#Love is letting go. Sometimes that means control and sometimes that means saying farewell forever to someone. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugamamacustard · 3 years

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Let Me Help You (Part. 2)

Pairing: Alpha! Toru Oikawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Issei Matsukawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Takahiro Hanamaki x Omega! Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, Hurt/comfort.

Request: Oh boy, here we go!

Anon: hi!! can we get more of the omega depression drabbles/one shots? i would really like to see mattsun’s version and other characters you can think of!! the more angsty the better ;)p.s. luv your writing <3 also stay healthy, safe, and drink water !!

Anon: Can you make part 2 of let me help you please. if not it’s fine with Mattsun and Makki

Anon: Could you do part 2 for the let me help you with makki and mattsun please if not that’s fine this is also my first time requesting something so i’m kinda nervous💕

(Don’t be nervous at all, you did amazing!)

Anon: Mamas, can I order a continuation of let me help you?? Please?? I need some fluff after that hurt 💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺

(Mamas anon! :DDD)

Anon: omg i love the omega depression!! please continue with the rest of the third years or a pt 2 with oikawa’s !! i love your writing!!

@bohica160: Could we possibly get a part 2 with Oikawa please? 👉 👈 🥺

And I think that was all? You guys just really wanted this, and who am I to deny you?

Summary: Because of unseen circumstances, you drop, and you drop hard. How does your alpha help you/redeem himself?

Author’s Note: I kinda wanna post some self-indulgent OC stuff on here, but idk. It’s kinda crack-y and stupid. Also, we love to see a healthy relationship. Like Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s are so soft. Also, also, please note Hanamaki’s is heavily based off of my own experience with depression and the events after with my best friend, whom I will love and cherish forever.

Requests: Open!

Part 1: Here!

➵ You drop was actually out of anyone’s control.

➵ Omega drops rely heavily on hormone balances, much like depression, and it seemed like this month just wasn’t your month.

➵It was hard to exactly pin point when it got bad, or when you started experiencing symptoms, as they were slow and not necessarily noticeable.

➵A missed lunch here, a small scent shift there.

➵Small things that neither you nor Takahiro would notice.

➵It was much like a rollercoaster, inching higher and higher until the drop would come.

➵ Honestly, both of you thought you were fine, and since you were around both of your mutual friends (The Seijoh Team) enough no one could really point it out.

➵ It truly was a bad situation all around.

➵ You only really began noticing after a few days of ignoring lunch in a row.

➵ It hit you when you were sitting in the library, stomach clutching with hunger as you scanned through a textbook.

➵ You attempted to get up and go find Takahiro to go get something to eat, but you just...didn’t.

➵ You couldn’t find the energy to stand, much less walk, and just stayed seated

➵ You just couldn’t move.

➵Like a million bags of sand were tied to your hips weighing you to the chair.

➵ You swallowed tightly, rolling your shoulders before stuffing your text book into your bag, trying to breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.

➵Deep breaths. Thats what you needed to focus on right now.

➵ But then you couldn’t. You were hyperventilating, and white-knuckling the edge of the table as your vision turned blurry and watery.

➵ The cramping from your hunger combined with the sudden rush of emotions made you want to vomit.

➵ Before you could, you slung your backpack over your shoulder, bolting out of the library.

___

Laughter and chuckles were heavy as Takahiro gave a hearty chuckle at something Matsukawa said, shaking his head before taking a swig from his energy drink. His eyes darted to his phone every now and again, just checking to make sure you didn’t need him.

You would always come first to him.

When his screen lit up with your beaming face shining up at him, he quickly swiped to accept holding it to his ear, watching while the team laughed at Oikawa, who was shielding himself from Iwaizumi.

“Hiro?”

“Shooting star?” His brows furrowed as he slowly began cleaning his stuff, straightening himself up so he could leave as soon as possible if you needed him; which, guessing by your home, you did.

“I-I think something’s wrong.” You paused, making his heart drop. “I don’t know, but I think I need to go to the doctor, but, I know this is a lot so feel free to say no, can you-”

He didn’t let you finish. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up and drive you. Do you need me to call and book an appointment?”

A few of his packmates turned with worried eyes, trying to send a non-verbal question. Well, for most of them. Oikawa was trying to whisper-yell his questions, Iwaizumi trying to shut him up.

“I’m at the front of the school. I’ll just meet you at your car.”

“I’ll be right there, shooting star. Stay safe, okay? I love you, and I’ll see you soon Omega.” Takahiro waited for your reciprocation and own farewell before hanging up, quickly standing and swinging his leg over the bench and grabbing his bag.

“Makki-kun, is Y/N-chan okay?!” Oikawa screeched after him, actively crawling onto Iwaizumi, who looked like he was ready to commit first-degree murder.

Makki threw up a thumbs up behind him, waiting till he was out of the cafeteria before sprinting towards the parking lot.

He hoped, with every inch of his body, he didn’t lie to his captain.

___

“Take your pills.”

“Alpha, they taste horrid-”

“I don’t care, they make you feel better.”

Takahiro watched you carefully, handing you two of the teal and white pills. The alpha was strict on very few things with you, but your health he did not fuck with.

The appointment with your doctor went fine, with minimal blood work done, and you were sent off with a prescription for hormone balancing pills. You and Takahiro (Who was absolutely divine during the entire thing) were explained how the pills worked and why you dropped, all of which was simple enough to understand. Since then, Takahiro was insistent on you taking the pills in front of him.

“Open.” Takahiro demanded, watching as you stuck your tongue out. He moved your head by your chin, checking the very corners of your mouth. “Lift your tongue.”

You did so, showing nothing. He hummed in approval, letting go of your chin before pausing, pulling you close so you could hear his heartbeat.

“Thank you for caring, Hiro.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling into your alpha’s neck, taking in his scent.

“Thank you for telling me about this and letting me help you.” He responded, pressing a sweet peck to your temple and reminding himself you were still here in his arms. And would be with him for a long, long time.

➵ Your drop was a mix between miscommunication and little whispers in your ear.

➵ Honestly, there was a reason you were in a pack with minimal other omegas.

➵ They grew catty and mean and vindictive if there was something they didn’t like.

➵It was one of their many flaws and strengths.

➵You yourself had caught yourself bad-mouthing another omega to your alpha every now and again.

➵ Though you hated doing it, at some point it was just second nature.

➵ You and Issei had good communication though, and very rarely did something as silly as jealousy come between you two.

➵ whenever something was bothering you or your alpha you would talk it out.

➵ You both trusted each other completely.

➵ If something felt off about another person, you were quick to mention it to the other.

➵ However, sometimes things got complicated.

➵ Insecurities seeped through your walls that Issei kept strong for you.

➵And sometimes, small little whispers became hurdles and boulders pounding against your defenses and breaking them down.

➵Leaving you open and stumbling.

➵ And sometimes, because of this you forgot that you had back-up, an artillery that would fight for you at the drop of a hat.

➵ And those moments, that ones were you were caught with your tail between your legs and ass in the air waiting to be fucked over, were when you truly crumbled.

➵And though it broke you down and made you hurt, your artillery had your back.

___

“Issei, I was-”

You bit your tongue as you were roughly shoved to the side by Akina Harakashi, the omega throwing herself at your alpha. His face remained unmoved and his arms by his side.

She was his science partner for the semester, and though Issei reassured you she was nothing more, you couldn’t help but internally whine at how she acted with him. It was no secret that she liked him, but since you and Issei kept you relationship on the down low, rumors were bound to pop up.

And though you didn’t let it show, they poked and prodded at you. Make your skin crawl as you ventured deep into your own mindset. Thoughts that would plague your every move and drive your omega into overdrive as they tried fixing whatever you picked on in your own reflection.

You shivered as she looked up to Matsukawa, who was busy focusing on entering his locker combo.

“Mattsunnnn~ I’ve missed you!” Her voice was literal nails on a chalkboard to you.

“I saw you twenty minutes ago.” Matsukawa hissed as his locker popped open. “I haven’t seen you recently though, pretty thing.”

Your omega purred as Issei grabbed his textbook, closing his locker and pushing past Akina. He smirked down at you, intertwining your pinkies in the most discreet way possible before walking you to class.

You glossed over his question when he asked you how lunch went.

___

“Do you think Harakashi and Matsukawa are dating?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, have you seen how she hangs off of him?”

“I think they’d make such a cute couple!”

“If Matsukawa doesn’t ask her out soon, he’ll loose her.”

You kept your head down and scent blocking collar tight as you slowly crept through the hallway, exit in front of you. Honestly, you didn’t have the energy to continue on with the day, so you were leaving it the midst of lunch, where you could loose yourself in the crowd and disappear.

You wanted nothing more than your alpha, but his last message had your eyes stinging.

‘Harakashi asked me to meet her at lunch, so I won’t be able to see you. Eat something. At this point, I’ll even take junk food. Just get some food. I’ll see you after school.’

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but it stung you deeply. This was it. This was the downfall of your and your alpha’s relationship. You were blown off for Akina Harakashi at long last.

The rational part of you wanted to defend Matsukawa, but every time you tried, the insecurities that had been bubbling within you spit towards the rational part of you and your omega, throwing any redeeming thought into the corner to rot.

A part of you was angry. Angry with Matsukawa for letting this happen. Angry with yourself for not speaking up. Angry with your fucking stomach which groaned for food of any sort. Livid with Akina for trying to steal Mattsun.

Angry at the world.

You couldn’t really remember the last time you ate anything besides...air. The days all blurred together in one miserable run.

“What did I say?”

You glanced over at Matsukawa, heart leaping at the jump he gave you appearing out of nowhere, leaning on the wall beside you. You huffed, turning away from him and leaving him to follow after you. He did so, jogging a bit to catch up.

“You said I’d see you after school. This is not after school.” You snapped, growling at the alpha. He raised a brow, either in disbelief at your attitude or amusement.

“Omega. I said eat. This doesn’t look like eating.” His longer legs gave him the chance to cut in front of you, face now set in anger.

“You also said you had to meet with Harakashi. So scurry along to your new play thing.” You shoved past Matsukawa, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes.

“What are you talking about?!” Issei smartened up, grabbing your wrist when you tried leaving him behind yet again, now visibly irritated. Truth be told, he was meeting up with Harakashi to put an end to her insistent clinginess. To put her in her place, beneath you.

She tried confessing to him before he even looked up, coming into the room with her arms outstretched already, yelling about ‘I knew you felt the same’ or something . He dodged her, sneering down at her and snapping at her to leave him alone or he’d go through the semester alone (Which he already talked to the teacher about, but she didn’t need to know about that).

Hanamaki had been his eyes when he wasn’t there, reporting back to Matsukawa with updates on you. His latest? You had been missing from lunch for the better part of the week, and last he saw you were ditching the last half of this day.

Which Matsukawa wasn’t letting happen, because if you went home right now, you wouldn’t come back. And he couldn’t live with himself if he let you drop.

“I was meeting with Harakashi to tell her to piss off. You’re my omega. Why in the hell would I even want someone like her when I already have you? You are mine, and I fought for you. I don’t need a corner worker.”

Any fight you had in you disappeared when you saw the small tears glazing your alphas eyes, making your own break free as you ran into his chest. His arms locked around you, holding as if you would slip away if his grip loosened.

Which you just might’ve. Good thing he wasn’t planning on letting you slip.

“Wanna go get food?”

“...Yea. Can we get nuggets?”

“Anything for my pretty omega.”

➵ Okay this one is super short, and I’m sorry! I just wanted to get this out for you guys!

➵ And I think you guys wanted a follow up of sorts for Oikawa.

➵So here it is!

➵ Things didn’t improve over night.

➵It took awhile, but it was worth it.

➵ In time you and Oikawa reached a nice equilibrium.

➵ He wore his bond mark loud and proud and you made sure to tell him when you were uncomfortable with his fangirls and how close they were getting.

➵ In turn, you learned to slowly let go of any reservations you had on his loyalty.

➵He wouldn’t have marked you if he didn’t want to devote his entire being to you.

➵ This showed up when a girl, who you despised (With no hard feelings, since she hated you just as much) tried confessing to Oikawa.

➵Toru, baby boy, shut her down the minute she opened her mouth.

➵ He didn’t even look her way, instead searching for you and quickly brightening up when he saw you.

➵ If he had a tail it would’ve been wagging.

➵ Things improved and everyone was all the better for it.

➵ And Toru made sure to, not only apologize to Iwaizumi, but gift him a voucher for a free movie for him and his omega (who was having a hard time as well).

➵Things were looking up and you both were sure to keep it that way!

___

“Kentaro, please don’t hurt Kindaichi!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to stop the alphas from snapping on each other.

It wasn’t that Kyoutani didn’t like or respect you, because he did-- you were like a second mom, but Kindaichi just got on every single one of his nerves. And then tried dragging you into it! Like, the audacity of this bitch.

“Kyoutani!” Your alpha’s bark had both the blond and raven pausing, a careful glance making both back down as Oikawa heading towards you guys (Throwing a pile of confession letters into the trash on his way by without even looking; some point they would get the hint if he left the blatantly in the open).

The blond growled lowly, sending you a quick glance before returning to practice. Oikawa let him, turning his glare to the instigator of the whole thing. The onion-headed pup hid behind your smaller frame, making your laugh.

It was almost like that moment when dad’s pulled out their ‘behave or else’ voice. And in a way it was.

“One of these days my pretty dove won’t be there to save you, Kindaichi.”

“I know.”

You and Oikawa sent a look to each before you laughed, moving so Oikawa and Kindaichi could have a ‘man to man’ talk.

The pack was dysfunctional, and you almost let it go.

You were thankful you didn’t and still had this family to come back home too. All thanks to your alpha.

“STOP MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT YOUR OMEGA SHITTY-KAWA.”

“I can’t help it, Iwa- IWA STOP HITTING ME- Y/N HELP-”

You shook your head laughing, jogging to save said alpha.

He was childish and arrogant, and sometimes got too far up his own ass, but he was yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Let’s talk: Film Out - lyric and MV analysis (+ BU theories) - Part 1

by Admin 1

From infinitetab: Hi Admins! Were you able to see the MV for Film Out?

Mostly to Admin 1 (though both can chime in!) who posted the related post and talked about BU theories — how did you feel about the MV? Do you think it ties to the BU picture? Since it was a Japanese song of theirs I didn’t really connect dots just yet, but now I feel like I need to re-watch this with my conspiracy hat on, as well as their other Japanese MVs to see if there is a connection haha — did I miss it or were there some shots from the teaser that weren’t in the final version?

(Admittedly, I don’t know much about the BU and all its theories/plots/interconnectedness — I’ve been interested to look into it but didn’t know where to start haha — do you have any resources/posts you’d direct a newbie to?)

Thank you for all your lovely thoughts via your posts. Have a good day! ☀️😁

We were indeed able to see it, I even watched it a bunch of time to take note of different details and so I’d be able to try and figure out how to even begin writing a proper reply to this since there is a lot to discuss. The funny thing is, I said to myself hey, let’s try to keep this brief, okay? But it’s me so who am I even trying to fool with that one.

I’d like to preface this by saying that, looking at the lyrics and the meaning of Film Out, the MV, which fits it beautifully, doesn’t have to necessarily connect to the BU but there are many parallels and things that fit a little too well to just be a coincidence. So, while it doesn’t have to connect, and therefore I don’t have to be right with literally any of my thoughts, interpretations and theories, there is a chance that both is true at the same time. Unless they’d tell us, we’ll never know, but isn’t this truly the fun of it all? Finding clues and piecing together the BU? After all that’s what we used to do for a long time until BH decided we were too “stupid” to get it, so they helped us with additional content in hopes of it making things clearer. It did, but it also made it all even more complex and hard to grasp.

This analysis will be split up into two posts:

Part 1 – the meaning of the song/lyrics – in short it could be summarized by a sense of longing/yearning for something that once was, or even never really was at all, like a phantom pain or Schrödinger’s memories. It’s the beauty of how ephemeral everything in life is and how memories are sometimes all we have left or can hold on to, even if they aren’t necessarily real at all.

Part 2 – Film Out MV and the BU – a brief explanation of what the BU is, an introduction into the plot and where to start if you want to get into the BU, and how the MV fits in with it and what the different scenes could mean and be interpreted as, as well as a few additional overarching theories for the entire MV instead of particular scenes.

Part 1 – the meaning of the song and a (very) brief analysis of the lyrics:

youtube

According to articles and some of our Japanese translators who are able to grasp the deeper nuance of Japanese that does not perfectly translate into English, the song is about this feeling of longing for someone/something that was once there but is no longer, or even the longing for something that was never even there in the first place.

You, in my imagination

Are so vivid

As if you are right there

But I reach out my hand

And you suddenly disappear

(here our translators, specifically kookceptional, noted how disappear, or rather vanished, in this instance describes a sadness from the inability to control the disappearance of someone who was never actually there.)

It’s this idea that you’ve honed in so deeply on your memories that they’ve become vivid, almost real, making it only so much harder to accept that they are just memories, or even just figments of your imagination. The lyrics also talk about projecting those memories across a room, like a movie or pictures, captured memories, two glasses that have been left untouched, these sounds and smells that bring you back to those memories over and over again and make you only cling to them so much more desperately. It causes you bursts of pain, as the lyrics suggest.

There’s also mention of how when you reach out, you/that something disappears, it’s like when you observe something beautiful, like cherry blossom petals falling from a tree and drifting through the wind, but once you decide to take a picture of it, by the time you have your camera/phone in hand, the moment is gone. It can’t be repeated in that exact same way once again, and instead of existing forever in a picture, it’s now only part of your memory. But over time, no matter how hard you’ll try, that memory will fade, too.

Of course, like with many BTS songs, there are many ways of interpreting the lyrics and meanings, of how you associate them with different feelings and even your own experiences, the fact that the same words resonate with us in different ways.

It’s also worth noting that Film Out is part of an OST for the Japanese remake of Signal, therefore the lyrics might have connection to the movie. Fun fact: Signal is the remake of a K-Drama with the same title from 2014 but there’s also a Japanese TV show that, too, is a remake of that K-Drama from 2018 and its opening theme was BTS’ Don’t Leave Me. The premise of the show/movie is that a walkie talkie allows two detectives, one from 2015 (cold case profiler) and the other from 1989 to solve crimes together and even try to prevent them.

Personally I’ve never seen the K-Drama nor the Japanese version so I can’t really speak on the connection between the plot of the show and the song, but if they truly manage to prevent cases from ever happening, that would mean knowing of something that was never even there, like the memories of someone who was never even there in the first place like in Film Out, though even as I type it, it sounds like quite a stretch.

If some of you have seen either, please do comment if there’s a connection to be made here or not.

A thought I had while thinking about Film Out and its meaning/lyrics was that there could be a connection loosely drawn between Let Go (here though I feel it’s important to know how deeply meaningful and weighted of a song Let Go is, seeing as it was written and released in a time where Bangtan considered disbandment and this song would’ve, in a way, acted as a sort of farewell, so again take these thoughts of mine with a grain of salt since even I’m a little iffy on if they’d connect such a deeply meaningful song to another one written for an OST), the thought that you are ready to let go of that person/thing, to say goodbye and move on, but then in Film Out you realize that you can’t, that you’re still holding on to them and trying to piece together this thing you had, this person, but that is now gone, vanished like smoke never to return again.

Example:

If my fate is to disappear like this, then this is my last letter

Penned words, written then erased (therefore words that never were/never came to be)

Feelings for you, so many to let go

Unpuzzle my lego

At a level where it can’t return to its original shape

(…)

Before we say goodbye, let go

But I’m lost in the maze of my heart (FO: From all the memories stored in my heart)

From stereo to mono

That’s how the path splits

The lyrics for Film Out are translated in the actual MV, but I also thought I’ll add the translation done by kookceptional as well as ttokminnie since they add a lot of valuable language context and nuance:

These concepts are also shown in the MV with Seokjin as the narrator watching the scene inside the room (note how all seven are inside it) but they are frozen, like this picture of how times were once so happy and they were all together but as the MV progresses, the members vanish as Seokjin watches on, the room quite literally explodes as though his memories are obliterated (by the realization that they were never real in the first place? That their time ran out?) and thus can’t be pieced together again, or maybe it was all just an illusion all along. It feels like Seokjin is watching those memories being projected, a film from inside of him being played outward, so seemingly close and real yet he can’t reach it, can’t be part of it again, can only feel the pain these memories have left behind.

