#i know i’m being so repetitive here but i just. cannot get over the fact

[padfootastic]

Also, it is thoroughly established in canon that Peter was a bit of a coward and that Sirius was more powerful and a better duelist, several people confirm this and even kind of wonder at Peter “going after” Sirius in the aftermath of that Halloween, so Remus, one of Peter’s closest friends, would’ve known that Peter going after Sirius didn’t make sense. I can get him not questioning that right after, because he’s just seemingly brutally lost two friends at the hands of another, but he seriously never questions this at all in 12 years? He never once wonders why Peter, of all people, would go after Sirius?

this!!!

it’s one thing to be in a hazy veil of grief, which is fully understandable. but at some point in the dozen years, you must have questioned the circumstances leading up to the whole thing, no?

and like. same as with dumbledore and the order, even if u did believe it, why would you not, even once, try to find the story behind it? why would he not even once question why sirius did what he supposedly did? there’s so many holes in the whole case—it’s so fucking obvious if u look for it. so why did remus never once think to wonder why peter was trying to catch sirius, why sirius let himself be caught, why he would ever betray james.

#i know i’m being so repetitive here but i just. cannot get over the fact #that people thought. fully believed. that SIRIUS BLACK was capable of causing deliberate harm to JAMES POTTER #that idiot would’ve taken an unbreakable vow to never hurt james if he could’ve #he was so so so protective of j. so possessive of their friendship. would’ve done anything to preserve it #bc he knows how fragile human bonds are #he wouldn’t have just died for james but *lived* for him too #just. ugh. #forever peeved at this #also the whole angle of sirius trying to separate himself from his family #trying so fucking hard to be different #and then just being lumped in the same category #pen’s asks

[animeyanderetalker]

So you finished enies lobby eh? How’s ur one piece journey so far, and do you have any brief thoughts on the straw hats (so far)?

I’m giving you my honest review here because as much as I like the series so far, I also have my fair share of stuff I don’t enjoy.

I adore the world in One Piece. I’ve been a big fan of Pirates of the Caribbean as a child and I have always wished back then that I would see Jack Sparrow exploring all mysterious islands and finding all treasures. I got that with One Piece but even better. Each island feels unique and whilst there are definitely pacing problems at times even this early for me, I do love the aspects of exploring each individual island and learning about the rules, the environment and the life of the people calling it their home. I know that the Skypiea Arc isn’t that beloved amongst Anime fans but I really loved the arc due to the unique and interesting setting the island in the sky had. From its past to the inventions to the way people live in the sky, everything has so much personality and that has been the case with every major island so far. The sense of adventure and curiosity I always get whilst getting to know a new island is really addictive and I love the foreshadowing. The fact that the end of the Going Merry had already been hinted during the Skypiea Arc but was only revealed during the Water 7 Arc is insane and from what I have heard, Oda is great in foreshadowing and I’m looking forward to that.

What I find myself struggling with, and I don’t know if the Anime is partially exaggerating this sometimes, are the characters itself at times and the, in my opinion, lukewarm comedy that gets very repetitive and boring after a while.

Luffy:

I am actively struggling with the main character at times. Luffy is quite carefree, impulsive and does whatever he wants and it is not even that this is what I dislike about him. He has such heartfelt moments such as giving Nami his straw hat during the Arlong Park Arc despite the hat being a treasure for him or him defending the pirate flag of Chopper during the Drum Island Arc. It’s just that he sometimes is portrayed as so amazingly incompetent and stupid that I am agonizing over it. How can you get stuck twice within the same arc in between two walls and then spend episodes there whilst your friends are trying to save Robin?? Him being a glutton is expected, older Shounen protagonists just seem to have a habit of having a black hole instead of a stomach. I also still don’t understand how he learnt Gear 2 and 3 in such a short time considering that I cannot recall a time where he had time to properly train.

Roronoa Zoro:

I have very little to criticize about Zoro. Luckily his character gag of always getting lost isn’t something that is thrown into my face every episode so I can tolerate it. He’s a man of honor and I like seeing him on screen, but I’m still waiting for that one moment of him where I go from liking him to loving him. I also feel like he suffered in the Enies Lobby Arc from being paired with uninteresting opponents to fight against (Kaku and Jabra).

Nami:

I love and hate Nami at the same time. But the reason why I hate her isn’t even her own fault. As a character I love how she isn’t someone who is actively fighting and has admittedly not the most interesting fights but without her literally nothing would work. As a navigator she is irreplaceable and without her skills the Straw Hats would go nowhere. Her backstory was also heartbreaking but Oda seems quite skillful when it comes to writing a good and tragic backstory. The reason why I hate her though is because she has become more and more a victim of sexualization the further the story has progressed and I just know that it’ll get even worse. I have seen the pictures of her after the timeskip and it is so infuriating because she didn’t look like this at the beginning of the story. The freaking scene in the Arabasta Arc where she was sexualized from a camel and a crab was a different low for me because it’s the first time I have seen animals thirsting over a female character.

Usopp:

Usopp is a character I also find myself struggling with. On the one hand his creativity and his craftsmanship are to be admired. This is a man who invented Nami’s Clima-Tact and was the shipwright before Franky joined. On the other hand his character gags of being the big coward can get a little bit tiring after a while for me. I really loved the Water 7 Arc because it showed him in a much more serious light which was a nice change for once. And I am going to be quite honest here with you, I did not enjoy the whole Sogeking sequence. I understand that he was too ashamed to face his friends after he had left the crew but it got a tad bit annoying to me after a while. I was also not surprised that Luffy and Chopper were the only ones who didn’t recognize him in his disguise.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

I actually really enjoyed Sanji’s character when he was first introduced. I admired his ideology of not letting anyone starve due to his own experience of being stranded on an island without much food and the relationship he had going on with Zeff and the other chefs was heartwarming. However, his simp character has significantly increased since then to the point where it has gotten frustrating and annoying. I remember that scene in the Skypiea Arc where the Going Merry was kidnapped with a few crew members still onboard. And the first thing that left Sanji’s mouth then was that he was disappointed that Nami wasn’t in bikini anymore. I think that is the moment where I started not liking his character as much anymore and from what I have heard, it’ll become a lot more worse. It’s really disappointing in my opinion because he could be such a cool character but around women he is always reduced to a simp with heart eyes.

Tony Tony Chopper:

Chopper is adorable and I love his versatile forms he can use with his Rumble Ball. But I just wish that the show would actually give him more recognition because the 50 Berries he has on his head as of now and the fact that he was called a pet on those wanted posters is saddening. Because not only can he actually fight because he took down one of the CP9 members but he is the doctor of the ship and fulfills such an important role because of it. He is more than just a cute little animal and I hope that will be more recognized.

Nico Robin:

Robin is as of now my favorite character and I have literally nothing I can criticize about her. She is intelligent, her backstory is my favorite as of now and I love how her character also shows that it isn’t only pure strength alone that can be dangerous in the eyes of others but also intelligence. She was wanted for simply knowing how to read Poneglyphs. I’m also happy that she hasn’t been sexualized in the Anime so far and I pray to god that she won’t get the Nami treatment later on. I also love her dark and blunt sense of humor.

Franky:

Franky is incredibly likable. He is as of now the newest member of the Straw Hats so I have not as much to say about him but he is also a well built character with a nice introduction. The relationship he had going on with Iceberg and his past with Tom were well written and despite his rowdy experience he has a heart made out of gold. The fact that he took all outsiders in Water 7 under his wings and gave them a new home and purpose says really all you need to know about him and I’m looking forward to seeing more of him.

#a talks #one piece #op #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #usopp #vinsmoke sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #franky

[evita-shelby]

A Repetition of History

Or Tommy finds his school bully at the last palce he expected to see him, Florence’s school entrence dropping off his son, who takes after his father in more than just looks

Cw: racsim, bullying, slurs, violence

No offense to Harolds of the world, i just picked common baby names from 1890

He’s taken his children to school plenty of times. So far, everyone fears his displeasure enough to keep their mouths shut.

Mosely and the growing bigotry these years had caused them plenty of trouble for them and their children so much that they’ve had to enroll them in a different school.

Florence had fewer more issues than Diane since she didn’t inherit the long forgotten Shelby trait of two different colored eyes. And yet his girl was approaching the building as if she were being led to her doom.

He’d only come here so her classmates could learn about what a member of Parliament does before they take a tour of 10 Downing Street that he got for them. While he felt a little bad for using his children’s school to campaign for re-elections, 9 year old Flora loved ruling over the playground enough to suggest the idea in the first place.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he asks quietly, and before she answers, Tommy heard it.

“Didn’t know they let the likes of you into these places?” one of the parents says with that distinct tone that told the reformed gangster this was more than just old money snobbery.

This one was one of the ,unfortunately, many who believed in Fascism and the idea that the white race must exterminate the others.

And unfortunately for everyone involved, a man Tommy knew from before. He used to harass him and his siblings in school when they were younger. He would call Ada things, pull on her braids, he’d hit John, and the reason Tommy learned to use the old pocket knife he had pickpocketed one Sunday morning with his father.

The boy had learned to hate the Romani at his mother’s bosom and now taught it to his children. Especially the little boy with that sinister little smile that made the usually unflappable Florence cry.

“Not everyone shares your views, Harold. Most people believe the children of an elected representative should attend the same schools as the rest of the children in his constituency.” Tommy hardly brags about his career unless the situation merits it, and this one did.

It was only this and Florence that kept him from beating the living shit of his old schoolyard bully.

“I didn’t mean that, Shelby, but I suppose even the Crown lowered its standards to allow dirty gypsies like you into its sacred halls.” Harold said and Tommy knows this won’t end well for anyone.

“The people of Birmingham put me there, if they don’t see anything wrong with a ‘dirty gypsy’ representing them in Parliament, neither should you.” While he was used to being called a gypsy –some just didn’t know any better and still assumed their people came from Egypt--- Tommy couldn’t just let it slide this time.

With those last words and the apologies of Florence’s teacher and several members of the faculty, Tommy does his best to leave even with his fist clenched in anger.

Even words from that fucking cunt were enough to wake the devil in him.

“That’s right, pikey, leave just like your dad did.” Harold laughs, thinking he’s won.

He never sees the fist until Tommy’s recreating that time he and Arthur showed him enough was enough after he pulled Ada’s new dress down in front of the class.

Mrs. Changretta hadn’t stopped them, in fact didn’t stop Angel and Luca from joining in too. After all Harold hated Italians as much as he hated the Romani and the Jews.

The staff can’t get him to stop until he’s stained the cobblestones with blood and the screaming children shake him out of the memories of every single insult has avenged itself through his fists.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, don’t know what came over me.” He apologizes to the headmistresses, but he cannot make himself see the horror in Florence’s face.

She’s scared of him now. Just as he was scared of his father the first time he saw him kill.

Tommy, from then on, decides he won’t take her to school like he used to, but later that evening, Florence sneaks into his office with the desert he’s denied himself.

Even worse, she kisses his cheek as she always does and whispers, “Thank you.”

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy and florence #florence shelby

[noraigo]

can we please talk about jiang yuelou and chen yuzhi?

if you told me a couple of months ago that i wouldn't get over a series about a hot-tempered policeman and a gentle doctor, i wouldn't have believed you. however, here i am and i cannot fathom the fact that this series is so underrated. the chemistry, the whole plot, the characters: chen yuzhi, jiang yuelou, chu ran, yu tangchun, among many others, are so well-built and i think that just for this, it deserves more recognition.

BUT, i’m solely here to talk about these two. can we appreciate how beautiful their relationship is? i am aware that they fall under the bromance trope, but you cannot convince me they are merely close friends, not when the whole series is based on a bl novel. although they start off a bit hostile (i know, i know), the evident infatuation jiang yuelou develops towards chen yuzhi and vice versa is so romantic. he finds everything the doctor does endearing, from his quiet surprises to the way he’s always trying to help him psychologically. yuelou suffers emotionally due to his bipolar disorder, with violent outbursts and unstability that makes him throughout the series, you get to know that yuelou is not the kind of person to seek help, that he would rather confront everything by himself than ask guidance. yet, somehow — he always comes to yuzhi when he’s uneasy or confused. it’s not a secret in the police bureau either, song rong and sun yongren (the most loyal characters i’ve seen in a series, i have to say) are pretty much aware of his liking towards yuzhi’s company. even jin dacheng himself insinuated that both of them didn’t have an innocent relationship at all.

the hugs, the touches, THE LOOKS! oh my goodness, their stares were the death of me. i am the kind of person who never skips initial and final credits, so i was very eager to know the hospital scene that happens at the very end of the credits, because i was sure it would become my favourite. i was right and i won’t forget the feeling i was experiencing: the look of relief on yuelou to see yuzhi alive before his eyes, but being on the verge of tears because he knew yuzhi almost didn’t make it? it's a mixture between guilt, relief and love, all in one. absolutely delightful. it’s a repetitive pattern though: yuzhi gets in trouble, yuelou goes crazy and once he’s safe in his arms again, it’s like a part of yuelou’s soul is being reassured that the most important person in his life is alive, safe and sound. because, oh my… in the novel, yuelou considers the doctor his zhī jǐ: a person who understands him deeply no matter what, similar to a soulmate. thanks to an user on tumblr and their translations, i could get to know that, in the audiodrama, yuelou’s feels go beyond platonic. “you’re more significant than friends. people touch you, it’s the same thing as them going after my life.” THIS IS SO RAW AND EMOTIONAL, I’M GOING TO FAINT. the fact that even when yuelou and yuzhi were in danger, as zhan junbai was watching them over, yuelou straight up says: (on my own words, as my memory has been failing me lately)

“is there something between us that can’t be said? we're of the same mind.” i’m so... give me a minute, please *inaudible screams and screeches*

one thing i noticed a lot while watching the series is the fact yuzhi is a very gentle, soft-spoken and intelligent character, which already makes him likable (oh, i LOVE kind-hearted characters) but when you see him through yuelou’s pov — slow motioned movements, timid dimpled smiles, a person whose demeanour is described as pure even — he becomes even more lovable and that’s how yuelou sees yuzhi. how crazy in love yuelou must be to stare at yuzhi while doing mundane things, such as having dinner together? absolutely not focusing on the plate underneath him. instead, grinning with doe eyes as he watches yuzhi looking at the snowy night. ROMANTICISM ON ITS PEAK.

however, for me, the most special thing is to see yuzhi reassuring yuelou by holding his hand so dearly, by hugging him out of relief to see him alive too, by cradling his hand on yuelou’s cheek to brush his tears away. THE ENDING, I CAN’T CONTINUE MY LIFE AND PRETEND NOTHING HAPPENED.

yuzhi is slowly passing away on the other’s arms. yuzhi always wants to be near him and it gets highlighted in his final words, he was too wishing to eat tang yuan with now commissioner jiang yuelou. even on death, he’s under the snow with him. even on death, yuelou’s fondest memories are with chen yuzhi, for he keeps their photo together close to his heart despite grieving his absence and having to take care of yuzhi’s little sister. yuelou simply sits on his home all alone, with the emptiest eyes which once had the entire galaxy shared with yuzhi. not moving, not doing anything. i felt like i was mourning with yuelou, i will never forget how he quietly lays down beside yuzhi’s body while crying his heart out when he realized the inevitable.

WHY? WHY IS THE ANGST SO BRILLIANT WITH THEM? THE LONGING, THE YEARNING, THE LOVE. i’m afraid i won’t enjoy anything that doesn’t remind me of them. there was a before and an after in me, it literally reseted my entire smooth brain.

everyone, go watch killer and healer. 37 episodes are definitely worth the time!

just look at them, i will respectfully combust.

#jiang yuelou #chen yuzhi #killer and healer #yuezhi #im late to the party #i know #but i adore them #long post #bromance #not really #you get the idea #opinion #kind of? #whatever its fine

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

Chapter 6

Death Note ( Lawliet aka L X READER)

WC: 2026

TW: None

A/N : So sorry for the late update on this! I’m just terrible and can never stick to projects lol.. But I GOT A CHAPTER UP... I always laugh when I’m writing these because I’m here like “ omfg jasmine.. WHY DO YOU MAKE THEM SO AWKWARD...” But i hope yall ENJOY! 

MASTERLIST

It has been about a week since L’s birthday, nothing new, just the same old little investigation. Has it been tiring and just repetitive at this point? Most definitely. But some exciting news is that Matsuda has asked me out! Interesting man but sweet and kind nonetheless. He said he wanted to take me out but since he should be technically dead, he’ll be wearing casual clothing, with a hoodie and sunglasses. I did tell him that it would probably be best if we don’t go out but he insisted that He takes me out because that’s how a man needs to treat a woman. 

