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effwon · 7 months ago

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'cause i don't think that they'd understand || ln4 x reader (Part 1)

Summary: Lando just wants to walk down to the garage before the Miami race with you by his side. George and Carmen walked in together, Alex and Lily walked in together, so why can't you, as well? Despite your self-consciousness, you agree to walk hand-in-hand with him down to the garage right before the big race, but it's a much harder ask for you than anyone could ever realize.

Plus-size (she/her) Reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Brief mentions of nausea/being sick, panic, reader is plus-sized and very down on herself about it, weight mentions, ect.

Characters: Lando Norris (your boyfriend) and feat Oscar Piastri as a last minute saving grace for you.

Rating: G, for now.

“I want you to walk down to the garage with me.”

You blink in surprise, Lando’s words are so sudden and so firm that it makes goosebumps raise on your skin. Walk to the garage with him? But that would mean…

“What? Why?” you ask, folding down the page in the book you’re reading, before placing it down softly on the table beside you. A slugging, churning feeling arises in your gut as you realize exactly what it is he’s asking of you.

“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my girlfriend, I want you to walk with me into the garage.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, perhaps, for any other woman in this world it might just be.

But it isn’t for you. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things he could ever ask you to do, and that alone makes you feel horrible. Lando deserves a normal girlfriend, who can react normally to very normal situations. Not someone who makes his life even more difficult than it already is.

You sigh heavily, knowing if you refuse you will just upset him. “I - are you sure you want to be seen with me? People will talk and they won’t be nice…” “Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. Just one walk down to the garage with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

You frown again, daring to look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a desperation in his eyes, something that tugs at your heartstrings. What Lando doesn’t realize is that the backlash won’t fall too heavily on him - but on you…?

Oh, the fans and the media will eat you up. Lando is dating a fat girl? That will decorate the tabloid headlines for days, perhaps even weeks or months. The thought alone makes you sick. But how can you say no to him when he’s so earnest, when he wants to show you off, regardless if you deserve it or not?

“Yeah, okay.” You finally reply, looking away from Lando and down to the floor. He notices this, however, and kneels down in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in both of his own. His hands are so warm and so immediately comforting, working to ease the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.

“It’ll be okay. I promise. And just think, you’ll finally be able to come see the garage and paddock!” His voice is so cheerful, so genuinely happy and excited for you to be there with him. It’s touching, to say the least, but you are loath to admit that your excitement level is not nearly on par with his. Not even slightly.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve wanted to see them for so long.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice does dull the excitement in his eyes, but he holds steady. Admirable, really. A trait you wish you could share with him.

“It’s almost time. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready, and we can walk down in about an hour?”

An hour? Well - here’s hoping you can actually make yourself look even somewhat presentable in such a short amount of time.

“You’ll help me pick out my dress, right?” you ask.

The light immediately comes back to his eyes, and he beams at you with the very same smile that won your heart the night you met him.

“Of course! Fashion show time!”

Lando ends up picking the teal colored sundress, something that suits your taste and simultaneously compliments some of your key features. It fits well, with no need for you to suck in your stomach to make it look nicer or more appealing, and hides some of your less than desirable attributes (the rolls, god, the rolls) with ease.

You feel comfortable enough, with only a light amount of makeup on your face, and your feet are settled into white flats instead of the heels you had originally picked out. Lando liked them as well, but urged you to go for something more comfortable and carefree.

You genuinely do feel okay, but the bitter taste of anxiety still stirs the acid of your stomach as you think about the amount of eyes that will be on you and Lando in a few moments.

“Hey beautiful,” Lando says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. On instinct, you suck in your stomach to try and lessen the circumference of your belly. Lando tenses, but he doesn’t push the issue, keeping you nestled safely in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You just about ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply softly, leaning only a portion of your weight back against him. He doesn’t let go for a few moments, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear.

“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re only doing this for me, but I hope you can manage to enjoy it as well. You may not want the world to know you’re mine, but I do.” Lando explains, nipping at your ear with gentle teeth. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you cannot help but smile at his antics.

“Well, we’ll see what all the news sources are saying in the morning. You know for a fact my issue isn’t being seen with you, it’s you being seen with me.”

“Who cares what they say? How I feel about you is what matters, not what the public thinks about a relationship they know nothing about.” Lando’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument - likely because this IS an argument the two of you have had time and time again.

You open your mouth to respond, but Lando’s PR Agent gestures a bit frantically at you both and all of a sudden, Lando is no longer behind you but at your side, lacing your fingers together.

“Deep breath, babe. It’s go time.”

Oh.

You take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs, fearful that if you breathe at all, you might mess this up entirely. Lando’s hand is warm and firm in your own, steady while your mentality feels anything but. There’s no time to prepare yourself for the walk - Lando is moving and on instinct, you move fluidly alongside him. Your heart is racing impossibly hard in your chest and somehow only gets faster as you step out onto the grass and the sun shines down upon you and Lando like a blinding spotlight.

You hear the clicking of cameras before you see the media snapping shots of you and Lando as you walk hand-in-hand towards the McLaren garage. You can already hear the shouts of fans at home, screaming about how Lando could possibly be dating someone so fat and unattractive when he’s literally a celebrity and could have anyone he wanted. You can see the offensive articles, wondering what’s gone wrong in Lando’s head to be dating someone so average and so unathletic when all of the other drivers are dating what could be (and in some cases ARE) models.

So many eyes are on you both, and you still haven’t been able to take a breath just yet. You feel Lando’s hand squeeze yours, but you are unable to squeeze back. You just want to be at the garage and tucked back away from the eyes of the media so you can regain your bearings.

And then finally, after what feels like a marathon of a walk, you feel the grass turn to solid ground beneath your feet and the smells of the garage hit your senses like a brick wall. Everything slowly comes back into focus and you realize you’ve finally made it to the other side. Your gut is churning, but you let out the breath you have been holding since you took your first step out and it eases some of the bubbling tension in your chest.

Lando’s hand leaves yours fairly suddenly, but he immediately pops up in your line of sight, beaming at you like you’ve just handed him the sun, the moon, and all the stars. You swallow thickly, hoping to keep down the nausea that threatens you, and offer up a tight smile of your own.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, pulling you in by your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You are still within sight of the media cameras and you hear a few clicking somewhere off to your right, which does little to help quell the nausea.

“It was fine, yeah.” You say, and it’s incredible just how weak your own voice sounds. “Can we, uh - can we go someplace in the back for a minute? Away from the cameras?”

“Of course,” Lando says, and concern begins to blossom on his features. His eyebrows furrow, gaze focused solely on you as you still try your best to smile at him. “I have to get changed into my kit anyway.”

Lando’s hand is back in yours instantly, and he gently guides you through crew members and winding hallways until you’re far enough away from all of the commotion that you can barely hear it anymore. Your breath is shaky as you inhale, but the relief is almost immediate now that you are out of the public eye.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks after a few seconds of studying your face. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

“No, no, no.” you interrupt him, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It’s just a lot. I’m not used to these kinds of things, not like you are. And there were so many cameras…”

“You learn to ignore the cameras.” He says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry about them, they’re just an annoyance anyway. You’re here to watch me race, and I promise you the McLaren crew will take great care of you while you do.”

Your smile feels a bit more genuine now as the nerves begin to drift off. You know you’ll have cameras in your face likely the entire time Lando is racing, but knowing that you have the support of McLaren while you’re here helps a bit. Lando has been with these people for years now, you can only imagine they’ve grown quite close in that time.

“I’m sure they will. I - uh - is there a bathroom back here somewhere?” You look around a bit frantically, overcome by the sudden intense nausea that hits you now that the worst of the nerves have tapered off. Sweat builds on your forehead and you begin to feel a bit clammy and lightheaded, but Lando either doesn’t notice, or you’ve managed to keep yourself steady enough as to not rouse suspicion.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you there,” he says, looking around to gain his bearings. He circles his fingers around your wrist and leads you back towards the heart of the garage, but stops before you get to the more heavily trafficked areas. It’s a small, unassuming restroom meant for one person at a time, but it will do. “Here you are. I actually need to change, so I’ll come back for you once I’m set up, okay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm, leaning in to kiss him when you see him do the same. He offers you a comforting smile and then takes off into the clamor of the garage to get himself ready for the race. You watch him weave through crowds of crew and media personnel, and once he’s no longer within your sight, you turn around and rush into the bathroom without a moment to spare.

The nausea is almost overpowering, and you can’t even make it to the toilet before you feel your stomach rolling. You grasp desperately at the vanity, emptying your nerves into the sink with a violent heave and a shudder. Panic is starting to claw its way up your throat now that you’ve been sick, and you grip the sides of the vanity so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The nausea, thankfully, goes away now that you’ve emptied your stomach into the sink, but a much worse feeling creeps up to take its place.

You reach forward with trembling hands and turn on the sink, cleaning out the mess you’ve just made. Thankfully, a few splashes of water around the sink (and a few swishes in your mouth) manage to clean out everything so there’s no evidence left of your struggle.

You back yourself against the wall now, feeling your heart beating faster all over again, and the sweat begins to feel cold on your forehead. Panic is no new sensation, but you can’t help but curse the timing of this attack. It makes sense - given the overstimulation and the nervousness you just fought your way through, but you had hoped deep in your heart that you would be able to handle this without a breakdown.

You could not have been more wrong.

You begin to take deep, shuddering breaths at far too rapid a pace. You know you have to get your breathing under control, or this will spiral until you’re pathetically hyperventilating alone in a McLaren bathroom. You rush forward to turn the water back on, hoping that splashing some on your face might help snap you out of it, when you hear the handle of the restroom door jiggle.

Your stomach lurches again when you realize in your haste, you forgot to lock the door.

“Yeah, mate. I’ll be back in a few.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by the noise buzzing around the garage.

As soon as the person steps inside the restroom and your eyes meet, you feel like you could be sick again. It’s none other than Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate and friend at McLaren, and he’s staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, and it’s so incredibly soft - as if he might be speaking to a cornered, wounded animal. “Hey, are you alright?”

You can’t reply to him just yet - your breathing is out of control and nausea is hitting you again from the depths of absolute hell. As if this day couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, you WOULD have a mental breakdown in front of Lando’s teammate.

You simply stare back at him in shock, like he’s the most terrifying thing you could possibly see, and you finally manage to choke out a weak and pitiful, “No.”

You watch as Oscar gently locks the door behind you both - a blessing, really, to keep anyone else from walking in on you in such an embarrassing state. He keeps his expression neutral, only taking one step into the bathroom with his hands palm-up to show he means no harm.

“You need to breathe, okay? Think you can breathe with me?” Oscar asks, his voice echoing in the small space. He swallows thickly, another sound that’s easy to pick up in the confined space, but he patiently waits for you to respond.

“I don’t - I don’t know -” you reply, hands slapping against the wall as you try to find something to grip onto for balance. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we give it a try, at least?” Oscar tries again, looking far more concerned than you think he has any right to be. He hardly knows you, after all.

“I - I can -” but the words die on your lips as your legs give out beneath you. You fall to your knees on the tile floor and that’s when Oscar jumps quickly into action. You feel unfamiliar arms wrap around your shoulders, a cushion to keep your head from smashing against the floor, and the last thing you see are Oscar’s frightened eyes above you, the echo of your name frantically erupting from the back of his throat as your vision fades out.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #x reader fanfic #f1 x reader #plus sized reader #driver x reader #hides my face under all these tags #this is my first ever x reader so be kind thanks

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iceandpeaches · 9 months ago

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heartstrings and headlines

summary: what's with charlie's sudden interest in kpop?

pairing: charlie bushnell x kpop idol!reader

warning: lowercase intended, not proof read, slightly unhinged natty and reader

a/n: using belle from kiss of life as fc because she's gorgeous and i cannot stop thinking of her.. this may be a series teehee!!!!!

@iamcharliebushnell

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajefferies, walker.scobell and 189, 311 others

iamcharliebushnell been into kpop recently (had to borrow some other group’s lightstick since the venue one was lame)

user1 not charlie attending the award show of the year?!?!?

↳ iamcharliebushnell i was in korea anyway.. wanted to meet my favs

↳ user2 OMGGGGG MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING!!!!!

liked by iamcharliebushnell

dior.n.goodjohn send me pics!!!

↳ iamcharliebushnell yes ma'am

↳ walker.scobell send me all the stayc stuff you recorded i'm BEGGING

↳ iamcharliebushnell @walker.scobell dude.. they were incredible

user3 no one notice the mystery heel????

↳ user4 I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONEEEE

↳ user5 strangely enough that looks like y/n's heels from her performance

↳ user4 NO WAY!!!!

@yn.kiss

liked by natty_0530, somsomi0309, jenaissante and 76,098 others

yn.kiss first MAMA evaaaa (the red carpet press did me dirty so here are my own pics)

natty_0530 we ate up that performance

↳ yn.ln real af!

zuhazana so lucky to have met u!!

