#and explain what was wrong with the calligrapher

[lilbasthet]

I'm rewatching The Residence and I need at least another season!

There are so many interesting nods to Cordelia's background and family history (like the general neurodivergent-codedness of the family, the fact that her brother died (??) and the parents are keeping his room untouched, her father wearing some Kind of Military Uniform(??), her mom doing things he doesn't like behind his back, ...)

I NEED TO KNOW MORE! GIVE ME MORE

[danceofthephilos]

"Repent and Make Efforts"

Kaoru's calligraphy display in episode 5 is very obviously targeted, but between natural difficulties in translating idioms, changes made in the English dub, and misunderstandings of the general meaning of "repentance", exactly what he's communicating often gets lost in translation - which is a shame, because it's not only a very telling moment about Kaoru's own feelings about Adam, but one that ends up being very important to the themes of the entire show and many of the central character arcs.

To give some quick establishing information, what Kaoru is writing in this scene is a called a yojijukugo (四字熟語), or four-character idiom - set idiomatic phrases that are very similar to (and originate from) Chinese chengyu (成语), which you may be familiar with if you've read any linguistic analysis of danmei. Four-character idioms are very common subjects for calligraphers like Kaoru, and the ways they can be used in speech make them very difficult to translate concisely. The particular idiom Kaoru has written here, read from right to left, is 悔悟奮發, a real four-character idiom (though usually written 悔悟憤発 in modern Japanese - Kaoru is using the Chinese hanzi.)

Read kaigo funpatsu, both the Crunchyroll subs and the dub translate this as "repent and make efforts", which is... fine enough given the complexity of translating yojijukugo. It's quite a literal translation, looking at the phrase broken down into its components - 悔悟 can indeed be translated to "repentance", and 奮發 means "to exert oneself." As an idiom, it means "to regret one's mistakes, and work hard to recover." It generally refers to remorse, but can also mean coming back from a loss. In this exchange from a Japanese website explaining the use of the idiom, it's used to describe recovering after a loss in a competition:

Tomoko: You must be in high spirits, to be practicing on your day off. Kenta: Everyone was shocked when I was eliminated in the first round of that tournament the other day. Next time I'll get my revenge. Tomoko: Oh, so you're trying to make a comeback*, good luck!

(*in a perfect example of how difficult yojijukugo can be to translate when used in regular speech, a translation as literal as "repent and make efforts" would sound very silly in English here.)

And this idiomatic meaning is how Kaoru explains it - and where I believe some misunderstandings are originating from, both due to the overall interpretation of the word "repent", as well as changes in nuance in the explanation given in the dub. To begin with, let's look at Kaoru's dialog in Japanese. (Due to him immediately explaining the meaning, I chose to leave kaigo funpatsu untranslated, unlike the official subs.)

And the same dialog in the dub:

It should be apparent just from this that Kaoru in the original and Kaoru in the dub are saying completely different things. Originally, Kaoru makes no mention of making peace with people that have been hurt, because that isn't what kaigo funpatsu is referring to. Kaigo is personal, internal regret - kaigo funpatsu is about self-reflection, recognizing one's mistakes and striving to do better, considering your past in order to take your next steps in the future. That could involve making amends with wronged parties, but it's not part of it inherently - Kaoru's original dialog doesn't even allude to people being hurt at all, because it's not relevant to the idiom.

It's here that I believe the word "repent" is causing some trip-ups: it's being taken in the Christian sense of atonement or penance, an action done to achieve forgiveness from others or redeem oneself for sinning, but Kaoru is simply talking about realizing you've done something wrong and feeling remorse for it. (Or, specifically, about Adam realizing he's done something wrong and feeling remorse for it.)

And while his last line in the dub is at least a bit more in the spirit of kaigo funpatsu, it's still missing what is at the heart of Kaoru's feelings about this idiom, and about the man it's clearly targeted at - the idea of coming back from one's mistakes, something that does not come up in the dub at all. The first word Kaoru uses, bankai (挽回), does mean "to recover", but also "to regain what was lost" or "to return to the original state." Torimodosu (取り戻す), as well, specifically means to regain something that was lost - in fact, it's the very same word Tadashi uses when speaking of Adam "regaining his love."

Kaoru is not asking Adam to personally make things up to him, or to anyone - Kaoru, at heart, believes in Adam, and believes that he can, and should, still come back from everything. Even in the finale - after the Full Swing Kiss, after his naive hopes of simply returning to how things were in high school are shattered - his first concern is still for Langa to make Adam understand that.

Like with Kenta in the example exchange above, kaigo funpatsu isn't about Adam atoning for his sins - it's a call for him to recognize he screwed up and move forward without making the same mistakes.

And he does, or at least he's beginning to take those steps. He recognizes the mistake that matters most to the themes of the story, and that led to everything that happened in his life since - that he lost sight of the innocent love for skating he had as a child.

He finally admits what Tadashi meant to him;

he directly defies his abusive family's wishes by working against Takano rather than throwing Tadashi under the bus;

and he finally shows up as Adam in daylight, on someone else's "turf", to celebrate his own defeat - reaching out to his former friends and gracefully accepting loss, things he refused to do even an episode prior.

He may not be begging for forgiveness, and with this coming at the very end of the series there's a long road still ahead of him, but he's recognizing that he did things wrong and he's making an effort to move forward in a better way - and in doing that he's regained the most important thing he lost, his love of skating.

And Adam isn't the only one whose character arc kaigo funpatsu describes, either. Reki regrets his mistakes...

...and comes back from them.

Langa recognizes his mistakes and comes back from them - and is even able to help Adam do the same.

Tadashi, more clearly spelled out than anyone, recognizes his mistakes...

...and he's able to come back from them, too.

None of these resolutions involve big direct apologies, or any kind of penance to earn forgiveness. (Personal forgiveness isn't something SK8 takes much interest in dwelling on or making characters earn in the first place, and its approach to forgiveness could easily be a whole other meta in and of itself.) They don't have to, because in the end, Kaoru's idiom is not only a message to Adam - one that he ultimately does receive, if a bit later than Kaoru hoped - but a moment that spells out a big part of the show's thesis.

Everyone is going to do things wrong in their life, one way or another - but anyone who regrets their mistakes and makes an effort to do better should be able to recover from them and regain what they lost.

Only season 2 can show us what moving forward is going to look like, but when it comes to what counts to the core narrative, everyone's taken the first steps.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Updates and Round V of Excerpts from The One True School Master of Vault 41

Draft 0 of TOTSMOV41 is at 171 pages or 54,527 words! (A lot of it is just notes, not actual story, so my bet is that it will turn out shorter than I may've led you to believe (still could be wrong though) but it's getting somewhere since I've last done some transferring of my notes into one, cohesive document.)

Not-so-fun fact about it: Rafal temporarily goes blind and deaf.

These contextless excerpts are shorter than usual, but I just realized I had written a trope I like in which couples indirectly, unintentionally clash, which I find funny and ironic.

Another fun fact: The song on my TOTSMOV41 playlist that vaguely fits the vibes around the time of these moments would be "All That Glitters" by Earl. I just discovered the song today! (Eventually, probably after I publish the fic, I'll post the fic's playlist.)

⸻

Should she have gone for something even harsher than what she'd written in a flourished, calligraphic hand?

I would snub my date if he ever dared have rotten breath. It would be pure humiliation. In fact, I'd address it directly, as an announcement to all, so I could gain in my social standing while I simultaneously lower his. No man with poor hygiene deserves me.

No, not Evil enough of a response, Sophie scrutinized. Just petty. Back to square one. She sighed.

⸻

Rafal thought he should change his shirt before their tower meeting tonight, but he was out of clean laundry and the spell to steam the blood out of his clothes would be too taxing on him in this state. Agatha wouldn't care and besides, they had work to do. But Sophie...

He took his black shirt to the sink and tried to scrub out as much of the blood as he could with a stiff brush. By the time he was done, there was one, even darker, rusted patch of blood blooming on his shirt and some flecks on the sleeves.

More mess—if only he weren't useless without his sorcery!

He clenched his fists in frustration, suddenly aware of his raw, cramped fingers and ragged, poorly groomed nails, ready to lob the bloody shirt out the tower window entirely, but no shirt with "Aggie darling" and her heightened suspicions around would be worse by about a thousandfold. He'd be a dead man walking as if he weren't one already.

Thus, he picked up the balled-up cloth from the sink in defeat. Wet shirt it was then. What other options did he have?

⸻

Incidentally, Agatha turned up with a waterlogged crystal ball that overshadowed the sorry sight of his stained and torn shirt.

⸻

If anyone wants to know the symbolism behind this, I'll gladly explain it! Also, if anyone wants to, I invite you to guess at it.

[calderasletski]

Bound to Revalidate

Forced into a marriage of convenience, Y/n turned to Cherry, the AI calligrapher she trusted, seeking help.

Chapter 1 can be found HERE

Chapter 2

The meeting with her parents went unexpectedly well. She had braced herself for resistance but was pleasantly surprised when Kaoru’s charm, flowery language, and well-timed flattery helped win them over effortlessly.

Now, all that remained was to inform the gang. They had agreed to share the news together, but breaking it to their friends was proving more challenging than anticipated.

They met at Sia la Luce, and the moment Y/n and Kaoru walked through the door, Y/n announced urgently, “We’re getting married!”

The declaration was met with stunned silence. Even Kaoru looked momentarily lost for words.

The stillness was broken by the crash of a plate shattering on the ground, followed by the dull thud of something—or someone—hitting the floor.

“You what?” Miya exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Reki immediately grabbed Y/n by the shoulders, his face contorted with concern. “Y/n, is he threatening you? Is that what’s going on?!”

“No,” she replied helplessly, shooting Kaoru a pleading look.

Kaoru, however, returned her gaze with a resigned expression that clearly said, You’re on your own with this one.

Joe appeared beside Reki and gently but firmly moved him away from Y/n. Y/n thought Joe was stepping in to restore order, but she quickly realized she’d spoken too soon.

“Reki, she can’t admit to it in front of him,” Joe said conspiratorially. “We’ll have to keep her away from him first.” He ushured Y/n protectively away from Kaoru.

“What is wrong with you dimwits?” Kaoru snapped, his patience thinning.

“What’s wrong with us? What the hell is wrong with you?” Shadow barked, stepping in to join the makeshift Y/n protection squad.

“Yeah!” Miya chimed in, glaring at Kaoru. “Why’d you go behind our backs and threaten Y/n?” He turned to Y/n with newfound resolve. “Don’t worry, Y/n. We’ve got your back. We won’t let him near you.”

“I would never threaten her!” Kaoru shot back, visibly exasperated.

“Then how do you explain this?!” Reki challenged, his eyes narrowing. “Wait—oh, this must be a prank!”

“It’s not a prank,” Kaoru replied firmly, though his denial only seemed to escalate their agitation.

With the situation spiraling further out of control, Y/n finally stepped in. “Stop! It’s not like that—just listen!”

…………..

The group fell silent, their faces a mix of suspicion and relief as her words began to sink in.

“Oh,” Reki said sheepishly. “So that’s what it was.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Joe exhaled, visibly relaxing. “I was this close to throwing hands.”

“Well, if Y/n’s getting married, I guess Kaoru’s better than some random guy who might take her away from us,” Miya muttered, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He crossed his arms, adding under his breath, “I would’ve married you myself if I were rich and successful.”

“Aww, you do care about me, Miya,” Y/n teased with a grin.

“Shut up!” Miya shot back, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

“But seriously, I can’t believe you all attacked Kaoru like that,” Y/n said, shaking her head.

“Well, the situation wasn’t looking too great,” Joe admitted. “You looked really tense.”

Y/n sighed and turned to Kaoru. “I’m sorry for blurting it out like that. I didn’t think it would cause this much chaos.”

Kaoru pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, perhaps a little explanation before the announcement would’ve been wise.”

“Wait,” Y/n said, suddenly looking around. “Where’s Langa?”

Everyone froze, realizing they’d forgotten about Langa in the commotion.

“He’s here,” Miya said, crouching down and poking the motionless figure on the floor. “I don’t think he’s getting up anytime soon.”

Joe chuckled. “That’s fine. Shadow can carry him out when we leave.”

“Why me? He’s heavy!” Shadow protested.

...............................

Langa eventually woke up shortly after Y/n and Kaoru left, rubbing his head as the others huddled together in deep discussion about wedding plans.

“Langa, you’re awake!” Reki said excitedly.

“Reki, I just had the weirdest dream,” Langa muttered, still groggy.

“It wasn’t a dream, you moron,” Miya said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, Y/n and Kaoru really are—” Reki began, but Shadow cut him off.

“Don’t hit him with the news just yet! I don’t want him passing out again!”

“I’ll be the best man, so I’m obviously on the groom’s side,” Joe declared confidently.

“I’m definitely on Y/n’s side,” Miya countered.

“I’ve known Y/n longer, so I’m on her side too,” Reki added.

“I’ll stick with Reki,” Langa chimed in.

Shadow sighed. “Guess I’m on Y/n’s side as well.”

Joe looked scandalized. “You traitors! Half of us should be on Kaoru’s side!”

“There are five of us,” Miya pointed out flatly. “Whose body are we splitting in half?”

The group turned to Shadow in unison.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?!” Shadow exclaimed, taking a step back.

[peachfreak1750]

These fucks are so cute! And they fucking support you so love them! Pride motherfuckers! Okay so now to explain Pippin! So Pip is a little dude who was like “I wanna be a caster but I am shit at writing” and he was like “damn that sucks” so instead he did what his parents wanted him to do which was make paper for their paper mill! He ended up going to a kingdom to deliver high quality casting paper to high level Calligraphers, he pisses them off by being a sassy little bitch and runs away, he hides in the kingdom library and he gets distracted. Eventually he finds a very old book with a very old form of casting on it! This font type is Segoe Boot Semilight and he falls in love with it! He takes the book and returns home realizing there is a whole shit ton of ancient fonts that are lost to time! He wants to bring them back but society is like “no too dangerous” and he’s like “fuck you!” But he’s also a kid so at first he just thinks it’s neat and doesn’t want to start a whole revolution. He accidentally starts a revolution because he refuses to stop using it and learning other ancient styles but this brings on like a shit ton of problems because these fonts are way to powerful and fall into the wrong hands! Basically his arch is consequences, with great power comes great responsibility, and keeping the past alive even when the future is trying to burn it away.

