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writingsfromhome · 2 months

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Dos and Dont’s Epilogue

Part 1 / 2/3/4

A/N: for those of you still needing more closure with this story this is for you

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6 months later:

My apartment was small but it was mine and I got to share it with one of my childhood best friends I’d reconnected with after moving back to the states last year.

Today the sun was setting on the beautiful November day. I had ordered in sushi and was enjoying a glass of wine, waiting for Deanna to get back home and tell me about her date.

These quiet evenings to myself always got me contemplative. Tonight was no different—I get to thinking about my day on set and how tomorrow was going to look.

After coming back from London and submitting my video proposal last spring, I had been rejected to nobody’s surprise. But that hadn’t stopped Harry from intervening and getting me a spot on set. It became a joke that I was a ghost intern there because really all I got to do was shadow people on set and help out where I could. And it had left me hungry for more.

I started building a portfolio and networking like crazy to get on more sets. So far I’d worked on three, once as a general assistant and twice as an arts assistant. I felt myself moving in the right direction I wanted to and it was thrilling.

I had Harry to thank for that really. And just like always, thinking about him sent a pang of achey regret through me.

I’m not sure what happened between us; we kept in touch loosely after I got back to the States. Mostly we talked about my future work and getting on set but after he actually got me on set and I got busy, our conversations fizzled out.

When I landed my second gig and had to maneuver my old job with Oretta she had ultimately let me go. I’d been bitter about failing something then but now I saw it as the kindness that it was—she had let me go and I had the room to pursue this new career.

It wasn’t easy though. The feeling of failure had driven me into the arms of a depressive episode that had taken me back home to Burbank. And when headlines were made of Harry’s new dates and women of the week, I’d taken it as a sign. We shouldn’t be in each other’s lives.

But I missed him every time I thought about him. And I always hated myself a little for not being brave enough to do anything about it, for pushing him away, and for liking him in the first place.

Clearly I was a very health person.

There was a knock on the door and I knew it had to be Deanna.

She distracts me with stories about her date and how well they hit it off. Apparently he kissed her goodnight right downstairs while I’d been drowning in misery on our living room couch.

The next morning, my phone rings at the ass crack of dawn. I expect it’s someone on set and end up being right. So with a few hours of sleep and a slight hangover from last night’s wine, I pick up a large coffee and get to work.

Last night’s thoughts bleed into my drive to work. It was when I was on set especially that I wanted to message Harry. I wanted to update him about all the cool things I was working on and hear what he thought. It was stupid but I wanted him to be proud of me too.

I wonder sometimes if I should have said something in London, been the bold one and taken a leap.

But I couldn’t have.

Harry was a damn rockstar and I was still figuring out my life. I can’t imagine it could have worked. So was it just the maybe, the what-if of us that kept looping in my mind? Or did what I feel for him mean something real, real enough not to shake so quickly.

A knock on my window scares me. It’s another one of the set assistants—Damien, waving at me. I guess I’ve just been parked staring into space. Oops.

“You need a coffee,” he tells me when I join him.

“Can you believe I’ve already had one?”

“I can probably find you a line of coke somewhere on set if you need something stronger?”

“Damien,” I pretend to be scandalized. But after working with these people over the last few years it was a pretty normal sight to see. “Ease into it first.”

He laughs, “I’m joking. I know you’re not…”

“I know,” it gets a bit awkward as it usually did with Damien and I when we started joking. “I’m joking too.”

His face flushes and I welcome someone calling me over to leave the awkward.

The day passes in a blur, the art director had a last minute change sending me to a local antique store trying to source props which was part of the job I enjoyed. With my headphones in I was in a world of structured creativity.

While I look through gold frames one of Harry’s songs comes on and I skip it automatically. I wasn’t quite ready to listen to his addictive voice croon about lovers of his past.

Not that I hadn’t tried going on dates of my own. But the thought of what-if kept me committing to anyone. If I thought about it for long enough it was actually annoying—how he somehow managed to still block my romantic life.

I’m invited for drinks after we’re done shooting for the day. Even though it’s pretty late I decide to say yes. Lately I’d spent my evenings when Deanna’s out just drinking by myself and being miserable. May as well drink with coworkers.

And I actually missed having regular coworkers, like I used to have Winnie. Shit talking about work to destress and drink was one of the highlights of making friends at work.

I have more to drink than I intended, and a small voice in my brain tells me that the amount of alcohol I’d been having recently might be a sign I’m losing it a little. But I order one last drink to shut it up.

At one point I start talking about horoscopes with someone in the bathroom and she ends up showing me how to use the lipstick I complimented them on to overline my lips, and I somewhat remember signing someone’s napkin and telling them to keep it for a few years and what it would be worth.

I also text Deanna an assortment of things and try to call my sister for a pressing matter that I can’t remember when it goes to voicemail. I end up babbling about drinking too much and needing to cut back.

I don’t know what time it is by the time I’ve ridden my high but I want to go home. I huddle by the entrance trying to remember if I came with a jacket tonight or not.

“You’re not driving home tonight are you?” Damien pops up beside me. We’d chatted throughout the night but I’d avoided any awkwardness by constantly inviting other people into the conversation. But right now he has me cornered.

“I’m a very responsible adult Damien,” I slur. “I am getting a taxi.”

“I can drive you home?” He offers.

“You were drinking too mister.”

“No,” he touches the tip of his nose. “I just had a beer and switched to soda afterwards.”

“That’s cheating,” I touch his nose and he laughs. I laugh too.

“We were invited out to drink,” he shrugs. His face flushes. “They didn’t specify what.”

“Cheater,” I tease. “D’you have a car?”

“I could drive yours home? And take an uber home from yours. We don’t live too far away.”

“No way!” I clutch my purse to me. “Nobody drives my car.”

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“It’s my car!” I let him know.

“But it’s parked on the street. You can’t leave it here weirdo.”

He had a point. Damnit.

“Fine,” I hand him my purse. He opens it tentatively and pulls the keys out.

“I just need these,” he hands my purse back.

“I need those back,” I remind him.

“I know,” he laughs, his hand coming down on my shoulder to lead me out. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m parking it in your garage and handing them right back.”

“Good.” I nod.

I pick the music until he tells me I shouldn’t go into singing and he switches the radio to a classical station. I pretend to snore.

“At least it might sober you up.” He pats my leg before snatching his hand off when he realizes he’d touched my bare thigh.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, how much did you drink tonight y/n?”

“No I really don’t feel good.” I complain.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

I do, I grip my door handle and will myself not to throw up in my car. I was at least lucid enough to know I would hate myself for having to clean it up tomorrow.

He pulls into a Trader Joe’s and I launch myself out in time to throw up on the pavement.

“Are you o-“

“Stop!” I splay my hand out behind me. This was embarrassing enough I didn’t need him to see me actually be sick. “Don’t come closer just…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He calls out and walks away.

How pathetic, I think. How pathetic was I.

Suddenly I want to cry and be left alone. I don’t want Damien driving me home, I don’t want to be drunk, and I don’t want to be here in the middle of nowhere.

When Damien gets back I’m sitting on the curb of a garden bed at the edge of a parking lot. He hands me the water and some electrolytes and gives me space which I’m grateful for. He does linger halfway in the driver’s seat and my anxiety builds until I get up and head back to the car.

“Someone kept calling you,” Damien mentions when I open my door. “I picked up after the third call. I didn’t want to bother you out there.”

“Oh, was it my roommate? Deanna?”

“No,” he scratches the back of his neck. I stare at him, waiting for him to sit back in the car and take me home. I wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Okay…?” I grab my phone from the centre console so I can check myself.

“Someone named Harry? He sounded worried?”

I look up at Damien, wondering if it was a joke even though I know it’s not. He doesn’t even know Harry. His face reflects back an awkward realization.

“Oh.” I can’t get out anything more. I could be decent and tell him that wasn’t my boyfriend—it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Damien was looking at me as more than just a casual friend. And a part of me wonders if that’s the only reason he was helping me out tonight. Then I banish the thought—that was rude. “Thanks for…letting me know.”

“I guess you don’t live with him if your roommate’s name is Deanna,” he tries to joke as he finally gets into the car.

“No that would be hard,” I reply. “He doesn’t live in the states.”

“Long distance,” he nods. I don’t reply and the car goes deathly silent as he drives me the rest of the way home.

I check my phone in the silence, Harry’s texted me. Before he called it seems:

Hey is everything alright?

Y/N I want to call you, you didn’t sound too good in your vm

I’m calling you

Shit! Did I call him first?

My face heats up with a stabbing sensation and I try to blink away the headache that was forming.

I check my call logs and sure enough after calling Deanna I’d called Harry. Why had I called him? I don’t even remember what I said in my voice message.

I groan.

“Is everything ok?” Damien asks.

“No I feel like shit-“

“Do you need me to stop again-“

“No.” I wave his concern away. “I just need to get home.”

I feel bad for him. I didn’t think I was leading him on in any way and yet he had driven me home because he liked me? I decide I’d call him his Uber myself to make it even. To feel like I didn’t owe him something.

When I finally drudge up my stairs to my bedroom I can barely be bothered to remove my clothes or take off my makeup. But my brain is wired thinking about Harry, how he called me.

I must still be somewhat drunk because as I lay horizontally in bed with half of my clothes on the floor I pick up the phone and call him.

H’s POV:

“Hi,” her voice is small and tired. My heart squeezes just hearing it.

“Y/n, you’re alright.”

“Yeah sorry, I think I mis-called you instead of my sister. Your names are beside each other.”

“So you were spilling your guts to your sister then?” I smile.

“Spilling my guts?” I can hear the strain in her voice.

I let her worry for a second longer, “No I’m joking.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “What did I say? Please tell me it was nothing embarrassing? It had to be bad if you called me right?”

“It wasn’t bad.” It wasn’t. But she sounded really drunk for a Wednesday night and she was blabbering about drinking too much these days, and needing to stop. It made more sense now that I knew it was for her sister. “But you sounded very drunk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sort of. I just wanted an excuse to call her and life had given me a pretty one.

It was stupid that I needed an excuse to call y/n after everything we went through. But truth was I had tried to get on with my life after we drifted away. And I think I did a decent job. I made the missing part shaped like y/n smaller and smaller until it didn’t bother me as much she wasn’t around. That we didn’t talk.

It was weird because she was a constant for a year—whether I liked it or not we had to be around each other all the time while she worked for me. Right up to the end even as things soured, as I wore regret like a second skin and forced myself to continue being the dick that she came to know me as.

And then she left and it felt like loosening my tie; breathing a little easier because I wasn’t always so hyperaware of her in the same room or next room over, about how she looked that day or the way she smelled, the joke she made or how angry she was with me.

Yet it didn’t help that she lingered everywhere.

But then I got to have her. All of her for a few weeks and letting her go after that felt more akin to torture than living with the regret for months while she worked for me. It was worse because I had her and I had to let her go.

I thought I knew what falling felt like, what it felt like to love somebody in all their flaws and be seen in return. But then I met y/n, fell for y/n, and everything changed.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “I’m home in bed now.”

“Good,” I want to ask her about him. The bloke that answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks suddenly. “Isn’t it very early there?”

“Nearly half past 6,” I say looking at my watch. “And I’m at the gym.”

“That’s early,” she comments.

“I’m a morning gym person now.”

“Watch out world,” she says. It’s sleepy and makes me think of her curled into me on the sofa as our voices dim into sleep. Then nudging her to stay over and falling asleep in bed with me. So many hours of movies gone unwatched because we were too busy just being in each other’s presence.

The thing was, I had to let her go; you can’t cage a bright and vibrant woman like her. But it hurt doing that.

It sucked being selfless.

“You sound tired,” I say even though I want her on the line. Even if it’s to hear the sound of her breathing. “You should go to bed.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wanted to worry about her, to be close to her enough to worry. And the want of it feels like being punched in the gut.

“You there?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yep, sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here. And it’s fine. I know what can happen when you get drunk, I’m glad you left me the voicemail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I miss you. I miss you so often I worry I’ll be stuck with the loss of you forever. And I care so much about you that I can’t risk ruining your life by having you.

“At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time.” She jokes. Her speech grows slower as I’m sure sleep pulls her in.

“No. Seemed like you would’ve had help though.” I comment. Fuck. I couldn’t resist.

“If I knew any better Mr. Styles,” she says. “I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

She’s teasing me, I can hear it in her voice. But my heart pounds as she calls me out.

“Goodnight y/n,” I say cowardly.

“Goodnight Harry,” she replies. I wait for her to hang up first.

That morning, I have an incredibly productive gym session.