↳ yn.kiss i was the lucky one!!! love u

↳ user6 MY FAVS MEETING EACH OTHER WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD

↳ user7 collab soon pls... begging on my knees

user8 last photo!!!!!

↳ user9 that could be her manager...

↳ user10 their manager is a woman...

↳ user11 dating scandal?

private messages

you

hey char... people are commenting about my recent post

charlie

what's wrong about taking your heels? you said they were uncomfortable

you

okay but people thought it was my manager

but twitter is going off right now

#y/nmysterybf is trending..

charlie

bro fr?

you

yes fr.

charlie

i'll be over in 10

you

get me ice cream please?

charlie

anything for you, my beauty

actually.. be ready in 10?

liked by you

y/n.kiss just posted to their story!

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, iamcharliebushnell, natty_0530, zuhazana and 46 others

instagram dms

natty_0530 replied to your story

is this that bushnell boy..

you

maybe..

liked by natty_0530

natty_0530

girl!!! since when spill PLEASE

you

remember in that interview on knowing brothers i said that he was my celebrity crush...

natty_0530

NO WAY OMG.

you

yes way!!! anyways he reached out and here we are lol

a/n: teehee i had fun writing this sorry for leaving y'all on a cliffhanger... reblogs and reposts would be greatly appreciated!!

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan smau #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #peach's fics

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talesofesther · 2 years ago

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constellations

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You give Sam a bit of calmness amidst the storm.

Requested by anon

A/N: Sam deserves the world and I'd happily give it to her.

Masterlist

Prime suspect Samantha Carpenter.

That was the headline displayed on the TV as the reporter blamed Sam for the recent Ghostface attacks.

Lies. They were all lies, and because of those bullshit rumors. It made your blood boil. You know it was the same feeling for the rest of your friends; the living room was quiet as the reporter's voice echoed through. There was an instant heaviness to the air.

Sam picked up the remote and pressed the 'mute' button, before hurrying off to her bedroom.

No one seemed to know quite what to do. The silence was deafening and you felt the eyes of everyone slowly settling on you.

As much as you two might try to keep it on the low, it was no secret anymore that you and Sam had become rather close these past months. Labels were a bit of a stretch, none of you quite ready for it yet. Still, whenever Sam walked back into the dorm she hoped to find you there; she always chose the chair next to yours on the table; and sometimes you'd catch her staring at you, but then again, she also always caught you staring back.

You felt your cheeks burning, maybe the secret was never a secret after all. "I got it," you mumbled under your breath before following the path Sam set.

The door to her room was left ajar, almost as if wanting you to come after her. You held onto your breath when you slowly pushed it open further.

Sam had her back to you, she was looking out her window at the night sky. The cold wind from outside caught onto the wet tracks down her cheeks.

You closed the door behind you and walked up to her. You knew she knew it was you; because she didn't turn around, she didn't talk, she didn't move a muscle. Not until one of your hands touched her waist, nimble fingers barely grazing the fabric of her shirt were enough to send a shiver up and down her body and get her shoulders tensing slightly.

Part of you lived only for these moments. You brought both hands around Sam's waist, hugging her closer and pressing her back to your chest; she was always so warm, each curve of her body fitting with yours as if you were part of the same constellation, bound to always be linked; you felt how Sam found your hand with hers, messily intertwining your fingers at the same time your lips met the skin on her shoulder. Just you and her.

No words were needed for a few moments. You were content to exist in each other's presence.

Eventually, Sam turned around in your embrace, her eyes were downcast; as if shame tugged at her heartstrings for things she didn't do.

You tried to find her eyes and brought a hand up to rest against her cheek. The pad of your thumb found a teardrop there, and one more soon followed the same path. You brushed them away with all the tenderness you knew she deserved.

"None of it is true," you breathed, "we all know it."

With the ghost of a movement, Sam leaned forward. The plea was barely there but you've been getting good at reading her. You met her halfway for a chaste kiss, your lips soft against her slightly chapped ones.

She pulled away with a gulp, her tongue running over her bottom lip to try and capture the feeling of you. "Still, it sucks being this hated."

You'd never heard her voice quite this broken, this vulnerable. Her dark eyes were shining with the cheap light of her bedroom, a little red-rimmed yet still the most gentle you've ever seen.

How anyone could ever see her as a bad person was beyond you.

Her hair was silky between your fingers when you pushed it behind her ear. "Lay down with me?"

There was an adorable furrow to Sam's eyebrows and you wanted to trap this moment like a spider in a glass.

"We'll figure out the details later." You promised.

It was all that was needed, maybe all she'd been wanting all along, because Sam melted in your hold; her body mostly laying on top of yours as you snuggled in her bed. Her arms came around your waist in a hold so strong that almost constricted your breathing. But you didn't comment on it.

Sam's cheek was resting just above your heart, and the steady beating was sure to lull her to sleep in no time.

Your fingers buried themselves between her hair as you'd occasionally press a kiss to her forehead.

It was the calmness amidst the storm and there were three words stuck in Sam's throat. Because there you were, tangled up in all her broken pieces, and all you wanted to do was stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #samcarpenteredit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #sam carpenter fanfic #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #my story

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kentopedia · 1 year ago

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART II ♰ MASTERLIST

For the weeks that followed, Dazai kept his distance, though it didn’t matter where he strayed—you could always feel him nearby. His company was overwhelming, conspicuous, and watchful. He crept behind you when you were in public and remained your shadow until you arrived back home.

Even in the moments that you were in the arms of another, Dazai’s presence remained with you like a malady you couldn’t shake. Within your very home, he lingered, his features behind your eyelids, his voice imbued in the melody of the neighbor’s overwhelmingly loud piano playing.

Dazai may have disappeared from your view, but he was never really gone. It was a theme that continued to plague your undead lifetime.

Although you rejected the musings of your irrational heart, it became clear to you that your feelings for Dazai had been buried instead of erased, pushed away to protect yourself from the wounds that he had given you.

A singular heartstring had pulled the minute you’d seen the dark-haired man again, and it had reached out, wrapped itself around him, tugged tight until it was drawing you nearer and nearer, desperate to be back with the person that controlled it like a marionette.

It was terrifying, really, to consider that years apart couldn’t diminish the lustful desperation you felt for the older vampire. A need that resembled worship, a desire to be close to the beautiful god that had created you.

Though you rejected it, hated Dazai with every logical fiber within your mind, a bout of guilt still grew within you. The bleak future ahead of you had suddenly brightened with Atsushi’s overwhelming warmth, and the revolting, otherworldly bond you’d once shared with Dazai threatened to steal all of the gentleness away from your existence.

Atsushi’s love was the kind you’d always wanted. It was without stipulations, wholesome, and sickeningly sweet. He gave you everything, and in return, you offered up only the parts of yourself that had stopped belonging to Dazai.

Since the dark-haired man had infiltrated your city, the newspaper headlines had been splashed with visceral depictions of death, gruesome scenes that would make any human’s stomach curl.

Atsushi showed them to you each day, relaying the formulated opinions of the other detectives he worked with. Though they were just as keen as Atsushi about the world of blood-sucking monsters, they seemed more willing to ignore the signs of a new vampire, certain that they’d already snuffed them all out.

When the seventh body had been drained of blood, the signs of a vampire finally recognizable, he asked the question you knew he’d been avoiding.

“Do you know anything about this?”

You looked up from the coffee that he stirred, the newspaper crunching in his other fist. It was dawn—late enough for you to be ready for sleep, and early enough for Atsushi to want just the same. Orange light began in the distance. You would have to retreat to your bedroom soon.

“About what?”

Your fiancé’s features pinched, but he remained patient with you. Always so gentle, never one to be quick to anger. He was different from Dazai—he was kind. That, at least, was a comfort you could hold onto.

Atsushi set the newspaper down, rustling through his drawers before pulling out a dossier of reports that he’d brought home from the agency. There were detailed descriptions of the murders; some had been ferociously torn apart, as if mauled by a wild animal, their organs exposed to oxygen. Some had been tossed into the river, left to decompose, their bodies gray and withered. Others laid naked, pale, and drained of their blood completely, large gashes in their major arteries.

Any rational person would guess that these were the work of separate individuals. There was nothing to link them together, no pattern that would signify that a killer ran rampant on the city.

“You know what I mean.”

You blinked, eyes shifting from the newspaper, back to his purple eyes. Though you tried to spill the truth from your lips, your mouth ran dry, resisting any incrimination of Dazai.

I know who it is, but he’s dangerous, Atsushi. Please stay out of this.

The truth didn’t come.

“If you’re insinuating it’s a vampire, I don’t know who it could be.”

Atsushi’s eyes narrowed, hardly noticeable, searching for any sort of lie. When he was unable to detect one, he exhaled, visibly relaxing.

“That’s good. Everyone said it wasn't a vampire, but I thought...” Atsushi trailed off, as if calming himself, and he was so distant that he didn’t notice your shoulders relax. “Well, it doesn't meatter what I think. This means we can handle it.”

Your smile was weak when he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, still shaken by the macabre scenes he’d encountered recently. They affected him more than he let on—you could see the way his hands shook, his fitful rests at night.

Atsushi would try to stay upright for the sake of the agency and his duty to the public, though at what cost, you couldn’t be certain. He had seen his fair share of horrors, but it hadn’t been until Dazai had come to town that they’d turned so incredibly gory.

You had no idea what he would do if he found out that you’d once been the same way. That you’d created those same images with Dazai at your side, feeling no shame when you massacred villages just to see a smile on on the older vampire's face.

Sick with remorse, you cleared your thoughts, trying to forget how sweet the blood had tasted, how addicting being in love with Dazai had once been. It was a life you were glad to be rid of, even if you could never let yourself forget it.

“Are you being careful, Atsushi?” you asked, nervously twirling the edges of your skirt.

Briefly, you wondered if you were protecting Dazai or yourself.

In was no surprise, you wanted to keep the agency from calling in vampire hunters. They’d recognize what you pretended so hard not to be, and all your plans with Atsushi would be erased if others caught wind of what you were.

But when Atsushi smiled at you, so gently and completely without the darkness that had consumed Dazai, you knew that all of your precautions were also to keep him safe.

“I’m always careful, love. Don’t worry.” He adjusted his tie and then squeezed your hand once more, leaving you finally to rest. Though, even as the sun rose high in the sky, you remained wide awake, tinged with worry and fear that Dazai would change his mind.

Two days passed without incident. The papers didn’t reveal any more shocking murders, and Atsushi got a day off after working more hours than any living person should.

He’d been staying up late with no one to keep him company but you. When he couldn’t fall asleep, you sat on his lap, peppering his face with kisses, sinking to your knees until you’d relaxed him completely. Although, as much as you tried to help, your methods could only do so much to ease his mind.

Atsushi came home early on the second day without a murder, his eyes puffy and dark with exhaustion.

“Atsushi—” you began, displeased by how exhausted he’d become.

He ignored your rebuttals and tried to weasel his arms around you, pressing gentle kisses up your neck. “We can go out when the sun goes down,” he said, biting a mark just under your ear, the smile soft on your skin. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his thick hair, lifeless heart beating at a thought of a night out with him. Though, when he rested his weight on your own, head drooping onto your shoulder like a child, you knew it wouldn’t be today. “You need a good night’s rest, Atsushi. You’re exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, but his dramatic yawn was a better response then words.

“Another night, honey.” you kissed his cheek. “Promise?”

Atsushi frowned, somehow upset with himself for not being up for a night out in the city. Even though you hadn’t gotten much time together recently, Atsushi wasn’t to blame. The agency had been working overtime on these murder cases, and that included him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d much rather wait until you’re up for it, and…” trailing off, you licked your lips, unable to focus on his curious expression. “I’m sorry we can’t go out like a normal couple.”

Atsushi’s feature shifted, melting into the usual pool of tenderness. His shoulders relaxed. “You know I don’t mind. I love you, my darling.”

He hugged you tighter, and when you stiffened at the sweet name that Dazai had always used for you, Atsushi didn’t notice.

He’d never called my darling before. It felt wrong coming from his lips—the wrong pitch, inflection. It didn’t have the same mocking pull to each syllable, didn't feel like the rush that cam with Dazai's lips.

“I’ve been working so much,” Atsushi continued, unbeknownst to your inner conflict. “We haven’t gotten to see much of each other recently.”

While you hesitated, you recovered smoothly, and pulled back to face him completely once more. “You’re saving the city. I can never be mad at you for that.”

Atsushi smiled, tired and beaten down, before brushing his bangs out of his face. Finally, he accepted his own inability to remain standing, and began to retreat back to the bedroom, letting go of your skin centimeter by centimeter. “I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep when you get back.”

You laughed. “Good night, Atsushi.”

Then, he was gone, and you were left with your oldest friend, the one that sent you a greeting in the dark night sky like a beacon. It was a full moon tonight, cold, and white.

