#yes this is about amane in the first place but i think it applies to fuuta and mikoto too

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

I know that some people interpret Maedhros’ line, ‘Whom shall we bear hither first? Fingon the valiant?’ as a reference to Fingon’s participation in the First Kinslaying, and think it means that Maedhros approved of Fingon becoming a killer. (The idea goes that Valinor was safe until Finwë and the Two Trees were slain, so why would Fingon be known for being valiant, unless for his participation in the fighting at Alqualondë?)

But I don’t think that’s the only way you can interpret it, and I didn’t interpret it that way at all. Maedhros felt guilty about the Second Kinslaying; why would he be proud of the first one? He still killed people both times; I’m not defending him or saying he did the right thing in either of those cases, because he didn’t. But it doesn’t make sense to me that Maedhros would be unashamed of the First Kinslaying or would call Fingon valiant specifically for participating in it. We also know that Maedhros maintained his friendship with Finrod later; that doesn’t seem like it would have been possible if Maedhros was proud of killing members of Finrod’s people.

The idea that Fingon’s valiance must refer to the First Kinslaying is an assumption. There are other reasons why Fingon might be known for being valiant well before he ever fought in battle. Elves in Aman had athletic competitions of various kinds, and ‘valiant’ could be more or less an epessë that Fingon earned—perhaps through his skill in archery, given how later in the story most of his heroic feats involve archery. It’s really easy to think of reasons why Fingon might be called ‘the valiant’ that do not involve the First Kinslaying.

I think it’s out of character for Maedhros to praise Fingon for killing other Elves, and I don’t think it’s supported by canon. But also, if Maedhros was an unrepentant Kinslayer from the beginning I would find his character arc much less compelling. I think it makes for a better story if Maedhros went from feeling guilty over the First Kinslaying (which was at least not premeditated) to feeling even guiltier over the Second Kinslaying (which was premeditated and he did it anyway) to orchestrating a premeditated attack on the refugees of Sirion (who were only refugees in the first place because of the attack on Doriath). 

I think the Third Kinslaying is the worst of the three and it represents the lowest point of Maedhros’ moral decline (this also applies to the part where he and Maglor kill the guards to take the Silmarils and technically commit a fourth kinslaying). The tragedy of Maedhros’ character arc is that he went from not wanting to commit evil—and trying to do good, and actually accomplishing many good things—to doing evil as the easy way out and knowing exactly what he was doing and doing it anyway. And yes, he felt bound by the Oath, but he still made the choices that he made, and he is responsible for them. And it’s heartbreaking. So his character development would not have the same impact if, from the beginning, he was somehow unashamed and unrepentant about the First Kinslaying, and would go so far as to praise Fingon for participating in it.

(I also find it heartbreaking that in one draft Maedhros did reject the Oath, after the Second Kinslaying, showing that it was in fact possible to do so... Now excuse me while I cry.)

#Silmarillion #Maedhros #Fingon #Finrod #First Kinslaying #my post #my writing #it's like people deliberately misinterpret the Silmarillion #or just go with the most cynical take possible #do you really think that Maedhros #would be PROUD of the First Kinslaying? ugh

[undercat-overdog]

Yesssss, I forgot how much Quendi and Eldar validates various linguistic and ethnic headcanons of mine:

The Sindar and Noldor looked alike:

In general the Sindar appear to have very closely resembled the Exiles, being dark-haired, strong and tall, but lithe. Indeed they could hardly be told apart except by their eyes; for the eyes of all the Elves that had dwelt in Aman impressed those of Middle-earth by their piercing brightness.

But I love this bit because we’re told that all three kindreds had a strong clan identity, yet also told that the Tatyar and Nelyar looked alike. So how are they distinguished? Language. Dialects. It’s never outright said, but if it’s dark and those two groups generally look alike, it’s the obvious way to distinguish. Elven ethnic identity caught up in language use? Yes please! Also very fun to come up with linguistic headcanons about dialectal features, and I love what you could do in Aman after Middle-earthians start returning with language politics.

The merging of the Noldor and Sindar in Beleriand and how they came to be regarded as one people:

Dúnedhil ‘West-elves’ (the reference being to the West of Middle-earth) was a term made to match Dúnedain ‘West-men’ (applied only to the Men of the Three Houses). But with the growing amalgamation, outside Doriath, of the Ñoldor and Sindar into one people using the Sindarin tongue as their daily speech, this soon became applied to both Ñoldor and Sindar. 

While the Ñoldor were still distinct and whenever it was desired to recall their difference of origin, they were usually called Ódhil (sg. Ódhel).

This is talking about the First Age, so I think it highly, highly likely that they merged further in later years. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think there’s a single reference to a people or group being called “Sindar” or “Noldor” in LotR, or third and second age writings, though there are some references to specific groups of the Sindar (who, for that matter, didn’t really view themselves as one people in Beleriand). There’s also places like Lindórinand/Lothlórien where the distinction - and conflict - is between the Silvan and the non-Silvan, the latter of whom would have originally been primarily Iathrim but after the War of the Elves and Sauron composed also of refugees from Eregion, who don’t seem otherwise distinguished as a group; Legolas, who counts himself as Silvan folk, views the Elves of Lothlórien as different from his folk. (Side note that Amdír seems to have gotten along just fine with Eregion and Khazad-dûm.) But the distinction in LotR between Elven (or Eldarin, rather; the Avari don’t appear) groups is that of Silvan/wood elf vs Dúnedhil/high elf. The folk of Lothlórien appear to fall in between, perhaps because of general cultural merging by the late Third Age or because it was a mixed polity.

(To be fair, there is some text in the essay that can be read otherwise re: ethnic identity, but it’s written from an Age of the Trees and First Age perspective, and if we’re told that the Sindar and Noldor have become one people in Beleriand?)

#meta #mostly rambling #quendi and eldar #sindar and noldor #conlangs

[kiranatrix]

What kind of Lawlight do you write? Anything short-ish with some angst?

Hooboy, yeah I write angst, fluff, spicy stuff, long and short fic. *flips through the menu* Here’s a pretty short ‘n angsty fic called Truth Serum that might scratch your itch. I’ll just paste it below since it’s not too long. You can find me on AO3 under zombiejesus for more.

—————-

It didn’t take long for L to recognize the subtle changes in Light after the Yotsuba case had ended. He was quieter now, more reserved. Kept to himself now that the handcuffs no longer bound them to the same spaces, to each other.

And if L was being honest, he missed it, in a way. But he wasn’t being honest, not with Light—he pretended like nothing had changed and he hadn’t noticed the changes in behavior—and not with himself.

But he knew he didn’t have much time left, felt the silent danger floating behind Light’s eyes. He saw a plan there, a cold confidence that betrayed Light’s feelings that he’d already won. Perhaps it was just a matter of time now. But what is he waiting for?

L had considered carefully his remaining options and none were likely to save his life, let alone expose Light as Kira. But there was one he hadn’t tried yet. Truth serum.

L held the syringe in his hands now, hovering over Light’s arm as he was restrained in the chair. It was just the two of them, Light had insisted on that stipulation if he was to go along with this. L still wasn’t completely sure why Light had agreed. Was he that confident he could beat it? Surely he didn’t think L believed he was innocent. But Light did have enormous willpower. Perhaps he really could.

”Last chance to back out of this, Kira.”

Light just shot him an irritated look and faced the wall, “Just get it over with.”

L applied the tourniquet and injected the drug into Light’s vein, holding a cotton pad over the injection site when he pulled the syringe back. He placed the empty syringe on a tray on the table and crouched in the chair across from Light.

Light began to sweat, he felt suddenly very hot as his mind became clouded, hazy. He tried to fight against it, but his eyes gradually unfocused as a fog descended. “Is...is this safe, Ryuzaki...”

”Other than the risks we discussed before, it’s perfectly safe.” He’d consulted with doctors about the dosage and precautions, and while no permanent damage was expected, some brief memory loss might occur. “As long as you have nothing to hide.”

Light swallowed hard, his throat felt dry and tight. He was drifting, hanging onto L’s voice and trying to focus, but he found his mental barriers, his practiced defenses, falling away under the drug’s influence. He slumped forward in the chair a bit, his chin resting on his chest as he tried to concentrate on breathing. He summoned up some scraps of defiance. “Doesn’t this...feel like cheating, Ryuzaki...using a drug? You must be...desperate.” A small smile as he lifted his large black pupils to meet L’s stare, but it was a broken mirror of Kira.

Something in L knew that’s exactly what this was. A last flailing attempt before it was too late. But he denied it to himself. It isn’t cheating. It’s the last option available to me.

”A few easy questions to see how you’re responding. State your name.”

”Yagami Light.” He looked at L, his eyes begging him not to do this. As strong as his willpower was, it was frighteningly clear he couldn’t fight this.

”And how old are you?”

”Eighteen.”

L paused. “Where did we meet?”

Light’s pupils tried to focus but only fluttered. “Our first meeting was...at To-Oh.”

”And what were your impressions then?”

Light whispered, “I thought you were strange. I thought you were beautiful.”

L looked up at the ceiling, a pain in his chest preventing him from looking at Light, now slightly drooling and unable to wipe it away. He stood up and took a tissue, wiping Light’s mouth. “You thought I was beautiful?”

”Yes.”

L returned to crouch in his chair, eyes unblinking. ”What did you think when I told you I was L?”

”I...was scared at first and then...I wanted to know you better. Get close to you. Work with you.”

”You wanted to join the Kira case, but why exactly?”

”I...admired you. It was an honor to be asked and I wanted to prove to you that...I was smart enough.”

”Smart enough for what?”

”My dream...to work beside you. Be a detective, solve cases like my father. Help you...as L.”

“And how did you feel when you came on to help?”

”Confident. Excited to be nearer to you. I felt...” Light swallowed hard but went on, “...attracted to you.”

”You were...attracted to me?” L was surprised, his eyes going even wider than their usual huge circumference.

”Yes.”

”But wasn’t Amane Misa your girlfriend?”

”In name only.”

”You don’t love her?”

Light looked away, “No.”

”Then why pretend?”

”She can see...names.” Light whimpered as the words were yanked from him.

L whispered, ”My name?”

Light jerked against the restraints, then slumped into them. Despair dripped from his voice, “Yes, she told me some time ago.”

“Then why am I alive?” L leaned forward in his crouch, his thumb pressed hard to his bottom lip.

Light felt panicked, the question wasn’t incriminating per se, but his answer would destroy him nonetheless. A whisper, “Because...I’m in love with you.”

The questions L had meant to ask: ‘Are you Kira?’...‘How do you kill?’...these stuck in the back of L’s throat as Light raised his unfocused eyes to L’s. He’s suffering, scared. He’s trying to fight this but he can’t. He’s waiting for the big questions that will end him. And he’s right. It is cheating.

A drop of sweat dripped from Light’s bangs hanging down in his face, and he struggled to regain control of his mind and fight the cheat. L saw fear flicker in Light’s eyes as their battle shifted from his favor, and as Light strained to lift his head, and managed to do it, L had never respected him more.

Light shuddered against the bindings, his breathing somewhat shallow. “You must have dosed me good, Ryuzaki.” He smiled sadly, confidence stripped away. “Aren’t you going to—“

”You’re in love with me?”

Light squeezed his eyes shut, breathing harder, “You make me say it again? I don’t want to be, but...yes.” The affirmation came out in broken pants.

L stared at him. These are Light’s truths. He’s fighting it. Being honest for...once in his life? But wasn’t it too much to ask for truth, given what we both are, who we are? I’ve lied too, Light. Lied my whole life too.

Light balled his fists and screamed at him, “Come on! Don’t draw it out to torture me! Just get it over with!”

L knew he could ask Light anything. He’d succumbed to the serum completely. “Light...” He got up and moved his chair closer, uncurling Light’s clenched hand into his own. And instead of asking about Kira, he asked Light to talk about his life, his dreams, the things he finds beautiful or scary or have broken his heart or cheered him. His childhood. His accomplishments. His failures. What he likes about L. What he loves.

”The way you stir your teacup so it never clinks the sides...

The way you look at me in the morning, right when you wake up, before you remember...

The way we challenge each other, even when we don’t have to, just because we can...

The way you chase me but don’t catch me, and I let you...

The flush on your cheeks when I touch you by accident...

These things, L. So many things.”

L gets to know the real Light, the one behind the mask he wears daily, over the afternoon. Putting off the big bomb questions, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He’d finally gotten the chance to know anything about Light but the Kira questions fade away in his mind. But eventually, L sees the truth serum is starting to wear off and Light is less groggy now, more guarded. L gets less and less out of him until finally Light has his mask back up completely.

Light’s pupils were sharply focused now, and he raises his head confidently. His breathing was normalized, and a tiny smirk started to form again on his lips. “Is the session over? Did you get everything you wanted?” He pulled his hand back into a fist, away from L’s, not remembering much about what he had said under the serum’s influence. But Light’s confidence was such that he felt he’d never compromise himself. And would L still be sitting here if I had? I’d be halfway to jail by now.

L sighed, considering what to do. He knew what he should have done. What he should do now. Why do I fear it, put it off? It’s what I’ve been working towards this whole time! And there may be very little time left.

Light wiggled impatiently, “Ryuzaki, are we through?”

L stood up and walked over to the table, taking a new syringe and pulling another dose of serum. Light shook his head rapidly and protested but L plunged the needle into his vein, and pushed the serum in.

“L, no...please stop...” The smirk felt away and the fear returned, and a new expression. Betrayal. Tears streamed down Light’s face this time, and he yelled, “Cheater!”

L pulled one more dose and crouched beside Light, watching his pupils become unfocused wide blackness again. “We’re going to be honest with each other, Light.” He injected the serum into his own arm. “Both of us.”

L knew they probably wouldn’t remember anything the other said after the drug wore off. No one was voicing questions. But the voice in L’s head that kept him up at night posed one instead.

He took Light’s hand, and told the truth.

#my writing #asks #anon #light yagami #l lawliet #lawlight

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Arnav, Khushi: Choti Si Duniya

#3 Old Habits

On most days Arnav and Khushi were happily married, with ample amount of laughter, space, sex, healthy banter, mild arguments, partnership and friendship filling their days.

On some days they just took the breath away from the other by simply existing, thrumming in the evergreen Rabba Ve. And on other days they were quiet, with one of their past demons returning to haunt them while the other supported the best they could.

And on the rarest days their arguments would take an ugly turn. It wasn’t a difference of thought, but rather crossing an invisible line of trust. Old habits, which despite maturity and therapy, flared up.

Unfortunately, Arnav crossed it far more than Khushi did.

“You’re forgetting she’s my sister Khushi Kumari Gupta! How could you not tell me she’s dating my manager.”

“She is also my sister Arnav, and Di told me not to tell you-”

“I don’t fucking care-”

“-that’s exactly why she told me not to tell you. And Aman ji is a good man for Di.”

“I don’t care, you still don't know Aman.”

“I’ve known him for six years! And for your kind information, I am a good judge of character Arnav-”

“-no you're not. If you were a good judge then things would've been different.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t forget that with this judgement I chose to marry you.”

“Oh really? With this judgement you brought fucking Shyam back to the house. I told you it was a big mistake but no - you thought he had changed.”

Khushi stormed into their bedroom, packing her clothes for a week. How dare he accuse her for not understanding Shyam! Yes, she had made a colossal mistake regarding him, but bringing it up after five years?