Gina = this system is shit ima burn it all down, graffiti is sick and they should teach it!

Pip = they are trying to erase history I have to show the people and bring the old fonts back!

Aja = this world is built for the rich and abled, ima fucking fix that!

[floriographylesbian]

LGBTQ+ Representation: Beyond an Unreasonable Doubt

I wrote a thing about something annoying that I noticed in queer media representation a while ago and I decided to post it here, because I feel Tumblr is where it belongs. I might have gotten the details of some of the shows wrong, as I haven’t watched most of these in while.

Whenever someone tells me to watch a show because “It’s gay,” I ask them two questions. “Is it gay beyond a reasonable doubt?” and, if they say yes, I ask “Is it gay beyond an unreasonable doubt?” The first question is my standard for something being gay enough to warrant that particular sales pitch. The second question is to determine if it will be 100% certified grade-A representation. Now, to explain what I mean by all of this, I need to talk about some gay anime skater boys.

The anime “Sk8 the Infinity” is an excellent example of something that is gay beyond a reasonable doubt, but not beyond an unreasonable doubt. “Sk8” is an anime about using the Power of Friendship to break the laws of physics in dangerous underground skateboarding competitions. The first episode introduces us to Reki, our protagonist and the archetypical teenage skater boy. And Langa, a 17 year-old Canadian snowboarder who moved to his mother’s hometown of Okinawa after the death of his father. The main cast of the show also features a sassy pre-teen catboy, a very buff Italian restaurant owner, and a wealthy calligrapher with an A.I. skateboard. Throughout the first half of the show, Reki and Langa are implied to have romantic feelings for each other, mostly through visual language, which isn’t quite enough for less observant straight audiences to pick up on. In episode 8 while Reki is sulking because of an argument he and Langa had in the previous episode, Langa participates in a skateboarding race for which Reki was not present and realizes that skating isn’t fun without him, because when he skates with Reki his heart races and when he skates without him, he feels nothing. The two reunite in episode 10 with a reunion that my original, chaotic draft of this post described as “very cute and gay.” The final (twelfth) episode, ends with a narration monologue by Langa mirroring Reki’s monologue from episode 1. In the opening narration, Reki talks about happiness and expresses the idea that there is something scary and unknowable about the question of “What is your happiness?” He says that he knows what his happiness is, and it’s implied that his happiness is skateboarding, as the sentence is visually punctuated with a shot of Reki skateboarding. In Langa’s version of the monologue, he also claims to know what his happiness is, and the shot visually punctuating the sentence is one of Reki, implying that Reki is Langa’s happiness. I don’t know what kind of friendships you’ve all been experiencing, but the relationship between these two skater boys seems more than platonic to me. But they don’t date, or kiss, or say they’re gay, so the show has been deemed queerbait, which it effectively is. There are still some people who think these characters are straight, but those people had to do some impressive mental gymnastics to come to that conclusion. Those mental gymnastics are what I mean by “an unreasonable doubt”.

One of my personal favorite examples of something that does meet the threshold of being gay beyond an unreasonable doubt is “The Owl House,” which is so gay that Disney shortened the third season to three extra long episodes spread out by several months. The main character, Luz, is explicitly stated to be bisexual in season 3 episode 1, “Thanks to Them”. Even before that she had been officially dating another girl, Amity, who kissed her in season 2 episode 20, Clouds on the Horizon. No amount of cognitive cartwheels can deny that these girls are not straight. The Owl House also has a non-binary character named Raine whose identity is never named, but everyone refers to them as “they” and no one ever uses any gendered language to describe them. No one could in good faith assume that they’re a man or woman because nothing in the text at all implies they are either. They are non-binary beyond an unreasonable doubt.

Lastly, an example of something that I think is gay, but isn’t quite beyond a reasonable doubt. “Infinity Train” is an anthology series, where each season follows a different set of protagonists in the same setting. The fourth season is set in the 1980s and follows Ryan Akagi and Min-Gi Park, repairing their relationship and re-forming their band. The relationship between the two characters can easily be interpreted as romantic, but I can see how someone might interpret it otherwise without any psychological splits. Gay, but not beyond a reasonable doubt.

This method of categorization is a problem, albeit a somewhat unavoidable one. It shouldn’t have to work like this. Queer media should not have to include a kiss or someone outright stating their sexuality to “count” as gay. Even things like Sk8 that are practically beating you over the head with how gay they are aren’t considered cannon representation because they don’t include that explicit confirmation. The lack of queer representation combined with the prevalence of queerbaiting has made it so we have to gatekeep queer content by drawing arbitrary lines. Some people say that anyone who looks at media without explicit confirmation and comes to the conclusion that the relationship between two male characters is romantic are “destroying platonic male friendship by making everything gay” or something. The more you hear those mental gymnastics the more it gets in your head, and queer people start doubting themselves whenever they interpret something as queer when it isn’t outright stated. I have no idea how to solve this problem, or if it’s even possible, but I can point it out and give it a name, which might help smarter people than me to think of a solution or a deeper analysis.

[saturnsummer]

the fairytale she never had (will you believe again?)

when sol is invited to a wedding, sol doesn’t think her best friend would follow her. 

aka: solhwi attending a wedding

notes: it just struck me one day, and i really wanted them to see each other outside of the law school moments! while law school defines them, they are certainly people with social activities.

 i adapted this from a similar prompt i saw from a fic many years ago for a separate fandom, and i always wanted to write something similar. this was honestly not met to be multi-part, but i write too much anyways. so multi-part it will be.

 also, it might sound depressing in the initial part where sol is talking about the wedding invitation, but it gets explained later on. 

as always, enjoy! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4135 words

I: 我愿变成童话里, 你爱的那个天使 (i am willing to be the angel of that fairytale you love)

--title inspired by fairytale (童话) by Michael Wong!--

Sol absolutely hates weddings. 

She hated the big social crowds, the way drunk men in tuxedos staggered around with women in one arm and a drink in another. She found no purpose in dressing in lavish gowns, then eating dinner for the next two hours without even feeling full. 

Sol couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She can’t help but remember her mother’s failed marriages. The way her biological father left them in the middle of the night, with all their hard earned savings. The way her stepfather, Byeol’s father, would come home drunk and violent towards her mother. It was a memory she couldn’t erase. More than a decade later, she still wakes up in a cold sweat, worrying for her mother and small Byeol’s life. 

She long ago gave up on the concept of love back then. She wasn’t opposed to anyone dating or talking about it, and she certainly didn’t mind short flings. But marriage? Eternal love? The fairytale that everyone hopes to achieve? Sol threw those ideas out of the window. 

So when Sol received a thick, cream-coloured card and envelope, embossed with rose gold foil and flowers, a pretty silver wax seal and her name written in careful strokes of a calligraphy brush, she was stumped. 

Her friend, Im Jiyoon, was getting married. Jiyoon was a good friend of Sol’s, and they occasionally met up for quick meals. Jiyoon was an accountant and climbing the ranks in her company. They lost contact for a period when Sol was in juvie, but they reconnected when Sol was just starting law school. It was only polite that Jiyoon extended invitations to her high school classmate. 

Sol had mixed feelings. The wedding was on a Friday night, which made things good since she didn’t have to wake up early, fitting her schedule properly. But she had nothing to wear. She could borrow a dress and shoes from Yeseul, but the last time she borrowed a shoe from Yeseul, she almost broke her ankle. And she had so much work to catch up on. Yet, not showing up felt rude of her. 

Jiyoon was nice, don’t get her wrong. She was smart, resourceful and lovely to be with in high school. Sol wanted nothing more than for her high school friend to marry the love of her life. But she hasn't been to such social events in years, and being so focussed on school, the legal clinic and contributing to her family, she found it difficult to understand why she needed to go, besides doing it out of courtesy. 

“What’s that?” A familiar voice pipes from behind, drawing her out of her thoughts. There’s the familiar shuffling of several pairs of feet as Sol turns her attention to the one who spoke. Behind her, was Han Joon Hwi with his bag just being set on the table. The rest of the group was just settling in for another study session.

“Ah, nothing important.” She monotonously says before sliding the card in her files. Joon Hwi’s hands catch the card before she can slide it fully and stop her from hiding it from him, or the rest of the group. The rest draw their attention to the expensive card and Sol only stays silent. 

“A wedding? Your friend’s?” Yeseul asks as she picks the card up with perfectly manicured fingers. Turning and feeling the thick paper between her fingers, Yeseul knew it was no cheap manufactured paper. This was expensive, premium, and each card looked handmade from the brush calligraphy. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m going.” Sol says as Yeseul returns her the card and successfully stores it away in her bag. 

“Why not? Don’t you want to be there?” Joon Hwi asks, cocking his head to the side in utter confusion.

“There isn’t much point, is there? I have school and the legal clinic and things to revise for. And besides, I don't have anything to attend in. I just rather send her a gift and treat her a meal.” Sol simply explains. Everyone bombards her with more questions, but she diverts their attention to her paper and the cases they are reviewing today.

Joon Hwi, however, couldn’t get Sol’s reasoning out of his head. He knew Sol well enough to know how much she values her friends, and that she would be willing to drop everything for a friend. Her loyalty was unmatched. It didn’t make sense that she would be held back by her vanity or school work that caused her to not attend such a joyous occasion. 

When everyone is done reviewing the cases and the session ends, Sol is the only one who has her books and papers still scattered all over the table. She still has to review her notes and catch up on a few lectures before she can officially end her day. Joon Hwi was long done, but he stayed put, bringing out a past report he’s done and glancing through it, hopeful to catch any mistakes. The others have headed back or gone to the cafeteria for a meal. 

“Han Joon Hwi, you don’t have to stay for me, you know?” Sol says, her eyes not once looking up as she stays concentrated highlighting her book with a fluorescent orange highlight. She sticks it in her hair when she’s done, raising her head to meet Joon Hwi’s eyes. Joon Hwi only smiles, letting his eyes crinkle. 

“Why don’t you want to attend the wedding?” Joon Hwi asks, still smiling. Sol scoffs. 

“I already said. I’m too busy-” Sol is cut off by Joon Hwi with his teasing. 

“You sure? I think it’s about the groom, though.” Joon Hwi smiles brightly, earning an irritated series of clicks of her tongue from Sol, clearly successful in being teased.

“None of that sort! Who do you think I am, Han Joon Hwi?” Sol rebuts back, throwing her eraser across to him in annoyance.

 Joon Hwi catches it with a laugh, but doesn’t lose eye contact with Sol. A few moments of silence follow, as she looks at the file with the card. Slowly, she draws the card from her file, holding it carefully between her fingers. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I… it’s my first time going to such a social event in such a long time. And the last time I met Jiyoon was a year ago, back in our 1L.” She says softly, letting her fingers brush her calligraphed name.

“I just… rather not go, you know? Treat her to a nice meal somewhere, maybe a couple drinks. Besides, I’m sure she’s just doing it out of courtesy.” She lets out a light laugh. 

Joon Hwi’s heart softens. He’s witnessed Sol in her different elements. The courtroom, where she’s a powerful woman in command, dressed professionally in a suit and hair in a perfect ponytail. The day-to-day her, where she’s comfortably dressed in jeans and her tanned coat, hair in a bun and post it notes on her jacket. She was always so bold, so confident and so full of fire. It never occurred to him that she would be uncomfortable in social events. She was always the life during dinners, with Bokgi. She laughed loudly, engaged in conversations and seemed so comfortable. He remembers how she would help out the old halmeonis with her neighbourhood on some days when he sent her home, or the times she bought ice creams for Byeol’s classmates. She seemed so extroverted, yet so closed off. Eying her, Joon Hwi reaches out and clasps his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort. 

“I never went to school events, you know? Especially since juvie made me miss it. When I redid my high school year, I didn’t go too. There wasn’t much of a point, since I didn’t have a date or many friends to begin with. If it was Dan, she would have gone, being the popular girl she was back then.” Sol softly says, a small smile ghosting her face.

She remembers the day prom arrived for her school. She was expectant, hoping that the boy she liked would invite her. Or maybe the girls that she occasionally had lunch with will invite her to hang out. But all she got was a stone cold silence the weeks leading up to prom. When everyone buzzed on what they were wearing to prom night, she silently put on her headphones, drilling herself into her science assignments. Of course, she wouldn’t be invited.

She knew the rumours floating in school. How Dan was the perfect one, how she was the failed one. She knew everyone knew she went to juvie. She knows how the boys snicker at her when she walks past them, or how the girls gossip and whisper when she’s eating her lunch. Besides, it didn't help that she was poor. She can’t even afford a dress of her own, let alone go to the event.

Realising what she’s said, Sol quickly draws her hand away along with the card and slots it away in her file. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to blabber on. You must think it’s stupid, I think so too. Anyways, do you have the notes Professor Kim...” Sol quickly apologises and diverts her attention to her notes. But Joon Hwi was no longer listening. He was shattered by how the woman sitting in front of him has never been treated like how she should be treated. It was no secret to Joon Hwi that he cared for his friends, but cared a little more for Sol. He was the one that left post-it notes on her table and pretended he didn't. She was the only one that he would let steal a mouth or two from his ramyeon. He could read her moods just from her eyes. He wonders sometimes, if he sees her more than a friend. 

He won’t hide that she’s beautiful. The way her eyes slant in an elegant fashion, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, and her winning smile that he always found his heart beating faster for. He loves the way she smiles at her extra pickles, the way her eyes light up when she sees Byeol, or the way she argues and practices. The tenacity and desire she has to improve inspires him to work as hard as her. 

This is why when Sol spilled the beans, he couldn't help but feel all sorts of emotions. Anger, towards the people in her school, for not realising such a wonderful student. Anger towards her for degrading herself. Sadness, for her not being able to experience such events. 

As Joon Hwi ended the session with her and returned to his room, he made a promise to Sol. He’s convinced it will work, and he begins planning in his head. 

He will show her the fairytale. 

-----

A week passed. 