Once, you’d loved the evenings, the calm serenity that came with the blackness of night. Now, all you longed for was the sun, even if the rays burnt your skin to a crisp. It seemed more alluring than the thought of a future with no definitive end.

Despite your hunger, you waited in the apartment for the night to fall completely. Even though you’d spent the entire day by yourself, you had no desire to be around great crowds of people, stumbling around in search of a last-minute meal.

You meandered around your home, vampiric hearing attuned to the tossing and turning that Atsushi did in his sleep. While he made soft noises of displeasure, he didn’t seem to be having nightmares—the only good sign that you could see.

All the books on your shelf were unappealing. The newspapers had been read from front to back already. Atsushi was exhausted, so you couldn’t make any noise, and every inch of the apartment was already clean.

Finally, you grew bored enough to leave, and you sighed as you felt the crisp air, dispelling your existential thoughts. There was still a hope in your future, as long as Atsushi was around. You would no longer have to dread the fear that came with a meaningless immortality.

The night was quiet, even for the city. People had retired earlier than usual, perhaps out of the fear that they’d be the next victims of the murders that rampaged.

You crossed the street, noticing that people kept an unusual distance from strangers, eyeing each person they didn’t recognize like they would stab them in the back. It was an unpleasant sight to witness.

The destination was sharp in your mind as you headed towards the pub at the edge of town, walking without thinking, despite only having been there once. It was in a seedy part of the city, run-down and cheap, but it was full of the kind of people no one would miss.

It was the kind of place a vampire would be certain to frequent.

For the past few days, as Atsushi worked late, you’d scoped out the location, staring through the window into the man you’d been certain would be loitering there. His long, dark coat dragged across the stools; beautiful features schooled into a charming expression.

Every night, he sat with strangers, but none of them had been victims in the paper. They were drunkards, prostitutes, gamblers, addicts—but they remained alive, even with Dazai in their midst. He’d evaded you, time and time again. Even as you watched with a close eye, Dazai killed right under your nose.

For the eighth night in a row, Dazai was there, indulging another man in conversation. You shifted from heel to heel, staring through the foggy window as Dazai lent an ear with attuned focus. You knew he was hardly listening. His nods were practiced, his responses vague, with only a hint of interest in his tone.

You moved your focus to the other customers, though there was no one noteworthy. A few deadbeat fathers, some women searching for their next client. A teenage boy had snuck in with a few older ones, sitting in the corner smoking frivolously. It was all quite boring, really.

There was a pianist there tonight—a pretty young women with dark hair cascading down her back, cleavage spilling out the front of her cream colored dress. She had her eye on Dazai across the room, two deep brown irises blinking at him from under long lashes.

A twinge of fury pinched at you, one that you subdued, hating the unconscious reaction of your body, the way your heart squeezed from the memory of possessiveness. Women looked at him everywhere he went, and he had never tried to avoid their lingering eyes, even when his flirtatious nature bothered you.

He’d always loved to make you jealous.

Now, though, he wasn’t your problem. Who he did or didn’t pay attention to wasn’t something you were to be concerned about. He could fuck whoever he wanted, pay them if he needed, and it shouldn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You snuck in through the front door, swallowing down that unreasonable emotion and stayed small in the shadows. The man that had been chatting to Dazai left, and you took his place, tapping your nails against the counter.

It was obvious he’d been expecting you. Dazai’s gaze was already on you, his dark smile curling onto his lips. “I was wondering when you’d be brave enough to come in.”

You sat still, staring ahead at the array of liquor, as if mesmerized by the different bottles. “I didn’t think you’d noticed me,” you replied, even though you’d been counting on it.

All you wanted was for Dazai to finally explain his true intentions, instead of lingering in your city with no explanation and a wake of bodies behind him.

Dazai choked out a laugh, setting his palm on his thighs. “You didn’t think I’d notice?” he asked, his eyes wide and innocent. “I was certain this was all a ploy to get my attention.”

You said nothing, shifting in your chair as Dazai’s smile widened, blood red and dripping.

“Well, you have it now, darling,” he said, gesturing towards you, eyes scanning your body. “If that’s not what you wanted, you must take me for a fool.”

You blinked, and when you turned to face him, Dazai was impossibly close, his knees just brushing yours. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, you’ve been spying on me. Two, your fiancée is a detective.” Dazai tapped his nails, the sound irritating and repetitive. “And, three: you want me gone.” He hummed, tracing the edges of the counter, his finger slender and pale. “All signs are pointing to the same thing. You’ve come here to bargain.”

You stared, anger pooling within you until you suddenly remembered how poorly this meeting could end for you. He was much too close, too dangerous to be around; you struggled to contain your bloodlust around him. Dazai’s very presence was a catalyst for your most primal desire, and every second with him just made that more evident.

Meeting with him was a mistake. You needed to leave. “Dazai,” you cleared your throat, placing your hands back on your lap. “I’ve known it was you, all this time, and I never said anything.”

Predictably, that had brightened his mood. “Really?” he said, curious. A part of you preened at being able to shock Dazai. “Now why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, grateful that he, at the very least, was curious. “I want you gone without any chaos. I want you out of my life, and I don’t want you to cause a scene.”

The bar was smoky, crowded, and the undeniable stench of sweat and odor overwhelmed your senses. Someone in the corner had vomited. A couple was fucking mere feet away from you, clearly intoxicated, and you balked, disgusted, wondering how Dazai could stand to be in such filth.

“I won’t put myself at risk, and I won’t let you hurt Atsushi.” You held his gaze, your eyes hard, unblinking. "So I won't tell anyone."

Dazai stared back, thoughtful, like these were the last words he expected from you, that your ultimatum was completely out of the blue. “You’re willing to let innocent people die just to keep me away from your fiancée?” He leaned forward, intruding your space, and traced the back of your palm. “Interesting.”

“There’s nothing interesting about it. I’ve learned that I can’t stop you from doing what you want.” You sniffed. “I know better. Even if I told you that I wanted you to stop killing those people, you wouldn’t.”

“I’d do anything for you. You just never asked.”

“Please,” a scoff left your lips. “Spare me that kind of disappointment.”

He hummed, though it was neither a confirmation nor denial, his innocence feigned. “So that’s all you came here for, then? To threaten me into bending to your will?”

“It’s hardly a threat, Dazai. What have I got to threaten you with?” you shook your head, laughing darkly. “If you care about me at all, you’ll leave me alone. I’ll spend the rest of eternity running from you if that’s what it takes.”

“No need for such dramatics. I told you: I’ll leave once I’m certain that you’re happy here.” He looked away from you then, focusing entirely on the actions of the bartender before him. Dazai seemed as if he knew a secret, held it all to his chest with pride. “I’m not yet convinced.”

That was the kind of self-assuredness you’d expected, though it would always elicit an aghast inhale from your lips. “I’m getting married—”

“To a man who will never fully understand you.”

“I love him. That matters to me more than whatever connection you think we still have.”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows lifted, barely noticeable. “I won’t leave.”

“Dazai—”

“But,” he held up a finger, ceasing your arguments, “I’ll cover my tracks better. Will that satisfy you?”

Your chest lifted, then fell, and you cleared yourself of any hostility. This was the best you were going to get out of Dazai, and you knew it. “Fine.” The stool screeched as you began to climb out of it. “Then if we’re both in agreement, I think—”

You were unable to finish your sentence, the words falling from your lips as the sharp smell of blood hit you. It was almost immediate, overwhelming, and inebriating. Hunger reacted before your intelligent mind could, the baser of your instincts overpowering logic.

“Shit,” the bartender muttered as a bottle shattered, quieting the room. When you turned, a deep gash had run down on his arm, a vein split open while a dangerous amount of blood poured out. It was dark red, picturesque, staining him so beautifully with an almost smoky tint to it.

The woman who had been carrying drinks rushed over to help him, but your eyes were glued to the wound, two pointy canines slipping over your bottom teeth. Your mind quieted, nothing circulating there but the memory of the euphoric taste of warm blood, so heavenly when it came from creatures more sophisticated than rodents.

It wouldn’t matter if people saw. They were all too drunk to notice anyway. You could pretend to help him, lead him back to the alley, and then—

A hand was heavy on your wrist, pinning you down to the countertop as the world moved slower and slower around you. Then, a tug, sharp as you collapsed into Dazai, your head falling against his shoulder, far too close to the deep purple vein that strained against his neck. You licked his skin, unable to help yourself.

Dazai laughed, theatrically, patting you on the head as he stood with you still in his grasp. “You’ve had far too much to drink, my darling,” he said to no one in particular. “We should get home.”

He led you to the door, and you stumbled over your feet, keeping a hand over your mouth until the hunger subsided, until you could no longer smell the coppery scent of blood. No one batted an eye, even looked your way, unconcerned by the fact that you hadn’t seemed drunk before, nor had you ordered a drink in the first place.

The alley was empty, and the crisp night air slapped you on the cheek, bringing you back into consciousness as you shoved yourself away from Dazai, putting distance between you. You couldn’t risk latching onto his vein, and though depriving yourself of him was proving to be a difficult task, you wouldn’t let yourself stoop to such unfathomable depths again.

Silence was thick between you; Dazai didn’t speak until you had composed yourself. Your teeth slipped back into a normal position and your eyes were no longer luminescent. It was enough for you to get a solid grip on your bearings once more.

“Are we going to continue to pretend like there’s nothing wrong?” Dazai asked from behind you, his presence nothing more than a pestering fly. “You should have more control than that—”

Another minute of silence lapsed. You considered ignoring him completely.

“Now you see why I need you gone, Dazai,” you said sharply, whirling around to advance upon him. He was closer than you anticipated, and your finger dug into the center of his chest, pointed and sharp. “I can’t…” It was humiliating, really, to admit it. “I can’t control myself around you.”

His eyes flashed. First, of mockery. Then, the dark irises melted into honey, and he was sympathetic, loving. “I’ve got nothing to do with it,” he frowned, too caring, too willing to curl himself around you in a safety net. “We’re not meant to live off the blood of rats.”

You snarled, tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His hands were gentle when they grabbed your wrists, stopping you from any further assault.

“I was just fine until you came back,” you said, sniffing. "You made me into what I am, and you use that power against me."

“You weren’t fine, and we both know it.” Dazai spoke as if he knew of your life before he returned to the city. If only he’d seen how free you were without him—how much more relaxed a world without him had become. “I can help you.” His hand drifted up your arm, a thumb tracing your chin. “I want to help you.”

Drawing back, you placed enough distance between you that you could recover from his steely expression. “I’m trying to be a good person.”

“You’re not a person anymore,” he replied, almost amused. Though he didn’t touch you, you knew he longed to. Even when you told yourself that he was a terrible monster, you knew the depth of his emotions. He had once loved you with a passion you’d never known humans to be capable of. Perhaps, he still did. “You’re dead. You’re a vampire.”

“I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be like you.” The words weren’t meant to be cruel. They were factual, unfiltered, and true. There would never be a world in which you wanted to be like him, even if there had been one that you were.

His eyes were cold. “You were worse than me once. I remember it well.” He smiled, and it turned unkind, the same expression that had always confused you. How he could go from the passionate, loving man into a sadistic devil would never be something you understood. “You enjoyed it, and I loved you for it.”

“That’s the worst part of it, Osamu,” you said his name like it was poison on your tongue; it almost hurt for it to cross your lips. It had been a prayer before. Two syllables you’d vowed to never say in vain. “I shouldn’t have to become a monster for you to care.”

A cumulation of emotions crossed Dazai’s face, like he was auditioning for a role, trying to decide which expression fit best. Finally, he settled back on a neutral countenance, his jaw set, dark eyes hiding everything he refused to say. “Don’t blame this on me. I never forced you into anything. You wanted this. I’m not the one who turned you into a monster; you did that yourself.”

The silence crept up on you once more, so darkly familiar. Around you were nothing but shadows, the home you’d begun to know more than the one you’d been born into. There were so many things you’d missed out on because of the allure of Dazai’s charming smile. You’d lost people—you’d killed people—all for him.

Every time he flashed his grin at you, the one that had brought you to him in the first place, you forced yourself to remember that you’d never gained anything but pain and tragedy by being in love with Osamu Dazai.

“It seems we’ll never agree on that point.” You turned away from him, facing the dimly lit streets, the sound of carriages reverberating down the alley. A horse forced a breath of air through its nose, and you wondered if maybe, draining such a large animal would finally be enough to satiate the hunger that hadn’t left you in years. “I’ve no desire to argue it any further.”

“You never do,” Dazai said, and though your back was turned, you knew he was taunting you, his expression dark with satisfaction. “Running away is so much easier.”

You clenched your teeth, scraping the back molars together so tightly they were sure to chip. Once more, you thought of the home you had to go back to, the bed with your fiancée, the light that would threaten you in just a few hours. It was better than this—it was better than the life that Dazai had once shown you, and you’d created it all on your own.

“Good night, Osamu,” you said, walking back into the shadows, and despite your malignant thoughts, it was almost impossible to ignore just how badly you wanted to sink your teeth into him.