Just because he couldn't handle Di having a boyfriend?

Khushi breathed hard, fought her tears and zipped up her suitcase.

“Khushi, I’m sorry.” Arnav panted, having run up the stairs. His panic grew at the suitcase.

“Then why did you bring that up.”

“I was angry, I didn’t... you know how I am regarding Di.”

“I do Arnav, but that does not excuse you bringing up that up. I would've never brought him to the house if I knew he killed Di’s child.”

“Of course, I know that. It’s just... I shouldn't know about Aman and Di after they’ve started dating.”

Khushi sighed. She understood his overprotectiveness, especially after the Shyam fiasco they were all at edge towards Anjali. Frankly if it had not been for Aman, Khushi would’ve confided in Arnav.

“I get it, but I’m leaving for Bua ji’s for a week... if I didn’t know you, I would've never forgiven you for what you said.”

“Khushi you know I didn’t mean it.”

“And you know that anything related to that man is... has never been my fault.”

“I know Khushi but don’t go.” He held her hand.

“Arnav, I’m not in the state to forgive you for what you said. I want to calm down, take a little break and talk to you about this. So first, go and talk to your sister and please let me go.”

Arnav’s temper ticked. He hated Khushi leaving home. Leaving him.

“Running away from things don’t fix anything.”

“I’m not running away Arnav, I need space.”

“I said I’m sorry.” He yelled.

“And that is not enough!” She matched his pitch, grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door. Except he shut the door on her face and pulled her away.

“You can’t leave,” He warned. Khushi snatched her hand away from his.

“Or else?” She challenged.

“You know what I’m capable of,” His mouth hardened into its cruel, familiar straight line. And Khushi’s heart broke, again.

“Every single fucking time,” Khushi swore and threw her bag to the floor, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. Arnav faltered, his grip on the door loosening.

“Khushi main-” Khushi stopped him and stepped away.

“Enough Arnav. Main kya? You didn’t mean what you said? Didn’t mean to hold my hand hard enough to hurt? Didn’t mean to bring up the past? Didn’t mean to break my heart?” Khushi folded her arms, analyzing his face.

“But it still hurts. And you do nothing to fix it. I wonder, where does this come from?”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” He said.

“I didn’t leave you when things were worse, when you couldn't stand being in the same room as me-” And despite the years, the memories filled Arnav with guilt and Khushi with pain. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” His voice had lost its strength, “I wish I could change-”

“Hume uss baat se koi farak nahi padta. I have never asked you for an explanation or your regret. I’ve left these behind. But you haven't. Your habits haven't.” Khushi wiped her tears, struggling to keep her composure.

“You know, let’s talk about this. Because I’ve heard all of this before and we never really addressed how you broke my heart. And the fact that you can say all this despite all the therapy we've been to...”

Arnav sank into the green chaise, head in his hands. Khushi, always having the bigger heart, kneeled by him and grabbed his face. He was crying. Her heart truly broke.

“Talk to me Arnav. Why do you say these things? It’s been so long, and trust me when you shut the door and grab me I still get scared, it still breaks my heart despite everything. It will never be okay-”

Arnav held her hand, whispering his sorries to her.

“And what do you mean by ‘my sister’. Don’t you know how long it took me to make this family my own. Arnav, my world changed overnight. You know this. Tumhara, mera... you make me feel like this is not mine. That this house, this-”

“No Khushi, everything is yours. Yeh ghar, Di, main-” He choked.

“Then why do you work so hard to push me away? I know you're concerned for Di, even I was first worried when I learned she liked Aman ji. But she's happy with him.” Khushi said.

“I can’t... Di was happy with Shyam. I can't see her go through pain again, when I know that I could've prevented it.” Arnav confessed.

“Arnav, things would've hurt irrespective of everything we did. Or maybe because of it. The problem was not that we couldn't protect her, it’s that we took away her choice. Our decision to tell her the truth depended on it our convenience to lie about him.” Arnav agreed.

“And Aman ji is different. You know him for twelve years and if he turns out terrible despite that, then we’ll support Di the best we can and murder him.” Khushi cracked a smile and Arnav chuckled.

“I’m sorry Khushi,” He said, wiping her tear away.

“You should be. I mean, yes, I should've known better about trusting a man who didn't hesitate to kidnap you-” Arnav tsked at her.

“You were barely in your twenties. I shouldn't have brought that up.” He huffed.

“But you did.” She smiled sadly. Arnav stopped himself from saying 'I didn't mean to'. If he didn't, he shouldn't have. So he attempted at pouring his heart, saying things he meant.

He often resorted to pulling people’s mistakes when they made a decision without his input to prove they can't always make the right choice.

“Because I believe I’m the only one who can take the right decisions for everyone...” Arnav scoffed at the irony of his sentence. There were times when he had succeeded but despite his best efforts he did hurt Khushi where it hurt most.

"I always think it’s right to use any means to stop you from leaving me, especially after a fight. Cause I think I’ll fix everything later, as long as you're in front of me.” He confessed.

“Except it fixes nothing. It just... Arnav I feel like I have to cut a part of myself to be with you after such things because I love you, I love you so much that I can’t bear to not love you. Aur aise harkatein ke baad... it gets difficult to love you.” Khushi began to cry.

“It kills me to not be able to love you.” Arnav kissed her forehead, holding her tight in his arms. Her sobs racked against his chest, breaking his heart to two.

“Khushi please don’t... how can I fix this? I feel like any sorry isn't enough.”

“Let’s talk. Like this, always.” Khushi sniffled. Arnav nodded, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“And... if I want to leave,” Arnav’s grip tightened, “know that I’m always coming back. Except I just need space to process things.” Khushi broke the hug, and caressed his cheek.

“Ok, I’ll tell Mohan to drive you to Bua ji’s. I won't- can’t, you know I won't be able to leave you there.” Arnav smiled, holding her hand against his cheek.

“I’ll talk to Di about everything and we’ll work on this.” He pointed to themselves. Everything was worth a shot.

“And I will never keep anything from you.” She promised, acknowledging her own mistake.

“Ab jao, otherwise I won’t let you go.” Arnav turned away, dismissing her. Khushi pressed the most loving, forgiving kiss against his cheek and left for Bua ji’s.

---

Aman and Anjali watched Khushi leave for Bua ji’s. She had and bid everyone goodbye - Aarav choosing to stay home, afraid of the cheek pulling at Lakshminagar. But promised to FaceTime his mum at every single minute.

Arnav, had not come down to see her off. Anjali was worried sick. Aman tried to placate her.

“Aman, you have no idea the problems Chote and Khushi faced because of my first marriage. I did not... I always ruin everything. My blind faith nearly destroyed my brother’s happiness and yet again-” Aman placed his finger against Anjali’s lips, shushing her effectively.

“No Anjali. You are not responsible for ASR and Khushi bhabhi’s lives. Your faith in your husband was admirable. If the narrative was different, you would've been lauded for your trust in him. Unfortunately that wasn't the case.” Anjali didn’t agree. Aman grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Anjali, look at me. Take deep breaths. Ab, listen. Yes, you affect ASR’s life - why wouldn't you, he's your brother, your support, your heart. But whatever happens in his life is a result of his actions. Same applies for Khushi bhabhi. Yes, they might have fought regarding us, but not because of it.”

“But Aman-”

“No buts, if we were to break up - because, of course, ASR affects your life too - would you hate ASR?” This time Anjali grabbed Aman’s shoulders in response to his questions.

“I would never hate my brother Aman Mathur. And no matter how much I love him, I would speak to him but not give up on you like that.” If they were not in  Shantivan, Aman would’ve kissed her senseless on the spot.

“It’s taken me a lot to fall in love, and I’m not going to change that-”

“Then that resolves everything Di.” Aman and Anjali jumped apart on finding Arnav leaning against a wall, a soft smile playing on his lips. These few minutes said a lot about Aman and Anjali’s relationship that he wouldn’t have been able to have assessed without a calm mind.

“Chote.” Anjali nearly ran into her brother’s arms. Arnav hugged her tight, happy and relieved at the same time.

“It’s ok Di. First of all, as Aman said, you’re not responsible for anything. Everything will be fine between Khushi and me. And next time, you can tell your brother everything, I wouldn’t sack Aman for being your boyfriend... even if I’m tempted to.” Anjali pushed him against his shoulder and the siblings grinned.

“Thank you Chote. This means the world to me.” Aman smiled affectionately at the duo.

“There’s nothing to thank me. It is your life. But if Aman hurts you-”

“-then feel free to do anything with him.” Anjali quipped.

“Precisely. Even Khushi is on board with murder.”

“Do you both realize I am here.” Aman cleared his throat.

“Yeah, that saves me the time to separately give the shovel talk. You are truly efficient Aman.” Anjali laughed and headed towards Aman, who was more than happy to receive the threats.

He was officially welcomed to the Raizada's.

---

Madhumati and Garima had long learned what interference could cost in both, Khushi and Payal’s lives. With Shashi’s recovery they realized that if they had let both the daughters take decisions they saw fit, a lot of misunderstandings would've been avoided.

So when Khushi arrived with her bag and a call came from Payal apprising the Guptas of the situation at home, the Guptas needed no answers from Khushi nor were in a hurry to send her to Shantivan.

For this home would always remain as Khushi’s.

Madhumati didn’t prod about the untouched jalebis (although she did have a good mind to use her belan on her beloved damaad), Garima busied herself with her hour long chats with her grandson on the phone and Shashi gave Khushi the space to talk.

Time definitely allowed healing and perspective.

---

It was one of those days when Arnav was restless. Neither tending his plants nor working gave him relief. Perhaps it was because there were three more days for Khushi to come home?

He paced across every square inch of his mansion - the Prakashes and Raizada's knowing well to steer clear from Pacing Singh Raizada.

“Wassup Nannav? Missing Khushi bhabhi? You want me to send her a message? I’m heading there to grab some samosas.” NK grinned, as if he hadn't seen his cousin pining for Khushi in the past four days.

“Nothing.” Arnav gritted. He knew therapy was working. If not, NK would’ve been six feet under. And maybe Lavanya would’ve murdered him for it, but that was a small price to pay.

“Everything’s alright Chote?” Anjali stepped in, slapping NK behind his head.

“Yes Di, I ju-” Arnav stopped. The air sweetened, goosebumps broke and a sudden wind hit him. Oh, it was one of those days.

“Chote-”

“Nannav,”

Arnav ignored them and walked towards the door, nearly running by the end of it.

There was Khushi, in a red salwar kameez, house keys in hand.

They looked at each other as a strong breeze washed over them. A few strands of her hair flew and she softly smiled, before her chin wobbled and a sheen of tears betrayed her joy of coming home.

Oh, the one to cry at the drop of a hat!

Khushi ran up the few steps and nearly jumped into his arms as he engulfed her in his embrace. They remained in the intimate hug, sharing a few discreet kisses and whispered promises, oblivious to the audience.

“Di, how does Nannav always know when Khushi ji’s home?” NK asked.

“Old habits NK bhai, puraani aadatein.” Anjali smiled.

---

A/N: This was the longest CSD one shot! Here's your slice of angst but happily ever after - just let's say I was in one of those moods.

Choti Si Duniya is going to be a series of one shots of Arnav & Khushi’s life post the end of the show. These are going to be snippets inspired by certain gifs. I hope you liked it - do share your views!

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #fanfiction #arnav #khushi #choti si duniya #angst #hona hi tha

[osmw1]

Head Over Heels from the Scarf I Lent Her  Chapter 9 — A Movie, and Friends

It was a short walk from the Italian place to the theaters, which seem busier than usual. Maybe it’s because Men Over Flours is such a hit. According to the schedule, there’s exactly 10 minutes left until the theater doors open.

“It looks like we’re right on time.” “Oh, good. I’m really looking forward to it. It’s my first time coming to a cinema as well.” “You’ve been missing out. The atmosphere here is totally different compared to home. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” “I never knew…”

Seeing her eyes light up made Tooru feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He much prefers her bright smile over her gloomy expression.

After getting their tickets from the box office, they headed inside. You can really tell how popular Men Over Flours is just by the herd of people at the vending machines.

The two of them were also squished together because of the people. Being so close to Satsuki and catching her scent made Tooru’s heart race.

Fortunately, Tooru literally stands out due to his height, so they probably wouldn’t lose each other in the crowd. But if they do, it feels like they’ll be separated forever. So, he gently places his hand on her shoulder, causing her to blush bright red.

“Umm…” “Sorry. Bear with me for a moment, alright? I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.” “... alright.”

Satsuki looks relieved to hear so. He was afraid she’d hate him for it, but he’s glad that wasn’t the case. In fact, it seems like it even calmed her down. And with his hand on her shoulder, they arrived in front of the vending machines selling fountain drinks and popcorn in various sizes.

“What is this?” “Well, you’ve just gotta get popcorn and drinks when you come to the theaters, right? Since we just ate, why don’t we get a small?” “I’ll let you pick… sorry.” “Oh, that’s right, it’s your first time. Let’s go with the small then.”

Tooru sticks enough money into the machine to buy a cola for himself and a tea for Satsuki. Then, they wait for the movie to start with their snacks and drinks in hand.

“I’m pumped for the movie.” “Same for me. And a romance film at that too. Though it’s slightly embarrassing for some reason.” “Hahaha. I know what you mean. But I get to watch it with you, so I’m sure it’ll be great.”

She looks up at Tooru then smiles and says, “Me too,” in a voice so faint, it’s almost unnoticeable. A chime rings, signalling that it’s time to head in.

“Shall we?” “Let’s!”

The tickets were for fairly decent seats—a center row and right in the middle of the screen. After they sit down together, Tooru sticks his drink in his cupholder, holding his popcorn in his lap. Watching and learning, Satsuki does the same and digs into her popcorn. Just as the rest of the audience fill the house, another chime plays signalling the start of the film.

It’s a pretty typical chick flick. A cute girl dresses as a guy, gets into an all-boys school, and falls in love with a classmate. And even though it’s technically a reverse harem, the heroine gets together with a guy after some ups and downs.

Tooru guessed that much from simply seeing the poster.

But, as the movie reached its climax, he glances over at Satsuki…

Tears. Like the ones he’s seen before. She holds a handkerchief to her cheeks as she silently weeps. Tooru fixed his gaze on her—a scene more fleeting the ones on the big screen.

What if he ever made her cry? No matter what, it’d hurt him too. To hurt a girl who adores him so much would be absolutely shameful.

Tooru promises himself to never make her cry like this. And then, he looks back at the screen.

The final scene of the film shows two people kissing.

“That was such a great movie.” “Yeah, it was good.”

Satsuki, still sobbing uncontrollably, sits down on a bench and Tooru takes the seat beside her. She wets her handkerchief and applies it to her red, puffy eyes. Her tears keep rolling, spilling down onto her skirt.

“I never knew romance films could be so wonderful.” “You like it that much?” “I do. Two people in love and getting together—it’s like fantasy, but yet possible. It’s like a dream.”

You’re the one like a dream, he almost said. But, not only shouldn’t he butt into her feelings, saying that would be the same as confessing to her.

She continues to weave her words.

“Sometimes, I wish I were the heroine in a tale like that. It’d be so… never mind. Sorry for saying something so weird.” “Naw, it’s not weird. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to be a character from a manga.” “You too?” “Yeah.”