#BTS #BTS Film Out #Lyric analysis #Film Out analysis

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padfootagain · 4 years

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Girl Crush (XXX)

Chapter 30: Farewell Sweetpea Memories

HERE WE GO!!!! New chapter! Long one! I hope you all like this chapter!

There will be angst, BUT it's also going to start getting better!!!! So hold on!!! You'll see, the end of this chapter is heading in the right direction!!

I don't know if you've seen the interview Harry did with Howard Stern, but that guy was a complete asshole throughout the whole thing. I'm using his energy (and him, actually) in one of the scenes, you'll see. Do I exaggerate the type of nonsense he was speaking? Honestly, I don't think that I am exaggerating too much, the guy was a complete jerk. Thanks for objectifying women for an hour and a half, pal!

Anyway, that was my little angry disclaimer, cause I used his name in the chapter, so had to put it here. Using tons of lyrics too, you'll see :)

And… actually, we'll soon say goodbye to this fic, because… the next chapter will be our last. I know, it's sad, but we have a chapter left!

Anyway, please, come scream at me, punch me, hug me... anything you want, I am here to receive whatever your reaction might be at the end of this very long chapter!

Word Count 6583

You hadn't spoken to him in three months. Thirteen weeks. It felt like forever.

Harry's album had just come out, and he was drowning in interviews and performances now.

He had never found all these annoying questions about his private life more ironic. While every host asked him about how he could get any woman he wanted, or commented on his looks, or his charms, or whatever other ridiculous comment they could come up with, it turned out that the only one he had truly loved had given her heart to another man.

The irony was bitter to say the least.

Still, he had an album to promote. He had a tour to prepare. He had talk-shows to attend and interviews to reply to. And all the while, he had to hide that his heart was broken. This album he had spent so long writing, that was so personal, that he was so excited to show the world suddenly meant little to him. When he listened to it now, he thought of how you wouldn’t hear it with him for the first time. Chances were that you would not listen to it at all. The more he thought about it, since that evening he had dropped his album at your door, the more he reckoned that you wouldn't listen to it. Your deafening silence was the final sign, it seemed.

Of course he couldn't blame you. You loved someone else. He knew all too well that no one could control their heart, and if yours didn't belong to him, all he could do was hope that you were happy with whoever you loved.

He sang his songs on a few shows, and every time he wondered if you were listening, somewhere out there. You used to keep track of his interviews, would use them to tease him all the time. Oh, how he wished you were still listening, wherever you were…

He thought that simply being away and not talking to you or about you would make your ghost go away. But it seemed that the more time the two of you spent apart, the more he thought of you.

Where were you? Were you home? How was your shop doing? Did you get these peonies you loved so much? Were you happy?

Yes, that was the main question. The one that kept him up at night and seemed to never disappear from his thoughts no matter what he was busy at.

Were you happy?

He needed to know. He needed to hear the answer to that question. Because if you were happy without him, then it was okay. A voice in his mind told him that if you were happy, he could move on. He wasn't going to pretend that it would be easy, but he would move on. He would accept it. He just needed to hear that you were happy without him, he wouldn't get closure otherwise.

So, for the first time in three months, he picked up his phone and called your number, hoping you hadn't blocked him.

He let the phone ring but fell onto your voicemail.

"Hey, Y/N. It's Harry. How are you? I… I hope you're doing okay. Look I… I just… I wanted to talk to you, just… hum... I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now after what happened, but…"

He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. He couldn't even finish one sentence.

"I'm not trying to make you change your mind, I… I just need to see you one last time. Just… I mean, we were friends for so long and… I know that I fucked up and it's my fault, but… I feel like it would help me to get closure, if we could speak one last time. Could you call me back, please? I promise you, it won't take long I just… want to make sure you're okay, that's all. Call me back, please."

And you almost did.

Because the truth was, you missed him. You missed him so much, it felt like a part of you had been torn apart. You missed him so much sometimes it was hard to breathe. But then, he was your best friend, and that was why, right?

So, you didn't call him back. You couldn't gather the strength to erase his voicemail either. You would, eventually, you just needed a little time… right?

A week passed, but your life was unchanged. And in an attempt to avoid thinking about how much you missed Harry, and question yourself too much, you threw yourself into work.

You spent almost all your time there. You arrived way before the shop would open and left late at night. You kept yourself busy by creating new bouquets, and pretending to check if you were selling enough to stay afloat. But the truth was, all was going well for now in your shop. People were attracted by the novelty at first, but some had come back already. You guessed you were doing a good job.

You didn't listen to Harry's album. You didn't listen to his interviews. You didn't know what he was doing, and on which show he was, and what he was singing. A part of you worried about him constantly: was he alright? Did he sleep enough? What questions were asked? You hoped for nothing too rude…

But then, you knew that if you let yourself drown in his music or his interviews, you wouldn't get over him. You couldn't pretend that you were moving forward with your life and yet keep up with whatever he was doing. You simply couldn't. Cutting ties was all you could do.

And it was painful, and it asked what you guessed was strength, although, maybe it was madness. Anyway, days passed one by one, and you pretended that you were fine. You were so good at hiding your anxiety and problems to the world that you almost convinced yourself too that you were okay.

Two weeks had passed since Harry's voicemail, and you were rearranging a bouquet of peonies. They reminded you of him and the necklace he had given to you long ago, but you pretended that it wasn't why you were making your eighth bouquet with these flowers of the day.

For once during the day, the shop was empty, and you took your time to get a coffee and arrange the flowers with care. You didn't notice the man outside, who was peering in the shop and looking at the flowers before the front door.

Harry let his fingers wander across the soft petals. There were peonies everywhere. A smile formed on his lips at the sight.

Everything seemed to go well inside. He had spent about half an hour hesitating, watching the shop from afar, and it seemed busy with clients all along. But he had never doubted that your shop would be a stunning success, just like you had never doubted him…

He looked inside by the glass windows, and spotted you there, behind the counter. You were making a bouquet. You looked tired, but then, he guessed you had been very busy, with your new shop to manage.

You still looked so beautiful though…

Did he have the right to get in? Did he have the right to disturb you? To step back into your life, even if he meant for it to last but for an incident?

For a moment, he decided against it once more, his mind had kept on changing his decision for the past two hours. He turned around and was ready to leave.

But he needed to know if you were okay.

So instead of walking away, he turned to the door, and walked in.

The little bell on the door rang and you looked up with a polite smile on your lips, but the gesture vanished the second your eyes landed on his green gaze.

What was Harry doing here?

"Hi, Y/N."

You weren't sure were you breathing or not. You wanted to cry.

He took a couple of steps more, but remained at a fair distance from you, as if he were afraid to scare you away if he came too close. Before your silence, he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I… How's the shop doing?"

You shook your head.

"You shouldn't be here, Harry."

He forced an understanding smile, nodding, struggling to keep the tears from spilling.

"I… I know. You're right. I… I just… did you get my voicemail?"

You could have lied. You guessed it wouldn't have hurt him so much then. You could have pretended that you hadn't called him back because you didn't know that he had called in the first place. It would spare him some pain, but that was lying, and you reckoned that on the long run, it wouldn't help.

"Yes, I did have your voicemail."

He nodded again.

"I… I just… I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay. That's all."

"I'm okay," you replied. "You should leave now."

You turned your back to him, hoping he would leave. But you didn't hear any footsteps.

There were a million things that he wanted to tell you, and a million more that he wanted you to answer. About you, and Gareth, and did you regret all that had happened too? Did you miss him all the time just like he did? Did you miss him sometimes? Did you miss him at all…?

But he reckoned that he didn't want to spoil the couple of minutes he had before you would get angry and he would have to leave. So he kept his questions for himself and went for a amore casual subject although it still mattered to him.

"My album is out. Did you listen to it?"

You shook your head, your back still to him, and he nodded once more. He was relieved you weren't looking at him though, it gave him a chance to brush away the tears at the corner of his eyes unnoticed.

"I was expecting that," he went on. "'Was just curious. I… you're sure you're okay?"

He gulped, before asking the main question he had come here to ask.

"Are you… are you happy with him?"

You looked up at the ceiling, an old trick to keep the tears from falling, but it didn't help with the fact that your throat was so tight now, you could barely breathe.

Were you happy? You had been terrified to ask yourself this question ever since Harry had been pushed out of your life. And now… now you had to answer it. You not only needed to face the question, but you also needed to lie about the answer.

What about this value of yours about never lying to Harry?

But how could you tell him that you missed him so much your entire life ached. Could you tell him that the pain of not having him by your side the way you used to had made you numb to everything else?

Of course, you couldn't. You couldn't even tell this truth to yourself, how could you speak the words aloud then?

"Yes, I am."

"Good."

You heard him sniffing, although you knew he was trying hard to not make a sound.

"I… I'm gonna go now," he spoke again. "I… I won't be bothering you anymore. I'm sorry if I did bother you by coming here today. I… I didn't mean to. I… I'll leave you alone, from now on."

You waited for the sound of his footsteps to echo through the shop, but you were only met by silence.

"I… I have a show to record, like a… an event," Harry went on instead, "and it's… It's in L.A, so I thought, maybe you'd like to come. Which is stupid, because I just told you that I would leave you alone, and you clearly… don't need me anymore. So, that's… silly… but… I brought two tickets, so… Maybe you can…"

His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat to be able to speak again. He hurriedly swiped the tears away before they would run down his cheeks.

"Maybe you can give them to someone who would be interested. Jas perhaps? I haven't seen her since that day either. I… I'll put them on the counter."

He took an envelope out of the pocket of his jacket, and put it on the counter, as he had announced. His eyes lingered on the peonies you had left there, on your mug still half-full with a coffee that was growing cold. He leaned against the counter, his hands splayed on the wood, and if you had turned now, you would have noticed that he hadn't even bothered to put on his rings that morning.

"I… I'm gonna go now," he repeated, stalling, and he hoped you would ask him not to leave like he had never hoped for anything before. And maybe that was why he kept on talking, why he was buying himself some time: because he wanted to spend more time with you, but also because he was giving you more chances to change your mind too, no matter how much of a fool's hope that was. "But… huh… I want you to know, before I go… No matter when, or why, if you ever need anything, I'll always be here for you. I'm not going to contact you again, I don't think that's what you would want me to do, so I'll leave you alone. But if you need me one day, doesn't matter if it's in a week, in a month or in fifty years, I'll be here. Okay? I'll always be here. And I hope… I wish you all the happiness in the world. I hope you and Gareth will be happy. Thinking back about it, I think you were right. I see it now. He'll love you better than I ever could."

His voice broke again, but after a silent moment, you still didn't make a sound. He reckoned it was time to go. He took a step back, took a few seconds to take you in: your frame before the window, sun coming in and embracing your form, surrounded by flowers. And if he longed for the chance to see you like this every day for the rest of his life, it wasn't his decision to make. It was only yours to decide who would have that honour, and you had given that power to someone else.

It was time for him to let you go.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

Slowly, he turned around and walked to the door, reluctant movements he had to make anyway. Steps after steps, he was slowing down, each of them harder to take than the previous one, until he stopped before the door, rising his hand to the doorknob but hesitating one last time, almost as if he was giving you one last chance, again.

He opened the door.

"Harry, don't go…"

Your voice was but a whisper made hoarse and drenched by tears, a shaky sound so fragile that it barely reached the door. It didn't matter though.

The bell upon the door had already rang, and the door had closed, and Harry was gone before you spoke his name.

Gareth was talking to you, you knew he was. Was it about his day? About his friends? About his job? The topic had long since been lost to you. You heard his voice in the background while your mind wandered to other thoughts, like a song playing in the next room that you could hear but couldn't focus on.

You nodded from time to time, or gave an occasional 'yes' to pretend you were listening. And you felt guilty for not giving your boyfriend the attention he deserved, and you should have been listening to him. You should have been interested by most of the things he talked about. But your thoughts made a storm in your head that was way too vivid for you to pay attention to anything else.

Harry's silhouette walking out of your flower shop was the only thing you could see. A picture that your mind painted against your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. You saw his face first on everyone you came across.

He was your best friend, after all, and maybe that was normal to feel like this when you lost someone who was so dear to you. But another voice, right there, at the back of your head, whispered an unspoken truth.

You missed Harry more than you had ever missed Gareth. You ached at the thought of him more than you had been pained by anything else. And when you thought of the happy memories you shared, your heart felt both broken and warm, as if it recognized one of its missing pieces.

Was the love that your heart held for him only platonic if you wondered who were the women he spoke of in his songs and wished the answer could be your name?

You knew that Harry had an interview today on the radio with Howard Stern. You had heard the announcement the day before, and you were dying to listen to it. Would you dare though?

Your reason ordered you not to do it, your heart begged you to hear his voice again.

He had come to your flower shop worrying about you, but he wasn't the only one permanently wondering about the other's well-being. You woke up in the middle of the night worried that he wouldn't sleep these days. You thought about how nervous he became before big interviews, when he had to perform there, and you found yourself making sandwiches for him to make sure that he would eat something that day, the same way you had done dozens of times before, that you would never bring to him.

Maybe you could listen to the interview… just for a few minutes. He would never know. Gareth didn't have to know either. But the very thought of hiding it from him made you feel like a terrible person.

"Have you talked to Harry lately?"

His name being spoken finally pulled your attention back to Gareth.

"Hum… Not since he dropped by at the shop the other day."

"It's really sad that the two of you can't repair whatever went wrong between you. You were friends for a long time."

"Yeah… but… I don't think that we can go back to what we were before."

"I heard about an interview today, are you going to listen to it?"

You hesitated, but shook your head.

"I don't think so."

Gareth studied your expression, trying to read through you. He shrugged.

"I'm not gonna lie, I didn't like him much anyway. I'm not very surprised that he ended up doing something that made you mad enough to not want to talk to him."

You clenched your jaw.

"He's a good person. It wasn't really his fault."

And you were earnest as you spoke those words. Harry had crossed a line that night, but you were far from innocent. And it wasn't his fault if his feelings for you had drifted towards something they weren't supposed to. You knew him well enough to know that he didn't mean to hurt you. You weren't even angry at him, you only felt guilty. But you didn't blame him for it, your own messy head and blurred feelings were not his doing, it was yours.

You suddenly felt an unbearable craving for something containing chocolate. Anything, really. Where you stress-eating again? Probably… but you didn't have it in you at that moment to resist.

You stood from your spot on the couch to walk to the fridge, but there was nothing there. You opened all your cupboards, but your kitchen was empty. Only one cookie was left, and that would be far from enough. You guessed that with all that had happened, you had forgotten to replenish that box you usually kept full of sweets.

Actually, going out to get some seemed like a great idea all of a sudden, so you grabbed your car keys instead.

"I'm gonna buy a few snacks," you told your boyfriend. "Won't be too long."

Before he could answer you were grabbing your jacket and headed for the door.

It was a short drive to the closest store, but you reckoned that it would do you good to be on your own for a while, so you headed further downtown instead, to another convenient store a little further away.

The radio was turned on automatically as you started driving, and you didn't pay enough attention to it to be bothered to turn it off. It was only some kind of add for a product you wouldn’t need.

You were waiting at a red light though when his voice filled up your car.

You checked the station. But there was no doubt when he spoke again, you could have recognized that voice anywhere. Hell, it haunted your dreams.

It was Harry.

Your first instinct was to turn it all off, but you stopped yourself as your hand was only inches away from the right button.

"Yeah, I can't wait to be on tour again, to be honest. I think… I've grown to enjoy all the steps of the process, from writing to releasing music that I've made myself. But there's nothing like singing along with a full crowd. Performing live is still my favourite part of it all. Being with the fans and seeing their reaction to the songs is amaz..."

The honking car behind you brought your mind back to the present and to the light that had turned green. You raised your hand in apology to the car behind you and hurried forward. The radio was still on.

Your throat had tightened, and you were surprised that your eyes weren't already filled with tears. But no matter your racing heart, you found out that hearing his voice soothed the aching in your chest.

So instead of pushing him away, you let his voice surround you in your tiny car, in hope it would heal everything broken inside you and make all your doubts and worries disappear.

And for a while, it worked.

"I mean, people come to your show, and they support you by buying a ticket. But it's not the most important part to me. They support you by singing along to songs that you wrote months before in a dark room surrounded by a bunch of people as crazy as you, and they love it, and they cheer when you're done singing… it's amazing."

"Yeah, but the part when they buy the tickets is quite important to the label, right?" Howard Stern's voice emerged from what seemed to be nothing, and Harry chuckled in response.

"I guess."

The conversation went on, and you ended up driving pointlessly through the city of angels. You didn't even recognize the road you were on now, but didn't care at all. All you cared about was listening to his voice again, and it hurt so much and yet it healed everything. How could something that broke you also fix all your scars?

But the set of questions asked by the radio host drifted from the album to more personal matters, and your hands tightened around the stirring wheel. You had heard that kind of questions dozens of times before, but they still made you so mad.

They all assumed what kind of man Harry was, when he wasn't like that all. It didn't matter how many times he proved them wrong or denied it all, the same questions came back again and again every single time.

"Are you single?"

"I am, yeah." You heard the quiet nod in Harry's voice, and could imagine him shifting his weight uncomfortably on his chair or stool.

"For you that's a choice though, isn't it?"

"Umm… not… not really, no," Harry answered slowly, letting out an uncomfortable and almost anxious chuckle.

You knew how these questions made him feel, and all you wanted to do then was to rush to this studio, wherever it might be, and slap some sense in that interviewer.

But all you could do was keep on listening to the interview and drive further on still.

"I mean… let's be honest here for a second. You have everything. Every woman falls in love with you in the span of minutes. That's an incredible power, man. And I'm not saying that in a bad sense, I'm saying that you can literally choose any woman you want and you'll have her."

"That's not how it works," Harry replied and here again, you could hear that he was shaking his head and clenching his jaw by now, sign that his discomfort was turning into something closer to anger. But Harry was polite to an annoying degree in these circumstances, so you knew that he wouldn't get mad, no matter what was passing through his mind at that moment.

You didn't know, though, that things were different this time. Harry was exhausted, he barely slept these days. And he missed you, God, he missed you so terribly. The pain in his chest had numbed the rest of his body as it spread, except for the constant ache in his heart. Even at night, your memory kept him awake.

And he was tired of these questions, he truly was. The question had never made less sense than it did now.

He could have any woman he wanted? It couldn't be further from the truth. The woman he loved didn't feel the way he did, and he reckoned you never would.

"I mean, it does! For you, it does!" Stern went on, oblivious to the obvious unease that had settled through his studio, including the members of Harry's band who looked down at their feet or gave Harry concerned looks. "And that's fucking amazing! That's the dream life! You're not gonna be heartbroken because someone you liked pushed you away. You can just have whoever you want."

And for once, when Harry answered, his voice wasn't just distant, but cold as ice. The tone clearly carrying a cool anger that asked nothing but a spark to turn into full flames.

"You're very wrong about me. I don't know what else to tell you. It's just wrong. We should talk more about the album though."

Stern was clearly not used to this kind of reactions, and neither was anyone who knew Harry. His words were still polite, and rather innocent, but his tone was everything but friendly now. Jeffrey was frowning hard in a corner, while the rest of his friends stared at him with surprise.

In your car, you pulled over, feeling angry tears rushing to your eyes and blurring the road ahead.

"I'm just stating facts here, man," Stern didn't back down. "Girls just go crazy around you. They just all fall for you. But it's amazing! It's a great gift! It means you're gonna be free of rejection and of that kind of heartache."

You almost expected him to get angry this time. But he didn't. Instead, his voice grew hoarse as his throat tightened.

"That's not true. I wish it was though. But that's not true. And I can testify first hand that loving someone with your entire being isn't always enough to make them feel the same about you too. Sometimes, it's not enough to love someone more than yourself to make them choose you."

He cleared his throat while a heavy silence settled on the studio.

"Let's talk about another song, shall we?" Harry asked, changing the subject, but you didn't need to see him to know that he was brushing a tear away from his eyes.

Meanwhile, your cheeks were stained with the bitter droplets. And the only thought your mind could make was by staring at the empty road ahead and asking to yourself…

… what on Earth had you done?

You drove for a while longer, trying to find your way back to your home. You had turned off the radio, unable to handle listening to the rest of the interview.

You didn't know what it was, if it was because you had seen Harry again, or because of the interview, or because of both, but you suddenly needed to listen to it.

