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solarune · 4 years

Text

flowers in your hair

part of @neo-cult-ure‘s colours collab! | masterlist + prologue

pairing: lee taeyong x fem!reader (feat. a nosy lee donghyuck, childhood best friend quian kun, and college best friend/co-worker johnny seo)

genre: fluff, soulmate au, florist au, coffee shop au, idiots (literally) to lovers

warnings: taeyong being too cute to be real, florist!taeyong, coffee shop owner!reader, donghyuck is annoying, reader has a nightmare, switches to taeyong’s pov for one part

word count: 10,577

summary: what you know about your soulmate taeyong in the 6 years that you’ve known him: he has 6 tattoos but is already planning on getting 4 more, he loves his dog ruby very much, he has only ever shared his banana bread recipe with one person (you), his mom makes the best kimchi jjigae in the entire world, his favorite color is pink, and he is the man of your dreams. literally.

what you don’t know about taeyong: what he looks like.

what you know about the owner of the new flower shop across the street: he has light brown hair, he’s a caffeine addict (if his cousin donghyuck picking up coffee 5 days a week says anything about it), and he is your enemy by association (according to kun).

what you don’t know about the florist: his name.

a/n: i’ve wanted to write a florist!taeyong fic for the longest time and i finally got to!! thank you so much to @neo-cult-ure for reaching out to me to be part of this collab and please please please check out the rest of the fics because they were all written by some really talented writers!! thank you to @jungwoohoos for checking this fic over as she’s done with my others ily. hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated :-)

When you open your eyes, you can’t help but feel like something is off. You can’t quite put a finger on it but something feels strange. But perhaps it was that strange dream that you had last night. Something about picking a color and finding your soulmate? The details of the dream were already escaping you but it doesn’t matter because you have to start getting ready for school-

Wait. School?

You sit up in bed and realize that you’re back in your childhood bedroom. You can even hear your dad singing in the shower judging by the terrible vocals that you can hear through your closed door. But why are you at your parents’ house? You look at your bedside table and see your phone and a letter with your name on it beside it. Picking up your phone, you check the time and realize that it’s 7am but it’s the date that throws you off; it’s 8 years behind. You pick up the envelope and slide your finger under the flap, hoping that whatever was inside would help you figure out just what exactly was going on.

Dear Y/N,

You’re probably wondering what’s going on. Your memories from our reality are mixing with your memories from the reality that you’re in so life is going to be a bit confusing. Good thing I wrote this letter to explain, huh? My name is Cyan. I’m the woman you ran into and told you to pick a color to find your soulmate. Yes, that was real, it wasn’t a dream. You’re currently in an alternate universe and your goal is to find your soulmate. Once you do that, you will return back to our reality and you and your soulmate will have the memories from the alternate reality. It’s your job to not only find them in the alternate reality but in our reality as well. This sounds difficult but don’t worry. Fortunately, you and your soulmate are able to meet in your dreams. However, I don’t know the exact details about that so you’ll have to figure them out yourself. Good luck and hopefully we’ll see each other soon!

All the best,

Cyan xoxo

You sit in bed for the next 5 minutes, trying to process everything in the short letter. You have a soulmate? You’re in an alternate reality? And not only that but you’re a teenager again so now you have to go back to high school? And what about your reality? How does time work here? Is this like a Narnia thing where you’re gone for years but return at the exact moment that you left? Or are you there for a week but 10 years have passed when you go back? And what the hell did “Cyan” mean about meeting your soulmate in your-

“Y/N! Are you awake? You’re supposed to leave in 20 minutes!”

Everywhere you turned, people were always talking about soulmates. Was there ever a time that we didn’t ever know who our soulmate is? How are we able to communicate with each other in our dreams? What about the people who don’t actually end up with their soulmate in the end? But you didn’t care about that. Especially in this very moment. Soulmates, in fact, aren’t real at all.

At least, you wish they weren’t real right now.

Because then Doyoung wouldn’t have broken up with you just because he finally dreamt about his soulmate last night. You’d probably be with him right now, watching whatever cult classic movie he thinks you just have to see because you made a comment once about never watching Fight Club during 8th grade. If he hadn’t had that dumb dream, your 2 year relationship wouldn’t be a flaming pile of garbage right now and you wouldn’t have the new drugstore eyeliner that Yejin had recommended to you running down your face.

“Wanna see this video that Xiaojun sent me of his dog?” Kun asks you, effectively breaking the hour of silence that the two of you have been sitting in, the only noise coming from your spontaneous bouts of crying and the videos on Kun’s phone as he scrolls through TikTok. After seeing that state that you were in at school when Doyoung broke up with you that morning, Kun knew that he wasn’t going to leave you alone today. You turn over to face him with a sigh, your head propped up on your hand as you watch Kun’s cousin’s dog run around their living room. But even an overexcited puppy isn’t enough to lift your spirits, something that Kun notices immediately and he frowns. “Listen, Doyoung didn’t deserve you and you know that and if given permission, I wouldn’t hesitate to dropkick him for you. You’ll find your soulmate eventually, and I’m sure they’ll be everything you actually need in a partner.”

You wrinkle your nose at his words; you and Kun have been best friends since you were 5 so it’s weird to hear him saying this cheesy stuff to you sometimes. “That was really nice and I really appreciate that, Kun, but please don’t tell me that you’re about to confess your feelings to me.” You laugh loudly when your best friend shoves you, returning his glare with a smirk as you attempt to smother him in a hug. “I’ll always love you but-”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to be a good best friend,” Kun rolls his eyes as he goes back to looking at his phone. “Your life isn’t one of those fanfictions you used to read when you were 15.”

“Yeah because if it were, the universe wouldn’t have made my boyfriend of 2 years dump me the day before my birthday!”

That night, you roll over in your bed for what feels like the millionth time. You check the time on your phone again and groan at the late hour, mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion that you’re bound to feel tomorrow. You wonder if turning 18 will feel any different. Will you dream about your soulmate tonight? Not like you’re too eager to talk to any guy in a non-platonic way but it would still be cool. You wonder what they’re like; what’s their favorite color, what’s their favorite place to go to clear their head, do they like to look at the stars just as much as you do? You feel yourself grow tired as you think about your soulmate and force yourself to not think about Doyoung, your eyes finally closing as you wonder if your soulmate likes flowers.

“Thanks for coming tonight. Want some cake?”

Someone places a slice of cake into your hands and when you look up to thank the person, all you can see are deep brown eyes. Both literally and figuratively; their eyes are very nice but they’re also blurry. You blink a couple of times and squint to get a better look at them but even when they’re standing so close to you, you can’t seem to make out any distinct features at all. You look around at all of the other partygoers and find that you can see them all just fine, so why can’t you see this person?

“My name’s Taeyong. And judging by the fact that you’re the only person in here that I can’t see, I’m going to guess that you’re my soulmate and you also can’t see me. Am I right?” they say to you, and even though you can’t see him, you can tell that there’s a smile on his face.

You stick your hand out and, even though he can’t see you, you smile at Taeyong. “My name is Y/N.”

Taeyong shakes your hand but rather than letting go, his grip tightens ever so slightly and his hand slides across yours to grip it as he leads you away from the spot you were standing in. He takes you outside, the cool night air refreshing on your skin and the moonlight making everything glow ethereally. He sits on the grass in the middle of the yard and gestures for you to do the same, laughing quietly to himself when he sees you looking up at the night sky in awe. You take a seat next time, your eyes never leaving in the sky as you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars before.”

“Do you like looking at the stars?” Taeyong asks.

You nod, your gaze finally leaving the sky above you to look at the boy next to you. “They’re pretty. And they make me feel… seen. The light from those stars, which are most definitely dead by now, travelled millions of light years just for us to see them, and they see us too. I don’t really know how to explain it but looking at the stars just makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

“Whenever I visited my grandparents, my grandpa would take me outside and show me all of these constellations using his telescope. Everything I know about the stars and the planets are because of him.” Taeyong goes quiet and you wait. From the way he’s looking down and pulling up blades of grass, you can tell that what he’s going to say next is important. “He died when I was 16. Some drunk driver who couldn’t tell the difference between the road and the sidewalk. I was so sad after he died.” You place your hand on his knee as a sign of comfort, not wanting to push him since you two just met. He lets out a mirthless laugh and you can’t help but smile sympathetically. “I stayed with my grandma for that entire summer after it happened. One night I was using his telescope and I couldn’t get it to focus properly and I just got so mad that I broke it. I cried after that and my grandma found me the next morning, sleeping out in the yard next to the broken telescope. She yelled at me, not because I broke his telescope, but because I could’ve gotten sick.”

“He sounds like a great man,” you murmur. “I’m sure he’s proud of you and that he misses you just as much as you miss him.”

Taeyong hums beside you, the two of you continuing to look up at the stars in silence. “So,” he says loudly to break the silence. “Any sad childhood stories you want to tell me? Since apparently I’ve decided that that’s what we’re going to do the first time that we meet.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even though you just got your heartbroken, you think that having a soulmate won’t be that bad after all. “I think we’re going to have to at least be friends before I tell you all about my traumas.”

The boy beside you gets up and offers a hand down to you, helping you stand up. “Friends?” he asks incredulously. “We’re soulmates!”

“All I know about you is that your name is Taeyong and that you broke your dead grandpa’s telescope while stargazing,” you point out.

You turn to look at him and your breath hitches, finally noticing that Taeyong is completely facing you and is standing very close to you. He takes both his hands in yours and you look up at him, and even though you couldn’t make out his facial features, you could feel his hands in yours and the warmth radiating off of him and that was enough. There’s this inexplicable pull in your stomach that makes you want to move even closer to him and just as you can feel yourself lift your foot up to take that first step, you panic and take a giant step back instead, letting Taeyong’s hands fall to his side.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?” your soulmate asks, taking a step towards you but stopping when you put your hands up.

“You didn’t do anything, Taeyong, don’t worry,” you reassure him. “It’s just that…” You bite your lower lip in worry, wondering if talking about your personal life was appropriate in this situation. But he did just tell you something personal about him- “My boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me today so I’m not looking to rush into anything any time soon. I know that we’re soulmates but I need time to heal and be my own person.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a bit and you wonder if you’ve told him too much. Just as you begin to think of ways to stop yourself from sleeping ever again so you don’t have to see him, he surprises you. “Out of all the people the universe could have put me together with, it just had to be you. I think we’re going to be great friends in no time!”

He holds his hand out for you and you take it, allowing him to lead you back to the party.

When you wake up, the first thing you see are the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Even though they’re nothing like the ones you saw in your dream, you can’t help but think of your soulmate’s grandfather. After a few minutes, you realize that you don’t remember your soulmate’s name or the story he told you about his grandfather.

“Great, so all I know about him is that he likes to stargaze with his grandpa-”

“Y/N, who are you talking to? Are you getting ready for school?”

Your meetings with Taeyong usually consist of you trying to remember at least one thing about the other, hoping that the repetition will be enough to get something to stick when you wake up that morning. The two of you are in Taeyong’s dream tonight (as you usually are since you rarely dream and if you do, usually it’s about someone trying to kill you), walking through a park full of cherry blossom trees with your arms linked together. He leads you over to a bench where you both sit in silence for a bit, the two of you lost in your own separate thoughts.

“So,” Taeyong says to break the silence. “We both leave for university tomorrow.”

You look over at him to find him already looking at you, and even though you can’t see him, you know that you share the same feelings he’s experiencing right now. “I know, it’ll be weird, right? One step closer to being in the adult world and all that. What higher power decided that I’m capable of being an adult?”

Taeyong’s hand brushes over yours and hovers hesitantly before taking it in his own. You let it happen because you know that he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just as scared as you are, so why not find comfort in the person that’s supposed to be in your life forever? You squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of the cherry blossoms before sighing deeply. Everything is about to change.

Your soulmate hums in consideration, shifting his body closer to you to make you more comfortable. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to college so I can be an adult,” he confesses. “I’m going because I want to get drunk off my ass with my friends.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, sitting up straight so you could playfully shove him. “Oh shut up, Taeyong, you know you’re gonna be the best astronomer out there.”

He shrugs in response, fiddling with your hand in his lap as he looks out at the trees in front of you. “We’ll see. Life is crazy; we might end up somewhere we weren’t even expecting.”

And Taeyong was right. Life is crazy. Yours and Taeyong’s first year at university was hard. You were pursuing a major in economics while Taeyong was pursuing a major in physics with a concentration in astronomy. The two of you were so stressed your first year that you barely got to meet in your dreams because neither of you had any; you just slept. Your lives were: wake up, go to class, do work for the rest of the day, find some time to eat in between all of that, and then sleep just enough to keep you alive.

But you knew that you couldn’t do this for another 3 years. You ended up switching to a major in food science and nutrition with a minor in business while Taeyong switched to a major in plant science. During your time at university, the two of you tried as best as you could to remember where the other went to school so you could try to meet somewhere in the middle but the most you could remember by the end of your third year was that you both go to school in Seoul.

(“You remember that we’re both in Seoul, so that’s good!” Taeyong reassures you one night as you whine about still not being able to meet each other. “We’re one step closer!”

“Yong, Seoul is huge and there’s so many universities here. How are we supposed to narrow it down?” you pout as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his chest.

Taeyong sighs and pats your head, not knowing what else to say because he knows you’re right. But he won’t give up hope; he knows he’ll see you soon. Just as he’s about to answer, the room around you goes dark and you hear the creaking of floorboards above you. He can see the fear in your eyes when he meets your gaze and his heart begins to pound. There’s a loud bang from upstairs and you immediately run out of the building you were in.

“You know, I’m really starting to hate your dreams. Maybe this is why we can’t remember anything, because we’re too busy running for our lives like we’re in a horror movie!”

When you woke up that morning, all you could remember was that he hates being in your dreams.)

By the beginning of your last year, the two of you agreed to stop trying so hard to meet each other. You assume that the universe just isn’t ready for the two of you to meet yet so you might as well enjoy just spending time with each other. Taeyong agrees and surprisingly, it works. You start to remember more and more about him—small things like his dog’s name and that the scar next to his eye resembles a rose—so you start to write them down. You even make a list of things that happen every day that you would want to tell him just in case you see each other that night.

Last night, you finally remembered the recipe for his banana bread, something that took you nearly an entire year to learn. You grab your journal from your desk and write down the recipe, humming in satisfaction when you write down the last ingredient. You read over the other things you’ve learned about Taeyong over the years—his favorite color is pink, he has a dog named Ruby and she is one of the 4 most important women in his life (“Who are the others?” “You, my mom, and my sister obviously!”), he has 4 tattoos—and hear his voice in the back of your head from your first year reassuring you.

We’re one step closer.

You place the finished drink on the counter just as the bell above the door jingles, alerting you to your first customer of the day. “One medium iced caramel macchiato with almond milk,” you announce, holding out a straw and napkin for Kun to take as he walks up to you with half-closed eyes. “Busy night last night?” you tease him as he takes his first sip, laughing when you see his body relax at the first taste of caffeine. “That one’s on me since you look like you need it.”

“Xiaojun had his friends over last night,” Kun complains as he takes a seat at the counter to be near you, tracing the letters of the coffee shop's name that’s on the cup sleeve as he talks. “It’s nice living with him since we’re cousins and all but him and his friends are such enablers. But I beat all of them at Mario Kart last night, so it was worth it I guess.”

You hum in understanding and pick up a towel to clean off the counters, knowing that the usual morning rush would come in soon and you wouldn’t get a chance to clean when it did. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s actually your fault, is that right?”

“They’re enablers, Y/N, I’m telling you!” your best friend protests, his words a bit muffled due to the straw in his mouth as he takes another sip. “They know that I can’t resist playing Mario Kart when I’m drunk!”

“They got you drunk?” you repeat. “I’m starting to think that I don’t even know who you are anymore, Kun. Getting drunk on a Sunday night knowing you have work the next morning? Doesn’t sound like my best friend if you ask me.”

Kun rolls his eyes at you but just as he’s about to respond, the bell above the door jingles (quite violently) and another customer walks in with a “Good morning, Busy Bean!” You look up to find Donghyuck walking towards you, a wide smile on his face and his right hand hidden behind his back.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Kun grumbles, gathering up his stuff as soon as he hears the younger boy’s voice.

You laugh at that, knowing that the only reason Kun dislikes Donghyuck is because he works for the new florist across the street. But Kun’s just funny like that sometimes. He had been the only florist in town and everybody knew about his shop, A Thousand Petals. The place was beautiful and Kun was good at what he did. But then a couple of months ago, the competition rolled in. At least, that’s what it was for him. To you, the new flower shop across the street from you meant nothing other than the fact that they had replaced the burger joint that nobody went to. And let’s just say that Kun didn’t appreciate being surprised with competition on a Monday morning while being handed his daily macchiato. You gave him free coffee for a week to make up for it.

“Bye Kun!” Donghyuck shouts happily, waving to him energetically even though your best friend only grunts in response. He walks up to the counter and reveals what he was hiding behind his back: a bundle of daisies. “Some pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” he says as he hands them over to you.

You accept them with a smile, thanking him as you put them in a mason jar in front of the register. “What’ll it be today, sunshine? The usual?” you ask, even though you’re already punching in the order for 2 iced Americanos.

Donghyuck blushes at your nickname for him and his lovestruck eyes staring at you doesn’t escape your notice. You’ve grown used to the boy’s antics and know that his flirting is meaningless. “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ as he leans against the counter. “Just a muffin please. And can I get it warm?”

You nod and put in his order, taking his cash and then smiling when you see him put the change in the tip jar. “So why no coffee today?” you ask as you put his muffin in the oven. “You guys find a place better than mine?”

The boy’s jaw drops at this, his posture straightening as he looks at you in shock. “Y/N, how dare you even suggest that. You know that there’s no coffee place better than yours!” He takes one of the flowers from the jar and starts fiddling with it, his smile widening when Johnny, one of your employees, comes out from the back. “Johnny!”

Johnny’s eyes widen at the sight of him and he freezes, his cup of coffee only midway to his mouth. “Damn, I thought you’d be gone already,” he mumbles, the two of you laughing as the boy starts fake crying. Johnny takes out the muffin from the oven and hands it to Hyuck after putting it in a bag. “Thanks for coming to The Busy Bean, we hope to never see you again.”

You push Johnny on to the floor, throwing a towel at his face as you chuckle. “Johnny, stop being mean to Hyuck and go clean the tables before Mrs. Choi complains again about them being dirty.” You ignore his noise of complaint in favor of turning back to the boy still in front of you who’s already started eating.

“His Majesty doesn’t want coffee yet,” he shrugs, crumbs falling from his mouth as he answers your question. “But you know he’s a caffeine addict so he’ll probably send me over during my lunch break.” He throws out the bag and puts the flower that he left lying on the counter back into the jar. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back. See you in a few hours!”

You wave goodbye to him and watch as he crosses the street to the flower shop. Donghyuck is an interesting kid. When you first look at him, you wouldn’t think that he works at a flower shop but you found out he’s only working there for the summer because he starts university in the fall. And his cousin’s the one that owns the place so it was a guaranteed job (“My mom and his mom actually had to convince him to let me work there but you know, I basically already had it.”). Ever since he first walked into your store, he’s been trying to set you up with his cousin, swearing up and down that the two of you would be great together. You’ve always laughed it off though since you weren’t particularly looking for anything and you weren’t about to take advice from an 18 year old.

“Here they come,” Johnny announces, running back to stand behind the counter with you as the morning rush comes in. You notice that the crowd seems to be bigger than usual and you feel nervous; The Busy Bean had just recently gone through some construction and had expanded but your new employees haven’t finished training so they can’t start working until next week. Johnny can tell that you’re nervous and places a hand on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see him smiling down at you. “Don’t be nervous, we’ll be fine! We always are.”

When you were in college, Johnny was the first friend that you made. Being without Kun was weird and scary even though he was only a 30 minute subway ride away from you but luckily, the boy living across the hall from you was there to provide you with company. The two of you did everything together—when you weren’t busy with labs and presentations and he wasn’t busy with his research and papers, that is. You even applied for jobs at the Starbucks on campus at the beginning of your junior year, and you were pretty sure the manager would have fired the both of you for always goofing off if you weren’t his best employees.