His gentle, calming tone gives her reassurance.

“Thank goodness. I thought I would sound like a total weirdo. We’re like two peas in a pod then.” “That we are.”

They chuckled together. It seems like Satsuki has finally stopped crying too.

“I’m all good now. Thank you.” “Hmm, let’s sit for a little longer; your eyes are still quite red.”

Satsuki dabs the wet handkerchief at her eyes again. She looks more relaxed now, as if the cool water is very soothing.

“Say…” “Hmm?” “Are you this nice to your classmates as well?”

What a surprise question.

He wasn’t planning to treat the girls in his class especially nice or mean. It’s not like he can get a decent girlfriend with Satsuki around either.

Not to mention, Tooru didn’t understand her motives behind the question. How should he answer? What answer is she looking for? Frankly, the question is making him feel a little awkward.

“I… don’t know. Well, I’m not mean to them, but I wouldn’t say I’m particularly nice either…” “Is that so? I imagined that you’re always so kind. Your classmates sure are lucky…”

So exaggerated, Tooru thought.

“How about your class? Have you made any friends?”

He’s wondered about this before too. It’s been a week since school has started for her, so she’s bound to have made a friend or two, right? so thought Tooru in this moment. Satsuki made a long face in response. It was too late by the time Tooru realized he stepped on a landmine.

“My father and sister are very strict about the people I meet. The boys come talk to me once in a while, but I’m not particularly interested.”

He had totally forgotten about Amane. But, knowing how Amane is, it wasn’t very surprising for Tooru to hear. You could say even say that Amane is indirectly attacking her sister again. As for the boys talking to her, they definitely have ulterior motives. There wasn’t much Tooru could do.

“... hey, Satsuki?”

Satsuki looked up, flustered by Tooru suddenly calling her by her first name.

“Umm, yes?” “Satsuki, may I be your friend?” “Huh? But…” “Feel free to say no. It’s just that… not having a single friend would be too lonely.”

She grips her handkerchief with all her might. This is all Tooru can do for her. Please, just laugh. Satsuki eases up a bit, then speaks up.

“… with pleasure.”

Another stream of tears rolled down her cheek. But this time, it’s different—these are tears of joy. The proof is in her smile. Tooru feels like he’s finally given something back to her, even if it really is trivial. Just as long as it makes her happy. There’s no way to completely take her mind off of Amane. But to think that someone out there is hurting this sweet, brave girl… It’s unforgivable.

“I won’t be able to come visit your class at school or anything… if you’re alright with that.” “Yes. I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you either.”

Satsuki nods. Tooru nods back in return. He feels as if he had connected with her, even if only a little.

“Let’s go home, shall we? My mouth is watering just thinking about your cooking.” “Geez, you’re hopeless. I’m going to go all out tonight.”

The girl gets up from her seat with her face free from fraught.

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /next/

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#Average Translations #AvgTL #osm #light novels #ln #web novels #wn #syosetu #一般の英訳 #ライトノベル #ラノベ #オンライン小説 #オンラインノベル #小説家になろう #Head Over Heels from the Scarf I Lent Her #HOH #Scarf Girl #buchinuki udon #マフラーを貸したら幸薄系美少女にこれでもかと好かれた件 #ぶちぬきうどん

[secretshinigami]

Title: It’s the little things Author: @hazblogs, Arthur For: @naive-archiviste Pairings/Characters: L Lawliet, Light Yagami, Watari, Misa Amane, A (mention), Beyond Birthday (mention) Rating/Warnings: Teen, TW for mental health discussion, dermatillomania, slight transphobia, vague description of a panic attack, some internalised ableism Prompt: 1. A story of how L and Light meet a psychologist and unexpectedly get diagnosed with something, L with Asperger’s syndrome, Light with high-functioning sociopathy. Author’s notes: Hey hey hey !!!! Here’s your gift for the sse !!!! I’m so happy to have written for you and as you’ve certainly noticed I had a lot of fun filling out your prompt. The Ryuk one was simply amazing but I don’t have the skill to write poetry (one day, one day ;^; i will maybe be strong enough !). Thank you for participating in this exchange, and I do hope you enjoy this little text. There is no pairing because you didn’t say if you wanted one and I thought it was safest not to put any, just in case. I also had… lots of fun putting some of my headcanons in, I hope you don’t mind.

This text got… kinda long haha, it’s about 7k ? And I can’t find the readmore button, which might make viewing the post complicated, sorry for that.

See you on AO3 where I will also post this story, I hope everyone likes it !

Thank you also to the mods of sse for making this exchange possible !

It’s the little things

Light looks at the therapist with nothing but distant interest – this could be useful, this could help him get hold of new techniques, this woman knows about making people talk after all. He can’t bring himself to care. Misa insisted he come, he’s here for her, no matter how stupid that sounds to him, and he’s not here to… what. Get help ? Help for what ?

He’s been silent too long and the therapist fidgets. She’s a cute woman, he thinks offhandedly, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wants to get out of here.

“The outpatient program is very nice, you’ll see,” she says eventually, probably sensing that if she doesn’t speak first, no conversation will take place. Light still isn’t sure he wants to answer, but she adds, “There’s group therapy, so you’ll meet other people who have similar issues. Well, not exactly the same,” and Light sighs internally, because what issues is she talking about, he barely opened his mouth, “but still, I think it’ll be good for you to meet other people who empathize with what you’re going through.”

This time, he actually sighs. There’s a headache starting behind his temples and his leg feels jittery, which is never a good sign. But Light is good, he doesn’t lose his temper, and waits until the end of the appointment to say, “I don’t think I need to come back.”

“I know it’s hard,” the woman answers with a sympathetic smile, “but you’ll see, it gets better. With time – and with dedication, but I’m sure you’re a very driven person, considering how much you managed to achieve in such a poor condition.”

He wants to scream. “Poor condition”, my ass. Light is perfectly ok.

His left leg has started to bounce slightly and he can’t make it stop.

ooo

L looks at the man with something akin to disgust. No, that word is too strong to be conciliated with his unending disinterest. The therapist is talking to Wammy and L drowns them out easily, focusing on the last case he had. She was found dead in her bed, front door left ajar, and not a speck left to prove there had ever been an intruder. It was such a boring case he didn’t even need to leave his room to solve it. Better this way. Less people to see him and figure out. He always hates when people figure him out.

“Ryuuzaki, please, pay attention,” Wammy says, probably not for the first time. L doesn’t really care, and wouldn’t have reacted if the nickname hadn’t been so bothering to him. Why they had to come to Japan to do this, he doesn’t know, but at least it’s better than in the States where someone might have connected the dots. He’s not as popular in Japan, if “popular” is a thing he even is.

“Ryuuzaki.”

This time, Wammy’s voice is stern enough for him to be considered somewhat serious. L thinks about why they’re here, but this time with his head tilted up, so he can pretend he’s listening. Wammy has some strange ideas. Some work, like the washing machine, some… some are like this one. “Oh, learn how to fire a gun, Lawliet, it’ll sure come in handy. Learn this, learn that, what am I gonna do with you dear god”. Ok, he might have added the last part himself – but it’s true. L sees it in the way he holds his head when L forgets to sleep or when he makes some rude comment again. Though L doesn’t personally think he’s very rude. People are.

That’s it, he thinks.

“…ki, can you repeat what I’ve just said ?” the therapist says, his eyes fixated a little too low to be looking at L’s face. Not that he’s been staring back – he actually has no idea what the man looks like – but still, this is strange, people usually insist they look at each other “in the eye” or something resembling that. L belatedly realises that he should answer. He has no idea what the man said.

Wammy sighs, like he knows L wasn’t paying attention, and the therapist repeats, “You’ll be attending group therapy as well as weekly sessions with me. I’ll also have meetings with Mr Watari, since he is your designated caretaker. Is that alright ?”

L wonders if he’s allowed to say no. Probably not, so he nods, and puts his head on his knees. They are bunched up against his chest, his bare feet clinging to the edge of the seat. He didn’t even notice he kicked his sneakers off… Wammy is gonna chide him about that afterwards, he’s sure. Oh well. Never mind. At least this time he wasn’t forced to wear socks.

“Stop biting your thumb,” Wammy says when they exit the therapist’s office. “You’re bleeding again.”

“Hm,” L murmurs, without really paying attention. “This therapist didn’t even ask for my first name.”

“That’s because he knows who you are,” he answers.

“Oh. That’s a bother, then. Why not call me L ?”

“What if people listen ?” Wammy gently says back, because he knows L hates nicknames.

L doesn’t answer, kicks his shoes off again, and dozes out for the rest of the car ride back to their hotel room.

ooo

“Light !” Misa’s shrill voice exclaims. “I knew it !” She sits down in front of him, and almost tears his newspaper apart in her haste to put it away. “I knew you weren’t going to therapy ! The doctor called me, you know ? She says you haven’t been to the last three sessions. And you’ve never even gone to group therapy.”

“It’s none of your business,” Light answers through gritted teeth. “Who are you to nag at me like that, my girlfriend ?”

Misa’s face flashes briefly with hurt before closing off. “Well,” she says, “I’m your friend.”

Right, Light thinks. Friend. He doesn’t really have any, does he ? No people close enough to him to be called that, though Misa is in fact closer than most – closer than anyone but Sayu, actually, but Sayu is his sister so it’s normal, it makes sense, while Misa is just someone who invited herself in his life without even bothering to ask if it was ok. Light doesn’t like how people look at him when he is with Misa, how their eyes go big and how they ask if they’re dating. Misa always says yes, partly to bother him, partly because it helps her with, he doesn’t know, PR stuff maybe ? Or just to be left alone. They did meet because someone was stalking her, after all.

“Light ?” she eventually says, soft and cautious. “You don’t have to go if you really don’t want to, but I am your friend, I want to help.”

“Fine,” he answers, teeth still clenched. “I’ll go to the next appointment. I’ll book one when I go home.”

“I already did,” Misa says, sheepish. “Same time next Saturday. You know, I also talked to the doctor you saw at the hospital – he’s been wondering where you’ve gone, after you left so abruptly.”

The hospital ? Light hoped he’d never hear about it again in his life, unless maybe he went there because of a job accident, but certainly not because Misa thought it was appropriate to call his father on him. There was no reason for his stay there – short stay, if he may had, he had been discharged after only three days, but it was the most humiliating experience of his life. He’d barely left his room, talked to no one but the nurses, and pretended to swallow the pills they gave him without even considering taking them.

He isn’t – what, crazy ? No, he isn’t crazy. He was just tired, and he is sleeping better now, and there is no need for Misa to interfere. His next appointment would be better used by someone else, who wouldn’t waste the therapist’s time with non-existent problems.

ooo

L watches a speck of dust float through the air, suspended in between people’s heads, like it’s held up by a beam of light, before it flutters away and disappears. It forces him to pay attention to the person the dust disappeared behind, a young man with chestnut hair and very tired eyes. He doesn’t have dark circles though, and L briefly wonders if he wears concealer.

He does, L realises after the man moves and a sheen of sweat makes the skin under his eyes appear too textured for it to not be make-up. It’s applied so sloppily even Beyond could do better, which is saying a lot. There’s traces of concealer on his cheeks too, and L briefly wonders if he should do the same, wear concealer and stop people from looking. But then again, that’d mean using pretty much an entire bottle of concealer in a week, and though he doesn’t lack money, he certainly does lack the motivation to hide the various rashes on his skin. Or whatever it’s called when it’s you who scratched it.

“Welcome !” someone says, with a cheerful voice that doesn’t sound too forced. “Group therapy for the adults who are younger but not young adults – or as we liked to call it, the ‘not old yet’ group therapy !”

She has a casual shirt on, with some words in Japanese that mean “sun” and “moon”, and L has to tear his gaze out of her breast area where a pretty necklace is dangling – it’s a present, she has a fiancé – yes she has a ring, no tan mark yet, it must be new, hence the present – ok, this has to stop. He’s not here for that.

Contrary to what he assumed, L has been enjoying group therapy. It’s like detective work but easier and with more crazy people in it – he’s not quite sure he’s part of them yet but the group has organically absorbed him without asking questions. So there’s that. He has a group now. Not friends – he’d laughed at the idea of having friends, once, and Beyond acted offended, and then Adeline cried, and he never heard the end of it. But it’s a funny group nonetheless.

“Today, we say hello to a new member – say hi to Yagami Light ! Yagami-kun, this is the three pm group therapy… well, it’s your group now.”

Light looks utterly disgusted as a chorus of “Hi, Yagami-kun” echo around the circle. They’re all seated down on little cushions, and Light is in a seiza so perfect it must hurt. L has opted for his usual pose, knees drawn to the chest, and he sways lightly from side to side as he inspects the members present in the circle today.

“The topic for today is – who remembers ? Yes, Mikami-kun ?”

“Diagnosis,” he says, lowering his head with a frown – not that he has any other expressions, but L still finds it funny to remark on it in his head.

“Right !” the nurse says. L is bad with names, so “nurse” will have to do for now. “So, anyone wants to share their diagnoses with us today ? Or the process of getting one ?”

Nobody answers. It’s usually like that, L noticed, no one answers in the first ten minutes and then a few scattered comments. Mostly from the people in outpatient – the people in inpatient seem to have a harder time making things out, deciding if speaking isn’t worth their time or if it’ll alleviate some of their boredom. They look so bored, that’s what intrigued L the most about them, how their eyes looked empty. He sees something else there now.

Light still has that disgusted expression on, and it only deepens as someone dares to speak. She’s a young woman, probably not much older than L himself, and she shares her story with being diagnosed as bipolar II with the crowd. They all nod, like they know what it means, and L’s brain supplies the textbook definition before he raises his hand to ask – “Bipolar II disorder is a form of mental illness similar to bipolar I, with moods cycling between high and low over time. However in bipolar II the ‘up’ moods never reach full-blown mania. These less intense elevated moods are called hypomania”. Interesting, L thinks. Or not, as the woman drones on and on about how difficult it was for her family to accept her diagnosis. He’s sure it must have been, considering how private and closed-off the Japanese are, compared to the English, and even there, some people never care until it’s too late.

Himself included. Adeline would smirk sadly and turn her back on him if she saw where he was now.

ooo

There’s some pressure in the air and Light isn’t sure it comes from the unblinking gaze of Mikami, who hasn’t stopped staring at him since he arrived. When he finally locates the source of the eyes he felt resting on top of his head, he’s not surprised to see it’s one of the weirdest in the group – staring is usually considered too polite by most people, though obviously Mikami and the strange man don’t seem to understand.

Light doesn’t participate in the discussion at all. First because he has nothing to say, having started therapy sessions the day before, but mostly because he finds the idea of sharing something so personal to be abhorrent to his basic need for privacy. Mikami also doesn’t speak much, except for correcting people on their own diagnoses, which is funnier than it should be considering the man is so stuck up he is half expecting to see an off-switch button on the side of his head. There isn’t one, but Light has a nagging need to check from up-close, to dig his fingers into his own head and find that damn off-switch and tune his fucking brain out for ten seconds.

Admitting that, even in the comfort of his own head, scares him. What is it that he needs to run away from ? If not his intellect, what is left that makes him valuable ?

The end of group therapy is a welcome distraction. “It’s not as long as you probably expect,” the therapist had warned, “so don’t hesitate to speak if you feel the need to”. Right, he thinks. If he feels the need to.

