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peaches-writes · 4 years

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sun shower

description: you happen to be spending your training year in adjacent villages with a certain kim seungmin member: seungmin genre: fluff, witch/wizard au (kiki’s delivery service, a little snow fairy sugar-inspired) word count: 4k note: ‘magical people’ just doesn’t sound awesome enough to be the official gender-neutral term i therefore declare that both the words witch & wizard are gender-neutral choose ur fighter ppl

Seungmin has always had a fascination with the heavens since he was a young boy. His mother specialized in potions but his father was an astronomer, inviting him to stargaze after potion lessons until he had to leave for his training as an independent wizard some 6 months ago. He never vocally said it to his parents but when they received a letter from him in the mail informing them that he has chosen to train in the quaint countrysides of Italy a month into his training, they correctly inferred that he wanted to be specialize in astrology.

For this reason, he finds it bothersome, for a lack of a better word, whenever you, a neighboring witch, would conjure up clouds of rain until the early hours of the night. In your defense, it always happens unconsciously, most often when you’re frustrated because you couldn’t conjure up enough clouds when the sun is still out or when you untimely create clouds right as a storm passes over the countryside.

“Excuse me!” He called to you from the skies on his fifth night in the neighboring town. This was when you first met. You look up at him curiously, surprised at finding a fellow magical person. “Are you causing this?”

He gestures over the thin veils of clouds looming over the full moon. He could tell you were a witch by the runes you read to your root crops.

“Yes, why?”

“I study astrology, you see.” He shows you a familiar book, the standard guide to astrology—you knew because your own mother was an astrologer. “And I can’t really study if it’s too cloudy.”

“O-Oh, sorry.” You stand up from squatting next to your green sprouts, scratching the back of your neck. “It takes me a long time to make them disappear, you see. I swear I’m also working on them!”

“Well, it’s already late and I still have business to attend to later on so it’d be really helpful if you get your clouds out of the way quickly.” He points out, intimidating you a bit.

Because of his dry and rather stern tone, you managed to clear out the sky faster than you’ve ever done at the time. Suffice to say, Seungmin was impressed.

“Thanks! I’m Seungmin, by the way.” “Y/N, nice to meet you and sorry again!”

Now at present, you only have a month left until your training ends yet somehow you can’t seem to master the art of controlling the rain for sun showers, which frustrates Seungmin as much as it frustrates you.

“Maybe you’re overthinking it. Have you tried relaxing?” In the few months you’ve spent being sort of neighbors, you know that Seungmin never means anything malicious, he simply has a sarcastic tone by default.

“I am relaxed.” You insist, puffing out air that resembles smoke in the cold weather. It’s nearing the end of November and you can already feel the snow coming, signalling your impending departure. You try again, concentrating and thinking about how Seungmin’s watching you, “Oh hey, look, I did it!”

To compromise over your clashing work schedules, on the 2nd month of Seungmin’s stay, the two of you came to an agreement that you alternate between your towns, so that Seungmin can monitor you practicing with the weather and make sure that he gets to see the night sky when you’re done. Undeniably, you’ve grown closer from helping each other out (and maybe you’ve even developed a small crush on the side, but you wouldn’t tell him that).

He sits behind you on your rooftop on this particular Sunday, reading a thick book on the movement of constellations, while you levitate over your vegetable garden, eyes trained to the cloudy sky that slowly clears.

“Is this the last thing you need to accomplish?” He asks after a while, having decided after a while to halt reading and observe the sky. You’re halfway through clearing the sky, some hints of sunlight starting to peek through from the remaining clouds. Though he doesn’t show it, he’s proud (and a bit jealous) that you’re almost done with your training.

Without sparing him a glance, you shake your head no. “I still need to perfect my own song to conjure up a sun showers.” You correct as a frown settles on your face.

You control the weather with music. You use a flute for snow and sleet, a harp for the rain, a triangle for thunder and winds, and your own voice to call for the sun and clear skies. The problem with creating a sun shower is that you can’t come up with your own last verse—the one that is supposedly unique to every conjurer, according to your aunt who gave you the sheet music.

“Maybe you need another instrument.” Seungmin suggests but you both know that if there was another instrument for sun showers, your aunt would tell you as a witch who controls the weather herself. “Or the music sheet’s wrong.”

“If it’s wrong, then I would’ve conjured up something else entirely the last time I tried it.” You point out. The last time meaning just a few weeks ago when you tried out your latest revision and conjured up enough clouds but too much rain. “I’m just missing a few measures but my brain’s already too fried to come up with any!”

“Can I see?”

You impatiently hum in approval, finally turning around to briefly look at him and gesture over to your rucksack. “It’s in my bag, knock yourself out.”

You have an idea of Seungmin’s musical ability. He tends to hum to himself while he’s busy with work, you’ve heard in the events you’ve stayed in his place longer to help him see the stars better, and he plays the piano well, especially when he was asked to in his town’s festival. You’ve wondered yourself before why he chose studying astrology over taking control of the weather until he mentioned his home life before going off on his own.

“It does sound hard to complete, especially with what you already have.” He agrees with you after a while. At this point, you’ve managed to clear the skies of heavy rain clouds so you levitate towards him, sitting across from him after penetrating the shield he’s made for himself from the rain that’s passed. “But I think you’re getting there.”

He hums the main melody under his breath, occasionally stopping to brainstorm ideas on what could possibly be missing on your sheet music. To his right, you lay down tiredly on your back, rucksack serving as a makeshift pillow, and turn your body to face him, listening intently to the little notes and comments he makes under his breath. “I just need a balance with the sun and the rain.” You sigh. “The sun is already enough, the rain’s just a little too much.”

“Hm, sounds strangely poetic.” He points out with the same dry tone you’ve grown accustomed to, making you chuckle. “You going through something or what?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” You then turn your body up towards the sky. Now that your clouds were gone, you then realize that the sky’s started turning pink and orange in sunset. “It’s just that, there are some things and people I’m unsure of, I guess.”

He wanted to ask you what, or rather, who exactly you were unsure of. You’re not exactly known for being a social butterfly but you’re not anti-social, either, but if bothered you so much, whatever or whoever you’re referring to must be someone incredibly special to you.

“Hey, can I keep a copy of this?” He opts to ask instead, gaining your attention again.

You nod. “You can take the music sheets, I have it memorized by heart already, anyway.”

“If I can come up with something, I’ll let you know.” He carefully tucks your music sheet between the pages of his book. “You don’t have some kind of deadline, do you?”

“No, it’s okay.” You smile before turning back to the incoming sunset. “Anyway, I’ve had enough of thinking about it for today, let’s just enjoy the sunset before you go back to studying! Ah, what a day.”

Seungmin is evidently surprised, often you mind each other’s businesses and only talk when one needs help or when one is about to leave, but you missed such a rare expression across his face “Okay.” You only hear him say as he closes his book and lays down next to you, using his own messenger bag as a pillow.

Later that night, Seungmin decides to study on your rooftop later than usual, and you hear him singing until you fell asleep.

In the following days, Seungmin kept on humming the final measures of your song along with experimental measures to try and fill in the missing gap. He sings it while gathering (or stealing, depends on who you ask) herbs from your garden, cleaning the room he rents above a dusty bookstore, and even while writing a cohesive prediction for someone in his side business.

It would drive you crazy if only his voice isn’t that great.

“You know, when your training ends, you should also try picking up at least one skill related to music.” You suggest to him a week later while pacing around in his room. You’re supposed to be outside but complained because of the intense heat you can’t seem to tone down. “I highly recommend singing for sunshine.”

“But you do it better.” He’s making you a reading on this particular day since business is slow recently. “You sing and play well.”

Internally, the butterflies already present in your stomach multiply greatly. “So? Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t too?” You manage to counter while trying to recover. “I bet wherever you’re going after your training, they’ll have extraordinarily warmer sun.”

He chuckles nervously. He’s more than halfway through his training already but he doesn’t want to think about that just yet (mostly because he finds it weird thinking about a new place without you in it, but he wouldn’t tell you that). “Really? You think so?”

You nod. “Yeah, I feel—well, I believe you will.” Placing a hand outside a nearby open window, the sun still feels scorching hot on your skin. You didn’t like bringing umbrellas or wearing hats while practicing, it distracts you too much. “Aish, it’s still too hot out!”

“If I do pick up music, I might turn out even better than you.” He teases, stealing a glance over to you and softening up by following with, “But who knows, maybe we’ll bump into each other a few years from now, you’ll probably already settled with somewhere and I’m still looking for a place to call home, then you can teach me.”

Seungmin can’t actually imagine you permanently staying in one place, with your adventurous streak and passion for the outdoors, much less finding someone who makes you stay in one place forever but he forces himself to consider for the sake of theory.

Whoever will catch their eye would truly be exceptional.

You, on the other hand, show evident confusion in your expression while you retract your hand back from the window. “I wouldn’t count myself on the settling down part but sure, I guess, I can teach you a few years from now.”

“Why?” Seungmin looks up at you again and even stops humming, showing you genuine curiosity. It suddenly felt strangely serious.

At this, you simply shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t think it’s a priority for me. I want to see the world! Can you picture me staying in one place forever?”

“No?” He chuckles. “What if you fall in love?”

“If I do, whoever I fall in love with should probably start practicing flying well then.”

When the two of you go out to the farmland behind Seungmin’s lodging later on, you conjure up an almost-perfect sun shower with only a handful of extra clouds left that needs to disappear.

“Seungmin, you’re going to catch a cold, come over here!” When you turn around to show Seungmin your work, you see him flying circles over the empty farmlands instead.

Drenched in light rain, he grows self-conscious of how you think of his flying skilles—all the while debating on whether he should give the last measure of your song to you now, when he’s definitely sure that he enjoys your company, or during Christmas, when it’s the cruelest holiday to leave.

Seungmin eventually gives in after 2 weeks, not that you’d notice anyway since you didn’t know that he wanted to keep you around longer. The sky is already getting cloudy, reminding the two of you of snow, making it harder to practice during the day—Seungmin had to give in while you can still manage to clear the sky before practicing.

“This is it, Seungmin.” You breathe out dramatically through the chilly December breeze. It’s early morning, just a little after the break of dawn, because you were so excited practicing the song with Seungmin last night. “If this last measure makes my perfect sun shower, my last week here would be the best! I’d be the happiest, I swear.”

There was also the fact that you planned on leaving right after the first snow. Sometimes you’re just too cruel, Seungmin thinks.

“I’m sure this is it, I decoded it.” He says as coolly and as confidently as he can.

You say nothing more, proceeding to sing and play the harp according to your sheet music. The song is only 2 minutes long, barely providing any room to feel nervous as you slowly approached the final verse which is supposed to be different for every witch / wizard, hence why it was hard to decode.

As you play, Seungmin watches the clouds form over the pale yellow sunrise, a small smile unconsciously forming on his face that then grows into a wide grin when they stop at just the right amount and started drizzling the vast expanse of houses ahead in light rain. “Y/N, you did it! You did it!”

You didn’t even realize that you’ve had your eyes closed the entire time you sang and played, opening them only when you felt Seungmin spinning around next to you to feel the rain just as the droplets of rain started to dampen your own hair. “I—I did it!”

“You did!” Seungmin turns to you, not even hiding his happiness this time as he then instinctively pulls you into a warm hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

You hug him back tighter, his coat cold and damp against yours. “Thank you, Seungmin.” You catch your breath as you rest your chin against his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

Seungmin only hums, speechless in being so close to you. This was the first time you hugged.

Without his face in your view, you miss the way he momentarily frowns at the thought that you’re now certain and confident to leave—a thought he expertly hides when he pulls away later on and says, “So, will you still practice or do you just leave it at that until you leave?”

You frown at him in annoyance, you really were irked he brought it up, especially since several days have passed since you’ve avoided mentioning it. “Why are you thinking of me leaving already? I have to practice a couple more times before I go, of course!”

“I’m just making sure so in case you stay outside overtime again.” He defends himself, suddenly feeling colder that you’re far away again. “Okay, now try making it stop, it’s getting really cold!”

“Alright, alright!” You roll your eyes, making the clouds disappear. You manage to dry yourselves even with a gush of warmer winds to compensate the two of you getting wet with rain. “Jeez, Seungmin, I thought we were having a moment there!”

Though you said it in a joking manner, of course he didn’t miss the way you showed the slightest hint of being hurt. Seungmin feels his heart drop to his stomach at the thought.

You continue practicing in the days that follow, both early in the mornings and late in the afternoons. Though you keep it cool in front of Seungmin, you notice how quiet he’s suddenly become, how he would hum your song less and literally cover his face with his book whenever you glance over at him for small talk.

“Are you mad?” “No.” “Do you feel awkward too?” “...A bit, yeah.” Would always be your conversation-ender. You know he meant it sincerely because he didn’t use his default dry tone on you but somehow it felt awkward.

What changed?

On your last day, you invited him to dinner.

“I told the landlord you can take this house if you want to.” You mention as the two of you ate strawberry cake. Earlier that day, some of the villagers surprised you with a going-away party since you leave at midnight—the cake was from one of the farmers you helped grow crops faster. “I still have some root crops in the garden, that should last you for a month.”

“It’s fine.” He reassures you for the 2nd time since you started eating. “I want the vegetables, though.”

For a while, it seemed like the awkwardness was gone and you laugh. “If you’re not taking the house, then you might have to have a talk with Mrs. Ross over the vegetables.”

“Then I’ll swipe them later when you go.” And then the awkwardness was back.

“Won’t you see me off later?” You ask, nervously playing with your food as you steal a glance at him.

Across the table, the lone strawberry on Seungmin’s plate suddenly seems interesting even when your gaze pokes on his newly dyed blonde hair. “I’m...I’m helping a villager’s sick child, it might take a while.” He bluffs, a heavy feeling looming over him.

“Oh...” He doesn’t see the frown before you muster up a smile. “That’s alright, I guess.”

“Where do you plan on going?” He finally gathers the courage to look up at you, searching for any sign in your eyes that you’d suddenly stay.

You ponder over the question longer than you usually would, your eyes trailing to the window behind Seungmin as you do so. “It’s snowing.” You mutter absentmindedly.

When Seungmin turns around, your windowsill already has a thin layer of snow.

“It is.” He agrees, eyes suddenly stinging. Am I crying? “It’s the first snow.”

You swore you saw faint hints of tears on Seungmin’s face when you escorted him out later that night but you chose to ignore it, diverting your attention instead to the sky—and for the first time you understood why Seungmin hated night skies wherein the stars aren’t visible.

“A bit dull, I get it now.” You comment as you walk him with him to the main road. When he gives you a questioning gaze, the dry trails of tears shining under the faint street lights, you gesture to the sky. “The starless sky, I mean.”

