#a real ray of sunshine ( visage )

[midnight-mourning]

Up on the Housetop

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 20❄️❄️

mmmm i enjoyed the chaos of this one, it's still fluffy and sweet, but I will admit i went for a bit of gremlin sillies with it, hope you enjoy ^-^

Prompt: Had a funny idea. DCA believes Santa is real (programming so he doesn't spoil it for kids), and won't let reader downstairs on Christmas Eve (reader is trying to put out presents lol) Or alternatively, he knows but is just being difficult/is trying to do his own Santa stuff

Word Count: 1330

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You loved Sun, you really did. His sense of humor, his pleasant demeanor, how affectionate he was, and so much more. You cared about him a lot, so much, really. Moon as well, of course, but Moon wasn't currently causing you problems. For once. 

You see, tomorrow was Christmas, and at this point, you still had a lot to do. Mainly, because you only had half the presents out, the rest had been hidden away, along with stocking stuffers and the likes. For one reason and one reason only; Santa hadn't come yet. 

More specifically, you had to go down and put everything out under the guise of it being Santa and not you. Why? Because the attendant stills believes in Santa Claus, and you'd be damned if you were going to let anything get in your way of keeping that myth up for them. 

And that included the attendant themself. 

However, it was Sun that was the sole problem causer tonight, standing in front of you, hands on his hips as he blocks your access to downstairs. 

Your own arms are crossed, frown matching up with the strained smile on his visage. You thought he was charging. But it seemed the moment you snuck out to get things done, he was right behind you, hand on your shoulder as you were about go down the steps. 

After determining that you were up to no good, he all but pushed you back into the bedroom, you protesting all the while. 

Now, you were at a stalemate. He was refusing to let you pass, and you were refusing to go to bed. If only you hadn't left the tree on downstairs, the light it provided was just enough to keep him out and not Moon. He at least was easy to bribe. 

"Friend. This is ridiculous." He waves to the roof. "Santa could be here at any moment and you're awake!"

You huff. "So are you, Sunny. I just need to go downstairs for a second, then I'll be right up to bed, I promise."

"I can't allow you to do that. What if he's already down there and we don't know!"

You shake your head. "If he's already been then I won't even look in the living room, I promise."

"I can't trust your word! Not after you betrayed my trust today." He crosses his arms to mimic you, chin turned up.

You pinch your brow. "It was just a snowball fight, Sun."

"Just a snowball fight—" He splutters as you put a hand up to stop him. 

"All's fair in love and war, how was I supposed to know that you actually thought I didn't have any left." You think for a moment, then point your finger at him. "And last I checked, you pulled the exact same stunt by kissing me as a distraction!"

His rays flick, faltering a moment before muttering in agreement. "I suppose that's true. But nevertheless, my decision is final. Now I suggest you go back to bed before I make you. And you know how much I hate bedtime."

"This is my house!" You protest, stepping closer to him so you're only a few feet apart. "I should be allowed to go down the stairs of my own home."

"What do you need so badly that'd you risk ruining Christmas for?"

You lift a finger. "First of all, not trying to ruin Christmas. Second of all,"—you can't think of a reason, shoot—"It's none of your business.

Sun bends to your height, gaze narrowed. "Oh, but I think it is, Sunshine. Unless you can give me a truly valid reason, you will not be going downstairs."

You stare at him, squinting in simmering frustration. His rays tick once, twice, otherwise inmoving. 

You make a run for it, and get caught instantly. Your legs are kicking and flailing as Sun marches you away from the stairs and back towards the bedroom. The second he sets you down again, you trying run again, and almost succeed, getting halfway down the steps. 

The more this goes on, the more feral you both become. 

Eventually though, you both get tired, and somehow end up sitting in the middle of the hallway, sitting cross-legged across from each other. Sun is still blocking your access to the stairs, and you're getting very tired of it. 

"It's almost midnight." You state. 

Sun nods. "That it is."

"Bet you Santa's already stopped by." You quip.

He shrugs. "Maybe so, but that's even more reason to stay upstairs then so to not ruin tomorrow."

You groan, laying back on your back. "Work with me here, Sunny. I'm begging." You throw your hands up. "I'll do whatever you want if you just let me downstairs for five minutes. Please."

"I'm sorry, Starlight. But the answer is still no. I can't have you disturbing Santa."

You, for the briefest of moments, consider telling him the truth, but swallow that thought immediately. While yes, he's being incredibly annoying, ruining his fun, for the purpose of trying to make his fun, was silly. Besides, it's not like shocking him would be enough to—

A  new thought crosses your mind. A devious one. One that might just work. 

You sit up, eyeing the animatronic across from you with caution. Then, you scoot a little closer to him. You see him tense ever so slightly. You scoot again, and again, until your knees are knocking against each other now. 

He tilts his head, obviously suspicious. Good. You think this wouldn't work nearly as well if he wasn't.

You put both hands on his shoulders and lean in. 

At first you just sit there, breath hot against his faceplate. Your eyes flick up to his, his pupils flick down to you. You chuckle, and with as much passion as you can muster close the gap—

And blow a raspberry against his cheek. 

You jump to your feet as he sits there, utterly confused, and rush downstairs. 

"Hey!" You here behind you, metal footsteps bounding after you. "That was uncalled for!"

You become a snickering mess as you race into the living room. You don't know how you're going to put out presents with him behind you but you'll worry about that later, just enjoying the victory at the moment. 

"I disagree, I think it was a great... tactic..."

The living room is filled with presents. Not just the ones that you'd put out earlier in the month. You turn, and see your stocking is filled, and the cookies you'd put out are crumbled, milk half gone.

"There's no way..." You mutter, hand going to your hair. "That's impossible."

As you're dealing with the idea that you might be the subject of some weird reverse home invasion, or that Sants might actually be real, a hand rests on your shoulder. You look up as Sun sighs at the sight, then tilts his head down to you, eyes crinkling. 

"Well, Merry Christmas, Sunshine."

You blink. It clicks. "I, what, you, how,"—you shake your head—"You were faking?!"

"Yes, I was hoping you wouldn't find out this way. I know how hard you were trying to keep up the act for us."

"Moon too?" You can't believe it. All that work, for nothing. 

Sun's arms wrapping around you, bending so that you're almost eye to eye. "We appreciated it, we really did! But we also wanted to surprise you and it became this, jumbled mess instead." He looks away then. 

"Hey." You reach your hand up to direct his attention back to you. "What you did was sweet, just shocking is all. I wouldn't have been trying so hard if I'd known."

His forehead presses to yours as he chuckles. "Guess we're both just a couple of silly excuses for Santa then."

"Seems that way." You kiss him once. "I think I'm alright with that though."

Sun pulls you closer as you giggle, kissing you again himself. 

"Me too."

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Thank you for the silly little request @twomanypockets!! As you can see i had a bit of fun with it, thought a combo/sneaky reveal fit very well hehe

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[truesymphony]

[passionate-reply]

In this installment of Great Albums, we’re back to talking about albums nobody’s ever heard of! You might not know who Zaine Griff is, but you’ve probably heard of a guy called Hans Zimmer, and Zimmer is the real mastermind of this record: a masterpiece of New Romantic synth-pop made long before he made his name composing for the big screen! Not to mention contributions from Ultravox’s Warren Cann, YMO’s Yukihiro Takahashi, and even Kate Bush. Find out all about it by watching this video, or reading the full transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today’s installment is going to feature an album that is most definitely towards the obscure side--but, like most of the more obscure artists and albums I’ve talked about, I think this one is every bit as good as the classics. Zaine Griff’s Figures is not only a forgotten album that I think deserves more acclaim, but also an album that, in many ways, feels like it could have been a huge success in its own time.

Zaine Griff grew up in New Zealand, and moved to Great Britain in the 1970s in the hopes of pursuing a career in music. His debut LP, 1980’s Ashes & Diamonds, would mark him as one of the many artists straddling the musical landscape in the aftermath of glam, in the long shadow of David Bowie. With keen visual panache, a suave way of slurring when he sang, and the requisite killer cheekbones, Griff fit in perfectly with the so-called “New Romantics,” as stylish and sophisticated as Visage, Ultravox, or Japan.

Music: “Ashes & Diamonds”

The real turning point in Griff’s career was his being “discovered,” so to speak, by Hans Zimmer and Warren Cann. Cann had already become a figure of some renown, as the percussionist for the aforementioned Ultravox. Despite his tremendous fame today, Zimmer actually had much less to show for himself at this point, aside from a somewhat dodgy stint in the Buggles. While geniuses in their own ways, neither of them were necessarily natural frontmen, and Zaine Griff seemed like the perfect missing piece to fit into their pop ambitions.

Even setting aside Zimmer and Cann, Figures is actually full of recognizable talent, and I think it may have the single most stacked list of album credits I’ve ever seen in my life! You’ll also hear contributions from Yellow Magic Orchestra’s Yukihiro Takahashi, backing vocals from Linda Jardim, who was also the soprano on the Buggles’ famous “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and a guest appearance by none other than Kate Bush. That’s really a lot of clout going around, which is one of the reasons I’m so surprised this album went nowhere. Anyway, that aside, the most dominant sonic footprint on display here is certainly that of Hans Zimmer. Zimmer is credited with producing the album, and his dynamic, expressive, perhaps “cinematic” work with digital synthesisers is surely the driving force behind Figures’s sound.

Music: “Fahrenheit 451”

It’s easy to imagine “Fahrenheit 451” is the thumping theme to some delightfully 80s adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s classic novel. Its theme of lustful but dangerous romance is a constant throughout the album, most notably on tracks like “Hot” and the haunting closer, “The Beating of Wings.” The song’s tense and dramatic mood is well bolstered by those soaring synths, courtesy of the Fairlight CMI. One of the most distinctive sounds of mid-80s synth-pop, the soft, breathy tones of the Fairlight hadn’t yet reached full saturation when Figures was made--Zimmer was an early adopter of this particular musical revolution. You might be surprised to learn that ���Fahrenheit 451” only saw minor distribution as a single, exclusively for the French and Belgian markets. I think that sort of mismanagement on behalf of Polydor really shafted this album. Its lead single was actually its title track.

Music: “Figures”

The title track of Figures isn’t the worst song I’ve ever heard, but I do think it just might be the worst song on this album. With a strident, stabbing synth riff and a somewhat sparse and anemic soundstage, the title track is not particularly exciting, and also not particularly representative of what the rest of the album sounds like, with no indication of the lush and vibrant textures that dominate tracks like “Fahrenheit 451.” It also has less lyrics than the other tracks, and offers Griff little opportunity to demonstrate his pipes. Thematically, though, its imagery of wispy and mysterious personas, flitting in and out of substance in a world where appearance and identity are trifling and ephemeral, is something that resonates strongly with the album as a whole, as one might surmise from its title also being used for the album. “The Vanishing Men,” another song that easily feels like a better single than “Figures,” handles the same sort of subject in a more playful and upbeat manner.

Music: “The Vanishing Men”

The titular “vanishing men” are quite clearly the life of the party here, and in the world of this track, the insignificance of true identity is portrayed as an invitation to experiment and have fun with it--though not without a slight hint of danger as well. Perhaps it’s a good metaphor for the curated aestheticism of the New Romantic movement, decried by some as “style over substance.” New Romanticism really didn’t have much time left by the time *Figures* came out, being so strongly associated with trends in fashion that were on their way out by this point. Even Ultravox would find themselves pivoting towards more of a pop rock-oriented sound for their final classic lineup LP, 1984’s Lament. I can’t help but think that the changing landscape of musical trends is part of the poor reception of Figures, which is such a consummate New Romantic album, which basks in the full flush of the movement’s prior penetration into the mainstream. As stated above, “The Vanishing Men” is all about the glamour of mutable identity, but other tracks on the album seem to assign this theme a bit more weight, as in “The Stranger.”

