#A SYmphon of Tiny LIghts

[linasofia]

Into The Woods

Part 3

Fandom: Uncle Vanya (2020)

Relationship: Dr Mikhail ”Misha” Astrov x OC

Words: 3K

Warnings: 18+

A/N: This is the third part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

@legolasbadass & @lathalea thanks again for your help. 💚💚💚

With a longing look in his expressive eyes, Misha asked me to stay another night. When all other guests left, and while my dear brother kissed my cheek and wished me a pleasant day, I blushed at the indecent insinuation in his words. I have no doubt in my heart when it comes to Nikolay’s approval of my choice, for he has always been honest with me. He wants me to be happy and as we left childhood behind, he slowly learned that I am fully capable of taking care of myself and that my judgment when it comes to people’s characters often is even better than his. While he always takes time to calculate situations by facts, I rely more on my gut feeling. Maybe it was my imagination but his hug felt even warmer than usual and I silently blessed our mother for raising my brother and me alike, so we both know the value of showing feelings instead of hiding them on the inside.

Mikhail Astrov, the man who makes my heart beat faster than anything or anyone else, is walking beside me with his long fingers intertwined with mine and he squeezes my hand gently as we walk deeper into the forest. I love being in the forest on a warm summer day. Not on a humid, sticky day, but a comfortable warm day when the soil gives away that special scent and the tall pines provide shelter from the blinding light of the sun. When the air is filled with all of the forest’s smallest winged inhabitants, but they are too busy to bother you. Misha carries a large basket in his other hand and a blanket is thrown over his shoulder. I have already tried to convince him that I can carry the blanket but he refuses to let me take it and keeps telling me it is no burden.

We take another path today and as soon as the cottage is out of sight, the calming feeling of being one with nature surrounds me again. All the birds seem awake and their different singing and drilling create the forest’s own symphonic orchestra. As we walk further away, the forest changes from dark pine to mixed woods, with trees spreading their long leaf-covered branches like a green ceiling over us. Eventually we reach a beautiful meadow, covered in grass and tiny islands of white and yellow flowers. A small, glittering brook runs along the meadow and its sandy banks are full of traces of animals. We have clearly entered one of the forest’s most popular places for refreshment. I do not see any of the animals Misha talks about, but he assures me that even the shyest of them can be seen on some days, if you are lucky enough. When he speaks about the forest, his passion for nature shines through. Something about Misha feels so genuine, as if he is not a man, but a creature of the wood, aiming to seduce me to stay in his green kingdom.

Misha selects a spot under a tree with a huge crown of leaves and spreads the large blanket over the grass. When I sit down, the fabric feels soft and cool, almost like bed sheets, and far from the usual thick old wool picnic blankets I am used to. I take off my sandals and bury my feet in the grass, enjoying the way it tickles against my skin. Misha sits down beside me and runs his hand through his hair, making it even more unruly than it was. If he only knew what that slightly rougher look does to me. But his hair is not the only thing catching my attention. His linen shirt has three buttons open and when he sits down it allows me to glance at the dark hair on his chest, which he generously exposes. A pair of grey shorts hug his hips and his tanned legs come to rest next to mine. As he pulls off his shoes and socks, I giggle to myself; It is true what they say about men with big feet… And Misha's feet look enormous next to mine. Thankfully he is, as I learned the previous night, well-proportioned.

”Are you hungry?” His deep voice pulls my attention back to his face.

”A little,” I tell him honestly. ”But you only had coffee for breakfast so I can imagine you must be starving.”

”Keeping an eye on me already? I like that.” He winks at me and it makes his eyes sparkle brighter than the brook. It was not so much that I kept an eye on him, but it was hard to miss that he made an effort for me and everybody else. And after the guests had left, he prepared the food for the basket with great enthusiasm and we left for our picnic shortly after. There was no time for him to eat. Misha leans in and kisses me tenderly. His lips are warm against mine and I lift my hand to caress his bearded cheek. When he breaks the kiss I let out a displeased sigh and he gives me a teasing smile.

”We have all day,” he murmurs with his gaze on my lips. ”And all night if we want.”

The thought of sleeping together in the cabin is beyond exciting but I save that thought for later as Misha turns his attention to the large basket. Small packages with different sandwiches and biscuits soon appear on the blanket and I pick one of them and start unwrapping it while Misha pulls out a bottle of wine. ”Is it too soon for more wine? Or would you like some water?” He looks at me and tilts his head to the side while I consider his offer, and when I nod at the wine bottle in his hand, he smiles. ”You can have both, you know.”

The cork leaves the bottle with a characteristic pop, and while Misha fills our glasses my gaze falls on his capable hands and strong wrists. He wears his shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his toned forearms, and again I wonder how it is possible to feel so much attraction as I do just by watching his arms move in the warm light. When he hands me a glass, I take a sip, only to find that the wine is light and a perfect match together for the food he brought. Not that I am surprised, for as far as I remember it was the same result at my brother's party, and Nikolay told me that Misha was very involved in combining the food and wine.

We eat and talk about both the small and larger things in life as if we have known each other far longer than we have. I feel incredibly relaxed and comfortable in his company, but every time his gaze falls on my lips, my heart beats faster. When the food is eaten and only a little wine remains in the bottle, Misha lays down on his back and stretches his tall body with his arms over his head. His shirt glides up a little and exposes some skin and the alluring dark trail of hair disappearing under the waistline of his shorts. I want to kiss his skin but Misha holds out his arm and offers it as if it was a pillow. ”Come and rest with me.” A radiant smile spreads on his face when I lay down beside him and when I look up into the green ceiling of leaves, the rays of sunlight find a way to shine through when the wind rustles the tree. For a long time words are not needed and I feel how my body becomes heavy and relaxed.

”I used to come here when I was a boy.” Misha breaks the silence. ”Always alone. And I could stay until the shadows grew long, and with no perception oftime, I often missed dinner. My mother was never mad, but she thought I was a dreamer and I used to sneak into the kitchen to take leftovers or a sandwich after everybody went to bed. She must have noticed of course, but she never said anything. But even back then I dreamed about sharing this place with someone special.”

I turn my head to look at Misha, who rests with his eyes closed. ”I am glad you decided to show it to me.” Suddenly, I feel almost shy. I did not realize the significance of this little hidden meadow when we entered and I certainly was not prepared for the feelings of love that overwhelm me when I think of Misha as a young boy, running away from the cabin and hiding in his secret place in the forest, to be alone with his thoughts and dreams. Misha turns to me and his sapphire eyes are warm as the sun when I meet his gaze. ”So am I.”

I roll over to the side so I can be even closer to him and he welcomes me by folding his arm around me. He holds me tight and I listen to all the sounds of the forest as I move my hand over his shirt. The rippling brook, the birds and the wind blend together with his breathing and the sound of my own pulse. My fingers wander to the opening in his shirt and I trace the hem of the fabric, feeling his skin under my fingertips. When I reach the first button I pause at first, unsure if I should continue. But his small approving hum makes me unbutton it and move on to the next. Button by button I reveal his well-defined chest and once again I marvel at the natural strength his body possesses. I pull his shirt open as much I can, only limited by the fact that he is laying on his back. Satisfied with the exposed skin, I caress him gently, run my hand over his firm muscles and play with the dark curls under my fingertips. A pleased smile rests on his lips and when I meet his gaze, he reaches for my chin and urges me closer.

“I love the way your hands feel on my body,” he murmurs huskily before he presses his lips against mine. With a soft moan I kiss him back and he slips his tongue between my lips in the most sensual way. Lost in the feeling of our kiss, I vaguely feel him shift so he rests on his side, allowing his free hand to explore my body. As he intensifies the kiss, his hand gently squeezes my waist and then moves to caress my hip. When his large hand slowly travels down the outer side of my thigh to the hem of my dress, I let out a pleading moan. His hand finds its way under the fabric and he strokes my thigh all the way up to my hip, leaving the dress pulled up to my waist. Then he gently grabs my leg at the back of my knee and pulls it up so I rest my leg on his. His breathing changes and I can hear that he is just as affected as I am.

”I want to touch you. Feel your warmth and give you pleasure. Will you let me?” he rasps as he moves his hand closer to my undergarment.

”Please,” I breathe, unable to think of anything but his hand which moves agonizingly slowly closer to where I want him the most. When he reaches the fabric covering my heated skin, he slips his fingers underneath without the slightest hesitation and I whimper against his lips. I can feel how our intense kissing has woken my body, and when Misha feels it, too, he gives me praise that fuels my needs endlessly. The way his voice thickens as he moans my name sets my body on fire and his efficient experiments with his skilled fingers give me the sweetest sensation I long for much sooner than I ever thought possible. Afraid to embarrass all living things in the forest, I hold back my cry as I clench around his fingers.

When my body starts to relax again, Misha kisses me deeply. The language he speaks is the one of passion and I am overwhelmed by the feelings he showers me in. Never could I have guessed that the brooding doctor was such a passionate man.

”I adore the way you look when you let go like that. If your blissful face is the last thing I see before I leave this earth, I will go as a lucky man.”

I would probably blush if he had uttered those words under other circumstances, but now, as I bask in the heat of his gaze, I just smile back at him and run my hand over his hair to bring him even closer. Then I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin against mine and he lets out a few grunts when I pull the shirt off his body. Growing impatient, I turn my attention to his shorts, take full advantage of his horizontal position, and let his underwear follow his shorts as I pull them both down his thighs. His thick shaft rises with glitter at its top, as if it had already been dipped in my hot spring.

Eager to return the favor, he pulls my dress over my head and slips my underwear down my thighs. When we are both equally naked under the protecting branches, he gives me another warm smile and my body kindly reminds me that there is more to receive from the wonderful creature beside me. I return his smile and allow him to grab my leg again, but this time I gently lift it over him and push myself up. My knees land on each side of him and he murmurs something I cannot really discern as I adjust myself to sit right over his throbbing hardness. When I lean down to kiss him he lets out a longing moan and buries his hands in my locks.

His kiss is filled with steaming passion and when I repeatedly grind against him, he lets out the most incredible raw noises. My breasts press against his warm chest and without feeling careless, he seems to cover all of my body with his hands at once. I cannot deny that the growing desperation shown in his face triggers my own desire but I try not to give in and sink down on him too soon.

”Woman, are you aiming to drive me crazy?” His hands land on my waist, gripping me tightly and the way he looks at me, with his mouth half open and lust dripping from his words, makes it impossible to resist doing what we both need more than anything in this moment. I glide down on him, and I have to steady myself when I feel him reaching the bottom deep within me. He lets out a ragged moan but does not move, allowing my body to adjust to his size and I feel my whole core pulsate around him. Misha wraps his arms around me and holds me still.

”You feel so wonderful, I—” his words turn to moans when I start to slowly move my hips. I free myself from his embrace, allowing me to move more and as I find the right rhythm Misha lovingly caresses my thighs and waist. In his sapphire eyes, I read more than just lust; tenderness and amazement. The need to belong with me beyond our carnal needs.

The green heaven around us soon disappears from my field of view and only the man beneath me remains. His fingers dig into the softness of my hips as he supports my movements, and when I increase the pace, he grabs me tighter to press me harder down on him. My breathing becomes uneven and the heat that threatens to consume me ignites under my skin. Misha senses how close I am and finds a way to let his thumb aid me in my desperate state. My sensitive bud bursts into bloom, my moans blend with his praise, and this time I do not care if the mythical spirit of the forest itself can hear me. With a low groan Misha follows me, and the way he buckles his hips as he does only adds to my own pleasure.

I collapse on top of him and once again he wraps his strong arms around me. His breathing is almost as heavy as mine and I wonder if he can feel my racing heart beating against his chest. His chest heaves with every breath, and since none of us are keen on letting go, I rest on him. Eventually I feel how we both relax and our bodies start to regain their usual strength. Around us, the birds begin to sing again, or maybe they never stopped.

”I never thought I could be with someone like you.” Misha lifts his hand to gently caress my cheek. ”I still wait for that moment when I wake up lonely in my bed and realize that this is just a beautiful, vivid dream.”

An insecure smile graces his lips but his gaze is steady. The soft lines around his eyes are very telling, like annual rings on an old oak, and when he lets me see his vulnerability, my heart swells.

”If this is a dream, then we are both dreaming.”

I seal my words with a reassuring kiss. It is true. He is like a dream. And I never want to wake up.

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Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @immortal-dreams

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[interwovenrhapsody]

THE TRAILBLAZING HERRSCHER (REDUX)

SLIGHT BACKSTORY INFORMATION:

After the events of Honkai Impact 3rd, in which Kiana sacrificed herself to seal Honkai on the Moon, Melanie had been left to wander the multiverse alone again. Because there had been no changing Kiana's mind on how it should be done, Melanie was forced to say goodbye before the two of them married. She returned home, only to be called a murderer when she tried to save her friend's life ( @teatheteal ) and be forced to leave her homeworld forever.

After a stint in the Red World, bringing both Téa and Xellos with her after everything was said and done, Melanie's passive Causality Manipulation put them in the path of the Trailblazer, Dan Heng, March 7th and Himeko. Assisting them in heading to the Astral Express, they were stopped by the Doomsday Beast that had arrived at the station.

When the Trailblazer's Stellaron overloaded, Welt Yang had put a stop to it. Because of prior history, Melanie was able to recognize him (despite the fact he looked a tiny bit different than before) and he was able to recognize her. Given an offer to board the express, she accepted and boarded the train alongside the others.

COMBAT INFORMATION:

Melanie is a Path of Destruction character who uses the Imaginary Element. She mainly uses a scythe in combat, and combines with a being named "Kanra" during the Herta Space Station route. Because of how unique she is, Melanie has different forms of fighting and Ultimates depending on the worlds visited.

HERTA'S SPACE STATION sees Melanie using a scythe with her Ultimate being "The End", the Reaper Limit Break from FFXIV. Her skill is "Enshroud", which allows her to combine with "Kanra" and increases the power of her attacks. Using her skill again ends the Enshroud effect.

JARILO-VI sees Melanie using Bajiquan/Jeet Kune Do and her Ultimate is Subspace Lance, which targets a single enemy for a lot of damage.

XIANZHOU LUOFU sees Melanie using her scythe yet again, but her Ultimate is G-Warrior Manifestation, using the powers of Reason to manifest the G-Warrior and board it. With this Ultimate, Melanie pilots the G-Warrior and uses it in combat until combat is over. The G-Warrior's Ultimate is Saberlight, in which it deals several damaging blows to an opponent. While in the G-Warrior, Melanie cannot have status effects applied.

Melanie's personal Light Cone is called "Symphonic Dreaming", which is a Destruction-type Light Cone. It increases Melanie's ATK and SPD each turn she's alive in combat, making her a force to be reckoned with.

[st-0-ryteller]

The Poem That Does Not Exist

This Poem Doesn't Exist.

Just like I do,

Or don't.

We're all figments

Parts of the train station in mind

All of those tiny pieces

Of black, sun-absorbant asphalt

That you'll never, ever drive.

We are all things that don't

But have always been

Like in that smoky bar,

The one with the lights still on,

The band playing a raunchy,

Symphonic skrattle beat.

Can you the people who aren't in there,

But yet feel their

Cable to ear to shoe?

And I am path that one day

I will myself meet.

I am a poem that does not exist,

Because I'm not heard does not mean

To mean

[wetthandss]

songs in that one playlist where i keep all the songs that make me cry without fail

The Decemberists - I Was Meant For the Stage

Toru Kitajima - Unravel (Acoustic) Starsailor - Way to Fall

Johnny Cash - Don't Take your Guns to Town

Jack Stauber - Dead Flowers (Rolling Stones cover)

Sam Haft - You Will be Okay (for Helluva Boss)

Motoi Sakuraba - Daughters of Chaos (for Dark Souls)

Worthikids - Dried up Old Bones (Tom Willet cover)

Sebastián Yatra - Dos Oruguitas (for Encanto)

Shibayan & milka - Tiny Little Adiantum (from ZUN - Gensokyo, Past and Present ~ Flower Land)

Andrew Lloyd Webber - Memory (Reprise) (for Cats)

Koji Kondo - Title Theme (for The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time)

상록수 (Sangnoksu) - Dancing Mad (Symphonic Arrangement) (from Nobuo Uematsu - Dancing Mad [for Final Fantasy VI])

Tally Hall - Be Born

Mitski - Class of 2013

Tamachang - Daisy Bell (from Harry Dacre - Daisy Bell)

The Protomen - Act II - The State Vs. Thomas Light

[db-reviews]

#110 - U.K. - U.K. (1978)

So what if you combined the more jazzy and whimsical side of progressive rock with the danceable start of the age of New Wave that’d become highly popular in the 80s? Say you brought members from highly acclaimed groups such as King Crimson, Roxy Music, Yes, and Soft Machine and you take their sounds and abilities and give them a more straight-edged, almost pop twist. Well for one you’d get a supergroup, and for another one, you’d get the U.K.

