his held back emotions and touch-starved and even desperate touches when it came to Elijah and Gaon, to his rage and unhinged moments!

I winced seeing him contort in pain when Sunah revealed Elijah accidentally lit the church fire, and the two times he hugged Elijah totally destroyed me. His last scene with Gaon showed how gazes & micro-expressions alone could convey unspoken words as strongly. I’m weak for these kinds of scenes, My Mister for example did it and killed me haha

For this post, i rewatched some scenes and damn, Elijah and Yohan’s support of Gaon after Soohyun’s death was really emotional …

(They had no business in making Gaon have this kind of dream, those german scissors left a ... strong impression on him haha)

— Kim Min Jung’s depiction of Sunah’s was hauntingly beautiful, a femme fatale who kept a broken child deep inside (and at the same time surfacing on her manners and personality) and a strong businesswoman. It’s a fascinating character i loved hating as a villain but still sympathized with. The scene where she murdered the former foundation’s president sent me chills down my spine (i still have her shot of her, sitting at his bureau and manipulating his speech video)!

The melancholy slipping through her facade when she visited the mansion the first time in a while, as well as her devastation in front of the President’s scheme, by the young girl’s bed at the hospital were memorable. The tension between her and Yohan was incredible: they both managed to keep a very disturbing but enthralling aura, tangled with nostalgia at the same time each time they met.

(Looking at her reflection is a recurring pattern for Sunah’s character, i found this shot above interesting, divided in the two ends of the mirror, as if her self can’t be found on the other side anymore)

— This was the first time i saw a drama with Jin Young and i really loved his playing! Never thought I’d say one day i enjoyed someone’s tears and rage on screen, but his crying scenes stuck with me, especially in the prison yard and the last episode (he deserves therapy after all he went through, really) … And his letter to Elijah … (i’m glad nobody harshly revealed the truth to her, i’m really glad!)

I loved to see how his gaze evolved through this journey with Yohan. His endearment to Soohyun, Elijah and Yohan was very precious ;; Even though Yohan was the one who was first seen feeling lonely, Gaon’s loneliness since his parents’ death slipped through his seemingly fine world, i found that interesting! (And on a lighter note, i’ll always remember the truth behind Mrs. Ji’s cooking, Gaon’s epic reaction, and the pure comedy she gets to own a healthy food shop thanks to Yohan!!)

I also enjoyed his supportive friendship with Jinjoo!!

— Park Gyu Young’s acting was also on point! It’s really too bad she didn’t get more screen time because i wanted to know more about Soohyun!! I felt robbed haha, because when TDJ began airing, they introduced her as one of the ‘main’ characters of this story ;; The scene when she was on CKH’s suicide scene really left a mark on me + when she was confronting Yohan, especially after she took Elijah out!

— Elijah. Just Elijah, our best girl!!! Apparently it’s one of Jeon Chae Eun’s first roles, she did so well!! Along with Ji Sung and Jin Young, she gave a whole new definition to the Domestic Scenes, i swear. These scenes will keep a special place in my heart for a long time! Her adorable smile and cheekiness were a refresher in this show!

(They could change TDJ’s concept in a second season and make us a domestic slice of life series, i wouldn’t mind AT ALL! Take my money!!)

Seeing her complicated relationship with her uncle unfold before us deeply moved me. The complete loneliness she silently depicted moving to her bed in the wheelchair, after Gaon left the mansion was heart-wrenching. And also the scenes after Soohyun’s death, hurting with Yohan seeing Gaon’s pain (the way she spoke her worry for the two of them, Yohan couldn’t let the words out properly to Gaon).

— CKH’s character, played by Jang Young Nam, was amazing. Her acting already shattered me when i watched Nobody Knows! Her cold gaze, her harsh tone, she was badass i have to admit!

The narcissistic rage was well depicted in her character, and even though i get where many’s opinions on her death come from (i share it too sometimes, but i feel it more for Sunah), i found this final decision fitting to the character, especially if you look how she treated her own son (each hold felt like a grip from rage eg. in ep. 3, as she maybe felt her son was the cause of her demise).

(HUGE SPOILERS FOR BEYOND EVIL BELOW!!!!)

She reminded me of HKH’s ending: seeing his path to success was crushed with no way out of it except death on his own accord (in his eyes, because it was his absolute life aim, every single being, to his own wife and son, and means, even bending the justice independence, were his expendable ways to pave his path), HJW’s father was set on suicide before his son barged in.

(Funnily enough, the filming spot for CKH’s house is the same for HKH’s house haha)

— And also … Lawyer don’t-worry-i’ll-get-you-out-on-probation Ko deserves a round of applause for the best lawyer he is hahaha

THE STORY’S DEVELOPMENTS (AND SCRIPT). I feel like this story could very well have been developed on 20+ episodes! Even if i know some scenes in a script are sometimes (bound to be) cut in the drama, TDJ’s script leaks make me feel there was SO much more to be told, and so much more to explain some plot events in the airing drama!

Because the story was ambitious, both character and plot(twists which give you whiplash)-driven (and also the filming context with the pandemic), i feel like some choices were made.

The lines of thought about justice and the drama’s attempts at its ‘true’ definition are not lost on me. It was really interesting!

On a side note (there will be many, bear with me haha), the symbolic behind the app’s name, DIKE, which i’m pretty sure (correct me if i’m wrong, i only have some very rough basics in korean haha) is the korean romanization of Nikè, or in ancient greek Νίκη, the greek divinity of Victory ( ‘ㄴ’ in korean sounds like an ’n’ but its pronounciation is more abrupt/brisker, to the point of what could be sounding to ears like a ‘d’).

Nikè is most of the time represented as an attribute to other greek divinities who also embody the victory eg. Zeus or Athena, thus seen as a bestower of victory (in any domain, be it war, games = interestingly enough, the live court is set in a colosseum-like room, arts, …) to the humanity on behalf of these gods (Nikè sometimes stands in her palm as an attribute of Athena, like the owl or the helmet). But sometimes Nikè was also revered an independent protective divinity.

Nikè is represented as a winged divinity in a long robe, flying above the victorious, assisting the humans in their works/challenges eg. handing them a laurel crown as a sign of victory, or a helmet, etc. Its mostly known representation is the Winged Victory of Samothrace (or The Nike of Samothrace) sculpture in the Louvre. The brand Nike also used it in its logo.

It calls back to Yohan’s line: « I make sure i win before the game starts », and in fact, since the beginning, unbeknownst to everybody witnessing the trials and participating to them, the app was his way to win. It foreshadows the ending of the story, Yohan finally taking down the foundation. It also adds to his god/devil image: he assumes the role of the intermediary/abyss of the « gods » (the Justice), taking in all the hubris of the society in order to bring the justice (well, guess we could say it put some hold to the cycle of the powerful culminating to chaos?) back, in some sort of catharsis through DIKE.

It might be a stretch, but Nikè’s winged representation could be found on Gaon’s tattoo (at first to me, it looked like a phoenix/winged angel, which symbolizes a ‘reincarnation’/new beginning for Yohan finding peace, a second chance to his past and Elijah thanks to Gaon & Gaon finding a new world even if his first crumbled ie. his parents and Soohyun’s death and professor Min’s betrayal).

(The whole virus plot by the end of the story made me feel a little uncomfortable given the actual context and the conspiracy theories that are spreading, but it wasn’t used carelessly and served the commentary of the powerful and how far they would go, i think? That said, a fiction, especially a dystopia like this, stays a fiction but when they used it, it gave me a forced laugh haha)

Now, if someone gets to translate some script bits, i’m really looking forward to:

K’s backstory!!!!!

Isaac and Yohan’s past!!!!

More about Elijah!!

Where’s the cat???

What was the script saying for Gaon and Yohan’s confrontation in ep. 12? When Yohan faced the window, waking up from a nightmare after Gaon left?

ABOUT SOOHYUN’S BACKSTORY. (Now, this will get long, i’m sorry but i needed to let my thoughts out haha) The drama introduced her as one of the four main characters with Gaon, Yohan and Sunah. I had so many expectations for her character! Especially from the three scenes we got of her:

➔ In the first episode, we see her save a young girl in the street from two men, looking up at the poster « A safe Korea will be realized from now on. »: it was a great introduction to the blatant lie of the ‘safe’ dystopian world that was being created in the story. It also showed how Soohyun felt in front of this insecure world. A side note, but seeing her hug the young girl like that reminded me the hugs she gave Gaon: she wanted to protect him from this unjust world with all her might (especially the scene in the restaurant where she hugs him). ➔ Her two confrontations with Juk Chang! ➔ Her dilemma and emotional turmoil when she erases Gaon’s presence in CKH’s office.

She was portrayed in the story as Gaon’s pillar since his parents’ tragic death and his moral compass. She’s the lawful citizen, despite feeling helpless to the world’s changes, who hopes it could be saved as long as the rule of law is preserved by everyone, and this begins by respecting it themselves.

But she was not standing around and i kind of regret this was not shown more in the story: she kept doing her best in the « system », fighting from the inside the injustice hoping the little changes could make a difference someday. Because she couldn’t take Yohan’s path, in no way: the system/the law must be respected for it to be sustained. And i’m glad they addressed this point in the drama: Yohan chose to take on the role nobody wanted or even dared to assume, knowing fully well he became a criminal the second he began his plans (just as lawyer Ko said he was no longer a lawyer once he sided with him).

This must not be glorified, nor vilified. As he said, it was a choice he decided to make. She mirrors his choices to some extent and i would have loved to see more of their interactions or her thoughts about that! And how she worked through the system to change things, her vision of the justice. They showed us the flashback of her career choice in high school, and it could have been interesting to learn more about her!

A backstory about her saving the youth and meeting Sunah by accident would have been very interesting (given Sunah knew all about her since the beginning and ordered to kill her). Their meeting wouldn’t have foreshadowed Sunah’s plans, quite the opposite, and it would have given more ‘substance’ to her plans. We were robbed of this relationship haha!

And of course, seeing her side with Yohan & Gaon for a short while (because seeing her team up with them all along the way could’ve been a little ooc) would have been dope. Her arresting Juk Chang while the two of them stop the gang was the closest thing we had to their teamwork ;;

Among the drama’s main focuses (the self-pity of the powerful and the never-ending cycle of their greed, the power displays it ensues which come in many forms in the system’s game), the conception of justice was developed all along the drama. It would have been really interesting to see whether Soohyun’s conception of justice could have changed in her own way!

And professor Min’s potential manipulation of Soohyun!!! Some scenes on their interactions could have been nice to see and explain why she focused solely on Yohan, the only side of the whole story she knew! Her reporting to the professor about her investigation (and him feeling she got too close to the truth) would have made sense because, as she saw Gaon growing apart from her as he was getting closer to the Kangs (especially since she saw him interact with Elijah when they invited her to the café, like Sunah saw how Gaon fit in their family at the dinner scene), she would’ve wanted to protect him without him knowing because she knew it’d have hurt him. It could have paralleled Gaon’s reports on Yohan to the professor at the beginning of the drama. And that could have explained (aside from the whole love triangle dynamics they had) her reluctance to tell Gaon Yohan was the one who told her his whereabouts when he was in danger in ep. 13 ; this scene also was one of the only moments addressing the lack of communication in their relationship. Seeing her feeling confused over Yohan could have been interesting!

(This also got me wondering whether in the script, Yohan’s injury was ever addressed.)

Also, i’m curious about her family, if the script mentions something about them: did they know Gaon?

About the loveline between Gaon and Soohyun: while the friendship could have stayed as is (it already felt pretty genuine in my opinion and strong friendships also deserve to be portrayed in stories), i’m convinced this drama wanted to set Gaon as the center of a subtext love & morality triangle between Soohyun and Yohan (and K and Sunah on Yohan’s part). I think i would’ve appreciated Gaon and Soohyun’s loveline so much more if they developed it more! And it had to develop in the very same episode she died: apart from the confession and kiss scene (i’m curious about the scene’s description in the script), the flashback of their moments, seen from Gaon’s pov, came just right in to ‘explain’ it!

Of course it wasn’t the main focus of the story and there was already so much happening, but their new relationship development and her death almost had no impact on me even if it was set as a turning point for Gaon (and K for Yohan, as a cement to their respective decision to fight the system and how they would do it), and it made me really really sad! Of course it was a plot device (and i now wonder what would’ve happened if she or K wasn’t dead), but if it was bound to happen, the emotional impact was lessened!

Jinjoo’s character development and her relationship with Sunah happened really really fast, and i wonder how the script describes it!

