#I cultivate it and I adore time with my dearest and best friend

[athousandmorningss]

oh man phones ruin the mystery. Please let's take time apart *not* talking. Let us be separate and private individuals before coming together.

[actingwithportals]

I have regained the will to live since losing my huge ass post I wrote up about my thoughts on Herrah, so here I am writing out a new one because dammit I love this spider so much and I have THINGS TO SAY ABOUT HER

So to begin, I think Herrah is first and foremost just,,,, the most loving mother. She absolutely adored Hornet and would do anything for her if it was within her power (and honestly she'd still give it a go even if it wasn't). Hornet was someone who meant more to Herrah than anyone, and in her later years much of what she did was motivated by her love for her daughter.

But she wasn't a perfect mother, and I think she knew that. She brought Hornet into the world knowing she was going to leave her someday, far too soon, and she would have known this would only serve to hurt Hornet. But she made the deal anyways, because Herrah could justify that it was for the ultimate good, and that Hornet existing at all was worth the price of future pain she would have to endure. And whether or not Herrah was wrong to do so,,, that's really up to Hornet.

I think Herrah and the Pale King would eventually come to be friends. I don't think the feelings regarding their dalliance were much beyond "this is business and we're both here to get what we want", but between having and raising Hornet, Herrah would probably come to respect PK more, and I think he would feel the same for her. There would always be that sort of teasing nature from Herrah towards him - a need to keep him on his toes a bit because Herrah knew well that she was always playing a dangerous game, attempting to gain equal footing with gods, but it was a game she enjoyed and really he was someone she could grow to care for, as the father of her child and as a respected friend.

Her feelings towards the White Lady were probably similar in that early on things were strictly business but overtime after getting to know each other better they would grow into a genuine friendship and respect. The White Lady was far older and wiser than herself and Herrah would treasure what she could learn from her, and the two probably did find pleasure in time spent together.

But both with WL and PK... there would always be something that Herrah could never truly look past, could never truly just.... pretend away. I don't think PK told the Dreamers at first (except for Monomon), but eventually I think he would clue them in on just what the vessels were, just what Hollow was. And that would strike a nerve with Herrah. Because she's a mother, and Hornet is her world, and the knowledge that PK and WL could take these actions towards their own children.... that would never sit well with Herrah. No matter how close the three would become, how much she would respect them as rulers and allies and even friends,,, she couldn't ever forget that they were killing their children. That they were sending them off to a horrible, eternal fate. And she was playing part in that.

It's an itch that would forever tug at the back of her mind, but ultimately she would look past it. Because she had to make the world safe for Hornet. Everything she had done was all for Hornet. And so she would go down complicit in this crime, just like PK. Just like WL.

As for Herrah as a queen, I think she was well-loved and extremely competent. She led the people of Deepnest well and in earlier days were formidable adversaries against Hallownest. Strength and power were things she held in high regard but they weren't the only things, and those who were weak by typical standards were still considered useful and valuable to the Deepnest society that Herrah hoped to sow. If one couldn't fight then they could weave. If they couldn't weave then they could hunt. If they couldn't hunt then they could care. And if they couldn't care then they could exist and those who did fight or weave or hunted or cared would help cultivate a world where those who could not would be able to exist. But one had to want to survive, one had to be willing to try. Honesty and earnest and determination were things Herrah valued greatly, and that showed in the way she ruled. And I think for the most part, her people respected and admired that of her.

But she wasn't perfect as a queen, either. She was hotheaded and quick to stab before negotiate. She didn't trust easily and her patience wasn't bountiful. She made mistakes and some of those mistakes cost lives that didn't have to be lost. Herrah wasn't born into power, she clawed her way up to it, and so she constantly had to learn along the way. But in spite of her mistakes and her shortcomings, Herrah always tried, and that was something others could respect.

I think she and the old Sire of Deepnest were close. I don't think they were in love, at least not in the traditional sense. I think Herrah loved him and he loved her, but it wasn't quite the same way that PK and WL loved each other, and it took a while for Herrah to realize that (long after he passed on, tbh). He was one of her dearest and most cherished friends, and she would have given him the world (and he to her). Losing him was one of the worst pains Herrah endured, and it would leave a permanent scar, but that didn't mean she Loved him, not like that. But that love was still valuable, still powerful and deep and real, and it wasn't something she would ever forget.

Herrah would have realized the difference in that love once she fell for Vespa. It was unexpected and exciting and for a while a "would they won't they" situation, and that almost added to the thrill, tbh. Herrah fell for Vespa first, in a startling realization of "oh I don't want to stab her I want to win her heart". They would eventually make their feelings known to each other (Herrah made the first move) and from there it would be pretty well known that the two of them were as good as wives. Of course nothing official ever took place, there were too many political hoops to jump through, other world shattering threats to face, the Hive wasn't even one to culturally have much acknowledgement of such unions, so they were married in word alone, and really that suited them well. It wasn't a secret, but it wasn't broadcasted news either, and they liked it that way.

Knowing she would be leaving Vespa behind too was yet another one of Herrah's deepest pains. But she knew she could go to Dream more easily with the knowledge that Vespa would be there to watch over Hornet, and likewise for Hornet to give life and hope to Vespa.

As for Midwife, I think Herrah and her always were and always would be the best of friends. They grew up together - hardly knew a time apart - and both supported each other in their many endeavors in seeking out a life for themselves and discovering who they wanted to be. As queen, Midwife was Herrah's closest and most trusted confidant, and she knew she could always depend on Midwife to be honest with her, even if that honesty hurt. And likewise, Herrah was always ready to offer Midwife the same.

I don't think Herrah had the easiest upbringing, and neither did Midwife. So having always had each other to depend on, even in their darkest moments, there was a bond between them that nothing could really match.

As for personality, I think Herrah is someone who loves fiercely, fights relentlessly, takes no shit but does no harm, fails spectacularly but always rises to try again, and never settles for seconds when she believes she can get what's first. Not just firsts for her, but for anyone who depends on her, whom she is responsible for. And that's part of what made her such a loved queen. I think Herrah is serious and stern and terrifying and fierce, but she's also thoughtful and considerate and fun and tells the worst dad jokes and has a weakness for puns and can't cook or swim wake up early for the life of her, she took years longer than most to learn to weave, math confounds her, and fire makes her skittish in any quantities larger than the candles gifted to her from Vespa.

She's so multi-faceted and I just. I just fucking love Herrah so much and I know that pretty much all of this is my own headcanoning but DAMMIT THAT'S WHAT WE ARE HERE FOR AIN'T IT.

Love Herrah. What a good spooder. 10/10 would live for her.

[musicallisto]

Congratulations!! :DD Could I have a vanilla milkshake for Harry Potter (Golden trio era) please? I’m a introverted straight female, 5’5. Personality-wise, I am really shy when first meeting people, not rude, just quiet and more of listener than a talker. When I open up I’m much more bubbly, sarcastic (playfully), and talkative. I’m very empathetic, laidback and open minded and extremely loyal to everyone in my life. I have a good sense of humour and laugh at most jokes and like some fun banter back and forth :P. I’m also a pretty stubborn person and never get swayed by peer pressure even though I’m extremely insecure regarding my personality, appearance and how I’m viewed by other people. I need to time to recharge after and sometimes during social events and am content with just listening to the other person/people speak to/around me. Bad traits of mine would be, tendency to overwork myself with schoolwork and study, get stressed easily and overanalyse everything (social stuff mostly). Likes: Drawing, Music, Singing, Going on walks and Reading. Dislikes: The Dark (horrible phobia), Bugs, Spiders and Overly Aggressive, Loud and Pushy people. Hufflepuff and ISFP-T if that helps :P.

hi! here’s your vanilla milkshake, I hope you enjoy it! I think neville longbottom would really appreciate your personality and every trait of your character...

Neville is pretty intimidated by... everything, to be honest, when he first arrives at Hogwarts.

But if there’s one thing that radiates comfort and peace, and manages to cheer him up and be a beacon of light in the darkness of the unknown, it’s you.

Although you met at Hogwarts, he gets the feeling that you’ve known each other all your lives. It’s so easy to fall into conversation with you.

Mostly, he truly appreciates how you let him ramble about plants and flowers and botany in general without mocking him for being a “nerd” with “nerd interests”. As much as he appreciates his Gryffindor friends... they can be a little bit close-minded at times.

And everyone can’t adore Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions like they do. Botanics is his thing, and you will happily listen to him talk about this new herbal remedy from Patagonia he just read about in a book.

He even gifts you flowers and little succulents from to time; most often they’re just Muggle potted plants, because keeping magical plants in a dorm seems like a safety hazard waiting to happen, and you can never know what tricks these plants have up their sleeve. But he knows that you love taking care of plants, talking to them and watering them with great care and tenderness, and it warms his heart to see you actually be thoughtful with something that means so much to him.

You also spend a lot of your free time together in the greenhouses - because Professor Sprout loves you both, you for your dedication and quick wit, and him for his passion for the subject, so she trusts you with almost unrestrained access to the plants. He’ll tell you the magical properties of every single plant and the optimal conditions for their cultivation...

... blushing a little bit whenever he gets to one plant that symbolizes love or affection in wizarding culture.

And it takes you quite some time to catch on, because you’re so close to Neville - almost too close, and he’s your dearest friend, to the point that you’re not shy with him, and that you’d willingly spend hours with him just to playfully tease him - so you never considered him a potential romantic partner.

He was always cute, of course, and thoughtful, and selfless, and he admired you and respected you more than anyone in the world...

... but for some reason you couldn’t truly bypass your mental “best friend” barrier.

Until the day of your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.

You had revised and worked tenaciously, all year long, so as to not be caught off guard by a spell you didn’t master or a technique you couldn’t replicate. You had practised a hundred times, even with the most vile monsters...

... but on D-Day, the Dementor trial was almost too much for you to handle. Sure, you hadn’t slept properly for a week and had driven yourself to the brink of overexhaustion for these exams, and you had been swimming in your stress for the better part of the week as well - but normally you would be able to conjure a Patronus without too much difficulty.