Your POV:

I remember last night in bits and pieces and I’m mostly embarrassed but I can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in my head. The way he sounded when he said he was glad I left him the voicemail. How he sounded almost jealous at the idea that whoever picked up the phone could be more than a friend. I feel sucked right back to half a year ago when I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

The one thing I did know though, I had to really cut back on the drinking.

I go into work with a bag of doughnuts and hope nobody remembers last night in detail. I make sure to thank Damien and he’s as awkward as ever.

My thoughts are replaced by business and set instructions as the day goes on and I’m grateful for that.

At home I dissect the phone call with Deanna and when I’ve had enough I try to distract myself by asking about her life.

In a way talking to Harry again was like taking an elephant-sized step backwards—it felt like I was in the same headspace of wondering about him and yearning for him all over again. I found myself looking him up, checking to find new information on his life. Even when I could just text him and get the answers straight from him.

A couple weeks later as I park my car in my garage and make my way up to my apartment I get a call. It’s him.

“Hi? Harry?” I answer.

“There she is!” He says loudly into the phone. I have to pull it from my ear.

“Jeez you’re loud,” I comment.

“I need you to be louder,” he laughs. And I realize why he’s called. I check the time, it must be near midnight in the UK.

“Are you drunk dialling me?” My face stretches into a smile and it feels like a betrayal. Why did this man affect me so easily.

“I thought that’s what we did nowadays! Call each other drunk!”

“That was once,” I enter my apartment and put away my things while we talk.

“You’ve unlocked the garden door,” he continues. “And now I have stepped through. I am calling you.”

“He rhymes even when he’s drunk!”

“I write music!”

“I know,” I laugh. “Good music.”

“D’you listen to me?” He asks. “I never asked you that.”

“Mmm not really my taste,” I tease.

“S’cuse me?!” He sounds offended. “I have heard your taste and my music is for your palate.”

“No I don’t think so,” I was having fun.

“Y/n.” He says seriously. “I have heard you listening to Troye Sivan.”

“And? Are you comparing yourself with that fine man?”

He sputters and I continue winding him up until I finally confess: “I listen to your music. Just not lately.”

“Why?” He sounds sad.

“Are you drinking by yourself?” I ask. I imagine him in his living room, knocking back a few bottles.

“Yes. I’m drinking all by my lonely self. Because you’re not here.”

“Lonely self? That’s not what the papers say,” I say without meaning to.

“Y/n,” he lets out a small laugh. “Y/n y/n y/n. If I knew any better I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

“Oh you’ve been keeping that in your back pocket!” I flush.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

God, it hits me, what were we doing.

The line goes silent and I try to muster a positive voice to ask something to keep the conversation going but I find I can’t. I feel heavy and sad, like there’s a weight in my chest that’s pulling me down.

“Y/n,” he murmurs. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and I recall a memory of that exact voice in my ear with our hands entangled in his bed.

The ache in my chest grows stronger. So strong I nearly confess three words I barely admitted to myself.

I didn't understand it; how a man that made my life so miserable for so long could tug forth such intensity and longing.

He'd explained it to me—told me why he became what he did. And it just endeared me to him more.

Every man l've dated since, even the man I thought was it for me-Gray, never made me reach so deep into any feeling I was scraping the bottom looking for more.

He knew me enough to nudge me towards this new chapter of my life. This (forced) career change. He knew me in a way nobody else has. It was hard to let that go.

But he wasn't planning on sticking around for any of it—why.

“Why,” I start to ask. I bite my tongue before my impulsivity gets the better of me.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Oh nothing,” I try to play it off.

“You asking something?”

“Nope,” I deny.

“Just ask don’t be shy,” Harry taunts. “Y/n isn’t shy.”

“I-“ I’m tempted but I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then say it.” He pushes. He was pushy for being so drunk.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” I ask quickly.

The line goes quiet again.

“It takes two,” he replies. “To stop.”

“But why did you stop?” I ask.

“It wasn’t enough,” he states simply like it should make sense to me. But it doesn’t.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You got cold.”

“Cold?!”

“Yes!” He shouts again.

“Too loud,” I complain.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You got cold like…like ice. You got icy. You iced me out.”

“No I didn’t,” I deflect his accusation.

“You did! And it wasn’t enough. And I thought y/n doesn’t like me so I let you go.”

What!? I try to make sense of his drunk ramblings. It’s because I was fired from my job, I was lost and spiralling and I stopped talking. I stopped responding to his texts as much until they stopped coming altogether.

“I didn’t like you a long time ago,” I tell him. “That stopped after we talked. After you explained things.”

“Why did you stop?” He asks me instead.

“I…I was going through a rough time. I didn’t mean to but after a while I just thought it was for the better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough time?” Harry asks with a surprising tone of clarity. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

“I didn’t want you to help.”

Maybe I did ignore Harry’s messages because I didn’t want to admit where I was. To admit that I needed his help. And I was too stubborn to admit that his connections in the industry could help me further kickstart my new career. That I could lean on him for help but it felt like cheating in an industry that liked to brag about working hard to earn where you got to. So I’d avoided him.

Jeez. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself until now. And suddenly the shame comes back tenfold. A creeping heat spreads up my neck alongside a slow squeezing of my chest as the silence stretches. I feel exposed and I want to bury myself under my blankets until the feeling passes.

“Why?” His voice breaks a little. I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n,” he says my name again and I want to cry. Because I say I don’t know but I do. And so does he. “Why are you building your walls again?”

I can’t speak, I’m so choked up with emotion and the last thing I want to do is cry over the phone to a drunk Harry. Unless this conversation sobered him up. Which is even more embarrassing.

"What do want us to be?" He asks suddenly.

"You can't ask me that," I say nervously, but the question zips through me in a frenzy.

"No you're right" he sighs noisily. "I think about you.”

"Me too," | whisper. Did he think about me when he was with all those women, I want to ask. Or was it subject to certain moments only.

"You ruined me y/n," he says it so softly I think maybe he hasn't said it at all. But he repeats it even lower and I know I didn't hear it twice.

My heart sings the same tune, and then I realize: how did I expect him to stay in touch and continue on with our lives when part of us would always be looking back at each other.

“I should go,” I try to keep my voice steady. “It’s getting late and Deanna’s coming home soon and I have to-“

“Okay,” he says but the word is laced with more. It’s okay.

“Okay.” I return. Will it be?

Silence again. The tears coating my lashes land on my cheeks and I wipe it away.

“I like hearing your voice,” Harry says.

“Me too,” I sniff.

“Goodnight y/n y/l/n.”

“Goodnight Har.”

***

I meant to text Harry after that conversation. I meant to apologize or say something—create a bridge that we can meet in the middle of. Even if it’s just as friends.

Me and him have been through a lot together, and so much on our own whilst around each other. We should be able to be friends, long-distance, pining but friends. It couldn’t be that hard.

And yet my fingers hover over his name every lunch break and bedtime. I think about him so much it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain.

And yet I never message him. Weeks go by and it stays quiet. Even from him.

On the final day on set I join some of the team for dinner and drinks. I stick to a single glass of wine and promise Damien I could drive myself home. I’d set him up with someone else on set who I noticed eyeing him with a lingering look and they had spent most of the night talking. It was sweet.

The group reminisces about the shoot and everyone pipes in about projects they were going to move onto soon. I didn’t have anything lined up right now so I listen to everyone else.

As night creeps up on us and people start to leave slowly, I text Deanna I was heading home too. After the night I spent drinking too much I’d taken to letting her know where I was and when I was heading home to make sure I stayed lucid enough on nights out. Otherwise we had agreed she would come and get me.

I step out with Damien and the girl he’s become attached to after tonight. We chat outside the place for a bit as her uber arrives and Damien points out he had driven today and parked nearby.

“I don’t know why we didn’t walk up long time ago,” I laugh and turn to Damien. “Don’t worry Damien I don’t need you to drive me home this time.”

“Uhh that’s good,” he says and motions behind me to my car with widened eyes.

“Yes,” I say with a smile. I spin around to my car and freeze.

The last person I ever expected to see leans against my passenger door, arms crossed and smiling with that smile that says I see you and I don’t care what you’re doing but I’m glad I’m here with you.

“Hi,” Harry says softly, his eyes twinkling under the street light.

“Hi?” I gape. “Wh-how-what are you…oh my god!”

His smile grows to a full grin as I throw myself at him and it’s like my mind and my whole world quiets. Like I never knew how loud everything was up until I felt the silence in his arms. Like everything would be okay because he was here.

“Oh god,” I turn back to Damien, remembering he was here too. “Sorry—I wasn’t expecting him to be here-“

“Is this Harry?” Damien asks.

I look at Harry and nod in response. Harry’s eyes flash with something as he leans forward and shakes Damien’s hand.

“I didn’t realize by Harry you meant Harry Styles uh it’s nice to meet you?” Damien’s awkwardness comes back in full force.

Harry’s eyes flicker between Damien and I and I remember that he thought there was something going on here.

“Damien and I worked together on set. Today’s actually our last day!”

“Yeah!” Damien fidgets. “It was a cool time…”

“Yeah?” Harry lights up slowly, realization dawning on him too. “Well I have to say thanks mate, for taking care of her the other night. That was you right?”

“Oh right when I picked up your call,” Damien nods. “Shit I didn’t realize who I was speaking to…” We laugh as Damien grows more awkward. “Anyway I’ll leave you two alone. G’night Y/N. Nice meeting you Harry.”

“Goodnight!” I wave him off.

I turn back to Harry with a huge grin. “You totally thought he was with me didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, his hand coming down on my waist, tugging me towards him. I go without hesitation.

“You’re here,” I take his face in my hands. “How? Why? When? Tell me everything.”

“I was in town,” he starts.

“Really?” I raise a brow.

He laughs, and hearing it rumble through his chest while his arms encircle me feels like a shot of espresso straight to my heart.

"Y/n," his mouth forms my name. I want to taste the way that feels again. See if that's changed too.

"You're here."

"How did you know?" I ask even though I knew it had to be Deanna.

“I have my sources,” he smiles secretly. We can’t stop smiling.

He brushes my hair to the side and it feels like a dream. He was here. He was gathering my face in his hands, hands I only dreamed of.

“I was in town,” he begins again. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

My breath catches and I can't stop staring at him; he looks even more handsome and chiseled than the last time I saw him.

He looked like something that made my heart sing and my stomach tingle.

I trace my hand up his arm and around his shoulder. I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his arms around me.

He laughs which makes me laugh but neither of us take our eyes off of each other.

He reaches up, fingers threading through my hair. "Is this okay?"

"You're always okay," | say which makes him laugh again. What I mean to say is we're okay. Whatever you want to do is okay, as long as it's with me.

"I missed you." He whispers in my ear and it travels right to the centre of my heart.

"Prove it." I respond.

His mouth is delicate as it presses against mine, whispering soft words against them. They make me ache with a hunger I'd only ever felt around him.

When he looks at me again his eyes are more black then green but I recognize them the same. I don’t know how we’re going to make the trip back home when clearly we just want to soak each other in again.

I have an idea.

I open the backseat and Harry looks at me with a mischievous smile.

“Really?”

“You’re not getting lucky,” I roll my eyes with a smile. “But I really want to kiss you indecently and this is the closest place to do that.”

With a laugh he hustles in, tossing something in the backseat, and I follow, every inch of my body aflame. He shuts the door behind me and meets me halfway.

***

Waking up to Harry is better than catching up with him last night. Because things are so much more real when they remain the morning after. It doesn’t feel like just a dream.

“G’morning,” he mumbles when our eyes meet. He looks sleepy but content. Or maybe that’s just how I feel.

“Morning,” I smile, suddenly feeling shy. Last night was all passion and fun but the reality sets in this morning—what were we? Where were we going from here? “M’gonna brush my teeth.”

He follows me into the bathroom, luckily Deanna’s already headed off for work. He brushes with me in the small sink and we can’t stop looking at each other through the mirror. Like our eyes were magnets and they couldn’t help but find their way to the other’s.

“So did you really come all this way for me?” I ask as I brew us coffee. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

He tilts his head, “a couple people know I’m here but everyone thinks I’m just taking some time before we wrap up my album next month.”

“What!” I stop what I’m doing to give him my full attention. “You’re nearly done?”

“Yeah!” He comes closer to me, taking the coffee pot from my hand. “Final sound editing at the studio up north. So I’m s’pose to be here next month anyway but I’m just here early. For you.”

I’m afraid to ask, did that mean he was all mine for the next couple weeks of November? But the moment passes and I continue putting together a breakfast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say for the millionth time.

“Me too,” he kisses the side of my neck and helps me carry our coffees to the table. “I intend to spend as much time with you as possible.”

