#I wish dub had kept the out of pocket dialogue

[teamfreewill58]

I know Atem says some out of pocket shit sometimes but this always just cracks me up. Especially since it’s not in the dub.

Over here like: I told you to go for it Aibou why am I on a date with your crush?? Tf??

Which is equally funny because Atem just assumes Yugi likes Anzu, which I don’t think is the case in the OG series.

[crystalirises]

Na Tinuruan Mo ang Puso Ko na Umibig na Tunay (That You Really had Taught My Heart How to Truly Fall in Love)

wawawawawawa finally wrote this!

Just a note, this is a songfic and the song used is originally sang in Filipino. The bold italicized texts are the original lyrics while the italicized lyrics within dialogue is the English translation. Also note, I did use English lyrics from a website so I want this to be clear, the English lyrics are different from the original a bit so... Even though you can't understand the song, if you want to, you can try to listen to the original song (which is in Filipino) Anyway, bye bye.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/79904587

‘Kamukha mo si Paraluman

Nu'ng tayo ay bata pa

At ang galing-galing mong sumayaw

Mapa-Boogie man o Cha-Cha’

“You looked just like Paraluman, when were kids before…” He glanced up at Fundy, his hands fidgeting against the diner table in front of him. Their song was playing in the background, memories of their youth racing through his mind. The fox hybrid glared at him from the other side of the table, arms crossed in front of his chest and with bags underneath his eyes. He didn’t know what had come over him, honestly. Meeting up with his… ex-boyfriend? Well, here they were now. In a rundown diner in the middle of the nothing-town that they both had grown up in. Both washed-up losers. “And you danced so beautifully, whether it’s Boogie or a Cha-cha.”

“You came all this way… All this way, Dream… just for that to be your first words?”

“I’m just trying to reminisce, sta一 Funds. No need to be so aggressive, it wasn’t as if you were planning on saying anything anyway.” He huffed, adjusting his hands until they were hidden inside the pockets of his sweater. Fundy’s eyes had narrowed into thin slits, no doubt at Dream’s accidental slip of an old nickname. He wasn’t sure why he still remembered it. That was such a long time ago. Both of them were practically stupid teenagers when he had dubbed his then-boyfriend with the nickname star. He didn’t even remember why he’d called Fundy that. He leaned his head against the seat, wincing at the loud groans and squeaks of the springs beneath him. Gods, he’d always hated this place. “I don’t know what to say, okay? Then that song started to play and I just said what came to mind… Look, just… let me remember who we were, okay?”

‘Ngunit ang paborito

Ay pagsayaw mo ng El Bimbo

Nakakaindak, nakakaaliw

Nakakatindig-balahibo’

He smiled, nodding along as though that was answer enough for himself. “I think my favorite was when you danced to the El Bimbo.” He glanced around the diner, glad to find that there was no one there, except for the waitress by the counter who was throwing him weird glances. He thinks he knows her, from long ago. Perhaps in high school, a familiar face who looked on at him with pity that made him want to run out of there. Still, Fundy was right in front of him, waiting for him to get to the point. “It makes me shiver, it’s like a show. It makes my hair go straight.”

‘He remembers the first time he’d seen Fundy. It had been a passing moment, a flicker of a lifetime. Yet he had paused that day, eyes drawn to the dancer upon that empty stage of their local school theater. He had disappeared into the room to escape the crowd of high school, needing a moment for himself, and that was when he looked up and saw him. A boy his age, dancing across the stage to a song that he couldn’t quite remember anymore. Fundy had never once looked his way, too enthralled in his steps and in the music to pay attention to a rowdy jock like him. He had stayed until the end, mouth hanging open in shock. His hand had made its way to his chest, his heart racing madly that he had feared it would explode. He was enraptured.’

“You’re lucky I didn’t look up that day. Imagine… being stared up by a creep!”

“I was not一 I was not being a creep.”

“You’re just lucky you’re cute.”

‘Pagkagaling sa 'skwela

Ay didiretso na sa inyo

At buong maghapon ay tinuturuan mo ako’

“After my classes were dismissed I went into your house.” Dream chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. The amount of minutes he’d spent climbing up the tree so he could scale the branch to enter Fundy’s room. He nearly once since Fundy had decided to scare him. Dream had been quick to grab onto the windowsill. “And for the whole afternoon, you taught me how to dance.”

“Gods… you fucking prick, do you know how many times my dad nearly caught you?” Fundy reached across the table, lightly smacking Dream’s hand. “He would have skinned you alive!”

“That’s why I’m still alive today, babe. Your old man’s too slow to catch me.”

‘Magkahawak ang ating kamay

At walang kamalay-malay

Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko

Na umibig na tunay’

“As we held our hands together, I had no doubt in my mind…” He remembered those long hot afternoon days, where they would dance to the beat of whatever song came on the record, their hands clasped together so gently. “That you really had taught my heart how to truly fall in love.”

‘He remembers climbing into Fundy’s window, nearly tripping against the bright orange carpet that decorated his boyfriend’s whole bedroom. They were both alone in the house, Fundy’s family being out due to a family outing that Fundy had weaseled his way out of. When he managed to get in, Fundy was already waiting for him, the radio opened to an old song that neither of them really knew the lyrics to. Fundy had smiled at him, reaching to pull him closer. Despite what people might say, when it came to dancing, Fundy always took the lead. He always did. Dream was never allowed to take the lead because dancing was Fundy’s niche and Dream was just a beginner. That one afternoon day, Fundy held his hands in his. But unlike the other times, he had a whole other plan in mind. Dream could only blink back his shock when Fundy slowly leaned in, their lips touching. It was quick, but it was enough to pull Dream in for more. So, he leaned in.’