Music: “The Stranger”

The titular character of “The Stranger” is described as “a stranger to himself,” but also “no stranger to anyone else.” This track seems to be more focused on the negative aspects of fashionable persona-play: losing the dignity and security of a true form, the people around you seeing through your charades, and becoming trapped in an existence defined by arbitrariness and artificiality. I’d also be remiss not to mention this track’s winsome pentatonic synth riff, which helps create a mercurial and ambiguous mood. It might be interpreted as a nod towards the rampant Orientalism of New Romantic music, which ran with the early 80s verve for all things Asian, and wasn’t shy about appropriating “Asiatic” musical motives like pentatonic scales to evoke mystery and wonder. Griff and friends’ use of such here is relatively subtle, though, and perhaps a bit more tactful than how many of their contemporaries approached other musical ideas associated with the East.

The unforgettable cover of Figures is as dramatic and infused with capital-R Romantic sentiment as the music contained within. Above the text relating the artist and title, which uses a V for a U for a touch of the classical, we see Griff splayed dramatically in a pond of lilies. With sharp makeup that emphasizes his lips, and a diaphanous, blousy top that turns translucent in the water, he seems to be the perfect tragic hero of some lost work of Shakespeare’s--complete with another flower stylishly pinned to his chest. As I mentioned before, Figures is an album that rides the wave of New Romanticism particularly hard, and I think its cover is yet another symptom of those sensibilities.

Speaking of Shakespeare, I can’t help but want to compare this image with a famous painting of one of Shakespeare’s best-known characters: Ophelia, by Sir John Everett Millais. Painted in the early 1850s, Millais’s Ophelia depicts the moment where Ophelia, driven mad by Hamlet’s romantic rejection of her, drowns herself in a river. It’s exactly the kind of story of wild, passionate, and doomed love portrayed on tracks like “Fahrenheit 451.” Ophelia is also associated strongly with flowers in the text, and features in a particularly memorable scene where she doles out various symbolic blossoms to members of the royal court. Besides the affinity of subject matter, even the composition of Millais’s work resembles the cover of Figures, contrasting its subject’s pale skin with the dark and murky natural surrounds, and emphasizing the drapery of their wettened attire. Ophelia is often considered the definitive masterpiece of the short-lived art movement, the “Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood,” who, as their name implies, sought to recapture the intuitive, colourful, and emotive power of art created prior to the High Renaissance. Not unlike New Romanticism, the Pre-Raphaelite movement would crumble after only a few years, but not without leaving behind a trail of masterpieces that would continue to inspire future artists and admirers, far removed from their own time.

After the release of Figures, Zaine Griff remained involved with Hans Zimmer and Warren Cann, and, as the supergroup “Helden,” they embarked on an even more ambitious musical opus together: Spies, a sort of synth-pop oratorio about immortal Nazi super-spies falling in love in a futuristic dystopia. Spies is about as out-there as it sounds, and brings the flamboyant musical excess of Figures into a suitably theatrical setting. It’s also got nearly as star-studded of a cast as Figures, featuring not only Zimmer, Cann, and Jardim again, but also Eddie Maelov of Eddie & Sunshine as a mad scientist, and the enigmatic French electro-cabaret chanteuse Ronny, in the role of a super-computer with a sultry female voice. Griff portrays one of the titular immortal spies, known only as “The Stranger”--which, of course, begs comparison to the track of the same name on Figures, and prompts the question, to what extent was Spies already in the works when *Figures* was being written and recorded?

Music: “The Ball”

We all know the rest of the story for Hans Zimmer, who began working with music for film in the mid-1980s, such as the queer cult classic My Beautiful Laundrette. But Zaine Griff obviously never became a household name. Despite being finished in 1983, Spies never got to see an official release, as it was a bit too out there for a label to take a chance on at the time, and it would probably be lost media today if it weren’t for a vinyl bootleg that’s thankfully fairly easy to find online. Griff decided to retire from music shortly after this, and recounts a story of having walked past an extremely talented street musician, and having a sort of epiphany about just how hard it was to make it in music. After all, if a true virtuoso could end up busking on the street, how fair and rewarding could the industry possibly be? Disillusioned with the world of pop, Griff returned to his native New Zealand and got a day job as a golf instructor. More recently, though, he’s also released several new solo albums in the 2010s, surprisingly enough, and attempted to push forward into some very contemporary-sounding pop rock. The world is, of course, a very different place nowadays than it was in the 20th Century, and particularly in the world of music distribution, so perhaps it makes sense that our brave new world has room in it for someone like Zaine Griff to return.

My overall favourite track on Figures is probably “Time Stands Still,” which I think is perhaps the most accessible, pop-friendly track to be had on the album, and the one I would’ve released as the lead single had I worked for Polydor. With a big hook and simple, repetitive lyrics, it’s a true pop song through and through--though, if an artist releases a commercial-sounding album in the woods, and nobody is around to buy it, is it still really “pop?” Anyway, I also love this track’s delightful outro, imitating a skipping record to represent a freeze in the flow of time...though I admit it’s a lot less harrowing to hear when listening digitally! That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening.

Music: “Time Stands Still”

[noctuascion]

CRYPTAGE AU: snobby rich crypto growing up with little to none affection from parents because of busy jobs that keep them away. Meets Mirage one day after showing his decoys to his friends and crypto follows him to the Witts Bar owned by mirage's dad. he was just curious and it turned into affection, cus y know mirage is the first person to show him a warm fuzzy welcome feeling. and they take off :)

Ooooo. I like this !! I'll see what I can do. It might either be super long or super short. Depends.

--

Empty hallways and vacant family rooms, kitchens with strangers in suits and his father and mother paying him little mind with guests over, giving life to the normally dead home. They were such prominent memories in Park's mind, so many days spent alone, spent playing with toys that he held little interest in, or tinkering away in the little makeshift lab in his room, creating little inventions that, with his amateur skill, would either fall apart or simply not function. The boy held fascination for the art of creating technology, and that fascination carried over into his adult life.

He had made it his passion, and now he had his own surveillance system company, creating his own technology and profiting from his own genius, living a comfortable life—a comfortable, lonely life.

Although he was brilliant, socializing was simply a skill he had never perfected, even when he had watched his mother and father speak, so composed and professional. He let other people handle business deals; he wasn't fond of dealing with people and their nonsense.

Still, it did take a toll on him. He, much like any human, desired to talk, to socialize with creatures similar to himself. Speaking with his cat simply wasn't the same.

Hence why he found himself in the usual shop he visited when looking for spare parts to create new devices with. The owner was a blonde with a Lichtenberg figure on her left cheek, likely from the high-voltage equipment she deals with on a daily basis. She was bubbly and sweet, and, frankly, he almost envies the absolute sunshine that emanates from her. Almost. People are drawn to the warmth, and he was as frigid as they came.

She greeted him with a rapid wave of hand, excited to once again see him in her humble little shop.

"Bonjour, monsieur Park!" Natalie greeted. "What brings you in today?"

"You know you're allowed to call me 'Tae Joon,' right?" he said in minor amusement; always one for formalities. "And I just wanted to grab some extra conductors and a new motherboard. The one I currently have is fried and a client wanted a new computer by the end of this week."

"Ah! I see! Well, you know where everything is!"

Park nodded and walked to the intended aisle, gathering the desired supplies along the way. A small basket hung on his arm, filled with various items to be purchased and used in his client's requested PC.

Although he has enough money to live comfortably the rest of his life and a company bringing in plenty of profit, he could be rather bored at times with just how mundane his life had become after reaching success. He had considered traveling, but he quickly realized that was a horrible idea; he hated being outside.

Voices, however, caught his attention. One was loud, drenched in excitement, talking at the speed of sound, masculine. Another voice was much quieter, replying slowly and uncaring, feminine. The third seemed hyper, enough energy for more than fifteen people, masculine. The voices didn't interest him—what did was the conversation.

Park didn't like to admit it, but he was a tad nosy, liked to learn new things. He wasn't a gossip by any means, and such petty subjects didn't interest him, but they were all piled in a tech place; they had to be discussing something interesting. He rounded the corner without shame, peering over at the group in question.

"… and we just finished the prototype!" the brunet, the tallest one, exclaimed, waving his arms around in excitement. Upon them were strange contraptions, circular devices Park didn't recognize—and they appeared to have a slight blue glow to them. He turned around to fetch some components on the shelf, tossing them into the basket the shorter one, prosthetic legs and a mask covering half of his face with goggles over his eyes, messy and short blond hair atop his head, was carrying. "It took us months, but it's finally in testing phase!"

"And you decided some little shop was the perfect place?" the black-haired one ask, rolling her crystalline eyes in amusement. "You're the most unorthodox man I know, Elliott."

Elliott, Park thought, putting the name to his face.

"It's perfect! And funny! Imagine someone walking down an aisle and they see me," Elliott explained, moving down the aisle a little more, picking up something before putting it back, "and then go down a different aisle—and I'm there again."

The blond snorted out a laugh. "That's genius!"

"I know, right?"

Park huffed out a quiet breath, though he was still more so interested in the technology along the other's arms, those devices that emitted the strange blue glow. He was about to turn and attempt to find a different area that was less conspicuous, but, as soon as he did, he was met face-to-face with nearly an identical copy of the tallest one down the aisle, standing just behind him with a smile. It was frightening enough that it elicited an admittedly embarrassing shout from the man, backing up and crashing into a shelf. It rattled violently against the wall it was held up against, a few things falling and crashing to the floor. Fortunately, none of them broke, but Park could feel his dignity shatter on impact.

The three down the aisle immediately spun around to see what caused the commotion, and a look of guilt crossed Elliott's visage immediately.

The other Elliott had immediately vanished, like some apparition, and Park was wondering if he was starting to hallucinate. Perhaps he was cooping himself up in his room too much…

"Oh, my god—I'm so sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?" The man was near him now, the devices on his arms no longer glowing. His hands were floating over him, like he wanted to touch him but refrained from doing so. "I really didn't mean to scare you like that—"

"You didn't scare me," Park snapped, kneeling down and setting his basket down to begin picking up the dropped items. "Moron."

Elliott only chuckled, kneeling down as well to assist in picking the items up. "Still, sorry about making you run into a shelf. You aren't in any pain, are you?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Fairly certain."

"Uh, okay, good!" Elliott flashed the shorter a warm smile, eyes soft and inviting. "I'm Elliott!"

"… Tae Joon."

"Nice to meet you, Tae!"

Elliott's friends had finally decided to wander over, and, eventually, Park learned their names as well. The black-haired one, sporting a nose piercing he hadn't noticed because of the distance, was named Renee, and the blond one was named Octavio, and, instantly, Park felt most of his energy drain after entertaining a single conversation with him. He was fast—and annoying.

But they were nice. Park never really conversed with others in a casual environment. He learned that Elliott and his mother were developing holo technology that would be able to replicate the appearance of someone almost identically, move and act just like them. Octavio was a daredevil, and, just by the mask being pulled down just a bit, the visible scarring, was enough of an indication of the truth that held. Renee herself was a scientist; her and her colleagues were apparently working on a project and Park found himself a bit more fascinated that he'd like.

Park had even shared his own technology, his own company, and the three weren't shy with questions—especially Elliott. It was weird, having people pay attention to him, but he couldn't quite figure out if he liked it or not. On one hand, it was nice to talk about his interests; on the other, the attention was uncomfortable, having so many eyes on him.

He was surprised to find himself feel so relaxed around them, though. Renee was quiet and mellow, much like him, so talking to her was natural. Octavio was hyper, but he was also a good listener, and he shut up when someone was talking. Elliott was just fascinating in general, a walking ray of sunshine with confidence soaring above the clouds. Renee and Octavio poked fun at him, but he always took it in stride. He couldn't help but feel a bit out of place.

"Hey," Elliott suddenly said, nudging Park gently with his elbow, somehow avoiding snapping any of the holographic devices off, "you wanna grab a drink?"

Renee and Octavio both chuckled quietly, receiving a glare lacking any real malice from Elliott.

"I don't want to intrude—"

"You're cool, dude!"

"Besides," Renee said, sporting a slight smirk, "Tav and I are heading out. Bars aren't really our scene."

"Liars. You're my number one customers."

"Dunno what you're talkin' about, amigo." Octavio laughed again, waving his good-byes. "See ya!"

And, just like that, the two made a speedy exit, leaving Park alone with Elliott. Elliott didn't seem bothered, but Park could feel panic swell. He was basically being forced into spending time with someone, a new acquaintance at best. Elliott was friendly, sure, but Park wasn't exactly a social butterfly.

