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mashbits · 3 years

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i have many feelings and probably unpopular opinions/views on the bee duo-las nevadas conflict today so here we go, all characters mentions are c! only!

(mostly c!tubbo analysis i’m sorry)

while yes, quackity has every right to be suspicious of the outpost especially when it really was designed to spy on his country, tubbo also has every right to build there. because quackity never specified he was going to expand on that land. more so, tubbo had every right to be suspicious of las nevadas and want to see what’s going on, because he himself knows just how incredibly dangerous new things on the smp can be.

tubbo obviously wants to trust quackity and believe there’s nothing sketchy going on in las nevada’s, but there’s so much history between them that’s left some serious, albeit unnoticeable, tension against quackity (and most of the server)

he himself said that it was quackity who took part in tubbo’s execution. while many tend to just blame schlatt and techno, most people forget that quackity had so much to do with it as well. while yes, tubbo has forgiven him, who’s to say tubbo isn’t still effected by it. we all know how horrible he is when it comes to expression his emotions/trauma, and his nonchalant attitude towards his own life may come into effect as well.

as well as, while tubbo was president, it was quackity who took charge and bossed tubbo around the most. HE spoke over tubbo, and HE was the one comparing him to schlatt, their shared tormentor during the manburg arc. quackity had to have known how much that would hurt. quackity also suggested execution ranboo just before doomsday, an example of how he had no problem executing tubbo before. quackity is known to manipulate tubbo and put words into his mouth, with how much “i trust you, BUT (insert negative)” quackity threw. quackity also tried to leave l’manburg on doomsday, which obviously hurt tubbo even if he did come back. tubbo standing up to quackity when he felt entirely justified building onto an apparently unclaimed piece of land wasn’t tubbo having any negative intentions or violent thoughts, it was only a teenager who was tired of being bullied and walked all over.

tubbo has every right to be afraid of what quackity in las nevada’s could do. building a spy outpost and calling it a cookie stand is how tubbo, who’s known to go to the extremes when feeling threatened, is entirely justified. because tubbo is afraid of his own projects getting griefed, as demonstrated in the past, him making the outpost so secure is, in tubbo’s traumatized mind, entirely justified. and i agree.

quackity is in his every right to be suspicious and untrusting with the outpost, but he is in no way innocent of tricking people himself. tubbo’s river compromise was completely reasonable.

as well as, i truly believe if quackity had tried talking to the bee duo before instantly starting to build a wall against the other wall, the conflict wouldn’t have been to negative. tubbo felt threatened by the immediate distrust and assumption that they were out to harm las nevadas, when he just wanted to keep an eye out and stay close to people he’s afraid of, to avoid someone else getting hurt. quackity feeling threatened by a supposed cookie store in territory he didn’t officially claim, where the wall wasn’t even being built directly towards las nevadas, felt a bit too extreme.

also, the way quackity would say things like “i’ll ALLOW you to keep the farm” “if you’d asked permission first” and bringing up so much politics, law and terms felt like an adult undermining a child, like he didn’t actually respect tubbo as a person. i’ve noticed a pattern of certain adults treating the minors of the smp as adults who should take the blame for problems that aren’t even their own and then treating them like clueless kids who don’t know what they’re talking about when it’s convenient for them. quackity during tubbo’s presidency, while treating him like a child, put all of the pressure and decisions on him instead of owning up to his own issues. quackity just doesn’t sit right with me, he and wilbur both being extreme manipulators and picking/choosing when they want to treat one of the kids with respect feels incredibly shitty. ALSO also, the fact that quackity kept bringing up jack manifold and associating all of his actions to tubbo also feels very uncomfortable. judging a person by association is toxic and biased, especially since quackity only believed jack manifold to live in snowchester- a place that has been, and tubbo has made this very clear, somewhere that people can go to relax and live peacefully, and conflict-free. tubbo let’s anyone build and reside in snowchester not for money or profit or power, but because he knows there are people on the server who’re tired of feeling threatened. tubbo is in no way responsible for the actions of others associated with him or his home. quackity really liked forgetting that foolish and puffy lived there as well, both of which he trusts (or manipulated into joining las nevadas, moreso foolish, as i’m not too sure where puffy lies).

speaking of foolish, i am :D not okay :D bc i love foolish, he’s my sweet shark god but with how carefree he was about giving away all of snowchester secrets to quackity when tubbo clearly trusted him and welcomed him with open/warm arms, it hurted :’D if quackity finds out about michael because of foolish, and in turn something happens to michael, i will lose it-

i’m not entirely sure what quackity is planning with las nevadas, especially since he’s trying revive schlatt as well, but it isn’t anything good. tubbo has every right to be suspicious. quackity obviously believed that he would be able to take over the conversation and sound like he was in the right/being fair the entire time, and speak over tubbo like always. he tried to as well, and tried to put words into tubbo’s mouth yet again. for someone who’s so obsessed with not repeating history, he definitely loves to let it control him. i’m proud of tubbo for standing his ground.

people assume history will repeat itself, but it only will if you let it take over. quackity wanting las nevadas to not see the fate of l’manburg is going to be its downfall, because quackity didn’t actually learn from history. he’s letting it control him.

#mcyt #tubbo #/roleplay #dream smp #tommyinnit #dream #ranboo #las nevadas #lore #quackity #foolish gamers #foolishg #michael beloved #character analysis #i have feelings

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

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chapter 42

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

it’s not proofread and most of it was written in the middle of the night and I think it probably kinda sucks, so sorry, but happy actual valentine’s day from these idiots 💕

~^~

Jens opens the door and immediately begins to shut it in Sander’s face.

Sander shoves his foot into the gap and wraps his hand around the frame, bravely, and forces it back. Jens lets go with a sigh, that turns even heavier when he spots Robbe at Sander’s shoulder. Sander keeps his hand pressed to the door and watches Jens cautiously, as if expecting him to slam it closed the instant Sander lets go. It isn’t an entirely unfair judgment.

“What is this?” Jens asks.

“A slight intervention,” Robbe tells him, sharing a glance with Sander. “And this time you need to listen.”

Jens leans out the door mockingly, but Sander furrows his brows at him. “Lucas hasn’t come back from Utrecht, no, and I don’t blame him.”

This puts Jens on pause and sets him rocking back on his heels. He blinks. “Utrecht? Why the fuck is he in Utrecht?”

“That’s where he lives,” Sander says slowly. “Or, where he grew up, at least. He’s staying with his mom.”

Jens knows that. He knows where Lucas’s home is, and he’s slightly (irrationally) pissed that Sander is treating him like he doesn’t, or that he’s stupid. He knows what and where Utrecht is; he just doesn’t know why Lucas is there. The message, however, feels pretty clear, and entirely contradictory to the messages on his phone. It makes him feel a little sick.

“Why are you here, then?” If Lucas doesn’t even want to be in the same country with him, then Jens doesn’t understand the purpose of further meddling. If Sander as mad at Jens for driving him away, Jens will point out that he didn’t tell Lucas to leave and then resort back to slamming the door. He might use the chain this time for extra security measures.

Sander slowly lets his hand drop from the door and asks, “Can we come in?”

Jens stares at him for a moment. He looks to Robbe and isn’t surprised by the encouraging nod he receives. He steps back, biting down another sigh, and sweeps his arm out in a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

The two filter into the apartment, Robbe squeezing his shoulder as they pass. They settle on Jens’s sofa side by side, and Jens drops into his armchair and looks at them expectantly.

“I know that you’re upset,” Sander says softly, “and I understand why. I also get why you’re angry. But I need you to be chill Jens for a second and listen. Will you?”

Jens glares at him for a second, but it feels uncomfortable on his face. He’s tired of feeling angry and he’s tired of being hurt. There is a chance, after all, that Sander will tell him something he wants to hear. The blond looks serious and confident—moreso than Jens has ever seen him. It might be that he’s sure of what he has to say, or it might be Robbe’s hand rubbing circles on his knee. Jens decides to nod anyway.

Sander’s shoulder sag on a breath of relief. “Okay. I need you to know you’re wrong. Don’t give me that face—you’ve already realised this yourself. I know you realise this. I need you to understand—none of this was Lucas’s fault. He hated every second of it. I should have stepped up for him the last time we were here and made that clear. Did Lucas talk to you much about how he was when he was younger, and what it was like for him coming out?”

Jens thinks back, but he can’t recall them ever broaching the topic. They’ve had some deep conversations, but there’s still plenty about Lucas that Jens doesn’t know or had ever thought to ask. He shakes his head.

“It wasn’t...great. He had a hard time with it. It made him do a few stupid things, hurt a few of his friends. But ever since he came out, he’s done everything he could to be brutally honest,” Sander huffs a laugh. He raises a brow at Jens and adds, “You’ve seen that for yourself. Think of the first day he met you, at least. Before I messed everything up. He wasn’t lying to you, then.”

He wasn’t. He was sassy and sure and a little harsh, really, and Jens had probably fallen for him on the spot. He offers a shrug.

Sander accepts that he isn’t going to get anything more and continues. “For as long as I’ve known him, Lucas has been unapologetically himself. He hates lying, unless it’s something small and basic like getting out of dinner with his dad or a way out of work he doesn’t want. White lies are the most he allows himself. From the very beginning, before you even messaged him that first time, he didn’t want to lie to you.”

“So what happened?” Jens asks, trying not to sound desperate. “Why did he?”

“I don’t know,” Sander admits quietly. Robbe squeezes his knee as he swallows, but then he looks at Jens with the same surety as before. “Maybe he panicked, too, but my best guess is that he did it for me. He wouldn’t have lost anything by telling you the truth that day, but he would’ve had to give me away, so he didn’t. It doesn’t matter that it was stupid. If there’s one thing about Lucas, it’s that he’s loyal to a fucking fault. He messed up before in that area too, but,” Sander pauses, licking his lips and shaking his head, eyes now downcast. “He’s done everything to make up for it since. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t deserve it. He’s just too good of a friend.”