His response was lost to the wind as you began your journey back home, across the city, through the destitute neighborhoods, with the kinds of people that could disappear. No one would bat an eye if they were gone.

Starved and with a weakened spirit, you considered how easy it would be to end the miserable life of the drunk homeless man who was passed out on the street. How, perhaps, draining an opium idled prostitute would be doing her a favor.

The moment passed quickly. Atsushi’s kind eyes always brought you back. How horrified they would turn if you crawled into bed that night with the blood of a human as a stain for your lips. It would be so opposite to the way that Dazai would react. He’d be too disgustingly pleased by your fall from grace.

Instead, you settled on a dog, its eyes far too innocent for your demonic instincts. Somehow, it felt worse than killing a human. It had never done a thing to deserve such a life of suffering.

The blood did little to appease you. Miserable, and still hungry, you headed back, feeling no better than before. Atsushi would be long asleep by now, deep in a dream after so many days of exhaustion, and you would be alone with nothing but old memories and the question of what would happen in the future.

Your neighbors were shouting when you walked up to the house. The dark-haired woman waved a hand dramatically as she shoved her husband onto the street. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before. They would argue, he would leave, probably get drunk, sleep with another woman, and come traipsing back home like they’d never fought at all.

She’d accept him, of course, because she loved him. She always would; and somewhere, in his lousy heart, he loved her too. It was a miserable tragedy. You didn’t know her well, but you were certain any woman deserved better than that swine of a husband.

When she met your eye, you smiled sympathetically, hoping your face wasn’t covered in the dark fur of the hound, your teeth smeared with iron. Despite your kindness, she only scowled back, slammed the door on the fool of a man, and crept back into her home.

As you let yourself into your own apartment, you realized how thankful you were that none of your neighbors were observant—they were all too distracted by their own troubles to care about yours. Never once had you seen any of them outside of sundown, but they didn't seem to care. Perhaps, your odd lifestyle wasn’t as suspicious to strangers as you thought.

You supposed that it made sense, even if it seemed too difficult to comprehend. Back when you'd met Dazai, you’d never guessed that there had been anything off about him.

A frustrated exhale left you, and you shook off your thoughts. It didn’t matter, so long as they didn’t cause you trouble.

Upon entering the apartment, your bloodlust doubled, hunger back in full force at the scent of Atsushi’s comforting aroma. He smelled almost as good as Dazai; the blood was saccharine, such a perfect blend of everything that Atsushi was.

You could ignore the scent—usually. There was always something to outweigh it. Atsushi burned candles, left out garlic. He jarred the strongest spices and set them in every room. When you were really desperate, he let animals rot on the porch, hoping the disturbingly strong smell of death was enough to distract you.

It almost always was.

As you latched the door to your bedroom, undressed, you realized you had none of those things to protect you now. The memory of the bar remained at the forefront of your mind. The bartender’s large cut, Dazai’s vein just inches away from your neck, the ache in your body that would never be appeased by an unconventional diet.

It was painfully hard to resist. You couldn’t take your eyes off Atsushi’s peaceful form, his eyelids fluttering softly, light eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. Under the blankets, you could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, reliable, unyielding, pumping him full of the very life you were someday going to take away from him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to recover your composure, remind yourself that this was Atsushi. You couldn’t take advantage of him, and you wouldn’t, but somehow, you’d climbed into the bed.

You were on top of him, your legs on either side of his waist, a position that was familiar, but not like this. He shifted, grumbling in his sleep, and though the alarms were ringing in your head, your fangs were borne, and you bent down over his neck.

You were so hungry. Just a taste, that would be all. It would be enough to fulfill your desire for human blood, and you’d go back to being the perfect saint, the one you’d sworn yourself to becoming.

A hand was on your hips when you kissed his neck, tight and confused. “Honey?” Atsushi’s voice brought you back to reality, raspy with sleep. “What are you doing?”

For a moment, red-hot anger swirled through you before you realized that you were grateful for his interruption, and you’d almost done something you’d regret immensely. The irritation was gone, and you were sick, horrified, flying off of Atsushi before he could say another word.

“I’m sorry—” you said, choking on your words as you cowered in the corner of the room, biting down on your fist. Blood flooded your lips, but it tasted stale, like dead animals that had marinated and rotted in a muggy summer sun. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” you trailed off, looking away from him, the thrum of his heart too distracting. “I’m sorry.”

Atsushi was quiet, breathing steadily, in and out like an anthem. Then, he padded over, feet soft against the floor. Close enough to touch you, but never quite getting there. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you shrieked, recoiling, putting enough distance between you that you couldn’t reach him. “Don’t come any closer.”

He didn’t move, though you knew he wanted to, and the wheels in his mind spun desperately for a solution, looking towards the higher beings that he still believed in. “I want to help you.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t want that at all.” It struck you, then, that you’d been ignoring the gravity of the situation. The fact that at any moment, you could lose the thin thread of control that you’d never really grasped at all. “I’m a vampire. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” Atsushi argued, his voice so incredibly soft, even though he’d never known the true horrors you’d committed, your violent acts that had destroyed cities and ruined families.

His foot moved closer, and you bared your fangs, menacingly, as if to show him that another step could put his life in danger. Though, he was unfazed, not a single muscle in his features twitching. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Get away, Atsushi.” You were pleading with him now, eyes sad as you covered your mouth once again. Perhaps this was a mistake. You never should’ve let yourself fall in love with him. He deserved so much better than the eternal pain that you succumbed to. He wouldn’t survive a life as a vampire if it depleted his humanity. “Please.”

“If you need,” he said, pulling down the collar of his shirt, ignoring your cries with a frown. “You can—”

“No!” you shouted, much louder than you meant, and Atsushi stumbled back, for once, startled by your outburst. “I’ll kill you. I—” You stopped, swallowed. There was so little you’d told Atsushi about your past, your past with Dazai, that it seemed shameful to admit it now. “I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve never been able to stop once I start drinking from a human.”

Atsushi blinked, his mouth forming words that almost didn’t come out. You’d never told him that before. It made you seem much more dangerous, the reality of what you were more obvious than ever. “You killed someone every time?”

“No.” You couldn’t look at his blank eyes, unsure if he was curious or filled with contempt. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. “I was with another vampire. He stopped me when I went too far. Most of the time.”

“But… you did kill?” Atsushi asked, uncaring about the elusive figure from your past. Someday, you’d tell him everything. It just wouldn’t be now.

You sighed, your gaze hard on the bouquet of roses beside the bed, a few of them already wilting. Something about the vision was incredibly foreboding, like your rampant thoughts about Dazai would continue to lead to deplorable actions, just as one beautiful rose would die after the other, until your relationship with Atsushi was strained and fragmented.

“You know I did, Atsushi.”

The silence was sharp, unbearable. You longed to hear any sound other than his shallow breaths and aching heartbeat. “It’s hard to imagine you that way.”

You met his eyes once more. They were naively kind, like any fearsome action you’d committed could be forgiven because your heart had been cleansed, scrubbed raw of all your previous sins. “Perhaps, but that’s how I was.” You smiled sadly, twisting a finger in your hair. “There’s still a chance for you to run away from me.”

Atsushi shook his head, his eyes wrinkled in the corners, the moonlight glinting off his bright pupils. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m foolishly in love with you and I can’t help it.” Despite yourself, you melted, the hunger overpowered by a pure love for the kind soul before you. “I’ll sleep in the other room for tonight.”

“Atsushi—”

You protested, but Atsushi leaned forward, kissing you deeply, with finality. “No, you need this room,” he said, pulling away before your body could even comprehend his proximity. “I can’t ask you to be around me if you’re suffering.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, eyes despondent as you watched him retreat into the living room.

Though when he turned around, hand lingering on the doorknob, you both knew that that wasn’t true.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of the day, and locked in a room with no light, there was nothing for you to do but watch the single beam of sun flick under the door. Bright yellow rays taunted you, and you missed the heat with every fiber of your being, like a friend you would never reconnect with again.

Staring, eyes empty and hollow, you rested against the pillow and resolved yourself to a decision that could prove to be a mistake. You had no other choice but to find other ways of satisfying your hunger, and while it certainly wasn’t optimal, you reminded yourself that your future husband was the most important person in your life. If this would save Atsushi from your malevolent impulses, you would gladly go back to the devil and sell your soul another time.

Atsushi came home that evening at the same time as usual, just as tired, but not without a gentle smile. He was strong, and he was kind. You hoped that even as a vampire, he wouldn’t have the same urge to kill that you always had.

That fact alone made you ache with adoration for him, the innocence that he’d always been able to keep, through every struggle that he endured and continued to face. He was a good person, and you couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t stay that way.

Though you rarely slept through the day as normal, you often grew tired of the same routine. By the time the sun had gone, you were itching to leave the house, and kissed Atsushi briefly before rushing out the door.

You couldn’t linger close to him for long, for a starved and weary vampire was no match for a human, even one as physically capable as Atsushi.

Once you’d ejected yourself into the bustling evening, you sped through the crowd, trying not to focus on a single person’s heartbeat. If you lingered too long, you were certain it’d become too much for you, the taste already infiltrating your consciousness, the desire of another person to make themselves a part of you too.

Humans were naturally drawn to vampires, your looks otherworldly and appearance so mystifying that it was hard to resist. That made it all too easy to steal prey away, feast on them until there was nothing left but a hollowed-out corpse.

A headache had begun in your temple, the tell-tale sign of your desperation. Finally, you reached the beaten-down pub, no livelier than the previous nights, and more calmly than you felt, let yourself in through the door.

As suspected, Dazai was back at the bar, the usual glass of liquor in front of him, even if only sipped. The effects of alcohol only worked on vampires if ingested through the blood of an intoxicated human, and you couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself indulge in that.

Dazai was alone, this time, but the pianist from the previous night still eyed him, ironically, like he was her very own prey. He was smiling softly to himself, already aware of your presence as he rolled the glass around in his slender fingers. The ice clinked against the sides, an unceasing rhythm.

Steadying yourself, you pushed away the warm smell of his blood, how deeply you craved it, the underlying affection there. Instead, you steeled yourself for conversation, stole some sort of inhale, and took a seat.

Dazai’s sharp features were on you the moment you were within his orbit, pink lips curling up with satisfaction. “I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said, leaning towards you, his expression unguarded and curious. “This makes two nights in a row.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, flushing with shame. To admit that you needed him was foolish and humiliating. You’d let him win at his own game, and as hard as you’d thought, you couldn’t come up with another solution.

This was for Atsushi’s sake, you reminded yourself, and you were no longer sure that the solution to your bloodlust would be remedied with Dazai’s exit from the city. Your hunger had been festering for centuries, and spending all of your time with a human had weakened you, leaving you incapable of resisting such a small drink.

If you continued on this path, you’d kill him. That was something you’d never be able to live with.

Dazai continued to watch you, tilting his head as if deciphering your thoughts as they gathered in your mind. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and you realized your panic was just as evident on your face, the sick conflict of need and disgust clashing against one another.

Your mouth was sour, tasting like whatever kind of acids lingered within you as a vampire. You forced the words out before you could regret them. “I need it, Dazai.”

Dazai blinked and was silent for a mere moment before he laughed loudly. The sound was mocking and cruel, and far too obnoxious in the miniscule space. “How ironic,” he said, leaning back on his stool. “Just yesterday, you wanted me to leave, and now you’ve come crawling back, so beautifully desperate.”

Your skin burned, and you refused to look at him, disgraced and remorseful. There were two options: leave and see if he took the bait or plead with him and risk more embarrassment. One seemed better than the other.

Standing, you took the former, hoping that Dazai was telling the truth about his affection for you. If he really cared as much for you as he once had, then maybe, he would crave the high of sharing blood. A vampire as old as him wouldn’t open his vein for just anyone.

“I still want you to leave. I just thought, perhaps, we could talk about this like we’d once been lovers instead of enemies.”

Dazai stared, knowing that you were manipulating him, but trying to decide if he cared. “What a silly thing to say,” he smiled, eyes raking over your body like it pained him to do so. “I’ve never been your enemy, sweetheart.”

Maybe not, but there seemed no other word to describe the animosity you felt for him. The stool screeched as you pushed it away from the counter, making your way to your feet. “It was a mistake to ask you this.” You held his gaze one last time, waiting for him to decipher whatever message you thought you were sending. “I’m leaving.”

He stopped you, a hand on your wrist as he licked his lips. There was a softness to his features, the hard lines of mockery bleeding into sympathy. “I’ll go with you.”

You glared for a moment longer before, finally, you shook him off and went outside. Dazai trailed behind you in the shadows like a cat, and you wondered if he’d been fated for this all along. Perhaps he’d been born only for an immortal existence; a human life was never in the cards at all.

It was a foggy night. The feet ahead of you blurred into nothingness, and Dazai stood close to you, just to be able to see your features clearly. The smell of him drove you near the brink of insanity, and without thinking, you let your fangs slip down over red lips, face falling at the acknowledgement of your aching need for him.