Elliott seemed to have noticed, because he gently bumped Park's shoulder with his, smiling that same warm smile that seems to frequent his visage. "I'll do most of the talking, okay?"

Park could feel himself relax, if not just a bit.

— ;

The bar owned by the brunet beside him wasn't open today, so no one was inside, quiet and vacant. Elliott went behind the counter almost immediately, fetching a few alcoholic beverages Park wasn't familiar with (though he wasn't familiar with, well, any, since he's never drank before), and mixing them together, concocting some creation the tech geek both feared and anticipated.

He talked the entire time, rambling about his technology and how amazing it was, how they were so close to perfecting it he could taste it. He knew his stuff, everything stated with an intellectual mind and not just random jargon tossed out on a whim. He was intelligent, and Park… well, he found it a bit attractive. It was a pleasant surprise, since he was sure the other was full of it and didn't know much about the technology he was testing, a mere lab monkey rather than anything special.

He kept his attention on Park the entire time as well. He didn't ignore him, didn't cut him off. He treated Park like he was there, and that was a concept virtually unheard of by the surveillance expert. Elliott didn't have any ulterior motives for wanting to befriend him, no desire to abuse his wealth or even just get a job at somewhere that paid well. He was genuinely interested in Park. It made him feel warm, and that sensation, he knew for certain, was good.

Elliott slid a drink over to him, that smile of his never once fading from his visage. "I don't take you for a heavy drinker, so this one isn't too strong."

"Thank you," Park said, taking the glass and sipping the beverage. It was… interesting, a lot of things hitting him at once, and he released only the slightest cough after swallowing. "What is this?"

"An Addington!" the man replied brightly, leaning against the counter with a hand placed atop it. "It's got vermouth in it, sparkling water, and a bit of orange." He shrugged. "Best served like a martini."

"Hm."

Elliott was strange, he decided. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He was bubbly and happy. He was a bit awkward at times, accidentally stuttering over himself when he spoke about something without thinking beforehand, and he sometimes rambled on about nothing and everything all at once. He was kind, though, and patient, attentive and strangely endearing, charming in his own way.

And when he placed a warm hand over Park's, he decided he would give this a shot.

[im-abanana]

@geekgirles

So, my friend. I just couldn’t help myself. I had to write a small, VERY SMALL (just 830+ words, because you know I write as fast as a glacier) part of your Poppy-SingleMother!AU, the part when Branch meets Peppy. 

So. It probably sucks since I wrote it in a day or so, but here it is! I just loved your AU too much. ;3;

Branch’s gaze confusedly wandered from the living room he knew so well to the old man lying on the brown chair, the one Branch liked to sit on during his lessons, with a newspaper in his hands. ‘No,’ Branch shook his head with energy, trying to clear his mind, ‘I must be imagining things. This is the right house, isn’t it?’

As Branch re-opened his eyes to focus on the scene before him, nothing had changed; the old man was still there, calmly staring right back at him.

“Uh,” the confused tutor blinked, afraid that he had finally lost his mind. The whole situation felt unreal, that place looked and smelled like Poppy’s house! But then again, who was that man? “Excuse me sir, I must have the wrong house… I’ll leave immediately!”

“Hold the phone, young boy! You got the right one,” the unknown man stood up, his thick mustache half-covering the big smile plastered on his round, wrinkled face. “You must be Branch, my grandchild’s tutor. My name is Peppy, I am Poppy’s father. I’m pleased to meet you,” having said that, Peppy extended his hand and vigorously shook Branch’s.

Well, that explained a lot. In fact, now that he looked at Peppy more closely, Branch couldn’t help but notice the bright magenta of his hair, the same shade as Poppy’s. “Oh, of course you’re Poppy’s father, uhm… the pleasure is all mine, sir. Forgive the intrusion, I didn’t know Poppy wasn’t home. She clearly forgot to cancel my lesson with��”

“Branch!” a happy squeal put an end to their discussion as quick, clumsy footsteps made thumping noises against the wooden floor. 

The tutor in question couldn’t help but smile at the excited child running towards them, pink irises sparkling with genuine joy. ‘He is just like his mother,’ Branch chuckled internally, ‘Well, except for the black hair.’

Peppy opened his arms wide with a hearty laugh, catching the giggling child mid-run. “My little angel, come here and give your grandpa a kiss!” 

“Let me go, grandpa Peppy! I’m not a little baby anymore,” the kid squirmed and protested, even though there was mirth in his voice as his grandfather tickled his sides.

With Peppy and his grandchild standing side by side in front of him, it almost felt like Poppy was there too. A pang of longing engulfed Branch’s heart at the thought of the beautiful pink-haired girl he worked for. How wonderful would it be to see her laughing with her family? It was a delusional desire, but for a brief moment Branch wished to be a part of that family, of their perfect glittering world. How stupid; the reality was that he did not, and never would. Just like a stray dog, he never really belonged anywhere. ‘I don’t deserve a place to belong.’

A sudden pull of his sleeve dragged Branch back into the real world. A pair of big, pinkish orbs were watching him pleadingly from below. They almost looked comically enormous on the kid’s petite, narrow visage. “Branch? Can we start our lesson, please? I need some help with a math problem…” he sadly admitted.

Branch nodded, ruffling his student’s messy hair smugly. “Of course we can. I-if your grandfather agrees, of course! I wouldn’t want to ruin your plans for the afternoon…” the young man was aware of his own blabbering, and the only thing he craved for right now was a deep, dark hole to crawl in. Poppy’s father made him terribly uneasy, terrified even. But why? Peppy was kind, friendly and welcoming, and yet Branch was overwhelmed by the urge to impress him. To be accepted— liked, if possible —by the old guy. 

Yup, it definitely didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t like Peppy was his father-in-law or something like that, right? It wasn’t like he was in love with Poppy or something… right!?

“Please do, I don’t mind at all! To be honest, Poppy just needed me to babysit that tiny rascal until your arrival,” Peppy explained, giving him a vigorous pat on the shoulders before turning suddenly very serious. “Oh, and Branch— Thanks for everything you’re doing for my daughter and grandchild. It means a lot to me, really. The kid’s so much happier since you walked into his life. Same goes for Poppy.”

The sincere gratitude on the older man’s face was almost too much for Branch’s shyness to handle, but despite his currently flushed cheeks and galloping heart, he kept his tone firm enough to reply: “Y-you’re welcome, sir.”

Shit, there was not denying it. He was hopelessly, helplessly in love with a pink-haired ray of sunshine, who was also the single mother he worked for. 

You don’t belong anywhere.

Oddly enough, as Branch looked at Poppy’s wonderful son, the kid he had slowly grown to tolerate and then love, he realized that maybe, just maybe— he could live with that. 

Perhaps, for the very first time, he was right where he was supposed to be.

[eviehalliwell]

INTRODUCING. EVERLEIGH HALLIWELL

NAVIGATE.

About

Visage

Musings

Aesthetics

Dossier ( WIP; aka full biography, expanded personality, wanted connections, interaction navi, and other fun little thingies)

BASIC STATS.

FULL NAME: Everleigh Anne Halliwell

NICKNAME(S): Evie/Eve

AGE: 26 years old.

BIRTHDAY: March 15, 1994.

GENDER: Cis Woman

PRONOUNS: She / Her / Hers

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual (Tragically)

BIRTHPLACE: Olympia, Washington

CURRENT LOCATION: Seattle, Washington

OCCUPATION: Artist

MARITAL STATUS: Single.

CHILDREN: N/A

PETS: Two cats. A smoky gray one named Cinder and an orange tabby named Tigger.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

HEIGHT: 5′3

WEIGHT: 114 lbs

HAIR LENGTH/COLOR: Just below her shoulder & dark brown.

EYE COLOR: Light brown

PIERCINGS: Left and right lobes, left nostril.

TATTOOS: A butterfly on her right wrist.

ETHNICITY: African-American, White, Indigenous Canadian

LIFE FACTS.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death (labor complications and car accident), mental/emotional abuse, mental hospital.

Everleigh was born in Olympia, Washington in a tragic start to a kind of tragic life. Her birth mother died due to complications and her birth father was never even in the picture. But in a way Everleigh was one of the lucky ones because she found a family right away.

The Halliwells were a rather wealthy and well known family in Olympian. They'd had fertility problems for many years until finally they adopted a young boy and a year later adopted Everleigh.

Despite their elite and wealthy status the Halliwells were very loving parents. They adored both their children and would have done anything for them.

But a car accident would shatter their perfect little family only two days before Christmas when Evie was seven years old.

The strangest part was the fact that Evie had been inconsolable the whole night seemingly without reason. She'd begged her parents to stay home from their annual charity ball rather than leaving her and her brother with the nanny.

But they went anyway and hours later the police showed up with the news that their car had gone off a bridge into the water.

Once again orphaned the Halliwell children went into the care of their only remaining legal relative. An aunt of their father's who was quite the opposite of their parents. She was mean and stubborn and had no idea how to raise two grieving children. Especially one like Evie who always seemed to be a little bit stranger than other children.

Aunt Gretchen even sent Everleigh away to a mental hospital twice for "hallucinations". For a while Evie had even begun to doubt her own sanity.

But thanks to the support of her big brother, who was certain she wasn't mentally ill but rather gifted, Evie managed to overcome each and every hurdle. 

That's not to say it didn't leave its scars. She still has nightmares about those years. And even though she knows that her strange abilities are real, she doesn't fully trust them either.

After both siblings were legal adults and received access to their inheritances from their parents, they made the mutual decision to moved away from Olympia and all the pain they'd endured there. Seattle became their new home and the last few years have seen them both at their happiest.

STRENGTHS & WEAKNESSES.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Compassionate | Determined | Effervescent | Gentle 

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Impulsive | Indecisive | Overemotional | Overly-Trusting

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good.

WESTERN ZODIAC: Sun - Pisces | Moon - Aries | Rising - Libra

She’s pretty much a soft ray of sunshine like 75% of the time. But she does have very strong emotions and when she’s feeling upset or angry she feels them fucking hard and tends to lash out. When it comes to defending herself she can be a bit of a pushover, however for those she loves she will go to war a thousand times over. She has no idea what the words “impulse control” mean in conjunction. She’s also stubborn and determined like nothing else. If someone tells her she can’t do something 99% of the time she’s gonna at least try to prove them wrong if not actually succeed.

THE LITTLE THINGS.

She is aware of her banshee abilities but hasn’t done much research into it and therefore doesn’t even know that there’s a name for it. This of course also means she’s in the dark to everything else supernatural too.

She’s deathly allergic to wasps and bees

Her preferred medium is painting, but she does enjoy sketching/drawing as well. She’s attempted sculpting before but it failed hilariously. 

Her hobbies also include scrapbooking and collecting gems and crystals.

She likes to dance around in pajamas and socks.

Her favorite time of day is sunrise. She’s the kind of person who is all about growth, change, and new beginnings and watching the sunrise always fills her with joy at the possibilities of a new day.

She has a minor obsession with butterflies, because of her feelings on change and the butterfly is a symbol of beautiful change.

Spring is her favorite season and Christmas is her least favorite holiday.

Her favorite color is rose gold.

[a-king-alone]

Harry Warden x female reader, pt.2

Summary: Harry’s POV

What is life like when you hardly see the sunshine? It's dark and bleak, sometimes dreary, sometimes depressing. A dark haired man stood in the shadows, his entire body covered in his work uniform, his visage then obscured by a gas mask that he had put on. A nozzle connected to its mouth, allowing him to breathe easier.

He stood in a tunnel, resuming his scheduled work after a short break, talking and laughing with his coworkers. It was just another day. Nothing unusual, getting onto the grind for survival. Harry Warden turned his head when one of his pals said his name, but before they could continue, the ground rumbles beneath their feet.

The tremors don't stop as the men panic, fleeing toward safety, but they heard screams echoing down the shafts of the mine. And then, nothing but stillness. Harry waits patiently as one of the two coworkers that ran with him went to go investigate.

Upon their return, their voices shook when they retold what they had seen. The part of the mine that lead to the surface had collapsed on top of a group of men. None of them survived. And now there was no way out. They all knew the precautions, but they never expected it to actually happen.

"Stay calm," Harry said, trying to keep his own voice steady. But the panic swelled inside of his stomach. He had to remain calm. If they succumb to fear, they succumb to death.