He follows you, frowning at the lack of stars. The sky seems to radiate off of the two of you. “Yeah, it’s so vague, you could barely read anything.”

Seungmin wakes up the following morning to a sun shower. There’s a thick layer of snow outside his window, even more when he steps out of his lodging later on, yes, but it’s the lone droplet of rain that falls on his cheek as he closes the door behind him on his way out that catches his utmost attention, casting his eyes up to the sky as it begins to drizzle.

At that moment, it fully dawns on him that you never told him exactly where you were going.

Still, he flies to your house, in hopes of any clue somehow. Only, when he arrived, he only saw the landlady, Mrs. Ross there, tending to your garden.

“Oh, Seungmin!” She greets the evidently distressed wizard. “Do you want to take some of the vegetables?”

“N-No, I just thought that—nevermind.”

“If you’re looking for Y/N, they already left last night.” Mrs. Ross says sympathethically to Seungmin. “They didn’t say where they were going.”

Seungmin walks home afterwards, dejected.

It felt wrong, spending an entire day without you afterwards, especially when the sun was out later in the afternoon yet it felt horrifyingly cold.

The week passes by too slowly for Seungmin, even when he decides on devoting half of his day to resuming correspondence with his parents and some friends—away in their own towns. He rarely leaves the house, wandering only as far as the bookstore downstairs, utilizing the never-ending snow as an excuse to his landlord. Your landlady. Mrs. Ross, is probably the only person from outside his building that he sees whenever she drops by to hand him the produce from your garden.

His textbooks have started to blur in front of him whenever he studies and the weather has started feeling dull and repetitive for him.

And so it felt years have already passed when a knock comes to his door beyond the usual time Mrs. Ross would come by. It’s already afternoon, just as Seungmin is about to take a nap.

“Who is it?” He asks as loudly as he can in his drowsy state, almost stumbling over an umbrella stand in the process, but the knock continues, annoyingly chirpy at that.

When he opens the door, you give him no time to prepare himself as you tackle him in a hug. “Kim Seungmin!” You exclaim, throwing your arms to his shoulder.

There’s a slight delay on his part, partly because the sun is shining too warmly and too bright outside but mostly because he instantly recognizes your warmth as you squeeze him tighter. “Wha—? How—?” He stutters, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Nevertheless, he wraps his arms around your waist, quickly gathering his thoughts together to coherently ask, “Where have you been?!”

“Oh, here and there. I went home to my parents then wandered off aimlessly to some beaches in the South since it’s really cold up here.” You explain as you try and pull away from him but Seungmin uncharacteristically keeps you in place, making you laugh. “Hey, you missed me.”

At this, he buries his face on your shoulder, mumbling a muffled, “Of course I did.” that almost completely melted your heart if it weren’t for him following it with, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, I needed time to think.” When you pull away, he lets you this time, allowing you to step inside his place. It looked the same since you were last here, you notice.

“Of what?”

“Of how I feel for you.” You make sure to say it in the sincerest way you know, feeling light-headed afterwards.

Oh, Seungmin thinks, cheeks flushed, so it’s me?

Seungmin stands there gaping, completely dazed at your short confession until your face is completely red from the heat that you immediately speak again. “Seungmin, say something.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know if you liked me or not.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

You knit your eyebrows in confusion. “No? If you were, I would’ve actually stayed longer.”

“R-Really?” Now, Seungmin just feels dumb for not being more clear with his feelings.

You nod with a hum, continuing, “I kept dropping hints as best as I can but you just keep mentioning me leaving whenever you can.”

In front of you, you can clearly see Seungmin’s frustration with himself. “I’m sorry, I should’ve still been considerate of how you felt about me mentioning your leave then and I definitely should’ve asked you to stay even when your training did end.” He frowns, more to himself than to you. “B-because I...I really like you too but I also thought that you’d want to go and explore the moment you’re allowed to leave—I didn’t want to keep you waiting if you like me too.”

You shake your head no, a small smile now forming on your lips. “It’s not like the world outside’s going to change.” You take a brave step closer to Seungmin now, cupping his cheeks in your warm hands. “So, what’s—how many months do you have left? Four?—what’s 4 months more of waiting?”

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vladvodadracul · 3 years

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Drăculeştii, by Georgina-Viorica Rogoz, 1977

Harefta

At my sight - I must have looked awful, sweaty and dusty, driven mad with the thought that I would not arrive in time and that everything was in vain - the guards made a wall of spears.

I was worn out, I couldn't shout, I only mumbled in Romanian, showing the seal ring I had from Mitri.

"His Majesty's service."

An unknown boyar invited me and took me to the Lord. He was eating some bread and steak under a half-sheet of tent, hung on the elms, to give him a little cool, for the summer sun had begun to burn since before noon.

With Vlad Dracul there were in the tent some boyars and his two sons, one of whom was very small, sleepy, with blond hair, large dark eyes, like those of a doe; the other was tall, bony, already jumped over early childhood. I only paid attention to him for a moment, and addressed my Voivode without hesitation, barely breathing:

“I'm Stepan sin Nanu, Your Majesty's man from Adrianople.”

"I know. You haven't changed. What news do you have?”

“Your Majesty may ask the honorable boyars here not to be upset, because I have to speak to you in private.”

The Lord beckoned to his companions, who pulled away, giving orders and preparing to set out. I didn't tell him anything, but I gave him the scroll with the seal of the Citadel of Giurgiu.

Vlad Dracul looked at it and his face darkened.

"What does that paper say?"

“Examine it, my Lord, it’s the seal of the Danube Fortress. If it's the same as the one on the letter handed to you in the winter by sub-pasha of Giurgiu himself, who sent you here, on the road to perdition, then I will read what is written in the letter, although it is hard for me to upset you. You still have to know the truth.”

The voivode grimaced worse, clapped his hands and shouted, "Logothete, give me the last papers in the rosewood box. Quick!”

A tall, young man I didn't know was approaching.

"And the boyar Voicu?" I murmured, astonished that I had not seen his faithful counselor near his Lord.

"He's sick in Philibe city. The sun hit him on the head, and at his age he felt sick,” murmured the young secretary, handing the voivode a few scrolls with gilded writing.

Vlad looked over the two parchments in disgust, handed me the scroll I had brought, and growled out the words:

"Read. I suspected for a long time, from the moment I looked in the yellow eyes of the bastard sub-pasha. Read it now, what are you waiting for?!”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the secretary and prince Vlăduţ to leave, who was now moving next to his father, chewing on some food and turning his back to me.

"If Your Majesty commands me to read it in front of the young son of the Country," I hesitated, beginning to gather my strength after the long, exhausting journey.

“Go, son.”

"I beg you, father, to allow me to stay," the answer snapped. It sounded so little like a request or politeness, it had been said with such passion and seriousness, that the Lord laughed.

"Stay, if you want. You will begin a moment earlier than I thought, or even the ruthless Murad-han himself thought, the bitter lesson that a hostage giaour prince must swallow daily at the Sublime Gate of Happiness.”

"Your Majesty," I said breathlessly, "you should turn around. Know that everything is ready for your escape. We'll hide you for a night in a caravanserai, then we'll put you in a camel driver’s clothes and we'll take you to the Arvanites in Scanderbeg’s mountains. The Castriota prince is with the Christians, although today he is in Murad's service.”

“Mitri is an idiot!” Vlad Dracul thundered. “I don't need such advice, it's too late! Come on, read.”

I coughed, ashamed, and started with the official formula:

“To our great Sultan Amurad-han, the son of the glorious Muhammad, the enlightened and ...”

“Jump over his enlightenment. Get to the core”, the Voivode ordered me.

"... And know, my blessed Sultan, that as long as Vâlkoglu (Despot Brancovici) will continue to plot with the Hungarian, Dâraku will not think of bowing with true obedience, because he is a hypocrite. And he will do to me what he did to the pasha of Silistra, three summers ago ...

Do not believe Vlad Dâraku to be a friend, even if he comes with his sons and his nobles to bow to your high chair and renew the treaty, because we have news that he has an understanding with Iancu, who is allied with the Serb and The Greek and the Pope of the Christians of the west and they will attack you from two parts, from the waters of the Danube and from the steppes of Karamanoglu, who is also allied to them to jump you from behind, through Anatolia. This is why I think, as your humble and unworthy servant, that the beglerbey of Rum has the right to say, as he said before, that it would be more useful for you here to have a pashalak with a faithful bey from among our own people who believe in the Prophet, than an unruly bearer of hilat (flag), from the sons of Mircia-Voivod.

And know, my beloved and glorious, enlightened master, that I am grieved, like the werewolf-eaten moon, at the thought that not I, but another of your servants will rejoice when he puts the chains on the unbeliever Dâraku, as You desire, glorifying Allah for His justice.”

“Hm... is there much left?” the Voivode growled.

"All that's left is the closing formula of the letter."

"The pig of a sub-pasha!" the Voivode burst out. “I knew since before. I understood a long time ago. He handed me the Sultan's safe-conduct, pushing me into the ready-made trap.”

"Did our letters from this spring reach Your Majesty?"

"Sure, but I had no choice. I had to come. Better I come to the wolf's lair than to wait for the wolf to come over my sheep, unprepared for his strong fangs. I need one more year. Then...”

"Your Majesty,” I tried again. "A caravan of ours awaits your decision. There is room for ten to twelve people, along with Your Majesty and the princes. You can't enter Edirne. That's where the dungeon will receive you, maybe the executioner.”

"Who knows," Vlad laughed. “The year doesn’t bring what the moment does. Murad is a righteous Sultan, he does not tarnish his signed treaties, he has no reliable evidence against me, he is also of a changeable nature when he hears certain meaningful words... And I have nowhere to go. His guards would slaughter us anyway, on the way back...”

“If not us the twelve fugitives, certainly for the other three hundred Romanians we came with!” young Vlad intervened.

I looked at his face. There was no trace of bratty arrogance on it, but a mature, thoughtful and upright tension.

"So you, son, are also saying we should stay and face the music?" old Vlad smiled under his mustache. Keep in mind: the son of a dethroned voivode is more endangered than an ignorant hostage caught in battle. You might perish.”

"I'm getting ready to die, just like I'm getting ready to win."

"What do you think about this, Stepane sin Nanu?" the Voivode asked, suddenly sounding joyful.

"I obey the command of my brave Lord and his noble son."

“Stop the teasing. It’s not empty words I want to hear, but your advice.”

“Your Majesty, we could save your life, with a little luck on both sides”, I insisted further on my plan. “Give the order...”

“Hm!” the Voivode grimaced again, darkened by some unspoken thought. “Everyone's life hangs by a thread. Even yours. Therefore, Stepan, go back to the Chancellery of the Gate, pretend that you have not seen me, that you know nothing about me, play your part well, because we will need your skill and advice! And if we don't have time to talk between ourselves, without unfriendly ears and enemy turbans in front of us, know that I want and order you to stay as close as possible to my sons... To guard them as much as possible ... Radu, because he's silly, frail, small... and Vlad...”

“Me, why?” the proud princeling got upset, staring at me with cold, green eyes, like clear sulphur, ready to ignite at the first spark.

Vlad Voda let his hand fall on his little boy's shoulder.

I noticed that he no longer wore the necklace with the large medallion that had mesmerized me as a child. His nose had become thinner, the muscles of his face glistening under sweat, as if polished on an effigy; two gray strands descended past his hollow cheeks, framing him in a sort of telluric silver. His eyes, wide open, were glowing just as strangely as before, and it seemed to me that the powers of the dragon, which was already part of the yet unwritten legend of his life, had passed from that magical necklace into his own body, gathered under the ivory eyelids of this man. wise and burdened with fate, and from there - unleashed - they bent, burned, sucked the earthly, the perishable, the small glances that rose towards him.

The Voivode then turned to his middle son and smiled softly and anxiously at the same time:

"Guard Vlad too, Stepan... because even the bravest prince needs in his youth someone to protect him from hidden enemies, and even the one he doesn't suspect to be in the depths to himself...”

"What do you mean, Dad?” said the child, trembling with spite.

"I want you to know, my son, that I have relied on Nanu, our loyal judge from the land of Lovişte, and this man's father.... Therefore, you should also place your trust in his son and don’t take him out of your heart, unless you have proof of his betrayal. And now, go and give orders that the horses be harnessed to our wagons and that they all get into saddle. Let's go to the Gate of the Sublime Duplicity!”

#romania #vlad the impaler #vlad tepes #romanian literature #historical fiction #draculestii

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zarcethewrites · 4 years

Text

Hamilton AU! | Zen x Musical actor!reader

The casting call | Helpless

Prompt: MC is acting in an on-screen adaptation of Hamilton, her role is Elizabeth Schyuler and she has to sing Helpless, ends up singing it to Zen either one day when she came over to rehearse in their apartment or at actual rehearsals and the cast swooning over them because their chemistry/relationship is so damn believable.

2,107 words

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

A new chatroom has opened

Ever since Jaehee had found out that y/n was a musical actress as well, she had been sending MC a lot of open script readings and try-outs from C&R’s affiliates. She was real grateful because she was only starting out in the musical scene, having only acted in one to two plays. Of course, Zen was ecstatic when he found out that his girlfriend was also in the same field of work as him, immediately grabbing the opportunity to sing a duet with y/n at the RFA’s celebratory after-party. y/n had been warming up and practicing her scales when the new chatroom had opened.

y/n: Hey, Jaehee! Jaehee: Y/n. Perfect timing Jaehee: There’s this new play that’s going to be adopted into a film by one of C&R’s subsidiaries Jaehee: You and Zen should try out for a role, you never know Jaehee: It’s a popular musical overseas called Hamilton.

The name rang a bell. It was the breakout musical that got really popular in America with the genre mainly being hip-hop and rap. It was pretty far from your usual style but you figured it was worth the challenge.

y/n: Ooh, sounds good y/n: Can you e-mail me the details? y/n: it’s a bit far from the genre’s Zen and I have gone for… y/n: But I’m up for a little challenge ^^ Jaehee: That’s what I hope too ^^ Jaehee: The auditions are three days from now, I think. Jaehee: I have to go… ;; Jaehee: Mr. Han’s calling me to his office. ;; y/n: Good Luck, Jaehee! y/n: And thank you for showing me the audition ^^

Jaehee left the chatroom.

As you left the chatroom, you smiled, sending Zen a quick text with all the details to the audition and a quick text cheering him on.

-----

A phone call with Zen later and he was over the moon with the thought of auditioning with you. A quick message to Jaehee texting her Zen was also willing to audition and an hour later, your email notification went off. Opening it, you find Jaehee’s e-mail containing the information about the auditions.