But the day that you knew he was going to be in your life for a long time was when you finally told him your dream of opening your own coffee shop. It was something that only Kun knew, too embarrassed to tell anyone else after your parents had told you that it would never happen. Johnny had surprised you that day, promising to be your first employee once it happened. You watch him from your place behind the coffee machine, watching him talk to Mr. Park from the restaurant that the two of you always go to with a smile on his face. Aside from Kun and your store, Johnny is all you have and when he notices you staring at him and makes a face at you, you thank the universe for putting him in your life.

“I have returned!” Donghyuck announces when he walks into the cafe, true to his word about returning during his lunch break. Behind him is a man who looks to be only a few years older than him with hair the exact same color as coffee foam. You’ve never seen him before but Hyuck apparently knows him as you watch him drag the older boy up to the counter. “2 medium iced Americanos please,” he says to Johnny in a cute voice, pouting when the man behind the register denies him his order with no emotion in his voice.

“Where’s your manager? I need to tell her you’re being mean to me,” Hyuck says as he sticks his tongue out at Johnny. You walk over with their coffee and place it down on the counter with a laugh, bumping Johnny with your hip to get him away from the register.

“Maybe Johnny wouldn’t be mean to you if you didn’t try to annoy him every time you’re here, sunshine,” you tease him as you take his money. Johnny hands them straws and napkins, making sure to stick his tongue out at the teenager in retaliation. You shake your head at him when he sees that you notice. You’re surrounded by children.

“Oh, this is the owner of The Busy Bean by the way,” Hyuck says to his cousin, smirking when he notices a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. “You know, the girl that you said you think is cute when you first saw h-”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” the older boy greets you very loudly as he cuts off Donghyuck, reaching out to shake your hand with blazing cheeks. “I’m- Uh- I-I’m TY.”

You shake his hand as you stifle a giggle, finding the blush on his face cute. Donghyuck on the other hand does nothing to hide his laugh, just narrowly avoiding an elbow in his side from his cousin. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware that I would be in the presence of royalty today otherwise I would have rolled out the red carpet.”

“I wasn’t aware that, uh, you have such a nice smile,” the florist compliments you, making you smile as you thank him. “Your teeth are pretty,” he blurts out and you feel your smile falter as you process the compliment. Your teeth are… pretty? Johnny and Hyuck attempt to stifle their laughter at the man’s outburst, the man in question turning red as a tomato when he realizes what he said to you. He slowly starts to back away, pulling Donghyuck by the back his shirt towards the exit as he stutters out, “U-Uh I mean- S-Sorry that was weird- You uh-”

“Watch out!” you warn him, noticing a customer looking down at their phone pushing open the door right into his back.

TY lets out an ‘oof!’ as the door hits him, stumbling forward and tripping over his own feet to regain his balance. The coffee in his hand wasn’t so lucky however, spilling all over the floor and some of it even getting on Hyuck’s white shoes. The two of them quickly rush over to get napkins, TY sputtering out apology after apology as he cleans up the mess on the floor while his cousin whines about the coffee on his new shoes. You quickly get to work on making him a new coffee while Johnny deals with the new customer.

The pair quickly exit after you give TY his coffee, and you’re able to hear Hyuck saying, “I’m telling your mom that you spilled coffee on my new shoes. Also who the fuck calls you ‘TY’, why didn’t you just tell your name like a normal person? I can’t believe I’m related to-” before the door closes.

“Do you think that guy’s ever gonna come back?” Johnny asks you after the customer had left, gesturing towards the flower shop.

You can see Hyuck dancing in the middle of the store while the owner laughs and you can’t help but smile. You wonder what his laugh sounds like. “I hope so.”

As you’re getting ready for bed that night, you open up the notes app on your phone to read over what you wanted to tell Taeyong about in case you saw him tonight. Even on slow days, you usually have at least one or two things to tell him, but tonight you find it empty. You hadn’t thought about him all day.

Taeyong surprises both himself and Hyuck when he decides to go back to The Busy Bean only a week after what his cousin likes to call The Incident™ (he even says “trademark” out loud, what a weirdo). The man usually isn’t one to be this brave but he can’t deny the pull that he feels towards you. You’re cute, you have a nice laugh, and he wants to make you smile again. And your iced Americanos are unmatched. Starbucks who?

Walking into the cafe, he immediately feels his hands start to sweat at the sight of you. Your hair looks extra shiny today and you’re dancing along to the song that’s playing with Johnny (kind of badly, but it’s pretty cute). Taking a deep breath, he repeats the simple order in his head one more time. One medium iced Americano, one medium iced caramel coffee, and 2 cake pops. (“If I don’t get to go, then you have to make it up to me somehow!” Hyuck protested when Taeyong told him to watch the store while he went to get coffee. So cake pops it is.) When you see Taeyong walking towards the counter, you give him the biggest smile and he swears his heart skips a beat. He knows he’s going to end up with Y/N eventually but wow, this girl sure knows how to take his breath away.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” you greet him, your cheeks still slightly pink from your laughing and dancing. Taeyong notices a daisy tucked behind your ear and he realizes that it’s one of the daisies that he had shoved into Hyuck’s hands and told him to bring when he went to the store just last week. The man feels his heart skip a beat at that; you look like a goddess. “Didn’t think we would see you back here so soon. Our red carpet is at the dry cleaner’s unfortunately.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Taeyong shrugs, playing along with your teasing. “I get treated better here than I do at my own shop anyways. Hyuck won’t stop bringing up last week to literally everyone we know.” He blushes when he brings up the events of last week but he feels immensely better when you laugh. “Thank you for replacing my coffee by the way. I can pay for it now since I left so quickly last time.”

“That one was on the house,” you say, waving your hand in the air. “Anyways, what can I get for you today?”

Taeyong makes sure to come back at least twice a week after that, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Each time he comes, he has to force himself to go back to his own store rather than staying and talking with you and Johnny. He finds himself growing more and more comfortable with your presence, his words coming more easily to him the more he’s around you. The conversation even turns flirty at some point, something that he didn’t even think he was capable of since graduating college. Sure he’s had a few lay it on pretty thick with him when they come into the store but middle aged women aren’t exactly his type. You are more his type, if he’s being honest. You and his soulmate, Y-

“Your name is Y/N?!” Taeyong all but squeaks out, his voice cracking as he drags his eyes from Johnny to you. Could you be…?

Both you and Johnny blink at him, not understanding where this sudden outburst came from. “Uh yeah, why? Is there something wrong with that?” you joke as you continue to make his drink.

Taeyong mentally shakes it off, subtly rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the unnecessary excitement he just felt. It’s probably just a coincidence. The universe seems to like mocking him, apparently. There’s no way he would just randomly find his soulmate like this. He couldn’t even remember where she ended up living after graduating college. “It’s nothing,” he says while shaking his head, giving Johnny a small smile as he hands over his cash. He notices the withering daisies in front of the register and makes a mental note to bring some fresh ones next time. “I’ve just always liked that name. I think it’s pretty.”

When you first created The Busy Bean, you hadn’t thought of incorporating flowers until Kun brought up that you had said you wanted to make it stand out from other cafes. That and the fact that the store’s name is based off of “a busy bee” and that, in the words of Kun, “your best friend just so happens to be the owner of the best flower shop in the city.” Unfortunately for you, your best friend and the owner of the best flower shop in the city won’t be around for an entire week because of a family emergency. And because of the store’s recent expansion and being so busy with training all of your new hires, it had completely slipped your mind to order new flowers for next month’s theme. When you had said all of this to Johnny during a lull in the morning rush, all he said in response was, “That’s rough, buddy.” (The two of you have been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender together recently.) What a great best friend.

After making sure that Johnny and the new hires knew exactly what they would be doing during the closing shift, you take a deep breath and do the one thing that you know Kun will never forgive you for once he finds out. “He’ll forgive you, you have no other choice,” you whisper to yourself as you cross the street towards Bloomin’ Love. You open the door and are greeted by the fresh smell of flowers, a Yiruma song softly playing in the background and fitting the atmosphere perfectly as the setting sun shines golden light into the store. It felt like you had entered a magical world.

“Welcome to Bloomin’ Love,” Hyuck greets you, not even looking up from his phone as he leans against the front counter. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I don’t think your boss would be very happy if he found out that you were using your phone while there’s a customer in the store,” you tease him as you walk up to the counter, laughing when Hyuck scrambles to hide his phone and looks up with wide eyes.

The boy’s shoulders immediately deflate when he sees that it’s just you, placing his phone in front of him as he smiles at you. “Y/N, I didn’t think I would ever see you in here. Did you and Kun get into a fight or something? Did he finally get mad that you’re ‘fraternizing with the enemy’s cousin because I’m trying to get you to fraternize with the enemy’?”

You shake your head, explaining, “Kun’s out of town, he has no idea that I’m here right now. I actually need to talk to TY, is he here? I have a big order because I need new flowers for The Busy Bean next month.”

Donghyuck nods as he points towards the back, an area that you assume is restricted to customers since it’s behind the counter. “He’s in his office right now. Let me just tell him you’re here really quickly.”

He walks away quickly before you even have a chance to nod, so you take a look at the flowers around the shop. Directly behind you are bouquets of roses but what really strikes your interest are the magnolia flowers and plum blossoms along your left. You lean down to smell them, their floral scent overwhelming your senses and making you feel even calmer than you already did.

“Plum blossoms are one of my favorite flowers,” a voice says from behind you, making you jump and bump into whoever it was. You feel hands on your waist that help steady you as you sway on your feet, your eyes coming up to meet those of the man you were looking for. “Sorry about that,” TY chuckles, the tips of his ears pink as he withdraws his hands from you. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Donghyuck said you’re looking for me?”

You nod frantically, before explaining your situation to him, his eyes never leaving you as you talk. “I usually give Kun complete creative control because I don’t know much about flowers and which ones bloom during which season.”

TY nods understandingly, humming as he thinks and scans over the various plants in the store. “Flowers that only bloom during spring…” He begins to walk around, with you following a few steps behind him, his hands hovering over the flowers and his fingers occasionally brushing over their petals as he looks at each one carefully. TY suddenly stops in his tracks, one hand resting on a peony before he suddenly turns to you with a wide grin on his face. “I think I have some ideas.”

The florist brings you back to his office, and you think you see Hyuck wink at the both of you as you follow his cousin to the back but when you get a closer look, the boy’s already assumed his previous position of scrolling on his phone. As of recently, the teenager has been teasing you more and more for what he assumes are the beginnings of feelings for his cousin. And even though you swear up and down that the two of you are just friends, you can’t help but think about the possibilities some nights. Which makes you feel guilty because what about Taeyong? Your dreams with him have felt different lately, both of you distracted at one point or another, the conversation becoming awkward at some points because the both of you know that something has changed. Is this the universe testing you? Putting a man that you feel yourself growing more and more fond of with every passing day just to see if you’ll reject him in favor of the partner that it has chosen for you?

“Y/N?” the florist calls out, his hand waving in front of your face to get your attention. You jump slightly in your seat, eyes meeting his after you’re pulled out of your thoughts. “You still with me? I asked if you could give me a floor plan or something of where you put all of your flowers.”

“Oh sorry,” you apologize, heart pounding in your chest at getting caught zoning out. You pull the floor plan that you and Kun had first made 2 years ago and hand it over to TY, your eyes tracing the veins in his hands as he smooths out the paper on his desk. His hands look like they would be really nice to hold. Wait what? No, stop, think about Taeyong.

TY shares his general thought process with you, lightly drawing circles and arrows on the paper to show you where he pictures bunches of hyacinth and jasmine would be. Names like Barberton daisy, dogwood, azalea, and peony are mentioned while you nod along enthusiastically, not really knowing what any of them look like but trusting the vision in the man’s head completely. As he’s talking, you can’t help but get lost in the sound of his voice, the passion and flow of his words making your heart swell. As guilty as it makes you feel, you couldn’t help the feelings that you could feel blooming in your heart for the florist.

The two of you stand once TY is done sharing his ideas and you’ve run out of questions to ask. You force yourself to leave rather than think up an excuse to spend more time with him, his laughter paired with the way he looks at you dangerous for your pounding heart and overly imaginative brain. He says goodbye to you with a wave but not before handing you a business card with the store’s number should you have any more questions. As you’re walking out, you can hear Hyuck teasing his cousin, and when you turn around to spare TY one last glance, you can see a blush on his cheeks as he quickly looks away, as if he was caught staring.

Just before you get into bed that night, you take one last look at the business card that you had been given just hours ago. When you read the name on the card, you feel as if time itself has come to a stop. Your breathing turns shallow as you bring the card closer to you, squeezing your eyes shut and then opening them just in case it was some weird trick of the light. But it wasn’t. Right there on the card is the one name that you weren’t expecting at all.

Lee Taeyong.

It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a-

You feel yourself being pulled down into the water, a hand wrapped around your ankle dragging you down to the bottom of the pool. You kick with all of your strength at the invisible attacker, your lungs screaming for air as you thrash in the water. A pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you out of the water, the person screaming at you to stand as they tug on your arm. Coughing your lungs out, you can just barely make out Taeyong’s blurry form as he runs out onto the empty street with your hand in his.

Suddenly, an SUV with its lights on appears behind you, the driver revving the engine and accelerating very quickly towards the two of you. You just barely dodge it, the vehicle only inches away from Taeyong’s body as you pull him towards a dark house. You climb over fences and run through yards, neither of you daring to say a word in fear of whoever is after you being near. Your hand stays in his the entire time, too scared of getting separated to let go.

You see a light approaching you and duck behind some garbage cans, willing your breathing and heart rate to slow so that you could listen for any footsteps. Taeyong quivers beside you in fear, his hand squeezing yours and when you look over at him, you can only imagine how scared he must look right now. Looking at him, you realize that there was something you wanted to talk about tonight but with every single nerve being on edge since you’re, you know, running for your life, you can’t remember what it is for the life of you. Lights from the SUV pass by, gravel crunching underneath the tires as the car goes by you very slowly. You pray to every higher power out there that they don’t catch you and you release a quiet sigh of relief when you see the car turn and drive farther away from you.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate being in your dreams?” Taeyong murmurs, his grip on your hand loosening but still not letting go. “Because I really hate being here right now.”

You huff out a laugh before slowly standing up to brush the dirt off of you. Just as you’re about to respond, you feel a hand clap over your mouth, Taeyong’s eyes widening as he screams and reaches out for you. Something sharp presses against your back just as you hear a gunshot, blood quickly soaking into Taeyong’s pants from getting shot in the thigh, before everything goes black.

You have to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder every 5 minutes because of the intense nightmare that you had yesterday. The feeling of being watched lingered with you all morning, something that Johnny noticed and was concerned about at first until you told him the reason you were acting so paranoid and jumpy. Then he just ended up teasing you and even scared you in front of a customer, falling on the floor laughing when it happened. But you couldn’t help it, the dream just felt so real and it didn’t help that Taeyong, an actual person, was there with you to make it seem all the more real. You wonder how he must be handling it, you know he’s not the biggest fan of horror movies or scary things in general.

You decide to visit Bloomin’ Love during your lunch break, the questions that you wanted to ask Taeyong still unanswered. But if you’re right and Taeyong actually is TY, then you would get your answer in a few minutes. Except it turns out that you won’t be getting your answers today.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” you ask Hyuck in disbelief, even looking towards the back to check if the office light is on in case he’s just playing a joke. “He’s your boss and one of the two people that work here, why are you here and he isn’t?”

The boy shrugs before hopping up to sit on the counter, long legs swinging as he bops along to the music that’s playing from what you assume is his own playlist. “He was here when I got here this morning but then he left after an hour and told me he’s taking the rest of the day off because he’s been feeling anxious all morning. Something about having a nightmare last night? It must have been really bad for him to take a day off because you and I both know that this store is basically his baby.”

He had a nightmare?

The bell above the door jingles as a customer comes in and immediately approaches the two of you to ask for help. You back away to let Hyuck do his job, bidding him goodbye before heading back to The Busy Bean. Hyuck’s words swirl around your head, the conversation replaying over and over as you take out the business card that you put in your pocket this morning to look at the name printed on it.

Taeyong. Lee Taeyong, the owner of Bloomin’ Love. Lee Taeyong, who introduced himself to you as TY. Lee Taeyong, your soulmate.

After that, you become distracted during work, your eyes constantly looking at the clock to see how much longer until your shift is over. Of course the one day that you find out who your soulmate is, the one day that it would be super convenient to be able to leave work early, is the day one of your new workers can’t come in because they got food poisoning the night before. You don’t even know what you’re going to do once your shift is over though. The number on the card is the store number and you already know that Taeyong isn’t there. Maybe you could just ask Hyuck to give you his number? But then what? What would you even say? “Hey TY, it’s Y/N. Hyuck told me that you had a nightmare last night so I think you might be my soulmate”?

The universe, however, seems to have your back. At the end of your shift, just as you’re saying goodbye to Johnny and Jaemin, one of your new hires, you hear a very familiar voice call out your name. And when you turn around, there stands the exact man that you’ve been hoping but not expecting to see all day. You can’t help but smile widely when you see him and nod when he asks if you want to sit.

“These are for you, by the way,” he says as he gives you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. “Pink is my favorite color but they reminded me of you when I saw them in the store just now.”

You thank them as you take the flowers from his hands, inhaling deeply before placing them down on the table. “You were in the store? Hyuck told me you took the day off.”

“I stopped by just to make sure he didn’t burn the place down,” TY chuckles and he sounds… nervous? Looking at him, you notice that he’s barely making eye contact with you, taking more interest in tracing the tattoo of a lavender plant that’s on his inner forearm. You wonder if he knows what you know, or at least what you think you know. You wonder if maybe he’s even known this entire time.

“Do you have a soulmate, TY?” you blurt out, too impatient to indulge him with more small talk.

He looks up at you with wide eyes at your question and you watch as the tips of his ears turn red. “I-I do,” he responds while nodding simultaneously.

“What are they like?” you ask him, telling yourself to calm down and to make sure that you’re right. It would be really embarrassing if you aren’t.

“She’s the girl of my dreams,” he jokes, laughing loudly when you groan and roll your eyes at his dumb joke. “She really is though. She’s really smart and knows exactly what she wants from life. She’s extremely hard-working but she also knows when she needs to stop and relax. She really likes strawberry cake and also likes stargazing. I actually tried making a move on her when we first met because I was young and dumb but then she told me that her boyfriend of 2 years had just broken up with her, so I felt extremely stupid that night.”

You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest at his words and you know that you must have a funny look on your face because TY- no, Taeyong is looking at you strangely. “What about you?” he asks, his wide eyes and head that’s tilted slightly to the side reminding you of a puppy. “What’s your soulmate like?”

You laugh and take a deep breath, mustering all of the courage to pour all of the love you’ve been wanting to show Taeyong all these years into your words. “He’s the best, honestly, I’m really lucky that he’s my soulmate,” you say softly, your eyes not once leaving Taeyong’s as you speak. “He’s really goofy and not at all afraid to be who he is. He’s very supportive too; Johnny and Kun were always there for me when college got hard, especially when I switched my major, but it was his words that always kept me going. His favorite color is pink and he absolutely adores his mom, he swears up and down that her kimchi jjigae is the best in the entire world. When we first met, he-”

You stop to look at Taeyong and you see tears in his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he listens to you talk. You take a shuddering breath and lift your hand to gently take his hand in yours; he knows. “When we first met, he told me about his grandpa and how his love for the stars came from him.” You see a single tear cascade down Taeyong’s cheek and you reach out to wipe it away. With a watery laugh, you say, “He also told me that he ended up breaking his grandpa’s telescope after he died.”

Taeyong rests his forehead against your joined hands as he laughs, his eyelashes wet with tears and his eyes shining when he looks back up at you. “I finally found you,” he whispers in awe. “After all of these years, the universe finally put you right in front of me and I didn’t even know.”

“That day, when you said that you think my name is pretty,” you say, his words playing in your mind as you remember the day you’re talking about, “did you know?”