Dazai smiled.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, staring at you like he’d never seen you before, beautiful, and dangerous and once his.

You debated telling him. Dazai didn’t deserve your honesty, but it would be much easier to put this behind you, pretend that your reasons were entirely heroic, if you told him outright. One way or another, he would uncover the truth.

“I almost drank from Atsushi,” you said, looking at anything but his knowing brown eyes, the ones that had never been able to hide his adoration for you. “I would’ve killed him.” Your teeth were sore, and your jaw clenched with the insatiable hunger that never seemed to ease. The blood of animals was no more nutritious to you than candy was to a human. It made you feel bogged down, weary, and so much weaker than you wanted to be.

“You still don’t have any control.” Dazai’s eyebrows drew together, so tightly that his face marred into something akin to anger. It was a statement, not a question. One you were senseless enough to answer.

“No.”

“That’s why you haven’t turned him. Not because he doesn’t want to be turned, but because you know you’ll kill him.”

“Yes.” You hated being so known by Dazai, but you were liberated by it at the same time. Never once were you forced to pretend with him, and though that had sometimes been a blessing, it wouldn’t allow you to slip anything past him either.

Dazai was inches away from you in an instant, his speed otherworldly and graceful. There was a slight flush to his skin—he’d fed recently. Had he spared their life, or would another death make the headlines? “Why do you continue to punish yourself?” he asked, thumb grazing across your cheek. “Is killing so different from humans slaughtering animals?”

Disgusted, you tried to push him away, but the smell of his skin, his blood, was too appetizing to pass up. Instead, you let his hand remain on your cheek, nuzzled it even further, and frowned. “You know it is. You’ve known for centuries, and you delude yourself into thinking it’s not.”

Dazai sighed, but a weary smiled pulled onto his lips, satisfied that you’d not run away from him. “Perhaps,” he said, unbuttoning the collar of his pressed shirt, exposing the smoothness of his neck. You traced the skin, mesmerized, all at once, by his centuries of existence. “Perhaps I just don’t care.”

You swallowed, unable to remove your eyes from the vein, your hunger flourishing and expanding into something all its own. You indulged yourself in the moment of bloodlust, let yourself feel every moment of desire, so when you finally tasted his blood, it would be that much sweeter.

“But I care,” you admitted, mind hazy with need. “You’ve spoiled me, Osamu. Your blood is better than anything I’ve ever tasted.” The words were outside your lips before you could stop them, unretractable, but true, nonetheless. “Everything pales in comparison.”

He exhaled, and you were surprised to find that it was stuttered, breathless from your proximity. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, tilting his jaw away.

“And your fiancé?” Dazai asked, kissing the thumb that rested on his chin, his voice deepening, almost dangerous. “Will his blood satisfy you when he’s all you have?”

You opened your eyes, contemplative. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “How can anyone compare to the vampire that made me?”

“They can’t.” Dazai laughed, and then he tipped his head, exposing the vein completely with a hazy grin. “Drink, my sweet angel.”

It was a request that you couldn’t refuse. You were upon him, tearing at the flesh like an uncontrollable beast, inhaling the blood with the need of a starved man.

The taste of him was heavenly, otherworldly. It was a drink bestowed upon you by the devil, luring you into a life of sin with something you couldn’t resist. That’s what Dazai was, of course. He was something that you, in all of your strength, were far too tempted by.

Dazai’s fingers curled into your back as you lapped at the vein, bringing yourself closer and closer to him until you were pressed so completely against him. His body was cold and hot all at the same time, like a burn, dangerous and compelling.

Too distracted by your own hunger, you hardly registered his sharp moan, loud and distracting in the alley. “Taste so good, Osamu,” you said against his neck, barely a whisper before you dived in again, curling your sharp nails into his shoulders.

Dazai made a sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands were in your hair, rough and forceful as he pressed you closer towards the delicate skin under his jaw. You smiled, full of lust and desire and the lingering scent of his blood.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was faraway, hushed by the roaring of the ocean in your ears as you focused on indulging yourself completely. “I’ve missed you more than I want to admit.”

The last statement was not meant for your ears, but you heard it all the same, and you preened from the praise that came so sparingly. Fisting your hands tighter in his collar, you sunk your teeth deeper, mouth pressed against his skin delicately, a kiss more than a bite.

If anyone had walked into the pathway, it would’ve seemed like nothing more than a loving embrace, not the threat of murder, two vampiric beings caught in a dance of death within the moonlight.

You stumbled forward, trying to crawl deeper within him, but there was nowhere to go, and Dazai hit a streetlight with a quiet laugh, curling his fingers against your scalp. “You’ll make yourself sick if you keep going,” he said, but he let you carry on for another minute, until his skin had grown impossibly pale, and he staggered with light-headedness, drained and once again, starving.

“Okay.” Dazai’s blood squelched salaciously around your lips, and he finally stopped you, disappointed. “That’s enough, my love.”

Although you heard him, you were unable to pull yourself away, and the sweet liquid from his vein continued to pour into your lips.

Dazai tugged you back by the neck, sharply, ripping his skin open wide in the process. He was stronger than you—older and wiser and much more powerful, but a part of him always let you take from him. For better or worse, Osamu Dazai had never been able to deny you your simple requests. “Enough.”

“Sorry,” you said, licking the last droplets of blood from your lips, blinking into eyes that were full of affection and pride.

“Don’t apologize. I’d give you more if I could.” Dazai smiled, the blood loss weakening him just enough to look sentimental. “How do you feel now?”

Your cheeks grew hot, and you felt the effects of his blood taking hold, intoxicating, and stupefying. You’d forgotten how much it was like a drug, an addiction that you’d spent years of your life living off of.

It hadn’t been so harmful, then. Only an aphrodisiac that paired nicely with your unconditional love for him. Now, you felt that you were playing a dangerous game. You risked a lot of things by letting yourself remember him.

“Less hungry,” you admitted, frowning, unsure how you could possibly walk away from him with an appetite still rampant, if only subdued. In the years away from him, you’d undeniably weakened. It was as if now, it was catching up to you at once, your immortal body trying to compensate with proper nourishment. “Stronger.”

This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Your mind was telling you to seal your lips shut and walk away, leaving Dazai where he was without so much as an explanation. You should kill him, end him—whatever it took to live a long and happy eternity with a man who truly deserved your undying affection.

Though, when those brown eyes softened, two pools of melted chocolate, you knew why you had loved him so deeply. “I’m glad.” He was gentle as he caressed your skin, your fragile collarbone, every touch a sin.

I miss…

You ceased your thoughts, looking back at him, at the affection that mixed in with years of malice and vindictiveness. A perfect summation of every day that you’d loved him.

He’d never looked at anyone like that before, had he? Like the entire world was a blur around him except for the beautiful work of art that stood in front of him. At least, not the fleeting affairs he’d had with artists, nor the women he’d fled to when you argued over nonsense.

Had he even looked at you like that before?

With years and years of built-up hatred, it was, truly, hard to remember. So hard, in fact, that you weren’t quite sure what it was about him that you’d been missing.

“It’s near sunrise,” Dazai said, like the fact wasn’t painfully obvious. You could see the beginnings of a glow beyond the horizon. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Whether that was a caring invitation or manipulation tactic, you couldn’t be sure. What you did know was that you needed to get away from him before you did something mindless—something you wouldn’t otherwise do if you weren’t dopey from his blood.

“I’ll manage,” you choked out, grateful only when his wound closed, and you could release your inhale once again. “Don’t worry.”

He seemed hesitant, looking around like there was a creature more dangerous than you lurking in the night. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Osamu, I’m fine.” You went for a softer approach, knowing that he’d be unable to deny the subtle blink of your lashes, the seductive smile that plastered your painted lips. “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiled, and then took your hand within his own, kissing the back of it chastely, like you were courting for the first time. As if you hadn’t once had him deep inside you, hadn’t shared every ounce of blood from your vein, your life reborn from the very taste of him.

It was a moment doomed to expire once you were reminded that you had moved on. This wasn’t the person you were supposed to be anymore.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “If you need me.”

Regretfully, you squeezed his hand, knowing that you would.

PART III

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @sookisaurus @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @mort-froggoo @fyodorisbbg @iluv-ace@kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @lacunaanonymoused

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rottenpumpkin13 · 5 months ago

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since fireworks are on my mind (4th of July and all), what if there was a kind of similar fireworks festival in Banora or some small village and they either couldn't afford fireworks/the fireworks stopped working so Genesis used materia to make fireworks for the little kids!

ps, hope you're having a good time, stay safe in general, lots of love!!! ♥️♥️♥️

• Sephiroth fills his mouth with rice the moment Angeal drops the accusation, sensing his opinion on the matter will be asked and wanting no part of it: "You only ever take missions when you know there will be witnesses and news coverage to hail you as a hero." • Genesis is fuming. How dare his friend accuse him of vanity? As if they hadn’t climbed the ranks of SOLDIER together, enduring every trial side by side until they earned their titles. Genesis: “Do you agree, Sephiroth?” *Sephiroth responds by shoving an entire panko prawn in his mouth* • Genesis will have none of it. N o n e of it. He's now dead set on proving them both wrong, and as a rebuttal, he takes on a reconnaissance mission in a small village near the Fort Condor region. It’s simple and lacks flair: investigate a clandestine group selling stolen materia and report the findings. • The only interesting thing about this village is that his mission coincides with a major festival. He sees the locals bustling with preparations upon arrival. But he has to keep a low profile and can't reveal himself, which is a pity—he would have relished the awed stares and excited children flocking around him. • The mission is too easy: he locates the group almost immediately, operating on the outskirts of town near the woods where the festival preparations are underway. They’re selling rare materia to the locals at exorbitant prices. Genesis knows he could simply report it and be done, then return home to finish his latest novel. • But it's so terribly simple that he decides to take matters into his own hands. A skirmish breaks out between him and the group. Although Genesis successfully apprehends each one and confiscates the materia, a blast from the magic hits the nearby shed storing all the fireworks, rendering them unusable. • Now his cover is blown. The children and locals are indeed awed and excited to see him. But he can’t help but notice the children’s disappointment as they see the ruined fireworks, their sad eyes tugging at his heartstrings. It wasn’t his fault— how could he have known the fireworks were stored there? • He understands why this is devastating. He used to get so excited when the harvest festival back in Banora rolled around because the village would always put on the biggest fireworks show. He had fond memories of climbing to Angeal’s rooftop to watch them, while Angeal’s mother made apple chips for them.

• No, he would be damned by the goddess before he ever spoiled the fun for these kids. • Genesis puts his proficiency with magic to good use and uses materia to orchestrate the grandest, flashiest fireworks display imaginable. He pulls out all the stops—varying colors, styles, and formations, even crafting shapes like chocobos, moogles, and other fun designs that the children love. Genesis goes a step further by taking requests for custom displays, seething with quiet rage when a child suggests a firework depicting Sephiroth battling Bahamut. • The festival is saved, and he feels great! There were no news crews or cameras to capture the moment, proving Angeal’s claim wrong. Ha! Take that Angeal! • Until the following lunch hour where the trio are once again in the mess hall, except this time Angeal is smugly slapping down a newspaper on the table. The headline reads: "Heroic SOLDIER Genesis Saves Festival with Spectacular Fireworks Display!" followed by a candid picture taken of him laughing with the children. Angeal: “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Genesis: “What!? It’s not like I wanted this! They took the photo of me, look, I’m not even posing for it!” Angeal: “Your vanity knows no bounds.” Genesis: “This is ridiculous. Sephiroth, what do you think about this?” *Sephiroth responds by chugging his ramen*

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #crisis core #storytime

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lynetianya · 1 year ago

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Guardian of My Heart [ Karina X Reader ]

In the glamorous world of K-pop, Karina, the leader of the famous girl group AESPA, reflects on her extraordinary luck in having Y/N in her life.

GENRE : Fluff

TYPE : One Shot

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KARINA POV

In the dazzling world of K-pop, where fame and glamour go hand in hand, I found the most unexpected love story of my life. My name is Karina, or Yu Ji-Min, as I'm known to the world as the leader of the renowned girl group, AESPA, under the umbrella of SM Entertainment. Behind the blinding lights and adoring fans, there was a secret that only the members of AESPA and the management knew – the love between Y/N and me, a love that was nothing short of a fairytale.

Y/N was not part of the idol world, Y/N was a non-celebrity, a police officer with a high rank, whose path had crossed mine in the most extraordinary way. Our love story began on a night that felt ripped from the pages of a romance novel. Y/N, my knight in shining armor, had saved me from the clutches of a relentless stalker.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself whenever I thought about it. For me, Y/N was indeed the knight in shining armor who had rescued me from danger and brought light into my life. But for those relentless stalkers, Y/N was like the angel of death, a menacing force ready to swoop down and snatch their very souls.

