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spectralstitions · 1 month

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THERE'S A MAP FINALLY LOL (EXPLODES)

Hey, it's Cas! In my last post about mapmaking, I wrote that the next time I posted about it, I hoped it'd be because my map was finished. Well, guess what? I FINISHED IT! It only took me, like... uh... half a year to get around to it. Well, here it is! Two versions: one plain, one labeled.

It's such a relief to have this finished. Finally, after a thousand years of just thinking about it, I have something resembling a visual resource! Yay! That said, it's not perfect, and definitely more of an approximation than anything. There are touch-ups to be made, many touch-ups, but I might just save that for an end-of-year progress check. For now, it's good enough!

The lack of labels has nothing to do with minimalism and everything to do with the fact that I really hate naming things. V-shaped icons point to major settlements. Dot icons mark settlements that are smaller, but subject to show up often for whatever reason. Those ones in particular I'm sure will get edited or shifted around over time.

Now, to meticulously explore each and every region!

I'll work from top to bottom!

Surprise, I'm starting with the name! I find myself drawn to names that sound simple but have lots of interesting connotations. In this case, I'd been searching for a name that captured the feeling of a far off, enigmatic place, something vast and always just beyond reach. Then, while I was searching, and in a manner not unlike that one Overwatch meme, the word "Hinterlands" played in the Lord Huron song I was listening to and I had my HOLY SHIT moment. There's no way a name this whimsical hasn't already been snagged by some cartoon or something, but I can live with that.

As an aside, if I were to pick just one piece of media that encapsulated what I'm going for with this project, it'd be the album Strange Trails by Lord Huron. Of all my many inspirations, it's the one that's had the most profound impact. So the name also works as a homage!

Starting off spooky with our first region, the Old Waythrough. It's a place most people don't like to talk or even think about, but it's always there, looming just under the surface. It has remarkably little presence even in local folklore, and what little there is has been cut into pieces and scattered about through generations of oral storytelling. That said, there are a couple surviving records of Parthans attempting flyovers, eager to prove their courage. None of them get very far, but interestingly, even across the centuries, their recounts have all been similar, describing endless, desolate lands that are empty save for random objects and footprints in the snow.

One famous story, and the tale behind the region's common name, recounts the miraculous journey of the first partha who made contact with the mainland using the Waythrough as a guide. If true, this partha is the only known creature to have crossed the Waythrough in its entirety—and in doing so, gave the fasa who saw them quite a scare!

Our next region is Parthesa, or the parthan homelands! Yeah, get ready for some confusing naming conventions. I'll try to break it down:

The species itself, singular and plural, is known as "partha". Its descriptive form is "parthan".

Partha born on Parthesa, as well as any outsider accepted into their flocks, are known as "Parthans" with a capital P.

All partha born on Parthesa are also called skyborn, while their mainland cousins are called wildborn.

It's a bit much, but I promise, so are they. Parthesa itself is frequently described as a paradise, mostly for the fact that there seems to be a strange lack of spirit activity on the islands themselves. Is that the full story, though? Who knows — Parthans aren't exactly scrambling to brag about how UNbetter-than-everyone-else they and their homeland are. On that note, did Parthans name themselves after their homeland, or did they name their homelands after themselves? Mysteries upon mysteries...

Famously, the islands are beautiful — flower fields, waterfalls, seaside cliffs, mountains and valleys to dip and dive through, and that wonderful ocean breeze! Plus, as long as you've got parthan feather insulation and love storms, the weather's great! Infamously, getting to Parthesa is incredibly dangerous without a Parthan guide, something that's hard to come by. Without one, travelers don't have a great track record of being seen again.

On the opposite side of the Waythrough, we've got the fasan homelands! This dashing, idyllic little landscape is defined by mountains, rivers, lakes, colorful flower fields, and forests of towering boreal trees. Also, ignore that green mountain I forgot to recolor.

Fasa like to incorporate waterways into their architecture in interesting ways, building settlements that trace the length of rivers. Despite their homeland's cutesy appearance, their deep forests harbor all sorts of dangers. Uniquely, this danger doesn't just concern spirits, but entire swathes of dangerous, predatory animals. Still, as long as you take the proper safety precautions, it's a lovely place to live. Their main city can be found by following the paths of the rivers into the mountains. Their harbor town is much newer but has quickly become prosperous!

Okay, you see this gigantic piece of land with almost zero markers in it? This one's my sandbox. Why does nobody seem to want to live here? Well, they tried. They really tried, judging by all the bizarre artifacts poking out of the ground everywhere. The place is a mass graveyard, with evidence of ancient raswa, fasa, and who knows what else engaged in constant territory spats going back centuries. However, these battles seemed to have stopped very suddenly. It's assumed that the appearance of spirits was the last straw that pushed people back into their homelands, finally convincing them the place was just not worth it, something that countless deaths couldn't accomplish. But it's been thousands of years, and people are making tentative attempts to settle again, this time in unity—and hey, so far so good! The few settlements that exist here are characterized by the diversity of their people.

If you follow the trails, you're sure to come across fellow travelers, traders, and the like, but the vast majority of the land is void of people. You could walk for weeks or longer and not come across a single soul! There's a lot to discover, but it's a bit lonely...

Down south, you'll find the Underbelly! The Underbelly is the common name given to this region of wetland and swamp. It's one of the deadliest—and in many people's opinions, the grossest—places in the Hinterlands. Miraculously, there are a hardy people who've managed to make a living in the deep swamp, their treehouse cities literal lights in the darkness. They trade with and have close relations to raswa!

Nearly done! Now we've come to the raswan homelands. Not to be an edgelord, but this region is one defined by utter darkness. Well, okay, it's supposed to be a little edgy, but that part of it comes second. On the left half sleeps an incredibly dense roofed forest, such that light rarely grazes the forest floor. Mushrooms spawn like wildfire, and only those with the grace of raswa are going to have much luck navigating it. On the other side of the mountains lies the raswan desert, a place where sandblood raswans lead nomadic lifestyles. It's also a place many go to get in touch with their spirituality. Sandblood raswa wander the depths of the desert, traveling by night, when sand in the air lights up like stars. With their unique skin colors and plain dark clothes, raswa disguise themselves as part of the night sky to avoid deadly desert spirits. The spirits are a pain in the forests, too—raswa have devised safe pathways for travelers, but all they can really do is hand you a charm and beg you not to stray. Due to the regions' conditions, the settlements here remain mostly raswa, save for their newer harbor town.

We're onto the last area! This island is in a weird spot, and it's kind of just weird in general, so I saved it for last. It's even weird in the formatting of this blog post! What is wrong with you, fae homelands? This island was created very recently by one of the gods, although they are all credited for it. "Homelands" is a strange word for fae to use, though, because most fae do not come from this land at all. In fact, there are barely any trees here! In any case, This island is what connects all people, encouraging unity in times of despair. From edge to edge, the place is a gigantic market space, full to bursting with different kinds of people, vivid colors, and overwhelming sounds and smells.

And that's that! I'll be real, I had way more fun just writing all that than I did even making the map, so I hope that even 1 person skimmed it and got something out of it. But if not, this'll be a good resource for me, too, so, I guess it's win-win.

I'm not really sure what's next for me! I kinda want to work on more visual development for the fauna, spirits, and gods, but the other, realer, and more boring side of me thinks I should probably figure out the extremely basic information like fasan & raswan government styles first. Cause, you know, the fundamental structure of their society is kind of important...

I've made progress in other areas as well, so I may make a separate post for that! But for now I need a short break. Hope you enjoyed. Yay!

#worldbuilding #fantasy #fantasy map #fantasy worldbuilding #my ocs #dear drifter #lore

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greenie-teaa · 1 year

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Stuff I Played In 2023: HOPE LEFT ME

I’ve had this game for a couple months, but only just now got around to playing it. Way to go, me. Great habit I got, there. Should I even put a spoiler warning...? It’s not a long game. Whatever.

First, a little background. This game is based on an album of the same name. Maybe the other way around? Who knows, but the album came first. Said album, as well as the game’s story, were made by Astrophysics. I really like his music, though I can’t remember how I found him. I think just by pure chance in one of those playlists Spotify randomly makes for you every day. The game, however, was pure coincidence. I saw one of my Steam friends add it to their wishlist. Curious as to what a game called “hope left me” in all caps could be, I was surprised to see that same girl from the album’s cover art. I wishlisted it immediately, and bought it the same day it released.

Enough exposition though. The game is very short, it won’t last you longer than 45 minutes, mainly due to the fact there’s no button to skip through text you’ve already read to go through other options. I’m just now realizing I’m playing a lot of visual novels this year... weird. The soundtrack is split between the album’s full tracks and other versions made to fit the game, giving you an option at the very beginning. I personally went with the EP cut, just because. The story is very vague, has a mysterious air, and is full of a lonely, empty, oppressive air through both the dialogue and setting. A strange post apocalyptic world that’s always snowing, with everyone seemingly having just disappeared, save for one girl.

You begin by apparently just appearing out of nowhere right next to her. She eventually tells you her name is Sasha, and though she seems very... I guess apathetic would be the word, over time, you learn she does seem to still hold at least a little concern for what happened, where she is, and why everything is the way it is. Though, at the same time, she doesn’t really care, which even the protagonist points out in her head. The entire thing is very surreal and almost macabre, which are two things I personally enjoy. The protagonist - whose official name is Noir which I’m only saying so I don’t have to keep typing that - is confused, panicked, and is clearly succumbing to how bleak everything seems to be, while Sasha, through her poker face, tries to help Noir feel better about the entire thing, through depressingly effective view points and even just plain being polite.

There’s no big reveal or secret at the end. Just a choice to get a glimpse of the world from the depressing, snow covered, brutalist(?) concrete jungle the pair finds themselves in. Or to remain ignorant out of fear. It isn’t exactly a plot that lets you leave with a smile, and I’m very okay with that because it’s the kind of thing I enjoy for some reason. It reminds me of Milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk (god the title is so long) with its tone. Surreal, eerie visual novels that give very little info and don’t last too long. I liked it, it felt familiar.

Story and music aside, the art uses a very basic color palette of black, white, red, and indigo. It’s hard to tell what things are sometimes, mainly with the VHS filter on, but the monochrome backgrounds are coherent enough to make out what it’s supposed to be. Without the filter, anyway.

It’s only 2 bucks, so if you enjoy things like this, I recommend it. At the very least to support Astrophysics. Or even just listen to the album! Whatever!!

#2023 #hope left me #rambles

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queen-erika-the-songful · 1 year

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Best and worst parts of F2 for you?

Best parts for me:

The MUSIC oh my stars it was so good. I love every song and all the cut ones we know about (well, “Unmeltable Me” isn’t all that great to me, but it was still cute). My favorites are still “Show Yourself” and “The Next Right Thing” but I have a greater appreciation for “Into the Unknown” now too (I ended up singing it for my last recital lol).

Anna and Elsa getting the endings I thought they deserved. Even in the 1st movie, Anna felt like the better candidate for Queen to me. Like she wanted so badly to be with the kingdom and see the people, and even though she left a stranger in charge, she took responsibility for pushing Elsa too far and went after her. Then in movie 2 she’s going all over Arendelle in the opening and does everything she can in service of her people. Even her cut song “Home” is all about wanting to give Arendelle everything she can. I’m on the side of those that felt her ascending the throne made sense. I also think Elsa fully becoming the Snow Queen/5th Spirit and having her stay in the forest was the right decision. (Also SHE’S LIVING IN THE FOREST WITH THE NORTHULDRA AND NOT ALONE IN THE GLACIER, HOW ARE SOME PEOPLE NOT GETTING THAT??) Now she can finally, truly be what she wanted in the first film - fully free to be herself. She’s not stranding herself on a mountaintop or self-isolating herself in the name of “protecting” herself/Anna, she has fully embraced her powers and can be herself entirely. And if we look at the last shot of the whole movie, she’s calm and elated. The story of the sisters ends with Elsa finally being happy.

The visuals - the animation and effects are stunning and the COSTUUUUMES oh my gosh I love the costumes. My favorite is Anna’s outfit with the cape and Elsa’s spirit dress. I still kind of wish the spirit dress was a bit more “mystical” but I’ve grown more fond of it overtime (and at least its silhouette fits in with her other dresses).