Except when the Dementor took the shape of a black void, a gigantic starless expanse, like an Obscurus waiting to devour you as well as all the light in the world... you thought your heart would stop, and you’d drop your wand in the infinite darkness.

You had forgotten the memory you needed to conjure to chase the Dementor away - you had forgotten almost everything... but you hadn’t forgotten Neville’s voice, and it suddenly rung out in the middle of the overpowering night.

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

“No, Neville, I’m going to fall off!”

“I promise you won’t! Look at me, if I can do it, you can do it too!”

“Will you stay close to me?”

“All the time.”

It was the first time you had ridden a broom - you hadn’t taken the classes during your first year, leaving you a little delayed compared to your classmates, and over the summer Neville had volunteered to teach you. No one else would - you were both the “lost causes” that no one wanted to bother with.

But not Neville. He knew exactly what it was to feel like a lost cause, and he’d never wish it on anyone - especially not you, who was the most wonderful and incredible person he’d ever met.

He had held your hand the whole time, as he promised, and the gesture was born of children’s comfort, but as you recalled the memory, it warmed your chest with something infinitely more powerful.

The Patronus you produced was the strongest you had ever seen.

After the end of the examination, you ran into the corridors until you stumbled upon exactly who you were looking for.

“How did it go?”

And you kissed Neville square on the mouth, in the middle of the hallway.

You had no idea what had come over you at that moment, to be honest. There was no way in hell you would have done something so exuberant and public if you had been in your right mind.

But you were so elated, drunk on this feeling of victory and realization - you wanted Neville to be more than a friend, and unconsciously in your mind he had always been more -, that you let yourself be carried by the flow of your emotions.

“... Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“It went great.”

Oh that it did.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!

[vincedeangelo]

At a glance he may look like Grant Gustin but in reality they’re just 213 year old Vince De’Angelo, a witch here in Barton Hallow. They are a lone witch. They work as a professor of Horticulture and Biological Sciences here in town and are known for being energetic and distracted. I’d watch my back if I were you..

[History]

Saying that life has been complicated for Vince is a bit of an understatement. It didn’t start that way, but it didn’t start easily either. Being born at the middle of the 18th century in Europe to a distinctly Bohemian traveling family, his parents were already well aware of a long vein of magic running through the family tree, his several siblings and half siblings could attest to that much, but most of that magic was rooted into nature. Vince grew up in comfortable chaos, happy enough for the most part, within the shelter of a large family who looked after each other and, while facing a great deal of downward glances from the rest of society, were themselves excellent at thriving and enjoying life with very little in hand.

It was what, in later times, might be compared more to the lifestyle of a hippie commune once the family did finally settle in an area of Britain and became, more or less, the farming, earth-worshiping sorts. Which was all well and good, that slow pace wasn’t as appealing to Vince’s teenage self though and he sort of laments that he did take off when he had to see more of the world; the things he saw weren’t exactly pleasant. It did very little to unsettle his excitable, eager personality but more than a few times he made a mess of his efforts out in the world.

It wasn’t until his twenties that he began to test his magic more, at that point much of his time was spend engrossed in the the developing underbelly of London and how strangely different it was than his own upbringing. It was there that he met the person, or rather the vampire, who became his best friend in very short order. Unconventional, yes, but the two spent more than their fair share of time discussing philosophy, life and the world around them. They were inseparable. At such a pivotal point in his life Vince directed his studies towards darker magic, seeing no fear in exploring the limits of them at the urging of the vampire. It was the start of his studies as a necromancer, and one of the point of his life he still looks back very fondly on.

It seemed almost impossible to imagine but as close as they were, as much adoration Vince had for his dearest friend and companion, but that bond became strained when the prospects of relocating became as necessity. The world, again, was changing drastically, and becoming less kind to those who were not human but especially the undead in London. A few murders in the area had suspicions heavy and Vince saw it as the chance to finally leave Europe to see the States, but his friend wanted nothing to do with the idea. The xenophobia of walking into a seemingly new and hostile place was too much, the arguments spiked and eventually they split paths; Vince hopeful to change their mind later but left the argument unresolved.

Always far too trusting a soul, and lonely, Vince became involved shortly after in a particularly determined coven under the name of the Children of the Silent Voice; a group of witches who were mostly like himself and held necromantic or otherwise ‘dark’ magic as their most honed abilities. He believed that magic wasn’t evil in any form, that like anything it held a place in the balance. They recruited him under the guise of crafting a safe haven for those like themselves and Vince devoted years to helping them find other witches via communication with spirits. The breaking point came when the coven was attacked by Hunters, forcing Vince’s hand with the situation, giving him little choice but to step outside the realms of peace and right into bloodshed. He thought his intentions were good, thought his efforts held purpose in helping those like himself who suffered the cruelty of humans' fear of magic.

Something was deeply wrong though, and it began his reign as second to the High Priestess of the coven; the bloodiest time in his life. It built around him a reputation that still lingers now; he was a destructive force, the constant tip of power. After all, winning was easy when the fallen were your’s to reanimate and command against your enemies. He existed as a figure of terror, caught up in the fog that was those confusing years.

It was all for nothing, in the end. During one of his attacks on a village that had, supposedly, destroyed several witches, Vince picked up a particularly stubborn spirit that wouldn’t leave him alone. She persisted, a nightmare that haunted him in ways that others hadn’t managed, a lost child who perished before her time. Her misery broke that daze, finally, and forced him to take a step back and view what he had been doing, the horrible things that had left stains on his hands. His mind had been twisted by those he followed, and he finally saw that truth. When he approached the Priestess with his doubts she dismissed him as a traitor, banished him from their ranks and he was almost relieved to flee. His last act before leaving Europe behind was to urge the spirit who had followed him to move on, and once she had he decided it was time for him to do the same.

Living through the 19th century in the States was certainly an experience, one he absolutely would not have traded for anything else. Seeing both the best and the worst of what people were capable of was an eye-opening view of the world, and he naturally developed a certain fondness for the eighties and its’ flower-child mentality that reminded him so much at home. He bounced around, joined a cult or two out of curiosity, wandered off when he grew tired of it, even played a few lighthearted attempts at using his power to help people communicate with their lost loved ones but mostly maintained a human image as the growing uneasiness with the supernatural turned from tension to a sudden war.

One Vince wanted no part in, purposely avoiding to take sides on the matter and acting under the ideal that it was never going to solve anything. Having known real horror and being the cause of it before, he was approached time and again to join the ranks of various covens and groups but refused each time, no longer willing to be a part of such things. He expected it to settle down in a few years but they never did and the battles just kept hitting too close for comfort and sending him darting off to the next spot in search in peace. It never lasted long enough, but he just kept trying, looking for the silver lining and the end of that conflict that never seemed to come.

When rumors of Barton Hollow stirred up they caught his interest, the possibility of a new start in a place where he wouldn’t be constantly accosted for involvement in the bloodshed sounded wonderful. It was an easy choice and he quickly set off to what he hoped would be his new home for a while; in short order setting himself up as a professor at the college thanks to his handful of degrees earned over time and making himself useful to the local magic using community with his flair for cultivating wickedly dangerous plants and herbs.

Vince can be a bit much at times. He’s excitable, not at all reserved, and tends to ramble. That rambling may turn a million different directions in one conversation; he’s quite a mess about it. But he adores people; living, dead, human or otherwise. He’s very quickly becoming a relatively well known figure around the Hollow for his cheerful presence and willingness to engage people around him. It’s a sharp contrast to the history written in such bloody terms, but he doesn’t hide it. He’s open enough about his mistakes, but he certainly hopes that people understand that the past isn’t the measure of what a person is but who they were before they knew better.

As for that past, by all accounts Vince is considered one of the stronger necromancers left in the world, and one who has practiced dark magic for a very long time. Plenty of people seek him out for those skills and he does lend them to causes he thinks are going to do some positive change, but by the large his power is only used in small ways anymore. He can reanimate the dead but has learned the agony of what it costs to both himself and the poor soul, can communicate with the dead and does so when he needs information, and he knows an unsettling but rather effective way of stealing the last sights and few moments of death from a corpse's eyes. Not something to witness if you have a weak stomach. Of course he can also destroy life with a shocking amount of ease. But as someone who values life a great deal and knows the worth of it, he is far more careful in his practices these days.

While it really has very little to do with his abilities as a witch, he is known around town by the covens and the lone witches alike as the person who has an impressive garden of plants and herbs that are fairly lethal. He carefully tends to plants that are highly toxic, have properties that are considered dangerous and drug-like, and those that other witches use in spell craft but cannot access very easily because of their dangerous nature. He willingly offers this rare and deadly flora to those in need of it regardless of coven association, if he’s sure their intentions aren’t to use them in a malicious way. Just don’t try to steal his plants, that hits a nerve you don’t want to rub too thin.

Much of his gift for, and interest in, gardening and plants comes from growing up helping his mother and grandmother raise their garden in his earliest years. Those fond memories fuel his care in that work, but of course his magic influences much of his life so it seems like his real talent in the area is with those deadly species more than their mundane counterparts.

He has a pet cactus named Jared that makes the trek between his classroom on campus and his home in the downtown region of the Hollow daily; Jared is very well looked after and is a standard sort of his species. Nothing all too extraordinary to Jared, but Vince does enjoy putting little hats and costumes on him for various holidays and events the same way most people would dress up a pet. Jared has the distinction of being carried to and from home every day, Vince insists it would be cruel to just leave the poor thing all alone in the classroom at night.

Vince is demisexual, polyamorous; he's fairly unbiased to the gender of his partners though he tends to favor men a bit more, it certainly doesn't sway his interests too much from the rest of the gender spectrum. He’s had an interesting go with relationships in life but nothing ever stuck for long. His list of ex’s run the range but for the most part the breakups were civil, if awkward on his part, ones. He still maintains friendships with a few of them without much drama, still the occasional night spent in their company, but for the most part he’s been solitary for a good twenty or so years by his own choice. Having spent that time burying himself in education and the fascinating scientific world that has surged in the 20th century that took up most of his time. He’s very friendly but painfully awkward at the basic ability to recognize that people are interested in him, and equally bad at making his own interests known because by the large he doesn’t view intimate situations as solely outside the lines of friendships and his tendency to blur the two has made for some amusingly skewed situations in the past.