He answers my unasked question and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside. “Yeah well I just finished on set so I’m unemployed until the next thing I’m on. So I’m all yours.”

“How’s that all going? Tell me.”

So I do. I take him through the sets I’ve been on and the people I’ve worked with. He asks great questions and I feel so deeply seen and not just because he doesn’t take his eyes off of me once.

The conversation leads to a repeat of last night and we end up spending most of the day in bed but I wasn’t complaining.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” he says with a kiss on my head. “Just stayed wrapped up in sheets all day.”

“I think the last time I did this was in London, with you.” I kiss his chin. “That feels so long ago.”

“Every day without you feels so long,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long.”

I shrug, “Yeah. I think I convinced myself it was good. We were fine like that. But now that I have you my god that was too long.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a deeper kiss. He tastes like sleepy familiarity and his hands grip me in places that have made a home for his fingers. I think I was in love with this man.

“What?” Harry asks. I must have paused. “You alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” I go back to kissing him but he pulls away. “No I’m fine! Promise.”

He believes me.

We spend a few days just doing nothing but everything with each other. I introduce him to Deanna and we do dinner together with Harry in a costume so he doesn’t get recognized. Deanna finds it very amusing and so do I. Harry seems tense and I worry it’s because we’re laughing at him but he reassures me it’s not.

I know it wasn’t going to last forever, Harry had a busy life to get back to, but I savour the slow moment we have all to ourselves.

Near the end of the week, while I’m driving us out to a hiking spot Harry brings up something on his mind.

“Can I say something, and you can’t get mad?”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.”

“Try not to?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I can’t promise him that.

“Fine I’ll settle with maybe,” he jokes.

“So are you going to tell me?” I eye him as I pull into the parking lot. He had gone silent.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” He bites his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem a bit distant. Not from me just…from yourself.”

“I seem distant from myself?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he fidgets with his belt and we exit the car. “Like the y/n I know is only 70% there.”

“What?!”

“No see now don’t go getting mad love,” he says and his pet name only softens the moment slightly. “I just wonder if you’re really alright.”

“Of course I am,” I bristle.

“You always have this fire about you but right now-.”

“Jeez Har, if you’re comparing me to before in London I was more high strung than usual, constantly stressed and having personal issues with my ex. And you were making my life hell. Why are you comparing me to her?”

“No I know!” Harry tries to hold my arm but I brush him off and speed away down the trail. But his stupid long legs catch up easily. “This isn’t coming out how I meant to. But even when we were together last spring. You were still you. You just seem a little sad?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull away from him more. “You can’t go MIA for months then pop back into my life and tell me I’ve changed like it’s a bad thing.”

“Y/n you’re purposely not understanding me here,” Harry starts to grow frustrated beside me and it makes me less frustrated sharing the emotion. Like I said—I was very healthy. “I’m not saying you’ve changed. Or that changing is a bad thing! I think you’re a lot more confident and stronger than ever before. I’m just saying your light’s been a bit dimmer in the time I’ve been with you and I’m worried you’re going through something you’re not sharing.”

“Oh my god,” I feel tears prick my eyes and I blink them away before stuffing my glasses onto my face. “My light’s been dimmer? Seriously? I’m fine. I’m okay Harry. You don’t have to worry-“

“But I want to-“

“Well you don’t. And it’s a little late to try and pry me open and dissect what you think is wrong with me.”

“Well I’ve already pried you open it’s the dissecting part that—ow!”

I’ve hit him with my bottle and he shuts up. He was so not funny.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Too little too late, I think bitterly. And the strength of the bitterness surprises me. I stay quiet, not wanting to spew anything I’ll regret later. He trails behind, giving me the space I need.

Apparently I was bitter about our time apart. But I know that wasn’t entirely his fault—I’d admitted to pushing him away because I’d been too embarrassed. Too stubborn to accept I could use his help. So what was it?

I didn’t think I was any less myself than I was a year ago. But as soon as I think it I know it’s untrue.

I sigh and let the sunlight filtering through the coastal oaks and shrubbery warm my skin. Harry continued a steady pace behind me and I feel slightly sorry for getting so defensive.

I continue one step at a time on the worn path walked by so many. I’d done this several times with friends and it was supposed to be special doing it with Harry but I’ve just ruined it.

I ruined it.

If I was any lesser than in my personality, like Harry said, it was probably because I ruined things. And I was upset with myself. I feel like I let Harry go, that I failed at the career I thought I was going to spend a lifetime. I ruined the thing between Harry and I with pride, by pushing him away! And life’s beaten me down with it.

I haven’t been being very honest with myself. Because the truth did hurt. And I’ve been a wimp.

I glance back at Harry but his head his down, his head of curls bouncing at the effort of the uphill slope. My heart floods with warmth just looking at him and I can’t believe I’ve been an idiot.

“Harry,” I stop in the middle of the trail and he nearly bumps into me. He steadies himself on my shoulder and I grasp his hand there before he can remove it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch back there.”

“It’s alright.” He squeezes my shoulder, but his eyes are still wary. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I do that sometimes.”

“No,” I rush to answer. “No you have a point. And I don’t expect you to ever stop calling me out-“

“Likewise,” he gives me a small smile that feels like relief.

“You’re right. I just don’t think I’ve sat long enough to accept it.”

His finger brushes my cheek, wiping the fallen tear. I was not supposed to cry!

“Let’s keep going,” he suggests and I’m grateful for that.

“I think,” I sniffle as my body strains to finish the final stretch of our hike. “I feel like I should be happy and grateful for where I am now. I’m actually really passionate about this new work I’ve been taking on! But a part of me feels like I’m going through the motions. And that makes me feel so shitty.”

My life in London had crashed and burned but it had felt full. Out here I was so spread apart from everyone, I no longer worked at a steady job, and the only person I had was Deanna. Sometimes I think I relied on her too much.

“I think you expect too much of yourself,” Harry puts his hand around my shoulder as we near the end and even though I’m sweaty and it’s kind of gross I let him. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah maybe,” I brush away another tear. “I just don’t feel very present. I’m either living in the future or living in the past.”

Harry’s face twists into what I can only describe as a knowing grimace.

“Well we made it,” I gesture to the open water below us. We stand for a little while, breathing it in. It reminds me of the first music video set I’d been on with him. When we were getting along and he had seen my enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

“I’ve been living in the past a lot.” Harry admits. “More than usual.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Y/n,” he says and I turn to look at him. Right, I flush. Me.

“What the fuck did we do to each other?” I ask and we laugh. And then laugh some more, releasing a tension neither of us realized we were carrying.

We end up sitting in the ground catching our breaths again. He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.

“I don’t know how we keep screwing up.”

“It should be a record,” I laugh. “We really don’t know how to deal with each other.”

“Fucking hell,” he laughs.

“What do we do?” I look up into his eyes that are deeper than the forest we hiked through. They’re so full of love that I could drown in them willingly.

“Firstly I should tell you something, long overdue.” He says. He kisses me with a sweetness before telling me, “I’m madly in love with you. I never thought I could feel this way about someone.”

“Well I don’t know how that someone could be me,” I joke but mostly to cover up just how hard his words hit.

“You wound up in my life when I was at my worst-“

“And taken you even lower,” I joke again.

“No.” He brushes my cheek. “No, that was my own doing. You made me believe I could be better. That I should be better, that I shouldn’t be defined by past mistakes. I love you y/n.”

Woah. I wasn’t expecting that.

I scramble to sit up and face him. “Seriously?”

“So serious.”

“Harry,” I hold his face in my hands. It was true, something I barely admitted to myself but as I roll the words through my head it feels true.

“Don’t feel pressured to-“

“I love you too Harry. God. I love you. That felt good to say.”

He laughs and pulls me to him, and even though we’re smiling too hard to actually get a proper kiss in it’s one of the most romantic moments of my life.

“I don’t think this is going to solve our issues,” he says once we’ve dusted ourselves off and prepare to say goodbye to the view. “But I want to try to stay connected.”

“You’ve told me you love me there’s no getting rid of me now.” I warn him.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I never told you I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you so fucking badly because I was scared you would get so overwhelmed by my life, how much is in the public eye and all of that. I don’t want to subject you to that-“

“We’ve already been papped together remember?” I raise a brow. He blushes as the memory surfaces.

“The night I acted like a complete arse yeah thanks for reminding me.”

“Look at you blushing,” I pat his cheek. He brushes me off. “But I know what I’m getting myself into Harry. I’ve worked for you! I know how public your life is. And we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I reassure him.

“Does that mean…?”

“What are you asking Mr. Styles?”

“Please don’t call me that again,” he groans. “I don’t want to be Mr. Styles to you anymore.”

“No?”

“Only if you’d be Mrs. Styles.”

Now it’s my turn to flush. He laughs at me the same way I did him.

“Harry I barely know what I’m doing with my life. But I do know I love you, and I want to be with you. So I’ll figure the life stuff out as long as I get to have you.”

“That’s very romantic.” He teases.

“I know,” I smile.

“Good. I’d give up the life I have now if it means getting to have you Y/N.”

“Romantic enough,” I tease.

“Remember when we realized we had been at the same Coldplay concert and-“

“Not this again,” I groan. “I’m not bloody asking you to give up your fame and money to start a family.”

“I know I know!” He laughs. “But I just want to tell you that you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

I fan myself, “It’s getting too romantic. Let’s get out of here.”

And that’s the note on which we make our way back down to our car, completely different how we made our way up. It sets the tone for the remainder of his time here.

8 months later:

“G’morning!” I wave to the front desk and walk to the elevator that would take me up to the apartment I called home now. It was spring in the city I’ve grown to love again.

“Is that you?” Harry’s voice calls out when I walk to the kitchen.

“Yes! And I have coffee!” I shout back. I couldn’t sleep last night—first day jitters that I always got when working on a new set.

“Bollocks!” Harry’s voice sounds closer. “I was supposed to do that for you for first day on set.”

“Too bad,” I push the coffee towards him on the island but he ignores it to come to me instead.

“Is it?” He arches a brow. His hands are already running up my sides and my breathing grows shallow. He never failed to pull this reaction from me. Even when we “hated” each other.

I can’t take the teasing so I lean up to press my mouth to his and the coffee is forgotten as he lifts me up on the island and trails his lips down my body. I didn’t need caffeine when I had this.

No. Wait. I had a job to get to.

“Harry,” I try to grab his face back up. “Harry, love, I can’t-fuck.”

“Sorry,” he smiles up at me sheepishly and if I could take a shot of that face it would seriously sustain me for the rest if my life.

“I can’t.” I pout.

“I know. Sorry I got carried away.”

“Drink your coffee,” I steal one last kiss. “Now I feel like I need a cold shower.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I said I was sorry!”

He dramatically moves to the opposite end of the island and sits down, holding the coffee up to his face. “Mmmm.”

I smile at the man who had my soul and heart. I was so glad I’d made the plunge to move back to where he was.

After Harry left the States when he finished his album we had tried our best at long-distance. I was afraid to uproot my life to London again and he was willing to move out to San Francisco but I didn’t want him to. I knew his life was in London.

We tried going back and forth for a couple months. I’d invited him back home to Burbank during one of those trips and everyone had hit it off. It almost felt like the missing piece I was looking for to take the plunge. To decide once and for all I was moving away again.

The last time I moved I was running away from everything I knew because I thought it would gain me independence and a life I craved. But ultimately I came crawling back home.

This time I take the leap running to something.

I miss being closer to family, and living with my best friend. I beg Deanna to visit every time we catch up but recently she’s told me she’s moving in with the guy she’s been dating and it makes me feel less bad about leaving her behind again.

Harry decided to move his work life out of the flat to give me privacy, now his team worked out of a small office in central and sometimes I popped by when he was there. We tried to keep ourselves out of the limelight, and so far things had stayed private.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight,” Harry reminds me. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift there too?”

“No I want to take the train,” I insist. I needed my first day to be independently mine.

We chit chat as we finish breakfast and then I’m out the door again towards my first day. It’s a cool morning but the sun climbs into the sky and I know it was only going to get warmer.

I had promised the city that I’d be back one day and this was it. I had laid down roots once before and I was back to try once more; my heart was open enough to embrace it, healed enough to love it again.

I was embracing life again and it felt like my glow was back.

Jeff keeps asking if you’re showing up to the album launch, Harry texts.

Obviously, does Jeff not want me there? I text—it was a running joke between us ever since we came out to Jeff that he hated us together. His reaction had been surprise and then resignation. He was tight-lipped about us any time he saw us together.

He’d rather you throw the party.

I didn’t miss that part of the job. Now when I look back at my old career I’m not sure how I did it for years. It was a stress I didn’t want back.