“ Mr. Matsuda we don’t have to go out, I’m okay with staying here and getting take out.” I state hoping he would change his mind.

“ No, If I'm asking you out, then it means I need to take you out and treat you! Besides, what type of man would I be if I just ordered take out.” 

“ You’re supposed to be dead matsuda.. I think you forgot that little part.”

“Not at all, i’ve got it all planned out, just trust me.”

He asked me to trust him, so I’m trusting him… I’m officially dressed and fixed myself as much as possible where I look casual enough to blend in with Matsuda, but dressed up enough for a “date”. I walked out of my floor and down towards where everyone sat just discussing with one another. 

As always no one gives me much attention so I just walk around to see what everyone is up to. 

“ Alright Miss Y/N/N I’m ready, sorry I kept you waiting!” Matsuda comes over with a small bouquet of flowers that holds my favorite flowers.. “ Oh thank you, such lovely flowers. And no worries, I just came down myself.”

With that L turns around and cocks his head to the side, “ Where are you going, where there’s a need for flowers?”

“ Matsuda asked me to join him for an outing.”

“ Is that so? Does this outing involve looking for clues on the Kira case?”

“No, it’s for personal gain.”

“ Then I cannot allow it, this case needs all the time we can offer.” L turns back to his little computer screen

“ I suppose we would listen to you if you had some form of control over us, but you don’t.”

“ You’re right, i don’t.”

Well that settles it, i look at Matsuda and tell him we can go, but he stops me in my tracks, “ Maybe he’s right Y/N/N, what if something crucial comes up.. Maybe we can just stay here, like Ryuzaki said, the case needs all the time we can give!”

“ Matsuda you were the one who suggested we go out.”

“ Yes I know.. But I said I would do everything to stop kira! Maybe the date can wait.”

“ I see, well then.. i’ll be heading back to my room then to change.”

“ You don’t have to change Miss Y/N/N.” Matsuda tries to stop me by grabbing my hand, but I’m quick to pull it away.

“ No, I must.”

“ Oh don't be mad, I promise I’ll take you out the moment we catch kira!”

I stop to look at Matsuda, hmm indecisive and too gullible. Committing to promises he wont keep

. “ Matsuda, have you ever committed to something and truly stuck to it? Those who are quick to change their minds and actions are ones who make quick promises. That being said, you did ask me to trust you before, asking someone to trust you could mean you’re someone who doesn’t know how to portray the concept of trust. You make promises, which resembles an idea of trust, but your promises are empty. So no, I will not be joining you anywhere even when the Kira case is solved, that is a promise that I can keep.”

I walk away with the flowers in hand, I finally make it to my room and change. Once I'm done I head back down stairs. I notice that no one is really around besides Chief yagami.

“ Miss Y/N/N do you not think you were a bit harsh on Matsuda?”

“ Not at all, in fact I think I was rather civil.” I grab the stack of papers and read through them to see what these papers were about. Same business men. 

“ The man means well, he simply wishes to solve this case. It's not that he’s not interested in you, or that he won't keep his promise, he’s very good at keeping them, he’s a loyal man.”

“ The issue isn’t if he’s loyal, It’s human decency to be loyal, would you not agree? He simply doesn’t think for himself. I do not wish to be with, let alone interact with someone who can’t speak for themselves and stand by their own words. He lacks direction in his words and lacks the will power to stand by his words. I simply was blinded by his kindness, forgetting that kindness only leads you so far.”

“ Well Sometimes people don’t think for themselves because they haven’t had an opportunity to do so.” 

“ I suppose Chief, but he changed his mind too fast, without a second thought. Once again he Lacks direction.”

“ Yes, but i think you’re forgetting the fact that you agreed to go out wi—”

“With all due respect, I’m no longer having this conversation with you.” I get up from my spot with the papers in hand and walk back towards my room. When I notice that L stands slouched in front of my door. 

“ Oh I didn’t realize you were not in your room Y/N/N.” L stands and rubs his right foot on his left foot. 

“ Yes I can see that, what is it that you need?”

“ Nothing at all, just checking to see if you’re alright.”

“ That’s a lie Ryuzaki. ”

“ I’m sorry?”

“ You’re lying, individuals who lie tend to change their normal body positions at times, out of the natural instinct of trying to act like they’re telling the truth. You were slouching a bit, when you made that comment of asking if ‘ I’m alright’ you straighten your back by roughly what looked like 3 degrees upright.”

“ wouldn’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch on detecting if someone is lying or telling the truth?”

“ The same could be said about your analytical reasoning when it comes to accusing Light as Kira. A bit of a stretch on the reasoning behind your explanation, but correct in the end.”

L looks at me with a voided stare, not much emotion behind them. 

“ L is there anything else I can help you with?”

“ No.. I suppose not.”

I nod my head and reach for my door handle trying to get past him and back into my room. Once I'm facing my door and I open it, I let myself in and look at L who stands in the hallway. What an odd behavior,  he said he had nothing for me.. Yet he has not moved. 

“ L would you like to come in? I’m not sure why you're still standing there..”

“ oh, i’m sorry.” he apologies while walking into my room. I take the paperwork to my bed and read every line, while L stands by the door looking around. Why is he acting like he’s never seen this room before? I soon realize that L doesn’t feel my gaze, so I put my papers down to just see what his next moves are.

I notice that he’s scratched his head, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. His posture itself seems a bit more tense and more slouched. His body language reads anxiety, and confliction. The lower the shoulders fall, it can indicate self-caution or doubt. Any action such as findling with your fingers, the scratching of any body part means there’s a form of hesitation or worry. His gaze hasn’t moved anywhere, that means he’s over thinking. He’s too in his head to realize that he’s briefly detached from reality, another sign of being conflicted. 

“ Y/N why did you agree to go with Matsuda?”

“ why? Well, he asked.”

“ No you would never go just because someone asked.”

“ Is that so? Then I suppose it was because I was bored.”

“ Do you not have what you need here?”

“ No I don't.”

“ What is it that you need, I’m sure that Watari can make arrangements to your liking”

“ L, to be honest with you, I don't think you understand what I’m saying. My boredom that i'm speaking of is due to the lack of activities outside of the case.”

“ And Matsuda would help with that?”

I sigh and tilt my head to the side as if I'm saying “ are you serious.” type of look. For someone who can solve cases he continuously never fails to show how oblivious he is.

“ L, i would like to do anything with anyone.”

“ Then why not ask me then, I’m sure i would be able to provide more intellectual conversations.”

“ That’s the problem L, you wouldn’t talk about anything else besides the case. I’m tired of just solving crossword puzzles, blank puzzles, and just reading. I want to just do something normal.”

“ I suppose we could implement a small 1 hour break everyday for some regrouping. That would help with allowing us to see things we might be missing on the case.”

“ See L, that’s what I mean.. I- Nevermind L.”

“ Would you like to share your thoughts, i do find them rather important.”

“ Why should I share anything if my words are going in one ear and out the other.”

“ I didn’t realize that was the case, I thought you just said you were bored and wanted to do something outside the case? Is one hour not enough time?”

“ L it’s not about the time, It’s about talking to others or just having a conversation that isn't about the KIRA case! I just want to go get some coffee or sweets at a shop and just talk about, i don't know, like THE SKY! “

“ the sky? The sky is simply the color blue, due to the reflection of the light and the wave length from the sun, the gas particles in the sky are sca–”

“ L i know how the color prism and the wavelength of light works, You’re not getting the point! L I just want to sit down with you and just talk about random things!”

“ You already sit down with me when we’re working… But I guess we don’t talk about random things.. I can arrange that if you’d like?”

“ L I don’t want you to do it because I told you! Like Matsuda just asked me, he wanted to go out with me! He wanted to get to know me, outside of work!”

“ I see, so you’re requesting more of what Misa and Light have.”

“ L what, no?! I’m not saying i want a relationship.”

“ But why else would I get to know you outside of work, if not for relationship purposes?” 

“ MAYBE BECAUSE WE COULD BE FRIENDS?”

“ Oh.. my apologies miss Y/N, i was under the impression that we were already friends… so i assumed you wanted more is what you were saying.”

“ I-.We- you think of me as a friend?”

I’m completely in shock knowing that L just said that I was his friend. I would have never thought that he thought of us as friends. Let alone anything as simply a member of the task force team.  

“ You did celebrate my birthday and gifted me with a gift, so I imagined that’s what friends do? I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.. I’ll be sure to not assume next time.”

“ l no, I’d love being your friend, I just didn't think you thought of us as friends.”

“ Okay then, we are friends.”

“ yes.”

“ Very well, I will arrange gatherings in which we can talk about the sky.. Although I still find it rather odd that you’d wish to talk about the sky.”

“ L just get out..” I laugh feeling a small blush creep onto my face. “ Go arrange that gathering you speak of, I’ll be looking forward to it, friend.”

L just looks at me, but gives a small glimpse of a smile and bids me a goodbye. He walks, or should I say shuffles out of my room and closes the door behind him. An Odd man he is, falls short on small things yet he’s so confusing… 

#L Lawliet #lawliet #lawlight #Ryuzaki Lawliet #death note Lawliet #ryuzaki #ryuzaki death note #death note ryuzaki #ryuzaki x reader #l x reader #l x you #l x y/n #Death Note #deathnote #L death note #l headcanons #l fanart #l fanfiction #anime #Light Yagami #Misa Amane #dn l #l dn #dn lawliet

[gunsatthaphan]

Hallo Freundin! 👋

I will share my random ramblings with the class this time around. 😇 So here we go!

Okay, I’m going to put this out here. About Between Us. For clarity: I watched the Uncut Version. (My bank account is very grateful that Between Us is finally over. 🥲) So I don’t know how much and what got cut. But anyways, here are my two cents. Do with what you want. 😌

I don’t think Between Us was bad. Not at all. But if I am very honest, it did disappoint a little bit. (Which tbh, seems almost impossible to avoid with the enthusiasm and anticipation I felt about it beforehand. 🙈) Maybe it’s the extensive number of plotlines, or the fact that the main plotline felt a bit dragged on in the end.

But I think there’s also another reason. (And correct me if you disagree.) To me, it felt as if the stories were told in the wrong order. Particularly, the WinTul story was started way too late. So that when they had their resolution, it seemed unrealistically quick to me. In contrast, for some reason the romance between Manow & Pruek remained a storyline for the entire series. And I am seriously still wondering what was so pressing that it remained a “problem” to solve for 12 episodes. 🫠 It was also the weakest storyline because Manow’s insecurities were never fully elaborated on. And so it seemed to me like the odd one out.

I thought Bee and Prince had a really strong storyline. And both that storyline and WinTul’s created a strong parallel to the main theme (me thinks) of Between Us itself. While it doesn’t have the theatrics of UWMA, it does serve strong motifs about “finding yourself,” “forgiveness,” “feeling inadequate,” and “getting to know someone else.” Plus, more importantly: letting someone get to know you.

While WinTeam put up the question: how well do you know someone when there’s just the physicality? WinTul sort of gets the reverse question: how well do you know someone when you don’t know what they look like? The overarching idea is that you don’t, unless you take the time. But at the same time, you do, better than you think. The story of Bee and Prince gave a whole new spin on this story by inserting the issue of status and celebrity into the mix. And the contrast between the private person and the public persona (bonus points for getting real about the pressures of being queer and a celebrity).

Tldr: I would have started with Bee and Prince, then put in Win and Tul, and end with Manow & Pruek. 🤓

Oops, I’ll quit the rambling! 😅 I just cannot stop talking about this show. 😍

Love,

— Thel. 💚

hi there Thel!!! 💜

thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts!!

Generally speaking Between Us was a phenomenon for me because it had so many tropes & aspects that I usually don't like such as the mains not getting together until the last second, an abundance of side couples, characters acting juvenile, repetitive scenes & lines, certain stories going in circles etc. but for some reason none of that bothered me too much here? 

Like we had 5 couples which is usually way too much and not all of them were 100% satisfactory but I think they did a really decent job with giving them an equal amount of both screentime and development. WaanTul had the perfect slowburn for me and I'm okay with how they wrapped it up but the ending was not appropriate for the overall pacing. It went at 30% speed for 11.5 episodes and then it went to 100% within seconds lmao. That could've been handled a bit better imo. But as I said I'm okay. Also I don't think it was told in the wrong order. To me the narrative made sense and felt coherent but maybe that's not what you meant lol.

Manaow and Pruk had a good story setup but it remained a setup and was not delved into as much as it should have so I agree with you there. I still liked them and their energy a lot though. to be honest they might be one of my favorite het pairings in a bl. I really really like them and I would 100% watch their show if they had one. 

Prince and Bee did not catch my attention at all in the beginning. I had no interest in their story as I was over the celebrity x mundane trope and also I'm not a fan of Benz. BUT that changed towards the middle of the show. When they actually got together and specifically their conversation in the bathroom was where I was like okay. I like this lol. They had a very nice conclusion and their chemistry became a lot better over time. I liked it. 

So overall all of these little stories had their little flaws but they did good. And I agree with what you said about the plots fitting into the overarching theme of the show which is getting to know each other, letting others in and offering a safe space to the people you love because that was indeed the common ground for all stories. And it’s also something that wabisabi generally does very well with their shows imo. Most of their productions are similar and they’re known for their cheesiness lmao but they do offer a very heartwarming portrayal of relationships and friendships, also the antagonist not being a person but your own inhibitions is something I really like and they did an excellent job with showcasing that in BU as well. Which makes it a flagship wabisabi show in that sense but in the best way possible imo. It’s exactly what I appreciated about UWMA too. 

I ended up giving it an 8.5/10 which, considering I went in in zero expectations, is almost like hitting the jackpot lmao. I’m very happy with how it turned out and I’m glad we can talk about it here lol. 

thank you again for sharing and have a lovely day! 💜 

xxx

#between us #between us finale #reviews #opinions #final review

[abumblebeeat221b]

you know what, i think i’m doing all this being a fan thing wrong. Steven Moffat once said that you know you’re a real fan when you decide to watch something that makes you unhappy. and while i think “unhappy” is a bit of a strong word here, in my opinion Moffat got it mostly right. because, it’s the only explanation i have for me being almost at the end of Chibnall’s second series.

is his idea of Doctor Who perfect? no, and there are (at times pretty big) bits and pieces which are bothering me about the way he writes things.

exhibit a: i’m sorry but who thought the Doctor fangirling over a general is in character? i  know she used to have friends who were soldiers, or with UNIT/ Torchwood  or some army. BUT the Doctor doesn’t exactly have a track record of liking or trusting soldiers, unless she knows them personally. like, the writers have never been exactly subtle about it. at least in the same episode we meet the Pting and i’m not gonna lie, watching the Doctor figuring out how to get that cute (but deadly) creature off of that shuttle was fun.

just let’s not get into the one episode with the witch hunts. while not all of it was bad - (the companions reaction to some of the stuff going on was fun, the Doctor’s reaction to not being taken seriously because of her gender was nice too), i just didn’t enjoy most of it.

or the Amazon knock-off. while it being the sentient system running the warehouse that's calling for help is pretty genius, i can't believe the same person thought having a higher percentage of humans doing repetitive jobs was a good conclusion to that episode. Like SERIOUSLY??? Who did  greenlight this episode?

or why did Chibnall think he’d have to reset all of Missy’s character development? in fact, i might be wrong as i’ve only ever watched NewWho, but i cannot remember a single episode in which the Master would have actually wanted to kill the Doctor. for real. Torture him, yes, manipulate him into seeing things from the Master’s perspective, also yes. but i’ve never pictured him as someone who’d point a gun at the Doctor and pull the trigger. where would be the fun in that? i mean, if she actually had died in Paris, who would have received his message when on Gallifrey? and while big parts of Spyfall Part 2 are great, apparently *that one specific scene* also triggered some generational trauma i didn’t even know was there. no, i won’t elaborate (but feel free to take an educated a guess). really, I am not sure how the script went through various production stages without people picking up on THAT!?

and since we are already in the middle of complaining about stuff: i’m not sure i like whatever Chibnall is up to with that other Doctor. neither of them recognising their past selves goes against the rules, if you ask me.

talking about rules: again, i might be wrong, but isn’t Earth becoming Orphan 55 some sort of a paradox? as much as i appreciate the eco-message, i’m not sure we want to explore the implication of *that* being one *possible* reality. yeah, time is in flux and there can be timey-whimey stuff, BUT once upon a time things were fixed enough so that the Doctor was able to have a relationship with his future wife because he could rely on those timelines. if time were that unstable, Chibnall could decide to rewrite all of canon and that’s not something he should be doing, in spite of all the hints he’s been dropping during series 11 (likes seriously, please tell me that’s not what he’s up to. or actually don’t. you know - spoilers). 

and yet, even  though at times the show feels as if someone was trying to do a pretty good job at faking Doctor Who episodes, i’m still here watching from behind my (figurative) sofa, because at the end of the day, you always stumble across a story which is truly and utterly brilliant, and just makes those less stellar moments worth it. the Demons of Punjabi, Spyfall, the one with Ux, Nikolas Tesla, or Shelly - they all remind me of what this silly show is really about.

i even like Thirteen’s TARDIS much more than the designs we had during Moffat’s run. then again, i always had a soft spot for the interface the TARDIS had when she was Nine and Ten’s. i also love that her interior looks a lot more organic than it had in years.

and last but not least, Jodie Whittaker *is* hands down an amazing Doctor. even tough the logic behind some of the Whoniverse’s rules have changed, i’m utterly grateful that Chibnall hasn’t changed much about the Doctor. she’s still that curious scientist who is exploring the universe for fun, with a few dark moments thrown in there for good measure.

so yeah. this is me basically promising to myself that i’ll be a better fan - after all, this stupid show will always have a special place in my heart, so there is really no use in complaining.