To: MCy/[email protected] From: [email protected]

y/n and Zen, Here’s the link to sign up for the auditions: http:// hamiltionthemovieauditions.com/korea/auditions I’ve already input your names, you’ll be receiving the confirmation e-mails soon.

Here’s the names and contact of the director. Director Lee Heungmin xx-xxxx-xxxxx

The audition pieces were also attached to Jaehee’s e-mail. Since it had been a year since the musical was released in America y/n had plenty of material to base her interpretation of Elizabeth Schyuler off of.

You spent an hour on your couch, researching yours and Zen’s character, watching clips of the musical from MeTube and “slime tutorials”. By the end of the day, you were practically hooked on the musical, slowly mouthing the words along with the musical actresses. You didn’t realize it was already dark outside, Zen was supposed to be coming to your apartment for dinner. Jumping up, you open the audition song you were supposed to be singing and play it on repeat as you scramble to get dinner ready.

The door opened just as you were taking the chicken breast out of the oven. Smiling over your shoulder, you hear Zen calling out your name.

“y/n? Babe, I’m home!” grinning at his words, you dust off your hands on your apron, before walking towards the apron. Sure he was only coming over for dinner and maybe a little movie, but it had become a habit for the both of you to act like a married couple, annoying the other RFA members to no end.

“Zenny!~ How was meeting with the directors today?” you ask him, pecking his cheek. Zen grinned.

“I’m happy that musical’s finally done, it was a lot of fun, but that role was pretty awkward.” He says, while walking the both of you to your kitchen. “How’d your day go?”

“I barely made dinner in time today, I was researching the roles for the musical Jaehee gave us.” You admit sheepishly, when he did a double-take at the stack of papers on the dining table.

“I didn’t get to listen to the tracks yet, but what do you think?” Zen asks, reading over the scattered papers and cleaning them up. You thanked him with a quick peck on the cheek, laying out the utensils ready.

“The tracks are amazing, I looked it up, and the musical is really famous overseas. The characters are also pretty amazing, I’ve been listening to the songs non-stop since Jaehee sent it to be honest.” Zen smiled, and hugged you from behind.

“Sing one for me?” He asked, and how could you say no to him? You laugh, patting his arm to get your phone that was still connected to the speakers.

“You know I can’t say no to that handsome face.” You grin, blushing. “Actually, there’s a song that fits us, I think… and it just so happens to be the audition piece for the character I want to try for.”

“Really now?” he grinned as he sat down.

“Yes, the more I read about this musical, the more I think you fit the lead.”

At Zen’s confused face, you scroll through the songs, stopping on Helpless. Passing him the lyrics and gesturing to Hamilton’s lines.

(play the song here for immersion)

“Ohh, I do I do I do I Dooo! Hey! Ohh, I do I do I do”

At the start of Eliza’s lines, you grab Zen by his jacket causing him to blush.

“Boy you got me Helpless! Look into your eyes, and the sky’s the limit I’m”

You grin at him swooning, holding you hand to your chest like you’ve been struck by cupid.

“helpless! Down for the count, and I’m drownin’ in ‘em”

You start walking around the table, Zen following you. You grab your phone, unlocking it so it showed your wallpaper which was a photo of you and Zen at the first RFA party you’d organized, where you hid from all the party goers that you’d promised some absurd things to--

“I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night

At that line, you show Zen your wallpaper. Shaking his head at your antics he turns back to the music sheet on his hands. While he was busy, you start making your way back towards him.

“Laughin’ at my sister as she’s dazzling the room Then you walked in and my heart went “Boom!” Tryin’ to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom Everybody’s dancin’ and the band’s top volume”

As you sang you begin swaying side to side, trying to mimic the dancing you’d done at the RFA party.

“Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine Grab my sister, and whisper, Yo, this one’s mine. My sister made her way across the room to you (Ooh) And I got nervous, thinking “What’s she gonna do?” (Ooh) She grabbed you by the arm, I’m thinkin’ “I’m through” (Ooh) Then you look back at me and suddenly I’m Helpless!”

You take his face in your hands and stare at his eyes smiling, as you sang the next words. He stares back, smiling at you one of his hands going to snake around your waist.

“Oh, look at those eyes Look into your eyes And the sky's the limit I'm helpless I'm helpless, I know Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em I'm so into you I am so into you I'm helpless I know I'm down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em

y/n gestured towards the lyrics in his hands. Zen took them and began reading the lines along with the original voice.

“Where are you taking me?” he reads.

I’m about to change your life by all means, lead the way

“Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you” Using the apron as a “skirt” she curtsied in front of him, making him laugh.

“Thank you for all your service”

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it”

At that line, Zen takes your hand and tugs you back to be closer to him and kisses your hand, and you laugh. He hadn’t even seen the musical but he’d done what his character would’ve done already, you knew he was just the perfect fit for Hamilton.

I’ll leave you to it

“One week later I’m writin’ a letter nightly Now my life gets better, every letter that you write me Laughin’ at my sister, cuz she wants to form a harem”

I’m just sayin’, if you really loved me, you would share him

“Ha!”

You think back to the first days of you being in the RFA when Jaehee had been a little protective over Zen. You didn’t hold it against her, really, she was just concerned for the future of her idol, but it did make you think a little more everytime you’d talked to either of them. Thankfully she’d accepted your relationship with Zen eventually.

“Two weeks later in the living room stressin’ My father’s stone-faced while you’re asking for his blessin’ I’m dying inside, as you wine and dine And I’m tryin’ not to cry ‘cause there’s nothing that your mind can’t do My father makes his way across the room to you I panic for a second, thinking “we’re through” But then he shakes your hand and says “Be true” And you turn back to me, smiling, and I’m Helpless!”

Your heart sank a little as you sang the past lines, remembering Zen’s family. He’d recently started talking to them again and they still hadn’t accepted him or the concept of the two of you being in a relationship. Holding his hand, you smile at him. You had told him you’d wait for him, and you were adamant on keeping that promise. You were willing to wait, because he was someone worth waiting for.

“Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit I'm helpless (hoo!) This boy is mine, this boy is mine I'm helpless Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em”

Gesturing to the lyrics in his hand, Zen reads over the lines, skipping a couple at first, getting used to the beat before singing along.

“Eliza, I don’t have a dollar to my name An acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame All I have’s my honor, a tolerance for pain A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain Insane, your family brings out a different side of me Peggy confides in me, Angelica tried to take a bite of me No stress, my love for you is never in doubt We’ll get a little place in Harlem and we’ll figure it out.”

At that, he stares back at you, and you smile at him knowing every word that he meant everything that came out of his mouth.

“I’ve been livin’ without a family since I was a child My father left, my mother died, I grew up buckwild But I’ll never forget my mother’s face, that was real And long as I’m alive, Eliza, swear to God You’ll never feel so…”

The two of you begin to sing together,

“Helpless! I do, I do, I do, I do I do, I do, I do, I do! Helpless! Hey, yeah, yeah! Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em Helpless! I look into your eyes and the sky's the limit, I'm— Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em”

Knowing the song was coming to an end, you pull Zen closer towards you using his jacket. Caught off guard, Zen blushes but holds you closer.

In New York, you can be a new man… In New York, you can be a new man… In New York, you can be a new man…

“Helpless”

Noses nearly touching, you end the song with a kiss. You feel Zen melt into it, his hands moving to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Your heart felt like it was moving a thousand miles an hour. This man really did make you feel helpless.

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

I know it’s impossible to sing along perfectly to a song you’d never heard of but this is fanfiction land so just imagine Zen can follow the tune of the song REAL WELL

it’s been a hot second since i played Zen’s after ending but I imagined this set a little after it, but instead of being Zen’s manager, I made MC a musical actor.

I got into Hamilton and this Zen CG just popped into my head-- I mean come one the glasses, the costume??? My man’s basically the korean Alexander Hamilton lmao. and i am OBSESSED with the idea of MC being a singer as well and them just?? singing?? to each other?? filming short covers of their voice for the other person to listen to and posting their covers on social media and---

I have very strong feelings for this man okay---

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger zen #mystic messenger hyun ryu #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger scenario #zen x reader #zen #hyun ryu x reader #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger AU

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

THE HOUSE, (part 3 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

THE HOUSE

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

Written 1990

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music, or any other thing is actively encouraged!

///////////////////////

I was still curious about the rest of the file in the town library, so I decided to take a break and go into town. As I stepped out the front door, I felt the wind. The trees along the road were still, yet I was buffeted from all sides at once by a wind that did not swirl but pressed my clothes tight to me from all sides at once. I felt more like I was being held comfortably than pushed like a wind usually would. It was warm, where the day and been chill. When I got into the car I left the door open to see what would happen. The wind closed it. This time there was a perceptible pause before the glove box opened.

When it did, a rush of wind gusted out and raced about inside the car. Once again, there were five of the odd gold coins within it. As before, I thanked whatever Power had put them there. Though brisk, the day seemed clear enough to risk the walk into town after all, so I got out of the car strolled down the road to town. Having everything that I needed within walking distance was one of the reasons that I liked the small town of Flocking Bay so much.

The Flocking Bay Bank of Maine was my next stop. I had some difficulty getting them to accept the coins for credit to my account. They insisted on a slate test by a local jeweler to ascertain the purity of the coins. They were twenty four carat. Then they wanted to take the coins at current spot price less ten percent, which was fine with me. They also wanted to count the coins at three to the troy ounce, as Hiram Wickes had counted them in the 1850’s and 60’s, which was not. I insisted that the same jeweler weigh the nine coins that I was depositing. With gold at nearly four hundred dollars to the ounce, the six tenths of an ounce per coin seemed worth the effort. The business was finally done to the satisfaction of all.

My steps now lead me down aged, tree lined streets to the library. Mrs. Alderman had set out the file in readiness for me. I added the tenth coin and a notarized account of its origin and the number of coins to date.

“You have been so helpful, she said brightly, “setting things in order the way you have. Do you know, I’ve been studying some, after hours. I hope that you will have a great book.”

“Mrs. Alderman,” I said in a confidential tone, “I’ve allowed you to deceive yourself. See, I too, put something in your file. I’m not a writer. I’m John Peaslee. I live in the old Wickes place, and I wanted to find out about its history.

My uncle, Gordon Wetherbee, is a scholar at Miskatonic University and he may indeed wish to publish a book or monograph on the subject of my house.”

She looked like a person seeing a ghost. In a faint voice, she replied, “Oh, my! I had hoped it was not you. You were such a nice young man, too.”

Noticing the past tense, I chided gently, “I still am, Mrs. Alderman. I live yet and I have not changed from the person that you first met. The nice young man who set your file in order is not dead.”

“Yet,” she said firmly. “Nobody as lives in that house does so for long. None has ever escaped it.”

“Yet,” I completed with a smile, and crossed the room to the battered pine table by the old mullioned window.

I had put the botanical report off until last, not knowing anything about plants. The report described in dry detail what were called “some of the most unusual genetic monsters that I have ever seen.” The report was issued by Miskatonic University. It described roses that were nothing of the sort. The “rose” plants were carnivorous. There were low pansy and violet-like plants that were some strange form of thallophyte. The mycelium of these fungi was linked in some fashion to the roots of the “roses.” Both forms died instantly upon being plucked and began rotting with almost supernatural speed. No pressings were possible due to the rapidity of decomposition, so only photos and rapidly drawn pictures of what was seen by microscope were included. The grass was as unusual as the “pansies” and “roses.” The leaves all rose from rhizomes, which spread from a central node, like some ferns. This “grass” was no fern, however. None of the plants could be cultivated away from the Wickes house. “The plants fit no known classification and must be regarded as unique to science,” the report concluded.

That evening the wind came again, and blew at my back all the way to the house, like a great friendly beast hurrying its master home. I had forgotten to buy batteries for my flashlight, but I did not turn back.

I resumed my search of the library. The evening passed uneventfully, I did not finish with the library that night. I was feeling restless.

So were the rats of the spectral brigade. I could hear a few upstairs but most were in the basement. Taking a candlestick, I worked the hidden spring of the concealed door to the basement. I could hear the rats below.

The stair was longer than I remembered it. The basement was larger than I recalled it being. The corners were dim in the candlelight. The spectral brigade was upstairs, of course. Still no dust or spider webs. I nearly dropped the candle in shock when I saw it. There was a table in the corner. I knew that the basement had been empty. Bare stone.

My curiosity led me cautiously to the table. It had on it a candlestick with a burned-out stub of candle, a box of papers, and six largish portfolios of leather, each labeled with the name of a continent. They also were filled with papers. A cursory examination revealed that I had found Hiram’s correspondence. There was a lot of it. It was clear that he had the habit of making copies of his missives and attaching the replies to the letters for easy reference. He may have been messy but his mind had been well organized. Taking the folder marked Australia because it was the smallest, I went back up the stairs. I placed the folio on the desk in the study to read by tomorrow̓s daylight. In checking my calendar, I noticed that tomorrow was the day of the new moon.

Bed was welcome, after the tension and labors of the day, but not a relief. My night passed in troubled dreams. It was a place of incomprehensible, invisible obstacles and wind. The wind blew at me from all directions at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. Resisting the wind caused it to go away. It came back with gold for me. As I refused the gold, my frustration mounted. It was not what I wanted. My tears spilt forth in a flood. I wanted something else - and I could not remember what.

The morning light awakened me on sweat-drenched sheets. Slowly, as dreams will, the terrors faded. I got up and began my day.

As I had begun to expect, the books did not materialize. None of the books in the library was a rebound Necronomicon or Black Book. I reshelved the last book with a sigh. The precious books appeared have eluded me.

I turned my attention to the Australia folder. Its pages yielding information for the first time in about a hundred and twenty years. Apparently, Hiram had a number of correspondents in Australia. His questions ranged from searches for rumored ‘houses of stone’ in the outback to tracing the aboriginal folk carvings and paintings and asking about the most secret rituals and ceremonies of the aboriginal Australians. His questions, piercing and analytical, illuminated every subject with stark clarity, like flashes of lightning. He had known exactly what he was looking for and was not at all afraid of finding it.

Now, with the day beginning to close, there came a knock at my door. Opening the door revealed a postman with a bulky Next Day Letter envelope. Signing for it, I noticed that it was from Miskatonic University. Uncle Gordon had responded almost the instant that he had received my letter, and by the fastest possible post. Impressed, I opened the flap of the letter. A single sheet was all that the large envelope held. Uncle Gordon̓s hasty scrawl read:

Dear John:

It is with simple horror that I have read that you have purchased the house of Hiram Wickes. Delay not an instant! Get out of that house! Leave before the new moon! I pray that this reaches you in time!

Come to me in Arkham! There, I will tell you all that I know of this matter. I hope that you are still alive and well and will come to hear my reasons for so urgent a request.