He’d have to pay me a million dollars, I text back.

I’ll let him know your new rates

I get to the tube and sit down. As I lose service I get one last text from Harry.

I love you. Break a leg

And then: but don’t get concussed or anything

I roll my eyes but the smile stays on my face. To be loved is to be known but to be loved is also to have someone else know all of your stupid moments and know you won’t ever live them down.

I send back a heart and an eye-roll emoji.

The tradeoff was worth it…most of the time.

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #musician!harry #harry stylesxreader #enemies to lovers #dos and dont’s #epilogue #please know I reviewed this piece only like once so take it for what it is #and yeah

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ctimenefic · 4 months

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So @strawberry-daiquiris wrote an incredible F1 Traitors AU (seriously, go read it) and was kind enough to let me paddle around in the Galex end of the pool.

Many thanks to @latecomersprivilege, for whom this is a belated birthday gift, an almost on time Valentine's gift, and ultimately not what she asked for but what she's getting!

It’s a month since the last episode aired and George hasn’t messaged him.

Oh, he’s in the group chat - he’s the admin of the group chat. He’s posting memes, even the ones about himself, nearly every day. Asking very sincerely after people’s partners, their kids. Adding little crying laughing emojis to almost all the jokes. (Almost all - never Alex’s. Not even once. Which. Come on. Checo’s not even that funny.)

So. Yeah, it’d been bad, at the end, at their last round table together, George damp eyed and smiling through it and Alex nearly fumbling his own defence trying to tell him one more time “it’s just a game”.

But. Like. Not so bad as to cancel out everything else. Or at least, Alex had thought so. Hoped so.

It’s been a month.

Hey just wondering if we shd have a coffee or smthg? Clear the air?

Sure. When?

Nxt wk? Peckham?

(George told him all about his little flat in Dulwich, how he properly loved all the twee village-y shit like the wooden sign-posts and bougie cafes, in their murmured conversations in the hotel corridors, heads ducked together and voices low. Alex had taken the piss, but so softly he’d barely recognised his own cadence. That- that had been the first clue, before he’d started noticing how George’s adams apple bobbed when he got loud.

But Dulwich is packed to the brim with Traitors fans, has to be, all middle class mums and families that gather round the telly of an evening to actually spend time together. They’d be spotted in seconds. So Peckham feels safer, crowded and anonymous and too fucking cool to pay attention if Alex has to get on his knees and beg George to- to-)

The cafe’s still a bit posh, which means it’s basically deserted. George is wearing the kind of T-shirt that only fits that well because it’s expensive.

He’s ordered tea already, and Alex wants to remind him to drink up, like he did at breakfast every morning, because George would always get too into their conversation to finish before it got cold. He’d slug it back anyway, wincing, and Alex would pretend to ignore the line of his throat.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” George blurts. “I know I- I didn’t help, I know, but after, I did want it to be you. You’d worked so hard.”

Alex stares at him. “I never thought I would. Maybe near the end, a bit, but. Well. I got lucky.”

George pulls a face. “Come on, you were brilliant at it. So convincing. I really thought I’d find out you were, like, an actor or something.”

George smiles at that, small and tight. “Oh, yeah, the office have been so weird about it. Saying they didn't watch, and then making jokes that prove they did. I've stopped paying attention to it.”

Alex tries to laugh, like it’s a joke. Like he hadn’t talked George’s ear off about the practice. How he’d use the money, if they won - as Faithful - to get back to his veterinary degree, properly qualify. “Nah, still at my old place. They’ve, uh, let me take the backroom stuff for a bit, while it dies down.”

Alex nods. Pretends George has got better at lying. “Hope they're not being nasty.”

“Oh, not too bad.” The ‘too’ makes Alex want to snarl, set his teeth in someone's neck. Bastards. And George's blasé tone runs a little thin as he goes on. “Might quit, actually, try the influencer thing for a bit. It's basically the same as sales, just, you know. Different product.”

“You'd be good at that,” Alex tries. “Influential. I'd be, uh, influenced.” In the time it takes George to blink three times, Alex experiences all nine levels of hell and a few more added just for him.

I'd be influenced. Christ.

“How are you doing with that, sponsorships and stuff?” George asks and Alex shrugs. He’s got his fans, the ones who think he was robbed, rather than bottled it. His Insta’s big, now, not millions but, like, decent. Marketable. Problem is, he isn’t.

“Turns out, being known as a really good liar doesn’t get loads of hashtag spon ops,” he says, trying to keep it light. Like money hadn’t been the whole point. George’s face falls, the first unrehearsed expression Alex has seen all morning.

“Oh crikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- cause it’s been alright, and I was a traitor too, at the end so-”

“Yeah, but I forced you into it, didn’t I? I’m the bad guy.” There’s a decent TikTok edit of him to that Billie Eilish song, all his smiles and laughs and fond looks, set to the beat of sociopathy. It’s very slick; turned his stomach on the second watch. “Plus, you know, you look like that, which probably helps.”

He knows it’s been more than alright for George. He hasn’t liked any of his Instagram posts, too… proud? ashamed? But he’s seen them all, including the Stories, so George must know he’s been there. Or maybe he doesn’t, maybe there’s hundreds of people, and they’re not mutuals, he remembers abruptly. George didn’t follow him back.

He flips his phone in his hands, once, twice; worries at the crack in the screen down by the bottom right corner, just enough to feel the scrape against the pad of his thumb.

George notices, of course. Those big blue eyes, all the better for spotting clues. Terrible at knowing what they meant. “Do you wanna take a picture for insta then? Show people it’s all water under the bridge?”

“Uh, not really? I mean…” it doesn’t feel under the bridge, or air cleared. Alex still feels like he’s choking on it.

That small wrinkle he used to make fun of appears between George’s brows. “Wasn’t that the point of this?”

“Jesus, no, I’m not-” Alex feels sick, properly sick, hot chocolate coming back on him for a second. “I wanted to be friends - I want to be friends. Again.”

“Again,” George repeats, after a beat.

Alex swallows. Presses the tip of his tongue against the edge of his front teeth, where they turn sharp enough to cut, like a bit of pain now will soothe the sucking void where his stomach used to be. “Right, no, of course. Forget it, look, I'll get these and-”

George catches his wrist before he can make a break for it. His thumb lands in the soft spot between the tendons, where Alex’s pulse beats - ha - traitorously fast.

“Wait. You haven't told me how your mum is. And your sisters. And Luca, obviously, and the cats.”

“The cats?”

“Yeah, obviously. Can't go before I hear about the cats, ‘Lex. All of them. So you should probably, um, sit back down.”

So he does.

#my fic #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #galex #traitors au #an attempt was made #there's probably a part two where they Actually Kiss but good luck future me on writing that

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 months

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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 3)

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 826

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (28)

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Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

Now what?

Emma turned in a circle, looking around Rumplestiltskin’s vault–so tall and vast, she couldn’t see the ceiling. So compact there was no door or window. Had they fixed the past only to die of hunger, thirst or suffocation?

Could they ever get a break?

She turned to see Killian picking up an urn and perusing it, and her heart rate spiked. “Wait! Don’t touch anything!” she said insistently. “If Rumple’s afraid of this stuff, there’s gotta be a reason.”

He placed the item back on a shelf, and turned to her, arms wide in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to figure a way out.”

He was always the optimist. Unfortunately, her optimism had all but run out. They were at the end of the line. “I don’t think there is one, and what’s the point? You heard what he said; he can’t reopen the portal.”

Killian stepped forward, and gave her an intense look–one filled with hope and belief. “But you can! All he said we need is magic. You’re the savior, Swan. You can do it.”

Her heart plummeted. He always had such complete and indefatigable faith in her, but in this instance, she knew that faith was misplaced. Her hands were tied, and she was of no more use in this situation than was the unconscious woman Killian had gently placed on the table.

“Not anymore. I lost it,” she said simply.

A hint of something else–desperation? Frustration? Irritation?-- crept into his eyes as he stepped forward and spoke again. “When Zelena died, all of her spells were undone. Your powers should have been restored.”

What was he implying?

“Believe me, if I could make it work, I would,” she said shortly. “You think I’m faking it?”

For the barest of moments, he hesitated, and she knew he was debating with himself whether or not to say what was on his mind. A look of determination came over his face, and she knew he’d made his choice.

“I think not having magic makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else,” he said, stepping closer to her, “but listen to me Swan. You’re not. It’s time to stop running.”

It wasn’t fair of her after running so insistently from him and her real life for the past couple weeks; she knew that, but she couldn’t stop the frustration from mounting. “You think I don’t know that?” she bit out. “Yes, I run away; that’s how I’ve always survived, but believe me. I want this to work. I wanna go back; I wanna stop running.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “What’s changed your mind?”

Emma thought back to last night when they’d found her mother again and Blue had been able to restore her. She couldn’t hold herself back. The joy and relief had been so strong she couldn’t possibly do anything but take her mother into her arms, laughing and crying, as she held on, cupping the back of Mary Margaret’s head.

“You’re alive!” she’d nearly sobbed.

When the hug came to an end, she looked at her mother to see nothing but a look of confusion. “Thank you. It would appear so.”

Something inside of Emma had broken. Suddenly, in a moment of total clarity, she’d seen the truth.

She needed her family and she loved them more than anything. Everything else had fallen away, all the fear, all the delusion. She decided right then and there that whatever it took, she wanted to get back to her family–her current family, the ones who knew her and loved her and would be devastated if she left. She wanted to get back and she didn’t ever want to leave again.

She did her best to convey all of this to Killian, pouring out her thoughts and emotion. “Neal was right,” she finished.

“About what?” he asked, voice gentle.

“You don’t have a home until you just miss it,” she answered. “And being with my parents the last few days but not really being with them, I’ve never missed them more. Storybrooke is my home.”

It was the first time she’d spoken the words aloud, but she knew with absolute certainty that they were true. Home, the word, the concept, the fact that she was ready to embrace hers left her feeling such warmth and belonging that it was as if it were spreading through her veins, to her very fingertips.

Killian smiled down at her, and she couldn’t stop her answering smile. “What?” she asked.

“Look down,” he answered simply.

The wand she still held in her hand was glowing a bright, vibrant white, and Emma knew Killian was right. Her magic was back. All she’d needed to do was embrace it, embrace her home and family and destiny.

“I’d say you got your magic back,” he continued. “Now, should we go?”

Nothing in the world sounded better.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #captain swan fanfiction #3x22 fanfiction #my fanfiction

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goldendoodlerlockerlove · 6 months

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who is your favorite bob's burgers character? what's your favorite aspect about them?? what's your LEAST FAVORITE??

Thank you so much @br1ghtestlight for giving me this ask!! 😭❣️ Just for the future, though, if anyone wants to give me an ask, it’ll have to be through this account, because any ask given through my main account disappears because I’m still Shadowbanned and Tumblr is mean 😒

But onto the actual question!! Well, Light, you already know my absolute favorite is 1,000% our precious baby boy, Gene. I think my favorite aspect about him is that he has some of the best lines in the show humor-wise, but he has a great deal of depth hidden underneath the surface. He’s genuinely an incredibly talented musician (even though he and show claims he only knows a few chords, come on, he’s actually super talented) and he’s such a sweet person. He doesn’t enjoy pranking people simply because it makes them confused and uncomfortable. He just wants people to be happy!! 🥺

He also has a bigger body type which is rarely commented on and he has a love of food which is super relatable to me (I just love food, pffffft). And the headcanons of him being Genderfluid gives me an insane amount of Serotonin. It just makes me insanely happy. As a Genderfluid person, it makes me feel seen and represented, even though he’s not canonically Genderfluid. Just seeing him be unapologetically himself is incredibly lovely.

Now, because there are just so many characters I love, I must list a second favorite. And that would be Bob!! Previously, I’ve said Linda, and don’t get me wrong, I still love her. She’s hilarious and amazing and truly the best wife (🎶 Best of Wives and Best of Women 🎶) but there’s just something about Bob that’s so relatable to me. He’s always tired but always tries his best. Not to mention that his passion for cooking and feeding people is just so sweet 🥹 He loves making food for people and having food bring people together!! It’s so lovely.

Bob is also super Introverted which I relate to very hard. He has a hard time making connections with other people, and has a tight-knit circle (AKA his family) that he prefers spending his time with. And he sometimes has difficulty talking to people without coming across as weird, which I also relate to. Plus, his little quirks are so endearing, like talking to inanimate objects and pretending they’re alive. And getting so hilariously excited about Thanksgiving 🤣

And Bob and Gene together brings one of the most underrated and sweetest relationships in the Belcher family. Their Father/Son relationship is always so adorable to see. The Laser-Inth will forever be my favorite Bob and Gene episode, and probably solidified these two as my favorites.