#doctor who #the fandom life #chris chibnall #let's see if i'll still think this way after having watched series 12

[snifflesthemouse]

Harry’s the Problem. His wife is the symptom. He is the real Diana 2.0 Wannabe...

         Since the Oprah interview aired, my whole perspective regarding the spare and his spouse has shifted. It would seem that I’m not alone in my thought process as more and more media outlets start reporting similar stances. Just recently, there was an article suggesting Harry didn’t change; but rather, he is only finally revealing his true self. The more I think about it all, the more I’ve come to the realization #6 is the real culprit behind everything.

         I’m not saying that his wife doesn’t have her own agenda or shares responsibility for her part in all this. Her hands are far from clean. What I am saying is it’s finally time for all of us to consider the cold, hard truth. Harry is his mother’s child. Harry is the bad egg, and his wife is only a side effect of the real problem here.

         Had it not been for the Oprah interview, I would have never put it all together. The problem with oversharing is too much information gets put out in the public. Most assume PR firms would worry about oversaturation in the press, but the real problem comes from personal interviews they cannot control in real-time. Puff pieces can be edited before publishing so facts and statements align; live interviews cannot. Over time, one of two patterns form from this oversaturation. Consistencies, repetitions, and similarities can be found in oversaturated truth-telling. Inconsistencies, changes, and huge differences result from those like Harry who prefer their trousers scorching hot from bursting into flames from deception. When you consistently lie, the only constant is the inconsistencies. 

         Now, those of us who have been following these two already know by now inconsistencies and changing stories should be expected. But the Oprah interview really highlighted some interesting things I had previously missed. The interview with Dax Shephard only solidifies my theories. Up until lately, those two have been together through most everything. Very seldom have we seen Harry alone in an interview or speech. There’s never a time where the missus isn’t popping up. James Corden proved that. Then we have the Oprah interview where she was supposed to be the star of the show. But, that was the moment it all changed. That interview was the moment she became the understudy. 

          Think about it. Who is the one being used in the media lately? Most people would suggest that the impending delivery of child number dos is why the missus is absent. One would then argue the Apple + special with Oprah started production well before the second child was a topic for discussion. The missus is being used less and less on camera or in the media. Everything is all about Harry. Forget about when Harry met Sally; Harry Met Hollywood! 

         Harry is the one doing the interviews, dropping projects, and talking with big Hollywood names. Even their announced Netflix projects are focused on one of Harry’s pre-married concepts. All the wife has going for her is a book that’s only number one in the “Books written by ex-Royals who couldn’t hack it” category. Seriously though, as of this posting the Bench is #2130 on the Amazon Books list, #12 in Children’s Black and African American Story Books, #73 in Children’s Emotions Books, and #167 in Children’s Family Life Books. Being pregnant isn’t a disqualifier for being interviewed. But, apparently being just the wife is.

         So, if it was his wife’s plan from the beginning to marry Harry, get him to abandon his family, move to California, and become a big star with a Prince for a husband, her plans have been ruined. And if you think about what she said in the interview with Oprah, you can actually see the moments she told us all exactly that. She clearly tells Oprah Harry was her direct link and source to the Royal Family and everything she needed to know. She didn’t misspeak or misunderstand a thing; she was telling us that Harry’s next to be markled. In every weird answer or revelation where she gave her versions for why their child(ren) were without title, saying they wed three days before the chapel, or having to cry out to HR since Harry failed to help her while she was so depressed she wanted to kill herself and her unborn child... all of it. It was all just the beginning. It may seem like she is attacking her husband’s family, but Harry’s the real target now.

          In just a couple sentences, she managed to reveal who Harry really was. Harry, of all people, should (and does) know how to navigate the press. Clearly, he failed to not only help her acclimate to Royal life, but it could also even be argued he set her up for failure for the get go. Let me give you an example. When my husband introduced me to his family for the first time, he told me little tidbits of information he found important for me to know. He essentially prepped me for the meeting so things went well. He wanted his family to like me because he loved me. I wanted them to like me because I loved him, too. So, I took to heart everything he told me. Yet, Harry’s wife shared with the world how little Harry cared about that. She credits Fergie with teaching her to curtsey, google for teaching her the National Anthem, and even said Her Majesty made her feel especially welcomed. So how did Harry not do more? If they started seeing one another in the early Summer of 2016, how is it Harry failed to teach or explain anything to her prior to meeting his grandmother, the Queen, when he had months and months of time to do so? How is it he failed his wife so miserably, she didn’t even understand basic UK custom, laws, or protocols? Why might you ask?

         Simply put, Harry is so much like his mother, all he knows is how to play the victim narrative while using the link to the Royal family as a nonstop ATM machine. Many people aren’t honest with themselves when it comes to Diana. She wasn’t the Mother Theresa everyone makes her out to be. Mother Theresa wasn’t a Mother Theresa either, though. Did Diana do some great things? Absolutely. Did she do them only because they were nice or great? Absolutely… not. Diana’s PR team would even have her switch up her charity causes whenever they felt it was getting to martyrdom level. They’d refer to her PR stunts as flavors. Does that sound like an innocent woman?

         Not to me. This whole time we all have seen his wife as the root of all issues, but she’s the side effect. It’s becoming more clear by the day that Harry searched out her. He wanted someone with the basic Hollywood connections that he could capitalize. Someone that seemed so controlling and ambitious it would be easy to believe they were controlling him, too. Of course he knew she would invite all the celebs she did. He probably inspired that guest list. Instead of guiding her in the press and in British society, he leads her to slaughter. He hides behind her repeated gaffes and wokeness to keep on his own mission.

         You see, Harry is obsessed with his brother eventually becoming king, being the “Second Son of Diana” and being the misfit. He is obsessed with his brother and father. They are all he talks about. When you obsess on something like that, it is more revealing than anything you say. Harry’s true motives aren’t protecting his wife and children. His real motive is making a name for himself like his mother did. If he can manage to get some revenge by making the Firm feel some backlash, hey that’s a bonus. 

         While his wife may think in her mind she will be the next Diana 2.0, the truth is we all missed who really will be. Harry is the one wanting to be Diana 2.0. If that’s the case, then that means the much older spouse for whom there are two children with, aka the wife, would be his Charles. Remember, Diana lost her HRH and titles. And we have Harry being very aggressive and pushy, to the point it seems he is trying to get ahead of a Palace announcement of them losing their titles. But it makes sense now.

         They aren’t trying to lose anything, but instead Harry keeps opening his mouth to create pressure in the media. He knows his wife does not want to give those titles back. But if he himself keeps saying outrageous things, then it would put everyone in ultimatum mode. Either Harry will push hard enough that Parliament and the Queen will have enough, or the press will get so critical of the two, Harry will push his wife to agree to returning the titles.

         Harry is following the Diana business model. While in the Royal Family, they both were seen as rock stars who had more star power the the Sovereign, which was an issue. Then, they couldn’t take all the abuse, coldness, and inhumanity, so they bolted for freedom. Instead of putting the past behind them, they use the past to monetize grief and trauma in such a way, they become their own brand. Right now, the trauma being monetized comes from the past, but the problem will soon come when that trauma is tapped out. He will need a source of new pain or victimhood. Enters the wife stage left.

          The wife is a tool. She of course has her own plans and thinks she is the one in control or the genius. She thinks she is the one everyone wants to work with. But it’s becoming clear to her that isn’t the case and she’s been played by her elite buddies. They all want him, not her. They all duped her for him. If I can see it, and I can see her already finger pointing that Harry is the failure here, then she can see it. And that means paradise will soon be lost in those Montecito hills. His wife won’t go down without a serious fight here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she eventually causes him to lose his special visa. 

         Overall, Harry hides behind his wife like a beard or shield protecting him from the press’s glaring lens. He lets her do and say whatever she thinks is great so he can keep plotting his own plans. He allows her to take the fall, look stupid, pull stunts people can see through, etc. for a reason. He isn’t completely sure he can make it in his new California life. He knows he can’t if he keeps her for too long, but he also knows he needs an exit strategy in case it blows up. So, he pins the press to attack her as the true culprit. If they split and he has to, he can return home and play the victim of her. If they split and he is doing okay in Hollywood, she can be the reason he plays victim to big named people like Oprah and Gayle. 

         I can see it now. An Oprah Special with Harry tonight on Apple +. Something cheesy or corny that is almost plagiarism. Like Narcissus and the Prince or something. Watch. Mark my words. Oprah talking to Harry about surviving the marriage while trying to rescue two small kids, being in the spotlight as a Royal while being gaslit by a narcissistic wife… yes I can see the green screen set up now.

         I know this is difficult to digest, but I do ask you to try. While his wife is not innocent, she clearly is guilty for her own part indeed, his wife isn’t the true problem. The true problem here is a man who has a serious issue with living in the shadow of his future-King father and future-King brother, and his future-King nephew, that he has chosen to use the same exact attack model his own mother used to merch and marginally disrupt the institution that made her a star. Harry and his mother both wanted the entire spotlight, but both knew they could never have it the way they wanted it. So, they wrote their own victimhood narrative.

         And here we are now. Mark my words. Harry will keep pushing until those remaining titles are removed by them forcing the hands of Parliament and the Queen. Or, they’ll push and push in the press so much the outrage and hypocrisy will leave them no other option but to renounce and re-gift those titles and rights to the line of succession. That is what he wants, even if his missus doesn’t. Also make no mistake about it. Harry is the real Diana 2.0 wannabe, not his wife. Keep an eye out. I have this gnawing feeling that soon enough, there will be plenty leaks from the wife about the husband. She won’t go quietly into the Beverly Hills… but neither will he.

#megxit #6 #harryswife #yankeewally #murky meg #diana2.0

[justpevensies]

Please Come Back to Me

request:  “ hi can i request a edmund angst like a really good heartbreaking one where he says really hurtful things he doesn’t mean but with a happy ending” - anonymous

blurb: Edmund says some things he didn’t mean..

A/N: my first request! this one was difficult to write but I hope you all enjoy it x

warnings: lots of angst but eventual fluff

Curled in a ball against the door, hot tears were free falling down your face spilling all over your hands and clothing. You had no idea how long you had been sat there weeping bitterly as the pain continued to sting every ounce of your being - your heart ached - and at the same time you felt numb with the sadness and shock. Muffled you could hear a voice crying from the other side of the door.

~

Very rarely did you and Edmund get in arguments but in this moment, that was exactly what you were doing. You couldn’t even remember what had triggered it but you both were here now and it was going back and forth. At the peak of this anger, Edmund said: “You know, I don’t even know why-”

“Say it!” You spat at him. 

“I don’t even know why I care. Why I bother. I can’t believe we’ve come to this”. As far as you were concerned, that was what he thought of this relationship, unworthy of attention or care. 

He stared blankly at you, there was almost no traces of remorse in his body. Tears began to glisten on your horizon and when you responded to him pleading your case, Edmund didn’t say anything and in that moment you wanted to slap him across the face for being a coward. 

This wasn’t the Edmund you knew, this wasn’t the Edmund you loved. The Edmund you knew and adored didn’t argue with you, he didn’t raise his voice at you, he wouldn’t dream of speaking to anyone like this. In fact, it scared you.

“So that’s it?” You asked sternly. “That’s us?! After everything we’ve shared, experienced and dreamt, all it will come crumbling down over some stupid argument?” You asked, arms folded. Edmund looked at you and it was a look that could kill. “Well” he scoffed, “I guess it will”.

That was not what you were expecting. Your voice went quiet, almost as if you were restrained and you asked in a whisper: “What?”

Edmund turned around and sighed, about to resume work at his desk and he responded: “I don’t know if I can talk to you like this”. At that you stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “No!” you yelled. “I want to hear what you have to say”. 

Edmund looked at you and shrugged, “Okay”. After that, he laid it on you. He told you everything he had been feeling in the last few minutes - anger, disappointment, frustration. You knew that recently he had been overworked and tired so you assumed that contributed greatly to everything he was doing right now - probably to this very argument - but the things he was saying at this moment felt different. Every word felt like a stab at your worst insecurities, it felt like an attack and you knew you wouldn’t dream of speaking to him like this, regardless of how he made you feel. In this moment, you looked at Edmund - tears in your eyes - and for the first time you didn’t feel any love for him.

Frozen in that moment, you whispered back to him when he finished: “Is that really how you feel? I’m not enough, I’m not good enough?”

Edmund didn’t say anything, he just clenched his jaw. However, he knew that as soon as he finished that he didn’t mean a word. The pent up frustration, anxiety and exhaustion of duties he had been experiencing lately had almost possessed him and he had found no other way to let out that anger than onto you. Everything he had just said to you was how he felt about himself, yet here he was - an unworthy, stupid fool who had wasted the most joyful and good thing. He knew instantly he had made the biggest mistake.

However, his lack of response convinced you that everything he said was true. You didn’t need him to say anything, so you took that as your cue to leave.

“(Y/N)! Stop! I-”

The door to his study opened and immediately slammed shut.

~ 

You raced to your dressing room in your bedchamber, slamming the door and locking it shut. Sliding down in defeat, you just the agonising pain consume you. His words raided your head, your heart was detonated, you wanted to scream but no words came. 

Suddenly you heard another noise that wasn’t your heavy breathing or sobs: approaching footsteps. Rather quick paced footsteps. 

You had forgotten to lock your bedroom door so whoever had come to check on you (bearing in mind several people saw you in the corridors) was obviously going to waltz right in after your emotional exit. 

However, you recognized the sound of those footsteps, that walking speed. You wanted to believe it was him but everything right now was telling you he wasn’t interested and didn’t care. 

“(Y/N)?!” A pleading voice cried out. It was Edmund. 

He must have heard your cries from the other side of the door as you heard the footsteps approaching and then a loud banging on the door. The handle rattled as he attempted to burst in and - due to getting a fright - you suddenly held your breath. You were certain that your heart was pounding, as if something cruel was trying to break through. For a brief moment, everything was quiet.

~ 

That was what happened... you had no idea how long ago it was but you couldn’t see yourself moving anytime soon.

The voice crying from the other side of the door became more muffled as time ticked on. Cries, pleads and shouts from Edmund of your name gradually became more audible to you as you tried to inhale more and calm your breathing. 

“(Y/N)?!”

“(Y/N)?!”

The cries became more desperate, the thumps on the door became more repetitive but less strong, evidently it was hurting his hand. However that pain - as far as you were concerned - was nowhere near what you were enduring on the other side. 

“Oh (Y/N), open the door!” Edmund yelled through with a cracked voice. 

You didn’t want to imagine how he was looking right now because it would only tear you in two. 

You managed to piece some of your emotions together to wimper out: “Edmund-”. You heard him let out a sigh of relief before his thumping stopped. “Oh goodness (Y/N)! Please open the door!” You had somehow managed to stop crying, as if all of reality had snapped back into place. However, it felt like some alternate universe, a nightmare, and one you wanted out of quickly.

“Edmund-” you repeated, holding back more tears, “No”.

“What?” 

“Please go away”.

There was a silence before Edmund again knocked - this time in a more gentle manner - “(Y/N)” he said before you snapped: “Go away! Leave me alone!”