“Our first kiss.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m surprised you still remember… Then again, I’m also not surprised.”

‘Naninigas ang aking katawan

'Pag umikot na ang plaka

Patay sa kembot ng beywang mo

At pungay ng 'yong mga mata’

“My body starts to harden when the record starts to spin.” His breath would quicken with each step they took within their dance. In that small bedroom, it felt like the whole world just melted away. Dream glanced up, smiling shyly when he caught Fundy’s eyes. He always found them to be mesmerizing, liking the way how gold seemed to glitter in them each time the sun illuminated Fundy’s whole body. “I love when your hips start to shake, as well as the sight of your eyes.”

“I do have great eyes. You loved that about me. You always spent too long staring into them like it would be your last chance to do so. Dream, you do know my eyes were just brown, right? I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. Golden flecks? You’re too much of a romantic for your own good. Then… I always liked that about you, seeing that other side of you, the other side to the smug jock that people fawned over that it was personally nauseating to watch.” Fundy rolled his eyes from across the counter. Dream nearly jolted when Fundy suddenly stood up, leaning against the booth while he kept his gaze on him. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering despite the warm air of the diner. None of the windows were open. It felt like he was being stripped from the inside out, like Fundy was clawing out every dirty detail that Dream had acquired over the past years of his miserable life. “I… You and me… wow, how did we even—”

“I don’t regret it. You and me. I never once regretted it.” Dream wanted so much to reach out, to clasp a hand on Fundy’s shoulder or even pull him into an embrace. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t. He settled deeper into his seat, resting a hand on the back of his neck. “I regret many of my decisions in life. But falling in love with you… was probably the only good choice I ever made. I would never regret falling in love with you, and I hope… you never once regretted falling in love with me. I loved you with all my heart, Fundy. I loved you so much.”

‘Lumiliwanag ang buhay

Habang tayo'y magkaakbay

At dahan-dahang dumudulas

Ang kamay ko sa makinis mong braso, hoo’

“My life just gets brighter while we're holding hands with each other.” Those had been the best moments of his life. Though what they had only lasted for a few years, it was real. Dream thought it was real. During those afternoons where he would come to visit Fundy, he felt like he could leave his troubles at the window. When they danced, it was just them. The world would never know who they were, would never know the dances and talks they shared. No one could judge them, or mock them, or expect more from them. They were just two teens crazy in love with each other. But all good things must come to an end. Dream lowered his gaze, swallowing down the bitterness in his throat. He remembered that night so clearly, remembered the tears they both had cried. “And slowly, I lose my grip when my hand starts to slip on your shoulder.”

‘It had been a rainy night, cliche but Dream didn’t really find it all that funny. High school was over, and it was time they moved on. Fundy had barely even looked at him the entire time, maybe he was terrified of what Dream would do, but Dream was too busy holding back his own tears. Of course he had expected it. He knew it was coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon and so sudden. Fundy had apologized, stating that his family was sending him to a faroff college, one that Dream would never be able to get into no matter how hard he tried. It was officially over.’

“I broke up with you.”

“You did… It hurt. It still does.”

“I know.”

‘Sana noon pa man ay sinabi na sa iyo

Kahit hindi na uso ay ito lang ang alam ko’

“I wish that at that time I had told you what I felt.” Dream wished he’d told him how much he loved him. If he had, then maybe… “Even if it's not popular, this is the only thing that I know—”

“Shut up.” He startled, flinching once he realized that Fundy was moving closer. Dream paused once he realized that Fundy was reaching out a hand towards him. “One last dance, Dream?”

“I’d die to have one last dance, Fundy.” He looked down at Fundy’s hand, glancing at the harshness of his palms. Fundy used to have the softest hands, but the years have changed that. Dream hesitantly placed his hand on Fundy’s, pulling himself off his seat before swaying gently to the music. Fundy held onto his hands, a small content smile on his face. Dream could feel the waitress’ gaze on the back of his head, but there and now, he could have cared less. He wanted this last dance before he went to leave again. He wished he could have more than one last dance.

‘Magkahawak ang ating kamay

At walang kamalay-malay

Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko

Na umibig na tunay’

“As we held our hands together, I had no doubt in my mind…” Dream could feel the tears fall past his cheeks, gasping for air. “That you really had taught my heart how to truly fall in love.”

La la la la, la la, la la, la la la

He held on tightly to Fundy’s hands, wishing for that moment to last forever. They danced together, swaying to the tune of the music. Even if the diner hadn’t been empty, Dream would have danced with Fundy if he’d asked. He would have jumped at the chance to dance with again. The song finished, and Dream collapsed back into his seat. It was their song that was playing.

‘Lumipas ang maraming taon

'Di na tayo nagkita

Balita ko'y may anak ka na

Ngunit walang asawa’

“And many years had passed by, we didn’t see each other anymore.” He started shakily, waking himself. “I heard from somewhere that you have a child… but you don't have a husband.”

‘Taga-hugas ka raw ng pinggan sa may Ermita

At isang gabi'y nasagasaan sa isang madilim na eskinita

Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw

Sa panaginip na lang pala kita maisasayaw’

“They said you wash the plates in a place called Ermita, and one day, there was an accident that happened on a very dark alleyway.” His head felt heavy, like a hammer was beating in a nail against the back. Dream rested his head against the cool table. He couldn’t bear to look up again. He couldn’t look up again. For his own sake, he couldn’t. “All my hopes for the future had just started to melt away. I guess my dreams are the only place where I could dance with you again.”

‘Magkahawak ang ating kamay

At walang kamalay-malay

Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko

Na umibig na tunay’

“As we held our hands together, I had no doubt in my mind that you really had taught my heart how to truly fall in love.” Still, Dream would hold onto the memories of them. The kinder times.