Immediately after the nurse dismisses them, Mikami turns to him, and unfolds a whole speech on the importance of freedom of speech. He hasn’t even introduced himself. Light sighs, and sighs again when he turns to find the strange guy on his other side.

“Light-kun, he says, my name is –” he narrows his eyes, then, and continues, “are you with the police ?”

Mikami’s eyes open wide and he gapes a bit, before frowning some more and excusing himself. Light is left staring at the other guy’s strange face and mannerism – he is biting his thumb and scratching what looks like a scab on his shoulder, which, with the dark circles under his eyes, gives him the appearance of a very frog-like raccoon.

“I am,” Light says carefully.

The other man smiles, like this is a big secret he’s proud of guessing.

“You can call me Hideki Ryuuga,” he says, which is a ridiculous false name to give. “But most people call me L.”

“Oh,” Light says, because there’s nothing else he can say without being impolite – and then it clicks. L. That man is casually saying he’s the best detective in the world. Go figure. People here definitely give him the creeps.

ooo

L ticks when the therapist says his name for the seventh time. Or at least that’s what he says, that he’s called him seven times, but L really didn’t hear – he was focused on the paper the man gave him, with some basic questions about his mental health.

“What does it mean, ‘repetitive behaviours’ ?” L asks, while scratching his left leg. There’s a rash visible there already, he’s probably been scratching for a good ten minutes. Fuck. At least Wammy isn’t here to nitpick at everything.

The therapist sighs, and takes back his paper without a word. Oh well, L tried. He’s checked off a good quantity of boxes, but there are some questions that just seem absurd – of course people like routine, of course people have foods they don’t like. What kind of psych eval is that ?

His brain zooms out of his present situation and goes back to the nearest interesting puzzle. Presently, its name is Light Yagami, and L has already used up most of his detective resources tracking the life out of this guy. It’s a wonder he’s not a serial killer, if L may say so, considering the absolutely perfect record he has, like he’s never taken a wrong turn in his life. Apart from maybe being gay, but that’s hardly a bother. L doubts he knows himself, considering how uptight he seemed. Yeah, that’s it, closeted, model policeman Light Yagami. God this man is uninteresting, yet somehow L finds his attention snaps back to him without fail.

Like there’s something more.

He didn’t look like he belonged at a group therapy, maybe because he thought so hard that if he willed himself away he wouldn’t have to stay, but L can detect something brewing underneath, a darkness that doesn’t have a name yet.

What is he on about anyway ? It’s not like him to want to talk to someone, and to reveal his identity within the first five seconds of speaking. It’s not like him and yet this is maybe the most spontaneous he’s been in years. Wammy should be proud, really. Or… yeah, L made the good choice by not telling him. Old man would worry his hair out.

Next time they see each other is in the corridors of the institution. L blinks once, twice, and catches up with Light. He blinks, too, and his mouth turns into a sour little line.

L does what he does best: puzzles.

“Do you like tennis, Light Yagami ?”

ooo

Weirdo L is here again and is asking him – what ?

“I don’t think they have a tennis court here,” he answers.

“Oh,” the man says, “I’m not in inpatient.”

Really ? Light would never have guessed, and he says so without any intention of joking. That seems to amuse the man – Hideki Ryuuga, his mind supplies, also known in his mind as “gigantic-assface”. Well, that was a bit mean. He hopes the man can’t see it – he hopes he hasn’t been to disdainful, too harsh, too impolite, he hopes he didn’t come across as…

Breathe. If there’s one thing three sessions of therapy have taught him, it’s that his face is the perfect ask he wants it to be, so he has nothing to worry about. He is perfectly neutral and the man isn’t upset.

“I haven’t played in years, why ?” Light says, trying to keep his tone conversational.

“I don’t know, it was the first thing I thought I’d say to see if you’d answer. You seem like a pretty harsh guy, Mr Policeman.”

“Don’t call me that,” Light can’t help but hiss, because so far three people have reacted negatively to learning that, and he isn’t fond of the look of vague fear and distrust it evokes. Why, he doesn’t understand, but the police doesn’t seem well-liked in the institution. Maybe it has to do with… His mind comes up blank. The police doesn’t seem to be in the wrong.

“Would you mind a match ?” the man says, swinging his arms next to his face like he holds a tennis racket and isn’t afraid to use it. This makes him appear even thinner under his baggy clothing, his shirt three sizes too big and his jeans barely hanging on his hips. Light can see that this is misleading. His movements are a bit sluggish, like he hasn’t slept (which would explain his very pronounced dark circles) and like he eats poorly (which could explain his acne, is that acne ?).

Light knows his skin isn’t in the best of shapes either, but it’s because… of oil, probably, he has been eating a bit of greasy food. Takeout isn’t that great, but he doesn’t have the time or energy to cook, and it’s easier to order than to go down to the convenience store or the hole-in-the-wall next to his place. Less chance of meeting people this way, though that does make him seem like a recluse, which isn’t true at all. There’s a sneaky voice whispering in his ear that it’ been a while since he’s had clear skin, and that it all started in middle school, but who doesn’t have some acne back then ? It’s normal – he’s normal. It’ll be ok soon.

It’s already ok.

“Why not ?” Light finally answers, and he feels like it’s been a while – since the man talked and since he played tennis both, but it’s fine, he doesn’t look bothered.

“I already have your number, I’ll text you the details,” the man says, and Light squints. “I’m L, remember ?” he says. “Got all the data I could ever need on you.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Light coolly lets out, because he needs to say something – is he really L ? He thought that was just the crazy speaking, but maybe there’s some truth to it. He’ll see, if he receives a text, then, it might be true.

Maybe-L smiles and cocks his head to the side, his expression more frog-like than ever.

“It might be.”

ooo

[To: Light-kun] hry itd l

[To: Light-kun] its hll

[To: Light-kun] srry the phone is too smll

[From: Light-kun] Are you really L ?

[To: Light-kun] couldn u tell

[From: Light-kun] No, I could not.

[To: Light-kun] Event shared: tnnis mtach

[From: Light-kun] Are your fingers shaking ?

[To: Light-kun] nno this phone is juts oo small

[From: Light-kun] Can you even play tennis ?

[To: Light-kun] yea y.?

[To: Light-kun] see u on court yeggami

[From: Light-kun] That’s not how it’s spelled.

[To: Light-kun] i kno lol

ooo

Light looks at his therapist with something akin to horror.

“I am not taking pills,” he says, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. “I will not.”

“I know it sounds scary,” she answers, and it’s not that, she doesn’t understand, “but I do think it would help you greatly with your anxiety.”

“What. Anxiety,” Light manages to spit out, because oh no this is getting out of hand he knew he shouldn’t have come this isn’t how it was supposed to go no no no-

“Yagami-san, calm down,” the therapist says, “you’re hyperventilating. Please remember the breathing exercise I taught you. Breathe in for five seconds, and out for ten. I’ll count down for you, here, listen to my voice.”

Light distantly hears her start a countdown, but he’s too far gone – this is like the time Misa called his father, oh god, he’s gonna be hospitalised again, fuck, this isn’t how things were supposed to go. This isn’t the plan.

What was the plan anyway ? He’s right where he wants to be, the youngest policeman in his unit, fresh out of university, it’s just. It’s great, right ? It’s not like the feeling of emptiness keeps him awake at night and that his job is so boring he could sleep on it and still manage to be decent. It’s not like this isn’t what he wanted at all. It’s not.

Maybe it is.

That’s one thing the therapist says – Mrs Onaka, he remembers, he should start calling her by her name – that “bad” isn’t a bad word. That sometimes things are bad and it’s ok, that sometimes you’re not sure and it’s fine, that sometimes you don’t have a plan and all you have to go with are shady guidelines like that time he built a shelf for his apartment and Misa lost half the nails and they still made it work.

“It’s good, Light,” Mrs Onaka says, very softly. “You’re calming down, that’s good.”

“I- I don’t want to-”

“Don’t try to speak yet, it’s ok. We won’t try the pills if you really don’t want to. But I think they could help,” she adds, still it that maddeningly soft voice, like he’s gonna break if pushed too far.

He wonders if he would.

Sometimes letting go seems like the better option, but that loss of control is so scary, so unlike himself – holding on feels like the only other option to… what exactly he doesn’t know, but the alternative is darker and scarier than he gives it credit for.

Light leaves the room with a prescription, sweat stains on the back of his shirt, and the taste of ash and loss in his mouth.

ooo

The tennis court is dimly lit when L gets there, the net barely visible in the shadows, sunbeams reaching the ground and lighting up dust on their way – Light must not be there yet, or he would have turned on the light. Haha. That was a joke. He’s happy he made one, it so rarely happens.

L takes the opportunity to pause, and reflect on his quite unusual behaviour. Wammy’s face when he said “I made a friend, we’re gonna play tennis” was a nice cherry on top, no matter how egregious that lie was. Light is not his friend, not for a long shot, not someone he’d trust with something else than his name, which is already a lot considering the circumstances.

There’s noise on the court, and someone enters from a door on the other side. It’s Light, he realises, but he must not have seen him, because he stands in one of the beams, facing the sun, his eyes straining to stay open in the face of unblinking light. Something should be said about the total abandon Light looks up with. For a man who seems to live shrouded in lies, that’s a lot to say.

L takes a few more seconds to carve this moment into his memory, to close his eyes and let the silence put a mark on his face like the ones he already has – only this one is beautiful, only this one is shining and bright and everything he’s not.

“Light-kun, fancy meeting you here,” he says at last, because he needs an ice breaker and he’s nothing if not the most unsubtle twat.

“You invited me.”

Light is dressed in tennis shorts and a sports t-shirt, which kinda contradicts his claim of not having played tennis since middle school, but maybe this is just his regular sports attire – he is a policeman after all, he must have to stay healthy, though L doubts he’s the type to do all the dirty field work, he must be an office worker, yeah, that’s actually the most likely choice, his nails are pretty long for someone who should use them. Maybe he’s just too unbothered to cut them, whatever the reason. L knows that without Wammy, he would be.

Maybe that’s what Wammy meant. That being unable to take care of oneself leads to this, whatever Light is, and that it’s bad – that it’s a problem. L can understand, faintly if at all, that the issues with him are similar in some way, and that Light isn’t so far from him in terms of uselessness. Funny, since Light would definitely hate being compared to L in any capacity, and he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to be compared to an uptight law officer as well.

“So, you you wanna play ?” L ends up saying, because they need to say something otherwise the tension will start to build up and L isn’t sure Light would react well to that. Sports are an excellent way of releasing tension, which is why Wammy insisted he do some, and thankfully they sticked. L does think he’d have gone crazy without a physical relief for all the energy he sometimes feel brewing inside.

“That’s what I came hear from,” Light answers, and all L hears is, “I came to win”.

ooo

There is something deeply satisfying in the swing and release of tennis. Something in the way the ball hits the racket, a little kick he gets from smashing as hard as he can. Strangely enough for someone who seems to have minus one muscles, L meets him where he stands, fighting back with surprising force and accuracy. There’s a weird moment where Light thinks he’s gonna lose the first set but they end up with a tie, and they play the rest of the afternoon without keeping score, each ball hitting the wall behind them with much more strength than necessary.

“I didn’t think you’d play this well,” L ends up saying, barely out of breath – or hiding it well. Light is truly out of shape, even more than he thought he’d be. He’s panting so much he has a hard time uttering an answer – a whispered “Likewise”, that feels a little like admitting defeat. No matter what he lost, it still feels bitter.

“Do you want to go home, Light ?” L asks, eyeing him with what he can only guess is mock concern – L doesn’t seem interested in other people’s wellbeing, that he’s sure of.

Light nods, not daring to speak yet, and he can only feel some sort of stale pride at the thought that even in this bad a shape he still managed to hold up to L. Who thought the best detective in the world would have that much stamina ? For someone who doesn’t even look like he goes outside… he truly is exceptional.

Incredible.

Model citizen.

Perfect future.

The words ring in his ears, reminiscent of those said to him a long time ago, and suddenly Light wants to throw up. What was he thinking ? That he’d make a friend ? He doesn’t have friends. He has Sayu, and he reluctantly has Misa, but… that’s all he needs. That’s more than he needs – he isn’t paying for therapy to meet weirdos and play tennis.

“I’ll go home now,” he says eventually, and as he makes a move to gather his stuff and leave, L grabs his arm.

“Wait, Light. Would you like a rematch ?”

“No,” Light ends up answering. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t think at all before shaking L’s grip off and walking straight for the exit.

ooo

“And we had a tennis match, it was good,” L’s voice trails off. He hadn’t planned on talking about it to the therapist but he expressed an interest in L’s friends, and seemed kind of distraught when L answered that he didn’t have any, and never had. “That’s no good,” he said, “you certainly must have had meaningful connections ?”

He did. Those, he managed to form, somehow – with Beyond, and Adeline, as best as they could, but it never went far – he always pushed them away, and Beyond was far too dangerous, and Adeline was far too sad. He had no need for them in his life, and he doesn’t regret this decision per se, it’s just that sometimes people look at him like he has two heads when he says he’d rather be alone, and Adeline, the poor girl, he never understood why she couldn’t let go…

“I guess I made a friend, yeah,” L says, and Wammy smiles from his seat – he knows that’s not true, but this is all about pretending, right ? Learning how to make do well enough so that people don’t ask questions. So that he can take care of himself when Wammy is gone, which shouldn’t take too long, to be honest.

The rest of the session is a blur, L being too interested in the pattern on the therapist’s carpet to really pay attention, but there is at least something positive in all of this. L is learning stuff. It hadn’t happened in a while, and that’s mostly the reason why he agreed to therapy. So he could lift up the boredom a little, have a challenge. He likes challenges. That’s a quality, right ? See, he has some.

ooo

[To: L] Stop sending me messages at five am.

[From: L] bt ymur awake

[From: L] i knew it

[To: L] What is that supposed to mean ?

[From: L] that u dont slep

[To: L] And ?

[From: L] idk i was rihgt

[To: L] Leave me alone.

[From: L] y??

[To: L] You’re not my friend.

[From: L] wataris guna b disapointd

Light looks up from his phone just in time to see Mrs Onoda enter the room, and he shuts it off quickly before she can see anything when she walks around his chair to her own. The dark circles under his eyes are proof of what L is saying – he truly hasn’t been sleeping well – and this time, he was too tired to even bother with concealer. He won’t see anyone of importance today, only Misa and Mrs Onoda, so it doesn’t matter much.

“Hello, Yagami-kun,” she says when she finally sits down. “How have you been ?”

“Fine,” he grits out. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Yes ?” she says, tone hopeful.

“I want to stop going to group therapy. It’s not helping me, and it’s a waste of everyone’s resources.”

Another reason is, the people there give him the creeps – L, Mikami, that bipolar woman who manages to speak every time about something inconsequential. He doesn’t belong there. He’s not like them, he’s not… he isn’t crazy.

“I was afraid you’d say that…” Mrs Onoda says. “Alright, then. I think it’s better if we see each other every week instead.”

Wait, what. No. This isn’t what he meant – more sessions ? He doesn’t need – he’s not – he didn’t think she’d find it necessary, what is wrong with her ?

What is wrong with him ?

ooo

They see each other again, for a coffee. They talk about everything but themselves, and L finds the conversation flows much more freely than anticipated. He doesn’t find it that bad. Maybe he truly is making a friend, no matter how weird it may seem.