These words broke Edmund more than he could say, as if he wasn’t feeling guilt already. This came down on him like a tonne of bricks: you didn’t want him. He cracked involuntarily and he fell into the wood. With his face pressed against the door, some stray tears began to glide down his cheeks. You could hear him but you didn’t say a thing - right now there was no sympathy.

“Oh (Y/N)...” Edmund began to whisper. “Please... open the door. I need to talk to you”. 

You scoffed, more tears beginning to glisten: “No you don’t! You’ve made your perspective very clear” you replied sharply before burying your face in your knees. 

There was a silence but it was piercing. You could hear Edmund sniffling through the door and while you did feel compelled to open it - largely out of heartbreak -but out of stubborness you didn’t. He finally broke the tension by saying: “Listen (Y/N) you’ve got to open the door”. Just wanting him to leave you alone you shouted back: “Why should I?”

Immediately, Edmund responded: “Because I love you!”

Before you could even say anything back, he continued: “Yes. I love you! You may not believe that right now and the feeling is probably not mutual right now but I love you”. 

You were silenced and you waited to hear if he said anymore. He did.

“Oh (Y/N) I love you so much. Every aspect of your being - your radiant smile, your character, the fact that you are truly genuine, caring and loving regardless of who or circumstance. I would compare you to the beautiful things of this world but none could do justice for you are so perfectly different from everyone and everything else. I cannot tell you how blessed I am to have you in my life - you’re a saving grace to me. However, I understand if that loving nature isn’t extended to me currently-”

You slowly began to stand up at the other side of the door, at the same time your head had fallen silent and no words were capable of coming from your mouth.

“I’ve been a fool. I was stupid and immature, and instead of talking about how I was actually feeling because of all this outside pressure, I took all of my own doubts about myself and put them onto you. You will never be like that - you are worthy of every ounce of love and praise, you are a saint. If I have to spend every day proving that to you then I will do that but I know I am unworthy to have you for making you feel how I did.

There was a pause.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me-” you heard Edmund whisper before breaking into tears. At that you leaned against the door, pressing your hand to the wood. Your heart ached, torn in two. He sniffled, wiping away any emotion before continuing: “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll never make you feel the way I have ever again. You’ll never doubt my love for you. I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t even know why I said it. But I know it was wrong”. 

Those final words were the ones you needed and they began to patch your brokenness. He finally said: “If you will forgive me, I will dedicate all of my soul to yours. ” It was a bold statement but Edmund knew it was genuine and you could feel the truth from within it. “Please come back to me?” he asked in a whisper but you remained in your position, listening against the wood, unable to move from the response you had just heard. 

The silence marked the answer. Edmund began to cry yet again outside and, defeated, he turned and walked away. His legs almost gave way and more tears began to fall - he had never known a feeling of loss and pain like this one. It was the pain that you could only feel when something special was taken away from you too soon, too unexpected, and he knew it was his fault.

Suddenly, from behind, he heard a noise and as he turned to see, he saw the door was unlocked, the handle moving at an angle and you stepped out from the hiding. You looked at his face, drowned in grief and his body beginning to sink, and the vision in front of you was a broken man. As Edmund looked at you, his heart pounded - unaware of what was coming and whether to be hopeful or not - and you simply responded: “I will forgive you”.

Without anything else being said, the two of you sprinted to one another and embraced closer than you had ever been. The most deepest of kisses was shared and almost instantly all of the pain had been washed away. Through muffled voices you both cried “I love yous” and Edmund restated his promise of faithfulness and love - you believed every word. 

After kissing several more times, Edmund held your face in his hands delicately and he smiled brightly at the look on your face. Your crying had been replaced with tears of joy. You just wanted to hear him tell you how much he loved you again and again and as you gazed into his eyes, you knew those words were true. This was the Edmund you knew, this was the Edmund you loved...and would continue to love for all time.

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x y/n #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie imagines #edmund pevensie angst #edmund pevensie fanfiction #edmund pevensie headcanons #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fluff #fluff #angst #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia imagines #narnia imagine #narnia headcanon #narnia headcanons #narnia fan #narnia fandom #narnia fan writing #narnia fanfiction #narnia fanfics #skandar keynes #imagine #imagines #prince caspian #The Lion The Witch And The Wardrobe #the pevensies #pevensies

[gh0st-patr0l]

ADHD in DSMP

So about a week back, I made a post about Karl Jacobs (a bit of a passive aggressive one, I’ll admit, but I think it was justified), complaining that a lot of the ‘criticism’ I see about Karl is actually rather insensitive towards his ADHD. I got a lot of responses to that post, and the most common sources of confusion I saw were:

People not understanding what I was saying they should avoid being judgmental of, or-

People who didn’t know that Karl had ADHD or didn’t understand which behaviors were caused by it.

First of all, Karl has confirmed that he has ADHD.

(NOTE: Yes, I know he said ADD. ADD and ADHD used to be categorized as separate disorders, but in the most recent edition of the DSM, it was decided that they are both simply subtypes of the same disorder- ADHD is the correct technical term. ADD is still sometimes used as shorthand by some practitioners to diagnose primarily-inattentive ADHD, but it's a bit outdated.)

Secondly, that original post made me realize that a lot of people who may be well-meaning may genuinely not fully understand ADHD and its symptoms as well as they want to or think they might. If you aren’t aware, Karl isn’t the only one in the DSMP with ADHD- to my understanding, both Technoblade and Dream have confirmed that they have it as well. So, I thought it would be helpful to put together a comprehensive crash-course on ADHD symptoms and how they effect people’s behavior!

Now, before we go further, I want to address something- as I said earlier, I saw some people unsure of whether certain behaviors are ADHD or “just his personality”. I feel the need to point this out above the read more so people will see it. To answer this question, as someone with ADHD;

A lot of times, it’s both. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, meaning that it’s caused by the way your brain developed from birth. A lot of the symptoms and effects of ADHD are extremely influential towards the way we think, act, and behave, to the point where “symptoms” and “normal behavior” really don’t have a clean differentiation. This is why it’s technically classified as a ‘disorder’, instead of an illness. While certain aspects of it can require treatment, the condition itself as a whole is not something to be mitigated or eliminated- it’s a part of who we are as a person. This is also why sometimes, even if you don’t have ADHD, you’ll look at certain specific behaviors or experiences and go “Oh, but I do that too!”. A lot of ADHD ‘symptoms’ are just a bunch of normal traits or behaviors, but in combination with each other and some actually problematic aspects, form the appearance of the disorder.

So, what are you allowed to nitpick about it? Well, there’s no real ‘authority’ on this, and even if there was it certainly wouldn’t be me. But if you want my opinion? Nothing.

See, here’s the thing- what I was trying to say when I made that post was not that you can’t be critical of Karl. If you want to say something about his Actions, his Ideals, or the content he creates- sure, go for it, that’s fair. I will agree that there are some very valid and constructive points to be made. But when you post ‘criticism’ about the way he speaks, his interests or preoccupations, his personal behaviors? That’s not criticism. That’s just judging someone.

And you’re allowed to think that stuff! Nobody can control what annoys or bothers them. It doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. But you don’t need to be vocal about it. You can keep your mean thoughts to yourself. And if you do make posts or communities or whatever about judging someone for things they can’t change about themselves, don’t call it “criticism” or try to morally justify it. It’s not productive or righteous, it’s just rude. Nothing else.

Anyway. Back to Education!

The following will be a descriptive list of visible ADHD behaviors, using Karl’s behavior as examples.

I feel the need to add a disclaimer here- I am not a mental health professional. However! I have ADHD myself, I have taken some psychology courses and done a Lot of research into this stuff, and I’m the daughter of a therapist with access to a DSM. While I’m not an expert, I’d like to think I’m fairly well versed and knowledgeable on at least ADHD. (That being said, if by chance anyone who Is a professional sees this post and notices mistakes, by all means let me know and I’ll fix it!!)

WHAT IS ADHD?

You’re here for the behaviors more than the science, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. ADHD is Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (Known in the past as Attention Deficit Disorder). Despite its name, the root problem of ADHD is not in the person’s ability to pay attention, but their brain’s capability to manage itself. In simple terms, people with ADHD have a lot less control over what their brain does and wants. This results in some behavioral differences along with some personal challenges, namely a difficulty with attentiveness and self-discipline.

Now, onto the symptoms!

ATTENTION

This is perhaps the most visible and pervasive of the ADHD symptoms, hence why it’s the namesake. Inattention is a lack of focus and an inability to stay present and occupied with certain tasks or thoughts.

Because ADHD impairs self-management of the brain, people with it have an extremely hard time directing themselves anywhere but where their brain instinctively wants to go. This results in inattentiveness and the easiness of distraction that is often mocked or stereotyped for people with ADHD.

Here are some examples of how Karl can sometimes display his inattentiveness;

When he has an idea that he seems passionate about, only to drop it or switch to something totally different without warning soon after (either forgetting or getting bored of his original idea).

When he sets out to do something like a build, works on it for a short amount of time, and then immediately gives up or gets someone else to do it.

When someone else is talking and he totally zones out. (NOTE: While I wont make a whole section for it because it’s not easily observable, maladaptive (constant and intrusive) daydreaming is a common ADHD symptom as well!)

It’s important to remember that the whole problem with ADHD is that we can’t control when or what we focus on. When someone with ADHD zones out during a conversation or activity, it doesn’t mean they’re doing it on purpose, and they likely don’t mean any offense! We often are trying our best to listen or participate, but our brain just wont cooperate.

However, inattention is not the only way ADHD effects our focus. There’s also what’s called hyperfocus or hyperfixation, which is when we are so absorbed into a single subject, task, or idea that it is extremely difficult to get us to think about or do anything else. This is usually because our brains have found something that is getting those satisfaction chemicals flowing, and it’s clinging to that with everything it’s got.

People with ADHD will often experience brief periods of hyperfocus. Think of how Karl talks about spending hours straight working on a build or project without eating or drinking, or how he’ll sit down to play a game with someone and end up going six hours without even noticing.

There are also hyperfixations, where someone with ADHD becomes extremely preoccupied with a certain subject, topic, etc. for a period of time. These can be short term- personally, my hyperfixation can sometimes change as quickly as a couple weeks at a time. However, it can also be long term. Karl has been obsessed with Survivor since the second grade- not to mention his memorabilia, rambling, and constant references to Kingdom Hearts.

HYPERACTIVITY/STIMMING

This is a BIG one for Karl. I should clarify; ‘stimming’ is not a technical term, and in professional situations these behaviors are just referred to as Hyperactivity. However, I personally like the term stimming much more and find it far more accurate to what the behaviors actually are, so I’ll be using that instead for this post.

If you’re not already familiar, ‘stimming’ (derived from ‘stimulation’) is an unofficial term used to describe consistent and abnormal patterns of physical and vocal behavior typically expressed by people with ADHD and ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). This includes things that people usually call fidgets or tics.

(NOTE: There are differences in how people with those two disorders stim. This post will explain stimming specifically from an ADHD perspective! ASD stimming is caused by very different factors and presents itself in much different ways. Do your own research if you’re curious!) 

There are two major observable forms of stimming- physical and vocal. Karl expresses both VERY often! I’ll use examples for each type;

Physical Stims: Flapping his hands/arms, jumping up and down when he’s excited, twisting around into odd positions in his chair, throwing, hitting, or tapping things, standing up and pacing around when he’s hyped up or laughing, twisting his rings, etc.

Vocal Stims: When he gets excited and repeats a certain phrase incessantly (Think any variation of “I’m popping off”), making certain repetitive noises while he’s focused on something or bored (”la la la”, the meow-noises, the weird heart-beat noise, etc.), singing or humming, tongue clicking.

It should be noted here that it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to get “stuck” on certain phrases or noises, and be unable to stop repeating them (reminiscent of echolalia, a symptom of ASD, but not the same thing). Think of how Karl might sometimes keep making a weird noise for an extended period of time even though it’s not that funny, or that one time he was physically struggling to keep himself from singing the Bakugan theme. These repetitions are completely impulsive and trust me, we usually know how annoying it is while we’re doing it, but we physically cannot stop.

ADHD stims are caused by the fact that the barrier between our brain and body is much weaker than a normal person’s. Because of this, most ADHD stims are actually very positive expressions of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm! Y’know how when you get excited, you feel like you wanna jump or dance? The ‘hyperactivity’ of ADHD is basically just that, but we don’t have the self-control to Not do it.

Stims can be caused by negative feelings like overstimulation, but in ADHD this is not nearly as common. Usually, the most negative reason we’ll stim is when we’re bored- in that case, our brain isn’t getting the Constant Stimulation that it naturally wants, so stimming is a way to make our own.

Whatever the cause, stimming is natural and impulsive. While different people experience it to varying degrees, those who regularly stim typically have little to no control over it. Suppressing stims is very hard and very frustrating to do.

Besides that, like I said- ADHD stims are often an expression of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm. They’re a beautiful thing that shouldn’t be seen as shameful or annoying!

BEHAVIORAL DIFFICULTIES

ADHD is a disorder which causes a lack of self-control. Naturally, this means that people with ADHD are inherently reckless, impulsive, and struggle with a lack of self-discipline that they cannot fix.

Of course, people with ADHD do still have some level of self-control, and they are still responsible for conscious, long-term behavioral patterns and decisions. However, in regards to most things, they are much, much less capable of controlling themselves than an average neurotypical person is.

These are some examples of how this will often present itself in Karl;

Excessive rambling, dragging on a joke or conversation when it could and should probably have been dropped, etc.

Speaking over or interrupting other people (NOTE: As someone with ADHD- THIS IS ALMOST ALWAYS UNINTENTIONAL. I know it can seem rude or annoying but I promise, 90% of the time if someone with ADHD talks over you, they either didn’t realize or physically couldn’t help it. Please try to be patient!)

Lack of awareness towards social cues (NOTE: Unlike ASD, in which the person is incapable of/has problems fully understanding social cues, ADHD results in a lack of awareness. For whatever reason, we’re often just not paying close enough attention to pick up on things like body language, tone of speech, and facial expression as well as we would normally.)

Indecisiveness and overthinking

Bluntness, lack of subtlety

Unintentional dismissiveness, accidentally ignoring things/people (NOTE: Again, this behavior is purely accidental. In this case, it’s usually just the person genuinely not hearing or processing things.)

Making noises, speaking, joking, etc. at inappropriate times

There’s probably more, but I think you get the idea by now. A lot of the time, behavior which results from ADHD can be seen as rude, lazy, dismissive, or otherwise intentionally harmful. In reality, we just aren’t wired to navigate common social interaction with grace.

In Karl’s case, he’s clearly an incredibly sweet, empathetic, and kind-hearted person, if the various close friends who have talked about him are to be believed. Just because he talks over people or makes a poorly timed joke, that doesn’t mean he meant any harm. 

I think that’s about it for how much I wanted to point out! You can do more research if you’re curious, but I feel like this post should be enough to tell you what to keep in mind and be understanding about when talking about/making judgements on Karl, and other people with ADHD.

#sorry if this is longwinded but I had a lot to say so [shrug] #karl jacobs #dsmp #dream smp #dreamwastaken #ghost.txt

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Bloom // H.P.

Summary: Healing doesn't happen overnight. It’s a process that can take months, if not, years to come to terms with. It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. Harry finally feels ready to confront feelings that have long been sat, growing unattended in the recesses of his mind and soul.

A/N: This was inspired by the made-up fic title that I did a few weeks ago. I got so stuck on this, I couldn't get any further, but inspiration somewhat struck and here we are. I know this is long, but I am so so proud of this, I would love some interaction with this. Take a chance, please.

Warnings: feelings of sadness, grief, worthlessness, more visits to graveyards, talks of death. This sounds dark, and parts are, but there is so much fluff and comfort and pining in this.

Word count: 9.4k

Harry’s Flat, London, England, October.

For the fourth night this week, sleep evades him. Deciding to surrender this particular battle, Harry sits up in bed and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table.

With clearer vision, he turns to the digital clock next to where he places his glasses. He hangs his head in his hands when he reads the time. not even two hours of sleep before he awoke; his mind unwilling to alleviate him long enough for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.

He supposes it could be a good thing, or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he throws the covers off his body and swings his legs out of bed. As he sits on the edge of his bed, Harry gives himself a moment.

He gives himself only a single moment to give into the tidal wave threatening to drown him. A single moment simply to feel everything before he packs it all away into corresponding drawers in his mind.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he plods into the living room and through to the kitchen. As he boils the kettle, he thinks of you and your ingrained belief that everything can be put to rights over a cup of tea.