Sunah’s involvement with the juvenile care center!!! Her scene at the hospital left me really sad.

(Also, on the love plot, Gaon and Yohan jealousy bits weren’t used later as an expression of their envy towards the other’s status/life/etc. and were actually directed to people outside ie. Sunah/K/Soohyun in the plot, which makes me think they really wanted to set it as a love triangle!)

ABOUT SUNAH’S DEATH. I feel really really conflicted on this point. Her story was a parallel to CKH (and of course Yohan, i’ll talk about it below): two women — coming from totally opposite backgrounds — climbing their way up by their own means in this power circle. And despite all their accomplishments unnoticed (because they were the ones seeing through their plans while the others were mainly seen tearing each other into pieces), they could still be ruthlessly ejected from this world any day, part of it because they were belittled as women all the same, and chose to end her life on her own accord, still having agency over it.

As someone else pointed it out, it also acts as a « poetic » retribution for her murder of Soohyun and K. BUT her exiting the scene in some other way staying alive could have contrasted with CKH’s suicide (especially since she overthrew the president who was the only one on her side getting in her way and even killed him in the end). Especially in a show that deals about how the justice can be carried out!

Of course, Yohan and Sunah were a foil to each other in their respective fights and traumatic past: the drama showed us how having someone to reach out to and protect (Elijah, Isaac and Gaon to Yohan ; Soohyun, Yohan and Elijah to Gaon) can become a driving force. Sunah, despite thinking this could be a weakness, also longed for companionship (from Yohan mainly, but also from Jaehee), and had no one to stop her crossing the line and preserve her from herself and the world. At least someone hearing her story, staying by her side and trying to understand her.

Each time she said ‘can you be a little nicer to me?’ to Yohan made me feel for her (and also that one call with Jaehee), it was the only cries of loneliness she silently let out!

On a totally random note, i would have loved to see her interact more with Gaon (especially by the end of ep. 15, when Yohan was arrested)!

The story gladly didn’t end Yohan’s traumatic past and growth in death, but what about Sunah? In any case, Sunah was a really good and complex character, i enjoyed her character!

What about Jaehee? How did she react to Sunah’s death???

What about CKH’s family after her death???

I would have loved to hear more about Sunah’s plans as well! Scenes where she would play with Gaon for example (in Yohan’s presence or not, like at the photoshoot)!

(This comment above foreshadowed, along with the dinner scene in ep. 11, she used him all along!)

Her involvement behind the scenes was only exposed in ep. 15 but i wanted to know more about her (motivations aside from her focus on Yohan, what did she plan to do before finding out a look-alike to Isaac, ...)! Given the elements in the plot, i get the idea she planned this whole business with the foundation first to reach the top and wanted to bring Yohan up with her (eg. leading the foundation or becoming the president) or down without her along the way, because she wanted his companionship. Maybe the script expands on it more? Did she really believe in the Dream Home project? Because as we saw her speech in the juvenile care center and her strong reaction to the youth being harmed in these schemes, i believe she kinda wanted to protect them as the best revenge on her past, because nobody could do it for her?

THE ENDING SCENE. The ending was pretty good and didn’t give us an all-out tragedy, so i’m really glad! I still can’t believe Gaon was ready to blow his life away once he learnt Yohan’s death AND wanted to die with him (falsely) realizing Yohan wouldn’t change his mind, dead set on his decision (no pun intended!). And Yohan’s reaction to this ............... Now, their last scene is left to the viewers’ interpretation, but it felt to me like a new beginning to Yohan and Gaon’s relationship! As it was already said by many people on tumblr, Yohan wasn’t sure if Gaon would still be by his side despite it all, and he didn’t expect Gaon to feel this way. They’ll definitely meet again, it’s a promise of more in the future (especially Yohan’s nod, on the verge of tears and Gaon’s two relieved/endeared smiles, full of forgiveness). Gaon will join his new world once he’s done or they’ll come back to him once Elijah’s recovered.

And this game of hide and seek/hunt reflected their relationship development: Yohan felt unattainable at first, but he chased after him in the maze that was his devilish game, symbolized by the crowd, chasing him motivated by his suspicion, curiosity, anger and hate, disbelief and disappointment, empathy, worry, affection, desperation and love, until he finally reached him and they understood each other among all the crowd, living metaphorically in the same time, facing each other on the same (ground) level.

(A scene in the first episode, Gaon seeing a maze of Yohan’s reflections, maybe symbolizing he could not see through his facade in the beginning, being an enigma to him at first sight ; the choice of the reflections in the mirrors through the drama is interesting and reflects the story: depending on the angles, a story can hold as many meanings as there are points of view, the complete image surfacing once everybody’s story is told)

(Just like how, in ep. 4, Yohan shows Gaon the wicked system right under their noses, Gaon’s enraged and confused gaze directed right at Yohan after they all block his view by clinking glasses ; Yohan hoped he would understand what lies beneath but Gaon understands it fully through his own past in ep. 7-8)

(The crowd is cleared from their/our view in the final scene, leaving the two of them facing each other without any obstacle/reflection on their path)

Gaon kept Yohan’s watch all the time even in moments of doubt, sorrow and rage (the best PPL in drama history so far haha), Yohan finally got to Gaon and entered his world as Soohyun did, reaching out when he needed it the most, to stop him doing something he would regret deeply. It was symbolized by the scar he got on his left hand from preventing Gaon from stabbing him (that’s also why he caresses his scar in a bittersweet way, lost in thoughts, reminding him of their last meeting).

As @i-guess-it-rains said + according to the BTS’ editing (it passed off as a joke but i can’t erase it from my brain now haha), the way the scene where Yohan defused Gaon’s bomb was framed looked at the same time like Yohan was also carefully handling Gaon’s heart (the bomb countdown clock radiating a red glow on his chest), on the verge of exploding. Now i have The Nights lyrics in my head haha (« My heart is going back to you, i just don’t know »)

On another note, i realized that in ep. 12, after Gaon left, he’s seen trying to call Soohyun in order to reach for her since their last confrontation, but right before, his finger glides over his contact, hesitating on Yohan’s contact before choosing to call Soohyun.

While in ep. 8, he only reaches out to Soohyun after his breakdown in the prison yard (without thinking to call Yohan because he was in the core of his doubts and pain at that time and needed space to reflect on all the events):

And it parallels to Sunah attempting to reach out to Jaehee in her loneliness at the top, hesitating before deciding to call her.

Now i hope TDJ will be on Netflix! It’d be very nice to get to watch the drama in high quality and have more people to see it!

I heard it got a webtoon adaptation so i also look forward to it once it will be translated!

A SECOND SEASON? When i first saw the ending, i thought it got wrapped up nicely and didn’t « need » another season, but it also left some parts open and laid out a new background for further developments (the system repeats itself but in another form, Yohan leaves the scene with his signature smile, maybe up to something else again, saying metaphorically or irl to Gaon he’ll come back if he doesn’t do well), kinda like Stranger/Forest of Secrets s1 or The Guest ending (the corruption doesn’t end there). I also heard it got high viewing rates in SK, so maybe it will be taken into account? And well, i’ll miss the cast so i would welcome the idea haha

THE SOUNDTRACK. The whole OST was stellar (and their titles are on point really!)! Getting to hear it without voices or noise over and with my headphones on made me realize it was even more beautiful! Because I Have You, Warmth That Melts Loneliness and If Only… are the end of me (especially If Only aaaaaaa)! Don’t get me started on Enemy of Truth’s title to the OST playing for the church fire because it’s devastating ;;;

If Only’s title … It leaves us filling in the blank space, the dots to Gaon’s thoughts when he learns about Yohan’s past and how it impacts him to this day.

The 4 songs were amazing (there’s also Different from the Outside but i still didn’t get its lyrics). Tempest was definitely etched in my mind as TDJ’s main theme haha And The Nights was my favorite!

➔ Tempest was Yohan’s iconic theme and depicted his lonely path to revenge after the tragic events in his life, and his (fated) encounter with Gaon, how deeply it will change him in this journey in ways he didn’t expect. It perfectly introduces (with Chet Faker and Flume’s Drop the game) and concludes the drama!

➔ What you gonna do was THE revenge epic song making everyone revel in the ‘bad guys’ despair and Yohan’s badass moves!

➔ The Nights felt like it was both Yohan and Gaon’s theme and Gaon’s sorrow after Soohyun’s death: at first i thought it was only Yohan’s, but his revenge and the last episodes proved me wrong! The song’s lyrics mirrored themselves (‘my/your night shines on you/me’), as if a complete understanding between Yohan and Gaon was found on their dark road. Yohan’s night shines on Gaon: Yohan’s broken past and all his misunderstood or hidden sides, his dedication to Elijah. Yohan’s rage (almost wrath since the biblical and god symbolism are there haha) and desire to take the inique system down waked Gaon’s own rage, buried deep inside, and made him move forward too. Gaon’s night shines on Yohan: all the time he spent with the Kangs, Gaon’s deep empathy and understanding, helping him reconnect with his niece, their dinners at night, his rage exploding when the truth about his parents was revealed, his desperation on the last two episodes (in ep. 15, seeing Gaon’s realization everything was a lie and Yohan was innocent, and in ep. 16, Gaon wanting to die by his side). Gaon’s night also shined on Soohyun, who wanted to protect him with all she got each time she saw him crumbling down.

There was still light on their dark road (which looks like a callback to Nightmare’s lyrics, « Save me from myself / Save me from this darkness that has lost its light »).

➔ Nightmare felt like it was Yohan and Sunah’s theme. When it last played when Sunah’s death happened on screen, it left me speechless (and if i remember correctly, the ‘save me from myself’ bit was played right when she shot herself … o u c h)!

#the devil judge #tvn drama #my ramblings

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stevevans · 4 years

Text

Protect You - J.P

So um I am very much in love with James Potter but there are no pics of him....if you know any good James writers pls send me their @’s, but it led me to write this so enjoy!

Characters: James Potter, Y/N, Sirius Black, Alice Fortescue Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I haven’t been on Tumblr or writing fics for a while so feedback is very much appreciated!

Requests: OPEN

“Will you tell me about my Mum and Dad? You knew them better than anyone, and I have pictures, but nobody really ever tells me about them, they just dance around the subject.”

Harry asked his Godfather at the table quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else, Ron and Hermione beside him. Hermione was excited to soak up as much information on some of the finest Wizards Hogwarts had seen, while Ron wanted to know about all of the spells James had come up with. Harry just wanted to feel like he knew them, or of their love.

“James potter and y/n l/n, truly soulmates.”

Sirius’ voice was laced with love and melancholy, yet also backed by sadness, as it seemed to the trio listening.

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

“James!”

Your voice called out, trying to divert his attention from the rest of his friends, waving your hands in the air. When he finally saw you you were out of breath, jumping up and down as a smirk covered his face. Crossing your arms across your chest as he walked over, a smug look on his smug asshole face. He was quite the charmer, but you were determined to be angry at him and not fall victim to his charms this time.

“Yes my love?”

He leaned in for a kiss, earning a hand on his chest pushing him away.

“You seemed to forget to tell me what exactly happened at that Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch match Mr. Potter.”

His demeanor changed immediately, his hand going to rub at the back of his neck.

“You see Future Mrs. Potter, it was all just rubbish, whatever they told yo-.”

“James you almost died from what I was told!”

The dirty look you got from some passing Ravenclaw’s had not helped his case. Before he could utter another word you turned away from him. Scoffing as you turned and starting to walk away from him he begged you to stop. You refused to stop.

Your anger could only be concealed for such a small amount of time though, he had been careless and reckless and what if something happened? You could not bare to live without him, no matter how much you wanted to admit it, if he died you would break.

You were in love with James Fleamont Potter.

So, instead of dealing with him you ignored him for three more days, your anger starting to bubble over. Alice was tired of hearing you complain about him, and Sirius was tired of hearing James whine about how you weren’t talking to him. It wasn’t until you were alone in the gardens that he caught up to you thanks to an anonymous tip from a very annoyed Alice. Pulling on the sleeve of your robe he spun you around to face him. He used your surprise to his leverage, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you in, pressing his lips to yours.

You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You had missed him dearly, being mad at James was almost impossible, almost.

When you pulled away he rested his forehead on yours,

“I’m sorry my love. Padfoot thought it would be funny to plan out a whole theatrics, and I just went along with it. You were supposed to be there, giving me that signature y/n look when I got too out of control.” He was like a puppy dog, his eyes bore into you, carving out a spot in your heart.