You are involved with Powers beyond imagination. Things there are that are worse than even what is in the Necronomicon. Hastur, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, is involved, and Cuthulu, as well, whose coin you sent a tracing of.

This must sound mad to you. A very hodgepodge of fear. And it is. Fear for you. Come to me at once! Upon your life it is necessary!

In regard and fear for your life,

I remain,

Gordon Wetherbee

It was remarkable. I had never seen evidence of such agitation from uncle Gordon before. This, along with all that I had learned, made up my mind. I would take his advice. Packing my few clothes took almost no time. Seeing the Australia folder, I realized how important Hiram’s letters could be to uncle Gordon. I placed it with my bag, by the front door.

I raced to the library, took up a candlestick and plunged down the long flight of stairs to that huge gloomy vault of a basement. As I gathered the box and folders into my arms, I saw them at last! Among others, the Necronomicon and Black Book had been hidden behind the letter portfolios. Putting down the letters in the face of a far greater treasure, I examined the precious books. There was what had to be the only complete 1784 edition of the Necronomicon. Priceless. Also, there was the almost as rare 1635 edition of the Black Book. There was an apparently genuine medieval Latin Philippus Faber. Last was a hand-bound copy of a manuscript, written on a fine supple parchment of a type that I could not identify, labeled in Hiram’s now familiar script, Pnakotic Manuscripts, subtitled, “Being a Collection of Ante-human Lore.” The writing in this last volume was of a sort that I had never seen before. It was disturbing just to look at. The very notion of actually reading it made me shudder.

Knowing that I should not tarry, I placed the books with my other burdens and gathered them up. There was a sudden rushing of wind from all sides at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. The candle in my hand burned bright and unwavering, despite the wind. It did not blow out.

In a blind panic, I ran up the long, crumbling, dusty, spider-bedecked stair. I found myself back in the basement. I no longer had my load of letters and books. Two more attempts to go up the stairs left me still in the vast, dusty crypt of a basement… Raising the candle high, I looked intently up the stair, trying to see why I could not get to the top. After a few minutes, or perhaps hours, I got my eyes to work properly and the nausea stopped. The stairs offered no escape.

In searching for a way out of this vast stone lined vault of a basement, I found all of the fifty nine other people who had vanished. They are all dead. They have dried to sere brown mummies. Many still show signs of bleeding from eyes, nose or ears, as if their brains had burst within their skulls. It seems that transport to wherever this is, killed the others outright. Some were in bed, others at table, some at other tasks. Each family or person seems to have their own area. The next group is in a different spot. It helps me to sort them out. All of my goods are by the stair.

Examining the bodies so closely may seem to be a ghoulish exercise but it gives me something to do.

I do not need the candle. There is a pale sourceless illumination everywhere. Dust is thick on the floor and everything else. Cobwebs shroud everything.

There, in the corner lies what was Hiram Wickes. The notes and papers with him tell the story. Unable to stand his own mess, he had the house cleaned attic to basement. The yard was manicured to perfection. He then made the simple blunder that has cost so many lives and so much misery.

He bound Hastur of the Winds, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, to keep his house and grounds exactly as it was on that day in 1866. Every new moon, everything that does not fit goes to the basement but that too gets cleaned. Hastur has no choice but to sweep the excess to someplace else…

I am lucky. I have the opportunity to starve. I was in the basement when the cleaning came. I was pushed through a distance too short to kill. The unvarying light seems to erase time, except that I am getting hungry.

Uncle Gordon has solved many occult mysteries and seems to know something of this one. I know that he will come soon. I wonder if he can do anything.

I found a pen among my things and paper from the possessions of the many dead. I have determined to make this account.

I leave my curse on Flocking Bay Realty. They knew that this would happen. They have sold the house many times, without warning. They have been battening on this evil since 1908.

I have found the rats. They are everywhere here. They do not touch the bodies or Hiram’s books and papers. They are disgusting. If I get hungry enough, I shall eat them.

-THE END-

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#THE HOUSE #Part 3 of 3 #flocking bay #Written by De Writer

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junietuesday · 4 years

Text

Michael is walking down the beach at sunset, headphones connected to his phone in his pocket, breathing weed smoke into the air on the day that he meets Jake.

Well. “Meets” is a strong word. But the point stands.

The waves crash rhythmically against the soft sand, audible even over the soft music playing through Michael’s headphones. Since his area is shit, there’s too much litter to walk barefoot, but he can tell through his sneakers that the sand would be soft under his feet. The sky is pink along the horizon, the sun a gentle orange as it sinks beneath the ocean’s surface—it’s already seven PM, but obviously, sunsets are always late during the summer.

This beach is comforting, after so many years of coming out here to walk, listen to music, and, later, smoke. On bad days, it can feel horribly lonely out here with only the waves and the sand as his company, but usually, coming here is like receiving a warm hug.

Michael kicks an old soda can along the shore as he walks, the lyrics of “You Happened” from The Prom (thank Christine Canigula for trying to turn him into a theater kid) playing through his headphones, the upbeat tune contrasting with the quiet serenity of the rest of the beach. Nothing much ever really happens here, but in Michael’s opinion, that’s a definite plus.

Until he sees a head poking out of the water, far out from the coastline. Like, “is it safe for someone to be out that far?” far out. Michael’s never seen anyone swim out that distance, anyway.

He makes to call out to the figure. But just as fast, the figure dives down and disappears, a bright green tail that sparkles in the light of the sunset breaking the surface of the water, before it, too, vanishes beneath the waves.

Michael runs to the water, where the waves soak his sneakers and tug at his socks. The ocean is as always. There’s no sign the mysterious figure ever existed.

Jake slips back into his bedroom, flopping down onto his bed and closing his eyes against the light of nearby bioluminescent fish that streams in through his windows, reflecting off the sparkling blue crystal of his ceiling. He can still feel the after effects of adrenaline thrumming through his body, lighting him up from head to tailfin.

It feels like only moments later when someone crashes into the room with a thump of the door falling shut behind him.

“Jake!” Rich’s voice is all beams. Jake groans into his comfy, comfy pillow, pulling his comfy, comfy sheets tighter around him. (It’s a sensory thing, okay?) “Jake, I’m—oh, shit, dude, you look like ass. Are you good?”

“Stayed up way too late,” Jake says, looking up. He’s greeted with the familiar sight of Rich’s deep sun-colored scales, fading from orange at the hip to red at the tailfin, and the dyed-red streak in his hair. “I’m so sleep-deprived, save me from this hell.”

“What?” Rich tilts his head. “Why? I mean, all power to you if you wanna pull a random all-nighter, but—”

“Uh.” Jake propels himself upright, the sun beating hard into his eyes. “There was a reason. And you have to promise not to tell anyone if I tell you what I was doing.”

“Oh shit, this is serious,” Rich says, at Jake’s grave expression. He spins around, sending ripples through the water around them. “Lay it on me, dude! I swear on my life I won’t snitch.”

“Okay.” Jake takes a deep breath, sinking down to let his tail hang over the edge of his bed. “I was at the beach. Watching a human.”

Rich’s expression flashes from earnest to shocked. “What? For reals?”

Jake understands why he’s concerned. For all they know, this could be one of those humans that would turn them over to a—what’s the word?—an aquarium in a heartbeat, never to see the ocean or any sort of freedom again. Or the human could even kill Jake and keep his body instead. God knows there have been mermaids that have done the same to a human, after luring them from their ships into diving into the sea.

“Yeah,” Jake says, tail flipping with nerves, ripples pushing at the particles of sand on the floor in front of him. “He’s so handsome and cute and he seems so nice when he’s there with his friends, I think they’re his friends I mean, and like, I can’t see him as the type to murder someone senselessly! And either way, I haven’t let him see me—um, well, until…”

“‘Until’?” Rich repeats, lying on Jake’s couch at this point. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah.”

Rich looks at Jake.

“Are you gonna go back?” Rich says. “Just based on ‘he seems so nice’?”

Jake sets his jaw, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, hands clenching into fists against his mattress. “Yeah, I am.”

“Got it,” says Rich briskly, without even moving from his relaxed recline on Jake’s couch, as though he was expecting that answer. “I’m coming with.”

“What?” Jake stares at him. “No way. I can’t ask you to risk that just ‘cause I’ve got a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush if you’re willing to risk it,” says Rich, and the resolution in his tone tells Jake that he may as well just accept it, because Rich won’t back down. “I trust you, dude. So we’re both going.”

“Fine,” says Jake, but inside, he’s extremely grateful. “And…thanks.”

“No prob.” Rich flashes a grin. “Hey, at least I get some eye candy out of it, right?”

The day after the beach incident, Michael tells Jeremy about it over lunch at an old 50’s-themed diner, literally named “The Diner” according to the neon letters above its entrance. It’s their favorite because of the arcade machine in one corner and the jukebox in the other. While Michael definitely doesn’t want to go back to the actual 50s—what with all the racism and shit going on—the aesthetic this place pulls off is pretty cool. Plus, the food is amazing.

“You’re serious?” Jeremy says, his pastel pink iPod long paused and abandoned on the plastic table in front of him. He hasn’t even taken out his earbuds. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Michael says, slightly defensive. Because sure, seeing a mermaid on a random stroll on the beach does sound like some kind of clickbait and/or hoax, but what reason does Michael have to lie? “I promise, its tail was the clearest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You wear glasses.”

“You wear glasses—!”

“And like,” Jeremy goes on, ignoring Michael’s protest, “I don’t think you’re lying deliberately, but, y’know. You could’ve been just high.”

“Who says I was even smoking weed?”

Jeremy just looks at him. Michael sighs, disgruntled.

“Okay, fine, I may have smoked a little,” says Michael, “but I’ve never gotten hallucinations from weed before. It was totally a mermaid. It had to be.”

Absently, Michael wonders what the others in this restaurant think of their debate. Michael’s never pretended to be a totally normal human being, but this is a whole new level of slightly batshit crazy. The lady at one of the stools at the bar sips her banana juice from the vending machine, staring at her phone. Does she know the two teenagers sitting in a booth a few feet away from her are having a discussion about one of them apparently having seen a mermaid at the beach yesterday? Does she even care?

“Besides,” Michael continues, grabbing a fry off his plate. “If the fucking Quetzalcoatlus can be real—”

“Michael, are we really gonna go over this again?”

“Yes! I mean, it’s a fucking bird-dinosaur the height of a giraffe—which, by the way, is also a strange as hell creature—that could still fly—”

“Anyway,” says Jeremy, around a swallow of milkshake. He’s definitely used to dealing with Michael’s rambles by now. The Chuck E. Cheese pizza conspiracy (in which they re-plate uneaten pizza slices, accounting for the uneven crusts of pizzas), the history of the mitochondrion (an ancient cell absorbed an ancient bacterium and they ended up in a symbiotic relationship), the random superstition of knitterly grandmas (you have to put a mistake in your work for the soul to escape through)—you name it, Michael’s probably rambled about it. He prides himself on the vast amount of useless knowledge his brain contains. “Mermaid. I can’t.”

“I can,” says Michael. “I’m gonna go see if I see them again tonight. It’s gonna be a whole proper stake-out with like, snacks and shit. I’ll see them again if it kills me.”

“It probably will,” Jeremy says. “You can’t do that every night until you see this mermaid, who knows when they’ll come back. And who says the mermaid is even coming back at all?”

“Shush, Jeremy, have faith,” says Michael. “It’s totally, like, The Little Mermaid. The mermaid’s gonna come back ASAP to stare at my beautiful face and then we’ll meet on the beach and—”

“You really want your mystery mermaid to lose their voice and tail in a deal with a sea witch and then be unable to communicate with you whatsoever and then they’ll die if—”

“It’s the idea, not the details,” Michael says. Jeremy just doesn’t get it. “Okay? Come if you want, I don’t care.”

“Nah, I’m coming,” says Jeremy. “I don’t have anything better to do. But don’t be disappointed if nothing happens, alright?”

“Something’s gonna happen,” Michael insists. “I can feel it.”

The night after Jake was spotted by the human, he and Rich swim as quietly as possible through the halls of Jake’s house, light from bioluminescence filtering through the blue-stained glass of the ceiling shining blobby shapes on their skin. Jake’s parents are home for once, and they wouldn’t take too kindly to seeing their son and his best friend sneaking out in the middle of the night.

Jake lets out a breath once they make it out the door, then turns to Rich.

“You can still back out,” he says, but Rich rolls his eyes.

“I told you, you’re stuck with me,” says Rich. “Now show me the map.”

Jake shows him the map. He got lucky to have made a friend like Rich.

“Michael,” Jeremy says from the hood of Michael’s car. The crescent moon shines above them, the light reflecting off the ocean’s waves. “Come pokemon battle me, I brought your DS.”

“No,” says Michael, staring out into the water, sitting right by the water on the folding chair he’d brought. “I need to make sure I see the mermaid if—when they come.”

He checks his watch. Ten o’clock. It’s been three hours since the sun set, and so far, there’s no sign of the mermaid from yesterday. Not even a single stray ripple in the water.

Jeremy sighs at Michael’s words. Michael hears the crinkle of a chip bag being opened. He turns.

“Hey, let me have some!” he says, getting up to grab some chips.

But as soon as Jeremy hands him the bag, he’s back to watching the water.

“Are you sure we went the right way?” Rich says, consulting the map. They’re close enough to the surface that sunlight is properly reaching them, far higher than their town is located, but there’s no sign of the ocean floor rising steadily anywhere. “I don’t see a beach.”

“It was definitely this way,” Jake argues. He points at a sunken car, bits of gray peeking out from beneath the green algae covering its surface. “I always pass this thing a few minutes before I get to the shore.”

Rich makes a disbelieving noise.

“Alright, dude,” he says. “You better be right, my tail and arms are dead.”

“I’m right,” says Jake, though he can’t blame Rich for his uncertainty. If the situation were the other way around, Jake hates to admit it, but he might have turned around long ago. “I’ve made this trip, like, twice every week. I know the way.”

~sort of but not really fin (eyy!), i’m gonna finish this another time but for now i’ve gotta submit for the bmq

Word Count: 2010 Team: Michael Prompts: all main, 9 bonus Points: 76 (30 game points, 46 for the fic itself) @bmc-gift-exchange

#june speaks #my writing #im not tagging this bc its super unfinished but take the beginning of a pins and patches mermaid au!!

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isakwon · 6 years

Text

Coffee Bean (Extinct) Part 4

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Romance & Angst

Word Count: 4.2k

Coffee Bean Masterlist

Summary: It’s believed the Red String of Fate can tangle and make annoying knots, but it can never break. But can it become untied from one person on either end?

“What?” Chanyeol lifts himself up off the ground. “What is he babbling about?” He reads the text again puzzling and puzzling what this evening suddenly bringing.