I LOVE Kristoff in this film. I’ve said it too many times but I don’t really like how Kristoff was handled in movie 1. But in THIS one omg yes please more of this. He’s so supportive of Anna through and through and just wants to make her happy. I really wish his original song hadn’t got cut, it was really fun and sweet (plus Anna being the one to propose would’ve been a nice switch). I get slightly annoyed that he just spends his B-plot trying to propose until he disappears til the end, but still, he’s much more tolerable than movie 1 “stupid girl you can’t get married to that guy you’ve only known a day oh now you’ve known me for like 2-3 suddenly i love you now kiss me”.

Worst Parts for me:

The story wanted to badly for you to forgive Agnarr and Iduna for what they did to Anna and Elsa and I just can’t. Good intentions or not, THEY were the ones that shut Anna out. THEY were the ones that allowed Pabbie to manipulate Anna’s memories. THEY were the ones that taught Elsa her powers were dangerous and had to be suppressed to the point that no one would even know she had them. The most we get is Anna telling Elsa not to blame herself for their deaths because she wasn’t responsible for their decisions. I understand why “I Seek the Truth” got cut, but I still think you could’ve re-worked it for the boat scene so that Anna could get to call them out (”another secret/and another and another/ at least you were consistent/hello Father, hello Mother”).

Going off that last point, because they wanted you to forgive Agnarr and Iduna so bad, I think the Show Yourself scene, as honestly FANTASTIC as it is for the story at that point, was stopped from its full potential of being absolutely perfect. After watching the docuseries (Into the Unknown: The Making of Frozen II) I learned the writing team went back and forth for the longest time on who the voice was going to be. At one point, the idea was that the voice was Elsa herself, like her Snow Queen/Spirit form calling to her, and when she found the voice she would merge with it to become her true self. That makes so much sense with the song! There’s this journey she takes in it where she believes she’ll find a PERSON with all of the answers to who she is, while it turns out she was searching for herself and her place in the world. So she embraces her destiny as the Fifth Spirit and fully transforms into the Snow Queen. I think it makes that one line much more powerful: “You are the one you’ve been waiting for / All of my life”. BUT that’s just my own view of it. I really want a version now (even a cover) where it’s Elsa singing with herself.

I don’t like the inconsistency of the spirits - like why is there only 1 for 3/4 of the elements but then Earth has a few? And why are they all vastly different KINDS of creatures? Earth has personified elements, water and fire have animals, air is just the wind, and the 5th spirit is a human-turned-spirit.

I think a lot could’ve been fixed with the story if they were given an extension and kept the target audience on the kids/teens that grew up with the original Frozen instead of being told they had to tone it down for younger kids. Again, the Into the Unknown docuseries showed me how troubled production was. There was so much passion behind the making of it, but because they had such a rigorous deadline and had to appeal more to younger kids, I feel like that’s what ultimately caused the movie to suffer with its writing. The writing team clearly wanted a more mature story but had to rewrite and rewrite until they had to just finish everything without being able to iron out the creases. It’s a shame, really.

#MELROSE THIS IS THE POST I THOUGHT GOT EATEN #asks #locktobre #also again i think f1 is probably a better film but i LIKE f2 more

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i-like-gay-books · 3 years

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me, just minding my own business, having symptoms of stress because its getting to the end of the semester and everything is stressful:

my anxiety brain: you know I bet that’s not just stress I bet it’s that ultra-rare blood clot that isn’t even necessarily linked to the vaccine that you’ve been looking out for since the news broke

me: *anxiety intensifies and makes stress symptoms worse yay*

#in other news I found out that all sorts of weird things can be caused by stress #my tinnitus has been bothering me since idek a while #and my visual snow has intensified #every once in a while I see flashes of light out of the corner of my eye and im like oh no I bet im seeing stars and im about to pass out #even though I know full well that its just the visual snow and I have literally no other physical indication of feeling faint #also my legs hurt but I did a dance thing for like two hours last night which included running so yeah #and as the cherry on top it is that wonderful time of month where I pee out my uterus #so thats fun #just wish my anxiety brain could maybe stop #like its fine my regular brain has been able to calm me down faster each time it happens #but like seriously im still shaking #oh also every time it happened my heart starts beating harder and I go short of breath #which is just a regular anxiety symptom I know #but its also a blood clot symptom #which certainly doesnt help my anxiety brain from making stupid dumb anxiety assumptions #this is what happens when I have no structure in my day #my sociology prof cancelled today because of vaccine symptoms and so I only had one class and nothing to do with the rest of my day #every time I have more time to myself than im used to my anxiety brain gains power #I need to take a shower #and have lunch #I have to get out of this dorm room #ugh #this was just a random rant not me asking for reassurance again #you can ignore this I just needed to type for a hot minute there #cloudy rambles

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saturndivine · 3 years

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The Ferality of Mars

»»————-　➴　————-««»»————-　➴

Feral: "Existing in a wild or untamed state"

When I think of Mars, I think of the Greek god, Ares. I think of the heart pumping blood throughout the body to keep it alive. I think of passion, ferocity, and rawness. Mars is the planet of emotion, similarly to the moon but with a more sinister twist. Mars wants you to feel everything and create with that energy, Mars wants you to be overwhelmed with emotion, so much so it consumes and guides you. Mars wants you to feel everything. It is known as a Malefic Planet because of its inability to be tamed and controlled but Mars isn’t about having control, its about intuition and allowing yourself to be guided by the invisible force that encourages you to nuzzle into your most primal and authentic state and honor that part of you.

[Yes I will be using Hozier lyrics that represent the ferality of each sign]

Aries Mars [Mars in 1st]

When I picture Aries Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a forest fire consuming everything in its path, absorbing nature to feed as fuel. With Mars in its rulership, Aries Mars has no issue releasing, guided by their heart throughout it all to overcome whatever may stand in their way. They move quickly and harshly, striking first and questioning later. You mold life into what you want it to be so there is no need for you to even plan right? As an unstoppable force, you have to let your heart take control.

“There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

Sit in & watch the sunlight fade, honey, enjoy its getting late

Theres no plan, theres no hand on the reign,

...As Mack explained, there will be darkness again”

Taurus Mars [Mars in 2nd]

When I picture Taurus Mars at its most feral state, I imagine a bear tearing its way through a beehive, grasping at the honeycombs and devouring it in a matter of seconds. With a venus-ruled mars or mars in detriment, you all look for the sweeter things in life and insist that you are worthy of goodness and don’t mind taking it for yourself. Conflict is stupid to you because you have your own morals and studies and firmly believe in what you desire and if anyone steps to you, you have the power to throw it right back in their face. You are the raging bull, undefeated once you’re committed. But you represent the tamer, earthy side of Mars.

“I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me.

I have never known hunger, like these insects that feast on me.

A thousand teeth, and yours among them, I know.

Our hungers appeased, our heartbeats becoming slow.”

Gemini Mars [Mars in 3rd]

When I picture Gemini Mars at its most feral state, I picture the rebirth that spring offers. The energy of this mars sign matches the intensity of the rising sun and falling rain that causes the flowers to blossom and fill the earth with its aroma. It is quite impossible to stop a determined Gemini, they want to leave their mark on this earth and do so in many different ways as they are indestructible, powered by the combination of their mind and their heart which creates an explosion upon collision. To get in the way of this placement is to stand in the way of the changing seasons, impossible.

“Each day you'd rise with me, know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty.

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.

Strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily, with wax melted, I’d meet the sea,

Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.”

Cancer Mars [Mars in 4th]

When I picture Cancer Mars at its most feral state, I visualize the crumbling of the earth into itself, only to grow back in a healthier form. A resilient placement that can have the worst thrown at them and come back only more beautiful. In the introduction, I discussed how both Moon and Mars share a common goal but the Moon goes about it a different way, as Cancer Mars goes about martian energy in a different way as well. With mars in fall, Cancer takes the soft approach to ferality, embracing the harsh energy and converting it into tenderness.

“And I love too, that love soon might end,

be known in its aching, shown in the shaking,

Lately of my wasteland, baby.

Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking,

Though quaking, though crazy

That's just wasteland, baby.”

Leo Mars [Mars in 5th]

When I picture Leo Mars at its most feral state I see a blinding white-hot light overcoming anyone and everyone in its path, forcing others to bend to its will simply by doing what it does naturally. As a fixed mars, Leos energy is continuous and bold, quite difficult to escape if a Leo Mars has you in their eye line. They are everywhere, they rule the heart so they rule ferality in a way, diving back into their lion roots and fully delving into the fact that they are the rulers of the jungle and rulers of the world.

“Be love in its disrepute, scorches the hillside and salts every root

And watches the slowing and starving of troops

And, lover, be good to me.

Be there and just as you stand or be like the rose that you hold in your hand

That will grow bold in a barren and desolate land

Oh, lover, be good to me.”

Virgo Mars [Mars in 6th]

When I picture Virgo Mars at its most feral state I can clearly gaze upon an open field, a deer nosing at grass only to be pounced on by a random predator, yet Virgo represents both the predator and the prey, enforcing balance and really honoring nature fully. Virgo Mars is one of the most ferocious and determined martian placement because they understand how to use the life around them to their advantage. Failure is impossible because they are always ten steps ahead of everyone else. They understand balance, both aggressiveness, and peacefulness.

“With the war of the fire, my heart moves to its feet

Like the ashes of ash, I saw eyes in the heat

Feel it soft and as pure as snow, fell in love with the fire long ago

With each love I could lose, I was never the same

Watch it still live in roofs, be consumed by the flame

I was fixed on your hand of gold, laying waste of my lovin' long ago”

Libra Mars [Mars in 7th]

When I picture Libra Mars at its most feral state, I see a person walking into a mossy lake only to never come out again. There is a slight underestimation when people first get to know the Libra Mars. This martian placement matches up with tricky Aphrodite, Libra mars has secrets they dont want unturned, they have a hidden past that they want to be kept to themselves because they are never the people they were a few moments ago. They are evolving and healing, rubbing soil on their open wounds to grow into a new version of themselves.

“I had a thought, dear, however scary about that night, the bugs and the dirt.

Why were you digging? What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.”

Scorpio Mars [Mars in 8th]

When I picture Scorpio Mars at its most feral state, there is a black burning tree in the middle of the falling snow, crackling and popping and falling to the pieces onto blankets of snow only to keep burning. Mars takes a different approach in this rulership, it is calculated, ready, and sure of whatever move is to be made as if it has been practiced for quite some time. There is no defeating a Scorpio mars, only succumbing, bending to its will, and praying that they will take mercy on your soul.

“If I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies.

Ain't it warming you, the world gone up in flames?

Ain't it the life you, your lighting of the blaze?

Ain't it a waste they'd watch the throwing of the shade?

Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe?”

Sagittarius Mars [Mars in 9th]

When I picture Sagittarius Mars at its most feral state, I see the serpent in the garden of Eden sliding on its belly and offering an option of freedom, going against the grain of submissiveness. Sagittarius Mars tends to ooze this raw sex appeal that stems from their confidence & their need to question the life around them, never satisfied by what is given to them, instead they leave their own mark on the world before them by embracing individuality and moving along their own path.

“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice,

Imagine being loved by me.”

Capricorn Mars [Mars in 10th]

When I picture Capricorn Mars at its most feral state, I imagine the fall of an empire, a civilization, a society, forced to come to terms with the fact that its reign has come to an end. Mars in exalt, arguably one of the most powerful placements to have in the natal chart, there isn’t a way to prevent the energy of a Capricorn Mars, they are backed by Saturn, two malefic energies combining to create an unbeatable power and manifesting as strength in the native who claims this energy.

“It's the light, and it's the obstacle that casts it

It's the heat that drives the light, It's the fire it ignites,

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

It's not the song, it is the singing.

It's the heaven of a human spirit ringing.

It is the bringing of the line, It is the bearing of the rhyme

It's not the waking, it's the rising.”

Aquarius Mars [Mars in 11th]

When I picture Aquarius Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a group of nude women, dancing around an intense fire, the full moon shining only for them as they howl out into the wind. Aquarius Mars is a placement that understands how to honor their roots and get back in touch with themselves to move to the future. They use their past to propel them into new opportunities and to become a higher version of themselves. There is no obstructing this futuristic placement, eyes steady on the prize that remains up ahead.

“When you move, I can recall something that's gone from me

When you move honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free.

So move me, baby, shake like the bough of a willow tree,

You do it naturally, move me, baby.”

Pisces Mars [Mars in 12th]

When I picture Pisces Mars at its most feral state, I envision a floating sailor, sinking in with each song that leaves the siren’s voice only to realize that it is too late as the last of air leaves their lungs and they now become one with the siren. Pisces Mars has the gift of “innocence” that people project onto them and they understand how to use it to their advantage and come out on top. Deception is a mastered tool but doesn’t negate the fact that they are simply seductive and persuasive and hold power that many are unaware of. They should continue to move carefully and use their “faults” to their benefit.

“Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh,

I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet.

Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile

It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet.

In leash-less confusion, I'll wander the concrete,

Wonder if better now having survived.

The jarring of judgment and reason's defeat.

The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth; I'm alive.”

Link to Website [Services, Blog, & More!]

#aries mars #taurus mars #gemini mars #cancer mars #leo mars #virgo mars #libra mars #scorpio mars #sagittarius mars #capricorn mars #aquarius mars #pisces mars #Zodiac Signs #astrology #astrology memes

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keingleichgewicht · 3 years

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WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............ readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!)

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and:

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

#pafl #parties are for losers #it speaks #ask #in all fairness and in my defence when i made the joke i said i would write not less than one thousand words and by fuck #this has not been less than one thousand words!#jorgyjuice #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ALSO THIS WAS REALLY FUN #and thank you VERY dearly to anyone who takes the time to read all this; you own my soul now; feel free to collect at any time #metatext

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook Short Story: Sakamaki Laito VS Mukami Azusa

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Disclaimer: Both sides portray the same story, but from a different perspective. The first story is written from Laito’s POV, while the second portrays the events from Azusa’s POV.

LAITO’S SIDE

ーー They say that sharing is caring.

However, something truly delicious, I would rather not share with anyone at all.

While said thought crosses my mind, I push Bitch-chan down against the classroom floor before forcibly peeling the clothes from her body.

“No...Don’t! Not here...!”

“Oh my~? You wouldn’t mind if we were somewhere else then? Little lewd Bitch-chan?”

When I tease her with those words, her face flushes a bright crimson.

How cute, I find myself thinking, while at the same time feeling just a tinge of regret knowing that the black figure looming in the corner of my eye witnessed the same sight.

Aah, geez. What a waste.

“Eve is...protesting. However...That’s a good thing, no? It is, right?”

This person...Azusa-kun moves behind Bitch-chan, restraining her arms so she can no longer move.

“Azusa-kuuun~? ...What are you doing, if I may ask?”

“Eh? I just thought I would...make Eve feel even better...”

The words had only just left his lips, and he already latched onto her nape.

He was too quick, I didn’t even have the time to stop him.

I get thrown off.

Azusa-kun has always been a hard nut for me to crack.

He may seem similar to Kanato-kun at first glance, but they are worlds apart.

“Nfu~ ...Geez, Bitch-chan...Look at you totally enjoying Azusa-kun’s fangs even though you belong to me. What a naughty girl you are.”

I can’t let myself lose either, so I button down her blouse.

And then, after baring her chest, I immediately plunged my fangs inside the exposed skin.

Like that, I savor her sweet, syrupy blood.

I can see Azusa-kun’s hair moving behind her shoulder.

Quite unexpectedly, Azusa-kun seems to be sinking his fangs inside Bitch-chan’s back.

“Taking off her clothes is my job though...”

As a result, her shirt had already been completely discarded at some point, as she stood there almost completely bare.

I could not help but let a sigh slip.

“Say, Laito-san....? Let’s give Eve more pain...together, okay...? You want that too, don’t you, Eve? My fangs...and Laito-san’s fangs too...”

“Nfu...~”

Azusa-kun speaks those words, seemingly enjoying the current situation very much.

Usually, I would get even more excited from seeing Bitch-chan as she has her blood sucked.

Watching her gasp for air from someone else’s fangs.

However...Such thoughts did not even cross my mind, as I instead felt a strong urge to keep her blood all to myself.

“Geez, what is going on...Haah...”

While sighing, I bury my face in her stomach.

She twists her body at the ticklish sensation, but thanks to Azusa-kun’s strong grip, she is unable of getting away.

I feel puzzled by this situation where it almost seems as if she is being offered to me.

“Haah...I suppose it can’t be helped. I wouldn’t be quite myself if I didn’t try and make the best of this situation, right?”

I whisper those words almost as if I am trying to convince myself, before sinking my fangs inside the soft flesh of Bitch-chan’s stomach.

ーー The End.

AZUSA’S SIDE

ーー That person also told me that I should give my genuine gratitude in response to other people’s gifts.

The classroom after school.

Eve’s shrill cries echo through the room.

“No...Don’t! Not here...!”

“Oh my~? You wouldn’t mind if we were somewhere else then? Little lewd Bitch-chan?”

After having fallen victim to Laito-san’s ministrations, Eve’s skin is slowly being bared like a pupa shedding its skin.

I grab her arms in the process.

Because I figured that it would be easier on Laito-san if I were to restrain her like this.

“Eve is...protesting. However...That’s a good thing, no? It is, right?”

When I say that, Laito-san looks me straight into the eyes.

I wonder if that is his way of agreeing with me?

Somehow that makes me feel very happy.

“Azusa-kuuun~? ...What are you doing, if I may ask?”

However, watching my actions, he asked me the aforementioned question.

“Eh? I just thought I would...make Eve feel even better...”

I respond instantly, before latching onto Eve’s temptingly trembling nape.

“Nfu~ ...Geez, Bitch-chan...Look at you totally enjoying Azusa-kun’s fangs even though you belong to me. What a naughty girl you are.”

While I feel a pang of guilt at Laito-san’s disappointed tone in his voice, I can’t stop myself.

I’ve been thirsty this whole time.

While I was going to let Laito-san go first, I couldn’t hold myself back.

I gulp down her sweet blood.

I feel as if my body rejoices at this syrupy taste spreading inside my mouth.

“Haah...Eve.”

While quietly whispering her name, I firmly tugged her closer by the back of the collar of her loosened shirt.

Her pale backside is in full view.

The fairness of her skin seems to be begging me to thrust my fangs inside.

Without speaking a word, I bit her there as well.

My fangs gradually sink inside.

Each time, her body twitches for a split second.

I wonder if she trembles from the pain of my fangs.

“Say, Laito-san....? Let’s give Eve more pain...together, okay...? You want that too, don’t you, Eve? My fangs...and Laito-san’s fangs too...”

I leave painful scars all across her fair back, like trampling over freshly fallen snow.

She has definitely been yearning for this the whole time as well.

Therefore, I am convinced she wishes for Laito-san to do the same. It is obvious.

Right as that thought crossed my mind...

“Nfu...~”

Laito-san’s reaction confirmed my words.

It’s just like I thought.

Laito-san has also been enlightened to the pleasure that is pain. ...In other words, he is just like me.

Overwhelmed by joy, I once again sink my fangs in Eve’s back.

Because to me, being able to share the joy stemming from this meaningful action is all I could ever wish for.

So all together...Let’s do more and more painful things...?

What do you say? Sounds good, no?

ーー The End.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers short story #diabolik lovers more blood official visual fanbook #diabolik lovers versus story #diabolik lovers translation

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goldinavonlea · 3 years

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So let’s talk about Prissy Andrews and That Scene.

What I’m fascinated by with Prissy’s storyline the first two seasons is that it’s almost an anti-coming-of-age tale and you don’t (or at least I didn’t) realise quite what they were doing or how well they were doing it until the scene where she runs out of the wedding.

Right from the off Prissy is framed apart from the other girls. One of the first things Diana says to Anne on her first day of school is that they can sit together because “Jane and Ruby may sit together, now that Prissy’s studying for Queen’s academy entrance exams and needs to sit with the older students.”. Notably however we never really see any of these supposed other Queen’s prospectives, certainly not in any detail. Prissy sits at the back of the class, she’s taller than the other girls, she looks older, and we almost never see her specifically with the other girls.

Our first real introduction to her is when Diana and Anne see her and Phillips through the supply room window. Now when Anne asks if they’re married, Diana does respond “Of course not! She’s a student and he’s old”, but the real impact of that age gap is overshadowed both by how Diana’s line is played—there’s a childishness to it, she says old like she means ancient when he clearly isn’t, the same sort of way that as a small child your friends’ older siblings seem like Grown Ups even when they’re definitely not—and by Anne’s immediate following comment of “They must be making a baby” which again they very clearly aren’t. The scene isn’t really about Prissy and Phillips—it’s about Anne and Diana’s innocence, and a clear set up for how the limits of that innocence in Anne compared to her peers are going to get her into trouble. Even the way we see them—blurred through the window, the most obviously charged moment a shot of their hands that excludes their faces—is nebulous, unsharp, tinged with the childlike comprehension of the scene that Anne and Diana have. The way the scene is framed and where the focus is draws attention away from what’s happening: an adult man in a position of authority is conducting a romantic (or supposedly romantic) relationship with a teenage student.

The visual indicators we see of her youth—the shorter dresses and pinafores, the hair worn down—are things which are used consistently through the show, so we Know, but they also don’t resonate to the modern audience with the immediacy they would at the time. We see as viewers that young girls wear their hair down and adult women wear their’s up, but we don’t immediate see Prissy wearing her hair down and think ‘This is obviously a child’ because that’s not the case in the modern world.

Throughout both the first and second seasons the majority of the interactions we witness Prissy having are with adults, and though these are clearly not equal interactions—between her mother and her, between her and Phillips—the fact that these adults are the people we see her interacting with frames her subconsciously in the minds of the viewers as one of them. Even in the scene between Prissy and her mother Prissy is clearly the taller of the two—all of these things which despite our again Knowing that she isn’t suggest that even if she’s not quite on the same level as, in the same position of power as, these adults we see her interacting with, she is closer to being one of them than she is one of the other girls.

Which is precisely how Prissy sees herself: “not a child”.

And because of all this careful positioning I think we, as an audience, kind of buy it. We’re placed into that sort of dazed, half-cognisant view of the situation that Diana and Anne have through the window: of course we know that it’s ENTIRELY not alright for an adult teacher to be pursuing a student, a child, romantically (’romantically’ in descriptor only: it’s not romantic, obviously, its horrific and predatory), but we’re prevented from ever really feeling the full horror of it because we never really see Prissy as a child.

Until. UNTIL that moment at the end of the aisle where she starts to look around. We see a shot of her face, then a shot of Anne. A shot of her face, and then a shot of Diana and Minnie May. A shot of her face, and then a shot of her mother’s. She’s stood there in this elaborate grown-up wedding dress with her hair all up at the end of the church aisle, and it’s in that EXACT moment that the full-fledged wrongness of the whole situation is truly presented to us as viewers. She looks at this audience, at these people, looks at Anne and Diana, and at her mother, and realises herself which of those two groups she belongs too. Suddenly there’s something almost grotesquely farcical about the wedding dress, the hair—it looks wrong, she looks like she doesn’t know how she got there. It isn’t until she’s right there at the end of the aisle that the show really, violently hits us with the appallingness of the situation—she’s vulnerable, frightened, and being married off to an adult man who was able to manipulate her because he had power over her and it hits us exactly when it hits Prissy.

When she runs out of the church it isn’t any of the adults who follow her: it’s the other girls. And then we get those fantastic shots of them all running through the snow—all these bright, candy-coloured girls running after Prissy who’s stumbling through the snow in her mother’s veil and a dress she has to hike up because it’s so long (too long for her—she shouldn’t be in that dress, she’s not ready for it), a dress you don’t realise is actually just a little off-white until it’s contrasted against not just the snow but her bright white petticoats. The white of a wedding dress is supposed to represent purity, innocence, and the contrast here of the dress itself and the petticoats—the cloak of greater experience, of age, even perhaps of complicity in the situation over this underlayer of absolute innocence and youth and vulnerability (costume designer marry me when?)—it’s all this sort of horrifying realisation, this sudden sharp sharp focus of how Not At All Okay this situation has been the entire time as she falls over and collapses into the snow, the other girls gathering round her.

And then she sits up and you realise she’s laughing.

That’s the anti-coming of age moment. That’s the first moment that we’re encouraged to really look at Prissy and go ‘She’s a child’. We’re given all the moments before of that We Know This Isn’t Right feeling that never quite materialises fully, that awful sick horror in the church, this huge sadness for her as she’s running through the snow, but then this sudden glorious, boundless, childlike joy as she starts laughing with the other girls—suddenly they are the other girls, suddenly she is entirely, obviously one of them—as she throws her arms up in the air, and the other girls link arms around her, literally gather her into her circle, start dancing around her.

Prissy Andrews, in a dress that’s too long for her, that suddenly looks like a costume, giggling with friends, dancing in the snow, miraculously and finally a child.