He is intensely afraid of small spaces; graves absolutely terrify him and any enclosed space causes him to panic. The reasoning lies in some of his conditioning early on in his necromatic practices when he accidentally managed to get himself trapped during the exploration of an older graveyard; the underground tunnels beneath it at one point collapsed and he was unable to escape. He was lucky that another witch who was mentoring him at the time found him but it instilled lifelong terror in him.

Vince loves to read, he’s been around a long while, he absolutely is enamored with knowledge and the creativity of people. It doesn’t matter what; from the most coveted early century tome to the most hilariously badly written new trashy romance novel; he reads with the sort of determined fervor that keeps him constantly hunting for new books. The internet, for that reason, is something else he loves; there’s always endless distraction on there.

He’s not the typical image for a necromancer but he hardly thinks that’s a bad thing. His students in particular he has a soft spot for, generally willing to go out of his way to do what he can if they need help. But really that extends to most people; he’s just a cheerful, upbeat sort who tries not to dwell too much on the bad. He’s also horribly clumsy at it though, but he’s good at laughing at his mistakes.

Vince misses being part of a coven, but even with the urging of those in the Hollow he hasn’t agree to join any of them. The past has made him wary of the intentions of leaders, and he doesn’t want to be a pawn once more. He’s toyed with the idea of starting his own but dismissed the possibility with the certainty that even as acting as second to someone he trusted as fully as he would have to another Priestess it’s unlikely anyone would be comfortable with someone with his power in that role, especially not with the shape the world in in with the ongoing war.

[Wanted Connections] To be vastly expanded on later, but to give a jumping off point for plotting: 

Vampire he used to be best friends with. 

Someone older than himself (213), was in Europe/London in those early years, and would have had a very close friendship with Vince. Basically the person he considered his companion and other half of sorts; he misses them very much but hasn’t seen them in a long time. They had a bit of a falling out over Vince’s involvement in the Silent Voice Coven back in the day and after the dust settled with all of that Vince went to the states and lost all contact with his friend.  This person would know a great deal about Vince, would have been about as close as anyone could be, and very much needs to be back in Vince’s life again. 

Siblings/Half Siblings

Vince had a large family, several of whom were witches themselves. He may have younger or older siblings or half siblings around, or could have werewolf or vampire siblings now depending on if they were human to begin with and were turned. He’s lost track of family over time but would remember them, this is very open to ideas and different sorts of sibling relationships. He was always an odd one in the family. 

Witches looking to recruit him for various reasons. 

The war, past or present tense, the covens, just in general. Vince has a lot of power, an unsettling amount in fact, but he’s actively avoided involvement with the covens aside from his supplying them with various plants and herbs since he’s moved to Barton when it first was established. Good intentions or bad; people who put that pressure on him to join them. 

Someone human he can ‘adopt’. 

Really Vince has a soft spot for humans, he finds them fascinating really and admires their drive in what amounts to such short lives. Someone he’s grown fond of in a brotherly sort of way and keeps an eye on, helps, and basically just tries to keep out of trouble. Bonus points if they are in fact a lot of trouble to deal with. 

People who know his past too well. 

There’s nothing all that hidden about Vince’s past and how bloody it was, but he’s put it mostly behind him. Some people haven’t, and some people like to give him grief over the idea that people can’t change. This person is an ongoing source of exhaustion for him but he’s toughing it out, trying to make them see the good; but it’s not easy. 

Someone who knows his worst secret

Lots of witches use magic to lengthen their lives, but for those with necromanic abilities the spells are particularity gruesome. Vince did something a long time past that he isn’t too eager for others to know, for the sake of keeping his own life thriving well past his mortal years, but this person, somehow, has managed to get that knowledge. With that comes a degree of power over him, for the sake of keeping that secret. A dark fae he traded a favor to ensure his life never ended naturally, another witch he sought out for a spell that he never should have; I'm open to ideas on this one.

Hunters 

Vince is a necromancer, a rather well known one. Over time he's come across people who have wanted to destroy him but has managed to evade them well enough. But this one is out for blood, maybe because of a contract, maybe his actions in the past did something to harm their family line, maybe they just really can't stand dark magic. Whatever the case it's a hard situation for Vince, not wanting to kill again but also very resolute on the idea of not dying. 

[sky-kiss]

Lunardyn: Christmas Eve

A/N: @ladylunafreyaoftenebrae requested some soft modern Au Lunardyn where they are enjoying their first Christmas Eve together. I did...way more of the lead up but hopefully this still makes you smile, lovely. 

_____

Modern Au: Christmas Eve Fluff

_____

She regretted one thing about her relationship. One thing only. 

The timing. 

Lunafreya pursed her lips, meeting her own reflection in the mirror. At the time, she had thought nothing of it. A late summer romance had been ideal, caught in that stretch of fading warmth and perfect evenings. Her workload at the hospital had been manageable and he had yet to start his Fall semester. There had only been that...blissful  honeymoon period. Living in the moment.

But those few months had passed and the holiday season had come upon them. And there they were: caught in a strange sort of purgatory. He had no family to speak of; hers was mostly found. And they had not....spoken of what they were to one another. It had not seemed necessary. Thanksgiving had come and when she asked after his plans, he had shrugged.

“Perhaps I shall take a note from Miss Highwind’s book.” Ardyn had stared at her down the bridge of his nose, full lips curled up in a smile. The expression (much like his relationship with the woman herself) was caught squarely between amusement and exasperation. “Flee the country for a time.” 

“Somehow I doubt she put it so neatly.”

He snorted. “No, I suppose not. Something about ‘Cabo, bitches,’ and not to call her.” But his expression had softened somewhat and he’d held his hand out to her. For as isolated as he kept himself, Ardyn was a creature seemingly composed of physicality. When she took his hand, he pulled her nearer, wrapping himself around her like some overly large feline. “Should you prefer I stay, dearest?”

She had no right to make demands of him. Lunafreya had smoothed his hair back into some semblance of order (an impossibility). “That is not my place to say.” 

So he had gone away and she had spent her  Thanksgiving with the Caelums. A perfectly lovely day, surrounded by her dearest friends and adopted family. She would not say she was grieved by his absence. Only that a curious sort of longing had settled in her heart and with it came the awareness that, while the day had been perfectly acceptable in his absence, it would have been buoyed by his presence. 

And now Christmas was fast approaching. Ravus had sent his customary note, clipped and concise in a way she associated solely with her sibling. It apologized for his absence. His firm had been beset by clients. He would not make it home. There was regret, of course, but Lunafreya understood. His workload was undeniable. So were his other hurts. Their mother’s passing was linked to the season. Those old scars never truly healed. Especially for Ravus. 

It added an extra and unwelcome level of awkwardness to her own situation.  She did not wish to be alone for the season, stewing in her own hurts, and she did not wish to impose said hurts upon her new relationship…

"Oh, stop dawdlin' and just ask him." 

Cindy's tone broached no argument, even from the other room.  Her friend had never been one to mince words and she saw this particular issue as exceptionally black and white.  Lunafreya chuckled, pushing away from her perch and ambling back into the living room. The other woman was already curled on the far side of the couch, in the process of pouring them each a glass of wine. "How did you know?" 

"You just get a look about this sort of thing, I guess." Cindy smiled at her. "And besides. Be a right waste. Handsome man like that sitting alone Christmas day." 

She smiled. "I hate to presume…" 

The best way to describe her reaction was a guffaw. "....you've seen yourself right, sweetheart? You had a lot of guys turn tail when you invite 'em home?"

There was that. Lunafreya chuckled, crossing to settle against her friend’s side. “Would you mind if I used the apartment?” 

Cindy nudged her shoulder, snickering as she passed the wine. “Just spare a thought for ol’ Cindy, ya hear? Me fallin’ asleep under one of pa’s ‘projects’ and you fallin’ asleep under…” 

“...Cindy.”

“I ain’t wrong!” 

It took a colossal force of will to maintain a straight face. Lunafreya hid her smile behind her hand, held her head high. A few moments later, both women had devolved into fits of laughter. 

____

Ardyn rarely remembered to check his texts. The faculty had all but insisted he update his phone (his flip phone had served him well enough over the past decade) and he had never truly acclimated to the new tech. He was an old soul. It was a fact most found charming (provided Lunafreya was there, functioning as a liaison) and some infuriating (when she was absent). 

It was easier to make the jaunt to his home, a townhouse near campus. The unit’s construction had been finished no more than a decade prior but had been designed to mimic the colonial air of the surrounding neighborhoods. That suited him as well. Lunafreya shook her head, hugging her coat more tightly about herself. A few blanket of snow had fallen sometime in the night. It left the world looking clean, everything preternaturally silent. 

After two knocks, she heard movement inside. Ardyn was a sight first thing in the morning, hair still wild from sleep. He was never entirely in disarray; the robe lent him a sort of gravitas, a cultivated air of chaos. He struck her as some wayward Victorian poet or scholar, down on his luck, still struggling for his breakthrough. Confusion turned to banked pleasure as he opened the door. He stepped aside to make way for her. “Lunafreya? Is everything alright?” 

She laughed. “Is it so mad that I might wish to see you?” 

The entirety of his face brightened. “Permit an old man his misgivings, dearest.” 

“On this account, I will not.” She stood on the tips of her toes. Even that was not quite enough to bridge the gap in their height. It took Ardyn tipping his head to make such things manageable. Lunafreya pressed a chaste kiss to his chin. “I needed to see you. And speak with you.”