Messages

[From] Lay: Actually you’re going on a blind date.

He closes the shoe box of letters and placed them back into their hiding place then exiting the storage closet. Chanyeol drags his feet down the hall tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. His face gets lit up even brighter by the bright screen the more furrowed he kept his eyebrows rereading the text banner just making sure he is reading correctly. Expecting for another banner to pop up beneath about the message sent as an error meant for another person.

The text box words were as clear as the sky showing off through the windows, as well as the questioning punctuation that followed afterwards. Yixing knows about his marriage, hell he had been sent an invitation. Chanyeol stopped his tracks as he reached the master doorframe peeping into the room sort of leaning forward to the opposite side. His wife slept facing the framed photos occupying her side, the sheets covering half her silky covered body.

...

“What did you send him?” Yixing parts his lips with his widened eyes getting the phone back from Sehun but the phone keeps getting gestured from him.

“I think Chanyeol should see Y/N. So he sees the person Y/N became after leaving her first. They’ve been apart long enough.” Yixing quirks his brow upwards. Three weeks since moving to South Korea Sehun shut the door in front of Chanyeol multiple times and his one sided anger lasted long enough for believing Sehun completely lost respect.

“This whole time I thought you hated Chanyeol. When Y/N boarded the plane, you nagged over him because he didn’t come to stop her.” Yixing says, killing a growing smirk. The phone makes a high dinging sound grabbing their chins down.

Messages

[From] Chanyeol: Yixing, where are you and please wait about an hour. I’ll come get you.

Sehun rolls his eyes while forcing down amused snickers thinking about suspected number of times Chanyeol must’ve received drunk texts. It made sense for the assumption about suggesting dates to a married person being drunk texting except for one you and the boys didn’t order drinks and two; Sehun’s idea comes out with pure sobeirity.

[Sent] Yixing: I’m not drunk, thanks for asking. -_- Can you make time in the afternoon to meet? Just dressed casually.

“There’s always been mixed emotions towards him.” Sehun said. “Even way before romance was building with Y/N, Chan had always been my closest friend.”

[From] Chanyeol: Hyung, I most definitely don’t need any dates, Somil will be shocked. You know, Somil, my wife. You remember I’m married don’t you?

On the wedding day, Yixing attended the surprise reception during the daytime. He wore a dark gray blazer hanging open dangling beside his waist with the white crew collar unbuttoned. He had his hand in his pocket while holding a glass with the other staying in his seat until the newlyweds arrived.

[Sent] Yixing: Not exactly a blind date. It’s more likely an eat out. she finds you charming and wants to start off developing friendship.

“Sehun, with Y/N it’s easy for her to hang out,” Yixing says. “Especially now, but Chanyeol’s been working nonstop. And the holidays are the busiest times for him he doesn’t have the time. That company has become something he lives and breathes now.”

“Baekhyun knows Chanyeol still stops by Cafe Cicero. Y/N wouldn’t have been there that long unless there’s still an ounce-” The phone rings again.

[Sent] P. Chanyeol: Sounds more like she’s interested in a special bonus that never exist.

The boys knew that that morning you waited while sitting and waited sitting down until you left disappointed about letting hopes high of meeting Chanyeol again. They didn’t ask that you saw Chanyeol since they assumed you’d rather not talk about nothing happening. They knew you payed a visit there, but they were still pretty shocked how long you said the wait lasted but they didn’t see bother you hid. You arrived arms full with plastic bags filled with Christmas paper and bows along with favorite snacks for self satisfaction.

[Sent] Yixing: That’s why I referred you. If she impresses you, like she wants then she’ll be on the roadway to her journey already. So it’s more of a business blind date.

[From] P. Chanyeol: Xing, since this person wants to be a superstar model, she can start off scheduling an appointment professionally. Besides scouting off the street isn’t my department, just tell her Impresa is not the love connection where the ‘charming’ boss falls for the outcast trainee out of dozens. It’s not that kind of movie.

Sehun quirks his brow. “He indifferences reality with fictions towards us yet he’s used Japanese myths upon Y/N with him so neither would have to worry about losing their happily ever after despite there being no chance.”

Yixing sucks on his lips and stays silent. He didn’t necessarily see a response to argue with towards that comment.

[From] Lay: Yeol, honestly the models already working there never tried, they’d fall too far within heels trying to catch your eye.

The read text message turns lips further down the chin. Admittedly, that wasn’t much an insult more less a joke.

[Sent] Chanyeol: Stay where you are, I’m heading downstairs, getting in the car, coming to get you. I’m calling Junmyeon see if he’s still awake.

Heat rushes Sehun to his head.

[Sent] Yixing: God damn it Chan honestly you’re not-just- look can’t you just see the girl?

Now he was fully convinced Yixing isn’t drunk and literally suggests him going behind backs over for blind dating. Why was he even texting this when he went to the wedding reception? Not only Lay, his friends knew the attitude Chanyeol’s Father-in-law can get just by hearing ‘rumors’ including his normal facial expressions.

[Sent] Chanyeol: Lay, it may have been long since we last seen each other but you haven’t woken up from a coma. I gotten married since you don’t seem to remember, so tell this girl exactly what I said before.

“Hyung, there’s not much we can do for making Chanyeol come see us now. Even with Y/N here...it’s time for both of them to move on with their lives like they should’ve long ago. Chanyeol has to accept settling down with his wife and Y/N should wait for someone she will really fall deeply in the end.”

“Their strings…”

“Once myths lose their place in reality, they lose their place in the future. Once Chanyeol and Y/N lost their vow, that dispersed when he became sidetracked.”

Yixing sinks his teeth on his bottom lip as silence replaces the dispute between them, feeling the soft shoulder rubs from Sehun’s hand. It’s most likely Chanyeol isn’t going to see you during your short visit at all. The men stood above the family sized table just in time to eat food served on hot plates. Your lips form a perfect half moon smile over you as you lift your head to both Yixing and Sehun which they return automatic grins. He nudges on Baekhyun’s elbow sitting himself down on the bench.

“Oh Sehun, Baekhyun and I are going to see this new movie coming out and we were wondering if you wanted to come?” You asked.

“Sure, what movie is it?”

“Murder On The Orient Express’.”

The nineteen seventy-four film remake based off the novel starring another broadway fellow of yours seemed intriguing and their soundtrack has mixed reactions using modern music over classical yet the song was fitting enough for your taste. Surprisingly, Jongin saw the trailer before showing Baekhyun and you made plans for watching the movie. “Why did you take so long?”

Sehun rose his brows towards Jongin asking him the question. All Sehun could say came out stuttering until Jongin suggested something that threw Sehun, Yixing and the rest of the table off. They shake their heads vigorously, “Stop it. Don’t try to bring out your extra freaky side.” You muffled your laughter seeing Jongin get punched in the rib.

....

The cell phone stopped vibrating with popup message banners, implying the weird conversation was over so Chanyeol sets his phone on the glass table with a click. He sat still, sinking his teeth down his bottom lip before falling on his back and his rolling eyes, throwing his arms above his head the lamps dangling from the ceiling providing the most light in the room. The condo is quiet with exception of overly repeated Christmas music playing at low volume and sheets ruffling heard from the master room. He relaxes on the couch letting his muscles stretch enjoying the momentary peace for the first time the entire month. Nobody under the model agencies knew Chanyeol until the betrothal was announced then beaming eyes adorned upon the young couple and the bride’s Father. For every special occasion; anniversaries, birthdays, New Year parties, Chanyeol received many gifts from strangers familiar and employed with his Father-in-law. Suddenly he had golden diamond watches, diamond wristlets, real leather skinned wallets. He stored the fancy crafted accessories hanging with his brand new clothes of seasonal line neatly on a clear jewelry rack rarely ever used.

His father-in-law once gifted Chanyeol and his daughter the newest model cell phones that hadn’t been released for Chuseok. She kept her same number yet Chanyeol number did change and they were on family plan. He was shaded with his Father in Law’s glare one day when he received a quite lengthy phone bill appearing in his email, surprised with long distance calls sided next to Chanyeol’s new number. He was only mad because accordingly there’s no reason for communication with the other side of the world and his mother was Chanyeol’s only family. That was when the secret video calling was put to an end instead they began exchanging letters to each other.

He was kinda old-fashioned with it and she can send Chanyeol her sketches she did for her spare time. She never mailed them anywhere else but his old address. The paragraphs grew longer lengthening his poems into Cathedrals, sometimes he taped flower petals atop separate index postal cards, for “lightening” up his letters.

Every single memory are kept all in the back of his mind, cherished more as years ran with time that never healed. He wondered if you still love like he does the same way when large knots stayed off your past relationship. A love like that lacks chance with distance and forced marriage keeping pairs apart. Some reminiscing the failed attempted all-nighters which resulted sleeping anywhere in the house.

.....

He had found you laying your head on scattered papers with Korean Hangul on top the kitchen counter. He remembers how the sleeves on your sweater covered your palms like the messy hair web you used for a pillow he patted with his fingers and lowered his head closer.

“There you go drooling pools again.” As if you had heard him in your sleep, you backhanded his forehead. Once you woke up you panic over the accidental smack asking a hysterical laughing Chanyeol three times if he was okay holding his bangs down. So many events spent together were inked down the letters also he grew rose buds on his cheeks whenever he read a flirty paragraph filled with passion. Your letters were worth waiting until evening reading them until finding himself staring the dark blue sky. Some nights spent the same routine different scriptions writing nightly over unknown months that only felt timeless until one day your letters responses suddenly stopped arriving.

He remembers standing alone the room, straightening his tuxedo vest then scanning over his physique.

....

His reflection his deep brown eyes he lifted the framed photo under the lamp on his bedside table. The photo was of you, him, and, his mother standing on top a bridge when a frisk misty weather seemed liked the perfect day for hiking. In the photo Chanyeol smiled like a beacon from cheek to cheek whereas showed the fat in his eye bags that you always loved. You too smiled widely from cheek to cheek while Chanyeol wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you closer while resting his chin on his Mom’s shoulder. Like any committed pair, the hope was for life and the relationship meant a whole lot and Chanyeol knew that whenever you were together all he could think about was you.

Part of him thanked how you weren’t there to see him holding hands with someone who wasn’t you while another part thinking how cursed he felt having his new life with his new marriage entirely unplanned. The picture had also been taken during the time before his mother began feeling weak. He lifted his wet index finger off the glass before raising them to the bridge of his nose smudged smiles.

The minute the wedding march began playing, guests rose from their seats for the bride to make her appearance. She looked as beautiful as she is always, even with no traditional wedding dress and all natural makeup. She stunned those of the same social class within seconds once again even Chanyeol was stunned. His fiancé held Chanyeol’s hand while signing the license and she felt warm like she was using her touch to thaw his, however his heart continued to feel frostbitten. He didn’t know if she was looking at him or if she could see the expression through his eyes, no one figured all that was happening was excessively hard for Chanyeol. He was learning well fighting his feelings keeping them hidden.

Hours grew long once the reception officially ended, driving the SUV into the darkest evening as he never turned away from the tinted SUV windows, though his brain clouded over the only person living in his heart. The one who wrote him beautiful castillo letters and rested her head above his shoulder for resting eyes. The one he now had to call past lover. He never tore himself away from thinking about you the entire limousine ride.

“That’s it that’s final.” He whispers aloud to himself rubbing his eyes. “Everything needs to stop, this time for good....you probably fell out of love with me Y/N.”

....

Baekhyun finally puts the phone down and grips the ignition watching the red light hovered over you. You were driving to the movie theaters looking out the window at mystic wet weather. His cell phone kept ringing and he was doing his best to pay no mind at all. Anything as little as texting normally doesn’t bother you, but in South Korea texting and driving is certainly illegal and at the moment slightly more dangerous since morning news reported possible ice on the road, it got you worried. His phone chimed again and the conversation had been paused again to allow his thumbs continue skipping over the screen, luckily the car was stopped at a red light.

You look out the window the clouds are bunched up, not a single speck of sun poking through, it was dull and moist from pre rainfall and the sky had three shades of gray above your heads. From dark gray, steel gray, and gainsboro gray. To you, this is a beautiful day since this sort of weather is your most favorite.

“Sorry Y/N, this friend of mine needed advice on winning his blind date’s heart. I swear, texting isn’t in my daily driving routine but he won’t quit begging.”

“That friend should shop for some shreds of patience for himself this Holiday season. Your life is too precious to waste in fatal car accidents.” Baekhyun chuckles, he missed your little concerns whenever the boys did something that doesn’t seem right especially when they consume too much energy drinks before work.

The rain kept coming and going since twilight, for the moment the rain stopped, the pavements are moist where pedestrians carried umbrellas around, some with children wearing brightly colored raincoats. He was still ears hungry about your rapid stardom success how the acting came off Broadway transitioning through the screen onto dramas and guest appearances on reality shows meeting stars through classes and mutuals. It’s like they’ll never get tired anytime soon even though you shared nearly everything your career worked on.

The crosswalks you cruised around seemed familiar, just as much as the domain building turned your chin sideways when Baekhyun pulled into the parking spot. “Baek, what are we doing here? Aren’t we meeting the guys at the movies?”

He leaves the driving gear beside the ‘P’ label then the shaking stops in the passenger seat as Baekhyun tugs the keys out the ignition. He’s already waiting for you beside the entrance running his hands up and down his shivering arms soon after you quickly follow him in the cafe lobby, opening the bell ringing door. “We are, I just wanted something warm on the way. Also I need to use the restroom you go ahead and order whatever you want.”

The line was short with only three people excluding the both of you, the place had more decorations with shiny garlands hung over the menu with ornaments on either ends and imitation snow fogging the windows from the inside. Few guests occupied the place and none of them seemed like they were rushing home. As the time was slowly fading into evening and the insane breezes made temperature drop lower minute by minute you were still rubbing your knees together to run out remaining chills shivering through your legs.

Back over in Korea, the area still has quilts of heavy snow and revering winds, not as heavy as New York breezes though. You really enjoyed winter when it comes around as long you didn’t stay outside for too long. After ordering drinks and bags of chips you took a seat at the same table from last time beside the wall length windows. Aside from you and the few employees, across the room someone dressed in a seemingly cozy blazer stood at the other side of the room dressed neatly, tapping and fingers drawing over a tablet. He stood next to a table with book bag and a the cell phone model laid across.

As you rose up the chair to get your hot chocolate, your string looked brighter around your finger as did the small metallic beads below the knot. You began to wonder again, how would Chanyeol react seeing you wearing something he made himself with such meaning. Resembling fate and the love you had for each other, the tied knot that strengthened the promise of staying together.