Settling in the living room, he grabs the remotes for the television. Turning it on, he switches the volume to mute, not wanting loud noises, but rather the comfort of monotonous moving pictures. Harry cannot tell what the programme is; a muggle show dedicated to archaeology, he thinks, but he pays it little mind.

He runs a hand down his face; feeling the tiredness deep within his bones. The insomnia had started in the months after the end of the war; beginning with repetitive nightmares in which he would suffer through the deaths of his friends countless times before being awoken by the sounds of his own screams. From there, it shifted into a fear of sleep, a terror of closing his eyes and seeing Hermione’s or Ron’s lifeless bodies. He knows – he knows they are alive and well, but the fear remains.

He wonders how long he’ll continue to feel like this should do nothing; how long he will deal with the sleepless nights and the nightmares that greet him when he does close his eyes.

However, as he watches the soundless pictures play on the television, he cannot help but feel an urge to get better. To do better and to be better in all that he does. At the age of eighteen, he defeated the darkest wizard to have ever walked the earth in the last century. At the age of twenty three, five years later, he feels close to laughter that he has let his life come to this.

But no-one warned him of the aftermath of the war. No-one readied him for the feelings of guilt that twists his stomach; leaving him unable to eat. No-one explained to him just how long the nightmares would last; seeing the faces of those that fell at the battle of Hogwarts and before as he tries and tries to dream of happy things.

Harry’s bottom lip begins to wobble. The tears won’t fall. It’s been years, Harry thinks, since he had cried in earnest.

As Harry sits on his couch for the fourth night that week, he readies himself to start putting his life back together again.

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, October.

The Burrow had always, to Harry at least, been a place full of happy memories. The home of the Weasley family physically exuded warmth and happiness. To put it bluntly, it was Harry’s safe haven; the place he could go where he would find no judgement for his state of sleeplessness or lack of appetite. He would catch Molly watching him worriedly, but she knew not to press, and for that, he was thankful. To appease her worries, or at least to lessen them slightly, he visits the Weasley matriarch once a week.

Immediately, Harry is wrapped up in hug after hug. Molly keeping her hands on Harry’s cheeks as she moves his head side to side, getting a good look at him. She clamps her lips together to keep the frown from forming on her face; worry rises in her gut, but she does not voice it.

The food cooking on the stove has Harry’s mouth watering as he walks through the kitchen to the large table in the dining area. There, he finds your eyes. They remain on the door as he walks through, as if you knew it wouldn’t be long before he entered.

“Mate,” Ron greets; pushing a drink into Harry’s hand. Harry nods at Ron, taking a swig of his drink before smiling at Hermione.

He moves to sit next to you; wanting nothing more than to sit by your side so he can tell his plan of which he came up with by himself. All around him conversation continues as if he had never walked in in the first place. He supposes that’s bit big-headed of him to think, but as he looks around those he classes as his family, he comes to realisation that they’ve all started to move on.

It hits him then and there; just how terrified he is of being left behind.

“How have you been?” You ask; voice gentle and caring as you lean into him.

Harry smiles at you; spooning vegetables onto his plate but feeling no pangs of hunger. “You just saw me last week,” Harry reminds in humour; his attempt at avoiding the twinges of fear ravaging his gut.

You roll your eyes, “That means it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. So, how have you been?”

Harry hears the meaning in your words; he hears the undercurrent of worry in your voice, and it only adds to the pit growing in his stomach. After his decision the other night, it was as if all the realisations hit him at once and he came to see just how much of a bad friend he had been to you all. He’d had been so caught up in his self-loathing that he failed to see just how much you were struggling with it all; he hadn’t even noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sought out help too.

Harry nods; reaching for his knife and fork, “I’ve been okay.”

Even he can hear the lie in his voice, and it makes him sick to his stomach. Thankfully, you don’t address it. You simply nod; patting his hand twice before turning your attention to your own meal.

Cutlery scrapes on plates as happy conversation lightens the atmosphere. It isn’t mentioned, but it is there – the absence of Fred’s laughter and his smile, the pointed comments, and his love for his mother. It is there, and it only adds to the guilt pooling in Harry’s stomach and invading his bloodstream.

It’s as if you sense it; as if you sense Harry starting to spiral, his thoughts turning to that dark place that he so often finds himself in. It’s as if you know; changing the hand in which your fork sits to free up your other hand so you can take Harry’s under the table and squeeze. A silent reminder if there is any.

I’m here, you remind him, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Harry squeezes back; unable to do or say anything else, meeting Arthur Weasley’s pained eyes from across the table, and beginning to wish that he had in fact done and said more.

At the age of eighteen years old, harry defeated the darkest wizard in a century. Yet, he had lost a friend he had classed as a brother, and now finds it hard to look Molly and Arthur in the eye.

There is a lapse in conversation and Harry slips his hand free of yours, needing to leave the room before the guilt he’s sitting in drowns him. He smiles apologetically at each Weasley, eyes lingering on the empty chair across from George and promptly leaves the room.

The night air is cold against Harry’s bare arms as he sits on one of the many benches littering the Weasley’s gardens. It’s so cold that his breath is coming out in white puffs, but he doesn’t feel the need to fetch his coat. In fact, he would rather feel the cold against his skin. It reminds him that he’s alive and that he’s breathing. It reminds him of those are who no longer living.

He stiffens at the sounds of footsteps behind him; his hand immediately reaching for his wand kept in his back pocket.

Harry relaxes somewhat when he realises it was you who followed him outside, and not Ron or Hermione. He doesn’t turn, but he smiles when he hears you swear quietly, having tripped on a rogue stone.

You sigh as you sit down on the bench next to him; rubbing at your sore knee.

“How are you not freezing?” You ask; rubbing at your clothed arms, not happy with the chill seeping through to your bones.

Harry releases a breath; it puffs white, “I don’t feel it.”

You raise an eyebrow; running a finger over his arm which is covered in goosebumps, “I beg to differ.”

Harry doesn’t reply; he flashes a smile your way before returning his attention to the night sky and all that he can see of what the Weasley’s own. For a few minutes, no words are spoken between you both. Sinking into a silence that could only be described as comfortable; he doesn’t feel the constant need to reassure you that he’s okay. You check in on him every now and then, but no true pestering takes place.

Truthfully, Harry basks in your attention. He rather likes the fact that you do make a fuss of him when you check in on him because he’s sure that without you, he would be doing a lot worse than the nightmares and insomnia.

Breaking the silence, you broach the subject of Harry’s health, “Harry, can I give you the name and number of my therapist? I’ve made real progress since working with her, and I think you will too.”

Harry smiles at you; feeling grateful for your help but feeling like an awful friend for shaking his head and declining your offer. “I just… I don’t feel ready yet to speak to someone.”

You nod your head, “I get that, but Harry, it’s been five years since the end of the war, and you know how I worry.”

He nods, letting the conversation collapse into nothing in front of him. This is the time, he realises, to tell you his plans for getting better that don’t involve divulging his deepest and darkest secrets to a stranger, even if they are a trained professional.

“I have a favour to ask you,” Harry prompts, “And I’ll understand if you say no.”

“If I can help you, Harry, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want to speak to anyone, not yet at least, but I do want to start moving on.”

“So what’s the favour?” You ask; your curiosity piqued with his mystery.

“I want to visit the places where things have happened, whether they’re good or bad. I want to go back, and I want to see them in a different light.”

“That,” You pause; thinking of your next words, “That sounds like a really good idea, Harry. Where do I come into it though?”

Harry smiles at you sheepishly; running a hand through his forever messy hair. “I want you to come with me,” He states as plain as day.

“What?”

“I’d like for you to come with me,” Harry amends, “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“What about Ron or Hermione? I’m sure they would help.”

Harry shakes his head, “They’re both so busy, and they’re starting their lives together. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for either of them if I can help it.”

You sigh, picking at an invisible thread on your sleeve, “How were you thinking of doing this? I have to work too, you know. Not everyone can inherit a fortune, Potter.”

Harry blinks, letting your words settle before a small smile breaks across his face, “You’d come with me?”

“Harry,” You start, “I don’t think there was any chance of me saying no to you. If I can help you in any way, I can. I’m always here for you.”

The familiar burn of tears starts at the back of his throat. Harry has to avert his eyes; glancing up at the night sky as he swallows past the lump in his throat. He should have known you would say yes; you’ve been by his side for everything since Third Year, but the small voice in the back of his mind had him doubting whether you would.

“Thank you,” He whispers eventually.

“So,” You begin, “Where too first?”

Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, November.

Upon the untimely death of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been passed down to Harry through Sirius’ will. Sirius had no children for the house to go to, but Harry was as good as.

Standing on a residential street in Islington, you watched as the house appeared as if from nowhere. Appearing amongst number eleven and number thirteen as if it had always been there; as if it was part of the furniture at this point.

Thick dust covers each and every surface. Simply opening the door sends a cloud of dust into your face; leaving you coughing and sneezing as Harry battles the enchantments placed upon the home after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Turning your gaze to Harry, you could remember the last time you had stepped foot in the ancestral home of the house of Black. It hadn’t been long after Sirius’ death; Harry’s gut-wrenching screams still echoing in your ears as you had bundled him up in any blankets you could find and sat him down at the kitchen table.

He hadn’t spoken much; he hadn’t even cried. Instead, his face set in steely determination, his desperate need to avenger his godfather overriding any common sense. That night, instead of comforting him and drying his eyes, it had been argument after argument, trying to make Harry see sense.

It took hours; the both of you tired not only from the arguing but from the grief sitting on your shoulders. It took hours, but Harry eventually agreed with you, choosing to sit back and wait for the right moment instead of lunging headfirst into attack that would surely get him killed.

Memory after memory washes over you, dragging you into its grips. If the memories are this strong for you, it was not hard to imagine how it must be for Harry.

You focus your attention on him, watching him warily as he wanders further down the hallway, heading for the kitchen where you still expect to hear Sirius’ raucous laugh despite years having passed since his death.

“How are you feeling?” You ask; running a finger across the now clean surface of the kitchen table.

Harry releases a shuddering breath. “I thought,” He starts, “I thought by coming here it would help me come to terms with Sirius and what happened in the Department of Mysteries but being here simply makes me hate his family more.”

“What makes you say that?”

Harry gestures to the large room. “He hated being here. He despised being locked up in the house that he left at sixteen, but he wanted to help the Order, so he stayed here and let it be used as the headquarters.”

“That… That is a very noble thing to do,” You murmur, eyes fixed on the man in front of you, taking in his tight fists and clenched jaw.  

Harry laughs without humour, “The noble house of Black.”

Silence lapses and the tension in the room only increases. Biting your lip, you can only think that this was the wrong thing to do, that this is only pushing Harry further away instead of helping him come to terms with the last years of his life.

“We can leave, Harry,” You remind him, “We can leave right now and do this another day, when you’re more ready.”

He shakes his head, shaking himself out of his funk but also steadfastly refusing to go. He’s made this far; he’ll see it through to the end. He throws you a smile; it doesn’t reach his eyes and your heart cracks a little.

Holding a hand out to you, Harry states, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

The room he enters is one he has told you about countless times; describing it with so much detail that as you enter the room behind him you feel as if you’ve already been inside.

It cannot be denied that the tapestry is nothing short of piece of art. It cannot be ignored that the depth of detail to the Black family tree is not breathtaking, but at the same time it is so utterly heartbreaking to see the scorch marks litter the walls. The consequence of turning against one’s own family, you think as you step further into the room, taking in its beauty but also its darkness.

“The noble house of Black,” Harry spits, gesturing to four walls, pointing at each scorch mark before settling on the one that once showed the portrait of his beloved godfather.

“He got out,” He states brokenly, “He left his blood family to live with his found family. He had a life ahead of him. He had my father, he had Remus. He had his family, and it was all taken away in one night. In one night, Sirius lost his best friend and then his freedom.

“And all I feel when I think about Sirius is anger. At how he was treated. He was good, (Y/N),” Harry states, his tone pleading, full of emotion, “He was good, and he was treated like shit. His real family didn’t care but his found family did and then he lost all of it.”

“He found you, Harry,” You remind him, “Sirius found you. You didn’t have half as long with him than what you should have, but he made sure to be involved in your life. After the Triwizard Tournament and you had come back with Cedric, Sirius would not leave your side in the hospital. I remember seeing him every morning and he would stay every night. He loved you, Harry – remember that.”

“And what did I do?” Harry laughs, “I got him killed. Some godson I am.”

“Harry, you are not to blame for Sirius’ death.”

He scoffs, disbelief and derision echoing off the walls. You stalk over the green eyed man, your determination growing with every step. You grab his face in both your hands, bringing his face to your level, “Listen to me, Potter. Are you listening?”

He nods, eyes wide and voice silent.

“Good,” You smirk before turning serious. “You are not to blame for Sirius’ death. He knew what was happening in the Department of Mysteries. He knew that there was a chance he was not going to come out of there alive and he still went in to find you, to protect you.”

“If I had paid more attention to what Voldemort showed me though… I could have figured out it was fake…”

You shake your head, “You were a sixteen year old boy, barely trained in occlumency and legilimency. You weren’t to know that what you had seen was fake. All you saw, Harry, was someone you care about being tortured. You acted on instinct.”

“Foolish instinct,” He argues.

You roll your eyes, “Not foolish at all. More brave than foolish.”

Harry remains silent; letting your words sink into his skin, binding them to his bones. It isn’t going to be as simple as one speech and all is forgiven, it is going to take time to forgive himself for the death of his godfather. There is always going to be an element of himself that believes strongly that he was the cause of Sirius’ death; if he hadn’t acted so rashly, if he had stopped to think things through, to go over exactly what Voldemort had shown him, Harry might have been able to delay Sirius’ death.

If, if, if.

If, if, if. He repeats that word; hindsight is a wonderful thing. If he had done this, if he had done that. Hindsight was going to be the death of him.

Harry focuses his attention back on you and the warmth of your hands on either side of his face. Gently, Harry places his hands on top of yours, “Can you let go of me now?”

You smile before pursing your lips, pretending to think through the answer. “I don’t know,” You ponder, “Are you going to continue to argue with me?”

“Probably,” Harry admits, “But I’m ready to go now.”

Harry lets his hands drop from yours, his eyes running over your face before stepping back. Your hands drop to your sides, clenching as if they wished to be touching him some more. His face feels cold now that you’ve let him go, as if all the warmth his body carried was in your hands.

“Do you think you’ll come back?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

Harry pauses, closing the door to the Black family tree behind him. He looks up and down the hallway; thinking of the memories he has cherished over the years. He had Sirius in his life for far shorted than he deserved, but he had Grimmauld Place to help him discover the man he idolised.

Meeting your stare, he nods. “I think I will eventually.”

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scottish Highlands, December.

It didn’t matter how long it had been since your last visit; it didn’t matter how long it had been since you roamed the corridors of the place you once considered your second home, seeing Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry rise out of the Scottish Highlands would never be something you could get used to.

From your spot in Hogsmeade, you can just make out the turrets of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. Slight unease spreads through your chest as you think back to the last time you had been at the school; still a student, hurling curses and jinxes at any Death Eater that happened by you.

Reflexively, you curl your hands into fists, your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. You gasp slightly as the pain; your mind becoming clearer and your focus becoming sharper. Harry’s hand takes yours; unfurling your fingers and replacing them with him, tangling your hands together.

“(Y/N), are you okay?”

You take a deep breath; mentally working through the exercises given to you by your therapist,. Shakily, you smile at Harry, “I’m okay, Harry, don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?”

His eyebrows furrow as he squeezes your hand. “I’ll always worry about you,” He says gently before continuing, “I’ll be okay though. I have you.”

You smile weakly; letting yourself be led through the well-worn path from Hogsmeade to the school. Small conversation is made; Harry bringing up happier memories of your education at the magical castle. The time when Ron received a Howler from his mother; the time when Hermione punched Draco Malfoy in the face.

Happier times now turned to memories; each one tinted with age.

Hogwarts soon looms in front of you both. Harry’s hand tightens on yours, fingers squeezing to the point of cutting off blood flow as he leads you into the grounds of the school.

It feels like coming home, but it also feels like facing your worst enemy. The Battle of Hogwarts had been hard on everyone who found themselves there; it had been hard for students and teachers. You would never forget the screams and the sound of breaking stone. It would be a long while until the sight of dead bodies could be scrubbed from your mind.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall greets from the stairs; voice warm and fond, “To what do we the pleasure of this visit with Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“I was hoping to walk the school and its grounds for a bit, Professor. If you don’t mind, that is. I’m trying to get better,” Harry states; sincerity ringing in his voice so much so that even McGonagall looked to be taken aback by his words.