As for my least favorite, at first I was going to say that’s difficult, because I love almost every character in the show for one reason or another. But then I realized what the obvious choices are: Gloria and Al. They are the absolute worst. Linda deserves good, doting parents, and these two are the complete opposite of that in every way. Sure, maybe they were slightly better when Linda and Gayle were younger, but definitely not now. The Terminilator II: Terminals of Endearment really solidified just how awful they truly are.

Linda dropped everything to help them at the airport, even forcing Bob to close the restaurant for the rest of the day. Then the entire family went on a wild goose chase trying to track down both Gloria and Al, who somehow kept escaping from their line of sight. Only to find out that these two could’ve bought Al’s cream at the airport themselves the whole time. Not to mention the fact that they found out that Gloria just stole Bob’s charger and refuses to admit it. They keep making excuses for their horrible parenting and Linda just has to deal with it, which is wildly unfair.

Plus, Gloria once told Linda that they aren’t the type of people who build things?? Who says that to their daughter?? These two frustrate me to no end. Definitely the worst characters in the show, no contest.

Tina gets an honorable mention simply because of how relatable she is and how sweet she is. She just has such a kind heart like Gene (except when it comes to Tammy ☠️). But that’s okay, because Jimmy Jr. loves it when she’s mean 😌

As a treat for asking me this, here’s an image I found of the Burger Babies in Disney dresses!! Credit goes to whoever on Pinterest made this lovely image:

Also, because I need to be a gremlin every time I mention Gene, I’m going to promote Geneuary again, which begins on January 8!! Hype hype hype hype hype—

#asks #doodler’s daydreams #this was SUCH a fun question thank you!!#i saw a comment once saying that bob is the most dad ever and gene is the most son ever #if that doesn’t sum them up i don’t know what does 🤣#their relationship is lovely and i could spend all day talking about it and just them as characters individually #and i could also spend all day talking about how much i hate gloria and al because they’re the worst #linda (and even gayle) deserve so much better tbh #bobs burgers #geneuary2024

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dyed-red · 2 years

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What are your thoughts on how much time Sam’s soul spent in The Cage? If we go by established time lines in the show, 18 months = approx 180 years. But Lucifer is an arch angel and we know angels can manipulate time so I think it could have been longer, or least made to feel longer. I also believe that Sam would have been fluent in Enochian after spending that much time with Lucifer and Micheal. Thank you for answering if you have time! And I hope you enjoy and holiday time you have :)

welp - you did it.

you asked a question i’ve been thinking about for over a decade and unleashed the full fury of my brainworms in action. this is the type of meta i expect like 4 people total to be interested in, but i’m going to spend days working on because I Have Thoughts.

the short answer: somewhere between 180 - 5000 years, with my personal headcanon landing just over 700 years, or 1400 for maximum whump.

The behemoth long answer is under a cut because long and math and meta. Skip to the end if you just want the math. The tl;dr is that SPN canon implies that hell has layers and that time distorts more the deeper that you go, and we can build an equation for that distortion and get to basically whatever number suits our purposes depending on what assumptions we make going in.

Time Distortion in Hell

The length of time Sam’s soul felt/experienced the cage is a function of two factors: how long he spent there in earth terms, and the degree of temporal distortion hell creates.

The first piece is easy if we assume Sam’s soul spent 18 months in the cage* (footnotes at the end).

The second piece... Dean spent 4 months dead (time in earth terms) which was 40 years on the rack in terms of his experience/perception. If we take this assumption that 1 month = 1 decade, we get to use some very simple math to say that Sam spent 180 years in the cage.

But.

I’ve always personally interpreted Hell’s time distortion to run a bit different than a static 1 month = 1 decade. This headcanon derives from some hints in canon (or at least, this headcanon is not actively contradicted by moments in canon) and from other pieces of media.

I believe that the deeper you go into hell, the greater the temporal distortion is.

This is basically like the move Inception, I’m not even gonna try to pretend otherwise. There, the deeper you go into the dream within a dream, the more time dilation there is. It makes sense to me that SPN’s Hell canon works the same for several reasons.

For starters, when Sam's wall is breaking in s6, he has flashbacks where 2-3 minutes is equated with what feels like a week in the cage (episode 6x14). We can take this at perfect face value (meaning that Sam’s soul experienced about 5000 years in the Cage). Or we can interpret this to be a function of the episode he is experiencing, where temporal dilation is exaggerated because of the nature of his flashback, or we can say he is speaking in hyperbole.

I think it makes sense for the truth to be somewhere in the middle - Sam is speaking off the cuff, not entirely literal or exact about how long those 2-3 minutes felt like, but nonetheless honestly that they felt like days, felt much longer than our formula of 1 month = 1 decade allows. And I take that as a realistic reflection of his time spent in the pit.

Another, and far more overt piece of evidence comes in Season 11 when Sam visits ‘the Cage’. In 11x09 (O Brother Where Art Thou), we see Rowena, Crowley and Sam in Hell whereas Dean is on Earth, and there appears to be little to no temporal distortion occurring between the events below and the events above. This remains true in the following episode (11x10, the Devil in the Details) when Crowley phones Dean and when Dean comes down to join them in Hell (and Cas as well shortly after).

So - what gives? Is there temporal distortion occurring in Hell or not? Did they retcon that, forget about it, what?

Well, Crowley explicitly refers to this area of Hell as ‘Limbo’, which brings us to an understanding of Hell’s temporal distortion through the lens of the circles presented in Dante’s Inferno.

Circles of Hell

It’s fair and frustrating to say that canon doesn’t give us much in the way of understanding the structure and hierarchies of Hell. That gives us a lot of leeway, but I like to anchor my headcanons to canon if and when I can.

Thankfully, there is at least some reason to believe that Hell in this universe is structured at least somewhat similarly to Hell in other popular works of fiction that derive their conceptions of it from Dante’s Inferno (which itself is the popular mainstream view of hell that even a lot of Christian/Catholics have adopted, often without realizing at this point).

Dante’s Inferno provides a view of hell that has 9 circles, or layers, each one deeper into Hell than the last. SPN implies the same.

We get this from the use of Limbo, as stated above, since this is the term in the Inferno for the first circle. Crowley refers to Limbo as the “furthest reaches” of Hell, whereas in Dante’s Inferno, it’s the top layer. SPN plays fast and loose with what it takes vs. leaves from real-world mythos, but I take this to mean that “far” or “furthest” not in the sense of depth, but as a place which may be vast and largely empty, and which few demons can enter (since, as per the Inferno, it’s not a place where guilty souls actually end up, so possibly has quite restricted access to demons).

We also get evidence of these circles from Word of God through Sera Gamble, who has apparently said that the Cage is “At the bottom of the lowest depths of the ninth circle of the worst bit of Hell.” That’s pure Dante’s Inferno, ba-bey. (/mcelroy voice)

More evidence comes from Season 8 when Sam rescues Bobby’s soul from Hell, since he goes through Purgatory as a sort of back door to Hell, being told that Purgatory is “Hell adjacent”, which is true as well in the Inferno.

Another within-canon indirect hint of this is the association between Lucifer and ice. Dante’s Inferno keeps that the ninth circle of Hell, reserved for treachery, is a large frozen lake. And in the Inferno and in SPN canon, this is where the Devil is kept, in the Center of Hell, in the deepest frozen depths of the pit, the frozen lake in the ninth circle.

Also remembering that in early seasons, Lucifer and his Cage were buried so deep in Hell that most demons weren’t sure if he even existed. His existence was a matter of faith, no different than humans believing in God, according to 3x04 (Sin City).

Based on all this, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to surmise that Hell is vast, but potentially its vastness manifesting in the way in which it is layered, and that there are regions, planes, or depths that most demons do not or cannot tread to.

But okay, even if you’re on board so far, why do I believe that time works differently at different layers? And what circles have we seen in canon?

Situating Each Circle

My fundamental argument here is that temporal distortion in Hell is more extreme at the deeper depths, in a mathematically determinable way.

If we accept that Hell has nine circles (or planes or layers), then we can assume that we’ve seen three - probably five - of them. There is Limbo, as per season 11 and stated above, in which there seems to be little to no time dilation. This makes some sense if we accept that it’s the surface-most plane*, the first circle.

We have also established what’s in the ninth circle, titled Treachery, which is the Center of Hell and The Cage. Given its depth and the lines from season 3 Sin City, we can assume that, much like Limbo, this is an off-limits zone for most demons. If we accept my argument that times moves differently at the different layers, this is where time distortion - really, time dilation - should be the most extreme. It is the furthest removed from the material plane and the deepest well (do not call it a gravity well do not call it a gravity well do not call it a - )*, dilating time and everything around it at its depths.

In between, we have seen The Rack (where Dean was tortured), we have the Throne (where Rowena sat and kept court, since many of Crowley’s ruling scenes are implied to be on the surface rather than in Hell proper, although any of Crowley’s ruling scenes would be on this same level, I imagine), we have The Dungeon (from which Sam rescued Bobby’s soul as part of the Trials), and we have the glimpse we caught of how Crowley restructured the place into endless lines as a method of torment. There’s also the space where Lilith’s horn is kept, as per the Belphegor and Cas scenes in the early episodes of Season 15. I take that to be the same level as the Throne level, since it seems to be where ruling demons would both preside and reside.

Based on the seeming lack of time distortion we tend to see (in late seasons...) when we get scenes relating the Throne level, my headcanon is that this is the second circle of Hell (Lust). In the Inferno, incoming souls are judged here and then sent to which circle their sins have them belong, so I think it’s at least somewhat fitting for this to be where the Throne is. Keeping it closer to the surface world / material plane also has some advantages if doing so minimizes time distortion, since keeping closer time with Earth allows easier monitoring of Earth and tracking of things like deals etc. It also means that higher ranking aka more powerful demons who preside here are closer to Gates of Hell and therefore have less far to travel when slipping out and onto Earth.

In contrast, I think that The Rack is pretty damn deep. There is a lot of time distortion going on to get to 1 month = 1 decade (especially if we allow that a very small amount of dilation is happening at the topmost circles, even including Limbo). This makes sense to me in that The Rack is a place of exceeding misery and horror, literally the center of Hell’s most violent and excruciating tortures.

For that reason, I place The Rack as circle seven, aptly titled Violence. This is not to be confused with the sin of Wrath, which is actually the fifth circle. Rather, the seventh circle (to quote wikipedia at least), “houses the violent”. What better way to re-interpret that in the world of SPN than that circle hosting the torturers and their tortured? Within the seventh circle are those who committed violence against neighbors, against self, and against God. What better place for someone who sold his own soul (violence against self and against God), who killed?

Of course I don’t think it’s so straightforward that violent souls get sent to The Rack. I think any damned soul can be called there for a torture session. But Dean spent his entire time in Hell on The Rack, and that can’t be standard. Bobby spent plenty of his time in hell in a cell, as per 8x19 (Taxi Driver), and demons come here to torture him.

I don’t think it’s a huge leap for me to infer that Dean was special and spent his entire time on The Rack because they were so determined to use him to break the First Seal, and that most damned souls only do short stints on there, either due to limited real estate or so that souls don’t become numb to the violence (since let’s face it, most demonic torturers probably can’t keep them in anticipation of further horror as well as Alistair can, after a few days or months being cut into.) They’re probably returned to their cells to marinate in the memory and anticipation with only minor tortures until they’re brought down again. This is what we see with Bobby and probably with the endless lineups in Crowley’s redesigned Hell.

So - without too much to go on, I’m going to tentatively place the Dungeon with Bobby and other damned souls as being in the sixth circle, Heresy. It’s a circle described as hosting souls in flaming tombs, which I think fits this notion of a dungeon with cells holding on to souls, and keeps those souls close at hand and ready for another go in the seventh circle where The Rack is held.

And this allows me to place the endless line as actually being either in the fourth circle, Greed, or the fifth circle, Wrath. The fourth involves a nation of lost souls who, in this pit of hell, lose their individuality and become sort of empty, which fits what we see in that brief clip of the Hell line. The fifth includes a “savage self-frustration” that seems fitting of the concept of that awful endless line, with sullen and angry souls fighting each other in muck and slime.

Regardless of fourth or fifth (I have no strong sense of which fits better), I see that line as being meaningful outside (above) the sixth circle, in a torment that is less acute, as souls that are less unique and differentiated, less violent, less worthy of turning into black-eyed demons.