He tugged an an errant strand of her hair. “How lucky. Here I am, perfectly capable of speech.” His free hand settled at the small of her back. With it, he guided her towards the kitchen. “You’ve caught me in the middle of breakfast so let us reach an arrangement. You will speak; I will prepare us something. Agreeable?” 

Silly as it was, she enjoyed watching him cook. He was not exceedingly talented; any skills he had were born out of necessity rather than love for the craft. Cooking was relaxing for him and it showed. He would hum to himself as he worked and, quite frankly, she adored the sound of his voice. It was a variety of contradictions all tied up into one ideal whole, smooth and growling, lyrical and low. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” 

He threw her a look over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Ah, it is that time again, isn’t it? A little late to plan a getaway.” He shrugged. “I shall sequester myself away from all that cheer, I suppose. Perhaps attend to that mountain of paperwork I’ve been avoiding. The students have been clamoring for their grades…”

He was well loved as an instructor. His lessons stuck. His students listened and his lectures were fabled around the campus. He was also...relaxed, when it came to returning work. He shrugged, as if to say ‘what is there to be done,’ and returned to their meal. 

Lunafreya drummed her nails on the countertop. “If you would like to avoid your work a little longer...perhaps we could spend the day together?” 

“You have no plans?” 

She smiled. “I could. But I should prefer they involve you.” 

Ardyn went so far as to laugh. He shifted their food off the burner before crossing to her. Tactile man; silly man. He bent to trace her nose with his own. “Brave girl.” She curled her fingers in his robe, holding him close a moment longer. Ardyn searched her face for something. Having found it, he smiled. Soft and nostalgic and undeniably fond. “If you’ll have me, I should like nothing more.” 

____

And that was that. No more misgivings. 

They had spent Christmas Eve sequestered away in her apartment. She was no great chef herself but pasta and wine had served them well enough. He had enticed her to walk out in the snow and it had all seemed some ...great cosmic cliche when they were treated to fresh flakes. She watched the lazy snowdrifts, head leaned back against her lover’s chest, and sighed. Ardyn pressed a kiss to her temple. 

It was lovely. And if her old hurts manifest, Ardyn was good enough to chase them away. She hugged his arms more securely about her. 

A week later, when New Years rolled around, neither questioned whether it would be spent together.

[cynicalwonders]

Glass Slippers

Revamping the entire fic after a year of hiatus. Thought I also post it up here on my tumblr as well. Currently re-writing ch.1. This is the prologue.

Modern Princess!Marinette

Original prompt by @lovelyblogtime

"Hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā, Hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā. Fēn fāng měi lì mǎn zhī yā, yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā – oh!"

Five-year-old Marinette smiled as she shoved her tiny, hand-picked bouquet into the woman’s face. “For you, grandma,” she chirped, waving the magnolias and pink chrysanthemums in her tiny fist. “Do you like it?”

Chuckling, the slender, fair-skinned woman smiled as she picked up her granddaughter and place her on her lap, shoving the guzheng to the side. “They’re beautiful my little, húdié,” she plucked one of the flowers and tucked it behind her ear. “Thank you.”

“That word means ‘butterfly’, right? That’s what mama says,” Marinette asked, plunking the strings of the guzheng and producing off-key notes.

“Correct. Húdié means ‘butterfly' because you are my beautiful, free-spirited little butterfly. Fluttering around the world, enchanting everyone with your beauty and grace,” her grandmother cooed.

Marinette laughed as her grandmother, Cheng Xi-Feng, pressed kisses onto her temple. Despite being in her mid-fifties, Xi-Feng possessed the beauty and grace of someone half her age. The elder woman fiddled with her granddaughter’s hair, removing her ivory comb to secure her braided bun. All the while, little Marinette was tracing the outline of the embroidered phoenixes along her sleeve.

“What are these birdies?” she asked.

“Those are phoenixes. Powerful birds made of flames that reborn themselves from their ashes,” Xi-Feng answered. “They represent the might of the empress. Although…I much prefer the all-mighty dragon as my creature.”

Marinette tilted her head as she examined the embroidered animal. Xi-Feng could tell her granddaughter was more interested in the image than its meaning but was eager to indulge her curiosity. Sad that she couldn’t have met Xi-Feng’s oldest and dearest friend. He was far more knowledgeable about such subjects. She had no doubt that Marinette would have adored him as she had herself.

“When will mommy and daddy come back from their trip outside?” asked Marinette, glancing up at her.

“Once Brother Wang finishes collecting all the ingredients he needs for tonight’s feast,” replied Xi-Feng. “Well, that and your mother and father were quite adamant about sampling the local delicacies in Beijing. Probably looking for something exotic to serve in their bakery back home.”

“Mooncakes!” Marinette suggested. “Ice cream mooncakes!”

Xi-Feng laughed. “Ice cream mooncakes sounds delicious right about now.”

On cue, several footsteps were heard running away from the pair, heading towards the western area of the land. Ice cream mooncakes would take a while to be made from the imperial kitchen so Xi-Feng suggested a walk in the garden in order to stretch their limbs. Hand in hand, the pair stepped outside the pavilion and into the jungle of freshly blooming flora.

The Pavilion of Ten Thousand Spring sat at the east of the Imperial Garden – a massive collection of plants both native and non-native to the region of China. Many of the original plants that were cultivated centuries ago encompassed the landscape. Others were gifts from allied nations used as tokens of appeasement and to place a piece of their country within its walls. Newly constructed rivers cut through the paths carrying multiple colored carps throughout the area. Xi-Feng kept a tight grip on Marinette's arm to prevent her from accidentally jumping to see the fishes.

“Careful,” Xi-Feng sternly warned. “You wouldn’t want to get that lovely daxiushan of yours getting wet.”

“I’m careful,” she pouted, grabbing a fistful of her skirt in her hands. “Let’s go see more of your garden!”

Marinette slipped out of her grandmother’s hand and ran down the center path. Xi-Feng shook her head in good nature as she calmly followed the tiny girl. She made a gesture towards her granddaughter and the guard stationed behind the pavilion ran out after her. How fortunate was she to have dozens of guards surrounding the perimeter? Made chasing after an energetic five-year-old much easier.

Up ahead, Marinette lost herself among the flowers and shrubbery. Her attention was captured by a particularly large jasmine shrub growing near an upright rock formation. With its sweet aroma, Marinette tried to climb into the patch, getting down to crawl inside. Unfortunately for the playful child, a large hand on her shoulder halted before she could start crawling

Looming over her, much taller than the jasmine shrub, was one of the men that continuously followed her grandmother. He glanced at her then up towards the jasmine and shook his head. "Non," he said and gently pulled her back out. Marinette sighed but didn’t argue. Her grandmother appears in the next moment and thanks in the man in Chinese before dismissing him.

“Was someone doing something naughty?” Xi-Feng gave a playful smile.

Marinette reciprocated that smile. “Maybe~” she replied back in a sing-song tone.

Xi-Feng wagged her finger at her. “Bad girl. Remember, one must always be respectful when in someone else’s home. Especially in the gardens.”

“I just wanted to see the flowers more closely,” Marinette explained as she pointed towards the jasmine bush.

“Even if the flowers are pretty, you can’t just go where you like. You have to ask first.” Xi-Feng took hold of her granddaughter’s hand. “You’re just like your mother when she was your age. You even went towards her jasmine patch.”

"Those are mommy's flowers?"

Xi-Feng nodded. “Your mother loves jasmine. Planted this bush herself when she was just a bit older than you.”

“Did you and mommy plant all these flowers, grandma?”

“No my húdié. Most of these plants have been here long before I was born," Xi-Feng answered. "Cultivated by the most talented gardeners and passed down through generations. Some are gifts, like the frangipani and the bottlebrushes, but most are from our ancestors.”

“What about you?” Marinette asked, gently pulling at her grandmother’s arm. “Did you plant something?”

"Yes, China roses. Would you like to see?"

Marinette squealed and rapidly nodded her head. She all but dragged her grandmother towards a random direction in search of the roses until Xi-Feng led her down the correct path. The Gate of Earthly Tranquility separated the garden from the palace of the same name as well as the rest of the city. Its stone and brick walkway overflowed with decorative shrubbery. Leading up to the stairs were two brightly colored pink shrubs that more resembled fireworks shooting outwards than normal plants.  

Once Xi-Feng pointed them out, Marinette raced over towards them. The elder woman smiled as her granddaughter gently touch the flowers and smell them. So carefree, so innocent, turning back to her and motioned for her grandmother to join her. Moments like these made Xi-Feng forget the burden of her position.

Spending time with Marinette, swapping stories with Sabine and her husband, it gave her a sense of normalcy. As though she was just a normal mother and grandmother having her daughter’s family coming over to visit. But those illusions were quickly shattered by the appearance of a guard circling the area or a group of servants coming over with golden platters.

‘One must never forget who they are,’ Xi-Feng thought as she picked a chocolate mooncake from the tray. ‘Or what they possess.’

She glanced at her granddaughter happily eating her treat. ‘Best thing I can do is keep my distance from them. Make it easier for them to live without fear.’

After finishing their snacks, Xi-Feng sent the servants away while she was left along with her granddaughter among the plants. “You’re lucky that you have your own garden, grandma,” remarked Marinette. “All we have are the potted plants on the roof at our house.”

“Oh don’t be so upset. I’m sure those plants are just as lovely,” Xi-Feng replied.

“Nuh-uh! They’re really tiny and your flowers are so big!” Marinette threw her hands up in exclamation.

Xi-Feng giggled before leaning closer. "Do you want to know a secret? I used magic to make all the plants here grow bigger.”

“Really?” Marinette eyes grew wide.

“Oh yes. You see I had a friend,” she whispered. “He was a dragon!”

“A dragon…” Marinette looked at her in amazement. She glanced around and pointed at the bronze statue depicting the creature. “Like that one?”

“Oh no! You see, my dragon wasn’t big or angry-looking like that one. He was actually really, really tiny. No bigger than a mouse,” Xi-Feng used her thumb and pointing finger to give a height of a few inches. “He was red with glowing yellow eyes and horns all over his head.”