Sol had to give a reply in a few days and she has not figured out what to say. The wedding was in a month. She knew Jiyoon would be busy... Sol figures that she should just treat Jiyoon after her honeymoon, knowing how she would be away with her husband as newlyweds later on. 

“Still thinking about the wedding?” Joon Hwi nods at her, her head in her hands. Sol, looking defeated, nods. So much for trying to hide. They were at their pantry area of their dorms, Sol stirring her ramyeon, as Joon Hwi slurps his. It was 3am, and they just finished studying. The next day was a weekend, so it didn’t really matter if they slept late, since they got the privilege of sleeping in.

“What do I tell Jiyoon? I don’t want to sound rude.” Sol mumbles, lazily stirring her soggy noodles.

“Go to the wedding.” Joon Hwi says suddenly, continuously slurping. 

“What?!”

“Sol, how many weddings can you even go to in your life? Are you sure you want to miss this one? Besides, you said you haven’t been to social events. Don’t you want to experience it?” Joon Hwi says, adrenaline building in his voice. 

Sol falls silent. She can’t deny that she wants to experience the feeling of being dolled up, the fun that everyone talks about, and the enjoyment that everyone goes through. And Joon Hwi is right; she wants to celebrate with Jiyoon. But her fear of social events and the past was holding her back. 

Joon Hwi could tell the change in her eyes. He gives a sweet smile, knowing that he said enough to change her mind. 

“Joon Hwi, but what if she doesn’t even-” Sol begins doubting herself as she shoots off her doubts and worries. Joon Hwi calms her down with logical reasons, calming her nerves in between his mouths of ramyeon. 

“But... I’ll be alone there, right?” Sol asks, her voice so soft, Joon Hwi barely picks it up. Her ramyeon is still untouched, and the noodles have gotten soggy and cold. Sol is silent for a moment, as she realises how right she is, for once. It wasn’t like she could ask a date, she doesn’t even have one. And her friends from the study group were out of the question. They don’t even know Jiyoon. Joon Hwi quickly brings up his bowl to his face, hopefully covering it as he feels the heat rising to his face.

“I’ll be your plus-one.”

Sol’s eyes light up and her head rises. Did she hear that right? Han Joon Hwi, her plus-one? 

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Joon Hwi, no, I can’t-” Sol can’t find the right words to say. He can't? He shouldn’t? He doesn't need to? Sol can’t deduce her own reasonings for this argument. She knows her roommate likes him, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the target of her roommate’s stares if she catches wind of this. Besides, Joon Hwi doesn’t like her. She knows, and she doesn’t want him to get any wrong ideas. He’s her best friend, and confidante. She knows, deep down, his heart is someone else's. 

“I want to.” 

Sol freezes as Joon Hwi finishes drinking his soup. Placing the bowl down, he does as best as he can to lock eyes with Sol seriously, showing her he wasn’t teasing. No, this was out of his sincere heart. He knows how nervous she gets in a new environment, and him being next to her was bound to calm her nerves just a little more.

Sol could see the genuine care and want in his eyes. She knows this isn’t one of his jokes or teases. For a split second, she catches herself thinking if he meant something more. That going as a date, was more than just keeping her company, but for something to develop… 

Her face is flushed red as she looks at her puffed noodles and lukewarm soup. She picks her chopsticks up but is stopped by Joon Hwi’s hand as he shifts the bowl toward him, away from her. 

“Get yourself a fresh one. This is the first meal all day, isn’t it?” Joon Hwi calls her out, covering her noodles. Sol wants to argue for her soggy noodles, but she falls silent knowing how he revealed her secret. She hasn’t eaten all day after running reports and studying. Grumbling, she does as instructed and boils another bowl of ramyeon. When she’s back at the table with a fresh, hot, spicy and red bowl, she dives into it, wondering how she managed to survive the whole day. 

Joon Hwi only gives a small smile looking at the girl slurping her noodles with delight and looking at her. Joon Hwi wasn’t lying. He did want to be her plus-one for the wedding. He knew that more than just being a comfort for Sol, he wanted to make this one day a day she could look back and smile at. That she could be pretty, relaxed and happy instead of stressing over her grades, exams and family. 

“Fine.” Sol says as she continues slurping the spicy noodles. She blesses the spiciness of the noodles, such that she could blame her pink blush on it. Joon Hwi, clearing the cold noodles and getting water for both of them tilts his head in confusion. 

“Come with me to the wedding, if you want to.” She mutters softly, almost shy to let him know. To hide her blush and hide her confusion, she lifts the still hot bowl to her face. She drinks the soup, but chokes on the spiciness. Joon Hwi lets out a light chuckle before passing her a bottle of cold water. Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes of annoyance, but graciously takes the water. 

As he watches Sol eat her first bowl, then a second, as Joon Hwi munches on some crackers, he only smiles and laughs at whatever Sol was complaining about her reports and her frustrations at her cases that she picked. He lets out comforting words, but is rebutted back with Sol saying he will never get it because he’s smart unlike her. 

As he went to bed that night, he only gave a giddy smile, burying his face in his sheets. He scored his point of taking Sol out on a date, and was already counting down. He officially succeeded in the first step of his plan. 

The rest of it required a little bit of help. But he knew who to ask. 

-----

“Yeseul! What is it that you need to wake me up on a weekend? I was up until 4am last night!” Sol grumbles as she places her phone on speaker, rubbing her eyes. It was 8am, way too early for Sol to process any emergencies. Well, if it was Yeseul, she would do it any time. 

“Sorry, unnie. But it’s urgent. Could you meet me in 10 minutes at the lobby?” Yeseul’s bright voice echos. Sol notices her roomie’s bed made, pillows nicely fluffed and sheets tucked in neatly in pure perfection. She isn’t surprised, considering how she gets up early anyways.

“Fine.” Sol says and hangs up, getting a fresh change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up. She throws on a hoodie, grabbing her only tanned ochre coat and grabs her bag, before jogging downstairs to the lobby. There, Yeseul is standing there, with a sling black bag and with one of the many nude heels she has, hair styled to perfection.

“Unnie!” Yeseul waves her hand over. Walking closer, Sol notices two other familiar friends behind as she scoffs. 

“Joonhwi? Bokgi? What are you doing here?” She asks, her hand playing with the strap of her bag unconsciously. She was surprised to see Joonhwi, but even more Bokgi, who usually spends mornings sleeping in. Joonhwi only gives his usual cheeky smile and drags a drowsy Bokgi with him out towards to the main entrance of the school. Dumbfounded, Yeseul takes this moment to link her arm with Sol’s as she leads her out and catch Sol up to their agenda today. 

“What?! You’re bringing me where?” Sol exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the lobby. Yeseul shushes her as she drags a shocked Sol out of school. Yeseul didn't need the whole school to know where Sol was going. 

“Unnie, please? You need a dress for the wedding, and don’t think you are going to go in one of mine or your old ones! Besides, you promised to go shopping with me one day, right?” Yeseul defends herself as Sol sighs. 

Yeseul wasn’t wrong. The wedding was just a week away and she had absolutely nothing to wear. She owned a couple pairs of flats, but they were so old, it would be embarrassing to attend with those. And her dresses were either too big or too small. She was so caught up with school after submitting her reply to Jiyoon, that she would have forgotten about the wedding if it wasn’t for the post-it on her bedside wall. 

“But...but...” Sol couldn’t find any reasons to counter. She knew Yeseul was right. Besides, it’s a weekend. And they had no upcoming tests or projects, so there was no harm in doing something besides studying in the copy room. She nods, defeated, earning a smile from Yeseul. 

“Wait, then why is Joonhwi and- Who’s car is that?!” Sol’s thoughts are cut off when she sees a familiar black sedan waiting by the entrance as Sol and Yeseul just exit. In the car, she manages to see a Joonhwi in the driver’s seat and Bokgi riding shotgun. 

“Yah! Han Joon Hwi! Isn’t this my roomie’s car?” She shouts as she strides a couple of steps when Joonhwi rolls the window down. 

“She loaned me the car for today. Don’t want you carrying so many things back from shopping today.” He replies curtly. Bokgi opens his passenger side door on the right.

“Bokgi-”

“Noona, sit in front. I’m too tired to watch Joonhwi-hyung drive.” Bokgi mutters before he climbs into the backseat with Yeseul. Sol wordlessly settles into the seat next to Joonhwi, who only looks at her with a smile. Sol catches his odd looks and pauses.

“What?”

“Ready for shopping?” He has his cheeky smile on again. Sol glares in annoyance before turning behind to Yeseul. 

“Did you make him drive?” Yeseul shakes her head and spills out her defensive explanation.

“Oppa called me up yesterday! He just said he needed my help to accompany you shopping for a dress!”

“Then, why is Bokgi here? Trying on dresses too?”

“Noona! I’m listening!” Joonhwi only laughs and shakes his head.

“He’s just accompanying me.” Joonhwi says as he begins to drive off. 

Well, Joonhwi wasn't lying. He waited till their quizzes and projects were over before executing this. He knew Sol was busy, and had waited for the busy season to pass before calling Yeseul. He explained that he knew Sol would not go shop for a dress, and he needs her help to accompany him and her. She willingly, too willingly, agreed. 

Next, he asked Sol B if he could borrow her car, knowing how Sol was not going to go home with just one dress and one pair of shoes when Yeseul was involved. Sol B was skeptical, but just passed the keys over to him. Besides, she was going to be in school studying all day; she didn’t need the car. Bokgi joined in, as Joonhwi couldn’t spend hours on end waiting for the ladies to shop. On further thought, Bokgi just might help him out with something. 

“I could go myself with Yeseul. You didn’t have to wake up for this.” Sol mutters just loud enough for him to hear, fiddling with her fingers. Joonhwi returns with a light scoff.

“As if you’ll do it.” Sol glares at him from the side and is ready to punch him, but retracts her hand, knowing she might literally kill everyone in the car. The ride from the school to the bustling heart of Seoul is a rough twenty minute ride. Bokgi takes this time to catch a wink and Sol does the same, but she can't seem to do it. 

Something about Joonhwi bringing her out to buy a dress specially made her heart flutter a bit more than usual. She knew that Joonhwi cared for her. The ways that he left rolls of gimbaps and energy drinks as opposed to coffee on her table during her tough days. The moments when he would offer his jacket as a pillow wordlessly when she wanted to rest her head after hours of studying. The unspoken synchronisation between them was just a showing of how they understood each other inside and out. 

Sol thought nothing of it. She knew him as long as she stepped into school when he saved her from Professor Yang. They spent almost everyday studying, having classes and eating together. After all, they are best friends, and don’t best friends do this? They look out for each other, right?

He is going to be my plus-one at Jiyoon’s wedding. He’s taking me to shop for a dress. 

Sol wonders, truly for the car ride as she stares outside at the blue skies and empty streets of Seoul, if Han Joonhwi meant more than friends to her. If… she wanted more. 

Deep down, she couldn’t deny hoping for more. She liked the way he looked at her, eyes crinkled and smiling in half moons, the sweet smile that she couldn’t help but return. She has never had many relationships, considering her experience in school and afterwards. She was just too busy; too focussed. Seeing how this man cared for her just made her feel so… special. 

She has never felt that way.

[skyeventide]

my trsb fic has so many notes to the text that they didn’t fit within the ao3 notes’ section character limit lmao, so here is the lengthier version of it. you can consider it a teaser I guess? but either way, I need some place to store these and link them back in the fic.

contents here, cut for length

on the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Celebrimbor’s names

shibbolething all over Thauron’s name

actual quotes and canon

On the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Meril-i-Turinqi is a Book of Lost Tales character, lady of Tol Eressea, kin of In(g)we but also similar to the Solosimpi, which is to say the Teleri.

The character of "Meril" on the other hand, is a proto-Amarie, Finrod's love interest. In the early draft of Meril's appearance, Finrod is married and is father of Gil-Galad: this draft is obviously discarded and Finrod becomes childless, while Meril transforms into Amarie, who does not join the exile. Gil-Galad is instead transferred to Orodreth, which iirc is Tolkien's last word on the matter (I don't count the Fingon thing as even canon-adjacent, ChrisT was quite clear in admitting the mistake). Now I recall Orodreth is said to be married to a Sinda; why did I discard that? Cause I initally forgot it. Rip to me and Orodreth.

However, what I had was: a proto-Amarie, who is a Vanya, and a BoLT character who is of the family of Ingwe (so a Vanya), but also like the Teleri (so of the third clan, even though not a Sinda). And so Meril-proto-Amarie became Meril-i-Turinqi, wife of Orodreth.

The full headcanon on Meril here would have her as daughter of a Vanya who is kin of Ingwe and of Telerin nobility (or royalty? they're all big on intermarrying between royal families), which fulfills both sides of the coin and also stays true to the statement that Elenwe is the sole full-Vanya to join the exile (I'm gonna assume this excludes any non-royalty followers). Now regarding the parentage of Orodreth, he is here son of Angrod, as I feel that is a better option in almost all respects. This poses some issues with regard to age, as I recall Orodreth-son-of-Angrod and Idril as being named the only two non-adults to do the journey to ME (again... this surely excludes any non-royalty youngsters, but nonetheless). Obviously these issues grow even further if one also includes the matter of Celebrimbor being Aman-born to a wife who doesn't follow Curufin (and therefore the matter of his age at the time of exile), but reconciling these versions is borderline impossible with how the origins of Celebrimbor keep changing throughout the conception of the legendarium.

Long story short, I up the age of Orodreth to be at least old enough to speak softly with Finarfin (here his grandfather) during the flight of the Noldor, but I have him already married though childless. Finduilas is born early into the exile and Gil-Galad is her younger brother.

Meril returns to Aman at the end of the First Age and rules Tol Eressea for the exiles who are stuck there until the Ban is fully lifted.

Celebrimbor's names

FN = father-name, MN = mother-name

I do not claim to have come up with "Tyelperinquar is an epesse", that headcanon, which nonetheless I'm sure happened separately for other people, is one I first read in a fic by Tyelperintal on AO3. That of course means that I could no longer go with the FN Curufinwe MN Tyelperinquar option, and needed another mother-name, which I also borrowed from the same story, and went for Ilvanon, "the perfect". It's pretty, and also speaks of a mix of high expectations and love.