You rushed inside your home, tripping over as you took off your shoes in a hurry, and aimed for the closet where you had hidden Harry's gift.

You knew, somehow, that it was his album. It wasn't that hard to guess, considering the shape of the wrapped object.

You reached for your gift and sat down on the ground in front of your player. You noticed then that Gareth was in the bathroom, the vague noise of the shower barely reaching you. You didn't pay any more attention to it though. Gareth was the last thing in your mind now.

You tore the paper apart, making a mess in your haste, and stared at the album for a moment. Your fingers traced the shape of him on the front picture, before you placed the vinyl on the player to start listening to his songs, and turned the album around to check what you would be listening to.

You found attached at the back a little note scrabbled over a torn out piece of paper. Your heart stopped beating altogether when you read it, your eyes travelling across the letters over and over and over again in what seemed to be a desperate attempt to grasp the real meaning behind his words. But the meaning was plain and simple, and you were stunned more than anything else as the words sank in.

Golden was starting to play, and you tried to focus on the song, although you were still in shock, your body and thoughts numbed by what you just read.

All my love songs are about you

You started to cry when the lyrics Don't wanna let you know / I don't wanna be alone rang through the room. It didn't stop until the end of the album.

With each song, now that you knew that they were about you, you found lines that hurt you too much, that made you clench your hand against your heart. Words that sometimes echoed conversations you had with Harry, and you recognized them, you recognized all of them…

No matter if the words just resonated so intensely with your situation.

You don't have to say you love me

You don't have to say nothing

You don't have to say you're mine

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I don't wanna make you feel bad

But I've been trying hard not to talk to you

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

Your flowers just died

Plant new seeds in the melody

Let me inside, I wanna get to know you

I don't wanna make you feel bad

But I've been trying hard not to act a fool

Or if they were just too raw, that if they were really meant for you, you reckoned that you didn't know what to do with that kind of love aimed for you.

Loving you's the antidote

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

What if I'm someone you don't want around?

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I just hope you see me

In a little better light

I'll be gone too long from you

I'm going, oh, I'm going home

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

Or if they were words that one of you had spoken once, and you recognized all of them.

Just let me adore you

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

And through the lyrics you travelled back in time to moments the two of you had shared, no matter if it were the two of you singing madly in your kitchen while baking, or shopping together, or going on adventures in the wild for the weekend…

There's a piece of you in how dress

I couldn't want you any more

Kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor

Sunflower

My eyes

Want you more than a melody

You gotta see it to believe it

Sky never looked so blue

So hard to leave it

That's what I always do

So I keep thinking back to

A time under the canyon moon

She plays songs I've never heard

An old lover's hippie music

Pretends not to know the words

Yes, you reckoned, he wasn't lying, they really were all about you.

For how long had he loved you like this?

When Gareth finally joined you in the living room, you were still crying, sitting on the floor, the record still playing although there was no music left to listen to.

You were clutching a note in your hand, and he wondered what it said, but a part of him didn't want to know, he seemed aware that he wouldn't like whatever was written on the piece of paper.

He sat down next to you.

"Hey, stop crying. Why are you doing this to yourself, anyway? You shouldn't have listened to his album. Come on, it'll be fine."

He hugged you, holding you in his arms and patting your back to calm you down.

And you could smell his cologne, and the familiar weight of his body against you, and the size of his hands that you recognized easily, and the feeling of being held by him.

And you cried even harder because you didn't want any of it.

It wasn't his cologne that you wanted impregnated into your lungs, it wasn't his body you wanted to feel leaning against you, it wasn't his hands you wanted to touch you and wasn't in his arms that you wanted to hide now.

It was Harry's.

You wanted Harry. Right then, as you were at your lowest, and everything hurt, you couldn't fight against the thought that had been messing with your mind and heart for such a long time.

It was Harry. It had always been Harry. Even when he was with someone else, it was already him. And even when you were with Gareth, it was still Harry.

You had pushed him away thinking it wasn't fair to spend time with him while you were with Gareth, but the truth was, this was the part that was unfair. It was unfair to everyone, and you had been such a fool. Claiming a higher moral ground because you remained true to your boyfriend, when in reality, you didn't want to cheat on him, you wanted to be with someone else. It wasn't being loyal, it was being absolutely stupid.

Because by trying to not hurt Gareth, you were hurting all three of you. No one was happy in the end. Maybe Gareth was, a little bit, for now.

But what about Harry? And what about you?

You shook your head. You couldn't go on like this… it was all so wrong. You had been denying the truth for too long, and now, it was time to make things right.

And the first step was to be taken now.

"I can't be with you."

Your voice was a mere whisper and Gareth thought he hadn't heard you right.

"What?"

You cleared your throat, shaking your head.

"I can't be with you, Gareth. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but this… this isn't right."

"What are you talking about? Are you… are you breaking up with me?"

"It's… it's for the best. I'm sorry it took me so long… to get it right."

You pulled away, drying your cheeks.

"Are you going to tell me that you want to leave me just because you listened to his album?"

"No… no, it's just… I think it made me realize that he really meant it."

"That he meant what?"

"That he loves me. Or used to love me, at least."

"Is that why you don't talk to each other anymore? Because he tried to make you choose him?"

"No… not at all. I mean… He didn't try to make me choose him. He… he never told me anything about how he felt. But then, the night of the opening, we were on the beach and… we kissed."

You could see the pain crossing Gareth's features, and wanted nothing but to brush it away. But it needed to be done. Because you couldn't be with the wrong person for any longer. Not when you were so absolutely certain that the right person for you thought that you were the right person for them as well.

"Nothing else happened. I promise you, nothing else happened. And then… I felt so bad, and… it was so unfair to you, and I cared… I really do care about you, and I love you but… I felt so bad, so I told Harry that we couldn't be friends anymore, because of that kiss, and because it couldn't happen again. And he told me he loved me, but I think I didn't… I don't… it… I knew he did love me, but I don't think that I knew how to handle that. And you were innocent in all that, and I didn't want you to be hurt, so I… I pushed him away. And nothing happened. But I… I'm not happy like this, Gareth."

You shook your head, taking a few seconds to gather your strengths and go on. Meanwhile, your boyfriend was stubbornly quiet.

"I'm not happy. When Harry came to the shop, he asked me if I was happy, and I couldn't lie to myself anymore because… the answer is no. I'm not happy. I haven't been happy since I pushed Harry out of my life. And I'm so sorry, because I know you're earnest, and I know you love me, but I can't… I can't love you the way you love me. And I can't be happy with you, not at my happiest, at least. And I want to be. And you deserve to be with someone who will be at their happiest because of you, then, they can make you be at your happiest too."

He remained quiet for a little longer, taking it all in. He was crying.

"I want to know something though…" he finally asked, his voice low and deep, but clear anyway and a little cold, like he wasn't about to fight for you. Something inside of him told him not to, told him that he didn't stand a chance anyway. "Why him? Why do you choose him instead of me? Why is he better than me?"

You shook your head, searching for the right words. But you reckoned that there wasn't any logical explanation to give, only the blunt truth.

"I don't know if he's better than you. I don't know. But I have to choose him because… because I love him."

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

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lololil · 4 years

Text

For the wonderful @bluronyourradar who requested from the prompt list - the way I said I love you. This was a hard one to write, but I very much liked to. Thank you and I hope you enjoy 🌙💜

I listened to some classical music for inspiration (it’s not like I know anything about it, but I just love to listen to classical piano), here are some of them if you want to listen to while reading or whenever: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

32. In a way I can’t return

It is the first show Eliott has ever gone to. Of course, he had watched Lucas playing many times before, many times to him. Only to Eliott, the both of them hidden in the playing room, stealing some moments together. And if he ever thought that was too much for his long gone heart, he wasn’t ready for watching Lucas on stage. Not even close.

From the moment he entered, the spotlight following him, brightening his controlled face, two huge marble blue balls adorning it, Eliott felt his insides churn. An image to look at forever. There in the light nothing to hide, except - maybe - the meaning behind “I composed this song to the person I love the most. Please, take this as the purest form of my love for you. I may not be the best with words, but this song is everything I’ve ever felt.” And even though all the gazes go immediately to Chloé, girls fanning over her, squealing, Eliott knows the only pair of eyes that matter are on him. Burning with the sincerity of his words, making his heart beat so fast it may break free from his body and yet nothing moves. Sounds put together into words weighing on him. Everything I’ve ever felt. A song. For Eliott.

The thought of Lucas writing a song thinking of Eliott is too much. Thinking of how he could express his love, show to the world how much he feels. Except no one knows. Only them both. Glances stolen for years until it became something more, stolen kisses in the darkness of the corners until it became stolen promises. Whispers behind closed doors, the touch of skin under the covers. Never enough - it could never be. And yet Eliott has never felt this much.

Lucas moves through the stage like he belongs, the light accompanying him as he sits on the bench, the dark piano glowing. A deep breath, one last gaze and his hands are on the tiles.

Everything around Eliott disappears. It’s just them once more, in the playing room. Eliott swooning over Lucas and the melody invading his ears, taking over his mind and transporting him to different places every time. This time he goes to a forest, just him and Lucas laying on the floor, looking at the stars, the sounds of nature and the melody all the same.

It starts slow and sweet. A calm clicking of tiles, just like a light breeze through treetops. A harmonic tune, notes carefully thought of flowing right into his ears. Gentle like the touch of a lover, gentle enough to make tears form in Eliott’s eyes, but at every note the melody gains strength, transforming into a deep symphony, energetic. Unexpected, and yet in place, like it belongs.

Eliott dares to look at Lucas as the song mutates once more, a sweeter but melancholic sound. He is astonishing, sweat shining on his forehead like little diamonds, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes - eyes dark, a storm taking form, waves carrying different sets of emotions, and Eliott, a sailor lost in the depths of it, boat long shrunken.

It makes him want to cry even more.

His gaze returns to Lucas’ hands, now moving methodically, swiftly clicking on the tiles and taking the pace to something a bit more stagnant, but ever so beautiful. It is sad, the lack of melody, the silence just like in the time of the evening it isn’t day nor night, not too bright but not nearly dark enough, a state in between, the only sound are the waves crashing in distance, maybe they aren’t crashing at all. And Eliott can’t suppress the feeling it gives him - finitude.

Nevertheless, the song isn’t the same anymore, Lucas’ features transforming into something different, the unknown storm of his eyes taking the form of longing. The abrupt movements of his hands, makes the tune confusing, one note seemingly after the next one but never quite getting to it. And with one last reassuring melody, the song is over.

After a few seconds of silence, the only sound audible the one of Lucas’ unsteady breath, the audience erupts into applause, every single person gets on their feet to praise the pianist. But Eliott can’t move. His limbs have never been this heavy, the weight of realization pulling him down. Lucas made a song for me. He took time to think of me, transcribe his emotions into music. For me. It is so much he feels breathless. It is so much he thinks he may never be able to return this, to show his love as deeply as Lucas has. He could never return love in such a beautiful form.

He gazes up, and there is Lucas waiting for him, a sweet smile on his face, tears at the base of his eyes. Eliott finally gets up, desperation in his eyes, but still a smile on his lips. A song. For me. Lucas gives a small nod, and quickly disappears off stage after a farewell, Eliott goes after him in a heartbeat, meeting Lucas in the room they were in right before the performance.

Lucas waits for him against the wall, hair put up in a mess purposely - it wasn’t just minutes before - daring look on his eyes. Not a hint of doubt on his posture and Eliott wants to pin him there, touch him until the end of time, cherish him until his joints complain too much.

“So?” Lucas asks in a cocky tone. And what can Eliott say? Everything and nothing comes to his mind, the weight back on him once more, posture fambling, Lucas is quick to notice, getting slowly closer.

“I love you so much, Lucas.” He can’t put into words what he wants to say, and it is so frustrating, tears spill and he lets a cry take over him.

“Yes, I love you too.” He says with such intensity, such surety, it makes Eliott lose balance.

“Lucas, listen to me.” Eliott takes his shoulders. “I could never give something like that back to you.” Lucas shakes his head in confusion, cupping Eliott’s jaw. “My hands are too rough and my mind too fuzzy. I don’t think I could ever give back love like you have given me.” Lucas only smiles, pulling Eliott closer, so close, he feels the sweet scent of his breath.

“You don’t have to, my love. You never have to prove your love to me. I know how you feel and I hope you know how I do too.” Eliott’s cry becomes even messier, sometimes the realization of how much love there can be for someone is too much, and the love he feels for this man is so much. He could never put limits to it, there is nothing in this universe that it could fit into. And he knows Lucas feels the exact same, he does.

“Yes, I do.” Is all he can say, the magnitude of the feeling still blurring all his thoughts.

“Come here.” He hears Lucas whispering and lets himself go into his arms, breathing the heat from his skin, feeding on the intoxicating smell of his hair. The simple feeling of their skin together is enough to make him even dizzier. He wonders if it will always feel this way, touching Lucas.

“I love you.”

“I know. And I love you.”

At some point, no matter how great it is, the urge to be alone - just the two of them - isn’t enough and they have to give space to the real world. Reality comes knocking in through the door - Chloé with all her family - invading the room. Compliments given, hugs exchanged and even marriage promises made. But it doesn’t dawn on Eliott as much. The knowledge of their love is enough. For now, it’s all he needs.

#my lack of knowledge on piano made it hard #and it may not make much sense #but i tried describing how i feel listening to it #and how a song could translate into their relationship in this context #very hard ngl #i hope it makes sense #and i tried not to make that part too long bc of my difficulty in describing it #i mean the piano part #also #you've probably realized by now i have an obsession with forests #and the sea clearly #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu fic #skam france #my writing

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precuredaily · 4 years

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Precure Day 198

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 49 - “The Dreams and Hopes of Precure 5!” Date watched: 17 June 2020 Original air date: 27 January 2008 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/qlReFMY Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

the end is nigh

It’s been an adventure these last few episodes! The team found the 45th Pinky and filled the Dream Collet, defeated Bloody, and then had the Collet stolen from them. They went to Nightmare’s dimension and fought Kawarino, where he tossed them around and Despariah used the Collet to restore her youth. Then, despite all odds, they found hope where there was none and pulled themselves out of despair, managing to defeat Kawarino and rescue the lost citizens of the Palmier Kingdom! Then and only then did Despariah finally stand up and begin her own attack on the girls. They’ve overcome every obstacle placed in front of them up to now, but how will they fare against the literal incarnation of despair?

The Plot

The cold opening is a quick recap of the previous episode and the final scene, with Despariah finally making her stand. After the opening theme, the girls proceed to take on Despariah’s kowainas, and the action cuts quickly from girl to girl as they kick, punch, and chop their way through the ranks. Lemonade remembers that they were able to defeat them previously by separating them from the ground, but when Aqua knocks them off their feet, they land right back on the ground no worse for the wear. Despariah taunts them, but Dream insists they’ll pull through, and they proceed to kick more ass. They do dispel some of the monsters, but just as quickly as they do, more pop up. Nonetheless, Despariah grows concerned, and she confronts Dream to personally push her into despair. She restrains Dream while a group of Kowaina attack the citizens of Palmier, but Mint blocks them, so she sets the squad on the other four cures, throwing them in the air. She hypnotizes Dream as she taunts that their power came from the now-useless Dream Collet, and Dream falls into a dream.

She awakens in Coco’s arms as he tells her to give up, as he doesn’t want to see her get hurt anymore, and reaches for the Pinky Catch. The real Coco, Nuts, and Milk watch from afar but Coco isn’t worried about Dream at all, he’s sure she’ll overcome this. Sure enough, inside the illusion, Dream recognizes Coco as a fake because he would never tell her to quit. Her Pinky Catch glows with the light of hope and several Kowaina in her immediate vicinity are destroyed. Coco proclaims that Dream is always optimistic and striving for a better future. She turns to him and says that his kindness to everyone is what gives her the strength to keep going, and that’s why she loves him. Then she faces Despariah herself and declares that she will make Coco’s dream come true, no matter what, and the other girls line up with her.

Now here’s where it starts to get juicy. Despariah starts to crack under the pressure. Rather than being intimidating, she sounds afraid. She asks the girls why they aren’t afraid of aging or their power waning, and she begins to admit that her new eternal youth hasn’t helped her the way she thought it would. Cure Dream, seeing her opponent breaking down with anxiety, does what she does best: she empathizes. She bravely steps forward and cancels her transformation, facing Despariah not as Cure Dream, but as Nozomi. Nozomi kindly and gently tells Despariah she just wants to talk, because she can tell the villainess is scared, which means she has a heart. Nozomi’s sheer kindness causes the kowaina to begin to disperse as she repels even Despariah’s despair, and the other cures decide to follow her lead and detransform. Thus they stand in front of their archenemy, vulnerable and powerless but happy.

The girls reaffirm their willingness to go along with Nozomi’s reckless abandon and Despariah realizes that their friendship is what keeps them from being afraid. Nozomi invites Despariah to really talk things out, but suddenly Kawarino reappears, alive but on his last legs. He insists that Despariah doesn’t need them, and begins to attack Nozomi, but Despariah blasts him away. She confesses that her newfound immortality has still not brought her peace and she wants to hear what the girls have to say. Kawarino can’t handle this, and begins to despair at the idea that everything he’s done for her was pointless. The Darkness of Despair opens beneath his feet and suddenly a giant hand grabs him. He recognizes the deformed figure beneath the black surface as Bloody and he gets slowly dragged down into the abyss, begging Despariah for help, but all she can do is watch in fear.

Seeing what became of her subordinates shatters Despariah’s already fragile mental state, and the entire Nightmare world begins to crumble as she loses control of her power. She orders Nozomi and co to seal away the Nightmare world with their powers, trapping her in it forever, because if they don’t then her unchecked power of destruction will tear their world apart, too. Despariah and Nozomi share sad looks with each other as they both understand what must be done, and the girls transform again, using the Symphony Set to seal away the Nightmare world. Despariah approaches Coco, Nuts, and the citizens of Palmier, returning the exhausted Dream Collet and apologizing for her actions before she turns away and walks back into Nightmare HQ. Despariah genuinely smiles and thanks the girls as the building is encased in butterfly wings and implodes.

When the light fades, the girls are back in the plaza in their world, at twilight, silent and sad. Dream in particular can’t even look at the others for a while and we don’t see her face, an indirect way of showing how upset she is by the events that have just taken place. No words are exchanged in this beautiful, tragic scene.

The scene fades to night at Karen’s mansion. An idle comment about Jiiya’s absence explains why they’re free to let all the Palmier citizens wander around the facility. Everyone is trying to unwind and catch up and make plans for rebuilding the Palmier Kingdom. Papaya, Coco and Nuts’s teacher, finally asks which of them will become king, and they’re visibly uncomfortable, but Milk explains how they’ve worked so hard together to survive in this world and get to this point, they should become kings together. Everyone agrees and the two princes seem happy.

Later in the evening as festivities have wound down, Komachi and Nuts are talking. She thanks him for pushing her further with her writing and supporting her, and he thanks her for her kindness and perseverance and saving him from his own self-loathing. Both of them have inspired the other to go farther and achieve the previously unthinkable. Nuts even gives Komachi his key to the kingdom for her to remember him by.

Meanwhile, Nozomi and Coco are having a much-needed heart to heart. Nozomi says she thinks him and Nuts as dual kings is a good deal, because they can compensate for each other’s weaknesses, and then the conversation shifts to the promise he made to show Nozomi the Palmier Kingdom. He reaffirms that vow, as she says that she looks forward to seeing the restored kingdom and he wants to build a kingdom worth showing to her.

In both of these cases, the words of love go unspoken, but not unheard.

As dawn breaks, the girls and all the fairies gather on the lawn to say their final goodbyes. Karen and Milk wish each other good luck in the future, rounding off our shipping pairs, and then all the girls begin to cry. However, Nozomi reminds them all that it’s not farewell, and as long as their hearts stay connected, they’ll surely meet again.