“I was suspicious but I thought it was too good to be true,” Taeyong says as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought that there was no way that the girl I’ve been dreaming about for 6 years just so happens to own the coffee shop across the street.” He raises your hands to his lip to kiss the back of yours and you feel so happy that it feels like you’re practically vibrating in your seat.

You’re about to respond when you hear Johnny call out, “Hey lovebirds, keep it PG! There are kids in here!” The two of you turn your heads towards the direction of his voice to find not only Johnny behind the counter but also Kun and Hyuck standing there.

“Did you forget about our plans, Y/N?” Kun calls out teasingly, a smirk on his face as his eyes flicker from your hand in Taeyong’s to your face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, head turning to look at Taeyong with wide eyes.

He smiles at you reassuringly, kissing the back of your hand once more before letting go. “I’ll call you later?”

You nod enthusiastically, the two of you exchanging numbers before you stand up. You look up at Taeyong, not yet wanting to leave his presence. You can feel the warmth radiating off of his body and there’s a familiar pull in your stomach and this time, you allow yourself to indulge in it. He leans down just as you lean up, and as cliche as it is, it really does feel like you’re the only two there when you kiss. Taeyong tugs one of the flowers from your grasp and breaks off part of the stem, tucking the forget-me-not behind your ear and rubbing your cheek with his thumb before pressing one more kiss to your forehead and murmuring a “see you tomorrow” against your skin.

Waking up the next morning, you let yourself indulge in thoughts of yesterday, the events leading up to the kiss replaying in your head and making butterflies erupt in your stomach all over again. You and Taeyong had agreed to go on your first date today after work and you wish that someone could invent a time machine so you could just skip the work day and go on your date already.

You sit up in bed and feel every ounce of happiness drain out of you, your surroundings unfamiliar to you. The walls are still the same color but the books on your shelf are different, your floor is carpeted, and who the heck are those people you’re with in the pictures on your wall? You even look out the window to find a completely different view. Where the hell are you?

It suddenly hits you that you’re back in the real world—or your reality at least. The past 8 years have basically just been one long dream. You jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom to check to see if there were any visible signs of aging. You let out a sigh of relief when you realize that you still look the exact same and go back to your room to check the date on your phone just to confirm. There’s an envelope with your name on it beside your phone and you feel a sense of déjà vu as you rip it open.

Dear Y/N,

Welcome back! Hopefully you’re not too disoriented after returning to our reality but I wrote this letter just in case. It’s only been a day since we first met so don’t worry, everything in your old life is still the same as it was. It’ll take a few days for memories from your life here to resurface so just take it easy for now. You should still have your memories from your alternate universe and your soulmate should have them too, so all you have to do is find them! I know this sounds hard but don’t worry; as I’m sure you already know, the universe works in mysterious ways~

See you soon, Cyan xoxo

You let yourself plop back down onto your bed, giving yourself a few minutes to process everything before taking a deep breath. Taeyong. You have to find Taeyong. Getting out of bed, you decide you get dressed and get ready for the day, a memory of your friend Yuna telling you about the new cafe across town resurfacing, so you decide to go there. You feel too cooped up in your apartment, you need to do something.

Passing by the window of the cafe, you can’t believe your eyes when you see Cyan sitting at one of the tables. She smiles at you through the window while lifting a mug in greeting and you rush to enter the coffee shop, your hands shaking at your side as you approach her. “Good to see you, Y/N,” she greets you, standing up just as you sit opposite her. You’re about to stand as well before she gently pushes you back down with a hand on your shoulder. “These are for you,” she says as she hands you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. You look down at the flowers, memories of the past 8 years (yesterday?) overwhelming you but you shake it off and look up, only to find Cyan gone. You look around frantically but it’s like she disappeared, completely vanished in thin air as you look around the coffee shop and even out the window. With a huff, you put the flowers on the table and settle your chin on your hand as you wonder what to do next.

“Are you finished with this?” an employee asks you as they point at Cyan’s empty coffee mug.

You look up, about to answer, when your breath catches in your throat, your eyes meeting very familiar brown ones that widen at the same exact time as yours. Before you stands Taeyong, a brown apron with the words “Wake Up Cafe” embroidered on it in gold tied around his waist. Standing up, you reach out to grab one of the flowers and break off part of the stem before slowly reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. His hair is different, a little longer and a dark grey color with bits of silver rather than the light brown that you’re used to, but you see the rose-shaped scar beside his shining eyes and you feel like you could cry. Taeyong’s hands cup your face and his thumbs come up to brush away tears that you didn’t even notice, the distance between your lips and his slowly decreasing.

His lips brush over yours and his eyes flicker back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Found you.”

You chuckle at his words and close the distance, and you wonder if springtime feels just as good for the blooming flowers as the love that you can feel blooming in your chest when you kiss Taeyong.

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can-i-just-say-this · 4 years

Text

I want an au where a reincarnated muggle Draco dreamt about the wizard Draco Lucius Malfoy after he turned eleven, so here goes my attempt at it, please if you know any wonderful writer please please please notify them immediately to make this a full book.

After a week, Draco concluded the past self theory must be the closest to the truth and never came up with a better one.

He wondered, however, why the wizard Draco hated a boy named Harry Potter so much. Draco concluded it must be the rejected handshake, but after a few weeks Draco was not so sure anymore. Wizard Draco just enjoyed torturing Harry Potter, and it was annoying Draco so much though he didn't know why.

When Draco was twelve, wizard Draco eavesdropped his father's self talk that involved this man called The Dark Lord and a diary. Draco didn't know why, but the wizard Draco looked terrified. Later, he dreamt about wizard Draco ripping through a paper from a wizard book store and many many dreams later he dreamt about wizard Draco slipping the paper into Hermione's stoned form. Draco didn't understand fully what was going on, but he hoped wizard Draco had done the right thing.

When Draco was thirteen, he actually laughed when wizard Draco got slapped by the witch Hermione Granger. It was justified, he thought. He also pitied wizard Draco afterwards, because by this time Draco knew wizard Draco hadn't meant whatever bad things he said or did. Draco continued to wonder why he was having these dreams. Maybe the wizard Draco wanted to share his experiences after he died? There must be some kind of magic wizard Draco could do for that, right?

When Draco was fourteen, he was absolutely terrified for Potter. Draco had long realized that his dreamt were most vivid and vibrant when they involved Potter, though maybe it was only his own infatuation talking. Yes, by this age he realized though the wizard Draco hated Harry Potter, Draco fancied him. Getting back to the terrified part, though, Draco dreaded this Triwizard Tournament would be the end for Potter.

Harry Potter proved yet again he was indeed The Boy Who Lived, and Draco woke up in relief one morning. Though, he grieved with Potter of Cedric Diggory's death. Draco could feel the warmth radiating the Hufflepuff wizard, and he could tell Potter was heart broken for his death, and Draco's heart broke for him too.

Draco really resented wizard Draco when he's fifteen. Come on, the Ministry Umbridge, really? But upon dreaming wizard Draco receiving a letter from his father, Draco's hatred once again shifted to Lucius Malfoy. He supposed not all father was his son's hero, after all.

In wizard Draco's sixth year, Draco was jealous with a witch named Ginevra Weasley, but he barely got the time for the ugly envy, because he was so nervous for wizard Draco's mission. In the back of his mind, Draco knew they both didn't want wizard draco to succeed, but the wizard Draco knew precisely the dreading consequences for his mother if he really failed, so Draco watched wizard Draco destroyed himself trying to save his beloved family.

Seventh year was probably the worse time for wizard Draco. It was hard for Draco to grasp at the situation fully, but even he knew everything was messed up. No, everything was horrible and soul depressing. Even Draco was affected by his dreams, and he honestly didn't know how wizard Draco survived. He didn't know if wizard Draco survived, but he reckon wizard Draco survived long enough to do magic that letting him see all his life.

When wizard Draco failed to identify Harry Potter at his manor, Draco realized wizard Draco must have loved Harry Potter too. It was supposed to be a good thing, to know wizard Draco didn't hate Harry Potter as much as Draco thought he did, but considering how his past self's life was, he grieved for wizard Draco's feelings.

Harry Potter was dead, and Draco swore he could feel his past self's heart breaking. Maybe it was his own, but Draco didn't think he could love someone from his dream as much. And then few seconds later Harry Potter lived! Oh how relieved Draco was. Harry Potter saved the day. Or maybe Harry Potter saved their wizarding world, Draco didn't know for sure, but the title savior was truly befitting Harry Potter.

Draco didn't know why he prayed, but he really did when he saw the dream where wizard Draco received a letter to return for their eighth year. Draco hoped wizard Draco would take the chance. Partly because he wanted to see Harry Potter again, but a huge part of it just wanted the wizard Draco had a second chance. Surely he deserved it?

Wizard Draco Malfoy returned for eighth year. He even befriended Harry Potter! Now Draco saw him almost every night in his dreams, and they did wonders for his good mornings. Draco watched, mesmerized by their interactions. Of course wizard Draco still in denial that he was in love with Potter, but somehow Draco understood. Not even Romeo and Juliet could rival the tragedy that be falling the wizard Draco Malfoy, even if Harry returned his feelings.

Draco was so glad for his past self when he was accepted in Auror Training alongside with Potter and Weasley. Maybe his future would be brighter, now. Who knows, maybe wizard Draco is still alive and Draco is only living in one of those alternate universe the girls in his class keep talking about.

Wizard Draco Malfoy was dead. He was twenty. He was just twenty years old and Draco was seeing red. He watched auror Draco and Potter went into a mission, and then suddenly a terrible red light shot through Draco's chest and there was blood everywhere.

Draco watched auror Potter crouch in front of his past self, tears in his eyes. Not for the first time, Draco wondered if his-no, if wizard Draco's feelings are returned, and he actually didn't know which fact was worse for them. All he knew was that the wizard Draco had said 'I love you' to Potter before he closed his eyes, and Potter had said nothing, and then Draco woke up screaming and crying.

The next day, when he didn't dream about wizard Draco anymore, he wrote his previous dreams down on papers. He surprised himself that he remembered almost all of them. He wrote some while laughing, cringing at the memories, or rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness. Most of the time, though, Draco wrote with tears in his eyes. There was just so much for wizard Draco to live for, to spend his days as peaceful as what he deserved after surviving a war, but he died instead.

Draco was tempted to wrote down a different ending in his little diary. No one would know. But it didn't sit right with him, so Draco made sure he had conveyed how much wizard Draco had loved Harry Potter instead. So, so in love with him that wizard Draco didn't hesitate to throw himself as a shield when his partner was defenseless. His partner, whom was also the love of his short yet meaningful life.

When Draco moved out from his apartment in his twenties, his friend found his diary and swore to him she would make Draco the most famous writer ever in Britain.

A day later, Draco Applewinter got a visit from a seemingly fourty years old Hermione Granger. They both widened their eyes upon the meeting, and maybe for the obvious reason. Neither of them truly believed the other existed before they saw with their own eyes. Granger was the one who broke the silence.

"My name is Hermione Granger and I'm-"

"An unspeakable"

Granger actually laughed, though hysterically.

"Yes and that's why I'm dealing with this shit. Merlin, I need to sit down."

So Draco offered her to come in and sat down. He even poured a cup of tea for her. After a few gulps and long breaths, Granger spoke again.

"Are you...are you really Draco Malfoy?"

"It's Draco Applewinter, actually. But in a sense, I suppose I am."

His mom had named him Draco, said it just came over her after she bizarrely had the most briliant idea to learn new languages in her late pregnancy. Draco only nodded then, not wanting to share his past self dreaming just yet.

"You know, the right procedure would be to obliviate you and destroy the evidence."

"will you?"

Granger took in a breath.

"It depends."

"On what?"

Draco knew this would be the time something shifted in his life. He just knew, but he was still shocked when Granger asked.

"Do you want to meet Harry Potter?"

Draco didn't say yes. He was just crying too much to form words. He furiously nodded, and five minutes latter there was a tired looking fourty years old Harry Potter in his fireplace.

"I swear 'Mione you always ask for my help when I'm off duty, unspeakable should not do this you know?"

Harry Potter looked up from the fireplace, and he saw the splitting image of Draco Malfoy sitting at a sofa with Hermione. Draco was just the same as he remembered. He was crying, and, if possible, was crying harder at the sight of him. Harry really didn't understand any of this.

"Mione, what's-" Harry almost cried too, he hated how his voice cracked at the sight of his dead partner. Maybe the house is cursed, maybe he was hallucinating, maybe Harry Potter finally lost his marbles.

"What's going on?" He hated how defeated he sounded, but how could he not?

Hermione handed him a book. It was untitled, but Merlin was it thick. Maybe it held the information to break the curse and whatever false image he is seeing?

"Harry, read the last chapter. Please."

So Harry did. By the end of it, he was shaking uncontrollably. The last paragraph got him crouched on the floor and cried as if he was experiencing his partner's death for the second time.

'Draco couldn't help but wonder as he drifts into the most peaceful sleep, how will Harry Potter live after this? He hopes Harry is not grieving for too long, and his confession doesn't burden Harry very much. Harry deserves the happiest and the most beautiful life ahead of him, and Draco supposes he could accept his death peacefully for all of those and many more reasons, one being his love for his best friend.'

Harry wiped his tears and looked for answer at his best friend. Hermione just sat there, saying nothing though she looked like she wanted to hug him. Harry asked her softly.

"What do I have to do?"

And Hermione answered as gently.

"Answer his question, Harry."

Maybe he had to answer the question to make the image of Draco goes away. He could do this. Determined, Harry looked at Draco's eyes and answered.

"Harry Potter lived horribly after Draco Malfoy's death. He grieved for every second of his life and more. He-"

Harry had to pause to calm his harsh breaths down. He could do this.

"He didn't eat for a while. He didn't work for years. He was hopeless, actually."

Harry laughed at his own pathetic self.

"He doesn't think Draco's love confession as a burden. He only regrets not being able to say it back."

The image of Draco in front of him was crying again. Harry really didn't understand how he was helping Hermione in this, but maybe Draco crying was a sign of his disappearance. Part of Harry didn't want him to disappear, but another part of him well knew it doesn't do well to dwell in dream. He continued.

"Harry Potter really loves Draco Malfoy, more than Draco Malfoy would ever know."

Maybe that was why Hermione asked him for help. She was helping Harry to finally have a closure. Harry moved closer to Draco, surprised at how warm his hands in Harry's fingers. He looked at the subject of his grief for years, and he whispered.

"Draco, I love you, I'm sorry for not saying it back."

Harry was not sure which of them sobbed at his words, it could be him, or Hermione, or whatever hallucination Harry was seeing in front of him. Harry watched Draco squeeze his hands, wondering to himself how many seconds he had left before the curse was lifted.

"And Draco Malfoy loves you, Harry. He's sorry for leaving, but he's not sorry to die for you. He loves you too much to bear a life without you, so he leaves you, and I'm sorry for your grief."

And I love you

Draco didn't say. At least, he didn't say it for years. He only said it once he was certain Harry Potter didn't love him for Draco Malfoy, just the muggle Draco Applewinter who doesn't know even the most basic magic trick.

It was a little anticlimactic how their love confessions went, and his editor would asked him to edit his sequel book ending later, but he would refused her. He wouldn't change the ending for a lifetime.

#draco x harry #drarry #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x harry potter #drarry fic #harry potter #hermione granger #past life #reincarnation #writing prompt #story prompt #post hogwarts #harry potter retell

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poisxnyouth · 4 years

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Journal Entries (& 2 Love Letters)

8/1/20

I feel so free. I feel accepted, and loved, and trusted, and I feel as though everyone in my life has faith in me.

For the most part, I have my friends to thank for these feelings of fulfillment. They’ve transformed me in such a short amount of time, and supplied me with memories that reek of our youth.

But I should also thank God for these things. I should thank Him for placing these people into my life, and maybe I should thank Him for putting my most difficult times ahead of my greatest. I don't think I would have appreciated these cherished moments so greatly.

The best part? I know the best is yet to come. I’m so in love with life right now. Everyone deserves to feel this happy, and if I can have a hand in positively influencing ANYONE’S happiness — I will.

P.S. I pray that God puts [redacted] and I together. I would him with everything I have to offer, but God knows that, and so does [redacted].

8/9/20

I’ve never felt so sure about something before. It feels so surreal. I never thought this type of thing would happen to ME, AT ALL — not this type of unabashed, unafraid, wholly submerged emotions.

In the best way possible, I feel like I’m drowning in him. I feel like his smell is permanently ingrained in me and even when I don't have him immediately on hand, when his smell isn’t present...it still is. I can smell it. That sounds so strange, but it’s comforting. It makes me feel so safe.

He is so wonderful, and is everything I think I’ve ever dreamt of and more. He might be my ideal person. Sometimes, I tell myself that it’s too early to even be thinking about any of this, but...I have such a good feeling about it that I am not all too concerned.

I feel so consumed by it, in the best way possible. Things that aren't my firsts feel like they are; he makes me feel so electric and makes everything feel as though they’ve never been done before. Is this what Madonna was talking about when she wrote Like A Virgin?

And he’s texting me right now about how iconic the word simp is, and I’m sitting here currently hating that we didn't meet sooner.

[Redacted] doesn’t know it, and I’m not sure he ever will, but I feel like I’ve been praying for him for years now.

It feels so silly and juvenile to actually say that, like a little girl confiding in her diary as if it’s her only friend, but it’s very true. I have been praying for this, and maybe unknowingly praying for HIM this entire time.

I cannot believe I’ve only met him four weeks ago. I would follow him into the darkness, and I would give him everything I have, but the best part about [redacted], the part that makes me feel so comfortable and confident about this, is he doesn't want everything I have. He wants me, and he wants everything with me.

Every song is about him, every scene in every TV show or movie is about him, and it feels as though everything which I do now has pieces of him in it. He is wholly taking over my life, making my heart hurt with happiness and love, keeping me up all night, anything else remotely possible, and I wouldn't trade it off for anything in the world. I have never felt so complete, and I want to be able to supply [redacted] with the same sureness that he’s given me. It’s my duty.

8/16/20

[Redacted]...where do I even begin? He is so good for me, and so good to me. Even when I leave him, I can still feel his hands lingering, and the taste of him in my mouth, and the scent of him in my nose.

I said it before and I’ll say it again — he is consuming me. He is on my mind all day, every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want him to leave my brain.

For a long time, and every time I talked to a guy, there were lingering doubts everywhere I looked. I feel none of those with [redacted].

8/19/20

I feel so encaptured and captivated.

It’s been two and a half hours since I’ve seen him, and I still cannot stop thinking about returning to his hold.

I just feel so irrevocably GRATEFUL for this boy. I want him so bad that it hurts. I can see the world turn in his eyes, and I can feel the blood rushing through his veins whenever I hold or kiss him.

I’ve never spent time with someone where I can pause for a moment and realize that I can feel the love radiating off of them. I can never notice whose heartbeat is who’s (even though it’s probably always his).

Everything about him seems to linger. He’s everywhere, and he’s taking up so much space in my brain. I don’t care, though. I like it this way.

I wish we’d met a year and a half ago, but perhaps things wouldn’t have happened this way if we had. God was waiting on us, I suppose.

There are over a hundred and fifty thousand words in the English language, and I still don’t think I could correctly, and perfectly, string together the most fitting words to describe how I feel about [redacted]. I don’t think I can. I think of [redacted], and a million things run through my brain.

There is so much that I want him to know, and so much that I want him to teach me. I don’t want anyone else to teach him, and I don’t want to be taught by anyone else. He’s my boy now, in my heart and in my soul.

Love Letter #1 (9/2/20)

[Redacted]—

I don’t know if I’m going to give this to you, but I’m writing this to get my shit figured out. Most of it IS figured out, I guess, but I need to organize it.

Nothing is ever guaranteed, and you can’t walk into things expecting them to be. I’m sure you know this. There is a plan for everything, almost always undisclosed, and you always have to respect the outcome. That’s my fundamental belief with anything and everything, so you can see why this is very confusing for me. I don’t WANT to respect this outcome; it hurts too much, and I disagree with it. There is not one part of me that believes our time is up. You were, slowly but surely, changing my perspective on things.