Jens looks at Robbe, and his best friend meets his eyes, and for the first time Jens feels a pang of sympathy. He thinks of all the things that Robbe has done for him that he likely didn’t deserve, and what he’d do for Robbe in turn. He imagines himself in Lucas’s position, and comes to an understanding. If Robbe needed him, he would be there, no questions asked. No matter the reason or risk. There are lengths he would go to for his best friend that he’d scoff over with anyone else.

Still.

“That doesn’t change anything between us,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t change the fact that he did it.”

“No,” Sander agrees instantly. “It doesn’t change the fact that he messed up along with me. That he did lie and that it hurt you. But it changes your understanding, doesn’t it?”

Jens looks to Robbe again, who is now smiling knowingly. Another side effect, he supposes—Robbe has always been able to more or less read his mind.

Robbe speaks up, softly. “It doesn’t. He already understands, it’s just making him admit it.”

Now, Jens narrows his eyes. Maybe he overestimated the best-friend solidarity. Or maybe that’s exactly why Robbe’s doing this.

Sander’s eyes have brightened with Robbe’s reassurance, and he’s back to staring steadily at Jens, overly sure. “Robbe’s right. You’re upset because you think he lied to you about more than this. That he played you, or fabricated whatever you have between you. But you already know better. You know what kind of person Lucas is, Jens.”

Does he? This is what he’s been asking himself over and over, these past few days. The hurt has been almost buried under the panic of his outing, which he is yet to address, but still there has been space for this single question. He remembers everything he had shared with Lucas, the night they kissed. He remembers Lucas calling him out, for always acting like he knew Lucas by heart, but it had seemed like he was right and that Lucas was simply admitting it. Jens has always felt like he knew Lucas, from somewhere deeper than surface level facts. His brain and his heart have both been unsure, but there’s something adamant in his soul even now, something that extends to his gut. There is something in him agreeing with every word Sander says, screaming at him so that he might acknowledge what he already knows to be true.

“Lucas was always pissed at me, but there were times when he would come to me first and be so adamant that we had to fix things, that we had to tell you the truth. I didn’t realise at the time, but I know it was because of you,” Sander continues.

Jens’s chest tightens. “What do you mean?”

“It must have always been after he’d spoken to you. He said it a few times, that he couldn’t take you praising his honesty and lying to you over and over.”

Sander says this pointedly, as if acknowledging the center of Jens’s argument and demolishing it. His sole excuse, the center of his hurt, is that he has spent this whole time appreciating Lucas’s honesty while it has been founded on lies from the beginning. But it holds no weight, if Lucas had made the same point himself.

“I thought it was just because of the lie, but it’s because it was you,” Sander says firmly. “He wouldn’t have kept talking to you if he didn’t want to. Everything he shared with you, Jens, it means a hundred times more because of the circumstances. He could have made it easier for himself by avoiding you and hiding away, but he couldn’t. He could have let you try without offering up any of himself, but he didn’t.”

Jens, admittedly, has spent too much time pondering over that himself. It had been something that didn’t make sense. He could never truly believe Lucas would be cruel enough to go to such an extent—to fabricate enough information to convince Jens he was being honest and open; to earn his favour through such a dirty trick. He hasn’t been able to convince himself that all Lucas has told him has been a lie.

Robbe raises his brows at him, as if he knows Jens is caught. Jens ignores him and any expectancy to respond, letting Sander continue.

“It was killing him, and I know you could see it and just didn’t know what it was. Robbe told me, that you always wondered if Lucas was happy.” Sander gestures at Robbe, and seems sad now as he looks at Jens. “He wasn’t, with me. But even when things were fucked up, he couldn’t help it with you. It’s not the easiest thing to do, but you always seemed to make him happy, and I couldn’t understand it. I thought it was some weird kick out of rivalry, his way of trying to keep things light, maybe. I didn’t know. I didn’t see.” There seems, again, to be a silent acknowledgement that strengthens Sander’s sadness. I didn’t see it in my best friend, but you did. “The reason he lied, the reason he left—all of it’s because of me, not you. It’s not your fault. But it certainly isn’t his.”

It’s a little surprising, that Sander assumes some part of this is Jens blaming himself. It’s more surprising that he’s right. Jens hasn’t been able to help wondering what it is, what aspect of him makes it so easy for people to deceive him. What makes people want to. He’s gotten so used to it—being set up and knocked down. He has performed endless trust falls, and almost always ended up on his ass. This has felt even worse. Every day he’s been falling further and harder, breaking through the ground and gathering more aches and bruises with each passing moment.

Now, suddenly, he stops.

Something soft and warm catches him and wraps him up and says, You weren’t wrong. You were always right. You’ve always known.

The realisation hits him like a punch, knocking the breath out of him on a long, shaky exhale.

Sander and Robbe both notice, and beam at him, Sander letting out a sigh of relief. Robbe wraps himself around Sander’s arm and hugs the limb tightly, smiling so wide his cheeks seem ready to split. “Finally.”

“Alright,” Jens mutters, letting out a sigh of his own. There’s no heat in it anymore. “I’m as fucking stupid as the two of you have been,” he tells Sander.

“Well,” Robbe interrupts, politely. He squeezes Sander’s arm. “I wouldn’t think you’re on quite the same level. There was sense to your stupidity, and you were still right to be hurt.”

“You weren’t,” Jens points out, looking between the two of them.

Sander dismisses this with a wave and a lovesick look towards his boyfriend. Jens doesn’t understand how he never noticed that, at the very least. “Yeah, well, Robbe’s too nice,” Sander says.

Jens doesn’t have an argument for that. He does, however, have one final point he wants to make. “But,” he raises his brows, catching their attention and focusing on Sander. “I don’t think I’m the one who has to apologise to Lucas.”

The meaning is clear, and instead of shrinking away from it, Sander’s eyes finally light up in understanding.

He deflates just as quickly, looking down and plucking at Robbe’s fingers. “I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

“You said it yourself,” Jens reminds him. “Lucas is a good friend. Loyal to a fault. He’s hurt and he left because of you, not me. That should be enough proof of how much he cares.”

Sander swallows. He leans against Robbe, who presses further into his side, and then he looks back up at Jens. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Jens shrugs, raising his brows once more. “I’m guessing you both expected a nice romantic gesture out of me. So what do you think you’re supposed to do, Sander?”

~^~

Lucas opens the door and regrets it almost instantly.

“Don’t,” Sander quickly says, putting his foot inside the door. “Please.”

He’s standing on Lucas’s doorstep in the dark, shivering in his leather jacket. His white hair is tousled, restlessly rather than stylish, and the bags under his eyes could probably rival Lucas’s own. He looks like a ghost in the navy backdrop of the night, threadbare and flickering. The sight of him almost makes Lucas feel bad.

He shakes the feeling off and asks, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sander shrugs. “I drove,” he says simply, as if that’s in any way what Lucas meant.

“You drove,” Lucas repeats. “Let me rephrase. Why are you here, Sander?”

Lucas supposes there’s only one possible reason, but he no longer feels sure. He doesn’t know what to expect from Sander, anymore. He isn’t even sure where they stand. Despite the messages Sander has been sending him constantly that he’s ignored, he’s been considering himself forgotten. He assumed instantly that Robbe would be more important, and he’s still fairly sure.

Sander takes a breath and gazes at him steadily. “I’m here to apologise.” Lucas opens his mouth and Sander holds up a hand. “Before you shut me down, that’s it. I’m here to apologise, nothing more, nothing less. I’m not here because I expect you to forgive me. But you deserve an apology.”

Lucas hesitates. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and nods once.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Sander says. “I know that, but I could never think of anything else to say. But then I realised that, at the very least, I should have always told you the truth.” Sander takes another breath. “And the truth is that I love you, Luc.”

Lucas blinks.

Sander smiles at him. It’s small, but it isn’t sad. It’s sincere, and achingly familiar. Lucas would know exactly what it looks like without being able to see it, just from the tone of Sander’s voice. Everything about him is familiar. The crinkle of his eyes is something Lucas could picture just as easily, one shut slightly more than the other. He knows that droop is still there, without having to look, like he knows the same little scar will be.

He knows Sander off by heart, without having to see. He didn’t realise he was unaware of those words without hearing them.

“I love you,” Sander repeats, “and I really don’t want to lose you. It is the last fucking thing I’ve ever wanted.”

Lucas’s lips part. Then close again. This is not what he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected Sander at all. Not just here tonight, but ever. Sander had sailed into Lucas’s life on a Bowie record with his camera around his neck and a sparkle in him that Lucas has never witnessed in anyone else. He’s known, since seeing it for the first time, that it’s something he shouldn’t let go of easily. He knows, in the same way as he recognises everything else, that the spark is still present.

But it feels sharp and dangerous, now, instead of bright and warm. Lucas wants to shy away from the light instead of be drawn towards it.

“What about Robbe?”

Sander pauses, like he doesn’t know what Lucas means, and then realisation settles. “I haven’t lost Robbe,” Sander admits, watching Lucas’s expression. “The opposite, in fact.”

Lucas can appreciate the honesty, even though it stings. It isn’t surprising. He swallows thickly. “Guess it worked out after all, then.”

“No,” Sander denies immediately, shaking his head. “It didn’t. Not if it cost me you.”

Sander’s eyes are glimmering, and it has nothing to do with his spark. Lucas recognises the sight of tears gathering behind eyelids. It’s embarrassing, how much it pains him even now. It’s pathetic how much he wants to believe him.

“Why should I believe that?” Lucas whispers.

“Because you want to,” Sander says, equally soft. He takes a small step closer, but still doesn’t cross the threshold. His hands are shaking from nerves or the cold. “I know you do because I know you, Luc. That’s how I know how much I messed up, and that’s why I was so surprised when you told me about Jens. Because ever since I’ve known you, I’ve known you. We were always on the same wavelength. I didn’t realise how much I disrupted that, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. But I can at least make sure you do.”

Lucas rubs his nose in an attempt not to sniffle, even though he could probably brush it off as the chill, too. “What?”