‘Magkahawak ang ating kamay

At walang kamalay-malay

Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko

Na umibig na tunay’

As we held our hands together

I had no doubt in my mind

That you really had taught my heart

How to truly fall in love

La la la la, la la, la la, la la la

La la la la, la la, la la, la la la

“He talked about you a lot.”

Dream looked up, the waitress was holding a box of tissues towards him.

“He did?”

“He did.”

Dream reached for the box of tissues, his heart burning with ache.

“I just wish…”

“I understand. I wish he was still here too. He was… He is my best friend.”

The waitress wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

“I… We used to date. It’s stupid but… I miss him.”

“I do too. Yogurt, Fundy’s son, he’s devastated.”

“He’s young, and he’s already lost his dad.”

Dream glanced down at the box of tissues, forcing a smile on his face. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Be good to him, or I will hunt you down and kill you.”

He laughed at that, reaching for one of the tissues. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Niki. It’s Niki.”

She reached down, patting his shoulder.

She gave him a bittersweet smile.

“Fundy would have… He trusted you. So, be good to Yogurt for him, please.”

“I will.”

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

Killed off Fundy, not feeling good ;-;

Also Yogurt is mentioned but not significant, I'm so sorry Yogurt ;-;

Also rip the imagery of Dream dancing alone in the middle of an empty diner ;-;

[ieyasukenshinsandwich]

A Turn of the Hourglass

I had a sudden thought about an Ikevamp Reset Theory AU after rereading the prologue and realizing just how much some of it sounded...rehearsed...especially the scene when Le Comte runs into the MC at the Louvre. A few written down thoughts turned into a fanfiction. 

Warnings? None. Spoilers? Very minor ones from the Prologue and the Saved Stories option under Memories for the released suitors. Notes? 1.  A * marked before a dialogue means that it is taken directly from the Prologue. 2. The last section of this fanfic will make a lot more sense if you are familiar with the last part of the Prologue -- it reads a bit awkwardly otherwise.

Under the cut because it is 3,775 words. 

A Turn of the Hourglass   

     The room was, to most, eerily silent. He found that worked well for him. When he delivered a lecture, he purposely waited until the silence entered into their minds. The weakest lasted several minutes, Jean had lasted nearly an hour, but the subtle waiting quiet of the room wore down their sanity until they broke and asked -- each in their own unique ways that he found endlessly fascinating -- for him to start his lecture. Perhaps it was a brief reminder of the void of death they had each experienced that unnerved them. Whatever the case, it was always a test of their sanity. It certainly was a constant test for him. Le Comte, unlike his residents, knew what created that subtle waiting silence. He could actually hear the constant shluff of falling sand from the various hourglasses that lined his room. The noise that put the residents on edge as they subconsciously waited for the next grain to drop. A sound that Leonardo despised. 

     Despite being one of his oldest friends, Le Comte doubted that the Inventor knew why he kept so many hourglasses. He had never asked so he had never told. Leonardo scorned keeping such meticulous track of time -- often cursing their own immortal march -- and he broke or creatively reimagined every timepiece he had put in his messy room. Sometimes he would find them just outside his door. A clear warning that he nearly always ignored. Le Comte imagined that he would not be impressed -- perhaps, he thought with a sardonic grin tugging at his lips, even disappointed -- if he discovered the reason. The grin turned into a lopsided smile as he quickly poured himself a drink. He tipped the glass back, chasing away the bitterness he could feel swelling his soul with the bite of alcohol, and heaved a quiet sigh as he continued to watch her hourglass. 

     Soon after she had moved into his mansion, he had dubbed this delicate, gold-lined hourglass hers in a haze of affection. The sands, as compared to the others dotting his room, were a faint pink color. The same color as the suite she stayed in. If Sebastian had noticed he had her placed the Lady’s quarters, parallel to the suite that was his by right even if he hadn’t used it in years, he hadn’t said a word. Or raised an eyebrow. Le Comte wondered if he was that excellent of a butler, Sebastian had definitely proved himself numerous times, or just ignorant of the suite’s importance. Maybe it had been before his time. Perhaps he should have relocated to the Master suite once again -- to stake a claim and make his own intentions crystal clear even to the least observant of his residents. But he hadn’t, and he was here watching her pink sands be slowly dyed a dusty blue. 

     The same dusty blue as the sands in the sturdy oak hourglass currently frozen in time inside a locked cabinet. The one he had labelled the first night after Arthur had accepted his proposal to become a vampire. One that he had actually pulled out of its cabinet to examine twice this past month to confirm the color of the sands: dusty blue. It wasn’t an ugly color, he actually quite liked it, but it wasn’t the color he wanted. He tapped the bottom of the hourglass, eyes glowing gold, and watched the final grain change from pink to blue. It was done. He managed to turn to the largest hourglass, the one that marked his ability to travel through the door into time, before a very proper knock interrupted the sound of sand. Sebastian. The door opened, someone stepping into the room without waiting for his welcoming answer. Leonardo. 

     “Monsieur Le Comte, Sakiko wishes to stay in the mansion for a bit longer and would like to ask for your permission to do so.” Excitement primly tucked away. 

     “She’s tied herself to the flirt you turned, but after everything that has happened...I can’t begrudge her choice.” Affection carefully concealed under exasperation. 

     He let their emotions wash over his own -- swift currents of positive thoughts shoving his own negative ones into corners and hopefully out of sight. He turned with a gentle smile already in place. Sebastian’s brow furrowed as Leonardo’s raised in an unspoken question. It seemed that the current had not tucked them away as neatly as he hoped. With a sweep of his hand, the faintly glowing -- and frankly distracting -- oversized hourglass was hidden from their sight. With a tiny bow, the bitterness the alcohol had only barely controlled was swallowed. These two were observant enough to see through his lies in this emotional state, so his words would need a seed of truth. 