She nods; finding her voice but needing to clear her throat first of all the emotion he had brought up, “Of course, Potter. Take as long as you need.”

Harry smiles at the beloved Professor gratefully, stretching out a hand towards you. You take it, resisting the urge to tangle your fingers together as Harry leads you to the Great Hall. “Where do you want to start?” You ask; eyes scanning the familiar walls, lingering on the Gryffindor table.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits, sounding lost as his eyes dance around the repaired room.

“It’s strange for me too,” You whisper, voice loud in the cavernous hall.

“It was entirely destroyed,” Harry recalls, sweeping his gaze over the large wall of windows by the Ravenclaw table.

You hope up on the closest table, crossing your legs as you watch Harry work through it all in his mind. He hadn’t been in the hall too long, but even that was long enough to have to branded into your memories.

“The tables were pushed back against the wall,” He states, gesturing to both walls before sweeping his hands above the floor, “And bodies were laid out on the floor, resting on blankets and towels,” Harry turns towards the staff table, pointing to a flagstone just in front of it, “That was where Fred laid – Molly and George crying over his body,” Harry spins, his finger now pointing back in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, “Remus and Tonks rested there. Teddy, my Godson, now an orphan… like me.”

“So many lives lost,” He whispers brokenly; eyes lined with tears that won’t fall, no matter how sad or broken he feels.

You slip off the table, going to his side and clutching his hand. “We lost a lot that day,” You whisper, “There isn’t a person here who doesn’t feel that same loss, Harry.”

“I was terrified of finding you laid out in the Great Hall,” Harry admits though not for his own good; he’s coming too close to admitting his feelings for you, but this is something he had never told a living soul, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to tell you.

“What?” You ask, all thoughts emptying out of your head as you focus on Harry entirely.

“I was terrified of finding you in the Great Hall. I was so scared that I even hesitated at the door, wondering whether to walk in or walk away. I have dealt with a lot, and will continue to deal with a lot, but if there is one thing I cannot cope with the idea of, it is you hurt or worse,” He takes a deep breath, “The Battle of Hogwarts brought that out of me.”

“I’m here, Harry,” You reassure, “I’m here and I’m whole.”

“I know that now, but then I didn’t and even thinking of it drives me close to madness.”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying anything,” You laugh, “You know that Harry.”

Harry laughs, but there’s no heart to it. “I have you now, that’s something.”

Your heart skips a beat; thudding in your chest so loud you believe that it is entirely possible that Harry could hear it pounding away in your chest. You lean in, hiding your face in Harry’s shoulder – a rare moment of tenderness from both of you. Harry’s hand slips from yours to wrap around your waist, holding you to his body.

Hiding your smile in Harry’s shoulder, you murmur as loud as you dare, “You have me now, Harry. You have me forever.”

Neither of you make it further around the grounds of the castle; sticking to its interiors, wandering the corridors when students are firmly placed in classrooms, not wanting to be a distraction to their education.

Harry’s words continue to play through your mind; how he would not be able to cope if he lost you too. It makes this all more important for you, helping him come to terms with what he has experienced in such a short amount of time.

However, a small part of you rejoices in his admission, the words echoing in your head with a hint of hope. A hope that Harry may feel the same as you after all.

Hogwarts is left with a wave to McGonagall and a promise to write soon. Harry’s muscles relax the further he gets from the castle; the tension leeching away as he breathes in fresh air and Hogsmeade comes into view. He adored Hogwarts; it was his home, but he had to admit that it would be a while before he could face the whole castle without wanting to scream at the walls.

It’s a start however, Harry thinks as he grabs your hands and apparates the two of you back to his flat. It’s a start, he thinks, and now for the rest of it.

Little Hangleton, England, January.

Little Hangleton resides six miles from its paired village Great Hangleton. Little Hangleton was very much a village that was powered through gossip; the rumour mill only grew upon the deaths of the Riddle family. By the time an arrest had been made, the town had become judge, jury and executioner – sentencing poor Frank Bryce to a life of social exclusion even after being proven innocent.

Little Hangleton is made up of one main high street; five or six shops with a pub near the middle. It has a small village green where the local cricket team likes to practice every Saturday morning. It isn’t an extraordinary village; plain in comparison to other dwellings, but it’s history with the Riddle family would go down in wizarding lore until the end of days.

Harry continues to hold onto your hand long after you apparate into the village, landing in side street rather than in the high street as not to attract too much attention from the villagers. You refuse to be the first to let go; admitting to yourself that you rather like the way his hands fits in yours, how it feels like a steady anchor holding you in place.

Taking one look at the dark haired man next to you, you knew in your gut that this was going to be a hard day for him. Harry doesn’t talk about his nightmares often, but form what he has told you, this picturesque village features enough that you can see the tension line Harry’s jawline.

Nudging his shoulder, you smile softly, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry’s hand tightens on yours. He doesn’t reply verbally; nods his head and focuses on finding his destination. He can’t verbalise his gratefulness; he cannot put it into words just what this means to him because Harry is fairly certain there are no words to cover the scope of what he feels for you in this very moment.

He knew he was asking a lot of you to keep doing this; to visit these places and relive his darkest times with him. He knew it affected you more than you admitted, but he still was selfishly grateful you choose to come every time.

He thinks that he wouldn’t have been as half as productive with his feelings if it wasn’t for you. Harry’s feelings for you only having grown through these visits; he remains in awe of you, as he always has been, but now he can no longer deny himself the depth of his love for you. To deny himself that would be a grievous crime.

However, even Harry is aware that he is nowhere ready to confront the idea of a relationship. In the last few months, he has only been able to accept that Sirius’ death and your injuries at the Battle of Hogwarts were not his fault.

He has to keep working on himself; he has to keep healing so he can be worthy of a love like his parents had.

So for now, Harry is more than content to hold your hand with each apparition, to savour the way your hand fits in his perfectly and how each squeeze of your fingers sets his heart racing.

For now, Harry is happy to remain in the throes of puppy love, but still eager for the day when he can proclaim his love for you in the hopes that you feel the same.

Such thoughts are thrown out of his head when his eyes catch the sign for graveyard. His steps falter, before coming to a brief stop by the sign. Your free hand touches his arm and Harry turns to you, seeing the question reflected in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voicing the unspoken question.

You nod, “Ready when you are.”

The graveyard looks just as it did all those years ago; dark and miserable.

You shiver as Harry pushes open the creaky metal gate. He holds the gate open for you out of politeness, but he does not return your smile of gratitude. Harry keeps his facial expression neutral as he turns to face the memories that still plague him all these years later.

His eyes run over the gravestones as he puts one wary foot in front of the other. You follow behind him timidly, footsteps slower as you too read over the names written in marble, granite, limestone.

It doesn’t take long to find the place. Harry’s feet take him there automatically despite the fact that the last time he was here, he had been apparated in and did not walk out.

The Reaper stands proudly among the gravestones; his scythe crossed against his body in readiness. Harry stills, coming to a stop in front of it. He tilts his face; staring into the faceless stone hood of the figure that had him trapped like prey all those years ago.

Harry doesn’t turn from the figure as he points directly behind him. “That is where he killed Cedric,” He states bluntly, hearing the thud the Hufflepuff’s body made as he landed lifeless at Harry’s side.

Your eyes leave Harry; body tensing as you make eye contact with the patch of grass that would be the last thing to touch Cedric’s body.

Harry finally turns; gaining control of the anger and upset that had been raging in his body since landing at the graveyard gates. He needs to approach this carefully; he needs to approach all of this carefully, so he doesn’t fall back into the dark pit he found himself in months ago.

Harry gestures to the centre of the small copse and then to the Reaper, “That is where I had to watch as Voldemort rose again.”

“Oh Harry…” You whisper, voice breaking as you say his name.

Harry’s eyes shutter closed, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. He had been fourteen years old; he had not had his first kiss and yet, he had to duel the darkest wizard to have been produced in a century.

“I thought I was going to die that night,” He confesses after a moment; opening his eyes to once again focus on the faceless depiction of Death himself. “I thought I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

Resolve steels your nerves and once again, your feet find their way to Harry.

“You did make it out, Harry. You made it out alive.”

“Two of us went in, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be ignored,” You start, “Cedric’s death was an utter tragedy; completely unexpected and blindsided everyone in the school, but you cannot blame yourself for this, Harry. Cedric died at the hands of a madman – not you.”

“I could have done something!” He screams, finally losing all grip on his temper, “I should have done something. Instead, as Wormtail murdered Cedric, all I did was shout his name as if it was going to help. I did nothing, I as good as murdered him.”

Breath leaves your body in one fell swoop; you had never seen Harry like this. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration as he tries to get a hold on his temper, reigning it in. You remain silent as Harry works to control himself; you watch him pace the small copse, flattening the green grass under his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Harry,” You sigh, “I am more than capable of handling you shouting at me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong though, and I just take everything out on you.”

You laugh, short and sweet, “I think this is the first time you’ve ever shouted at me, Potter.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I try not to make a habit of shouting at my friends,” Harry states, throwing you a look that states the obvious.

Wringing your hands together, you brace yourself for your next words. Meeting Harry’s stare, fixing your gaze on him, you politely demand, “Tell me more about that night, Harry.”

So he does.

It comes rushing out of him in a torrent; words flying so fast that his speech gets muddled up and he sometimes has to say his sentences again. For so long he has been holding this in; there are very few people who know what happened that night in this very graveyard and out of those, many are dead or imprisoned so Harry has been left to deal with the pain.

It feels like a confession. It feels as if he is seeking forgiveness from his crimes; seeking repentance from a priest of his choosing because he needs to get it out, he needs to know whether penance is possible for the sins committed that night.

Harry feels as if a weight is being lifted off his chest as he tells you about duelling Voldemort and the spell that had taken place beforehand. Harry seeks solace in your comforting gaze and reassuring smile as his voice breaks when he speaks of his parents, not having seen them in any physical form since that night with the Mirror of Erised.

Once he starts, he finds it hard to stop. He stutters over his feelings over Cedric’s death, pausing once in a while to let you interject a thought and for the first time since starting this exercise, since asking you to come along with him, Harry feels as if it is starting to work.

Eventually, his voice falls quiet as does his mind.

“How do you feel?” You ask; an expected question that accompanies each location visited.

Harry nods, “Better. Happy to have finally said what happened that night.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell you.”

“I trust you with my life,” He states honestly and plainly.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze to wander across the dark graveyard once more before finally turning to face Harry. “Are you ready?”

Harry nods: more than happy to leave this place and never return. What happened in Little Hangleton will always remain a heartbreaking tragedy; a life cruelly taken before it even got the chance to begin. The village would always be stained with such misfortune, but now, Harry feels that part of his life come to a close.  

As Harry reaches for your hand, readying himself to apparate you back to your flat, his heart soars at the words you utter with conviction.

“You’re a good man, Harry.”

--------

Landing back at his flat, Harry takes a seat on his couch and hangs in his head in his hands. He had dropped you off at your flat; needing to be alone to deal with the emotions that had been threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. Whilst Harry had accepted that he played no part in Cedric’s death, he still had to confront the magnitude of what had happened to himself.

It hits him all at once; the scale of what he had been through throughout his education. From the ages of eleven to eighteen, Harry hadn’t seen a school year through without injury or battle. It’s as he sits there that he realises the extent to which he was used by the headmaster he looked up to; used as a pawn to further the game of chess being played by Dumbledore and Voldemort.

The waves never cease; his parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, and Cedric.

No tears fall; he isn’t sure he has the capacity to cry anymore. Tears haven’t fallen since they fell out relief for the end of the war, but out of sadness for the deaths of Fred, Remus, and Tonks.

Sitting on his couch, shivers overtake his body. His teeth chattering as he reaches for the blanket kept across the back of his couch, wrapping it around his shoulders. Harry bites back the scream that is slowly crawling up his throat; he pushes it down as he fights for control of his mind.

Collecting his thoughts, Harry comes to a conclusion.

He needs to return to where it all began.

Godric’s Hollow, West Country, England, March.

Spring blooms real and true, and Harry feels ready enough to return to Godric’s Hollow. Harry could count on one hand how many times he has stepped foot in the village his parents once called home. He had been born in Godric’s Hollow; at the end of July to two loving parents who adored him just as much as they adored each other.

Out of respect for James and Lily Potter – murdered at the age of twenty-one – the house in which they lived had never been repaired. The thatched roof remains caved in; a large hole in the middle of it, letting the elements now batter the house.

It had been twenty-two years since Harry had stepped foot inside the house he was born in. It had been five years since he stood outside of it with Hermione; only beginning to feel the grief for the parents he never truly knew.

It was this that had plagued Harry from the moment he turned eleven and arrived at Hogwarts. How does he grieve for those he never truly knew?

As crass as it is to say, Harry didn’t know his parents outside his need for food, comfort, and love. The memories of his mother and father are so clouded; he can no longer tell whether they are his own or whether he’s simply simulated a story told to him by family friends.

He was fifteen months old when they were murdered. He was fifteen months old and barely aware of his own shadow.

Whilst he hadn’t visited the house much – it being too painful to see the sight of his parent’s murder – he had visited their graves in the years that have passed.

With you in tow, Harry leads you down the worn, familiar path. He slows his pace every now and then; warning you of an upcoming dip that may make you lose your balance.

All too soon, however, you stand in front of the grave of James and Lily Potter.

Quietly, he asks, “How do I grieve my parents when I never knew them?”

Your heart breaks for him; unable to stop yourself, you wrap an arm around his waist offering any form of comfort you can. Shakily, you answer, “I guess you can mourn what could have been or you grieve the fact that they were so young. Either way, Harry, they’re never going to leave you.”

“I know that,” He whispers; gaze fixed on the grave of his parents, “All I know of them is what I’ve been told. I feel as if my memories have been tainted, and I know that they all mean well, but sometimes-”

He cuts himself off with a huff; kneeling down and drawing out his wand. Silently, Harry conjures a bouquet of Orchids, Chrysanthemums and Lilies and then bows his head in silent prayer, continuing to grieve the parents he would never know.

You place your hand on his shoulder, “Sometimes you what, Harry?”

He sighs, “Sometimes I wish they would stop. I was so young when they died – any memories I have of them are practically gone but sometimes I have these flashes. I have no idea whether they’re real or not, but I feel as if they are. Yet, when friends tell me stories of what it was like to go to school with them or to fight alongside them, it’s like they’re pushing they’re version of James and Lily Potter onto me. Does that make sense?”

Squeezing his shoulder, you answer, “It makes perfect sense. The James and Lily you knew is different from what Sirius knew or what McGonagall knew.”

“I just worry that the more stories I hear, the quicker I lose what I know of them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Harry.”

“You don’t?” He asks, shifting to his feet and facing you.

You shake your head, “I don’t. I think you’re going to remember your parents for the rest of your life; their morals and values make up yours, Harry. You might not think, but you are a lot more like them than you realise.”

Harry bows his head, feeling the familiar burn of tears at the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut, begging the feeling to go away. Quietly, almost ashamedly, Harry asks, “Do you think they would be proud of me?”

Then and there, your heart breaks, cleaving itself in two for the man standing before you. It’s the only dream of a child; to make their parents proud, but what about children who do not have parents – who grew up in a home that did not cherish them like it should have?

Silver lines your eyes; tears threatening to make an appearance as you reach for Harry’s hands, pulling him into a hug. Against his shoulder, you state with conviction, “They would be extremely proud of you, Harry. So proud of you it would shine out of them.”

Harry sniffles; ducking down somewhat to tuck his head against your neck, hiding his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. From the outside, it looks as if two lovers are embracing, unable to keep their hands off the other for too long. However, you know that Harry is trying his best to maintain his composure, to try and gets to grips with the emotions that follow never knowing the ones who were supposed to raise you.

Minutes pass and neither of you move; neither of you willing to be the one to break this moment, but for the day to progress, you need to step away from the only man you have ever loved.

Releasing Harry, you send what you hope is a reassuring smile in his direction, “Come on, Harry,” You prompt, “Show me the rest of Godric’s Hollow?”

Framing it as a question, you offer Harry the choice. He is in control of this moment; h can choose whether he shows you the rest of the wizarding village or whether the two of you apparate back to his flat and spend the rest of the day mooching about.

Harry smiles: it’s watery, but fixed as he nods, stepping around you to lead you out of the graveyard.

Hands brush every now and then as the both of you wander back to the high street. A simple brush of hands, a simple twitch of fingers and your heart would start to race, practically shouting for Harry to take your hand and tangle your fingers together.