Formed after the recording of Bill Bruford’s first solo album, Feel Good to Me, he, Allan Holdsworth of Soft Machine, John Wetton of King Crimson and Family, and Eddie Jobson of Roxy Music formed the U.K. in 1977 creating one progressive rock’s widely known, yet rather small discography supergroups, right next to the likes of Asia, and Emerson Lake and Palmer. They were around until 1980 when they broke up before in 2011 they would reform but only to break up again in 2015. Despite their short run, they have inspired many spin-offs from the group such as U.K.Z. and HoBoLeMa. So in 1978, U.K. would create their eponymous first album, U.K.

How I see this album is that the two sides are two different melodies where each song is practically important to one another due to how they intermingle with one another, creating a sense of movement from each of the songs from each side of the album.

Side A, which is a melody composed of the first four tracks of the album (In The Dead Of Night, By The Light Of Day, Presto Vivace and Reprise, and Thirty Years) showcases the band’s unique sound, being a precursor to some of the more progressive pop acts of the 80s (say Kate Bush or even some post-punk stuff like Bauhaus). They go for more uniquely acquired tastes here, with a sense of familiarity between the members and their playing styles. You can hear a lot of influences from King Crimson and Yes, but almost some more fusion elements from Soft Machine, and again, a more pop-focused element from Roxy Music. It feels like a blending of the good stuff all these bands have created, merging them into one mass that can be enjoyably dissected. The highlight here is definitely In The Dead of Night for me, how it starts strongly and keeps up the pace and rhythm laid down by the bass and drums that get washed over by synths and John Wetton’s vocals. It paints a solid picture of these guys’ sounds that they grew into throughout the 70s. The rest of the tracks on side A are also really solid as well, especially Thirty Years giving an epic finale to this melody that can be highly appreciated. I do think, however, that they have a problem with those keyboards. The sound they create with them is way too high-pitched and clashes with the overall sound the band has going for, almost to the point where I’d say they can create an almost annoying experience for me.

Side B’s melody of Alaska, Time To Kill, Nevermore, and Mental Medication is the weaker part of the album, and I’d say carries different problems from side A. While I do say every song on the second side is still pretty good, they do not have that drive side A had. This is their more experimental side where they try new things and new styles. While I do appreciate them for trying new things, it does come at the cost of creating a less enjoyable experience for me since it feels like a forward-minded experience, and more like throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. You can hear them experimenting with more jazz sounds with Time To Kill, more symphonic progressive rock on Nevermore, a tiny bit of new age on Alaska, and rounding off with a traditional Canterbury Scene sound on Mental Medication. This site is all over the place, and for better or for worse it takes the listener on an interesting journey of new elements the band has a knack for, after all, they are a progressive rock group, and it is a given to hear a band trying new things and seeing what works and what doesn’t, and for me, I think they seem to not work as well as they might have hoped for.

While this can create a fun and interesting listen I cannot say it is required. I recommend checking out In The Dead of Night first and if you might like that then go into the album. I’ll say for this album expect the unexpected because that is what the album is all about, the unexpected.

3.5/5

[allthingsfook]

This is the first short story I published on Wattpad. I could add more to it, but first I wanted a little feedback. What do y’all think? I don’t want to waste my time if no one will enjoy it. ✨

__________________________________________________

A Celestial Experience:

You softly open your eyes to the warm morning sun gleaming through the curtains. Beyond them, the trees transiently sway and birds flutter near the window. This place doesn't seem familiar, but oddly enough you feel safe and at ease. As you lay peacefully in this warm bed, you cant help but smile while in your mind return to the night before.

Once you had bought tickets for the band that had comforted you through every emotion, you anxiously waited for the night that you would set eyes on Greta Van Fleet in the flesh. You have always felt you've had a completely different attachment to them as opposed to other fans. It is easy for people to become enamored with a band they have never met before. Music transcends the soul, and connects humankind. How can we deny that? Although, their music has always been the one thing about them that has turned your life completely around. You couldn't say that you had never fantasized about being hand-and-hand with any of them, but you are not obsessed with that fact. In reality, you couldn't ever imagine one of them finding you remotely attractive or intriguing. After all, these guys have meet thousands of attractive and intriguing people. But that is why this morning feels like a hypnotic dream.

The theatre they played was a last minute show, and you had stumbled upon tickets by a stroke of fate. You knew this was the perfect place to see them play in person for the first time. Those huge concerts, filled with ignorant, screaming girls, and huge screens displaying the band that look like tiny figurines from where you sit.... that's not how you wanted to experience their music. You wanted to look them in the eye and somehow send them a message that they are the ones that take you to some alternate universe while listening to their music. You want to feel the music inside of you, not just hear it.

You could hardly conceal your excitement through a smile while walking up to the historic venue. Once you made it through security, you could hardly take in the beauty of the building. The darkness slightly masked the charm of it, but you could see through it. The rugged grain in the floors, the towering beams that lead your eyes to the angelic murals of the ceiling, and the mere thought that Greta Van Fleet would fill the room with ethereal sound. You got a drink from the bar, and precisely picked a place where you would stand for the rest of the night. After a while, it was time for them to preform. The lights dimmed even lower than they were before, the irrelevant background music faded, and the MC began to announce the band you have been waiting to experience for years. The heavy, velvet curtains pulled back, the blinding lights shot through, and the black silhouettes of four scrawny kids from Michigan stood looking back at you.

You could feel the shock in your face. You thought to yourself, "this is happening now." Before you could even process that thought, Sam began manipulating the keys on his organ to produce the first chords of "Heat Above". The strangers around you began to cry and shriek. You, on the other hand, stood in a trance. Captured by the sound individually composed from each member. The whole show carried you through a euphoric musical voyage. Satisfying your symphonic desire. Beyond the music, they all operated in such magical ways their concerts are transformed into a celestial experience. By the end of the night, you had to escape to the bathroom to bring yourself back down to earth. As you dried your hands, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You felt as if you had never seen yourself more clearly. Of all places, in a small, vintage bathroom. You saw how authentically content you were with your life. That is what this band had made you realize. You smirked at yourself before throwing the paper towel away, and excused yourself.

As you introduced yourself back into the bustling theatre, almost immediately you collided with a dark haired figure who smelled of cigarette smoke and coconut shampoo. "I am so sorry," he blurted out before he turned his head toward you. You both locked eyes only for you to realize it was Sam Kiszka. What seemed like a slow motion fantasy playing out in your head, was a real life accident. You smirked at him and softly said, "Hey." He placed his hands on your shoulders gently and leaned in to speak further with you.

"I'm sorry for bumping into you. I need to get my head out of my ass, eh?"

"It's no problem at all. I thought I would be a little more noticeable in an outfit like this, I guess not," you laughed.

"Well, it is a fantastic outfit I must say," he softly shouted as he looked you up and down.

You had carefully planned out what you were going to display on yourself for that night. You knew it had to be something cosmic and faithful to your soul. So you decided on making your own jumpsuit inspired by Josh's folk-influenced outfits. The way the emerald velveteen fabric hugged your natural curves made you feel like the sexiest version of yourself. Through the power of manifestation, you believed Sam had picked up on that. He couldn't help but gaze at all the right places. You paired it with vintage platform heels, which coincidentally made you stand about the same height as Sam. Looking straight into his chestnut eyes, your stomach fluttered. He unintentionally broke the connection by taking a sip from his cup. You shook your head slightly and smiled.

"I should let you get going, shouldn't I?" You remarked.

"Well, I suppose that is so. I hope to see you again" he said in an assuring tone.

Before you could say anything back, he was hurried along by security and Josh, Jake, and Danny themselves. As elated as you were to even see them preform, you never anticipated on seeing them all up close... even if it was for a few seconds... You definitely never imagined you would have had a whole ass interaction with Sam. You attempted to process that all, but that was all so much to happen by accident. You made your way to an exit. You were so overwhelmed with feelings, you needed to get some air. You hastily made your way to the nearest exit to a side street. You leaned up against the wet, brick wall, and covered your face with your hands. Little tears streamed down your face. Happy tears. You laughed to yourself and paced around in a circle with one hand on your hip and your other wiping your tears away.

As you were attempting to get a hold of yourself, you faintly heard a group of people walking up the side street. They all were stumbling and carrying on down the sidewalk. One lit a cigarette and let out a stream of smoke into the air. It smelt familiar. As they approached, you could pick out who they were just by their voices.

As if last night could have been anymore of a fantasy, it just kept getting more unreal.

Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny all were cracking up over something stupid, you were sure, and were walking right toward you AGAIN. Some management trailed behind them, but that did not stop them from acting like a bunch of lunatics. As much as it seemed like you were judging them, you wouldn't want them to be anything else. That is what makes them so relatable. As they got closer, you heard Sam call out for you.

"Hey! I had an overwhelming feeling I would see you again, I just didn't think it would be this soon. I hope you're not stalking us," he kidded.

"Yeah! Because that would be weird," Josh comically yelled.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be cool at all," Jake mumbled while chuckling.

"Yeah," Danny said almost simultaneously.

You were at a loss of words. You knew you had to say something snarky to capture their attention, especially before they kept roasting you.

"I mean, isn't that what groupies are trained to do?" You said plainly.

"Ah, a real life groupie! I have heard of those before," Josh replied.

"Yes, we just never thought we were famous enough to have any of those," Sam added with a smile.

"Well, I think you just might have played a show with all of your groupies right in front of you," you laughed.

"This is true," Jake mentioned while playfully slapping Josh on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Uh, I think we are going to go get some drinks if you want to come?" Sam asked politely.

"Is this what rock stars are supposed to do with groupies?" You responded.

"I guess not, but we are not rock stars and you are not a groupie. We are all just human beings," Sam voiced.

"Speak the truth brother!" Josh shouted while laughing.

You laughed and shook your head before looking into Sam's eyes again.

"Sure, I will come with," you finally admitted.

The rest of the evening was filled with a lot of tequila and memories that seemed as if they were dreamt. You knew going to that concert was going to change your musical appreciation and your connection to Greta Van Fleet, but you had no idea how it was going to change your future.

__________________________________________________

Divinity:

When you finally feel content with the recap of your unimaginable evening, you find the strength the peel yourself from the bed. Your jumpsuit is laying on the floor next to your heels. As you begin to ponder whether or not you just got your body rocked by Sam Kiszka, he assures you that you didn't.

"If you are wondering if we slept together. We did. But we didn't have sex," he softly admits. "But your body is absolutely divine," he adds.

You look down to notice you have absolutely nothing on. Not even a piece of jewelry. You give an embarrassed look to him.

"I am sorry if I crossed the line in any way. I know this doesn't hap--"

"You were not in the slightest out of line last night. Josh was out of line when he tried waving down a cab by running into the street," Sam jokes.

You laugh some and let out a big breath. You cover up your chest with one arm and push your hair back with your other hand. Sam walks toward you while picking up a shirt from the end of the bed. Standing right in front of your exposed body, he pulls your arm down from your chest, takes a peek while smiling, and hands you the shirt. He turns and while walking away he says, "come join me for coffee."

You swiftly slip the shirt on, pull on your underwear, and scamper after him. You meet him at a beautiful, custom wood table. You run your hands over the smooth finish as you catch the scent of coffee with a hazelnut creamer.

"I don't know much about you, much less how you like your coffee, but I would love to learn," he mentions while sitting down across from you.

"You'd love to learn about how I like my coffee or me?" You question.

"All of the above," he says after letting out a breath.

"Uh, well. For starters, I'm not much of a coffee person," you giggle.

Sam sits back in his chair and laughs while pushing his hair back. After our laughing subsides, he stares at you. Taking you in with everything of your being. After a moment, he leans back toward the table and reaches his hand out toward you. You place your fragile, pale hand in his.

"You know, this is not something I would normally do," he states with a long pause. "But I am really glad that I did last night."

"How can you think that when you just said yourself, you don't know anything about me," you reply.

"You have this sensational aura. You are not a simple person. You have a complex, wild, free-spirited soul. I can feel that. Seeing you last night, you were incredibly confident in your skin and authentically yourself. That's the most attractive thing in a person. I know everything else is just going to be additive," he expresses.

You peer back at him. How can you come up with something to say after having your soul complimented by someone you truly don't know? Furthermore, someone you thought would never know you existed. Somehow you're sitting across the table from him.

"I really appreciate that Sam. I don't think I've ever had someone else see me like that," you softly admit.

"Don't thank me, just see that in yourself. Appreciate yourself!" He exclaims.

"You know that's really ironic that you say that. I actually do feel like I found that in myself. Last night at your concert. Right before I bumped into you," you respond.

"Hmm. Why is that ironic? When you feel that deeply about yourself, others can feel it as well. Maybe that's why I couldn't resist inviting you out, and bringing you here. It had nothing to do at all with how you looked. Which is one of those additives by the way. It had everything to do with your presence," he expresses.

You push your chair back and stand up gradually. You slowly make your way around the table while running your fingertips along the edges. The soft surface soothes your nerves. Although your heart is racing in your chest, you look calm and collected on the surface. As you approach Sam, he slumps back in his chair. You play with his little locks of hair, eventually running your fingers through it completely. He gently places his hand on your hip while keeping passionate eye contact with you. You smile gently and place your hands on his shoulders. You begin to straddle him, he places his other hand on your hips and guides you down onto his lap. Now that you are are at eye level, he uses his thumb to slightly pull down your bottom lip. You move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek.

As you gaze into his warm brown eyes, you think about how insane this has been. Twenty-four hours ago this guy didn't know you existed, now your sitting on his lap, ready to kiss his soft lips. Before you could finish that thought, he pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes close automatically and colorful visions begin to spin and burst. A tingling sensation creeps up and down your body. He's so electric you can't help but let out a soft moan while your lips are interlocked. In response, Sam pulls away and gives you a unreadable look. Your mind races, wondering if you did something wrong. You wrinkle your forehead in confusion. All at once, he places one hand under your ass and the other behind your head. He leans foreword, laying you down on the table. He gently lets your head down on the dark wooden tabletop. His other hand gradually slides from your ass to underneath your shirt. He traces your curves all the way up to your chest. Your back arches with sudden anticipation. He smirks while looking deep into your eyes. He pushes your hair back on top of your head. With a simple touch he can calm any anxiety you have. Your body lowers back to the cool wood and you feel your heart slow. You can tell he feels your comfortability by the way he smiles at you.

In this moment, you know it is okay. It's more than okay! His kiss alone made you feel like you were floating. What will the rest feel like? You have to find out. You wrap your legs around his waist and lean up to kiss him again. You can tell you are beginning something here. Sam kisses with slightly more force and grasps your body tighter than before. He pulls your body from the table like a soul ascending to the heavens. Kissing down your neck to your chest. Once his blush-colored lips press between your boobs, he peaks up at you. You smirk at him and he grins back. He swiftly raises you off the tabletop and rushes you to the nearby couch. He essentially drops you onto the cushion. You hair and chest bounce simultaneously. Sam gets to his knees, interlocks his arms around your legs at the knees, and pulls your body closer to the edge of the couch. He gives you once last gaze with his mischievous eyes before he buries his face between your legs. Your head snaps back with gratification, your lips part and an intense moan escapes your mouth. All while Sam's mouth is administering deep pleasure into your forbidden fruit. Your body jerks and shifts in reaction to his tongue strokes. Circling, rolling, and flicking. All just to pleasure you.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 4

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: When you and Din arrive at the village in Sorgan, you both learn that the universe is full of surprises.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, angsty angst, pining (so...much...pining...)