As I lay in the shadows, trembling from the encounter, I saw Y/N standing there, tall and unwavering, his eyes never leaving mine. In that moment, I knew that my life had taken an unexpected turn. He had saved me, and as our eyes met, I felt an inexplicable connection.

The Story

Our love story blossomed from there, as we got to know each other beyond the headlines and stage performances. Y/N was a stoic figure to the world, but when he was with me, he was gentle, tender, and treated me like royalty. Y/N was my protector, my anchor, and the love of my life.

One thing about Y/N that stood out was his insistence on paying for everything when we went out together. It was a gesture I appreciated but often resisted. As a successful idol, I had my own wealth, and I knew I probably had more money than Y/N did. However, Y/N had his reasons – reasons that tugged at my heartstrings.

Y/N was an orphan, a lone soul in the world with no family to call his own. Y/N cherished me, the one person he had in his life, and Y/N found happiness in spending his hard-earned money on me. When Y/N explained this to me, tears welled up in my eyes, and I kissed him passionately, grateful for the love that overflowed in his heart.

Another aspect of Y/N that I cherished was his culinary prowess. Living on his own, he had mastered various cuisines, from Korean to Italian and dishes from across Asia. On our rare days off, Y/N would come to our dorm and whip up our favorite dishes, treating us like queens.

The Story

But what endeared Y/N to me the most was his unwavering romance. Y/N always had a way of making me feel like the most beautiful person in the world, even on days when I felt anything but. His words were soft and reassuring, Y/N hands would caress my face gently, and Y/N would remind me that I was his one and only.

Whenever there were critical articles or negative comments about me, Y/N was there to lift me up. Y/N was a constant source of encouragement, reminding me that I was strong, talented, and deserving of all the love in the world.

No matter how busy Y/N was with his police duties, Y/N made sure to attend every Our concert, cheering for me and the members like the proudest fan. And when we won awards on music shows, he showered us with flowers, chocolates, and gifts, making us feel like true winners in every sense.

Another reason why Y/N was the perfect life partner was...... EHM, Y/N was incredibly skilled in bed.

Yeah..

My face always flushed when I recalled each intimate moment we shared.

Y/N, possess an incredible stamina that leaves me breathless and yearning for more. Y/N passionate gaze makes me feel wanted, desired, and cherished. I could never have imagined that someone could make me feel as cherished and desirable as Y/N did. In those private moments.

And let's not forget about the main event, shall we? Y/N... generous 'Thing' leaves me overwhelmed and utterly satisfied. It's a perfect fit, like a missing piece completing the puzzle of our desires. Every encounter with Y/N leaves me weak at the knees, and I'm certain that I always end up fainting from sheer pleasure once we're done.

The way Y/N hold me after our passionate encounters, the way Y/N caress my face and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. It's the way Y/N make me feel like the most cherished person in the world.

I must admit that I can't bear to be apart from Y/N. There was one particular day when his work called him away for a week, leaving me in tears. The members did their best to comfort me, but it was clear that Y/N's absence had a profound impact on me. I never expected that someone's presence could mean so much to me.

The Story

So, yes. Our sexual chemistry is undeniably incredible, but it's just one facet of the love I have for Y/N.

But, like any person, Y/N had his flaws, and one of them was his uncontrollable temper when someone threatened those Y/N loved. Remember the first time we met when Y/N ruthlessly handled those stalkers? It was a testament to his protective instincts. There were times when Y/N admitted to getting into trouble at the police department due to his past actions.

I couldn't help but tease him, suggesting that if Y/N hadn't become a police officer, Y/N might have been a gangster or even a mafia boss.

The same protective instinct resurfaced during one of our dates. I was left alone for a brief moment, and a stalker tried to harass me. Y/N, sensing danger, came to my rescue and dealt with the stalker in a brutal manner. It was only my embrace that brought him back to his senses, calming the storm within him.

Despite his imperfections, my love for Y/N remained unwavering. I knew that he cared deeply for me, and I was confident that we could work through any challenges that came our way.

I couldn't imagine my life without Y/N. Y/N brought meaning to my days and filled my heart with a love so pure and genuine that it felt like a dream. Y/N was my knight, my source of inspiration, and my one and only love.

As I sit here, reflecting on our love story, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the extraordinary person who entered my life unexpectedly. Y/N, the police officer who saved me from danger and showed me a love that transcended the glitz and glamour of the idol world, will forever be the hero of my heart. Our love story may not be conventional, but it is filled with passion, devotion, and a love that will stand the test of time.

END

My Masterlist

#karina x reader #karina oneshot #karina fluff #karina fanfic #aespa imagines #aespa fanfic #aespa masterlist #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #karina aespa #aespa karina #karina #oneshot #aespa oneshot #aespa fluff #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

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cherrylng · 3 months ago

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Headline - Bright Eyes+Muse interviews [ROCKIN'ON (March 2000)]

The year 2000 starts here! Is the impatience that can only be tolerated by a dazzling youth the birth of the Year Zero generation? Rockin'On fully supports Bright Eyes and Muse, the two passions that run around while showing off the physique of young boys, and offers tickets to support their visit to Japan!

Interview: Mariko SAKAMOTO Photography: JIM NEWBERRY (Bright Eyes) Interpretation: Erika YAMASHITA (Muse)

The noisy days of Y2K! and the bubble era have returned to normal, and the onslaught of millennium visits to Japan has come to an end, but is it time to breathe a sigh of relief? Has anything started to happen? Year 2000 = Year Zero. It's only a matter of time, but we'd like to introduce two newcomers who make you feel that the year 2000 is just around the corner. Bright Eyes is a band centred on Conor Oberst, a home recording poet from Omaha, Nebraska, USA. Their interactions with the Athens scene are also a hot topic, but technically they can't be called newcomers, having released a compilation even before their debut full-length album was released last year. However, the self-denial and (literally) exploding shouts heard on their latest EP 'Every Day and Every Night' show an awakening of the core of expression in a style that has tended to veer towards experimental pop. Already waiting for their second release, it is a unique singing voice that cradles bottomless sadness in their clear eyes. In contrast, Muse are a three-piece from Devon, UK. They first attracted the attention of an American record company and were signed to Maverick. Although there was a feeling that the band was ahead of its time, their single ‘Muscle Museum’ broke through on the UK indie charts last year. The drama is sharply played by a blue, straightforward guitar sound that has been compared to early Radiohead. I'm sure I'm not the only one who is reminded of Jeff Buckley, with vocalist Matt Bellamy's rich expressiveness underpinning the high level of perfection of their debut. Both have very different sounds, but their straightforward voices are tugging at your heartstrings. The voice that started it all was always so vivid. With that voice, the clock starts ticking again.

"Writing songs was like smashing a windowpane."

(BRIGHT EYES/Conor Oberst) ● You started writing songs when you were about 11 years old, what was it like when you ‘discovered’ guitars and four-track recording equipment? 「Yeah, it was like, “I'm glad I found something to do”. It's like keeping a diary. It's a way of expressing your feelings in a more proper way. …… Compared to when I was a smaller kid. It's like writing a song on a four-track or throwing something at a window and smashing it, they're both the same thing.」

● Were there other kids around your age when you started writing songs who were making songs with four-tracks and guitars? 「Not quite the same age, but I had older friends who were writing songs. They were about five or six years older than me. They all encouraged me to write songs too. I'm still hanging out with them and making music with them.」

● I see. So you prefer sitting alone in a dark basement and recording than going out and playing with friends or skateboarding or anything like that? 「Haha (laughs). No, there are two sides to me, I guess. I like having fun too. I like to have fun, I like to throw parties, but…… But I always end up going home and spending time alone (laughs).」

● Yes, yes (laughs)…… Well, I believe you're 19 (20 this year), you're attending university, aren't you? 「Yeah…… Um, I'm actually going to take a leave of absence from next semester. I'm thinking of doing a lot of touring and stuff.」

● So you're planning to concentrate on your music? 「Yeah, hopefully. I'm going to take this semester off, and if it goes well, then I can continue with music. So I'm putting off my studies for a while (bursts out laughing). No, it's not that I don't like university, but I don't know exactly what I want to do……」

● That's unreliable. I have the impression that you write and record songs almost every day, but when do you feel the strongest urge to write songs? 「Well…… It's a bit of a strange feeling. Sometimes songs come out of a depressed mood. In that case, I just run to the guitar and play it straight away. But if I try to force myself to sit down and say, "Come on, I've got to write", I feel like it's never going to work. So I guess you have to wait for the ‘moment’ to come. And those moments are when I don't feel very good, like when I'm sad. That's why my songs sound like that. But I'm thinking that I need to get out of that. I want to write happier songs. Because …… I don't want to just make the listener sad all the time.」

● I see. And your debut album as an original, "Letting Off the Happiness", seemed a bit scattered. It was more like a collection of songs rather than an album. 「No, it was meant to be a single album. But because of the way we recorded it, the result was kind of…… It's a bit of a jagged, cut-and-paste, patched-together kind of sound. Because the album was recorded partly in my parents' basement, partly at a friend's house, and partly at Ascend in a completely different environment, so it's got that kind of disjointed sound. It ended up being a kind of collage of different sound qualities. In terms of the songs, I think thematically it's like an album, but maybe in terms of the way it sounds, there's a lot of ebb and flow to it.」

● Are you satisfied with the results? I got the impression that you weren't really interested in the cohesion of an album. 「No, not at all. I've just finished a new album, and it's more…… smooth and unified. I'm trying to work in that direction now, but when I was making ‘Letting~’…… I wasn't so concerned about cohesion (laughs). What can I say, I just…… I wanted it to sound intuitive, like I was reacting to something. I didn't want it to be a nice, well-proportioned piece of work.」

● Is that so? So, when I listen to your EP ‘Everyday and Every Night’, I feel that your songwriting is becoming more straightforward. 「Yeah, I think that's right. I always hope I'm growing as a writer (laughs). But you can't tell if you're growing or not, can you? But I feel like I'm more in control of what I'm doing than I used to be. It's not like I'm just waiting for something to happen. I'm starting to understand what I'm doing. I used to be, how should I put it…… I was trying to feel something in the darkness, or rather, I was searching for what to do in the darkness. I think cool sounds and cool songs came out of that. But now…… Everything is much more direct and well intentioned.」

● I love the song ‘Perfect Sonnet’ on that EP. Especially the part where your voice shakes and turns inside out and explodes into a shout - I've never heard such an intense expression of emotion. 「Oh…… I try not to rely too much on that kind of singing…… No, I think that a tiny whisper, for example, can convey just as much emotion as a loud, broken shout can. There are definitely some shouting on this album, but I think emotions are a very broad thing, and I think that up until now I've only been able to capture very, very extreme emotions. I've been able to shake off a lot of extreme emotions, such as despair, burnout, joy, and so on. But there are a lot of emotions in between. You can be perfectly depressed or insanely happy, and there are days when you don't feel either. People's emotions are more subtle, and that's what we're aiming for with the new songs we're writing. Of course, I like the feeling of being able to scream and let all the emotions out. But I want to be able to do more than that. I don't want to be able to express only one emotion. …… I want to be able to convey all sorts of grey emotions, not simply black and white.」

● Yeah, yeah. I think your songs express a strong longing for perfect love, happiness and joy, but at the same time, I feel like there is a fear of losing such joy and happiness. 「Ah…… You know, you're exactly right! That's the problem I have with myself, or…… That's a great description of the problems that come from my depression. I see things. I notice that there's something beautiful, and already at that moment I'm like, that beauty is going away, it's gone, it's turned into something ugly! That's how I feel. When I see something wonderful, the moment I see it, I think about the end. Everything seems like that…… I can't help thinking that, all my favourite friends, they're all lovely, but one day they're going to get old. I know that's the fate of all things, but everything changes…… But that's a great insight to realise that!」

● No…… (chuckles). 「Even though I've never met them (laughs).」

● Certainly (laughs). The words ‘Bright Eyes’ appear several times in your songs. What do these words symbolise? 「Yeah. Well, I can't remember the name…… Um, I used to watch an old film channel at my parents' house. It was a very long time ago, way before the first CD came out. Yeah, I really don't even remember the title of the film, but it was an old film with, like, Humphrey Bogart in it or something. And the main character calls out to a pretty girl, ‘Bright Eyes’. "Don't worry, pretty girl. You'll be on time for the train" or something like that. And I thought that was a nice way of expressing my fondness for the girl. So I wrote a song about it. I think it was the second song on an early compilation…… I wrote a couple of other songs using the words ‘Bright Eyes’ before I decided on the band name. I think that word has everything I love in it, like beauty, youth and…… When you look into someone's eyes, they are full of life…… I think that's the image. I think it's the most wonderful thing in the world. I think that's where it comes from.」

"I think everyone is thinking, I want to leave my mark on something."