There’s something almost painfully miraculous about it: this girl who was so nearly lured into adulthood much too soon finding joy and fulfilment and the hope and possibility of a future not in becoming an adult, but in reclaiming her childhood—not in growing up, really, but in growing back down again and finding friends waiting for her with open arms and excitement and a love that doesn’t ask her to give up anything at all.

Prissy Andrews, ‘a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free’.

#anne with an e #awae #prissy andrews

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colourful-void · 3 years

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Supporting Satoshi - an examination and comparison of JN36 and XY121

Part One: Snowballs do not cure depression but it was worth a shot

You know that episode of Pokemon where a gym leader beats Satoshi in a battle so hard that one of his pokemon gets mildly hurt (though there's no long term effects) and because of it he becomes depressed, closing himself off from his friends before someone comes along to pull him out of that mental state, and also severe weather phenomena is involved and a reflection of a persons mental state? Or rather, the two episodes?

So when I was watching Journeys, I noticed an episode that had a similar-- but distinctly different-- plot to an xy episode I had seen before. And what was particularly interesting was that while I couldn't stand the xy episode, the journeys episode was one of my favourites. I won't drag this out for you guys, I love the journeys episode and re watch it a LOT and the xy episode sort of just leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth. and don't go claiming its solely ship bias, because i saw the xy episode first and disliked it then.

This will analyze both of these episodes, comparing them against each other. Specifically within the context of how Goh and Serena both help Satoshi through a similar situation There will be some discussion of AmourShipping and Satogou in this analysis. I'm going to be a bit negative regarding Serena's actions and the potential "romantic" weight of them here, but I want to be clear that I Do Not dislike Serena as a character. Personally, I wish the writers had given her more room to grow outside of her romantic interests, but I do not hate Serena as a character. I do, however, disagree with her actions in this episode. Please don't take this out of context and dont be ship fighting in the comments, it's boring. This is a comparison of These Two Episodes, not of Goh and Serena and their respective ships as a whole.

This part mainly focuses on the xy episode and the second will focus mainly on the journeys. It's only divided into parts because of the tumblr post limit.

(If you like the xy episode or hate the journeys episode, awesome! having your own opinions is great. these are mine though, so i hope you'll listen to them)

With that out of the way, let's start. And I'm going to use mostly japanese names here because I'm taking screencaps from the subbed japanese copies.

The set up for each of these episodes is eerily similar as pointed out in the gag at the start.

Xy has a bit more set up before the episode in question though, with the initial loss and retreat into the forest by Satoshi taking place the episode before. The episode opens up proper with Satoshi taking time to breathe to himself, alone in the forest.

Emphasis is placed on him taking a deep breath, aided by the visuals showing them (thanks cold air) and the silence of the rest of the soundscape, with the only other sounds being the wind and some bird pokemon, plus some falling snow.

Journeys Satoshi starts off in a better mental state than Xy, with the episode starting off with him jogging along with his pokemon.

However, we can still see that he's been affected by the last battle he lost, against Saitou, as he's putting a lot of effort into training and doing better.

Which, doesn't go well for him, as he loses his next two battles as well, and drops in the World Championship ranking as a result

And he's pretty upset about it too. Same thing as over in xy. In both cases, a respective friend/love interest notes that Satoshi is upset and expresses concern.

He's got support from his friends in both situations! But that support comes across in very different ways.

But, to understand how that support manages to affect Satoshi, we need to understand the problem at play.

Now, I wanna make something clear here. Satoshi's problem is not that he is a sore loser. I'm not arguing that's not a contributing factor, or that he's not upset about the loss (particularly in the world championships), He's still bitter about the lost part, but the root of the problem is not losing, he's been shown to be fine with losing (if not a bit more motivated to win now) in prior episodes.

Satoshi's problem is that his pokemon are getting hurt. Satoshi's problem is that his pokemon are getting hurt, because they're losing battles. Satoshi's problem is that his pokemon are losing battles because he's not training them well enough. And to clarify, that's not my viewpoint, it's his. Satoshi's problem is that he's not good enough for himself, and he feels that that's something he has to fix on his own.

So how do we help him?

Our weather event in question is introduced in separate points in the episodes, but I'll cover them both now.

In xy, it's this snowstorm, which conveniently becomes a problem directly after Serena returns to the Pokemon Centre.

In journeys, it's a sandstorm! That's in near direct contrast to a snowstorm! Incredible.

Heading back to xy Satoshi, things aren't going great in the forest. Luckily, Serena's run off to find him.

I think it's of note here that Serena runs off with the best intentions, she wants to help Satoshi, plain and simple. It just sort of goes wrong along the way.

It's worth noting that Xy Satoshi tries to bring himself out of being sad by the tried and true method of "stop being sad"

Despite telling himself this, he doesn't get anywhere. Which makes sense, because it's not getting the the root of the problem. It's not even addressing it at all. He's just trying to 'be better', which isn't even a battle strategy. However, it is something I can see him saying, so this isn't a critique of Satoshi's thought process, but me pointing out that this isn't really effective. Which is supported by the narrative, because again, he doesn't get anywhere, he doesn't even move.

I can't show it in screencaps but the lights in Satoshi's eyes are shaking here, something that they consistently do throughout the series when he's feeling a particularly strong emotion. Keep that in mind. It couples well with another trait of his, and that's his hat!

And by that I mean how he hides his eyes with the brim of it when upset, something he does exactly as Serena shows up and calls out to him. Now, he's not upset that Serena is here. He's upset about the pokemon stuff still. He's trying to hide the fact that he's upset from Serena.

Serena starts off with her speech well, trying to appeal to Satoshi to let her in and talk things out. And maybe it's because he wasn't ready for it yet, or because of the way she phrases it (a lot of 'i' and 'me' language which can be helpful but can also come across as though she's making it about her. not her intent i don't think, but a possible interpretation.), it's not her fault for how Satoshi reacts regardless.

But how Satoshi reacts is not good.

Now it's really interesting to note that before this, Serena was standing while Satoshi was sitting, putting her above him in terms of active power, when it comes to how the shot is presented, but when Satoshi stands up, the camera tilts with the movement so that they're on equal level. Neat!

And Serena yells in return, scolding Satoshi for not talking about it. Not the best move, since pushing someone to talk about something that's upsetting them isn't really productive, but she's trying here and she's frustrated.

Satoshi continues to withdraw and self isolate, claiming it is his problem and that he wants to be left be. Now, this is the mindset of a clearly upset person and isolation may not be the best option, but he did make the explicit request to be left alone here.

He's clearly upset as he turns away from Serena's eye and slumps over a little.

And then Serena throws a snowball at him.

Angry as he is, you can see Satoshi's expression change when he sees Serena's reaction.

Serena tells Satoshi that she's not like the Satoshi she knows, who is always full of energy and positive and a leader, and a bunch of other positive traits. The problem here, is that Serena's looking at an idealized version of Satoshi. And while the intent here was probably meant to be something more like "you have so many wonderful traits about you I know you can do this", coupled with the snowballs and the phrasing, it seems as though Serena is scolding Satoshi for being sad.

Or rather, being angry with him for not living up to her idealized version of him, and not wanting him to express any negitave emotions.

Which is sort of a really bad mindset.

The snowballs continue, never once does Satoshi fight back. In fact, he stops arguing entirely after the first one. Serena knocks him off his feet and tells him he's not being himself, before running off. (In the english dub, Serena claims that Satoshi isn't being "the real satoshi" and then demands that the real Satoshi be "given back", so it could be worse)

Satoshi decides to literally run his problems away, because it will help him reach some kind of conclusion, and immediately trips and falls down a large hill. No, I'm not making that up. Something like this just isn't like him. He's just gotta stop being sad!

Now personally, I really disagree with the idea that "being upset" isn't "like a person". That's because based off of my own experiences, I know it can be really damaging to hold the mindset that any negative emotions you feel aren't a part of you and that you shouldn't be upset because you're usually a positive and happy person. Not the case with every person, but I personally really have a problem with shows telling children that they just shouldn't be upset instead of processing their emotions in a meaningful way. (The journeys episode doesn't do an outstanding job of it either, but this is a bit of a tangent anyway. A show that does do this right is "OK KO! Let's be Heroes" which actually deals with this problem in greater depth and does a fantastic job of it.)

But the snowball scene ends here. Now I'll get back to Journeys in a moment, but since Serena has finished her part of the comparison for the most part, I'm going to summarize a bit more of the xy episode.

Satoshi decides to literally run his problems away, because it will help him reach some kind of conclusion, and immediately trips and falls down a large hill. No, I'm not making that up.

The snowstorm kicks in, Serena get back annoyed, then similarly groans and yells, and the whole xy gang + pokemon go running off in search of Satoshi. Pikachu appears the most concerned.

Now Serena tells the others she lost her cool and said something horrible to Satoshi, but explains its because Satoshi is someone she admires. Cool motive, I get it, still kinda bad.

and in the end, it's not Serena's words that get he message across to Satoshi. The solution to this problem was Satoshi finding a way to reaffirm his abilities and instinct.

In the xy episode, he helps some pokemon out of the tree, and when his very cool frog friend shows up, they're able to work together with their bond to save this one from falling off a cliff.

Here's the point. Satoshi learns by doing, by actions. He needs to see first hand that there are ways of getting past his problems, and that it's worth having the courage to keep going. The lesson is about valuing pokemon as equals and partners, and specifically that trying to be better as the trainer alone isn't going to help.

This is essentially where this plot line ends, team rocket is there for a bit as well but as much as i love them they're not relevant here, and some fun stuff with the league, love it not important right now its like 3am and I'm not sleeping until this is finished so we gotta keep things moving.

This was no doubt Serena's intent to get a similar point, but she goes about it the wrong way. She tries to convey this with words, as conversation and motivational words have helped her in the past (Elle's words of praise stick with her, Satoshi's words from when they were kids, etc). It's a good idea, but their different ways of learning and growing from a similar situation are incompatible, and that's why things don't work out in Serena's favour. There's also still the problem of "pulling yourself together" not being helpful in this case.

There's also a very similar line in this scene to the one at the end of the journeys episode, as Satoshi says to his frog that they should start over from scratch. It's essentially the same phrase with different wording. It's great. The Storm ends as he realizes this as well! Wonderful in terms of pathetic fallacy.

The gang all reunites, its nice. Satoshi thanks Serena for what she said after apologizing to everyone, which contradicts what he said earlier but I've already established that I dislike this message here so I won't go over it too much. I guess he's right in a literal sense in that in response to her words he went and ran until he tripped off a cliff but the emotional growth here was because of his own actions (and the frogs), not Serena's. Sorry Serena, you'll get em next time.

So. What about Goh?

Well...

(Part Two here on account of image limit!!)

#pokemon #anipoke #pokeani #pokemon analysis #pokemon xy #pokemon xyz #trainer ash #trainer serena #trainer goh #i dont wanna use the amourshipping tag to put negtivity in it that seems mean #analysis #this was written in the 2-3am area but the next part was written 12 hours later so thats a neat fact #long post

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Note

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

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

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

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

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

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

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

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

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

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

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags💕 (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed) :

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @jessiembruno

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years

Text

📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the second segment of your first date, attending a play in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. next.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

The obsidian carriage was a comfortable reprieve from the glare of the chilled sun rays. Drifts of snow were all too happy to try and reflect the light into your eyes, but the dark, shrouded curtains of the doctor’s vehicle saved you from the visual spotlights.

Swept in by your courter, you sit and watch Julian seat himself before his man yips the horses and pulls you all off, down the snowswept cobblestones.

You watch Julian watching you, thinking quietly to yourself about the events that have happened thus far, and letting the moment of silence cover you both. Sometimes, silence was just as good as words. What kind of man was Julian, in silence?

Shy, it seemed. He tries to pretend to glance out the window before being reeled back into your gaze, and finally, staying there. Shoulders stiff, you could almost feel the thoughts running through his mind.

You graced him a gentle smile, an offering.

Julian is more than eager to return it, nervousness be damned.

You were beginning to understand a little better why you felt so fond of him so fast, you realized. He was so…eager. Open. Even with all the little charades of character he pulled from time to time, they were more entertaining than anything. It did not come off as malevolent or manipulative. It was more experimental than anything. As anxious as your presence seemed to make him, Julian seemed comfortable enough in himself to try different things, different ways of being.

It didn’t hurt that he was very easy to read, and he read a tale of a soft heart on his sleeve.

You were very good at keeping yours under your sleeves, and something told you that Julian—as well as many others—liked the challenge enough to rise to it.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Julian says rather than asks, hope tingeing his tone.