"We need to stick together. We could use an alternate route and make our way to the surface."

The other two men agreed, it was definitely better to stick together. They attempted to ration what little food and water they had left while looking for more from the corpses of their friends.

Their head lamps begin to dim, escalating their panic. Being stuck in the dark was much worse. To starve to death, surrounded by complete darkness... Not any such way to navigate out of the underground tunnels. They felt death looming, breathing down their necks.

There wasn't a way to track the time. They couldn't tell how long they had been down there, but it felt like forever.

When one of the two men's head lamp finally died, they both conspired against Harry, to take his life and use his rations for their own survival... but Harry knew they would. He wasn't stupid.

A brawl ensued between the men and Harry barely managed to take them both out, killing both of them with his pickax, slashing and crushing their skulls into the dirt. Afterward, he claimed their supplies, but cried heavily in agony. He had never killed anyone or anything before. He was a gentle man who never hurt anybody... unless they liked it.

Only one more lamp, a limited and dwindling time limit for survival. Soon, everything became depleted and Harry returned to the bodies of his coworkers... It was the only way, but his chest heaved, faster and faster, until he forced himself to shut his eyes, to ignore the heavy stench of blood and decay. He consumed their meat, the flesh of the deceased... It was stringy and disgusting, chunks taken out of their bodies with metal. But he had no other choice. It was the only way.

Alone, his descent into madness spiraled down and fast. His scream echoed down mine shafts in his torment after throwing the mask against the wall, wasting precious energy with a violent rage. Shrill bellows, cursing God, begging for someone, anyone, to save him. It was hard to breathe, wandering aimlessly, hopelessly.

"Please..." he begged to no one in a weak whisper, the light of his head lamp flickering and fading out, the last of his will falling away with it. These tunnels would become his tomb, his grave. He would never see his family again, never see the rays of the sunshine, never feel the kiss of a lover. His body will rot behind, never to be seen again.

As the light dimmed to its death, a small white dot flickered off into the distance from where Harry had sat and leaned against equipment, accepting his horrid demise. He blinked rapidly with his sharp breaths, scrambling weakly to his feet with his mask in his hand.

He approached the small, barely visible light, observing that it was definitely sunshine filtering through. With his bloody pickax, he chipped away at the stone. It felt hopeless. His strength was depleted, but he had to keep going.

Somehow, he managed to break through the opening just enough to crawl through.

When the fresh air filled his lungs, it was utterly overwhelming, tears poured from his eyes with his cries, blinded by the bright sun high in the sky. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, grasping the grass and dirt between his fingers and blurred vision, sobbing hysterically as endless tears dripped down onto the dried blood and meat caked into his gloves.

Despite being lucky enough to somehow escape from the mine, rage swirled inside, for those responsible for the accident. If they had stayed at the site instead of going to that stupid dance... How long had he been down there? Far off on top of the hills was where the entrance was, near the collapse, yet there wasn't anyone there, as far as he could see after wiping his face off.

He felt weak, barely able to walk all the way back to his town, Valentines Bluffs. He was sure that his friends and family would be ecstatic to see that he had survived. Somehow, he made it.

But when he arrived, he found them only to be astounded and horrified. Finally, he got to be fed real food, downing glasses and glasses of water. The towns folk questioned him, why he had blood all over his uniform and he explained that an explosion trapped everyone inside of the mine, the explosion itself causing a collapse that killed most of the miners on impact.

"How did you survive?" the mayor himself questioned, so Harry explained. He and two others were mostly unscathed, but they had run low on supplies while trying to find a way to exit the mines. Those around him were stunned, claiming that there was an attempt to rescue for weeks, but no one was found.

"So, where are they...?"

Guilt shredded Harry's insides. He hesitated for a moment, but he decided to tell them the truth: he had overheard their plot to conspire against him to prolong their own survival and they attacked him. He defended himself against them and killed them. Instead of the reaction he had expected, faces around him shifted into something... else.

"You... Harry, you... killed them...?"

Exasperation spiked within him as he further defended himself, explaining that he was backed into a corner. When they looked suspicious, he felt a violent rage brewing, but exhaled his breath. They wanted more details on how he had managed to survive for so long without food, without water, without light.

There were no details omitted from his retelling of his experience, the fact that they looted dead bodies to try and survive, that he killed them when they turned against him, that he used the rest of their supplies until there was nothing and then... he ate their flesh.

"What?! You ate them??"

"I had to!" he barked, slamming his fist on the top of the table, startling the others standing around him. He rose from his seat as he heard voices whispering that he may be mentally insane, that maybe someone should call the police.

It felt like something inside of his brain snapped. Something broke inside and his emotions felt far away, replaced with nothing but an intense and extreme hatred. They were looking at him as if he were a monster, their faces contorted with disgust, when all he had done was told the truth.

As they decided that they were going to have him institutionalized, he stormed out of the vicinity with his swollen rage at their betrayal. He never would have expected that they would react this way, he had thought they would offer him empathy for his plight, for the horrible experience he had gone through.

He would never forgive them. Never.

Harry left the town the way he had come, still wearing the tattered, bloody uniform, carrying the mask that kept him alive under his arm. He wandered aimlessly though dangerous paths to keep the towns folk from trailing him. The sun rose and it fell, replaced with the dim shine of the moon.

Yet he felt nothing but numbness, seeing another towns lights far off in the distance from the hill he had climbed. Feeling weary, he sat on the ground, leaning against a tall tree for rest. His lids closed, but sleep never came. The darkness made him feel certain ways that he wanted to forget.

His eyes were dark, sunken with the lack of restful sleep, continuing his journey toward the town he had seen when the sun rose again. Though he knew he couldn't really travel through the public, looking the way that he did, traversing through the outskirts.

As the night befell around him again, he noticed an old looking home out in the middle of nowhere a bit of a ways off from the town, seemingly abandoned at first glance. As he approached it, he tried the door knob to the front door, finding it to be unlocked. Thinking he caught a lucky break to have adequate shelter to rest under, he entered inside, surveying its contents after putting his gas mask on, just in case someone were there and could identity him.

To his surprise, it looked quite clean and lived in, but all of the decor was outdated by at least a decade. His hopeful assumption was that the person who had lived there perhaps died recently and the house remained unoccupied.

As he ascended the staircase to the second floor, he observed the photographs lining it, but ignored any thoughts lingering about them. He was tired, so tired, hungry and cold. He came across a bedroom door near the top, stepping inside. A strange feeling overcame him, a feeling that told him this may not be a good idea.

The room looked very lived in and a lot of personal items were scattered about. Maybe someone did live there. He felt out of place and decided that he should probably leave before anyone arrived, turning toward the window across from the bed. It lead to the rooftop. As he began to try and open it to peer out into the darkness for any land mark he could use, he heard the sound of glass shattering.

When he turned his head slowly, a woman came into his view and she looked absolutely horrified. She had dropped a vase. He's covered in blood, wearing a mask. This obviously looked very bad. He stayed still, going over his options on how to calm the situation before it got really out of hand when she began to sputter nonsensical words before running away from him.

Oh, shit...

Immediately he followed her, rounding the bottom of the staircase to see her dialing a number into her telephone. He closed the short distance with long strides, pressing down on the button to terminate her call.

"Don't do that."

The poor woman looked completely petrified and inside, Harry felt bad for scaring her and invading her home, but he couldn't allow her to make his situation worse than it already was. He knew that her fear might make her comply with him and he could use force if it became necessary, but he felt so weary and exhausted. His plan was that he would stay the night just to rest and then depart, hopefully without the homes inhabitant causing too much trouble.

When he moved just slightly, the woman cowered away in fear, Harry internally wincing at how afraid of him she was. He felt sorry about it, knowing that he was frightening looking and a stranger. He imagined she could only expect the worst of him.

He decided to stay still and wait for her to do as she wished. But she stayed just as still as him, for several moments, before she rose from her kitchen chair, retreating further into the kitchen as he watched her without ever showing him her back. And to his surprise, she stuttered out a question, asking if he would like... some tea.

Uh, what?

Harry guessed she didn't want to get hurt, so she may be attempting to make her situation less painful for herself as well.

He accepted her offer with a silent nod, watching as she shook the entire time while preparing one for him and one for herself. This meant that he would have to take off his gas mask, which he wasn't actually opposed to, unless she knew of his identity, but that may be unlikely. Might make her feel more at ease without it.

As he's lost in his thoughts, her words bring him back to the present, where he sees that she sat across from him at the table, a cup of hot tea in front of him. She asked if he would prefer for her to look away. Internally, he laughed at the thought that she assumed he was a criminal of some sorts. He didn't consider himself to be a criminal, he didn't do anything wrong. But what else would she think?

"...No."

He reached up and removed his gear from his visage to reveal himself to her, placing it down next to him on the table. Somehow, he felt pleased by her expression and guessed she was shocked by his appearance when he caught her hard stare.

Without breaking eye contact, he removed his gloves as well, mostly curious to know if she would be the first to look away or not. She didn't, but her eyes were wide with fear, which made him feel bad, so he averted his gaze down to the cup in front of him.

He tried it, finding it very pleasant to be warmed by it, paying her a small compliment for her kindness, even though it was forced. His eyes meet with hers again, because, well, they're pretty, when she suddenly sucked in air through her lips in quiet gasp.

Harry swallowed hard, feelings becoming roused that he felt were incredibly inappropriate. Noises were a special kind of weakness for him, especially ones that he favored and he was finding that he really, really, really liked hers.

Somehow, he was feeling that he was becoming a little bit attracted toward her, her voice was soft and sounded so alluring. He knew feeling that way was wrong because of the situation, he definitely needed to retain control over himself. He wasn't the type of man to be a degenerate low life. She was so afraid of him that she constantly trembled, but it seemed that she gathered a little courage.

She attempted to ask about his identity, but he shook his head, slow and deliberate, for her to cease. Don't ask about me, he thought. I'm nobody now.

Tears were making her eyes shine from her visible fear and the guilty feelings stirred around in his insides. He wanted to try and at least be less scary, but it wasn't working very well. She rose from her chair suddenly with her cup, toward the kitchen sink where she placed it down.

Harry decided to do the same, coming up behind her as she froze, placing his own on top of hers, but when his arm went past hers, she inhaled sharply again with a soft gasp. He strained his jaw by clenching his teeth, failing to contain a noise in his throat. She smelled pretty nice. Kinda turning me on here, girl, stop it... Ah, shit. I just made a creepy noise, he thought as more thoughts swirled about his brain, trying to get a hold of himself.

Certainly he couldn't be so desperate...?

But then he made a mistake.

He leaned down to her level, whispering that his name was Harry into her ear, then hesitating for a moment after he had said it. Her voice is so nice, I shouldn't have... done that, he thought, trying to think of a way to backtrack and decides to just tell her to not say it out loud. Feeling awkward, he moved away from her back to where he had sat before, taking his seat and trying to not feel like a creepy weirdo.

Sleep deprivation was leading him to make poor decisions.

And then suddenly, the woman was sobbing over her sink, tears pouring down her cheeks and Harry felt like a black hole sucked out his heart and spat it into infinite space. He knew he definitely fucked up right there, wishing he could apologize or say anything to make her feel better, but he knew nothing he could say would be appropriate. He already crossed a line.

But he felt like he should say something.

"You want a hug?"

His eyes were met with her daggers, staring at him in disbelief as he internally felt like he was being devoured. Why couldn't it have been some old guy or lady living here? Not this poor pretty little lady on the verge of a heart attack...

"Just kidding," he said, deciding to look at anything but her and observe the old decor a little more just to do something else. He wasn't making it any better. Though, he did notice that she wasn't sobbing anymore, so maybe he did made a decent move this time.

The woman asked him out of the blue if he had planned on killing her, to which, his brows rose just slightly. No, definitely not, but it proved that she was very afraid of him, most likely for that very reason. He decided to tell her the truth, saying no, he thought the house was empty.

She uttered an 'oh', but her tone mistakenly made it sound as if she were disappointed and Harry wanted to laugh. 'Oh', like she wanted him to kill her. He raises a brow at her chagrin as she tried to defend herself, stuttering that she hadn't meant it like that. Please stop, you are so cute, he thought, finding a bit of himself wishing that he could just live a normal home life with a gal... Maybe... this gal.