I’m writing this before I know your answer, obviously. I don’t know what it will be. I’m preparing myself for the worst. I don’t even know exactly what that entails.

You were right about potential being the wrong word. The word is future. The future holds nostalgia — it’s delicate, but potent. When I look back in a few decades on the most transformative period of my life, YOU’RE what I want to remember. I don’t want to think back on a break up with unbridled bitterness; I want to think back to your hold, and I want to think back to feeling your heart pound and feeling the blood rush through our veins whenever we kissed. THAT’S what will hold a spot in my heart.

Every time I kiss you, or you kiss me, whatever, it feels like coming home. You feel like home, and if I’m being honest, you have since we met. You feel like home, you taste like home, you smell like home, your laugh sounds like home, seeing you everyday is like home…You’re my home. I can't think of one thing I hate about you. Nothing. I go blank.

But the list of things I love about you is too long for me to list all of them. I won't even attempt to begin, because I wouldn't even know where to start.

I wish you knew what you mean to me. You do, but you don’t. You know that I love you, and you know that I’m yours (for now, I guess, I don’t know), but you don’t know that thinking about you forces my head to begin spinning, in the best way possible. You don’t know that I count the minutes until I can see you again, and you don’t know that it feels like every song is about you. Everything comes back to you. Now you know, I guess.

I’ve written a lot of things about you, and for a while, I kind of thought that I’d run out of things to say. I don’t think I’m ever going to run out of words when I talk about you. There’s always something new.

Everything else feels like background noise when I’m with you. You’re in everything, and you’re home.

I love you so much,

Hailey

Love Letter #2 (9/3/20)

[Redacted]—

I keep thinking about everything and I keep replaying everything in my head. Earlier today, I was lying on Angelina’s floor, face stuffed into her weird carpet, and my thoughts returned to you again. I started thinking about when things first began, and I instantly wanted to write about what I was feeling — just to get it out of my thought process. I couldn't, though, and I hate writing on my phone because it doesn't feel as tangible, so I was forced to let it linger. That fact doesn't bother me; nothing is tainted with anger over resentment. It more so brings thoughts of what I enjoyed and what made me feel alive. When I think of the beginning of things, I remember getting nervous when we ended up sitting next to each other in the car, and I remember my heart racing at our first moment of alone time. I remember my pulse momentarily speeding up when our knuckles brushed in the lamp section at Ikea…(Stupid, I know, but it was a big deal to me.)

#i'll add a read more tomorrow #it's 5am i'm really tired & i'm on mobile #my writing

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rambleverse · 5 years

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The Golden Dream: Finale - Oakvale Warder Prestige Class Story

“You once had authority on your side; you had experience and power, and it was good. You knew your place in the world, and how everything ought to be. Yet, it was all smoke and mirrors in the end. You did not know, in fact, what you thought you understood. As you lost, and lost, you found yourself withdrawing, losing your connections, or finding them severed long before you realized the loss.” “It was not chance-- it was inevitable, as are all things in their season. Yet, even as winter consumes autumn, so too does the cold give way to warmth in spring, and new life forms. Take the generosity offered; your closed door is nought but a spoke on the wheel dipping, so that another might rise. What are we, if not the Phoenix People, who rise from our own ashes? Look deep inside. Look beyond yourself. Look into the ways what you have never. Your purpose as you knew it, has died. From the earth it is buried, find new growth. Lift yourself from a fall, and find that you too may have depths you had never yet seen; loss brings forth the best in us.”

The Oracle, Elleynah Stormsummer

Summer

He learned the lessons of the roots and green grass; he learned the lessons of the high sun. In the quiet places of the earth he found a quiet in himself, and in its still serenity he listened. There the voices spoke through him. The breath of nature in a curled breeze--it said parts of him he could not know alone. Together they grew wiser. Together they were strong. Like sky and earth they made a picture: a horizon for the light. He could not live alone: nothing truly can.

When the summer sun went elsewhere, and Azul’sar grew gray, the apprentice knew that seasons change. He gathered friends for guidance. He traveled while he could. Walking with the sun before him, he saw its light bring life everywhere he went. Beyond the vale, beyond the years, he lived for all the world.

Through the golden wicker-eye he dreamt the druids circling on their elder, and he saw himself among them. Some cried tears, some laughed, but they held hands around the entwood clearing. Ouron saw them bless the master with familial words but few goodbyes. When Azul’sar closed his eyes at last, he knew that it was not the end. From his body came the grass, and from his spirit came the solstice ent. As seasons change, so too must life.

Autumn

Nethermoon lived a life alone. He kept so little people that he made his life from things. Ouron filled his heart with metals. He clogged his lungs with dust. He packed his mind with people’s words. He asked questions on his behalf, and gave answers for himself. He wrote books that he alone would read, and made logs for private reference. In his house he rose to greatness, so he might never need to leave.

When his silver went to gray, Ouron felt a chill. He built his house beside the Sun, but when it drifted toward the night he grew afraid. If the sun designed to move, then he would scheme to keep it. With rune and ley and fleeting years he made a cage to keep the light.

Ban’dinoriel they called it: a gate forever shut.

Winter

After Azul'sar, the young ward grew into keeper of the Vale. As Shan'do he felt the eyes of those around him like never before. He watched the saplings rise into trees tended by his hand. He watched the brooks surge to rivers, and heard their voices carry his name to the sea as a friend. The wind brought him tales of strife: first trolls, then Hordes, the name Arthas, and the black-winged death. The Vale endured with him. They did not fear. They knew the cycle.

When his dreams turned to gold he glimpsed the old elf with painful eyes in blue. Always watching him, mumbling, scared--he pitied him. The druid knew him for a visitor, but did not know his reasons. Waxing years did not change him. Life did not touch him. The ghost carried nothing with him to the space they shared until the day the vision came.

Ouron watched the elf before him rise despite him. In so many ways the child grew apart from how he knew himself. He was strong in heart, sure in mind, wreathed in love and simple purpose, and Ouron grew to loathe himself. He rolled in verdant envy gilt by remorse.

What could have been?

What could I be?

Why must I know this?

Why am I here?

Ouron saw him weave life from magic and back again. Ouron saw him master the mysteries of the Order of Things with a breath. He stepped above him. He stood superior, Ouron knew it from that for certain.

The vision changed them.

Ouron saw it first and for what it was: acrid clouds before a blackened sky. The horizon burned the blood on the earth. The outworld beasts tore through tree and elf alike. They poisoned the earth and sundered the water. For the first time in this life, Ouron spoke aloud.

“They...they won't survive.”

These first words cut like rusted wire through his mind. He spoke? In years he hadn't-these were dying wails he heard, friends voices from the day before-he hadn't spoke but now--he saw their grieving faces drained of blood--why show me now--he saw the honored mother cut--

Then the end.

Side by side they watched it happen. They saw him rise; he was verdant, brilliant, superior. He rose in ancient entwood flesh. He rose with a heart loved by the green places of the earth. He fought with furious magic both wild and deep.

Then Ouron Nethermoon: Keeper of the Oakvale Grove, Steward of the Wild lands, Honored Child of Sun and Moon and First of His House--fell with his people and his Vale.

“How many years?” the Shan'do asked. Great was his wisdom, and so the truth of it lay plain before him.

Ouron felt his throat again. He felt his blood curdle to stone. His tongue dried between his teeth.

“Please” the druid asked.

Ghost looked to ghost, “Years. A handful of years” he said.

“And you? Did you-”

Ouron shook his head, “I...I was a mage. I was not there when Oakvale fell.”

“Fell?” the druid said, “Then you survived?”

“The Legion fell at the Dawnspire. I saw Baal die with my own eyes.”

“...”

“It's not right” Ouron said.

“You think this is a lie?” he asked.

“Not that,” Ouron knew it too. “You deserved better. I lived--”

“You lived to be here,” he said, “in all my life. You lived to be here.”

“You deserved better than to be a memory” Ouron said. He turned his head to his other side. The druid looked at him with pity in his eyes--even here--even before his own death.

“Ouron?” he asked. The mage nodded. To his shock the druid smiled.

“That's all any of us can be.”

“But--” the mage gaped.

“If this is the mother's plans for me, then I will see it through” the druid said. They stood alone, together now. The death before them faded to the dark. “But if you still live, then we have little time to bring you here.”

At last the mage knew what to say, the words came to him like a memory.

“The engine’s detonation will be our anchor point,” Ouron said, “its magic bends time inward, toward its core. If we work in tandem, we can bring you to me.”

“Or you to me,” the druid said, “have you done this before?”

“Only once, and I had help” Ouron said.

“Then I will trust your guidance, elder mage” the druid said. About them the sleeping dream faded at its edges--the Shan’do in his own time began to wake.

“You honor me” Ouron said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” the druid said, “I trust myself, don’t you?”

Spring

Shan’do Nethermoon worked astride to worlds. In his life he walked from vale to vale, gathering the means to ensure his people’s future--wherever they may be. In his dreams he studied in his Other’s company, and grew to know himself better with the passing days. They were not alike, not wholly, but both lived in tandem as they could. At times they met their task gladly, and others mourned in equal parts for failures real and dreamt. The elder took the entwood flesh, and in his heart prepared his Order’s final secret gift.

Despite it all, when the last night fell, they met within the dream to make ready for the dawn.

“Shan’do” the mage said, “I’ve watched your life unfold before me. I’ve felt and seen things none should see.”

The druid for his part smiled sadly, “A burden we now share, my friend. To see a life not lived...it can’t have been an easy thing.”

“I made my choice, Shan’do. I had nothing left to lose. But you--your order--”

The druid held his hand and stopped the thought at once.

“Nothing grows from nothing, Ouron. For the tree to bloom, the seed must die.”

Ouron felt the dream stir. This time though, it turned at its center. Somewhere another elf, in another life, edged away from deepest slumber. The golden dream of seven thousand years at last passed as all dreams do.

And with the end of winter came the spring.

From deep within the Oakvale den, Ouron Nethermoon’s eyes opened wide from sleep. The dirt of death fell from his flesh and robes--his eye of wicker gold burning like a cresting copper star. At last his lungs drank air, his body ley, his soul sweet exhilaration, love, and grief. For two lifetimes worth his being roared with the essence of living! From the darkened hole he whooped to the sun above--its light fell on his fallen twin.

The impulse took him.

“Share the gift” his hand spoke as verdant miracle twisted in his fingertips. There was still time.

He let the instinct of his heart guide his stride, and leapt upon the sleeping ent. With defiant cry against all sense he beat his hands into the ancient’s open chest. Great thumping cracks shook wood and burrow too, as the rabbit hole above them broke and widened.

THOOM

CRACK

With every strike he hammered life into his brother’s fallen heart--the sun now on his back--he worked for all the world to see. Raising wildly hand to sky, he watched the light, ley, and viridescent life gather up his arm--to save--TO LIVE.

Oakvale roared with their ascension--with quaking steps they strode the forest vale reborn, and from his other’s flowering head he called for all the world to hear.

“I AM OURON NETHERMOON.”

#ouron nethermoon #oakvale warder #prestige class #oakvale #the sunguard #prestige class story

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qtakesams · 5 years

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Is Traveling Really Therapeutic?

For those of you who haven’t followed my social media this year (I really apologize for how showy I can be on Facebook), 2019 has been a really powerful year of my life.

In the first week of January, I took a weekend trip to Toronto with two of my best friends. We did everything from the driving to the hotel booking to the meal planning. It was intense and so, so much fun. Over my spring break, my dad and I took a week trip out to California, Nevada, and Arizona. We started in Vegas, worked our way the entire way through Death Valley into the Sierras, and back down to Willow Beach. In the span of four days, I fell in love with the Sierras, Joshua Tree, and flying in planes. It was right before this trip ended that I received an email, lying in bed as the sun poked through my window shades, that I had earned an internship in Edgewater, Maryland, with the Smithsonian. Directly after spring break ended, I headed back to school where I remained until May 16th. Over Memorial Day weekend, I moved down to Maryland, where I lived until August 2nd. Two weeks later, I hopped on a plane to move to Amsterdam for study abroad, where I currently sit writing this post.

If you aren’t a seasoned traveler or you don’t have excessive wanderlust, your head is probably spinning from reading that paragraph. I don’t blame you, because my head spun while I wrote it.

There have been summers of my life where I was barely home at all, usually because of a lengthy field trip in June and then vacations in July and August. Yet, this has been the first year of my life where I have truly been everywhere, up and down, side to side. Every minute of every day. Every month had a new place, a new adventure.

I’ve been in Amsterdam almost a full month now (more on this later). Yet, I’m still having the moments where I leave class or get off the tram or open my curtains in the morning and think holy shit, I live here. This city is one I’ve dreamt about visiting for my entire life. Nothing is more striking than walking down a narrow, brick street in Amsterdam West and realizing you’ve seen a picture of it in National Geographic.

I grew up watching Bindi Irwin, Malala Yousufzai, Malia Obama. These young women are all my age, women who started globetrotting before they started high school. Their shows, books, and photos have instilled in me dreams of journalism in the Middle East, making a difference in the animal kingdom, and kickstarting campaigns that work toward reducing sexual stigmas against women. If the amount of traveling and adventure I’ve had in 2019 had taught me anything, it taught me, finally, that the world is big, but I am bigger, and I can do the things I want to do.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how “The Year Quinn Goes Everywhere” ended up being the last year of this decade. In 2010, I was an annoying, awkward, anxiety-riddled fifth grader who had no idea where I stood in the world. In one single decade of the 2010’s, I battled middle school, high school, and over two years of college. I flew threw my teenage years directly into my early twenties where I am now. I changed a lot, in so many ways. Quite honestly, if I had a time machine, I might use it to return to that 2010 Quinn and show her what she’d turn into by 2020. That said, I’m not sure she’d believe me.

This rambling brings me to the purpose of this blog post: is traveling as educating and therapeutic as we are led to believe?

My first year of college, I didn’t do very much outside of academics. Multiple things were occurring in my life that I disliked strongly but didn’t have the courage to end because I didn’t think I could. This last year, a few major changes happened in my life that for once, I welcomed with open arms. Then the spring semester happened. My social life was awesome, and my grades stayed mostly decent, but I felt drained from the life changes and my mental health dipped a little. Not a lot, but enough to feel disappointed in myself. For about a month, (this is my first time admitting this), I strongly considered dropping out of college, not sure if I had what it took to keep going. I told myself to finish what I’d started, to prove to the world that average kids like me could still make something of themselves. I suppose, ultimately, I realized I needed to keep going because 2010 Quinn had kept going, and she’d made it. If I kept going, I would make it, even if it was a difficult journey.

A love of travel is something I think I love, partly, because it runs through my family’s blood. On my father’s side of the family, there are seven cousins. I am the youngest, and my oldest cousin is roughly eight years older than me. Between all of us, we’ve lived in different countries throughout Europe, South America, and North America. Between the cousins and the parents and the grandfather, the 16 of us or so have covered every continent on Earth, dozens of countries, and so, so many cultures. If I didn’t have excessive wanderlust, I’d be kicked out of my family.

I know I’ll get backlash for saying this, but I do not like the way our current governmental administration looks at the rest of the world. I don’t like “America First” or “Make America Great Again”. I dislike these phrases because they isolate us. They prohibit us from the ability to walk a mile in another’s shoes. They imply that we used to be something fantastic and then we weren’t, for a long time. Our administration tells migrants and refugees they are not welcome here or they should go home, when in fact our country is founded upon immigrants and the work, they do to keep themselves alive. It’s occurred to me several times that our administration focuses on these phrases because they have never worried about anything, or anyone, else but themselves.

This, my friend, is where traveling comes in. Just by visiting Toronto, Death Valley, and Amsterdam, I’ve seen ways of life that are entirely different from my own. There are differences in safety measures, environmental protection, and the way homeless people will react to your presence. Differences in grocery stores, the way people hold doors open, and food preparation. Mind-blowing little things you could possibly only notice if you travel to these different places.

In some ways, 2019 has been one giant therapy session for me so far. I’ve learned (thus far) how independent I can be—how well I can take care of myself when nobody else can do it for me. I’ve looked some of my greatest fears (more on these later) in the face and told them to fuck off. Traveling forces you to leave your comfort zone. It forces you to expose the raw parts of you to the literal, worldwide public audience that watches you navigate an airport or a new city.

I’ve cried a lot this year, sometimes from sadness and sometimes from being so happy I cannot contain it all. I’ve smiled so much that I think any wrinkles I started developing have dissipated. Until this year, when I started going on so many trips, I never realized how trapped I feel in my hometown. Of course, I love going home for a few weeks at a time, specifically during the holidays. Yet, whenever I return to the town I grew up in and I drive past my high school, I feel myself reverting back to who I was as a teenager. The overly introverted, shy kid who doesn’t know where she’s going. I don’t dislike this version of myself, but I’m still glad she’s gone, and I never want to return to her.

At the end of this year, I think I’m going to get to look back at my adventures and realize how much I’ve changed. Or at least, I hope so. I feel refreshed and new, and hopefully I’ll give off similar vibes when I come home in a few months. And, I’ll get to answer once and for all if this year was as therapeutic as it currently feels.

Mostly, I hope that somewhere out in space, wherever that fifth grade, 2010 Quinn is, that she can deem herself proud of me. I’m obscenely proud of her, and somehow, I think she knows that.

#studyAbroad #Amsterdam #change #travel #2019

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colette-assaf · 5 years

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4th Sunday, Year C. 3rd February, A.D. 2019, St Dominic’s, Flemington

Saint Luke in his Gospel records various reactions to Our Lord’s appearance in the synagogue of Nazareth, His home-town. At first, some were pleased and impressed by His eloquence; but others were jealous of the miracles He had done for others and not done for them, His own folk, in His own village. Already the mystery of the Lord’s Cross begins to appear – opposition and anger and outright denial of His claims.

By the grace of God, we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. Every Sunday we hear something of what Jesus said and did – and we do not doubt its accuracy. Sometimes a saying or parable may be hard to understand, or hard to follow, but we do not doubt that the Lord said it, and that there is a message for us. It is good to be reminded of how well-founded is the teaching enshrined in the Four Gospels. They are documents inspired by the Holy Spirit – containing the Word of God, a major part – the most important part – of the Holy Bible. But to bolster our faith, it is good to know that even as ordinary historical documents, they are trustworthy historical accounts.

The following is based on “Apologetics” by Archbishop M. Sheehan, chapter 5:

A work must be accepted as historical, or, in other words, as a faithful narrative of past events: (1) if it is genuine, that is, if it is the work of the one said to be the author; (2) if its author is trustworthy, which means he was well-informed and truthful; (3) if it is intact, if the text is as the author wrote it – not changed or mutilated. – All these conditions are fulfilled in the case of the New Testament writings.

When were the Gospels written? I am sure some people would say, “Hundreds of years after Christ – that’s why they contain exaggerations and made-up stories.” False! The first three Gospels were written within the lifetime of those who had seen and known Christ. As we know, the Gospels were authored by Saints Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They were placed in that order from the first centuries, because that was the order of their writing. St Matthew probably wrote first; St Mark probably wrote between 50 and 60 A.D.; St Luke, some time before the year 60. As Our Lord died about the year 33 A.D., these three Gospels were written when everyone remembered what had happened. The Evangelists could not have fabricated stories and sayings, even if they wanted to. St John’s Gospel, written last, supplements the accounts of the other three, reporting speeches and miracles not mentioned by the others.

Were the authors well-informed? They show their complete familiarity with the religion and customs of the Jewish people. They were contemporaries, or in close touch with contemporaries, of the events they narrate: Modern scholarship has failed to detect any error on the part of the Evangelists in the countless references to geography and to the political, social, and religious conditions of Palestine at the time of Christ. Archaeological discoveries in the 20th century have all confirmed the truth of the Gospel accounts.

They knew the facts: Matthew and John had been companions of Christ for three years. Mark and Luke had lived in constant contact with His contemporaries. The vividness and detail of the narrative can only spring from personal contact with the events recorded.

So, they could have written a truthful account – but did they?