“I think I’m going to live here,” Harry murmurs; eyes scanning the high street.

“Are you sure?” You ask; worried not only for the fact that you may miss him while you remain in London, but also for any potential setback this may cause him.

Harry nods; his eyes now focused on a small café straight across the road from where you stand. He gestures towards it with an open hand, “Let me explain over some food.”

The bell above the door tinkles as you follow Harry inside. He chooses a table on the left hand side of the shop; sitting at the seat that faces the window and the door. It’s with stark realisation that you come to see that he’s chosen this exact spot so he can have eyes on each entrance and exit point.

You sigh as you sit across from him; old habits die hard, you guess.

Menus are placed in front of you by a teenaged witch looking as if she would rather be anywhere else but here. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in Harry’s form; the menu in her hand shaking as she places it down before him.

You bite your lip to repress the ever-growing smile on your face as you watch the waitress grow flustered under Harry’s smile and green eyes. She walks away in a daze after having taken your drink orders – coffee for Harry, Yorkshire Tea for you.

You shake your head fondly at the young witches departing figure; noting how she bumps into numerous tables before making it safely to the kitchen. Harry follows your gaze, wanting to know what’s taken your attention from him, “What is it?”

You shift your gaze back to the wizard, “You still don’t see the effect you have on people, do you?”

Harry frowns; his hand reaching up to touch his forehead self-consciously. He had grown his hair longer in order to cover the scar that mars the centre of his forehead; his black hair now fell around his head in curls he didn’t know he had until you had found an old picture of his father. The glasses and the curls along with the smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts; he was the spit image of his father.

“Not your scar, Harry, nor your name. I meant how you look; you have to know you’re handsome.”

Blush paints Harry’s cheeks as your words settle. The last thing he expected from today was to be told he was attractive; least of all, from you. He’s never had the chance before; to act upon his feelings for you. He realised just what he felt for you at the end of Sixth Year, and then the war happened, and he absolutely refused to let anything happen to you. He couldn’t tell you his feelings for you should it put a target on your back, and if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself.

He laughs, shaking his head, “You’re a flatterer.”

You hold your hands up in playful surrender, “Only speaking the truth. You’ll see it one day.”

“One day,” He promises; eyes earnest as they gaze into yours.

It’s too much; just like that, it’s too much and you have to avert your stare before you end up blurting your inner most thoughts and scaring him away for good. Clearing your throat, you wait for the teenage waitress to place your drinks in front of you before you change the subject, “Why do you want to move here?”

Harry shrugs, picking up his coffee and taking a long drink, thinking over his words. “I think,” He begins, “I want to be close to them, but I also want to start carving out my life properly and this place is so peaceful. It’s so peaceful and it’s beautiful. I think it’s one of those places that if I don’t move here now, I’ll still move later on.”

You nod, “I get that. It is gorgeous here.”

Harry hums, “I’d still be in London every week.”

“You’d commute?” You ask, puzzled in terms of train schedules.

Harry barks out a laugh that turns into silent shaking of his shoulders as the teenage waitress returns, her pad in hand as she waits for your food order. Harry continues to repress his laughter throughout his order. As the waitress walks away, you fix Harry with an unimpressed stare. “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”

Harry smiles at you; as in, he really smiles at you. He beams as he whispers somewhat in awe, “I love you. You’re one of the smartest witches I know, and you still forget about the fact that we can apparate.”

You reel back in your chair, knees knocking into the table as the air leaves your body in a single breath. “What? What did you say first?”

Harry’s smile, if possible, grows as he shrugs his shoulders, “I love you.”

“Since when?” You demand, wondering how on earth he could discuss something as important as this as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather.

“Sixth Year,” He confesses, blush beginning to paint his cheeks.

“That long?” You ask, voice hushed, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Harry finally frowns, finger tracing the lip of his coffee cup, “There was a war, and then I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”

Of course he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to confess his love for you, you admonish yourself. He had defeated the Dark lord and then had to cope with the survival guilt for years. It had only been in the last year that he finally let himself let go of the guilt surrounding the casualties of war.

“I love you too,” You admit, chewing on the inside of your cheek from nerves.

“You do?” Harry asks, about as breathless as you were when he confessed only moments ago.

“I do,” You confirm, smiling.

It isn’t much in the way of confessions, but the look on Harry’s face says it all. His green eyes remain bright and the smile wide on his face even as the waitress returns with your food. He looks as if no wrong could be done in that moment; the food could be the worst he has ever eaten but it wouldn’t matter.

You love him.

You love him as he loves you, and suddenly it all makes sense. His motivations through the war; not only wanting to rid the world of Voldemort but wanting to secure a safe future in which he can love you.

The food is eaten quickly; the both of you rushing to make it outside where you can talk more, and in private.

The bill is paid. The waitress wanders back to the till; stunned at the sight of Harry’s smile – and you couldn’t blame her.

Harry stands from his seat, reaching for his jacket and waiting patiently for you. Electricity thrums between you; holding promises of more to come, the headiness of it having you gripping the table tightly as you rise to your feet. One look at Harry’s face and you know he’s feeling it too.

Pausing outside the small café, you hold your hand out for Harry to take.

A soft breeze blows through Godric’s Hollow, disturbing your hair and the trees around you. Harry holds onto your hand tightly as the both of you begin to wander down the high street; the blossoms of the trees fluttering around you as they fall to the floor. Harry inhales deeply; the floral of the blossoms mixed with the sweetness of your perfume providing the perfect backdrop to his future.

Harry’s Flat, London, England, September.

Healing is a process. It is neither quick nor slow; it follows its own pace.

Through this process, Harry has realised that he is in fact getting better. He has his bad days; days where he seldom leaves his bedroom and refuses to stare at anything but the wall.

However, those days are becoming scarcer. Harry can sometimes go weeks before he has an episode that leaves him bedbound, and for that, he is proud of himself.

He doesn’t do it alone; he has you by his side through it all as you both prepare for the move to Godric’s Hollow. For both the good and the bad days.

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @probably-peeves @darlingdelacour @big-galaxy-chaos @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @stupxfy @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow @storyisnotover @missmulti @himooonlight​

#harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry x reader #harry potter imagine

[opalesense]

the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk?  just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane.  For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day.  You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine.  If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

   As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life.  Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat.  Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers.  You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster.  The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living.  Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

   You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life.  The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor.  Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known.  In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed.  Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

   You still remember how you got your vision.  The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect.  You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy.  Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place.  With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done.  With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

   But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day.  Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

   That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought.  You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

   “Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

   He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

   You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results.  You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought.  “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli.  It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

   Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients.  Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years.  When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex.  Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases.  That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

   As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you.  He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

   “This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop.  “I brought you your favorites.  Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find…  needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions.  I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

   You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside.  No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long.  It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli!   I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

   “I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

   “Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity.  And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

   “I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself.  We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

   You chuckled at his eagerness.  He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli.  Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

   He sighed happily.  “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

   You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you.  “The usual for tonight?”

   “Yes, please.”

   Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface.  You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future.  You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms.  When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

   No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt.  If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

   You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

   “Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start.  You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

   Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud.  “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems.  I see you handing over something…  small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal.  I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy.  But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused.  “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.”  You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

   He sighed.  “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently.  But it had to be done.”

   “Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading?  If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

   “I am aware of the consequences that will follow.  Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

   “I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli.  But please be careful in the future with these decisions.  The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

   He nodded.  “It is as you say.  Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

   You hovered over this image of the sacrifice.  You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it.  It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

   “Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

   You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before.  If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

   “You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently.  “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past.  I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought.  There are flashes of…”

   You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands.  You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

   “What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing.  Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

   “There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction.  “Very graphic details of war and death.  Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

   He paused to process your comparison.  “That is... a very good way to put it.”

   “Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility.  It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent.  Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

  Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events.  Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

  He still put your analysis into thought, though.

  “I am haunted, indeed.  I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago.  I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

  You grinned.  “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli.  I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on.  Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow.  Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on.  It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

  He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in.  You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea.  Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below.  Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli.  But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within.  Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

  His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words.  You always seemed to know what to say.  “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N].  And you are absolutely correct.  I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away.  I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

  “Shall we move on?” he offered.

  You got to work on the last segment of the reading.  If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest.  Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words.  You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

  On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

  “That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation.  “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

  “Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted.  “Keep going.”

  Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading.  “I am admittedly stumped.  There is nothing left in this image.  I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins.  I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.”  You paused to think out loud.  “Why am I in your reading?  What could this possibly mean?”

  Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud.  “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

  “I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience.  This is quite unique.”

  He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you.  I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it.  What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

  Your eyebrows rose in shock.  “Training me?  I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late.  I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

  “Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

  You thought for a moment.  How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

  “I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli.  Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are.  My life is uninteresting.  The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks.  I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all.  And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

  He chuckled.  “I respectfully disagree.  To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders.  Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future.  Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that.  You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured.  “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big.  I regret not being able to realize this before.”

  “How are you so sure of this?  I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really.  Again, I am simply a fortune teller.  What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

  He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table.  The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

  “I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine.  “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

  “What do you mean?  What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

  Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you.  Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light.  Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you.  The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy.  The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments.  These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble.  It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

  His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history.  The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed.  Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death.  Offering combat training.  Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions.  His glowing amber eyes alone.

  Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue.  Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

  He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind.  He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations.  This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling.  Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

  He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

[swbumblebee]

“I think Young Ani is being bullied”

Plo leaned back on the sofa, cradling his wine and listening to the comforting sounds of his friend and confidant hunting for mask-friendly nibbles in the kitchen.

“What?” came the response from the other room, followed shortly by a clang and a curse.

Plo chuckled and shook his head, despite the seriousness of his thoughts.

Mace Windu reappeared with a triumphant noise, cradling his own glass of something that looked lighter than their usual rich fare (“it’s a Taungsday Plo, lets be sensible”) and a small bowl of soft fruits.

Plo nodded gratefully as he took the fruit and his friend sank onto the sofa next to him. They hadn’t managed to meet up as usual last week, and Plo had missed their (often rather gloomy, admittedly) decompression sessions, chatting late into the night on Galaxy shattering matters, leaning on each other for support.

It was odd to think of how distant they were from each other the first time around in that other time; friends, certainly, but they’d really never spent much time together. Another surprising benefit their predicament, he supposed.

Mace cleared his throat, looking expectantly at Plo.

“I am always glad to see you, my friend, and I missed our meeting last week.” He said, characteristically matter-of-fact “but I got the feeling you need to discuss something specific.”

Plo nodded, rather pleased at the admission he hadn’t been the only one.

“Yes I’m afraid so.” He thought for a moment, grateful for the lack of prompting, and decided to start from the beginning.

“I meet Anakin after his biology class on a Primeday and we go to the archives for reading practice.” He explained, Mace nodding along in understanding. “I know you do the same on a Centaxday” he acknowledged. “But I think he’s having trouble with his classmates” Plo said unhappily.

“How so?” Mace’s face had fallen a little, but he remained his usual measured self.

“He is obviously upset and tense, his presence unsettled and turbulent in a way it never normally is.” Plo paused. “It reminded me of Skywalker Last Time.”

Mace’s face definitely darkened at that. Repetitions of Last Time were to be avoided at all costs, but he said nothing.

Plo sighed.

“A couple of times I have caught a few tears as he left the classroom.” Plo finished. It had broken his heart. The Master had to perform a spectacularly silly play in their reading session to get their usual smiley boy back.

Mace sighed.

“I suppose he has not shared what’s happening?”

Plo shook his head, taking a drink of his wine through his modified mask.

“He refuses to talk about it, and I am reluctant to push. However, something is definitely going on in that class and we need to do something about it.” Plo said emphatically. This inaction was almost painful, he wanted desperately to get the boy to open up but pressuring him was not the way to go about it.

“Of course, of course.” Mace agreed, sending tendrils of support over the Force as well. “I suppose Obi-Wan is unaware?”

Plo nodded

“He must be, or I cannot imagine he would allow it to continue” he acknowledged. He knew with dead certainly Master Kenobi wouldn’t have stood for it, certainly, and even though Master Kenobi was years away and Knight Kenobi was a twenty-two-year-old struggling to adjust, he couldn’t imagine his friend in this time would be that different.

Mace seemed to be picking his words carefully, taking a drink. Plo could almost see his clever friend’s cogs turning and the slight anger in the Force turning to determination.

“We need not burden young Obi-Wan just yet.” The Korun Master decided. Between his own learning and development, as well as his Padawan’s, and the pair’s various issues, they both knew the new Knight was handling an almost insurmountable workload.  

“I believe” he continued breezily “it is time for me to get back onto the teaching rotation, it’s been such a long time since I’ve taught a younglings class. Perhaps I’ll sign myself up for Biology.” He suggested lightly.

Plo smiled.

“Oh of course, it is so important to keep one’s hand in. I will join you. Splitting the term classes between us will relieve the poor being currently teaching it to perhaps get some rest.”

Mace snorted

“Or some extra training in teaching a class of ten-year-olds how to behave like civilised Jedi.”

They toasted to a foolproof plan.

---

It was the very next morning when Plo managed to make it way to the creche administration offices to offer his and Mace’s services.

The reaction of the being on duty was somewhat confusing. Whilst Plo knew he was perhaps not known for his teaching ability, he had to admit he was anticipating the offer from two senior council members to be taken with some excitement.

What he got was a vaguely awkward look.

“Oh Master Plo, that’s so kind of you” They nervously shuffled their papers behind the reception desk. “However, Knight Kenobi was here last night, and he requested to take over that particular class for the rest of the term.” They fidgeted for a moment as Plo stared. “I’m sorry Master Plo, he was quite emphatic” they sniffed. “Perhaps there is another class you would like to help with?”

Plo allowed himself a slow smile as he left the office with a polite goodbye.

Of course. His smile grew as he shook his head and took out his communicator. When would they learn that Obi-Wan Kenobi was nobody’s fool?

---

That following Primeday Plo arrived as the class let out and he grinned broadly at the sight that greeted him. He could hear Obi-Wan continuing to talk to students inside, and there was young Padawan Skywalker, right in the middle of a throng of other children as they spilled out into the corridor.

“Did you really?”

“Your master is so cool?!”

“Can you teach me to drive a pod racer?”

Plo allowed his fondness to curl around Anakin in the Force, laughing and nodding at something one of his peers had said, blue eyes shining happily.

Well, Force knows what in the Galaxy Obi-Wan did, but the Jedi who would one day be the greatest diplomat in the order had been at work, it seemed.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #plo koon #mace windu #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #references another SDGTT ficlett about bby Ani's literacy #Obi-Wan Kenobi is a badass #and loves his Padawan #Mace and Plo - are they in love? #we'll never know

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

All fans are equal but some are more equal than others. NOT.

There’s been quite a few people in the fandom lately getting very stressed, feeling they’re obligated to constantly be on the defensive re: their fandom choices.

Apparently, whoever has a different opinion about a character or a ship must be said character’s/ship’s stan i.e. overzealous and/or obsessive, i.e. not an objective viewer. Even worse, they must be a dreadful person, who condones a number of moral offences that said character/ship perpetrated (or is thought to have perpetrated). Because, of course, the only acceptable reason for appreciating/enjoying a fictional character or dynamic is their morality. And, by that reasoning, fans who support the correct character/ship must be better fans and better people.

Nothing is more ridiculous than the notion of the objective fan. An “objective” fan is called a “viewer”. You and I, Riverdale friends, we are not just viewers. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have created blogs and dedicated hours of our lives to a fictional couple from an extremely mediocre show. We are still undoubtedly capable of critical thought and objective analysis but we are also aware of our own emotional investment in the show. (Or, at least, one hopes). As a fandom, we engage in activities that exist independently of the show. Fandom is a space of free expression. No one gets to play the higher moral card here. Needing to loudly tell everybody how wrong they are? That’s not the sign of an objective viewer. That’s the sign of a viewer who is also extremely invested, just for different reasons than I am.

Are we seriously holding the morality card over people’s heads for a show that used a poc woman’s pregnancy (Toni) as the means to retroactively establish trauma for a white male (Kevin), all the while touting it in every media possible as a woke response to the BLM movement?!

Are we seriously holding the canon card over people’s heads for a show that treats its 5th(!) season as a tabula rasa?! If the Lodges new backstory in 5x12 shows anything, it’s that s5 is not a time-jump. It’s a reboot.

There are so many people “enlightening” others on their inability to understand canon …

Seriously? That’s the hill you’re willing to die on? Canon Riverdale? You think that people don’t understand what they’re watching? That they’re interpreting canon incorrectly?