No, never. Never.

But he got a little bit ballsy over a meaningless attraction that had no basis or foundation to turn into anything more, telling her that if she asked nicely, he might comply with her wishes. Though, his wish was to hear what she sounded like, up against him, pleading for him to touch her. He found himself getting riled up over his thoughts. Can't be thinkin' about all that, he told himself.

The look on her face told him that she was immediately eager to take his offer and ask something of him and all he could laughably think of was her asking him to kiss her. Inwardly he felt embarrassed over his wild imagination.

When she got the courage to speak her mind, she asked if it was okay if she could ask something of him, though he knew it wouldn't be anything he wanted, he gruffly let her know it depended on what she asked for. She looked disappointed and it gave him a tinge of sadness.

I know you want me to go away, he thought. I just need some place to stay. I'll be gone before you know it.

To his surprise though, she inquired if he could help her gather some blankets from the second floor, presumably, for him. It was unexpected, but he was thankful for her kindness, even if he really didn't deserve it at all.

He accepted, following her lead up the staircase to a closet, where she stored her extra items. The light inside of the space was brightly lit, exposing the details of his visage to her, giving her a much more clear view. And shockingly, when his eyes met hers, she immediately looked away with a blush flooding her cheeks.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck, that's cute.

Harry made an attempt to calm himself, gathering the fabrics from the top shelf, trying to think of anything else, anything else. The woman mentioned a couch downstairs, but it made Harry feel a dark chill. It was very dark downstairs and he couldn't handle the dark consuming him.

Fuck it, she ain't into me, it's foolish to even play around with these ideas, let's make this night end, he thought, unable to get a grasp of his thoughts spiraling out of control over her. Forget it, just forget it, there's a bed and I'm sleeping in it.

The woman looked to him with extreme incredulity at his words, implying that they were going to sleep, in her bed. He went to her room, pushing the door open with his foot and placed the extra blankets on it. When she was just standing there with a shocked expression, he beckoned her to come inside.

It was clear she did not want to, but she obeyed, further following his direction when he quite literally pulled back her covers for her to lay down under. And she did. The closest he would ever be to her was tucking her in, so he does, nice and cozy. He softly asked aloud if she were comfortable, but it seemed she hadn't heard him.

He repeated himself, but she cowered away from him, causing that bad feeling to arise once again. God, I'm sorry...

Harry sat on the edge of her bed next to her, facing away from her. He told her that he had no intent on hurting her or any such thing, unless she wanted him to, which she vehemently denied as expected. He chuckled lightly with his morbid joking, then thanked her for her hospitality, even though... he cornered her into it. At the realization, he chuckled just a bit, rewording himself to acknowledge her forced cooperation. And not turning me over to the local authorities, he thought silently.

He only hoped she could understand.

They sat in a moment of silence before the woman spoke up quietly, asking if she could at least change into something more comfortable. A wild image of her undressing crossed his mind, getting a little cheeky in his response, as he did ask if she was comfortable, but he felt like he definitely needed to leave the room and calm himself. He wouldn't ever do anything disgusting, he already felt disgusted by his own thoughts.

He removed himself, standing outside of the closed door.

The window in her bedroom faced where the sun rose over the horizon, while the downstairs windows mostly faced the opposite direction. Being alone, in the darkness, in an enclosed area... He couldn't do it. I'm sorry, he thought. He could put up with the ground, he could put up with sleeping in the wilderness out in the open, but the thought of himself enveloped in darkness in a closed space, he felt like he might choke.

He felt so tired.

When he reentered the room, the woman was where he had left her, though he assumed she finished her business. He moved to the opposite side of her bed and began to strip off of his dirty clothes one at a time. He knew she would look away.

Afterward, he made himself comfy, but knew there was something missing. He began to use the extra blankets she had offered him to build a barrier between herself and him, her turning toward him with a confused expression. It was the least he could do. Not that it would do much to make her feel any better, he was basically invading her bed selfishly, but damn was it cozy.

"Please allow me to have this selfish comfort."

Oh my God it feels like heaven.

The fabrics were heavy with her scent, a nice addition to a decent sleep, for once. They stay in silence for a while, until the woman moves about just a bit to turn off the lamp. Harry sucked in his breath. He had hoped she wouldn't do that. No matter how comfortable, he could only lie there, wide awake despite tired eyes while surrounded by darkness.

No thoughts were in his mind.

Only panic.

Suddenly, he hears her voice over to his side, small, but he barely heard what she asked quietly. It was random and it sent his mind into a wreck. It threw him over the edge. What happened to me?

I'm not Harry anymore.

Harry is just a murderer.

It's too much. It's all too much. He rolled over and... clung onto the stranger woman. It was crossing a line, but he'd already crossed it. There were blankets between him and her. It felt like it was all falling apart at the seams. It all begins to overflow and he couldn't make it stop.

He told her that he escaped.

The lone survivor. He had been in that fucking hole for so long, trying to find a way out. Slowly losing all resources. Losing his grip on reality. All hope completely destroyed. Moments before finding faint light, he had accepted his death. Trying to have the backs of his coworkers that turned on him, taking their lives. His friends and associates, betraying him when he sought out their help.

How he had to... eat their flesh, just to survive. There was nothing left. He had to. He had no other choice. He didn't know if she understood or if she even cared, but he couldn't bear it anymore.

But then she said it.

"You were in that mine accident... I'm sorry."

She understood.

He knew it was stupid, but he wanted it to end. To go back, to change it, to have taken another job, any other career, born to a different life, away from that stupid little miners town that only cared about a useless holiday. He begged her to just please tell him that everything was okay. Because nothing felt okay. Nothing at all.

And she did. Her voice quivered, but it seemed as if she really wanted to make him believe that it was actually okay.

Harry broke. His entire body was hit by a shockwave and he tried to keep it inside, but he couldn't. He sobbed his heart out into her backside, for how long, he couldn't have guessed. It was apparent that she had fallen asleep some time ago, softly snoring, but Harry remained awake for hours, holding onto her as tightly as he could.

A strange, in one single moment, had shown him more kindness than anyone he knew.

He felt... relief. He never thought he would have cried harder than he had when he felt fresh air enter his lungs after being stuck alone in the mine. It wasn't until the faintest of sunlight filtered through the window when his eyes finally fell, a dimly lit room the last he saw before he fell into his deep slumber.

The dreams in his sleeping visions were horrid, flashbacks of being stuck in dark tunnels, running and running and running, only to find nothing but the faces of the deceased whose bodies were trapped forever. An image of himself appeared, covered in head to toe in blood, wild eyes unseen, a pickax, dripping with liquid.

"Kill them."

When he awoke, sunlight was settled directly on his face, stirring him from the deepest sleep he'd had in the longest time.

As he came out of the sleepy vibe, he realized that the woman wasn't next to him anymore, panic escalating inside of his chest. He awkwardly stumbled out of her bed, struggling to get his pants onto his hips before quickly going downstairs, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

To his surprise, the woman was making a meal, the smell of cooked vegetables wafting around the room. When she noticed him, she smiled and greeted him. Was he still... dreaming?

She offered him food and he accepted, hoping that if this were a dream, then it would be nice if he could sleep just a bit longer and enjoy a scene of normalcy. The woman joined him after preparing her own plate, and for a moment, Harry wanted to pretend that she was his woman, sharing a normal routine, eating together at the table. Somehow, it made him feel a pang of sadness.

Harry spoke up, expressing his gratitude with sincerity. She was a very kind woman and she would make a lucky man or person very happy someday. He watched her as she rose, taking the empty plates to wash them.

He found that his eyes wouldn't wander off away from her as she continued her tasks, somehow that feeling of wanting and sadness prodding at his heart. At least he got to hold her, in a small way, even if it was during his... mental breakdown.

The woman turned to him, catching his gaze, his name leaving her lips, so softly. So sweetly. A pang of ache made his chest feel tight. Please don't say my name like that. I know I can't have you. It can't and won't happen, he thought in his silence.

But to his completely and utter surprise, the woman offered her own home as a place that he could stay, if he so wished. She did acknowledge that it was highly unusual as an offer, because he basically broke into her home... He figured she was giving him a little bit more kindness with a meal, but then would ask for him to depart immediately. That was his plan. He couldn't stay, it would be wrong.

There was no way that he could do that to her. Despite his brain saying yes, yes, yes, stay here, his voice answered her with the opposite, telling her that he couldn't do it, he couldn't take advantage of her more than he already had. Harry found that he kinda really liked her and he didn't want to impose on her any longer out of respect.

Yet she surprised him even more, that beautiful voice of hers, pleading that she, of her own volition, would like for him to stay, reminding him that he did tell her that if she asked nicely, he may do as she asked.

He chuckled. A secret wish in his mind played out in his imagination, imagining kissing her, holding her close. He couldn't do that, but he could be around her a little longer and that was more than enough. It had been such a long time since he had felt any kind of warm emotion like that, a genuine smile, directed at him.

So, he accepted, thanking her for her kindness, once again. All she had asked of him was that he didn't wear his gas mask again, a funny request for him, but it wasn't something he needed. He held onto it because it was his final lifeline. He felt connected to it.

"I don't even know your name," he uttered his thoughts aloud, but before he could go on to ask for it, she gave it to him on her own. The most lovely name he had ever heard, finding himself becoming more and more drawn into her.

Harry had found a home. Permanently, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that despite the terrible events he had gone through, he had found the tiniest bit of relief in an old house in the outskirts of a small town.

It was a night he would never forget.

Yet, despite so...

Something hungered inside. Something like pain, anger and hatred, doused his soul made of violent flames. Something inside became an itch that couldn't be scratched. A thirst for revenge.

[sanniee]

NCT OT21 as Mythological Characters

Lee Taeyong as Zeus -king of the gods//ruler on the Mount Olympus 1/2 -god of the sky, the god of thunder -wise, protective, just, stern, but unfaithful He, who has to carry the will of fate and always keep balance.

Kim Doyoung as Hera -ruler on the Mount Olympus 2/2 -god of women, marriage, family, and childbirth -all-seeing, compassionate, but nagging, jealous and possessive. He, who protects, but will not hesitate to take your head down.

Moon Taeil as Hades -ruler of the Underworld//older brother of Zeus -god of death and wealth -patient, calculating, merciless  He is not a hunter. He is a ruler, a leader, but he can and will punish.

Qian Kun as Athena -born from the head of his father  -god of  wisdom, handicraft, and warfare, but also a war god -strong, wise, protective He, who was known for being the best at everything he ever did.

Lee Donghyuk (Haechan) as Helios -god and personification of the Sun -born from the love of two Titans// brother of Selene, the Moon -radiant and diaphane He, who brings joy to mortals, the earth flourished when he shone forth and made the plants fruitful when he laughed.

Huang Renjun as Pan -god of the wild, shepherds and flocks, nature of mountain wilds, rustic music -companion of the nymphs, the symbol of Spring and fertility -free, light, artistical and critical He, who brought nature into romance and art. 

Liu YangYang as Hermes -god of trade, heralds, merchants, commerce, roads, thieves, sports, travelers, and athletes -the emissary and messenger of the gods// the divine trickster -witty and cunning He, who outwitted other gods for the sake of humans.

Dong Sicheng (WinWin) as Astraea -god of justice, innocence, purity, and precision - spirit of renewal of culture  -elegant and beautiful, a constellation He, who will come back from the sky and make the world pretty again.

Lee Jeno as Kratos -the divine personification of strength -god of might and justice, enforcer of Zeus’ power -merciless and just He, who is not afraid to punish in order to protect. 

Nakamoto Yuta as Artemis -god of the hunt, forests and hills, the Moon, and archery -protector of the youth  -wild, untamed, give to temper He, who was worshipped and loved because of his heart, not power.

Na Jaemin as Eros -the god of love -protector and enforcer of both love and lust -accompanied by everything that could be called beautiful He, who drove humans crazy and flew his wings back to Olympus.

Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten) as Terpsichore -god of dance and chorus -humans were smitten by his music and dance -’’delight in dancing’’, talented and elegant He, who had shown to mortals what real beauty and grace looks like. 