They have a fight. It’s about something inconsequential – well, L doesn’t think it holds that much importance, but Light obviously does, since he did punch him – and it brings about a whole new set of interaction requirements. L doesn’t think it’s so bad, doesn’t think of this as much more than a social experiment, but it does tell him about how invested Light could be. It reminds L of Beyond, once again, of dark places and strawberry jam, of cold fingers in his and a hand on his mouth. It’s not a good thing.

But perhaps, it’s too late to stop.

L wants to make a quip but the fire in Light’s eyes is blazing, a sure sign he needs to stop. Well, he should have five remarks ago, or, rather, he shouldn’t have started this conversation at all. Light is shaking his fist like he can’t believe he hit him (that’s sure to bruise, and L will poke and tear at the skin until it bleeds just so he doesn’t have to focus on his boring new case).

“I can’t believe you’re so nonchalant about it,” Light says eventually, no trace of the hurt in his voice. Only hard, cold anger – only stale, rehashed bitterness. “If someone harassed her because she was transgender, you should have stepped up.”

“Adeline knew what she was doing,” L answers. “She didn’t need a babysitter. Neither do I,” he continues, just to test the waters.

Light hasn’t figured him out. Or maybe he has and doesn’t care, which would be a first. How it is to be trans, L, he can hear at all times. How does it feel how does it look, do you want this, that operation, do you need – he doesn’t. He wants to be left alone, he wants to deal with his hurt like a small animal, licking the wounds and healing at his own pace. Adeline wouldn’t approve, but he doesn’t care.

Light’s look is fearless.

“If you needed anything someone should have helped you get it,” he says, “acceptance is a bigger gift than you make it out to be. Even though that’s not how it should work.”

“You know that,” L says softly.

“I’m not as… blind as you make me out to be. Give me some credit,” he answers disinterestedly. “I’ve known I was gay since middle school.”

“Well,” L says with a smile, “good things come to those who wait.”

ooo

They see each other again, and again, and a fourth time to boot. Light doesn’t quite hate it, and that’s terrifying.

L is the worst human being he has ever known. No morals, no code of conduct, nothing to make him stand out as the paragon of justice people make him out to be. There literally is nothing righteous about L, and that is so annoying Light doesn’t know where his hatred ends and when… the rest beings. Because he can’t deny the rest.

L looks ugly. That’s a fact, that even L himself is aware of. But he has a strange charm about him, some aura of mystery, for a lack of better words, and Light feels drawn in at such tremendous speed he doesn’t have time to stop himself before agreeing to a fifth coffee date. If those can be called dates, which he does in the secret of his own head, and wouldn’t reveal to the world on penalty of death.

Mrs Onoda catches up with him one day, just after L leaves him stranded in the middle of the institution’s corridor, and she says, “Oh, looks like you made a friend. You didn’t talk about him in your sessions,” she smiles, “but it seems like you’re very close ! I’m glad you’re seeing people.”

Light doesn’t know what made her think they’re close. Maybe because L grabbed his arm, but that seems to be a purely Western thing, this lack of personal space. Maybe because L looks at him like a puzzle with that damn frog-like smile on his face, which could be mistaken for interest (he knows it’s not, he knows better than to hope and be let down). They’re not friends.

“Yeah,” Light ends up saying, “right.”

“Well I’ll see you next week,” Mrs Onoda says before leaving.

Therapy is going… surprisingly well ? He’s not sure this is how sessions are supposed to go but he manages to talk, now. He doesn’t think he says anything important – he came out, he talked about his sister and Misa, he talked about being bored – but that’s not… it’s not who he is, deep down, is it ? It’s not what matters.

What does matter, exactly ?

The longer he talks, the less sure he is.

ooo

“And I gave your diagnosis material to Mr Watari,” the therapist says, with his what he probably hopes is a stern voice. It doesn’t work. L has already guessed everything that’s on the paper, he’s the best detective in the world after all, it’s got to come in handy. “You can look at it if he allows you to.”

L wants to retort that he’s not a child, but his diagnosis does come with a lot of infantilisation, and he’s aware that keeping his identity a secret is probably what saved him from being babied his entire life by people who don’t know better. Wammy will probably not treat him any differently, since he’s known about L’s difficulties for so long… but the thought of suddenly losing any grip he might have had on his own situation is kind of frightening.

“So I’m autistic,” L says, just to see the look on his therapist’s face.

“Aspergers, yes,” the man answers, and though he’s a licensed psychiatrist, he probably doesn’t know that they’re the same diagnosis now and that the difference between the two was only due to ableism.

“Great, it’s cool to have a word for it,” L lies. He doesn’t care. He is scratching behind his ear with vigour but that doesn’t count, right ?

“It’s a diagnosis, not a prison,” Wammy pipes in, like L needs to be reassured or something.

“I know,” he answers. Like his Gender Dysphoria diagnosis isn’t a prison, like whatever that scratching thing is isn’t a prison. The world is made of cages and he just… doesn’t have the energy to abide to them.

“You’ll probably not want to see me anymore, I assume ?” the man says, to Wammy more than to L, and he doesn’t look surprised when Wammy answers that indeed, they’ll probably stop therapy really soon. As in “right now”, L wants to say, but he keeps quiet.

“That doesn’t mean we’ll leave Japan right away, does it ?” L asks way once they’re in the car, his shoes long forgotten under the back seat.

“If you want to stay, we will,” Wammy replies, “you can work from cases here.”

“Good,” and L falls asleep, lulled by the movement of the car.

ooo

“Where is she, now ? Adeline,” Light adds, when L doesn’t seem to recognise who he is talking about.

“Oh, she’s dead,” he answers casually, “suicide.”

He says that… like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like it’s no big deal, like she’ll just wake up and run towards him again. Light understands with a pit in his stomach that L doesn’t care, and that he’s in too deep. Both realisations don’t come as a shock, as they’re less realisations and more… self-actualisation of his beliefs. He knew – he knew this whole time, and he still got caught like an idiot.

“Oh,” Light tries to keep his tone even, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t bother,” L says, “it’s been a while.” He makes a strange face at that, like he didn’t fully realise how long it’d been – like he kind of forgot.

Light can’t quite forgive him for this disinterest, even for a person he’s barely heard of. Adeline seems so close to him, from the glimpses he’s caught, so close to his own thought process that it’s almost terrifying to hear of her death. Even in his darkest moments, Light never thought he could end his own life, and hearing of someone who did seems kind of like breaking a taboo, like saying something he wasn’t ever meant to hear.

He’s still thinking about it by his next therapy session, and tries to ask Mrs Onoda as lightly as he can – “Is it normal I’ve never thought of suicide ? I thought people who felt bad often did.”

“Lots of people don’t,” she answers, “it’s just a matter of what you’re dealing with and how you do it. You’re doing well,” she says softly, “you’re doing very well.”

“That’s reassuring,” he sighs, and for once he means it.

He’s still thinking about it a week later when he says to Mrs Onoda, “How is one supposed to react to suicide ?”

“With compassion,” is her answer, and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He’s still thinking about it when he sees L again. He’s exiting Mrs Onoda’s office and L just springs up next to him before he has time to make a move. He hears himself gurgle some words, that he doesn’t remember seconds after saying them, and he dashes out.

He deletes L’s phone number and blocks him in a daze. He is hyperventilating, and barely remembers the breathing exercise that has helped him so much by now. He hates himself, so bad, for ever thinking this could be good for him.

He tries his best not to think about it at his next appointment when he tells Mrs Onoda he wants to stop coming.

ooo

When L sees him, he is existing his therapist’s office, face ashen. Light doesn’t seem to have heard any good news there, which is a shame, since L was hoping to catch him in a good mood to ask him why he avoided him now. Blocked number, no more coffee dates… Yeah, Light is avoiding him – and does again, ducking to a nearby corridor as soon as he sees L going his way.

Well. L isn’t here to play games – and he has something to say.

“Hey, Light,” he calls after him, but to no avail. Light has already entered some room and L can’t be bothered to check which one. For a moment he considers yelling, “I’m leaving Japan, bye !” – but he doesn’t. Let Light guess whatever he wants.

With a small smile, L turns around and leaves.

ooo

It’s been… five months. Misa bounces happily next to him and holds his hand. Light is too embarrassed to tell her to let go, and he still feels the back of his neck burn unhappily, but it’s getting better – he’s getting used to it. They’re… fake dating ? It’s become annoying to keep tabs on what Misa is thinking, if she really is serious when she says that of course she doesn’t love him, what, is he so self-absorbed ? Light just kind of… gave up.

He hasn’t seen L in six months. He hasn’t tried to, he doesn’t want to, well, maybe a little, but it’s fine – it’s ok – he’s dealing well with the loss. If it can be called that.

It’s been eight months and he’s stopped taking the anxiety meds altogether. Misa doesn’t insist so much on going to therapy, especially since the couple therapy session Light forced her into, and the meds weren’t helping anything anyway.

It’s been a year.

#fanfiction #submission #Light Yagami #L Lawliet #Super Star Sayu 2k18

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter one / five

Story summary: These are the things we know about the sons of Fëanor: they are full of fire, and they do no give up easily. These things hold true with Maglor too, ever since childhood, and apply in love as well as war.

A four-part exploration of the relationship that develops between Maglor and his future wife.

Rating: General audiences; Length: ~2,200 words

Tag-type thingies for the whole story: years of the trees, romance, falling in love, music, first meeting, courtship, pining, some light humour

Notes: Consonance: A combination of notes which are in harmony with each other due to the relationship between their frequencies. From Latin consonant- 'sounding together'. [Source]

I should have finished writing the next chapter of Caranthir's love story but instead I started writing out Maglor's. I've had the basic idea for this fic since December so I'm writing this pretty quick and expect to post a chapter a week. There will be four chapters, all named after music terms. Chapters one and three are from Maglor/Makalaurë's point of view and chapters two and four are from Tinweriel's. Note on Quenya names here. This fic predates all other fics in my Fëanorian marriages series.

The first chapter takes place when Makalaurë is very young, just a pre-teen, while Tinweriel is almost of age, so the romance comes in later chapters. The Falmari = those Teleri who came to Aman.

(Also posted on AO3 etc.)

*

Chapter I // Dal niente – ‘from nothing’

The first emotion Makalaurë ever feels towards Tinweriel is intense irritation.

He has been looking forward to this day for weeks, for today he finally gets to begin studying music under the tutelage of master Curulír, the most famous of Noldorin music tutors, renowned for his unparalleled mastery of singing as well as the new techniques of harping he has developed. He chooses his pupils carefully and never takes on anyone as young as Makalaurë, since he prefers not to have to teach any basics, but Makalaurë's precocious talent and his father's influence have won him a place in Curulír's lessons.

But the renowned master only teaches Makalaurë for a moment, checking how well he moves his fingers on the strings of his little lyre, before he moves on to another pupil and passes Makalaurë on to his assistant.

'This is Tinweriel, Canafinwë', he introduces her to him. 'She has been my student for many years and I trust her skill enough that I let her help with my younger students. She will be teaching you singing and the flute in particular, since they are her truest talents.'

Makalaurë thinks that Tinweriel looks far too young to be a proper teacher. She also looks a little familiar. He asks if she participates in court events.

'Yes I do', she replies, her voice lower than most women's but pleasing enough in Makalaurë's ears. 'My father has the honour of serving in your grandfather's court.'

'What kind of a servant is he?' Makalaurë asks.

Tinweriel's smile hardens. 'He serves king Finwë as one of his councillors, as does my grandfather who has been the king's friend ever since the Great March.'

Makalaurë notes that she doesn't address him as 'my lord' or any other appropriate title. That is acceptable from master Curulír since his great skill and fame earn him respect as much as Makalaurë's princely birth does, but he rather thinks Curulír's assistant should be more respectful. He says nothing about it though, for his mother has taught him to be more polite than he needs to be, but he makes a point of being very formal himself. He thinks he does rather well at it but Tinweriel doesn't take the hint, continuing to address him as an equal or even as a subordinate.

'Focus, Canafinwë', she admonishes him when his attention wanders to the other young people singing or playing in the large hall with high windows and empty walls that is master Curulír's teaching space. 'Close your eyes if you need to.'

'I don't need to', he snaps back. 'You're making me sing scales. I could do it in my sleep.'

'Then do it well awake', she retorts. 'Or are you not used to practising while there are others in the same space playing different music? Is that the problem?'

'I'm used to it', he says and squares his shoulders and sings perfectly everything Tinweriel tells him to. He spots a half-hidden look of admiration in her eyes and tries not to preen too much. This is more like what he's used to.

The admiration doesn't stay long in Tinweriel's eyes, nor does it stop her from driving him hard for hours, testing his skills with different instruments as well as his voice. He knows he does well – well enough that he'd have received praise from his previous music tutor, but when he lays down the flute or stills his fingers on the strings of a lyre or harp, Tinweriel purses her lips and lists all the things he could improve.

'I don't believe I'm that bad', Makalaurë says finally, frustrated, after his performance on five different instruments has been ripped to pieces by Tinweriel's sharp tongue. 'I know I'm not.'

'You're right', Tinweriel replies calmly. 'But because you know already that you're good, I'm not praising you separately for everything. I'd planned to save that for the end of the day. But if you need to hear it now, I will tell you: I have never seen such skill in one of your age and I believe there is much more talent in you just waiting to be unleashed, real power that you can learn to harness and use in song. I think you know all of this already, though, so I don't know why you need to hear it from my lips.'

Makalaurë turns the lyre in his hands, his own small lyre that he takes everywhere with him and protects vigilantly from his younger brothers' literally and metaphorically sticky fingers. He does know that he is gifted and skilful: he hears it constantly from adults around him and sees it in the jealous gazes of his peers. Yet for some reason, it is important that the girl with piercing grey eyes and little silver flowers in her artfully styled hair thinks well of him.

'I heard I'm master Curulír's youngest ever student', he says after a moment. He has been proud of the fact for weeks, and he wore his second-best robes today for this first lesson. He would have dressed in his finest but his mother forbade him, telling him to save those clothes for some important celebration.

Tinweriel smiles at him, just a little bit. 'Yes, he took you on despite your young age but that is the only special treatment you're going to get, no matter that you are a prince.'

Makalaurë raises his chin. 'I don't expect special treatment because I'm a prince.'

'Just because you're so talented, then? Canafinwë, your skills are what brought you here, but now that you are here, you are expected to learn more – to sharpen your talent like a knife's edge. You are good already, better than most will ever be, but I know you can be even better. And you know it too, but that mustn't keep you from doing everything you can to be the best you can. Wasting talent is a greater weakness than having none.'

Makalaurë nods. His father has said the same to him many times, every time he has felt like idling. 'I will work hard, I promise. I just – I've been looking forward to being taught by master Curulír.'

'I understand. I promise you, he will teach you soon. He makes beginning students begin their lessons with me, but he'll give you his attention soon.' Tinweriel's voice is softer now, a breeze rather than a gale. Makalaurë thinks she must be a very good singer, based on how many nuances her speaking voice has. He wishes she would sing so that he'd find out what her singing voice sounds like, whether it is as low and lovely.

'Why haven't I heard you sing before?' he asks her, brows furrowed in puzzlement. 'Or seen you play at the palace. You must do that, if many in your family are members of the court.'