“But I wasn’t, and what if something happens to me and I can not ever be there again? Will you just do stupid things until you die? We are in our last year at school, and pretty soon we are going to need to get jobs and be adults. James what if I am not always here?”

He had no idea why you were talking about this, pulling away from you, his hands moving up to grip onto your arms, almost shaking you.

“Are you insane? What the fuck do you mean without you? Not being here anymore? You’re talking like you’re dead, or that we’ll break up.”

“We could! You never know James! With the way everything is going what if I do die? What if I leave you and the baby alon-” Before you could stop yourself you let it spill, and there was no going back.

“What baby?” You were quiet, your head lowered as you trembled, part from the cold and part from fear of his reaction.

“What baby?” He repeated, “Are you pregnant?” It was more of a statement then a question, just him testing out the words on his tongue, yet you nodded nonetheless. You held your breath as he spoke, just wanting to hide. You could not lose him.

He lifted your face up to look at him, tears bubbling behind his eyes, damn those eyes.

“Did you think I would leave you or be mad?” Again you nodded, petrified at his response. Until suddenly he laughed deeply, picking you up and swirling you around.

“Do you know what this means y/n? We're gonna be parents! Real life parents! You and me. You have my baby in you, our baby. We're going to be the best parents! I have to tell Mum and Dad, and now I finally get to make you a real Potter. God Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail! Anything else can be damned right now. I’ll protect us, always.”

You forgot what you were even mad at in that moment, seeing his happiness radiating it transferred to you too, harshly pressing your lips back onto his, gripping his hair as you kissed. Only pulling away for air you smiled,

“Forever Potter.”

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

Clearing his throat as to not cry Sirius nodded at Harry,

“And he did, protect you and your Mother. Until the very end, he refused to leave you two. He fought Voldemort until his last breath because he was protecting you both. If you know anything, know that they loved you more than you could ever comprehend, and the reason you’re alive is because of their love for one another and for you. I know they’re somewhere bickering over what colour they want their drapes in the afterlife to look like. They’ll ultimately go with Y/N’s idea because James only wants to see her happy.”

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x reader #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter au #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

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nikmikaelsonswife · 3 years

Text

Alaric’s in Love with You but Klaus Was Your One and Only

contains s5 TO spoilers that you’ve probably seen before since you’re on tumblr. set in legacies.

It started when Hope returned to Mystic Falls with you in tow, someone Alaric hadn’t seen in over a decade. You’d changed; physically and mentally. Your hair was darker and shorter, brushing your shoulders as well as your eyes had lost that pretty, dangerous sparkle. You were less extroverted, but that was understandable since you had gone through tremendous heart break.

It also didn’t help that you’d returned to a place that once was your home, the changes having a much heavier and worse effect on you than you had anticipated. You’d spent a great deal of time staring at the Stefan Salvatore Memorial plac, reliving the past, not even having the courage to enter the library.

The way you closed off was only half the reason Alaric and you hadn’t slipped back into old habits. The other was that frankly, it wasn’t easy for him to trust a Salvatore, much less a Mikaelson. You just so happened to be both; the woman who brought the two vampire families together. He didn’t see that as good in any way, shape or form.

He’d never had an issue with you, it was always your brothers, husband and his family stirring the pot and setting paths of destruction in their wake. It was rare for you to aid in it voluntarily, but at the end of the day, you were still a vampire. No matter how much you tried to avoid darkness and evil, you couldn’t hide from something that was apart of who you were.

But then again, he hadn’t seen you in so long. It was before you had officially moved to New Orleans, before you had truly began to cope with Stefan’s death and before you had helped in raising a child. Now you had gone through all of that, along with losing the love of your life and it didn’t take you opening up to him to notice that you weren’t the same person.

Out of nearly two centuries, the past decade had been the worst of your life as well as the best. You’d grown so much and Alaric couldn’t say that he didn’t like who you had become.

He was surprisingly able to set aside your supernatural nature enough to grow quite fond of you. With the help of the people around you, the distraction of being co-headmaster and weekly phone calls with Damon, you were able to break through the grief-stricken shell you’d built around yourself. It allowed Alaric to truly see you again.

At your core, you were still (Y/N), the woman he bantered with in the early morning hours in his office over take out that you had convinced him on buying. The woman who would shout, “YES,” when she’d crack a case all on her own, flashing him a breathtakingly gorgeous smile that made his heart flutter.

He could still pinpoint the day you took your wedding ring off on a calendar, stating that, “I can’t go on everyday with this reminder. I need to live my life.” He knew that was hard for you, since you had refused to take it off for a full two years following Klaus’ death. Perhaps, it meant something.

His brain would turn to mush every time you pulled him in for a hug after a particularly dangerous day, or when you’d catch him staring and give him a quizzical almost smug look. He had a hard time in controlling how his pulse would quicken up when near you, aware that if you listened for it, you’d hear it.

You were far from dumb, as well as the students attending the school. His daughters often gave him a look when they’d catch him acting weird and Hope had even cornered him asking if he had a thing for you with a threatening look on her face.

“I do not have a thing for Dr. Salvatore...”

“Salvatore-Mikaelson,” Hope corrected, arms crossed over her chest. She could see through his bullshit and both of them knew it.

“Look,” she sighed, “(Y/N) is like a mother to me. I’ve known her all my life. For your sake and for hers, I’m going to be completely honest. I doubt she’ll ever get over my dad.”

Sincerity shone in her eyes, a slight frown in her brow. “You didn’t get the chance to but I saw them together. Nothing could match up to what they had. They were soulmates. She doesn’t want anyone else.”

Alaric cleared his throat, briefly adverting his gaze to the floor. “I..I..” He stumbled over his words, unaware of what to say. Deep down, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But he couldn’t let his façade drop.

“Have a good day, Hope.”

He’d sat down in his office to mull over her words, pulling a hand over his face every time he’d get too caught up in his thoughts.

If what Hope told him was the case, then what about the little flirtatious glances? Or the way you snuggled into him when you fell asleep in his office that one night?

A small smile tugged at his lips when he thought about how you had berated him after he went off on his own to fight a monster. You had been fuming, eyes watery, yelling about how he was only human and a selfish jackass to not think about all the people who cared about him.

How you cared about him.

He hadn’t felt the way he did since Jo died, not even for Caroline, and it was one he had missed. One he’d been harboring for months and he felt like it was time to confess. If his feelings were requited, he couldn’t imagine a better future than that, a better feeling than that. It was all he was focused on when he said those three little words.

“I..I like you. A lot.”

It was one night when the two of you had gotten a little carried away with the liquor stored underneath your desk. You were snuggled up against him on the couch, but thought nothing of it. Unlike Alaric.

Brows furrowing, it took you a moment to register his words due to the sleepy haze and the alcohol coursing through your system. And when you did, the tension alleviated from your shoulders before you lightly punched him in his. “I like you too. A lot.”

He shook his head, throwing caution and anxiety to the wind before he clarified. “(Y/N), I’m in love with you.”

His eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the way you froze. “I have been for a while. You’re sweet, loving, unbelievably beautiful and an amazing friend. Being co-headmaster with you, seeing you with everyone...I couldn’t help but imagine a life with you by my side officially.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” his eyes fluttered open, which is when he noticed that you had moved away. His heart dropped at that. “I don’t want you to feel pressured...”

“Alaric.” You interjected, fingers toying with the N necklace dangling from your neck; the necklace that was always hidden underneath your shirt, which Alaric hadn’t noticed you still wore until now.

And that combined with the melancholy expression on your face made his stomach churn in fear and realization. He’d made a huge mistake.

Inhaling deeply, you contemplated on what to say. “I like you, Alaric.” His eyebrows raised, hope glistening in his gaze but you quickly shot that down. “But this can’t happen.”

His gaze softened as you stood up from the couch. “It’s not fair to you. I can’t be that woman for you, for Lizzie and Josie.”

“I’m not expecting anything from you...”

“Apparently you are since you told me that you’re in love with me!” Both of you were shocked by your outburst and you quickly apologized, “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed.”

A moment of tense silence ensued as you stared at the ground, hyperaware of his gaze on your face. “Klaus was different.” You suddenly spoke, bottom lip quivering as the feelings you had buried resurfaced, “I thought I was going to spend eternity with him.”

“I understand that.” He leaned forward, “I felt the same when Jo died. And it took me a while to move on. I can wait.”

You lifted your gaze to lock it with his. “I wouldn’t ever ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m just stating. I understand if you need time.” Tears began to gather on your lashes, fingers threading through your hair as you sighed. He was making it more difficult than it already was. You didn’t want to break his heart.

“I still cry in the shower, Al! And when I’m not crying, I’m talking to my dead husband!” Your eyes were wide, voice loud and shaking as you stifled your cries. “I continue to dwell on the past. I dream about him every night. Hell, I even write in a journal about him.”

“After almost three years, I’m still mourning as if I lost him yesterday. And I know for a fact that it will always be like that.”

He stood up at that, his face contorted into a incredulous expression. “But what about the looks you give me? Or the cuddling? You can’t tell me that didn’t mean anything.”

“That’s how I’ve always reacted when a man was interested in me! I thought it was a short term thing or that you wanted to get in bed with me. But just that.”

“It’s not just that. I love you.”

Your heart broke even further at how those words made your stomach churn. “Please. Don’t.” Hatred boiled in your chest as you were upset with him. Upset that he’d ruined a strong bond that took years to build, that you wouldn’t be able to find comfort in your friendship anymore.

“Klaus will always be the man my heart belongs to. He was my one and only. He was my soulmate.”

“You have to stay here and take care of Hope.” He swiped his thumb across your wet skin, “Don’t worry, my love, I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

The word echoed in his head, a memory of his conversation with Hope crossing his mind. Soulmate. “(Y/N)...”

“I’m sorry, Alaric.” He internally grimaced at the absence of his nickname and he found himself wondering if the relationship he had with you would ever be the same. Found himself acknowledging that he, in fact, ruined it.

It made him angry as well. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

Your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, “You deserve someone special, Alaric. That someone just can’t be me.”

#i don’t know why i wrote this #i was just watching legacies and got the idea #i was mourning klaus don’t judge me lmfao #klaus mikaelson #alaric saltzman #klaus mikaelson x reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #legacies

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 45: Martin Prime

“I Spy, with my mental eye, something that begins with…C.”

“Croft?”

“N—yes. Wait, how did you know that?” Jon sounded slightly indignant. “I didn’t even know you knew that word.”

Martin snorted. “Then you’re cheating.”

Jon sighed theatrically. “All right, fine, but which croft?”

“Hmm.” Martin pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The one two hills over, with the stone fence that was falling down in places. The one you had a hard time not seeing as sinister.”

“Well done.” Jon cupped Martin’s cheek in his hand and gave him a gentle kiss. “Right, your turn. Let’s go with…hmm. Let’s say Gertrude’s storage unit.”

It was a silly and relatively pointless game, but Martin loved Jon so much for coming up with it. They’d played I Spy several times when they were in Scotland because Jon had misunderstood Martin’s attempt to explain the one helpful thing he’d been given during his brief stint in therapy, but it had helped both of them, so Martin hadn’t told Jon until much, much later that it wasn’t what he’d meant. Still, it had been fun to play, and it had given them a brief moment of levity during their trek through the fearscapes between their tiny haven of sanctuary in Scotland and their ultimate destination in London. Martin had joked about playing it at Christmas, and Jon had apparently taken that to heart.

He’d come up with this variant not long after, and they’d played it a few times since. One of them would select a location they were both familiar with, and the other had to try and remember what it looked like, then pick something to “spy”. One part game, one part memory exercise, it was a continual surprise to Martin how many little details he could still picture in his head.

He sometimes suspected Jon of changing his answers solely so Martin could be “correct,” in the same way that Martin had never had a favorite color until Jon had guessed it to be green, but at least it was a fun exercise.

“Right,” he said, trying to cast his mind back over the storage unit. That one would be trickier. There’d just been so much crammed into a relatively small space, and Martin had admittedly been a little distracted by relief over having Jon back and talking to him, seeming to actually enjoy his company. It was hard to focus on details beyond the plastic explosives crammed in the hard case.

“I Spy, with my mental eye—” he began.

Jon’s fingers suddenly touched Martin’s lips as he hissed a warning to stay quiet. Martin froze and held his breath, and then he heard what Jon did—voices in the corridor. They were muffled but distinct, which did at least mean it wasn’t someone who didn’t need to be down there, but…

After a moment, though, Martin caught a laugh that sounded familiar and relaxed. “It’s them.”