Because in the Inferno, there’s this critical division between the fifth vs. sixth circles as the transition between the two being the transition into “Lower Hell” and the sixth being behind guarded walls, with another steep drop from the sixth to the seventh, and so on. This makes sense to me as Lower Hell being a place where they keep the Dungeon and guard the doomed souls, whereas that place outside those walls hosting the damned but less special, less differentiated, the more generically doomed... yeah, it just makes sense to me (your mileage, as always, may vary).

This distinction is important also because of that drop down. If distance and depth are important to temporal distortion, then it matters if the first few circles of Hell involve less of a steep drop one to the next. Here we should note that the seventh circle involves three rings, and the eighth circle (Fraud, aka Malebolge, another very strong contender for the location of The Rack since it’s essentially an amphitheater for torture, so I’ll do the math both ways below)*, well the eighth is basically a funnel with 10 separate rings or steps downward.

Why does this matter? So glad you asked!

Increasing Temporal Distortion at Each Level

If you’re following the hints I’m dropping, what I’m implying about getting deeper into Hell and the further drops down at the later levels is that the time distortion in Hell does not increase linearly. It increases exponentially.

Limbo has temporal distortion that is so minor as to be barely perceptible, if perceptible at all. The Rack gives us an explicit (if fuzzy) estimate of 1 month = 1 decade in terms of perception. The Cage is implied to be much, much more than that, at the extreme end up to 2-3 minutes = 1 week in terms of perception.

If the time distortion was linear, meaning that from circle 1 to circle 2, and circle 2 to 3, and 3 to 4 and so on, we should expect that the amount of time distortion from Limbo (circle 1) to the Rack (circle 7 or 8) to be a much, much wider gap than the amount of time distortion from the Rack (circle 7 or 8) to the Cage (circle 9). Like... it should be 7-8x as much distortion.

And I mean, you could take a linear headcanon approach to it. If we accept that SPN Hell has circles or layers as is Word of God and overtly implied by the narrative time and again, you could say that there’s x amount of distortion at circle 1, and 2x at circle 2, and 3x at circle 3, etc, and this would works okay when we got the math right, but like... it’s not my preference given the way canon works.

What I mean (especially for those who hate math so might not be automatically sussing what I’m saying), is that, for example, if 10 seconds in Limbo = 1 second on Earth (sure why not) then if the time distortion increases the same way (”linearly”) at each new circle of hell, then on the Rack we get 70 seconds = 1 Earth second (or 80 seconds = 1 Earth second, if the Rack is in the eighth circle).

That specific math doesn’t check out (it equates to 23.3 years on the Rack instead of 40, or 26.7 if the Rack is the eighth circle instead of the seventh), but to figure this out we should of course work backwards starting from the 4 months = 40 years. Which tells us that each second on Earth feels like 120seconds (2 minutes) on The Rack. If that’s happening at the seventh circle, then a linear difference between each circle of hell means that the time distortion in Limbo is roughly 17 seconds for every Earth second. This math works out a little prettier if the Rack is the eighth circle because that’s an even 15 seconds for every Earth second.

To me, that’s stretching how much time distortion is implied to occur at Limbo and vastly exaggerating what we see with Sam rescuing Bobby from Hell. If Bobby is actually kept in the 6th circle, that’s 102 (7th circle) or 190 (8th circle) seconds in Hell for every second on Earth. It just didn’t seem that Sam was spending a minute and a half in Hell for every second that Dean was spending on the surface in Taxi Driver, but then again, I haven’t rewatched that episode so I’d have to double check to know for sure.

Between those implications about time distortion in Limbo and Bobby’s rescue and even the Throne room when they visit Rowena to the way Dante’s Inferno (which SPN canon clearly drew from) funnels more extremely downward the deeper you go in the circles, to what Sam’s episode of Hell memories could imply about his experience of time dilation in the Cage (assuming we accept his statement about his episode “feeling like a week” even if we don’t take that number at exactly face value)... an exponential increase just makes more sense, mathematically?

And again, for anyone who doesn’t like math or doesn’t know what that means and why I keep using this word “exponentially,” what it means is that the difference between the first circle and the second circle is not as big as the difference between the second circle and the third circle. At each depth, the intensity of the time dilation increases. So that you might not even notice the difference in time dilation between circle 1 and 2, but the difference between circle 5 and 6 is massively noticeable, and the difference between circle 8 and circle 9 is like several times even that big. Like Inception!

So let’s run some final calculations and get you your answer(s), Anon!

Some Final Math and Estimates*

Assumption 1: Equivalent Dilation

If we assume that there is no difference in time dilation from one region of Hell to another, then the ratio that Dean gives us in Season 4 is accurate for all of Hell, and 1 month (30 days) in the pit feels like 10 years. That’s 120 seconds below to every second above.

This would mean that in 18 months in the Cage, Sam experiences 180 years worth of torture.

Assumption 2: Linear Dilation Circle 7

Assuming The Rack is in the seventh circle, then a linear difference at each level means that 120 seconds on the Rack equates to 154 seconds in the Cage at the ninth level. That would mean that in 18 months topside, Sam’s soul spent 231.5 years in the Cage.

Assumption 3: Linear Dilation Circle 8

Assuming the Rack is in the eighth circle (which, tbh, I kind of thing makes more sense even though I argued differently above, but shhh let’s pretend otherwise), then a linear difference at each level means that 120 seconds there equates to only 202.5 years for Sam’s soul in the Cage. Slightly less awful!

Assumption 4: Exponential Dilation Circle 7

The simple way I’m doing this is that instead of taking the time distortion at Limbo and making it x2 at the second circle, x3 at the third, and so on, I’m taking the time distortion at Limbo and making it to the power of 2 at the second circle, to the power of 3 at the third, and so on. I still have to start with The Rack being 120seconds on Earth time and work backwards to get that initial Limbo starting point before I apply the exponent, but otherwise that’s all I’m doing. There are definitely more sophisticated ways we could approach it since that’s a pretty simple linear increase in the exponent, and we could instead make the exponent itself an equation we’d derive through more complex means but... I’m really not about to do that.

So.

If we start from The Rack = 120seconds (2mins), using the exponent assumptions above, then Limbo time dilation is roughly 2 seconds (actually 1.98167 or so) in Limbo for every Earth second (works beautifully for what we see in canon, basically imperceptible), and time dilation in the ninth circle is 471 seconds (7.85 mins) per Earth second. Yes, that big of a difference, because that’s how exponents work.

This would mean that Sam’s soul spent approximately 707 years in the Cage.

What a great number! What a reasonable number, and a pretty damn canon-compliant number to headcanon. I like this number.

Assumption 5: Exponential Dilation Circle 8

As above in terms of the exponent assumptions, if the Rack is actually in the 8th circle of Hell, that much closer to the Cage, then here the math works out so that 120 seconds on the 8th circle being... roughly 2 seconds in Limbo. Because that’s how exponential functions work. It’s actually 1.81928 in Limbo vs. the previous 1.98167, but that rounds to the same thing (2 seconds) in terms of human experience, even if it makes a big difference when we take it out to the difference it makes in months, years, etc.

(But like, this is why I think it’s exponential, because this works so much better for what canon implies about the time dilation there*.)

Anyway, here, this would mean that Sam’s soul spent roughly 327.5 years in the Cage instead of the 707 from above. That’s a big difference.

Assumption 6: Off the Rails

We can also take Sam’s statement about 2-3 minutes on Earth (having a Hell flashback) feeling like a week in the pit. If we estimate conservatively and go with every 3 Earth minutes = 1 week in Hell, depending on how we approach it (depending on if you go with minutes in a week vs. a month and which way you get to a year), you get somewhere around 5000 years (in my present calculation it’s 4984, but I also calculated it another way to get to just over 5000).

Assumption 7: 9th Circle vs. The Cage

Dante’s Inferno distinguishes between the 9th Circle on its own vs. the Center of Hell as the place where Lucifer resides, right at the deepest depths. The Cage itself is remote in Hell, distant from all other demons, enough so as to be a matter of faith to many of them. If we allow the possibility that this all means that the Cage is deeper than the ninth circle itself*, we can add another linear layer or else another exponent (take our equation to the 10 instead of to the 9).

This works out to be:

Rack 7th Circle, Linear: 257 years

Rack 8th Circle, Linear: 225 years

Rack 7th Circle, Exponential: 1400 years

Rack 8th Circle, Exponential: 596 years

Meaning this is a good place to note that... depending on the final number you want to get to, you can use whichever assumptions you want to get there and justify it by math. Remember kids, there are lies, damn lies, and statistics.

TL;DR!!!!!

How much time did Sam’s soul spend in the Cage? My headcanon is that he spent probably either 600 or 700 years there, on the assumption that it was 18 months between Swan Song and Appointment in Samarra, and assuming time dilation gets more extreme the deeper that you go in Hell.

For people who want to make more conservative estimates but still embed some complexity to Hell’s time dilation and/or who be more canon-compliant to other glimpses we’ve seen of Hell’s time distortion (Limbo, etc), I think anywhere from about 200 years to 330 years is perfectly reasonable.

For people who want to go with maximum whump, the sky (5000) is the limit, but you can mathematically point to up to 1400 being pretty reasonable.

*Footnotes

1. Because canon plays fast and loose with how many months exactly have gone by, and some people headcanon that only about 4 months have passed in Season 6 before Appointment in Samarra when Death pulls his soul out. I personally read it as more like 6 months having gone by and think this is the more standard headcanon, so your 180 years is the most common interpretation, and definitely the most easy to defend. I also made calculations for Sam having spent 16 months in the Cage instead of 18 months there though, if anyone is interested.

2. There is also the Vestibule in the Inferno as the opening to Hell, before the first circle, and this requires passage from Charon to cross over and into Hell proper. This is where the quote “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here” is from at the Gate of Hell, which of course is evoked in season 5 as the episode in which Jo and Ellen die.

I like to think of the Vestibule in the world of SPN as being any and all of the many Hellgates implied by canon, including the one that opens in AHBL2. No time dilation occurs within the Vestibule(s), as a person has to enter into Hell’s circles to properly separate themselves from the material plane.

3. Not getting into it here but if I ever get around to writing an original piece of fiction about angels and demons etc like I kind of want to, some of my worldbuilding will explicitly connect/relate angels to celestial bodies, like literally to stars, with the depth of hell essentially being a black hole, hence why the closer one gets to it, the greater the time dilation there is. Gravity and heat increase near the center of hell in this unbearable way, and then at the very center, like within the black hole itself, it becomes unbearably incredibly cold, like that frozen lake in which Lucifer is half-submerged in Dante’s Inferno. Lucifer existing impossibly both within and outside the event horizon. But I digress.

4. When you think about how many angels are implied to have died in order to rescue Dean’s soul, compared to how simply Sam snuck into Hell to rescue Bobby, I think the circles of Hell interpretation becomes quite important. If Dean was in the seventh or eighth circle, like especially that eighth circle, that’s so much deeper in than the Dungeon. The angels also couldn’t infiltrate subtly, methinks, and had to storm the walled and heavily guarded gates at the sixth circle, through that dungeon, then fight their way down the three rings of the seventh circle and possibly down into the amphitheater of the eighth. We know that their powers alone can’t kill a demon as powerful as Alistair even on Earth, so on their home turf in Hell, it makes sense that demons would have put up a really solid fight against the angels. This helps resolve some of my own frustration at what seems to be discrepancies in the abilities of angels and how dangerous they are to demons in canon.

5. Please be aware that all maths above involve some rounding, since I didn’t think anyone wanted the detailed decimals. I also calculated months as being 30 days and for simplicity, calculated years as being 12 months. I could rework the math into weeks with 52 weeks being a year instead, which gives slightly different numbers, but it’s work so I’m just going to go with these approximations. Also noting that I used calculated everything using excel to save myself a headache. I’m sorry if there are any errors, especially when it comes to the exponents, my brain got very tired. Please let me know if you find any.

6. When it comes to the exponential ones, if The Rack is in the 7th circle of hell, then if the Dungeon where Bobby was kept was in the 6th circle, then each Earth second is 60 seconds (1 minute) in the Dungeon. That’s more time dilation than I think canon implies, because 60 minutes (1hr) in the Dungeon is only a minute on Earth? In contrast if The Rack is in the 8th circle, then 1 Earth second is 36 seconds in the Dungeon. I honestly think both of these are more extreme than canon implies, but again, it’s been a million years since I watched that episode because it’s written by Bucklemming and I cannot stand their writing. But as a count in favor of the exponential argument instead of linear, if time dilation increases the same amount at each circle then 1 Earth second translates to 103 seconds in the Dungeon (Rack in 7th) or 90 seconds (Rack in 8th), both of which are a lot more dilation than our exponential account.