'I usually play the flute when performing as a part of a group', she replies. 'And I have done that at many events at the court. You just haven't noticed me, I think.'

Makalaurë doesn't see how that could be possible.

'And anyway', Tinweriel continues, 'I only recently returned from the coast. I spent several years among the Falmari, learning their music and visiting relatives.'

'You have relatives among the Falmari?' It is surprising, for she looks as Noldorin as anyone in Tirion.

'Rather distant relatives; my mother's mother is one of the Falmari. She met my grandfather when the Noldor helped build Alqualondë. She returned to Tirion with him and brought her children up as Noldor, and I have inherited little from her apart from my love of songs that echo the sea.'

'The sea has an endless number of songs, doesn't it?' Makalaurë has only visited the seashore a few times with his family yet every time he has been loath to leave the sea and the music of the waves and wind.

Tinweriel agrees with him, and he asks her to teach some of the things she learned among the wave-folk.

'One day', she promises. 'Though I think it might do you good to spend some time among them yourself, when you are a little older. They have much to teach.'

'I would like that.' Makalaurë's father thinks little of the Falmari and the skills in which they excel, but Makalaurë knows they surpass the Noldor in mastery of music.

'Can I show you what I like doing best?' he asks Tinweriel. 'I wrote a song – well, not quite a song, more like a series of impressions, when we last visited Alqualondë, me and my family I mean. I have written some words as well, and wrought colours.'

'Colours.' Tinweriel looks intrigued. 'Very well, show me your colours, gold-cleaver.'

Makalaurë ignores the teasing about his mother-name and gathers himself so that he may play with more elegance than he just spoke. He lays down his lyre and moves back to the big harp.

He takes a breath and shuts out Tinweriel with her silver-speckled hair and all the other students and their singing and playing and master Curulír's guiding words and finds the silence within himself that is the place where his music is born.

He fills the silence with waves. Waves of sound, of his voice and the golden sound of the harp that he turns into reflections of Laurelin's distant light on water, then into the water itself, blue and green and black-grey and all the colours in the world, into the turquoise that exists in the world beneath the waves. He makes the waves of sound flow from calm to raging tempest to back to calm, small ripples washing on to the shore, seabirds returning to their nests at the end of the day.

He lets himself rest in that inner silence for a moment after the last echoes of the harp die away. When he emerges, it is into another silence. Everyone else in the room has stopped practising and is staring at him.

Tinweriel breaks the silence. 'You must seek out the guidance of musicians of the Falmari at some point. You have already made sea-music with this song, and they will teach you more, so that you can drown Tirion under waves one day.'

Makalaurë is reminded that though he doesn't redden as riotously as his brother Carnistir, he still blushes on occasion. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks now, at Tinweriel's words and at the gazes of everyone in the room – every single person here older than he is – but there is also a part of him that triumphs at having won everyone's attention.

Tinweriel doesn't allow him to bask in his success for long: soon she is showing him how to improve his harping technique. He doesn't mind her critique so much, though, now that he knows she doesn't find only faults in him.

He doesn't receive proof of the skills of his young teacher until the end of the day, when he finally hears her sing. Master Curulír wants all his students to finish the day's practice by singing the same song but with different interpretations for everyone. He tells Tinweriel to demonstrate, to perform the song with joy.

(Makalaurë is assigned despair. He thinks it is a test, giving such a difficult emotion to the youngest student. He starts planning his performance right away, thinking of things that have caused him to despair during his short life. There aren't many, but he's determined to conquer the challenge.)

His planning is cut short when Tinweriel begins to sing, for it is impossible to imagine despair to even exist when her voice summons so much joy into the room. It makes Makalaurë think of golden, cloudless mornings when he finishes breakfast early to practise in the next room and his family listens and claps and requests songs, and of those days spent on the beach and in the water, running and swimming next to Maitimo…

Tinweriel's singing voice is lovelier even than her speaking voice; it is the silver undersides of the leaves of Telperion, less bright than those of Laurelin but no less beautiful, softer, darker. It is the waves of the sea lapping gently against Makalaurë's skin, holding him afloat and pulling him farther away from the shore at the same time, powerful and fluid. It is well practised yet it is real, reflecting who Tinweriel is rather than hiding it. It makes Makalaurë want to sit still and listen, and it makes him want to raise his voice and join her in song.

He decides he would be happy to listen to it until the breaking of the world.

That night at dinner he bemuses and amuses his family by speaking very little of Curulír whose tutelage he had been looking forward to so much, and instead telling them very much about Curulír's young assistant who kept telling him what he did wrong and then showed him how to do it right.

*

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you want to make me as happy as Tinweriel's joyful song made young Makalaurë, let me know what you thought of this first chapter. (AO3 link)

#thanks to @acommonanomaly for getting me thinking about tinweriel again #and thus motivating me to actually type out this fic that's been living in my head for six months #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #maglor #maglor's wife #tinweriel #consonance #romance #my fics #elesianne's fics

[tellytantra]

Roshni Farooqi: Ever since she came out of an abusive relationship, Abid (her father) knew that telling her about werewolves will cause her to go further into depression. Being the youngest child in the family and adopted as well as being naive, Roshni knew that someone, or something had saved her from her abusive boyfriend that night in the woods. Aman Junaid Khan: Ever since Riya Farooqi burned down the Khan house as well as Aman’s family, Aman has felt nothing but anger and hatred towards the Farooqi’s. So imagine Aman saving an Farooqi? It’s true, he did. Going into the woods, Aman saved Roshni from her abusive boyfriend or so he thought. Because later on he learns that Roshni is his mate and she was already scarred emotionally, mentally, and physically by her boyfriend. Now join Aman as he mends his broken Beauty and Roshni mends her broken Beast _____________________________________________________________________________________ Trigger warnings of abuse and self harm. If you are sensitive to this topic than you can skip it. I myself do not encourage self-harm. I will make words bold if the sensitive parts are going to be written and unbold it when finished. ~DREAM~ She was running. Was running, far away from him. Hey come back NOW! She heard him yell in pure anger. Roshni had tears falling down her eyes as she cried silently while running. She was trying to find an exit or at least a place to hide. Anywhere to get away from that monster. She then started to look around the woods which was awfully scary to her especially at night. The trees looked ominous like the ones shown in many horror movies. Roshni was frightened from even the slightest snap of a twig or the drift of the wind petrified that her boyfriend, Jai was right behind her. Jai was a cruel man. Roshni knew this even before she started to date him. Well, she was forced to date him. Jai terrified Roshni and threatened her that he’ll hurt Farah. Roshni begged him not to hurt her older sister and ended up dating him. Jai was horribly abusive towards her. He always gave her bruises from slapping or beating her up which Roshni always had to cover up. She wanted to tell her parents about Jai but he of course threatened her which she was forced to oblige. But now, she had enough. At first jai was lately acting weird towards her. Being nice, gentle towards her. Roshni thought Jai was trying to change. But she was wrong. Jai was pretending to be kind for a excuse to touch her and just lately he tried to force himself on her and that’s why Roshni was running. Just then Roshni heard a few twigs snap making her gasp in surprise. She looked around before quickly running towards a tree and was hiding behind it. She peeked to see Jai looking around before running in the opposite direction. Roshni sighed and turned back only to see Jai smirking at her. Her eyes widened as she tried to run but Jai held her by the waist and shoved her into the tree making her cry in pain. Tsk…Tsk…Tsk…Roshni, Roshni, Roshni. Do you really think you could get away from me? Jai asked sarcastically. Roshni started to cry. P-P-Please let me g-go she pleaded making Jai laugh before glaring at her and held her neck. Roshni struggled trying to free herself but couldn’t as Jai took off her jacket. Roshni was full on crying at this point. Shut up you little b**** otherwise I will do far worse. Do you understand? Jai glared. Roshni furiously nodded in fear of him. Roshni began to quiet down before starting to scream due to the pain Jai was giving her. HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!! Roshni yelled Jai slapped her across the face as she cried. There’s no point crying for help because no one is going to save you now. Jai smirks as he evilly laughs. And Jai was right. Roshni laid there silently weeping as Jai took full advantage of her. The next thing you know Jai was pushed off of Roshni as Roshni swore she saw blue eyes. Blue eyes that resemble much like a beast. The beast disappeared along with Jai when Roshni heard voices. ROSHNI!!! The voice shouted as she soon recognized to be her dad’s. Dad!!! Roshni cried too weak to shout. Roshni soon felt a jacket surrounding her petite body as she slowly looked up to see her dad looking at her with tears in his eyes. Dad!! Roshni cried as she hugged her dad And that was the last thing she saw before her vision became black ~DREAM OVER~ Mira106 Part 2 “DAD!” Roshni yells. Abid Farooqi comes rushing out the front door along with his wife Raziya and oldest daughter Farah Farooqi. Abid ran towards the car where he saw his youngest daughter crying. Abid hugs her as Roshni was lying her head on her father’s chest and cries. “Dad, t-the b-bad dream” Roshni stutters out as Abid understood what she was talking out. After the horrible incident a few months ago Abid decided to move his family back to London. Abid spent months trying to find Jai but it was like he vanished into thin air. Abid was going to continue searching when some sightings of what might possibly be a werewolf might be on loose was heard. More precisely an Alpha. Abid decided to move his family to London, thinking that it will be a change of scenery for Roshni. While driving he noticed his daughter was asleep and didn’t want her to wake up as his oldest daughter, Farah, his wife and him carried all the boxes towards their new house, leading up to the situation now. Feeling his daughter calming down Abid decides to get her mind off as he asks “do you want to see our new house?” As he wipes his daughter’s tears. Roshni looks at the huge house before looking back at her dad. She nods before hopping down the car and coming face to face with her older adoptive sister, Farah. “Come on Roshni, I’ll show you your room” Farah smiles as she gently holds her sister’s arm, being careful not to apply pressure as her arms was still covered with bruises and scars which the Farooqi’s thought that Jai had created. Jai may had created the bruises but Roshni was the one cutting her arms and leaving scars. Making sure her family never get to know of it. Getting back on track Farah leads Roshni into their new home and brought her upstairs towards the last room on the right. “And this is your new room!” Farah says. Roshni couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. To her, the room was very big. The walls were cream and the floor was fluffy and white. Roshni walks further into the room and looks to see she had a bathroom in the corner of her room and had a double bed in the centre of the room. “Do you like it?” Roshni hears a voice as she gasps in fright but calms down to see her dad. “Thank you dad” Roshni says. Abid sighs and smiles. “No problem.” Roshni slowly looks towards her dad and slightly smiles. “Now me and your mom are going to make some food. Just try to et some ok?” Abid asks his daughter Ever since that night, Roshni has been having problems eating. She always ended up throwing up her food. Roshni bit her lower lip. “ok dad, I will try” Roshni says making Abid smile. Abid hugs Roshni before he leaves and her and Farah started to unpack. At the dinner table, Roshni says “dad I’m full” she whispered as her father sighs. Roshni only ate 2 spoons of beans (which was a few more bites than usually) before she claims she was full. “Ok. Why don’t you go upstairs and get yourself ready for bed” Abid says. Roshni nods as she hugs her sister and her mom saying goodnight before walking upstairs. Abid looks at his wife as they both sighs. “At least she ate 2 spoons of beans” Farah says trying to think of the positive side. “But it’s still not enough for her” Raziya says. With that the rest of the family finishes eating before Abid went upstairs to check up on his youngest daughter. Going upstairs Abid sees his daughter unpacking. “Roshni, I thought I told you to go to bed” Abid slightly scolds as Roshni jumps in surprise before looking at her dad. “Sorry Dad” Roshni whispers. Abid looks at his daughter before walking up to her and hugging her. Roshni hugs him back as Abid says “no need to apologize Roshni, I was simply just telling you.” Roshni nods as she breaks the hug, grabs her teddy bear and then jumps into bed and got under the covers. Abid walks over to her and kisses her forehead. “Go to sleep sweetheart tomorrow you and Farah will start your new school” Abid says. Roshni begins to grow nervous. Every time she went to school all she worried that Jai would be there and will hurt her. Ever since that night no one had seen Jai. It was like he vanished into thin air. Roshni never told anyone about the blue eyed beast she saw, just in case no one believed her. Abid seems to sense her panicking. “You don’t have to worry, Farah will be there with you at all times, I promise” Abid says. Roshni nods. “Ok Dad. Goodnight” she says as Abid smiles. Saying goodnight to his daughter he was about to leave when he suddenly remembers. “Roshni, you forgot to take your pills” making Roshni sigh in disappointment. She was hoping her dad would forget. She sits up as her dad comes back with her pills and a glass of water. Abid hands her the pill as Roshni stares at it. She sighs before quickly swallowing the pills and drinking the glass of water. “That’s great sweetheart” Abid says and tucks his daughter in one last time before leaving. Roshni watches her father leave before closing her eyes unaware that someone with brown eyes and black hair is watching her. Part 3 *****MORNING****** “Roshni get up! We’re going to be late for school” she hears a voice say as she woke up terrified of who it might be. She slowly opens her eyes to reveal her older sister Farah, making her sigh in relief. Farah looks at her worried. “Did I scare you?” Farah whispers Roshni was about to say no when Farah added “and be honest” making Roshni nod yes Farah hugs her sister making Roshni tense “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to” Farah says as she breaks the hug “it’s okay” Roshni whispers as she bit her lip Farah nods “Well then get your lazy ass up and let’s get ready for school” Farah says before leaving Roshni sighs as she grabs her teddy bear and hugs it seeking comfort and calmness “i hope he doesn’t show up” Roshni says as she then gets up and walks straight into the bathroom, making sure she locks the door ***Remember in the first part I said when the sensitive parts come, I will bold the words, well here it goes. If you guys feel uncomfortable than you may skip the bolded words*** She comes face to face with her bathroom mirror. She cringes at the sight of herself. “i’m so ugly and unattractive. Nobody will like me” she thought as she gets her razor and rolls up her sleeve. She then places the razor onto her arm before dragging it along her arms as blood comes out. Roshni sighs in relief. It’s been two days since she hadn’t cut herself as she needed to feel some relief. Cutting a few more times she then went to get showered and dressed. She decides to wear something loose but comfortable as she wears jeans, blue t-shirt, and a black hoodie before walking downstairs to see her parents in the kitchen. Hearing footsteps Raziya and Abid look up to see their daughter walking downstairs. Farah comes over as she went to say goodbye to her parents. “see you mom. Bye dad” Farah says “bye Farah, take care of yourself and Roshni” Raziya says “and make sure she eats” Abid adds Farah nods as Roshni comes over and hugs her parents “bye mom bye dad” Roshni whispers “bye sweetheart, have a good day” Abid says Roshni nods as Farah gives her bag and with that Farah drives to school Farah and Roshni arrive to school as they wait outside for the principal. Roshni is constantly taking deep breaths. She was scared. Scared to see new people, afraid of what they might say about her. Scared that Jai would be in this school and waiting for the perfect moment to grab her and take her away. Roshni was so deep in thoughts that she jumps up in surprise when Farah places her hand on her shoulder “it’s okay. I’m here. Everything will be okay” Farah says. Roshni nods as then Farah’s phone starts to ring. Farah rolls her eyes “bet it’s mom again” Farah says while taking an exaggerated sigh Roshni giggles making Farah smile before answering her phone “Mom, three calls for my first day is a little over-doing” Farah says “Everything is fine….Roshni’s fine. Everything, except a pen, oh my god I actually forgot a pen! Okay, okay I gotta go, love you…” Farah says as she disconnects her phone and looks at Roshni “do you have a spare pen I could borrow?” Farah asks Roshni checks her bag and sighs “no, I don’t have any pens” Roshni says Farah was about to say something till the principal came over. Roshni quickly sees him and slightly hides behind Farah “The Farooqi’s correct?” The principal asks Farah nods as Roshni looks at the ground as she fumbles with the end of her hoodie. The principal looks at Farah “My sister’s just really shy” Farah says to the principal as he nods in understanding He then leads the girls into the school and into the English room. Roshni’s heart begins to quicken as the principal looks towards the class. “Class, these are our new students, Farah and Roshni Farooqi. Please do the best to make them feel welcome” the principal says before leaving “why don’t you girls take a seat” the teacher says Roshni and Farah nod as they walk down the class to see two empty seats beside each other. Roshni sits down and is biting her lip while looking at Farah to see a boy with black hair and tan skin turn around and give her a pen. Farah looks at him surprised before whispering “thanks….” Roshni turns towards the teacher when a boy with fluffy hair hands her a pen. Roshni looks at him before slowly getting the pen. “T-T-Thank you” she nervously stutters out “No problem” the boy whispers before turning back around. She then carries on listening to the teacher After class, Farah and Roshni were walking down the corridor trying to find their lockers as Roshni hides behind Farah so she wouldn’t grab attention from being the new girl. “Ah, here’s my locker. And your locker is over there” Farah says as she points towards the opposite direction where the boy who gave Farah a pen looks at them. Farah blushes before looking back at Roshni. Roshni looks at the boy before looking at Farah “do you like him?” Roshni asks Farah blushes, confirming Roshni’s assumption “kind of, but I don’t even know him” Farah says Roshni was about to speak when she notices a girl with light brown hair coming their way making her quickly hide behind Farah. Farah looks at Roshni confused before turning around. “This jacket is totally killer. Where did you get it?” The girl asks “my mom was a buyer from a boutique back home” Farah answers back The girl smirks “and you are my new best friend” making Farah smile “my name is Farah” Farah says “Aisha” the light brown replies. Aisha then notices someone cowering behind Farah “and whose this?” Aisha asks. Roshni peeks over Farah’s shoulders “this is my younger sister Roshni” Farah says. Roshni loops her arms around Farah’s as she looks at her “H-H-Hi” Roshni stutters as she nervously looks at Aisha. For some abnormal reason, Aisha felt a calm and peaceful aura radiating off from Roshni as Aisha’s eyes soften. “Hi Roshni” Aisha says Just then Aisha’s boyfriend Imran comes over and kisses Aisha “hey beautiful” Imran says. Aisha giggles, before looking back at Farah and Roshni “so this weekend, there’s a party…” Aisha starts out “a party?” “yeah, Friday night, you should come” Imran says Farah felt Roshni tense as she replies “oh, we can’t, it’s family night on Friday…but thanks for asking” “we?” Imran asks before he notices Roshni hiding behind Farah. He shrugs it off as he looks at Farah “you’re sure? Everyone’s going after the game” “you mean football” Farah asks “we won national championship last year” Imran gloats “because of the team captain!” Aisha says and kisses Imran Roshni stood behind Farah, feeling uncomfortable by the scene “we practice in a few minutes. If you don’t have anything else to do…” Imran trails off “well, I was going to…” but Aisha cuts Farah off “perfect! You’re coming!” So after a few minutes Imran leaves to get ready for football and while Farah and Aisha were talking Roshni sneaks off to her locker She then sees the fluffy hair guy who gave her his pen earlier and decides to give it back. She walks up to him and taps on his shoulder making him turn around. “Hey” the guy says. Roshni bit her lip as she hands him his pen “T-Thank y-you” she whispers The guy shrugs “no problem, happy that I helped” he said Roshni nervously smiles as she notices the guy Farah has a crush on “Y-You’re the g-guy my s-sister likes” Roshni stutters out The guy looks at Roshni surprised “She likes me?” He asks Roshni nods Farah’s crush shakes his head “I’m Asad” he says as he shoves his friend who is intensely staring at Aisha “And, um, I’m Azhar” Azhar introduces Roshni looks at the ground “Roshni” she whispers. Asad, for some apparent reason is able to hear someone’s heart rapidly beating. More precisely Roshni’s heart as he looks at her confused. Roshni notices Asad’s intense staring “I-I have t-to go. Bye” Roshni says before she runs back to Farah, who was unaware about Roshni’s temporarily disappearance. Farah turns back to Roshni as she smiles “come on Roshni, we’re going onto the fields” Farah says. Roshni nods and latches onto Farah’s arm as her, Aisha, and Farah went to the field