“That’s…not good. It’s the middle of the day.” There was a rustle as Jon got to his feet. “God, what happened now?”

Martin bit his lip. Being blind and living essentially underground meant his internal clock was a bit off, but he trusted Jon. If it was midday, that meant it was Wednesday; Past Jon had been gone less than two days. He was probably still in Beijing. Nothing bad had happened to Jon while he was in China, unless there was something he hadn’t told Martin, and he probably hadn’t even had time to get into Pu Songling yet. Which meant something had happened to one of the others. Best case scenario, they’d uncovered a statement that bothered them or they wanted clarification on. Worst-case…

The door opened, and Past Martin’s voice came in, obviously in the middle of a sentence. “—like I’m offering to show you a pipe of Amontillado we’re keeping down here, it’s—oh, hey, you’re up already, that’s good.”

“What’s happened? Did something go wrong?” Jon asked urgently.

“Depends on your definition of ‘wrong,’ I suppose.”

There was a slight, nearly imperceptible creak as the door opened wider, and then a short pause before a female voice that sounded rather familiar spoke. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

Martin sat up a little straighter. “Melanie?”

He felt a surprising mix of delight and regret. He’d come to like the feisty firebrand in the short time they’d actually been able to get to know each other, despite the strain of the world having ended, and one thing he’d privately lamented when they’d made the decision to come back in time was that he wouldn’t get the chance to talk with her again, so having the opportunity was an unexpected pleasure. On the other hand, the fact that she was here and being brought down probably meant that she’d been trapped into working at the Institute, and that sent a stab of aching melancholy through his heart. They’d wanted so badly to keep her from turning bitter and angry…

She didn’t sound angry, though, at least not yet. Then again, their Melanie hadn’t at first either. “Are you clones or—you knew my name. What are you?”

Martin couldn’t help the grin that curled across his mouth, even as he got to his feet. “Me? Oh, I’m the Antichrist’s plus-one.”

The surprised laugh sounded like Tim’s. Melanie actually sounded delighted. “Does that mean he’s the Antichrist?”

“Assuming you’re pointing to Jon, yes.”

“Melanie.” Jon sounded like he was struggling to keep his composure. “It’s—it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Getting initiated. Or hazed, maybe. Depends on how you want to call it.” There was a rustle of fabric, and Martin guessed Melanie had just folded her arms across her chest. “You’re looking at the newest Archival Assistant.”

“Oh, Melanie,” Jon murmured, his voice full of regret.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, evil fear things, spooky stories, you can check out any time you like but you can never leave, today we are canceling the Apocalypse, blah blah blah.”

“Any other pop culture references you want to throw out there?” Martin asked dryly.

He could imagine Melanie shrugging. “I mean, you might have to give me a minute to come up with a few. But they told me all about the crap they have to put up with. We have to put up with, I guess.” She paused. “So, neither of you really answered my question.”

“Melanie King, meet the Primes,” Tim said. “Jon and Martin, meet the crazy woman who knew what she was getting into and did it anyway. Ow!” he added, punctuated by the dull, wet smack of somebody being punched in the side. “Jeez, what were you, a boxer in another life?”

“You say that like I’m not a boxer in this one,” Melanie grumbled. “I just don’t compete is all. Prime whats?”

“So you know those pop culture references?” Past Martin said. “Here’s one more. They’re—they’re Jon and me, from the future. They’re the reason we’re trying to stop the Apocalypse. The reason we know we need to stop the Apocalypse,” he corrected himself. “Tim calls them the Primes, like—”

“Like Spock Prime. Got it. Okay.” Martin could picture Melanie’s scowl pretty clearly; it had been more or less her default expression for a while. “Well, then. Unless one of you can mind-meld, you’re going to have to prove that some other way.”

“No, fortunately, the ability to plant thoughts and memories in someone’s head is one I was spared.” Jon sighed heavily. “I—I don’t know if there’s anything I can…m-most of what I know about, about your future counterpart are things that haven’t happened yet, o-or the others could have told us.”

Martin pursed his lips as a thought occurred to him. “I can think of one thing, but you probably don’t want it bruited about.”

“I seriously doubt that there’s anything you can come up with I wouldn’t want them knowing.” There was a challenging edge to Melanie’s voice that was all too familiar.

“Melanie—” Sasha began. Great, everyone was there.

“No. You think you know some big secret about me, something I wouldn’t have told you until later? Fine. Say it. I look forward to being able to look you in the eye and tell you you’re wrong.”

Martin sighed in exasperation. “You got shot by a ghost while you were in India. In the leg. You told the doctors it was a—a mugging, right? They couldn’t find anything in the scans, but trust me when I say it’s probably still in there.”

There was another one of those long pauses. “Fuck.”

“I did warn you,” Martin pointed out.

“You did, and I should have listened.” Melanie snorted. “I mean, obviously. I’ve only been working here for three hours and I already know that’s the number one Archives rule: Always listen to Martin.”

“Excellent life advice, both in the Archives and out,” Tim agreed.

“Both of you shut up,” Past Martin muttered, but without a lot of heat behind it.

Martin laughed. “It really is good to—we have missed you, Melanie.”

“You guys must have had a really rough few years if we’ve known each other long enough for you to miss me,” Melanie said, but he could hear the smile in her voice anyway. “For what it’s worth, it’s good to meet you.”

There was a bit of an expectant silence before Jon made a flustered-sounding noise of surprise and tapped Martin’s arm. “She wants to shake.”

“He’s not an idiot,” Melanie snapped. “If he doesn’t—”

“No, I’m blind. Sorry, should have warned you.” Martin reached out and found Melanie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh.” The slight pull against Martin’s arm was the only clue he got before Melanie—at least he assumed it was Melanie—surged forward and hugged him instead. In his ear, she said, “You look like you need it.”

“Well, I’ll never say no.” Martin didn’t need physical contact quite the same way Jon did, but it did give him comfort to feel a friendly touch once in a while. And it was substantially more important now that he was blind to have a tactile connection to the world around him. He was just momentarily caught off-guard; he’d forgotten how much shorter than him Melanie was.

After a moment, Melanie pulled back. “Right. Do I get an explanation or is it ‘you’re from the future’ and we leave it at that?”

“We can explain. Right, Jon?” Martin added, raising an eyebrow in his fiancé’s direction.

“Right. Of course. Ha-have a seat.” Jon sounded like the entire situation had put him off balance. “We’ll see what we can do.”

In a lot of ways, it was easier than when they’d told their story to the crew the first time, close to a year ago now. First of all, the team was aware now of a lot of things they’d had to explain, and Melanie had lived through at least some of it, so there was less to catch up on. Second of all, Tim, Sasha, and Past Martin were able to help fill in a lot of details. Including some things even Jon and Martin hadn’t been aware of.

“And then the world ended,” Jon concluded, much as he had the previous year. “And Martin and I…well, eventually we decided to try and put it back.”

“By coming back in time? How’d you even know you could do that?” Melanie asked. “Is it in one of those statements up there?”

“No. N-no, I don’t—I don’t think so. I don’t know how the Keeper found out about that passage back. That wasn’t our original plan,” Jon said slowly. “I’m not completely sure we had a plan, come to think of it.”

“Head to London, kill Jonah Magnus, and hope for the best,” Martin said with a shrug. “Push the big red reset button. I don’t know. I think we were still figuring it out when we got there.”

He could hear the frown when Melanie spoke next. “Sorry, I’m new to all this, I’m sure you’ve been over it a lot, but—how did you know you could? Can’t imagine the big scary fear god that thinks it’s won just…giving you a map to all its vulnerable spots or whatever. How did you know there was even a way to fix it?”

“We didn’t,” Martin said simply. He felt Jon lean against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “But we had to try.”

There was another long pause before Melanie spoke again, her voice almost too soft to be audible. “Who else survived? Besides you two?”

“What?” Jon asked with a frown.

Martin realized she had almost been too soft to be heard; he’d only caught it because he had to concentrate so hard. “You, Georgie, and Basira. And the Admiral. But in our timeline…Sasha’d been gone for years at that point, she died when Jane Prentiss attacked us. And our Tim died in the Unknowing. Once Daisy went over to the Hunt, we were the only ones left.”

“The whole rest of the world died?” Melanie demanded.

“No,” Jon said quickly. “No, not—not yet. They would have. Eventually. But no. After the Fears came through…the world divided largely into two categories. Watcher or Watched. You were either trapped in a fear’s domain or—or observing one.”

“So which one was I?”

“Neither. You and Georgie, you were both sort of…outside it. I don’t know that you were the only ones, either, but you were the only ones we knew about.” Jon paused, then added, “You kept going into domains and—rescuing people, actually. Or trying to. These tunnels are a blind spot, and that didn’t change even when the Institute became the literal center of the world. You and Georgie would run into a domain, get someone out, and bring them down here.”

“And inadvertently started a cult,” Martin added. He couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his mouth. “You hated it.”

“God, yeah, I would have. I swear, the worst part of Ghost Hunt UK is dealing with the fans. I just got into it to investigate the paranormal, not to be famous doing it.” Melanie sighed heavily. Martin felt bad for her. “So what happened to us? After you left. Did you erase the whole future timeline so none of it ever happened, or did the three of us have to either fix it ourselves or live in a post-apocalyptic hellscape for the rest of our natural lives?”

“I—I don’t know.” Jon sounded incredibly shaken.

Martin rubbed comfortingly at Jon’s shoulder. “We left before…we didn’t get to tell them we were going. The Keeper—the one who helped us get back in time—he promised he’d let them know what was going on, he said they’d be safe. As far as I know, we didn’t…that timeline still continued to its end. I just don’t know when its end was. And unfortunately, we never will. Personally, I think what would have happened is that when the Keeper told everyone that our plan went to hell and Jonah got away, your counterpart would have said ‘fuck this’, got a knife, and gone after him herself. She kept trying to kill him in our timeline and he saw her every time. I don’t doubt for a minute that she’d take advantage of the fact that he literally wouldn’t have been able to see her.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason he can’t see me. Because she was blind, she was immune to the Eye. And as hard as she was working on her anger, I think she knew how to turn it into a weapon. Also, she hated Jonah.” Martin sighed. “So yeah. We don’t know what happened to everybody in our timeline, but if anyone could fix it, it’d be our Melanie. Correcting the Apocalypse with a knife and sheer spite.”

“Damn right,” Melanie said. Someone turned a laugh into a hacking cough.

Jon sighed and leaned against Martin’s shoulder. Martin shifted slightly to settle him into a more comfortable position. After all these months, the movement was as natural as breathing. “I’m so sorry, Melanie. We—we’d hoped we could keep you out of all this.”

“Hey, don’t take away my right to choose. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Did he ask?” Jon asked. “Or did he just hire you?”

“Of course he asked.” Melanie sounded exasperated. She dropped her voice to a lower register and did a very poor, mocking imitation of Elias’ drawl. “‘I understand that your show is on a hiatus, and with Jon off traveling, I’m sure Martin and the others could use some assistance. Jon spoke quite highly of your research abilities. Would you be interested in a paid position here in the Archives?’ I could have told him to fuck off if I’d really wanted to.”

Martin replayed the words in his head a couple of times. “Yeah, sounds like he flattered and dangled bait in front of you, but didn’t actually force you. Very carrot and stick.”

“So why did you say yes?” Sasha asked, sounding curious. “Knowing what you were getting into, more or less?”

Melanie sighed heavily—Martin was incredibly familiar with that sound—but to his mild surprise, it was Past Martin who answered. “She told us that, Sasha. Or at least indirectly. She—you said you started Ghost Hunt UK to investigate. And when we were having lunch before you left for India…I saw how animated you got when you were talking about that student film you did. The supernatural, the paranormal, it’s genuinely something you’re interested in. You agreed to join the Institute because it lets you do all that and get paid for it, with the added bonus of not having to deal with people if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, basically. And, you know, if I can help save the world, that’s a nice little plus, too.”

Martin heard the rustling of fabric, but he honestly couldn’t have said if it was a hug or a light shove or what, and Tim’s next words made him none the wiser. “Thought you couldn’t read minds.”

“I can’t. I just know people.” Past Martin’s voice softened. “I promise, Tim. I’m not developing any new abilities.”