Jung Yoon Oh (Jaehyun) as Apollo -god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry -the most beautiful god, the ideal -protector of the youth, the ill, the foreign and the averter of evil He, who had the most out of them all.

Wong Kunhang (Hendery) as Euphrosyne -god of good cheer and joy -was created to fill the earth with pleasant moments and goodwill -beauty and grace He, who was not afraid to laugh and dance under the eyes of humans and under the rays of sunshine.

John Jun Suh (Johnny) as Dionysus - god of the grape harvest, winemaking, and wine, of fertility, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre -carefree and frenetic -brings ecstasy and joy to those who come under him  He, who drove his followers away from their humanly fears.

Xiao De Jun (Xiaojun) as Hephaestus -god of blacksmiths, metalworking, carpenters, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metallurgy, fire, and volcanoes -castaway artist -loving, caring, but vengeful and in need of revenge He, who worked for them, but had the most power to hurt them.

Kim Jungwoo as Aphrodite -god of love, beauty, pleasure, passion, and procreation -loved by everyone and everything -graceful and the most beautiful, but unfaithful He, who was everyone’s definition of love and sexuality. 

Zhong Chenle as Gelos -the divine personification of laughter -god of joy and happiness -cheerful and loving He, who had the power of making any human smile only at the sight of his shining visage.

Mark Lee as Poseidon  -god of the sea, storms, and earthquakes -moody and tempestuous, but clever and creative  -most fond of beauty and mystery He, who had the power to send waves of sorrow to earth, but only sent spring rains.

Wong Yuk Hei (Lucas) as Ares -god of war -untamed, brave, overwhelmingly insatiable and destructive in battles -in need of love and compassion He, who lost a battle and his family. He, who was humiliated, but kept fighting for his future. 

Park Jisung as Hebes -god of eternal youth, prime of life, forgiveness -the youngest and most loved by the gods -diligent and dedicated, caring and compassionate, gracious and talented He, who always kept them all young. 

Hello!! I hope you all will like the post! I really worked a lot on it and I hope it was worth it! I do not own the pictures, but all the quotes are mine!  Love you all! Stan talent! Stan NCT! 

[darisu-chan]

Sun, Moon, Stars

Back again with another drabble. This time, inspired by ee cummings’ poem #38, which I recommend you read before reading this story.

Also, if you want to read the short meta that comes with this, you can read it here.

Prompt: your choice - a word, a sentence, a phrase, a story, or a poem you feel relates to ichiruki

Summary: Ichigo comes to life each time Rukia comes back.

losing through you what seemed myself;i find

selves unimaginably mine;beyond

sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears

 yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:

yours is the darkness of my soul’s return

–you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars

 Ichigo can divide his entire life in three moments.

Before Rukia

It’s like being numbed. He knows he’s alive but for what purpose, he cannot decide. Days go by in the same manner. Wake up. Go to school. Return home. Go to sleep. Repeat. Each and every day of his life. Of course, there are things that break the routine (thugs picking up fights with him, his family’s antics, the occasional ghost, searing pain every June). Yet they are things he comes to expect, and becomes acutely accustomed to.

Soon, he’s an automaton, moving when he’s told to, only breathing because it is ingrained in him, his heart beating almost by default of the very condition of his existence.

There are no pleasant surprises, unimaginable happiness, a sense of belonging, nothing that could signify Ichigo is, in fact, very much alive.

(That’s because a part of him, the biggest part of him, died alongside his mother, long ago, on a rainy night. It’s been raining non-stop ever since, and with each rain drop, his heart grows heavier, as if he’s drowning inside, no longer a human but a carcass of someone that used to be one.)

He’s only a ghost, now, not unlike the spirits that follow him around.

He belongs to them, to death and decay.

That is, of course, until a ray of light shines through, and it’s like every rain drop has evaporated and only sunshine exists.

In some ways, it’s like he’s been finally given a purpose by a higher being, that his life wasn’t meaningless, that there was something left for him to do.

And for the first time in years, Ichigo carries himself with the visage of a man who is out to conquer the world.

(And he does, for her).

After Rukia

It happens thrice, that he’s without her.

The first time, for a few weeks he’s left to sheer nothingness and the numbness comes back. However, before he can totally succumb to despair, he realizes he still has a piece of her, beating alongside his heart, whispering, screaming, that there’s something he can do. He’s not completely powerless, so he takes his chance and turns the world upside down. No matter how hurt he gets, how much he bleeds, there’s purpose each time he holds his sword. And each time he fights, her name is the only sound in his mouth.

The second time he knows it won’t be long until they see each other again. He’s right, but he’s still taken completely by surprise when he sees her standing in the windowsill, a stunning mirage, ready to pull him into her world once more. He lets himself be dragged and doesn’t regret it, not even once. Because that’s where he’s meant to be. (Right by her side).

The third time is much more different.

There is no longer a piece of her with him to give him hope. He’s reduced to less than an automaton, because even then he knew what to do. Now he simply has no idea anymore of who he is (a human, a hollow, a Shinigami, a specter) or what he wants (to protect, to be a Shinigami, to be with he─).

He’s been successfully uprooted of everything he knew and everything he wanted.

He lies to others, but especially to himself, because saying out loud that he’s no longer here, that he’s trapped in a world he’s only meant to visit after he’s dead, it’s like admitting he would rather seize to exist.

“What do you want to do after high school?”

“I wanna move out.”

But he’s a man haunted by a ghost who vanished from his life, and only left behind echoes, voices who are dreams, and Ichigo does not know if his memories are part of reality or if he somehow imagined it all, like a man starved in the desert, dreaming of water, only to get drowned by sand.

“Do you miss her?”

“There’s no reason to.”

So, when the chance presents itself of getting back everything he wanted, Ichigo does not hesitate, because no matter the cost, he would rather feel pain to feel nothing at all.

(And then happiness arrives once again).

With Rukia

The third moment in Ichigo’s life is, perhaps, the one he cherishes the most.

It happens three times and, on the last one, he’s not ready to let go.

(So he doesn’t).

Ichigo comes to life each time Rukia comes back.

He lets himself lose the bits and pieces that made up who he thought he was, who he thought he would become, who everyone wanted him to be, and through her finds selves that were always the real him (human, hollow, fullbringer, Shinigami, hers). Beyond sorrow and hope, joy and fear, there is something so unmistakably Ichigo when he’s with her. No longer an automaton or a specter, but the promise of a new beginning. And the best part of it all is that a resolution beats deep within, pounding with the mighty strength of someone who knows he belongs.

Because Ichigo finally belongs.

He belongs to all of the goodness in the world.

He belongs to his family.

He belongs to his friends.

He belongs to the chaos of life and the peacefulness of death.

He belongs to justice and honor.

He belongs to the inextricably nuances of three known worlds.

Most of all, he belongs to her.

Because Rukia is the light that stopped his rain.

She’s the one who made his soul reborn like a phoenix, always to fly, never to perish.

The darkness of her hair, the endless pools of her eyes, are the things he wishes to return to each and every time.

Rukia is his sun, illuminating his sky on his happiest days.

Rukia is his moon, keeping him company in the worst moments of his life.

Rukia is all of his stars, reminding him he’s never alone.

Through her, he’s who he was always meant to be.

Whole.

[lemonietrinket]

Himawari ||| Kevin x Reader

Summary: Kevin is a ray of sunshine, and so are you. This time, Kevin has something to say to you. Genre: Fluff, as per usual Word Count: 1750 Theme Song: Man in a Movie - Day6; Spark - JBJ95 AN: Kevin Woo, an underrated ball of soft. Another request from @idont-knowabrian​ because they have good ideas. Thanks for reading!

Kevin took a deep breath.

It wasn’t like him, usually, to be so nervous. He’d been on so many stages, in so many recording studios, before so many important people, he reckoned he’d abandoned the idea of being nervous way back in his debut years.

And yet here he was, at your front door, freshly painted citrine by your own hand, cold dispelled by a smart but thick jacket, and  ever so slightly shivering,

Ah yes, that was the day he first met you. Walking past the terraced houses on his way to work, he’d glanced to his right and seen you coating the door in a very diligent fashion. Once he’d passed your door several times, greeting you with a wave and a shy smile every morning, and after you’d worked up the courage to ask if he really was who you thought he was, did he find out why you insisted on painting it in such a primary shade.

“To fulfil a childhood dream of mine.” You had shrugged. “I always wanted to live in a house with a big front window and a yellow door. Not that it originated from any great tragedy! I just... you know. Really like the colour yellow.”

You’d gone on to explain how you had finally had the chance to control the environment that surrounded you, after a youth characterised by restrictive policies that now as an adult you had escaped from. He would never admit it, out of politeness and slight shame on his own behalf, but he was more focused on your face at that very moment. He could still picture how your eyes flickered to the side, how you frowned and scrunched your nose at your own words, at the very moment your lips twitched into a smile, sheepish but no less relaxed. 

The memory did little to calm his nerves, merely lending a hand to his heart’s fluttering.  But it was no use now, as the very door opened to reveal you.

He was 90% sure his heart stopped.

“Kevin! Hi!” you exclaimed, face glowing in the dim streetlight behind. “You’re actually right on time. Not even a minute late!"

His eyes swept over the visage before him. You, in a mustard wool blouse, tucked into a deep moss-green skirt that billowed in the breeze at your ankles. Your eyes glittering in the twilight—a pool he wanted to sink into and also avoid for his own heart’s safety—outwitting the moon in a knowing gaze aimed only at him - a concept that almost stole his words - standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.

“You must be some kind of miracle,” you stated, voice touched with wistfulness.

He coughed, being very abruptly dragged from his thoughts. “What? Me? No! No, not...” He shook his head, playing it off with a laugh.

“What? Always here perfectly on time, always looking as dashing as you always do, it’s not a preposterous proposition, you know!” 

He shook his head, tipping his head away from the playful glint in your eyes, and letting his hands do the talking for him. 

You gasped, even though you saw the gift coming from a million miles away. Even if those million miles was only the couple of metres of your front path.

“Oh Kevin...!” You took the bouquet into your hands, eyes mottling with tears that you couldn’t quite contain, that matched the polka-dotted ribbon of pastel blue that neatly held the piece together.

The sunflower petals, smooth and radiant, were no match for you, Kevin decided. But as you cradled the bouquet close to your chest and stared up at him, lips—kissed by the sunshine itself—wavering in joy, he felt his heart swell to the point he felt as if it could burst.

“I hoped you’d like them,” he mentioned.

“I love them, Kevin, thank you so much!”

You sighed, peering down at the soft plumes. “Let me get a vase and water for them real quick—I won’t be long!”

And you disappeared from his sight.

What was he to do with himself? All tongue-tied and very nearly misty-eyed for you, a child of the sun. You’d been dating for a while, and what he’d planned wasn’t something to get this worked up about, surely.

But for you, he could barely contain the emotions that flooded from his soul. Feelings could no longer be caged by his ribs. They already struggled to contain the rapid march of his heartbeat.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, ironing out the tremors and his blending fears with it. He straightened his jacket, an undefeatable smile playing upon his lips. How luck had been on his side for him to even have the opportunity to meet you.

“Ready to go?” you suddenly enquired, reappearing in his vision and hanging from the door as much as you hung off his words—not that he was quite aware of that.

“If you are, then of course!”

“Great!” You locked your door with a grin, swinging your keys into your satchel, before coming to his side happily. You looped your arm around his, pulling your coat’s collar up to your chin to keep out the windchill while sending him the glimmering smile he adored so dearly. “Where to, fair knight?”

“Oh, um...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, there is this small late-night vintage cafe I thought you’d feel at home in. We could go there first, and then the park after?”

“Sounds like a quest.” You nodded. “Let’s go!”

.

~ ~ ~

.

Your laugh fluttered in the breeze, blissful and very near misty in the shadows the lamps and stars could not banish. Skirt flowing, you span, arms wide as if to welcome.

“And then she went round and round like this!”

Kevin could barely hold back his laughter, feeling tears well in his eyes at your performance. He didn’t care if people questioned as they passed. In fact, he barely noticed them. Why would he, when the most important person was skipping along the cobblestone a few feet ahead of him?  “Why would she do that?!”

“I don’t know!” you feverishly giggled. “Wouldn’t you in that scenario?”