http://jodifiction.blogspot.com/2020/02/yeh-jaadu-hai-jinn-ka-roshan-ff-beauty.html

#SEO #Local SEO training YEH JAADU HAI JINN KA-ROSHAN FF || Beauty & The Beast || YJHJK FF || Roshni

[100wordanime]

Yes, this post has been inspired by Darling in the Franxx’s Zero Two, unfortunately she doesn’t get a place on the list due to the uncertainty about how her character will develop from here.

Certainly she has all the traits of the characters below so far. Obsessively possessive of her chosen ‘Darling’, not entirely needing consent though does appreciate the thought, and willing to cut other people out of their ‘Darling’s’ lives if necessary. I’m pretty sure you can guess some of the names below but as always, I’d love to know who you would have included on your list. Which anime character do you think loves their ‘Darling’ to death?

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Please note: There will be spoilers below.

Honourable mentions: Zero Two of course.

Number 5: Misa Amane from Death Note

There is no surprise that Misa made this list. The cute, sweet idol obsessed with Kira. She latches onto Light and promises to be helpful. She’ll follow his every command and do as he says. But no, he cannot date anyone else and no he cannot even pretend to be with other girls. Why? Because she’ll kill them in an instant and does not care that they may bring the police down on both of them. Misa was never one for a strategy. She went straight after what she wanted and what she wanted was Light’s absolute loyalty. And while Misa never did get Light killed, that was more good luck than good management. If it hadn’t been for her he would never have had to go through the whole confinement thing which would have made life a lot easier for him later.

Number 4: Haru from My Little Monster

Now, Haru is an interesting character and a lot of the time his bizarre actions are more a lack of understanding of norms than actual malice, and yet threatening to rape a girl the day after you met her is kind of extreme. The fact that these two end up being an adorable couple is kind of terrifying when put in that context, mostly because Shizuku spends a lot of time putting some very clear boundaries in place, particularly when he did punch her (technically an accident but still not cool). However, while Haru becomes far better at moderating his behaviour as directed toward Shizuku, Kenji Yamaguchi, who also kind of likes Shizuku, is not so lucky. At one point Haru nearly pushed him off a flight of stairs and was only stopped because he was distracted by Shizuku and another time Haru made it clear that his change in behaviour only applied to Shizuku. Not exactly an amazing example of reform or healthy relationships really. Fortunately though, no deaths in the show. It is a romantic comedy despite the serious doses of ‘what’ going on in Haru’s character description.

Number 3: Creed Diskenth from Black Cat

The guy is just obsessed with Train. That’s literally hit entire motivation and reason for being. He follows Train within the Chronos organisation and when Train leaves he completely loses it. The fact that Train left after being influenced by a friend (possibly closer than a friend) truly infuriated Creed and so Creed killed her. And then made sure Train knew that he had killed her. A lot of the time it is unclear is Creed is trying to kill Train or confine him or just mess with him but basically Creed is pretty stable as a character (as much as possible for a villain), until you throw Train into the mix and then he is a complete and utter psycho. I guess it never really occurred to him that Train legitimately did not care about him at all until he killed Saya. And even then, Train didn’t actually care about Creed. He just wanted to destroy the person who destroyed Saya. It didn’t matter that it was Creed. Again, Creed doesn’t manage to kill Train but he does come very close on multiple occasions.

Number 2: Yuno Gasai from Future Diary

I can already hear people asking, why is Yuno not number one on this list. And certainly, if we were just going with being crazy, Yuno is definitely a good contender. Still, in terms of loving their Darling to death, Yuno’s got some fierce competition. Mostly because I’m not entirely certain how much Yuno actually is in love rather than just obsessed with Amano. On the other hand, she’s one of the few people on this list who did in fact kill her Darling, even if it was in another timeline. So, basically, she swears to protect him in the death game, but mid-way through she tries confining him by tying him to a chair. Afterwards we learn that previously these two were the last two left standing and she killed him in order to be the victor and then she’s killed her past-self, inserted herself into that life, and done the whole thing again. You just have to wonder if she expected it to end differently the next time.

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Number 1: Road Kamelot from D Gray Man

It absolutely had to be Road. She is a truly sadistic character who is, unfortunately for Allen, obsessed with our white haired exorcist friend. Mid-battle she can go from attacking him with kisses to shoving a spike through his eye in about the space of a heart beat and she sure doesn’t care about anyone near Allen, unless she thinks she can torture him by hurting them. Her obsession runs deep and she’s more than once allowed him to live when she could have killed him, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had a fair go at inflicting quite a bit of pain on him. D Gray Man Hallow saw her assisting him from her doll form, though whether that will continue or whether she is just leading him to yet another disaster is anyone’s guess unless we get another continuation of the anime (or, you know I could eventually read the source material). Either way, Road was the first character I thought of for this list. She is ice cold, completely obsessed, and has a real taste for pain.

Thanks for reading.

Karandi James

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  Tuesday's Top 5: Characters Who Love Their 'Darling' To Death Yes, this post has been inspired by Darling in the Franxx's Zero Two, unfortunately she doesn't get a place on the list due to the uncertainty about how her character will develop from here.

#anime #Black Cat #Creed Diskenth #D Gray Man #DARLING in the FRANXX #Death Note #Future Diary #Haru #Misa Amane #My Little Monster #Road Kamelot #Top 5 #Tuesday&039;s Top 5 #Yuno Gasai #Zero Two

[mrjohnhthompson]

9 Most Common Reasons Malaysians Are Broke In 2017

According to reports, Malaysia’s spending appetite is poor, with the year-to-year growth of retail sales in the last quarter of 2016 at 0.3%. This is 1% down when you consider the last quarter of 2015 was at 1.3%. To top that off, many businesses are closing down this year, including banks and big name brands. These are all signs that Malaysians are tightening their belts and as a result, the businesses are struggling to make ends meet. However, there are still many Malaysians who are unwittingly wasting their money. To begin, please allow this humble Malaysian to share with you some truth bombs. Because no matter how hard we try, there’s always something that is draining our money. At the end of the month, we are still left to wallow with little to no remnants of our income. So here are the top 10 things Malaysians wasted their money on in 2017:

Truth bomb #1: Smartphones and gadgets

Try as we might, Malaysians can never resist the call to buy new technology. According to market researcher GfK, we spent RM6.8 billion on smartphones from March 2016 to February 2017. Well, this can be seen as a waste if you’re buying smartphones you can’t afford or changing your phone when it is still in good working condition. The article was pretty positive in the outlook of Malaysians buying more in the future, but considering the number of Malaysians struggling financially, this is a dangerous tightrope to be on. Let’s just hope this boon doesn’t get any special treatment. *cough*more tax*cough* How to avoid wasting your money on smartphones? Don’t change your phone just because there is a newer model launched. Think about the longevity of your gadget when you are making your purchase and make the most out of it before you decide to switch.

Truth bomb #2: Online shopping

Physical shops may be closing down, but it looks like online shopping is here to stay to cater to our need for convenience. With more people owning smartphones, there’s been a 38% growth in online spending in the first six months of last year, with Gen-Y spending 1.4 times more than other age groups. The trend is rising so much that it’s putting some youth into debt and at risk of bankruptcy. Out of all the respondents in the Asian Institute of Finance (AIF) study, 37% has sought financial advice from a professional planner and 26% with a financial adviser. “I can’t help it! It’s so easy to buy something and the offers are too good to resist!” we cry (because I feel that pain too). But let’s face it, online shopping was specially created to make it easier for you to spend with just a tap or a click. Even if the offer is good with promises of over 80% discounts, cashbacks and points, if you don’t have the money you’re bound to overspend. So Malaysians, think twice before you tap on the checkout button. This leads to the next point…

Truth bomb #3: Credit card interest

With a 26% rise in credit card spending among 26 to 35 years old based on data from United Overseas Bank (UOB), credit card usage is definitely a concern for many Malaysians. To make matters worse, according to the AIF report, 70% of those holding credit card balances usually pay the minimum monthly payment and 45% sometimes don't pay on time! If you think online shopping is a waste of money, you are doubly guilty if you are also late on your credit card payments! This is how credit card interest can throw a wrench into your finances. If you have a balance of RM3,000 on your card, and you are only paying the minimum payment of RM150 in the first month, it will take you four years and four months to clear your debt. And at the end of that period, you would have paid a whopping RM825 in interest! To combat this one, you need to know that a credit card is a payment tool for convenience, not a tool for you to spend money that you do not have. If you are unable to pay it with cash, don’t buy it at all.

Truth bomb #4: Investment scams

You read about this happening in the news almost all the time. From MLM and investment schemes with a promising email offering you riches for a small fee, to scaring you into thinking your bank account is in trouble –  scammers are doing all they can to get your money. The scary part? It’s actually working.

Based on this report, the VenusFX forex investment scam resulted in an RM80 million loss for 23,259 people, the JJPTR spelled a RM1.7 billion loss for all of its members. Topping it all off is an April 29 news report where Bukit Aman Commercial Crime Investigation Department said the number of cases of investment scams in Malaysia has grown to an “alarming” RM379.1 million lost nationwide from 1,883 scams between 2015 and April 2017!

So what can we do to stop this? The best we can do is to keep an eye out for anything that sounds too good to be true and don’t let people manipulate your fear and emotions! It’s a tough time finance-wise, but that doesn’t mean you should invest your money without proper research. You can check Bank Negara Malaysia’s Consumer Alert & Updates page and download a list of blacklisted companies, call your bank with their official number for verification on a possible scam and lastly, there is no such thing as guaranteed returns!

Truth bomb #5: Summonses

Within five days of launching the Automated Enforcement System (AES) and traffic offence demerit system (Kejara) this year, the Road Transport Department (JPJ) had issued 13,096 traffic summonses; 11,556 for speeding and 1,540 for beating the red light. With summonses for speeding and beating the red light costing RM300 per summons, that's RM3.9 million in summonses owed in just five days! But most of us wouldn't think of it much because we usually avoid paying summonses for as long as possible. For DBKL alone, there's a total of RM5.2 million unpaid compound notices since 2007! You may be as lucky as this guy who managed to escape paying summonses for 10 years, but now that he has been caught he needs to cough up RM5,000. So eventually you will have to face paying up at some point, especially if you want to renew your car's road tax. So do your best to avoid making traffic offences, or if unfortunately, you did get a ticket, pay it early or take advantage of early bird discount of up to 50%! But by avoiding getting a summons in the first place, you may even score lower premiums for your car insurance, thanks to the latest detarrification!