     “I already knew.” Teasing came easy to his tongue, but not to his eyes. The teasing lilt did its job as the inquisitive looks faded to bemusement and actual exasperation. Sebastian returned the little bow, smiling with more happiness than Le Comte thought was necessary, as Leonardo carelessly dragged a cirgarillo from his breast pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed his friend’s still unlit cirgarillo and placed it far enough away on the table that it could not be reached. Not without moving him aside anyway. He relished the annoyance that flickered before sweeping out of the room. 

     “We should congratulate them, non?” The two followed without a word -- Sebastian closing the door with a click that he thought sounded a bit too final. 

          ~~~

     It had been over a month and the large hourglass was once again nearly full. It was nearly time. Le Comte had watched Arthur and Sakiko be happy, unwilling to do anything to cast a shadow of unease over them, and played the perfect indulgent host. The only shadow he had cast was over the hourglass Sakiko had inadvertently claimed her first night in the mansion. Every night, before falling into uneasy sleep, he would watch the sands swirl and remember when they had been pink instead of blue. It only took two nights of this for him to remember that hourglasses can be reset. It took four to recall that it was more than a theory, although it took six for him to realize that he knew it wasn’t a theory because it had worked before. The month was halfway over when he remembered that he had done it before.

     Pieces of the puzzle trickled in as he continued to watch over the hourglass. The residents’s hourglasses were locked away, rewound and then frozen in time, and could not be changed. Hers was not frozen and flipping hers erased the timeline. It had little impact on the other hourglasses -- the grains of pink that represented her simply faded into their respective colors one by one until she was gone. They were still vampires, they would still meet her -- they just wouldn’t remember. A clean slate. A third chance...or was it a fourth? He wished that he could remember, but the very second she accepted a place in the mansion his own sands lost her color like the others. A way to make it fair, he supposed, as fair as it could be. His power would reawaken his memory once he touched her dyed hourglass. A failsafe. A curse. His gaze returned to the oversized hourglass as the final sands fell into place. It was time. 

     “Your body, your heart, and your destiny...” Le Comte whirled the hourglass around its suspended chain several times before letting it come to a stop, staring with grim satisfaction as the sands poured unnaturally quickly into the opposite chamber. He watched as the color steadily changed to an impressionable, but boring white. A pause. The roar of the sands echoed in his ears, seemingly taunting him for his decision, as some unknown magic took hold of the sand. It changed back to pink, your color, with agonizing slowness. Once it finished, he etched a heart on the glass with a single finger. The sand briefly turned to spun gold, glowing like the power he could still feel sparking his veins and lighting his eyes, and held the heart shape. A traced image of glittering gold that seemed to pulse in time with his own. He hated watching it fade -- hopefully it would not fade again. He finished his plea on a reverent whisper. 

     “Please, ma chérie, give them to me.”

~~~ 

     Night had fallen much later than he had been expecting. His sense of time had always been a bit disorientated, but being pulled from death’s loving embrace only to be thrust right back into the empty embrace of existence had nearly destroyed it. Or should he say neatly destroyed it? All it had taken was a single bite -- a very neat and clean one. The thought caused him to stop short of the window, but it only held his attention for a brief moment. He had a banquet to attend and a fellow author to tease if only to see the usually well-spoken man stutter. Sakiko had really peeled away all of his layers to reveal a man as easy to fluster as his dear apple. His cheeks didn’t flush nearly as pretty as a color, but it was still worth it. He was actually happy -- he was sure it reached his eyes occasionally -- that she had ignored his warning that day in the garden. With a soft grunt, he lifted the window and prepared to clamber inside. Sakiko was staring at him in bemusement again. He lifted his hand in greeting. 

     *”Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I? ...In we go.” A quick glance had told him that the usual suspects were all there, though he found it a bit odd that Arthur and Sakiko weren’t sitting intimately close together like usual. Lost in that thought, his sleeve caught on the rough edge of the windowsill. Lovely. Dazai purposefully pulled at the sleeve in a way that wouldn’t actually help, knowing that with each passing second Sebastian’s eyes would twitch with increasing annoyance. A rip was well worth that -- even if he was forced at needlepoint to fix it himself. Issac said something. He hadn’t heard it exactly, but he could guess. 

     *”And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window was much faster.” It was a familiar argument and his response was the same every time. Maybe Issac should be creative and come at the argument from a different angle. Maybe he should try using the window. The smile on his face was unaffected by the glares he received from most of the table. It remained as he easily unhooked the tiny thread from the edge that was keeping him prisoner -- if only it had actually been that easy in life. Sakiko was still eyeing him, so he gave his first greeting to her, uncaring of the affection that colored his tone and words. She looked uncomfortable as she responded, so he attempted to put her at ease with a neutral statement about dinner. Normally she would agree with him -- she loved Sebas-kun’s cooking with a fervor that always made him chuckle -- but her eyes slid away. What had Arthur done? He was seconds from asking when the master of the house spoke. 

     *”You arrived just in time. We were all introducing ourselves to our guest.” The tone was cool and tempered, but Dazai knew a warning when he heard one. He looked up and down the table for someone new, head still firmly facing Sakiko so she would know that he would be talking with her next. He would find out what had happened. A sense of unease crawled up his spine as his search proved futile. There was no one new here. He faced Le Comte. 

     *”You’d like me to introduce myself?” He couldn’t stop his surprise from coloring his tone. He hoped his question would be answered. Le Comte was just as good at dodging inquiries as he was. The unease doubled as Issac coughed in the general direction of Sakiko. She stared at him as if he were a stranger. A stranger. Ah. He’s done this before. He felt apathy settle on his shoulders like a mantle, the familiar weight threatening to drag him down, but a part of his brain knew that this girl would rip it off like she had done before: it was just a matter of time. Issac coughed again, louder this time, and he knew that if he waited any longer Le Comte would become suspicious. That wouldn’t do. He wondered what her name was this time: not Sakiko, not Hana, not Fusao, not Chiyo...it would take him a while to remember when someone finally bothered to tell him, but he would remember it. Dazai was good with names.