Author Note: All the love and thanks to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments on this series! Seriously, the support is beyond words. I wanted to go ahead and spoil it now that Winta does not make an appearance. I love that little girl in the episode, but I just couldn’t get her to fit in this segment. Maybe she’ll appear later on in the future, I honestly don’t know how my brain works. 

Also, fun fact, this will be my 100th post 😱🥳

Links to Part 1 and Part 3 and Part 5

Photo Inspiration: (I love black and white photos if you can’t tell by now...)

Sorgan is a beautiful planet, covered in massive forests and several freshwater lakes filled with krill. There is a tiny, farming village that isolates itself in the midst of Sorgan’s swampy region which is where you hope to find Omera. Rumor has it she’d fallen in love with the community five years ago and bound her nurturing powers to the planet, shielding them against the harshness of famine and plague. Her powers also prohibited other immortals from teleporting directly into the village, even if they meant no harm, thus forcing you and Din to walk the five-mile-long road from the common house to the village boundary line.

Mud sticks to the bottom of your shoes and the humidity is absolutely murdering your hair, but you love the addictive burn of fresh air filling your lungs, the symphonic sounds of the wilderness encompassing you. Here on Sorgan, the positive attributes far outweigh the negative ones.

Din walks beside you, close enough your arm occasionally brushes against his  vambrace, and you find yourself glancing at him out of your peripheral every few steps, dazzled by how the sunlight reflects off his armor. He catches your eye more than once, inclining his head to stare back while puffing out his chest, preening like the kriffing asshole he is. Each time you swiftly turn away with a burning face, hating how his smugness changes to amusement at your inability to hold his gaze, even with the impeding visor.

You string together creative expletives in your mind, each one meant to strengthen your resolve to ignore him. Except, like clockwork, your eyes helplessly drift back over again mere minutes later, dooming you to a continuous cycle of torment and embarrassment.

At least up until you’re less than a mile from your destination and Din abruptly halts without warning. “How will I know?”

You nearly slip as you whirl around to face him, worried at first but then confused when the question registers. “Know what?”

“If I’ve met my match,” he answers, the hand branded with his soulmate marking restlessly clenching and unclenching at his side. “How will I know it’s my soulmate?”

It’s a question you’re extremely familiar with. Maker knows exactly how many times you’ve been asked it throughout your years as a Cupid, but it’s got to be nearing a couple hundred thousand at least. And yet your usual go-to answer—a speech fed to you by your bosses about the perfect plan of the universe—doesn’t feel right to give him. He deserves your own honest opinion.

The first time you ever matched two individuals, you’d naively expected literal sparks to appear when they shook hands. Or a beam of light to shine down on them from above, an unmistakable sign from the universe they were meant to be together. So you were crushed when absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, only that neither one was able to look away from each other, eyes as wide as moons and full of awe. The same kind of awe usually reserved for watching sunsets and hearing a baby’s first cry of life.

You’d realized then the exact moment soulmates experienced their connection was not something externally witnessed by the eyes of the world. It was an internal sensation felt only by the two halves finally becoming whole.

“They’re called your soulmate for a reason, Din,” you say, slowly drawing closer. You’re not truly cognizant of your actions, only your voice, and perhaps that’s why you reach out to take a hold of his gloved hand, rubbing your thumb over his leather-covered knuckles. Distantly, as if looking through a foggy window, you’re aware of the way his whole body freezes at your touch, but still you hold on, still the words keep flowing from your lips.

“The moment you shake their hand, there will be no doubt. It’ll be instant. Like you’re tasting air for the first time after being trapped underwater. Everything will be clearer, colors brighter. Your whole world will crumble apart at their feet because all that matters now is them. And the only thought you’ll be able to think is, ‘It’s you. All this time I’ve been waiting for you.’”

Din sucks in a ragged breath. It’s only barely audible because of your closeness, but it’s also just loud enough to snap you out of your daze. “Angel,” he says hesitantly. It’s your turn to freeze when he leans in, helmet pressing softly against your forehead. “Have you ever—“

You jerk backwards, cutting Din off and releasing your grip on his hand all in the same movement. Panic is swelling in your chest and you can’t stop it, clothes suddenly feeling too constricting and you force yourself to remember why you’re here on Sorgan, the importance of the mission at stake.

“We need to keep moving,” you say, looking anywhere but Din’s direction. “I don’t think the village is that much further.”

Din watches you silently, no doubt trying to make sense of your agitated state. You feel exposed, torn open at the seams with all your insecurities on full display for him to pick apart and criticize.

In the end though, he only heaves a sigh, respectfully granting you time to begin the slow process of stitching yourself back up.

“Lead the way,” Din says, gesturing towards the path with a nod of his head. “I go where you go.”

The rest of the journey would have been completed in silence, if not for how Din’s unfinished question seemed to float alongside you in the breeze, echoing in your ears.

Have you ever...

                                                 Have you ever...