What in this story made me accept the epesse headcanon is the matter of the origin of "T(y)elperinquar" as a name. Vinyar Tengwar (and most recently also NoME) explains how "silver fist" is a name common among the Teleri, famous for their ability to smith silver even among the Noldor, and it is also mentioned how other similar names, such as Tegilbor "calligrapher", are given to people based on their skill. This, however, directly contradicts the fact that elves don't give the same name to more than one person. That statement is problematic in itself (impossible that all elves across all time are aware of all names that ever have been used -- and also of course there's the usual royalty exceptions, that however may well be exceptions because they are royalty), but if it is a common name among the Teleri and we are to keep the duplicate names lore in mind... my only solution is that it's a coveted epesse, given to the very skilled.

Celebrimbor picks it as his chosen and preferred name over FN, already shared by two people and preferred as chosen name by his father, and the potential arrogance of picking his MN with its meaning.

This still led me to problems of both spelling and language choices.

As far as spelling goes, there's several variations. I'm marking with * the one that is not canonically attested, but can be inferred.

Pure Telerin: Telperimpar

Quenya-Telerin compound that maintains the Telerin spelling of silver: Telperinquar

As above, but shortened: Telpinquar

Pure Quenya: *Tyelperinquar

Pure Quenya, shortened: Tyelpinquar

I use all these except the last one at various stages: I decided (though I go back and forth on this) that his household might have used pure Quenya, and his mother sticks to it; the person in Tirion panicks and uses the shortened version Telpinquar, which together with Telperinquar (Telerin spelling maintained) was more common among the Noldor. The Tirion passage exemplifies the uses and applications of these names, how they were given and altered.

This leads me to problems of language and POV, Celebrimbor vs Tyelperinquar. His mother, in her POV, always uses the latter, but Celebrimbor himself uses the former. The true problem here was adapting my feeling that Celebrimbor would be far more used to thinking of himself as Celebrimbor (as opposed to the Quenya name) vs Tolkien's statement that elves do not use names in another language when speaking in X language. This doesn't stay wholly true through the legendarium and the texts, so it's something I've decided to partially ignore when it comes to POV, though I tend to stick to it in first person dialogue. Something that again I try to tackle in the text itself -- when Galadriel tells Celebrimbor which language to speak and which name to use for her.

I am not entirely satisfied with all my choices here and I might revisit them in the future, but for the moment, here we go.

Shibbolething all over Thauron's name

Another language and spelling headache. As I encountered the problem of Sauron, I encountered that of the spelling of his name: the eternal TH/S issue. Were I to have Celebrimbor's mother, and Celebrimbor himself, stick to the Shibboleth? I initially attempted to circumvent this by using Gorthaur, but the issue described just above, about mixing languages, yet again bit me in the ass.

Of course it comes down to characterisation: would Mrs Curufin stick to the Shibboleth, and would Celebrimbor? The matter with Celebrimbor was that I don't believe he spoke Quenya with any real frequency after the Nargothrond business, not as a choice but rather due to circumstances and preferences of those around him. With Ercasse, the conflict is part of the character, and that sadly meant that the TH/S choice became less of a personal choice and more of a political one, as usual.

That got me thinking about the circumstances around her and something interesting came to me: Finarfin spoke Quenya with the Shibboleth, because of the Teleri. And in the Darkening he becomes king in Tirion, and also has to adjust things with the Teleri -- not an easy task, imo, when he turns back only after the pronunciation of the Doom, and not just after the kinslaying occurred. Additionally, the Vanyar spoke preserving TH. Additionally x2, by the Fourth Age, Exilic Quenya (which uses S) is associated with those who rebelled and returned to Aman -- meanwhile any Sindar preserved TH naturally, as it's a sound that never went out of use in Sindarin.

So I chose to take these things and make something of it. If Finarfin maintains TH to keep the Telerin influence; if the Noldor who remain in Aman decide to step closer to the Vanyar in an anti-rebellion reactionary manner and to conform to the speech of the king; if Exilic Quenya gains the lower status of language of the exiles; and considering the canon fact that in later ages the elves are more likely to preserve language rather than change it -- what are our chances that Shibbolething gains opposite connotations as time passes? My conclusion was high chances. So I decided to implement it.

And so Ercasse doesn't have to think about her personal allegiances anymore and has a path built in for herself in these social changes. And Sauron is Thauron. (Unless Galadriel is talking: she doesn't Shibboleth, and uses “Sauron” and “Sindarin”.)

Quotes and canon

Many things I wrote are based on canon snippets. Here I tried to collect them.

On Celebrimbor and the mention of the bath of flames in his speech. It isn't, in fact, a corny lineage reference, but rather a metaphysical or pseudo-physical concept of purification from the Lost Tales:

Yet now the prayers of [their parents] came even to Manwe [the highest Valar], and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Turin and Nienori entered into ... the bath of flame... and so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair;

On the naming of Mithril (appears in the upcoming Nature of Middle Earth, as well as already published in Vinyar Tengwar):

[Celebrimbor] was a great silver-smith, and went to Eregion attracted by the rumours of the marvellous metal found in Moria, Moria-silver, to which he gave the name mithril.

On Celebrimbor's ambition and assorted choices, from Letter 131: 

In the first we see a sort of second fall or at least ‘error’ of the Elves. There was nothing wrong essentially in their lingering against counsel, still sadly with the mortal lands of their old heroic deeds. But they wanted to have their cake without eating it. They wanted the peace and bliss and perfect memory of ‘The West’, and yet to remain on the ordinary earth where their prestige as the highest people, above wild Elves, dwarves, and Men, was greater than at the bottom of the hierarchy of Valinor. They thus became obsessed with 'fading’, the mode in which the changes of time (the law of the world under the sun) was perceived by them. They became sad, and their art (shall we say) antiquarian, and their efforts all really a kind of embalming – even though they also retained the old motive of their kind, the adornment of earth, and the healing of its hurts. […] But many of me Elves listened to Sauron. He was still fair in that early time, and his motives and those of the Elves seemed to go partly together: the healing of the desolate lands. Sauron found their weak point in suggesting that, helping one another, they could make Western Middle-earth as beautiful as Valinor. It was really a veiled attack on the gods, an incitement to try and make a separate independent paradise.

Legolas and Aragorn and my choice to use the word love:

"[...]Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have a part in it, for the honour of the folk of the Lonely Mountain." "And I for the folk of the Great Wood," said Legolas, "and for the love of the Lord of the White Tree [Aragorn]."

Celebrimbor and the Elessar. It must be noted that this Celebrimbor is not Celebrimbor son of Curufin, but I still liked the tidbit of lore. From there my choice to have three different Elessar stones, one made by Feanor, one by Enerdhil of Gondolin, one by Celebrimbor (in the fic redressed to Celebrimbor son of Curufin, and without the romantic love for Galadriel):

But he did not say to Galadriel that he himself was of Gondolin long ago. Therefore he took thought, and began a long delicate labour, and so for Galadriel he made the greatest of his works (save the Three Rings only).And it is said that more subtle and clear was the green gem that he made than that of Enerdhil, but yet its light had less power. For whereas that of Enerdhil was lit by the Sun in its youth, already many years had passed ere Celebrimbor began his work, and nowhere in Middle-earth was the light as clear as it had been, for though Morgoth had been thrust out into the Void and could not enter again, his far shadow lay upon it.Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings.

On the vale and the stream where Formenos is located, I utilised this passage from Lost Tales:

[...] here the entire people of the Noldoli are ordered to leave Kor for the rugged dale northwards where the stream Híri plunged underground, and the command to do so seems to have been less a punishment meted out to them by Manwe than a pre-caution and a safeguard. In connection with the place of the banishment of the Noldoli, here called Sirnúmen ('Western Stream') [...]

Relevant LotR quotes about the Eregion passages, used for soil description extrapolations and other elements:

Suddenly Gimli, who had pressed on ahead, called back to them. He was standing on a knoll and pointing to the right. Hurrying up they saw below them a deep and narrow channel. It was empty and silent, and hardly a trickle of water flowed among the brown and redstained stones of its bed; but on the near side there was a path, much broken and decayed, that wound its way among the ruined walls and paving-stones of an ancient highroad. ‘Ah! Here it is at last!’ said Gandalf. ‘This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the Gate-stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late.’ [...] "...there is a wholesome air about Hollin. Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the elves, if once they dwelt there." "That is true", said Legolas. "But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

More TBA if anything comes to mind.

[simprisottowriter]

Hey! Would you mind doing some fluffy hcs similar to the previous ones with Giorno or Bucciarati?

  You got it, anon! Such a great choice for headcanons. Bruno & Giorno are just so lovable and elegant! I've been considering writing about Giorno today, and the timing of this request was just perfect! I'd be delighted to write fluff not only about Giorno, but for Bruno too! Hope you like them! ♡

°Fluff Headcanons°

◇ Being a Capo for many, many years has made Giorno even more busy than before, so whenever he isn't around or he's stuck all day working in his office, he leaves Gold Experience by your side. A stand full of personality and charm. Just like Giorno, Gold Experience loves showering you with gifts! Such as flowers and small cute animals. In this way, Giorno is content and happy that he is hanging out with you, even if his schedule doesn't allow him. Similar to Giorno, Gold Experience is very reserved and difficult to read. Though, you can see the excitement in the stand's eyes when you read a book together or watch a series, especially ones about nature or biology. By using his ability, he would let you see up close some of the most rarest (and harmless) fauna and flora.

◇ When he is staying home all day, he likes letting his hair down. But he is not fond of leaving his luxurious long hair this messy, while he is in someone else's presence. It’s different when he is in the privacy of his home. Outside, he wants to maintain an image. If you have seen him without his complicated hairstyle, that means the trust he has in you is unmatched! He'd definitely let you brush and braid his hair, while he is working or resting by your side. ♡

◇ He's the definition of a morning person. The moment you wake up, the sun hasn’t risen yet. But he has already prepared everything. His morning routine, his outfit, his hairstyle. He has even cleaned a bit around the house and made breakfast. All done in such a short amount of time. When you walk in, you see him finishing his paperwork on the table. As he notices you, he smiles and hands you your coffee. Even if his speech is so calm and quiet, he's so full of life and positivity at such an early hour. There's no way your day can go wrong after waking up to this! ♡

◇ And if you wake up a little bit later than usual, you might miss him, as he usually has already reached his office at that time. Though, a beautiful and vibrant bouquet rests on-top of the table, still staying fresh in its vase, hours after he left. A sweet handwritten card and some breakfast made for you rest near the vase. It's his way of showing how much he cares.

◇ Has a fragrant floral scent, that really reminds you of lavender, mixed with the delicate aroma of some of the finest perfumes. All his clothes delicately emanate this fragrance.

◇ Follows his morning routine religiously. Sometimes, you like waking up so much earlier than usual, around the time Giorno gets ready. As he stands in front of the mirror, you sit by his side, observing every gentle movement of his, sharing a few soft glances. The aroma of hair products fills the room, as with small and calculated movements he sets his hairstyle in place. He’s a bit confused, but finds it sweet how you look with such interest at every bobby pin and hair spray he uses. The moment he applies his hand cream, which has such a familiar scent, you know he has finished his morning routine. He smiles and looks your way again, treasuring the time you’ve spent with him.

◇ Master of time management. You're amazed on how he manages doing so much in a short amount of time! He fits his work, his hobbies and the time he spends with his close ones all in just one day, so effortlessly. Plus, he ends up having some free time too. It's surprising that, at the end of the day, he's not even tired!

◇ And that free time he finds, he'd much rather spend it with someone he's close to, rather than be alone. A walk in a beautiful floral garden or a hangout at a coffee shop sound nice, don't they? These would be the ideal pastimes for Giorno. For the garden hangout, Giorno would love answering your every question about the flowers and plants that surround you. He might be very knowledgeable about them, but he made sure to run through his notes beforehand. Just to impress you! And for the coffee shop one, he would definitely choose something sweet, like pudding. But he would let you order anything! Paying for anything expensive doesn't bother him. Because he values your company undoubtedly much more than money. He just wants to have a little bit more free time to spend by your side.

◇ Adores giving compliments and words of affirmation to the ones he loves. He wants the best for the ones he trusts, and will try everything to help them succeed, no matter if it is a personal or a noble goal.

◇ Keeps his workplace and office very clean! Giorno is generally a tidy person and has everything categorized. But his presence is so obvious from the decoration! A variety of plants and flowers, emerging from intricate vases, cover a great part of the room, while small animals, such as frogs, turtles and fishes, stay in their own terrariums. He owns a great amount of pets, which he cares for daily. Has done incredible amounts of research for each animal, so that he could provide perfectly to their needs.

◇ Has some of the softest and romantic pieces of blues and classical music in a variety of vinyl discs. Would love slow dancing to these with someone special, but till that moment, he just plays them whenever he’s feeling down. 

◇ Fast, cramped and calligraphic handwriting. Favors fountain pens more than normal ones. Has one of the most beautiful signatures you’ve ever seen. His scribbles and doodles are mostly stars, wiggly lines, flowers and plant-like shapes.

◇ Loves capturing each special moment with his close ones, in small delicate photos. Keeps some of them in detailed metal photo frames on his desk. Their color has been faded over time. Owns numerous photo albums filled with memories of the past, and would love to have someone by his side, to help him make even more happy memories together.

◇ Might come off as very confident and bold, but in reality, he is not very accustomed to showing or receiving affection. His past wasn't kind and the love he never received his whole life makes it impossible for him to not freeze when someone shows him even a bit of appreciation. Just holding hands or a simple hug could leave him surprised.

◇ No matter how he is feeling, his first priority is making sure you are happy. He could be returning from a heart-breaking mission, or a task that failed so terribly, but the moment he is outside the door, he'll try his best to recollect himself and put on the brightest smile for you, as he walks in.

◇ But once you're used to his presence, you'll slowly realize how he is truly feeling. No fake smile can hide Bruno’s pain. He might continue not being honest about his feelings, even after you confront him. His voice would tremble, as he tries to keep his composure, and the slight whimpering in his tone would tell a story he himself refuses to. But with a hug or a soft touch on the shoulder, he’d immediately break the act. He appreciates with all his heart how supportive and understanding you are, but he doesn’t want to worry you with his work issues.