Truth bomb #6: Buying a car

Yes, buying a car is a waste. But not in every case, but if you are buying a car that is outside of your affordability and without proper planning, it will totally drain your finances! Malaysia ranked second in the list of most expensive places to buy a car, where the excise duty imposed on cars ranges from 65% to 105%, on top of the 6% Goods and Services Tax (GST). Despite the high tax and other cost factors such as car insurance, maintenance costs and more, it's incredibly easy to get a car loan which is making almost 30,000 Malaysians bankrupt today! This is because many don't have a good grasp of their own finances and buy cars that are beyond their means – which is the fast track to bankruptcy. Advice? Don't buy beyond your means. This applies to everything but especially for a car. If you can get away without owning a vehicle, the better off you are. A car is a depreciating asset and if it doesn’t contribute to your earning power, there is not much point to owning one. Depending on where you go (especially if you're going to Kuala Lumpur) you're better off taking public transport. With the newly opened MRT fully operational and there being a 50% discount until August 31 2017, it's definitely a cheaper option to look into.

Truth bomb #7: Subscriptions

Bills are the worst, I feel you. They’re the number one reason your salary is gone within the first week of getting your pay. Things like electric bill and water bill cannot be helped as it is a necessity, but let’s look at the other bills, such as your broadband, online subscriptions and gym memberships. For example, you’re paying over RM200 per month for a 30Mbps or 50Mbps broadband, but you’re barely at home, you don’t download much and only use it for streaming. Did you know you can get a broadband subscription that’s more affordable for your usage? Do your research and you may find a better broadband subscription to reduce wastage in terms of unused broadband and your money! Same thing with mobile subscriptions, they’re charging you for loads of calls and SMSes but minimal data, when you need more on that? Find out if you can get a better deal for the type of plan that you want. Not using those online subscriptions like Spotify or Netflix much? Been skipping the gym a lot and can’t keep up? It may be time to stop such services before you see more of your money gone down the drain.

Truth bomb #8: Late fees

There are many possible reasons you could have missed your payments. You could have been traveling and forgot about your due date. You may also be procrastinating your payment because you can’t bear to part with your hard-earned money. However, late payments when it comes to your home loan, personal loan or car loan can spell a disaster to your finances. You will get an extra 1% to 8% p.a. on the instalment amount in arrears. For example, let's say you missed your home financing payment by 30 days and you pay a monthly instalment of RM2,784.44. This means: RM2,784.44 (monthly payment) x 30/365 x late interest (3.9%[Base Rate]+6.35% [Penalty Interest]) = RM23.48 Doesn't seem much? But the more you defer your payment, the bigger your arrears and the more you will have to pay back. If you fail to regularise the arrears by the end of the 60 days, the bank reserves the right to revise the interest rate accordingly. To add on to all of this? You're getting a bad credit report, which will affect your future loan applications. You can find out more about late fees and their repercussions in one of our articles. To stop this from happening, look into setting up an auto-billing for your account. This will ensure that your payments will always be made no matter what, and it will save you a lot more money by cutting down the hassle of making the payments in the first place.

Truth bomb #9: Food

This is a basic necessity so how is this a waste? Can you imagine living a life without food, glorious food? Definitely not! But alas, with the rising cost of food items, with some going as high as 50% more this year, it's easy to overspend on this necessity. In fact, Malaysians are spending about 31.2% of their disposable income on food and food away from home, yet food wastage is at an all-time high with a wastage of 15,000 tonnes of food per day. With buffets being offered on special occasion, and eating out a boon for those who don't want to cook, lack of planning will see you wasting more money. Add on the extra GST and service charge, and you're seeing yourself spending 16% more when you eat out! The solution? Plan your meals according to your budget. Cooking at home saves you RM2,700 of wasted food per year. Need to eat out? Opt for cheaper options, and if you’re lucky find ones without the extra tax. If you’re going to eat at a buffet, take only what you need and leave little to no wastage. You may think you’re eating your money’s worth by taking more than you can chew, but really you’re just seeing money being thrown away as well. If you are constantly dining out, it makes sense to get the right dining credit card or loyalty cards to shave as much off as possible from your dining bills.

Can we stop wasting money?

Despite there being solutions for each of the points being presented, there's no denying it isn't easy to practise them all. Who's going to spend time worrying over things like these? That money's gone and it ain't coming back! Though we still have a long way to go to getting our finances right, Malaysians have been doing pretty well in saving their money. So this list can be served as a reminder that there's still work to be done! When spending, don’t jufollow your heart!

The post 9 Most Common Reasons Malaysians Are Broke In 2017 appeared first on iMoney Malaysia.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

TS: Farak/Difference [2/3]

Read Part 1

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Four minutes and forty two seconds.

The time it took for his parents to argue and commit suicide.

Thirty hours.

The time it took for Khushi to faint from her internal bleeding, without anyone noticing.

She bled when she held his heart. She bled when they hugged. She bled when the family flung their discreet accusations and disappointments.

She bled when he blamed her for ruining Anjali��s life.

She bled when he called her the biggest mistake of his life.

And he hadn’t noticed.

Because much like her heart and mind, her injuries had been too deep for him to see.

---

Hemorrhagic shock due to rapid, delayed intra abdominal blood loss.

She was alive, barely.

Akash watched his wife take the news with unparalleled bravery. Her lips pressed tight, eyes glassy, but not a tear rolled down Payal’s cheek.

The same could not be said for the rest of his family.

Arnav had burst into a fit of rage and denial until he finally fell silent. Devyani slumped on the seat and started muttering prayers, her aged hands shaking with every utterance. NK sat by her, offering her the comfort a stunned Manorama couldn’t give. Yet, his clenched fists revealed his suppressed anger.

Payal remained frozen as the surgeon, Dr. Zayed, rattled off the rest of the things necessary for Khushi’s treatment. Blood transfusion, surgery. They needed a family member to sign the surgery consent form.

Arnav snatched it.

All operations and surgeries carry the risk of unsuccessful results, complications, injury or even death.

“What’s the success rate of this procedure? How can I sign this!” Arnav faltered, re-reading the terms and conditions.

“Bhai,”

“Akash, call Aman and gather the statistics of-” Stripped away from his anger, Arnav was desperate.

“Arnav ji,” Payal stopped him with a gentle touch on his shoulder, “Shayad Khushi might die during this operation but if we waste any more time, she will die.”

With a gentle determination, she took the consent form from him.

“And, please, get a checkup done.”

“Payal I am fine-”

“Khushi said the same.” Payal choked, “And if anything happens to you, I don’t think Khushi could take it.”

Akash’s pull did not have the power of Payal’s words. Arnav gave one last look at the ICU and headed down the hall. Dr. Zayed gave an understanding, sincere nod, and gestured to Payal to sign the consent form.    

“We’ll try our best,” Payal’s hand shook as she gave a watery smile to Dr. Zayed.

“Payal, I’ll handle-” Akash approached her and the doctor. She stepped away before his hand could touch hers.

“Doctor, aap hame bataiye, what else do we need.” Akash stilled, his hand mid air. Ever since Khushi had been hospitalized, Payal neither spoke, nor looked at Akash. Did she blame him? How was he at fault? How was anyone at fault!

“Does she have any blood relative?” Dr. Zayed asked.

“She has-” No one. A chilling reality swept across Payal, apart from Khushi’s aunt - Amma- Khushi had none she shared blood with. Any other tie was met with gratitude and a humble nudge of obligation. There was never a sharper reminder of Khushi being an orphan.

Unfortunately, Babuji’s words of heart bigger than blood didn’t matter.

“An aunt,” Akash frowned, it was the first time Payal referred to her mother as such.

“Do you know her blood group?”

“B negative.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Raizada, she isn’t compatible. Is there anyone else in her family with-”

“She doesn’t have anybody,” Payal’s voice shook.

“Payal, yeh kya keh rahi ho, we are all there for her.” Akash interrupted, hurt by her thinly veiled accusation. Dr. Zayed kept to himself, not missing the strain in the couple before him.

“Mrs. Raizada, do you know anyone who has O positive or-”

“I’m O positive.” Payal cut in, expectation and hope springing in her eyes.

Dr. Zayed sighed in relief. They were in short of blood owing to the major accident that took place a few hours ago. He collected the form and quietly, with as much as fact and as little as false hopes, conveyed the truth of Khushi’s situation to her sister and brother-in-law.

“Mrs. Raizada, we’ll take a quick test for further compatibility and pregnancy, after which we can-” Dr. Zayed stopped at Payal’s stricken face.

“Pregnancy?” She asked. Akash turned to his wife in wonder, his heart pounding for the best news in the worst time.

“Yes it’s necessary as one cannot donate blood during pregnancy,” Dr. Zayed watched the woman who hadn’t cried at the news of her sister’s possible death, crumble in shock.

Akash crouched and placed his hands on her shaking knees. There were so many questions he needed to ask her. Payal remained rooted to her spot, her world collapsing in a moment.

“Mrs. Raizada, are you-”

“I might be, I don’t know…”

---

Positive

It was the best news of Akash’s life.

It was the worst for Payal’s.

She stared at the ICU. Khushi’s lifeless body was hooked to numerous tubes. The last time Khushi was this pale, she was an eight year old child pulled out of a car crash.

“Payal, we’re preg-” Akash choked, tears of happiness clogging his throat.

“She’s never asked anything from me. No earrings, bangles, sarees or dolls. She would even ask for a ladoo, making sure I wouldn’t want it so she could eat it.” Payal whispered, running her fingers on the glass door separating her and her sister.

“One time Akash, this was the one time she needed something from me and I couldn’t give it to her.”

“We will find the blood for her.” Akash’s smile fell when she stepped away from him, again.

“Payal this is not your mistake-”

“If not telling you and your sister the truth about Shyam was a mistake, so is this.” Payal brushed her tears aside. How could she have missed out on Khushi’s weakening health? What kind of an older sister was she?

“That’s something different Payal. You could’ve told me the truth. Khushi could’ve-”

“And so could Arnav ji. Bas farak iss baat ki hai, that you would never yell at him.” Akash stepped back, her words unmasking his hypocrisy and unfailing faith in his brother. He had known that if Bhai hid the truth, it was for a reason.

Why could it not apply to Payal and Khushi? And how could he question Bhai when he’d just been home from a kidnapping, scarred and traumatized?

With Khushi in the ICU, Akash realized that he no longer had the choice to ask questions to the only woman who had nothing but smiles for him.  

---

The doctor ruled Arnav a miracle for not sustaining any permanent injury given the nature of his injuries. Arnav walked out of the physician’s room, his head pounding at Devi Maiya’s cruelty.

He needed no reminding of her existence. Not when Khushi vowed he’d believe in her Devi Maiya in her absence.

Yet, he was blessed with every miracle possible.

Payal whirred by him, frantically punching keys in her cell. Akash remained slumped on the seat, distraught.

Distraught?

Arnav jogged up to Akash and nearly yanked him up from his seat.

“Bhai? Are you alright-”

“That doesn’t matter. What happened? Why are you…” Arnav paused, his heart hammering in fear. Khushi.

“Khushi, please tell me she’s not-”

“No Bhai,” Akash held his brother,  “But we’re falling short of blood. She’s O positive and so is Payal but Payal can’t donate because she’s-”

“What the fuck are the blood banks doing?” Arnav interrupted.

“There’s been a major accident nearby, the hospital is running low on blood.” Arnav kept quiet. There was only one decision left.

“Akash, you’ll look after the family right?” Akash was surprised at Arnav’s strange request.

“Of course Bhai, but-”

“Good. I trust you.” Arnav left to find Dr. Zayed.

---

“Mr. Raizada, we don’t allow this in most cases-”

“And this is an exception doctor. We’re short of blood and I’m in perfect health, your own doctors checked me. I’ve checked it with my assistant, you are allowed. I’ll make sure of it” Dr. Zayed battled his ethics as Arnav continued debating with him.

“Above all I’m O negative, a universal donor. If I can’t save my wife then… meri,” Arnav refused to complete the sentence. He grabbed Dr. Zayed’s hand.

“Please doctor.”

“Alright Mr. Raizada, but you will be under strict observation once your blood is further tested for compatibility.”

And again, much like the rest of Arnav’s life since Khushi, Devi Maiyya dropped another miracle on his lap. Arnav and Khushi were perfectly compatible.

---

The Raizadas panicked as Arnav was rushed into the room for a transfusion. Payal collapsed on the chair in relief, and Akash held her, his brother’s words finally dawned on him.

Devyani rolled the prayer beads in her hands, while Manorama remained uncharacteristically quiet. Both the women held the other for support. In supporting and caring for Anjali, they wondered what pushed them to take a stand against Khushi. When all in all it had been one man responsible for the events.

Shyam Manohar Jha.

It was easy to believe someone’s secret was responsible for their tragedy, rather than their own gullibility and lack of suspicion.

The last few words Khushi spoke to them floated in their minds and shame filled them. Yes, Khushi had committed a mistake but she was family.

And a family never counted the mistakes.  

NK bounced in with his group of friends, rushing them to the transfusion center. Akash was amazed at NK’s capability to bear a smile in these trying times.

---

“What’s there to not smile?” NK asked, piling up a tray of tea for the grieving family, “I know Khushi ji is going to be alright.”

“I hope you’re right. Today deserves to be a good day.” Nk nearly dropped the tea cups and engulfed Akash in a hug upon learning Payal’s pregnancy.

“But Payal, she’s-”

“-devastated.” NK completed, “How can a sister smile knowing the child in her didn’t allow her to save her sister?”

“NK, how’s Payal at fault? She couldn’t have predicted she would be pregnant right when Khushi needed blood.” Akash reasoned.

“Exactly Akash bhai. Khushi ji and Payal bhabhi too were at no fault for not sharing. There’s no way they could have predicted their silence would lead to this.” NK dropped his smiles, staring hard enough to unease Akash.

“NK, it’s different-”

“-It’s not.” NK cut in, his tone razor sharp, “Imagine if they told Di the truth on time  and unable to bear it, she would commit suicide.  Or if none of you believed their truth and cancelled your weddings - leaving Payal bhabhi abandoned at the altar yet again. Ya phir, the blame lies on Di and all of you for not sniffing out Shyam’s weird behaviors and excuses.”

NK sat down beside Akash, hoping the latter’s sensibilities helped.

“Payal bhabi blames herself for the same reason you all are blaming Khushi ji and Payal bhabhi. And in all this mess, it’s sad that no one gets it that if there’s anyone to blame - it’s Shyam.” NK seethed. Somehow, despite all the truths, Shyam had emerged victorious and had managed to break the family into pieces.

Akash groaned into his palms, his head hurting with all the truths. There was no reasoning in Shyam’s malicious words as he threatened Arnav for grabbing his collar.

A fear crept up Akash’s spine.

He only wished it didn’t take Payal’s grief, Khushi’s injury and Arnav’s panic for him to understand that Khushi and Payal were a part of the family.

---

Arnav lay on the bed, staring at his Khushi in remorse and agony. The regrets were too much to count, and he fervently thought against anything related to God.

“The day you believe in God, I won’t be next to you,” She huffed, the pain in her bandaged finger miniscule next to the words inflicted by him to her. Arnav had lost sleep since that night, breaking every nightmare with Khushi’s name on his lips.

He couldn’t apologize, nor cry. He just continued to stare, hoping she’d wake up one more time for him.

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Read Part 3

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A/N: Third part will be up soon. A big thank you to @ridzmystique​ for checking on this story and pushing me to complete Farak. Thank you for reading/liking.

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #ts: farak #fanfiction