From the way he said that, Martin could picture quite vividly what Tim’s face had to look like. It was probably somewhere between the way he’d looked when he’d brought Sasha her coffee after she’d been attacked by Michael and the way he’d looked when telling Martin what had happened to his brother—a mixture of concern and fear and maybe a little bit of heartbreak. Tim really did worry about the others developing powers from the Eye, but there was probably an additional layer here because it was Past Martin.

Martin did know people. He had a fairly intuitive sense for the mood of a room and the way people interacted. In his timeline it had led him to play peacemaker, or try to, attempting to mediate between Jon and their Tim. In this…go-round, he supposed…it mostly meant he was picking up on a lot of things that weren’t being said, or at least weren’t being said aloud. He’d heard the fabric rustling, the lighthearted banter, the genuine laughter. He’d picked up on the gentleness in Past Jon’s voice that reminded him of the way Jon had spoken to him so often after Prentiss attacked, after he’d been accused of murder, and especially during those agonizing months he’d been working with Peter Lukas and they’d been so close and yet so far apart. He’d noted the affection in Tim’s voice, the way he’d tried so hard to control his anger and fear and actually talk to them. And of course he knew himself, and by extension his past self, knew what he sounded like when he was trying to navigate a simple conversation without wearing his heart on his sleeve, when he was trying to throttle back an emotion he desperately wanted to express but didn’t think would be welcome…or safe.

He knew love when he heard it, and dear God, if it had been that obvious to him for so long, he was already mentally betting with himself against how long it would take Melanie to call them out on it. Because he also knew hidden love, and he was willing to venture that they weren’t trying to hide their relationship because they thought it was inappropriate in the workplace. He was willing to bet all three of them thought it was unrequited on their part and that they had to keep it hidden from the others lest they be shot down.

He’d never really thought about polyamory himself, but in retrospect, yeah, maybe he had had a bit of a crush on their Tim. At least for a while. That would never have gone anywhere, though.

“Do we need to get out of here?” Melanie asked. “I mean, is Big Nose McCreepy going to notice we left the Archives essentially abandoned?”

“No, we’ve got a bit,” Sasha said. “He’s supposed to be meeting some of the Institute donors for a lunch of some kind. He’s not on site and he’s going to be occupied for a good while. I’m kind of hoping he gets a little tipsy, too. Anyway, he thinks he’s got us over a barrel right now. He thinks he trapped you into the Institute, so he’s feeling smug enough that he’s not going to pay attention to us for a while. His plan is to give us the rest of the week, at least, to let you ‘settle in’ before—”

“Sasha!” Jon said sharply. He sat up so suddenly it almost pulled Martin off-balance.

“Oh. Oh, shit.” Sasha inhaled abruptly. “I swear that wasn’t on purpose.”

“That’s—Christ, Sasha, you shouldn’t be able to do that from down here—”

“I didn’t—I Knew that before we came down. I’m pretty sure.” Sasha took another deep breath. “Right, okay. I don’t know who’s nominally in charge while Jon’s away, but—I think maybe I should take tomorrow off? Just to…recalibrate. Ground myself. Get some distance.”

“Take the rest of the week,” Tim suggested. “I don’t know who’s nominally in charge either, but—”

“I’ll stand in for your Jon,” Jon said. “Tim’s right. Take a good long weekend. Don’t think about the Institute, or the Archives, or the Fears. Just…I know it’s easier said than done, but try to distract yourself.”

“I think I have a way of doing that.” Sasha sounded thoughtful. Martin was pretty sure it was sincere.

“What do you do?” There was a hint of a challenge in Melanie’s voice, but also a good deal of curiosity. She was genuinely asking. “When it gets too much. What do you have that keeps you from—doing whatever it is you shouldn’t do?”

“Going out and pouncing random people to draw their traumas out of them,” Jon said dryly. “And I have Martin. He’s been my anchor for…much longer than I realized at the time. We’ll read or—or talk, or take a walk or something. We played cards a lot when we were in Scotland.”

“We were playing I Spy earlier,” Martin added.

Sasha snorted, but Past Martin seemed to actually understand. “Like a memory game type version?”

“Basically, yes. We pick someplace we both know—or knew—think about what was in it, and pick something for the other to try and guess. Five tries or less. And no mind-reading.”

“It’s still your turn,” Jon reminded him. “The storage unit.”

“Hmm.” Martin thought for a moment, then smiled as he remembered the one thing he’d fixated on while they were there. “I Spy, with my mental eye, something…brown.”

Jon made an exasperated noise. “I swear that must have been her favorite color. That could be anything.”

“Well, then, you’d best get guessing.”

“Fine.” Jon sighed heavily. “The…box full of dolls.”

“Nope. Guess again.”

“The book? The one we didn’t know what it was?”

“That was black.”

“It was—never mind.” Jon sighed again. “The notebook?”

Martin shook his head. “Come on, Jon, think. This is me we’re talking about. What would I have been looking at?”

“The…the frame on the painting with the dogs in it.”

“One guess left.”

“Give me one more hint.”

“It was the first thing that gave me hope in weeks.”

Jon was silent for a long while. Finally, he said, “I give up. I honestly, genuinely cannot think of anything that was brown that might fit the criteria you’ve given me. What do you spy?”

Martin’s smile widened. “Your eyes.”

There was a chorus of awws and exaggerated gagging sounds in equal measure from the other four, but from the way Jon took his face in both hands and kissed him, tenderly but thoroughly, Martin could tell that his choice had had the effect he wanted.

#leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#ollie writes fanfic #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonmartim

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thegalleonsnest · 3 years

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Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting!

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic.

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.”

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…”

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.” “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

#Bugsnax #Wiggle Wigglebottom #TheGalleonsNest Writing #Fic #wip excerpt #Bugsnax Fanfic #Hope you guys enjoy a taste of what's to come #even when there's very little context #I've got multiple large scale projects lined up #this is just one of them #I hope to officially start it this year #but there is still a lot of backend work to be done #and also I got tons of art to make too before then

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foxghost · 4 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 13

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 1, Chapter 4 (part 1)

At nightfall, twilight draws Lang Junxia’s shadow into a long, long line; what little sunlight left streams in from outside the walls, looking like beacon fire from beyond the borders was staining the black bricks.

“Lang Junxia! Lang Junxia —!” Duan Ling races through the corridor towards Lang junxia, shouting, “My dad is back!”

Lang Junxia smiles a slight smile, turning to face Duan Ling. He nods.

“He …” Duan Ling has been running so hard he’s breathless, and he stands there panting.

"I know.”

“But he says his surname is Li, and so is mine. His name is not Duan Sheng.” Duan Ling frowns.

"You’ve grown, Duan Ling.”

Duan Ling looks at Lang Junxia, baffled.

“I have to go out tonight to do some work,” Lang Junxia says.

“Didn’t you just come back? You have to go out again?”

Lang Junxia doesn’t explain. He just reaches out toward Duan Ling. Looking puzzled, Duan Ling walks to him, and Lang Junxia wraps him in his arms.

“This is wonderful,” Lang Junxia says.

After he hugs Duan Ling, he steps apart from him, and makes him stand properly. Thereafter he parts the tails of his gown and kneels down in front of Duan Ling on both knees.

'Hey!" Duan Ling wants to go help him up, but Lang Junxia gestures for him to stay still. Bending at the waist, he kowtows.

“Farewell,” Lang Junxia says.

“Wait a second!” It occurs to Duan Ling that something is happening. “You have to go? Where are you going? Dad! Dad!”

“Yes.” Lang Junxia is still kneeling on the ground. He looks up; he does not let go of Duan Ling’s hand as he stares up at him. “The reason I went to Runan was to find you. Fortunately I did not fail in my duty. Now that you and your father are reunited, my mission is complete as well, and my work in Shangjing can come to an end.”

“Don’t … don’t go! You promised you’d stay with me, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps in as long as a year or as short as a few months we’ll meet again. But you have his high— you have your dad to take care of you, and even if what you want is the entire territory of the central plain, he can give that to you. To you, I’ve already … I still have more important things I must do.”

“Don’t go, Lang Junxia!” The rims of Duan Ling’s eyes at once turn red, but Lang Junxia is already rising with a smile.

“Duan Ling,” Lang Junxia says, “I’m nothing more than a passing traveller in your life. You must do what your dad tells you from now on. If anyone can ever care for you wholeheartedly, to never lie to you or to hide things from you, to save you when you’re in danger regardless of whether it may cost him his own life, to think of what’s best for you in every situation — if such a person exists in the world, then aside from him, there would be no one else.”

Duan Ling grips Lang Junxia’s hand firmly, refusing to let go, pulling him toward the house. “No! No way! You have to explain to me where you’re going first, and how many days it’ll take before you come back!”

Lang Junxia stands there like a mountain range, not budging an inch, and Li Jianhong’s voice rings out from behind them.

“I’m sending him away to check on something for me. Your dad can’t get a day of peace until this matter is thoroughly investigated.”

Lang Junxia tries to get back down on one knee, but Li Jianhong puts out a hand to signal that he may dispense with the formalities.

Duan Ling feels terrible. Lang Junxia speaks again earnestly, “Duan Ling, be good. I will come back.”

Duan Ling has no choice but to slowly let go of his hand.

“Once you return to the south, you don’t have to mention me again,” Li Jianhong says.

“Certainly,” Lang Junxia replies.

Duan Ling still has things to say, but he doesn’t know how to say them. Li Jianhong is already saying, “Well go on, leave while the city gates are still open.”

Lang Junxia bows. “Please excuse me.”

“Can’t he leave tomorrow?” Duan Ling says sullenly. But Lang Junxia has already turned, disappearing at the end of the corridor, bringing up a gust of wind in his wake.

“Wait!” Duan Ling says, “Let me help you pack some …”

Duan Ling heads inside, flustered, wanting to pack something for Lang Junxia, but the sound of horseshoes striking the ground is heard; Lang Junxia really doesn’t linger at all once he decides to go. Duan Ling runs out of the room with a half packed bundle, the tails of his gown fluttering in the spring evening breeze.

It hasn’t really hit Duan Ling yet how Lang Junxia can be gone just like that. Everything that happened today has happened far too quickly, more than all he’s experienced over the past five years added up altogether. He chases after him, distraught, shouting, “Lang Junxia! Lang Junxia!”

There’s no longer any sign of Lang Junxia in the distance, but Duan Ling stands there staring off blankly after him anyway. Li Jianhong is here, but Lang Junxia is gone; like how the sun travels across the sky, how the moon waxes and wanes, how the tide comes in and the tide goes out, everything has come so suddenly.

Li Jianhong watches Duan Ling with a deep furrow between his brows; he wants to hug him, but Duan Ling is inconsolable, taking deep breaths as he stands there working so hard to hold back his tears that his face turns bright red, on the verge of crying. Li Jianhong can settle anything — the only thing he can’t settle is his own son’s tears. He’s immediately discombobulated, at a complete loss as to what to do.

“Your dad seriously does have work that needs him doing …” Li Jianhong says, all at sea. “Then should I postpone it for a few days? Never mind never mind …”

“You don’t have to do that.” Duan Ling wipes his tears, sobs audibly caught in his throat, “I understand.”

“Don’t cry.” Li Jianhong says, “These tears of yours are giving your dad a throbbing headache.”

Duan Ling is at once caught between laughter and tears. Li Jianhong picks him up sideways and takes him back home.

In the end Duan Ling’s sadness piles up inside his heart into a persistent melancholy, so Li Jianhong can only keep coming up with new ways to make him smile, and speak to him until soon his thoughts are gradually distracted — but only because while they’re having dinner Li Jianhong promises Duan Ling that once Lang Junxia’s work is finished he’ll make him come back and serve Duan Ling exclusively.

Duan Ling asks, “Really?”

“If that’s what you want naturally you’ll have the final say.”

But Duan Ling maintains that something isn’t quite right about that, as though the word ‘serve’ is too much. That shouldn’t be the relationship between Lang Junxia and himself.

Duan Ling is used to seeing the heirs of noble houses in the Illustrious Hall order people around; they often have one or more servants to shout orders at. Even though Lang Junxia once stated that he was a ‘retainer’, their relationship is not like that of those people.

“Even though I made him come pick you up and look after you, I really don’t want to see my son become a little Lang Junxia.”

Duan Ling says, “Lang Junxia is a really wonderful person.”

“Yeah.” Li Jianhong says offhandedly, “A really wonderful person, aside from the three or five times he nearly stuck a clean knife into your dad and took out a red one. Generally speaking, he’s not bad.”

Duan Ling is rather speechless.