"He sounds scary…but he's really tiny?" Marinette pursed her lips in confusion. Obviously, she couldn't comprehend an often vicious-looking creature being so small.

“He was actually very kind and helpful. He was my best friend,” Xi-Feng gave a wistful smile but it faded away. “Sadly, he had to leave me a few years ago.”

“Why? Did he move away?” Marinette asked.

“In a way…” she answered before she composed herself. “But he helped with a lot of things. Like my garden. When I was your age, he would use his magic to make the flowers enormous! We would play and explore and he very good at playing hide and seek. He would always find me but I could never find him. The two of us would just play among the green for days on end.”

“He sounds nice. I wish I could have met him,” her granddaughter smiled.

“Yes, I wish you could have,” Xi-Feng agreed.

"Xi-Feng nǚhuáng," the two turned around to see a bowing attendant at the top of the steps, her eyes never leaving the ground, "Zhèngfǔ guānyuán yāoqiú nǐ chūxí."

"Hěn hǎo. Nǐ kěyǐ líkāi," replied Xi-Feng.

The attendant bowed again before returning towards the entrance doors of the palace. Rising up, Xi-Feng held out her hand towards her granddaughter. "It seems I've been called to yet another boring meeting.”

“Aww, but you just had a meeting this morning!” whined Marinette, stomping her feet. “You even missed papa’s famous pancakes!”

“I know, I know,” Xi-Feng rubbed her granddaughter’s shoulders in an attempt to placate her. “But you know I cannot miss these meetings. It’s part of my job.”

“But you never have enough time to spend with me and mom,” tears of frustration collected in the corners of the little girl’s eye.

“‘Mother and I,’” corrected Xi-Feng. “And you know there is nothing I want more than to see you every day and to spend all my time with you. But as long as I’m in China, I must fulfill my duties with the government.”

“Then come to Paris with me!” Marinette concluded. “If you have to do all that boring stuff when you’re in China then you can come live with me and mommy and papa in Paris! Our gardens are just as nice as yours.”

Xi-Feng, giving a weak smile, shook her head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, my dear.”

“Why not?!” Marinette was getting more and more frustrated. “You have a plane. Can’t you just fly out?”

"My húdié, you don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could get on a plane, whether it be mine or commercial, to go visit you in Paris," began Xi-Feng.

"Then why don't you?" Marinette lips quivered.

"I wish I could explain it to you, my dear, truly I do," stated Xi-Feng, "But you’re too young to completely understand the gravity of the situation. I can't leave China freely. The government won't allow it. I'm too important to abandon my post. People will notice if I was gone. They’ll start searching and they’ll discover you and your mother."

"Why is that so bad?" Marinette didn’t understand why she couldn't tell people who her grandmother was. Sabine had forbidden her from ever speaking about her grandmother with other people.

"You can mention you have a grandma, but you can't tell anyone about her," her mother had told her, "Just tell them that she lives in China."

"Why are mom and me a secret?"

"Mom and I," corrected Xi-Feng, "And you'll understand when you're older."

"Why can't you tell me now?" mumbled Marinette.

Xi-Feng kissed Marinette on the top of her head before picking her up and carrying in her arms. "Marinette, we don't tell you these things to hurt you, we just want to protect you. I know it doesn't seem this way for now, but as you get older and wiser, you'll finally understand."

"…okay," Marinette replied dejectedly.

With her granddaughter in tow, Xi-Feng crossed the threshold into the gates, her servants and bodyguards not too far behind. "Don’t worry. One day, we’ll both be free of these burdens and we can visit each other freely. You’ll see.”

“When?”

“…soon, hopefully.”

"One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Lift your chin! Back straight!" ordered the tight-faced older woman, dressed in all black. She used her cane to lightly tap underneath Marinette's chin upwards. "Good. Now repeat the steps."

           “Yes, Lian lǎo shī,” replied Marinette, fixing her ballet slippers before returning to the starting position.

           “From the top,” commanded Madame Lian before turning to the nearby musician holding a pipa lute. “Start.”

           Just as the music flowed from the strings, everything was halted by three sharp raps at the door. Lian huffed indignantly allowing the visitor to enter. A young maid timidly entered the room, head down as she refused to look directly at the angry ballet instructor.

"Marinette gōngzhǔ," she squeaked, glancing up to meet Marinette’s eyes. "Her Imperial Highness has asked that you join her for dinner tonight. Shall I have the servants spread out your garments and dress you at 5?"

"Yes please," smiled Marinette. "And thank you, Ju."

“Will that be all?” questioned Lian, tapping her foot. Once the maid nodded, Lian shooed her out the door before turning back to Marinette. “Back to the lesson. Music, please.”

Sighing, Marinette complied and went through her routine, her instructor nitpicking her performance from start to finish. As a child, she envied the grace and poise of ballerinas, how they danced across a stage. So much so that she would mimic them from time to time. Same with the whole ‘princess walk' thing where she would place several books on her head and tried to walk across rooms without dropping them. But the actual practice was very boring and tedious. Or, in the case of ballet, painful. By the end of it, she would be soaking her feet in ice for a good hour or so.

And she considered these ‘fun’ lessons.

Long gone were the days where she and her grandmother would traverse the gardens of the palace. Now those days were replaced with lesson plans, multiple fittings, and traditional Chinese education. Etiquette lessons and ballet with Lian were a daily event, followed by literature, calligraphy, geography, Mandarin – though that was swiftly abandoned after about a year of awkward mispronunciations – music, sewing, and combat. That last one wasn't typically taught to females but her grandmother insisted on it.

She blamed the advisors who had pushed her grandmother into agreeing with all of this. They said it was beneficial for her, to ‘teach her what her mother, her mother's mother, and her ancestors have been taught for generations.' Even though she wasn't directly in line for the throne, they believed that she must take part in the duties of a noble lady. Marinette only hoped that those ‘duties’ didn’t end in an arranged marriage.

And thus her once excitable trips to China turned into a mixture of dread and isolation. Security had tightened during the years, confiding her to her palace when outside guests and diplomats visited. Though she did meet a few children of said diplomats, they didn't stick around much afterward and rarely kept in contact. Despite being surrounded by bodyguards and servants and teachers, Marinette became very lonely.

Even her cousins, Shen and Tingzhe, rarely got to see her due to all their schedules being meticulously managed down to the last second. It was understandable, one of them would end up the emperor after their father. But it was tough to even speak with them without first consulting their assistant and setting up an appointment. She really wished she was kidding about that.

But she pressed on, not wanting to seem ungrateful and tackled every lesson and teaching she was given. By the time she hit her teens, her knowledge of the country, culture, and customs went from mediocre to slightly above average. In Paris, she was just old clumsy Marinette – a normal girl living above her family's bakery with dreams of becoming a famous fashion designer. In China, Marinette became a ‘proper, traditional Chinese maiden' – elegant, polite, graceful and respectable, basically what the advisors wanted her to be. Not as well taught as previous princesses before her, but enough for the advisors to get off her back and put all their focus onto her cousins.

Which was fine with her!

Of course, she didn’t just drop all her classes the minute the advisors said they found her satisfactory. Marinette continued the ones she enjoyed, like ballet and music. Martial arts – the lesson her grandmother pushed on her – was by far her favorite. Xi-Feng insistent that her grandchildren learn how to defend themselves should the need arises. It was interesting, to say the least. Learning how to take down a man twice her size really got one’s blood pumping.

“Good, good,” Lian nodded as Marinette finished her routine. “Next time, turn at your ankle, not at your waist when you spin.”

“Yes, Lian lǎo shī,” replied Marinette almost robotically. Best to just listen to Lian and agree then try to complain. Marinette knew that well after years under her “Well,” Lian stomped her cane on the wooden floor – her signal for ending the class. “This concludes today's lesson. I'll be back tomorrow at 1 pm on the dot. I'll let the monks outside know you'll be coming to their lesson next. Try not to strain your legs when you're fighting or, gods forbid, break them."

Marinette bowed her head sheepishly. “Understood.”

Lian bowed before snapping her fingers and the musician followed her out the door. Marinette let out a sigh of relief and quickly changed into her blue robes. Four Shaolin monks were already standing in front of the gate. The eldest monk, her main instructor, stepped forward and bowed. She reciprocated it.

“Good evening, Marinette gōngzhǔ,” he greeted. “We’ll be going over the basics today. Nothing too strenuous. Do not want to bring upon the wrath of Lian on you.”

He chuckled a bit before leading the group towards the training grounds for her lesson.

And so the years went on: Xi-Feng always busy with business-related work, her cousins in deep study and the rest of her family separated in the large city the Chengs called home. By that time, Marinette fully started to understand who her grandmother was and what she did for China. The importance of her grandmother and her and her mother’s relations hit her like a ton of bricks.

What would happen if such knowledge was made public? What would become of her quiet and peaceful life back in Paris? How would people treat her if they knew? What sorts of changes will occur once the world knew? She speculated – and the results were never pleasant.

The best thing she could do was keep her mouth shut.

Her only hope is that by the time her identity was revealed – if it was revealed at all – she would have lived pass the time when it could have drastically impacted her life. By then it wouldn't have mattered as much as she would be further down from the line of secession. Sure she would probably have had to deal with noisy reporters, gossip blogs and possible fame-hungry ‘friends’, but that’ll die down after a while.

For now, Marinette was content with visiting her grandmother and keeping their relationship hidden. Better for everyone, especially for her. She didn't want the attention or the fame or the status of being a princess. Marinette was content with her simple, day-to-day life free of schedules, looming bodyguards, and possible marriage plans.

And for the time being, it was pretty easy to stay hidden. Cheng is a fairly common surname in China so it didn't raise any obvious flags. And since Sabine never made herself or her name public everyone assumed she was just a normal Chinese foreigner who immigrated to Paris as a young adult. No one ever imagines that the daughter of the empress would just walk away from her privileged life to marry a baker. No, that only happens in stories.

Besides, she had seen what a sheltered life had done for Adrien.