                                                                                          Have you ever...

~~~

The villagers are scared of your arrival at first, panicked to be in the presence of Death. Parents clutch at their children and the elderly are ushered into huts, as if they’ll be better protected by being kept out of Din’s field of vision.

“I promise you, we don’t mean any harm,” you say, but your words do little to reassure any of them.

A woman emerges from the crowd, the only one whose expression doesn’t bear a hint of fear. Segments of her dark hair are intricately braided while the rest flows unhindered over her shoulders, long enough to nearly reach her waist. Her features are delicate, but there is strength in how she carries herself as she marches right up to you and Din, shoulders drawn back with determination.

“Omera,” you breathe, recognizing the woman for the goddess she truly is.

“Yes,” she says, sounding reluctant to confirm her identity. Her eyes flick between you and Din. “Who are you and why have you brought Death here? I have a formal agreement with the Guild that grants me permission to personally handle the passing of my people’s souls into the afterlife. Death should have no purpose here.”

This is news to you. 

Not the reference of the Guild—you’re very much aware of Greef Karga’s organization of reapers who assist Din in maintaining the natural order by collecting deceased souls on his behalf across the galaxy. Despite all the powers that come with being Death, Din is unable to be everywhere all at once. So the reapers bring the souls to Nevarro where Karga holds onto them until Din arrives to usher them into the afterlife. 

What you weren’t aware of is her claim that this village might be the one place in the whole galaxy where Death and his associates have no influence.

“I’m a Cupid. I help people find their soulmates.” You gesture to Din who stands so tense behind you, you’re not entirely certain he’s even breathing. “And currently, I’m helping him.”

The way Omera’s expression instantly brightens is almost comical. A smile grows across her face, warm and friendly as if she’s known you for years and not mere seconds. “Oh, forgive me my rudeness. That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Would you like something to drink?”

“Actually—” Din starts, speaking for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“Yes, I would love one,” you interrupt, digging your elbow into his side and eliciting a soft grunt. “I heard the spotchka here is exceptional.”

The villagers, who had relaxed once Omera deemed you and Din weren’t a threat, are eager to prove their reputation as spotchka brewmasters. Nothing brings people together like alcoholic beverages, and within the hour you are sitting on a log bench in the village center and chatting amicably with them.

It’s a happy, tight knit community. Omera’s nurturing powers have only further increased it’s natural conditioning as an ideal sanctuary to raise a family. Everyone knows one another and takes care of each other. You can see how easy it was for her to have fallen in love with the place.

“He’s different than I expected.” Omera interrupts your thoughts by nodding to someone behind you.

You follow her line of sight, and see Din standing distantly in a field of grass, surrounded by a squadron of younglings. He’s too far to be heard, but you can tell by the gesturing of his hands that he’s explaining to them the pieces of his armor. They’re hanging onto his every word, completely enthralled, if their wide-eyed expressions are any indication. You realize as you watch that they’ll never come to recognize Din as the true identity of Death due to Omera’s agreement with the Guild. In their eyes, he is just an interesting stranger wearing shiny metal who they can pester with an endless amount of questions.

“He’s got many layers,” you admit, turning back around before the bittersweet scene makes your heart melt into a disgusting puddle at your feet.

And it is only because you look away first that you notice how Omera’s gaze lingers just a beat too long.

“Does he ever take it off?” she asks. “The helmet, I mean.”

You hesitate, stalling by sipping at your spotchka. “Not when he’s Death.”

Omera looks at you like you’ve told her a riddle. “When is Death not Death?”

When he’s with me, the voice in the back of your head wants you to shout at her, but instead you ask, “You said earlier you handle the souls of the villagers when they pass away?” 

“They asked me if I could protect their planet for future generations,” Omera explains slowly, confusion still present in the lines of her face. “My powers are strongly connected to the growth of life, blessing both expectant mothers and nature’s saplings. After I chose to bind myself to Sorgan, the villagers offered to lend me their souls as sources of energy to further strengthen it. So now, rather than losing them to the afterlife, we continue to see those who have passed on in every blossoming flower and in each drop of rain, remaining part of our everyday lives despite their physical absence.”

“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, because it’s the truth. It’s also the confirmation you needed to hear to honestly tell her, “He wouldn’t be Death here. He’d have the opportunity to be anyone else he wanted.”

Omera lets the words sink in for a moment, then she returns to staring at Din, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. You don’t blame her for being curious, especially since he’s barely said anything to her, subsequently forcing you to be the sociable one. 

You thought when you both arrived he’d try harder than this to make a good first impression. Omera’s his potential soulmate, he knows this and yet it seems as if he’s doing all he can to avoid her. 

Omera startles you out of your thoughts when she abruptly inches closer to you, as if preparing to share a secret in your ear.

“You said you were helping Death find his soulmate,” Omera’s voice is no louder than a murmur, seeming uncharacteristically bashful all of the sudden as she tugs at a strand of hair. “Does he...Has he been marked?”

It occurs to you then that this whole time she’s been fishing for information from you, gradually leading up to this particular question. This is a good thing, you tell yourself, despite the sickening pit forming in your stomach. It means she hasn’t been offended by his standoffishness. 

“Yes.” Your head dips in a jerky nod. Fortunately the goddess doesn’t notice your awkwardness as she peers down at her hands folded in her lap. You know what’s there without having to see it. “We came here because I knew you’d been marked too.” 

“I’d hoped so,” she confesses, showing you her palm. “I didn’t think it was possible, someone like me having a soulmate.” An immortal, your mind deciphers her underlying meaning. “But, then again, the universe always seems to be full of surprises, right?”

Soulmate markings all resemble each other as black lines forming the shape of a heart no bigger than a bottlecap in the center of one’s palm, regardless of what the person looks like themselves. They only appear on select individuals the universe picks for reasons known only by the divine Maker. Those without marks often make the ignorant mistake of comparing them to tattoos. A soulmate mark doesn’t fade with time like ink does, remaining eternally vibrant and warm to the touch, as if there’s a tiny flame buried beneath the skin.

You’ve seen thousands of marks on thousands of hands, yet your mouth dries up at the sight of hers despite it looking no different. An unexpected tremor rocks your body, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s as if you’ve been stabbed by an invisible shard of ice, threatening to freeze you solid from the inside out.

When you speak, each word scrapes against the inside of your throat and tastes bitter on your tongue. “You should go talk to him.”

Omera’s face goes a bit pink. “You think so?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping it doesn’t resemble a grimace or, Maker forbid, a snarl. “I think you’ll never know if he’s your match unless you do.”

Not needing any more convincing, she spares you one last hopeful look before leaving to approach Din. She walks across the grassy field with unhindered grace, not once tripping over a rock or the bottom of her dress, and you can’t help feeling envious, knowing your clumsy feet wouldn’t be able to carry you three steps without an issue. You watch as she says something to the children, inducing several disappointed groans audible even from where you sit, before one by one they each depart, seeking entertainment elsewhere in the village.

Omera and Din fall into conversation, and you bite your lip, knowing you’re only making the ache hurt worse by watching but unable to tear your eyes away. Their conversation is too quiet for you to make out, but given the way Din’s body language is relaxed and without a hint of defensiveness, you’re convinced Omera’s definitely charming him.

They’ll make an attractive couple, you think before you can stop yourself. They’re similar, too, in that they both have protective streaks a mile wide when it comes to those they care about. As a divinely gifted caretaker, Omera will know just what to say to pull him out of one of his brooding episodes. She’ll soften his rough edges, lend him strength when he needs it most, and might even be able to convince him to settle down in the village where he can shed his persona as Death and actually experience life. Most importantly, though, you hope she’ll make him happy.

Because Din deserves someone who will make him happy every day of his existence.

You know it’s coming, but still your breath stutters when you see Din begin to remove his glove. He moves slowly, revealing tanned skin inch by inch as he pulls at the leather with his other hand. He has never been one to hesitate over things in the past, except when he showed you his mark that night at the train station. You really don’t want to think that Din could be nervous, but you also can’t determine any other reason explaining his behavior. Omera, for her part, is the perfect image of patience as she waits for him to initiate contact, if not for the way you spy her pulling anxiously at her brown locks again.

As Din reaches out to grab hold of Omera's hand, there is a second right before contact where his helmet shifts in your direction and you feel the intensity of his gaze cut through the distance, piercing your fragile heart.

In the next breath, an invisible explosive force sends you hurtling backwards through the air several feet. You bite your tongue when you collide with the ground and blood begins pooling in your mouth, causing you to gag at the coppery taste. Ignoring the pain emanating from your undoubtedly bruised rib cage, you force your body to roll over so you can spit out a scarlet blob onto the dirt. Gross, you think sluggishly.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has your head turning to look, but it takes several more seconds before your brain comprehends what you’re seeing.

The village looks as if a massive wind storm has swept through it in the last five seconds. Several villagers are slowly rising onto their feet, having apparently also been roughly tossed to the ground, looking just as bewildered by the state of things as you feel.

Your eyes next lock onto Din’s figure. He and Omera stand in the distance exactly where you last saw them, appearing completely unaffected by the unseen force. But rather than looking at each other with awe as all other soulmate pairs do, there is only unbridled shock on Omera’s face.

With newfound urgency, you stumble onto your feet, knowing something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Din!”

Your shout startles him enough he visibly jolts, increasing your worry tenfold.

Your feet skid to a stop closer to his body than you anticipated, nearly colliding face-first with his chest. It’s on the tip of your injured tongue to ask them what the hell just happened when Din beats you to the punch.

“What happened to you?” he demands, cradling your jaw. He’s using his gloved hand, you can’t help but notice. His other one—still uncovered from when it had touched Omera’s—is pressed firmly against the segment of armor protecting his upper thigh. His thumb starts to wipe at the blood staining the corner of your mouth, but you refuse to be tended to when there’s a bigger issue at stake.

“What happened?” you repeat incredulously, pulling away and resisting the urge to smack the side of his helmet. “I should be asking you that, idiot. Did you two match?”

Omera says nothing in response to your question, but there is something about the way she stares at you directly, like you’ve revealed a secret of the universe right in front of her, that brings back the same self-conscious feeling of being exposed you’d felt earlier.

“Look for yourself, angel,” Din answers with a tone full of scorn, gesturing widely to your surroundings with both arms. “Does any of this look like what you told me would happen?”

Taken aback by his hostile tone, you glance around the field, only to be stunned by what you’d initially failed to notice. In an almost perfect circle encompassing the three of you, the once beautifully green and luscious grass is now black and shriveled, entirely devoid of life. It crunches beneath your shoes as you nervously shift in place, eerily resembling the sound of bone breaking, and you’re beginning to understand the shock you’d glimpsed on Omera’s face.

“No,” you say, feeling slightly hysterical but doing your best to keep it out of your voice. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Omera had said that the universe is always full of surprises.

What a kriffing understatement that turned out to be.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​

[psalloacappella]

SSM21 Day 2. Festival

Pairing:  SasuSaku  Prompt: Festival  Title:  sparks will fly, they ignite our bones Tags:  AU - Modern Setting; First Dates; Wooing Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

(In which Sakura has the better aim.)

Ao3 | twt | full series link | @ssskmonth

“It’sa real date this time.” Each word’s punctuated by Naruto’s fist punching his opposite palm, driving home the importance of this. This being:  Street stall smells rich and piquant, a smoky-savory blend; lights flickering in kaleidoscopic, neurotic brilliance; children wild as free foals escaping their parents, weaving in and out of adults’ legs clutching cheap prizes and sparklers —

and him, Sasuke, on an actual fucking date with a woman with cotton-candy-colored locks who has been besting him every game and measure of skill imaginable, and his dumb plus-one buffer, the best friend, now droning on about how he needs to win her something.

“Anything!” Naruto throws his arms up, dramatic and exasperated, the only gearsetting he seems to have. “Teddy bear, ugly fish, keychain — literally any shitty prize to show her yer not a complete waste of time.”

“Sasuke!” Both men snap to, pretending to have been watching the whole time as Sakura jumps up and down, pumping a fist in the air. “I won again!”

With shiny, wide eyes, she places both her palms out in giddy anticipation to receive a stuffed bear donning a baseball cap of the local (terrible) team from a surly booth operator with a permanent frown.

“She’s comin’ this way!”

“I can see that,” Sasuke hisses. “You useless idiot.”

“Did I hear ‘charming wingman?’ ‘Kay, I’m gonna find some food. Give you two some time—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Alone.” Some strange tone aiming for sensual manifests as choking pigeon, and Naruto skips away as Sakura bounds up to Sasuke, smiling so wide he can see every perfect tooth.

“Did you see?” So proud of herself, arms laden with prizes. Some she’s already given away to cute children passing by, perhaps the sole supplier of noisemakers and soft bears. For a doctor in pediatrics, the urge to make smiles comes second nature. “Where’s he going?”

“Food, or something,” Sasuke murmurs, trying not to look as constipated and irritated as he had ten minutes prior — another gem from Naruto’s unasked-for criticism. “He’s left us alone.”

“Finally.” Definitely slipped out by accident, and Sakura grumbles over her mistake, red prickling her cheeks and chest. “Not that I dislike him, of course—”

“I do,” Sasuke says, absolutely deadpan. It takes her a moment.

“Uchiha Sasuke, did you just make your first joke?”

Ears burning in the cool night air, it’s his turn to smother his embarrassment. In lieu of further slip ups, he awkwardly gathers the items in her arms, a mishmash of unidentified thingamajigs and whatnots that you only find in curio shops or carnivals, and gallantly takes on their burden.

“Walk with me?”

So sure his voicebox just sustained a hairline crack; he hates himself for being nervous.

Eyes, hers, brighter than all the psychedelic frenzy swirling around them both, caught up in the haze; she has the uncanny ability to fade the rest to black, toss the entirety of the world’s existence aside.

Seeking to link her arm with his amid the mess of wares won, she succeeds and presses closer.

“I thought I’d die waiting,” she whispers into his sleeve. “I’ve been wanting you to notice me properly all night.”

Meandering, conjoined, down the main road; carved out for the celebration, buffeted by snack scents and other couples, groups of friends, and plenty of pairs pretending they’re still just and only that. Along the way she unloads her many winnings, surreptitious, in part kindly trying to relieve his burden but also calculating the space in her single occupancy apartment.

She watches people and lights, and he watches her.

Sakura’s gaze snags on a particular booth, more specifically a particular prize. Of the stuffed variety.

“Did . . .  something catch your eye?” he asks. Immediately thinks he sounds like an idiot. You know how to woo ‘em, and why does his inner voice sound like Naruto’s on this date, goddamn it —

Burying her cheek into his shoulder, she giggles and it threads beautiful, stringed tension in his throat and spine, symphonic, testing its own flex to see if she can orchestrate the rest of him. He wishes he could spin her around, lift her high in some filmesque climax, kiss her in the closing credits.

“Don’t laugh,” she says, “but I love slugs. Adore them, really. Gross, I know!” She raises her free hand and points directly at a giant stuffed slug on a high shelf behind the booth’s counter. “And honestly, I’d likely keep it in my office; the kids would love it.”

Sasuke knows, from what she’s disclosed, that these are sick kids, too. This ancient, gendered mating ritual is unavoidable and he’ll have to rise to the challenge. He must provide. Stupid, because she outstrips his earnings and likely will the rest of their life.

Says it like a throwaway, like no big deal:  “I’ll have to win it for you, then.”

The game? Aim. Darts. Doable if he’s sober and with equally (un)talented friends; ranging from Shino the sharpshooter to drunk and stumbling Suigetsu, he’s decidedly somewhere in the middle, but it should be enough raw talent to beat a festival game.

Sakura’s eyes are on him, excited. She dances a little from foot to foot, ready to cheer him on.

Dropping the rest of the prizes on the ground and shoving a fistful of coins at the booth operator, he smirks. Born ready, all those forced childhood sports camps and instrument lessons finessing his hand-eye coordination finally stepping up to the plate.

Imagine failing miserably three rounds in a row, the last one bouncing off the dartboard so violently it narrowly misses the sleepy booth operator. Sasuke grinds his teeth, jaw tight, wishing it’d met its mark.

To Sakura’s credit, she’s completely unperturbed. Almost makes it worse.

She pecks him on the cheek, scoring him through hot and fevered where her lips touch.

“Performance anxiety,” she quips, but her smile isn’t unkind. “Let me give it a try.”

Each dart that lands in the board does so with gusto, embeds itself deep into the sisal cork. As each one hits, Sasuke reflects they might as well be piercing him. The most painful blow is watching her indicate the bluebacked slug, winning it outright without his help, and squeezing it half to death in her arms.

They’re walking again, sans the rest of her prizes — left them for the booth operator, and whatever kids wander his way wanting toys with which to annoy their parents.

“You’ve been so quiet,” she says, shifting her slug under one arm and linking up with him again.  Sasuke shrugs against her. “I’m not sure what’s next with us.”

 He stops, figures it’s better to rip that bandaid off now, give her an out so he can save some face. Of course they’ve stopped on some coquettishly romantic bridge, arched over the still summer pond, a popular viewing spot for the night’s end fireworks.

She watches him expectantly, searching him with her sharp green eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her question is slow, puzzled.

What he means to say is something gentile. Instead he says, “You’re great at darts.”

She seems to sway, a physical manifestation of being caught off guard. Laughs. “Surprised me too! But you gave my arms a rest, so they were ready to win.” Curls her arm to indicate muscle, grinning.

Steps closer, melting through an unseen veil of personal space. Cherry scent; smoke.

“Could be all the shots you administer.”

“I guess we can call jabbing kids with needles a calling.” Mirroring him, she steps in too, and there’s not so much space between them anymore. “Good practice. You could come around sometime, see my work.”

Another tiny shuffle.

It’s time to break this. Sasuke inhales deeply, letting it out in measured beats. “Sakura—”

“If you’re mad you couldn’t win this for me,” she interrupts, “you’re being silly. I don’t care about that, you know.”

He tilts his head, and in spite of himself his hand wanders, brushing a stray strand of pink out of her face. “Hm?”

“I don’t,” she repeats, and sets her slug down on the wooden bridge. Breathes deeply before saying in a low, threaded voice, “What I care about is all the waiting.”

Sasuke feels it all fall into place. Oh. Oh.

“So come on, Sasuke.”

And before she’s even finished saying his name he’s kissing her, the last vibrations of his name caught on their lips, locked, and though the timing is perfect and picturesque, film archetype material as the fireworks charge the air around them, each one set off drawing ripple designs in the water beneath them, this thrill is unmatched, the way she wraps her arm around his neck to taste him deeper, the way he lifts her up to rest him on his hips and there’s nothing, has never been anything, quite like this.

Real fireworks pale in comparison.

Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

“The perfect end,” she whispers, “to a festival.”

[cassieoh]

Stellar Lifecycles by Anthony J Crowley, demon

1 - Irreversible Collapse

Tell me about the stars, Crowley. (You are my safe place to ask questions, Crowley. I have so many of them). How were they made? How do they live? (Surely there is worship in understanding God’s marvels? After all, the beauty of a good book isn’t just in the pleasure to the eyes, the pretty arrangement of words on the page. The pleasure is in the way the soul gazes into the mirror and comes to know itself better. Let me know the heavens better. Let me know you better.)

I’ll tell you, angel. God created the universe in heat and light, and then She created the angels to weave it. We took the light and moulded it in our hands, pressed it into protons and neutrons, tiny buzzing electrons, and then we pressed those together, too. She called them hydrogen atoms and we gathered them up in our arms into great luminous clouds. Then comes the neat bit, angel, the real trick. The Almighty looked at the way the bits of the atoms stuck together, and said, ‘like that, but for big things,’ and She called it gravity.

But how does gravity make a star?

It’s like a hill, you see. Or more like a valley. You put the cloud at the top and gradually, it’ll all fall down.

(Apples fall. Angels, too. Does a fall always end in fire?)

Those atoms’ll get closer together, it all starts to get hot. And you know, it’s still just a cloud at that point, swirling around in space and all that, but eventually, it gets dense enough that its own mass takes over, and it starts to collapse in on itself. It starts to collapse, right, and you can’t stop it. After that point, the star is going to get born come what may. It’s inevitable.

2 - Fusion

Well, and then things get hotter and hotter until… See, making hydrogen nuclei is easy, in the grand scheme of things. Take a proton, right? That's basically it. Sometimes add a neutron. 'S not that hard. The leap from hydrogen to helium, though, that's a thing. Takes a whole boatload of energy to force four of those recalcitrant little bastards to share space in a nucleus.

They don't just… attract? (Like you and I? Tell me we're just another law of nature, an inevitable binding.)

They get close enough, they do. Almost impossible to separate, eventually. But to start with, no. Something has to force them together, some external circumstance. Something like the heat generated in a collapsing gas cloud.

(Something like a conversation on a wall, an unexpected moment of kinship, the way my stomach swooped like a swallow when you smiled at me, close, close, under my wing.)

Are you still listening?

Yes, go on, my dear.

So, it gets hot enough to push the hydrogen nuclei together to form helium, but the really clever bit comes next, because, angel, get this. When they fuse, they actually release more energy. It's like Creation in miniature. Happens fast, too. BOOM. And suddenly your nice innocuous little gas cloud is a fiery ball of nuclear fusion.

3 - Balance

After that, you've got a main sequence star, happy to shine away for however long. Millions of years, probably, if She'd let it.

The atoms stop falling inwards? (Tell me there's an end, a soft landing. Surely it can't go on forever.)

For now. Gravity's still pulling them in, but the force of the fusion is also trying to push them back out.

Like a tug of war.

Exactly. Both sides are equally matched. No one's going anywhere. The forces are balanced.

Oh. A little like us.

You… yeah. You could say that.

4 - Imbalance

It doesn’t last, though. It can’t.

Why not? (If you don’t rock the boat, if you’re careful, surely nothing needs to change.)

All good things, angel, you know what they say. The star runs out of hydrogen, converts it all to helium, so there’s nothing left to burn. It’s like letting go of the rope in that tug of war. Gravity wins out, and hard. The star collapses in on itself, heats up again, until suddenly it’s hot enough to start fusing helium.

Oh, a daring rescue? (Tell me, tell me there’s a hero at the eleventh hour. Tell me there’s a safe way to proceed.)

Not... exactly. Not precisely, no. ‘Cause the same thing happens all over again -- the helium runs out, gravity wins, the star collapses and heats up until it’s hot enough to start burning the next biggest element. And so on and so forth. It just sort of wobbles about like that, expanding and contracting, clinging on desperately to life, until it’s burned through everything it can.

It sounds positively awful.

Perhaps, in a way. There’s something beautiful to it, too, though. Symphonic, almost. The layers of elements that build up like tree rings, the way it flings out its coronal envelope while the core is slowly collapsing, like a robin puffing up its chest feathers. Red giants, the humans’ll call them, and they’re magnificent.

But it’s dying.

No, I know, but-- this stage is important, because this is where the complex elements come from. Iron for blood, oxygen for air, carbon for-- everything. You can’t have life without this stage, angel. The star has to start to die for everything else to begin.

5 - End State

And that’s the end of it? Nucleogenesis completed? Do we… do we simply mourn the star’s noble sacrifice, and move on?

Not in the least, angel. How do you think the elements get out of the star to make life?

How, then?

A big-- really big explosion. Massive. As much light given off as an entire galaxy.

Oh, like the one we saw at Bethlehem. What did you call it?

A supernova. Exactly. Not all stars go out that way. Not the smaller ones. The sun will go with a bit less fanfare, just shut off the power and go dark one day. But the bigger ones, the ones with sufficient mass, they go up like a firework, like an atom bomb.

With a bang, rather than a whimper. I suppose you approve.

If you’ve got to go, go with style, that’s what I always say.

Yes, I am aware. (That's what I'm afraid of.) And after that?

Depends on the mass again. There’s always something left behind, some compact little memory of what went before. Might be a white dwarf or a neutron star. With sufficient mass, it can lead to a black hole. Even they serve their purpose, though. Most galaxies have them, right at the very centre. The dark heart of the cosmos.

Surely, this must be the end.

No, angel. Not even close.

6 - New Life

“I helped make this one,” Crowley said quietly. “Wasn’t much of an angel, but I enjoyed the work.”

“You should be proud,” Aziraphale said. “It’s incredible, my dear. Tell me about it?”

“It’s a stellar nursery, a place where new stars are born. D’you remember what I told you that time, about how stars live and die?”

“How could I forget?”

“Right. Well,” Crowley said, shifting a little, caressing Aziraphale’s fingers restlessly. “After the fusion’s stopped and the star’s gone cold, or exploded or whatever it’s going to do, the molecules that’re left over eventually form a nebula. Over time, gravity does its work again, and the densest bits of the cloud pull in more and more matter, until they’re dense enough to collapse into a protostar. At critical density, fusion starts all over again.”

“Bob’s your uncle.”

“Bob’s your…” Crowley shook his head. “Nevermind. Point is, a star died, and a new star was born. It’s different to what came before, more complex in its make-up maybe, but just as… just as precious.”

{excerpts from Starstuff, written by @themoonmothwrites​/the_moonmoth, illustrated by me/cassieoh for the Good Omens Big Bang 2019}

[oh-hxfiz]

i know, he knows, that he’s killing me for mercy.

İstanbul Havalimanı,  14/2/2018.

Hope and helplessness felt eerily the same; almost like joy and rage when tilted on its head. Hafiz wished that she could have held onto the hope and joy for a little bit long before reality set in. Hindsight w a s twenty twenty, right? 

The balmy curve of her lips and love sunken eyes painted her usually stone like expression with colors that she’d never seen before. The fissures in her wings have been paved with the hopefully excitement for her journey. Hafiz launched herself off the literal edge to chase the taste of love; a notion that had been since unattainable. Frantic fingers tossed the essentials into her carry on like the crisp passport that had begun to collect dust in her drawers. A few scraps of clothing and the money she’d asked Ceylan to exchange for her. Finally, she’d plucked her journal up from her desk with such tenderness. Flipping through it, she slipped the money into the bound before her gaze swept over the pink swirled date stamped with her signature scrawl. Today was the day Hafiz grew the courage to live. There was no time to pack the pristine easel that faced the marmalade muddled horizon catered to her greatest passion. Hafiz shifted the orchids out of the sun, knowing that they’d need all the help they could get to survive on their own. 

With one last glance, she’d fired out of her bedroom with a new found pep. Her nimble feet barely hitting the ground as she floated on literal air.  Passing through the grandiose corridor, she passed sweet goodbyes to the few staff members that had grown to be her private inner circle. They just didn’t know that this goodbye wouldn’t be as temporary as the nights before. Parts of her hoped their ignorance would dull the impact of her disappearance; they were the only one who would notice anyway. Hafiz avoided the west wing, her father’s office sunken into the depths like a forbidden fortress, a place no woman was merely allowed unannounced. Her memories of being summoned remained as bleak as her expectations for life s t u c k in this palace any longer. 

Hafiz wafted in the brimming chaos of the airport. Throngs of people embarking their own courageous beginnings or heartfelt ends. She didn’t mind the cramped feeling of being confined to common areas of the terminal. It only reminded her the lengths she was willing to go to live a life filled with meaning. Settling between two families, she subtly watched them anxiously prepare their children for the flight. Tiny hands spread out like wings of the great aircraft that would bring them far from the hazy warmth of home. She hung off every encouraging word uttered by the raven haired woman who bared the same friendly expression as her children. Selfishly, she envisioned her own mother encouraging her to be b r a v e for her in the face of such uncertainty. To look to her when it got too hard and to hold on tight when it all became too much. Hafiz hugged her duffle bag closer to her chest to calm the bittersweet flutter in her heart; for today she didn’t have to lose. Instead, she could hold onto Daisuke in the face of her uncertainty. 

 Flight 0214 now boarding.

Her excitement drifted farther away with each row of people checking in. Hafiz’s heart kicked up with fury with each approaching shadow to only be let down. He’s coming. He’s coming now. Her words softening with each pitiful excuse poured over the attendant who called for the remaining straggles to board for last call. Hafiz called a dozen times and enjoyed the symphonic sound of silence after the beep. She posture deflated as she sank into the plastic seat, her duffle bag swinging between her parted knees. 

The once cerulean sky had faded to an aloof indigo but she sat undisturbed. Her hope cooling and cracked like paint left open. Hafiz barely registered the light touch from the well dressed figure. The glimmering shine of her family’s crest twinkling off the man’s cufflink. A signature embossed symbol stamped on all of her father’s minions. Swallowing back the tight feeling in her throat, their words mumbled to the static between her ears, Hafiz rose from her seat with a defeated nod.

Your father is waiting.

“I know,” she whispered. A single tear staining her cheek; it had been the last tear she shed. 

@dvisckc

[icybeanheadcanons]

What instruments would Classic and UF Papyrus, UnderSwap??? Sans (Blue) and Papyrus play (if any), and would they enjoy having their s/o play music for them?

VIBRATES IN EXCITEMENT AAAA THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!!! I freaking, love instruments and how there are all sorts of them!!!! I was a flute player in marching and symphonic band and i still love it!! 