How many more memories are going to replay through your mind? All you have left are memories you shared with Chanyeol. The sky was no longer bright grey, now the foreground was dark enough to being nearly black. Heavy rainfall with occasional thunderstorms were looking scary standing outside getting soaked watching him fight with an umbrella.

....

“Oh my gosh, babe, can you hurry up? It’s cold.”

“Don’t you see me going as fast as I can to get this damn button loose while my nads freezing themselves?” You did the most not allowing his attitude towards you bother too much that day cause you were reaching your point of being outside any longer. You liked cold weather but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to freeze to death. He wanted to walk through Central Park for the first beautiful spring weeks but maybe that day one of you should’ve checked the weather. Chanyeol determine to get the umbrella unstuck.

His sleeves already drenched and water droplets hanging on his ears. A drop sped down his neck from his little baby hairs that then disappear under his sewn in hoodie. His hoodie that he probably forgot he had since he wasn’t raising over his head. You could feel your pants sticking against your thighs, your shoes started to feel flooded as the soles were squeaking.

“Know what I’m walking inside the next nearest store. You sure you don’t want me to try?” He stops your hand reaching insisting him to try on his own. Just then black and gray swirls shot open with a pop to widen four eyes by surprise. The umbrella was open now. Chanyeol self cheers for fixing his umbrella without breaking it miraculously. Most hair on your heads curled and crunched up getting wetter by the minute. “There’s still three minutes for the bus jagiya, hold-shit!”

The umbrella caused more problems when the shade turned inside out as wind started blowing. You released a high pitched yelp as the edges almost slapped you. Chanyeol holds the handle firmly so the umbrella would stay in them and he tries fixing another problem. “God damn it Y/N, that’s it! No more umbrellas from now on I’m using raincoats.”

He tries fixing the umbrella again despite already getting more annoyed especially by simply standing outside during heavy rainfall getting more than soaking wet. The spokes screeched as they bumped against smooth polyester fingers pinching it as Chanyeol pressed knees held the stem. You wanted to help your boyfriend more than going inside shelter then.

“See?” Left hands at the base then lo and behold, the umbrella unfolds itself.

“Ah! Thanks love, but we’re not shopping together anymore.” His cocky smirk felt like the ends of your hair tickling your chin when your head turn side to side. More water sprinkles upwards from the umbrella being flashed with top row of teeth before you Chanyeol bringing the smile closer.

“Really? That’s what you learned?”

Still wet, the rain stopped over the spot and you couldn’t help the returning smile. One thing you learned that day was Park Chanyeol has had you feeling helpless with love and the skys the limit.

....

You shake the memories out of your head and turn to the clock checking the time. You gaze towards the hall down to the restroom, thinking what was taking him so long to use the restroom? Glancing over towards the corridor that lead the restroom while combing a curtain of your hair back.

....

His palms molded onto yours warm against creases and prints on each other you squeeze his hand intertwined with your fingers. One second before either of you knew it, you’re walking slowly backwards, indulging on the deepening kiss, bringing locked hands close to the chest. Chanyeol held you against the wall he knew you would miss the softness of him though with him leaning into your hand like leaving longning traces of his skin. He knew you’d miss him caressing half-circles over your temples, escaping mewls leaving him blush red, his eyes burning out trails that were cut short by your thumb brushing them away. He only once slightly lifts his eyelids before fluttering them shut, using his fingers to sooth the curve on the back of your head before tangling messily in your hair. You pull away and let him lean his forehead against yours breathing for air.

Chanyeol’s eyebrows knitted together acknowledging how much you would miss any more from him now that all of Chanyeol would no longer be yours.

“I’m sorry.” He ghosts your lips. “I really am sorry.”

You laid on top of your bed, listening to the similar rhythmic thumping sound while resting against Chanyeol’s chest both hugging each other’s middle tight steaming skin under the fabric of your thermal blanket.

An unbearable pain forms in the back of your throat and right down the middle of your chest looking out the raindrops on the window. Everything around you was still, vehicles honking were inaudible through the glass windows with some tires burning. Darker shades above the sky seemed like rain would start falling soon, admiring the scene outside, trying to block the flashbacks out, holding the chairs’ back.You picked up the pace from the table to the restroom urgently. Where was your mind when the emotions in your heart are taking all control?

....

He was messing with a lock of your hair closing and opening his eyes, there was nothing good enough to calm him down besides the position at the moment. Sleep skipped your apartment at the time, instead the moon hovered in front of a dark blue sky shining through the window. Both you thanked heavens no one else knew any of your whereabouts even with how wrong it was.

“Why won’t you say it?” He murmurs onto your forehead and you say in shortcut breaths. “I want to Yeolie…”

“Are you okay?” Could everything be one hundred percent sure, despite standing centimeters away from you right after accidentally bumping into his side and leaving him soaked. Your feet are rooted down onto the spot holding you still.

His mouth opens and closes like there was something he had been wanting to say. He was reflecting the same image you’re portraying wide eyed, forgetting the spill. Something wanting to come out when there are really no words. The light illuminated over his entire figure towering over you, re-enacting how high you lifted your chin to look at him. The gloss in his eyes made him seem like he was on the brink of tears and so were you.

You inhale deeply, “Chanyeol.”

“Do I know you?”

....

But you’re not mine anymore.

69 notes · View notes

survey--s · 2 years

Text

240.

Do you live with your biological mother? No, I haven’t lived with my parents for four years now.

Have you ever tried peanut butter and bananas together? Yeah, I love peanut butter and banana sandwiches but I don’t really have them very often, lol.

What kind of music do you tend to like? Rock, pop and country.

Do you enjoy listening to Eminem? I like some of his older stuff, but he’s not exactly the kind of artist I would actively choose to listen to, to be honest.

What color are the sheets on your bed? White with purple butterflies.

Are you a member on Bzoink? No, I just get all of my surveys from Tumblr.

Do you believe in sex before marriage? I actually think it’s daft to wait until marriage, as sexual compatibility is pretty important long-term in a relationship.

When was the last time you went on a shopping trip with just your mom? December 2019 - pre-COVID, basically.

Do you agree that Wal-Mart is the best? We don’t have WalMart here, so I really couldn’t tell you.

Do you know anyone who married their high school sweetheart? Yeah, quite a few people.

Orange or apple juice? I love clouded apple juice.

Have you ever seen anyone die? No, I’ve been fortunate enough to never have been in that situation.

Is there anything really interesting in your family history? Nothing that I’m aware of, no.

What things are you interested in that you study or read about on your own? Serial killers and the psychology behind the people who do things like that.

Have you ever given or received a lap dance? Nope, neither.

Would you ever creep into the subway tunnels to go exploring? Nah, I’m too much of a wimp to do that. Knowing my luck, there’d be a live line somewhere and I’d electrocute myself lol.

Would you rather be a world political leader or a rock star? Neither of those appeal to me in the slightest, lol.

Have you ever given someone a love letter that you wrote? No, I’ve never really written any love letters.

Have you ever sent someone a surprise through the mail? Yeah, flowers for my mum in the past.

Of all animated movies, which is the best one you’ve ever seen? I love the Frozen movies as well as the original Disney Alice in Wonderland.

What are the best bands or songs to listen to while driving? Normally something happy and upbeat that I can sing along to.

What do you think is the most amazing thing that anyone has ever accomplished? Flying to the moon is pretty damn incredible, when you think about it - same for setting up the ISS and having people live up there for months on end.

Do you believe the stories about planes, boats and people mysteriously disappearing into the Bermuda Triangle? I totally believe stuff disappears there, but only due to weird natural or geographical forces, not because of magic or anything mysterious lol.

What is the happiest way you can start your day? A lovely long lie-in (knowing I don’t have to rush anywhere), and a cup of coffee in bed with my husband, the dog and the cats.

What changes are you afraid of? Ones that negatively impact me or my life.

Have you ever wanted to be an actor/tress? Not on a professional level, but I enjoyed being in school plays and stuff as a kid.

What is your biggest goal for this year? Continuing to build my business, canter on the beach in June.

Where do you want to be in 5 years? I don’t really ever plan that far ahead.

If you could learn how to do three things just by wishing and not by working what would they be? How to speak fluent Italian, how to ride a horse and how to fly a plane.

Which do you remember the longest: what other people say, what other people do or how other people make you feel? All three of them equally, really.

What are the key ingredients to having a good relationship? A good sense of humour, mutual respect, honesty and similar goals and values.

What 3 things do you want to do before you die? Visit all the continents, experience genuine 5* luxury, go on a safari.

What is your favorite oldie/classic rock song? Ruby Tuesday or Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

What Disney villain are you the most like and why? I don’t really know, to be honest.

If you were traveling to another continent would you rather fly or take a boat? Fly, for sure.

If you could meet any person in the world who is dead who would you want it to be? Audrey Hepburn, so I can give her a giant hug and hear about her life from her perspective. Recorded interviews of her are really rare, so it’d be cool to learn more about her in her own words. <-- sure, either her or Marilyn Monroe.

What if you could meet anyone who is alive? Barack Obama.

What is your favorite thing to do outside? Either go to the beach and just enjoy being outside, or go to a beer garden and have a lovely, long lazy lunch with friends, Mike and the dog.

Have you ever been to a psychic/tarot reader? Nah, I don’t believe in that stuff.

What is the kindest thing you have ever done? I honestly don’t know, you’d have to ask other people that question.

What holiday should exist but doesn’t? A bank holiday in October time would be nice.

What holiday shouldn’t exist but does? I don’t really care much about holidays that already exist. Just don’t celebrate them if you don’t agree with them?

Where is the most fun place you have EVER been? I couldn’t just pick one particular place.

What is the one thing that you love to do so much that you would make sacrifices to be able to do it? I love riding and make sacrifices for that regularly. It costs me £140 a month to go riding.

If you had to choose would you live on the equator or at the North Pole? On the equator.

What cartoon would you like to be a character in? Fairly Odd Parents.

Name one thing that turns your stomach: The smell of fox poo.

Get anything good in the mail recently? Just stuff I’ve ordered myself - my latest wax melt delivery was pretty good.

What’s the most eccentric thing you have ever worn? I have no idea, nothing much to be honest. I don’t really like dressing in a way that makes me stand out from the crowd.

If you could pick one food that you could eat all you wanted but it would have no effect on how much you weigh, what food would it be? Potatoes, 100% potatoes lol.

What are your parents interested in? My dad is a fell runner and enjoys fitness and health-related stuff. My mum likes yoga and hiking, and baking too.

When do you feel your life energy the strongest? When I’m well-rested and doing things that make me happy.

You are spending the night alone in the woods and may bring only 3 items with you. What do you bring? A tent, my phone and a torch.

Did The Blair Witch Project scare you? I’ve never seen it before.

Are you a fan of any comic books? Nope.

What are your greatest sources for wisdom? Music and stories from the more-experienced.

When you were little, where did your parents tell you babies come from? They always told me the truth? My dad was a doctor and my mum a nurse so they were just very straightforward when it came to things like that.

What’s the best kind of movie to see on a date? Something funny and relaxed, I guess.

When you see a stranger on the street does your first reaction lean towards thinking of this person as a potential friend or as a potential threat? Uhh...neither? It’s a bit weird either way IMO, lol.

What do you really want to buy? My own land and my own horse, lol. I’ll never be able to afford it so I’ll have to make do with riding lessons for now.

Do you think it’s odd that Americans have freedom of religion and yet call themselves "one nation under god?" I think a LOT of things about America are odd, lol.

Do you have a condom in your room? We probably have some somewhere, yeah.

Can you pick things up with your toes? Yes, some things.

Where did you buy the shirt you’re wearing now? Fat Face.

Who were you last in a car with? Uhh, my mum most likely.

Are you in a good mood right now? I’m not in a bad mood, I’m just tired - for some reason I keep waking up at 5am and then I can’t get back to sleep, lol.

Do you know what you want to be when you grow up? I’m already doing it, but who knows whether things will change in a while.

Who was the last person you cut out of your life intentionally? I honestly couldn’t tell you.

Do you like watching scary movies? No.

Do you know how to fish? I do, but I honestly don’t enjoy it.

Have you ever been given a rose? Yeah, several times.

Do you eat live fish? No.

Tell me five random facts about your sibling(s). (Or your best friend, if you’re an only child.) - He’s worked in the same career since he was fifteen. - It’s very possible that he’s dyslexic and that he has ADHD. - He can’t keep a hobby going for longer than a month or two without getting bored and changing to something else. - He loves most animals but is scared of horses. - He is just as stubborn as I am.

Would you get engaged right now? No, I’m already married.

On the subject of your wedding, will it be a big affair? No - I had a really small wedding. Just us and our parents.

#survey #surveys

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

Text

It Was The Night: 4

Author’s Note: WELCOME BACK TO CHANVEMBER!! I hope everyone is having The Best Time <3 Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: drama; historical au; suspense; romance Rating (this chapter): PG Word Count: 2,122

IV.

From that day forward, I weekly received letters placed carefully under my pillow, scraps of sheet music folded over with the letters A.S in perfect calligraphy. Most days, they contained notes on my performance, praises or critiques to help structure my performance as Antigona. I enjoyed these notes, most particularly the ones that contained praises. These sent a flock of butterflies alight in my stomach, made me smile and resolve within myself the will to please this imagined maker.

But some days, the days that kept me living for the next, the letters would simply contain verses. I did know if these words were intended for song or intended for scripture, all I knew is that they were intended for me alone. Each line contained the essence and notion of a high romance, an ideal that every young craves. Between the lines I could discern the affection, the respect, and the yearning, or perhaps it was simply my own projection of longing that made me cleave so desperately to these notes.

I had yet to encounter his visage, but in these letters I was weekly encountering his soul, weaving his spirit and his nature into my own. So entwined and enamoured with him was I, that not long after the commencement of these letters did I start to think of myself as betrothed. This was a secret I kept tightly to my breast, refusing to give anything away - even when the seamstress asked why I suddenly had given over to airs of lightheartedness. It was not that I was apprehensive of refuting this belief, for I very well knew the difference between sentiment and reality, simply that I did not want the gold of it all to be tarnished.

Mysterious and alluring as he was, he was still a stranger to me, a man and a myth that moved only in shadow - a shadow, still, that only I had seen. Explanations always eluded me, and yet I did not have it in me to feel fear. Fright for me was disregarded in place of glorious confirmation that my opera ghost was one and the same as Aeon Smith. Beyond that, I cared for very little.

Still though, questions tore their way through my mind at alarming speed:

Why had he picked me as his star? Where were these pieces of music from? With regards to the extra music, surely not all could be composed just for me? Why would he hide? How long had he been living? Was he trapped within the walls of the opera, a construction accident gone horrible awry?