“You know I talked to Kes. I know you’re blaming yourself way more than you should, and I’m sorry that I caused that. I’m sorry that I pushed you back there. That’s what I’m here to apologise for.” He licks his lips, shaking his head, in another gesture that Lucas is too familiar with. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I can still fix things for you, even if I can’t fix us.”

“What?” Lucas repeats. “What do you mean?”

Sander steps aside, and then Jens is taking his place.

It’s only then that Lucas notices Robbe standing off to the side, as well, as Sander steps back into his arms. But it’s Jens that comes out of nowhere and makes himself the center of Lucas’s focus. He looks exactly the same as Lucas remembers, but Lucas isn’t sure what else he expected. Jens is as stunning as usual, just tired. There are shadows cast over his face, under his eyes and in the downturn of his lips, but it doesn’t change him. The difference, Lucas thinks, is that the last time he’d seen him, Jens was furious. Made up of jagged edges and barbed-wire words. The Jens in front of him now is the familiar version, too, the one that’s all sharpened soft lines and warmth, exuding calm despite the layer of nerves laced underneath.

The Jens in front of him now is in front of him. He’s here, with Lucas. He’s here, in Utrecht.

He’s smiling.

Lucas stares and barely manages to say, “What the fuck?”

Jens’s smile twitches, but in the direction of more-amused rather than less. He sweeps his gaze over Lucas. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you look like shit.”

Lucas resists the urge to look down at himself. He knows he looks a mess. The sleeves of his hoodie are fraying and his sweatpants are too big, but they’re the most comfortable clothing he owns. He probably looks more tired than Jens, or at least less put together. His hair hasn’t been touched in days and very possibly resembles something nest-like.

He watches as Jens sweeps his gaze over him again, lingering on all the features of his face and softening. “But you still don’t, really,” Jens sighs.

Lucas isn’t sure what to say to that, or if he should say anything at all. He isn’t sure of anything at the moment, but he definitely can’t figure out why Jens is here.

“I’m sorry,” they say simultaneously.

It surprises Lucas. He opens his mouth to continue, to immediately deny, but Jens holds up a hand.

“Please, this time, let me,” Jens requests, and it’s so gentle that Lucas can only shut up and stare. “You don’t have to do any more explaining. I know I was wrong, or at least too hard on you.” Jens blows out a breath, smiling crookedly. “I think I was an asshole, actually.”

Lucas shakes his head. “You had every right to say what you did. I probably deserved worse.”

“You don’t,” Jens insists. Lucas’s heart stops when Jens also takes his hands. Jens himself seems surprised at the gesture, looking down at where they touch. He rubs his thumbs over Lucas’s knuckles while gathering more words, then looks up again. “I’m not going to apologise for being hurt. But I will for not believing you.”

“But...you were right. The whole time, I—“

“Was more honest with me than most people have ever been,” Jens cuts him off.

Lucas can only blink, helplessly hopeful.

“I know,” Jens starts. Pauses. Tries again. “I know that even if there was this one lie, or secret, or whatever you want to call it, that what we have—that was real. It is real. And I’m sorry, for being an asshole and ever suggesting otherwise.”

“Jens,” Lucas whispers. Then he can’t think of anything else.

“I know,” Jens reiterates gently. He steps closer, like Sander, and also doesn’t cross the threshold. But he comes close, toes brushing the line. Close enough that he can lean his forehead against Lucas’s while squeezing his hands. “I don’t need you to explain, or say sorry, or do anything else. I know, Lucas.”

Lucas lets out a breath, and finally lets something go. He’s been holding it for over a month, and with the weight and pressure gone, he almost feels like he’s floating. Jens’s hands are the only thing keeping him tethered.

This time, he thinks to ask.

“Does this mean I can kiss you again?”

Jens’s grin is blindingly beautiful, and he leans into Lucas without another word of explanation needed between them. It’s enough to let their lips meet and reassure each other that they know. This kiss is both softer and surer than their first, and comes as even more of a relief. Instead of floating, Lucas sinks, melting into Jens to the point he’s sure they’ll dissolve into one.

Even then, they press closer still. Jens slides his hands around Lucas’s waist and draws him into his chest, tucking them together in a tight embrace. Lucas buries his head in Jens’s neck and clutches on just as tightly, breathing Jens in and letting himself be swayed slightly.

He soaks up as much surety as he needs, and then he pulls back. Jens lets him go without question, still knowing, stepping out of the way to let Lucas come out into the night and extend his arms further.

There’s no hesitation in either of them as Lucas pulls Sander into a hug and holds on for dear life. Sander reciprocates with just as much force, almost crushing Lucas to his chest as he lets out a choked laugh of pure relief. Lucas squeezes him as tightly as he can, meeting Robbe’s glistening smile over Sander’s shoulder and feeling his own eyes water.

“I love you, too,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, too.”

Sander sniffs, and this time Lucas laughs, but keeps holding on and letting them both hide their tears. “Okay. No need to get all sappy about it,” Sander mumbles.

Lucas simply squeezes him tighter. There’s nothing he knows better than this.

“I don’t know what you did,” he tells Sander. “But thank you.”

“Don’t,” Sander dismisses. “You know I’d do anything for you, Luc.”

“If I’m being totally honest,” Jens pipes up from their side. “This utterly disgusting display of emotions would’ve probably worked better on Robbe and I the whole time. You guys were shit boyfriends.”

Lucas and Sander both laugh, and then Lucas extends an arm out and pulls Jens into their hug. Jens stumbles in surprise, but attaches himself to Lucas without fuss and draws Robbe along with him. Once they’ve created a bigger bubble, Lucas presses a kiss to Jens’s cheek and aims for a reassuring tone. “I promise we’re much better at it in the right circumstances.”

Robbe immediately hums in agreement. Lucas can’t even see him, smothered between Sander and Jens across from himself, but he feels the movement of Sander’s body as Robbe hugs him closer. “I believe that.”

“I might need a little convincing,” Jens says, snippy. Lucas scoffs and pinches his side. Jens flinches away with a yelp. “See, mine is faulty,” he complains.

Lucas removes himself from the huddle and blinks. “Yours?”

Jens turns with him, keeping a hand knotted in Lucas’s hoodie, and simply raises his brows. His nerves are betrayed when tries to reinforce his statement by making a joke. “The whole world-wide-web already seems to think so,” he says lightly.

It only has the effect of making Lucas’s face fall.

“Don’t,” Jens says, stepping closer to him again and cupping his cheek. “Sorry, that was stupid. I’m not mad.”

“But are you okay?” Lucas asks carefully.

Jens considers this, then shrugs. He presses a kiss to Lucas’s forehead, then keeps his lips there, brushing over the skin as he speaks. “Depends,” he settles on, carding a hand through Lucas’s hair. “Are they right?”

By way of answer, Lucas leans up and kisses him again.

Jens accepts it for a moment, then pulls away and bumps his freezing nose against Lucas’s. “A good boyfriend would probably invite their partner inside before they freeze their balls off.”

Lucas snorts, but immediately steps back through the door and pulls Jens with him, beckoning Sander and Robbe in after them and finally enclosing them in heat.

“Wait,” Sander says. “Where’s your mom?”

“Listening to everything in the sitting room,” Lucas nods his head. When Sander and Jens both freeze, wide-eyed, he lets out a laugh. “No, she’s staying at her sister’s like she does every weekend.”

Robbe shoots him an amused look as Sander and Jens both relax. Lucas looks between the three of them. “Did you even bring anything with you? Any of you?”

They all look at each other, and then Robbe says, “Uhh.”

Lucas closes his eyes and takes a breath, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face. “I can’t believe any of you.”

“Yes you can,” Sander dismisses. “And you love it. And we love you.”

Lucas flushes, and Robbe smiles at him and winds his arms around Sander’s shoulders, pressing a soothing kiss to his cheek. “Okay, I think you’ve made your point, hm? How about we get out of their way, now?”

“You can stay where you always do,” Lucas tells Sander. “Mom always has it ready for you, I think.”

Sander turns soft and gooey again, and wraps Lucas in another tight hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas assures, rubbing his back. “I was getting tired of being pissed, anyway.”

Sander snorts. “Lucky me.”

Lucas hums and then pushes him back towards Robbe. He lets his lips twitch up in a smile and raises his brows. “You‘ll have to share the bed, though, so I hope that’s okay.”

Robbe blushes slightly, but nods at Sander’s curious look.

Jens snorts. “Yeah, as if Robbe was going to complain.”

Robbe reaches up and smacks Jens’s cheek lightly, and Sander tucks him into his side before a full scuffle can ensue. With another thanks, Sander begins guiding Robbe away, and is only stopped by Jens saying, “Hey.” They both turn back to him, Sander curious and Robbe expectant.

Jens holds his hand out to Sander. After only a few seconds of hesitation, Sander takes it in his own and responds to Jens’s squeeze. “Thanks. For being a good friend to us, too.”

Sander’s lips curl in a smile, and he nods. Lucas watches the exchange with an overwhelming feeling of relief.

Then Sander and Robbe go, giggling on their way up Lucas’s stairs, and Lucas is left with Jens. Some of the panic returns. He does his best to stamp it down, swallowing before turning to Jens.

Jens smiles at him. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” Lucas returns. “Are you hungry, or anything?”

Jens shakes his head, coming closer slowly, drawing Lucas into him with a little more hesitance than before. Lucas leans into him and kisses his neck in an attempt to soothe the worries away, relishing in the fact that he can, that he has Jens here and is finally allowed to act how he wants. That Jens is allowing him.

“I just wanna be with you,” Jens admits. “Can we talk about everything else tomorrow?”

Lucas swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Do you want to—I mean, I can sleep in my mom’s room and you—“

“Lucas,” Jens cuts him off, huffing slightly. “I just want to be with you. If that’s okay.”

“Well, you guys showed up ridiculously late, so it’d be pretty mean of me to send you away.”

“That’s true.”

“Was that the plan?”

“Maybe. Maybe we just couldn’t wait any more.” Jens kisses his nose. “Besides, you were never going to turn us away. You missed me, too. Can’t deny it, I have all your messages.”