7. For simplicity, I’ve also ignored the different rings which occur at the 7th and 8th circles. Those would, of course, change the math here as well, and we could add another linear or exponential step for each of those rings. That would lead to some crazy numbers because we’re talking about 13 additional steps. Linearly we’d add a few thousand years, but exponentially we’re starting to talk about a geological timescale. I don’t think it’s productive to make that extreme of an assumption about those rings, but I think we could comfortably stretch the distance between the 7th circle and the pit in which Lucifer’s cage sits at the deepest depths of hell if we wanted to, if you wanted to reasonably get closer to that 5000 years estimate.

8. Since your ask mentioned it, Anon, I realize I don’t touch on Enochian in this post but I have two tag-rambles about my thoughts on enochian and I thought I had a proper post on it somewhere but can’t find it. I could/should probably make a post with a tumblr ficlet about that, since I started drafting a canon-divergent post-Hell fic with Sam and Enochian and there’s like... no chance I��ll ever finish it. But anyway.

Thanks for reading this far, to anyone who did.

#spn meta #my meta #hell meta #time dilation #temporal distortion #time distortion #headcanons #dante's inferno #this meta is 5200 words that's longer than many fics wtf #there is a tl;dr though you don't have to read the whole thing #what did you do this week phyn? oh y'know just wrote 4k words of meta to make a hell time distortion equation #that literally no one asked for (except they kinda did but i'm sure not like this)#i get one (1) day off and this is what happens #did i read the thesis chapter one of my grad students is waiting for feedback on?#nope! i wrote a time distortion equation instead #if you can't tell from these tags i'm going a little feral over here #okay whew i'm calm i'm good #i'm not proofreading this so if there are typos or issues or my math is off we're just gonna deal with that reality #probably gonna rb later for timezones because i can

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kwonzoshi · 2 years

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Hi! I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before but, what are your top 5 BL’s that you watched this year?

Hi Nonnie, I have NOT been asked this before! So Thank you!

It's going to be hard to pick JUST 5, but here we go:

5.) Big Dragon The Series

This makes it to my top 5 because I really found myself loving the series. The more I learned about it and got into it, the more I got excited for it and didn't want it to end. It IS a bit on the chaotic side story wise but it was surprising for me how much I enjoyed it. The complexities of these characters and their feelings for each other, just how DEEP they were, I am total sucker for it. I am so ready for season 2!

4.) Secret Crush on You

Of COURSE these lovable dorks are going to be in this list. This was one of the BEST series to come out this year. Honestly truly. NueaToh was absolutely incredible and so was SkyJao. I loved the entire story and the pace they took it. They showed 2 sides of a story that could've EASILY gone so wrong but the fact everything lined up the way it did just made me adore it even more.

3.) KinnPorsche

Of course KP has to be in the top 3. This series had me on the edge of my seat, ready for the next episode to air. It was complicated, romantic, funny and just overall so good. I loved the darker themes that were involved and it was so refreshing to see the characters being real and making mistakes and just doing HUMAN shit. The tumbl app was unbearable but I also think that's what makes this series so great. It started conversations and had EVERYONE tuning in.

2.1) Light On Me

One thing about me, I'm a SLUT for the cutesy shit. I mean seriously I had zero criticism for this series other than that it was too short. It was cute and sweet, and the 'conflict' was minimal. It was an easy watch and one of my comfort BLs for sure. I rewatch it all the time and I LOVE it every single time.

2.2) Semantic Error

Yes, yes there is a tie for number 2. But these two really are just SO FANTASTIC. Just like Light On Me this was such an easy watch for me. Cute as hell and the 'conflict' was also minimal. I rewatch this one constantly and it's just one of the BLs that I truly 100% enjoyed this year. I already LOVED Park Seoham, and this was just another reason to add to the list.

1.) Love In The Air

Let's pretend to be shocked. Of course my #1 series is LITA. I mean, it had EVERYTHING I could have wanted. And while I do feel that each story should've either had their own series or happened simultaneously, it's still a solid mf series. It gave us plot, it gave us emotion, it gave us sex, it gave us comedy.. I mean what more can we ask for?! To think I wasn't even going to watch it... that's crazy.

It takes a lot for me to dislike a series so this is just the ones that stood out to me the most, personally. I have loved every series I have finished so far, and them not being on this list doesn't take away that they're good too!

#top 5 bls of 2022 #big dragon #big dragon the series #secret crush on you #secret crush on you the series #scoy #light on me #light on me the series #semantic error #semantic error the series #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kp #kp the series #love in the air #love in the air the series #kwonzoshi

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skye-huntress · 8 months

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I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Before we get into the next episode, I wanted to address some things thanks to some comments I read over the week. Last episode was important, perhaps the first thoughtful discussion about homosexuality in an anime that anyone seems to be aware of. It was also our first insight into Rae’s character and her peculiar actions.

Speaking of Rae’s actions, it seems to me that some people are blowing things out of proportion. Let me just say it, when it comes to Rae and Claire in the earlier parts of the series, neither is really innocent. Neither of them are particularly bad either, each knows where to draw the line and is capable of acknowledging when they’ve gone too far. Also, Claire initiated most of their interactions, by attempting to bully Rae into submitting or quitting school. As for the maid thing, I hope I don’t have to spell it out, but Rae has a greater purpose behind sticking close to Claire beyond her own selfish desires.

Episode 4

Kicking off with magic exposition. Exposition that Rae likely had to sit through (or skip) countless times over while playing Revolution.

Rae’s own exposition about monsters is much more entertaining. Take notes, Torrid Magic! (Yes, for some reason his last name is literally Magic. I suppose it’s like how Rae Taylor’s parents are tailors)

Once again, Rae overdoes it. Great line though. “I’m officially too OP to function!”

Oh, they actually showed his full name.

Can’t have an element based magic system without the whole strengths and weaknesses thing. Also, combo magic. Multi-casters also have special composite magic depending on the elements they have access to.

This is flirting, right?

Rae’s like eww, boys. Right there with ya, girl.

Rae is like “Noooo, not more exposition! Where’s the skip button? Skip! Skip!”

That first fantasy was meh, but that second one, heck yeah! That’s more like it. That, and it’s more faithful to Claire’s character.

Time for the first boss battle!

So yeah, Torrid might be a tri-caster, but his aptitude is not nearly as impressive compared to the main characters. Plus he lacks the wind attribute that beats water. He is hopelessly outmatched here.

What’d you expect. Numbers don’t matter when most of the students there are either too weak to do much damage, or too inexperienced to land an accurate hit. Should have just had Misha take it out with one strong attack.

Rae, you’re not bound to video game logic, you can just call out whichever name you want.

I don’t know what to say, so I’ll just let Rae speak for me.

Eww, it’s raining slime everywhere!

And as usual, Thane gets the short end. Eh, I doubt he’d want all that attention anyway.

Everyone’s favourite character has finally arrived.

And now, we all feel bad for Mama Slime! Great job, anime, neither the manga or novels made me feel this way.

Rae, don’t pretend. We know it bothers you, enough that you tried to run away from it.

Guess that event worked, it did raise the Affection level for who Rae called out to.

Claire had the perfect opportunity to get on the Thane route but chose the Rae route instead. We’re all proud of her.

That little giggle from Rae at the end was cute. I think this is genuinely the happiest she’s been.

Misha, you’re the second most powerful person in the whole school, and your attribute beats water! Why are you scared of a tiny slime?!

Claire, you could vaporise a slime that small! Why are you scared?!

Next episode is going to be a fun one!

#i’m in love with the villainess

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trashlie · 11 months

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I just reread ILY to catch up after not reading in two years and I cannot believe the post 200 chapters are even better than when ILY was in its heyday popularity-wise. I’m desperately trying to get all my friends to catch up again so I have someone to talk to about it, I read all the Reddit posts, and I’ve seen so many of your responses and it just tickles my brain in a certain way. I can’t believe it’s been 6 years and we are FINALLY getting some canon confirmation of romantic feeling between Shine Ae and Nol. I don’t know what to do with myself! I guess this has been a rambly ask, but, in your head, how do you imagine they end up at the point where there timeskip begins?

Oh man, I know that feeling of just trying soooo hard to get your friends to catch up lmao. Everyone has to get to it when they are in the right mood but when you are living with constant ILY Brainrot, it just feels like any time you have to wait is TOO LONG lmao (which is why I wind up howling on the reddit and over here lmao). So I TOTALLY get it! lmao sometimes you just have to find everything you can to read and consume it all and pretend it is enough (but it's NEVER enough). But also aahhhh thank you!!!! It makes me feel really happy that I stand out to people and that the things I never shut up about reach people who are receptive to it, hehehe!

But man YEAH!!!!! The story has definitely been nudging us about their feelings - what was 151 if not a very not platonic break up that really made it feel SO REAL. I keep thinking about this, how I can't remember when I started shipping it or when it went from casual to Oh I CARE but 151 was absolutely the episode that made me go "Holy shit are we GOING THERE?" and my god we were GOING there I cannot believe it! And there's so many simultaneous plot lines running right now and I want to eat them all up at once but we can only get so much per episode and AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Don't worry, I really love rambly messages lol but to try to answer your question, mMMMMMmmmmMMMMMMMmmm

I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW lol

At the time of 151 I thought there was a VERY REAL possibility that the core trio were all going to go their separate ways and that the catalyst for the timeskip story picking back up would be that they were all coming back into each others' lives, but SO MUCH has happened since then that has changed my feelings. Isn't it funny how, right, the post 200 episodes have been SO INCREDIBLE SO good, giving us SO MUCH good content and it has completely changed the state of the story from that time! Frankly, I thought if Nol and Shinae were ever going to realize feelings, it wasn't going to happen until after the timeskip so frankly? I have been completely blindsided lmao

My main thought lately is that there must be some kind of resolve, right? Because if we were going to go my previously thought route, that they will all go their separate ways and then come back into each other's lives and that would have been a trigger for Nol and Shinae to realize their feelings, we wouldn't have had all of this - Nol ultimately unable to stay away taking that step taking a chance with Shinae, the entirety of what has transpired in that hospital room, the way he doesn't shy away from or deny that there was something romantic going on (he could have SO EASILY said Dieter got the wrong impression if he wanted to deny the feelings right?), this revelation of how important they are to each other, Shinae's continued fight for him. So I think we WILL get some kind of closure here regarding that. We are RIGHT on the cusp of Shinae coming face to face with her feelings, I think. Nol is already there and it feels like Shinae is dancing around it.

Will she run away from her feelings? Will she get freaked out and suddenly shy, unsure how to face him? Would she be more forthright, determined as ever wanting to talk to him, to voice this, to feel out where they belong in each others' lives? I think whether or not she gets freaked out by her feelings, that it has to go that way - talking about it, admission. Clearly a relationship is not.... you know. The most possible right now lol. Dieter is hurt, Nol still has a girlfriend, AND he's off to jail, but I don't think admitting feelings means they have to jump into anything or even apply labels. I still think it's very likely Nol will leave the country for university, because frankly, I think he NEEDS to get away, but we still stand to see how that's going to play out following the first time skip.

But I think we will, at the very least, see them acknowledge their feelings, acknowledge where they stand in each others' lives. I firmly feel like if Nol didn't want to, if he was willing to walk away, he would have done so, and he would have downplayed why Dieter is so hurt. It would be so easy for him to keep playing his cupid friend role, to tell her that Dieter seems to have misinterpreted their dance, poor buddy, don't worry, I'll talk to him. But instead, he acknowledged what exists between them. And I think once Shinae understands her feelings, she will use them to fight even harder for him, to further insist why they can't throw any of this away, that they're too important to each other to give it up.

In which case, I like to hope that maybe this would be a big, first step for them towards any kind of future. Even if Nol is leaving, that doesn't mean that things stagnate. As one of those people who brings Nol comfort, who always sees him, I think Shinae would be the complete opposite of what he's had with Alyssa thus far - someone who actually reaches out, who checks in, who makes time, who keeps up with him. Idk! I'm still very.... you know, feeling things out because quimchee is SO good at blindsiding me, but right now I guess I hope that we will at the very least have Shinae and Nol acknowledge their feelings but more importantly understand the place they have in each others' lives, that way when we have our big time skip, it won't be like they're stranger reuniting with each other, there won't be this big scar between them from unresolved hurt.