“In your life you’ll still encounter many more people aside from him yet. You need to learn to distinguish between people’s intentions for you, whether they’re sincere, or whether they’re just anxious to ingratiate themselves to you.”

“I don’t get it, but I know he’s sincere.”

“Judge a person by his eyes.” Li Jianhong replies, “Those who are earnestly there to be your friends would often speak before they think when they’re in front of you. They’d always reveal their true nature to you, and not hold any reservations.”

“You can’t know someone only by who they are now.” Li Jianhong continues, “He has a past. He has a life background.”

Duan Ling says, “But the headmaster says that a person’s background can’t decide on much.”

“I’m not talking about family background. It doesn’t matter what house a hero comes from; family background is no matter. I’m talking about what he’s lived through. What kind of a person your friend is, is half decided by his history.”

Now that Li Jianhong has laid it out to him, Duan Ling suddenly realises it too; Lang Junxia has never told him what sort of a person he was before they met. Duan Ling has asked him often, but Lang Junxia’s lips are as sealed as a corked jug, and he never spoke of his past.

“But Lang Junxia treats me very, very well.” Duan Ling finishes, “His history ought not to be so bad. He’s a … yeah, to me, he is a good person.”

Though Duan Ling is very sad to be parted from Lang Junxia, he’s getting accustomed to Li Jianhong’s arrival quite quickly. Lang Junxia has only ever made him study and tended to his everyday needs, but he never taught Duan Ling how to conduct himself and deal with people; by comparison Li Jianhong talks altogether too much. At dinner he tells Duan Ling not to talk and chew at the same time, and to wait until after he swallows; he patiently answers whatever question Duan Ling asks him, always thinking the question through from the beginning, and answers them from the beginning too, never putting off his question with a mere ‘don’t ask, you’ll understand in the future’.

After dinner Li Jianhong sits next to the well in Lang Junxia’s place, to draw water and wash the dishes, and he even does Duan Ling’s laundry as though it’s a matter of course, just what he ought to be doing. Duan Ling rests for a while and makes tea for Li Jianhong. It suddenly occurs to him that Li Jianhong may need to bathe, and so he gathers up soap-pod honeylocust and other bathing items, finds a new robe that Lang Junxia hasn’t worn yet, and waits for Li Jianhong to finish so they can go to the bathhouse together.

Shangjing’s bathhouses are open through the night. It’s not easy to set up a bath in the winter, so Lang Junxia brought Duan Ling here often. There’s dried fruits to snack on, fermented glutinous rice2 to drink, and a storyteller downstairs. Duan Ling knows the place well; he walks inside the bathhouse holding Li Jianhong’s hand, counts out the money they need over the counter on his tiptoes and orders some workers in to scrub them later. Li Jianhong just watches him from a few steps back with smiling eyes.

Li Jianhong looks up into a brightly lit hall. “Your dad doesn’t need a scrubbing — you don’t have to send in anyone.”

Thinking perhaps Li Jianhong is unused to having others wait on him, Duan Ling gets ready to scrub him himself, but as Li Jianhong undresses and reveals his naked body, Duan Ling can’t help feeling quite shocked.

Li Jianhong is covered in scars — slashes from knives, points from arrows. A long sword scar cuts across his well-defined abdomen, an arrow scar dots his chest, and a small patch of his broad back show signs of having been burned.

Li Jianhong lets out a long breath as he reclines into the warm pool. They’re the only ones in it. Holding a rough towel in his hands, Duan Ling doesn’t know how to begin, but Li Jianhong says to him, “Your dad fights with people a lot so that’s why there’ve been so many injuries. No need to be scared, my son.”

“How … did you get this?” Duan Ling puts his hand under Li Jianhong’s ribs.

“That sabre cut was left behind from Nayantuo’s attempted assassination.”

“Who’s Nayantuo?”

“They say he’s the best swordsman of Xiyu, but now he’s just a dead man.” Li Jianhong casually says, “A sword for his sabre; he stabbed me under the ribs, I stabbed him in the throat. Quite fair.”

“Then what about here?”

Li Jianhong turns to one side. "Hand to hand combat with Mongolian soldiers beneath Yubiguan. Jebe3 shot an arrow right through my armour and left this mark”

“What happened to Jebe?” Duan Ling asks.

“Ran away. Still alive. But he won’t live much longer. That patch on my back was burned with crude4 oil, you can scrub that as hard as you like, it won’t peel.”

Duan Ling counts all the scars on Li Jianhong’s body silently as he scrubs him. Li Jianhong’s naked skin is seemingly held together by many patches, but it doesn’t make Duan Ling afraid at all, as though each scar when matched with his robust, manly physique merely completes a special aesthetic of strength.

“Do you see this, my son?” Li Jianhong turns his face to show Duan Ling the corner of his eye. Li Jianhong has a straight and tall nose bridge — a beautiful nose, and his skin is a healthy copper, but there’s a faint scar at the corner of his eye as though it’s been struck before.

Duan Ling runs his fingers over the corner of Li Jianhong’s eye. “How’d you get that?”

“A fine thing your mother did,” Li Jianhong says with a smile, reaching into the tea tray placed next to the bath for a slice of butter and feeding it to Duan Ling. Drawing Duan Ling to him with one arm, he touches their foreheads together and rubs his head against him.

Duan Ling thinks it feels nice; Li Jianhong wraps an arm around Duan Ling to hold him close and they soak in the water, skin to skin.

“What for?” Duan Ling asks.

“I told her to leave, and she didn’t want to. She hit me over the face that night with a vase from the Xiongnu King Ke’ersu’s tent — she was seriously ruthless. Don’t you think you and your mother’s a bit alike? Usually completely harmless, but pushed into a corner you’re capable of pretty much anything.”

Duan Ling goes quiet for a moment before pressing, "And then what? Did you hit her back?

“Of course not. How could I ever bear to hit her?”

Li Jianhong heaves a sigh, holding Duan Ling as though holding his entire world in his arms.

“Have you ever seen her, my son?” Li Jianhong asks.

“I haven’t.” Duan Ling turns, resting his head on Li Jianhong’s chest.

After bathing, Li Jianhong puts on a robe the colour of spring grass, Lang Junxia’s; they look a little bit small on him. The father and son pair go home in the spring breeze winding through small lanes. Li Jianhong carries his son on his back and walks slowly on the flagstone paved paths. In this late-arriving radiant spring day, Shangjing resembles a young lady freshly waking, languidly unfolding from sleep.

Pear blossoms drift to and fro beneath the moonlight, falling onto an empty, silent trail.

“Dad.” Duan Ling is getting a bit sleepy draped over Li Jianhong’s back.

“Yeah.” Li Jianhong seems lost in thought.

Today is the first day Duan Ling ever met Li Jianhong, and to get to know him, but strangely he realises that they seem to already know each other. It’s a kind of familiarity where no words needed to be exchanged; a smooth and continuous intimacy, a deep connection that seems branded into their souls. They never needed to introduce themselves, and never needed to question the other, as though over the past thirteen years, Li Jianhong has been by Duan Ling’s side all this time. It’s like he wasn’t there when Duan Ling got up in the morning, but that just means he’s gone out to get some groceries, and when evening comes, there he is.

And the reason why all of his troubles have feels as though they’ve left him far behind is because he feels so secure right now — it is a certainty of knowing that once Li Jianhong has found him, he’ll never ever leave him, as though in this whole wide world, the moment Duan Ling was born Li Jianhong had to follow him, and to live inside his world.

“Dad, how old are you?” Duan Ling asks without thinking.

“Twenty-nine. The year I met your mother I wasn’t much older than you are right now. I’d just turned sixteen.”

“Was my mother beautiful?”

Li Jianhong says gently, “Of course she was very beautiful. When she smiled even the snow on the permafrost would melt; all the vastness of an empty desert turned into Jiangnan. That year beneath the Qixue Spring5, I fell in love with her at first sight. Otherwise why would there be you?”

“Then …”

“Hm?”

Duan Ling doesn’t press him for more. He has a feeling he shouldn’t ask anymore; his father may feel sad.

“Did the Duans treat you badly when you were in Runan?” Li Jianhong asks.

Duan Ling goes quiet, then he tells a lie. “No, they knew you were coming. They were pretty good to me.”

Li Jianhong shows he heard him with a hm before saying, “Lang Junxia betrayed me three times and indirectly killed several tens of thousands of people. His whole life he’s been encumbered by his very nature — he far too readily does whatever he feels like without considering the consequences. When it’s all said and done, if it wasn’t for a passing notion of his, your mother and I, and you as well, we wouldn’t have been separated for so many years.”

Duan Ling listens quietly.

“Luckily he still has his humanity, and finally took you away from Runan — I suppose that chain of karma is meant to be. I promised him that if he kept you safe it would redeem him. Otherwise, my nameless sword will chase him to the ends of the earth. He’d never be able to show his face again.”

Duan Ling feels like he just heard about a Lang Junxia he’s never met before, and he presses, “What did he do?”

“It’s a long story.” Li Jianhong thinks about this. “I’ll tell you the whole story when we have the time. If you still regard him as your confidant once you find out his whole history, I of course won’t force you not to. Do you want to hear it now?”

Truthfully, Duan Ling doesn’t dare believe it, but he believes that his father won’t lie to him, so he can only nod.

“You must be quite tired today,” Li Jianhong says. “Sleep.”

Once at home Li Jianhong puts him down on the daybed, but Duan Ling is still holding onto his sleeve, staring at him steadily.

Li Jianhong thinks for a second and realises what Duan Ling isn’t saying aloud, and so he smiles, unties his gown, and bare to the waist dressed only in a pair of underpants that reaches his knees, he lies down next to Duan Ling.

Duan Ling wraps his arms around Li Jianhong’s waist, rests his head on his arm, and drifts off to sleep.

Wind whips through the pine forests, the sound bringing to mind an army’s killing aura and the devastation they wreak; at midnight, the distant battlefield, the spatter of fresh blood, and the sorrowful snarling of his comrade-in-arms moments before death once more materialises into an endless nightmare that suddenly besets him.

Li Jianhong lets out a loud shout as he wakes with a violent start and sits up.

“Dad!” Startled, Duan Ling’s heart beats madly as he frantically gets up to find Li Jianhong covered in sweat, sitting on the bed hyperventilating.

“Dad?” Duan Ling asks worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Had a nightmare.” Li Jianhong can still feel it. “I’m okay. Did I scare you?”

“What did you dream about?” Duan Ling used to have frequent nightmares when he was little too; he dreamt of getting beaten. But as he grew older the shadow of what he experienced in Runan has faded away.

“Killing.” Li Jianhong’s eyes are closed. “And I dreamt of my dead subordinates.”

Duan Ling presses his fingers on Li Jianhong’s triple-heater meridian to help him calm down before he’s able to slowly lie back down, keeping his eyes open, lost in thought.

And Duan Ling curls up in his arms, his head resting on Li Jianhong’s chest, playing with the jade arc hanging from his neck.

“It’ll get better over time,” Duan Ling says.

“Do you have nightmares often too?” Li Jianhong has already recovered.

“Before.” Duan Ling plays with the jade arc, his eyes locked on it.

“What did you dream about?”

Duan Ling hesitates, not sure if he should tell Li Jianhong about his getting beaten in Runan. After all, it’s all in the past.

“I dreamed about mom,” Duan Ling says, finally.

“You’ve never seen your mom, so you were probably dreaming of the pain of birth. Birth, ageing, illness, and death are all suffering. They’ll all fade away over time.”

“I don’t get nightmares anymore. Tomorrow I’ll buy you some medicinal ingredients for calming down your heart. You’ll feel better after having a decoction.”

“To think someone in our family is actually an expert of the medicinal arts.” Li Jianhong begins to smile, and turning to the side he pulls Duan Ling into his arms, and resting them nose to nose, he asks, “What do you want to do when you grow up? Want to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know. Lang Junxia said …”

Duan Ling was going to say that Lang Junxia told him he needed to take his studies seriously and accomplish great things in the future, mustn’t disappoint his dad, but Li Jianhong says, “My son, you don’t have to worry about what anyone else says. You can do whatever you want to do when you grow up.”

This is the first time Duan Ling has ever heard anything like that. Before, when he was in the Illustrious Hall, from the headmaster all the way down to the servants believed that water flows to low places, and people go to high places; mastering the literary and martial skills is for the sake of benefiting the imperial family. Since we’re fortunate enough to incarnate as a human being, we should have high ambitions.