“I can still kick you out if—“

Jens shuts him up with another kiss. Lucas doesn’t want to argue anymore, anyway, because they both know Jens is right.

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos @debussyatmidnight @skam-wtfock-sobbe

next chapter

#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it #i wasn’t in the happy sappy valentine’s mood #but i hope you all enjoy it :)

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archivedatl · 16 years

Text

Old Blogs

Howdy. I’ve noticed some concern over the loss of my old blogs here n’ there so I decided to post all of them in one large, comprehensive blog-a-verse. Hope this brings a smile to a few faces. Our Street Corners Keep Secrets This is me asking for a brick to be thrown through my window, a message attached that reads, "Why can’t you just wake up?" I am not a star, don’t look up to me in hopes of finding something more. That which is out of reach does not promise anyone a goddamn thing. Hope arises in possibility, but possiblity is fragmented and selfish, so don’t think for a second that I am safe ground to walk on. I will sink beneath the feet of a thousand travelling companions, and make ruin of any city’s foundations, because concrete and steel can never tell a soul how it feels. Our street corners keep secrets, and our road signs only suggest, never deciding for us, never knowing if the destination to which they lead, is where we truely belong. Life’s greatest tragedy is not that it will some day end, but that most of us just live to follow directions, and many times we end up totally lost. I am a landmine. Sometimes I break down so hard you can hear it, and when I can stand to come near it with means to repair, the chances of walking out unscathed are slim to none. I know because I’m one; a victim of second-hand breakdowns and bad impressions, made under intoxicated conditions with poorly lit expressions. And I regret not going back, I regret not missing flights, I regret not asking for more and taking chances that I can only hope will not be forgotten. My fingers are crossed.  I-O-U.  Now my telephone’s dead and I can’t stand to hold out like this, but I’m constantly checking myself so as not to be a burden. Anything too heavy eventually gets dropped, no matter the cost. Let me be light as a feather, but valued enough so as to remain in a back pocket, until those jeans need washing and I find my place on a bedside table, to be read aloud on nights when memories and prying needs return to haunt the foundations of this room.  Pick me up, Read me every now and then, I won’t disappoint. *I am* witty and engaging so bless me with attention, because I’m *dying* for attention *without* any means of telling *you*. I’ll talk the talk, you take care of the rest. What up thugs?  I’m alive and well, realizing how eternally grateful I am for everything going on in my life day by day... Its a lot like learning to walk - at least, that’s how I’d like to think of it. We’ve all been there, so I won’t waste your time painting a pretty picture of how it all goes down... I want to talk about other things... First and foremost, I’ve come to understand that as of late there have been a lot of people finding this little piece of my life tucked away on the web; moreso than usual, and for that reason, I’d like to extend my proverbial hand to anyone and everyone who may have something - anything to say to me. Thank you for taking an interest in who I am and what I’m attempting to do with my life. I am opening myself up, as much as possible, to anyone who may be interested. All I ask is that whoever you may be, wherever you may be, understand that I am only human - two hands, ten fingers, and a life... I’ve received a few messages from people, upset that I haven’t been able to respond to their previous comments or private messages, and who now probably think less of me for it. I hope this isn’t the case, but its bound to happen. What I’m saying is that I don’t live my life on the internet... I’m sorry if there’s a message I never got around to responding to... I’m just not that good at keeping up with reality, let alone a virtual one. I will, however, try harder from now on... And understand that even if I don’t respond, I probably have read your message. I don’t just clear my inbox and move on. Thats plain rude. :)  To all my good friends, the ones I should talk to more often, the ones I left back home, the ones I will never stop loving, thank you for still hugging me when I come home... I know I don’t always show it, but I’m forever indebted to you all for everything you’ve ever done for me...  That brings me to my second point. The closest friends you’ll ever have are the ones you’d take a bullet for, but they’re the ones you constantly feel you could put a bullet in as well. ;)  Think about that one.  That’s it for now. I can’t believe I’m up at 5:14am. Touring has made me an insomniac, but I feel fucking great.  Have a good one y’all,  Me Lawyers and Liars I am a liar. I am self absorbed. I am in this for me. I am seeking recognition. I am not concerned with politics. I am attempting to rise to the top. I am never going to forget my intentions. I am allowed to worry about my own life above the lives of others.  -------AFTER ALL---------  I am human. Part Deux: Colors, Sounds and Feather-Downs  Current mood: happy I had a long, goofy conversation several weeks ago with an interesting girl who I haven’t seen since, in a diner I have yet to revisit, but it stirred up some thoughts that I found pretty interesting. Maybe I’m just nuts. Anyhow, the discussion began on a simple basis; I inquired as to what her favorite color might be. She said she didn’t know. I replied, "How can you not know? Its a simple question." -- She paused, looking sort of surprised, as if someone had never pressed her for an answer before, and then replied, "Well... It changes... Today its yellow."  I didn’t know what to say... I didn’t understand.  How can your favorite color just change? What happened to yesterday’s favorite color? If, on a whim, something of such esteem and value can be replaced with another, then on what grounds was it ever of any more value to begin with? When I was little, my favorite color was green. It stayed that way, no matter what I said to be trendy at the time (IE. 8th grade was my "black is such a raw and expressive pigment" phase, but everyone goes through that shit.) As of late, I’ve become more partial to blue - Light blue in particular, but that’s not that important. My point is that something happened that caused me to send green packing, and to fall absolutely head-over-heels for blue. (Stay with me on this...) Now, such a dramatic change in attraction doesn’t just happen - I mean shit, I know we’re only talking about colors here, but this kind of switch-a-roo has only happened ONCE in my entire life. Green ---> Blue. Just like that. Must mean somthing, right? Pablo Picasso went through a "blue period", at which time he was broke and mourning the loss of a dear friend. There’s a similarity there somewhere. Please don’t get me wrong, I am by no means depressed, nor do I have any reason to be, but perhaps color - every, individual hue, represents to each of us a state of being, and in turn, helps us to deal with whatever it is we may be going through. I’m not talking mood-ring shit here. What I mean is that there are things - simple things - that without our knowing, mean the world to us and when they change, they change for our own good, because whether we like it or not, we are looking out for ourselves. We do it unconsciously - But we do it. We do it to stay happy and to stay alive... And above all else, that’s what matters. On this note, I’d like to attempt to make my point - Don’t throw yourself out on another’s whim. People change, as do intentions and as a result, consequences. Live for yourself - love those around you, but realize that they’ve got their own agendas. People will screw you - You will screw people... Green ---> Blue. Get it? I’m not sure I do... Always consider that your life will venture in new directions, but be aware that other’s will do the same, and in accordance, understand that to be happy, people must exist in their own light, cast in and of themselves, not by the light of their peers. Conflict will arise because of this. Conflict is to be expected; conflict is a part of life. Find ways to work through conflict, even if it means picking a new favorite color...   I hope this makes a little sense.   I’m tired and rambling, and perhaps just a misguided fool, but I think there’s something in this - something that I am learning and accepting as my fingers punch these keys to an inviting, hypnotic rhythm. I feel like they’re leading me somewhere, and I’ve decided to follow.  ____I’m going to bed. Take from this what you will.  Love,  Alexander William Gaskarth  *I feel fine* The first of many, I hope.  Current mood: happy So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts... Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled. Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself... and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my car, or on my computer table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way. Anyway. I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally per say, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad. It’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask... Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess. And all this time I thought myself to be humble. No sir. But then, who really is humble? Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just "doing it". Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing... You know? But does it continue to change? Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become... What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right? I digress. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. My dreams are coming true right before my very eyes - I have a band - We’re going somewhere - This time next year I hope I’m far, far away from this place. I want to see Japan. I’ve wanted to see Japan for a while now; call it a calling. Haha. I don’t know what I want when I get there - I don’t even like the hustle of big cities for too long. Gives me a headache. But there’s something about it. I’ll see it soon enough. The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down... For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient... My head isn’t in the clouds - My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I? I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks. I have some good friends. We get hammered sometimes and forget about everything. The occasional dramatic scene is worth it. People naturally don’t get along with one another. It’s all a matter of how tolerant people are. I have some tolerant friends. In turn, I think I put up with my share of bullshit. It’s like a cycle of tough loving. But it works. It keeps me sane. In the end I think we really do love each other. Awww. I also like to kiss people. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Whatever. Certain individuals need to stop looking for love in the wrong places. --I can’t talk. --I’ve found love in the worst places. --Its not an easy thing to deal with. --Doesn’t change the way I feel about them. --Its ok. --As long as I’m happy. There I go being selfish again. ___I’m done confessing for now. Take from this what you will. Love, Alexander William Gaskarth *I feel better.*

#Alex Gaskarth #2008 #So Wrong It's Right #MySpace #blog #text #ap tour

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 4

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He wakes slowly.

He’s in a bed, a bed not his own, in a strange, blank, barren room. He sits up.

“Ah, friend, you’re awake,” says the voice.

He turns towards the source of it. Xehanort is dressed in all black, but it’s different than the lab coats they’ve worn; it’s got beading, zippers instead of a catch.

He blinks, once. His mind is curiously clear. He reaches up to his jugular to take his pulse, noting first that there is one, then that it’s almost unnervingly slow and steady. “I suppose it worked?” he asks, his voice flat. "We've no hearts?"

“Quite--we are Nobodies." He tilts his head slightly. "We’ve been worried about you. You’re the last one to wake. I thought you may not have made it.”

He stares down at his hands; they look the same, and so does the long blonde hair on his shoulder, freed of its usual restraint. “I see.”

“How do you feel?”

“Very much alert,” he admits. Less physically tired than he can remember.

“Emotionally?”

It’s an odd word to hear out loud. He realizes he is numb, but not a human numbness; moreso an emptiness, but a very bearable one. A comfortable one. “My head is clear,” he says instead. It’s true; unfettered by emotion, he processes this all easily, without stress.