Then Nozomi reveals to Coco that she’s finally found her dream: she wants to be a teacher like he was. He inspired her by telling her she was full of potential (a callback to episode 11) and gave her a lot of knowledge, drive, and motivation, and she wants to inspire the next generation in the same way. He responds in kind by saying he wants himself and Nuts to instill hope in his citizens the same way Nozomi instilled hope in him. With that, the girls relinquish their Pinky Catches, which turn back into the butterflies that are the Five Lights of the Palmier Kingdom. They form a ring, which absorbs all the fairies into it before transforming into a giant rainbow butterfly and flying away into the sunrise.

fly away now, fly away now, fly awaaaaaay

To wrap the episode up, we fast forward an indeterminate amount of time to check in on the girls post-Precure. In voiceover, they each express their difficulties in achieving their dreams: Nozomi still struggles academically, Urara still fails auditions sometimes, Komachi gets writer’s block, Rin has trouble coming up with designs, and Karen has doubts about working in medicine. Nonetheless, they all find comfort in turning to each other for help, and their friendship runs deeper than any obstacles. The final scene is the five of them posing together in a still frame.

The Analysis

At this point, Precure final episodes have established a pattern. The first half resolves the battle with the villain, while the second half wraps up any other loose ends in their civilian lives. Such is the case here, but it plays a bit differently from the finales of the Futari wa era. The peril never quite reaches the same depths of intensity, largely due to the immutable optimism of Nozomi and the team and Despariah’s growing uncertainty with her own cause. Comparatively, a longer time seems to be spent tying up loose ends, which I suppose, as with many elements of this series that seem more drawn out, is tied into there being five main characters instead of two. This is NOT a criticism, by any means. I think the story beats covered by the conclusion are appropriate and well-paced and properly wrap up everyone’s story arcs without rushing or overstaying the welcome. Accordingly, I’m going to subdivide this review into two halves, one for the conclusion to both the battle with Despariah and Nightmare, and the other for the girls’ duties to the Palmier Kingdom and the epilogue.

In this case, the fight with Despariah feels especially bittersweet, because for the very first time in a Precure series, the final boss was actually won over by the girls’ ideals instead of just outright blown to bits, but it was too late for her to redeem herself as her power was out of control. Compared to the Star Twinkle finale from early this year (at the time of this writing), which I found rather underwhelming with regard to Ophiuchus just walking away after enslaving half the galaxy, this episode properly redeems its villain without absolving her of the weight and consequence of her actions. Did she deserve her fate? That’s hard to say, it would be interesting to see her use her newfound immortality to walk the Earth, trying to find hope and peace and pay for her sins. On the other hand, it’s a beautiful tragedy for her to gain immortality and eternal youth only to immediately shut herself away forever because her own power has grown out of control and threatens the world she wants to be a part of. It’s similar in concept to the death of Dark Dream in the movie, although that one was much more of a gut punch than this for a few reasons. The redemption deaths are similar, however, in the catalyst for their transformations: Nozomi, the eternal optimist. She has set the bar for team leaders that will be hard to surpass (although I have a few other favorites). She constantly strives to better herself, refuses to bow to negative pressure, and has pulled herself and her friends out of the pits of despair. She turns enemies into friends with the strength of her hope and dreams, but her greatest power is her ability to know when to stop the fight and sympathize with someone in pain. She saw Despariah was losing her grip and instead of seizing an easy victory, she detransformed and approached her as a person. I can’t begin to describe how powerful of a gesture this is, but it’s the absolute best thing Nozomi could do and it perfectly embodies her best qualities.

Regardless of her poor wish, though, it was a good narrative choice to have her steal the wish, whatever she chose to do with it. Since the series was all about hope and despair, throwing all the characters into very despairing situations and then still having them defeat their demons with hope is extraordinary and perfectly encapsulates the message of the show. Coco and Nuts lose their wish and can’t use magic to rebuild the Palmier Kingdom? Fine, they’ll do it by hand! The lost citizens of Palmier Kingdom are actually Nightmare’s members? Thank goodness, they’re still alive and well after all! The Precures are all being forced into despair? But wait, we haven’t even realized our dreams yet, let’s talk about them! At every turn, the series and the climax in particular has been about hope overcoming despair, so subjecting the protagonists to the ultimate despair lets their hopes shine brighter than ever, really driving the message home, and that wouldn’t have been possible if Coco and Nuts had used the wish a little sooner.

While it’s not a particularly deep message, Despariah’s realization that eternal youth has not made her happy is still very important. Who among us hasn’t wished for some grand change in our lives? Now would that change actually make you happier, in the long run? I’m not suggesting there’s nothing you could have or do that would improve your demeanor, but it’s easy to see why Despariah wished for the wrong thing. She misattributed the cause of her depression, rather than trying to make the most of her life, and consequently she damned herself to an even worse fate. She could have wished for help, for companionship, or for the capacity to better understand people. Instead she wished for eternal youth and power, and then learned too late that this wasn’t what she needed.

The only thing that didn’t really work for me was Kawarino coming back, as that didn’t make sense. It was a catalyst to really throw Despariah into despair again after she was starting to make some headway with the girls, and cause her to lose control of her power. If they had at least hinted in the previous episode that he had an ace up his sleeve and wasn’t completely gone, it would have been more acceptable to me. However, it was good to see him react to Despariah embracing the message of hope, and see her assert herself over him. It was also very satisfying, though also horrifying, to see him get dragged down into the pits of despair by Bloody. Seeing how frightful Nightmare is from the outside was important to her development, but it also showed she was beyond salvation and it made her choice to self-isolate for eternity more tragic.

I like the symbolism behind her returning the Collet to Coco and Nuts, though. She knows it’s a hollow gesture and it doesn’t begin to make up for what she’s done, but it is about the only thing she really can do to show her remorse. You can also see that the citizens of Palmier aren’t exactly ready to forgive her for imprisoning them, but they appreciate the gesture. The whole farewell is full of bittersweetness like this.

I gotta hand it to the writers for this, making her repent but still be condemned to eternal solitude by her own hand instantly makes this finale twice as emotional as it would be if she just got beaten normally, and it’s more meaningful, speaking to the complexities of the good vs evil fight and of course the season writ large.

Now, for the cleanup. The second half of the episode is all tying up loose ends and putting the final notes on the subplots. How do they settle the issue of who gets to be king? Make both Coco and Nuts the co-kings! It’s honestly the only way they could do it, since they compensate so well for each other’s shortcomings. It’s a conflict that’s been present throughout the show, but never really dwelled upon until more recent episodes, notably 45. Coco is better with people, but Nuts is more studious and knowledgeable. Both of them bring important leadership qualities to the table. Honestly I always had Coco as the better ruler, with Nuts as his advisor, but making them equals really speaks to the theme of the franchise, that everyone brings different skills that complement each other, and it’s a callback to the first three seasons with the two-person teams.

The thanks and farewells between Komachi and Nuts, Nozomi and Coco, and Karen and Milk are all very moving. They demonstrate the growth they’ve all achieved since the start of the show. Nuts pushed Komachi to be a better writer, Coco inspired Nozomi to be a better learner, and Milk allowed Karen to be a better protector. Capping off their growth throughout the season with these heart-to-heart conversations really resonates and serves as a nice bow on top of their arcs. And as I said earlier, although they don’t say “I love you” out loud, you can tell they mean it. Some may criticize me for including Milk and Karen on that list, because their relationship isn’t as romantic as the other two, being more or a platonic friendship, but nonetheless there’s a deep compassion between them and as I’ve pointed out, they have a close bond that Milk doesn’t share with any of the others. Karen taught her to step back and smell the roses, Karen nursed her when she was sick, Karen has been instrumental in Milk adjusting to life in the human world and Milk helped Karen find her life’s passion. I’ve written a lot about NozoCoco and KomaNuts before, but Karen and Milk have a distinct closeness as well, and their farewell is important too. In fact I wish they’d gotten a true closing scene like the other couples got, but I can understand why they didn’t. They had a lot to cram into this episode. And let’s briefly recount all the other important friendships that were seen throughout the show. Urara and Komachi deepened their friendship over their mutual interest in art and storytelling. Rin and Karen bonded over their shared lack of ambition, and then found goals to strive towards. I really love that even within the circle of friends, they each found specific partnerships and reasons to bond with certain others.

So let’s talk about Nozomi. When the show started, she was presented as a bit of an airhead. She was more than happy to cheer on her friend Rin but she was introduced in the classic “late for school” sequence and we were told she didn’t have much in the way of dreams or a capacity for learning. Boy was she optimistic though.

After meeting Coco and making his wish to revive Palmier Kingdom into her dream, she really changed. Obviously her earnest perusal of that objective is what drew the other girls to her, but helping Coco allowed Coco to help her, and he gave her a genuine passion for learning. He helped her challenge her learning difficulties, and at the end of the series she has internalized that by making it her dream to pass on his teachings as a teacher herself.

This is the perfect capstone to her growth and development throughout the show. I keep coming back to her line from the movie:

“I’m better than I was yesterday! I’m better than I was an hour ago, a minute or even a second ago!” Well she sure improved, and now she’s found something she can pour herself into that will help her keep improving. From the girl with no dream to the girl whose dream is to help everyone reach their potential, surrounded by supportive friends. I just love to see it.

Finally, I really, really love the epilogue. It is perfectly staged and framed and composed. Each girl briefly talking about her struggles as she works towards her dream, the small everyday hardships they face is a reminder that they’re not perfect. They’re ordinary girls just trying to make their way in life. Their greatest strength, whether as Precure or as students, is their friendship and encouragement for each other. The way they each sit down at the table one by one, silently reaching out to their support network, is so encouraging. And the final sequence has a couple of callbacks to earlier in the show, like Urara’s unusual food choices and both Rin and Karen bringing their preferred juice (orange and grape.) It’s a small reminder of where they started to show how much they’ve changed.

vimeo

Now they could end their development here, and I’d be happy, but fortunately we get an entire season that shows where they all go after this that I get to dive into after this, the last such time we’ll have that opportunity in Precure. So look forward to that!

Also, I want to note that the art for the final still frames is gorgeous.

I wish I could say that about the whole episode but unfortunately Kawano Hiroyuki is the key animator and animation director for the finale, and his weaknesses are on full display: flat faces with wide eyes and strangely drawn noses, minimal shading, oddly placed heads, and sometimes weird body proportions as well. When he’s good, he’s good, but when he’s bad, it’s visible. I wish the finale could have had some higher quality artwork but I guess the budget was stretched a bit thin by this point, or they were focusing all their attention on the next series. I don’t have a lot of insight into how this process works behind the scenes. Here’s a few examples of the art that I found a bit lacking.

On the other hand, there are some gorgeous visuals here as well, don’t let me make it sound like it’s all bad either. There’s a few symbolic shots I really like, such as the mirroring of the girls’ feet in and out of transformation, as they face Despariah first as enemies, then as friends.

There’s also the reflection of Despariah in Dream’s eyes that gets an A+ from me for shot composition.

As well as the Kowaina mask superimposed over the fake Coco in Nozomi’s illusion.

And of course, all the fairies of the Pamier Kingdom returning home in a giant butterfly, to cap off our symbolism.

Rewatching Yes! Precure 5 has been a wonderful journey. It’s a great ride from start to finish and an all new direction for the Pretty Cure franchise. It was filled with great characters to follow and I was extremely invested in seeing them grow and develop. This finale truly stands out in the franchise for its discussion of depression and immortality, dreams and hopes, and what’s important in life. It was the perfect conclusion to a fantastic series and I couldn’t ask for a better ending. However, our journey isn’t quite over! The adventures of Nozomi, Rin, Urara, Komachi, Karen, Coco, Nuts, and Milk will continue in Yes! Precure 5 GoGo!

Next time, on Precure Daily, we catch up with everyone after a few months when Nozomi receives a mysterious message, and they get caught up in another battle for the fate of the world. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei! (in the preview)

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 #YPC549 #PCD198

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valhallanrose · 3 years

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Oh Shit, The Full WIP List

This is broken down first by canon storylines by character, canon pairings, then OC+OC interactions regardless of relationship. I’ll give each one an idea of my intentions for the fic, and, when completed, link it (as well as update the appropriate masterlists). At the very end, I’ll include some projects I’ve been working on, just so they don’t entirely fall off my radar for forever and ever.

I do intend to update this as I add more ideas/fics, I just don’t want my masterlists to get too cluttered with incomplete work.

Planned 18+ content will be denoted via a “**” before the title.

All of it under the cut because I want to preserve your dashes

Character Storylines (Listed Chronologically)

Zelda Hollyheart

The Gardener: In which a young Zelda is taught her father’s way of magic in the garden of her childhood home.

Howl: A parent is expected to outlive a child - but one can only hope their lives are not cut too short. Zelda’s first encounter with the plague, and the first time she lost her world to it.

That Made Me Stronger: The teenage years are rough, but even more so when you’re dealing with the complexities of abandonment issues and personal trauma. I salute you, Rowena Hollyheart, because Zelda’s not about to make it easy on either of you.

Witchcraft: Where Rowena takes on another apprentice, and unfortunately, the reason Zelda makes an absolute fool of herself.

Cassiopeia: In which Zelda accepts that she has fallen in love - the first time.

White Coats: A farewell to a beloved colleague - and the last time Zelda would ever see Vesuvia as she knew it.

Orchids from Ashes: Continually updated on AO3. Asra route novelization. Currently working on chapter eight.

Tamryn Olenev

Ghosts That We Knew (Complete, linked here!)

The Call: Sometimes the journey matters more than the destination - or at least Tamryn would hope, after getting stuck in Prakra during monsoon season.

Will I Find My Home: The reunion of the Olenev siblings is both a balm and salt for the same long-open wound.

Miriyam von Helvig

Pre-canon backstory -

Raise Hell: (Complete, linked here.)

We Fell in Love in October: A young woman falls hopelessly in love with her best friend over the course of many, many Octobers.

I Told You I Was Mean: An event that catalyzes the beginning of the end for Gwendolyn Sabyllos.

Bottom of the River: A betrayal, a murder, and a Zadithian prison that test the strengths of Gwendolyn’s will as well as that of her mind.

Use My Voice (Interlude): In which Anika breaks free, in hopes of righting a wrong someone else committed. Runs parallel to Bottom of the River.

Daughter of the Moon: Recovery and revelations - and the acceptance that the life she thought she wanted was the life she never truly had control of.

Kill of the Night: Gwendolyn and Adelram have played the long game - and on this night, the game turns deadly before the curtains fall.

Kings and Queens and Vagabonds: A bargain made that gives a second chance one might have thought to be impossible.

Where Do We Go: A story that ends on a new beginning - the journey to Vesuvia and the first steps toward a life she can make all her own.

Astoria Fenharrow

Pre-Canon

What the Water Gave Me: While exploring ruins with her archeologist grandmother, a young Astoria finds themself unleashing something they cannot put back into its place.

Devil’s Flesh and Bones: Misadventures are commonplace when you spend your life searching the world for ruins, but Astoria didn’t necessarily account for getting captured by pirates in the process.

Canon, undesignated timeline

Song for a Siren: Astoria’s first months at the palace are a careful dance between Count and Countess, but little does she know they are on the exact same page regarding a few things they want despite their differing tastes.

Matilda Everard

Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up): Matilda’s career as a principal dancer and the new path an injury set her on.

The Goddess and the Weaver: A humble seamstress finds herself - quite frequently - in the chambers of the Countess, who seems to have quite the fondness for her creations. And, perhaps, the seamstress herself.

OC & OC Fics

Alphabetized by other people’s OCs because I’m fucking obnoxious. OC/OC denotes romance, OC + OC denotes friendship.

Andrico/Zelda - Something Wild (Complete, linked here!)

Cadenza/Miriyam - Diane Young (Complete, linked here!)

Camia/Miriyam - Don’t Let This Feeling Fade: In which the captain guard is...how do you say - a simp - for a member of the band from day one. Camia belongs to @apprenticealec.

Dante + Miriyam - You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid: In the words of their respective partners: two idiots are allowed into town unsupervised. Hijinks ensue. Dante belongs to @arcanecadenza.

Dante/Zelda - Lay All Your Love On Me: A confession that goes differently than either of them could have anticipated. Dante belongs to @arcanecadenza.

Leon/Tamryn - Bombay Sapphires: Some people find puns absolutely awful. Some people think awful puns are worth a first date. They’re definitely the latter. Leon belongs to @apprenticealec.

**Miriyam/Zelda - Enigma: That one AU in which Zelda and Miriyam hook up. Pure self indulgence, don’t mind me.

Valentin + Zelda - Little Talks: Life is batshit - so ignore it and have brunch instead. Valentin belongs to @apprenticeofcups.

#big ol project time #i'm not including drabbles or prompts i do just because that would make this thirty miles long #buuuuuut it's nice to have these in one spot #zelda hollyheart #miriyam von helvig #astoria fenharrow #matilda everard #tamryn olenev

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severalspoons · 3 years

Text

“Wolfwood Mood” quotes

To be updated as I find more.

God may judge you, but His sins outnumber your own. -- @afabbaeddel

“Cynic, n. A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.” ― Ambrose Bierce, The Unabridged Devil's Dictionary

“That's one of the remarkable things about life. It's never so bad that it can't get worse.” ― Bill Watterson

“An encouraged person will eventually get his drive from encouragement; he becomes more dependent. A person that never really receives encouragement learns to move out of spite; he becomes more independent.” ― Criss Jami, Killosophy

They're going to have to glue you back together, IN HELL! -- Demoman in Team Fortress 2

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” ― Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

“Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.”- Epictetus

“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.” ― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me. --Fallout New Vegas NPC

“We all have strength enough to endure the misfortunes of others.” ― Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Man can get used to anything, the scoundrel. --Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“And what's strange, what would be marvelous, is not that God should really exist; the marvel is that such an idea, the idea of the necessity of God, could enter the head of such a savage, vicious beast as man.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“The soul is healed by being with children.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Killing myself was a matter of such indifference to me that I felt like waiting for a moment when it would make some difference.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Dream Of A Ridiculous Man

“Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will follow you.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“The whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano key.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

“One man doesn't believe in god at all, while the other believes in him so thoroughly that he prays as he murders men!” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist.” ― George Carlin

“Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.” ― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” ― Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967

“You only live twice: Once when you are born And once when you look death in the face” ― Ian Fleming, You Only Live Twice

“There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.” ― Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“Freedom is what we do with what is done to us.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

“Better to die on one's feet than to live on one's knees.” ― Jean Paul Sartre

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does. It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

“There is no reality except in action.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism

“Life—the way it really is—is a battle not between good and bad, but between bad and worse.” ― Joseph Brodsky

“mankind is resilient: the atrocities that horrified us a week ago become acceptable tomorrow.” ― Joseph Heller

“Do you know what it means to be a survivor? It means that not only do you have to live through things, you have to live with them as well. The second part is much harder and sometimes it takes the rest of your life to learn how to do it. But at least you have the rest of your life…” ― Josephine Angelini, Firewalker

“Someone has to be stoic, for the sake of, in spite of, and in the face of all those who are, not. Someone, has to be serious. Someone has to choose to forgo choice, so that there is an option left for others to consider. Everyone can't be, someone.” ― Justin K. McFarlane Beau

“Loving someone always requires you to not love others.” ― Koushun Takami, Battle Royale

“Dignity is as essential to human life as water, food, and oxygen. The stubborn retention of it, even in the face of extreme physical hardship, can hold a man's soul in his body long past the point at which the body should have surrendered it.” ― Laura Hillenbrand, Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption

“We are not defined by the things we do in order to survive. We do not apologize for them,” she says quietly, eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe they have broken you, but you are a sharper weapon because of it. And it is time to strike.” ― Laura Sebastian, Ash Princess

“People are petty, spiteful creatures. What they can't use, hurt, steal, or control, they'll usually destroy.” ― Lorna Reid, Darkwalkers

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” ― Lucius Annaeus Seneca

“If someone puts their hands on you make sure they never put their hands on anybody else again.” ― Malcom X

“Think of it! We could have gone on longing for one another and pretending not to notice forever. This obsession with dignity can ruin your life if you let it.” ― Mary Ann Shaffer, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

“Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival.” ― May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." ― Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.