(MUSE/Matt Bellamy)

● What impact did your first encounter with music have on your life? 「I started playing piano when I was 8 or 9. I liked Ray Charles and that kind of boogie-woogie piano. I didn't learn at first, I just listened to records and imitated what I heard. Then, when I was 12 or 13, I started playing guitar. I was influenced by British indie bands like Sonic Youth and stuff like that. But until I was 16 or 17, I couldn't make up my mind whether I was going to be serious about being in a band or going to university. So I spent four or five months travelling around Europe with my acoustic guitar and I learnt a lot of different guitar playing techniques. Flamenco, traditional Italian, and Greek guitar. It was totally different from what I had been playing. So when I came back from the trip, I had a lot of new ideas. So I think that was probably my biggest musical encounter.」

● I see. This is reflected in the variety of songs on this album. You say that Nirvana's 'Nevermind' and Radiohead's 'The Bends' are your favourite albums, but you must have been 13 or 14 when you listened to those two albums. 「Yeah, that one. Well, I just wanted to say that those two albums are two classics of the 90s. And we're an extension of the succession of bands like that. They were the successors of bands like the [Sex] Pistols and the Smiths and Echo Bunny [aka Echo & the Bunnymen], and even further back, the Beatles and [Elvis] Presley. In R&R [rock n' roll], everything is inherited and evolves, and we are the new generation in that. We're just ten years younger than Nirvana and Radiohead.」

● You can feel the change in the generation. The album was produced by John Leckie. Did working with him bring new inspiration to Muse's music? 「He helped us a lot with setting up the environment and where to record. It's about creating the right atmosphere for each song. He didn't have any input into the songwriting. I think the biggest thing he's given me is the Radiohead comparisons (laughs).」

● (laughs) It's an unavoidable part of the process. What do you yourself think about that comparison? 「Um…… It's fine, isn't it? Hahaha. Because, as I said before, everything originates from somewhere and can be traced all the way back. In the end, I think it all starts from the moment a musician wants to communicate their feelings and their situation. In that sense, we have something in common with Radiohead and the other bands I mentioned earlier. We want to express what we feel as people born and raised in this era.」

● I see. So, the town you grew up in, Teignmouth, seems to be a beautiful seaside town that attracts people in the summer as a resort. Was it ‘dead’ so to speak? 「No, it's not that bad, but it's just a bit boring. There's not much to do. But I'm sure there are many, many, many other towns like that. I'm sure lots of people live a similar life. But when we moved to that town, we were 13 or 14, and of course we looked around for something interesting to do, but there was nothing, except watching TV. That's when we started playing music, and we formed a band and started rehearsing and so on. We're a bit fed up with the town because every time we go into town we get into fights. There were people who didn't like us. All I remember is violence, and I don't like it. At first glance, it looks like a peaceful town, but whenever I go out at night, I get the stink eye.」

● Is it because you're a young guy who thinks he's an artist playing in a band? 「Hahahaha! That's exactly right.」

● (laughs) Muse's music has an excessive amount of emotion and passion. What is it that drives you to create such intense music? 「I think everyone wants to express what they feel, to be understood or misunderstood by others, and in any case to leave some kind of mark. That we are here, and that we are feeling this way. I think it's part of human evolution. Whether it's art, science, or contributing to the maintenance of the system by raising children. So I think what we are doing is talking about the system and how it affects us, for better or for worse. There is a significant element of the absence of religion. Our generation is one that has grown up without a specific religion, and everyone implicitly accepts the media and television as a way of connecting with others. Part of the album is about whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, and whether technological advances are destroying us or liberating us. It's something I myself don't know the answer to.」

● I see. And you have a beautiful falsetto voice— 「Uhuhuhuhu……….」

● You don't have to be so shy (laughs). Despite this, the words you sing are harsh and sometimes even challenging. 「Yeah, yeah.」

● By releasing the darker, self-destructive side of yourself into your music— 「Eheheheheh.」

● (laughs) Do you feel like you're sort of redeemed by letting go? 「Yeah, I think the first album was definitely like that. You go deep into yourself and look at the dark side and the good side and express that. But if you succeed by expressing yourself openly like that, there's a danger. You think that if you don't do that all the time, you won't be able to go on. And then the next work goes deeper and darker. But I don't want to do that. I think it's important to know other people's emotions, not just your own, and sometimes you need to become someone else's character and express yourself from their point of view. It's dangerous to be too focused on yourself, I think it's important to look outside the cocoon that is you.」

● Yes, that's very perceptive. I'm really looking forward to the gig in March, as the live show is highly acclaimed. So, do you have a message for Japanese listeners? 「What message? Oh, hahaha… Well, the album alone is only half of us. The other half is our live shows. So if you see us live, you'll get the whole picture. I would also like to say that the message itself is all in the music.」

☆ The weeping acolytes Bright Eyes and the rising star Muse, who twist and turn on the opposite emotions. The magazine's acclaimed Hope are all coming to Japan! Bright Eyes is an in-store gig. It's a free event, so please feel free to attend. Muse's Japan show is a ticket-purchase event! We will be inviting 10 groups of 20 people, so please apply using the enclosed postcard (must arrive no later than Wednesday 16 February). This is your chance to experience first-hand their sound, which marks a moment in time that will never come again. Don't miss it!!!

Translator's Note: Was it necessary for me to translate the Bright Eyes interview? Not really. But since the article was covering both bands and I've already scanned and extracted the texts, I thought I might as well just do it anyways. It gives a nice compare and contrast about Conor and Matt.

#Conor Oberst #Bright Eyes #Every Day and Every Night era #Matt Bellamy #Muse #Muse band #Showbiz era #smol meerkat #my scan #translation #interview #ROCKIN'ON #ROCKIN'ON March 2000

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popentertainment-interviews · 2 months ago

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Stephen Sanchez

Traveling Troubadour

By Emma Fox

Since his hit single “Until I Found You” went Triple Platinum, generated over 2 billion streams, and made the Top 25 of Billboard Hot 100, Stephen Sanchez has proven himself to be quite the powerhouse in music. Additionally, after the release of his debut album, Angel Face, Sanchez sold out his first ever headline tour, earning acclaim from the likes of Rolling Stone, Vogue, Billboard, and more.

We got the chance to chat with Sanchez following the release of the highly anticipated Angel Face (Club Deluxe), as he anticipates his worldwide fall tour. He discussed influences in songwriting, the depth behind his lyrics, and what we can expect from him down the road.

When asked about his influences and inspirations, Sanchez gave us some insight into a more intimate side of his creative process. Sanchez spoke of the films that he takes inspiration from, specifically Lost in Translation.

He stated that love is a “wonderful escape from reality a lot of the time, and then love becomes real once you shake off all the clouds.”

Films similar to this one that truly align with his songwriting and storyline as an artist he said are very inspiring, reminding him of “that magic, but also that reality of heartache and of circumstance pulling two people away from each other”.

A lot of Sanchez’s music is known to tug at the heartstrings, and his songs carry a lot of emotional weight within their lyrics. Storytelling is something that Stephen Sanchez does like no other, and for him, it’s exciting to be able to write from real stories and real feelings that have happened in his life, but then to “hide behind a character so it feels like it lessens the blow of vulnerability”.

Sanchez’s album Angel Face follows the story of the fictional musician/character The Troubadour Sanchez, who blew up in 1958 with “Until I Found You” and fell in love with Evangeline in 1964. Angel Face serves as his “long lost debut” that has been unearthed 59 years later.

During our chat, Sanchez was asked about what advice he would have for one of

his listeners if they found their way into a forbidden romance just like Troubadour Sanchez, in order for them to achieve a storybook ending.

Sanchez laughed and responded, “Oh my god, don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t do any of what that character did.”

He continued, “Storybook endings, what even are those? Who even knows? To each their own.”

Finishing his answer with some solid advice, he told listeners to “pursue a thing that’s healthy. They want to know you. You want to know them, that’s it. You’re on the same page”.

As we look ahead and see what the future looks like for Stephen Sanchez, there’s a lot to look forward to with the upcoming fall tour. Sanchez’s first headline tour told the story of Troubadour Sanchez, where on stage Sanchez and his band played the ghosts of the characters existing in the album, haunting each venue and walking fans through the storyline.

This time around however, fans can expect to be taken further back and have the opportunity to experience “the real thing, as if you were back in the 50’s, actually seeing The Troubadour Sanchez and the Moon Crests live.”

The journey and growth of Stephen Sanchez has been an incredible one to watch, and his influence is only continuing to rise. His ability to transform a room, command a stage, and take you back in time with his nostalgic aesthetic, smooth vocal tones, and powerful and emotionally intense songwriting is something that is a true testament to Sanchez’s pure talent and potential. We are so excited to see what he has up his sleeve next!

youtube

#Stephen Sanchez #2024 #Music Interviews #Emma Fox #Angel Face (Club Deluxe)#Emily DiMarcangelo #Youtube

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eldritchelfwriter · 5 months ago

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Chapter 14 of Shadowheart Begins is served

And there is smut in this chapter OK. No one has to read it though.

======

Extract:

“Florwyn! Florwyn!” A little figure jumps up and down, waving to try and catch their attention.

“SILFY!” Florwyn cries out. And then she is off, running ahead of them all like a lunatic and sweeping the little tiefling girl into a bone crushing hug, while the rest of them catch up. “I thought you were – ” Florwyn starts, wiping a tear from her eye. “Never mind, so – so you’re a papergirl now, are you?”

Silfy beams at her. “Yep! And look, you’re in the paper!”

“I thought you said you stopped that article, Astarion,” Shadowheart says, dismayed.

Astarion just smiles at her and crosses his arms, looking incredibly smug.

She grabs one of the sheets off the pile and reads the headline: Celebrate the Brave Heroes Who Slew General Ketheric, and begins to laugh.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Astarion murmurs to her, looking very pleased with himself.

“Do you want to buy a copy? It’s two gold pieces. And it’s particularly legible today!” Silfy is telling Florwyn eagerly.

“Sure, I’ll take a copy.”

“Oh wow, my first ever sale!”

Florwyn pauses and looks at the little girl, and Shadowheart just knows what is going to happen before it does. “Oh that’s just the one for me,” Florwyn says lightly. “But we’re going to need one each, of course. Let me see … I’ll need fourteen copies altogether please.”

“Oh wow!” Silfy says again, receiving Florwyn’s clinking gold with delight. “Wait til I tell Mol!”

“Fourteen copies?” Shadowheart says to Florwyn, when they move on, Florwyn clutching a small stack of papers. “There are only eleven of us, including Isobel and Aylin.”

Florwyn clears her throat. “And then there’s Scratch, and Owly …”

“But of course,” Shadowheart says, a laugh in her voice. “The animals will need to read the paper too. Then who’s the last one for?”

Florwyn looks at her with a silly smile on her face, blushing. “That one is for Mizora, obviously.”

Shadowheart can hold in her laughter no longer. “Naturally, the devil at our camp must be simply starved of reading material.”

“I’m not going to actually give it to her,” Florwyn mutters.

“Florwyn, darling,” Shadowheart says, squeezing her hand. “I’m only teasing. You have the sweetest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and I love you for it.”

“Did you see the look on Silfy’s face?” Florwyn says, smiling in remembrance.

“I sure did,” Shadowheart says. She is as relieved to see that the tiefling girl they met an age ago in the grove, has survived, after all, herself. “I think you made her day, Florwyn. Several of them, most likely.”

Although, between the look on Silfy’s face, and the one now on Florwyn’s she is not sure which pulls at her heartstrings the most.