Xehanort smiles, but there’s nothing in it. “Excellent. Seems this experiment was a success. While you were resting, we’ve chosen a sign of brotherhood, new names to usher us into this new life. I’ve chosen one for you--should you want it.”

“And what is that?”

“Vexen,” he says slowly. “The Recusant’s Sigil is said to be good luck. I’ve added it to all our names--anagrammed them.”

“How creative of you.” There’s no sarcasm behind it; nothing at all. “Very well. I suppose that is who I’ll be.” He sits up, bringing his legs over the side of the bed. “Where is Ien--the little one?”

“He goes by Zexion now,” Xehanort says. “He was the first to wake, after myself, of course. The boy seems to have taken to this new life easier than I ever could have guessed. It suits him. He has no more fear, no more sensory overload. He’s purely himself.”

Hearing this, Vexen feels nothing for the boy; no concern. It’s liberating, he realizes. “That is good news indeed. Your name already contains an X. Though I don’t suppose only that will do.”

He shakes his head slowly. “They call me Xemnas.”

There’s much to do, and it’s all so much easier than it used to be.

They’re somewhere else now, a place still taking shape. What starts as a two-story building morphs into something far larger than Radiant Garden’s castle ever was. As soon as he craves a resource, it seems to appear, seemingly out of nowhere; soon he’s able to identify this morphing substance as the same that the lesser Nobodies were made of. They study their new bodies for weeks, months; they discover their immense capabilities for magic. Zexion, in a very short amount of time, becomes a rather skilled mage; necessary, as the Heartless target him mercilessly, despite Lexeaus’s best efforts to protect him. While he and Vexen continue to spend time together, for studies, they’re beginning to drift, but Vexen doesn’t care much. There’s nothing behind the boy’s eyes aside from a cold calculation.

They find that they have weapons, extensions of their wills, each personalized to its user; more exciting yet, they have their own magics, in alignment with their personalities, a sort of expression of the deepest essences of the self. Vexen’s newfound command over ice is infinitely useful in his experiments, though it is disappointing that it is just ice, not water.

It seems every time they come to a momentous discovery--of worlds, of hearts, of matter--Xemnas always dangles something out of reach. For this Organization, Kingdom Hearts will be the key to all knowledge. Vexen works towards this goal with pleasure. In the chaotic, entropic nothingness--something entirely different than darkness or light--his experiments thrive, and after years, the replicas begin to take shape, form. They incubate.

Six years have passed in a blink; for the first time Xemnas speaks on his desire to gather more members. He needs a Keyblade wielder, so he says, to reap hearts. So they all, in their own ways, go searching across the worlds. And they do find someone, a humanoid Nobody, a seventeen-year-old boy they call Demyx. But the disappointments come hard and fast with this one. Initially, Vexen is hopeful; the boy’s power over water seems to be something nearly prodigal. But he is not very academically bright. He’s lazy, he would rather fool around with his weapon, an instrument called a sitar. They all can barely tolerate him, though inexplicably, Xigbar strikes up a rapport with the boy. Very well. If someone of high rank can keep him in line, all the better.

Because they have ranked themselves. Of course, Xemnas is the leader; as the youngest, it’s only natural for Zexion to be the sixth of the six original apprentices; Saïx, Axel, and Demyx follow when the latter arrives; but internally there’s some squabbling over the rest of the numbers. Vexen is beyond disappointed with his own designation of only fourth, but no matter, he works alone the majority of the time anyway.

In quick succession, they’re joined by three more--Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. Not one is a Keyblade wielder, and aside from the passing intrigue of studying the first humanoid Nobody that is a biological woman, they are nothing but a thorn in Vexen’s side. Xemnas’s frustration is obvious, and Vexen feels mostly the same.

All of a sudden Zexion is no longer a little boy, but a young man. He had, more or less, what seemed to be a normal puberty. He never expresses interest in sex or sexuality, unlike some of the other members; but then again, Zexion was never a people person, and while Vexen knows that the scientist in him should want to investigate this potential quirk of Nobody biology, the part of him that once raised Ienzo is repulsed at questioning the young man farther about these matters.

One of these days, when Zexion’s about fifteen, he arrives in Vexen’s lab. “Six,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Do you require assistance?”

Zexion smiles politely. “I hope to have a word, if that’s alright. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” It’s easy now for him to speak, to compose himself; as Xemnas said, purely himself. If anything, the boy is too talkative.

“I can spare a few moments.”

“Very well. Then I’ll be brief. I’m aware our tutoring sessions take up a good deal of our time, time both of us could use more efficiently. I feel I’m far enough in my education to pursue it on my own. Though I must thank you for your years of working with me.” He bows a little. The sight of this old custom unnerves Vexen.

He says it so quickly, so simply. For some reason, Vexen is surprised--though shouldn’t he have seen this coming?

(And is he crazy, or is he feeling hurt? No--mustn’t. Nobodies cannot feel, though the neophytes love to pretend, especially Demyx. The miscreant must be rubbing off on him more than he thought. He curses the fact that they are both part of the reconnaissance team.)

Vexen smiles. “It was my pleasure. You know you’re very intelligent. I have the utmost faith in you. My door is always open for you, Zexion, should you have questions.”

“Thank you, Vexen. Good day.”

The years pass--they cannot find their Keyblade wielder, no matter how hard they try. The others are frustrated too, especially the neophytes, as they’re sent on the most search missions. At least there is some progress--Heartless made, worlds brought under control of darkness, his replicas becoming more stable yet. Vexen hopes he may be able to get one to wield a Keyblade.

Zexion turns eighteen. Vexen’s initial prediction was right; the young man is relatively small, slight, and probably always will be. While his face still is a bit soft, he’ll lose the babyishness in time. As the first person to truly come of age as a Nobody, he allows Vexen to prod him, somewhat indulgently. “I suppose it is interesting, though it would be more interesting if I knew the difference,” he admits, in a moment of unusual candor.

Vexen looks up at him on the table. He gently pulls free the needle that was taking his blood, and heals the tiny wound. Magic has made his doctoring less barbaric, simpler. “Would you rather have been human?” he asks.

He thinks about it. “I’ve been a Nobody ten years--longer than I was ever a human.”

“Yet, not a direct answer to my question.”

He rolls down the sleeve of his cloak. “I don’t believe so,” he says. “What I remember from that time is mostly negative--the panic attacks, the constant inundation of stimuli interpreted as pain, the nightmares, the untreated PTSD. But now… now I am stable, and in control of myself. I do not feel I’ve missed anything--though the neophytes insist the opposite.” He rolls his eyes. “As if I would ever find any of those shenanigans of interest.”

Vexen nods. “As long as you are fulfilled.”

“I am.” He pauses, smiles a bit. “I’m not the one who told you this, but the superior might soon have a mission for us. One elsewhere.”

His interest is piqued; but at the same time, he feels another wave of frustration that number six is more privy to this information than he. “Elsewhere?”

Zexion shakes his head. “That’s all he said. Though who knows--he’s become more and more enigmatic over the years. It is… trying.”

Vexen chuckles. “Well, I doubt I’ll find anything different about these samples, but should there be anything of note, I’ll contact you.”

“Keep it for posterity,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “Who knows, I could be the first of many, to live this way.”

“Child, you have a strange sense of humor.”

---

Two things happen in quick succession--they find their Keyblade wielder, and Castle Oblivion is established as a second base. Roxas is an amnesiac, utterly zombified, more than just Nobody numbness. But considering the stories they’ve heard of Sora from Xemnas, that they were able to capture his Nobody is a feat in and of itself.

He’s forced to release his first successful replica to Xemnas. It really is a puppet--it will walk, talk, perform bodily functions--but it has no sense of self, not yet. He knows it’s too soon to let No. i into the field--it needs more extensive testing. Xemnas insists. They need insurance in case something were to happen to Roxas, mostly because Sora’s allies are searching for him. Not when they are so close to finally making progress on Kingdom Hearts. With it, knowledge and, perhaps for those interested, humanity again.

Vexen isn’t sure of his own opinion on the matter. To be a Nobody is a sort of freedom; he can research, experiment without guilt, without the need for social interaction. But as Nobodies they do not technically exist, literally speaking; doesn’t that in itself negate everything that’s been discovered?

So with what is almost anxiety, No. i is christened Xion, and welcomed into their ranks. But Vexen is not allowed to stay and observe it; he, and another replica, are needed in Castle Oblivion. He, Zexion, and Lexeaus are given dominion over the lower floors; Larxene, Axel, and Marluxia the upper. Most galling yet, Marluxia, number eleven for god’s sake, is made their tentative leader. While Marluxia has proven himself time and again in the field and at the table, why does this man deserve such a rank?

But Zexion and Lexeaus do not want to hear him complain about it. “Everyone’s work is important here,” Zexion says softly, huddled over his lexicon, poetically called “Book of Retribution”--Vexen does not pretend to understand that boy’s mind. “Yours especially. Focus on the task at hand.”

It’s a big task for the boy (the man, Vexen reminds himself, he’s nineteen); they would be using Zexion’s extensive illusions on Sora, as Naminé leaches his memories. They cannot afford a heart that special to remain out in the wide world; not when he actually has the power to put an end to them. Vexen knows Zexion’s powerful, knows of his stamina; but maintaining so many complex illusions for so long was a lot to ask of him. Castle Oblivion seems to like the boy's magic, to hold its shape. Even so. But they discover more is afoot; namely, that the neophytes have insane ideas to overthrow Xemnas, using Sora. Quickly, Zexion, Lexeaus, and Vexen devise a plan. While Sora has arrived, Riku soon follows, lured there by a carefully placed clue in the realm of darkness. They’d use Riku--or some semblance of him--to stop Marluxia from using the boy. It takes a bit of cleverness. They have to make Marluxia think they’re on his side, so the replica again changes hands.

But something goes wrong. The replica isn’t acting under their control, it’s developed its own will (what did they expect, forcing him into this so quickly). Marluxia, oh so casually, says that, unless Vexen can pacify the boy himself, he’ll report him and his failure, which can only go one way. Vexen's long had a feeling that he'd be eliminated once he outgrew his usefulness.