--Maya Angelou

You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

--Maya Angelou

“Somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.” ― Melina Marchetta, Finnikin of the Rock

“Show me somebody who is always smiling, always cheerful, always optimistic, and I will show you somebody who hasn't the faintest idea what the heck is really going on.” ― Mike Royko

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” ― Rabindranath Tagore, Collected Poems and Plays of Rabindranath Tagore

“Survival," I said softly. "It's selfish, and it's dark, and we've always been a species willing to do anything to satisfy our needs. ― Rachel Caine, Total Eclipse

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

“To have endured horrors, to have seen the worst of humanity and have your life made unrecognizable by it, to come out of all that honorable and brave— that was magical.” ― Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

“We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.” ― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

“I judge you unfortunate because you have never lived through misfortune. You have passed through life without an opponent—no one can ever know what you are capable of, not even you.” – Seneca

I will fight you in Hell upon a mound of bones. -- @shitmygaywifesays

“As long as there’s two people left on the planet, someone is gonna want someone dead.” -- Sniper, Team Fortress 2

"If God had wanted you to live, he would not have created me!” -- Soldier, Team Fortress 2

babies cry because they are alive and that is the saddest thing to be. — spencer madsen (@spencermadsen) December 15, 2011

Do you think God stays in heaven because He, too, lives in fear of what He’s created? --Spykids 2nd movie

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't.” -- Stephen King, The Stand

“The only thing that matters in the end is your own survival. It's what humans and cockroaches are best at.” ― Susan Ee, World After

If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn’t as cynical as real life. --Terry Pratchett, Guards, Guards!

“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are good people and bad people. You're wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.” ― Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -- Theodore Roosevelt

I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees. --Unknown

if you stay alive for no other reason at all, please do it for spite. -- Unknown

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. -- Unknown Tumblr post

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” ― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

...I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL— wint ( @dril ) May 22, 2012

#Yes I will put Shakespeare side by side with Dril #fight me

#quotes #nicholas d. wolfwood #what it means to be badass #free will #making choices #choices #philosophy #terry pratchett #tolstoyevsky #princess bride #trigun #everything is trigun

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readingquoteseeker · 5 years

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Headcannon for the Immortal!AU that there is one way they can die: through their own hands. Not the “I put a knife in your hand and move it so I can kill you” kind of way, they have to actively come to the decision, and whoever created them made sure they can’t do it while being drugged or brainwashed.

But some people don’t need drugs or the methods of secret agencies to reach their goals. They just need their tongue and a few little tricks and then even an immortal can fall to the hands of a petty little human.

Everybody in the Crew was close to falling at least once. And one of them wanted to find out if he had wings and had to realise that angels weren’t real, even in their world.

Geoff couldn’t remember a time where he didn’t drink. It didn’t matter in which time he lived, humans had invented alcohol early enough, and he was enjoying himself. But he also saw the downsides of the poison, people around him dying because they lost control, because they got into fights or because their bodies just couldn’t take it anymore. With every friend he lost to the alcohol he felt like he lost a part of himself. He managed to stop. Until he met a person he thought of as his friend, who he started drinking with again. More than he ever did before. And one day the person got so much closer to reaching their goal, to rid the world of one of the beings who lived all those lives they didn’t deserve. The bodies of immortals are made to withstand time and so much more, but sometimes they just have to give in. after his internal organs collapsed under the weight of the alcohol, Geoff was sober enough to listen to the person and decided he didn’t want to bear the pain any longer. Apparently he wasn’t sober enough to be considered in a clear state of mind though, so the grave wouldn’t take him. Luckily enough, the person believed the one way they thought would work to be a lie, so they left. His body regenerated faster than it took his head to be completely clear, and Geoff decided to give himself another chance. He never touched an alcoholic drink again.

Jack had learned long ago that humans always thought they had a good reason to make others suffer. She herself wanted to do the right thing, to protect people she loved, to leave an impact on the world. If she had been given the responsibility of an everlasting life, she wanted to make sure it wasn’t wasted. And so she fought in too many wars to count, killed in the name of one cause after another, never feeling satisfied. Until she realised that there was never a good enough reason to unleash hell. She decided to help the helpless instead and worked in hospitals, helping wounded soldiers at the front, where humans were too fragile and afraid to really help. Even though the suffering she saw made her feel worse every time, she kept going. Because for the first time she felt like she was doing something meaningful. After meeting Geoff, she only helped occasionally, and after Ryan joined them they moved to America and she had more than enough work helping her little crew rule the city. But then World War One hit the world and she felt like she was needed elsewhere. Her crew was immortal after all, so she left them to play and headed to Europe. She helped carrying wounded out of the battle, saved people who would’ve died on the battlefield, she tried everything in her power to make this catastrophe a little less horrible. And then the poison gas attack brought her to her knees. She never would’ve thought to see wounds like these, to see those numbers of people suffer at the same time. She struggled with the purpose of her life once again, convinced that she would never be able to make up for all the horrible stuff humans thought of. Even worse, somebody who had seen her walking unharmed through waves of bullets aimed to get rid of the other side’s advantage. After talking to them one last time, Jack was on her way to a plane to get as far away from the war as possible and fall without the hope of wings to catch her. At the airport she met Geoff, who had come over from America to see if she was alright. The plane never took off.

Ryan was used to betrayal. He just attracted people who for some reason thought the benefits of treason were worth the risks. None of them was still thinking that in the end, though. And he moved on, always being aware of the weak believes humans had, never really trusting anyone. Until he met Geoff and Jack and learned that they all had the same secret and a similar history. For the first time in hundreds of years, he actually felt like he had someone else to rely on. He promised to never let them doubt his words. But as an immortal Crew, they tended to attract the worst kind of enemies. Unfortunately, one of the opposing gangs was too well informed, and they knew how to take advantage of Ryan’s lucky capture. Of course his body took no lasting damage, but the drugs and the words with way too much reason behind them still managed to get to his head. They left him with his hands tied behind his back, a chair and a rope, after convincing him his betrayal had let to Geoff and Jack being captured. Even though deep down he knew the gunshots he heard couldn’t have caused their deaths, he still climbed the chair. The two others crashed through the door just in time to see him jump off.

Michael loved the sound of being alive. He loved the laughter, the cursing, the music, the noises of cars, thunder, everything. Especially gunshots and explosions, because he didn’t need to fear those. He couldn’t stand silence. In his opinion, silence equalled to pause, and to pause equalled to miss something. If he was blessed (or doomed?) with immortality, he wanted to experience everything. He wanted to see the world, to take it all in and remember it forever. And then the Spanish Flu hit the world, and the world went silent. It didn’t matter where he went, people were dying or grieving. The world had become one big graveyard, and he had always avoided those. He heard way too many stories about the end of the world, even after avoiding the members of a certain cult who seemed to be everywhere. The doubt had been planted, and fearing he would be the only one left, Michael decided to go out with the loudest bang possible. One day, during his last test of the explosives, he saw a woman walking out of the collapsing building completely unharmed. After talking to her, he was relieved to know there where others like him, that he wouldn’t be alone after all. And although they parted ways shortly after that because Jack didn’t like his way of living for herself, he now knew there were people he could always turn to who were just like him.

Gavin enjoyed watching humans explore the fields of science. He never helped, he never even took a job that came close to being scientific, because he felt like that would be cheating. They needed to figure out the facts themselves to really grow. And he cheered with them every time there was a new discovery. But he had always hated the downside, the fact that so many great ideas were used to kill people. The day the first atomic bomb was tested was the first time he doubted his faith in humanity. After the bombs fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki he felt like he himself was falling. Being unfortunate enough to have someone pretending to be his friend who recognised this as an opportunity to get him out of the way, he walked way too close to the edge. Ironically, it was the news of the development of the atomic watch that made him realise that humans would always find a way to use science for both good and evil, and that there was a certain calming balance in this fact.

And then there was Ray, the one who actually took the last step, in the truest meaning of the word. To say he was tired wouldn’t do him justice, because there was so much more to it than that. Like the others, he existed since the first days of humanity; unlike the others, he had always felt like he was missing out on an important part of life. He had always longed for the thrill of death, the effect it had on the lives of humans. Nothing could satisfy this need, nothing helped him feel better. So he started thinking about ending it all, because every one of them somehow knew instinctively that there was this one way out. But before he could accomplish his goal, he met the Crew. And he didn’t forget his plans, but they suddenly weren’t that important anymore. He wasn’t alone, and the world had so much to offer for a group of friends who could be stopped by nothing but their own decisions. For a century, they lived life to the fullest. Then they decided to settle in Los Santos, to lay low for a while, a bit like going on a vacation. While the others enjoyed terrorising the city, Ray caught himself thinking about his old plans more often. As the others noticed him being more silent than ever, he told them about his longing. They were shocked at first, but every one of them had hit rock bottom once their lives, and they felt somehow honoured that Ray would talk to them about those thoughts. And after the first shock they started to understand him better with every time they talked. In the end, they accepted his decision, and bid him a worthy farewell the city would need years to recover from. They all stood with him on top of the tallest building in Los Santos, and he had never felt happier than after his last step.

#tw suicide #fahc #fake ah crew #fahc!geoff #fahc!jack #fahc!ryan #fahc!michael #fahc!gavin #fahc!ray #achievement hunter #gta au #ah #immortal!fahc #immortal au #immortal fahc au #this is the first time I'm posting my writing on tumblr #so please be gentle

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

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Taste Like Coming Home

@Notes: Huge thank yo to @ravens-world who made this so much better than what it was!!! <3<3

A REBLOG IS WORTH A THOUSAND STARS<3

Adam’s always appreciated the light thrumming of life that buzzed in Washington, even in the middle of the night. It’s nowhere near as loud as Boston had been, but still, it distracts Adam from floundering in his own thoughts that even now threaten to swallow him whole in an ocean of insecurities and doubts (that had first bore to life in the precarious stillness subsequent Robert’s fists and his mother’s impassive gaze) . ((Adam had lost count of how many nights he'd spent like this, wondering if he’ll ever be good enough to earn his parent’s affections, Gansey’s friendship, Blue’s warmth, Ronan's-Ronan's everything. )) Adam is always questioning if he’ll ever be good enough to deserve the near reverent way Ronan regards him, has always regarded him. To deserve the soft touches and encapsulating kisses and the way Ronan looks at Adam as if he’s the answer to his every question, as if Ronan could find what he’s looking for whispered between the space of Adam’s lips.

Adam tries not to linger too much on the latter anymore, because he knows he'll never find a sensible answer. Knows that he’s never deserved Ronan and all Ronan’s brought to his world. He'd transformed the muted grayscale of his carefully methodical outlook into vivid tones of impossibilities come true. No matter how much he loves Ronan, how he never wants to be without him. Ronan has become a fixture in his very soul that he could never fathom existing without, and yet Adam is still so very inept. Still can’t tell him his feelings in so many words— more often than not opting for gentle caresses and tender kisses that can bring his feelings to life— and he knows he still comes off distant and cold during their more real arguments, despite how sparing they might be. Adam can’t ever contort his mouth in the right ways to speak out loud words of comfort and vulnerability he was so deprived of once upon a time. But still, he tries. Adam tries because this is Ronan, and he wouldn’t be true to himself if he didn’t give Ronan— give them— all he had.

“It’s not your fault,” Adam says, flicks off residue from one of the bright blue creepy-crawlies that had followed Ronan into the real world, from his legs.

Ronan’s only response is an incredulous huff.

Looking at him now, Adam can’t help but marvel at how beautiful and sincere and unshielded he truly is. The dark shadows paint across his face and the light spills over him so that his profile is nothing but flat planes, made all the more sharp, and pale eyes shifting to a haunting, stormy grey rather than the icy oceans Adam has always known and has always ben able to see through. Eyes he’s been enthralled with for forever, even when he only viewed Ronan as the savagely handsome best friend of Gansey’s who infuriated him in ways Adam never was able to completely comprehend.

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” Adam tells him, moving so that they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t push me out because you’re mad.”

“I’m not,” Ronan says, hurried and stubborn, his face morphing into something desperate.

“Ronan,” Adam says, but actually means bullshit, and the translation seems to have gone through if the decidedly ceded expression that passes over Ronan’s rough but handsome features is anything to go by.

“I hate that I can’t control it, no matter what I do.”

“Hey,” Adam laces their fingers together and squeezes. “Nothing happened.” He kisses Ronan’s shoulder right then, is relieved when he feels the slight loosening of tension there. He’s suddenly, acutely thankful to all the stars above that Ronan can understand the spaces of words that go unspoken between them.

“Yeah, this time,” Ronan sours, eyes flickering to their closed door and Adam understands him completely. Understands that Ronan doesn’t care if those poisonous arachnids had bitten him, Ronan never cared. The only thing Ronan cares about when concerning bringing back his uncontrolled dream things is the possibility that they could hurt any number of the three people he loves more than breathing. One, Adam, who sleeps right besides him every night. And the other two— their set of twins— are just right across the hall.

“It could so easily go wrong.”

“It won’t,” Adam says with more steel than even he expected.

“How do you know?” Ronan asks chargingly. Hesitantly. Imploringly. Like someone would ask a prophet.

“Ro,” Adam says, quiet and tentative while he runs the pads of his fingers down Ronan’s cheek, tracing the outline of his nose and lips and jaw. His fingertips land on the hollow where Adam could feel his heartbeat, and he swoops forward to press an open mouthed kiss to it. He revels in the sensation of Ronan carding a hand through his hair, nails lightly scratching Adam’s scalp. “I’m here for you, always. I won’t ever let anything happen to you or the kids, and I know you won't either. Stop worrying, okay? ” Another kiss on Ronan’s mouth, arms wrapped around his waste to pull him even closer. “Else you’ll start getting wrinkle lines and I’ll have to find myself some new arm candy.”

“Pff,” Ronan snorts, rubs a ginger hand down Adam’s naked back. He can feel the cool scrape of the golden wedding band Adam’s got a matching pair to. “If anyone’s the trophy husband here it’s totally you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Lynch farms just got another expansion, fuck face,” Ronan preens, and Adam loves him like this. Boasting and teasing and always, always so soft whenever he peers down at Adam. “Me and my herd are gonna blow fucking Wisconsin right off the map with our Dairy prowls.”

“Actually, I think California’s now the state to beat for title of Dairy capitol,” Adam corrects with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the fuck ever,” Ronan snipes, words full of humor.

“Come back to bed.”

“I shouldn’t,” Ronan frowns, and Adam doesn’t miss the fear, fear that’s only ever directed at himself, that ghosts across his face. Adam parts his lips to argue and chide at him that he needs to trust himself, but Ronan must’ve seen that coming from a mile ahead because he stops it with another resounding kiss that Adam can feel to his core.

“Had to be up anyways,” Ronan explains amidst heavy breaths that mirror Adam’s own. “Me and Opal were gonna check out that Farmer’s Market back in Henrietta and Declan wanted to join.”

“Fine,” Adam gripes, follows him out the bedroom to help collect the things he’ll be needing, partially because he’s too riled up to go back to bed now, but mostly because he knows that if he leaves now, Ronan won’t be back until late afternoon. He always misses him so achingly during these long trips away from their home.

God does Adam love that, the idea that he’s got this. He’s got a home that he gets to share with the man he loves more than any other and his two kids that he would willingly lay down his life for. Sometimes he has to stop and just take it all in, climb out of the memories of crying on the steps of the trailer wondering if anything was worth existing for in this world and thinking that the kid he was finally found that worth.

Adam passes Ronan a thermos of coffee for him and an herbal tea for Opal, sends him off with one final peck of farewell.

“You should welcome me home with a martini,” Ronan goads, grin gone sharp and slightly feral. “Put on a slutty genie outfit?”

Adam pinches his forearm, hard.

“I will never play out some kinda I Dream of Jeannie tableau for you dickwad, get over it.”

“You can’t blame a man for trying,” Ronan shrugs, goes off to kiss the tops of the kids’ sleeping heads. He gives Adam one more kiss before he has to finally head out to the BMW.

Sometimes Adam forgets that these long days apart are just as hard for him.

“Is it Daddy’s birthday?” Livvy asks, eyebrows hiked, and lips pitched.

“No,” says Adam while pulling out spare mixing bowls from the cupboard— it's a miracle that he even knows where they are, if he’s being at all honest. In their household, the kitchen is largely Ronan’s realm of expertise and all Adam’s good for is washing dishes and the occasional toasting of bread.

“Are you graduating again?” Gage— a near spitting image of his sister, with all their trappings of dark hair and intense eyes and thin lips, asks owlishly.

“Not that either.”

“Then why on God’s green earth are we baking cupcakes?”

Jesus fucking Christ, do these kids have some mouths on them. Adam would like to blame it totally on Ronan’s frame of mind that unfiltered speech is the only way he’d speak around his kids, but Adam knows that ever since they had first brought them home, ten months old and just barely crawling, that they’ve gotten just as much of his cynical outlook than what Adam would’ve liked.

“Because, squirt,” Adam pulls out his phone to search for a decently simple recipe he both had the ingredients to, , and one that wouldn’t turn out an utter mess. “Daddy woke up a bit sad this morning and I thought that if we made him this, it would show him we're thinking bout him and he wouldn’t be so sad anymore.”

The twins look suitably cowed at that, both pairs of eyes going pleading and chorusing a thousand questions on whether Ronan’s okay and when he’ll be coming home and how they could help.

“He’s fine, kiddos, just was gonna miss you guys when he went out with Opal and Uncle Declan today. But he’ll be home any minute, so I wanna make sure this is done by then, kay?”

Gage nods with grave certainty, wielding a whisk like a weapon of war, but Livvy still looks a bit unsure.

“Aunt Blue says that your cooking should be considered a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Like a nuke!” Gage tacks on helpfully.

“Or mustard gas.”

“Ooo! Or like—“

“Neither of you are ever allowed to say the names of weapons out loud again! Not ever!" Adam scolds with no actual heat.

“Hey, but what about,” Gage points to Chainsaw, who’s perching atop the refrigerator watching them.

“Not my problem.”

They both roll their eyes but don’t press him on it.

“Papa, are you sure you can do this?”

“It’s baking, Liv, not cooking a full course meal," he says, only slightly indignant.

“Ms Gomez says that baking is just like science and that’s why it’s way harder than just normal cooking.”

Adam’s expression goes flat.

“You get to crack the eggs,” he tells her in lieu of a response.

“Oh, yay!” Livvy crows. Gage howls with the unfairness of it all.

An hour and a half later finds the white marble top island of their spacious kitchen splattered with batter and oil and substances Adam is almost positive he doesn’t recognize. There’s a tray of a dozen cupcakes in the oven but Adam isn’t quite sure that they’re meant to be staying flat, refusing to rise even once the halfway mark passes— that along with the fact that the toothpicks literally are stuck once used to puncture doesn’t bode well. The sink had overflown about a dozen times because one of them keeps forgetting to turn off the water once they’ve rinsed a dish.

All and all, it probably could’ve been worse.

“Aunt Blue’s always right,” Livvy says sagely.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Adam can’t help but agree while frowning at the mess, his heart contracting the moment he hears the front door swing open and the recognizable thudding of Ronan’s farm boots.

“Oh joy,” he mutters as the kids dash off to the front parlor, leaping into Ronan’s arms, batter splattered hands and all.

“Mother of God, Parrish,” he bellows, obviously in a better mood than this morning. “What are these changelings doing here and where are our actual kids?”

Adam can’t help the way his mouth dips down into a small, delighted grin, his heart doing palpitations at the sight of the three people he loves more than anything all together in one spot.

“No, Daddy!” Livvy squawks. “It’s us!”

“We were making you cupcakes because we thought you were sad and we hate it when you’re sad and we love you and Papa is really bad at anything in the kitchen, but he tried.”

“Thanks, Gage,” Adam ruffles a hand in his hair, tugs softly on Livvy’s pigtail, before kissing Ronan hello.

“You taste like shit that’ll rot my teeth.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Ronan’s answering laugh is something splendid.

“You guys didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

“We love you, Daddy,” Livvy argues, kissing the back of his hand and making Ronan’s expression go gentle in the way it only ever does for them.

“Thanks, princess. I love you more, though.”

Livvy sticks out her tongue, contentious, and Ronan follows suit by pulling a face at her that makes it so she’s cackling.

“Look, I’m sure your Pops has made the kitchen a living nightmare,” Ronan says, and Adam glares at him, affronted. “So what about we go out to grab something sweet? Sit out on the peer while eating it?”

Livvy and Gage chorus excited words of affirmation and Adam refuses to let Ronan in the kitchen till it’s cleaned up.

“Fuck, it looks like World War III or some shit in there, doesn’t it?”

“One more crack at my cooking resembling a war zone and I swear I’m filing for a divorce,” Adam threatens.

Ronan just laughs and something deep in Adam’s chest blooms, pleased that at the very least the cupcakes had their intended effect.