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strugglingyetvibing · 9 months ago

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let me put y'all on something real quick

we all know children's animation rocks (bluey, phineas and ferb, steven universe, etc etc etc)

well i've stumbled across a banger of a show that either i have yet to find the fandom for or is being incredibly slept on

it's called "Go! Go! Cory Carson," it's on netflix, and it is so freaking adorable

first of all, this is the character design:

i mean, look at them!! the little green one is Chrissy, and she is the goat of the show. the orange one chrissy is sitting on is Cory, the blue one in the background is Mama, and the one with wood paneling is Papa.

the world of the show is super cute as well! i won't bombard with photos, but the plant life is all this neat felt-looking texture (which you can kind of see in the tree in the background of this pic), and the world itself is quite adorable, using over-exaggerated hills for much of the landscaping with sparse trees and bushes adorning them (which is reminiscent of a child's landscape drawing)

the show isn't built for older kids, like shows such as steven universe, but it's also not structured in a 'dora-style' format like some shows for kids are (being overly interactive with the audience with overwhelmingly positive protagonists or pointing out the obvious every five seconds to really drive home whatever message the show is sending)

the show is about cory and how he learns about life through playing with his friends and his family. it's really endearing, with a solid cast of characters, and the storytelling is very well done. the episodes, while short, are usually nicely paced, and they provide good messaging about healthy relationships with friends, family, the world around you, and even with yourself.

the characters are decently fleshed out as well. of course, headline protagonist cory has the most character development, and we ride along with him for most of the episodes. but chrissy is a pretty fleshed out character for being a toddler who still calls 'superheroes' "Scooplbeeple," and Mama and Papa have their moments that connect with older audiences that aren't just overused stereotypes. some of the episodes also vaguely spoof popular movies and television (like mission impossible's theme and dance dance revolution), which make these already cute episode even cuter

part of my system of deciding whether a piece of media is good or not (in my super subjective opinion) is if it can make me cry. it's not always a factor, but usually, if it makes me cry that's a pretty good thing. that's because there was enough emotional heart in the media to tug at my heartstrings enough to make me cry. bluey absolutely smashed this category out of the park (sleepytime, granddad, rug island, to name a few episodes that made me sob), and i could talk about how good that show is for quite some time. cory carson has six seasons so far, and i'm part of the way through season three. so far, two episode have made me cry, "Grandpa's Treasure" and "Show and Tell," so this show definitely passes the test.

long story short, "Go! Go! Cory Carson" is an adorable little Netflix show to check out if you have about 8 minutes to spare for an episode and want to see adorable little cars zoom around their cute little town, and i highly recommend it if you like children's animation similar to shows like bluey

but, really though, chrissy is the best character in the show, hands down. she's a little car of few 'words,' but when she speaks, you listen

#i know this has nothing to do with any of the communities i'm in but i just had to share this with you all #if chrissy has no fans then i'm dead #i have no clue if this has a tag but we'll see i suppose #go go cory carson #Go! Go! Cory Carson #no clue if the ! makes a difference but i don't really feel like checking atm #anyway that's my rant for now #love you all

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druidx · 3 months ago

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Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 31

CW: None AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 20. 30. Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster @mr-orion

Then she is in the cool, verdant embrace of the trees, ozone sharp in her nose. She leans against the trunk of a tree, its spreading boughs above her. Her breathing is strangely easier here, the pain dulled – though the ice sits like a lump in her chest.

🙢Don't let him take the sun,🙡 calls a rough voice from above her. "What?" Her voice comes out faint and scratchy. A shadow in the tree shifts, and Elo finds a face peering down at her. The creature has bark-like skin and hair like autumn leaves. 🙢Don't let him take the sun,🙡 it repeats. Another shadow shifts. 🙢You must learn to flourish under Aukštasvilkas' golden eye,🙡 says a softer, younger voice. "How?" 🙢Come. Climb.🙡 A gnarled hand is proffered. It has been many years since Elo has climbed a tree, and her wound aches from all it's been through today. But still, she thinks she can manage with the Eshen's help. So she abandons her boots and socks, ignores the sounds of Merri getting closer, and takes their hands to rise through the branches until they stand at the tree's crown.

A frigid breeze is whipping about her, the ice still lodged in her chest, but her breathing is even. Strangely, she cannot see much of the city from here, only the vibrant neon green of new spring leaves against the dim sky, echoing the colour of her eyes and the leafy hair of the soft-spoken Eshen. "What now?" she asks of the two sprites, lingering on the bough below her. 🙢You must not let him take the sun,🙡 the younger replies. "Yes, thank you," Elo mutters. "You said that already." The older of the two clicks their tongue. 🙢The sun,🙡 it taps its chest, 🙢in here.🙡 That is more useful. Not by much, but still. "How?" 🙢Turn yourself to Aukštasvilkas' golden eye,🙡 the older says, gesturing to the sky. Elo thinks it must mean the sun, so she turns to where the dim orb hangs as if occluded by cloud, for all that the sky is clear. "Okay. Now what?" 🙢You must flourish.🙡 Elo grits her teeth, but the Eshen has not finished. 🙢You must be open to what Aukštasvilkas offers.🙡 "How?" Elo asks, pressing down on her rising panic. Then, with trepidation, "Is it me, or is it getting darker?" When Elo was a child, back in her native country, there was a total eclipse. She stood and watched with her parents as the sun slipped modestly behind the moon. The sky dimmed then just as it does now, the breeze replaced by a strange wind, like that which comes before a storm – unnatural and filled with portent. The oldster looks up sharply. 🙢Do not let him take the sun from you!🙡 "I don't understand how!" Elo cries, gripping the tree for support. The ice in her chest is growing as the sun dies. 🙢You must open to the eye of Aukštasvilkas,🙡 the younger one says, urgency in her voice. "Stop talking in riddles. Please! I don't know what that means." The girl turns with ease on the narrow branch, unfurling her arms until they are wide and uplifted towards the sky. Elo blinks and it's as if tendrils of light reach down, caressing the girl. Then she looks back at Elo, moving her arms in a manner that suggests Elo should follow suit. So Elo does, opening her arms in the same manner the Eshen girl, pressing her back against the trunk to steady herself. She has to take a breath against the manic giggle that burbles up, imagining the headlines as she sways in that unnatural zephyr: Hero of Toreguard dead after insane tree climb fall. Nothing happens. There's no warmth, no light. The cold sends chills racing through her. 🙢No, no!🙡 the girl says, with a look bordering on fear. 🙢Open! Like the Gazania!🙡 "The what?" Elo asks. To Elo's blank expression, the girl seems to falter. 🙢It's a flower…🙡 "Uh hu?" The girl sighs. 🙢At the feel of Aukštasvilkas' eye upon it, it will open its bloom to his power. When the clouds obscure his eye, then the flower will close. The flower of your inner being is being closed to his light by Kasskekadmas. You must not let Kasskekadmas win! If you do, then you will wilt and die. You must allow your flower to bloom.🙡

All these riddles! Elo presses a hand to her forehead, thinking she is too pragmatic for this world of fairytales she's landed in. Yet, here she is: standing on top of a tree, while the sun fades from her vision, and an unexplained chill takes hold of her heart, listening to two beings – which should not exist in the first place! – try to explain spirituality to her in the language of flowers and green things that bloom. The blind faith and devotion they're asking of her is not something Elo is capable of. The only things in life which matter to her are the things she can prove beyond reasonable doubt. Love, respect and trust – these are concepts Elo will accept, but in concrete forms: her Mother's attention, Breakwood's strong arm, Meredith's back against hers. And the Gods! Capricious creatures, providers of nothing but empty promises, from what she's seen. Cuthbert is a reasonable, solid god to swear upon – patron of Coppers and courtrooms, beholder of law and justice, motivated by evidence and facts. This World Wolf – what is that? An analogy, a woolly concept of good and evil. It's too nebulous for her. But Aukštasvilkas' twin eyes, the sun and the moon… These are things she understands. Warmth, life, sweet things of the earth; Chill, death, the distant crystalline firmament. These are solid concepts she can grasp. Elo thinks of the sunlight filling the clearing below, the intensity of it making her squint. She thinks of the children's laughter, their high innocent giggles. She fills her lungs with the scent of ozone, of the burgeoning green life. The sky lightens. The cold in her chest thaws. But still, no tendrils reach from on high. 🙢Kasskekadmas is not the only one preventing you from feeling Aukštasvilkas' light,🙡 the elder says. 🙢You are stopping yourself from opening!🙡 "But I am," Elo protests, waggling her open arms. 🙢Not just your arms! You must expose your stamen and your pistils.🙡 "My what!" Elo stutters out, heat creeping over her cheeks. The girl looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. 🙢Not like that.🙡 Her face scrunches as she tries to find a non-flower-related analogy. 🙢Aster means your heart, your soul.🙡 🙢Yes, yes. The petals that cover your inner being,🙡 the older says. 🙢You, girl, usually so clever! But understanding nothing. Use your brain, then; and think!🙡

Her soul… Another useless, nebulous concept. Her old mentor, Sargent Taube, used to say that one's mind was all one ever truly had, and her Mother says the soul is the perfect encapsulation of the self. The two are alike, Elo thinks, both being what makes a person themselves and no one else. She tries to think of her mind and soul as the Eshen oldster said – of a flower, its petals curled protectively around its soft and sensitive center. And she thinks she understands. The Eshen are trying to tell her about her secret self, the one she has locked away from everyone – even herself – so that nothing will hurt ever again. They want her to unlock that. They want her to be vulnerable. She feels herself quail, shrinking away from the thought. She can't.

She's never been good at showing vulnerability. That died along with her parents. But she had been getting better at it, sharing things about her past with Farren, sharing how she felt about work and life. He'd told her once that being a tough nut didn't endear people to her, so she'd tried to loosen up, and it'd won her a few friends on the force. Then Aunt Alexis left. Then she met Merri, Lorcian, and the others. Then Daraja happened, and Captain Withnail was forced out and Captain Tharrus died, and she had to flee to Iceland and they were sent by the Alþingi first to Asia and then to Greenland. And somewhere along the way, that box inside herself that Farren was helping her open, inch by inch, was slammed shut. Because you can't be vulnerable when you're a leader. When people look up to you, they need to see someone strong looking back. And somewhere along the line, she'd realised that was her, whether she wanted it or not. So she'd kept herself – her real, core self – apart. She offered them motivation, encouragement, and protection. But never her friendship. Even her affection for Meredith was set aside in the name of duty. That mentality, she realises, followed her back from those distant lands. It followed her through the trials with Darkhide and the Brotherhood of the Cleave. And even now, when it's no longer necessary, she's been doing the same with Farren, keeping more of her life, her feelings, from him. No wonder he's worried and pissed off all the time.

Elo takes a breath, filled with ice. It took her years to be vulnerable around one man, in small, private moments. And now these moss-ears want her to do it in an instant, for a deity she doesn't even believe in? The sky grows ever darker. She is going to die.

But, no. No. She is, at her core, a survivor. She can unravel this riddle. After what happened in her village, didn't she trek miles through the mountainous forests of her homeland, subsisting on berries and tubers, before Oakrose found her? But then she'd had the fire of vengeance to keep her going. She let that go, once. Maybe she can let this go too.

She's not a leader anymore, not in the same way. She doesn't have to make the hard calls. She doesn't have to keep anyone fighting long past the point they should drop. The buck stops with someone else. Divested of those responsibilities, there's time and space to breathe, to relax. Toreguard is far safer than any wilderness; the crises here aren't world-ending. Here, she's just a girl with a job and superior officers. Just another face in the crowd. A petal lifts. Her chest feels lighter. The things which happened to her were horrible. The death, the abuse, the betrayals. Too many times her life has crumbled before her eyes. But these things are in the past now. Yes, they hurt at the time, but they can't hurt her any longer. Not unless she lets them. Without the shackles of the past, her future is open, and it is bright. A petal lifts. The sky lightens. Farren, Merri, her Mother. Johan, her colleagues, Mrs Higgins. These are people she can rely on. They would help her in a moment if she only asked. She has only to ask, to accept their kindness and set her pride aside; to let them hold her up, as she held her team for so long. A petal lifts. The sun warms her face. Aukštasvilkas too, maybe. If she asks, It will fix the chill in her chest. She has but to ask, to let It help. Elo's throat works. Her vision mists. "Help me." It comes out a croak, barely a whisper. "I- I can't… Not on my own." She sniffs, mucus crackling. With a gasping breath, she takes the last dregs of courage and releases the tree. Barely a breath: "Please."

Through her closed eyelids, the world changes from black to grey to pink. The light is warm. It curls, like a lover's caress, around her arms. Her shoulders, shudderingly, droop. There is heat in her chest like the burn of liquor. Her stomach unknots. There is heat on her face like the crackle of a fire in the grate. She stops clenching her jaw. At first, it's like being immersed in a hot bath, the way she's surrounded by cosiness. Then the heat changes, as fierce as noon in high summer: uncomfortable, drying. Elo tries to step back, but the heat does not lessen. It becomes more intense, a cloying, blistering fierceness, like being inside a building on fire. And again, the heat ratchets up, the very edge of intolerable. She feels like she's been set alight, skin nearly melting, blood nearly boiling from her pores. Heart hammering, Elo opens her eyes. The world around is nothing but a blinding, fluorescing yellow-white. She opens her mouth to cry out, only to feel she is being smothered, her words becoming ash on her tongue. Her hands feel like week-old breadsticks, as she grasps for someone, something, anything to save her from this crushing heat.

Just as she's reaching the limits of her endurance, convinced she will die, there is an explosion – a blooming, a single spark bursting to life, like a seedling cracking from its shell, like lava erupting from the earth. She feels scattered, all her different selves split through a prism, all of them her but not her; only facets of a whole. And just as abruptly, the feeling reverses. She is whole and cooled, as if shaded under the spreading bows of an elm, in the comfort of a lush and mossy bower.

Small hands brace her as she wavers on jelly-legs. The bowl of the sky is a speckled, ombre velvet, the sun sinking into a flare of ruddy violet. A stiff breeze tosses her hair and the leaves around her. The ground is still many feet below. Elo blinks. She is still standing on the crown of the tree. The spires and towers of Toreguard rise in the distance like glittering sentinels. The only thing changed is her.

#oc elowyn o'toreguarde #writing #HCWL Chapters only #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light'#titan fighting fantasy #fighting fantasy #ttrpg fanfiction #wandering words

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