◇ Throughout the day you spend with him at home, you can feel his soft and gentle glances. He sometimes looks at you with awe. He believes in you and supports you with such kindness and selflessness. Just his smile could diminish any negativity and solve your every problem. For just some seconds, everything once again would be okay ♡

◇ Has a familiar and delicate aroma of coffee brewing in the morning, paired with a soft scent of vanilla. Bruno feels more humane than anyone else you've met. Warmth that reminds you of home. Whenever you are near him, your mind drifts off to some of the earliest, gentlest and familiar scents of your childhood. You feel safe again.

◇ An absolute sweetheart when it comes to animals. Doesn’t own any, but his heart shatters when he sees the malnourished stray animals in his neighborhood. He makes sure to take care of them, by feeding them and giving them shelter, since no one else does. He’s not as knowledgable as Giorno, but he is incredibly good at recognizing their body language. They feel so comfortable in his presence. Bruno would always go out of his way to make sure that no one is in danger, and this also includes animals. One rainy night, he returned home rain-soaked, with a warm and soft smile on his face. Holding a kitty, that was soaked and trembling from the cold, he explained that he found it alone out in the terrible weather and couldn’t bear to leave it on its own. You wouldn’t have expected anything different from Bruno. You love his caring nature! 

◇ Equally good with dealing with others. He’s a people’s person. Very high emotional intelligence. Immediately recognizes how they truly feel, and reads them like they are an open book. No facades work on Bruno. He could notice and point out even a small change in their behavior or something that is bothering them. After spending a good amount of time with someone, he could fully understand the reasoning behind their actions, attitude or even have a vague idea of what their past was. He’s very attentive to small details that usually would go unnoticed by others. Details that reveal much, much more than the person wants to.

◇ Simply adores jazz! Smooth, calming but extremely elegant. Just like Bruno, thus making jazz his ideal music genre. His love for Miles Davis’s music is obvious. Owns a couple but good vinyls of his, an antique turntable, and all that jazz. 

◇ Keeps items he treasures in the upper zippers of his outfit, close to his heart. Or generally uses his zippers for any item he might need at the moment. You could hear a ringing sound and suddenly he'd unzip his arm, pulling out a phone. Answering it casually like nothing happened.

◇ He might not have a lot of free time, but would definitely use it to spend some quality time with the ones he cares about. A night spent cooking at home or out at a fancy restaurant with his loved one is a night well-spent for Bruno. Even if he doesn’t have a lot of money, he would definitely spend more than usual for a night out with you.

◇ Not a morning person, but neither a night owl. Could be a strong mix of both. After Giorno, he usually is one of the first to wake up. Though, he limits his personal morning routine, so that he can devote his time to clean around the house and cook for everyone. Spends much more hours, compared to Giorno, on caring for the house and for the ones he loves, since his schedule is usually more flexible. But he is the last to nod off. He wants to make sure everyone is safe and well-rested. Plus, his paperwork is almost never ending, so he usually stays up late finishing it.

◇ The best to have around when you have troubles with your insomnia. Will make sure to plan ahead and prepare some chamomile tea for you. And if that doesn’t work, he would hold you in his warm embrace or play with your hair till you doze off ♡

◇ Delicate, neat and legible handwriting. Not necessarily cursive. Medium sized letters, full of character. His signature is his full name, written with such elegance. When he is not working on important paperwork, he mostly doodles shapes, such as squares and triangles, dotted patterns and criss-cross lines.

◇ Like every other person that has high emotional intelligence, Bruno has learned to forgive and forget. Has never held a grudge, no matter how painful his past was, and turns his sadness into love for others. He wants no one to live through as much pain as he did, and goes out of his way to ensure that. Giving praise, helping others and being genuine. Main characteristics of Bruno’s behavior that show his empathy. For Bruno, lack of hatred doesn’t show naivety. It shows maturity.

[tintin-is-my-life]

- FANFICTION - 1st part

An Unexpected Meeting

In these radiant weather, Tintin was walking around the flee market, hoping to find some reading treasures. Suddenly, he froze. He had just noticed a magnificent antique: a Caravel.

He looked at it more closely: "The Unicorn" as it was called. Tintin paid the seller, but at that very moment a man rushed to the stall. He was an American, wearing blue felt clothes. He asked Tintin if he didn't want to sell him the beautiful ship. The answer was no, of course. After that, the man warned him against ill-intentioned people who might be willing to do anything to take the ship. The man got further and further away, and finally left.

Suddenly, a voice was heard:

Wonderful...oh... it's just wonderful...

No need to wrap it up, I'll take it as it is, you don't mind if I pay by check?"

An other interested party... thought Tintin.

The salesman answered: If you want to buy it, address it to this boy!

The man replied: I see... so let the boy name his price...

It's not forsale, Tintin replied.

The man introduced himself : My name is Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine. I recently acquired Marlinspike Hall. And,this ship, as you must surely know, has always been part of the estate.

Tintin: Of the late sea captain?

Sakharine:Yes, but the family has suffered great setbacks. They lost everything! They've gone from bad luck to bad luck. . . Let's talk about. . . generations of drinking and irrational behavior.

Tintin: I'm sorry, but as I told you before, it's not for sale. Goodbye,sir.

Sakharine turned to the seller, asking him if he had any idea who he was dealing with.

Seller: You don't know him? It's Tintin. A famous reporter, he is very well known in Belgium but also in the whole world.

Sakharine: I've never heard of this... kid at all. * squinting eyes and looking scornful* Besides, I've only been in Brussels for a short time. He said as he watched Tintin goaway. Then he left without saying a word.

Meanwhile, Tintin returned to his apartment. He had questions in his head. First of all, why did this boat attract so much covetousness? And what secrets could it be hiding?

Tintin put the boat on his cabinet and went to the library. He needed to learn about the history of this caravel. He learned that "The Unicorn" was in fact a ship in Louis XIV's fleet, and that Louis XIV had offered the Captain, Sir Francis Haddock, a priceless treasure as a reward for his loyalty.But the ship was attacked by pirates, and only the Captain escaped.And ever since then, the family has been under a curse.

In the book, an inscription caught his attention:

"Only a true Haddock can discoverthe secret of The Unicorn..."

Later, Tintin returned home and discovered in amazement that the boat had disappeared. On this discovery, he decided to go where he was sure to find it, at Marlinspike Hall, in other words, the present home of Mr.Sakharine.

He arrived on the spot and without surprise, he found the model ship. But suddenly he received a blow to the head and collapsed.

Sakharine : Welcome to Marlinspike Hall !

Tintin went straight to the point: I came to retrieve my property !!

Sakharine: I'm sorry. I am not sure I follow you...

Tintin : Oh, I think you do !

Sakharine: I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Tintin!

Tintin: There's no mistake ! It belongs to me!

Sakharine: Are you sure?

Tintin: Well,of course I'm sure, I took it home, I put it on the cabinet in the living room. A cat came in and dropped it while I was chasing it ! But, hum... (clears throat) How can that be? The mast is intact....It's not my ship.

Sakharine: It certainly isn't your ship, young man! This one I've had for a very long time.

Tintin : I am sorry, it looks identical.

Sakharine: Well, look can bedeceiving !

Tintin: Yes, indeed, but I don't understand ! Why did Sir Francis make two ships exactly alike? And you have one already ! Why do you want another one ? What is about this model that would cause someone to steal it ?

Sakharine: Goodness me! Why so many questions?

Tintin: It's my job, there could be a story here. That's what I do, you see.

Sakharine: Well, it's not a great mystery, Sir Francis Haddock was a drunkard, and a hopeless reprobate. He was doomed to fail and he bequeathed that failure to his sons !

Tintin: So it's true! The Haddock line is cursed!

Sakharine: What else have you find out ?

Tintin:What is there to find?

Sakharine: That depends what you'relooking for !

Tintin: I'm looking for answers,...Mr.Sakharine.

Sakharine: You're looking in the wrong place. ...It's late! I think you should go home, young man ! Nestor! Take him home!

The butler named Nestor met Tintin at the door and said, "It's too bad, sir... That the mast is broken on your model,sir... I hope you've found all the parts, things get lost so easily.

Sakharine called Nestor back, who finally greeted Tintin before closing the door.

A few minutes later, Tintin went home. He took the keys out of his pocket before he realized his door had been forced. When he entered his apartment, he discovered that all the rooms had been returned, but absolutely nothing was missing. Meanwhile, it was clear that this burglar was looking for something specific, but what?

Suddenly, Tintin saw a light under one of the pieces of furniture, especially the one where he had put the caravel down a few hours earlier. He went down to look, and found a small cylindrical silver-colored object. Inside it was a scroll :

Tintin returned to his office to examine what he had just found.

Then he read the manuscript:

"Three brothers joined , three Unicorns in company sailing in the noonday sun will speak. For'tis from the light will dawn. And then shines forh the Eagle's cross. »

Just after the message, strange signs were written.

Tintin doesn't really understand the meaning of all this:

I don't understand what it is. But it explains why they ransacked my apartment. He must have been looking for this, and they didn't find it. Which means...they'll be back...

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, the concierge went to see who it could be at this hour. Going down the stairs, Tintin recognized the voice of the man he had met in the flee market : the "American". He told Mrs. Pinson that he would take care of it.

The man called out to Tintin: My boy, is that you?

Tintin: What do you want?

The man:Listen, I won't tell you everything, but I swear to God, I never thought he would kill for that !

Tintin: Who? Who are you talking about?

Man: I'm trying to tell you that your life is in danger!

Tintin: Answer me, WHO?

The man didn't have time to answer because suddenly he was shot. He collapsed in the hall of the building with just enough time to leave a clue. With his blood, the man had indicated several letters that made up the word: "K-A-R-A-B-O-U-D-J-A-N."

The next morning, Tintin received the Dupondt for the investigation. The man who had been targeted was called Barnabé Dawes, and he was a very high-ranking Interpol inspector. The Dupondt retrieved the newspaper for evidence and left. Tintin walked them to the door. He stepped out for a moment to say goodbye to the Dupondt as they left. He didn't notice that a man had just stolen his wallet, in which the scroll was. Indeed, earlier in the morning, the Dupondt told Tintin that they were on the trail of a pickpocket who had been raiding the city and its surroundings for several weeks.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Meanwhile, on the boat Karaboudjan...

The ship's captain, Kathrynn Haddock, was busy making an inventory of the goods on the ship, when suddenly one of her "crewmen" injected her with a syringe of a powerful soporific. It was Tom, one of the ship's employees, under the command of a certain Sakharine.

Sakharine had become an intruder on the boat. And now that the captain was out of harm's way, he could take complete control of the ship. Kathrynn found herself trapped in her own boat, in her own holds.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Meanwhile, while Tintin was quietlywatching the Dupondt leave, he was stopped by two so-called "deliverymen"... who immediately applied a chloroform swab under hisnose. The two men loaded him into a crate and drove him to Karaboudjan.

Tintin woke up chained to a cage. Hesoon realized that his pockets were being searched.

Sakharine arrived in the hold andexclaimed:

Tom, Alllan! Have you found it ?

Allan said, He doesn't have it !

Sakharine : If it it is not here, then where is it ?

Tintin, barely awake, answered: Where iswhat?

Sakharine : The scroll from The Unicorn, apiece of paper like this !

Tintin: You mean the poem ?

Sakharine : Yes...

Tintin: The calligraphic poem ?

Sakharine : Yes...

Tintin : Who was in a cylinder ?

Sakharine: Yes !

Tintin : Concealed in the mast?

Sakharine : YES!

Tintin smiled a little and said: Idon't have it !

Sakharine went into a black anger.

He brandished the sword he had hiddenin his cane and threatened Tintin.

You know the value of this scroll,otherwise why would you want it?

Tintin: Two caravels, and two scrollsforming part of an enigma, you have one, you need the other, butthat's not it, there's something else...

Sakharine: I'll find it with orwithout your help. I advise you to think about how useful you are to me...

Sakharine and her henchmen are on theirway back.

We'll deal with him on the way, he says.

By the time Sakharine reached thebridge, he was angrier than ever.

Ah! He's lying, he must have thatmanuscript, the question is what did he do with it ?

Allan : We searched it thoroughly, boss!

Sakharine : I want you to go down there and makehim talk, break every bone in his body if you have to!

Another henchman of Sakharin's cameshouting:

Mr Sakharine, Mr Sakharine, the Captainhas come to her senses, she's conscious and accuses us of mutiny. Shesays you turned the crew against her!

Sakharine : Well, don't just stand there, give hera shot!

Yes, Boss, they say.

Allan and Tom went back to interrogateTintin, who unfortunately had no means of escape.

Well, this time, you're going to tellus where the scroll is ! Said Allan.

Tintin: I've already told you that Idon't have it.

Allan: All right! We'll have fun then!Tom, you joining the party?

Of course, he said, closing hisstitches.

Allan took Tintin's hair to hold hishead and started kicking him in the stomach.

*Cough*... Tintin spat blood.

After a few minutes, Allan pulled out agun to try to get something from Tintin. But it was more to scare himthan anything else, because Sakharine hadn't ordered to kill him inany way.

Allan : You're going to tell us where thescroll is, or else you can say goodbye to your life !

He placed the gun to his temple.

Obviously, Tintin didn't say a word. Helooked at them scornfully and mockingly.

Allan, very upset by the situation,kicked him in the face, then continued with a punch. He then grabbedTintin's collar. And looked him in the eyes.

Allan : You should tell us, becausewe're really going to end up killing you if you don't.

Tintin, about to faint, tried to say afew words.

Allan: What ? I can't understand whatyou're saying ! (Allan didn't realize that Tintin had actually calledthem idiots.)

And with those words he hit him again.This time, his body couldn't resist anymore, Tintin fainted.

Allan : We won't get anything out ofhim now.

Tom: Yeah, let's go tell the boss! And,it's not going to be a party... He hasn't told us a thing...