~~~

     Night had fallen much more quickly than he had expected. This had soured his mood, but he knew that lateness would not be permitted or excused. The carriage trip to the mansion had always seemed so long, but the script sitting next to him on the empty seats raised his spirits to be almost giddy. When was the last time he had been in such elation of spirit? A bump in the road disoriented his thoughts, but it was his glance to his fallen script that dispelled his mood. With a reluctant eye, he scanned the first few pages as the carriage pulled just past the gate. The words were turning color from feathered black ink to gold: a gold that he had seen numerous times before. His expression was hard as the coachman finally got around to opening his door. He knew entering the mansion was useless -- a fool’s errand -- but he would dutifully play his part. Setting the papers aside, he watched as the words on the top page slithered off to form tiny piles of golden dust. All that time -- erased. He went halfway to the door of the mansion, knowing that he was hidden from view, and counted to a reasonable passage of time before turning around. 

     *”I’ve decided not to stay.” Shakespeare didn’t need to bother hiding the tiny amount of bitterness in his voice -- it was as believable as the first time he had said it so many times ago. The coachman seemed surprised, but as if it were rehearsed, only perfunctorily questioned him. Perhaps it was rehearsed. He gave him an answer as he always did. 

     *”Capricious Fate has invited a guest of fairer mien than mine to take my chair.” Capricious as the dust that blew away when the carriage door was opened. He watched it go, settling himself on the seats, as he forced his voice to convey resentment instead of the desperation that wanted to be heard: *“Hers is center stage tonight, though I shan’t stay to see how she performs.” He couldn’t stay. One glance at her would reveal himself. He had yet another part to practice upon this stage. He knew his lines.  

     *”O, what upturned expectations have come at the arrival of this...new player?” Still not perfect -- Shakespeare had hesitated. That would surely reveal him. A thoughtful hum interrupted his internal thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise -- he had thought he was speaking to himself, as he had every other cursed rehearsal, but the coachman was still standing with his hand on the carriage door. The man scratched at his chin, eyeing Shakespeare’s formally casual wear and discarded script, before turning around to stare at the opulent mansion. The coachman’s expression was sympathetic and kind as he turned back around.  

     “There will be another chance, monsieur,” He laughed, giving the script and the stunned playwright a wink, before finishing in an overblown theatrical voice: “‘all that glitters is not gold.’” He gave the mansion one more disgusted look before gently closing the carriage door. A few short minutes later the carriage lurched forward. Shakespeare shook off his shock  -- and bemusement, the man had quoted his own words to him. Was he to play his part once again? Was he to find which part she was to play? She had already played a forlorn and frozen violet’s precious maiden, an immortal inventor’s mortal beloved, and most recently the adored red, red rose of one who slept among many petals. She had even kissed the sleeping emperor and turned him into a man.  