#PYNCH #ADAM PARRISH #RONAN LYNCH #THE RAVEN CYCLE #SPILT INK

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rukafais · 5 years

Text

Arioso

Meaning: Airy, or like an air (a melody);

It’s a rare land that celebrates the Troupe’s arrival; rarer still that those remaining understand what it means for the Troupe to act and live as they do. Grimm seizes the opportunity and repeatedly tries to pull Brumm away from thoughts of practice and performing to have some fun for once, and finds himself meeting unexpected resistance.

“I’m not good with crowds, master,” Brumm protests. He seems oddly reluctant to go outside; while the musician is normally reclusive, he’s not usually this prone to hiding himself away.

“A few groups of bugs is hardly a crowd.” Grimm sort of waves a hand, as if the idea of such a small gathering being enough to make Brumm anxious is a ridiculous idea; he’s dealt with such things before with no real issue.

“Mrmm...I’d just rather not, master.”

Grimm tilts his head, peering thoughtfully at his musician. Brumm stares right back, for once, and it’s only the flicking of his horns that gives him away as to how flustered he is to hold that gaze.

He’s gotten bolder, lately. The Troupe Master thinks it’s charming.

“Oh, very well,” he sighs, a little more dramatic than he strictly needs to be. Relenting at last, being the first to concede their little staring match. “I won’t drag you anywhere you don’t want to be. But do come out and see the festivities, my dear musician. It doesn’t have to be with me,” and here he drapes himself across Brumm’s shoulders and feels the musician’s breath hitch in an interesting way, “though I’ll be sad to be so bereft of your company.”

He departs as rapidly as he came, leaving Brumm with a pounding heart as always.

The musician presses a hand to his chest for a moment, attempting to control his breath, and continues his practice. The notes are rusty, this instrument of choice has not been used since before he joined the Troupe, but he wants to get this right.

(He wants to surprise his master, for once. He wants Grimm’s attention in the same way his master surely knows Brumm looks at him, entirely flustered and openly enamored.

Maybe it’s selfish, or greedy, to want the full extent of his master’s attention - just for a little while, the length of a song. There are certainly worthier bugs who have tried, and failed. More talented or more striking, in looks or personality or skill, who have offered so much more and been refused.

But he remembers; a melody from a dream, a bone-deep longing, an old, old exhaustion that sends Grimm into deep slumber and ancient wounds that pain him in the cold - and in the end maybe it can be selfishness, and it can be giving back, too.

Grimm has been and is a performer, a ringmaster, a leader; those roles are what he lives for, and the spotlight is where he thrives - but never truly an audience, part of the crowd, with nothing to do but attend and listen.

Brumm hopes that when the song comes, when the time is right - for the space of a melody, his master can forget everything but the music he loves.)

He continues to practice.

Just this once, he’s sworn Divine to secrecy, as much as she can be sworn to anything; the idea had clearly amused her (or appealed to what sentimentality she had, or both), and so she had agreed not to say anything if he asked.

“He’ll like it no matter what, you know,” she says, with a fond little smile. “It’s the thought that counts. But you won’t stop there, will you, lovely?”

She’d pinch his cheeks if they weren’t masked. (How she does it with no conventional fingers is - possible. A sight to behold, sometimes. But possible.) Instead, she laughs.

“Ohh, lovely! The two of you, you’re so similar sometimes! So worried, so eager to please each other. You’re so funny to watch!”

He has nothing to say to that, except to feel embarrassment heating his face. She notices that too, of course, and laughs again.

He grumbles, but not very much.

He stops mid-note as Grimm appears in an explosion of sound and red smoke.

He’s a riotous whirlwind of colour, bedecked in flowers and gaudy fabric; ribbons and garlands hanging off his slim frame like he was born to wear them. He laughs with a ring in his voice that Brumm hasn’t heard in some time, and the musician’s heart skips several beats, all at once, and doesn’t stop.

(When Grimm is happy, it makes him look more wonderful to Brumm than any spotlight or angle ever could.)

He presents himself like a performer waiting for applause, with that satisfied, knowing smile on his face.

“You look -- amazing, master,” Brumm says, at last, finding the words and barely managing not to stammer them out. He sounds breathless - he knows he does - but he doesn’t mind.

(Grimm is resplendent and beautiful and smiling and he wishes, so badly, that he could preserve this moment forever.)

“You’d see more of it if you joined me, my dear musician,” he says, and there’s a hint of longing in that tone, easy to miss for someone who doesn’t know him well. Brumm knows him perhaps too well for his own good, and thus it’s impossible to overlook. “Will you still not?”

“I miss you when you’re distant,” he had said. Brumm’s heart twinges with guilt and that same longing.

“Mrmm. Later, master.” He wants to - though his desire is quiet, it’s no less intense - but he needs this to be perfect first, as flawless as he can make it.

“I’ll hold you to those words, you know,” his master says, kneeling before him (another thing that makes his heart jump) with a smile. Close enough to hear that constant heartbeat, close enough to touch. “Let me seal it for you, my friend.”

It’s teasing and joking and not really a joke at all, but asking permission. Brumm laughs breathlessly, surprising himself (surprising Grimm too; there’s a slight, almost imperceptible widening of his eyes) and says “Of course, master-”

The mask is gently plucked off his face as if it was never there, that shallow barrier between the two of them easily removed.

The kiss is rougher than he expected (not violent or painful, because though Grimm is fully capable of being violent when he needs to, it’s never present in this nameless, fervent bond between the two of them), shakier and more passionate than his carefree tone had suggested. His master’s hands wind tightly into the fabric of his hood with a silent insistence that makes his chest ache.

The kiss steals his breath and words and replaces them with a warmth he gladly surrenders to, and he hazily thinks that he should understand by now that he’s not the only one who wants these affectionate moments between them to last forever.

Grimm seems reluctant to pull away, but he does at last. He presses his forehead against Brumm’s with a quiet, satisfied sigh. Brumm merely blinks and tries to focus, still in a pleasant daze.

“It’s a promise, then,” his master murmurs, eyes crinkling into red, pleased slits, his grin playful and wicked (and just a little unfocused, which Brumm doesn’t miss and feels satisfied about). “Don’t keep me waiting too long, my dear musician.”

He steals another kiss while his master is right there, and savours the surprise it gets. Then Grimm laughs and pulls away completely, stepping back and vanishing in another explosion of crimson smoke, and Brumm tries not to become immediately and utterly consumed by the embarrassment that’s caught up with him after the events of the last few minutes.

In the next room over, Divine cackles, and Brumm tries not to defy all known laws of how the world works and disappear completely.

(The warmth stays.

It, too, works its way into the song.)

When he finally steps outside, Grimm is almost immediately there to greet him. His master doesn’t quite sweep him off his feet, though he certainly does everything but; soon enough, Brumm has his own set of decorations, though it’s more modest than Grimm’s eclectic collection of accepting, apparently, everything given to him. (He wears it well. He always does. His master seems incapable of wearing something badly, ever.)

He’s not used to celebrations. He’s not used to being so unimportant and important all at once; here, he’s just a part of the festivities, rather than someone to be pitied or questioned or even threatened (which has happened). But the bugs here sing and dance under the empty sky and feed the fire that burns bright and hot and throws out embers and sparks like stars; chasing off the old to make way for the new, they explain.

Brumm thinks that makes sense. He wonders if, in his old land, they ever did it that way, for farewells and funerals. He no longer quite remembers what they did.

(Memories and pain, walking hand in hand. There’s a bittersweet taste to it; hurt fades, but so do the ashes of his previous life, crowded out of his head by all he’s done and heard and seen here in his service.)

“No regrets,” his master says from behind, and Brumm almost jumps, but of course he would pick up on it. He’s sensitive to Brumm’s moods, as ever. “Just for a little while, my friend. Leave your worries behind.”

(It’s what he appreciates the most; when he has no words to give, Grimm simply interprets. Much of the time, he’s right. When he’s not, he asks, plainly. It makes communication easier.)

A hand finds its way onto Brumm’s shoulder; the musician holds it there, fingers twining tight, unwilling to let go. Grimm laughs, clear and bright and far younger than he’s ever sounded before, and it’s another shard of memory he wants to keep.

The fire burns low, and the music starts; they’ll build the fire in time to the sound of voices and instruments.

Would you like to join in with us? he’s asked, and he says -- yes.

They go around, taking turns. Some are choruses. Some are quartets, trios, duets; some sad, some happy. Some remembering who they’re singing it with, and some remembering who they weren’t.

“You didn’t bring your accordion,” Grimm notes, like he’s suddenly realised something, and Brumm doesn’t reply because it’s his turn.

The song has no lyrics that he’s made; he works his voice like he would play his instrument, because he’s not good enough at words to capture the feelings he has. Instead, he sews together words from all the songs he knows that might fit, those things he learned long ago and far away. Songs from a land that once lived, and now lives only in his memories.

(He dares to glance at Grimm, just once, and finds that though their eyes meet, his master is the one to divert his gaze. There’s adoration there, a helpless and unrestrained affection that softens him entirely and makes him vulnerable.

It’s all he could have ever asked for, and more besides.)

It ends with a song he’s played before; new growth, new beginnings, flowers and lovers in spring. It’s only because he has his mind on singing, pushing his voice to deliver that last effort after years upon years of silence, that he doesn’t show shock when his solo abruptly becomes a duet, and Grimm finishes the performance with him.

They pass on to the next person, and the next, the sound rising into the night sky. The songs continue.

“So that little mystery solved itself, it seems,” Grimm says, his voice rough, and Brumm coughs and takes a moment to answer, because even with all his warming up and practice, he is still, in truth, rusty. (He might never not be; this was special. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever do this again, relying on his voice alone.)

“It was a gift, master,” he says, quiet once more. “I...mrm. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised, then!” He laughs, and then it stops abruptly, and Brumm feels his master’s arms around him, his master’s head resting gently on his shoulder. Ready to withdraw if he needs to, if it’s too much. His eyes are soft, his look relaxed and fond rather than sharp and attentive.

“It was truly wonderful,” he murmurs, and there’s an aching, quiet vulnerability in his voice. (Grimm knows, more than anyone, how much time it must have taken his musician; how much effort, how much courage.) “Thank you, my friend. Thank you very, very much.”

Brumm twines his fingers with Grimm’s and says nothing much at all, his eyes soft under his mask. He removes it, after a moment, to turn his head and press a slight kiss to his master’s cheek; it elicits a little sigh, a small and shaky laugh.

They stay like that for a while, surrounded by music. Brumm feels no regret or embarrassment, only a quiet sense of contentment.

This tenderness between them, that soft and vulnerable response to his song, is worth more to him than all the admiration he could ever receive.

#hollow knight #togetherslapping words #grimm #brumm #grumm #ok going to bed now zzz

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undertaleheadcannonsfromagremlin · 5 years

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S/o with birthmark... (Everyone I’ve met with a birthmark is too freaking kind tbh, so obviously gonna have a kindness soul, haha)

Sans (Undertale Sans)- Honestly, his s/o having a birthmark isn’t going to deter him at all, he’s still going to treat them as if they were any other person. If anyone even stares at them for being different, he will more then likely send a glare towards them. No one treats his s/o differently.

Papyrus (Undertale Papyrus)- His s/o is gorgeous with a birthmark! It makes them unique, and he loves how kind they are, and how they always encourage him, as well as his brother! It’s so sweet, and not only that, his s/o gives thoughtful gifts for him and Sans whenever. He always takes time to tell them that they are stunning, that they are beautiful, and that they are perfect, even if it flusters them. Like sure, it sucks that his s/o needs to wear lots of sun screen on their birthmark if they go outside when it’s really sunny, but they love spending time with him, just like he does with them!

Blue (Underswap Sans)- He adores his s/o’s birthmark, they’re so unique with it and oH MY HEAVENS IT CAN CHANGE COLORS, W H A T ? ? ? He loves it even more now! His s/o’s birthmark turns purple when they’re cold/sad and depressed, and their birthmark turns bright red when they’re hot/have a fever/ angry, so it’s easy to tell what they’re feeling even if they are reserved!

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus)- He’s going to be casual about it, it’s intriguing to see that his s/o was different from other humans, but that’s one of the many things that he loves about them. Their difference had made them so kind and modest to others, always trying to make others happy and making sure that they’re not sad. His s/o is considerate, and he loves that about them.

Red (Underfell Sans)- His s/o wasn’t comfortable in their own skin, with even leaving the house without being possibly stared at by a complete stranger because of how they looked. It was a sad sight, that such a bright individual starts thinking so lowly of themselves for something out of their own control. Honestly, his s/o is stunning to him, they’d look beautiful whether they didn’t have a birthmark or if they did. They’d be the most beautiful thing even if there was something wrong with them. He wasn’t going to let his s/o feel down because of how they look, he’s going to make sure to stay close to them and tell them how much he loves them, and how stunning they look.

Boss (Underfell Papyrus)- He’s gonna kick someone’s ass if they say something bad about his s/o to them or in front of him. He’s going to annihilate them. They obviously don’t know perfect when it hit them, his s/o is kind, brave, perseverant, the list goes on and on, but his s/o is just perfect. And if others can’t see that, then they are blind. And they are probably going to have to go to the hospital for how hard he kicked their ass.

Mal (Fellswap Sans)- He’s not going to actually care if his s/o has a birthmark or not, if they did, that just means they’re strong mentally for being able to be prideful in being different, and not only that, the surgeries were the worst, he had actually seen his s/o get surgery, and he may or may not have nearly attacked the doctor when his s/o had actually begun crying from the intense pain. But, they were strong, and they tend to see the best in others around them, even if those people didn’t deserve it. He was going to protect his precious s/o.

Rus (Fellswap Papyrus)- He’s going to say a pick up line... Oh god, help his poor s/o with having to hear his pick up lines that are related to angels because of an old saying a birthmark is an angel’s farewell kiss. His poor s/o is going to be so flustered, but they’ll be happy that someone actually loves them for them.

Sinister (Horrortale Sans)- He actually didn’t notice his s/o’s birthmark at all, and even after a few years of dating them, he didn’t realize until his s/o spoke to him about their insecurities about it, in which he’s floored that he didn’t see it. Though I guess that’s what happens when you become close with someone for their personality and not their looks. He’s obviously going to reassure them, and joke that he’d take away the attention from their birthmark with how he looked.

Paprika (Horrortale Papyrus)- His s/o is adorable, even if they think they aren’t “attractive”, he thinks they’re stunning! He will always tell them that they are beautiful, and he will always know when they need their next surgery, which is frightening because he knows how much pain it causes them! He wishes to take all the pain away!

Ink- His s/o is a work of art, so of course he loves them! They’re so unique, they are so special, and he loves that about them! They are so kind, and patient with those around them, and despite being treated poorly sometimes, they still smile, they still treat others with how they wish to be treated, with kindness. You know, his s/o just gave him a new idea for an au...

Error- He will erase anyone that dares to speak lowly of his s/o. They never chose to be born with a birthmark, why ridicule them for it? They were so kind, they showed him affection and love despite him being anti-social and dangerous. They cared for him, and, well, with Error, you don’t mess with anyone he loves without dying.

Now, this is a note, I wrote this because, well, if you guys didn’t know, I’m a pretty different gal. I have a birthmark on my face that covers about 75% of my face, and ever since I was 2 months old, I’ve had to have surgeries. I’ve been ridiculed, bullied countless times because I was born different, I was constantly put down and I’ve recognized that yeah, I am different, that yeah, I don’t have many friends because of the way I look, but I wanted to do something nice. To do something for those that are different, and hopefully like me in this fandom. I have a Port-Wine Stain, and I love making sure that everyone is not treated as harshly as I have ever been. My friends and family can’t even see my birthmark anymore because they have gotten so used to it, and god, they would literally gut someone if they could if they were ever mean to me... Though I guess it’s a good thing that I look “terrifying” with this birthmark to even have people be mean to me anymore haha. Also, I have never taken a picture willingly since I was 8. Yeah. My looks are what I hate, but what can you do when you have something that makeup can’t even cover (tried covering it once with makeup but it was obvious under makeup... Hahaha, gonna be forever alone... ;-; )

And I apologize that I wrote this, it just felt right writing this, just in case there is someone like me in this fandom. I went a bit too into detail about myself, and I apologize for that as well, but I guess that’s something?

Even if you are born different, there is someone out there that will love you for who you are, now, I highly doubt these words for myself in particular, but for each and every one of you, I know you all will find someone who cherishes you and adores you. Because, well, I do! Your personalities are to die for, and I love them!

My boi Error here will kill someone for treating his s/o so badly, like, how dare they? They are gorgeous, and screw whoever was mean!

#undertale headcanons #underswap #underfell #fellswap #horrortale #sans #papyrus #us sans #us papyrus #uf sans #uf papyrus #fs sans #fs papyrus #ht sans #ht papyrus #ink #error sans #error #ink sans

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theashemarie · 6 years

Text

Riding Out the Wave Ch. 3 - Pearlina Fic

↪Read chapter 1 here: [Adventures in Babysitting]

↪Chapter 2: [How We Got Here]

↪Chapter 4: [Morning Breakfast]

Crossposted: [AO3] [FFN]

Ch. 3: Gulf Space

The boat is quiet, and that’s worrying. Pearl and Marina sit with feet between them, with backs against the side. Dualies and Brella are huddled together near the front, and there’s a tension that’s strung tight between them, all four of them. The reality of what’s happened is finally sinking in, and Pearl wishes she could read Marina’s mind because Marina is being so, so quiet; she refuses to look at Pearl, and they haven’t touched since they separated from their unfortunately timed kiss. Pearl realizes now that that was probably a bad idea, all things considered—a very desperate (though not very hot and heavy, if you ask her) and sudden kiss in full view of a bunch of cameras—but she’s also not one for thought, especially when it comes to... romance.

(And wasn’t that romantic? Covered in ink, both their own and the enemy’s, breathing labored, Marina with that crazed, battle-look in her eyes. It certainly was hot, but not exactly romantic. Definitely not one of the dozens of ways that Pearl imagined it would happen, late at night when she was lying in bed. No sirree, those were safe, coffee shop affairs, or perhaps stage fever that resulted in a deep dip, Marina’s body cradled by Pearl’s arms. Not... during Salmon Run.)

Marina has one of the cameras that Pearl beaned in her lap and she’s got it cracked open. It looks fine to Pearl, but Marina keeps tutting as she digs around in the wires, searching for the short in order to fix it. She mutters about “unnecessary property damage” every now and then, and it’s pointed, so pointed that Pearl feels defensive. She wants to say that it shouldn’t be surprising, considering how much she used to break in her punk days and still breaks now (accidentally), but she’s also still reeling from the kiss so she just keeps her mouth shut.

There’s no sign of Grizz in their earpieces, so Pearl halfheartedly hopes that maybe the photos are stored locally in a memory card or something, not beamed back to whatever cave Mr. Grizz lives in. That’ll make the next few weeks a lot easier—she doesn’t want to have to bribe Grizz to keep the photos a secret, but she’ll do it if she has to. If Marina wants her to. She imagines that this whole thing won’t reflect on them... in a desired way.

But then, she doesn’t care, she realizes as she watches Marina let out a small aha! as she finds what she’s looking for. She dips those long fingers deep into the body of the camera and Pearl watches her dig around, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She forces herself to look away.

“There,” Marina says, and she screws the back into place with a screwdriver. Pearl is beginning to think that she takes that thing with her everywhere. “Good as new.”

“Any memory card?” Pearl asks, a little petulant.

Marina holds her hand up, and Pearl is happy to see a small black card caught between two of her fingers. “Whoops,” Marina sing-songs as she flicks her wrist, sending the card over her shoulder, over the side of the boat, and into the water.

“Yo, awesome!” Pearl hisses, and her impulsiveness gets the better of her as she jumps up to lay a kiss on Marina’s cheek. Marina, used to this thoughtlessness, quickly cuts her off, pushes her back before her lips can land, and she puts a finger against Pearl’s lips.

“Ssh,” Marina commands, and Pearl pouts her lips out against the finger.

Marina replaces the first camera with the second. Her deft fingers get to work quickly, and as Pearl watches her, she says: “You know that we’re gonna have to do this again, right?”

Pearl is a little too love struck by just how beautiful Marina’s hair is as she leans over the camera, so all she can think to say is, “Huh?”

Marina tuts under her breath and reaches further into the camera, going deep into the wires. “We’re getting rid of the evidence. That includes all the pictures.”

“Tch, whatevs.” Pearl waves a hand. “Like Grizz needs us to advertise. He has so many freelancers he doesn’t know what to do with them.”