Were the Four Evangelists trustworthy? The answer is Yes: because they knew the facts and truthfully recorded them. They were honest people:

- Their holy lives, and their sufferings in witnessing to the truths set forth in their Gospels guarantee their sincerity.

- They had nothing to gain but everything to lose by testifying to the sanctity and the Divinity of Christ.

- They could not have been untruthful, even if they wanted to: they wrote for contemporaries of the events they narrate, or for people who had known those contemporaries, and could not have got away with a false account.

- They could not have invented their portrait of Christ. His unique character so noble, so lovable, so inspiring, so original, is quite beyond the inventive capacity of such men. The Evangelists Matthew, Mark and John, like every Jew of their day, believed that the Messiah would come to restore the kingdom of David. Not one of them ever dreamt, before Christ’s appearance, that He would come to found a spiritual kingdom, to preach meekness, humility, and brotherly love, and to live a life of poverty and persecution, culminating in the agony of the Cross.

But did anyone tamper with the texts of the Gospels? Are they the same as they were written? As soon as they were written, the Gospels were spread by the Apostles and missionaries all over the Roman Empire & beyond, to the newly founded Christian communities. Within a few decades the Gospels were all over the Greek-speaking world. From the earliest times, the Gospels were read at Sunday Mass. It would have been impossible to change the text – because there were copies of the Gospels everywhere, and translations too. Today, when we compare all the surviving ancient manuscripts, we see the differences between them are tiny. There are copying mistakes; but substantially, the text of all four Gospels is the same.

The Gospels pass the tests of authenticity and reliability far beyond all other ancient literature. Writers such as Plato and Aristotle, Julius Caesar and Cicero, were popular and often copied and spread around – but nowhere near the number of copies made of the Gospels. The Four Gospels were – and are – the most quoted, most copied, most read and most diffused of all literature of ancient times. Whoever would dismiss the New Testament must logically reject all written sources of ancient history and literature.

But did Christ really perform all those miracles? The Lord’s miracles cannot be explained away. They were performed in public, before friends and enemies. The miracles of Christ were so frequent, the witnesses so numerous, and the evidence so stark, that not even Christ’s enemies disputed the fact of their occurrence. Instead, they ascribed them to the power of the devil, or defied Him to perform another one in His own favour. Many of both the beneficiaries and the eye-witnesses of Christ’s miracles were alive for decades after the miracles themselves, and stood as living proofs and witnesses to their occurrence. Following Lazarus’ raising from the dead, for example, there would have been people alive for decades afterwards, who attended his burial and saw him emerge alive from the tomb, long after his well-attended first funeral. Some of them might have gone to his second funeral!

Faith is a gift from God. We believe because we have received this gift. At the same time, faith is reasonable, and never contrary to reason. Our religion is God-given but is also about a historical reality, attested to by honest and reliable eye-witnesses: the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Let us rejoice in the authenticity of our religion and its sources; let us thank God for showing us how well-founded is our faith. Thanks be to God for putting us in touch with this historical reality, giving us a true hope in this life, and the assurance of a heavenly destiny. 

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pearycider · 3 years

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Oof last night I dreamt an entire Laika movie and it was so weird. So I was the main character (not me, I saw the dream through her eyes) and there was this weird limbo sort of place in an airport like building and the only place you could go was to this weird other dimension made up of different rooms that were like tiny different worlds that you had to complete a puzzle in order to escape to the next (functionally like infinity train, but in practice it was completely different, the worlds were completely empty and felt sort of wrong. Lots of things pulsed that were not meant to pulsate like chairs and things) so eventually you complete a go around and you go back to the airport and get your name marked off in a book for that day, and then you have to go back to the rest of the normal word to find somewhere to sleep that night.

That’s normally, but the second day, I was brought in by a man who looked like my old maths teacher (tall, bald, used to be a rugby player build, pretty stern) who brought me to his office to the left of the wee owl like man with the book. I can’t remember what the conversation was about but it was scary and He told me to wait until a door at the end of the long L shaped corridor opened, so I had to stay there all night waiting and fell asleep. When I woke up the door was open so I went through.

It was another of those puzzle sets of rooms, except everything was tinted red and made out of blocks of the same living, furry thing that moved like it was alive but when you touched it it felt like that foam that you put flowers in to make a display and it breathed. So i manage to get through these rooms (can’t remember how) but this one is longer and odder than all the others, and unlike the others this one is populated. There are humanoid creatures with animal faces (think of egyption gods) who are pretty chill mostly and we talked about things and got on well. In one of them is a boy who is stuck in the corridor, so we make a deal to keep going together cause we get along well and he’s sort of freaked out. He seems to know all of the other creatures we see and they talk a little about a father who is not pleased.

So eventually we manage to get back to the airport and this guy is acting like he’s never seen it before, what’s this and what’s that to pretty normal things. So we go to stamp off our names on the book and his name isn’t there and the owl man seems pretty uncomfortable hearing it, though not like he completely recognises it. Like it’s a name he heard someone shout for in a crowd of people. Any who we meet up with my friends who are about to go back to the normal world to get some sleep, so we go down woth them. To get down there is this sort of monorail thing that you need to put a penny in to start. It’s a lot like a run down minimalistic miniature train (like one that would go around a park) but much faster. The airport is far above the normal world so the tracks go down in a sort of spiral. It looks like the tracks are almost floating in the air. So yon wee fellow doesn’t have any money so I put in one of my pennies in for him and we go down.

We’re in the normal world now, it’s about half seven on an early summer day. We have time, and I need to scavenge for more pennies and this boyo is pretty confused about what’s going on so we decide to go to Disneyland! Or not. In the dream it was called Disneyland but it was very definitely not. It was this very cheap tiny, fun fair masquerading as a theme park. It was built on top of two hills. One was pretty empty and the other had a tiny tower that must have been made of paper mache or some other cheap light material. There were a few rides at the bottom of the hill and some coin machines. You could recognise some of the people there from the airport mixed in with the normal people, betting their pennies away to try and gain a few more. we go up to the empty hill to watch over everything. There is a show on the other hill around the tower that we are looking at. It has a man dressed up as a magician surrounded by some guests. He is kicking at these sparks while waving his hands dramatically and the sparks are going up as fireworks. The wee guy is pretty entranced so whenever the crowd there leave we go up and see the show. The tower has been carried away due to technical difficulties so it’s just the magician.

At this point though the ground begins to shake. The man from the office appears but I low key think he’s the devil and starts shouting at us. Turns out the wee boyo is his son. Ooo drama!

So at this point in the dream there was a massive time skip which sucks because so much important clearly happened between there and the next part. It was explained in my dream as a really weird marketing gimmick. So the tickets to see the first half of the movie were free but to see the second half you had to tune in to a certain set of tv channels at a certain time and the next half was partially told through fake news reports presented by the real presenters for those stations. Then the next day you went back to the cinema and saw the rest of the movie.

So anywho I and this wee boy are in Japan now and we are running through this city. The ground has started rumbling. Now sinkholes are forming everywhere. People are screaming and trying to run away. It has become really hot and the sinkholes are glowing orange and spitting out lava. We stop running and turn around. There’s his Father huge in the sky, laughing. He says something like “I’m going to destroy you, and this entire world” (he says something much more sinister but I can’t remember and that’s the jist). So we turn around and say “go on then” and he looks a bit scared by this. So sink holes form around us and he clearly wants us to run, but we stand our ground. One starts to form around us bet the ground does nothing but rumble. We stamp once, and the hole sinks. The big man screams. There is an instant change of scenery. All the sound stops, and it looks like we are lying on the concrete. The animal creatures come up to us, their footsteps echoing about. They are holding various tools. One holds a sycthe, one holds a pitchfork, one holds a set of scales, one a book. They bend down and look us over, then walk away. As they walk away the world fades into white.

The happy theme starts playing. We are in a big field with a huge birch forest behind us. The sky is bright blue with a few clouds meandering across. The boy is playing football with some others. Everything is dirtier than the sterile airport, and brighter than the other world. I run up to him followed by a dog. In this dream it was my old dog, all young and bouncy. I say something about going home for tea. And we run off. The camera shifts like it has been dropped and you can see the characters running off. They fade over the horizon and the camera shut off.

I don’t know how well it would work as a laika movie, there are quite a few characters and the scene in japan is quite big, but that’s the style I dreamt it in. It could probably be a book if the edges were ironed out and you sorted out the structure. The penny imagery would need to be integrated properly and you would need some way to separate the airport people from the truely living. Then the son isn’t really one of the airport prople so you’d need to distinguish him from the others. There were a few more characters that were more fully fleshed out in the dream that I didn’t include here. It also ended slightly differently around a table, with various characters either passed on too or having new jobs like a dog grim reaper randomly. Also in the part of Japan instead of stomping it was just the girl character and she sawed off her arm, but the entire effect of the scene was the same and the way I wrote it above was less gristley and made more sense.

#laika studios #weirdly structured dreams #dream diary #pears thoughts #i should start a dream diary I always have these weirdly structured dreams

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thebluesideofmyworld · 6 years

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The Good Side - A Klance One-Shot

Summary: Alternate Universe. Keith was a musician who broke up with Lance three years ago. Now he met up again with Lance, and he felt like he owed Lance an apology.

(Based on The Good Side - Troye Sivan)

Word count: 2000 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

It was still a bit cold for Spring. But at least, the cold was not as freezing as in Winter. As Keith walked on the pavement, he could see the green grass peeking in, like sparks of a new hope.

A new hope of a new life, Keith quietly thought to himself, as his feet took him to the coffee shop.

Keith stopped in front of the once-so-familiar door. He pulled down the hood of his sweater as he looked up at the sign above the door.

It hasn’t changed.

It was weird, but also kind of comforting to find that there were things that remained the same, even after so many other things have changed.

Keith pushed the door open and stepped in.

It was still early, maybe even too early considering it was a Saturday morning. So there were not many people in the coffee shop. There was only an old man, reading a newspaper and didn’t seem to care about the world around him. And of course, there was Shiro, standing behind the counter.

Shiro looked up at Keith from something that he was reading. Once their eyes met, his brows raised up as his eyes widened.

“Keith?”

Keith smiled as he walked closer to the counter.

“Shiro,” he said, nodding at the barista. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Same old thing.” Shiro laughed lightly. “How are you?” Shiro asked back as he crossed his arms over the counter, leaning forward.

“I’m…alright?” Keith said, running his hand over his head a bit awkwardly.

Shiro tilted his head, smiling knowingly. “I thought you have forgotten about me. And this coffee shop.”

Keith chuckled. “No, of course no,” he said as he shook his head. He was not lying. He would never forget how Shiro let him sit for hours in one of the corners as he tried to come up with something good enough for his songs.

“I’m sorry that… I’ve been… you know…” Keith’s voice faltered as he realized he didn’t really know what to say. All the tour and recording session and everything had taken his time. But he was not sure that those were reasons good enough to lost contact with his old friends. He was not sure how to explain how busy he had been without sounding like he was showing off.

Shiro smiled knowingly at him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you’ve been busy. And it’s nice, you know? Knowing that you’ve been doing well with your music.”

Keith looked up, meeting Shiro’s eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded. “Anyway,” he said, rubbing both hands on his apron. “What brings you here today?”

That question made Keith realize his first reason of why he came here.

“I’m…meeting someone here.”

Shiro arched a questioning eyebrow. “Is it someone I know?”

“Lance.”

There was a second of silence once the name slipped from his lips.

Just a second of silence, but enough for Keith to realize how long had it been since the last time he said the name in front of other people, instead of just whispering the name into the silence of dark sleepless nights.

Shiro did not actually look surprised. If there was any expression on his face, it was just a hint of concern.

“Okay, then,” he said, nodding at Keith. “What can I get you while you’re waiting?”

“Just a cappuccino, please?” Keith said, grateful that Shiro didn’t ask anything further.

“Sure,” Shiro smiled. “It will be right up.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. He turned around on his heels and made his way to the rows of tables in the coffee shop.

Keith took a seat on the table in the corner, right next to the window. He fished his phone out, the one that he used only for personal matters. He had another one that he used for work that he left at home. It’s one of his rare day-offs, and he didn’t want to be reminded of the other world where he had responsibilities as a professional in his field.

He had enough of his profession came in the way of his personal life.

He checked the time. He knew that he was early. It was not exactly 9 o’clock yet. And to be honest, Keith did not expect Lance to be on time. He knew Lance.

No, scratch that. I used to know Lance, Keith thought, quite bitterly. It’s been three years. Maybe he has changed.

Keith looked up to the door when he heard the bell rang cheerfully as the door pushed open.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Lance stepped in.

He froze as he watched Lance walked to the counter and greeted Shiro.

Keith could only see Lance’s back from where he was sitting. But he could still imagine the half-smile that he knew Lance was wearing as he watched Shiro talking to Lance.

He wrote that one song while thinking about that half-smile.

Lance turned around on his heels, and in an instant, their eyes met.

Keith thought he was ready.

He was wrong. Because as Lance walked towards him, that half-smile curling up just a little wider, Keith wondered what it was on his minds that made him decided to walk away.

“Keith! Hey!” Lance greeted him as he stopped next to the table.

Keith stared at him. “Hey,” he said.

For a split second, he wondered what he should do. How should you greet someone who used to be your boyfriend when you meet him again after three years?

Should he stand up and hug him?

Should he shake his hand?

But Lance already sat down on the chair in front of him, folding his arms on the table.

“So,” he said, tilting his head as he kept his eyes level at Keith’s. “What’s up, Keith?”

The smile on his lips was soft and genuine, and his eyes looked warm.

Keith hated to remember that he once made those eyes looked so hollow and broken.

“How have you been?” Lance asked.

Keith bit his lower lip. A strange feeling of guilt creeping in. A broken relationship sometimes was not even.

They broke up, and while Keith signed a contract with a recording company, Lance continued his part-time job in a bookshop.

He moved to New York, where his recording company had a headquarter, and Lance stayed here in this college town where everything was more quiet in Summer.

He traveled the world while Lance struggled with his study before he finally got his degree in Computer Engineering.

“I’m…good,” Keith said, nodding at Lance, trying to smile.

He felt like he owed an apology.

“Good to hear that,” Lance said, his smile didn’t slip away, his eyes kept on shining. “Your songs are everywhere, you know. It’s almost felt like you’ve never left this town,” Lance said and laughed lightly.

Keith wondered whether Lance knew that the songs were about him. That the songs were about them. About a love story that was once so good but had to end anyway.

“How about you?” Keith asked. He knew bits and pieces of what had been happening with Lance from what Pidge told him. But he wanted to hear it from Lance. So he could tell Lance how proud he was of him for all the things that he had done. How happy he was to see that Lance had moved on.

Lance grinned. “I graduated last year,” he said. “And let me tell you one thing, you are now talking to one of the system developers in Altea.”

“Really?” Keith raised his brows. “That’s great! Tell me more.”

Lance grinned. He started talking. And for a while, Keith felt like they were back to the good old times five years ago, when they just had their first date here in this coffee shop, at the exact same table.

More than an hour later, it was Keith’s phone going off that stopped their conversation. The screen showed the picture of the caller, and Keith quickly swiped his finger on the screen to reject the call. But when he looked up at Lance again, he knew that it was too late.

There was something bittersweet in Lance’s small smile.

“So the rumor is true, huh?” Lance said.

The guilt clenched his heart as Keith quickly shoved his phone into his pocket.

“It wasn’t…” he stopped, because telling Lance that it was not like what it looked like would be a lie. What should he tell him then?

That it just happened? That it was not his plan but before he knew it, it already went a little bit too far?

Keith bit his lower lip, frantically trying to find something to say.

But Lance already leaned forward a little.

“Hey,” Lance said. “Don’t worry. I won’t break the news to any gossip magazine,” he said. He grinned like he was joking, but the light in his eyes was too dim.

Keith tried to stretch his lips into a smile. “Thanks,” he said, hoping that Lance would understand.

Lance stared at him in silence for a while with a strange expression.

“Is it true, though?”

Something constricted in Keith’s chest as he gave him a single nod.

“Is he treating you well?”

Keith nodded again, this time with a small smile that he hoped was reassuring enough.

“He is.”

Somehow, Keith felt like a heavy weight was lifted off his chest when he saw the genuine smile on Lance’s lips.

“Good,” Lance said. “You deserve someone who can treat you well.”

Keith’s heart was in his throat and he wished, he really wished that he could tell Lance that Lance did nothing wrong. That when they were together Lance had always made him feel so safe, so special. So loved.

It was his fault, maybe.

Or should he blame it on fate?

Because was it still his fault if their breakup seemed to give him the good side of things, give him things that he had always dreamt about?

“Thank you, Lance,” he said, hoping that Lance knew that what he meant was far beyond that.

(Thank you for everything. And I am sorry for everything. I am sorry that it was harder for you than it was for me)

Keith kept his eyes at Lance. “And you too, Lance. You deserve to be happy.”

(You deserve the good things in life too)

Lance’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes as he nodded.

“Anyway,” Lance said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. “I really have to go now. I’ve promised Hunk that I will drive him to Chicago today.”

“Say hi to him from me, okay?”

“Will do,” Lance said as he stood up, sliding his hands into his pocket. “It was really nice. Meeting you again.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, returning his smile as he also stood up. “We should do this again sometimes.”

Lance chuckled. “Yeah. Sure. Let me know when you have the time between your concerts and traveling around the world.”

Keith opened his mouth to respond to that, but Lance was faster.

“But really,” Lance said, the soft smile was back on his lips. “Keep in touch, okay?”

Keith smiled back at him as he nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

This time, he knew that it was a promise that he would keep.

Lance took a step forward, and gave him a one-arm hug.

“Good luck with everything, okay Keith?”

A nostalgic feeling fleet in his mind as Keith inhaled the smell of ocean breeze from Lance that once used to be so familiar. He patted Lance’s back then pulled away.

“You too, Lance.”

Lance touched his forehead with his finger and gave Keith a small salute. Then he turned around, and walked away. Keith sat down and watched as Lance waved at Shiro. Lance reached for the doorknob. But then he turned his head to where Keith was sitting. He waved at Keith, then he pulled the door, and disappeared.

***

Author’s Notes: Thank you for reading! Kudos, comments and feedbacks are loved <3.

#Klance #Klance one shot #Voltron #Klance fanfic #Keith Voltron #Lance Voltron #Voltron fanfic

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theeagle-stories · 7 years

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Gadreel X Reader

(A/n)

I finally got back to writing again. This may be a bit rushed and there may be some mistakes, but I really wanted to post something.

I don’t own anything.

Word count:1696

Glass bottles littered the floor of the room. The first light of the day shone through the cracks in the curtain. The woman on the bed stirred and turned around, hiding her face from the bright rays of sunlight. As the minutes passed, the room filled with light and she Rose to a sitting position. A cracked mirror hung at the foot of the bed and when she looked at her reflection she did not recognise herself. Her eyes with black shirt and puffy her sunken cheeks were red and stained with dried out tears. Cheekbones protruded from the pale skin.

Turning to the side, legs hanging from the bed, her every muscle aching and her throat and lungs burning. She rose from the bed, stretching. With every step the bottles clinked together, creating a screeching Symphony of agony. She wobbled to the kitchen, opening the fridge, closing it again when she realised there was nothing worth eating. Sighing she pondered if she should venture outside. Making her mind up, she went to the bathroom to try and make yourself a bit more presentable.

Grabbing her coat, she opened the door to the harsh autumn wind, feeling slightly relieved that the weather reflected her inner turmoil.

She made her way down the street, shielding her face from the prying eyes of her neighbours. The bell above the door of the small store, dinged, making the clerk look towards her. Walking to the fridge, basket in hand, she filled it with whatever her hand came in contact with. Not even thinking, she went to the aisle of liqour picking up a few bottles of the strongest substance.

She paid for it and left almost as if in a trance, a slight stumble as she walked, earning worried glances from the passing men and women. The noise of the streets and speeding cars drowned out her thoughts, like a whirlwind of piercing screams. As she hurriedly unlock the door and slammed it shut behind her, her heart hammered in a chest and her lungs burned with effort. Her body sunk to the floor, hands shaking, fingers grabbing at her hair and her knees pulled to her torso.