“No!”

“Well, she’d say ‘that’s your loss’!” 

As you wound around the paving, you drifted back to his side, arms clutching at his sleeve as you stumbled, dizzied.

“I shouldn’t have given you that much sugar,” he chuckled,.

You twisted your face in an exaggerated scowl. “Why ever not?”

Kevin felt his mouth continue without the accompaniment of his brain. “Ah well,” he guffawed, “it’s dangerous for me, you know.”

You played along with a hum. “How so?”

He felt the mild horror of his rational mind press him to change tact, but his words just continued to... spill.

“Well, you’re already too sweet for me to handle, and now? It’s just... too much for... my...”

“Heart?” you finished, expression twisted in an amused grimace at the cheese.

“Yes, I...” he broke down to breathy laughter, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what the was at all—”

“Kevin, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you linked arms once again, “it’s just, unexpected of you.”

He gazed down at you, edging you to continue without another word passing his lips. Just in case whatever hysteria enraptured him the first time infected him again and he said something even worse. 

“I pegged you as the sweet type, but not the cheesy,” you placed a finger to the corner of your mouth, “however, I suppose on the Sweet & Cheesy Venn Diagram, there is instinctively an overlap.”

Bemusedly, he gushed, “What?”

“What?” you echoed, confused by his outcry. “Do you not understand me?”

“No,” he admitted. He immediately looked back to you, searching your face for any signs of offence taken. He found only mild excitement, as you awaited his continuation.  “No, I don’t think I do. But I feel I prefer it that way. You’re so... unique? Your energy is different from other people—friends and coworkers, I mean. I don’t know how to explain it but... things are so much more different with you here. I don’t think I could ever be without you.”

The two of you drew to a stop beneath a lampost. High above, the wind grasped a spider web and swung it into a waltz.

“Do you mean that?” you murmured, voice no higher than a mid-summer zephyr.

He, who’d continued to walk a couple of paces even though it had left you slightly behind, turned back to face you, as well as the anxieties that had lasted all evening.  “Yes. Of course. Without a doubt,” he insisted.

You stepped forward until the lamplight illuminated only you. Crested with a halo, your hands slowly wringing one another at your chest, you were lost for words.

Your silence only prompted him further, as he bit the bullet.

“Y/N, you’re the brightest piece of light in my life, sometimes you shine so brightly I could confuse you with the sun. And, I love you.”

You were stunned, to say the least. You had seen it coming but, not for another couple of weeks, you’d assumed.

But here he was, a few feet away, ever so barely shaking out of subtle fear, but his shoulders brazened, a determined expression painting his soft features that you cared for so dearly, with his eyes glistening in the auburn light and nearly flooding with sincerity.

You made the rest of the distance in a few steps, refusing to tear your eyes away, even if it would be for the entire world’s sake.

Once you reached him, you reached up to cup his cheeks, smoothing his nerves and drawing him closer to your level, before melding your lips with his.

Feeling the one thing he’d dreamt of ever since the first time he’d worked up the courage to utter words to you wash over him, he very nearly froze.

However, he managed to hold himself together—though only just—and relished in the brush your sweet lips against his own. He threaded his hands through your hair, to barely rest on either side of your jaw. His touch was so light you could almost imagine it missing, not that you ever would even dream of doing so.