Yeah, she’ll pass on that.

Earlier this month, Xi-Feng publicly announced that she would be stepping down within the next two years. Her son, Jianguo, will be crown emperor of China. Public focus would soon turn on them as they begin their reign. Good thing for Marinette since she would be ‘out of the running' – so to speak – for the throne and forgotten. Unless both her uncle and cousins were unable to rule which she doubts that would ever happen.

Besides she was the foreign daughter. The daughter with mixed blood. Not that Tom Dupain was treated with hostility when he married Sabine. At least not much – mainly due to his class status. It’s just the ministers preferred a pure-blooded princess to continue the bloodline rather than a half-Chinese half-French female. Even with an empress that is loved and hailed as a savior, there were some that still kept the traditional gender and race bias.

Whatever, it wasn’t Marinette’s issue.

As far as anyone was concerned, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had no relations with Empress Cheng Xi-Feng of China.

"Hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā,” Marinette sang soften as she struck her needle through a piece of silk fabric. “Hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā. Fēn fāng měi lì mǎn zhī yā, yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā.”

“Marinette? Are you speaking…Chinese?” questioned Tikki. “I thought you didn’t know Chinese?”

"Huh? Oh! No, no, that's just a song my grandmother used to sing to me," replied Marinette, looking up from her design. "She always sang it to me whenever I visit, to the point it got stuck in my head. I honestly don't know what the words even mean. I just know the song is called the Jasmine Flower."

“It’s pretty!” Tikki said, landing on top of her wielder’s head.

“Yeah, I think so too,” the pigtailed girl smiled.

"Marinette!" the muffled voice of Sabine echoed through the room, "Marinette, come downstairs. There’s a package for you."

'Package?' thought Marinette as she set aside the embroidery she was working on.

Marinette made her way downstairs to see her petite mother hauling in two large boxes covered in tape and stamps. She quickly ran over and took the top box into her arms.

"Thanks, sweetie. That one is yours," Sabine gesture to the box her daughter just took. “Your grandmother sent it.”

“Grandma?” Marinette perked up. Glancing at the return address she saw a bunch of Chinese letters.

Yep, definitely from China, hence from grandma Xi-Feng.

"Thanks, mom! I'll open it upstairs," said Marinette as she ran back up to her room, shutting the trap door behind her.

Tikki, still fluttering in the air, swirled around the girl and her newly brought package. Marinette wasted no time putting it down on her worktable and started rummaging around for something sharp.

"The box cutter is in the left drawer," Tikki pointed it out. “So your grandmother sent this gift? Grandma Gina?”

“No, not my dad’s mom, my mom’s…mom,” Marinette explained. “She lives in China with my uncle, aunt, and cousins. My parents and I go to visit them every year. Usually, she would send us gifts in the mail."

“What’s the occasion?”

"No occasion, just a gift. Aha, ~!" Lifting the box cutters up from their hiding spot, Marinette swiftly cut across the cardboard, breaking the seal.

Digging through the flood of packing peanuts revealed a smaller intricate gift box decorated with various Chinese patterns and characters. Inside was a beautiful handmade qípáo, or cheongsam. Intricately woven lace wrapped around the upper half of the torso and created cap sleeves. The lace fused with the silk at the waist forming a trumpet skirt that stopped at the ground, leaving a train of lace at the back.

“Gorgeous!” gushed Tikki, circling the dress. “Your grandmother must have paid a lot of money to buy this for you!”

'Or she asked the royal seamstress to make me another qípáo in red this time,' Marinette thought as she carefully pulled the garment from the box.

Marinette didn’t want to tell the little kwami that this was actually her sixth qípáo her grandmother had sent to her in the past few years. Just a month ago Xi-Feng had sent her a blue ruqun along with a collection of lovely handcrafted hairpins, combs, and clips. Marinette held the dress up to the mirror, imagining herself wearing it. Maybe to a fancy gala or a fashion show.

‘I could wear it when I visit grandma again this year,’ Marinette thought.

Sabine had planned for their family to visit her mother for Christmas this year. They would stay for three weeks, celebrating the Winter Solstice and leaving after New Year’s Day. Xi-Feng hosted small gatherings during each celebration. Members of the family and royal courts only, free to mingle within the city wall. No reporters. No camera. Just her and her family and the staff – all sworn to secrecy.

Although…

Marinette side-eyed Tikki. ‘I’ll probably have to tell Tikki about my grandma’s ‘occupation’ before we leave. That way I don’t have to explain the private jet or the limo or the palace…’

“You should thank her for the gift,” said Tikki, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts.

“I should. Let me go call her,” Marinette agreed as she carefully folded her dress back in the box before heading downstairs. “Mom, do you mind if I call grandma?”

“Of course,” replied Sabine, admiring the silver and turquoise earring and necklace she was gifted. Both were crafted to look like dragons wrapping around her ear and neck. “Let me go grab the phone.”

First rule of the Dupain-Cheng household: if you wish to contact family in China, you must use the secure, government cellphone. Since Sabine Cheng, formally known as Sabine Cheng gōngzhǔ, was technically NOT removed from the Cheng family, only in hiding due to her marriage, any connection from her family to Xi-Feng had to be through secured connections. And by ‘secured measures’, it meant Fort Knox times Area 51 type of security. At least that’s how her cousin explained it.

One of the ‘secured measures’ was a Chinese government issued phone protected by some of the most sophisticated security equipment on the planet. It had a design similar to that of a smartphone but thicker and heavier with a fingerprint scanner encrypted passcode. Only Sabine and Marinette’s fingerprints could open it. Extreme but necessary.

After her mother retrieved the phone, Marinette placed her index finger on the center of the screen as the screen scan her print before it opened. It didn’t take long for her to punch in the numbers before a familiar voice angered.

“Hello.”

"Ni hao, wài pó," replied Marinette, hoping she didn't butcher her Chinese greeting.

"I see you've been studying," Xi-Feng said, speaking fluent French. "A bit shaky on the pronunciation but I'm glad you’re finally learning your motherland's language again."

"It's a …a lot harder than I thought," she admitted sheepishly.

After the Kung Food incident last year with her great uncle, Marinette thought it would be best if she finally started learning Mandarin again. Not just so Marinette could learn her mother’s language and make it up to the servants who had learn French for her, but to avoid another future mishap.

And by ‘mishap,’ she meant having Alya call Adrien out of the blue and making her look like an awkward idiot.

“They’re just so many characters to learn and trying to keep track of which is which…” Marinette rambled.

Xi-Feng’s laughed echoed through the speaker. “I know, I know, but have patience. Soon you’ll be able to speak and converse with me in perfect Mandarin, my little húdié!"

Marinette winced at her grandmother’s pet name for her. Before Tikki and the Miraculous business, she loved when her grandmother called her ‘butterfly.’ It had been her nickname since as long as she could remember. Now with the akumas and Hawkmoth running around, it sounded less cute and sweet and just a bit sinister. But despite the uncomfortable feeling she got from being called butterfly, Marinette didn’t have the heart to ask her grandmother to stop.

“I hope so,” chuckled Marinette awkwardly before picking herself back up. “Anyway, I wanted to call to thank you for the dress you sent me. It’s absolutely beautiful. Send my regards to Xue for her work. She really needs to teach me how she creates her laceworks.”

"I'll see that she gives a lesson when you visit again. I – oh! Hold on, my dear."

Marinette heard a bit of static before her grandmother’s voice shouted in rapid Mandarin to someone nearby. “Cheng Shen, get Bella back in her cage! Why is she out? She’s frightening the maids.”

“I apologize, grandmother,” answered a male voice. “The lock was very weak and she broke free. I’ve called for the lock to be replaced so she won’t do it again.”

“This better not happen again! Apologize to the maids as well, poor things almost fainted when they saw Bella roaming the halls,” berated Xi-Feng. “And speaking of troublemakers, where is your brother?”

“…Koi pond.”

“He better be appreciating them and not fishing in it again,” replied the elder woman. “Those were gifts from the Japanese envoy!”

Marinette giggled as she heard her grandmother going back and forth with Shen. Despite not understanding a word they were saying, she could tell her grandmother was angry and scolding at Shen. Most likely to do with Bella, his pet and gift from their grandmother Gina. She could probably guess that she either got out of her cage or was leaving scratch marks on the wooden tiled floor.

“Sorry about that, dear,” Xi-Feng replied, back on the line. “Shen had an issue with Bella and I’m hoping that Tingzhe isn’t messing with the fishes again. Hopefully, no problems more will pop up for today."

“Tell them and Uncle Jianguo and Aunt Mei I said hello," Marinette asked.

“I’ll be sure to have them call you back later today,” her grandmother replied. “Now enough about our boring lives, how’s everything in Paris? Are you keeping up with your school work? Do you still have an issue with that ‘Chloe’ girl?”

For the next half hour, Marinette chatted away with her grandmother, swapping stories and generally catching up with one another after months apart. Xi-Feng bid her granddaughter goodbye as she had to attend a meeting with the officials from the financial affairs department.

“Give your mother my regards. Until we meet again,” ended Xi-Feng.

Marinette ended the call and stored the phone back in it’s hiding place before returning to her room and to Tikki. The little kwami was busying herself with a near-empty plate of cookies.

“Sounds like you and your grandmother are really close,” remarked Tikki. “More so than you and Gina. How come I haven’t heard of her before?”

“Because she lives in China all her life and can’t really leave the country," she explained. "You see, my mom's family is kind of…'important.' My grandmother can't step foot outside China while my aunt, uncle, and cousins can leave but not for extended periods of time, even to visit."

“Why?” Tikki gave her a puzzled look. “Do they work for the government or something?”

“…I guess you can say that,” Marinette responded. “My grandmother has a very…’significant’ position in the Chinese government. As well as my uncle who’s been preparing to take over my grandmother’s job when she retires.”

“Your uncle Wang?” Tikki looked confused.