He was my favourite and most dear mystery. And, in consideration of his features, there was not a single moment where I imagined him to be anything less than magnificent. True, I did not know how to picture him and thus he was a grey thing, a formless thing whose edges bled into their surroundings, but even this warmed me, made my heart flutter within the confines of my chest. At my young age, I decided this was love, or at least something like it, and let the knowledge of this turn my blood into honey.

On the opening night of Antigona, just before the gala of the first performance, I received my first full piece of instruction from Aeon Smith. In my dressing room, so full of objects, wigs, costumes, and finery brought to me by patrons of the house, I immediately noticed the single, most humble piece of paper placed gently on the vanity with a box of chocolates as its weight. The nature of its origin was immediately apparent, the red sealing wax catching my eye even from across the room.

Receiving chocolates was an entirely new experience, his gifts taking the shape of words and music, scratched ink that bled through parchment and likely stained his fingers. It became apparent, then, that the sweets were a cover, an excuse, a reason for the letter to exist so plainly at all.

My fingers were eager, shaking in their excitement, as I tore the letter open. With careful eyes, I glanced around my dressing room, checking for maids or eager companions, hoping no one would burst through my door in a fit of glee. I wanted silence, then, wanted this moment of intimacy, as public as it was. Perhaps that is what made the moment so thrilling, the risk of exposure in plain sight.

I am the unseen sun. Keep close to my shadows, where the burns of modernity shall never mar thy skin.

Meet me in the chapel at 01:00. A gift remains to be given.

All at once the matter of polite society became a most vexing curse. How was I meant to continue the evening, shaking hands with the ennui that encompasses members of high society, when the very essence of truth was waiting for me? In my blood, the nerves that coursed through my veins shifted suddenly from those of performance jitters to the trepidation of truth. It suddenly seemed impossibly easy to perform in front of a full house, for every piece had been rehearsed. I knew my music, knew my lines, had blocked every scene, but had been wholly unprepared for the responsibility that came with knowledge.

Looking back, I view the opening night performance as rushed and hurried, messy simply because I was too eager to meet my angel. The only thing that slowed my tongue was the thought of my angel watching me, high in the balconies or even above the stage, moving among the ropes and rafters. Then, more than ever, I wanted to make him proud. At the end of the performance, I practically ran to the chapel as the last of the patrons departed, adept at timing Madame Catherine’s rounds to remain completely unnoticed, coming to pause only at the slightly ajar wooden doors.

A wave of excitement consumed me, carried my feet in hurried motions through winding halls. In there air, there was a chill that licked at my ankles, made my skin turn to gooseflesh, but I paid these sensations no mind. With every step, I was closer: to answers, to love, to him. A wry smile pulled at my lips, the sight of the chapel doors opened minutely, just enough for slivers of coloured light, filtering through the stained glass windows, to dance along the stone floor. Just beyond the threshold, I stopped, closing my eyes at the sounds of an organ softly being played by adept fingers. The gentle music coaxed the nerves from my bones and left me feeling somewhat weightless, as though I were floating through time towards the arms of my lover.

Silently, I slipped through the door, admiring how very different the chapel appeared in the night. The statue of Mary at the head of the room, body bowed in mourning, appeared haunted in the light of the moon by something far more sinister than the crucifixion of her son. Something about her marble seemed too bright, her shadows too deep, the genuflection of her grief too profound. Turning in the center of the room, my fingers danced along the cold wood of a pew, making the wood creak against my touch as though the seat itself had come to life.

At this sound, the music came to an abrupt halt and I found myself standing the precipice of great disappointment when, from above me, a letter glided elegantly through the air, ornately folded and sealed with the same crimson wax I had come to adore.

I leapt to catch it and quickly tore it open, my impatience taking an uncharacteristic hold of me.

‘I knew you’d come,’ I read aloud, my voice little more than panted breath.

Distantly, and from the direction of the letter, I heard soft footsteps bending the wood high in the ceiling and I raised my head to stare at the angels in the mural above me. Idly, I imagined them as the keepers of our secret, the watchful eyes of cherubs and holy beings silently offering their blessing.

‘How could you know?’ I whispered to them, wondering if he too had been blessed with soft wings.

‘It’s in your eyes when I see you in the mirror. You’re so hungry for knowledge.’

The voice came, strong and melodic, from an entirely different part of the room. He seemed to be surrounding me, every direction consumed by him. In my mind, he was the chapel, the opera house itself, and I suddenly felt terribly ignorant to have imagined him as anything else.

Eyes scanning every crevice my gaze could touch, I found myself desperate to know him. ‘Who are you?’

‘You already know,’ came the echo of his tenor.

‘Aeon Smith?’ I did not mean for it to sound so lost or even so unsure, I simply needed to know the truth.

‘Are you questioning yourself?’ he intoned, suddenly behind me. As I turned, eager to see him, I smiled at the sound of his gentle, teasing laugh. ‘I deemed you more clever than this.’

It was melodic, this sound, tearing through from somewhere within the walls, and I found myself starting to swoon.

‘Only because that cannot be your real name,’ I countered, though the intensity of my smile as I turned, chasing his noise, made this statement sound terribly playful.

‘And what would you have my name be?’

The question came from the seat of the organ, his neck and shoulder illuminated by the moon. He sat so straight and tall, I imagined him a partner to Mary, standing beside her in great contrast and allowed only on hallowed ground so long as I remained in the room. My legs took care of action and thought for me, my hands clutching the letter to my stomach and as I moved forward.

‘Stop,’ he commanded. ‘Do not come any closer.’

‘Whyever not?’ I whined. ‘I want to see you.’

‘I am not to be seen. Not now, and certainly not here.’ He sounded so remorseful I had to stop myself from reaching out to him. Within minutes he’d turned me into a greedy, obsessed little creature. I shivered, wanting to melt this new skin away and remain as he liked me, curious and pure.

‘Won’t you tell me who you are?’ I begged, sounding somewhat petulant. ‘What you are?’

‘You know who I am,’ he said, patiently, keeping his tone even. ‘You’re the only one who’s ever known. I’ve told you from the start.’

‘Aeon Smith is not a name,’ I repeated, exasperated.

‘Aeon Smith is a truth,’ he replied, taking one tentative step forward, though I still could not truly see him, ‘and a scandalous one at that. Aeon Smith has grown tired of hiding.’

I sighed, and placing my hands on my hips as I spoke. ‘And what do you think you’re doing at the present?’

‘This is not hiding,’ he chuckled. ‘In the darkness, I exist. The darkness makes me real.’

‘Things exist in the daylight,’ I countered, feeling slightly dazed from the sound of his playful laugh. ‘Many would argue the darkness renders you into nothing but a dream.’

The shadow of his head cocked to the side, and I imagined him to be smiling. ‘Do you happen to be sleeping?’

‘Still waking sleep, that is not what it is. This love feel I, that feel no love in this,’ I breathed, though even today I do not know why the words came to me. In that moment I fancied myself Juliet, sleep walking and living without the return of my desires. I was just as lost and confused as the tragic characters I seemed born to play, speaking to a blackness that threatened to swallow me whole.

‘You have proven you know me without proving it to yourself,’ he said. ‘In one simple quote you have revealed me. Now you must reveal it to yourself.’

With that, he disappeared from the room before my eyes could adjust to the path he took. Disgruntled, I slowly walked the long path that lead to my bedchamber, fondling the letter in my hands and running my fingers over the wax seal.

And that was when I noticed it, the warped and bent pattern, purposely broken and misshapen in the press itself. I had to stifle a laugh as I could not believe I hadn’t noticed it before: it was almost exactly the same as the pattern on Monsieur Park’s waistcoat buttons. Within moments, the mystery was no mystery at all.

What’s in a name!, I wanted to cry.

Aeon Smith, the unseen sun.

Aeon Smith.

I am the son.

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #noonanet #chanyeol au #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol scenario #exo au #exo scenario #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #park chanyeol #kpop fanfic

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colleenmurphy · 4 years

Text

Home Is Where You Make It

A/N: The following is the basis for Colleen’s life in the 70′s / Blue Jean Tiny Dancer verse. It’s also written exactly as I felt / lived it before my father’s ( and ultimately my mother’s ) passing. The letter included towards the end is a reply I received not long after my dad’s passing, the name was changed but it’s had a lasting impact on my life, and always will. This is how Colleen made her fresh start on the West Coast and ended up with a music man of her very own when she least expected it.

I never ever thought there would come a time when I would have to face a day or a night or a holiday or any waking moment without either of my parents. I knew Ma was sick, one look could tell you that. But Dad…Dad’s still going strong. I’ll be okay as long as he’s still here.

This was the mantra that got Colleen through the last three months. The thought that made it possible to get up each morning and face the day, get through the endless home visits and medication schedules. Her world didn’t stop because of her mother’s passing. No, there was laundry to be done, groceries and meals to shop for and prepare and bills to pay. She had to be okay so that he was kept comfortable. As long as he was okay she was okay.

Until he wasn’t. Pneumonia had set in somehow, she’d been so careful. So, so careful about everything and now this. It takes the ambulance over an hour to get there and he’s trying to pull the catheter out and calling her everything but human. This man isn’t her father. He has his face and his hands and his voice but it isn’t him. The disease has taken over and soon she’s left at home by herself trying to figure out just how he got so sick so quickly. Then the seizures start in the inpatient unit. She goes to him with nothing but an overnight bag and a heart full of prayers.

There was a saying that she remembered from childhood, hospital walls heard more prayers than even the largest of churches. There she sat by his bed, afraid that if she left him, let go of his work worn, arthritic hand that he would simply fade away into a puff of smoke. That he would die. The end was coming, she knew it. She had known it since he had gotten the diagnosis in that tiny little room of the oncology office. The knock off Monet print framed and hung awkwardly next to a Sharps container stuck out in her mind. She remembered trying so hard not to cry on the ride home that the trip was silent for the two of them. Ma had still be alive then and when she was told Colleen saw the spark leave her mother’s body. The beginning of the end for all of them. None of them knew it yet. Five months later she finds her mother on the bedroom floor and does everything in her power to try and bring her back. Alas her mother is not Lazarus and she will not rise. No matter how many chest compressions she does or how many times she calls to her and begs God not to take her, Kathleen Riley Delaney isn’t coming back.

In a flash she’s seven years old again and running home from school towards home. Bursting through the front door eager to hug her mother or her father. She settles for her father and gives him the biggest bear hug she can muster. She’s content for a moment then she opens her eyes and they’re together in the hospital room and she’s squeezing his hand as tightly as ever. She stays by his side, sleeping little and eating even less. The nurses begin to worry and beg her to take a moment for herself. Go home, take a shower eat a good meal and get some rest. Her response is always the same.

“I can’t leave him. I don’t want him to be alone.”

A nurse takes her aside and holds her hand for a moment.

“You need to take a moment for yourself. He’s stable and he’s comfortable. Please.”

With that she does. It’s a lonely ride home but familiar surroundings of the rental place she’s staying at calm her. Even if it’s for a moment. She returns calmer but not well rested. The meal she had prepared herself tasted like nothing. Sleep evades her until she closes her eyes to blink and opens them noticing that the shadows in the room have changed position. That evening she catches Johnny Carson but doesn’t laugh. Laughter has no place in her life right now. Instead she curls up in a hospital chair with the freshly washed knitted blanket Kathleen had gifted her four birthdays ago and reaches out to hold her father’s hand. There is no change in his condition and for a moment they’re in a bubble. Together. She wonders what he’s seeing. Is is reliving every moment of his life? He feet and hands were moving only two days ago, as if he was pulling in a line of lobster pots and giving hand signals to the crew. She saw his mouth move a few times and she would give anything to hear his voice again instead of the drowning gurgling groans. She prays and prays and finally feels darkness creeping in. She’s not being heard. She was raised that if you believed you would be heard. All you had to do was pray because God could hear you at any time and would answer you. She feels she’s not being heard and in her utter desperation she takes pen to paper and pours out her feelings. The next morning she finds her letter gone from the bedside table. The days start to blur and she settles into a new routine. James is still unresponsive, a well meaning family friend calls from Boston and urges her to come out and spend some time with the overly large brood that Colleen doesn’t know from Adam. She knows that it is meant with love and good intentions but she can’t focus on that right now. She has to be there for her father. Two more days pass and as she steps out to get a drink from the water cooler a nurse calls her back.

“It’s happening.”

What’s happening? Another seizure? A heart attack? A stroke…what? Oh. That. The that that can’t be happening but it is.

She gently takes his hand, the same hands she seen her entire life. The impossibly large hands of a man that held her when she was small. Taught her how to bait a hook, drive a car, make the best fried potatoes ever. The hands that wiped away her tears. She smooths down his hair, it would always be salt and pepper colored to her, and kisses his cheek.

“I love you to the moon and back, Dad. It’s okay…I’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

Outside a storm rages and rain comes down in sideways sheets. It’s almost deafening as the power flickers for a moment. For one brief moment Colleen could swear that they were out at sea. With a large gasp her father takes his last breath and holds it as the storm reaches its peak and lets out a sigh. James Delaney is gone. She sits with him until her best friend comes to collect her as there’s no way she can drive home. She ends up sidelined with a horrible chest cold at the very start of spring. It takes her the better part of a month to recover. The rest of her time is spent clearing and cleaning the tiny house she called home. It is then that she realizes that it’s not material possession that make up a home, or even the home itself. Home is a feeling, it’s fond memories that she’ll always have in her heart. A yard sale is held and a total of $600 is made. A tidy sum along with the sale of the house and for the first time since her world ended she can breathe. Her parents are with her no matter where she does, in her heart and in the small urn she has packed ever so carefully along those with her favorite terrier dog. A chapter in her life has ended and another one is beginning. She’s unsure of herself but she’s taking her first shaky steps into her own life on her own terms.

“Promise me that you’ll call when you land?”

“Cross my heart.”

Another never ending hug is exchanged and Colleen Delaney boards a plane. A lyrics strikes her, from her recently sold record collection she remembers.

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going To California with an aching in my heart

Turning back before she walks away she calls.

“See ya later, alligator!”

Helene’s response can he heard over the throng of people.

“In a while crocodile!”

Did she make the wrong choice? Should she have stayed back home? What if this goes horribly horribly wrong? In the confines of her pocket she pulls out a letter that was post marked a month ago. She barely remembers what she wrote. The plane taxis and soon she’s airborne. Carefully unfolding the letter she reads.

Dear Ms. Delaney,

I'm sorry to hear about the passing of your mother, and the ill health of your father.

Your prayers and dedication to them are a great sign that God's grace has been working in you.

The presence of suffering in the world can shake our faith at times. But when we look at the crucifix, we are reminded that suffering can have a redemptive meaning.

You mustn't think that God has abandoned you. You are his beloved daughter, and he is as close to you now as ever.