It had been five years, yet she was still in as much agony as in the days after. She prayed to everyone, she could think of the first two years with no answer. She wanted to give up living, but knew that her parents would kick her back to the world of the Living, if she kicked the bucket too early.

A flutter reached her ears and she stopped breathing. Looking up, she saw a man standing in front of her. Even in her current state, she noticed how handsome he was. Tall, broad shoulders, incredible jawline and those gorgeous eyes. The eyes that seemed to reflect how she felt. They held as much sorrow as her heart.

She knew she should be fearful of this stranger, standing in her apartment, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be scared or to start yelling at him. She felt a strange connection between them and a need to comfort him.

Slowly she stood, on shaking legs, she moved towards him and before either one knew it, the young woman enveloped the man in a hug. He froze, not knowing what to do, but somehow he felt the need to do the same. And that he did, he moved his arms and if it was possible, hugged her tighter.

There they stood, for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other. Breathing heavily they pulled apart, but still holding on to one another.

“Who are you.”(Y/n) asked softly, looking up into his eyes.

The man took a beep breath, “my name is Gadreel.”

“Gadreel,” she echoed and for the first time in years, she smiled. Albeit a small, barely-there smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Gadreel had never witnessed anything as beautiful as this moment, the Garden didn’t compare. To him, this broken human was the most treasurable. He needed to piece her back together as much as he was capable.

“I’m (Y/n),” the woman told him, effectively halting his train of thought, “but I have a feeling that you somehow already knew that.”

“I did,” he looked down, “I heard you.”

“What?” she asked, a confused expression on her face.

“I heard your prayers.”

“You did? What are you?” letting go of the man, she stepped back.

He looked hurt, almost scared, “I am an Angel.” He saw the doubt on her face, ”you do not believe me?”

“How can I? If you heard me, why didn’t you come earlier?” (Y/n) questioned, not wanting to hope that he was actually there for her. Maybe he was just a figment of her imagination.

“I wanted to come find you, I truly did. But I couldn’t,” he told her, continuing; “I ... I was imprisoned in heaven.” The Angel looked down, but for some reason he felt, he could tell her.

Looking up once again he saw the bewildered look on her features, as she asked; “Why?”

“I caused the downfall of Man. I let the serpent into the Garden. Lucifer.”

(Y/n) mulled it over in her head for a minute or two. The silence on her part was causing the Angel to become uneasy. At last she opened her mouth; “did you do it on purpose?”

“No, but it still happened. My brothers and sisters locked me in a cell. When your voice, your prayers came through, I knew I had to get out and find you.”

“But if Angels exist, so does God, right?” with a nod from the man, she continued, “Why didn’t he answer, why didn’t he give me a sign? How did you get out and know where to find me?”

“Heaven fell,” he simply said.

After explaining everything, Gadreel was expecting her to tell him to leave. But she didn’t, she asked him to stay, “you can’t go back, you need a place to stay. Please,” she had almost begged.

So he stayed, not only because she was right or because he wanted to, but because they both needed it.

I had only been a few days since he first appeared, but (Y/n) could already feel the effects of his presence. He was there when she had a relapse, though he was a bit awkward, he did his best, and his best was good enough. She couldn’t ask for more.

He helped her around the apartment the first day, cleaning the mess five years of grief had caused. He helped with food and when she fell asleep and was plagued with nightmares and restlessness, he was there to ease her mind.

While she slept, the Angel thought. He had gotten away from Metatron, but he was not out of the woods yet. Metatron could still find him. And he needed to do something to keep (Y/n) safe.

He wrote a letter to the young woman and left to find his brother and the Winchesters.

When (Y/n) woke up, she couldn’t find the Angel, he would sit and read in the chair in the corner. She got up and looked everywhere in the apartment, but he was gone. As she paced around, she started to think it was all just a hallucination or that she had dreamt it. Just as the thought had set, she looked at the chair, his chair, again and saw a folded piece of paper addressed to her. She reached forward and took it delicately between her fingers. Unfolding it, she began to read it.

Dear (Y/n)

I have gone to help my brother stop Metatron. I do not want to leave, but for you to be safe I need to. I promise, if possible, I will come back to you.

I have come to realise that you mean a lot to me, if not everything.

You have shown me kindness and if what I am feeling towards you, is what I think it is, I need to come back.

I could not bear to tell you this in person.

For now, farewell.

Gadreel

It had been a couple of days since Gadreel left, his letter brought little comfort but she still had opened that he would come back. Day out and day in her ears were peeled, listening for that light flutter, signalling his arrival.

She kept the apartment clean, herself nourished and she even ventured outside again.

One night, as she sat on the couch, book in hand and the letter on the table beside her, a knock came from the front door followed by the ringing of the doorbell. She placed the letter on the page and closed the book, stood up and walked the small distance to the door.

As she walked, her legs wobbly from the position she sat in, she wondered who it could be. She had no family nor any friends, it couldn’t be anyone wanting to complain, she made little to no noise.

Opening the door, her heart skipped a beat and she froze. In front of her stood Gadreel, clothes ragged and worn, his hair and face caked in dirt and splotched with something that looked like dried blood. Despite the condition he was in, she rushed forward and encased him in a tight hug. He moved his arms, hugging her back even tighter, if possible, and pressed his face into her hair.

The man breathed heavily, inhaling the scent of her fruity shampoo, his newly acquired emotions magnified tenfold. Having spent time with Castiel, he finally figured out what he had been feeling towards the young woman in his arms.

“I was confused before, I did not know what I was feeling, other than the need to protect and help you. But I know now, it is love,” Gadreel said, smiling into her hair.

She pulled away, shocked, “you love me?”

“Yes.”

(Y/n) smiled, reaching up to wound her arms around his neck. She looked a him lovingly, “I love you too, Gadreel.” As she spoke she leaned in and when his name was uttered, she pressed her lips to his.

#oneshot #fanfic #imagine #x reader #gadreel imagine #gadreel x reader #spn x reader #spn #supernatural #supernatural imagine

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spectrogramblog · 7 years

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The Id of L.A.

“There’s a feeling I get when I look to the West”…those are the first lyrics of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven. When the band would come into town, they would take over two entire floors of the Hyatt Sunset. It was coined, appropriately enough, the “riot house”. Its hallways and suites adorned by groupies and cocaine, sex and parties. What else is new in a town infamous for excess? Was this heaven? Not exactly a celestial kingdom, but, Los Angeles, the City of Angels, has had its share of both luminaries and would be stars among its population.

A continuous renewal and recycle of street corner prophets, backroom political dealmakers, and rock star poets. The city of Jim Morrison, Charles Bukowski, Biddy Thompson, Kenneth Hahn, and even George Lopez. Shamans, poets, politicians, jokers. Their talent and fortitude have created legends. Heroes to some, nuisances to others, these Angelenos personify the City of Los Angeles. Bicultural before the term even existed. These Angelenos have had their feet in the sand, their heads in the clouds, their faces to the wind, their hands in the “masa”. Their hearts are the center of Los Angeles. That center being Hollywood Boulevard, Barney’s Beanery, Olvera Street, or Tommy’s Hamburgers stand all at once. It is both Olvera Street and Pershing Square, and the new Cathedral and L.A. Live. The heart of Los Angeles beats everywhere, it continues to mystify, and remains one of the great cities of the world.

Los Angeles excites the spirit, delights the palate, and bridges the worlds of imagination, illusion, and reality. This wondrous town both fixates and creates. Angelenos, be they real or fiction, have the unique ability of living in three worlds: the dream, the reality, and the in-between. Since the official founding in 1781, Los Angeles, like many great cities of the world: New York, Mexico City, or Tokyo, has, along with its citizens-Angelenos, forged itself this unique identity…the “sad flower in the sand”.

Identity and Los Angeles. The terms and subject matter complement each other so well. Carey McWilliams wrote of Los Angeles as an ethnic and cultural “archipelago”. A city where identity tends to vary from neighborhood to neighborhood. Contrary to places like Mexico City or New York, which seem be virtually identical in their descriptions: subways and metros, overcrowded and rambunctious; Los Angeles and its enclaves do not have such easy identifiers. East L.A can be identified not just by the Chicano/Mexican immigrant culture of tamaleras, lowriders, and homeboys. What comes to mind are second and third generation Eastsiders that are college grads with real estate careers and ties to city politics. The Westside isn’t only falafel stands, liberals and money. We have Venice, Inglewood and Little Osaka on Sawtelle. Even Hollywood’s Walk of Fame doesn’t just tell the story of stardom and tourism. Walk a mile east in any Angeleno’s shoes. You’ll be either in Little Armenia or the Thai/Filipino district. Just a few steps away from any common city artery, the Sunset Boulevards and the Olympics; the real Los Angeles comes to life. One or two block away from these primary arteries of life, we find the blood and the sand.

Immigrants, foreigners, bankers, actors, writers, students, homemakers. Every single one of them-dreamers. They come to Hollywood for the movies, perhaps at a chance to work in television or the film industry. Some come for schooling; others think they will do the educating. One thing is for sure, all we be taught a lesson.

Many also come from Asia or Latin America to reunite with relatives and family. They reestablish and reinvent themselves: get some work as nannies or busboys, and make just enough money to send home every month. Some may even work two full time jobs to make ends meet. Aspiring to save, forging their nest eggs with sweat equity. Households brimming with tias and sobrinos, abuelos y primos. One day, they will have enough to buy a little plot back in their homeland. But then, reality hits. They ARE home now. This is it.

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans” (John Lennon). But when did this all occur? Did the smog in the L.A. Skyline dull their senses? If the afternoon sunlight on a recent December day has anything to do with it, time has now moved ahead. It waits for no one. Everyone’s kitchen overlooks a road now. Not many Angelenos yearn for the wondrous, blissful California days of Helen Hunt Jackson’s character, Senora Moreno. Since the earliest migrations of indigenous settlers, from the Tongva settlers near the L.A River, to the Spanish/Mexican missionaries establishing El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora de Los Angeles y Porciuncula, up to the modern day, the modern day Angeleno, if not careful, looks out their kitchen window and can only hope to be cognizant of watching time, school, work, and many dreams come and go. Los Angeles, and its denizens, are not as suspended in time as they are captive to the city’s imagination.

Absorbed into the cries of the Santa Ana winds are the tears of Ruben Salazar, the prolific L.A. Times writer, killed by an LAPD tear gas container. Into the night sky, like the gaseous night’s view from Griffith Observatory go the frustrations of Armenian immigrants. They wait to commemorate their homeland’s tragic genocide on the streets of Hollywood, Burbank, and Glendale. And what of the people dying to get here? Where else in the world to customs and port officials, on various occasions, deal with international human trafficking on such a distinct level? From coyotes to cargo bins, from San Pedro to safe houses in El Monte, people feel the need to get here.

Los Angeles, what is the song you cry out? You are a siren dressed in coastal sage. Your phoenix chaparral burns bright among your anointed ones. The faithful, the faithless, the dreamers and the realists. The Tod Hacketts, Arturo Bandinis, Nathanael Wests, and the John Fantes: whose yearnings have been engulfed by the lachrymal Pacific; you sing the echoes of the millions that have cried their way home, to you. Your song is the Santa Ana wind, the foehn winds- howling through the canyons and passes. The Santa Monica Mountains and the Cahuenga corridor abound with the energy of your music. Echoing your own identity, you sing the song of your citizens’ past, present, and future. Los Angeles, the City of Quartz, is the anthropomorphic manifestation of its citizens. Citizens whose goals, wishes, and dreams attained or unattained, come in the form of a Bunker Hill view, a Santa Monica sunset, a carbon monoxide-stained palm tree, or an unfinished oil painting.

Fante’s Arturo Bandini had his dreams. Whether he envisioned himself a great author, the romancing playboy, or the keen observer, Bandini dreamt of his success and merit. Hopeful, not of the accomplishments, but of achieving them in Los Angeles. The reader doesn’t seem to doubt his talent. But his dreams of success, of merit, seem captive to his routine. A routine intrinsically raveled in the DNA of Los Angeles. A double helix of illusion and failure. “I went to the restaurant where I always went to the restaurant…I walked out of the restaurant, stood before an imaginary pitcher, and swatted a home run over the fence.” In this state, Bandini, the somnambulist, was captive to his imagination. The delirium of a child nestled in the bosom of Our Lady of the Angels. The city cradles and nurses its own. Each Angeleno feeds from the trough, suckles on the teat of the mother.”

The mother feeds her children. Hopes and prayers, the jungle leads to “la Calle de la Eternidad”…with thirty foot arms and hands stretched out to the heavens, reaching for the stars, muralist Johanna Poethig and her collaborators strove for the city to reach its people. The dreams of all its migrants, stretching out to their respective places of origin. The mural, on Broadway, not only reaches out sixty feet above, but stretches to the other “streets of eternity” across the globe, transcending time and space. It evokes the observer’s memory that, to be a citizen of Los Angeles-doesn’t imply having to give up one’s original roots. As any transplant or “native” Angeleno. “Where are you from? Oh, I’m from here, but, originally…”

“She had to leave Los Angeles. She found it hard to say goodbye to her own best friend. She bought a clock on Hollywood Boulevard the day she left. It felt sad.” (X-Los Angeles). These lyrics, taken from the title track of the seminal L.A. punk rock band X’s eponymous album, Los Angeles, tells the story of mid-western girl who just can’t handle her life in Los Angeles anymore. “All her toys wore out in black and her boys had too. She started to hate every nigger and Jew. Every Mexican that gave her a lot of shit. Every homosexual and the idle rich.” Can any other song tie together both the love/hate relationship with this city any better? Written more than thirty years ago, the band was young, nihilistic. Now, well into middle age, they perform the song to newer generations of fans. New and old fans alike, the listener can be a native Angeleno, a punk rock fan in Belgium, or anywhere across the globe. The track, Los Angeles, resonates pungently of urgency and regret. Stay or go. Love it or leave it. Regardless of where one stands, living in Los Angeles, the resident becomes a part of the city. You end up loving it. Even when one has to part ways with it.

Why do so many come here? An often asked question. “Why? Because if he or she can make it here, then I can definitely handle this place. I mean, it’s not New York!” Better to just say “the weather” or the “California Blonde” than to open a can of worms. The new transplant under estimates the ego and heart of this city. Travelers come to envy those that are “fortunate” enough to reside in L.A. Yes the smog and sun can get to you. Everything collides and contracts here. Illusion and disillusion meet where Broadway and Calle de la Eternidad become one.

A commercial airplane lands at LAX, upon arrival, the traveler gets in their car, begins their trek into Los Angeles. Once at their destination, the majority always tend to ask the same question…”Am I here yet? Is this L.A?” Almost as if a double take is necessary to confirm one’s bearings? Where is the Hollywood sign? What about Compton, In-N-Out, or Pinks? Where do the movie stars live? All commonplace questions. Run of the mill superficial questions for, what they believe to be, a superficial town. It is never, “When and where was the city founded?” or “take me to Olvera Street”.

In stark contrast, upon departure, the business traveler or vacationer seems to always be in a hurry to leave the city. Not knowing if what they just experienced was truly a visit to Los Angeles or just a tour of the Universal Studios backlot. One thing is certain of the visitor to Los Angeles, be their visit short term or tenured, everyone wants to come back. The question is if the City’s enchantments are what beckon the visitor of if it is the illusion and fabrication of many a celluloid dream, superseding even the imagination of a child, that call one back to Paradise City.

The Angeleno also never fully appreciates the solitude of the Hollywood Hills or the mountains that roll down to the ocean. It is, simply put, a given. Angelenos nod their heads in boisterous confidence that “it is what it is”.

On the contrary, one of the Hollywood Hills’ most creatively accomplished residents was an Angeleno by transplant. Aldous Huxley-the famed British author of “Brave New World” and “The Doors of Perception”, loved Los Angeles. Admiring such idiosyncrasies as its drive-in donut shaped diners, the winding desert roads near Palm Springs, or simply, Los Angeles’ Mediterranean climate-he came to call the City of Angels his home. Once in Los Angeles, much of his creativity flourished, be it due to his new surroundings, experiments with psychotropic hallucinogens, or reading Hindu texts such as the Veda. The Veda’s primary subject mature and theme are, appropriately enough, the belief that the physical world is but an illusion. Welcome to the identity of Los Angeles.

#LosAngeles LedZeppelin JohnFante Hollywood OlveraStreet AldousHuxley

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alexbandfan · 6 years

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Donate Life Hollywood - 2010

Young Guns Music interviews Alex Band

A dream has become true. After so long waiting and wishing for it Young Guns Music has been able to interview Alex Band, former The Calling frontman. We talked about his new album, future plans and fans love. Don´t miss it! Young Guns Music : Alex, thank you very much for accepting to be interviewed by us. It’s been a long time since you decided to start your solo project. So many years working on it and at the same time being unable to set it off... For an artist and mainly for one as you’re, starting in the music world so long ago, it must be quite difficult to get it on with it. How have you kept on fighting all this time? What has helped you to go on?

Alex Band : It has definitely been a crazy struggle to get to where I am at now. Giving up was never an option for me. Yes, there were days when it seemed like I was never going to get to where I needed to be, but I stayed focused and knew I could make it happen eventually. Knowing I was making the album I believed in helped me to not give up.

Is this album exactly what you have dreamt with all this time?

Absolutely! This is the album I fought so hard to be able to make. I poured my heart and soul into each song and I am so proud of the outcome. I was even able to add a few new songs just this year right before the album was released. Which was your first feeling when "Tonight" was officially released? Did you expect so great acceptance among your followers?

I always felt this was the song I wanted to release as my first single and I am really happy I stuck with it. When I first started my promo tour in the US to promote the song I actually heard "Tonight" on the radio that same day and it didn't feel real. I worked so hard and for so long to get to this point that I almost don't believe it's happening. The reaction to the song has been amazing, in Europe it was the theme song for all the World Cup adds!

For an artist it must be incredible to see that your work is not released during years but they are still there waiting for it. How much have fans helped you to get there? What’s the importance of Alex Band’s fans in your life?

My fans are the reason I never stopped making music, no matter how long it took me to release it. They all waited and supported me while I worked on this record and finally released it. I give so much to my fans to show them how much they mean to me. It's really neat now to be out playing shows and see so many fans from the past showing up again! It's a good feeling to say the least to know my fans still care and are excited about my solo album, even after 5 years of waiting.

You seem to have quite a huge fan base in countries such as Japan or Brazil. For an American artist, did you ever expect your music to reach so far?

I can't say that I expected the majority of the success I had and I am beyond grateful for it. To have fans all over the world is a dream come true. My music has reached people in almost every corner of the world and I hope it continues to.

How would you describe your new album? What Alex Band’s fans should expect about what they were used to get from you and what new fans should like about it?

I'd say my album is more anthemic and mature than my albums as The Calling. This album takes you on a journey through my struggles, finding love, and loosing it. It is relatable on every level and really takes listeners into my world.

Love seems to be the main subject in your music. Love moves the world? How important is love in your life?

Love is what life is all about. It isn't always easy, but it is the reason we are living. We can all relate to love and loss and I wanted people to feel that in my music. I truly believe love is the meaning of life.

Which are the songs from this album that represent more Alex Band´s spirit? Which is your favourite one?

I can't pick a specific song that represents me in particular. I wrote all the songs on the album and they all are from personal experiences and feelings. The entire album is my spirit being told through my songs. Right now, my favorite song on the album is one I added last minute called "Will Not Back Down." I think it's a beautiful sexy addition to the album and playing it live is a blast!

Are you anxious to show your album live to the world? Are you planning any world your?

Having lived with this album for the past 5 years, I am more than ready to share it with the world. It's been way too long and I can't wait to keep spreading it everywhere. There are no world tour plans yet, but that is a goal for the future. I think it will all happen in stages.

Will we be able to see you live in Europe and in Spain?

I hope so, that's the plan! I currently have a sold out tour next month in Germany/Switzerland/Austria…and I know I will be going to the rest of Europe and of course Spain as well in the near future.