“I am,” you confirm easily, showing your cards.

Pleased, his chest almost seemed to puff up in pride. You realize that Julian wants this courtship to be not just enjoyable, but memorable. Memorable enough for you to call upon him once more, memorable enough for you to savor spending time with him, to become hooked to it, and in turn, to him.

“What play shall we be seeing...?” You wonder aloud, tiring of your mental courting maps.

“It is a new showing,” Julian answers brightly, “’To Rake a Shrew’. One of my old friends behind-the-scenes, he explained some of the outline. It sounds delightfully dramatic.”

Your eyes widen.

You’ve always enjoyed a good, romantic drama.

“Do tell.”

Julian leans forward, looking every bit the cat that caught the canary and intended on sharing its prize. His large frame and sweeping height becomes much more apparent in the tiny space as he forgets himself and his nerves, confidence gleaming through his silver gaze as he speaks excitedly on the play.

He’s such a large man…yet graceful when he desires it…like reedgrass curtsying in the wind on a breezy, summer’s day. The whole of him is enough to cover you entirely. He’s visibly strong, you realize as your eyes rake over him. Yet he moves with such gentleness, especially when it concerns you. A helping hand, an assisting palm to elbow, a touch’s kiss above the lower back. You can feel the ability course through him, yet he remains composed and contained, as a proper doctor would.

Under the doctor however, there is yet a man.

With him this near, your senses flare.

His cologne is somewhat sharp, if not heady. All of him sticks out, dark, dashing, and enough to do whatever he’d like with you…to please…to pursue...to protect…

You suppress a shiver, taking in the sight of him. You’re not new at this particular game of attraction, but you’re still made of flesh and blood, and behave so. You swallow slightly, ignoring the way your heart picks up speed.

“…?” You suddenly realize Julian has called your name, and you’ve yet to answer.

“Forgive me,” you apologize. “I was caught in a thought! Please, tell me once more. I shall not wander again.”

Julian tilts his head curiously before smiling.

“It’s quite alright. I can be a bore, I’ve been told! What thought draws you away from me?”

‘You, actually.’

“Nothing of imminent concern, I assure you. I’d much rather hear you tell me of your friend and this play.”

Julian pauses before nodding, dropping the matter easily.

“Well, ‘To Rake a Shrew’ is about a Casanova descending upon a bustling town to find more conquests in love. He is a slave to beauty, but unfortunately for him, the most sought-after beauty in the town is a shrew unlike any other. She will bend to no one, especially not clownish, predictable seducers such as him. He changes his tactics to try and best her at his own game, however she wins in the end and dupes him while entertaining the love of another. And so...he attempts to seduce them both! The outcome of that mess is yet to be determined.”

You clap, terribly excited now. You love interesting plots and twisted triangles of romance, tripe and as common as they may be.

“Ooh, how devilish!”

“Indeed,” Julian agrees. “Do you think he’ll succeed in the end?”

“Well,” you suppose, “I’d have to see this Casanova. I want to know if his wooing is actually something of interest, or if he is simply full of his own air. Seducing two lovers at once? The gall! The work!”

Julian chuckles.

“Some could manage, I’d assume.”

“Oh?” You wonder. “Like who? You know people who could draw even those already entangled, in? That’s quite a feat.”

Surely he didn’t mean himself...? Julian seemed the shy sort, but was it all really an act? Could he be a playboy? He was certainly handsome enough to pull it off...perhaps you'd gotten ahead of yourself thinking that he was easy to read? It hadn't even been a day.

Julian pins a heavy gaze on you before flicking his eyes down to his hands casually, adjusting the hem of his glove. The leather creaks in a wonderful, quiet way over his regal fingers.

“I think perhaps, I know a few who could make that Casanova look like child’s play.”

‘Oh…’

“A few, you say?”

“Perhaps less than that, even.”

“...One?”

“Would it please you to hear so?” Julian teases lightly, a low heat simmering underneath it all.

“Only if it pleases you, to please me,” you test, returning the flame. “So it is one.”

“Perhaps.”

“Hm…an allure like no other is on the loose in our city…Dr. Devorak, should Vesuvia be afraid?” You jest, playing along with him.

Julian’s fingers halt at the sound of his title in your mouth. He levels another look at you, a smirk drawing up his face.

“Vesuvia will last. I, on the other hand…”

The carriage door sounds out a rapping of knuckles. Neither of you look away from one another. The challenge you both find there is too sweet.

“Sir Devorak, Lady _______, we have arrived at the Theater!”

You finally decide to turn away from your suitor then, the heat of Julian’s interest surprising you a little into your own nerves.

You like what you see there, you had simply…not expected to see it so soon in such a...heated manner...? Where did his nerves go?

‘So much for shy!’

The carriage door opens and Julian steps out first before clearing the snow with one big sweep of his boot, and lifts out a gloved hand to assist you. You gently take it, allowing him to ease you down onto the stones of the street. Though the sun is high in the sky now, the chill of winter has crept further into the air.

You do your best to suppress a shiver, but the concerned look on Julian’s face tells you that you’ve been caught.

“Allow me?” He asks, offering his arm for you.

“Naturally,” you consent, taking his arm in a deeper hold and stepping close to leech the warmth from him. Julian, though blushing now, seems all too pleased to have you nearer than propriety allowed, excluding chilly winter walks of course. No suitor would let the one they were courting be left out to the elements, unguarded! That was a quick recipe to losing out.

Julian leads you both away from the carriage, past the doorman, the playbill boys, the ushers, and down to the head seater.

“Tickets?” The staff member crows.

“We’ve our own box in the center section,” Julian says, his voice clear and assured.

You quietly watch as he easily discusses your seating with the somewhat confused staff member before watching as the worker realizes his grave error and bows, showing you both your way to your accommodations.

“Right here sir, madam! Watch your step! Ring the bell if you need anything—!“

A sudden noise makes all of you turn to the entrance to the private box, curtains now swishing aside as an angry, bustling man launches towards the staff member.

“This is my box!” The man bellows, puff sleeves flying. “I am gravely insulted. How do they train you louts these days? Even in Vesuvia’s worse I’ve never seen such a display of disrespect. I’ll be seeing your manager about this, most certainly.”

The man advances but Julian moves before anyone else really can, cutting the stranger off at the throat of the box’s entrance and herding him back with his own immense volume and size.

“Surely we can settle this like gentlemen,” Julian says in a soothing way, with a tone that is anything but.

“I beg your pardon? The only way this will ‘settle’ is if you all escort yourselves out of my box—“

The man tries to sidestep Julian, but finds himself blocked with every motion he makes. Julian is large, imposing, and will not let him pass.

Julian leans in then, his voice murmuring so low and so subdued that you can make no sense of it outside of the rumbling vibrations that do reach you. The staff member looks just as confused and out of the loop as you feel, but the man before Julian seems to understand with crystal clarity as trepidation colors his face. It soon melds into fear, to a quick, prideful facade.

The stranger takes a step back, scoffing loudly before exiting the box in a flurry of curtains and stomping boots.

Julian turns back to you both, a strained, yet somewhat humored look on his face.

“Well! That’s taken care of. Dizzy man, that one. Must’ve lost his way.”

“Ah,” you note, unsure of how to respond.

You were...admittedly nervous when that hostile, aggressive stranger entered the box so suddenly. It felt as if a fight had been imminent with a temper like that. And yet…

…Julian effectively diffused the situation. You’re fairly sure he used his own version of hostility, but he was conscious and chose to hide that side of him from your sight. You’re not sure why, aside from manners. A show of protectiveness does very little to wane your ever increasing interest in him.

Quite the opposite.

Maybe the Doctor is not as harmless or bumbling as he portrays himself to be...?

“Are you alright?” Julian asks you. “Is this box fine, or would you prefer another? That man will not be returning, but if you’re not comfortable, I will ensure that—“

“This is fine,” you insist gently. “As long as you’re here, I have no need to worry.”

When the initial surprise in your full trust finally fades from his eyes, Julian gives you the warmest of smiles.

“I—well, I—yes!”

The usher sneaks out as you and Julian lock gazes. The lights begin to dim in the theater. The crowd rumbles below in the pit, up in the stands, and from the teetering little boxes on all ends.

The show is about to begin.

“This way,” Julian says, offering his hand.

Julian helps guide you to your seat before securing the privacy of your box and seating himself beside you. For a moment, he is a flurry of cape and leather and boot before settling in to the cushy theater couch. His long legs jut out and he folds them, eyes on the stage, excitement in them.

You can’t help but follow suit, your eyes trailing the orchestra down below as they prepare to play alongside the show and its actors.

Suddenly, you feel eyes on you.

You take it in stride, keeping your gaze focused, but you know that Julian is peering at you. The dimmed lights have certainly sparked a more romantic mood than even the lit, dazzling, gilded chandeliers of the theater could evoke. There, in the cover of shadow and stage light, you feel yourself becoming the center of his particular show.

“You could have a portrait commissioned,” you joke lightly. “That would last you far longer, Doctor.”

A smooth chuckle resounds from your side before the words.

“If you’d allow it, I’d be honored.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him.

“You jest, sir.”

“I do not.”

You feel a smile break onto your face, before you turn once again towards the stage, biting your lip in amusement. The heavy, red stage curtains part before you can speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Vesuvia! Welcome to the grand debut of To Rake a Shrew…!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. next.

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

So, Word of Honor, Episode 36 (and “Episode” 37) again, because I want to do a little bit more unpacking of this, particularly with some of the extra material and information that people have been able to point me to.

Spoilers, obvs. For right now, I mainly want to pull out this bit of my initial reaction to 36 & 37, because I think it remains a key point for me:

It would be nice, though, if the connective tissue from 36 to 37 made any sense. Or existed whatsoever. Just, like, throw me a bone, show, some kind of explicit hand-waviness that actually gets mentioned for why Ye Baiyi apparently was not as smart as he thought he was and didn’t really know what he was talking about when he was doomsaying about how one of the pair will surely, oh surely perish. None of this “Sooooo, they managed to figure out the technique and master it?” from some random shidi who never actually gets an answer. I mean, the door was left open for fanwankery on this one, with what looks to be a very last-minute conceit of all this being a story told by grown-up Chengling to his disciples, which begs the question of how much of what he’s telling them is totally accurate, given any number of issues …

I do feel like there’s an interesting meta thing going on here, in that the entire show has been about – let’s be honest, it was never really about the plot – queer-coding this couple in ways that supposedly fly enough under the radar that people can handwave them as Just Good Friends and Brothers (I mean, I guess) with a Bury Your Gays tragic ending (ugh) for good measure. And Chengling is telling a story in-universe that seems to conform to some of this same formula. And yet, we all know well and good that these guys were husbands … So are we supposed to carry the same assurance out of the show, on a meta level, that what appears to be happening in the story at the end of Ep 36 – what we discover we’re learning through Chengling’s story-telling, isn’t really the truth? Just, look: While we’re getting the Good Friends and Brothers push, there’s stuff like obvious voice-over work that doesn’t match the much more queer version of what the actors actually said, which is apparently blazingly clear to any viewers who know Mandarin and can manage to lip-read. The show has literally put de-queered words into these characters’ mouths. You can’t trust what you hear. But apparently the show has also made this obvious enough that, if you’re a good enough speaker of the language the show is being told in, and you have a good enough eye, you can see what is actually going on. Are we being taught to trust our eyes more than our ears, are we being told that what we’re being told – by the end of Ep 36 on a meta level, by Ye Baiyi-through-Chengling’s-story on an in-universe level, and by what we learn about what happened from Chengling’s story, itself, also on an in-universe level – is inherently untrustworthy, but that if we “speak the language” of this show well enough, and have a good enough eye, we can decode it and see what “actually” happened and is later made explicit in Ep 37?

So, that’s a lot, but the reason I wanted to pull it back out is because I feel like this no-homo, surface-level, smoke-and-mirrors effect that gets layered over a queer bedrock of “reality” is precisely what the show did with its ending, and I want to approach that on a couple of different levels. Particularly since I’ve seen several reactions from other people who didn’t seem to have seen/didn’t have access to the extra of “Ep” 37, or who also found it difficult and vaguely unsatisfying to make the leap from Ep 36 to full belief in, and commitment to, “Ep” 37.