Very well.

So he fights the boy, and it’s much more difficult than he would have thought. The boy truly is something prodigal, something nearly godlike. He’s defeated, but is still alive. He already knows what’s coming, and something gives way. He tells the boy how to get his memories back, how to discover Roxas, giving him the key to a Twilight Town. When they meet again, the boy’s almost worked it out, what they are.

And then, to be crass, it hits the shit.

But he doesn’t expect Axel to be the one to execute him.

#beyond this existence: atonement #vexen #even (kingdom hearts)#zexion #xemnas #ienzo #beyond this existence #can you tell it's been a while since i played chain of memories #sorry in advance if i forgot something

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bakagamieru · 5 years

Note

Can you do a lyrics interpretation post for Icarus falls just like you did with MOM

I definitely intend to, it’s probably just going to take a bit of time. 27 songs, you know.

I’d first like to make sure the correct lyrics for the songs are out because Genius tends to have them entered by what someone heard sometimes and those aren’t right. Some of the lyrics for MoM were really off. I bought the album online, but I’m hoping the physical album has lyrics and someone has posted them somewhere.

I’ve actually already done an interpretation for Rainberry that I hadn’t gotten around to posting yet, so I might as well post it now:

Rainberry Lyric Interpretation

Line by Line

Rainberry pleaseyou think I’m on my knees but don’t you worryI know what you don’t know oh ohdon’t even startthe truth won’t break my heartNo don’t you worryI already know oh oh

1st line – Zayn is contemptuous of how Rainberry has underestimated Zayn

2nd line – Rainberry thinks they have Zayn at their mercy (implied that they’re wrong)

3rd line – Zayn either knows something Rainberry thought was secret from him or Zayn is wiser than Rainberry in a general way

4th line – could be referring to don’t start lying

5th line – either Zayn can handle the truth regardless of how he feels about it or Zayn just doesn’t care as much as Rainberry thinks, so knowing the truth won’t affect him

6th line – could mean that Zayn already knows the secret or could only mean that Zayn suspects something is being kept from him and that Rainberry isn’t being sincere/is a bad person (it’s never made 100% clear if Zayn knows exactly what’s going on, just that he knows that something not kosher is going on, either way, Zayn prefers it if Rainberry just gives up the act and tells the truth)

Too many bones inside your closetyou thought you buried deepBut they never let me get a minute of peacehow do you sleep ooooh

1st line – phrase commonly used for any type of wrongdoings, in this case Rainberry’s

2nd line – Rainberry thought they’d hidden their wrongdoings, but clearly not

3rd line – Zayn is disturbed enough by Rainberry’s actions to not be able to find peace, whether because it affects him personally or not is unclear

4th line – Zayn is convinced what Rainberry had done doesn’t bother them nearly as much as it should (this verse makes it sound like Zayn definitely has some details on what Rainberry has done, he clearly thinks it’s really messed up but that Rainberry doesn’t feel guilty)

RainberryFalling down your blood red lipsWhy are your eyes heavy?Is there somebody else you missed?Tell me what’s going onBefore I go too farSaid Rainberry, is there somebody elseSomebody else now?

1st & 2nd lines – it’s unclear what’s falling down the lips, could be that the previous line “Rainberry” is supposed to be what’s falling down, rain is wet and berry is generally assumed to be red, so that goes along with “blood-red” lips, could be water since you’d see the color of the blood-red lips through the water, could also be something red like blood, blood-red lips in general give the impression that Rainberry is a predator/aggressor

3rd line – heavy eyes are caused by being tired, generally either from fatigue (sleepy or ill) or from crying, Zayn is asking why Rainberry is either tired, ill, or upset

4th line – the fact that “missed” instead of “miss” is used makes it sound like Zayn is talking about another victim for Rainberry moreso than someone dear to Rainberry, the idea would be that Rainberry is upset over their plans not working out

5th line – Zayn is demanding to know what’s going on, which is a bit weird since he already knows Rainberry’s past secrets at least, this might be that Zayn doesn’t know what Rainberry is up to in the present even though he knows what happened in the past

6th line – it seems like Zayn really wants to find out what Rainberry is up to and might go too far to find out if he’s not told soon, could also mean that Zayn’s trying to stop Rainberry before things go too far and he’s forced to go to extreme measures to stop things, could also mean that because Zayn doesn’t know what’s going on, he’s imagining things that might be far worse than the actual truth

7th & 8th lines – Zayn is reiterating his question about whether there’s somebody else Rainberry is involved with, this implies that this is the knowledge that Zayn is desperately trying to get (since Zayn has already implied that he’s done with Rainberry and implies it again later in the song, and since it seems like Zayn at least knows the gist of the bad things Rainberry has done, it’s odd that he would say he might go too far to find out exactly who Rainberry is involved with, he shouldn’t be that invested, so it almost seems like he’s trying to find out in order to save the other person instead of because he’s mad at them)

Dry your eyescuz it won’t work this timeI already dried mineand I won’t drown in yoursGo wash your handsBut You can’t change your pastThose stories aint shit nowYou don’t mean it I’m sure

1st line – this could be a metaphor, but along with the 1st & 2nd lines of the previous verse, this definitely sounds like Rainberry was physically crying

2nd line – Zayn is implying that Rainberry is only crying to manipulate people into feeling bad for them (and do their bidding/let them off the hook) and not because they’re actually upset

3rd line – Zayn is already done feeling bad about anything Rainberry’s done to him symbolized by the fact that he’s dried his eyes of tears, this also implies an emotional divorce from Rainberry in general

4th line – Zayn is saying that he refuses to be drowned by Rainberry’s tears, meaning that he refuses to be manipulated by Rainberry and/or refuses to deal with the consequences of Rainberry’s actions and/or refuses to let Rainberry’s actions hurt himself or others

5th line – to wash your hands of something generally means to refuse to take anymore responsibility for it, to not be involved with it anymore, can also be an attempt to erase bad things you’ve done in the past

6th line – combined with the last line, Zayn is saying that Rainberry is trying to abnegate responsibility for their past actions or is pretending to want to make up for them and be better, but Zayn isn’t buying it

7th line – this likely refers to lying / dissembling Rainberry is doing, Zayn knows better than to believe Rainberry now

8th line – Zayn reinforces this message by outright saying he doesn’t think Rainberry means what they’re saying (this verse is saying that Rainberry is trying to act remorseful but that Zayn isn’t buying it and thinks Rainberry is just trying to manipulate Zayn into forgiving them/thinking they’ve changed their ways)

Overall

Cheating

The most obvious interpretation of the song is that Rainberry has cheated on Zayn and is trying to convince Zayn it was unintentional and that they regret it and won’t do it again. This is mostly supported although there are a few odd things that don’t entirely fit.

Zayn makes it sound like he’s emotionally detached himself from Rainberry, yet there are also times where he makes it sound like the things that Rainberry has done disturb him enough that they never let him “get a minute of peace”. If Rainberry only cheated, it’s not likely Zayn would lose sleep over the action itself if Zayn is already over his personal feelings about how the action affected him.

Zayn also makes it sound like he already knows what Rainberry has done, yet he’s asking over and over what’s going on and who else is involved. If he already knows what’s been done, why does he need to ask? If he’s over Rainberry and what they’ve done, why is he so insistent to know who the other person involved was and why would he potentially “go too far” to find out who it was?

Nothing about the song is overtly romantic or sexual, so it’s quite possible it has nothing to do with cheating.

The main idea of the song is that Rainberry has done bad things, thinks they’ve successfully kept these things a secret, and is trying to manipulate Zayn, at least partially by dissembling that they’re upset and are reformed. Zayn no longer believes the dissembling, has discovered at least some details of the bad things Rainberry has done in the past, seems to feel that Rainberry is currently doing something bad that they’re covering up, and he believes that there’s another person involved somehow. These are the basics, but they could refer to more than just a relationship or cheating.

Predatory/Victim

The line “is there somebody else you missed” is interesting because it starts out in the present tense, but it doesn’t seem to end in the present tense. It should be either “is there somebody else you miss” or “was there somebody else you missed” if this line is referring to longing for someone. The other possible interpretation that fits the current sentence structure more is that Rainberry was going after someone and failed. At the very least, this implies that Rainberry isn’t emotionally attached to anyone at all. Their actions are more predatory than sentimental.

This could still apply to cheating, but if that’s the case, Zayn has even less reason to care so much who exactly Rainberry is involved with. If there is no emotional connection, the person they cheated with doesn’t matter so much. If this sentence is implying a predatory nature and it doesn’t involve cheating, then that points to whoever else is involved actually being a victim of Rainberry. This could explain why Zayn wants to know who they are so badly despite no longer being emotionally attached to Rainberry. Zayn might be trying to find out what Rainberry’s up to in order to stop them and save their victim.

The idea of Rainberry being predatory is supported by the imagery of “blood red lips” since this usually brings to mind the idea of blood on someone’s lips which in this context is like a carnivore. This could just be how Zayn feels Rainberry acted toward himself, but it also could be Zayn saying that Rainberry is predatory in general. Ultimately, there are no concrete clues that lead towards a specific interpretation apart from Rainberry having cheated on Zayn in their relationship, but the song does give the impression that Rainberry is very cold and calculated and more dangerous than a normal cheater.

Something else that supports this idea of a very cold character is the color scheme for the lyric music video. I’ve noticed that each lyric or audio video from Icarus Falls has a different theme related to the sky or weather. There are several that are dark and rainy and several that are blue sky or golden sunlight, but Rainberry is white with snow.

Rear View

This song gives me some Rear View vibes. Both of the songs have nothing that’s overtly romantic or sexual and both sound like they’re about people who have bad (or the wrong) intentions. In both songs, there’s a point where Zayn basically says that he’s done with it all. “I already dried [my tears] and I won’t drown in yours” versus “I never doubted myself, but I doubted you, I’m tired of looking at myself in my rear view”.