When they arrived in Sakharine's cabin, Allan and Tom told him that Tintin hadn't confessed to anything aboutthe parchment's hiding place. And, of course, Sakharine became furious:

I told you to make him talk, not to make him sleep! We're wasting precious time while this kid "rests"...In the meantime, go about your business as a sailor. And, Tom, beforeyou do that, you'd better check that Haddock is all right. I don'twant her to find out about our shenanigans. It's much too early forthat now. She mustn't find out. It'll make revenge all the sweeter. He said, rubbing his hands together.

Next on another post ^^

[glitterslag]

All Night Library - A Night At The Fandom gift for @illfoandillfie

Here’s my A Night At The Fandom gift for @illfoandillfie ! I hope you enjoy bby!!! (it started off cute and turned a little angsty idk what happened :( but it has a happy ending!) 

Also, please know that I’ve spent the majority of my degree actively trying to avoid the library so I’m sorry if I got anything utterly wrong!

Summary: A little drabble about an all-night library and the blond haired, salt-and-vinegar crisp eating, fingernail chewing patron who comes to be your secret crush. 

Word Count: 1.5k-ish 

Warnings: Sad cold Rog with no money for his heating bills :(

The library was open 24 hours. 

That was why it didn’t strike you as unusual, at first, when he would appear some time after 10pm, spread his things out messily across the far table under the window (always the same one), and hit the books. 

He was probably a student, you reasoned, with an essay to write or a midterm test to study for. It wasn’t unusual to see them at this hour, especially around exam season.

In fact, you’d often see him with some dog-eared text book in hand, scribbling away furiously as he tugged at his blonde mop in frustration, face set into a hard line as you watched his eyes reading back over the same passage again and again and again. 

Sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, you’d peer around the shelves and take a glance at what he was reading. Biology text books, for the most part, apart from when he was taking a break and then he’d be reading sci-fi. Or horror, or comic books. Or the crossword page in the back of the paper. Or even once, when he was quite sure that no one was around to catch him, a heavily thumbed through edition of Playboy (Gala Christmas Issue). 

As the weeks wore on you noticed more and more little things about your mystery boy. 

There were coffee rings stained onto the front cover of every one of his exercise books. He chewed on the end of his pencil when he was concentrating. He bit his nails. Salt and vinegar crisps were his go-to study snack. He wasn’t a natural blonde. 

Whether or not he noticed you, however, you couldn’t say. He never spoke to you. Never smiled. He never, during any of the countless nights you spent trying not to watch him over your card catalogues, looked up and caught your eye. 

–

When you returned to work after the Christmas break to find your favourite crisp munching, biology studying, comic book reading patron still turning up on an almost nightly basis, it became clear he was going to be a permanent fixture. You began to wonder whether he was an insomniac. 

He wouldn’t be the first to try to find sleep here. There is a special kind of quiet that can only be found within libraries after dark, and it was not unusual to come across someone fast asleep between the aisles when you were stacking shelves at three in the morning. 

The other alternative was that he was homeless. You hoped with all of your heart that it wasn’t the truth, but it could be difficult to tell sometimes. This was London, after all. Students, hobos, people who lived in Shoreditch - they all looked the same, for Christ’s sake. 

You never were one to keep up with the ridiculous trends. 

One night, when he had gone into the other room to rifle through the medicine text books, you decided to go snooping through his things. It was wrong and you knew it, but the chance to find out his secrets was too tempting to pass up on. 

“If he comes back, I’ll just pretend to be tidying up over here.” You thought as you crept over, sneaking a glance over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t there. You started by searching through his rucksack. 

A chocolate bar, a DC comic, muddy football boots wrapped up in a Farmfoods bag. It was difficult to imagine those skinny legs, which were normally stuffed into drainpipe jeans, in a pair of mesh shorts. Difficult, but not completely un-arousing. 

You put the vision into the spank-bank for later, and carried on with your search. Among the more notable items were a pair of wooden drum sticks, and what looked to be his diary. 

After another nervous glance over your shoulder, you opened it eagerly, careful not to tear the pages as you flipped through. Out fell a strip of photos, taken in a booth, of him and a dark eyed boy in a fur coat. They were posing and making silly faces, just like anyone would with their friend, and you realised then that the only time you’d ever seen him smile was in these pictures. 

You found doodles of lightening bolts and superheroes and cars, and crude little depictions of stick men in odd sex positions, little quotes and jokes and sayings and what you thought must be the initials of his name - RMT - over and over in various styles. Bubble writing, calligraphic script, big and spiky and coloured in in purple. You found song lyrics he’d copied down. T Rex, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones. To your surprise, there were some he seemed to have written himself. 

“Sleeping very soundly on a Saturday morning

I was dreaming I was Al Capone

There’s a rumor going round

Gotta clear outta town…”

He’d decorated the page with little musical notes. He’d even gone back and critiqued his own work, crossing out words and writing little red notes in the margin, like “this needs work” or “find a better rhyme”. You were utterly stunned. 

Just then, you heard a shuffle coming from the other room, so you slammed the book shut and left in a hurry. 

–

About a week later, RMT (that was how you’d come to secretly refer to him) checked out some books. He’d never done that before. Sure, he’d sit and read them, for hours, sometimes, but take them home he did not. That was why you were so pleasantly surprised when he strolled up to the counter with an armful, dropping them down in front of you with a flash of a grin. 

Your surge of private joy didn’t last long, however, as when you started the process of checking out his large stack of books, the boy spoke up. 

“You read my diary.” 

You blanched.

He said it matter-of-factly. His voice was soft and high-pitched. There was a hint of accusation there, maybe, but he certainly didn’t sound angry.

Nevertheless, you found you couldn’t speak.

“I…” 

“You read my diary.” 

He said it again. 

“I saw you.”

You fumbled for an excuse. You didn’t have one. 

“I’m really sorry.” You said finally, eyes fixed on his feet. “I just - I was just… concerned.” 

You said finally, shifting your gaze up his body slowly, until you could look him in the face. His expression was unreadable.

“You’ve come here nearly every night for the past three months.” You explained quietly, glancing around to check that none of the few other patrons were within earshot. “I guess I was just a little worried you didn’t have anywhere to sleep.” 

You looked at him apologetically.

He was shifting from foot to foot. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again quickly. “That was so rude of me, I was completely overstep-” 

“It’s fine.” He cut in. 

“Truth is,” He swallowed, glancing around, and then started again. “Truth is, my landlord cut the heating off in my place a while back.”

Your heart sank.

“I come here because it’s the only place in know that’s warm and- and free and..” 

He trailed off.

Now you wished you’d never said anything at all. Looking at him now, seeming almost to shrink under your gaze - it broke your heart. 

“You’re always welcome here.” You said in a small voice. 

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“Of course.”

You smiled at him softly, and it seemed to perk him up a bit. 

“And if you ever need a place to stay…” 

You bit your lip. His eyes widened at the insinuation. 

“I, uh, I’d like that.” 

It was obvious it hadn’t been what he was expected, but he seemed pleased. 

You stamped his copy of Physicians Desk Reference For Prescription Drugs Volume XII before writing down your phone number, along with your name and a little kiss. 

“B-r-i-g-i-d.” He struggled to read upside down. You giggled. “I’m Roger.” 

You closed the book and slid it across the counter to him shyly. The last one. 

“Call me, Roger.” 

He placed his big, warm hand over yours as he took back the book. 

“I will.” 

       «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[izzy-b-hands]

Dancer Chapter Eight/Epilogue

And we arrive at the end! And our epilogue as well. The writing of this one went way faster than I ever thought it would (after laboring over the first part of the first chapter for weeks) but it’s been an incredibly fun ride that has made me all the more excited to write more Kingsman fic! 

Hopefully you all have enjoyed this as well! I’ll be posting my dream cast for Dancer post after this, and trying to finish up the spotify playlist for it asap!

My love to all who read/like/reblog, and who supported this fic all along the way!

The snow was cold against his skin as his eyes fluttered open. 

It was a harsh scene to wake up to. Ainsley was beside him, cradling his head in his hands. A few feet away, Tequila was with the female scientist, looking over Evan’s still unmoving body. 

“He should be coming around,” Eggsy heard her say. 

Harry helped him sit up. “Just rest for a moment, the blast knocked us all-” 

“Why isn’t he coming back round?” Eggsy asked as he crawled towards them through the snow. “What’s wrong, what do we need?”

She sighed frustratedly. “I don’t know. This should be working, I-” 

“What’s your name?” Tequila interrupted. 

“Janice,” she replied with a frown and look of confusion to Eggsy.

“Janice,” Tequila said. “Pleased to meet you. Tell you what. I’m gonna start CPR, and you’re going to keep figuring out what else you can do for your friend. Meanwhile, I bet Harry can see if the helicopter can land closer to us?” 

“Of course,” Harry said, and took off through the snow, into the distance to wherever they’d presumably found a safe spot to land. 

“And then we can get this sweetheart to a hospital that can do more than I can,” Tequila continued, wincing with the first few compressions that Eggsy knew would be breaking ribs. But the extra pressure seemed necessary, as Evan continued to lay on the snow, nearly as pale as it. 

Janice continued to fuss with the kit, but she caught Eggsy’s eye, and her meaning required no words: if Evan didn’t come around soon, he wasn’t coming back at all. And there would be nothing that anyone could do about it. 

The coldness around them faded as he sat, holding tight to Ainsley’s hand, watching as Tequila worked. 

“Let me take over,” he volunteered as he saw Tequila’s shoulders slowing with the next set of compressions. 

Before he could position himself over Evan, there was just the slightest movement.

They all exchanged tentative glances, then cautious smiles as Evan coughed hard, turning to vomit into the snow. 

“Welcome back,” Tequila said softly. “Not too fast now. We’ve got help on the way. Get you to a doctor and get you feeling better.” 

Evan turned, wiped at his mouth, and studied Tequila. “You work with Wyn on whatever all this is, I take it?” 

“You mean Eggsy?” Tequila said, then winced. “Ah. Cover not broken yet. My bad.” 

“Hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him,” Eggsy replied. “It’s alright, I can explain on the way to the hospital.” 

“Oh you most certainly will be,” Evan said, but his eyes didn’t leave Tequila. “And I want to hear more about you as well. Man who saved my life.” 

“Only in part,” Tequila blushed. “You owe more thanks to Janice here.” 

“Thank you,” Evan told her. 

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. “Considering I helped discover the thing that nearly killed you.” 

“It all evens out, doesn’t it?” Evan smiled. “Oh, bit dizzy. And cold, very cold...” 

Eggsy shot Tequila a look, but Tequila was already ahead of him, shrugging off his coat and carefully wrapping it around Evan as he picked him up. 

“That help some?” 

“I think it does, so long as you stay nearby to keep heating me up,” Evan’s giggle was weak, but it was a beautiful sound to hear. 

Just as wonderful was the sound of the helicopter slowly and carefully setting down near them, Harry already half out of it before it fully touched down. 

“Come on,” he fussed with a set of blankets, wrapping one around Ainsley and the other around Eggsy. “You’ll catch your death out here, especially in that.” 

“They never got this wild at the swinger’s club, I take it?” Eggsy asked with a smirk.

Harry’s worried look dropped, replaced by a soft smile. “You still want to hear all those stories?” 

“Got to be a proper story exchange, doesn’t it? I know you were getting intel on this, but it’s more fun hearing it from the horse’s mouth. So, I tell you all about this, and you tell me all about your legendary mission at the swinger’s club.” 

Harry’s arm was warm around him as they settled onto one side of the helicopter’s seating. It was a welcome reassurance, after the last bullet fast few days. It had all gone by so quickly, he could barely begin to go over it all in his head. 

He would have to later, of course. In talking to Harry, in typing up reports to keep on file in their well-encrypted records. There would be the status of the club to figure out, not to mention the rest of Ainsley’s properties in Ibiza. The divorce with Tilde; ensuring Evan would be alright even after being treated for the aftereffects of the formula; going back out to clean up the remnants of the lab in Switzerland that were smoldering now-it all left his head spinning.

For now, sitting with Harry to one side of him, Ainsley the other, watching Janice joke with Tequila as they both fussed quietly over a pale but smiling Evan, was enough to take in. 

He rested his head against Ainsley’s shoulder, and smiled at the feeling of Ainsley’s lips pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

There was nothing quite like a job well done, and a world saved once again. 

-------

Epilogue-6 months later

The walk to Hyde Park from the Kingsman shop wasn’t a long one, but it was long enough to make him take off his suit jacket, wrapping it over his free arm, then slipping his hand back into Ainsley’s. 

Ainsley wore his own Kingsman suit and glasses now, and was officially an agent as of the last month. 

“I want to work for the funding for the Home,” he’d told Eggsy. “It feels right.” 

“Sure you aren’t just addicted to the adrenaline of it, like I am?” 

Ainsley had shrugged. “I might be. But that just makes us a pair, doesn’t it?” 

It certainly did, as far as Eggsy was concerned. Speaking of things official, they were officially an item, moved in to a small house together not horribly far from the Kingsman shop. Dinners with Harry and Merlin, Tilde and Roxy, Evan and Tequila, and Janice (another new agent, though she was now among the ranks of Roxy and Merlin working behind the scenes) were a regular calendar item, every Saturday that there wasn’t a mission or some other obligation, held at their home. 

This picnic, arranged by Tilde and Roxy, was a different version of it, he supposed. But they’d been incredibly insistent upon it, and none of them could turn down a day of resting under the sun with good food and good friends. 

Tilde in particular was excited as they walked up to the space of grass that their group had taken over, and pulled them aside before they could make it to everyone else. 

“Tell me if you don’t think she’ll like it,” she said softly. “I mean, I’m sure she will, she loved it in the shop back in Sweden, even before I went and had it customized, but-” 

The ring she held out in a blue velvet ring box was simple, but pretty, silver with a vine engraved in it that ended in a calligraphic T and R. 

“You’re proposing? What happened to not rushing?” Eggsy joked. It had been evident ever since they’d gotten back and settled that Roxy and Tilde simply clicked, in a way that even he hadn’t with Tilde. Two pieces from the same puzzle, that even when they argued still ended up at the same feelings and/or choice. “I’ve lost a bet now, you know. I gave it at least another month before one of you would propose.” 

“I’ll make it up to you with good cake at the wedding,” Tilde laughed. “She’ll like it?” 