When I first posted this, I was really leaning on the idea of a classic Rashomon effect, given that we see – imho – a final Zhou Zishu/Wen Kexing scene in Ep 36 that’s filmed to lead us to believe that Wen Kexing died, with a subsequent cut to Zhang Chengling wrapping up a telling of the “story” of ZZS and WKX to his disciples. The easiest fanwank on this is that all of what we’ve seen so far has been Chengling telling the story of ZZS and WKX to his disciples, making him an unreliable narrator who in fact doesn’t know the truth of what really happened. I was actually reminded of the contrast in The Untamed (god, I don’t need to warn for spoilers for The Untamed, do I, we’ve all seen Chen Qing Ling at this point, right? Anyway, SPOILERS FOR THE UNTAMED) between the cliff scene in Episode 1 when they make it look like Jiang Cheng stabbed Wei Wuxian, leading to his fall off the cliff, and you go back later and realize this is the version that the storyteller was telling to the people in the teahouse vs. Episode, god, what is it, 33? When we see the cliff scene in “real” time, and discover that’s not what actually happened, that what happened is that Jiang Cheng stabbed a rock and Wei Wuxian shook himself free of Lan Wangji’s grip to fall to his death. You can’t trust what you hear. Also … well, we’ll get back to Chengling in a minute.

The second level of uncertainty to unwind is Gao Xiaolian calling bs on Chengling’s story. So, I felt like the kid who’s practicing his forms in the snow and being coached by ZZS in “Ep” 37 might actually be someone, not just a random kid, and that might be important, but I could not for the life of me figure out who he might be. I wasn’t aware until I watched some of AvenueX’s wrap-up of the show (I think that’s the first place I heard this info pointed out) that this kid is supposed to be the son of Gao Xiaolian and Deng Kuan, and the dad who comes to take him home is Deng Kuan (formerly Da-shixiong of Yueyang Sect, who – let’s face it – Gao Xiaolian really wanted to marry). Seriously, I spent so much time making fun of ZZS’s stupid facial hair tricks in this show, and then they actually do just put a dumbass mustache on a guy, and I completely don’t recognize him. I have to admit, the mustache threw me enough that I had no idea that was Deng Kuan (well, and maybe only seeing him for three episodes also helped). But if that’s Deng Kuan, and if the kid is his and Gao Xiaolian’s son, then she would have some reasonable standing to know a story detailing WKX’s death was bs.

Finally, and most crucially – thanks to everyone who directed me to resources (including AvenueX and other fans who were able to do some translation) who were able to talk about the voiceover work in this final ep, because when I talk about how you can’t trust what you hear, but if you speak the language well enough and have a good enough eye, you can catch what’s really going on? When I talk about de-queered words being put into these character’s mouths? Apparently, this is what happens to Chengling in the final scene. That last scene - and the story he tells his disciples - apparently DOES provide the connective tissue from Ep 36 to Ep 37, but you can’t trust what you hear. Apparently, this is one of the places where you can see something different from what you hear if you’re able to lip-read, with Chengling telling the disciples something much closer to the idea that two people who love each other equally can equally support each other through this cultivation technique and both come out alive.

In the AvenueX discussion of this (Livestream #21, starting around 1:22:30), there’s an additional tidbit about the use of the word “cauldron” – I believe by Ye Baiyi - to describe one person in the pair, a word with a specific and widely-understood meaning within the genre that’s not necessarily known outside of the genre with, yes, sexual connotations. (Come on, slash fans, don’t tell me you don’t giggle every time you pass a perfectly innocent Jiffy Lube auto shop, at something that the mundanes don’t think twice about.) Apparently, “cauldron” is in the script, I believe it’s in the English subs, and it apparently was in the original Chinese subs, until too many people started talking about it and how it had been slipped past censorship, because it’s a perfectly common Jiffy Lube auto shop, right? and then it appears Youku went back and changed the character in the Chinese subs to something that doesn’t even make any sense. So again, we get an example of a case where if you’re a good enough speaker of the language this show is being told in – in this case the vernacular of wuxia – with a good enough eye, you can catch what’s really going on. Something that then gets no-homo’d. And has some nonsensical de-queered meaning laid over top of it. How many times do we have to do this until we learn the lesson that you can’t trust what you hear?

ANYWAY, I’m wondering if the visuals are important, too: Something we see in the last scene with ZZS and WKX in Ep 36, when WKX is either unconscious or dead (CLEARLY UNCONSCIOUS), is that ZZS – twice – doesn’t let WKX’s hands fall. He catches him by the wrists and then catches him again by the hands as WKX’s hands start to slip away from ZZS’s hands – aaaannnnd end scene. I have to wonder if that’s not a subtle but important detail, that we see ZZS refusing to let WKX physically slip away, and maybe, by implication, refusing to let WKX slip away from him into death.

Also, again with Ye Baiyi – in the flashback when WKX is yelling at ZZS, Ye Baiyi says “No one dies!” as he comes bursting into WKX’s sickroom. And then even reiterates it – “No one dies before me!” But then the voiceover during the qi transfer, he’s supposedly going on about here’s how WKX is going to have to kill himself to save his husband? I think the script has dropped the ball in a few places, but that would really be a tremendous flub. That also deserves some unpacking, but I’m running out of free time right now.

So, just some additional thoughts. I will probably have more, but next up, I think, will be a re-watch from the beginning.

One last thought, tho’: What’s the likelihood that Nian Xiang is Actual A-Xiang and Goa Xiaolian’s/Deng Kuan’s kid is Cao Weining, reincarnated?

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #gao xiaolian #deng kuan #ye baiyi #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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hufflepuffsthunderdome · 3 years

Text

Only Uphill From Here | R. W

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1,400

Request: Anon; can you do a cute fluff with ROn please, maybe he gets all tongue tied around the reader and it ends up being all cute

Summary: Ron finally gets the nerves to ask the reader on a date, and things don’t go exactly as planned

A/N: this was actually my first ever request and my first time writing for Ron! I hope I did you justice Anon. Sorry it’s short, uni’s has had me swamped.

To say Ron was nervous was an understatement. He had finally gotten the balls to ask Y/N on a date, and much to everyone’s shock, they actually agreed.

So here he was, shirtless, rampaging through his trunk to try to find something decent to wear. The boys all knew how nervous Ron was, and as friends do, only proceeded to tease him more.

“What about this one?” Ron asks, holding up a nice pale blue coloured shirt and facing his friends, “does this look good?”

“Didn't anyone ever tell you, Ronald, not to wear blue,” Dean laughs, “it only accentuates your worst feature,” Harry and Seamus joining in to taunt the anxious boy, “being ginger,” they laugh in harmony.

Ron knows it’s all in good fun, he doesn’t take it to heart, he himself would’ve laughed and thrown back some half-hearted insults of his own had he been able to think over the sound of his heartbreak in his ears.

Neville gets up from his bed, laughing with the boys, “come on don’t be mean, it’s not his fault he’s cursed like this.” The boys only laugh louder now, Ron even giving in and joining with the laughter flooding the room. “Go with the Yellow one Ron and take a deep breath.” Neville places his hands on Ron’s shoulders, taking some deep breaths that Ron follows along with, feeling his heart rate decrease as he controls his breathing.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron slips the shirt on, doing up the buttons and sitting down to lace up his shoes, “at least someone is nice.”

Dean and Seamus both make faces at Ron, Harry chiming in, “you better hurry up mate, you’ll be late otherwise.”

“Fuck,” Ron mutters, dashing out of the dorm and listening to the final positive reassurance his friends throw his way as he wipes his hands on his trousers. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he moved through the hallways of the school to meet you in the courtyard, he couldn’t possibly fathom why he was so nervous. It was only Y/N! They’ve been friends for years now, he’s talked to them loads before. What difference is one night?

But when he saw you, sitting against the fountain in the courtyard, rugged up in a big jacket and scarf, nose red from the cold and hair catching the snow, he knew he was fucked.

——

It was not starting off well, to say the least. He had planned a wonderful evening, down to the very last step, and already it was falling apart as you stood in front of the big red closed sign, hovering in the window of Honey Dukes.

He was snapped from his annoyance when he heard you giggle beside him, “come on,” you grabbed his hand, dragging him away from the door of the shops and down the main street further, “you’re not gonna be able to open it by glaring at it.”

He couldn’t help but laugh along too as you dragged him through the doors of Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, the tuneful chime of the bell alerting the fairly busy shop of their presence, and before they knew if they were being motioned over towards an empty table.

“This place is so tacky,” Ron laughed, looking over his menu at Y/N when he heard them laugh too, “it’s like someone blended up a grandma and turned that into a shop.”

“What a lovely visual image there Ronald,” Y/N laughed, peering over their menu to raise an eyebrow and smirk at the boy, who could feel his face heating up with embarrassment, mumbling a small sorry as he let the table fall to silence.

The two teens ordered their things, Ron still feeling his face burning hot from the embarrassment of Y/N calling him out on his joke. Y/N didn't mean to embarrass him, they had only been teasing the boy. It was the type of thing they joke about all the time, but had they known just how desperate Ron was to impress them, they would’ve dialled the teasing back a bit.

“You should’ve seen Filch though,” Ron says, hands flailing as he emphases his story, mouth full of food, “it was priceless.”

He watches as his date opposite him puts their hand up to cover their mouth, chewing before moving it away and beginning to talk with an empty mouth, “it sounds hilarious.” He is only now considering how gross it must look, to be sitting across from him having to watch him talk with his mouthful and slurp his drink. Did he smell? Did his hair look stupid? Breath bad? Something in his teeth? The thoughts ran through Ron’s head in what felt like a split second and he felt his hands begin to get clammy again.

“But, uh, oh yeah, we got back to the common room, and uh, you should’ve heard the twins when we told them...” he trails off the end of his sentence, his mind remembering that night as he recounts the events and suddenly remembering that Y/N was in fact there. How could he forget, he even told Harry later how cute they looked in their Pyjamas. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N, I uh, I just remembered that you were there.”

Y/N giggles across from him, “I was wondering when you were going to notice.” Ron’s face once again goes red with embarrassment, eyes falling to the table as he tries to avoid looking at Y/N and messing up more. “Hey,” they say, reaching a hand out gently across the table to take Ron’s in their hold, “it’s ok, I like listening to you tell stories anyway.”

Ron sends them a lopsided smile at the compliment, always feeling the effect of their compliments especially as his heart begins to pound. Y/N pulls their hand away from Ron’s, the awkward width of the table making it difficult to comfortably continue to hold hands much to the teens' annoyance. Ron does the same, and in the blink of an eye his hand is brushing against a cup of tea at an awkward angle, and the room temperature liquid is sent pouring out, all over the table, the floor, himself, but most important Y/N.

“Oh god I am so sorry,” Ron exclaims, scrambling to get up and help his date, nocking more things around on the table in the process. He grabs some napkins and starts trying to pat Y/N dry, only stopping when he realises he’s nearly groping them.

He passes the napkins to them and stands there, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, especially Y/N. He’s prepared for them to walk away, to never want to talk to them again, or at least abandon the idea of dating him at all. What he’s not expecting is for Y/N melodic laugh to break the silence. He looks at them with wide eyes, finding them leaning back in their chair, still slightly damp, eyes closed and trying to stifle laughs.

They go to say something to Ron, but can’t manage to get more than a few sounds out before they succumb to the laughter again. Ron can’t help but chuckle too, falling into a series of howling laughs with Y/N, the pair still laughing and gasping for breath as they exit the shop to escape the glares of its patrons.

They eventually catch their breaths, the howling laughter now only a series of chuckles as they find a small clearing with some tables and chairs to sit at.

“I’m sorry today didn’t go as good as I would’ve liked.”

“Are you kidding Ron?” Y/N says from beside him, turning to face his downward look and placing a hand gently on his, “I had a wonderful time.”

“I practically ruined the whole night.”

“You could never ruin it, Ron,” their thumb rubs along his hand, and he turns to look up at his date, looking gorgeous against the snow and the moonlight, “it’s very sweet that you care so much.”

Ron wants to reply but doesn’t know how to. They just sit there, in silence, looking at each other. Y/N is the first to make a move, as their eyes flick down from Ron’s to his lips. Ron takes this as a good sign and slowly starts to lean in until their lips connect.

He knows it’s a cliché but in the back of his mind, Ron can’t help but think of the fireworks that are exploding in his stomach as he presses his lips against Y/N.

When the pair pull apart they don’t love far, staying within centimetres or each other’s faces. “Let me make it up to you at least? Next weekend?”

Y/N leans in again and pecks his lips, the two teens smiling like idiots as Y/N nods at the silly boy.