     A divot in the road caused the coach to rattle unsteadily, sending the formerly finished script into further disarray. A tiny hint of an unbalanced smile caressed his lips as he watched his own name fade from black to gold to dust. A woman of many names, many parts -- no wonder she haunted him from that first glance so many times ago. No matter, he can play his parts once again. 

~~~

     The room was, to most, eerily silent. He found that worked well for him. However, the quiet was going to be broken by his own requests to Sebastian and the soft crackling of the fire hidden within its grate. Subtle mind games were not necessary as he knew it would only be a few seconds before you spoke. He also didn’t want attention drawn to the numerous hourglasses dotting his walls anyway just in case you should ask about them this time. Not that you would. If he remembered correctly, you would reject his offer of tea and immediately ask him your impossible question -- how would you get back -- even when the real question burning your tongue and crying from your eyes was a question of “when” you would get back. It was much too early to tell the truth. He would be a gentleman and soften his omission by answering the question you voiced out loud. Dinner ended and Le Comte brought you to his suite. It all happened exactly as he remembered. He sipped his tea as you seemingly processed all of the information, doubt and suspicion etched on your face, preparing for your second impossible question. 

     *”And who are you, Comte, that you have collected some of history’s greatest figures to live here in your mansion?” The tone was just as accusatory as he remembered, but the guilt that squirmed in his stomach at the tone was more recent. One or two turns of the hourglass ago perhaps. He shifted his eyes away to glance to the side, unable to make eye contact even though he knew just how dubious it made him look, and gave his usual deflection. You seemed unimpressed and tried to wiggle your way out of staying in the mansion. That wouldn’t be allowed to happen. A few strong armed suggestions painted in the softest manner he could achieve, an assurance that you weren’t imposing -- guilt climbed upwards to poke at his heart -- and a civil conversation about the residents you had yet to meet culminated in his old friend’s sudden appearance. 

     “Are you the one, cara mia, that was taking so long?” Leonardo’s words were different from last time, although the general idea was the same. He had the feeling that someone else in the mansion retained some memories, but he also knew the feeling to be a manifestation of his own paranoia. He knew you were erased from memory -- he had twirled your hourglass himself just that afternoon. Nonetheless, Le Comte watched his friend closely. He shoved down the feeling of jealousy that tried to rear its ugly head when he saw you in his lap, flustered beyond words, and swallowed his snarl when Leonardo tried to undermine his ability to take care of and please her with his warning. She had been happy every other time in his mansion, in his Lady’s suite, and he was always one of the first to discover her missing. He grimaced at these thoughts. Guilt was now a stab so painful that it took all of his self control to not drop down and beg your forgiveness for his actions. Fortunately, or unfortunately as it may more accurately be stated, Sebastian was already leading you away to your room. He didn’t dare follow. 

     That night, he fell into an uneasy sleep. He was almost glad for his upcoming loss of memory just so he could occasionally rest at night again -- not that he really needed it. Sleep was an indulgence most of the time. Your hourglass was glowing faintly on the shelf. The pink light coming from the pink sands, as of yet undyed by any hand, seemed to call to him. That was all the convincing he needed to gently bring the hourglass down from the shelf, cradling it in his palm as he climbed onto his bed. He had just settled himself when the hourglass suddenly began to burn. In shock, he dropped it and barely managed to keep it from tumbling to the ground. Le Comte took the still burning hourglass and placed it near him on the pillow. You must be unsettled. He started to breathe in slow, methodical breaths in an effort to calm even if you couldn’t feel it. He gently patted the top of the delicate, gold-lined hourglass with affection. 

     The pinks sands flashed blood red, causing his own blood to run chill with apprehension and fangs to peep out in anticipation. He tapped down the longing filling his soul -- she was still distressed and he owed her his attempts at comfort -- and etched a soothing, swirling pattern on the glass. He welcomed the burning sensation as a punishment for his turn of the hourglass. A sin that he would gladly take upon himself, again and again, as long as it meant he could have another if she chose another. Gold dust followed his fingers as he stirred the sands from the outside. A frantic pulse seemed to fight the additional color, but the pink eventually intermingled with gold. Once the two were fully mixed, the sands slowed to lethargic pace. It was a beautiful sight. One that he wanted. 

     *“I want it all. Your body, your heart...and your destiny.” The sands pulsed once more, removing his golden dust from the pink in one fell swoop. He placed the hourglass on his bedside table and turned to face the wall. He also owed you some privacy. He would be seeing you tomorrow anyways. He would have another chance. With a small smile, Le Comte drifted off to sleep with dreams of a delicate, gold-lined hourglass filled with pink and gold sand and your arms affectionately wrapped around him in a hug. He would happy with just that, although he yearned for more and maybe this time...you will give them to him.

~~~

Tagging: @edgarbright I hope you don’t mind, but it was a theory and Le Comte-centric. @impracticaldemon I wrote something~! :D 

[bobasheebaby]

Can’t Let Go- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 1

Pairing: Drake x MC; (past) Liam x MC

Word count: 1,950

Warnings: Evil Liam, dark fic

Summary: Liam sets out to get back the woman who stole his heart.

A/N: thank you so much for your input @sirbeepsalot! Some of the dialogue is from chapter three but I tried to add my own flair.

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Liam tried to let her go, release his longing for her. He thought the pain of her choosing another would eventually fade, that seeing Rebecca sitting and laughing with Drake would slowly become easier, but if anything it only became harder. He struggled to understand how he possibly could have lost her, he’d told her what he felt in his heart every chance he got, she knew that Madeline wasn’t where his heart lay.

How could she fall in love with another? How could she so easily give up on me while we were fighting to clear her name so we could finally be together? Were all her whispered I love you's a lie?

Liam thought watching Rebecca marry his best friend would help him come to terms with them never having a chance, but it only made his longing for her that much greater. Standing next to Drake as they pledged their love for one another only made him wish even harder that it was him she was promising to love for eternity. He slowly felt his heart crack until something in him twisted so hard it finally snapped.

There were whispers, and so much pressure after the failed Sons of Earth plot to dethrone him. Liam was a King without a Queen, he knew that soon the people would be demanding he marry and produce an heir. He knew the longer it took the weaker their small country would seem.

He wanted to marry for love. But really he wanted to marry the one woman he could not have. He wanted, no he needed Rebecca. He needed her like he needed air to breathe. She had become to him as needed as oxygen to live. He knew there would never be another like her. She would be the only woman to ever claim his heart and soul. No one else would ever get him and fit into this life so easily. She handled the life as if she were born and bred for it, respected him for who he was not his title, he could never find anyone who would complete him like she did.

I need to get her back.

Watching Drake and Rebecca leave for their honeymoon felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. Knowing they’d be starting to try for their own heir for their duchy only made him lose his mind.

It should have been me with her. It should be my heir, not his. He doesn’t even want this life. She deserves a man who can rule confidently beside her.

He heard whispers that the King and Queen of Auvernal may pay him a visit to discuss his lack of an heir. He saw this as his chance to get what he craved, and he craved her. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t let his chance slip through his fingers once again. He wouldn’t allow a minor setback to stop him from having her, not when he knew she felt it too. Why else would she spend the night of her bachelorette party with him?

She’s lying to herself, it’s me who she wants, not him. I just have to remind her.

Liam scoured the archives for any evidence to back up the claims he would have to make to get what he wanted. He knew there was a chance that someone would question him and he needed to have proof just in case. Normally he’d delegate the task to someone else but he didn’t want anyone to know exactly what he was planning. He needed to go slowly, not show all of his cards at once. He didn’t want them to realize what it was that he truly wanted too soon, or they may find a way to refuse his request. He knew Drake felt as though he owed him, getting them to agree to allow him to name their child as his heir would be the easy part.

There is no way he’ll say no to me, he admitted he feels guilty for stealing my girl.