Which are your more remarkable memories in music? Who would you like to thank for being there all the way up here?

There are so many amazing memories in my career so far. I think one of my favorite still was winning best new artist at the MTV Awards. I was up agains Avril Lavigne and Shakira and many more huge artists…I never thought I would EVER win. But it was voted on by fans, and my fans are crazy supportive! They somehow voted more than anyone else and I won the award! I was sooooo surprised to be called up to the stage and accept it, I had no idea what to say! I think the person I would thank for my career so far over anyone else is my Father. He always supported my music and was behind me 100% through it all from the very beginning when I was taken out of school at 15 and got my first record deal.

All these years you’ve performed some side projects. We were for example able to watch you in CSI. How was the experience? Would you like to repeat in a near future?

CSI NY was a blast to be a part of. I hadn't really done too much acting on that level before and I really enjoyed it. Even did my own stunts;) I would definitely do more acting in the future, once I am back home and working on the next album.

Besides your music there’s a fact about Alex Band that not many people know and we really believe it’s quite remarkable. You started working with Donate Life and then you started your own Alex Band Donate Life. How would you describe the project for those who do not know anything about it?

Donate Life is the main charity I support and believe in, I even have it tattooed on my arm. It is a charity that raises awareness for organ donation which not many people know about or understand. So many lives can be saved through organ donations, it's about giving life to others once we are gone. Honestly, it is as simple as signing up online at donatelife.net to be an organ donor.

How did you get involved in the project? Why do you think in the US it’s so difficult to promote donations? Because in Europe it’s more usual for patients to see it as part of the process while in the US it’s still some kind of taboo.

I got involved when someone very close to me needed a liver transplant and was on a waiting list. I realized from my personal experience with it how much of a demand there is and how many people are waiting to receive organs, some of which never get what they need. I just think there is a major lack of knowledge when it comes to organ donation and people aren't going to support or sign up for something they don't understand...which is what Donate Life is working at changing. The people waiting for organs far outnumbers the amount of actual donors there are in America right now. Something like 90% of Americans say they support donation, but only 30% know the essential steps to take to be a donor. Hopefully, that continues to change.

What kind of activities do you perform along the year to promote donation?

I host my own concert every year called Alex Band's Donate Life Rocks, where all proceeds go to Donate Life. I'm pretty much a walking billboard with the tattoo on my arm and talk about the charity at any possible moment. The bracelet line I just created actually donates a portion of proceeds to Donate Life as well which is really awesome!

You’ve also got involved in Blackstar bracelet, how was the experience of mixing music and fashion? Did you expect so much success?

Designing a line of bracelets to coincide with my music was a lot of fun. It is something that has never been done before and I think the success of them is awesome. I knew that people would love it due to the fact that there is so much content that comes with each bracelet, not just the song download...and that it is a tangible object you can wear everyday.

Taking a look back to the past, you started your music career very young and you got a top hit experience just in the beginning. How do you remember The Calling experience? Was it difficult to digest that your first album becomes a top charter?

It might seem that I had a hit and success very quickly, but it was actually a long process. I was signed at 15 and the record label pretty much forgot about me and wouldn't let me make an album until I was 19. And then it finally came out when I was 20. So there was 5 years there that I worked very very hard writing hundreds of songs and playing many shows in Los Angeles and just waiting and waiting. Once the album finally was released, it took 10 months to make "Wherever You Will Go" a hit at radio in the US. I toured all over the US for those 10 months in a little van and went to every radio station, hundreds of them. It all finally paid off.

What has "Wherever You Will Go" meant in your life?

That song means everything to me. It was the song that introduced me to the world. It's the song still today that every single person knows me by…I can sing the first two lines of the chorus and anybody I meet says "Oh yes of course! I love that song!" The song today still is played millions of times all around the world and has become one of the biggest songs in history. Billlboard magazine named it the number one song at radio in the US for the last decade. This is a huge achievement and I am very proud.

"Wherever You Will Go" has been chosen as one of best songs ever. How was it composed? How did you got inspiration for it?

I wrote that song when I was only 16 years old! I don't remember the moment I wrote it because it was so long ago! I do remember it was very fast to write and complete, maybe only a few hours. Some of the best songs I write come very quick and easily.

Which has been the most incredible memory with a fan? Which has been your favourite moment in a stage?

There have been so many great memories with fans! One time a fan gave me a scroll that was very large, like the size of a big dog. It was one mile long all rolled up! She had worked over one year on it, writing "I love Alex Band" over and over millions of times! Crazy! I still have this scroll in my garage with all my other fan gifts. I keep every fan gift I am given in air tight sealed boxes so they will last forever. My favorite moment on stage was probably playing Party In The Park in London England many years ago. I actually played this festival two years in a row. The audience is over 150,000 people! So amazing! To see that many people sing my songs along with me was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Would you like to say some words for all your fans who are reading this interview, specially your Spanish fans?

To all my Spanish fans, I miss you very much and I am so excited to come back to Spain and perform for you all and meet you all! It has been WAY too long! Thank you for continuing to support me after all these years…it means so much to me. All the love…

Thank you very much Alex, we wish you the best.

Thank you very much for all the good questions and for your well wishes! I hope to see you soon! All the love...

Source here

#alexnews2010 #alex band #the calling #model #singer #donate life

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shadowdianne · 7 years

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The question for writers, 1-50 ;)

Uhhh, you mean like all of them? xd This is going to be long…

Thank you for the ask anon. I hope you don’t get bored…

01: When did you first start writing?

I don’t have a clear memory of the moment I really started to write down my stories but I remember pretending to write when I couldn’t be more than six a story about a group of smugglers that were discovered by a group of children and therefore put in jail. (I read the whole series of the Famous Five and The three investigators about that age so I was quite influenced xd) However, my first story was when I was around nine in where I wrote a story about a girl that chatted with several greek deities… I don’t really remember how the story ended though xd

02: What was your favorite book growing up?

My favourite book is the divine comedy and has been for a really long time. I also loved (when I was a tween) The Phantom Tollbooth and several others… I think I would need a really long list to put them all together!

03: Are you an avid reader?

Yup! I love to read, reading is, as writing, something that is a part of who I am.

04: Have you ever thrown a book across the room?

Never xd I had the idea with my math’s textbook though because I sucked at them but a book I enjoyed reading? Never.

05: Did you take writing courses in school/college?

I did several courses back in school/high school and I’ve attended several short courses over my years at college, yes.

06: Have you read any writing-advice books?

Not entire books but I’ve always read about the worldbuilding of a world in order to make them more authentic, kind of phrases and character building. However, I tend to have the problem that I find that some of the books are very strong on the kind of rules they are trying to apply to one’s writing work and so even though I try to learn as much as possible I tend to not follow them as much as I should.

07: Have you ever been part of a critique group?

Nope. Not because I didn’t want but because the occasion never presented itself.

08: What’s the best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?

Uhm… I had a teacher when I was in my last year of high school that learnt that I wrote short stories in english xd He asked me to give one to him and I gave him one called Synopados in where I explored the idea of a girl looking at her emotions through a mirror as she fell in love with a girl. I still have the note he wrote me about how I had courage for writing that stories in a city like the one that is my childhood town. He told me I should keep writing, no matter what. I had already started to write fanfics but sparsely and almost everything in spanish so I’m deeply humbled and grateful by what he did.

09: What’s the worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?

One in where I was asked to end my writing because it wasn’t good enough, never would be and it was a joke how I tried to be something when I couldn’t put one letter after the other.

10: What’s your biggest writer pet-peeve?

I can’t stand first POV(?) I mean, I’ve written some stories with that pov and I’ve read them as well but I always link that to roleplaying and not stories so in my head it doesn’t sound quite right.

11: What’s your favorite book cover?

There are too many lol But I think that one of the recent ones I like is Perdido street station from China Miéville

12: Who is your favorite author?

I don’t have one that surpases the others I’m afraid. However, one of the authors I deeply respect is Rowling so I will go with her and PD.James.

13: What’s your favorite writing quote?

If a story is in you it has got to come out. I believe it was said by Faulkner but I could be wrong.

14: What’s your favorite writing blog? c;

Hahaha, too many to count :P

15: What would you say has inspired you the most?

Reading. Without reading I wouldn’t want to create because I wouldn’t have the ideas of so many worlds and characters already in my head. There may be people who think otherwise but for me reading is a very big part of writing.

16: How do you feel about movies based on books?

That they tend to be an absolute disaster but not because of the general idea of “They didn’t put this scene in that moment.” but because they try to create a visual of abstract ideas sometimes the authors make the reader see by description that don’t necessarily need to be linked to a visual scene. The way that’s often presented make some ideas look cheaper than they are. There are some movies that got that beautifully though.

17: Would you like your books to be turned into TV shows, movies, video games, or none?

Mine? -looks down- I… would first need to believe that they could be turned into something xd However, I think I would like to see some of my ideas transformed into a game.

18: How do you feel about love triangles?

That they are boring and done again and again and again. I really don’t like them as well as most of the romantic tropes done so many times it’s impossible to escape them.

19: Do you prefer writing on a computer or longhand?

My handwriting is awful so I only tend to write the general idea of my stories instead of the full-fleshed thing because, otherwise, it would be a nightmare to understand it all.

20: What’s your favorite writing program?

I really don’t have one to be honest.

21: Do you outline?

For short stories I always have a general idea on my head of what I want to write. It’s on long stories in where I outline full plot points, dialogue ideas and characters.

22: Do you start with characters or plot?

Plot, always plot. I prefer to know where I’m going to put my characters in because then I know how to move them through that space.

23: What’s your favorite & least favorite part of making characters?

My favourite is their inner voices, how all of them has different ideas and how I can write that into the story is amazing. From movement to how they talk. The least one is their names when I’m making them from scratch and if I’m writing with already created characters the style of clothing I want to describe them in. xd

24: What’s your favorite & least favorite part of plotting?

My favourite would be almost everything that involves worldbuilding, searching information and creating. The least would be the “filler” scenes in where nothing happens but helps to create a more realistic pace for a story.

25: What advice would you give to young writers?

I’m still young! I’m still a novice! I don’t really know what I would say to them lol. Perhaps… write? Feedback will be sparse, bad words will stand out more than good ones and it’s okay to feel bad for that but writing and understanding how a story is created will help you greatly.

26: Which do you enjoy reading the most: physical, ebook, or both?

I have an ebook and I use it a lot but I prefer the physical copy of the book.

27: Which is your favorite genre to write?

Fantasy, Sci-Fi… and that taking into account all subgenres like cyberpunk, steampunk… I adore the new-weird but I don’t see myself writing that yet. It requires a level of expertise I don’t have.

28: Which do you find hardest: the beginning, the middle, or the end?

The end, but it’s also the part I enjoy the most.

29: Which do you find easiest: writing or editing?

-Groans- I prefer writing. Editing is a pain in the ass.

30: Have you ever written fan-fiction?

-snorts- Yuuup.

31: Have you ever been published?

Nope, I haven’t. I wish someday will be able to be good enough to even think about it tho’

32: How do you feel about friends and close relatives reading your work?

My relatives don’t so….. My girlfriend does it from time to time tho. It’s strange to see her read my stories but funny at the same time. Same goes with the friends that I manage to trick them into reading me.

33: Are you interested in having your work published?

As I said… yes. But I don’t know if I will ever be good enough.

34: Describe your writing space.

Almost everywhere. However I tend to prefer writing in my bed, with my pc propped up on my knees and a cup of tea next to me. Everything very instragram-ish.

35: What’s your favorite time of day for writing?

Night. I’m a night person.

36: Do you listen to music when you write?

Yup, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to focus.

37: What’s your oldest WIP?

Wow xd I think… The recognizable stranger is one of my oldest for this fandom.

38: What’s your current WIP?

Too many to count…

39: What’s the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?

That I could write? nah, just kidding. (No really) I think it was the one about the mirror and the girl I said before. I’ve had weirded ones but I don’t really remember them as being impossible to tackle.

40: Which is your favorite original character, and why?

Samantha Somnos xd In fact, this character was written for a roleplaying community at twitter a few years back. Her avatar was Emily Blunt and she was this cold woman, effective on her job and lethal. She had a very convoluted relationship with a man on her youth… I loved writing for that character, not only her background but her history which I wrote alongside with my girlfriend. I adored how, at the end, she is just a bad person, one that doesn’t want to change but it’s that what leads the reader. I wish I could keep on writing her.

41: What do you do when characters don’t follow the outline?

I murder them… nah. I keep myself flexible. Some things need to be written down but others not so whenever that happens I redirect the situation using what the characters are giving me.

42: Do you enjoy making your characters suffer?

Not in a gore-way but I like making them suffer pain or loss. I like how creative I can get with that because I can work them inside and out and see how they can react to several things.

43: Have you ever killed a main character?

-nods- Several times.

44: What’s the weirdest character concept you’ve ever come up with?

An old woman whose imagination has kept her trapped into an ink cage from where she is able to see stories that are dreamt in the minds of those who seek sleep. She collects those stories in the form of ever growing chains around her wrists.

45: What’s your favorite character name?

I don’t really have one although I tend to prefer to choose names who have a hidden meaning for me, like a private joke.

46: Describe your perfect writing space.

As previously said I don’t have a preferred writing space since I write in almost everywhere so… perhaps a place in where I never felt cold?

47: If you could steal one character from another author and make then yours, who would it be and why?

By stealing them I would transform them in something different since I’m not the author that created them. However, since I write fanfiction as well as my own work I’m used to write characters that aren’t mine by default so… I would love to explore Katsa from Graceling. Or Alana from the Saga series.

48: If you could write the next book of any series, which one would it be, and what would you make the book about?

I’d probably transform it into a fantasy-driven book so… I will leave the series I would destroy as “not chosen” haha

49: If you could write a collaboration with another author, who would it be and what would you write about?

Currently I’m in love with China Miéville’s work so I will choose him. And taking into account what he write we would write a new-weird genre book lol-

50: If you could live in any fictional world, which would it be?

Perhaps Philip Pullman’s Dark Material’s world.

#anon

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overseascolletion-blog · 7 years

Text

IN CASE OF DEATH by DAVID NASH

1. Cessation of Breath: Is He Breathing?

He’s not breathing, and he cannot go on like this. He needs air. Mouth-to-mouth is a fool’s game: you must not believe that you have enough air for the both of you. The body should supply itself, but in this it can be encouraged. Breath begets breath, and life life. One O says yes to another O and that equals oxygen. One god nods to the next god, who nods to the next and so on. Therefore plant plants, as follows: (i) The chest is just a gathering of shapes as it is, and it knows full well what it means to be a shrubbery. There is depth and breadth enough for soil, and it lends itself naturally to inhabitance. From there to conurbation. Drop seeds and sow. It grows in spite of itself. (ii) The extremities are a framework already in place: honeysuckles, for example, thrive on the order inherent in limbs; fingers are the beginnings of mathematics, and you will find the sweetpea loops nicely to a ring; ivies are many and incessant. (iii) The holes of the head are a blessing. Eye sockets, in particular, are favourable to succulents.

2. Cardiac Arrest: Is There Any Rhythm to Him?

They say: cut the wood yourself and it will warm you twice. It is the same for the heart – if you beat it, it will beat. And it is the same with blood – it won’t move unless you move it. This is the kind of work that must be done by hand. This is monks and manuscripts. This is sculpture. This is the work your father did, is where you came from. (i) Locate the heart by feeling (ii) Trace out the gridlocked veins (iii) Prepare the bell for pealing (iv) Make fists and take your aim (v) Pound it till it feels like kissing (vi) Push the blood between your hands (vii) Force the heart to miss what’s missing (viii) Forbid it to neglect its plan (ix-xii) Of all the laws that you could leave him Leave him only one: Hurt could your heart every man Hurt can his heart none.

3. Pallor Mortis: What Colour is He?

Isn’t it tempting to leave him? Now that you know he’s as white as you? Is there no way he could live like snow lives, which is to say: unanimously, without discrimination, everywhere, carelessly/carefully, in paralysis, absent, and dumb? No: that is the opposite of science, and you should proceed like so: (i) Hit him. The pocket-bursts of red as you rain down your blows remind the skin of its duty. (a) This is not advisable for the lips, which, if blue, should be bitten, as before. (b) This is also, NB, only a temporary reversal of the state. (ii) If saffron seems like an investment, remember that its employment requires the body to steep (and steep and steep) and be bathed. Did your hands memorise the weight of his? Well then, now’s your chance: knead the yellowing water into him, notice the steady dawning of your skins. Saffron is pittance. (iii) Cow’s piss also does the trick. (iv) There is always war paint. Humans have been making themselves up for years. They are canny and, often, uncannily like themselves. It’s a neat trick, but you, of course, would always know.

4. Hypostasis: Has His Blood Settled?

Bloodset / Blooddown: when the body designs its own horizon in telling the erthrocytes: “Rest now”, or “Settle”. And they do, in good faith, like children called to come down now from the trees: with a pause, then dripping one by one from the canopy. With relief. With the sound, even, of relief, the deflation of that last f. The way a bus is grateful to be waved down, the way a coal chimney savours its condemnation. In such a way does the blood settle, and its acceptance is crepuscular. To cause a bloodrise you must: (i) Reverse gravity. (ii) Reverse time.

5. Algor Mortis / Decline in Temperature: Look Up: Could You Pick Him Out From a Crowd? Is He Redder, More Gigantic Than Before? Is He Whiter? Tinier? Is He Closer To / Further From Land? Is He Different, Depending on Your Location, or Constant? Is He Causing Havoc to Radio Signals? Would It Mean Sudden Death to Approach Him? Blindness to Look? Or Do Those Advances Neither Put In Nor Put Out On Him? Does He Remain Unmoved? Are You in the Sweet Spot? Is It Down to Him What Gets Eaten and What Fed? Does He Cultivate Your Farthest Points? Is He Beautiful at Your Edges? Does He Still, Albeit Rarely, Tilt Your Tired Face Towards His? Must He Always Remain This Way, Never to Swell or Contract, For You to Be Happy? Listen. Are You Satisfied or Not?

It is considered a strength to find yourself in any given room and still know where North is. In the same way, you should be able to read a dwelling, know if he is adding to it or taking away or if there would be no difference without him. Assuming the latter: (i) You could melt him, but he would not flow. (ii) You could torch him, but he’d burn too slow. (iii) You could fuck him, but he wouldn’t know.

6. Rigor Mortis: Can He Yet Be Turned?

By now it should be clear. You are on a boat-deck, both of you, and a white sun fizzes on the water as though dropped like an aspirin. Then it dissolves completely. Darkness. Two unseeable faces, etched uselessly into smiles. You cast out a word or two and they frost over with brine: each stroke of the pen is breakable. Things snap or creak and you credit these sounds to him, but these are equally plausible: the sucking of a mussel; the canvass canvassing; the scissorwork of seagull wings; one sea creature tearing the flesh from another sea creature; a jellyfish pulse; sounds of your own invention. You line up his armpit hair to the marram grass on the shore, and the parallax is kind: they are near enough to a perfect fit. You recount the boat parts: Forestay. Gunwhale. Thwart. Tiller. Transom. Jib. Clew. Keel… Even if he was moving, he might as well be doing it behind the ocean, somewhere utterly else. (i) Wait. (ii) From the bilges of hopelessness, skim the oldest foam and the darkest pitch, and from the oldest foam and the darkest pitch, procure the lowliest gnat, the sickliest, and (iii) Name it thus: His Finger Twitched.