~~~~~~~~

Tale

Trumpet or french horn!!!!! He’s loud, he’s proud, and he’s got the energy for it!!! He would definitely enjoy having music played for him!!! If you play an instrument, he’s playing with you!!! 

Soft Edge

cLARINET. HANDS DOWN. He’s definitely a clarinet player. While he’d want to go for a brass instrument, he wouldn’t really enjoy them, but a clarinet is RIGHT up his alley, he likes the sound, and he’s very attentive to his reed. He’d love having music played for him, and he’d play his clarinet for you after some time!

Honey Bear

PICCOLO TROMBONE. YES ITS A THING, PLEASE, LOOK AT THEM. THEY’RE TINY. He plays it because it is tiny, and it just gives this chaotic ridiculous VIBE and he’s like PERFECT. He’s just like hold on, while i play you a sad song, on the tiniest trombone in the world. He’s annoying sassberry with it. Music he’s not often playing himself, but he’s absolutely dinking around when he does. He’d be happy for you to play him music though, and would ask to have you play for him!!! He may try to make you laugh while you’re playing with silly dances, or if you hit a note he’s like “oH yEAH.”

Sassberry

I feel like Flute and piccolo. Starting out with flute, and then fading into the piccolo. He ADORES the sound, and he loves doing a lot of playful styled songs!! Fun little tunes that are light. He’d be happy to have lots of music around in his life!! So if you play an instrument at all he’s happy to listen and have you playing in his house!! 

[piermanwalter]

Thief’s Apprentice: More on Magic

Things Involving Souls that Aren’t Technically Magic

According to Sidran magic theory, magic is strictly defined as energy from soul dying outside of the body harnessed for telekinesis of a single material. Anything not fulfilling all these criteria is not magic. Other parts of The World have different classifications, but in Veilheim, most people tend to call everything involving the soul leaving the body magic, and those who use more stringent definitions in normal conversation are considered elitist nerds.

Being Alive

Soul is a quantifiable spiritual substance produced by all living things and also some magically altered dead things. It can only stably exist within bodies and objects, but takes up no physical space. Soul needs to die to provide the impetus for beginning every conscious action. Normally, the amount of soul killed is so small and the rate of soul regeneration is so fast that people can do normal things like walk and talk without lasting effects on their soul. But if the mind, body, and soul are out of balance, normal activity can cause debilitating damage, whether by reducing the soul to the point where the bearer loses the will to live, or by bloating the soul until the bearer becomes dangerously overconfident.

This is one reason why powerful living mages often develop terrible and selfish personalities, which I will go into later. Revenants can deal with having gigantic souls because they are dead and the plague has severed the connection between mind, body, and soul, preventing one part from directly affecting the others.

Every living thing on The World is capable of killing their own souls inside their bodies to achieve otherwise impossible things in life-or-death situations, such as driving chemical reactions backwards to avoid drowning. This is much less efficient than magic, because souls are supposed to live and die in bodies. When soul dies in a body like usual, very little energy can be harnessed to perform magic-like functions, and it can only affect the soul’s body. When someone miraculously survives a disaster, but doesn’t have the will to speak afterwards, it is believed they killed own soul to survive. There is much philosophical debate if all negative emotions in the mind are caused by destruction of the soul, or if negative emotions are caused by the mind itself being destroyed.

Scrying, Astral Projection, and Other Forms of Sending Souls

As you may know, revenants sense their surroundings by breaking off tiny pieces of soul and sending them radiating out of their bodies, feeling substances by how their soul fragments die as they travel through them. Although the soul has left the body and died, this is not strictly magic because the resulting energy dissipates and isn’t used for anything. This can also be done by the living, but they typically can’t handle this level of soul destruction without adverse effects.

Souls can pass through anything except other souls, which allows hiding from projection by being in a crowd, a forest, or giant magic item. A soul in its original living body will override any material sensing and other souls will sense it as its own self image. This means very few people look the same in light the same way as they do from soul sensing, and self esteem has an even greater impact on appearance.

This also means revenants see many dogs as green, because the dogs themselves think they are green. Pragmus of Veilheim is a great curiosity to revenants because he was born blind and has no self image. To revenants, Pragmus appears as a void in the shape of a man. Living people with extreme dysmorphia or intentional self delusion can shapeshift from a revenant’s perspective. Do the Ophtha of Surenia truly have blue hair and massive eyes, or is it a result of internalised cultural identity?

Alchemy

When soul dies outside the body, but the energy dissipates without being harnessed, it has very small and unpredictable effects on its surroundings. Although it can be argued that this is a form of telekinesis, the lack of conscious control and one soul’s effect on all substances means by Sidran theory, alchemy is not magic. Normally this goes unnoticed, but during complex chemical reactions, the presence of dying souls changes the proportions of resulting products, sometimes to the point where impossible side reactions occur for seemingly no reason. Some believe this is a similar to what happens when soul dies in its body. It’s still not understood how this happens, but alchemists use it to their advantage.

To have some level of control over chemical reactions, alchemists detach a large piece of soul to chase away small fragments of soul, then return their soul to their bodies. Alchemists can also deliberately introduce soul into reactions to drive it towards rare products.

Although alchemy is well-studied, many untrained people do it unintentionally by yelling at wet paint and oily sauces until things work themselves out. Alchemy also happens as a side effect of soul sending, and anywhere with an extremely high concentration of people soul sending has a lot of weird shit happen, like paper suddenly bursting into flame, or metal rusting at supernatural speed, or caramel producing long strands of carbon fiber. Some people call this Folk Magic, since it only happens when a lot of folks are around. Preventing unpredictable Folk Magic is why alchemists are vital to quality control for any transformative process.

Alchemists can also forcibly use or disenchant magic and religious items by bullying the other souls out of it.

Things that are Magic

Magic is when soul dies outside the body, and the resulting energy is harnessed to greater and more specific results than everything I just talked about. Magic is separated into genres of materials that can be moved by one person.  Each living being can perform a maximum of two magic genres. It still isn’t known why, but many cultures independently developed the theory that the soul is actually composed by two parts, conscious and subconscious, will to act and will to live, central nervous system or peripheral nervous system, human spirit and animal spirit, or whatever you want to call it. One part serves as fuel for higher level thinking and motivation, and the other serves as fuel for simple activities such as breathing or metabolising needed to stay alive. It is believed that each part can separately be killed to produce different genres of magic.

There aren’t strict classifications of magic genres, and a lot of magic genres end up being the same thing at different scales or in different applications. Industrial Magic is fine control of metals, while Doom Magic causes mountains to collapse. Symphonic Magic is fine control of the air to make sounds, while Pirate Magic changes wind direction. People still aren’t sure if Death Magic, control of the dead, and Black Magic, control of soulless products of the living such as hair and dust, are different things.

Magic can only be performed on materials that don’t have soul. Gore Magic is the sole exception. It can only be done on living things containing their own soul. In many cases, magic and alchemy must be combined to purge the soul fragments out of something so it can be moved telekinetically. 

Religion

By Sidran theory, since religion is when many souls inhabit the same magic item, and are killed to grant specific prayers, by definition it is magic. If you say this in other parts of The World, you might get killed.

Channelling  

Channeling is similar to religion or magic items, in that someone else’s soul is being killed and harnessed by a different person to do magic. The key difference is that the other soul is stored in the user’s body for some time before being killed, which grants finer control and more power. Channellers absorb soul fragments from their surroundings to bolster their own will and do magic. Essentially, channelling is magic when the channelled souls are killed for magic, and channelling is not magic when the channelled souls are killed for other purposes.

Although there are established channelling techniques, anyone can do this unintentionally by encouraging and motivating someone, or by instantly leeching the good vibes out of a room whenever they show up. 

The Moon bones, who consume all soul that gets too close to The Moon, are channellers. Revenants are also all technically channellers, but I will get into that later.

Why Aren’t There More Mages?

Given the spectacular power achieved by magic, you’d expect there to be perpetually increasing mage populations, as well as the progressive increase in mage strength over history, but it doesn’t happen because magic has some terrible drawbacks.

Mages typically are humongous assholes because they are expected to burn huge amounts of soul. If moving a giant boulder kills the same amount of soul as finding out your child was murdered, mages often become soul-deprived wrecks and die, or become incredibly callous to tragedy because they feel like this all the time.

Mages also tend to develop all kinds of health problems and mental illnesses, because their minds and bodies are deprived of energy, since too much of it is going to their souls, and also because miraculous reactions from too much soul dying inside the body can warp their bodies to the point where organs start poisoning themselves and conventional medicine stops working. 

To avoid soul deprivation, the most healthy and powerful mages have enormous souls, but this causes other problems. Having a bloated soul, as you know, leads to dangerous overconfidence, but also stubbornness, selfishness, and dedication bordering on insanity. 

Although society benefits greatly from mages, its best that there are only a few of them. Societies ruled by or composed mostly of mages are always extremely violent and unstable, undergoing rapid cycles of expansion, infighting, and collapse. Gehenna knows this and purposefully instigates succession wars whenever a Pontiff dies to ensure the powerfully magical royal family can function as a just and semi-reasonable ruling body during other times.

Once again, revenants don’t usually have these problems because they are dead and and the plague has severed the connection between mind, body, and soul, preventing one part from directly affecting the others. However, if pursuit of magic power becomes a societal goal, things can get just as bad.

The Necromancer’s Unholy Power

As the most powerful mage on The World, The Necromancer is the embodiment of the worst of magic. A violent, power-hungry society enabled him to invent the plague, and its ideals continue to compel him to lord over and exploit other people despite being completely alienated from the new post-plague society. 

All revenants are sustained by The Necromancer’s magic. He constantly radiates countless soul fragments that move all throughout The World and are attracted to plague bacteria. The plague bacteria then act as channellers, using The Necromancer’s soul as fuel to infect people and sever the connection between mind, body, and soul. The plague bacteria sustain the plaguebearer’s mind, letting the body rot and soul grow enormous. 

You can think of The Necromancer as an internet service provider, his soul fragments as WiFi, and the plague bacteria as modems. You can also think of vampirism as stealing WiFi.

After 700 years of soul sending, all of The World is blanketed in a thick miasma of The Necromancer’s soul fragments. This revived The Moon bones, and skewed chemical reactions everywhere to the point where many techniques developed before the plague don’t work without alchemy. Without knowing, he also raised the boiling and melting point of water by a few degrees, causing huge ice freezes even at high temperatures, and refuses to let carbonic acid form in the air in any circumstances. 

Much of North Beringia is covered by ice, partially because The World is cold to begin with, partially because mass plague death decreased human wood and coal burning, and also because underground revenants attract The Necromancer’s soul fragments. Vast lifeless fields of ice in impossibly warm weather is a sign that revenants will burst from the ground soon.

The more proud of his experiments, the bigger his soul gets, and the bigger his soul gets, the more experiments he can do. The Necromancer would be unstoppable if he wasn’t an easily impressed diva.

[your-angle-of-music]

Anyone want my playlist for my dream cast version of Les Miserables?

Here it is!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyXOfYb8cpflTuoC6FuFMwyCuD60-V0J4

It’s as close to the full show as I can get. Let me know if I miscredited anyone, am missing any major songs, or have anything listed out of order. I’m happy to be convinced that a different version of a song should reign supreme as well, so hit me up!

Song/actors list and explanations under the cut.

1. Overture/Work Song - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Terrence Mann as Javert (Original Broadway)

It’s a big, bombastic, awesome beginning. I definitely vibe with the especially over-the-top synth and these particular convicts’ generally growly, desperate tone. Wilkinson’s Valjean, eternally my favorite, doesn’t seem feral like some versions I’ve seen, but rather like he’s trying so hard to just be good and get through this and keep it together, until he snaps a bit at “My name is Jean Valjean” and the way he acts that gives me chills. Mann’s Javert seems more cold than over-the-top aggressive, which I always like, although he doesn’t stick out thaaat much to me.

2. On Parole/The Bishop - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Paul Monaghan as Bishop Myriel (10th Anniversary)

I love everything about Wilkinson’s Valjean’s “freedom is mine” bit. His unique diction and his perfect tenor-ness and the hope in his voice...yeah. The way he hits and holds that “fliiiiiiiight” note is also pretty perfect. It sounds like the scream he was holding in the whole time he was in prison. I also appreciate Monaghan’s Bishop’s sudden earnestness at the “But remember this, my brother” part and the way he holds that last low “I have bought your soul for God.”

3. Prologue/What Have I Done? - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (Original London)

Wilkinson’s Valjean seems to make the beginning part properly fast and frantic, then switches to a gentle, heartwrenchingly vulnerable tone, then his absolutely anguished “this is all I have known.” As always, he excels at those high notes and long notes.

4. At the End of the Day - Lea Salonga as Fantine, Alfie Boe as Jean Valjean, Jeff Nicholson as the Factory Foreman (25th Anniversary)

All the women here sound so angry, at everyone and everything, and it’s pretty great. Honestly, it was Nicholson’s factory foreman here that really caught my ear, with his nasty “oi!” after the “and in a bed” line and his frankly terrifying “on your way!”. I like Salonga’s Fantine’s note of desperation, although she honestly could sound a little angrier. This track includes a tiny bit of the beginning of “I Dreamed a Dream” and then cuts off — sorry about that.

5. I Dreamed a Dream - Maureen Moore as Fantine (1988)

Something about this recording makes it sound like it’s much older than it is, and that slightly echoey sound makes it sound all the more haunting. A lot of Fantines sound enraged here, and I like that too, but something about Moore’s just utter sadness and vulnerability just sells it for me like no one else can. She sounds so young, because Fantine is. And then the way she belts “shame” is perfection. The way she goes from quiet and gentle at the beginning to desperate belting at the end and then the soft last lines murders my soul every time.

6. Lovely Ladies - Randy Graff as Fantine (Original Broadway)

Honestly...I haven’t found a version of this song that I love yet. There’s still this air of humor to it that feels incongruous at best and mean-spirited at worst. But I really like the worn-out, older sounding voices of a lot of the women singing to Fantine, and Graff’s Fantine’s anguish and slightly breaking voice is definitely good, as is her “don’t they know they’re making love to one already dead?”