Li Jianhong smooths down his son’s bangs, and looks into his eyes. “My son, if you want to practice medicine or learn the martial arts or even if you simply want to devote yourself to Buddhism and become a monk, beg for alms, it’s all fine as long as you’re happy.”

Duan Ling starts to laugh. No one has ever told him before that he can become a monk if he wanted to.

Looking perfectly serious about it, Li Jianhong tells him, “From what you told me in the afternoon it sounded like you knew what you were talking about, so I presume you’d rather have fun. Do you not want to go to school?”

“The question isn’t whether I want or not want to.” Duan Ling gives this some thought. “I have to study, but I like gardening more.”

Li Jianhong nods. “Well if you become a gardener that’s fine too.”

“The headmaster said that all occupations are base save for book-learning.”6

“Book-learning is good.” Li Jianhong breathes a sigh. “But if you really don’t want to, dad’s not going to force you. Dad just wants you to live a happy life.”

“Then I’ll change profession tomorrow and become a gardener.” Smiling, Duan Ling closes his eyes, putting the jade arc hanging around his father’s neck onto his eyelid, warm from Li Jianhong’s skin.

Li Jianhong gives him a little smile, and holding Duan Ling, he closes his eyes, bowing his head to smell the fresh scent of honeylocust in his hair.

Duan Ling is asleep before he knows it, and it’s already morning by the time he opens his eyes again. Li Jianhong is training outside in the courtyard without a top on, wielding a long staff so swiftly that it whistles through the air, swirling up eddies of peach petals that go flying off once more in an instant.

Duan Ling comes out yawning. Li Jianhong puts away the long staff and starts going through a set of palm moves instead: cross at the wrist, forward push, turn both palms up and down again. His concentrating expression looks extremely handsome.

After Duan Ling has watched for a while, Li Jianhong draws his palms back to the centre. “Do you want to learn?”

Duan Ling nods, so Li Jianhong starts teaching him one move, one form at a time. Duan Ling says, “But I haven’t practiced the horse-stance before. I have no foundation.”

“Oh don’t worry about any of that — as long as you’re having fun.”

Duan Ling doesn’t know what to say.

Duan Ling emulates Li Jianhong and goes through the entire set of moves; Li Jianhong doesn’t tell him if he’s got it right either, just stuffs him with some basic knowledge and says, “That’s enough. Learn a bit, and if you’re interested we’ll get back to it by and by. This is called ‘the profound explained in simple terms’.”

Duan Ling laughs aloud — he just finds his father’s personality too much to his liking. A bit tired from practice, Li Jianhong knows they should start breakfast. After breakfast, Duan Ling habitually waits for that phrase go study the way he always does, but Li Jianhong seems entirely disinclined to rush him.

“Dad, I want to go take care of the flowers.”

Li Jianhong signals him that he can go right ahead, and Duan Ling goes to the flowerbed to fiddle with his plants. And Li Jianhong cuts down some bamboo to make him a bamboo canal to water his plants with.

Without anyone to push him, Duan Ling still feels a bit restless. He busies himself for a while with his head in the clouds, but then he runs off to study again.

“Can’t get past your conscience?” Li Jianhong sits outside the study with a teacup in his hand, looking up at the white clouds flowing by.

“Yeah, I just feel uneasy,” Duan Ling can only say.

“Looks like studying is what you want to do after all.”

Duan Ling feels a bit embarrassed. And so Li Jianhong begins living in the estate, and the days go by. He never forces Duan Ling to do this or that — he can do whatever he wants, even if what he wants to do is nothing but to sit there spacing out with some tea. But that’s how Duan Ling always has been — if you push him and make him do things he won’t, but without anyone to urge him on he gets bored. So without Li Jianhong having to prod him he voluntarily studies everyday anyway. From time to time he’ll also emulate Li Jianhong and learn a few palm moves.

Li Jianhong on the other hand seems unable to leave Duan Ling’s side at all; even if he’s just going out shopping for groceries he has to keep Duan Ling by his side, nearly never letting him out of his sight, always sleeping together at night and always staying in the same room during the day.

And Li Jianhong is always pondering. One day, Duan Ling finally can’t help himself from asking him about it.

“Dad,” Duan Ling says. “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about you, my son.”

Duan Ling laughs, and putting down his books he goes to cling to him. Between Li Jianhong’s brows there seems to be a knot that cannot be untied, filled with problems he cannot solve. But when he looks at Duan Ling his eyes are very gentle.

“You’re unhappy.” Duan Ling puts his hands on Li Jianhong’s cheeks and turns his head left and right. “Something on your mind?”

He can feel it. Aside from the first few days after they met, Li Jianhong seems to always have something on his mind.

“Yes. Your dad’s been worrying about what he can give you.”

Duan Ling says smilingly, “I want to eat the Jasper Dumplings at the Five Rivers to Sea.”

“Well then of course we’ll have to go.” Li Jianhong gets ready to take Duan Ling out for some good food. He takes Duan Ling’s hand. "But snacks are not all that’s on my mind.”

Duan Ling looks at Li Jianhong with puzzlement.

“Do you want to go home, my son?” Li Jianhong asks this of Duan Ling.

Duan Ling gets it now. Just like what he has heard in the Illustrious Hall before, all Han wants to go home.

“Dad wants to give you something that should have been yours in the first place.”

“I’m already quite satisfied. We must be happy with our lot. Lang …”

Facing the courtyard, Duan Ling nearly called for Lang Junxia, but then he remembers that he’s already left so he can only say despondently, “Oh, he’s not back yet.”

It’s been a long time since Lang Junxia left already, but Duan Ling is accustomed to thinking of him as still at home. What did he get sent to do? It’s been so long already so why isn’t he back yet? He can feel that his father doesn’t really like it when he keeps talking about Lang Junxia.

Every time Duan Ling brings him up, Li Jianhong would not be without jealousy.

“When is Lang Junxia coming back?” Duan Ling’s daily question has switched from ‘when is my dad coming back’, but Li Jianhong replies, "He’s preparing a new home, so he can welcome you back.”

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

In Taiwan, fermented glutinous rice, or Jiuniang, is a breakfast food eaten like congee. It’s also slightly alcoholic, very sweet and a little sour, and very delicious. ↩︎

Jebe was one of the most famous generals under Genghis Khan. ↩︎

The word 火油 / “fire oil” in modern terms means kerosene, but for a lot of imperial history it referred to crude oil and used as a weapon. By the time of Northern Song, there were already records of it being refined into a purer, stronger form, but it was still only recorded as being used for war. ↩︎

Literally “the pool that wept blood”. Not a real location, but it did appear in Yingnu, one of the other books in this universe. ↩︎

This phrase comes from the “Prodigy Poetry”, compiled during the Northern Song dynasty. It’s really easy to read, and a lot of common proverbs and five-character idioms came from it. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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wheel-of-fish · 4 years

Text

By the Numbers Jöback, Hill, Stolle

By the Numbers: The Peter Jöback/Samantha Hill/Jeremy Stolle Stream, August 15, 2020

A more timely roundup! The things that can be accomplished without a kitten on your head!

This was a fascinating boot, featuring a Phantom with a lovely Swedish accented tenor voice, Samantha “too sweet to be hot, except to the Phantom” Hill, and release-the-thirst-floodgates Jeremy Stolle. The Stolle thirst was boundless. The Stolle thirst was all encompassing. There was scarcely a vocal phrasing, gesture, line read or body part that was not only mentioned but gushed over. I did not even begin to count the ways. Every category would have been “greater than infinity”. And, every comment was true. This man delivered! From the height of his tallness to the depths of his deep baritone, Stolle was on a roll in this boot. The boot itself was very good quality, only one large Head occasionally swallowing the action like a black hole. Very worth seeing! The passion of the AIAOY Kiss is matched only by the physics involved in making it happen between oh so tall Stolle and oh so small Hill. But true love always finds a way!

Suggested names for this boot: Jöback in Black Boot, IKEA Phantom Boot, Stolle the Show Boot (Okay, nobody suggested these. It was me. I suggested these. The first one was from Fish’s password for this stream, though!)

Statistician’s Favorite Boot Name: The FÅNTØM Boot (again, nobody’s suggestion but mine, spelling courtesy of missbuster)

Wow, we like to talk about Phantoms: Well this week, we seemed to talk about everybody except other Phantoms. Oh sure, some were mentioned, but let’s mix it up and see what other names were dropped this week. Supply your own context for even greater amusement, because heaven knows you won’t find it here. These numbers are a lot more accurate because, again, no kitten on head this week. It occurs to me that instead of meticulous record keeping, I could just make crap up. Not this week. Maybe next week. All these people were genuinely mentioned in this week’s stream.

Carly Rae Jepsen (7), Vin Diesel (1), John Travolta (3), Antonio Banderas (5), Hugh Jackman (3), Ian McKellen (3), Judy Dench (1), Emmy Rossum (2), Anne Hathaway (4), Russell Crowe (3), Patrick Wilson (1), James Corden (1), Rebel Wilson (1), Hadley Fraser (1), Kelly O’Hara (1), Francesca Hayward (1), Michael Gruber (1)

Fond mentions of 1998 “Cats”: 6

Mentions of 2019 “Cats”: 12 (I have left out any adjectives as most were Not Charitable.)

Opinions that “Cats” should only be done as an animation: 2

Oh, hey, yeah, another Phantom, mentions of Gerard Butler: 5 (I have left out any adjectives as most were along the lines of Bless His Heart)

Oh, hey, yeah, another Phantom, mentions of Paul Stanley: 14 (I have left out any adjectives as most were somewhere between Not Charitable and Bless His Heart)

Wishes for Rose to have good luck on her date while the rest of us stayed glued to our monitors on a Saturday night: 9

Inappropriate Random Zoom: to Christine’s dressing table during Raoul’s visit (not NEARLY as inappropriate as the Random Zoom to Barbara the mannequin’s doors of summer during last week’s stream.)

Self-Caress mentions: 3 (The Phantom. The PHANTOM. Not whatever you were thinking.)

What scent are the Phantom’s candles: Hopeless Mist (no, the Phantom’s candles were not discussed this week. As the creator of the candle line which includes Underground Despair, I have decided to use this statistical summary to focus group test additional scentsations suitable for the Phantom’s Lair. You are warned that this may be an Ongoing Feature.)

For Science mentions: 6

Boner mentions: 2 (I will not name names, you know who you are)

Apparent confirmation of boner mentions by people noticing Christine looking down during The Sprawl: 3

Is there any safe way to say that boner mentions are ummm trending downward?: No

Unofficial Dialogue: “TA DAAA” when the Phantom reveals the mirror bride (courtesy Wheel-of-fish, who just barely beat haunted-hideaway to it)

Outrageous Rumors Category:

“Carly Rae Jepsen as Meg…..A dream”—deardaaery

“Carly Rae Jepsen played Meg???” –mrskroger

“I love how these streams can be used to start outrageous rumors”—Aldebaran

“rushing to tumblr to tell everyone about carly rae jepsen playing meg”—Wheel-of-fish

“Vin Diesel played Raoul, fact”—Aldebaran

IKEA mentions: 10

Suggestions for additional characters Jeremy Stolle could play in the All Stolle Show (phantom-of-the basement): Mirror Bride (christinegrrl), Monkey Music Box (Flora-Gray), Madame Firmin (ktarinajones)

Everyone’s a critic: “First review for the all stolle show has to be “he stolle the show” otherwise it’s a missed opportunity”—butdreamsofbeauty

The Phantom’s pillows mentions: 7

People of the opinion that the Phantom should use one of his 600 pillows as a cushion for fainted Christine’s head: 2 (question and number of pillows estimated by ashadeintheshade)

Vintage madamefaust on the Pillow Question:

Look, he took a long time arranging those pillows. They’re from Pier One, they’re expensive, he doesn’t want to put them on the floor.