7. Decomposition: Has He Broken Down?

Once, you decided to catalogue life. It was a losing game, but even then you knew what was and wasn’t reversible and therefore you persisted. You constructed his every last hair – the one that flags age; the ancient; the wisps; the cowslicked. You thought of digestion, the blanket alchemy of browning, that shiest of Chinese whispers. You thought of nerves. There were: 1. assemblies of cells; 2. paliaments of bone, bipartisan clicks and bickering, motions, stalemates, and all of them were legislating, legislating movement and stasis; 3. two sides, the right of which dictated; When you dreamt hard, you could make a nail erupt. Dreamt lighter – the skin of a lip, a scar, the stirrup. Bigger, bolder things too, like a. breath. The stuffy grammar of it. How it guffaws at the smallest misstep; b. the subject/object of the heart; c. the check and balance of breath; d. two feet, two pliant, compliant feet, two suffering feet, two poor feet God love them; e. all kinds of erections; f. the idea, in his mind, of an I. Distinct from you, who to him is: Him; g. the glacier game, the earthquake, the seaswell, the henpeck we call “breath”. You wrote blood, and then you wrote it in Greek, and then the whole thing fell into translation, into action. Reaction: he turned. He turned on you. He withered in your hand, flopped out. It was a time after Babel, when everything you had named was suddenly anonymous. Falsehood is not in words: it is in things. He feeds himself to the world, a dandelion, its damage done. You cover your mouth and nose. (i) compose again.

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twentypercentprojectlorde · 7 years

Text

Week #1: Team

youtube

I have always been fiercely in awe of people who are able to absolutely fall in love with songs that don’t relate to them or their lives. In other words, they can listen to a song about something they don’t understand and still love it.

I’m not that way- I have to be able to relate to a song in order for me to really, really love and appreciate it. Which is probably why I love this next song so much- I relate to every sing word. It’s the song I would listen to on repeat while watching high school football games. There was always that whisper in my head saying “We’re on each other’s team, and you know and you know and you know…”

Team by Lorde is that special occasion where I literally never get tired of it- I can find a new way to relate to it every time I listen. It’s just so teenage and BIG- it’s unifying without getting all sappy about it. It perfectly captures the good, fun parts about being a teenager. Here, Lorde turns reality into a dream- she makes being teenager something right out of a fairytale.

Subject: Lorde is the speaker of this song, but at times she speaks for a bigger group of people. When she sings “We live in cities you’ll never see on screen” she is speaking on broader terms.

Occasion: Lorde is essentially criticizing the mainstream media and saying that even though her town (or anyone on her “team”) is often ignored by the public eye, they are still beautiful, and they have each other. They still live fulfilled lives- they just aren’t famous or “pretty”.

Audience: She is speaking to petty people who are obsessed with material items- probably the same group of people she is talking about in “Royals”. She is also talking to her “team”- she is celebrating them, gassing them up, making them feel like they are worth it.

Purpose: When Lorde was writing this song, she said she wrote it “for the teenagers who look up to me”. She said she knows what it’s like to be misrepresented, and this song was her way of saying that she wouldn’t forget about the teenagers who made her career happen. I think the purpose of this song is again, to celebrate her friends and her town. It is essentially a love letter to where she is from and the people who live there. Just because they don’t live in a big city doesn’t mean they can’t have fun or be beautiful people- in fact, she feels like they are “richer” than those who get everything they want, because they have to earn what they have. They know what it’s like to watch others have successes- this makes them humbled but still proud. This song is also about dreams- her friends dream up a world of beauty, and they live in it with each other.

Analysis

For starters, when talking about the music video of this song, Lorde wrote:

“This video was borne from a dream I had a few months ago about teenagers in their own world, a world with hierarchies and initiations, where the boy who was second in command had acne on his face, and so did the girl who was queen. I dreamt about this world being so different to anything anyone had ever seen, a dark world full of tropical plants and ruins and sweat. And of this world, I dreamt about tests that didn't need to be passed in order to be allowed in: sometimes the person who loses is stronger. Enjoy”

Essentially, Lorde is dreaming up a world of her own in this song- a world for teenagers and the stupid things we do.

She begins:

Wait 'til you're announced

We've not yet lost all our graces

The hounds will stay in chains

Look upon Your Greatness and she'll send the call out

Send the call out (x15)

Many people are confused because of this cryptic introduction, and that’s understandable! It’s confusing because she uses figurative language instead of straight up telling you what she is talking about.

To start, Lorde is setting the scene for her world of pure imagination. It’s supposed to be ridiculous and childish and maybe even a little stupid- she is playing pretend, as are the rest of her friends. And by “pretend” I mean they are playing into the idea of a teenage hierarchy- Lorde is the queen, and they abide.

The entire idea of a teenage “kingdom” is a metaphor for how teenagers function. There is always someone that people look up to- the “queen” or “king” who is considered the most popular. Being in high school is like a hierarchy- there are people on top, and people on the bottom. Lorde plays on this in the intro here- by speaking as the “queen”, she is directing the rest of the teenagers listening and assuring them of their importance in the world. The effect this has is that it invites us into her world- by making this metaphor, anyone who is a teenager understands what she is talking about and feels welcome in the “kingdom”. Even though she is talking specifically about her friends, as fellow teenagers, we get what she’s saying too. By basing the entire song on a palace metaphor, we feel like we are living in the palace as we are listening to the song. Lorde built the world- and she invites us to stay in it.

“The hounds” that she mentions are symbolism for the things that are giving teenagers a hard time- heartbreak, grades, parents, and the blossoming responsibilities that arise as you are becoming a young adult. She says “the hounds will stay in chains”- this means that while they are in their imaginary kingdom world that they created, the “hounds” will not bother them. They’ll be “in chains”- the hounds will be restricted and stuck in the outside world.

When she sings “Look upon Your Greatness” she is metaphorically referring to herself as a queen. Obviously she isn’t a literal queen- but she is popular enough in her town that people look up to her and listen to her rules. She declares herself a queen because she wants to claim the role as a “ruler”- she wants to tell her friends and other teenagers of their worth. Most times, a queen has harsh rules and a negative effect on her people, but with Lorde, she is a positive people on her “subjects”. She ominously repeats “[She’ll] send the call out”. This doesn’t mean that she literally has a call or noise that she uses- it means that she will notify the town (or on a bigger scale, the world) that her and her friends are coming, and they’re coming to make a scene. Lorde’s “call” is symbolic- it represents her adoration for her friends, because she wants everyone to be aware of their presence. Her purpose is to celebrate her friends- she celebrates them by telling the world how great they are, i.e. sending the call out. This metaphor effectively achieves this purpose- she is not being quiet and she wants everyone to hear her “call”.

Lorde continues:

Call all the ladies out, they're in their finery

A hundred jewels on throats

A hundred jewels between teeth

A lot of people also don’t understand this part either, but it’s actually kind of clear when you analyze it a bit. When she “call[s] all the ladies out” she is talking about her girlfriends who are all dressed up for the night. They’re in their finery- they’re wearing the most expensive clothes and makeup. Lorde is essentially “setting the scene” and showing what a night on the town is like with her friends. But her extended metaphor changes the meaning of the fun times she has with her friends- when she is with her friends, she feels like they are all living in a palace. It’s like a club and they’re all in it, being stupid. But being stupid is what makes them beautiful. Essentially, when she is with her friends, her town seems prettier than it actually is- it turns into a palace. Their regular clothes turn into gowns and beautiful things- when they are together, they find purpose despite people who say otherwise.

The “hundred jewels on throats” are simply just fancy necklaces or other pieces of jewelry, similar to the kinds that queens or aristocrats wear. Instead of just point blank talking about jewelry, Lorde uses specific diction to create an effect. The words “a hundred jewels on throats” is very consistent with the imagery she presents about living in a kingdom/palace. They are kings and queens- they wear jewels on throats and rule and rule and rule. The “hundred jewels between teeth” is just a pretty way to talk about braces, which many teenagers have to wear. Lorde basically makes flaws seem beautiful- she even has a way to make braces seem like some sort of fancy luxury. “Jewels” brings to mind very rich people and excessive luxury- everything that Lorde and her friends pretend to be when they are together. By using this specific diction, Lorde creates imagery that transports the listener to a dreamlike world. She also “beautifies” the area around her, just by describing them using very specific word choice.

This song is about pretending. It’s about pretending to be royal, pretending to have more than you do. It’s about seeing the beauty in your young life because it’s there, and no one can take that away from you.

Onward, she sings:

Now bring my boys in, their skin in craters like the moon

The moon we love like a brother, while he glows through the room

Similes everywhere! All of which are consistent with Lorde’s overall message. She compares the acne of her “boys” to “craters [on] the moon”. Acne is something that is considered unattractive by most teenagers and adults alike. But Lorde sees the beauty in it regardless- she compares it to something as beautiful and ethereal as the moon. This reinforces the idea that Lorde is a “good” queen- she finds teenagers absolutely beautiful, flaws and all. Their acne reminds them of their youth, but Lorde insists that youth can be beautiful too. Mentioning the moon also implies that most of the fun her friends have occurs during the nighttime, which further builds upon her world of teenage fun and mayhem.

She goes even further with her simile- she compares their love for the moon to the love one feels for a brother. This means that they love the nighttime a lot- they feel comfortable and thankful for its presence. A brotherly love is a masculine one- it consists of protection and safety. Lorde is saying that the moon protects them and they use it to feel safe in the world. Mentioning brotherhood also shows how close Lorde and her friends feel- they are like a family, knit into one breathing organism. Lorde personifies the moon when she says “…while he glows through the room”- this just further implies that the moon (or nighttime) is looking out for them- they love the moon the way they love a real person. The moon makes the moments with her friends feel beautiful- even if their flaws are glaring in the brightness.

Then, the pre-hook:

Dancing' around the lies we tell

Dancing' around big eyes as well

Even the comatose, they don't dance and tell

Lorde personifies “the lies” they tell by implying that they have to dance “around” them. In this sense, the lies they tell are a concrete thing that exist with them as they are out and about. By saying that they “dance around” these lies, she is saying that when they are together they ignore all the wrong things they’ve done and focus on the heat of moment. This is similar to what she says about “the hounds” in the intro- when they are together, all of their worries, problems and mistakes are forgotten. They dance around these things- as in, they pretend that they don’t exist.

The “big eyes” is probably the one thing in this song I can’t quite figure out despite listening to it about a billion times. Lyrical analysis website Genius.com infers that this line could be talking about drugs that make your eyes bigger- this isn’t unlikely. Teenagers definitely experiment drugs when they hang out with each other.

Lorde rhymes “tell” with “well” at the end of these respective lines- the effect this has is that it connects both of these actions together. You get a sort of mischievous tone from this pre-hook, because she’s saying that they are “dancing around big eyes as well” implying that they are doing these thing simultaneously. Not only are they dancing around the lies they tell, they’re dancing around with big eyes too. This, to me, implies double the trouble, and double the fun.

Lorde plays upon the idiom “don’t kiss and tell” in the final line by changing it to “…they don’t dance and tell”. She does this because most people know what “kiss and tell” means (don’t blab to the whole world what intimate things you’re doing with someone) and they can understand what she’s saying on another level. By changing it to “dance” she makes it a little less intimate and more involved with her entire group of friends. She is saying that this entire night out should stay a personal secret between them- the things they do should stay with them. No one else has to know what they do- even the comatose understands this. Secrets are secrets- the whole world doesn’t have to know.

(Though this is ironic considering Lorde reveals all of this through a fairly popular song)

Now, the chorus:

We live in cities you'll never see onscreen

Not very pretty but we sure know how to run things

Living in ruins of a palace within my dreams

And you know, we're on each other's team

This is probably my favorite chorus ever. It’s just so relatable- it makes you feel like you are a part of something much bigger than yourself. Lorde pretty much sums up her motives for this here:

“No one comes to New Zealand, no one knows anything about New Zealand, and here I am, trying to grow up and become a person. I’ve been countering that with going to New York and seeing this place that’s in every movie and every TV show. Part of me wanted to go back to writing for me and for my friends, and write something that I felt related to us a little bit.”

When she says, “We live in cities you'll never see onscreen” she means it quite literally- their hometown is pretty much ignored by popular media and people around the world. It isn’t in movies or a popular place to vacation- they feel like they are ignored by the entire planet.

Now, a part of this is definitely a hyperbole- obviously New Zealand isn’t never “seen onscreen”. A quick Google search will reveal a multitude of movies set in New Zealand, and people around the world often talk about how pretty New Zealand is. But Lorde exaggerates this to make a point. The city of Auckland obviously isn’t as famous as cities like New York, London, Paris or Tokyo. Exaggerating this makes it easier for the listener to understand how she feels like an outsider in a beauty obsessed world. A part of it could also be teen angst- the feeling of “no one in this world understands how I feel and they never will I am so alone I want to be in a world where people just UNDERSTAND me” so she exaggerates this really just to show superiority.

“Not very pretty but we sure know how to run things” means that just because they aren’t conventionally beautiful people who are loved on a global scale doesn’t mean they don’t know how to have fun. They still “know how to run things”- meaning, they are still dominant members of their societies and they don’t need to achieve the American standard of beauty to have a good, fun-loving life. A lot of Lorde’s music has to do with fighting against the pop standard of a glamorous lifestyle (see: Royals, Tennis Court, Glory and Gore) and she elaborates this idea here- they may not be “pretty” but they still get shit done. They don’t have to be famous to feel like their lives have meaning.

The next two lines are fantastically written and quite well thought out metaphors- living in ruins of a palace within my dreams. Obviously her friends aren’t hanging out in a literal abandoned castle somewhere (though everyone knows that that would be literally the coolest thing EVER) - rather, the palace is a metaphor for the shambled area that they come from. Even though ruins are destroyed and a total mess, they are still beautiful- she applies this same thinking to her hometown. Her hometown “isn’t very pretty” but it’s still a cool place to live. This line can also apply to what she said about the song before, when she was releasing the music video. She said, “This video was borne from a dream I had a few months ago about teenagers in their own world… I dreamt about this world being so different to anything anyone had ever seen, a dark world full of tropical plants and ruins and sweat.” This “world” she talks about is almost exactly described in this line of the chorus- it clues us in to the setting and scenery in which this song takes place.

This is similar to a line in her critically acclaimed song, Royals:

And I'm not proud of my address

In the torn up town, no post code envy

And finally, when she declares “We’re on each other’s team” she means that in a figurative sense. They’re not literally on a team with each other (as in, there’s no formal organization of one like there is for sports or clubs) but metaphorically, they stick together the way a team does. They have that camaraderie that other literal teams have- they work together, support each other and are always there for each other. This goes back to the overall meaning of the song, in which she is spreading a message of unity. She is saying “We’re from the same place, we see the same things and we know the same people. We are a team”.

And now, the bridge that gets stuck in my head so many times during the course of a day it’s actually ridiculous:

I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air

So there

I'm kind of older than I was when I reveled without a care

So there

Sophia V. from oneweekoneband.tumblr.com had a flawless analysis of this bridge, in which she said:

It’s a shrug and then a smile – her voice drops into the so there, low and throaty and laughing at you. I’m kinda older. I don’t know. I’m not sure. Who cares? I’m kinda older, and all I know is that things are different now. What makes “Team” so compelling is the fragment of certainty in it, despite that kinda. Certainty in your friends. Certainty before and after that moment of laughter. The chorus comes and everything settles.

Another thing about this bridge is the rhyme scheme- air rhymes with there, but it also rhymes with care, which rhymes with there again. It’s like a circle, a ring of rhymes. To me, the effect of these rhymes is that it makes it seems like Lorde knows exactly what she’s talking about- everything she does seems intentional. Like yeah, all these words rhyme- of course they do. Why wouldn’t they? As Sophia says above, she has a tone of smugness in this part- that air of I know everything, you know nothing. It feels like she is in fact talking to the older generation- utilizing simple rhymes to prove a powerful point.

She changes “I’m kind of over” to “I’m kind of older” in the second line- to me, this exhumes a confident tone. Every time this part comes on, I almost feel like straightening my posture, which sounds ridiculous, but its true- I feel like I should be acting kind of older too. The effect of this change is that it actually explains why she’s “over being told to throw [her] hands up in the air”. She’s over it because she’s older now. She’s actually taking responsibility, as queens do. This continues her tone of smugness- she’s saying, look, I’m not a kid anymore. And when you’re a teenager, not knowing about life and what being an adult is like, sixteen is huge. Sixteen is monumental- you feel older.

Time for the second verse:

So all the cups got broke

Shards beneath our feet

But it wasn't my fault

Lorde is probably talking about a very specific, real life event in which a glass broke at a party or something, because most of her songs are stories. But figuratively, I believe she is alluding to the idiom concerning “walking on broken glass”. The broken cups and “shards beneath [their] feet” is really a metaphor for this idiom- when you’re walking on broken glass, you’re tiptoeing, trying to avoid conflict and always walking on edge. This could refer to what life as a teenager is like- you’re always “walking on broken glass” because you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know how to grow up, you don’t know what you’re future will be. In a way, you are walking on the edge- because there’s always that thought of I don’t know what I’m doing.

Or maybe they’re “walking on broken glass” because of the prospect of being busted at this party or wherever they’re hanging out- they’re fearful they could get caught doing dumb things- so they’re being careful of what they do.

Finishing up:

And everyone's competing for a love they won't receive

Cause what this palace wants is release

I’ve always been curious about what kind of love Lorde was talking about here. I don’t think it’s romantic love, because if that’s the case, that’s pretty mean-spirited. Saying you want love but you won’t get it seems way meaner than the nice-queen image that Lorde has upheld since the beginning of the song.

More consistent with the meaning of the song, the love people are competing for may be the love of the media- being popular online and being showered with likes, comments and attention. Fake people want to be loved by the world- they want to be famous. Lorde looks down on this a bit, telling them that this love is something they won’t get, regardless of how hard they seek it out.

The next line continues the palace metaphor Lorde established from the very beginning. We are back in the palace again- but this time, Lorde establishes that she wants out. This is how Lorde and the album Pure Heroine is a walking paradox of itself- she loves the palace but she still wants to leave. She is the queen but she wants to be released of this title- she wants to leave her hometown. Her town gave her friends and love and memories, but she still wants more. She doesn’t want to be tied down by just one place- she knows she can see the world through her newfound fame, touring the world and gaining the popularity she just condemned people from seeking. This is a paradox- she’s queen of the palace, but she wants “release” all the same.

The whole palace wants release. Her friends want release. Everyone wants to be set free, no longer stuck in the same place they’ve always been. Because although the palace is cool, it’s not everything. They know they can have more. Leaving the palace means leaving the town, and entering the world.

And the last words uttered:

And you know, we’re on each other’s team

And you know, and you know, and you know

At the very end, Lorde utilizes repetition in a cryptic way- she’s almost assuring us about what we “know”. There shouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind- you know we’re on each other’s team. Almost in the way that colloquially we say “You know it” to confirm something is right, Lorde does the same thing, repeating this phrase so we know we’re on the team. We know, we know, we know.

Lyrics with annotations of rhetorical strategies

[Intro]

Wait 'til you're announced

We've not yet lost all our graces

The hounds will stay in chains

Metaphor for the problems/stresses in our lives

Look upon Your Greatness and she'll send the call out

Your Greatness: name you call a queen/ruler. Metaphorically, Lorde is the queen of her town

Send the call out (x15)

[Verse 1] Call all the ladies out, they're in their finery

Girls wearing expensive clothes

A hundred jewels on throats

Metaphor for fancy clothes and jewelry

A hundred jewels between teeth

Metaphor for braces

Now bring my boys in, their skin in craters like the moon

Simile comparing acne to something beautiful like the moon

The moon we love like a brother, while he glows through the room

Simile comparing their love for the moon to the love one feels for a brother

Personifying the moon as a “brother”

Dancin' around the lies we tell

Personifying “the lies [they] tell”

Dancin' around big eyes as well Even the comatose, they don't dance and tell

A play on the idiom “don’t kiss and tell”

[Chorus] We live in cities you'll never see onscreen

Hyperbole; exaggerating the feeling of invisibility living in a small town

Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams

Palace is a metaphor for how her town may be in “ruins” but it is still beautiful

And you know we're on each other's team

Lorde and her friends are on a metaphorical team

[Bridge] I'm kind of over gettin' told to throw my hands up in the air So there I'm kind of older than I was when I reveled without a care So there

Smug tone implying Lorde’s attitudes towards older people who doubt her

[Verse 2] So all the cups got broke Shards beneath our feet

Metaphor to the idiom “walking on broken glass” to express how her and her friends feel like they are on edge

But it wasn't my fault And everyone's competing for a love they won't receive Cause what this palace wants is release

Palace metaphor again: her friends want out of the palace, out of the town

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