However, Rear View has more of an intimate and resigned tone to it while Rainberry sounds a lot more contemptuous and accusatory. Rear View sounds like it’s about a friend that Zayn wanted to help but had to give up on because they wanted something that Zayn couldn’t give them. Rainberry sounds more like someone that Zayn never had a very strong connection with to start with.

I find the pairs of songs that Zayn has that have similar messages but very different tones interesting. It really makes it obvious how different a song can be based solely off of the feelings of the person who wrote it. What you say matters, but how you say it and the tone you say it in matters just as much.

The other example I can think of off the top of my head is sHe and Wrong from Mind of Mine. They’re both basically about an encounter in a club where the other party is very invested, but sHe is so much softer and more sympathetic than Wrong even though Wrong is actually classy compared to most songs like that.

Rainberry

The name Rainberry itself is very interesting. It seems like a very odd name to give to another person in a song. It’s not exactly a real name that gets used, so it seems like it’s probably a code name. Since, again, Rainberry isn’t a real name, then Zayn probably chose it as a code name because in some way it describes or refers back to the actual person he’s thinking of.

Gigi

It’s possible that this name choice goes back to his song called Lucozade. Lucozade is essentially a (pink) sports drink and the song itself seems to be about his longtime beard, Perrie. Rainberry is a (purple) flavor of Gatorade, another sports drink, so it could be that this song too, is about one of his beards. In this case, you would assume Gigi since she’s the other long-running beard.

Trying to examine the song in that context, it could easily be interpreted as Gigi trying to pretend that she’s not complicit in the bearding and is innocent, but that Zayn knows the bad things she’s done. It’s possible Gigi is trying to pretend there’s someone she really wants to be with instead of being bearded, but Zayn knows she’s lying and is calling her out on it. The only issue with this is that Gigi doesn’t normally wear that shade of blood red lipstick. It could be that the imagery is just there to get a point across, though. A woman who wears blood red lipstick is generally seen as bold, confident, in control, and maybe dangerous.

Taylor Swift

It’s also possible that the song is about Taylor Swift. If you talk about blood red lips, the celebrity most associated with that in this generation would be Taylor Swift. Zayn definitely knows the bad things Taylor has done in the past and Taylor definitely has a habit of trying to make herself look like the innocent victim when in fact she’s the manipulator and aggressor.

Zayn was connected to Taylor through a song collaboration with very sketchy details. Zayn was originally supposed to be the creator of the song who asked Taylor to be on it with him, but then Zayn never had any writing credits on the song while Taylor did. Taylor sang the song solo to promote it (and herself), but Zayn was never able to despite releasing a much better acoustic version (which was never made available for sale). Despite the story told, it seemed much more like Taylor’s song that Zayn was forced onto – either that or Zayn’s writing credits were erased unfairly.

This theory doesn’t seem as likely because Zayn just doesn’t have as much personal connection to Taylor and she never bearded him.

Multiple Possibilities

In the end, it’s possible this song has nothing to do with Zayn’s personal experience.

It could be a dramatic scenario he (or his collaborators) made up and wanted to sing about (personally, I kind of like picturing Rainberry as a vampire).

It could even be something that happened to one of his friends that he was angry about and decided to use for inspiration.

Given the potential connection of the title to Lucozade, I’m leaning toward Rainberry being another song about bearding instead of a song based off of a made-up scenario, but who knows.

#one direction #zayn malik #solo zayn #icarus falls #bakagamieru #rainberry #lyrics interpretation #speculation #Anonymous #sorry I don't put readmores #but I always worry that the content will become unavailable from the reblogs if anything happens to my blog

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castawxayaway · 7 years

Text

detached

oh if you want to read more of my bastille pieces just search ‘bastille’ in my blog they should be in amongst it all :)

“Why'd you let him go?” Her words echo as I stare blankly at the two empty glasses. Reflecting how full of life they were and the laughter consumed less than 45 minutes ago. Now I look at them and just think of despair.

Lifting my head slowly I can feel a smile form on my numb face. "He was strange, yet wonderful." My mind casted back to the memories and late night conspiracies we had. "Sometimes when you love someone that much it's best to let them go."

I could hear her sigh loudly, intentionally. “You didn’t have to let him go.” She bluntly stated and stood up, picking the two glasses and the bottle with her, shame hanging heavy around me.

“I was holding him back.” Retorting I turned to face her, she hovered with the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. Scrunching her face together she just shook it off, as if my reasons could never justify it. “Look what we had wasn’t perfect, but it had an expiry date. I knew it the second he kissed me.” Even saying it aloud and the memories flood back.

The moonlight breaking through the dusty clouds, being in my pjs covered in tea stains and holes due to their age. How I couldn’t help but shiver as I refused to budge whilst I waited for the stars to break through from the sheets that allowed them to rest for the night. I sipped at the fourth cup of tea he brought me, patiently being the friend I needed as we talked about all sorts. We spoke of our memories before they toured, before I met all the guys but moreso before our lives got so crazy. Slowly the conversation went down a path of confusion, about being alone. He told me that I’ll never live life alone, as he couldn’t allow it. We never got to see the stars that night, but he said he could see constellations from the freckles that dotted my skin just before he kissed me.

Slowly turning away from her I lean back into the chair, feeling a light buzz spread through my body as I recall how many glasses I did drink. Closing my eyes I can hear her creak across the broken floorboards, I really should get those fixed. Breaking through my thoughts she called my name, forcing me to pay attention. “What about the time you went to the lake with your niece? Didn’t you say that in that one moment you knew what you’d want in life?” She is trying to grasp straws now, I can see the desperation ache in her eyes.

My thoughts swirl like the remainder of wine in the bottle, the lake where I fell in after being chased by a geese. A lake where my little niece made him dance horrifically- something he now does in front of thousands everyday. He’s out there, somewhere doing what he loves and what am I doing? Wallowing into a bottle of wine because I let him go live his dreams; one I could’ve been apart of.

“So that’s it? You let him go so he can fulfill his aspirations?” She sounded so final, finished with my excuses. Yet all I could do was nod, too afraid to admit to myself the truth let alone someone else.

The fact that getting too close to him terrified me, I boarded myself up unintentionally and find it too difficult to let myself feel something too real for him. I feared that when we were at the lake, the way he swayed with my niece and the little joyous laugh she shrieked to him. When he turned his head shyly beaming to me with those eyes, I knew I was in trouble with own self. The fear of falling too far for him in the abyss of those blue eyes was evident, that I was quickly approaching the point where I wouldn’t be able to come up for a breath before being swept back under in the easiness of being in his company.

“That,” I spoke up, my voice breaking. My eyes still watching the liquid slowly swirl, blurring slightly the longer I tried to focus. “that’s it.” Coughing lightly I stood up but stumbled resulting in her quickly being at my side. “I’m fine.” I mumbled but she merely pulled an unimpressed face in response.

Helping me walk towards my room she mumbled, “How much did you drink before I got here?” I didn’t answer. The truth hurts too much.

Slowly she helped me get into my own bed, vacant of company that I longed for yet resented. It is a constant battle between my head and my heart, the rational and irrational side of my soul. “Please just get some rest. I’ll see you in a few days, get on with the writing. You do have deadlines.” lethargically nodding I rolled over, facing the empty space besides me.

I waited long enough to hear the door close, then until the silence echoed throughout the flat. Creeping out of bed like a child on christmas eve I found my phone and collapsed into the sofa, careful to avoid eye contact with the empty bottles of judgement and bad decisions. Struggling to focus I fumble around to find my old glasses, so old and unused they have infamous scratch marks from late nights of intense reading at home. Finding his name easily, still the same name in my contacts.

Funny, I assumed he’d be gone. That he’d vanish out of my phone as well as my life. Sometimes I don’t think far ahead enough, I knew I didn’t when I told him to go, the silence that followed my yells. The pained look in his eyes as he turned around and apologised. Trying to shake the memory was difficult, it clung to my guilty conscience with all it had remaining a permanent reminder that I was wrong, that I don’t understand my own feelings.

Clicking on the button I stare in disbelief as it dials. The feeling of being a teenager returns in my stomach, but that may be the alcohol. “He-hello?” Tired, grumly. But nevertheless missed voice.

“Dan?” I giggled. Why was I giggling? I’m a teenager again, the awkward girl who struggled making three sentences without trying to be humourous.

A light confused sound came from the other end and some mumbling in the background. “Are you drunk?” It wasn’t harsh, more entertained. I can picture him now, cramped on that tour bus smiling into his phone. But he shouldn’t, he should hate me for what I did, sending him away, shutting him out like that.

“Does 3 bottles of wine count?” I bit my lip knowing he could sense my guilt, he didn’t even have to look at me let alone be in the same room as me to know I felt bad. Why else would I call him weeks later?

“Pissed.” Someone shouted from behind him making me laugh too hard, why was I laughing like this? Some more noise came through and I pulled the phone away until it was just him, the gentle calling of my name. “Can you hear me?”

Nodding reluctantly I placed the phone back to my ear. “I’m here.”

“Why’d,” He sighed, that same defeated sigh with those lowered shoulders like he had been a dismissed puppy after causing havoc when really I was the one to blame. “is everything okay?” Even now he cares.

“How can you do this? How can you still care this much?” I curled up into a tight ball, my thighs slowly suffocating my chest. “I broke, I hurt you and made you leave. Yet you still want to know if I’m okay? How are you this okay?” Blinking I felt the stains being replaced by the new, fresh pain and the cycle that I take alone continuing with him as a mere witness.

“What do you mean? Of course I care, I, I still lo-”

“I can’t.” I sat upright, the emotion gone from my voice. “Goodbye Dan.” Hearing his protests I hung up.

I let the tears fall, creating small perfect marks on my legs. Standing up I picked up the bottles along with the rubbish I left behind until I felt clean again. Until the guilt would be removed. If only.

#oooh #angst #bastille #bastille imagines #dan smith #dan smith imagine #miniimagine #imagine #imagines #dan smith angst #dan smith imagines #bastille writing #dan #smith #dan bastille #bastille dan

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khthonn · 7 years

Text

Snippets Series #3

Peering into various times of life.