No, but seriously: canon for a TV show consists of what the characters say, what the characters do and how the actors portray them. Does this really apply to Riverdale?

Let’s take Donna for example.

Canon explicitly tells us Donna did what she did to avenge her grandmother. At the same time none of her canon actions were against the people who were actually responsible. So, riddle me this, fandom friends: why did Donna do what she did, as per canon?

Let’s try this another way:

Donna is a psycho bitch. Both in terms of Riverdale’s canon (the writers’ intention) and real-life criteria. To create a tag that reads “Bonna for ever uwu!” is deranged.

On the other hand, her character is (like a lot of Riverdale’s characters) an inconsistent caricature. Canon uses ridiculous dialogue and a lot of the Bonna scenes are cartoonishly enemies-to-lovers tropey. To create a tag that reads “Bonna for ever uwu!” is hilarious.

This doesn’t mean that Bonna is a canon couple. It does mean, however, that a Bonna crackship is based on Riverdale’s campy and over-the-top canonic writing.

A viewer who thinks Bonna is disgusting is not more “objective” or more “correct” or more “true to canon” than a viewer who thinks Bonna is funny. Nor are they a better person for it, and this cannot be stressed enough.

Similarly, who is canon Cheryl?

1. Cheryl is an absolute bitch: if a privileged student was calling an actual homeless boy a hobo in your real-life school, you would neither think her a queen nor use “hobo” affectionately in your tags, comments etc.

2. Cheryl is a deeply traumatized person: her father killed her brother, her mother killed half the town and forced her in conversion therapy, she attempted suicide and more.

(Note #1: this more does not mean more than the other Riverdale characters).

(Note #2: nor is it an excuse for her rudeness, affectionately called “mood for chaos” by the writers).

3. Cheryl is also a caricature of the archetypal mean girl who’s there for laughs and meta comments. She’s not to be taken seriously.

4. Cheryl is lgbtq+ representation …

5. … who canonically shits on other lgbtq+ characters.

6. Cheryl is one half of Choni, who are canonically presented as an uber couple.

7. Choni is also, as per canon, a couple with an acute power imbalance (cough!gaslighting!cough) that visually very clearly panders to the male gaze.

But most importantly:

8. Cheryl canonically is not the sum of her parts. The different facets of her character do not intermingle in any meaningful way.

Was Betty kissing Archie specifically a sore spot for Jughead?

Canonically no [2x14]. But, also, canonically yes [5x03, 5x10].

Are there seriously fans that are astonished that Betty is making some highly questionable choices while investigating?! Did they just discover Dark™Betty/Killer Genes Betty? That is canon Betty! Was it ok before because she was then smooching Jughead instead of giving him the cold shoulder? Honestly, the only newly outrageous part of s5Dark™Betty is the fact that she still believes in “killer genes” despite having spent 4 years at Yale …

As for liking/disliking Betty and morality …

Look, I’m going to be very honest: I am NOT particularly enjoying s5 Betty. And it’s not because of b*rchie.

S5 Betty has 99 problems but the sexcapades ain’t one.

For me, it’s the fact that she’s turned into s1 Alice 2.0. But surely that’s not news either? Ever since the first info about the time jump, everyone and their mother have been speculating about the teens becoming their parents …

Just because Jughead is better written (and written to be more likable), it doesn’t make him more worthy of redemption. Just because the writers are keeping Betty’s redemption “secret” (insert eye roll) for their big reveal in the season’s penultimate episode, it doesn’t mean she won’t have one.  

Simply put, the writers have made Jughead more likable. He’s still the underdog. He’s the only character in Riverdale actively trying to deal with his trauma, since the very first post-time jump episode (working at Pop’s explicitly to fend off the debt collectors). He has scenes with a new and extremely likable character (Tabitha). He has the only new plot line (the Mothman). Said plotline is narratively already tied to both his unknown past and the town’s destruction by Hiram. His behaviour is explicitly explained, even as his recent trauma remains unknown. He’s transparent.

In comparison, s5 Betty is traumatized but not the underdog. Her trauma (TBK killer) is both known to us and a repetition of previous storylines, which makes it narratively less exciting. She is completely disconnected from any other storylines. She comes out as being judgmental and self-interested: telling Tabitha Jughead’s not her business while previously accepting his help? Berating Polly for lying while not keeping in touch and lying about her own life (TBK)? Please note: I’m not saying there isn’t a reason behind her behaviour, just that it comes out in a negative way.

You don’t like Betty’s current behaviour? You don’t consider trauma a good enough excuse? Cool.

You feel sorry for what she’s going through? You consider trauma to be a valid explanation for her behaviour? Also cool.

Personally, I don’t give a flying fig, either for Betty’s trauma or Jughead’s. Because, even though Trauma™ is s5’s actual mystery plot, narratively speaking, trauma never affected the plot of the past 4 seasons, nor s5 trauma will affect future plots, once revealed. And you know what? That is also cool.

None of the above is better.

And just because I’m not enjoying Betty right now, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want her to overcome her current situation or that I won’t cheer for Bughead like a River Vixen on fizzle rocks, once they reunite.

This thing though, where people are made to feel as if they owed anyone in the fandom an explanation about why they like the things they like, because, somehow, their preferences are a reflection on their character or their cognitive abilities to read a TV show? This is a joke.

There is no “wrong” way to consume any show, let alone Riverdale, with its fractured format, its short-term memory and its see-sawing characters.

Look, everybody’s here for their own reasons. For most people this is a place of escape. No one’s escaping better than the other, because of how they enjoy their teen TV show ... 

#Riverdale writers negativity #fandom negativity #fandom entitlement

[imoldgreggory]

Today I’m not in the mood for sad, tragic or bitterwseet, I’m in the mood for happy, and hopeful, and whole; so naturally, I’m listening to ‘Wonderful One’. But this time, I notice more not the lyrics we normally discuss - the more obvious ones, about desire and all that, - but rather those that I, in my distraction, never gave the proper attention they deserve.

There’s probably an analysis of this one in the big Jimbert meta already, isn’t there (and I still don’t know *hides in shame*)? Anyway, this is no analysis (especially since I’ll be ignoring half the lyrics, like I said) - just some comments and personal impressions of mine. Because I’m in the mood.

So throw it down, Cleveland rain

So, in case you don’t know, I’m quite useless at knowing the actual canon, and this is no exception. I hope we all agree the song is undoubtedly about Jimbert, but I have no clue why Cleveland might be significant - so much, in fact, that it opens such a song as this. But it sure is intriguing. As we know, Robert tends to write about his own experiences, not to make things up.

The Queen of Love has flown again To seek her daughter

Oh, this whole part is so charming. I haven’t the foggiest idea whom or what he might be singing about(*), even though it’s certainly a metaphor, but the words themselves sound so so beautiful put together - it kind of reminds me of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ in how the words sound magical but try as you might you cannot explain their meaning. And it’s okay. 

(*) Okay, not quite true. In fact, I have at least two possible interpretations (unlike with STH, where I genuinely believe the lyrics were meant to be abstract and that’s the whole point). But I’ll keep them private, I think. But maybe notice the words ‘again’ and ‘to seek’. Especially ‘again’ - for me that’s where it’s at.

Who must lie beside the thief Whose golden tongue she will believe Defies the order 

Okaaaaay. A lot to unpack here - especially considering the metaphor started in the first two lines is still unclear to us. Keeping the Jimbert in mind (always), ‘the thief’ is clearly an echo of ‘who stole the keys to the gates of the castle of love’ (’Calling To You’ from RP’s Fate of Nations, written a year prior). The connection doesn’t help much, because it doesn’t clarify who exactly is the thief - but I’d say it’s one of them either way. (Maybe Robert himself isn’t so sure, thus phrasing it as a question, ‘Who stole the keys...?’ - just a thought).

Then, ‘whose golden tongue she will believe defies the order’ - I don’t think ‘golden tongue’ here means lies so much as beautiful words, maybe promises. Also notice ‘golden’ instead of traditionally used ‘silver’, which, meter-wise, would have worked just as well. ‘Golden’ is very definitely an attribute of Robert’s - as well as being skilled with words is a quality of his. So in this case, ‘the thief’ might be Robert himself (or I can be way off the mark, but, you know, that’s always a possibility, so).

Notice the phrasing ‘she will believe’ - he sounds very sure. Why? Because it’s happened before (see ‘again’ in the stanza above, and many other instances in Robert’s lyrics over the years - repetition is a big thing for him, and them in particular). Also notice in the line, ‘who must lie beside the thief’ - there was never any choice, whoever ‘she’ is, she cannot change what happens or fight it. It’s about fate. It’s also about sex, and love, and possibly equality, or at the very least togetherness (towards the end of the song he changes the words and already sings she ‘must lie beneath the thief’ which is interesting).

 ‘...she will believe defies the order’: what order? Most likely, the cycle of comings and goings, of being together and then inevitably parting again - that is the natural order of things in the Jimbert canon (referred to in a number of songs), and that is the crux of the conflict also. She will believe, once again, that they’ll stay together this time, and then she’ll get her heart broken, once again - and at least one of them knows this from the very start (this is 1994). But even the singer, who knows it’s not to last, still hopes against all hope that maybe it might (see next stanza).

Oh, that is why Oh, that is why Shall we dance and never stop Take my hand and stop the clock From turning over

‘Shall we dance and never stop’ - ‘dancing’ has been commented on lots of times in all the analyses so I’m not repeating it here. But again, this is a question, wistful rather than hopeful, reflecting the singer’s heart’s true desire in that moment. If you think about it, he’s not actually offering a forever to the addressee, he’s really already lamenting the impossibility of this forever.

 Then, ‘Take my hand and stop the clock from turning over’ - a continuation of the thought from the previous stanza: the singer knows he can’t go against his own nature (which compels him to be constantly moving and ‘turning turning’), and this is a desperate plea for his lover to do something to break the cycle and freeze the time in this perfect moment (which the lover would gladly fucking do, as we know, were it actually possible).

And spirit weave, spirit bend In the move that has no end That we must follow Oh, oh

Well, this is about the symbol of eternity, I think it’s quite obvious - the endless cycle they cannot escape, and all that. (Compare with, ’These are the seasons of emotion / And like the wind they rise and fall’ from the Rain Song)

Show me your eyes Oh light of the sun

’Speak to me only with your eyes’ (duh). Also, in the Rain Song, if we are so inclined, we may find another line that echoes the way he addresses his lover: ‘You are the sunlight in my growing’. I know there are other takes on the Rain Song in the Jimbert analyses, but I personally always read these lines as addressed to Jimmy, especially the speaking ‘only with your eyes’ (I mean if we read the Rain Song as Jimbert at all, that is. Which on this blog, we do.).

Touch me with fire My mind is undone All life inspire My freedom has come I drift through desire My wonderful one

I don’t quite get the ‘all life inspire’ bit grammatically, to be honest. Any native speakers who can rephrase it so it’s clearer and less poetic? But as for the next line, I think it’s quite significant that RP regarded the Page/Plant period as a time he could finally feel free (/freer). Even though, paradoxically, in the very next stanza he says ‘you can never let it show’. Still, something had changed in his attitude, in the way he felt about the whole thing, perhaps. Compare with ALS, where he longed for ‘the sweet refrain’ and a freedom ‘to ride the wind / to tread the air above the din’. Maybe this time it was different because ‘the shackles of commitment’ had indeed fallen (I don’t believe he was dating/living with anyone at the time?) Maybe it’s about them doing the touring on their own terms this time, but considering the context I believe it is about matters of the heart. I don’t really know, but the main thing is that he apparently felt this way - free at last.

When you do what you do I can never, never, never let you go And when you feel the way you feel You can never, no, never let it show ... ... That is why, that is why That is why, that is why

Well, this is it for today. If you’ve reached this paragraph, thanks for staying (and bearing XD) with me. I don’t know who needed to hear all this, but I sure needed to get it out. Turns out the song is not so idyllic and blissful as it might seem at a glance, is it? Still, how beautiful.

#jimbert #fun with lyrics #digging deeper #i have zero proof for any of this i hope you realise #jimbert meta

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

Long Post to Update

I’m going to put a read line here because this is a really long update 😫 but it is a rather important one if you care about the current events of my blog and regarding new updates coming soon! 

I wanted to make a quick update to say a couple things. First of all, I’m a little late to the thanks, but I reached over 5,000 followers a couple of days ago and I cannot even express how amazed I am and how much it means to me. I want to thank every person who’s followed me and left kind comments on my posts and liked my stories. It means a lot to me that my followers take the time to comment and like my things and even read my longer stories

Writing, as I’m sure a few of you know by now, is a huge escape for me when things get overwhelming or my emotions are just too much to deal with. When I started my blog earlier this year I honestly couldn’t even have imagined I’d be where I am now and I have nobody to thank aside from all of you

It sounds a little bit silly, but I remember distinctly when I first started writing as a kid and I daydreamed of being a professional writer and having books published, but even now as my dreams have changed, writing is still such an important thing to me and a few people have told me, lately especially, that things I’ve wrote have been a comfort for them and it just honestly melts my heart to think something I write to comfort myself can comfort someone else in return

Over this year I’ve gotten so many sweet messages and comments that really mean the world to me. Of course I want to thank everyone again for following me from my old blog to this one, it was a big change but I’m so glad to even now see people say they were fans of my old blog and followed me here. Even if it seems like a small thing, it’s huge to me as a creator. I don’t want to be too repetitive, but seriously; thank you all so very much

Gaining followers (with my Patreon especially now money) isn’t the most important thing to me, so as someone who just wanted an outlet to share a few little stories with people who may love the characters as well, it’s so special to me. I remember when I had made my first post here, the first like it got had made me so happy and now I even have Haikyuu Texting Series posts in the thousands with notes. It blows my mind even now that I get this kind of attention on a platform so large with thousands of creators. I’ve seen my own posts on other people’s Tumblr feeds when looking up Haikyuu and I think the fact that other people perceive me and mention me in things just baffles me even still. I’ll end this rambling rant with one final thing: all of your comments and messages mean the world to me, please don’t stop talking to me 💛

Now we’ll get onto some different things because I have a couple more things to update regarding my stories:

A Month is a story for Atsumu I’m sure some of you have seen by now. It’s been a popular one so far! @icelyn20 had given me the idea a little while back, so everyone thank her for giving me this honor to write her story! The update for this is that I’m working on part 4 now, however parts 1 through 3 have all come out within at least 8 days of each other, however this post has sort of stumbled me so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get it out within the 1 week period I got the others out in. I’ll try my best, but no promises!

Secondly, Upcoming Chapters. What’s happening with those? Right now I’m working on some angst, I was talking out my Oikawa song-based angst the other night and I think I may try and write that a little bit more soon. I also started to work on completely changing my First Time With Akaashi story that’s on that list to sort of change things too after getting stumbled on that one. As of right now, those are the only 2 on the list I’m seriously trying to get out but the others won’t be forgotten!

My 5 Minutes series hasn’t been out in awhile, but I think the character who may come out next would be Matsukawa because I was working on it a few days ago when I was bored and I got a few lines down that I think will be a good story in the end

I have more new ideas that I’ve made sure to jot down so that I don’t forget about them. I’m trying not to prioritize them over the upcoming chapters, however it is a serious killer because @icelyn20 and I have talked too much about a shared Akaashi headcanon and I did a little bit of work on a new story for him based off of it 😭

More parts to previous stories may be coming soon, and not just Akaashi’s next Sin in The Church! I have fiddled with more Doctor Iwaizumi thoughts, maybe next time I might write something a little bit more pure because Iwaizumi is such a comfort character for myself. Critic part 2 may also be coming because I have serious attachment issues and I can’t let go of these headcanons 😅

Another thing I want to say, while my requests are not open, if there are characters that I don’t write a whole lot for or you haven’t seen in awhile and miss, feel free to send me a quick ask and just mention it. Maybe you’re wanting more Tendō or Kuroo, Kita, Semi— whoever. Personal stories aren’t available right now, but like I said just send me a quick “Could we get more Kuroo stories soon” (or something along the lines of that) ask and I’ll see what I can do for a story for a character that hasn’t gotten a post in awhile or just flat out doesn’t get a world of attention. I’ll do all I can to try and get a post for a character out soon!

I think as of right now I don’t really have a whole lot else to say. As always, my messages and asks are always open for whatever you have to say. I’m going to do my best to work on some things today. Now that my October Series is over I do have more time to focus on some things I might not have given as much attention to before!

Everyone have a great day and I hope everyone sleeps well tonight. Happy November!