Marinette shook her head. “No, no, I mean my other uncle. Uncle Jianguo. My grandmother married twice. Uncle Wang is her brother in law from her first marriage and Uncle Jianguo is her son and my mom’s half-brother from her second marriage. It’s all pretty confusing if you don’t know the family tree.”

“Oh, I see.” The kwami fluttered about as Marinette changed into her new gown. “You look like a dream!”

“Feels like one too,” Marinette spun around a couple times, enjoying how the skirt floated in the air before resting comfortably back against her skin. She loved how the fabric felt, how it fitted her perfectly. With the right pair of shoes, she would look like a true princess.

‘Though I guess that was the intention grandmother was going for,’ she thought.

“Sweetheart, you look stunning!”

Marinette jumped as her mother peeked her head through the door. Thankfully Tikki heard the footsteps before Marinette did and quickly hid behind the mannequins in the corner.

“Thanks, mom. Grandma really wanted to top her last gift,” she said.

“If she keeps this up, you’ll be getting you a gold plated car with your own driver,” Sabine joked.

“Yeah, because that’s what I need: people questioning why my grandmother can send me a car and a chauffeur,” Marinette replied drily.

“I hope you’re not planning on letting that dress sit in her closet. It’s too beautiful not to be worn.”

“Well…” Marinette thought. “I was thinking of wearing it when we visit grandma this Christmas. But there is a fashion show coming next month. Maybe I’ll wear it there.”

“You could, but you might be confused for one of the models,” Sabine smiled.

Her daughter rolled her eyes, but in good nature. “Yeah right. But that does give me an idea.”

“I’ll leave you to your ‘idea’ then. I have to give your father his gift anyway. Just make sure to put away the dress properly," Sabine kissed her head and exited the room. "Though I wish mother and Mei would stop sending Tom gold-decorated cookware. Like we need more dragon-shaped knives and gold leaf plates…”

Once she couldn’t hear her mother’s voice anymore, Marinette called out to Tikki and quickly changed into her normal clothes.

“Come on, I need to go to the fabric store.”

“Inspired by your dress?” asked the kwami.

“Yep! This dress needs a good pair of shoes to go with it,” smiled Marinette, grabbing her purse. “And I have an old pair of heels I want to revamp just for this occasion. Come on,  Lafayette Saltiel Drapiers has a great selection on Chinese patterned fabric!”

[xinyixan]

🌬

dearest windy city,

Today I depart from Chicago after 5 weeks of a whirlwind of 10k+ steps/days, trudging through every imaginable spectrum of bone-chilling rainstorms to sweltering hot summers, fanatic sprinting to catch trains and buses, arranging hangouts with newfound friends, and nursing my sore throat post one too many indulgently deep and thought provoking conversations while hopelessly losing track of time… and I feel so much joy and so much hope, I could almost stay… almost.

But I’m a neophiliac, and I’m drawn to change. Having been fortunate enough to travel as much as I have, I’ve come to accept that most cities are more or less the same — what makes them special and memorable are the people I meet. So here are just a few, in the order that I met them:

Lin, my sister creative chimera from Salt Lake City, who happened to be visiting Chi Town with her friend Sharon, was the first person I caught up with after my first week of solo exploration to familiarize myself with all the neighborhoods. Although Lin was only passing through, it was so comforting to feel as if I already knew someone else in the city. I’m forever grateful that meeting Lin, whom I regard as a nexus of friendship and connection, has enabled me to meet so many good people (one of whom I’ll mention below). @_linhuang / @linhuang.psd

Lisa was my first local friend and she introduced me to tapas at Boqueria! It was fun to connect with another digital illustrator and model who has an intense interest in travel (we both share the mindset that our our careers fund our vacations)! It’s been really fun stumbling upon Lisa’s collaborations with other photographers in the locale (via instagram) and feeding off her open-ness & willingness to make friends! @lisahzhu

I remember being keenly intrigued in meeting Arthur because of everyone I had met thus far, he appeared to be the most deeply involved in the fine arts. I had noticed that he had released a course on Domestika teaching Expressive Watercolor Portraits and instantly felt a respect for his dedication to his craft. After all, it is one thing to explore the arts as a hobby but another to have a developed styled and enough experience to design an entire course to share your skill. We met in Boystown and trekked for over an hour while swapping travel stories (such as his solo extended stay in Japan) and philosophies on creating art, making friends, and cultivating meaningful relationships. I was incredibly thankful that despite his packed schedule working as a full-time photographer, interior consultant, painter, and everything in-between, he invited me to Art Institute of Chicago where we continued our conversations as inspired by chronology of Monet’s works. @artybraud / @itsme.artyb / @artybphotography

Tou Ger graciously drove all the way down from the Northern suburbs to meet me for lunch in Wicker Park where we spent 3 hours bonding over as fellow entrepreneurial spirits. A professional dancer turned life coach, Tou Ger is radiantly optimistic but balanced with a practicality for the bigger picture of life. I’m naturally drawn to people with philanthropic ideals (probably because I’m constantly seeking for more compassion without myself) and Tou Ger no doubt fits this bill. @_tougerlee

Vishal and I first met downtown at Mojo Coffee (where I had a super delicious New Zealand style flat white) and I learned his story of how he turned his burn out from his first consulting job in India into inspiration to travel to Japan and Hong Kong solo. He moved to Chicago for his masters and just graduated as I was arriving to town. Between his job hunting grind, Vishal escaped with me for a mid-week serendipitous street photography shoot and another follow up coffee date at the largest Starbucks Reserve Roastery in the world. I was incredibly touched by his warmth and was so grateful that the timing worked out such that we could hang out as often we did. @vishalshriram

Jess was actually another friend I met through Lin (who had a birthday brunch at Bar Takito at which we were both invited)! A copyeditor by day but a writer/poet at heart, Jess started several passion projects over the course of the quarantine including an account to document her baking/cooking adventures as well as a tiktok to capture snippets of her everyday life in vlog format. I adore that she was immediately vulnerable with me in conversation and her emotional maturity/self awareness made me feel comfortable to readily open up to her in return. Our follow up hangout brought us to Hello Jasmine for some delicious Taiwanese street food which we devoured at Ping Tom park while walking barefoot (grounding) on the grass, listening to lo-fi, and journaling together like the big kids we were. I couldn’t have ask for a more wholesome picnic date! @jess.sung / @bohaeats / @marigoldthebun

Abhas was perhaps the only friend whom I had intended to meet up with prior to landing in Chicago. Every so often I try to reach out directly to people watching my instagram stories (via dm) as an attempt to break the social media disconnect that ironically arises from social platforms. I’m so please that I said ‘hi’ to Abhas because as soon as I realized that he was also a creative chimera who happened to live in Chicago (aka — someone whom I could have the opportunity to meet up with), I couldn’t contain my excitement. Just a gander through Abhas’s digital gallery will give you a sense of the full spectrum of his skillset. As we have mutually expressed to each other, knowing that someone else exists with such curiosity for all mediums is very validating to our own existence. It’s no wonder that we ended up losing our voices over conversation while eagerly sharing our parallel artists’ journeys. @abhasmisraraj / @abhas.art

I’m actually not positive how I met Suri — I suspect it was through an Asian Creative Network mutual, Nathan — but I’m sure glad we connected regardless. In my last week, we met up at Ground Up Coffee Co. where I got to hear her rite of passage as a singer/songwriter and trying to make it in the world of performing arts. She confided in me her aspirations as a fellow multi-disciplinary creative: pursing her master’s in creative writing, dreams of producing music for film, and creating a community where she could give back. It was absolutely heartwarming and affirming to hear from a fellow artist that because I’ve chosen to safeguard my art as a hobby, I have been able to preserve its purity. And once again, I’m reminded that I have this gift that shouldn’t be left to go to waste. @surimusings

I met Amy on my second to last night at SweetGreen, and was so elated to find someone who could practice some Mandarin with me! We had some time to connect via text prior to meeting in person, so I already knew that (1) she was skilled in illustration and (2) had recently pivoted from a career as a business analyst to consulting for non-profits. Our friendly chat developed quite rapidly, and I appreciated how Amy didn’t hold back from delving into interesting questions which allowed us to explore topics like my aromanticism or my perspective on my friendships as influenced by the quarantine. I had brought a sketchbook along in wishful thinking that we could perhaps create a collaboration in person over our conversation. To my delight, Amy took to the idea without hesitation! I had such a blast, I regretted having met with her so late such that there was no time to reunite before I left. @ajin.arts

I had not expected to actually meet Kris (due to lack of time and my now strained social stamina) but when he suggested to collab — I could not resist! So, on the very last night of my stay, I made my way out to Pilsen (the last unexplored area of the map which had been described to me as the SF Mission District of Chicago) where I met up Kris with a little piece of plastic1, and he, his camera. We ended up obsessing over this little plastic cap, and the best part? Kris even agreed to allow me to play photographer and modeled for me! We playful energy of the shoot rivaled the playdates from my childhood, and I’m already daydreaming of the day we can collaborate together again! @kr.evangelista

And of course, special shout out to the hubs for coming through at the end of the 3rd week so that we could do all the typical tourism things one normally does in Chi town together (the Cloud Gate/Bean at Millennium Park, the Riverwalk and Navy Pier, Lincoln Park Zoo, North Beach for views of the skyline, strolling the 606…). Chicago felt comfortable before his arrival, but having his company made Chicago feel, at last, like home.