More than anything I want to see Nol and Shinae operating as a team by the time we reach the start of our time skip. I want to see them as two equals who are united together against their shared enemy, who have each others' backs. I don't want to keep seeing Nol push people away because he thinks it will protect him, I want him to WORK WITH her and know that they are safer and stronger TOGETHER than isolated and manipulated the way they have been. That's what is so important about acknowledging their feelings - whether or not they start a relationship, it's more important that they (and by that I mean NOL lmao) acknowledge that they stand more risk if they aren't united. There's nothing he can do to change Yui's interest in Shinae, it's too late. So I want to see them have that conversation, the one Shinae started - that she deserves to get a say, that he can't just decide how their relationship goes because he's trying to protect her, that it has nothing to do with HIM and everything to do with HER. I want to see them acknowledge how much they mean to each other and how much they need each other, because neither of them REALLY knows how terrible Yui is.

So!

Do I think they'll get there? I'm not 100% sure BUT it's what I'm hoping we'll see and where we'll see them standing as that time skip begins! One thing I REALLY hope is that Nol WILL read the letters in the Bible, get a glimpse at what Rand and Nessa's relationship was like, remind him that Shinae doesn't deserve that, that he deserves better, too. I need him to see that pushing her away lets Yui win, leaves him stranded and isolated. Choose to let himself be loved for once, pls ;~;

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Stalkyoo #Shinae Yoo #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #the one thing that i reiterate over and over and over is basically no matter what decisions they make regarding feelings #i want to see them standing as a team as two people who have each others' backs #i want Nol to stop pushing her away #i want him to EMBRACE her help #because frankly neither of them really knows what Yui is capable of #everything he knows of the horrors of Yui are in relation to HIM #he still doesn't even know/realize that everything about why Kousuke treated him how he did comes from Yui's manipulation #that she drugs him!#what her relationship with Rand is like!!!!!#Shinae has only seen the TIP of the iceberg and we know it's only going to get so much worse so ;AA;#BE A TEAM BE A TEAM BE A TEAM!!!!!!! more than anything that's what i want lmao

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marisramblings · 2 years

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“Griffith did Nothing Wrong”

I’m going to need you all to humor me until the eclipse. Tw: SA

Let’s set the stage that spawned this post. I stumbled upon Berserk when I was 9 years old. This was the early days of YouTube (2009) when anime was uploaded with abandon and minimal copyright. Don’t ask me to explain why my 9 year old self was watching gory anime scenes—I also found Umineko no Naku Koro Ni—I was and that’s it. I saw part of the eclipse episode, but I could never find the full show. I’ve known about Berserk for years. With only a passing interest, I learned most of the plot of the Golden Age arc. I’ve known for years what happens during the eclipse, but never the details of the story. I could’ve read the manga, but I decided to wait until it finished. A manga that was in publication for over 30 years does not give me confidence. Authors die and I refuse to start any series that’s been petering along for decades. It’s too disappointing, and I don’t feel like experiencing that again. Well, Kentaro Miura did die and there was a lot of discussion on whether his staff will continue the manga (they are), so I just shelved it.

So, here I am in 2022. I think I just had a passing curiosity, as adhd is apt to do, and looked up Berserk (1997) and found the whole show subbed. Finally, I could watch this show I’ve been curious about for 10+ years. Watch I did, and Griffith became my favorite character.

“But he’s a—“ I know. “He did—“ I promise you, I know. I know what Griffith did, and does, and I love him. After staunchly touting the “Griffith did everything wrong” I am here to say, Griffith is not a bad person. In fact, Griffith didn’t do anything wrong.

Bitch, the fuck?

Hi, if you’re still reading, thank you. I will ignore the pitchforks and hanging rope and quickly explain myself. This post is defending pre-eclipse Griffith. Admittedly, I’m not even mad about the eclipse, though one obvious part will never sit well. Let’s start at the beginning.

Griffith wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t evil. At best, he was a cold, callous, self-centered man. He’s right, Griffith forced no one to join him or forced anyone into battle. Yes, the only reason he created the Band of the Hawk, slept with creepy adults, fought battles, and committed a few assassinations was in service to his dream. No, that doesn’t make him evil. Griffith makes no illusions to his followers, he doesn’t pretend to be their friend or give a damn. He has a goal and he will do what he needs to achieve it. Get in line or fuck off.

Some may argue that objectifying those around him makes him bad. For me, good and bad aren’t the only choices. Griffith is neutral. He’s not a good person by any means, though. Our hawk reads to me as someone incapable of fostering true connection. He’s abnormally pretty, which definitely caused him issues, inquisitive, and quite intelligent. He started forming his mercenary group around 13-15 years old. I do relate this, living in your own world that no one else seems to or wants to understand. There are often two reactions to that, desperately try to fit in or see others as NPCs.

Griffith is a child

If you look into our cast’s ages, most of them are 17-25. Griffith is about 20-21 by the end of the Golden Age arc. What I’m trying to empress upon you all is that he’s young. I’m 22, and while I definitely feel adult, working at a retirement home puts my life in perspective. 22 is fucking young. There are people who have been retired longer than I’ve been alive. Griffith is a fucking child and, in my opinion, the most childish person after Rickert and Charlotte.

Let’s analyze his dream. Little boy Griffith dreamt of having a kingdom. He dreamt of knowing his place in the world, and of being more than a peasant with a run of the mill life. Having a kingdom, living in a castle, these are the dreams of children. Griffith is clinging to something childish. That may seem unrealistic, I mean, Griffith commands thousands of men, he’s a viscount, he sniffed out and snuffed out political subterfuge, he clearly has a real world grasp of the complexities of running a kingdom. He knows how to get his dream, though that requires severe luck or causality, but the dream itself is hollow like a child’s. He wants a kingdom. Do we ever see people in the kingdom? Do we every see anyone standing by Griffith’s side? Do we see culture, holidays, anything but a castle on a tall hill? Griffith has accumulated a mountain of bodies for something so empty. Griffith is a man with the dreams of a child, but his actions have adult consequences and that is something that eats him alive. He feels guilt and regret and buries deep within so he can avoid it. Someone died on his order? That’s fine, they’re just a toy I’m using. We need money and I had to sleep with Gennon? It’s not traumatizing that I was only a few years older than his slaves and that may have been my first sexual experience. I’m not making this point to excuse his actions, just his mindset. Griffith appears adult and in some respects he is, but he’s also a child who’s been in a bit of arrested development.

Yes, he’s an asshole

Turns out when everything goes your way forever and everyone seems to love the act you put on, you become kind of an arrogant prick. Still not the most egregious I’ve seen, but a prick nonetheless. Part of that is due to his controlling nature. Griffith is neurotic levels of control freak, something I also relate to. There’s a script that must be followed and damn anyone who dares step from it (Guts). This is going to be a Griffith is autistic post, isn’t it? He’s also an intj and I’ve gotten intp and intj consistently…

People don’t treat objects well, that’s why objectification is usually bad. You’re not friends with objects and you don’t mourn objects, please ignore the scars on my upper arms and the smile that never reaches my eyes. For the most part, Griffith isn’t an active asshole. He’s not walking up to his men and saying he finds them expendable. He’s not gossiping with them.

He does admit to Charlotte, in an incredibly rare moment of vulnerability, that he only considers people with their own dreams his equal. I can see where that comes from. Everyone worships the ground he walks on. You can’t have an equal and genuine relationship with people who worship you. Think a celebrity dating a fan, not impossible but very unlikely to be successful. There’s also a little glimmer into Griffith, that people without dreams piss him off. An intrinsically and unique facet of who he is. We all have values that shape our opinions of others.

Let’s talk Charlotte (No, I’m not discussing the age gap. It’s the Middle Ages)

I’ve dubbed that sex scene as dubcon. I am using a fanfic term, but that’s how I see it. For some, dubcon is noncon and that’s fine. I’m not here to argue. Griffith was forceful, and he did push, but I feel if Charlotte had said “no” again and continued to resist, he would’ve quit. Charlotte was an ego boost and control freak panic. Griffith lives in a world where everyone loves him and women would jump his bones at a moment’s notice. He needs to reaffirm this “fact”, he needs the world where he gets what he wants and everyone gives happily. Also, raping the fucking princess might get you…killed. Charlotte is a sweet girl and Griffith was thinking about another person while deflowering her, I assume with little prep. This was fucking shitty.

The day of the eclipse

For the longest time, I thought the eclipse was a couple of months after Griffith was rescued. It’s the next day. You know how people decry torture because it can drastically damage a person’s physical and mental health and cause severe trauma? I had to look away during Griffith’s torture, that shit was medieval. Cut tendons, pulled nails, branding, rape, probable castration, tongue cut, bones broken, pierced by thick needles…he went through this for a year.

Trauma like that can change your personality. I’m not surprised that in his pain Griffith blamed Guts. Remember, this man is a child. Children blame others instead of themselves. Guts broke through his mask and was his first true emotional connection. Then, Guts left. He veered off script and threw the laws that govern Griffith’s the world. That can’t do. Of course Griffith had to sleep with Charlotte. The laws needed to be mended. Guts forced his hand and now he’s here practically dead on the cold cobblestone floor smelling like piss and shit and watching the wall swirl into a hallucination of demonic beings in a room out of relativity. I’m not expecting rationality from Griffith. I’m honestly impressed that he could process words.

Did he attempt to rape Casca in the wagon? Kinda? I thought this at first, but then thought that he was really seeking normal physical comfort. We never see Griffith hug people or seek physical comfort. One could say that Charlotte served that purpose as well, though that is straight speculation.

I see the belief for rape, but I also see the same line of thinking with Charlotte. It’s his ego. Women were throwing themselves at him. I feel like rape, in this instance, would only hurt his ego. He’s Griffith, he doesn’t need to force women. They’ll all kill for the chance to be in his godly prescence. So when Casca turns away and rebuffs him, he stops. Casca, his most devoted follower who would’ve jumped at the chance last year, refuses him. I don’t think she even perceived it as assault. Griffith is that pathetic.

Griffith has been free for a day. Let’s list what happens: He’s too weak to even choke Guts. Guts and Judeau, seasoned soldiers, are horrified by his face. A soldier reveals his emaciated body to his men. The group he painstakingly formed, fought for, sold his body for, look at him in pity and rally around the man he blames for his state. His most ardent defender is in love with said man and looks at him with pity. She will stay out of pity, but not love/admiration. The kid he envisions isn’t his because I tell you at least his balls are gone. His one life goal is shattered.

I will be getting a little personal. My dad had a stroke and he’s now disabled. He isn’t handling the change well. His pride is hurt, he feels like a child, he feels weak and pathetic and emasculated. His attitude is less than stellar and he lives in denial that he’ll be working a fast-paced job and being the breadwinner again. That is Griffith, except his denial is shattered when he shatters his elbow. He doesn’t have time to truly process anything. All of this shit hits him at once and he attempts to kill himself. He also fails at that.

Pre-torture Griffith would never kill himself, and now post-torture can’t even manage that. He can’t walk, talk, or do the most basic of things. His life at 21 is fucking over. That brief fantasy was denial. His hair won’t grow back, the skin on his face will never look normal. So, we get the eclipse.

@blood-ember made a great post. The god hand had to wait for an extremely traumatized man, isolate him, and show him strange visions that egged him into sacrificing the Band of the Hawk. Griffith was an amalgamation of emotions, not just negative ones. He still felt love for his group and Guts and Casca. I cannot view a quick decision made in such horrendously manipulative circumstances as valid. Griffith would not have made this decision last year.

Yassified Griffith Femto is not human, he doesn’t feel in the same way and has been imbued with literal evil. I do think raping Casca is in character, but I mostly blame Miura. For some reason, the demons that kill everyone else, instead rip off Casca’s clothes and assault her. Guts is only alive because he’s Guts. Casca was kept alive by Miura, not Griffith, to be raped. Griffith was still in his cocoon when that shit happened. Miura treated Casca in the most sickening and misogynistic manner possible. Griffith is wrong, and this is an action that I will never dismiss or diminish. Kento Miura should’ve killed Casca.

Conclusion

I like Griffith because I like morally bankrupt, intelligent pretty boys. Makishima Shogo is my favorite Pyscho-Pass character next to Akane. Griffith isn’t a bad person for most of the Golden Age arc. He reminds me of myself in some ways. The odd man out, isolated, a little childish, and analytical. He’s a great character and I hold no illusions that he’ll get a good end. He will probably die and I’m not mad. He deserves it. This arc is a good story. I wish they had developed our side cast more because the only ones I cared about at the end were Rickert and Judeau. Pippin, I do love you, but I know shit about you.

After a decade of going off other people’s assumptions, I have seen the full picture and changed my mind. Griffith, at least until the eclipse, really did nothing wrong.

#mari’s rambles #berserk #griffith berserk #sa tw #sa mention #berserk 1997 #the golden age arc #Griffith did nothing wrong #please don’t kill me #he’s done a lot wrong after though #he girlbossed too close to the sun #for legal purposes this is a joke

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