#Ron #Ron weasley #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp smut #HP Fandom #hp fanfic #HP FIC #fluff #hp fluff #Harry potter fluff #ron weasley fluff

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himitsu-luna · 3 years

Text

Umbrella

♪~ Now playing - Love Song, by Nct 127 ~♪

Warnings: none

Pairing: Doyoung x reader

Genre: fluff/ friends to lovers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

— "Ohh great! It's raining!", you say out loud, standing in front of the small convenience store you've just left, while watching huge water drops hitting the ground. This ordinary statement may look harmless, but you were able to make it sound almost like a curse.

You hate when it rains. The thunders scare you, your feet get all soaked inside of your shoes, the traffic turns into a mess of impatient beeping cars, the bright and warm sun is gone, the day loses its colors and becomes gloomy, and you see your mood instantly turning gray like the sky.

Your plans were simple, easy, error proof. Step one: walk to the convenience store, ten minutes away from your home by foot. Checked. Step two: buy ingredients to bake the chocolate chip cookies you woke up craving this morning. Checked. Step three: go back home, prepare everything, and eat the cookies while watching a good drama. Big fail. You now are stuck, unable to give one step out of your shelter. You blame yourself for not having an umbrella. But who would imagine that the beautiful clean blue sky could unleash such a massive waterfall today? "Well, all I can do now is wait" - you finally say to yourself, tired of giving the rain angry glances and accepting that this is a much better option than throwing a tantrum.

After five minutes of a boring waiting, you see from afar a familiar lean and elegant figure walking towards you, under a enourmous black umbrella. You heart skips a beat when the man gets closer and you visualize better the perfect shaped features of his face. It's Doyoung.

Doyoung and you are acquantances since high school, and now you're taking the same course at college. You say "acquantances" because you could never consider yourself close to THE Doyoung. Even though you two interact quite a lot, Doyoung is like an untouchable legendary being. He is the crush of half of the campus, and just because the other half still didn't have the opportunity to meet him. You, of course, is part of the first group.

— "Hey! Y/N!! Hello!! – you see Doyoung waving his slender free hand at you, while approaching more and more. "Hi Doyoung!", You answer, when he is already in front of you, near enough to be able to hear your shy voice. "What are you doing standing here?", he asks you, leaning a bit to get to your eyes' level. "Ah, I'm waiting for the rain to stop, so I can go home. I have no umbrella, you know, hehe". Doyoung straights his back again, and looks at the sky, showing off his long and gorgeus neck, to which you give a quick glance before looking down, timidly. "Hmmm.." – Doyoung stars talking again – "This rain won't stop anytime soon, you know?... Do you... Want me to take you home?" . You freeze for a second, still processing his proposal. You're about to refuse it though, because you don't want to bother him, but he just pulls you under his umbrella and you walk away side by side, arms touching, stepping on the wide water puddles on the street – "Let's go! I can't just let you here", he says with his soft voice.

–"Oh my God, what is happening? Please heart, you're going to give me out!", you think, still not believing you are so close to Doyoung. You walk some blocks in silence, when he suddenly asks you if he can carry your shopping bags for you. You refuse a million times, but he is as stubborn as you, and manages to snatch it from your hands. He steal a glance at its inside, and gives a little chuckle -"Ohh y/n! I see you still like these sour candies no one likes! hahaha". You could feel offended, but you got happily surprised. You didn't know that such a trivial and random fact about you was known to him. Actually, not even your best friends knew about your eccentric taste in candies. You can't help but feeling flattered somehow, trying to hide a fool smile from him.

---

1st year of high school

Doyoung was a new student at the school. He knew no one, and was wandering alone through the school building, looking for something to eat at the break time. He saw a little vending machine in a dark corner near the stairs, and he went there to buy some chocolate. For his disappointment, the machine was mean. It stole his money and gave him no candy. Looking defeated with a empty stomach, he turned around to go back to the class, when you suddenly appeared, slaping the machine at some specific place, making it spit a chocolate bar right away. Doyoung grabed his prize and looked at you. He immediately noticed two things. Your warm, kind and pretty face, and a half eaten green sour candy in your right hand. His heart started beating faster as he introduced himself to you, and yours was in the same state as his, as he showed you his cute gummy smile.

---

Still walking your way to your house, you sneakily try to look at his face, but, for your surprise and shock, he is looking directly at the top of your head. "You... Changed your shampoo?", he asks you, with a curious look in his eyes. "Oh yes! After years using the same brand, I decided to change it! But wait, how do you know that??", you reply, and the confusion is clear in your tone. "It's just... not the same smell. But I still like it". His poker face is really difficult to read, although you can swear you saw some hint of red tinting his pale cheeks for a second. However, all you think as an answer is a plain "Thank you", before you fall in silence again.

---

2nd year of high school

Doyoung and you were lab partners at Science classes. Doyoung loved it, since he got the opportunity to be close to you. You never noticed his amused sparkling eyes looking at you while you excitedly explained him the subject. In one of these blessed classes, while paying attention to a glass filled with a purple liquid in front of you , you two got so close that the scent of your hair mightly hit Doyoung's senses, inebriating him. "Apple". That was his only thought until the conclusion of the class.

---

– "We are almost at your house, right? We just need to turn left there and you'll be safe and sound!" , Doyoung said, in a strangely melancholic way. "Yes! That's right! That's... Right. Oh, so you know where I live?". You were confused. You've just noticed that you never told him where your house was, and he literally guided you there without any instructions. He seems startled by your question, as he answers it, scratching the back of his neck: - " ahh..this... I saw you leaving your house once. So yes, I know." You keep in silence again, but this time you can feel his body becoming warmer and warmer through the few layers of clothes that keep your arms from really touching each other.

---

3rd year of high school

Doyoung was on his way to school, when a gorgeous tree, loaded with pink blooming flowers, grabbed his attention. He stopped to give a good look at it, but suddenly his eyes decided to focus on a beautiful figure, your figure, the one he knew so well, leaving the yellow house in front of the big tree. He was hypnotized. Thousands of petals were dancing over you, guided by the soft spring wind. It was almost like the winter snow, even though your bright sunny smile at the sky reminded him of a happy summer day, and the increasing warmth inside of his chest felt like the cozy Autumn. With that vision he got the confirmation. He was completely in love with you.

---

You stop in front of your house. Now you're facing each other, still squeezed under the black umbrella, the rain insistently pouring over you. It's time to say goodbye, but the farewell just refuses to leave both of your mouths. You, then, finally say, getting your bags back from his hands -"Well, I need to enter now. I'm baking some cookies." "Are you going to put some walnuts in your cookies? I know you love them!", Doyoung says, innocently, getting you by surprise again. "Doyoung, I'm actually really admired! I... I didn't know you knew so many little details about me. You must be a really observant person!", you wrapped your phrase like that, talking more to yourself than to him, trying to not be delusional about it.

Doyoung takes a deep breath. For a minute, he keeps his eyes shut. When he finally opens them, you see their tenderness filling your soul, as he starts to speak :"y/n, I'm only observant when it comes to you. I know a lot of things about you. I know you scrunch your nose when you don't like something; I know you bite your nails when you're feeling anxious; I know your favorite color is orange because your favorite fruit is also orange; I know you're bad at remembering dates, so you have them all written down in your notebook; I know you dislike horror movies, cry at sad movies and get excited over hero movies; I know you speak while sleeping, but only when you're too tired; I know you have this little moon shaped birth mark at your shoulder, and you are proud of it ." He stops to take a breath. Your heart is pumping faster than ever. He moves his free arm and reaches for your hand, intertwining his slim fingers with yours. At the same time, he gives a short step towards you, reducing the distance between your bodies to almost zero. His face slowly gets closer and closer to yours, and you can feel his mint breath as he start talking again: "And I know... I know you like me as much as I like you." This being said, Doyoung, all of sudden, drops the umbrella that was protecting you two, and cups your face with both of his hands. While you get drenched by the rain, your lips land on each other's and melt into a sweet, slow paced and long kiss, full of affection and passion. He carefully breaks the kiss apart, and gives you a cheeky smile, while moving his hands to your waist : "I also know you hate when it rains, and you hate to get soaked, so I'm sorry for this". You laugh lightly, replying before pulling him for another kiss : "I guess you finally got something wrong. I actually really love when it rains".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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timebird84 · 3 years

Text

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @a-partofthenarrative

“Silver and Gold”

A/N This is a sequel to my 2018 Advent Calendar piece, “Evergreen”. It is not necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful as there are some references to that here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, y’all!

Christine loved New York at Christmas.

The sights, the sounds, the smells…every moment of strolling through the city streets, block by block, had brought an exhilarating thrill that had been absent from her heart for far too many years. Even hours later, as she stood in the kitchen, elbow deep in pie dough, she had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Ms. Fleck had disappeared to somewhere or another at one point, claiming “errands” and leaving Christine to wander lower Manhattan for the better part of an hour. Weighed down by the variety of shopping bags, she had meandered uptown at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the newly erected Christmas tree in Washington square before making her way up 5th Ave. to Herald Square, where she would find Ms. Fleck and Erik’s odd horseless contraption that had initially spirited her to Coney Island.

As she passed the stream of elaborate shops boasting anything any man, woman or children could ever desire, she lingered here and there, casting appreciative eyes to the elaborate window displays attracting crowds along the sidewalk. One particular window snagged her attention: a fanciful tower of toys teetering precariously on top of one another, held aloft in some miraculous defiance of gravity.

Biting back a smile, she stepped away with a silent resolution to return with Gustave. The poor boy would be positively beside himself when he saw the treasure trove in front of her.

She had located her shopping companion only moments later and, with confirmation from both parties that their feet and funds were exhausted, bags and passengers were located into the carriage for the trip home.

At least...she hoped it would become home. Goodness, but it did feel like home; this crazy, complicated family she had formed in a strange netherworld of curiosities. Upon returning to Erik’s home, it had been discovered that they had beaten “the boys” back to the residence, so with no tree to decorate, Christine had set her attention to another one of her favorite holiday pastimes.

Now, planted firmly in the large kitchen, covered in flour and holiday cheer, she rolled the stubborn dough into a thin sheet, a pie plate stuffed full of apples set to the side patiently waiting for its cover. Satisfied with her work, her fingers had just curled around the edge of the thin sheet when a commotion drew her attention to the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen to investigate.

Ms. Fleck was already present and Christine cast her a questioning look before another shout snapped her eyes to the foyer.

Dr. Gangle stood just inside the door, the sole member of the group lucky enough to claim the prime position out of the cold, although one’s definition of luck would depend on one’s opinion. The poor man’s arms were wrapped around the top of one of the largest evergreen trees she had ever seen, this one seemingly dwarfing the childhood giant she had described to Erik only hours before. No doubt this had been Gustave’s doing. As his father before him, her son had a tendency to want to “one-up” anyone or anything that he deemed worthy of bragging rights and she bit back a chuckle despite herself. Maybe it was time her beloved masked enigma had a taste of his own medicine; the fact that it was delivered by his own progeny was turning out to be a delightful twist of Fate.

Shouts echoed from beyond the door, phasing in and out in a cacophony of chaos as the tree twisted and turned in a macabre dance in attempts to be pushed over the threshold.

“Left! Move it to the left!....No, the OTHER left!”

“That IS left! Watch it! You’re going to take the paint clean off the frame!”

“Gangle! Squelch! If either one of you idiots scratches the paint, you’ll be repairing it yourselves with Ms. Fleck’s mascara brush!”

Both women watched in stunned silence at the tenuous exchange before Christine glanced down, brow furrowed and voice weary. “Goodness, but it sounds like they’re having some trouble, doesn’t it?”

The smaller woman shrugged. “Frankly, I’m impressed that the Master knows what a mascara brush is.”

Christine blinked, unable to answer before the tree moved just so, allowing a small blur through the doorway and straight into her skirts. “Maman!” Gustave beamed up at her, thick snow caked in the hair along his brow. “Look at the tree we found! Isn’t it wonderful? I think it’s even bigger than yours!”

“It is..something!” she exclaimed brightly, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “What happened, cherie? You look as though you’ve been caught in a snowstorm.”

Gustave pulled off his hat and swiped a carelessly palm over his hairline, sending clumps of snow to the wooden floor. “We had the best time! Dr. Gangel and mr. Squelch had a hard time cutting down the tree, so Mr. Y stepped in to help them. Well, the three of them began to argue over which way was the best way and while they were yelling at each other, the tree started to creak and then fell- right toward the sleigh!”

Christine gasped, feeling slightly “Oh no…”

“Oh yes!” The boy chattered on, seemingly oblivious to the picture he was painting. “That seemed to get their attention and then they ran toward the sleight. I didn’t get to see much after that because Mr. Y grabbed me, but we ended up in the snow. You should see him, Mama! He looks so funny!”