A mystery of our faith is that God has a way of testing those he loves the most. Just think of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the heartache she went through on Calvary.

You fidelity to your parents in their declining years is a great witness of charity and family solidarity. We need more of that in the world.

Also, the need to help your parents these past years has probably helped you to grow in a lot of ways. I can imagine that you have a big heart and that your values aren't centered on the frivolous things of this world. Not all young women your age can say the same thing.

This would be a good moment to double-down on your prayer life. Try to see that Jesus is allowing you to share his cross in a profound way.

Your life certainly isn't over. And it hasn't been wasted.

You have been loyal to your parents. You have stood by them in their time of difficulty. You have honored the Fourth Commandment. In a word, you have loved in the deepest sense.

My guess is that God is giving you the grace to become a saint.

"If you knew the gift of God" (John 4:10).

Kindest Regards,

Father Patrick Hennessy

She wipes away a tear or two and gently places the letter back in its envelope and stashes it within her bag. She will live her life on her own terms now and remember the happy times. It’s a new beginning for her.

#{ about Colleen }#{ Colleen & Percy }#{ Tiny Dancer / 70's verse }

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louisfeatharry · 7 years

Note

Ok so right now im re-reading Have You Coming Back Again for like the billionth time bc i love it so much!!!! Do you know any other fics that are similar in the way of being in denial/oblivious to dating each other? Doesn't have to be Louis/Harry! You have the absolute best fic rec :)

so, when looking through my fic rec page for “denial” type fics, i may have gone a bit overboard, and some of these fics may not entirely fit into what you’re looking for - but for the most part, there is some aspect in these fics where one of the characters is oblivious or in denial to their feelings / being in a relationship with the other.

with that said, most of the fics are larry (since that’s what i p much read the most of) unless stated otherwise.

first off, here’s a link to the fic mentioned in your ask, anon, since some people might not know what fic you’re talking about! the rest of the fics are under the cut! :)

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones by flimsy (32k)

Harry goes as Louis’ date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

A Little Love (is better than none) by objectlesson (15k)

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do

Da Mi Basia Mille by StormDancer (zarry, 28k)

“An idea comes to Harry then, a brilliant, brilliant idea, the best idea he’s ever had, other than the time he thought he should grow his hair out. “New plan. I’m going to kiss you every day until you start thinking you should be kissed every day.”

Dreaming of You by Velvetoscar (68k)

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

The world is winter and steamed milk and creamy espresso shots. The world is a never ending queue. The world is a Starbucks logo and a pink-cheeked smile from Niall and a bored scowl from Zayn and the world is Louis watching his best mate, Liam, fall in love with their newest customer, Harry. Who may or may not be in love with Louis. The world is cruel.

Gods & Monsters by Velvetoscar (201k)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by thedeathchamber (55k)

Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow by sunsetmog (tomlinshaw, 122k)

The first time Louis Tomlinson kisses him, Nick is three sheets to the wind, wearing a pirate hat, and so fucking tired of Louis being a complete and utter knobhead that he’s spent the last ten minutes snapping at him.

The kiss takes him rather by surprise, all things considered.

Or: Nick and Louis don’t like each other, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Like Real People Do by moodlighting (58k)

AU. Harry is Louis’ soulmate but Louis isn’t Harry’s - it takes Harry a while to figure it all out.

Looking Through You by allwaswell16 (41k)

Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

May You Enjoy Your New Life by aimmyarrowshigh (264k)

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

‘Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.’

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis – Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie’s life and for the moments of Harry’s that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua – 'may you enjoy your new life.’

Nameless Night by green_feelings (155k)

For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you’ll meet your soulmate.

Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they’re not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn’t receive the same date.

Or, a fic about differences that make no difference at all: Harry and Louis are soulmates. In every way possible. Featuring Niall as a role model, and Liam and Zayn as a different kind of role models.

Pinkies Never Lie by emma1234 (83k)

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

Play the Odds by alivingfire (25k)

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don’t know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don’t do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn’t expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn’t expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

say i hate you but i always stay by clicheanna (8k)

Or the one where Harry hates Louis, he’s almost sure Louis hates him, and they live together. Driving him to football practice everyday is not apart of Harry’s plans, but Louis is pretty adamant if it means annoying Harry.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

You and The Moon and Neptune (Got it Right) by alienharry (34k)

Louis has always wanted to meet his soulmate; he’s built his life around the plan that one day his soulmate would come along, and they could begin their happily ever after.

Harry has always wanted to travel; he’s built his life around the idea that nothing is permanent, and seeing the world is his only objective - soulmates mean nothing to him after all.

You’re the Light by allwaswell16 (31k)

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

#fic rec list #i just recently read i carry your heart with me #and it was a v good fic #also read you're the light yesterday #alsoooooo a v good fic #i had rather is an entire series #but i just rec'd the first part since the second part isn't done yet #anyways enjoy anon #i'll prob reblog this in the morning since it's gonna get buried in harry and liam content #Anonymous #answered

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Meghan Markle's father WILL give her away at the royal wedding

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Meghan Markle's father WILL give her away at the royal wedding

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are set to marry at St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle on May 19 2018 in the year’s most talked-about nuptials.

If, just like us, you’re literally counting down the days and chomping at the bit for every last detail of the upcoming event, this is where you’ll find everything we know so far.

Keep an eye out as we update it with every.single.detail of the wedding of the year…

Meghan’s dad WILL walk his daughter down the aisle

Both of Meghan Markle’s parents WILL attend her wedding to Prince Harry, it has been confirmed by Kensington Palace. After travelling to London the week before the wedding, the estranged couple will meet with the Queen and other senior members of the royal family. This will also be the first time that Prince Harry will meet his future father-in-law.

In a major departure from the traditional wedding format, Meghan’s mother, Doria will travel with her daughter by car to St. George’s Chapel where her father, Thomas Markle will meet the pair to walk his daughter down the aisle.

Today we have provided an update on the Wedding of Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle.

Read the full statement here: https://t.co/bhrPnJtrNm

— Kensington Palace (@KensingtonRoyal) May 4, 2018

This comes announcement comes days after Meghan’s estranged brother wrote an open letter to Prince Harry declaring, ‘it wasn’t too late to back out.’

The date and time

The royal couple will tie the knot on May 19 2018 at 12 p.m. noon. The wedding will be televised so if you’re watching from the US, it will be an early morning!

Harry and Meghan will complete a two-mile journey on the streets of London after exchanging their wedding vows in front of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. The marriage service will last an hour, beginning at 12pm and finishing by 1pm, and it takes place in the castle’s 15th century St George’s Chapel.

The route, in case you want to pop by to cheer them on (of course, you will) will see the happy couple take a trip down Castle Hill, along the High Street and then along Sheet Street, Kings Road and Albert Road, before returning to Windsor Castle along the Long Walk. Phew!

After their drive-by, they’ll greet their guests from the ceremony at a reception at St. George’s Hall (a very fancy location, if you’re asking). The close friends and family party will be hosted by Prince Charles – as he did for William and Kate following their 2011 ceremony – at Frogmore House (and we are sure there will be plenty of dad dancing – we’re looking at you, William, and banging club tunes).

The dress

After months of speculation, there’s been rumours flying around left, right and centre about who will design the wedding dress of the year.

Bookies suspended betting earlier this year on who will be the designer of Meghan Markle’s wedding dressafter a flurry of bets were placed on Alexander McQueen. Royal fans will remember that Sarah Burton of Alexander McQueen was the lady who designed Kate’s ethereal gown.

Israel-based bridal designer Inbal Dror also recently confirmed to PEOPLE that – at the request of Kensington Palace (fancy!) – they sent a sketch for Meghan to consider.

Her dresses are often adorned with intricate embellishment while layered frills and sheer inserts are her staple. Ooooh.

Meghan’s pre-wedding wellness plan

Meghan is a walking advocate for the healthy lifestyle she preaches. In fact, her mother is a yoga instructor so that’s one of her secrets to staying in shape.

As for her healthy eating regime, she has previously said: “I try to eat vegan during the week and then have a little bit more flexibility with what I dig into on the weekends.”

So what does a *perfect* day in her food diary look like? She told The New Potato:

“A Clean Cleanse vanilla shake blended with frozen Ontario blueberries for breakfast, a Niçoise salad and glass of rosé, with some Grey Owl goat cheese and baguette on the side for lunch, and a leisurely dinner of seafood and pasta, and a negroni to cap off the night,”

We wonder if she’s tucking into a glass of rosé right now…

She also swears by running as a form of meditation – but adds balance to her lifestyle by gorging on french fries at weekends. A girl after our own heart.

The music

Kensington Palace has revealed that the music for the ceremony will be directed by James Vivian, the music director for St. George’s Chapel, where Harry and Markle are set to wed.

Cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason has also been hand-picked by the couple to perform. The youngster won 2016’s BBC Young Musician and received a phone call from Meghan Markle herself regarding a performance at the wedding.

According to the royal website, he said: “I’m so excited and honoured to perform at Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle’s wedding. I was bowled over when Ms. Markle called me to ask if I would play during the ceremony, and of course I immediately said yes!”

The Christian gospel group, The Kingdom Choir, will also perform, and there will be a few surprise guests lined up, too.

The couple’s gift from the Queen

While they’ve only asked for charity donations, the Queen is likely to give the couple a gift – and it’ll be a lavish one. Sticking to tradition, the Queen will most likely give Harry and Meghan a home. She gifted Kate and William with Anmer Hall so will no doubt do the same for Harry and Meghan. The couple are currently living in Nottingham Cottage in the grounds of Kensington Palace and have just welcomed some very regal neighbours. Indeed, Harry’s cousin, Princess Eugenie, has just moved in next door with her fiance, Jack Brooksbank. Just imagine the dinner parties!

The flowers

Kensington Palace has announced that the couple has chosen London-based Philippa Craddock to work on their flower arrangements.

In the official announcement, Kensington Palace wrote: “Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle have chosen floral designer @philippacraddock to create the church flowers for their wedding.”

They also gave us an insight into the exact flowers the couple have plumped for, revealing: “The displays in St George’s Chapel will feature foliage from The Crown Estate and Windsor Great Park, and will use seasonal plants including branches of beech, birch and hornbeam, as well as white garden roses, peonies and foxgloves.

“The designs will reflect the wild and natural landscapes from which many of the plants will be drawn.

“The Royal Parks will also supply pollinator-friendly plants from their wildflower meadows. These plants provide a great habitat for bees and help to sustain healthy and biodiverse ecosystems.”

The florist herself also took to Instagram to discuss working with the couple, citing it ‘an incredible privilege’.

She wrote: “I am loving working with them, it is an incredible privilege, and the designs will be a true reflection of them as a couple, with sustainability at the forefront. We will be using plenty of locally sourced greenery and seasonal flowers including peonies, garden roses and foxglove.”

The cake

Kensington Palace confirmed that the couple is using Californian pastry chef Claire Ptak, who will whip up a delicious lemon elderflower cake for their big day.

In a celebration of Spring, the cake will be scattered with flowers, buttercream and zesty lemon – and we have little doubt it will be absolutely delish.

Food writer and food stylist, Chef Ptak, who runs Violet Bakery, was once interviewed by Meghan for her website, The Tig, so it’s hardly surprising she’s been snapped up.

Who’s going?

As well as royals, dignitaries and A-listers, over 2,600 members of the public are in with a chance at attending the biggest wedding of the year.

The 2,640 people will include ‘people who have served their communities’ and will be chosen by the Queen’s representatives from all over the UK.

There will also be a selection of people from the charities and organisations that the royal couple support (they are both huge charity advocates, if you didn’t already know).

There will also be 100 pupils from two local schools and a staggering 610 Windsor Castle community members and 530 members of the Royal Household.

The gift list

Prince Harry and Meghan are apparently shunning a gift list and instead are asking their guests to donate money to Harry’s charity via his Royal Foundation. How lovely.

A source told The Sun: “Prince Harry is a man who has everything. He doesn’t want guests spending lots of time buying him extravagant presents but he does want them to support his charity work.

“Obviously he has his own foundation with Prince William and Kate, and he also supports organisations like Wellchild and the Invictus Foundation.

“He’s expected to provide more specific information with the individual invites.”

The entertainment

While we can’t confirm whether it’s true or not, rumours are flying that THE Spice Girls will perform some of their classic hits at the wedding.

How do we know? Well, speaking on American talk show, The Real, Spice Girl, Mel B, admitted that the five-piece band will be attending the hotly-anticipated nuptials.

Presenter Loni Love asked Mel: “Do you know anybody that you think is gonna go to this wedding?” Mel nodded her head and mouthed, “Yeah, I’m going… I don’t know if I should’ve said that!”

When she was asked if she knew anyone else attending, she slipped: “Well us five Spice Girls… why am I so honest?”

Then she added: “This is where I’m just like… I need to go. I’m going to be fired!”

Please let it be true…

The mini-moon

According to The Irish Independent, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle will be spending time in Ireland soon after their wedding this Spring.

The couple will apparently visit in June or July for one night only and we’re bet the locals are delighted they’ll get a glimpse of the married couple for the first time.

Meghan’s wife training

According to The Daily Express, as part of her training, Meghan spent two days in the English countryside where she undertook some security training sessions, including a ‘kidnap and rescue’ scenario.

Members of the Royal Army’s SAS regiment taught Meghan how to act if she ever found herself in a hostile situation and apparently used live ammunition while rescuing the former Suits actress from her fake kidnapping.

The actress was also taught that it’s best to forge a relationship with potential kidnappers and even learnt how to behave if her rescuers are killed and she has to fend for herself. Talk about intense!

Meghan was apparently also trained on how to drink tea (a quintessentially British activity). According to the actress’ new biography, Meghan: A Hollywood Princess, and US Weekly, Meghan learnt the royal protocol and etiquette of tea drinking, including the specific way to hold the cup. Meghan was given the chance to practise when she took tea with the queen before news of the couple’s engagement was announced.

The hen party

According to Us Weekly, Meghan’s hen party didn’t quite involve willy straws and sashes; it was a much more civilised affair at the high-end, A-list retreat, Soho Farmhouse.

There’s 100 acres of lush green countryside, swimming pools, spas and even a milkman to deliver your morning milk; how very British.

The couple’s gift to the public

We won’t be getting a day off in celebration of the wedding (*sigh*), but the government is giving us another present to honour the royal nuptials.

Pubs will have their licensing hours extended during the weekend of the wedding so we can all raise a glass (or five) to the happy couple. Cheers, Meghan and Harry.

It’s good timing because May 19 also coincides with the FA Cup Final and Scottish Cup Final.

Bring.it.on.

In the meantime, let’s look back on the couple’s cutest moments…

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