Tye’s first indication that something was amiss came in the form of a long arm wrapped around her torso. Her second clue was the equally warm body pressed up against her back in a way that made her never want to leave her bed. The third indicator was the gentle breathing from the owner of said arm and body.

The Lotus’s exhalations tickled her ear and made her squirm. With unpracticed hands, she peeled herself out of the woman’s surprisingly strong grip and did her best to tuck her pillow beneath her arm. The Lotus seemed to be pleased with this replacement in her sleep and squeezed the pillow to her. Tye sighed in relief.

She turned her gaze toward where she thought she’d left her clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. Figuring this was her own damn house, she simply shrugged and moved to leave the room, but her eyes caught themselves on the Lotus’s sleeping form again. She was beautiful like that, Tye decided, able to sleep on blissfully without having to deal with the outside world. She wondered if her core consciousness was still doling out missions to other Tenno or if the Lotus was taking a much-needed break for a few hours.

Tye spent a few long moments gazing at her- what, lover? Confidant? Boss? She wasn’t really sure anymore. She found it very odd that the woman had stayed the night this time. It was unlike her, Tye thought, to waste any more time than she had to doing something as inefficient as sleeping. She decided that her main body had to be working while the fragment was here, there was no way she’d waste at least 8 hours. It was sweet of her to leave the fragment, at least.

She made her way to the kitchen, thankful that there was no Cephalon chirping in her ear about her current state of dress, or lack thereof. The Orbiter was never meant to properly house a Tenno, Tye thought. There was very little room to the station, hardly enough to live comfortably on. It was for that reason that she decided to invest in a small bit of property on Europa. It was certainly affordable- few people wanted to live on a planet made almost entirely of ice- and she was able to erect a home with little trouble from the Corpus. If there was one thing she could count on them respecting, it was money; a few thousand credits here, a few more thousand there, and she had obtained a treaty with the ground troops in exchange for staying away from missions on the planet. She found that Europan sunsets were much more beautiful when not clouded with smoke and debris.

This home was also the place she had stayed after her long exodus away from the Tenno. It was here where Atau had first found her after being rescued over two years ago, and it was here that Tye had eventually given the warframe her freedom back. It had become something of a safe house for her closest friends in recent times, but she didn’t mind the company for the most part. Maroo had barged in once, claiming to need somewhere to hide from the Corpus after she might have stolen a very important, very expensive high tech shield generator. From that incident, Tye had procured quite possibly the only reason her home sat at a comfortable 73 degrees while the bitter cold outside went far below zero.

Tye flicked on the holoscreen and heated up the stove. She could’ve easily invested in technology that cooked her food for her, she had that on her Orbiter for touch-and-go type missions, but there was something to be said for being able to do it the old fashioned way. Stars knew it was better than the time Dahrius had convinced her to try one of Ordis’s precooked, “nutritionally optimized for the Tenno in need,” meals. She was still getting the taste of sawdust and molasses out of her mouth.

The stove that sat snugly in her kitchen was something she’d found on Earth several months prior. During her time away from the Tenno forces, she’d undergone many excavation missions on the planet to become more familiar with older technology and had stumbled upon the simple device. It was easy to craft, but rather difficult to get off of her ship and into a door only ¾ as wide as the appliance. After that, she’d also looked into a refrigerator and other cooking instruments. She appreciated the simplicity and lack of resource drain.

Tye rummaged through her fridge dejectedly. She’d forgotten to get groceries...again. All that stared back at her was a kubrow egg and various cuts of meat. She was starting to get tired of omelettes despite how good they were. Deciding it was that or nothing, she pulled out the egg and the container of skate fillets. Idly she wondered if the Lotus would approve of her eating kubrow eggs- for that matter, did the woman even eat? Should she even make her breakfast?

Tye stared at the ingredients until her holoscreen beeped at her to signal that the stove had reached the correct temperature. She shrugged and cracked open the egg. Better to make more than she wanted and have leftovers, she surmised. One egg could feed a single person for several days, so she could just make that excuse if she didn’t want it.

She poured the contents into a bowl and whisked the yolk in until it was one solid shade and dumped it into a pan she’d had made specifically for that purpose. Maybe it was pretentious, maybe it was the fact that kubrow eggs were a good foot long, but that pan had saved her a lot of strife after making about 10 regular sized omelets her first time working with the food. The sizzling sound was always the most satisfying part about cooking, she thought as she began chopping up the skate meat.

Skate was chewy if undercooked and moreso if overdone, but if it was at just the right point...well, Tye would decide what it was like if she ever got it to that point. It was cheap and it tasted good despite feeling like it took a year to chew one bite. Maybe she should’ve gone with Dahr’s suggestion about getting Lanx meat instead. She turned back toward the food and dumped the meat in across the center of it, quickly sidestepping back to the fridge for any cheese she could find.

It was at this point, with Tye completely naked and rummaging through her fridge, that the Lotus stepped into the room. Draped in a sheet, she stifled a laugh at the sight and leaned against the doorframe. She watched as Tye triumphantly held a block of cheese above her head and cut off parts of it to add into...was that a kubrow egg? She ignored the shell in favor of the scent; whatever it was that Tye had devised smelled heavenly. The Lotus smiled to herself as she saw Tye’s tongue stick out when she carefully pushed in cheese blocks to the concoction.

If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, nor to stay the night, but she had woken up with a pillow held against her as if life depended on it. One sniff of the fabric had reminded her of what happened the night before and how she got to be naked in Tysephone’s bed. She wondered if this life is what she could have had if she’d been born human rather than assuming the face of one. Her heart ached at the possibility of such domesticity.

She knew that wouldn’t be the case. She would have to slip out or make an excuse as to why she had stayed and return to her base. Sure she was able to keep up with the Tenno via her main body, but being away from her base was a liability, especially for more than a few hours at a time. She coughed to garner Tye’s attention. Her Tenno looked up at her in surprise and- oh no, not those eyes.

Tye let out a small yelp of surprise as the Lotus coughed behind her. She was thankful her hands were empty because if she’d been holding anything, it would be broken on the floor. The Lotus stood there leaning against her doorframe, the picture of elegance. Her dark hair was draped along her shoulders like silk and her piercing blue eyes were warm but held some hidden emotion behind them.

“Tysephone.” She said. Tye smiled at her and trotted over, nakedness temporarily forgotten, to kiss her. The Lotus seemed hesitant and Tye pulled away quickly.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, “If it’s the food, I- uh. I didn’t know if you...eat?” The Lotus gave her a sad smile and she felt her heart plummet.

“It’s not that. I...I need to go, Tye. I shouldn’t have stayed.” If she thought her heart ached before, it was in proper pain as she saw Tye’s expression go from awkwardly excited to crestfallen in a matter of seconds.

Tye swallowed and nodded but refused to meet her gaze, “R-right. I get it. I’ll uh...see you for my mission report later, then.” That was worse, the Lotus thought. No protest, no shouting, just melancholy acceptance. The guilt hit her like a truck. When had she gotten so attached? Silently she watched as Tye returned to the stove- an odd choice to have such outdated technology- and flipped over whatever she had been cooking. Gone was the pep and excitement in her actions and it made the Lotus wonder if she’d really been that excited over her staying.

Despite her want to leave, the Lotus found she was rooted to her spot. She watched, almost mystified, at how natural Tye’s movements were even when she was sad. The Tenno had a flourish in her actions as she gripped the pan with both hands and quite literally dumped an omelet several times the size of a plate onto a tray. For a moment, the Lotus entertained a fantasy.

She could see Tye doing exactly that when the small pitter-patter of footsteps heralded the arrival of a child- their daughter, she decided. The child would run in and jump onto one of the stools, nearly losing falling over, but she would be close behind to make sure their daughter wouldn’t fall. She would spin her around and shower her face in kisses while the child giggled incessantly, and Tye would turn around with a grin.

‘My two favorite ladies!’ she would say, ‘Can I interest you in a Tysephone Original?’

‘What’s it today, Mommy?’ Their daughter would excitedly squeal back after being freed from the Lotus’s barrage of affection.

‘Yes, what is on the menu this morning?’ She would add. Tye would grin even wider and grip the pan, already having sliced the dish, and toss pieces onto three plates.

‘Why, an omelet made from the egg of a ferocious kubrow!’ She would snarl and crudely mime the actions of a swiping animal and make their daughter laugh, ‘With meat harvested from Phobos’s deadliest skates!’ She would grab their daughter by the sides and lift her up, making whooshing sounds and pretending to be the sands of Phobos while the child would make a terrible impression of a skate. It would warm her heart and she would feel her eyes mist at the sight.

‘You should consider investing in another plate,’ She would say with a small smile. She would pointedly spin her own with a finger along the gold design. Tye would look at her quizzically.

‘I have a whole set of ‘em? What do you mean, love?’ She would ask. The Lotus would lean over the counter and give her a knowing look until Tye’s eyes would widen, ‘You’re- for real?’ She would all but shout. The Lotus would nod with a large smile and their daughter would ask, ‘Mommy, what does Momma mean?’ Tye would look back to her and shrug, she was never one to lie,

‘In a few months, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.’ She would say.

‘My love…’ She would continue, ‘Lotus…’ Wait, that isn’t-

“Lotus?” The Lotus came out of her reverie with a start and found Tye’s hands on either side of her head. She was looking up at her with worry painted all over her face.

“What?” She replied.

“You’re crying. Is something wrong?” She reached up to her own face and swiped her hand along her cheek. There was moisture there and she could suddenly feel the tracks that the tears were leaving.

“I...no, nothing’s wrong, Tye. I think…” She hesitated, “I think I might join you for breakfast today after all. I don’t quite feel like going back just yet.”

Tye’s concern quickly morphed into a grin and she trotted back over to her cabinet to pull down two plates. The Lotus observed as Tye cut up their breakfast and found that the plates had an Orokin-style gold inlay embedded into the white.

She smiled softly. Perhaps one day they might invest in a third and fourth plate from that set.

#tye #stories #snippets series

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