“Gustave, do you realize any of you could have been hurt or worse?! Mr. Y likely saved your life!”

Gustave rolled his eyes in a fashion so similar to Erik that Christine’s breath caught. “Maman, I’m fine. The tree didn’t even land anywhere near us.” His little brow furrowed as he glanced at the tree in the doorway, a frustrated Dr. Gangle staring at its branches with open disdain. “Do you think we’ll be able to get it inside?”

“I..don’t know, love. I’m sure Mr. Y and the others are doing everything they can.”

More grunts and shouts caused mother and son to glance up and Christine quickly snatched Gustave and stepped back as the tree hurtled forward, succumbing to a final desperate push from Squelch and Gangle. With one hand planted firmly on her son and the other pressed to her chest, she watched wide-eyed as the men muscled the enormous evergreen deeper into the house, and a masked figure stumble in behind them, shutting the door with an echoing bang and slumping against it with a weary sigh.

This man looked nothing like the impeccable figure she had always known. Instead, the man before her was a disheveled mess; wilted against the doorway, chest heaving, hair caked with snow, overcoat askew and one glove and his cravat missing (although really, who wore full evening dress to trek through the woods?).

With a quiet word and a promise to reconvene soon, Christine sent Gustave upstairs with Ms. Fleck to clean up before pasting a sympathetic smile on her lips and moving to his side. “Oh, my poor Erik,” she soothed, taking his gloveless hand in hers. “Something tells me today did not go exactly as planned.”

He cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice. “Christine…” Even his voice was exhausted. “Never again…”

“But Gustave is happy, Erik. You did well.”

“...and nearly killed us both in the process.”

“Yes, well, he did mention that,” she muttered. “But thankfully no one was killed or maimed and the tree was delivered successfully…”

Both eyes opened to regard her now and she only sighed and smoothed a hand over his snow-wet face. “I am nearly done with an apple pie. I meant it to be a surprise, but given the circumstances…” She chuckled at the faint light that came to his gaze at the mention of his favorite dessert, another newly discovered similarity to their son. “Go and clean up while I finish and then we’ll all decorate our new tree together.”

This brought another groan as Erik let his head fall back against the door with a thump. “Christine, I have a bountiful staff. This is what they are paid for.”

“Not this year.” she countered. “Besides, decorating is the most fun of all. I’ve already laid out the popcorn to be strung and I picked out some lovely ornaments in the City today.”

“The City? Christine, you went to Manhattan alone?!?”

“Of course not, Erik. Ms. Fleck accompanied me” She squeezed his hand. “Now up you go.”

“But Christine!”

She met him eye for eye. “Don’t! I am a grown woman. We were perfectly safe. Now go upstairs, change into some fresh clothes and decorate the Christmas tree with your son.” Stepping back, she helped him to his feet, smoothing her hands down the sleeves of his overcoat and pressing a kiss to his frozen lips. “I shall join you as soon as I get this pie in the oven.”

*********************************************************************

Nearly an hour later, the pie covered and browning nicely, Christine untied her apron, let down her hair and migrated to the living room where the festivities already appeared to be happening in full swing.

The tree now stood in the place of honor in the front corner of the room, beautifully centered in front of the large bay window, creating a lovely visual for anyone who happened to pass along the street. Dr. Gangle, Squelch and Ms. Fleck had taken up positions nearby, sorting through the packages and parcels from their shopping excursion, taking turns to comment on the contents of each.

Muttering from the back corner turned her attention to Erik and Gustave, both dressed in fresh shirtsleeves, waistcoats and trousers, and seated side-by-side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. Gustave was attempting to teach his father to string the snack food to create a festive garland that would be just perfect. Erik, bless his heart, listened indulgently as he tried to copy Gustave’s motions. Unfortunately, while the former Opera Ghost was a master of innumerable things, the muttered curses and muffled cries of pain indicated that the needle was making better progress connecting with skin rather than kernels.

The rustling of skirts announced her presence to the room and Erik immediately set the string and bowl aside as he stood to greet her. “Ah, there you are, Christine. Would you care to ah...take over the garland crafting?”

Biting back a smile at his attempts to cover his inadequate stringing skills, she gave him an impish grin as she drew near. “And deprive you of the experience? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It’s all right, Maman,” Gustave commented, never taking his eyes from his work. “He’s not very good at it.”

Erik’s gaze snapped to hers as if to say There! You see? but she quickly and quietly tempered it with one of her own. “Not everyone excels at the same things, Gustave. But if there is one thing I know about Mr. Y, it is that he has quite the eye for making beautiful things.”

“Except popcorn garland,” Gustave supplied.

Erik’s expression was positively indignant as she worked to suppress the quirk of her lips. “So it would seem.”

“We’ve got all of the ornaments arranged for you when you’re ready, Boss,” Squelch announced, waving a hand over the various boxes of colored bulbs laid out beside the tree. “Ms. Christine picked up quite the selection.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, all.” Erik managed, taking Christine’s hand as they approached the tree. “Shall be begin?”

The three glanced between themselves, then back at the Master and his lady. “You want us to help?”

“Of course!” Christine smiled, “besides, none of this would have been possible without you.”

No further permission was needed by any of the parties. Gustave, finished with his popcorn garland, wound it around the tree, accepting assistance from Erik and Dr. Gangle at different points depending on height and availability. Christine, Squelch and Ms. Fleck declared themselves in charge of the myriad colors of ornaments and directed where and what were hung until the tree was transformed from a blank green palette to a wonder of color and light.

One of the most important purchases for Christine had been a set of candles for Advent. “This was one of my favorite traditions growing up,” she remarked as she struck a match. “With all of the traveling my father and I did, there were many of our traditions that we were forced to forego, but he always made certain we had a set of candles for Advent.” With a radiant smile, she lit their first candle, relishing in the pop and crack of the wick catching fire. “This one represents hope.”

“The second represents faith,” Passing the match to Gustave, she helped him light the second candle before offering it to the masked man standing at her side. Wordlessly, he accepted it, his expression unreadable as he set the match to the wick and the third candle spring to life. “And the third,” she supplied, meeting Erik’s gaze over the flickering flame, “is for joy.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips then and her heart squeezed a bit tighter in her chest.

“What about the other candles?” Gustave asked.

Christine blew out the match and smiled down at him. “Traditionally, there are four Sundays in Advent and each week one more candle is lit. The fifth is lit on Christmas Eve. We’ve started a bit late this year, as it’s nearly Christmas, but all will be lit as the season progresses.”

Gustave studied the candles, then glanced at her “Did mofar teach you any other traditions that we can have here?”

“Oh, cheri, so many! Although, we rarely had the chance to partake in any of them given that we were never in Sweden much after my fifth birthday. The legend of St. Lucia, julbord, julklapper.” She brightened. “I may be able to make julmust for Christmas Eve if I can find the proper ingredients. That is, if you don’t mind, Erik?”

Slipping an arm around her waist, he remarked. “I want to know everything that is important to you, ange. If it makes you and Gustave happy, then consider it done.”

The boy’s attention shifted to him then. “What about you, Mr. Y? Did you have any traditions growing up?”

Erik’s panicked eyes immediately shot to her and Christine smoothly took control of the conversation. “Gustave, I’m sure Mr. Y knows many of the same holiday traditions that you do.”

“But he’s never even had a Christmas tree before…”

“And there were many years where I did not either. Like myself, Mr. Y has spent a great deal of his life traveling, haven't you, Erik?”

“I have,” the masked man confirmed, but offered no further explanation.

Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the boy for the moment. “So... we’re blending. Maman’s traditions with Mr. Y’s?”

Christine glanced at Erik, who looked as lost as she felt. “Er…”

“In a sense, I suppose,” Erik supplied. “But perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are starting our own traditions. As a..” he trailed off suddenly, his normally stoic face slipping into something akin to sudden wonder.

“As a family?” Gustave ventured.

“Yes, my love,” Christine whispered, fingers covertly creeping into Erik’s palm as he held her hand like a lifeline. “Exactly that.” Drawing him close to her side, she bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve had an exciting day and according to that clock in the hall, it is much past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone and I’ll be up in a moment.”

“Ah, actually, Christine, may I speak with you for a moment?” Erik cut in.

“Come on, little master,” Ms. Fleck said with a wink, catching Erik’s eye. “If you can get your nightclothes on, I’ll read you a story before your mama comes to tuck you in.”

Gustave broke into a grin, pecking Christine on the cheek before dashing for the stairs. Christine watched him go with a loving smile before tipping her head back to smile up at the man stationed behind her. “Look at how happy he is, Erik. You gave him one of the best days, despite all of the trials that came with it. That boy worships the ground you walk on.”

“I care for him in a way that I never knew I was capable of,” he admitted, tucking her hand in his arm and turning to the tree. “I would move heaven and earth for that boy.”

“Welcome to parenthood, my love,” she whispered.

With a sigh, Erik moved to stand before her, cloaked in the colors cast by the candles flames against the glass ornaments of the tree. “Christine, I admit I’ve been struggling when it comes to you and Gustave. I am not proud of it, but you must understand that I spent the majority of my life in utter solitude. Even in our...early acquaintance, the very notion that someone would care for me, let alone that I would one day have a son of my own…. was laughable.

“Both of us know how the last story ended and quite frankly, as far as I was concerned, that was the end,” He shook his head, glancing down to the floor. “But then our paths converged again, ten years later with the knowledge of Gustave...and almost losing you again...it awoke something in me, Christine. Something that made me realize that I never want to feel that way again.

“You, my darling, are the only thing that matters to me. You and Gustave and, if it is agreeable to you, you would make me innumerably happy if you would remain in Coney Island.”

Her breath caught as the weight of what he was asking began to sink in. “Erik, are you…?

He gripped her hands tighter, gaze steady, but pleading. “Stay with me, Christine. Be my wife. Let’s give Gustave the family we should have been from the beginning.”

‘Erik…” she whispered, leaning her forehead into his chest as tears flooded her eyes. “Truly?”

In response, he pulled a box from his vest pocket, flipping it open to reveal a diamond solitaire. On one side, a band of gold, warm and radiant, linked a band of silver on the other, cool but elegant, joining in metallic harmony to cradle the diamond that winked up at her.

“Oh, Erik…” she breathed again, “it’s stunning”

“I know the tradition is bended knee, but I seem to have had a traumatic incident with a rather aggressive evergreen,” he replied dryly, “so I hope you’ll forgive...”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. We shall stay.” Christine beamed up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “With all of my heart, I love you, you stubborn boar. The answer is ‘yes’.” Curling her fingers around the edges of his waistcoat she pulled him forward in a flash of motion and kissed him thoroughly in front of said evergreen tree.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers broke the spell a moment later and the couple turned to see Gustave, Ms. Fleck, Dr. Gangle and Squelch positively glowing at them from the stairs. “Way to go, Boss!”

“Yes, well...” Erik sputtered, looking to Christine for assistance. She only chuckled, kissed him deeply again and extended her left hand, to which he responded by obediently sliding the ring on her finger.

Gustave rushed down the stairs to embrace them both, begging to see his mother’s ring, then beaming up at Erik as if he had just been handed the world on a plate. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Father’ now?”

Christine’s breath caught as her brown eyes collided with Erik’s mismatched ones, which looked slightly watery again. She watched as his throat bobbed, silently struggling for control before managing an answer. “Of course, my boy. You may call me whatever you wish,” he said, stooping down to look the boy in the eye. “You are my son and I am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel as though I’ve held you at arm’s length. I..love you, Gustave. I always have.”

Christine pressed her hands to her mouth, tears flowing anew as the boy’s mouth trembled and he launched himself into the arms of the masked man whom he had come to idolize. Erik caught him, holding him in an awkward embrace as he met Christine’s teary smile, unbidden moisture already beginning to track down his visible cheek.

Erik stood, bringing Gustave with him and Christine moved forward to join the embrace. As Erik’s free arm came around her and Gustave’s little hand held tight to hers, she was sure her heart would burst.

Her father used to say that a broken, battered path often led to the most beautiful destination and as she stood in the embrace of the two men she loved most in the world, bathed in the silver and gold glow of the candles and Christmas lights, she knew that she was finally home.

With a family of her own making.

As it always should have been.

Eyes slipping closed, her fingers languidly trailed up and down Erik’s spine and smiled as the large hand at her waist squeezed her imperceptibly closer.

From this day forward, as it always would be.

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 15

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