7. Fantine’s Arrest - Caissie Levy as Fantine, Nathaniel Hackmann as Jean Valjean, Earl Carpenter as Javert (2014)

I love Levy’s Fantine here, with her fear and her fierceness. The way she spits out that “even a whore who’s gone to the bad won’t be had by a rat” is perfect in every way, as is her pleading after. Carpenter’s Javert has a lovely bass and is also cold and punchable, as all Javerts should be. This is one of the only songs on this playlist I have a video for, and I appreciate the blocking; the women crowding around Fantine and then fleeing, and the way Hackmann’s Valjean keeps his distance from Fantine and generally radiates  respect and tenderness.

8. The Runaway Cart - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Terrence Mann as Javert (Original Broadway)

Thank you @lesbianrung for this recommendation! The ensemble sounds frantic and scared here, sometimes screaming more than singing, but for a chaotic scene like this, it works. Mann’s Javert is more reserved here than some I’ve seen, a bit more like the authority-fearing, self-loathing Brick Javert. Wilkinson’s Valjean sounds like a wreck when he’s begging someone to help him lift the cart, does a great little nervous laugh on “say what you must, don’t leave it there,” and belts his “how can you be sure that I am not your man” to excellent effect.

9. Who Am I? - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (Original Broadway)

Hey quick question did I mention that I love Colm Wilkinson? God that tormented shiver in Valjean’s voice...the softness of that last “I am damned”..his buildup up to “I’m Jean Valjean”...the way he hits that last “two-four-six-oh-oneeeeeeee”...yeah no there is one (1) Jean Valjean and that is Colm Wilkinson.

10. Come to Me/Fantine’s Death - Ruthie Henshall as Fantine, Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (10th Anniversary)

Henshall’s Fantine sounds so gentle yet so powerful here. The way she sings “I will sing you lullabies and wake you in the morning” absolutely shatters me and always will.Her belting sounds beautiful and clear and perfect, vulnerable yet strong. The way she fades out on her last word, “wake,” is utterly haunting. Wilkinson’s Jean Valjean sounds soft and caring, and the way he half-breathes a lot of the words is. Oh.

11. The Confrontation - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Philip Quast as Javert (10th Anniversary)

Quast’s Javert has a true bass quality that really, really works, like in the way he says “you’ll wear a different chain.” In general, the way he seems to bite off his words and the steely determination of his voice is perfect. He balances really well with Wilkinson’s Valjean who, for the first time, sounds scary, but can switch to softness for the dead Fantine. The last “I will be there” is excellent all-around.

12. Castle on a Cloud - Zoë Hart as Little Cosette (Original London)

Hart’s Little Cosette is insanely good! She really does sound like a little kid and still has awesome acting and she’s in tune! Her “there is a lady all in white, holds me and sings me a lullaby” bit is heartbreaking.

13. Master of the House - Barry James as M. Thenardier, Gay Soper as Mme. Thenardier (International Symphonic)

James and Soper are my favorite Thenardiers of all time, by far. I like this longer version that mentions M. Thenardier’s Waterloo shenanigans. James’ Thenardier sounds gleefully evil, and I like his whispery, growly tone or rowdy almost-shouting. You can absolutely hear his nasty grin. His affected r-rolling also reminds me a lot of the Brick characterization. Soper’s Mme. Thenardier has a weasely quality to her voice that seems appropriate, but she does not shy away from the ruder lines (”lifelong shit,” “not much there,” “up the master’s ass,” etc.) and she, like her husband, seems to be having a lot of fun and lapping up the attention. I adore how she delivers her “bastard in the house” line.

14. The Bargain/Waltz of Treachery - Barry James as M. Thenardier, Gay Soper as Mme. Thenardier, Gary Morris as Jean Valjean, Marissa Dunlop as Little Cosette (International Symphonic)

Morris’ Valjean and Dunlop’s Little Cosette’s “la la la la la la la la” harmony is amazing and tender and adorable and may or may not make me cry which is not supposed to happen before Act II. Morris’ delivery of his “now her mother is with God” and “I stand here in her place” lines is powerful, too. The Thenardiers sound delightfully sleazy and dramatic, too. I like that Morris’ Valjean sounds actually angry at them, unlike many others I’ve seen. I almost have to admit though, I miss the movie version of the final lines, where they had “Will you be like a papa to me?”/”Yes Cosette, yes it’s true, I’ll be father and mother to you,” while here, like in other stage shows, they have “Will there be castles and children to see?”/”Yes Cosette, yes it’s true, there’s a castle just waiting for you” because 1) I like Valjean’s father and mother role that Hugo kept talking about in the Brick, and 2) in the musical, it seemed pretty clear that there weren’t actually any other children around Cosette until Marius showed up!

15. Suddenly - Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean (2012 movie)

Yes, I’m including this song from the movie. Honestly, I don’t like the song itself that much, and I don’t think Jackman’s Valjean has the strongest voice, although his acting is extremely sweet, and when he almost whispers “full of light” and “like the sun” I definitely almost lose it. But I’m mainly including this song because the musical really did need a song that fills this role. The stage musical devotes a weirdly small amount of time to Cosette and Valjean’s relationship, considering that it drives Valjean’s actions for the rest of the story and it is central to the Brick (and one of my favorite parts of it, too). This is the first time that Valjean has ever felt truly loved in his life! Something suddenly HAS begun!

16. Look Down - Ross McCall as Gavroche, Anthony Warlow as Enjolras (International Symphonic)

I fell in love with this version because of the ensemble, honestly. It started out loud and powerful and strong, even more so than the Overture/Work Song bit. McCall’s Gavroche is beyond perfect, though. He is strong and sassy, and angry too, more than most Gavroches in the beginning, but he also sounds so young! Warlow’s Enjolras has an incredibly powerful voice as well, and makes a pretty awesome first impression.

17. The Robbery - Carrie Hope Fletcher as Eponine Thenardier, Rob Houchen as Marius Pontmercy, Cameron Blakely as M. Thenardier, James Gant as Javert (2013)

This is another song I’ve got the blocking for. It’s pretty standard, although I always like when a Marius, like Houchen’s, gets involved in the Fray to defend Cosette. I love the dynamic between Fletcher’s Eponine and Houchen’s Marius, with affection and teasing and care, and their little smiles and head shakes, but also with a bit of discomfort on Marius’ end — he seems a little awkward about trying to get his books back with minimal contact, and he seems to be deflecting the “I like the way you grow your hair” thing as nicely as he can, but definitely deflecting. Blakely doesn’t make much of an impression as Thenardier (although his “told you so” is really funny), and Gant is not my favorite Javert, but Fletcher’s “It’s Javert” is ridiculously awesome.

18. Stars - Philip Quast as Javert (10th Anniversary)

Quast’s Javert is...yeah, what else is there to say?

19. Eponine’s Errand - Kaho Shimada as Eponine Thenardier, Michael Ball as Marius Pontmercy (International Symphonic)

I wish this recording weren’t missing Gavroche’s little part beforehand, but I think Shimada’s Eponine and Ball’s Marius are worth the trade-off. Shimada sounds a little softer and sadder here, not angry like in some versions, which I don’t mind. But when she sees Marius, she switches to determinedly playful which is all the more heartwrenching. And her “I don’t want your money, sir” hurts. Ball’s Marius’ voice is nice and lovestruck and also not softening his single-minded obliviousness. I like his gentle desperation at his “Eponine, do this for me.” I also like that the lyric here is “don’t let her father know” instead of “don’t let your father know.”

20. Red and Black - Eddie Redmayne as Marius Pontmercy, Aaron Tveit as Enjolras, George Bladgen as Grantaire (2012 movie)

Embarrassing as it is to admit, Eddie Redmayne is my favorite Marius. He’s emotional and, well, a noodle, but also very sweet and sings well and has a higher, lighter voice than most Marii I’ve seen. He’s young!  They’re all so young! And I like that Tveit’s Enjolras feels a lot less shouty here ; it's more accurate to Brick descriptions of his interactions with his friends, and reflects his kind of angelic vibe. And I definitely appreciate that Bladgen’s Grantaire’s mocking is a little softer here — he knows a thing or two about impossible love. I do love his little laugh when he says “it is better than an opera.” And that last “they will come when we call” makes me feel things.

21. Do You Hear the People Sing? - Michael Maguire as Enjolras (Original Broadway)

Sometimes you need an angelic Aaron Tveit, and sometimes you need a powerhouse Michael Maguire. Damn.

22. In My Life - Judy Kuhn as Cosette, David Bryant as Marius Pontmercy, Frances Ruffelle as Eponine Thenardier, Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (Original Broadway)

Kuhn’s Cosette has such a sweet voice, and you can hear her quiet fierce excitement in the beginning. She manages to sing Cosette’s high notes with softness and gentleness really well for the most part, although I’m not that fond of the sound on her “does he know I’m alive? do I know if he’s real?” high notes. Wilkinson’s Valjean seems gentler than some of the others I’ve seen, even on the “no more words” bit, and a lot of his negative emotion seems to be directed inward. Bryant’s Marius is in love, and sounds perhaps a bit too confident and a bit too old for my taste. No, what really stands out here is Frances Ruffelle’s Eponine. God, I love Frances Ruffelle’s Eponine. Starting off strong with that agonized “every word that he says is a dagger in me,” she sounds so young, with an almost-whiny, heartwrenching edge that reminds me the most of her Brick characterization, but she gets so gentle on her last “waiting here.”

23. A Heart Full of Love - Katie Hall as Cosette, Gareth Gates as Marius Pontmercy, Rosalind James as Eponine Thenardier (2010)

This recording picks up with James’ Eponine’s “waiting here,” definitely an interesting comparison. She sounds awesome throughout this piece, with a lovely warm alto voice. And I love love LOVE Katie Hall’s Cosette, with all her strength and sweetness. God, you can hear her smiling. She shines the most when she sings her softest lines, like “no fear, no regret,” “I'm awake,” and the last “after all.” Gates’ Marius is incredibly charming, but still absolutely an awkward mess, and you can hear him dying inside when he says “oh God, for shame, I do not even know your name.” The balance between all three of their voices is perfect.

24. Plumet Attack - Frances Ruffelle as Eponine Thenardier, Bernard Leo Burmester as M. Thenardier (Original Broadway)

Burmester’s Thenardier is properly scary here. Once again Ruffelle’s Eponine steals the show, belting all of her lines perfectly. Her “told you I’d do it” is haunting and perfect and brave in that oh-so-Eponine way, with a hint of petulance.

25. One Day More - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Terrence Mann as Javert, Judy Kuhn as Cosette, Davis Bryant as Marius Pontmercy, Frances Ruffelle as Eponine Thenardier, Bernard Leo Burmester as M. Thenardier, Jennifer Butt as Mme. Thenardier (Original Broadway)

Everyone starts out so soft, and they make this song build so perfectly and balance each other out impeccably. Ruffelle’s Eponine’s “one more day all on my own” bit rises above it all, and her voice sounds so clear and powerful and good. Also did you hear that loud and long “one day more!” out of Wilkinson’s Valjean? And Les Amis’ triumphant swelling chorus? Everyone here is superhuman, I swear.

26. Building the Barricade (Upon These Stones) - Michael Ball as Marius, Kaho Shimada as Eponine Thenardier, Anthony Warlow as Enjolras, Philip Quast as Javert (International Symphonic)

It’s mistitled as “At the Barricade” but I pinky promise it’s not. Ball’s Marius sounds genuinely concerned and touchingly pissed. Shimada’s Eponine is sweet and playful, and her “little you know, little you care” has very little bite, which I’m not sure I like. What I absolutely adore, though, is the bit where she delivers Marius’ letter to Morris’ Valjean. Shimada sounds suddenly shy, and Morris seems in full adopting mode. Something about this exchange just feels incredibly sweet to me. And then when Morris reads Marius’ letter, and his little pause in the “you love me as well” part is perfection.

27. On My Own - Frances Ruffelle as Eponine Thenardier (Original Broadway)

What can I say? Ruffelle’s Eponine absolutely kills it. She has a lovely husky voice that sounds sweet and sad and angry and powerful and broken all at once. I love the way she sings “in the rain, the pavement shines like silver” and “and I know it’s only in my mind, that I’m talking to myself and not to him” and “all my life I’ve only been pretending” and of course that “a world that’s full of happiness that I have never known.” The way she builds up from sweet fantasizing to absolute anguish...and then she breathes out those last “I love him”s and she sounds like the teenager Eponine is. God. I need a moment. Or several.

28. Javert at the Barricade - Terrence Mann as Javert, I can’t find the Gavroche which enrages me to no end (Original Broadway)

Mann’s Javert isn’t as dramatic as I’d like, but I’m here for Gavroche. I do miss the Les Amis dialogue that happens in newer versions of this song, but the older version of this song, which includes a lot more of “Little People” is better in my opinion because it makes Gavroche’s death scene all the sadder. I adore this particular Gavroche’s sassiness and spunk and his powerful voice.

29. A Little Fall of Rain - Frances Ruffelle as Eponine Thenardier, Michael Ball as Marius Pontmercy (Original London)

Ruffelle’s Eponine sounds so utterly vulnerable here, but with a hint of strange almost-happiness that reminds me of the Brick’s version of her death scene. Her voice feels lighter and sweeter here than anything else, and Ruffelle’s Eponine always has a different way of singing when Marius can hear her from how she sings when he can’t, and here we feel them merging together, especially at her “hold me now and let it be, shelter me, comfort me.” And I adore Ball’s Marius softness here, especially during the duet part. His “hush-a-bye, dear Eponine” is angelic. The whole song feels so intimate with them. This is always the point where I start crying.

30. Night of Anguish - Michael Ball as Marius Pontmercy, Anthony Warlow as Enjolras, Gary Morris as Jean Valjean (International Symphonic)

Somber all-around, and everyone’s voice is good. No performer sticks out that much, to be honest. I do get chills whenever the “Drink with Me” theme comes on in the background. And when Jean Valjean comes in, the rising terror of Les Amis becomes apparent, and all their voices are strong.

31. The Attack - David Burt as Enjolras (Original London)

Again, a plot song in between the big ones, so not too much to say here, but everyone sings well.

32. Drink With Me - Aaron Tveit as Enjolras, George Bladgen as Grantaire, Eddie Redmayne as Marius Pontmercy, Daniel Huttlestone as Gavroche Thenardier (2012 movie)

Just to warn you, the sound doesn’t kick in until a few seconds in. I absolutely love this version (once the generous poster re-added Grantaire’s solo, of course). I love Tveit’s Enjolras’ weariness and gentleness at the beginning, reminiscent of Brick Enjolras who loves his friends in his fierce and quiet way. You can hear the heartbreak in his “Marius, rest.” I love how Huttlestone’s Gavroche echoes Les Amis’ lines throughout the chorus — I’ve never seen that in any of the stage productions. And God, Bladgen’s Grantaire. He is so much more earnest here than others I’ve seen, and I appreciate that he gets quiet on “can it be, you fear to die?” as if he’s past defiant anger and is already grieving. He just has a clear, lovely voice. And although it sucks that the movie cut his solo out and it had to be edited in this way, I almost like how faraway it makes this part sound, as if Grantaire is still holed up in the Corinthe with his wine, looking down at his friends, half-awake and helpless. I appreciate that Redmayne’s Marius’ lyric was changed from “Would you weep, Cosette, should Marius fall?” to “Would you weep, Cosette, if I were to fall?” because it sounds a lot more like something someone would actually say. Also, this is another clip with video, and I’m really happy with how it looks, especially the way both Enjolras and Valjean are off to the distance and the way it pans to Valjean when Marius is singing about Cosette.

33. Bring Him Home - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (10th Anniversary)

Wilkinson’s Valjean starts out so quiet, with the perfect sweet spot of vibrato. Literally all of his high notes sound perfect and still expressive! I almost don’t know what to highlight, but just listen to how he decrescendos on that “I am old, and will be gone” and the power in that “if I die, let me die” and that absolutely ethereal last “bring him home” which he holds for so so long for a note that high for a tenor. This man has the range, darlings.