“She’s going to love it,” Ainsley said. “Are you...now? Or-” 

“In a bit,” Tilde cut him off, hiding the box in her jacket pocket as Roxy trotted over to them. 

“Hello boys,” Roxy chirped. “She busy regaling you with how I nearly ruined the cake we made?” 

“Technically we both almost ruined it,” Tilde said. “Got a bit distracted while it was baking...” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Eggsy snickered. “Long as it isn’t completely burnt.” 

“Define completely,” Roxy replied. 

“...Cake can’t really ever be bad,” Ainsley interjected. “Shall we?” 

“You go on,” Roxy motioned for Tilde to go back. “Just want to bother the boys with some work things. Boring spy business.” 

“As if it’s ever boring,” Tilde shook her head, and made her way back to the rest of the group.

“Okay, quickly,” Roxy said, and pulled a small red velvet box from her suit jacket pocket. “I hope it isn’t too much. I wanted something she could show off, you know? She can wear the big jewels, I can’t, not if I should get called in for fieldwork.” 

She opened the box to reveal a decently sized ruby, on a silver band engraved with what looked like rose stems, complete with the occasional thorn. 

“For one of the first flowers I bought her,” Roxy blushed. “She really likes roses, but you know that, Eggsy.” 

“She does, and she’ll love this,” Eggsy said. “So you’re-” 

“Yeah,” Roxy interrupted excitedly. “Soon as I can, without keeping everyone from the food of course. I know we’re all hungry, but I can hardly wait!” 

Eggsy shared a covert glance with Ainsley. “Well, I’m sure whenever you go for it, it’ll be fine. After all, it’s good news!” 

Roxy nodded, then quickly shut the box and tucked it back into her pocket. “She might start to wonder if we’re over here any longer, so come on.” 

She led them the last few feet to the picnic site, and from there it was unbearable.

“Which one first, do you think?” Ainsley whispered as they tucked into the frankly ridiculously huge spread that, if Eggsy had to guess, had mostly prepared by the chefs at the palace, aside from the cake of course. 

“I’ve no idea. Honestly, I could see them both going at the same time.” 

“Me too,” Harry was beside them suddenly, fidgeting with his tie to keep it away from potato salad on his plate. “Merlin insists it’ll be Roxy first though.” 

“I could see that,” Ainsley murmured. “God, this is killing. One of them needs to just go!” 

It became apparent that they’d taken turns asking each attendee of the picnic about the rings, as everyone they spoke to had an opinion on who would try and propose first (Janice had her money on Tilde, Evan on Roxy, and Tequila was another for both of them at the same time.) 

Finally, Tilde got down one one knee...

And pulled the cake container delicately from the over-sized picnic basket. “It probably isn’t terrible. We were sort of too scared to taste it, but we know the frosting is good.” 

“Oh come on,” Eggsy heard Merlin mumble. 

“You know what else is good?” Tilde asked, and he was sure everyone was holding their breath.

“No?” Roxy asked, her head cocked ever so slightly to the side. 

“Um. Marriage. Us, I mean, marrying, like we’ve talked about,” Tilde stumbled over the words, then shook her head as she freed the ring box from her pocket and opened it to Roxy. “You know what I’m asking, right?” 

Roxy smiled, and fumbled to pull the ring box from her pocket, and finally everyone breathed again.

“I called it!” Janice crowed. “Good on you Tilde, and congratulations ladies!” 

“It is a yes, isn’t it?” Tequila teased.

Roxy nodded, and Eggsy could see the happy tears streaming down her and Tilde’s faces. 

“A wedding in another six months or a year then,” Ainsley said. “Did you ever think you’d see that, after everything that’s happened?” 

He pondered the ring hidden away in a drawer of their shared dresser at home, and nodded. “Oddly enough, yeah. I definitely saw it for these two, and who knows who else.” 

Ainsley gave him a knowing look, but only squeezed his hand. 

After all, they had time now. To dedicate to each other, and whatever else might come their way (and with Kingsman, who knew what that might be.) 

And he couldn’t wait for it all, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[ray79513]

Reseaching the Visual World

Sky lantern in Taiwan

What is it?

Sky lantern 

Who made it?

Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kong Ming) was a Chinese famous Shu Han Prime Minister, outstanding politician, military strategist, essayist, and calligrapher during the Three Kingdoms.

 What is it for/ why was it made?

Sky lanterns originated in the Three Kingdoms era. According to legend, they were originally created by Zhuge Liang (Kong Ming), so they are also called Kong Ming lanterns. At first, in order to convey the military situation in the city, the lamp was made to float in the air by using the principle of rising hot air, which caused the wrong "astrology" information to deceive the army of Sima Yi. It is also the pioneer of the hot air balloon in the world today. (Vision Times, 2017)

 Describe what it looks like, including what it is made of (imagine you are describing it to someone who cannot see).

The sky lantern is made of iron wire or bamboo with a bottom frame, and xuan paper is glued around the surface. The bottom is small and the top is large to avoid the loss of hot air. A simple oil paper is placed in the middle of the chassis. After it is ignited, it will rise because the hot air inside is lighter than the cold air outside.

 Why did you choose this image?

The photograph artistically demonstrates the night scene of the sky lantern’s event in Taiwan, accompanying with the Chinese blessing characters on the left one, so I reckon this image can be the significant representative here. 

 Explain why you think it links to your culture.

The lantern-reporting safety function reflects the history of the southern Fujian people from the mainland to Taiwan in the Qing dynasty to cross the sea to cultivate in Pingxi. It gradually became the Lantern Festival, which was a trend of local cultural characteristics in the late 20th century of Taiwan.

   Reference List:

Image:

Robert, International reputation! It has long been a "must-go" festival for everyone-Pingxi's sky lanterns are moving, have you ever experienced it?, image, Accupass, viewed 27 Jan 2020, <https://blog.accupass.com/2017_sky_lantern.html>

Website:

Vision Times (2017) Zhuge Liang, One of the Famous People from Ancient China, online at http://www.visiontimes.com/2017/06/16/zhuge-liang-one-of-the-famous-people-from-ancient-china.html, accessed 27/01/20.

[merryfortune]

The Moon Can’t Shine Without You

Fandom: Star Twinkle PreCure

Ship: Elena/Madoka

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis:  Madoka is acting unusually nervous this morning when Elena greets her before school.

  “Good morning,” Elena greeted Madoka with her ever cheerful smile.

  Madoka shivered. “Good morning, Elena.” she returned placidly. “Would you like to walk into school with me?” Her expression was awkward.

  “Hm…” Elena murmured, and she noted Madoka’s facial expression. “You seem… jittery this morning.”

  “I-I do?” Madoka stammered.

  “Will you tell me what’s wrong if I agree to walk you into the school gates?” Elena asked.

  “O-Of course, I mean… if you insist.” Madoka replied.

  With that, it was settled albeit with a strange reluctance in the mood between them. Something intensified by the fact that their fans were gathering in awe; surprised by the fact that an eclipse was ensuing. Though, such a thing was becoming less and less rare nowadays as Madoka and Elena’s lives had bisected in more ways than one.

  Madoka fidgeted as Elena walked her into the courtyard. Elena patiently waited for Madoka to find her voice, simply flashing her smiles here and there in the hopes that it might coax her courage. Once they were out of sight of their schoolmates and their prying eyes, Madoka was able to relax. Her stiff shoulders finally receded from their staunch place as hackles.

  Elena beamed at her once again, in the shadows of the gymnasium. There, she rested against the wall but Madoka was stiff in her placement, a respectful distance away from her friend. Elena didn’t mind, but it seemed that at this rate, Madoka would never confide in her so she decided to extend some more initiative unto her friend.

  “So, you gonna tell me what’s up or not?” Elena asked, as casually as she could lest anything more intense spook Madoka.

  “I wrote you a poem!” Madoka blurted out.

  “Huh?” Elena blinked.

  Madoka’s eyes fixated on her hands. “I wrote you a poem…” Her voice far quieter this time.

  “Thank you, I love receiving fan letters.” Elena teased.

  “I – I was inspired to do some extra work for my literature homework. Only because I feel that my free verse needed some working as I tend to prefer couplets and the like…” Madoka explained. “And, I don’t know why, but you seem like the kind of person who likes poetry, I apologise in advance if I was wrong in that presumption. A-And if you don’t like the poem.”

  “Nonsense.” Elena beamed. “You spent time and effort to write me a poem, at the very least, I can appreciate the gesture. Besides, a poem from the Moon herself? It’s sure to be a treat. I love it already.”

  “Please don’t say such unnecessarily kind things, Elena. If you dislike it, you’re allowed to say such things. You always put others ahead of you and your feelings, Elena.” Madoka said.

  “Aw, that’s not true.” Elena huffed. “Now, may I read it?”

  Madoka glanced at Elena. There was nothing but truth and honesty in her bright and open demeanour. Madoka was envious of such emotional freedom. And, right now, she felt bad that it was directed at her. Of course, Elena had been gifted poems before and hers was just practice, just practise or so Madoka was telling herself. She swallowed as she procured it from her bag.

  “Here you go… Elena.” Madoka murmured, slightly embarrassed and her heart raced.

  “Thank you so very much, Madoka.” Elena replied.

  She accepted the letter graciously. The finest stationary had been selected and Elena could have sworn that she smelt some sort of perfume on it. It was evocative of blossoms and violets, she felt. Floral, just like home. She beamed and then, as she turned it over, she found her name on it – in English – and in the most calligraphic print that she had ever witnessed. Her heart skipped a beat. Then, with further awe in her eyes, she traced over the seal which kept the letter hidden within its homey envelope. It was a wax seal made of a regal and velveteen scarlet. She didn’t recognise the insignia embossed on it, but she suspected that it was the Kaguya Family seal. Elena felt like a princess as she received as there was something inherently noble about it.

  “May I?” Elena asked.

  “Of course, it’s your letter.” Madoka replied.

  “I just feel bad that I have to tear it open, you know? It’s so pretty, just the way it is.” She confessed as she slid her finger beneath the seal.

  With grace, Elena was able to minimise the damage done to the envelope as she opened it. She smiled with accomplishment; it was a cute look on her face, Madoka thought. But then again, Madoka thought that Elena’s many smiles were all rather charming and adorable. Her cheeks flushed whilst Elena drew forth the letter.

  “May I read it aloud?” Elena asked.

  “If that suits you.” Madoka permitted the act sheepishly and with a feeble hand gesture.

           “Sunflowers in a wide and yellow field

           Just like their petals, I follow you

           With sympathy and grace,

           You tend to those around you

           And having felt your care, I crave it more

           In exchange, I hope that you find comfort in my presence

           Be it in the lull of placid companionship

           Or in the heat of swift-paced action

           Regardless of time and place,

           I find meaning in your beautiful warmth

           I feel cold without the rays you exude

           With just a smile: not just for me, but for all

           I tend to simple wishes in the pale night

           To be by your side; tis a strong yearning

           After all, this small fact heralds true:

          The Moon can’t shine without you…”

  Elena concluded her dramatic reading of Madoka’s poem. Madoka’s face was very red by the end of it and she had traced her own voice in every breath Elena had utilised in her reading. She didn’t realise how well she had written it to be able to remember so much of it. Elena’s face lit up.

  “That was a lovely poem, Madoka. It sounds nice. Really nice, even.” she said. “I feel the same way.”

  Madoka’s fiercely beating heart ceased. “Y-You do?”

  “This is a love letter, yes? Your confession is embedded in your prose, correct? I accept your feelings whole-heartedly, Madoka. I like you too.” Elena replied.

  “O-Oh, I mean. Thank you, Elena, for acknowledging a-and reciprocating my feelings. It means the world to me.” Madoka replied with dewy tears in the corner of her eyes. She had been so terrified of rejection.

  “You mean the whole of space and time to me, Madoka.” Elena replied, unable to resist the inside joke.

  Madoka took a huffy breath; it may have been a laugh. “I’m very glad, Elena. I – I was so worried that perhaps you had received more convincing confessions or more eloquent poetry in the past that mine would pale in comparison.”

  Elena shook her head. “I cherish all my gifts from all my admirers, secret and otherwise, but yours… your letter and your poetry is the most spectacular by far. I don’t want to be rude to my previous suitors, but their works… their works don’t grasp the real me, I feel. Only the me known by reputation and half-hearted observation. But your poem… I feel like it truly got to the crux of who I am, who you are, and who we are together. The moon can’t shine without you, but the sun would be lonely without the moon to share its light with, yes?”

  “Absolutely.” Madoka agreed whole-heartedly with drying eyes and a proud smile, without thinking she had grabbed the ink well around her neck.

  “Come on, let’s get to class, mi amor.” Elena flirted with a wink and she used the letter as fan to enhance her appeal.

  Madoka blushed and Elena continued her straight-forward approach to romance by taking Madoka’s hand. Their fingers interlocked gently, and it just felt so strangely right. Madoka smiled.

  “Of course, Elena.” she murmured back and allowed herself to be swept up into Elena’s pace.

  After all, that was one of the many things that Madoka liked and admired about Elena; her straight-forwardness, her cheerfulness, and her courage to fulfil the whims of her easy-going heart. It was wonderful. Elena was wonderful and Madoka couldn’t help but think of her poem. The moon can’t shine without you, the sun, and that it was true for them as well, Madoka’s luminous smile was incomplete without Elena.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

Tiberius + Urdu

Hey y’all! I love seeing crossovers of Western characters assimilating Eastern (particulary South Asian) culture and Urdu is just one of millions! Urdu is used mainly in poetry and is a very elegant language. So I thought it’d be awesome to have at least one TSC character speak it.

After Kit leaves, Ty finds himself feeling a whole lot emptier and lonelier than he thought he would've been. His anxiety becomes comparatively worse, with Kit and Livia's leaving preying directly on the sources for his anxiety.

His fidgeting gets worse too. One of Julian's handmade fidget toys are always in his hands and he'd managed to break some of them with overuse.

Kit's words keep resonating in his mind, and to keep them from repeating, Ty throws himself into reading whatever book catches his eye in the library.

He hadn't known what Kit meant by them, but after Kit's disappearing act, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know. Kit leaving without even a goodbye had left him in pieces he hadn't wanted, and still didn't want to, explain.