Marina doesn’t answer, but Pearl sees her free hand tighten a little around the camera’s spherical body. “We agreed—”

Pearl sighs and puts a hand on Marina’s knee. “And your word is your vow. Yeah, I got it. You’re so stuffy sometimes, you know that? Is it a Marina thing or a...” Pearl glances around to make sure they’re not being listened to. “Y’know, an octoling thing?”

Marina finally looks up from the camera and she lets her head fall back against the side of the boat. “You read my file. You don’t get as high as I did without being reliable.”

“And here I thought it was your good looks. And your huge brain,” Pearl adds when she sees Marina roll her eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Marina declares, and she dips back into the camera. It’s fixed in no time, and Pearl lets the silence sit, mostly because she can’t think of a possible answer to that.

They bid Dualies and Brella farewell at the bonus window. Both young inklings agree to keep what they saw a secret, which makes Marina look so relieved that it brings Pearl pause. She hadn’t spared the whole thing much thought after deciding to bribe Mr. Grizz if she needs to, but that would explain Marina’s silence on the boat.

Pearl can’t pretend to completely understand Marina, and that hurts. A lot. Sure, she knows how Marina ticks most of the time, but she also doesn’t understand a lot of her past, a lot of the stuff that put her together and could pull her apart. Pearl is an open book, a simple story: a rich girl from an affluent family, spoiled to the core, but with a heart of gold and a penchant for rebellion. There’s not much mystery to her, other than one small stint with heterosexuality that she doesn’t ever want to talk about, but Marina? Marina is smoke; Marina is a tight, strained smile; Marina is a past that is full to the brim of dark things that she’ll never talk about. No matter how much Pearl dares pry, Marina will never talk about certain things, so Pearl will never know her completely.

And, for the most part, she’s okay with that. She may have grown up sheltered, but she also knows that there are some things you can’t know, some things you can’t push people on. Because, people will bend until they break, but some things cause stress fractures that spread. This is one of Marina’s fracture points.

That makes it so much harder though. They walk toward the studio, where a car is waiting to pick them up, and Pearl wants to grab Marina’s hand. She’s been waiting so long to do it, and now she practically has permission, but she’s also painfully aware of that relieved look, that you wouldn’t understand, the countless times Marina has pressed her headphones tighter to her head to hide her ears, and she realizes just how much attention that would get them. Already, people are noticing them, rushing forward to ask for pictures, and Marina is slowly pulling her face into the public one she uses everywhere.

Pearl keeps her hands to herself, grimaces in the pictures, and tries to ignore the giant hole that she feels between herself and Marina.

They need to talk. But, when they eventually get back to the apartment, Marina squirrels herself into her room. She spares a few seconds to say, “I need to think,” and stoops down to press a kiss to Pearl’s head. It’s chaste, like a mother to a child, and Pearl is stricken immediately. Does Marina already regret it? Did Pearl already screw it up? Is the gulf of their pasts too much? Marina’s face reveals nothing as Pearl forces herself not to say anything, to smile a strained smile, and she disappears behind her door.

Pearl plays a violent video game in the living room with the television turned all the way up. She punches and kicks, throws the controller when she dies, hugs a pillow close when she feels tears hot behind her eyes. She’s not sure exactly what to do, but she feels like she needs to do something. She knows that letting Marina think is good, but she also knows that thinking too long is bad; thinking too long leads to second thoughts, second guessing, and she doesn’t want Marina to back out of something they both clearly want.

Pearl wants to do this right. Marina feels like forever, and Pearl doesn’t want to screw that up. Marina is forever—she’s symbolic of a future that Pearl never had before, from their shared music career to their shared home, but more than that, she’s Pearl’s best friend and Pearl can’t lose that. In a life full of excess, she’s become used to having everything, and the idea of losing something so precious makes her sick to her stomach.

She hides her face in her knees. On screen, her character does its idle animation, begging input.

In the end, she tells herself that she didn’t cry, and she gets up. Her over-large sweatshirt hits her knees as she walks, and she quickly draws a beeline to Marina’s bedroom door so that she can’t second guess herself. She doesn’t go in, doesn’t knock, just listens. There’s some soft lo-fi music playing and Pearl imagines Marina leaning back against her pillows, headphones off, eyes closed, thinking. Or asleep. She never considered that Marina could have simply fallen asleep after such a long, emotional day, but she still has to try. She can’t just let this sit, not with them so close to the precipice, dangling over what could be the happiest moments of their lives. For once, she’s not the one being talked away from the edge.

She sinks to the floor beside the door, like she’s done so many times before. She lets her head loll back, exhausted both because it’s almost midnight and because of the day they had, closes her eyes like she imagines Marina has, and she lets the words fall out.

She’s always been a jabber mouth, but today it’s something else. She says it all, how unsure she’s been, how she’s been so scared, how much Marina means to her. Gone is the yelling, the limb flailing, the Pearl who has to bigger than life. In her place is a quieter, unfamiliar Pearl, one who is small and vulnerable and has no airs to put on. She says things like “I know you’ve been through hell, but I want to make sure that never happens again,” and “I love... having you here. You’ve... changed everything.”

Marina might be asleep. She might not hear any of this, but it feels good to get it out, to breathe it into the world so that Pearl doesn’t have it all inside her anymore, turning everything into mush. Finally, she can begin to harden again, in case everything goes horribly come morning. She has to build herself up from the inside out, in case this was all one big mistake, in case the battle-hardened warrior that she calls a roommate isn’t ready for all of this. In case the kiss was one giant, glaring misstep in their otherwise brilliant partnership.

Before she departs, she stands, staring at the door, and says, “I don’t want to give up on this, but if you want me to, I will.” It’s a small emission, but she wants to give Marina an out; the last thing she wants is Marina to feel pressured into anything.

There’s no reply. Pearl sighs and sinks into her room. Her bed is big, too big she realizes, but she climbs in, lying with her head on the edge of her pillow. The darkness has no substance to it as she stares out, like there’s too much vastness there, like the space between galaxies, the giant spaces of nothing that she imagines the humans once touched. She thinks about them a lot—the humans and their reaching, reaching arms, how much they destroyed to get what they wanted.

She hopes, desperately, that she doesn’t follow in their footsteps.

#splatoon #pearlina #pearl/marina #splatoon 2 #ashe writes #ashe talks #splatoon fic #want faster updates? follow this fic on ao3!#please reblog so i can get more eyes on this thing

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starlight-matrix · 6 years

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“Enchanted” Ch. 1 & Only

So. This is my Cinderella Klance AU. I have no idea if it will ever be updated, so please don’t get your hopes up. It’s from Lance’s POV, Lance is Cinderella, a couple other characters are a couple other roles, blahblahblah, enjoy.

“Fate is an interesting thing,” Lance’s father used to say. “We can think we have our lives under control, that everything that happens in life is of our own making. But there will always be moments when we have to realize that we truly don’t have control over anything. Life does what it wants with us, and we simply have to go with the flow. Those who deny fate will only suffer.”

As a child, Lance had swallowed those words like they were the sweetest of candies, treasuring his father’s philosophy as if it were a deity to be prayed to. “There is a lesson to learn from everything that happens in life.” His father would say. His mother would smile, and Lance came to love the phrase because it put meaning to everything in life- a trip and fall would teach him not to run on the rug, a terrible stomachache would teach him not to eat too much before bed.

Even the smallest of moments, a butterfly landing on his outstretched finger or a stranger smiling back to him, was given meaning, and Lance reveled in every little detail of life.

Lance’s father Jaime was his idol, the person he looked up to more than anyone. His father was a kind man, one who loved his family and his trade equally, teaching commoners philosophy and music and literature and everything else that was generally considered a “nobleman’s craft.” Lance was taught to play the piano and sing and read and write and map stars and grow crops and care for animals. He enjoyed everything his father taught him, still enjoys it all, even years later.

Lance’s mother Rosa was just as kind, if not as outspoken. She was quiet, and took comfort in silence, preferring the sounds of wind-rustled leaves and chirping crickets to the chaos of any meaningless conversation. Lance was a different person when he was with her. When he was with his father, he was loud, joking and laughing and singing as terribly as he could just to make his father laugh with him. But when he was with his mother, he was calm, taking in distant noise and helping her knit or sew, nestled into her side like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

And despite the difference in his personality depending on who he was with, Lance never felt like he was trying to be someone else. There were just two parts of him: the loudmouth prankster who loved nothing more than to see someone full-out belly laugh, and the minimalist boy who fell in love with quilting and treasured every small, miniscule happenstance.

Growing up, these were the traits that defined Lance- his love for making people happy, his kind and social nature, his need for affection. He loved his parents and they loved him. He had good friends in the farm animals and the other household staff, and his family was never in lack. So there was no room in his heart for anger or sadness or any other negative emotion.

Sometimes Lance wonders if the only reason those emotions exist now is that some of that happiness and love he’d once treasured had gradually seeped out and left an emptiness behind.

Lance’s first taste of sadness is when his father discovers swollen bumps on his skin, white and painful with the stress of whatever is inside. The doctor comes. Lance and his mother are all but thrown from the room the moment the doctor finishes his exam, and the doctor refuses to let them back in. “He has the plague.” The doctor says. “You cannot go in, for you may fall ill as well.”

Jamie McClain dies the next morning, alone and scared and without any proper farewell from his beloved wife and son. Men come to wrap up the body, and they bury him in the pasture behind the house, blue forget-me-nots covering his grave. Lance and his mother never again enter the room where he had died- there’s too much risk of his illness being on the items in the room.

For months afterward, Lance and his mother are never apart. All of his father’s students come to pay their respects, and Lance holds his mother’s hand in his as they listen to wild stories about his father’s wonderful teaching and funny jokes. Lance knows every word is true, knows he has seen all of what these students have seen and more. But he listens to every story even though he’s heard them all before from his father, because his father is gone, and these students are telling Lance the stories his father can no longer tell himself.

Late at night, when the house staff is asleep and the house is silent aside from the croaking of frogs in the pond outside, Lance and Rosa weep together, curled in each other’s arms to share the grief of losing someone who meant so much to the both of them. Lance will bury his face in his mother’s chest and let the tears soak her nightgown, savoring the feeling of hands running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back. The pillows are always damp when he wakes up, but his mother is always there to help yank them off to be washed, the gentlest of smiles forming on her lips.

“You must always let your tears flow. They can always be washed away after.” She says, taking Lance’s hand in her own and kissing him on the nose and making him giggle like a child.

In the few years after his father’s death, Lance savors his mother’s company more than ever before. He insists she teach him every trick there is to learn about sewing and knitting. They spend hours a day in the sunroom, cuddled up together on the lounge listening to the far-off sounds of honking geese and whinnying horses, embroidering or mending ripped clothes or simply enjoying the warmth of the body pressed into theirs.

To say that Lance is surprised when a carriage suddenly comes flying in through the front gate is the understatement of the century. No one they know is wealthy enough to afford a carriage, so who on Earth could be coming to visit?

Lance is in awe of the man who steps down onto the dirt driveway. Long, snowy-white hair like something out of a fairy tale, a bright violet tunic with silver trim and laced heeled boots that Lance is terribly impressed by (he knew he’ll never be able to walk a foot in heels without falling, likely breaking the shoes and his teeth). Even without the fancy carriage and entourage of personal attendants, the man is still so extravagant Lance wonders if he’s perhaps come to the wrong estate.

“Is this the home of Jaime McClain?” The man asks, looking at the house as if he is both disappointed and mildly impressed at the same time.

Lance nods with a small but genuine smile. “Yes, this is. I’m his son.”

“Ah!” The man’s face lights up then, a wide grin gracing his features. “You are Lance, I assume! Your father has told me much about you! I am Lord Lotor Tremaine, a friend of his.”

“Oh! You’re the man who helped build papa’s school!” Lance is glad to recognize the man, if only in name. Lotor nods sharply and moves up the steps in front of the door.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing toward the door.

Lance hurries to open the door wider, moving out of the way so Lotor can enter. “Of course!”

As Lotor enters the house, Lance gently closes the door behind them, turning toward Shay, the housemaid. “Can you find mama, please? Tell her a friend of papa’s is here.” He asks. Shay nods with a smile that fades once she casts a long glance at Lotor, who is preoccupied with one of the scenery paintings on the wall. Shay disappears, and Lance turns back to Lotor. “We don’t have guests over very often, so I hope you’ll forgive us if our hospitality’s a bit shabby.”

Lotor smiles sympathetically, setting a hand on Lance’s shoulder. He ignores how hard the grip is. “I wouldn’t expect the two of you to be perfectly poised, not when you’ve been in grief,” Lotor says. “Your father was a good and kind man. I’m sure you must miss him dearly.”

Lance smiles back, a tinge of sadness seeping into his features. “Yes, sir, I do.”

Lotor moves to walk further down the front hall, and he makes a passing compliment on the chandelier - a carved crystal piece shaped to resemble three swans joined together by the tips of their wings. A memory floats in Lance’s mind of laying on the rug in the hall with his mother and father on either side, regaling them the story of “The Ugly Duckling” and changing up the ending, saying that when the poor little duckling finally found his family and discovered he was beautiful, the three of them were so happy they turned into the purest of crystals, stuck together forever in time.

The short daydream is broken by his name being called, and Lance turns to see his mother on the stairs, Shay close behind. She smiles at him and he smiles back, and then her gaze is on Lotor, and she hurries down the last few steps to approach him with a polite curtsey.

“Welcome, Lord Tremaine. It’s an honor to meet you in person. My husband treasured the school you helped him build all those years ago, I could never thank enough for that.” She says, folding her hands in front of her. Lance scoots back a few steps to watch their exchange from afar.

Lotor bows low to Rosa, a look in his eyes that Lance can’t place, and then Lotor is looking at him with an expression of partial concern. “Lady McClain, I would greatly appreciate if you and I could speak in private. I have some matters that pertain only to you and I.”

Lance tries not to let his confusion show on his face. His mother glances between him and Lotor as if she wants to go against the man’s wishes and insist her son sit in, but Lance gives her a look that says not to be rude, as much as he wants to hear what Lotor has to say.

“...of course. Please, this way.” She says, gesturing toward the study. Lance stays put in the hall until Shay pulls the study doors shut, turning back to him with a small smile.

“Lance, why don’t you help me prepare some tea for them? Some time in the garden might help keep your mind off whatever it is they’re discussing in there.” Shay says.

Lance nods with a small grin and follows Shay through the house, waving hello to Hunk as they enter the kitchen. He doesn’t stop to make idle conversation like usual, beelining for the back door and hopping down the steps into the greenhouse attached to the kitchen, breathing in the smell of all the spices and herbs growing in neat little rows. This place is Hunk’s pride and joy, passed down to him from his father, who had once been the McClain’s personal chef before retiring.

Lance runs a hand along the glass panes of the wall as he moves carefully between the rows, silently naming off all of the plants as he passes: sage, parsley, basil, oregano, dill, lemongrass, coriander, chives, mint. He plucks a few mint leaves off the plant and heads back into the kitchen, handing the leaves over to Shay who slips them into a small teabag, carefully sewing the top closed so none of the leaves will seep out. Lance takes a seat on a stool off to the side and watches.

Ten minutes pass, and then the kettle is steaming, and Lance hops up off his stool to grab his mother’s favorite tea set off the shelf and hand it over to Shay, who smiles at the silent gesture. He watches her place the tea bags carefully into the pot, pouring the steaming water in after, slow so as not to break the tea bags. He takes the teacups and places them neatly on their saucers on a tray, and Shay places the finished teapot next to them, Hunk adding a plate of cookies and the tiny pitcher of milk. Lance fetches the bowl of sugar cubes, and the ensemble is complete.

“Lance,” Shay says, holding out the tray. “Would you like to take it in?”

Lance hesitates, wanting to say yes, but shakes his head. “No, but thanks. I don’t want Lord Tremaine to think I’m spying on their conversation.”

Shay nods in understanding and leaves the kitchen, maneuvering through the house quickly and with ease despite the weight of the tray in her hands. Lance follows her, but stops at the edge of the hall, out of sight as Shay uses her foot to knock on the study door. A voice Lance can’t understand sounds from inside, and Shay deftly opens the door with her elbow, disappearing inside the room. Lance waits patiently at the end of the hall, shooting Shay an expectant look when she emerges from the study once again.

The worried look on her face mirrors on Lance’s own when he sees Shay, and the two of them speed-walk back to the kitchen, Hunk looking up from where he's planning dinner and raising an eyebrow when they throw the door shut behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks, his fingers wringing together in silent panic. His mother is in a room with a stranger - a male stranger at that - and Shay’s expression only adds to his paranoia.

“I’m not quite sure, but your mother looked stressed when I went in. Lord Tremaine had his arms crossed as if he were waiting for something, though it didn’t seem as if he was pressuring her at all. I think he was asking your mother to make a decision. She looked troubled.” Shay explains, gaze locked with Lance’s. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to make a decision until she’s talked it over with you?”

Lance says nothing, not knowing what he could say. He knows his mother has never had to make hard decisions on her own- she’d always had his father there to make them for her, or to at least give good advice and comforting words and to accept whatever decision she did make. But now she doesn’t have him to support her, and while Lance knows he’ll support any decision his mother can make about anything, he simply doesn’t have the expertise of an adult.

He can’t help her make a decision about anything that is truly important, and it makes him feel useless.

Lance waits on the stairs for the meeting to be over, picking at a hangnail that eventually bleeds when he pulls a little too hard. He sticks the hurting finger into his mouth and frowns at the taste of iron on his tongue, but then the study doors open again and the pain is shoved aside.

He stands, hiding the wound behind his back, but doesn’t move from his spot as his mother and Lotor exit the study, arms linked as Rosa leads him to the front door. They speak in hushed tones and exchange polite farewells, and Lance’s stomach churns as Lotor leans forward, pressing a kiss to his mother’s temple. There is no love in the kiss, Lance can see it from how Lotor pulls away in a rush and how his mother’s mouth presses into a thin line. Lotor bows again and leaves, Lance’s mother watching from the doorway until Lotor’s carriage is out of sight.

Lance rushes to her side when she turns back to him, and she takes him into her arms and holds him tight, his tall frame dwarfing hers. “Ah, Lance, I’m sorry. You must have been worried.”

“Only a little.” He lies as they pull apart, hands still linked. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, baby, I’m alright. Just tired is all. Come, let’s go sit in the sunroom. I have something to tell you.”

The two of them move through the house in synch, settling onto the lounge in their favorite room, pressed into each other’s sides. Lance slouches low enough in his seat to lean his head on his mother’s shoulder, running his hands over the rings her finger. They’re both beautiful silver bands stacked over each other, the top one with a tiny garnet set into the metal- his mother’s birthstone.

The bottom ring has an emerald instead, and Lance remembers his mother saying she wore it underneath her own because his father’s fingers were so much thicker than her own.

“Lord Tremaine has asked me to marry him.”

His mother blurts out the words without warning, forever ruining Lance’s memory of twirling his father’s wedding ring around her finger.

“And I’ve said yes.”

Lance’s gaze snaps to meet his mother’s, and she looks away, grip tightening on Lance’s hand.

“I’m not marrying him for love, you must know that, but it isn’t a bad thing. Lord Tremaine knows how to manage accounts, how to manage finances. I don’t have a job like your father did, I don’t know how to manage the estate well enough to keep us out of debt in years to come.” She explains.

Her face contorts into an emotion Lance knows all too well: hopelessness. “If I marry him, Lord Tremaine can manage the estate and finances and everything I don’t know how to do. He’s promised to help us keep the house, to make sure we keep the home your father loved. I just...I couldn’t say no, Lance. I can’t bear the thought of losing this place. So I agreed to marry him.”

Lance says nothing for a long moment, simply allowing the words to sink in fully. He understands why his mother agreed to marry Lord Tremaine. He’s someone Lance’s father trusted, someone he had looked up to and respected. He’s also a wealthy man, and obviously an educated man, if he was offering to handle everything about their lives that was even mildly complicated.

She had agreed to marry Lord Tremaine for her husband. To keep the place where she had once spent her life in his arms, happy and healthy and loved.

“I’ll support you. Both of you.” Lance says, voice quiet but sure. “Forever and ever, I promise.”

His mother looks close to tears, and Lance throws his arms around her, letting her sob into his chest. “Do you think your father would be upset if he knew I’m marrying again?”