Erik has skillz:

“You know he’s handy. Everything is probably homemade. Bitch can sew a hem.”—Melancholy’s Child

“Erik as a contestant on Project Runway”—Benny-Lynne

“I’m convinced he hand-sewed the Red Death costume.”—haunted-hideaway

“Five and half months working on that Red Death cosplay”—yamiangie

“has a “Red Death” pintrest”—blahahala

Outrageous Rumors Part Two:

“The pillows are hot-glued to the boat”—wheel-of-fish

People who fell for the Phantom hot-gluing pillows to the boat: 4

Outrageous Rumors Part Three

“Carly Rae Jepsen hot glued those pillows”—wheel-of-fish

We stan a crafty Phantom:

“I just like the idea of Erik with a glue gun”—wheel-of-fish

“erik bedazzling things”—butdreamsofbeauty

“He DEFINITELY has a bedazzler.”—madamefaust

“erik bedazzles his own capes”—christinegrrl

“erik with a staple gun putting pillows on a boat: KACHUNK”— phantomofthebasement

Barbara Speaks:

“Being a mirror bride must be a hard job”—mrskroger

“damn straight”—the-real-barbara

Rare Don Atillio appreciation mention: 1

Andre’s probable fear of ballerinas mentions: 6 (as suggested by madamefaust)

Andre’s issue gets a name: Tutuphobia—Aldebaran

Possible alternate ending for POTO:

There’s like 8 ballerinas….if they all came together the Phantom would have no chance.—hell-lawliet

That’s why Buquet always carries a noose, fear of ballerinas–Aldebaran

AIAOY Kiss comments: 45 comments in 24 seconds

Requests for AIAOY Kiss replay: 6 (replay occurred)

Incorrect use of the Raoul as an International Unit of Measure: 1 (I misstated in the stream that Christine would be 1.62 Raouls in height. This is clearly false, as it would make her much taller than Raoul, who is already impossibly tall. Using as our values Mr. Stolle at 6’3” and Ms. Hill at 5’4”, Christine’s height expressed in Raouls would be .8533 Raouls. The statistician regrets the error. This is why maybe I should just make crap up next time. No, I will not convert the heights to the metric system.)

Debut of IKEA Phantom:

“And the Phantom is just quietly weeping in the angel because…even he knows that is a hard act to follow”—madamefaust

“That is a kiss to cause a Phantom mental breakdown for sure”—Flora-Gray

“oh no the ikea phantom becomes unassembled”—Aldebaran

“he wasn’t anchored to the wall”—Benny-Lynne

“Someone get the allen wrench, we need to put back together a saad boi”—haunted-hideaway

Unholy Trinity of Cooper/Thiago/Uwe mentions: 1 (by madamefaust, who perhaps is protected by the sheer power of her vast Phannish humor and talent. Please do not invoke the Unholy Trinity on a whim yourself.)

Respect given to Steve Barton in the form of “Fs”: 11 (entirely appropriate at any time but especially during a boot with such a stellar Raoul)

Red Death as a Swedish Fish mentions: 3 (not to his face, never to his face)

“tiny swedish fish red death”—Aldebaran

“HE IS A SWEDISH FISH”—madamefaust

“the most dramatic swedish fish”—butdreamsofbeauty

Best from Onthevirg’s Mom: “We should talk about Phantom Jaws”

Fathering Gaze lyric: 1

Split decision on the statement by mrskroger that Wandering Child has a strong Daddy’s Home vibe:

*Strong NO from Wheel-of-fish

*Strong YES from Benny-Lynne

That staff tho:

“Fire Pez One. Fire Pez Two.”—Aldebaran

“Skeletor Pez Dispenser”—DoCTy

“I wonder what it’s like to be that dramatique that you fashion a staff that shoots fire”—haunted-hideaway

“He probably bedazzled the staff as well”—Aldebaran

“oh he definitely bedazzled it”—christinegrrrl

“ ‘bedazzled staff’ definitely sounds like something hmm”—onthevirg

Number of audience cell phone rings at insanely crucial moments: 1

Attempting to bring Logic to PONR:

“I know it’s a plot device, but who has a hood that big, really?”—haunted-hideaway

“THIS IS THE EXACT SAME MAN. MUCH STEALTH. SUPER INCOGNITO”—madamefaust

“Yeah, I don’t know guys…I don’t think that’s Piangi…?” —Flora-Gray

“yeah swedish italian accent is a giveaway”–Aldebaran

Education of the Innocent:

“ok, I don’t know The Lore, why do we call her Barbara”—butdreamsofbeauty

“Haunted named her in a stream. She said: ‘Her name is Barbara and she had hopes and dreams once.’ I said I would never forget it and I have not.”–Aldebaran

The mob storms IKEA:

“time to flat pack the FÅNTØM”—missbuster

“So you’re saying Stolle should just squash the Phantom” —GlassPrism

“he comes apart for easy handling”—missbuster

“Get the Allen wrench”—madamefaust

Reactions to the Phantom after Christine’s final exit: 37 comments in 59 seconds

Sad comment is sad: We don’t even need the allen wrench, he came apart on his own. – madamefaust

Things I wish I had said:

“Moist Raoulette”—haunted-hideaway

“no Tol Raol Pol?”—missbuster, at not seeing Raoul boating away post Final Lair

“No Stolle Tolle Rolle Polle?”—missbuster, with continued disappointment

Dreams do come true:

You know. If you had told 14 year old me that in the future I could watch Phantom EVERY WEEKEND I would have died on the spot—missbuster

Statistician Aldebaran’s two no three favorite personal quotes:

re: Jöback “He crawls with an accent”

“Raoul conveniently wore a ladder jacket to make it easier for Christine to climb”

“Erik is just in a perpetual state of PONR”

Thank you as always for the submission, kind statistician Aldebaran!

#gooood stuff #saturday streams #submission #aldebaran #by the numbers

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weshallc · 3 years

Text

Happy St. Andrew’s Day. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading Bonfire Night! I haven’t put it on the usual fic sites as I knew I would mess about, and Tumblr folk are a patient bunch. I am going to rejig it so it stretches from Bonfire Night to Christmas (probably New Year at this rate) looking back over 2020.

Thank you for the lovely comments and support from @h4t08 @fourteen-teacups @thatginchygal @bbcshipper @roguesnitch @lovetheturners and new regular @aimee-jessica and @olafur-neal

I really don’t know what I have been doing with my time apart from washing my hands, measuring distances of 2 metres, sewing masks, swearing at the news, collecting Scotch egg and pasty recipes and building a pantry to hoard all my Brexshit preparation supplies.

Enough about me, so as it’s St. Andrew’s Day I thought I might give this another spin.

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited, just for fun)

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels/Paddy and Bernie/Poplar-on-Tweaven)

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.” Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

“Will You Reconize me? Call My Name or Walk On By.” Don’t You (Forget About Me). Simple Minds 1985.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cutting through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then, Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now, do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet, the ceremony is over. It’s time for eating and drinking, something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition. It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the sort of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue, well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored, Anyone who called the barmaid by name was bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars, but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But, she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar.

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well, I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when the wife and I took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now, all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence, causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one, and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way. Under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present. Her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair, we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks. She suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar, she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

#call the midwife #wee reblog #berns night #chapter one #more to follow llater #as in llama #not alpaca #desk top doesn't do flag emoji #found a saltire #and remembered to add extra song

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takoyakitenchou · 4 years

Text

genesis ch.1

i started a next gen fic called Renaissance w all my oc’s but i realized i need to provide context so now i’m writing this in tandem. endgames for this fic are pretty much set but i’m more than willing to experiment. i’ll post chapters for both fics initially on tumblr and then transfer them to ff.net for ease of accessibility (scrolling to find chapters etc). also i never proofread so bear w any mistakes lol

Long before thoughts of graduation were even on his mind, it had come to the attention of Yukihira Souma that after a few years of first-handedly witnessing the evolution of Sakaki Sake, there was nothing that could faze him anymore.

But as he fiddled with the honors cords around his neck and watched Nakiri Erina take the stage to deliver her first seat address — the same stage where he’d announced his plans to take the top spot three years prior and improvised his second seat speech five minutes ago — he was automatically thrown into a kaleidoscope of frustration and wishful fantasy, both of which he thought he had effectively shut down. It wasn’t about the fact that he hadn’t been able to take her first seat away from her; she had belonged there and both of them knew it.

He’d taken her to Shino’s Tokyo for their one year anniversary two nights ago and when she started her usual nitpicking about his work habits, or lack thereof, he’d finally come clean and admitted that the reason why he’d spent the better part of second semester abroad was because he’d been in Helsinki, talking with investors and contractors about his restaurant space, stuffing his menu with specialties, carefully selecting sous chefs and house staff, paving his path to becoming the first owner chef of Totsuki’s 92nd generation. His flagship was set to debut in four days.

Then she’d broken up with him.

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to ask her if she was down to go with him to Finland and be his co-owner chef while she was halfway through a mahi-mahi specialty he’d given Shinomiya in exchange for exclusive rights to the best table in the house, but at the time he’d been way too excited to think twice.

We’re of perpendicular worlds, she’d said. We just… happened to cross. It didn’t…

Mean anything, he’d finished, feeling his heart break. You’re right.

“Good morning, graduates of the 92nd generation. It’s been six years since we all stood in this very amphitheater with our middle school division acceptance letters and yet I remember everything as acutely as if it were just yesterday. I suppose that only goes to show how fast time has flown…”

She had perched herself precariously on his lap in his office at Legislation, laughing and sharing the Smirnoff they’d stolen from Kurokiba’s locker, his arms around her waist as they bounced ideas off of each other. The final draft, completed ten minutes before it was due for approval with her grandfather and the board, seemed like a valedictorian address, but at its foundation, it was a testament to all that they had achieved as the pinnacle of the academy.

“… It is impossible to overestimate the changes that our generation brought to Totsuki. Our impact stretches from Legislation at the peak of the mountain all the way down to the front gates at its base, and in a way we have left a legacy on the rest of the culinary world that will endure for the eras to come…”

It’s impossible to overestimate the changes that we made to this school, bubs. You and I altered the course of Totsuki forever, and our legacy… I guess we’ll have to trust the process. But I know we’ll see it through side by side, because you’re Yukihira Souma and I’m Nakiri Erina.

“… I will always treasure all the memories we have made and I trust that our futures will remain intertwined. I trust that this will not be the last time we are gathered together to celebrate our achievements. We made it this far. We overcame — no, we conquered every obstacle this school threw our way. So let us strive forth, reach for new heights, and venture into the world that has already long since been ours. Congratulations, everyone.”

Let us strive forth, Yukihira, and drive ourselves further into the wasteland, knowing that as long as your hand is in mine we will reach the end of the storm.

Is that a promise, bubs?

Of course it is, you idiot.

Stop hitting me. I love you, too.

“Good job,” he said when she returned backstage, his voice thick with memories.

She gave him an unreserved smile reminiscent of their past and the tension strangling his heart started to abate. Just barely.

“Yukihira, will you take me home after?”

Souma stared at her in surprise. “Would you like me to?”

A single nod.

Erina managed to not fall off Souma’s scooter on his way to the Nakiri Mansion. She had, against her better judgment, asked him for expedited service, and he was one hell of a speedster when he wanted to be.

“This is it, then,” she said. She fought to keep her emotions from seeping into her voice, her eyes from lingering on the short hair protruding from under his graduation cap. Everything was driving her insane; the sooner she got out of there, the better.

But she made no move to go.

Souma nodded, paused, took a breath. “Can you make it to the opening? I… I’d want you there, if no one else.”

She ignored the last part because he meant it. To dwell on the feelings that were still very much animate between them would only impede their futures, and to keep each other from reaching their goals would be a sin after everything they’d been through. “Maybe if you delay I could show up near the end, or maybe at closing just to say hi… I don’t know.”

It had always been like this, both of them making promises they’d never be able to keep, no matter how hard they tried. They’d tried. They really had.

He nodded in acceptance and she could sense his despondency. His gaze flitted down and then back up, and in that short span his expression had cleared of melancholy.

So many things she wanted to say but not enough time and no way to say them. Erina looked into his gentle honey eyes, regarding the way they glittered with an invitation to recross the blurred lines she’d slashed between them.

But that would be wrong.

So instead she extended her hand diplomatically; he took it with a chuckle, and before she knew it her ex boyfriend was holding her close against his chest. Erina pressed her nose to his neck, knowing she would no longer have the guilty pleasure of smelling the scent that clung to him at all times, some unique blend of laundry detergent and whatever spices he’d been experimenting with last. She felt his hands shift behind her, briefly letting go and then coming to rest gently in her hair and around her waist.

“Good luck, Yukihira.”

“See you, bu—Nakiri.” To make that mistake would be unforgivable.

Then he let go, and she was glad because she had been slipping back into the familiar sensation of his comfort and doing absolutely nothing to stop herself. Erina watched with the ghost of a smile on her lips as Souma’s receding figure melted into the lazy spring afternoon.

Only when he was long gone did she realize that he had slipped his mother’s white cloth around her neck before he left.

#shokugeki no souma #shokugeki no soma #soueri #sorina #new fic #soma yukihira #erina nakiri

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