It was what he would request next that would be tricky. He knew if he played it right they would see it was the only option, he just had to be patient and take his time, ensure that all the steps had been followed precisely and then he would get what he wanted. He knew he’d have to pretend to be caring and understanding, attempt to hold back his feelings for her when all he wanted was to pull Rebecca into his arms.

This will work. I will have her by my side where she belongs.

If he could slowly lay out his plan, drive a wedge between them he knew he’d have her as is queen. His plan was so simple, so easy. He knew that once she saw how weak Drake was she’d see she’d chosen the wrong man. He knew he could win her back. There wasn’t anything that he wasn’t willing to do. He’d go as far as necessary to get the woman of his dreams back.

Weaken their relationship, play the caring supportive friend. By the time he realizes something is wrong it will be too late.  She will be my queen.

Liam carefully laid out his plans. Slowly, methodically, careful to ensure that he would have no false steps or surprises. He refused to leave anything to chance, he would regain her heart. He would never let her slip through his fingers again.

As he stepped off the jet, his friends in tow, he had to suppress a smile. He felt that everything was going perfectly, there wasn’t a stone left unturned, no possible way he could be found out. He kept his lips in a thin line, his hands shoved in his pockets, he needed to play this as though he was their friend, he couldn’t allow anyone to suspect anything was up, especially not Drake. He needed to seem as though he hesitated to ask this of them, he couldn’t let them believe he had any other motives for wanting to name their child as his heir. He struggled to keep his mind clear as they spoke, his eyes never straying from her. He internally smiled as Drake readily agreed.

I knew he couldn’t say no to me.

He was unsurprised by Rebecca’s hesitation, he expected as much. He knew her, what drove we forward, what made her heartbeat quicken, and what made it freeze in time.

I know her better than Drake does.

He easily circumvented anymore questions by introducing his surprise. He knew they wouldn’t be able to say no to an extra day in paradise, with their friends no less. It had the added benefit of taking her mind off of all the reasons she would want to tell him no. He wouldn’t let her answer, not yet. No he’d catch her once she was rested, even if his heart ached at the thought of her spending the night with Drake.

How could she ever fall for him? He’s all snark, he doesn’t put her and her needs first.

Liam waited until she was cornered. He’d have preferred that she was alone, but Drake was never too far behind.

Soon enough she will be where she belongs. Soon she will be with me.

The meaningless small talk spilled from his lips as he lulled her into complacency. His heart beating faster the closer he got to finally getting the answer he needed. He offered her a practiced rueful smile. “There is one official matter we need to discuss before we arrive… the question of a royal heir.” Liam swallowed thickly trying to remove the bile from his throat as Drake took her hands into his. “I’d hoped to give you and Drake more time to consider the idea, but the court and the Council have been pressing me for a decision. And to be honest, the public is already speculating whether their favorite noble couple will have a child…”

It’s us they should be waiting with bated breath to celebrate with. Soon enough it will be us again my love.

Rebecca’s eyes widened in shock, Liam had to bite back the smile forming at her disbelief. “So the whole kingdom wants to know if our baby will be the next ruler of Cordonia?”

Liam nodded. He felt jealous rage coil it’s way around his heart as he watched her glance to Drake for comfort and guidance.

I’m the one who she should go to for comfort.

“I’m ready for this if you are, Allen.” Drake replied, smiling encouragingly.

“Liam…” Rebecca paused, the words hanging on the tip of her tongue as she hesitated. His breath caught in his throat as he awaited her response. “This is a lot of responsibility… but I think we’re up for it.”

You are strong and shall be a perfect queen soon enough my love.

Liam couldn’t stop the smile from spreading to his lips. “I know you are. Thank you both. I can’t tell you how much this means to me… and how much it’ll mean to the kingdom.”

Just a few more steps and the rightful heir, my heir will soon be on its way.

“I’m guessing your Royal guests from Auvernal will have questions for us too.” Drake pulled Liam from his quiet victory.

Soon you will no longer have a say.

Liam pulled his lips into a thin line. “No doubt. I’ve asked the Royal Council to meet us at Valtoria, so you two can check on your duchy while we discuss the matter of King Bradshaw and Queen Isabella.”

One last piece of the puzzle to put into place today.

Liam waited until Drake headed towards the back of the plane. “Drake.” His voice warm and placating. “I was thinking, with your child being named the heir, perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to speak to a doctor.”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked his face contorted in confusion.

Liam gave him a false smile. “I just meant you and Rebecca agreeing to help me out is huge, and it might not be a bad idea to make sure you are both healthy enough. Since I have the council breathing down my neck they may not take kindly if it took too long. I’m grateful to you and Rebecca and it would just help me feel better if you went. I mean I’m going to be announcing this soon.”

“Right.” Drake swallowed thickly. “Announcing it.” He felt as if he’d been hit with a ton of bricks. “Yea, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get checked.”

He won’t even see it coming.

Liam reaches into his breast pocket retrieving a slim white card, handing it over to Drake. “Dr Ramirez is the best.” He clapped Drake on the shoulder. “I think it’s best if you let this come from you, I wouldn’t want the added pressure to get to her too soon.”

Drake stared ahead like a deer caught in the headlights. “Pressure. Right.” He nodded, the weight of Cordonia falling on his shoulders, fear and panic coursing through his veins.

“Thank you again Drake.” Liam pulled him into his arms hugging him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he pulled back. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you and Rebecca would be willing to let me name your child my heir.” He gave him one last pat before turning and returning to his seat, smile upon his lips.

Everything is in place. Now all that’s left is to sit back and wait until she’s back in my arms where she belongs.