One day, he came across a book on Indo-European languages. Flipping absently to a random page, he stumbled upon Urdu. The South Asian language catches his eye because of the scrolling letters, the calligraphic handwriting and the innate history behind the letters.

Ty's fascination with the letters led to him searching far and beyond the library for any book dedicated to Urdu alone, just to learn how to write and speak in it. He managed to find an old, dusty volume of an Urdu-English dictionary and poured himself over it, his fingers fiddling with the pages and his headphones securely stuck on his ears. He even visited the public library closest to the Institute to find more.

Julian noticed the enormous amount of time that Ty spends in the library and one day, he walked in to find papers scattered around with strange-looking symbols written in shaky hand and Ty asleep on a book. Julian realized that Ty was trying to learn a new language, evident from the three dictionaries and two handwriting books open around him.

Casting a fond look at him, Julian knows what he's trying to do, having witnessed the palpable tension between him and Kit, and being familiar with his younger brother's needs. He draped a blanket around his little brother's slender form and left.

Ty managed to learn the language in five months, successfully having distracted himself from the thought of Livia and Kit and everyone else.

Suddenly, Kit's words echo in his ears. I love you, Ty. I love you.

Ty looked down to where he's doodled five simple Urdu words on a now-crumpled piece of paper, an idea taking place in his head. Jumping out of his seat, he seized the paper, further crumpling it, before running out of the library to Julian's room.

Julian was in there reading something, but shut the book immediately when he caught sight of the frantic desperation on Ty's face.

"Ty? What's wrong?" He rounded the corner of his bed to look worriedly at Ty. Because of the emotional turmoil, Ty found it extremely difficult to look Julian in the eye and instead, focused his attention on a strand of hair from the growing stubble on his brother's jaw.

"I need you to paint something for me." Ty forced out from his tight throat. Julian looked at him silently before smiling and holding his hand out, having noticed the crumpled piece of paper in Ty's hand. "These are five Urdu words. I need you to paint me a canvas with these five words on it."

"And?" Ty looked a little higher to the words his brother was mouthing, feeling the tight feeling lift a little.

"And...I need you to paint Kit's face." Ty stuttered as he said it but Julian simply grinned and looked at the white paper marred with slashing lines. Ty knew he wouldn't have to direct Julian in how to paint the letters in a calligraphic manner, or what he wanted the mood of the painting to be.

"Give me two days," is all Julian says about the entire ordeal. Ty gave his older brother a rare smile, feeling grateful that Jules hadn't asked him any questions. Because he wasn't sure he had any answers.

What he did have was an inkling that Julian knew what Ty's intentions were. Jules was perspective like that. He supposed you had to be, trying to keep four children in line.

The five words made a beautiful phrase Ty had found in one of the dictionaries. Mujhe tum se mohabbat hai.

Together, they meant "I am in love with you."

Two days later, Julian found Ty fiddling with one of the fidget toys in his room. He was holding a wrapped canvas in his hand, paint caked around his fingers. There was a smudge on his face, a product of Julian's unwavering focus when he paints.

"Hey Ty, it's ready. Just let me know if you need to fix anything in it." Julian set the canvas down against the wall and turned to leave when Ty called out.

"Thanks, Jules." He offered another smile, more than relieved that Julian had chosen to let Ty view his work in private. Ty didn't know what expression would be on his face as soon as he saw Kit's face in the painting.

Taking a breath, Ty reached out with shaky fingers to peel the glassine paper away from the painting.

Julian had done justice to the painting. The five words were in bold, black strokes on the right side of the rectangular canvas, almost exactly as Ty had imagined it.

The left side of the canvas stole the air from his lungs. Kit's face was painted in side-profile. The figure had an eerie similarity to the boy who'd left Ty without even meeting him a last time. From the slope of his nose to the sharpness of his jawline, Julian had painted it exactly as it looked . His hair was painted in his signature artfully-messy way and there was a lilt to the lazy smile on his face.

Ty looked at the painting for a while, before thoughtfully picking up a marker, and scrawling six words in all caps below the Urdu calligraphy.

I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.

The hasty handwriting looked slightly out of place amongst the smooth, crisp, elegant strokes Julian had drawn on top of a pink-and-orange background but Ty decided that it gave the piece character.

Not being able to meet Kit's eyes, even in a painting, Ty covered the art piece up again and carried it up to his room. He propped it against the color coded bookshelf before settling himself quietly in front of the window, content to watch the birds fly by. 

How was that? I’m including a picture of the handwriting, but not Kit’s face because I’m not that talented. If I ever figure out how to draw him, I’ll reblog this headcanon!

[leviathanpotato]

Reflections - Young!Remus Lupin x Werewolf!OC

PART 8

part 7     6      5      4      3      2      1

Sorry I vanished for a bit. There was an incident that distracted me for a while. I am glad to finally say that this story is complete. To be honest, I’ve had a few wobbles with this, but I guess I’m kinda happy with it now. Enjoy it.

Ten letters arrived for Elise in the post the next day; each one was more degrading than the next. There was one that stood out in particular. The calligraphic green ink of Dumbledore’s writing was on the envelope. After reading it, she raced up to his office, where he greeted her kindly, despite both knowing there was nothing good coming from their meeting. She listened to his words echoing around the dream, only this time she desperately wanted it to be a dream, she couldn’t face the reality. When they finished, she returned to the letter. She read it again and again, crying a little more every single time.

She screamed, ripping up everything into tiny pieces and shoving it into her trunk. Then she kicked the trunk across the room. Her heartbeat was thudding rapidly. She waited a second for the blood to stop rushing in her ears before she climbed down to the common room.

All the marauders except for Remus were sitting in the room, laughing with each other. Elise smiled painfully and headed over to join them.

The fire was gently crackling as usual and the midwinter sun had already set, despite it having just gone 4 o’clock. The snow still fell, and had created a huge mound of white fluff on the windowsill.

Elise pulled her robes tighter around her, shivering slightly as she sat down next to Lily. She pulled out some last minute homework and began to write. She could hear the others whispering argumentatively, whilst Lily tried to get them to stop. Earlier, she’d had a quiet word with Lily, not wanting any of them to bring up the dance. The three boys started a silent rock paper scissors competition. Whatever it was for, Sirius lost. He coughed loudly, drawing Elise’s attention.

“I have a serious question” Sirius asked.

“Go on” Elise started wearily. She knew Sirius could ask some very questionable questions.

“If…and this is an extremely big and hypothetical if… If you and Remus had kids together-”

Elise choked on air. “What?”

Sirius smirked. “I’m not finished. If you were pregnant, and you transformed, would the foetus also transform? Like, what would happen if you gave birth on a full moon?”

Elise dropped her quill, staring into space. If anyone else had asked that, she probably would have hexed them until they were just a big unidentifiable blob on the floor, but for some reason she felt her anger dissipate. There was no mocking tone in his voice or disgust in his eyes. She’d never had someone be genuinely curious in her condition. If anything, she felt better than before. She was free to talk about herself for the first time ever. “I…” she pressed her fingers to her temples in deep thought. “Stop, this hurts my mind”

“If dogs have litters of puppies, would you have litters of babies?” James piped up.

Elise threw an inkpot at his head.

“You can name them Sirius 1, Sirius 2 and Sirius 3” Sirius went on, ducking as Elise charmed the pillows to chase him around the room.

Remus wandered in. He took one look around the room. Peter and Lily were doubled over laughing, Sirius was being chased by floating pillows and James was dripping in ink. Meanwhile, Elise was trying to clear up a pile of books that had been knocked to the floor.

“Come on girls, we’re leaving” Sirius shouted as he exploded the last of the pillows. He sashayed out, followed by James and Peter. Remus watched them leave, before running over to help pick up the books.

Elise grabbed his wrist, smiling sweetly. “I can do that, go to the others before Sirius does something stupid.”

Remus laughed, accidentally inhaling part of his chocolate. “When doesn’t he?” He joked softly, before walking out of the portrait hole, waving, and lightly sliding it closed.

Elise beamed at him, waving back, still staring for a good thirty seconds after he’d gone before turning to a giggling Lily.

“Shut up.” Elise snapped, hiding a smile behind her book. Her face flushed red.

“You are going to be such a cute couple.” She smiled. The smile slid off her face when she saw Elise’s face fall.

“What’s wrong?”

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

The Christmas holidays came around, and all the students were gathered on the train. Elise had spent the time leading up to Christmas with the marauders, making the most of them. She felt no joy that Christmas had finally arrived, instead she felt a sinking feeling dragging her down. After hiding in the toilets, she shut herself away inside a compartment, closing the blinds. She couldn’t take it.  All the children around her were laughing and playing. The first years were running giddily up and down the corridor. To her, their bubbly excitement sounded like forks being dragged down a plate. Elise grimaced, how could they all be so happy as her world was crashing down? She noticed how students she’d never met made sure that they stayed at least two metres away from her, as though they thought she would jump on them and try to eat their face. The kids in her compartment ran out when she entered, as though she carried a plague.

Irritation simmered in her veins. She ignored it until she felt a stabbing pain in her palm. Looking down, she saw blood trickle down where she had gripped her bag strap so tightly, the corner of the buckle had torn her skin. Hissing, she dropped her bag and started to lick the wound clean. She pretended not to hear the whispers from passers-by.

“Are you okay?” A warm voice interrupted her.

She looked up to see Remus sticking his head through the door. She nodded, not making eye contact with him.

“I’ve been looking for you for ages; do you want to join us in our compartment?”

Elise nodded. After taking her stuff, she tried to slide past him and walk off, but failed when he joined her, matching her hurried pace. Neither of them said a word, just walked in a looming silence. She could sense the questions on his mind, hoping that he’d keep them silent.

“Is-“

“Everything’s fine, Remus.” Elise snapped coldly, cutting him off from saying any more. She sensed his hurt gaze as they continued to amble up to carriage.

“Eli-“

“REMUS” She screamed. He stopped walking. Elise’s hand shot up to her mouth. She cried. Remus grabbed her and pulled her into a long, warm hug. The snow fluttered against the window and Elise cried harder, but silently. He rubbed her back gently with his hand, soothing her.

Eventually, they let go. Elise’s hands trailed in the air, unready to end the hug. Remus took her torn hand in his and kissed it softly.

“I’ve been expelled.” She told him.

Remus dropped her hand like it burnt his skin.

“What?”

“The parents don’t want me at the school. The governors signed an order for my expulsion from Hogwarts because I ‘pose a significant danger to all pupils and staff’” She muttered bitterly. “They say there’s there’s strong evidence linking me to dark magic. I won’t even get to keep my wand.” She sobbed, pulling it out of her robes and gripping it in her hand.

She thought back to the day she got it. She remembered how the midsummer sun beamed down through the windows of Ollivander’s, illuminating the dust in the sunbeams. A young Elise with bright red hair in need of a trim was clutching a wand, watching in awe as it sprayed blue and gold sparks across the room - Applewood, eleven inches, thin and swishy, with a fresh unicorn tail hair. It was perfect for her. Only now that it was being destroyed could Elise truly understand the connection between a wand and its witch. She felt like she was going to lose a part of her – her longest companion, who had been there through it all, was about to be snapped to pieces.

Remus paled. “They can’t… You don’t even have much time left at school” He stammered, but Elise shook her head, placing a finger to his lips.

“There’s nothing I can do. Dumbledore tried to help but they won’t listen. No one will listen to something like us Remus, especially with my aunt.” She pressed.

“But…” Remus started, but then he looked down at his shoes in defeat. The train was slowing to a stop. The familiar yellowing brick slid into view from the window. The platform started to trundle past, tarnished trolleys were strewn across the concrete and parents were struggling to restrain their ecstatic children.

Elise felt the seconds drag on. This was it - the end of the line. She counted for what seemed like hours until the train jerked to a stop, its whistle screeching in the distance. Elise closed her eyes, not wanting to cry. She sighed, stepping aside as younger students sprinted off the train. She could see her parents waiting with tired eyes and dishevelled hair, panic written on their faces.

Elise felt her feet grow heavier as she stepped off the train and walked towards them.

“Wait.” Remus grabbed her arm, stopping her. “I…” He glanced from her to her parents in the distance. “I think I love you.”

Elise smiled painfully. “Well, Mr Lupin, I think I love you too.”

“You can’t leave.” He begged, pulling on her sleeve. She could see the heartbreak in his eyes. She shook her head slowly.

“I’ll write to you.” He said desperately.

Elise couldn’t hold her smile. It dropped into a pitiful gaze She placed a hand on his cheek. “Remus… A werewolf in Hogwarts. It’ll be in the Prophet. Most people already know because of what happened at the dance. I’m a known werewolf with muggle heritage. My blood is about as filthy as it gets and I have close relatives who are death eaters – we have to go into hiding.” She explained. She could feel herself choking up. She hated having to watch as Remus’ face whitened, she could see him breaking on the inside.

“Just my luck isn’t it. I get a crush on the sweetest, funniest girl I could imagine. A girl who truly understands the pain I go through and makes me feel like I can actually live with my condition. A girl who is so unique and beautiful and reminds me that it is possible to keep fighting even when the ones we love don’t take our side. Then when I realise I love her she has to leave.” He told her. “I’ll find you, when this is all over.”

Elise let out a bitter laugh. She couldn’t imagine a life where the world wasn’t going to shit. “Promise?” She asked.

Remus cupped his hands around her face. He hesitated briefly, giving her a chance to move, before pulling her towards him. He kissed her softly. It was bittersweet. Elise felt the joy of finally kissing her crush alongside the devastating realisation that she would probably never see him again. Their lips moved slowly and delicately, the pair of them savouring the moment, but when they sensed her parents edging closer, it became rougher. Elise’s hand jumped to his hair and she pulled him closer, desperate to keep on feeling - clinging on to her final hope of life and love. He did the same, running his hands through her knotted red locks, almost pushing her into him. His hands clutched her with needy desperation. She pressed her chest against him as they backed into the wall, draining each other of every drop of passion. She clung on to the final burst of colour before they separated, and her world faded back to the shades of her black and white television screen.

“I promise.”

Le Fin