34. Dawn of Anguish - Anthony Warlow as Enjolras (International Symphonic)

Warlow’s Enjolras absolute grief and tenderness is absolutely heartwrenching. The way he delivers the line “we will not abandon those who cannot hear.” And that little “Drink with Me” reprise feels like getting stabbed. Whenever they end it with “if I die, I die with you” I stop breathing for too many seconds.

35. The Second Attack/Death of Gavroche - Daniel Huttlestone as Gavroche Thenardier, Aaron Tveit as Enjolras, Hadley Fraser as the Army Officer (2012 movie)

Huttlestone’s Gavroche is amazing. You can hear that he’s in pain but not even scared as he sings in a clear, powerful voice. Fraser also killed his “you have no chance, no chance at all” and I’m honestly surprised he didn’t get cast as one of Les Amis. And, of course, Tveit’s Enjolras’ “until the Earth is free!” could have singlehandedly killed King Louis-Philippe.

36. Dog Eats Dog - Bernard Leo Burmester as M. Thenardier (Original Broadway)

Barry James’ Thenardier might be the funniest, but Burmester’s will always be the scariest. His growly tones and big dynamic changes and dramatic enunciation really make this. The breathy way he says “when the gutters run with blood” and his powerful final “the harvest moon shines down” is beyond chilling.

37. Javert’s Suicide - Philip Quast as Javert, Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean (10th Anniversary)

Wilkinson’s Valjean here is the angriest I’ve ever seen his portrayal of the character. There is so much pent-up bitterness in his “I knew you wouldn’t wait too long.” Quast’s Javert is wonderful, as always. In his duet part with Wilkinson, with his half-feral “I will be waiting, two-four-six-oh-one,” both of them shine. And then during his main soliloquy, when he goes from snarling, “it is either Valjean or Javert!” to sounding so soft and lost as he begins the “how can I now allow this man to hold dominion over me?” bit. And at his “by granting me my life today, this man has killed me even so,” you can hear him making his choice to jump, and it’s awful, and it’s perfect.

38. Turning - Original Broadway Cast

Oh, this song is so underrated, and these people do a particularly amazing job with it. Their voices sound so tired and worn, sometimes old and rough, sometimes young and light, and all of them heartbroken. Their “where’s that new world now the fighting’s done” and the way they sing the round section is haunting and beautiful.

39. Empty Chairs at Empty Tables - Eddie Redmayne as Marius Pontmercy (2012 movie)

I have to say, no one does this one like Eddie Redmayne. His Marius’ grief is absolutely crushing. I like how this arrangement goes super light with the instrumentals at first, and how Redmayne’s Marius starts off very soft. His “at the table in the corner” section gives me goosebumps every time, and he nails every single high note. And by the time we reach “phantom faces at the window,” he seems to be letting it out, and his “oh my friends, my friends, don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for” has me sobbing.

40. Every Day/A Heart Full of Love Reprise - Katie Hall as Cosette, Gareth Gates as Marius Pontmercy, John Owen Jones as Jean Valjean (2010)

Ah, Les Mis, killing me with the parallels once again. This version seems to go by awfully fast, but Hall’s Cosette and Gates’ Marius are properly sweet, and JOJ’s Valjean is gentle and sad and heartbreaking. All of their voices balance each other well.

41. Valjean’s Confession - Gary Morris as Jean Valjean, Michael Ball as Marius Pontmercy (International Symphonic)

I really don’t like versions that shorten this; I feel like Jean Valjean needs to be wordy here. In the Brick, he’s almost hysterical. Morris’ Valjean is so gentle, and you can hear the pleading and pain in his voice, on phrases like “she’s had enough of tears” and “to save his sister’s son” and then his voice is so powerful and despairing on “who am I?” and then when it gets soft..yeah I’m not okay. Ball’s Marius’ “it must be so” is pretty, but he doesn’t stick out that much compared to Morris’ powerhouse performance. Also, God the score playing “who am I?” in the background was just cruel. I love it.

42. The Wedding Chorale/Beggars at the Feast - Barry James as M. Thenardier, Gay Soper as Mme. Thenardier, Michael Ball as Mariius Pontmercy (International Symphonic)

James and Soper are just the right Thenardiers for the job. They are clearly having an extremely good time, and I love their sniveling and their scheming and their flamboyance. Ball’s Marius acts very well here too. I love his scoff at “do you think I don’t know who you are?” and his anger on Eponine’s behalf.

43. Finale - Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Randy Graff as Fantine, Frances Ruffelle as Eponine, David Bryant as Marius Pontmercy, Judy Kuhn as Cosette (Original Broadway)

I have no words.

[hetacon]

A Little Help

Word Count: 2,100

Pairings: Platonic/Parental Moxiety, Background/Implied Platonic LAMP

Warning: Crying, Virgil has anxiety and depression per usual, a little self-deprecation

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Summary: Patton, a borrower, lives in the house of Virgil. While Virgil does alright financially, he feels anything but great as he struggles with anxiety and depression. Luckily he has an invisible helping hand to brighten up his day.

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Note: This is inspired off of this post by @randomslasher and I’m really pleased to post it! Also I would like to add that the song Patton sings is “Ready Now” from the Moominvalley soundtrack, sung by the lovely Dodie Clark! Feel free to listen to it when he starts singing! The lyrics are tweaked a bit to fit the story! I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do!

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The first time Patton heard Virgil was of him singing. It was the first time Patton discovered of Virgil’s existence.

Patton didn’t notice it because of how silvery and symphonic it was.

Virgil was choking out words, heavy tears streaming down his face.

Patton heard his voice break.

He peeked through the opening in the vent.

Virgil looked like he would shatter into a million pieces.

And Patton felt his own heart do so in turn.

This person, who Patton had never met, or even seen before, looked so broken and Patton wanted to help. He wished he could. He and other borrowers weren’t treated well by a majority of people but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help this boy.

So Patton started to recognize his routine patterns.

Virgil always woke up late in the morning. Patton saw that the best way he woke up was from the light that would shine through the window on to his face. Not a pleasant way to wake up exactly but without it, Patton knew Virgil would be late for the things he always had planned. So Patton always made sure to shift the curtains the tiniest bit in the morning, just enough to let a little sliver of sunshine flit over Virgil’s eyes. Without another word, he was off to hide and plan out the rest of his day.

He did other things for Virgil to help out. Virgil oftentimes forgot a little black cube he liked to fidget with for example. Virgil would come home more stressed when he forgot, Patton realized, so he made the effort to push it into Virgil’s open backpack before he left the apartment. He shifted and organized things for Virgil to find easier. He always made sure to write a little addition on Virgil’s schedule for him to take a deep breath and relax. Even if he had no idea just how much it was helping, he took little joys in the moments Virgil was happy.

Sometimes it was bigger things that he helped out with. Virgil always forgot to take his medication so when Virgil wasn’t looking, he’d tip over one of the lighter bottles. He couldn’t help how happy he got to see Virgil’s attention shift to the noise or movement and sigh before taking his medication. Patton took great joy in ensuring that task was complete.

And so that brings us to now. Patton heard the same heartbreakingly silvery song as usual. Patton couldn’t help but softly mouth the words, trying his best to memorize it. It was a wonderful message and feeling that the lyrics portrayed and it made Patton sad to know that Virgil didn’t have that feeling, that support in his life.

Virgil fell asleep, a trouble and teary expression still on his face when he drifted off. With a deep breathe, Patton quietly slid through the vent and walked over the soft carpet to get to Virgil’s bed. He struggled getting on to it but once he did, he went to sit next to Virgil’s face.

He lost his voice for a moment but upon seeing the tear tracts again, he smiled softly, leaning his head against Virgil’s cheek and working up the courage to speak.

“You’re doing good, kiddo, you’re doing so good. I’m so incredibly proud of you for being here right now,” Patton whispered before taking a deep breathe. “I know you don’t know I’m here but even if you never find out, please know that I’m always rooting for you, kiddo, I will always love you. Nothing in the world could ever make me stop.”

He spent a few more minutes softly talking to Virgil and upon seeing the boy’s expression soften, he leaned over, kissing Virgil’s cheek gently. “Goodnight my sleepy starling, everything will be alright. Just hang in there, I’m always going to be right here even if you don’t believe things will get better. They will, I promise you that,” he whispered before giving him one last kiss on the tip of his nose. And with that, he was off, hiding within the walls again.

Life planned for the two of them to finally meet though and as Patton was suffering from a cold, he slipped up and accidentally alerted Virgil of his presence. Patton hid, his breathing heavy as he stared at the wall. He swallowed thickly. He braved himself to run. He loved this boy with all of his heart but if Virgil didn’t reciprocate that, he’d have to abandon any and all affections without a second thought.

“Hey, it’s ok, whatcha doing there?” A soft voice asked.

Patton peeked out from behind the cereal box on the counter.

Virgil seemed to have noticed how tense Patton looked so he scooted back a little. “It’s cool, I need my space too,” he shrugged, giving Patton a lopsided smile.

Patton still didn’t say a word.

“Are you a borrower?”

Well, at the very least, he wasn’t using any derogatory terms for his kind, that was a bit of hope at least. He smiled a little and nodded. He couldn’t help his heart melting as Virgil smiled back.

“Sorry you guys always have to sneak around so much, people can be such assholes. You’re just like us even if you’re just a bit smaller.”

“It’s ok, we’re used to it by now,” Patton finally said.

“Well yeah, I’d imagine. You guys shouldn’t have to is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun..” Patton sighed as he stepped out from behind the box, sitting down at the edge of the counter, his hands clasped together in his lap. “It’s so much easier to see you now, you’re always so blurry all the time!” he finally said, smiling more.

“Is it common for you to not be able to see things properly when they’re further away?”

Patton nodded and frowned as Virgil sighed, clicking his tongue.

“Gotcha, I’ll see about getting you some glasses, ok?”

“You can get those for people like me?” Patton asked, looking up at him in surprise.

“Yeah, totally. I don’t want you to be struggling because of this.”

“Thank you,” Patton nodded, closing his eyes as he breathed happily.

“You’re welcome, I want to help you out in any way I can, as long as you’ll let me.”

“My name is Patton,” the borrower said, holding out his tiny hand. Virgil gently gave him his finger.

“Hi Patton, I’m Virgil.”

In Patton’s head, all he could think was ‘Yeah, I know, kiddo.’

From that day on, Patton got to know a lot more about Virgil. He started to let his efforts of helping be more noticeable now that he no longer feared being discovered. Whenever Virgil would forget to take his medication, Patton just went over to his desk, rested his hands on Virgil’s sleeve, and ask if he’d taken them that day. It was always no, Patton knew he hadn’t, but it gave Virgil gentle encouragement to do so. Patton had been extremely happy when Virgil had come home one day, offering him a few new sets of clothes—a light blue polo shirt, khakis, and a cardigan, as well as pajamas—and a small pair of glasses that fit Patton’s face perfectly. Patton beamed as he could see everything clearly and spent the rest of the day wandering around, looking around at everything. Patton didn’t even realize Virgil watching him, a soft, adoring smile on the latter’s face.

And over the course of only a few months, Patton noticed a change in Virgil. He seemed to be doing a bit better. He even started having a friend over, a guy by the name of Roman Prince. And with Roman was usually another person just like Patton, another borrower, named Logan. Patton was quick to become attached and he and Logan became fast friends despite their vastly different personalities. But even with these two new friends, Patton still loves Virgil the most.

Virgil had accidentally slipped up and called Patton “Dad” once and Patton felt his heart grow warm. He scolded the apologies that followed, quickly following with a couple “kiddo”s of his own. And so Virgil felt safe to call Patton his dad from then on. Patton liked to joke about being Virgil’s own little “Pocket Papa”. All joking aside though, Patton treated Virgil just like his own kid. He loved him just as much for sure.

So as Patton heard sobbing in the middle of the night, he quickly slipped his glasses on and got up. He started to head over to Virgil’s bed.

There was no song this time, no broken notes, no words depicting hope for Virgil to hold on to, no music for him to comfort himself with. Almost as if Virgil wasn’t seeing any of it as possible tonight.

“Virgil?” Patton asked softly, sitting down near Virgil’s face. Virgil choked out sobs, trying to calm down knowing that Patton was awake. “No no, it’s ok to cry, I’m not going to judge,” he said in a hushed tone, his voice laced with love and understanding. He smiled sadly as Virgil started crying harder. Patton just sat there, giving him soft words of encouragement.

After calming down a little, Virgil switched on the lamp next to his bed, able to see Patton properly now, and Patton Virgil. Patton went over, wiping away Virgil’s tears the best he could.

“Why am I not better, Dad? It’s been 4 years since this has happened, why am I not fixed?” Virgil choked out.

“Kiddo, no one has the right to say that you need to be all better by now. You take all the time you need to heal and feel better from this. No rushing is needed.”

“But I have you and Roman and even Logan, I have people in my life, I don’t know why I still feel so alone and awful all the time... Why can’t I get over everything? Why do their comments still affect me so much, Dad..?”

Patton softly rubbed Virgil’s cheek and looked over him before kissing the tip of Virgil’s nose. He did his best to brush the bangs out of his eyes.

As he sat down, he started to sing a song all too familiar to both of them.

“I’ve seen through you all this time

You’ve forgotten people are kind

You are hurting and I knew

So I’ll show you what to do

I say, ‘I will listen, tell it all. When you're finished, we'll talk more’

But you don’t quite know how so we’ll take it in turns

And to your surprise, we’ll find your words

Feet firm on the ground

We’ll stand hand in hand

The world seems to tell you that you have a plan

Together we’ll sing

You’re ready now

Something new, something strange

Ten feet taller, you will change

Please believe me, I’m not wrong

Oh it suits you to feel strong

I say, ‘I will listen, tell me it all. You don't like the ending? Then we'll find on that's yours’

Oh, soon you will know, that's all we need

A promise of hope is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground

We’ll stand hand in hand

And you’ll tell the world that you have a plan

Together we’ll sing

You’re ready now..”

Virgil sniffled and looked down to Patton, his breath caught in the back of his throat. His eyes spilled over with tears again and he sat up. He carefully scooped Patton up, holding him close to his chest as he shook with sobs. Patton hugged him, nuzzling his head into Virgil’s pajama shirt. The two of them stayed there, Virgil just crying for a while.

“I love you Virgil, you’re always going to be my kiddo,” Patton started with a soft smile. “I’m always going to be right here for you, even when you don’t think things will get better ok? You’re doing so good, I’m so extremely proud of you. I will always be proud of you, there’s so much to be proud of.”

Patton heard Virgil’s breath hitch at that.

“That’s right, you’re a kid to be extremely proud of, you always will be. And everything will be ok, I promise. I’ll make sure to help you get through this, because I love you so much,” he whispered.

Virgil nodded and sniffled, holding Patton a little closer.

“Ok Dad... I trust you..”

______________________________

It is now my honor to tag everyone who requested to be tagged in that post! So @randomslasher, @now-wouldnt-that-be-nifty, @thequeensphinx, @bexxbeauty, @specklefreckle15, and @romanisbabey, this is for you guys! (Also @sleepy-starling because you’re always the main inspiration for this pairing)

Let me know what you guys think in the comments, I always love hearing from you!

______________________________

Taglist: @hickory-dickory-doc-k, @stop-it-anxiety, @virgils-paranoia, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319, @marshmallow-the-panda (As always, shoot me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglists!)

[putschki1969]

Magic Moment ~ Initial Reaction

Okay, I woke up super early today and bought the album on iTunes since I am not willing to wait till Friday (when my copy of type B hopefully arrives - my fan combo pack won’t be arriving until much later I am afraid). I listened to all the songs while updating the blog/getting ready to leave. Overall I think it’s a good and well-balanced album. I would like to applaud Wakana for providing so much variety for us but still managing to create something that’s very representative of her as a person and singer. There’s something to be found for everyone’s taste I think.