“Of course not! He’d tell you this is a good idea, that it’s clever to marry like this. Besides, papa trusted Lord Tremaine. He would applaud you for making such a hard decision all on your own.”

Lance feels his mother nod against his chest, and they stay like that for a long while, just holding each other in comfortable silence while shadows trail along the walls with the setting of the sun.

The sun is low enough in the sky to no longer be seen above the treeline when Shay finally comes to fetch them for dinner. They eat with the house staff that night- Shay, Hunk, the gardener and the stablehand. Lance sticks close to his mother’s side as she informs everyone about Lord Tremaine’s proposal. There won’t be a wedding, she says, as their union isn’t for love and shouldn’t be made a bigger deal than it already is. But Lord Tremaine will be moving into the estate afterward, along with his niece and nephew, whom he cares for.

Lance is a bit put-off by the idea of suddenly having stepsiblings, but Hunk and Shay assure him that it can’t be that much different to the relationship he has with the both of them. “Surely they’ll grow on you with time.” They say, both having siblings of their own.

Lance goes to bed that evening with a whirlpool of thoughts swirling about in his head. What will it be like living with strangers? What will his new step-siblings be like? What will Lord Tremaine be like, behind closed doors and apart from the need for courtesy? What if he doesn’t like them all?

What if he likes them too much, and they all disappear, just as his father did?

Eventually, sleep comes, and the thoughts fade into dreams of soaring swans and the lapping of the ocean on a white shore, his father’s distant laughter and the smell of his mother’s perfume. When he wakes the next morning, he can’t help but wish to be back in the dream, back in the place where his father is still alive and smiling and telling wild stories that Lance always believed.

A month later, Lord Lotor Tremaine and Lady Rosa McClain are joined in union, and hardly a week after that, Lord Tremaine’s carriage returns to the estate, overflowing with trunks and bulging suitcases that look like they really shouldn’t be able to stay on top of the carriage without falling off. The carriage door flies open and then a young girl is hopping out, perfectly styled blonde locks floating down over her shoulders and chest. A young man almost identical to her in every way aside from obvious gender steps out alongside her, and Lance decides in but a second that he definitely, definitely wants to be friends with these two.

The girl approaches Lance before he can say anything, smiling sweetly and dragging her brother with her by the hand, curtseying to Lance as her brother bows at her side. Lance bows to the both of them and returns her smile. “Welcome! I’m Lance, it’s nice to meet you both.”

“I’m Nyma, and this is my brother Rolo. It’s nice to meet you too, Lance. Your home is beautiful! I could see the roof from all the way down the road, and the view you have here is gorgeous!” The girl says, introducing herself with a gesture toward her brother as his name is mentioned. Lance watches her spin slowly around as she gazes up at the house and around the front courtyard. Rolo holds a hand out and Lance shakes it, the two of them sharing curt smiles.

“Would you like to see inside? You’re going to be living here from now on, so I could give you both a tour.” Lance offers, enjoying the way Nyma’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“Oh, would I!” She says, eyes sparkling.

Lance leads them into the house, sparing a glance back at his mother, who is approaching Lotor and speaking to him with a polite smile on her face, one Lance can tell isn’t genuine even from so far away. But then Nyma is saying something about the chandelier in the hall and Lance drags his attention from the two adults and back to his two new step-siblings.

He leads them both throughout the house with a genuine smile, enjoying their cheerful company and active compliments. Nyma takes at least ten seconds to fully admire everything they pass on their way- the flowering branches painted onto the walls, the patterns etched into the wooden floorboards, the carved doors and bay windows and chandeliers. Rolo says little, but takes a keen interest in anything of woodwork, Nyma explaining that it had been their family business long ago.

Lance learns that Nyma and Rolo’s parents also died of bubonic plague, just like his own father. He learns that Lotor was their mother’s brother, and that he took them in without hesitation, raising and teaching them on his own without the help of servants despite being a wealthy lord who surely had better things to do than to deal with two grieving children. Lance tells them about his father, about the stories he would tell and the things he would teach, and how much good he did for the poorer people in the world.

“Your father sounds like a wonderful man,” Nyma says, laying a hand on Lance’s arm.

“He was,” Lance replies. “What about your parents? Do you remember them much?”

“Not really. We were too young when they died to remember more than tiny details. Our father, he was a woodworker, and when I think of our family home I always smell woodchips, no matter where I am. Our mother always smelled like barley tea, and she had the softest hair. We would tangle our hands in it when she carried us and she would just laugh, even though it surely hurt, having us babies pulling on her curls. I can remember our father’s beard, all thick and scratchy.”

Nyma’s expression turns into something fond and distant, and Rolo slips his hand into hers, his sister giving him a small smile as she entwines the fingers of her other hand with Lance’s own.

“We have only just met, Lance McClain, but I can tell we’re going to be very close.” She says, Rolo nodding in agreement. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have two brothers.”

Lance and Rolo both laugh at Nyma’s wistful tone, and the three of them continue on their tour of the McClain estate until the sun has set and Shay comes to fetch them for dinner. Nyma and Rolo, as a point of contrast to their uncle, don’t really treat Shay as a servant, but rather as a friend of the family, the way Lance and his mother always have. Nyma and Shay get along like a house on fire and Lance can already tell they’re going to make wonderful friends.

Upon entering the dining room, they find Lotor and Rosa sitting on opposite ends of the table, a picture of stereotypical wealth that has Lance chuckling to himself despite the distant feeling of sadness in the fact that his mother’s husband doesn’t want to be close to her.

Lance takes the seat closest to his mother’s side, and Nyma takes the seat across from him, Rolo at her side. Lotor doesn’t mention how neither of them sit near him, though Lance can see the way he glances to both Nyma and Rolo, a calculating look in his eye. “Well, I’m glad the three of you have had time to mingle and become acquainted. Nyma, Rolo, this is Lady Rosa, your new stepmother. I trust the both of you will treat her as she deserves.”

“Of course we will!” Nyma says, almost sounding offended at her uncle’s implications. “Lady Rosa, I’m honored to live in your beautiful home. And Lance has been so kind to us already, I’m sure you and I will get along just as well.”

Lance’s mother matches Nyma’s smile with one of her own, a small, genuine smile that eases Lance’s nerves and makes his heart swell. “I’m sure we will, darling. I’m glad you feel that way.”

The meal passes with happy conversation, mostly led by Nyma, who chatters on about the decor of the house and the impressive upkeep of the gardens and how nice Shay is. Lance adds in with questions about Nyma’s hair routine and they go on a long tangent about skin care, sharing tips and making Rosa laugh at their antics. Surprisingly, Rolo opens up more a while into the dinner, conversing with Rosa about books and the hand-carved banisters on the stairs. Lotor says little, simply watching the exchanges with a blank expression Lance can’t read.

After dinner finally comes to an end, Lance is exhausted with the energy of meeting new people, and he bids his new siblings good night as Shay leads them to their rooms, chatting with Nyma as they walk down the hall. He hugs his mother right outside her bedroom door, and she whispers in his ear how proud she is that he did so well with the Tremaines. “You were kind,” She says, “and you treated them as you treat me. I’m glad you all get along.”

Lance and his mother share a smile, and she kisses him on the forehead, then on each cheek, before turning back to her husband and disappearing into their room.

For the first time in years, Lance sleeps alone in his own bedroom, cold and just a little bit lonely.

#enchanted #klance #voltron: legendary defender #my fics #cinderella au

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ramlefathisbest-blog · 6 years

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That’s Gold!

Moving up is nearly approaching and Junior High schooling is continuously coming to its end. Farewell and saying goodbyes to each other is surely a moment wherein tears that manifest hardships, triumphs, downfalls, and memories will begin to flow from one’s eyes.

As to reminisce the unforgettable and noteworthy moments as a High School student, it is the right time to tell the feelings, own perception, love and ill will to your classmate that once became part of your sorrowful and happy schooling story.

Known as the ‘King of the Dance floor’, a God-fearing mankind and more girls are attracted to him because of his charm. That’s Joshua!

An active Cagayan National High School Boy Scout. The current Editor-in-chief of the Cagayan Students’ Chronicle. A boy who loves video games. Sometimes, others hate him because of his annoying attitude. His love life story? One girl is making her heart beats faster. He is a tall boy. In terms of work, he wants a clean and presentable outputs. Those are the stuffs that I admire about him. That’s Charlemagne John!

He’s my classmate for four consecutive years. He doesn’t fail me for bringing such exemplifying honors for the school. He has a special aptitude in all subjects. No doubt, he is always at the top of the class. He also shows his prowess in the field of arts which is visible on his editorial cartoons. All salute is offer to him. Even though we’ll be separating each other’s path, bear on your mind to not forget me---your fan, your friend, and your classmate. That’s Andrew Jerome!

The funniest person in our class. I just want to extend my gratitude for sharing and giving laughters to us every day. He cultivates a maturity thinking. A servant leader. I always look up to him for being a practical student. He loves filmography which is shown with his excellent films. But he is a person who doesn’t give thanks when you turned his favors into reality, that is what I hate about him. Also, please stop hurting my feelings again. One thing more, he is a good writer. My funny friend. That’s Kenneth!

Joking aside, the grandfather of our class because of his white hairs. Just continue your passion and perseverance to serve the Almighty Father and your fellow mates. Change your daily routine--- being so late to come to school. My seatmate during the Third Quarter. A generous person. That’s Ronnie!

A boy who greatly attached himself to the Korean pop entertainment. Back then, he is an avid fan of the renowned boy band group worldwide, the BTS also known as the Bangtan Boys, but now it seems like he unfasten his way and come with the Wanna One world. He is a competitive student. If he dislikes something, he will react right away. I just want to say sorry and please stop fooling me. I mean every time you throw harsh and mean words to me, I’m being offended and I want to fight back but I can’t because I think it’ll just go for nothing. He’s a good- looking man and one of the intelligent boys in our class. That’s Laurence!

The boy who loves sports, specifically in basketball. He is a not so tall person. I admire his memorization prowess. He is small but terrible, they say. Even though he is not that active in extracurricular affairs, he belongs to the group who always topped the class. That’s Freidrich!

A timid boy in our class. He also likes video games. He is a commendable sports writer. For the information of everybody, he once represented the Region to the 2014 National Schools Press Conference. A simple boy. That’s Karlos!

The story maker of the class, just kidding. Sometimes, others hate him. I don’t know why. He is known for his animated film character drawings, a boy who loves to play interactive video games, and a pianist, which I had discovered just a few weeks ago. That’s Aaron!

Also one the good dancers in our class. A small jaunty boy. He has his special someone. Just continue being a good servant to others. I’ll remind you to always listen to class discussions so that no teachers will scold and hate you again. Just pursue your dreams. That’s Mark Daryll!

He is known in our class for exemplifying in the field of arts which is shown on his outputs. I also admire his penmanship. A boy who doesn’t let go dancing as one of his interests. Go beyond the limits! That’s Harvey!

He is a writer who transcends in journalism. A student who always do good in News Writing. A smart student. Sometimes, he is not that responsible because of doing such childish things--- playing video games and outdoor games. I just want to tell you to be more mature and know your priorities. Hone your time management skill. And I’ll remind you to not hurt anyone’s heart. That’s Ryan Ramde!

My brother because we have the same skin color, they say. Just kidding! Very kind and good student. A generous person. A particular student who is one of the few gifted players in the field of badminton. Just keep achieving and pursuing. That’s Kharl Emil!

He greatly endears volleyball game, actually he is an Ateneo Blue Eagles volleyball team fan. The boy who sometimes has a childish voice. He is also one of the good singers in our senior class. That’s Jonard!

A simple timid boy who excels in the field of Creative Writing which is visible on his Tumblr account, God- centered quiet person. That’s John Roe!

A chess master. Our Mr. Sports forever. A responsible and approachable student. A good servant leader. I just want to express you these words. Prolong your patience and never fight back to girls if they are trying to tease you. Have a sense of respect to women. Control your temper. Don’t fool the play of love. Love isn’t that easy game to play. Be serious, sometimes. Just be yourself. That’s John Whesley!

A responsible and persevere President of our class. A God-centered person. He is good on playing musical instruments. Also genuinely excellent in doing such computer task that includes editing, lay outing and the like. Don’t be too much serious on your puppy love. Do the most important stuffs first. That’s Timios Raenan!

He always outclasses in Campus Journalism. As an evidence, he once topped the Copy Reading and Headline Writing during the Division Schools Press Conference. A good friend of mine. He’s so passionate in the name of love. Just remember to not play with someone’s heart if you have no intentions for a serious relationship. The class’ King of Catwalk’. He loves pageantry. And there’s no bad at that thing. Don’t be a bully, sometimes. You’re just making my heart’s wound getting bigger. He is a smart boy. A student who is a consistent topnotcher of our English class. Just keep believing. Learn to labor and to wait. That’s Kliff Yran!

A simple girl. A timid lady in the class. Always well-behaved. Don’t be sad if other people are trying to bring you down. Just bear in your mind that you are above them. That’s Darylle Anne!

For being my classmate for three consecurtive years. I could say that she’s a kindhearted woman. One of my good friends. She always invites the group when every time they celebrate an occasion. An eager and enthusiastic fan of the Korean Entertainment. A girl who has a burning passion in dancing, I think. Sometimes, the ‘palaban girl’, if she loses her temper. Never lose focus and hope. I assure your paulinian crush will notice you somehow, someday. Keep reaching your dreams. That’s Kryssha Mae!

A beautiful girl. She is one of the excellent students who always excels in English class. A good debater which reflects her personalities and capabilities such as having a courageous disposition, excellent vocabulary and communication skills and admirable prowess in articulacy. Even though we are not that too close to each other just like the past years, there’s no problem on that at all, just don’t forget me. That’s Judde!

He is one the girls I look up to since Grade Seven. An intelligent kind girl. Aside from excelling in our English class, she is also good at Mathematics subject. She loves to play Sodoku puzzle. Even though, she has her very special someone, she is being reminded to strive hard. Keep moving forward. That’s Janae!

A girl who loves dancing and also good in singing. Also, one of the million avid fans of Korean Pop boyband group. A simple good beautiful girl. That’s Buena!

One of the kind and simple girls I met. A good looking lady. She’s so generous for always doing my favors. A good friend. For being my classmate for two years, I always appreciate her efforts, humility and kindness. That’s Ma. Angelica!

A wattpad lover. Always quiet during class discussions and sometimes, a shy woman. A girl who tend to appreciate the world of arts, little by little. We are not strange because we’re seeing each other since elementary schooling during MTAP sessions. That’s Karen!

She is a stereotype of a Filipina woman--- simple and timid. I always believe on the things she can offer. I am also a witness of her abilities. Actually, she is also my companion during the MTAP sessions since Grade One to Five. Just like a usual girl story, she is also a fan of the Korea’s boyband group. She is a dancer that’s why this push him to join MTV competition last school’s Intramurals. That’s Julia!

My classmates for four years. She is a persevere person. In terms of studies, she will make good just to make her parents proud. She is very cute because of her size. Just kidding! I will miss your appetizing kimbap. That’s Angelica Marie!

A religious girl. Don’t lose hope. If they are trying to hurt your feelings and throw harsh words unto you. Don’t be so much affected, this just manifests that you have something that they don’t have. You can do it, no matter what. That’s Salve!

The Essayist of the Year. Even though, other people don’t appreciate your capabilities, don’t mind them. What important now is that you’ve proved something that is worth remembering. Bear in your mind to just put your feet on the ground. A kind girl but sometimes a bully. That’s Christelle!

The Queen of Cards. A girl who is sometimes ill-tempered, but more on having benevolent disposition. An avid K-Pop fan. My very dependable friend. That’s Kristel Hanely!

Actually, we don’t often share conversations with each other. Since, we became classmates for two straight years, I’ll just express my views and my own perception to her. A girl who loves music. She’s good in writing which is visible in her blogs and poems. Study hard and strive for the very best. That’s Samantha Kaye!

The campus photojournalist. A girl who is so adorable and admirable. She’s so kind to her fellow mates and very down to earth person. Just continue being a student leader. Follow your dreams. That’s Naiza May!

Undoubtedly, she is good and very kind student. She is an intelligent person that’s why this made her to go to the national level. A very humble girl. Don’t make love ruin your studies and aspirations, but rather serve this as an inspiration. She is also one of my classmates since Grade Seven that I look up to. That’s Jeanelle Vasheri!

Literally, a small but terrible girl, somehow indomitable woman. I’ll remind you don’t do anything that will make her angry, she will also do everything to fight back. That’s Ma. Editha!

Our Miss Sports forever. He is known for being good in Mathematics. A genuine writer in the field of Sports Writing. A tall and a girl that pleases the senses aesthetically of someone. A generous person. A persevere and firm student. That’s Grace!

A beautiful girl, simple but powerful, that’s Maria Michaela!

The Chief Girl Scout Awardee. A comedian actress because every time she performs in class, her signature style is to make everyone smile and laugh. I will also miss your sweet and mouthwatering macarons. That’s Karissa Rose!

The Declamator of the Year. A girl who will do everything to make her short term goals visible. I just want to tell you to control the words you are telling to someone. Sometimes, you are at the point wherein you are making someone’s feeling hurts. Don’t make a person’s imperfection to make the whole class happy. Besides these things, she is that woman who always recite during class discussions. And also the ‘Bibo Girl’ in our class. That’s Nina Katrina!

An adviser. Like her mother, she is also a Storyteller in the sense that you’ll gain morals and knowledge. One of my favorites in the class for the four consecutive years. An active servant leader of the school. She displays commendable talent in creative writing and campus journalism which is evident in her blogs and articles. She also exemplifies in the world of debate. Girl who always tops English subject. That’s Princess Justice Abcd!

Without knowing you much, Im so afraid to you when we were in Grade Seven for the reason that you are a girl who’s that that approachable and grouchy, I think. But I was wrong. Four years is enough to say that I appreciate you so much for being kind and friendly to me and to others. I always look up to you for bringing pride and honor to our school. She is a Math Wizard. I’m so jealous and I hate you for possessing such a white skin. Just kidding! That’s Kathrina Angela!

My good seatmate. A girl who loves video games so much. I love the way you treat me as a classmate. Control your feelings. It might ruin your studies and priorities in life.That’s Shanyleigh!

A girl that is timid, sometimes. She is always part of the honor students of our class. She wants to prove something because back then she belongs to the second to the last section of the Science section. Just keep achieving your short and long term goals. That’s Precious!

She is one of the funniest girl in the class. I love her disposition in life. She always smile and laugh at every turns and bumps she encountered. Even other people and I fools her, she is the type of woman that doesn’t easily get angry. Thanks for the laughters for four years. That’s Ayra Monette!

The late comer in class. A thin person, just like me. During non- discussion hours, her voice is too loud but if she‘s being told to read I can’t hear what she’s reading. Don’t take this thing as a negative feedback but make this as your power to do better, next time. She is also a simple and shy girl. That’s Kezia Leij!

She’s my classmate for four consecutive years. Eventually, became my friend. I just want to express what I somehow hate and greatly love about you. I hate the moment when you sometimes throw harsh words to me and to others. Control your feelings. If you feel angry, just calm down. If someone made a mistake or something that will make you feel angry, treat that person on a nice and formal way. Just what like they say there will always be two sides of a coin. And what I love and appreciate about you is that, you’re very generous and bold. Also, being a firm and persevere student. A girl that is so much conscious about her grades that’s why she’ll making her utmost best just to obtain high grades. She excels in the field of arts. A good editorial cartoonist and artist. That’s Jemarie!

Poet of the Year. The girl who have a ‘pabebe voice’ sometimes. I always laugh at you every time we are require to submit an essay, it’s just like you are making a novel that is ready to publish because it’s too lengthy. A studious student. As an evidence, her bag is too heavy to carry. Continue being a student leader. I look up to you in terms of leadership. Don’t stress yourself and go away from the negativities that might surround you. That’s Katreena Anne!

A small but terrible girl. A girl who loves reading Wattpad stories. I just want to apologize for all the mean words. Never stop being a leader to others. Continue pushing your dreams to greatness. That’s Joanna Mae!

Now, we need to wipe away our tears. Turn this into happiness and a privilege. The past where we gained morals and wisdom is just now a part of our rich history that made us who and what we are today.

My Aura family, I will truly miss everything---from the time we encountered turns, bumps and downs to the moment we attained success and greatness. Let us keep moving forward with oneness and confidence.

What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

Shining.

Shimmering.

Splendid.

That’s Gold!

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