So, thank you, Chicago; thank you for a series of unexpectedly good weather (the weatherman kept promising gloomy and overcast skies but your unpredictability continually surprised me with sunny afternoons), a continually wholesome conversations, and scars around my ankles from endless urban hikes. I won’t miss how how you dried out my eyes with your blustery forecast nor the shady night rides home on the train, but I’ll still miss you all the same.

love,

nowhere girl in Colorado

[novasythe]

it’s been a while.

tonight i am (mostly) alone, and i wish to share my thoughts yet again. strap in my friends; and thank you for the ride.

today is july 5th. the day after independence day. i have been home for 2 hours and 30 minutes. my dearest is far north visiting with family. how nice that must be, to have family. i only have my father. the 4th was uneventful to say the least. i stayed inside and made tacos. what’s it like to have friends who gather and celebrate together? what is fun? i will never know, for i only have 3 friends. sure, i have acquaintances with whom i am on good terms and can strike a conversation at any given point in time, however these people are simply not there for me. they are not prepared to deal with my emotional baggage (with the exception of one whom i don’t talk with enough for other reasons- you know who you are, and i appreciate you).

so what am i to do? today, i had an older woman in her 60s talk with me for 25 minutes. she told me she was disabled and that i had made her day by conversing with her. i simply listened, and offered small words of acknowledgement and short sentences of support she could continue off of. some would say this makes me a good person. i disagree; i am only doing my job, and preserving the image of the company of which i serve under. i have been thanked once by the woman who sat on the other side of a cubicle wall. she thanked me for being so kind and upbeat. i was taken aback because those words do not describe me. i am pessimistic and complain about quite literally everything. i have always viewed myself as a negative person. yet, i was thanked for the opposite. the girl who checks me out in the cafeteria downstairs has told me something similar, that i am always happy and carry a positive energy with me. again! what is it that i’m doing?

i’ve switched positions again and i am on a new team. i think i have found my home in this company, at least for the next few years. my teammates are lovely. all very supportive and helpful when we can be. i feel i have made a positive impression on these people. why is it that others can so easily view me in such a wonderful light but yet i look at myself with such negativity?

i almost wonder if i have lost sight of who i am, or if perhaps i am becoming more superficial. i am trying to make up for my school years, by “fixing” what i perceived to be my flaws. i am a lot less insecure and i feel i present myself in an acceptable manner. i have always wanted to be loved and adored, but feared in the same breath. i want to be a wildfire. i don’t know if i have achieved that yet.

while my love is away i am trying to spend some more time on myself. i hung out with my best friend (which i never do because we both always have things going on, or want to spend time with our own partners, so we just text instead), i took a bath (very rare), and now i am writing up something akin to a diary entry. i have also recently had a creative spark for a novel but it has since fallen away. it was getting complex, too; imagining a world full of magic governed by human nature...but alas, the motivation has melted away, and i am left with nothing but scribbles here and there and remnants of what i could have created. oh well.

i look back on my old posts from time to time and think to myself wow, i was such a strange kid. i suppose now i am an even stranger adult? or am i not? i don’t think i could gauge that. but i have changed, oh lord have i changed. i am only 19 and i feel like i am 25. i used to share so much of my life on the internet as if i believed people were paying attention. back then it was simply a pipe dream and i suppose it really was for attention. here, now, i just like to record my thoughts. i guess old habits never truly die. i will forever be a cultivation of the internet (and, to be honest, my typing speed has been commented on a number of times by nearby coworkers; they ask if i’m okay. it’s kind of funny), and the culture that has been shared throughout the world. isn’t that odd to think about? there’s SO MANY ideas and images that have breathed life simply because of the internet. the modern world is such a strange thing.

anyway, i have other things to do; i guess i just wanted somewhere to share my thoughts without instant repercussions, or interruptions. thank you for listening, the ride is over. 

[joyfoundhere]

Who You Are Really Matters

This Past Weekend…..

was amazing in so many ways. But I want to fast forward to a particular moment that was so profound. I went to a wedding of one of my longest, and dearest friends. Friends, if you’re like me, if you agree to go to a wedding that is very far away, then you have to think so highly of this person. When someone you absolutely adore asks you to be there for their special day, you know that you’d move mountains to do that very thing.  I’m ironing my clothes. And friends, this was the most frustrating experience. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I created spots on my clothing that would take more time than I had in order to get rid of it. I kid you not, this process took 40-45minutes of trying so hard to have all together. In an instant though, I began to have perspective about this situation and what was going on: I wanted so desperately to have it all together

Is looking presentable for a wedding a bad thing? No. However, how many of us struggle with the idea of wanting to give the appearance of having it all together, whether it is with the way we look, or in terms of where we are in life? For me, it had much deeper implications. I felt miserably inadequate and didn’t quite think I measured up. I knew I was in a room of people who were so accomplished, and I needed to atleast look like I belonged.

That was the root of the issue, friends. And since I’m being honest, I’ll go ahead and say that it makes me terribly uncomfortable to admit it here. BUT, there is redemption that also has deeper implications. 

If you’re invited to a wedding, what does that mean? No, it doesn’t just mean that you now get to wear your fancy clothes and have fun.. though, yes that happens. It also doesn’t mean that it’s just another thing to have on your calendar. It means that you’re so valued. You don’t get an invite (usually) to just take up a seat, and lack any connection to the bride or groom. If you met the bride or groom just once and made no effort to cultivate a friendship, you’re not going to have a place there. If invited, it means that you’re seen as someone who has worth in the life of the newly formed family.

Friends, I was trying to put on my best face to attain significance that had already been granted. BUT here’s why it was already granted. It’s not because of what I’ve accomplished, it’s not because I did x, y, or z. It’s because of who I am. It’s weird to say it outloud, but believe this: You are important and you matter because you are YOU. 

If you’re like me, it’s easy to think that because we haven’t done as much as the next person, that we should discount what we have to offer. That’s not the way it should work. God didn’t make a mistake when he made you. You don’t need to have the perfect presentation, or the A-list of accomplishments. First and foremost, you need to know that you are enough. Anything else that flows from that will be wholesome if it is through the lens of knowing who you are.  When I became friends at 13 with the bride, it wasn’t because I had many accomplishments to offer up. It was because I was me. 

Your presence, not your presents (accomplishments, successes) matters. 

At the wedding, no one who knew me was concerned that I had a giant stain on the back of my paints. And again, honestly no one cared that I hadn't done something that is seen as great and worth it in the eye of men. They just cared that I was there. And friends, once I had that realization in the frustrating moments of ironing my clothes, I didn’t hold back any part of who I am. I, and you, are enough. 

[seeingeyelex]

Acid Log..

I was gonna be romantic but my dearest just fucking elbowed me in my damned ear so hard I felt that shit in my jaw lmao. In his sleep. Can't even be mad. Past that, I've been watching Beyonce videos and just catching up on her tea for the last couple of hours as well and I'm so inspired. Jesus. I truly want to cultivate and be my best self. All in a days work, I have as many hours as she does. Although I never aspired to be a power-house pop phenom, I have dreams I can use her route to accomplish. I just feel like, her and Jay probably spent more time away from one another than the media sees but maybe not. Maybe they truly built an empire together ground up and never had to be apart for more than a week at a time. That would be ideal. I think, that even if it took being apart, She'd do it. Women work best independently. I want to be a writer, I want to be well versed, I want to do music but I just don't know where to start honestly. Because of how off track my life is from what I imagined it just feels a lot like I don't have time. I'm only 21 though. I've got more than enough. I'm nervous. I'm nervous about everything these days. I'm just a bumbling idiot full of silly nerves. Loving Drue gives me butterflies. I want to breathe life into him at every turn, but I have to be sure to hold him accountable. I feel like he tries, but sometimes he doesn't know what his words mean or the weight they carry. I'm scared because of how much I know he means to me. And that he might know it as well. Every time I try to tell him I love him I just think it's not the right time. I think "don't scare him off". But, I'm high on damned LSD writing fucking think pieces on Beyonce and how motivated I am to rest comfortably into my late 20's/early 30's and fuck it I love him. I can try to fight it. I can do my damnedest not to yell it from the mountain tops but this 6'3 adorable faced fuck has literally taken my heart captive. I'm actually mad. I didn't plan on falling in love and I'll give it a couple more months before I say anything, but damn. As beautiful as rediscovering my hearts capacity to expand is, this shit hella inconvenient rn. I had plans to be single until I was 25 at least. Maybe flight attend, DJ, travel. I said in my last post that I felt like I was about to explore new things with this man and here we fucking are. I'm just so scared. What if he sees my flaws and finds that they aren't all that beautiful? What if I'm not worth it? You know how mad I'm going to be if I have to cancel half the world because we traveled and made love and kissed and lived life all over just to not make it in the end?! Here I am, already setting myself up for failure, I'm not even his girlfriend yet and I'm already head over heels. I don't know man. I'm stuck in between curating the life I envisioned and making room for another person to accompany me in that ride. In so many ways, Drue reminds me a lot of Jay Z. Lol especially the very laid back, a bit shy, out of place looking but knowing he belongs type. Drue looks so Papí sometimes I just wanna bend over and let him have his way with me wherever. I wonder if Bey feels like that about Jay. Boss niggas make you feel away when they come around honey. Oh yeah, similarities! Awkward hand placements, shoe fetish, even those weak ass legs lmaooo but I'm just poking fun bc his ACL is torn right now. I wish I could give my baby the surgery he really needs and that's honestly one of the things that hurts me the most about not doing what I need to be. No fucking way I shouldn't be able to drop 15 stacks on my man and tend to him for his post op. That's just the kind of woman I am. I am a provider, for myself first, then others naturally. I want to obtain wealth so that whomever I leave in my legacy won't ever have to come up like I did. I want my death to be meaningful. I want to have a staple, here. While I'm here. Maybe I need to tend to myself first, and as a root to her branches, when healthy and strong they bear fruit. I'm just really ready to learn his ins and outs. I'm really ready to do life together. But, I just need to be sure. And how can you be so sure. I wish there was a way to get inside of his head. In his own fire sign way I can tell that he really cares. He made up some dumb story about wanting to hang out tonight so I wouldn't go chill with another guy friend, even though he was accompanied by his girl. It's very cute. I knew he wasn't serious about going out. Lol, I know he feels like I'm wild. And I might be. I'm young. I'm free. I'm having great sex, eating pretty well and I'm always high. I'm sure he'd have more of me to himself and I have a right mind to really let it be that way. Quit the social media. Really focus and elevate my mind, body, soul. We could go very far if we applied more pressure. We will. I'm certain. I'm probably a fucking nut for even having this on my mind.