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[srbachchan]

DAY 3309

Jalsa, Mumbai                  Apr 19/20,  2017                  Wed/ Thu 1:04 am

Dubbing .. a process to correct the sound in film if there is disturbance and external sounds during the time of the shoot .. sync sound is quite common on shoots these days ; a process where extreme caution is taken to create a sound system on the premises of the shoot when all is quiet ! Difficult at times but many a production has been able to achieve this through a most rigorous exercise, using personnel of the production stationed at various portions of the perimeter of the shooting making sure that there is absolute silence, during the timing of the shot  ..

It is by far a most tedious process ! Recereating the same atmosphere, mental and physical conditioning as at the time of the shot, in a sterile individual recording studio, is tough .. 

Many an artist prefer not to dub because it is almost impossible to get the right tone of the performance in a solitary changed atmosphere. But such are the requirements of cinema, that is has become a necessity .. 

Many an artist actually prefer to dub .. it is that one moment for them to improve upon the performance they may have given during the shot .. any correction of word pronunciations, inaudible sound of dialogue, and many other aspects .. 

For me personally I would prefer a system of sync sound ; an atmosphere when the artist can actually hear within what they are expressing and not be disturbed by either the sound of the camera whirring, or any traffic or external sound ...

The Arriflex camera when it came out was lighter and more portable than the Mitchell camera , which was extremely large, and a physical burden to operate .. but the Arriflex made a lot of sound as the film ran on the reel inside the loaded reel .. a ‘blimp’ was then devised which ws worn by the Arriflex as a cap and which reduced the sound to a negligible amount ..

With the Arri camera sound artists had to speak louder than normal, in order for their sound to be recorded, and in turn help in dubbing later .. if the sound track during the shoot is bad, then lip syncing the dialogue was another pain ..

Of course now with advanced sound technology, the absence of film, the doing away with those large camera machines, resorting now to the chip loaded inside digital cameras, where the duration could run for hours .. life has become a lot easier .. otherwise in the early parts of the film industry most shoots were kept in Studios after midnight, when most of the city slept and the noise pollution was very limited .. a normal day in the life of an artist therefore invariably began by the late afternoon or evening .. because they would finish by sunrise and then got back home to rest and get their night sleep, in the day ..

For long, artists were blamed for not being available in the morning hours, for normal meetings or social domestic events .. why .. because they only got to rest and sleep after the sun had risen - they being at work the entire night .. due to the recording of the sound factor ..

Till the early years of my time, if the shoots were to be conducted outdoors, and the recordist wished for sync sound without any disturbance, production would actually programme the shots after ascertaining what time flights took off near by, or train passings were monitored, for their sound would drown the dialogue delivered .. even now at time we have to wait for a flight to go by or a train to pass, before we can register a take ..

BUT .. to get back to dubbing .. it is an art by itself ..

Different procedures are followed. Many artists prefer to stand and dub, many wish to sit and dub .. many insist that in whatever physical condition the shot was taken, sitting or standing they would want the same condition inside the dubbing studio .. place ments of the mike, closeness of the face to the microphone or away from it is all dictated by the recordist .. you may wish to be at a distance that is comfortable for you, but if the recording is not right context to the mike, the dub shall be negated ..

So how does one dub emotional scenes ?? they are a measure of the capability of an artist .. you may have lived the scene at the time of its shooting .. there were other artists present, a scenario conducive to the scene was present to put you in the correct emotional mood .. but in the studio .. nada .. nothing .. one has to imagine the entire process all over again and give the best dis connected emotional take .. and the tragedy is that this is the take that shall be judged as your performance, not what you gave originally .. nah ..

The portion to be dubbed is run on a screen in front of you, in silent mode .. the audio track of the sound of that scene is provided for you in earphone which you wear to get an idea of the words and the sound, and then as you start taking the spoken words need to fall in sync with the lip movements and the emotion of the scene running silently in front of you on screen .. 

There are some very accomplished artists ! They just put on the ar phone, never look at the screen to see if their lips are matching or not, and simply are able to give a audio take absolutely in connect with the lips and the emotion .. them I admire most  .. there are others even more accomplished .. they ask for the shot to be dubbed to be run with audio sound on the screen in front of them, ask the recordist to cut the sound and just go ahead merely looking at the silent screen and have the ability to synchronise the sound to the picture ... !!!

I have none of these abilities .. so I seek forgiveness with my director and beg him not to dub a particular scene that requires dubbing, because I shall be unable to recreate the same effect ..

Case in point : the mirror scene in Amar Akbar Anthony, the drunk scene in Satte pe Satta .. and many more .. 

Technology has made our lives a lot easier .. sync sound is quite prevalent even in noisy streets now .. efficient miniature microphones are stuck inside your being, your shirt your jacket discreetly, unknown or unseen by naked eyes, or the eyes of the camera, batteries that run them are placed even more discreetly inside trouser pockets or clipped onto the back of your garment .. and we are on .. these mike marvels have the ability to pick up sound from distances as also your most intimate breathing ..  becomes a bit embarrassing when we forget that the mike is on 24 hrs , so after the shot is over whatever you may be uttering is getting recorded as well .. hmmm .. even more embarrassing when you forget to switch it off for a toilet break .. !!!

Ahhh .. the vagaries of film making ..

However even after you have given, in your estimate, the perfect sound for a scene in the dub .. it is the sound designer that has the last word .. he will finally mix the film with sound and background music and effects, and your own dubbed sound, which eventually could turn out to be a thousand times better or worse .. according to your standards .. which invariably are never acceptable to the sound designer .. for he has to keep in mind its reproduction in the theatres which have different sound systems .. and a universal sound track has to be made for them .. different theatres produce different sounds, depending on what sound system they use and the acoustics of the theatre .. 

Welcome to a mere small section of film making .. next lesson another day ..

GN .. love

Amitabh Bachchan