Here are some quick thoughts on the individual songs - might elaborate later. If I am being honest, I am a tiny bit underwhelmed with some of the tracks (I feel ya @you-turn-it-into-light​). While I always try to approach her new solo works with an open mind I can’t help having certain expectations based on the past 10+ years. But really, it’s not fair to fault Wakana for creating the music she’s passionate about just because it’s not aligning with my ideas of what I would like her to sing.

Also, I have not had the time to let everything sink in yet so that’s really not surprising. Might take me a while to fully appreciate some of the songs and I will probably have to experience them live but I think there’s great potential in all tracks. Eventually I will come to like them, I am sure of it. It rarely happens that an entire album clicks with me instantly. If I am thinking about it, that has never actually happened (not even with Kalafina)..

So far my instant loves are “breathing”, “Yureru Haru”, “Where”, “442” and “Myself”.

Breathing: I am so grateful that we are getting two grand symphonic pieces in her new album. I am living for magnificent orchestral arrangements like that. And unlike "Magic Moment" which still sounds a bit too unstructured for my taste, "breathing" has a nice flow that I can get behind. I appreciate how they tried to make this even more epic by adding a choir. I did love the live version and I don’t feel any different about the studio version. I am surprised by how her voice sounds though. During the concert her singing sounded a lot richer to me but maybe it was just the live atmosphere that made her voice sound fuller and stronger. I don't know…I will openly admit that all the pheromones rushing through me during a concert will sweeten my experience and make me think something is better than it actually is. But there is nothing wrong about that and it certainly doesn't take away from my enjoyment of the studio version. Minor nitpickings aside, this song is everything I could have asked for and I am eternally grateful Wakana decided to create a full version of "eve".

揺れる春: Loved the radio version, love the studio version. A feel-good song if there ever was one. Nothing mind-blowing but this just makes me happy. Very approachable with a catchy-tune. What’s not to love?

Where: The radio snippet immediately caught my attention. Another catchy-tune but a totally different style compared to “Yureru Haru”. I had hoped the later choruses would have a higher key (they don’t - apparently there IS a key change, I just didn’t notice it) but towards the end the song still picks up momentum so it was easy to get swept away. I am definitely hooked.

442: WOW!!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE the exotic vibe here. The intro = LOVE. In one of her interviews Wakana says this song was inspired by Hindi music, very interesting! Cannot wait to listen to this on repeat tonight.

ひらりひらり: Can’t say anything about this yet. Right now it sounds bland to me. Will have to listen to it a few more times. It kinda reminds me of a less-interesting version of “Orange”.

アキノサクラ (Acoustic Ver.): Much prefer it to the original version.

Myself: Ahhhh, I love it so much! When I heard the mini sample last night I already knew I would instantly fall in love with it and I wasn’t wrong. This hits me right in the feels. Say what you will about the amount of ballads in Wakana’s first album but I will NEVER get tired of Wakana singing tragic-sounding songs like this.

君だけのステージ: Nothing new here.

オレンジ: Nothing new here.

Happy Hello Day: I wasn’t sure about it when I listened to the radio version last night but by now  I have already fallen in love with it. The lyrics are so sweet and the happiness in Wakana’s voice is contagious. Wish I could hear her perform this live at here concert in a few weeks.

Magic Moment:  If it weren’t for the changing rhythm I would be all over this song. It’s a shame. For the time being I will just appreciate the verses and chorus separately

[nobodyeverasked]

lights; bang chan

(2631 words) - medium

Summary: When I close my eyes, your light is all I see.

The haze of the aging evening convulsed to the plane that soared through the sunset, coral sunlight draping over the wings and igniting sparks of alleviation in the tired eyes of the passengers. Chan squinted, the weights of lethargy falling off his shoulders as he stretched with a yawn, the silent symphonies of the approaching twilight weaving through his stifled yawns. He smiled, looking out the window to see the waters dyed by the orange sky and prismatic clouds, the radiant shores of his home country - Australia - calling his name through the tranquil waves stroking the sand.

He always missed this place, and now that he was on tour with Stray Kids, he was able to enjoy it with those he held close to him. However, there was one person he held closer, his younger brother, Y/N. Since he left Sydney for the first time, he always wanted to walk along the ivory beaches like they once did when they were younger, staring longingly at the star-lit sky. He wanted to hold Y/N tightly as they watched the city ignite with the neon flames of beauty, the rainbow lights that embellished the city’s buildings and caressed the night sky with prismatic hues of wonder filling their eyes with amazement.

Even though he has seen those lights so many times with one of the people he loves the most, he cannot help but smile every time he hears a sigh of awe leave Y/N’s upturned lips.

“Are we there yet…?” Minho groaned from beside Chan, his groggy voice breaking through the trance that floated amply around Chan’s head. “How ‘bout now…?”

“Shhhhh!” Chan threw his hand in the general direction of Minho’s whining. “We’re almost there.” He looked out the window again, buildings and skylines coming into his view through the thick mist of the mellowing dusk. Chan grinned to himself before letting his eyes flutter shut once more, the image of Y/N’s radiant smile and flashbacks of the neon lights spiraling in the sky and lining the streets beckoning happiness that has been waiting to burn in Chan’s chest for the longest time.

“Almost there…”

*

The coalescence of the ivory sunlight and the whispers of the emerald seas brushing against the shore lit Chan’s heart ablaze with the flames of blooming happiness, a skip infecting his steps as he stopped abruptly in front of a dark brown door. He has never been so happy to see that same door; the black house numbers at the front igniting ardent sparks of joy under his skin. Memories of the little things in the house; how the garage door never fully closed, so he would always find Y/N trying to hide in there, and how doorbell always peaked whenever is was pressed more than once. Even when his fingers rubbed over the warm, dark metal of the doorknob, he could already feel the embers of love surge through his veins.

“Is Y/N home, by the way?” Felix asked, tossing stray locks of his blond hair away from his forehead, peering through the blurred glass of the door window.

“Oh yeah! It’d be pretty cool if we could see him - you know - before our concert. It’s been so long…” Hyunjin cocked his head to the side, looking back on the memories that glowed fondly within his head, and festered small waves of bliss in his mind. He remembered how he and Jisung were teaching Y/N how to rap, and when Felix taught him what ‘yeeting’ was.

“Yeah, sure! You guys can come in, but you’re paying for a new window if it happens again, Felix.”

“I didn’t expect it to go that far!”

“What did you expect to happen when you YEET a Rubik's cube at a window?!” Chan pulled at his hair, hellfires of anger still writhing within him even a year after it happened, he never heard his wallet cry in pain until then.

“Alright-” A voice stopped in the doorway, words trapped in their throat in a knot of amalgamated emotions.

It was Y/N, rushing to his car to head to the Stray Kids concert early to meet everyone. However, here he was, facing his brother with a quiet gasp seized on the tip of his tongue. “Chan…?” Y/N’s voice shook with the tremors of awe, his arms frozen to his sides and his mouth held agape by Chan’s blinding smile.

“Surprise…” Chan shrugged with a sheepish grin, his eyes sparkling with the lambencies of happiness when he saw a smile flourish across Y/N’s lips. “I’m home-” He gasped as arms swiftly coiled around his chest, deep sighs of satisfaction barreling down his neck and desperate hands clutching Chan’s shirt. Whirlwinds of alleviation coiled their bodies and weaved through their hair when Chan enveloped Y/N’s frame, his hug almost as tight as when he was leaving for Korea.

“I missed you so much…” Y/N said into Chan’s shoulder the sweltering breaths of the summer morning convulsing around the sweetness spreading through their shared smile.

“I missed you more…” Flames of devotion boiled in his throat, sparks of admiration dancing around their feet and searing into the ashen pavement before their doorstep. Ivory sunlight dripped off of their bodies, the sweltering presence of their youthful adoration, and the molten desperation coursing through their embrace melting the light that caressed their skin.

“Oh, oh my God, I’m so sorry…” Y/N looked up, his wide-eyed gaze meeting eight others. “Hi…” Chan’s eyes followed his little brother’s gaze to see that the rest of Stray Kids were still waiting at the bottom step, eight pairs of inquisitive eyes and eight mouths sewn shut by the string of silence. They looked up shyly at the hugging pair, a laugh thrashing at Seungmin's pressed lips as he read the shock on Y/N’s face.

“Oh, yeah! They’re here too…”

“HEY!”

Chan tried to stifle a chuckle when he turned back around to Y/N. “We were thinking that we could come to visit you before our concert.”

“That’s so amazing… Thank you, guys… Mom prepared brekky, actually.” Y/N trailed off, craning his neck to look back in the kitchen, seeing the colourful ceramic dishes that adorned their countertops. “Yeah! So if you guys wanna come in and eat before you go, that’d be awesome…”

“Alright, guys!” Chan exclaimed, his eyes and smile still stuck on Y/N as he scampered back inside. “Let’s head on in.”

*

The breakfast that they had was filled with symphonic laughter and the cacophonies of blissful chatter, the wandering gazes and haphazard smiles lighting up the dining table with the embers of compassion and joy. Y/N looked back at when this would be a normal thing, an almost daily tradition. Felix stealing Changbin’s food, Jisung, and Minho in their tiny little world, and Hyunjin eating way too much. The nostalgia coiled around his head with saccharine happiness that lit all of their precious memories ablaze with the fires of delirium.

After dinner, the majority of Stray Kids were getting ready to leave, bidding their farewells to Y/N before hopping down the steps and walking to their van, the orange sunlight following in their footsteps, and capturing the bliss brightening their smiles. However, Chan followed Y/N to his room, peeking around the door slowly to see his younger brother laying flat on his bed, the ripples of grey fabric clashing against his body in silver waves.

“Hey…”

“Oh, hi.” Y/N sat up when Chan walked further into the room. “Aren’t you gonna get ready for the concert?”

“Yeah, of course, but I just wanna see how my lil bro’s doing.”

“Oh, well, your lil bro’s doing fine.” Y/N brought his eyes back to the ceiling, his gaze following the pinstripes of the coral sunlight piercing through his window.

“You sure?” Chan sat on the bed, laying next to Y/N. He could feel something there, an underlying tone of dismay shrouded by a radiant ball of sunshine and optimism that always shone brightly within his little brother. He could see the sparks of tension festering in his eyes when the conversation around the dinner table bloomed. “You can talk to me, you know that.”

“I know, Chan, it’s not a big deal, really.” Y/N sighed heavily, knowing that Chan would not get ready for his concert unless the secrets that were stuck on his tongue were finally peeled off, unsheathed by his insecurities. “But, watching you on TV made me feel like what everyone’s saying is right…”

“Wait- what do you mean? Who’s saying what about you…?” Chan leaned up, his fingers draped across Y/N’s arm. His tone instantly changed, his voice riddled with the plague of perplexity and shock.

“Since you were gone, and became famous… Everyone’s been calling me ‘the untalented Bang brother’.” Y/N laughed bitterly, still trying to keep up the stone wall of security that was crumbling before him with every tense breath that writhed within his chest and stumbled through his lips. He could feel Chan’s touch growing heavier on his skin, the symphonies that the older played - even through his caring fingers - made the mists of sadness that swelled within Y/N’s brain to put out the flames of confidence that danced modestly in his heart. “Now that you’ve debuted and made a name for yourself, I can’t help but think that they’re right…”

“Y/N…” Chan sat upright, his eyes fixated on the longing stare that annexed Y/N’s beautiful eyes, suspended by the strings of sunlight brushing against ceiling. “You are one of the most talented people I’ve met-”

“Chan-”

“Y/N, I’m being honest. Just because you’re not on the TV, doesn’t mean you’re not talented. You’re the best little brother a bloke like me could ever have. You’re so kind and loving, sweet, and dedicated to anything that you put your mind to.” Chan grinned as he could see a tiny simper scratch at the younger’s frown, a wisp of confidence withstanding the brutal windstorms of his self-doubt. “Here, Imma promise you something…” Chan grabbed onto Y/N’s hand, the skin still as soft as when they ran on the pale beaches together years ago, fingers interlocked in a knot of devotion and trust. “C’mon, sit up!”

“Fine…” Y/N groaned as he heaved himself up, sitting on the bed. “What’s the promise?”

“After our concert, I’m gonna take you to see the lights, just like the old times.” Chan wrapped his arms around Y/N’s shoulders, the warmth and comfort pooling in his palms, spreading across Y/N’s back in trails of molten compassion. “I love you, Y/N, so much.”

“I love you too…” Y/N buried his face into Chan’s shoulder, taking in the soft strokes meandering his shoulders and sides with deep breaths.

“So, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

Y/N watched with a gentle smile as Chan skipped out of his room and ran down the stairs, burning joy scorching the older’s heart and leaving a trail of cheerful embers behind him. The younger could already see the lights flashing before them, hues of red and violet searing into his memories.

*

“That concert was amazing, I’m glad I went.” Y/N sighed in relief as an arm coiled around his shoulders, his eyes jumping to the highrises lit ablaze by the lights of liveliness. He remembered how all of the members smiled at him in the crowd, Hyunjin, Felix and Chan even ran over to sing to him. The coloured lights already started to ignite on the side of buildings and down the streets. A cherished warmth that pooled in his chest years ago belted from Y/N’s heart in songs of happiness.

“I’m really glad you came. All I wanted was to see you again as soon as I heard we were coming.” Chan’s voice was cradled by the hands of the cool night breeze, gelid fingers digging into is clothes. He could feel the body that was sewn to his side press closer, smiles embellishing both of their lips and ample happiness meandering around them.

No words could describe how much Chan missed his family since he left, and how joyful he was to see them again. Just seeing Y/N’s bright grin and blissfully sparkling eyes made him wish he could come back sooner. Looking at the streets that they ran through together and the gas-stations and the corner stores that he and Y/N used to raid for junk food, brought all of the memories of the most precious parts of his childhood back home. Even looking at the blank television during breakfast carried flashbacks of movie nights to conquer their tiredness. “This whole place, it seems like I never left.”

Chan lead Y/N to the roof of a condo, the chains of devotion coiling their hearts and thinning their sighs of delight when they skipped out to the parapets on the edge of the building - pebbles crunching beneath their ecstatic steps.

“I missed this, just looking at the lights.” Y/N leaned on the concrete walls, his fingers interlacing with the wisps of marbled light wading throughout the night sky, his smile radiating with the glow of satisfaction.

“Me too, Y/N… I really did…” Chan hummed, his arm wrapping tighter around Y/N’s shoulders as if it was his last time. In the older’s mind, it was, he doesn’t know how long it would be until the next time he sees his family again, the next time he could see these lights and reminisce the sidewalks, alleys, and beaches that held his footprints.

“It was never the same when I came here by myself, you know…” The younger sighed softly, his eyes tracing the prismatic lights that danced under the spotlight of the stars, drapes of pink, violet, and green glows pulling open for the moonlight to paint the streets with an ivory gleam. “Being here without you was hard… Really hard… The words only got worse when you got more famous… Just coming up here without you made me realize where you were, and what you were doing with your life - and what I wasn’t…”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry…” Chan combed the stray locks of Y/N’s hair away from his eyes, the older’s fingers brushing against the younger’s cheeks. “Just know that I love you, and Hyunjin and Seungmin and Jisung and Minho and Felix and Woojin and Jeongin and Changbin love you too~”

“Okay, okay…” Y/N laughed as he relaxed his body, the sweet poisons of bliss convulsing through his muscles when Chan enveloped his younger brother in a tight embrace - their bodies swaying to the harmonies of the silent night. “I got it…”

“Good, because you’re a talented person - and the best brother ever - Y/N, you’re so good at writing lyrics and painting, photography, you’re amazing at writing and your math skills make my head dizzy. Plus, it ain’t your problem if those mongrels at your school don’t have an awesome brother like me!” Chan laughed as he could feel a scoff dig into his shoulder. “You are amazing, and I know you’ll do something special.”

“Thank you, Chan..” Happiness pulsed within Y/N’s chest, festering the embers of elation coiling his body and running up his spine. “I love you…” He whispered into Chan’s shoulder, his breath melding with the lights intertwining with their embrace and pigmenting their smiles.

“I love you too, Y/N, so much…” Chan smiled as he looked up to the stars, the lights caressing their embrace lighting sparks of adoration in his eyes, and igniting the wildfires of untainted amity.