Melting further into the kiss, you knotted your hands behind his neck, just as he let his hands fall to the small of your back, and the two souls drawn together by luck finally combined.

~~~

AN: I know how to em-dash on my Chromebook now and I am so happy oh my jesuuuusss Also, zephyr is a great word that should come back into common use

Masterlist

[truesymphony]

[anuschkalova]

The Backup Plan (Chapter 2: The Meeting) Elliot x Reader

Summary: Elliot who suffers from weekly crying attacks finds comfort by chatting with a girl called Y/N that he met online. They have a real mutual understanding and grow close. Elliot enjoys the virtual connection, but is soon forced to step out of his comfort zone. Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Reader Word count: 3.133 Part 1 HERE

‚What superpowers do you want the most?‘, Elliot’s teacher once asked in pre-school. Whilst all his classmates dreamed of flying, turning invisible or having super speed, Elliot wished to read people’s minds.

It was one of the things he couldn’t control and that made him upset. Control was the glue that kept his life together - and humans, to Elliot’s dislike, were the radiating heat of boiling hot lava. They melted his glue with their unpredictability - using fake smiles and well selected words as their disguise. What was true. What was a lie? Yes or no?

Elliot stood across a small café on the opposite sidewalk, wearing his black hoodie that obscured his tensed face. His eyes peeked at the entrance before they checked the time. 04:01 pm. He had twenty-nine minutes left to calm his nerves and come up with some decent sentences to greet Y/N.

The café was her idea as a meeting location and back then, Elliot, who had smoked a joint, agreed in a heartbeat. The drug had fogged his anxiety, but not his discernment. It was reasonable for Y/N to pick a public place to meet an online acquaintance. It was absolutely logical. Very logical. So Elliot cursed the error in his system for distorting this reasonable motive into absurdly fears. Rejection, confrontation, accusations, expectations. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans.

„Excuse me“, a man who carried a box murmured behind Elliot, but his request didn’t reach the hacker as his eyes stared at the woman crossing the street to enter the café. Elliot’s face turned into stone, eyes not blinking in order to savor every second of Y/N’s appearance. His vision flickered slightly as someone bumped into him and Elliot stumbled. A giant truck parked in front of him, so he rushed to the side and glimpsed at Y/N again with his face down.

She stood by the entrance now to look at her cell phone and Elliot couldn’t avert his astonished gaze - her picture that he saw on his monitor day and night, a creation made of the mathematical arrangement of millions of pixels - that static picture became miraculously alive.

She lifted her head and Elliot fought against the urge to turn around. Instead, he grabbed his cell phone as well and made himself look busy. A notification appeared on the top bar and he opened the unread message.

Y/N, 04:04 I’m here and super nervous. Can’t wait to finally meet you. :-)

Elliot cringed at her words. Y/N was about to meet the real Elliot, not the online Elliot whose awkwardness disappeared through a screen, no. She would meet the raw and uncut version of himself, the prototype of a functioning human. A failure-prone prototype. The pungent smell of smoke ignited a sudden craving in Elliot and he faced the man standing next to him.

„Hey, lend me a cigarette?“ The stranger held him the box out and Elliot nodded his thanks, lighting the cigarette quickly. He took a deep drag, eyes tearing at the burning smoke in his lungs, but it helped.

Elliot exhaled the toxic cloud and coughed quietly, searching for Y/N’s face inside the café and found her sitting far back by the window. She had her cell phone out again and stared at it, nibbling at her bottom lip. He frowned.

She was actually nervous. So nervous that Elliot saw her hands slightly shaking from afar when she browsed through the menu. She swirled a strand of hair around her finger and caused another one to free itself from her fluffy bun. Y/N blew it out of her face and Elliot was entranced. Something about her felt so familiar, like a favorite childhood memory. The taste of salty popcorn and sugar coated peanuts replaced the nicotine in his mouth. Conducted by Y/N’s drawing aura, Elliot took one final drag of his cigarette before he dropped it and walked towards the café.

His heart was throbbing and jumping, rampaging like a wild animal trapped inside a cage. When Elliot opened the door, his heart seemed to have busted out and was now climbing up his throat - the racing heartbeat pulsated so loud in his ears that he didn’t register the door bell.

But Y/N did. She looked up and spotted a new customer, a man dressed fully in black who wandered slowly towards her table. Hands buried stiffly into his pockets and face half covered by the hood, he stopped next to the empty chair opposite of her.

„Elliot?“, Y/N asked carefully and the stranger pulled down his hood, revealing a sharp jawline and a short styled undercut. He didn’t face her, so she had to wait until he cautiously sat down and briefly fixed the dark bundle of hair on top of his head. Then, he finally set his eyes on her and she shuddered. He noticed her reaction and clenched his jaw, immediately lowering his alarmed gaze.

„Hey…“, Elliot said in a hushed voice, completely unaware how his intense sea-green eyes had affected her soul.

Y/N smiled warmly. „Hey“, she whispered back.

They fell quiet for a moment, but her sudden chuckle encouraged Elliot to raise his face. She shook her head at his puzzled expression. „It’s just… so surreal. We wrote for weeks, poured out our lonely hearts to each other and now we sit at the same table.“ He pursed his lips and Y/N noticed how his upper lip stuck out a little. She liked it.

„Yeah. It’s an unusual situation.“ He forced himself to hold her gaze and shifted on his chair.

„I do appreciate you meeting me. Really.“

Elliot parted his lips, but shut them as soon as the waitress brought Y/N’s coffee. „Would you like anything to drink?“, he got asked and he shook his head. „No, thanks.“ After the waitress walked away to serve other guests, Y/N took a sip and arched one eyebrow.

„No fan of coffee?“ He shook his head again. „Caffeine keeps me awake“, Elliot reasoned reluctantly and added: „It’s too bitter.“ „Hey“, she protested and raised her mug, „everything is bitter including life, but I can guarantee you that this delicious coffee is not.“

Elliot mimicked her grin awkwardly and her lips automatically broadened. She was bubbling over with life and he imagined captured rays of sunshine beneath her sparkling eyes that warmed his skin on this cloudy day.

It made him almost forget the reason for their meeting. Almost.

„I’m disappointed“, Y/N said and Elliot’s loose grin vanished while the little voice in his head furiously lectured his naiveté.  I told you. There’s no chance she would sacrifice her time for a antisocial freak. Prepare for the rejection and then leave this illusion.

„… Why?“  His glance begged for mercy, do it quick and easy, but Y/N just pointed with the mug in her hand towards Elliot’s attire.

„I though you’d wear the cat sweater“, she joked and pouted playfully, referring to their former chat’s subject on how she would identify Elliot. The cat sweater became an inside joke between them and he visibly relaxed his shoulders.

„Yeah, about that… It’s in the laundry.“

She smirked knowingly. „Did Flipper pee on it?“ Her assumption raised a genuine smile from Elliot and Y/N felt a thrilling sensation. Her resolution of exercising regularly got replaced by the resolution of summoning his breathtaking smile again.

The door bell rang and Y/N casually drifted her eyes to the entrance, her attention fully on the man opposite of her, but that changed when she recognized him. Elliot noticed her sudden absentmindedness and turned around. „Don’t!“, she whispered sternly and had to watch how her ex stomped to their table.

„Seriously?!“, the man spat at Y/N.

„You’re ignoring my calls and messages! I tried to talk to you, but now I see that you’re busy!“

He acknowledged Elliot’s presence by scowling at the IT-worker.

„David“, she hissed angrily, trying to shut him, but his outburst had just started.

„Look at his crazy eyes! Babe, I can buy you a fucking pug if you want to be stared at by two pop eyes!“

If they weren’t in public, Y/N would have slapped David’s stupid visage at this point. She hated him even more for insulting Elliot, but the black dressed man stood slowly up. David titled his head.

„Is there a problem?“, Elliot asked in his winding voice.

„Yes. You are my problem, bug-eye.“

„Then I suggest you leave.“

David scoffed and crossed his arms. „You seriously fancy this little twerp? How pathetic“, he spoke to Y/N and she pressed her lips into a hard line. Elliot then decided that it was enough.

He took out his cell phone and typed on the screen, making David laugh.

„You’re calling the cops, chickenshit? Or mommy to have a good cry?“

A loud melody resonated from within David’s pocket and he grabbed his ringing phone, seeing that he got a missed call and a new message from an unknown number. Puzzled, he stared at the text that simply said ‚Asshole‘ and squinted at Elliot who was still busy with his own phone.

„Was that you?! Hey, I’m talking to you, fucker!“ He pushed his shoulder. „Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!“

„Hacking you“, Elliot declared and David froze. It took him a few seconds to transfer this douchebag’s life to his memory card - photos, text messages and e-mails. To proof it, he raised his phone to show David a revealing photo of his affair called Samantha.

„Do you see those screens around us?“, Elliot asked and Y/N’s ex whose face turned alarmingly pale, counted the four monitors that currently showed the news, plus a large one behind the counter.

„Again, I suggest you to leave. If you won’t, I will show those people here a good story to gossip about.“

Elliot’s superiority brought Y/N’s ex to his knees and although he very much hated it, David had to give in. He ground his teeth and leaned towards Elliot who didn’t shrink back.

„We’re not done yet, freak“, he hissed, shooting him one last glare before he left the café with his chin up, no guilt weighing down his proud posture.  

Elliot noticed Y/N’s red face when he sat back down and he knew it was anger that stared right at him. „Elliot, I’m so so sorry for this fucking asshole“, she apologized, her voice trembling. Y/N placed her hands at her temples to seal herself off the curious gawkers. Their little argument had caught some attention and Y/N was close to tears. Not because of embarrassment, but of pure rage. If the law wouldn’t prevent her from cutting her ex’s shady tongue, god forbid, that bastard would be allowed to chose between a butcher knife or scissors.

Y/N thought about some excuses, things she could say to avoid Elliot’s most likely rejection. Gosh, he must be mad at her for dragging him here and dealing with her territory-carving ex.

But Elliot gave her no chance as he grabbed her wrist. „Let’s go“, he said and put some dollar bills on the table. Y/N frowned, irritated by his intentions and Elliot seemed to be reading her mind, because he just smiled at her reassuringly while mumbling: „I know a better place.“

__

Y/N had heard of Coney Island’s beach and amusement park, but never cared to visit. Either her schedule wouldn’t allow a spontaneous fun-trip or her possessive ex-boyfriend. But now, as she sat in one of the wobbly Ferris wheel’s stall, the whole beauty of the place being displayed like a map underneath her feet, Y/N’s heart ached in remorse.

„It’s beautiful“, she commented, a small smile decorating her lips and Elliot watched her eyes soaking in the many colorful attractions. He had one hand in his pocket while the other held the ice-cream he had bought for himself and Y/N. The sweet treat started to melt under the late afternoon sun that had finally decided to show its face upon the cloudy sky.

„Yeah. I used to come here with my dad a lot when I was a child“, Elliot said and Y/N faced him, leaning back in her metallic seat. The blue painted stall was longish in height but rather tiny, offering enough space for two people to sit opposite of each other.

„That’s nice. Do you still keep the tradition?“

„He’s dead.“

Elliot was lost in thought as his eyes captured the soft sea waves and Y/N saw the restrained hurt in his face. She fumbled with her hands and murmured: „I’m sorry.“, but Elliot shook his head gently.

„No need to be. It’s in the past anyways.“ He licked off the dripping ice-cream from the cone and offered Y/N the treat who accepted. She turned the ice-cream in her hand before nibbling on the caramel-peanut flavored scoop.

„It’s this comparable to sharing a joint?“, she joked and Elliot smirked lazily, rubbing his neck.

„It’s practically the same, yes.“

„Hey, don’t make fun of me. I’m a fair joint-virgin.“ She giggled and blushed at the way Elliot’s furtive eyes darted over her figure. Within a second, the atmosphere had changed drastically into something more sexual.

Y/N curiously watched Elliot when his hand disappeared into his large hoodie-pocket, just to present her a neatly rolled joint. It made her laugh. „You want to take my virginity, huh?“

„We can stick with the ice-cream. It’s just an friendly offer.“

„What a gentleman“, Y/N praised and Elliot put the joint between his smiling lips, lighting it. He took a deep drag and could taste the saltiness of the fresh sea air.

He started to relax, head leaning comfortably against the lattice and Y/N swapped the ice-cream with the joint. She took a timid hit.

„Fuck“, she coughed, tears blurring her view. „That’s disgusting!“ Elliot grinned in response and Y/N’s eyes glistened teasingly.

„Ever did one of those gunshot kisses?“

„A few“, Elliot answered and he could see the amazement in her eyes to which he lowly chuckled.

„Just one“, he corrected and Y/N lightly stepped on his foot as a punishment.

„Is it hot?“, she wanted to know. Elliot hesitated, but then he leaned forward with his elbows on each knee and face so close to Y/N that he could smell her breath.

„Yes.“

His hand reached for hers and Y/N willingly passed the joint to his fingers. The same fingers that wrote her countless messages over weeks, giving her consolation, cheer and company. Elliot made her feel safe and sound in a inexplicable way that even Y/N couldn’t understand.

To keep the situation in perspective, she took a ride on the Ferris wheel with someone she only knew online while sharing a joint. It must seemed careless, maybe it was, but Elliot was different.

„You want to do it?“, he asked carefully and Y/N blinked.

„What?“ „A gunshot kiss“, he said and breathed in the smoke, staring into her eyes patiently, but Y/N looked outside. They were getting closer to the ground and therefore to the end of the ride.

„Maybe another time.“ Elliot nodded and exhaled, snipping the joint out of the stall and opened the door after the huge wheel came to a rough stop.

__

The sea gulls squealed loudly above their heads as Elliot and Y/N took a stroll at the boardwalk. Cony Island was tinted in warm shades of orange as the sun started to set and Elliot couldn’t resist glimpsing at the girl next to him. Y/N however noticed it and nudged his side. „What?“

„Sorry…“, he apologized sheepishly and Y/N let it go, shaking her head while smiling, but it quickly faded. Instead, she furrowed her brows while speaking.

„No, I should be sorry.“

„For what?“, Elliot asked confused.

„For my asshole ex who insulted you“, she explained and looked down at her feet. „You know, he thinks that I cheated on him, because I wrote to you.“

Elliot listened and turned to Y/N who avoided eye-contact.

„He used to be loving and nice, you know. He wasn’t a nasty piece of work when I’ve met him, but after his colleague got the promotion, David started to change. I think his broken ego couldn’t take it, so he got his wounds licked by another woman and blamed everything on me.“ Y/N’s eyes started to burn and she hated it. She whipped the tears away with her jacket’s sleeve and sniffed.

Elliot walked closer to her until their arms lightly touched and Y/N appreciated his silent sympathy.

„I think it came in handy when I met you online. He suddenly had a reason to be mad at me and left the flat. He was barely at home, either with his friends drinking or fucking his little bitch…-“ „Hey.“

Just as Y/N’s voice became louder and loader, her emotions violently washing over her, Elliot had grabbed her gently by the shoulder to stop her.

Now, they stood in front of each other and Y/N looked up at him with big shocked eyes. „I’m s-sorry.“

„You have every right to feel angry, betrayed or sad. What he did was unfair and wrong, but everything will be alright. I promise.“

She felt her heart skip a beat at his soothing words and her boiling blood calmed down.

„Thank you, Elliot“, Y/N whispered and he nodded. They found a bench and sat down to enjoy the last golden minute of the sunset.

„By the way, I don’t think your eyes are weird. I like them.“

Elliot leaned his head back to look at Y/N with his mouth agape, his entire vocabulary seemed to have vanished at her compliment.

„Okay“, he uttered clumsily, but it didn’t bother her. She held his gaze and for the first time in his life, Elliot saw pure honesty in another human’s face. It was so disconnecting and magnificent, that his body got overflowed with endorphin and relief, making his twitching hand reach out for Y/N.

He placed it on her cheek, just to remove it again, so abruptly as if her skin was a hot stove plate.

Y/N sensed Elliot’s inner conflict, so she shifted closer and took his hand reassuringly.

„Don’t be afraid. Just ask.“

He looked everywhere except her eyes, and when he did, Elliot was defenseless against the spell she had cast on his poor heart.

„Can I kiss you?“ Okay, since I got 8 notes for his part, I will tag a few people from Part 1 as I’m not sure of you’ve seen it or not. I looked up and Tumblr won’t show this part in the search? Please tell me if you don’t want to be tagged. Since I’ll be writing Part 3, I will keep you otherwise. Thank you! 🖤 @the-little-warbler @onexlittlespark @marvelrevival @amarah11145 @irving1122 @the-garnet-rain @mercurytaylordeaconmayy @tyferbebe @rami-marvel @saviooor @smells-like-ugh @queen-rogerina-mercury

[xpyre]

@xpuriity / roo!

     |      ♪      Clear midnight skies and loud cheers as their family counted down to what would signify the end of the year but as every year, the hummingbird had been looking for something else entirely, attention completely immersed in but one boy that everything else faded entirely — no voice escaping plump glossy lips while a petite figure remained attached, inseparable from the source of warmth resembling the sun to her, literally and metaphorically even on the cold winter night — her firefly.

     Indigo would remain transfixed on enticing silver orbs, all too mesmerized by a vision deemed brighter than that of exploding fireworks and all the fear they summoned within her — refusing to permit the background noise to steal this moment from them and just as the descend of numbers would come to a halt, she would deafen her fears and explosions alike with but one simple gesture: claiming the lips of her beloved birthday boy, passionately. 

     All around wishes for the new year were exchanged but his little lady would provide him a wish of her own. ❝I wish I could start and end every year like this with you.. Happy Birthday, Ace..❞

     With said confession spoken, his little bird would disappear into the crowds, leaving her special boy to celebrate with the rest of their family for the time being while she had much left to set up — it had become somewhat of a tradition for them to spend his birthday in a place of sanctuary, a secret the lovebirds shared alone, however being pirates meant that option would not always be viable hence her determination to mimic the magic he shared with her in that place as best as she could. 

    Finally returning to his side, a childlike tug would linger upon his hand, silently demanding his attention away from his brothers. ❝Come with me?❞ she would ask; selfish never had the hummingbird been, except when it came to her special boy, as she now whisked him away from to keep for herself the remainder of the night. Teasing remarks in the background completely ignored as she had been focused on none other than her freckled ray of sunshine. 

     Rather than any special location, she would merely lead him to the confinement of their own chambers — their home, where he is welcomed with vibrant rotating lights of color changing lamps emitting aurora resembling reflections upon the four walls and ceiling — not identical to the real piece of heaven yet still serving to provide a romantic enchanting glow to the pillow fort picnic setting she had waiting for him. 

     Next to the picnic, sat a box with holes on the lid — seemingly rattling and shaking to break open as though the gift itself had been alive — quick strides she would take to rush to it❝I’m sorry — I thought it would be okay to keep him in.. if it’s just for a little bit... ❞ she speaks hurriedly as the item she referred to as ‘he’’ is handed shyly to Ace, urging him to open it.

     She knew her beloved cared naught for materialistic items, yet carried immense love for animals only paralleled by his natural kindness, hence why as soon as the lid is lifted, a feline like creature would charge out — or had it been a bird? A blend of sunset peach and orange hues that is shimmering fur coated its cat like ears and tail while the softest feathers extending from its back to shape angel wings and its beak resembled a bird. A creature so unlike any other yet so minuscule in its size would take flight in their room, causing the lights to reflect even brighter before finally taking its seat upon his new friend’s hand, attracted to his exuding warmth and pouting comically to him as though snitching that his girl had him in a box.

     ❝Look — he’s both a bird and a cat…❞ she says enthusiastically, hoping that clarified her choice — it had been part her, and part him. ❝He’s the last of his kind… I found him while trying to track one of his feathers… thought since he’s so small he could keep you company when you go off alone on the striker.. — I haven’t named him, thought you would like to?❞ the suggestion is made before a mischievous smile coats her lips and she gets up, spins in her little dress and skips over to their dresser to pick up yet another wrapped gift, this one doesn’t rattle when handed to him.

     A compass — not the log pose but a traditional kind used in olden days is wrapped with a small white ribbon. 

     ❝They say it’s supposed to lead you to your heart’s innermost and deepest desires — It has to be true because ever since I’ve picked it up 

                    — it’s only ever pointed me to you❞

          Stolen   —–   From the boisterous bunch in their surroundings and the chanting of numbers counting down till the very stroke of midnight   —–   The upcoming new year summoned only excitement across the deck of pirates, while to this specific pirate tonight, there was only but one scenery, one event, one girl in his atmosphere, and she, more than the stars above, illuminated beautifully beneath this generous ray of moonlight.

          As though a magnet, vivid indigo effortlessly colors both his vision and any track of thought he had prior in his head; silver simply now just utterly unable to rip from the captivating pair of eyes he knew were also in a similar predicament   —–   A love so overwhelming was felt in the pit of his stomach, knowing all too very well of the mutuality that was her immense love for him in return. One he deemed nothing short of a miracle for one as undeserving as himself   —–   Or so was his mindset before this very love filled the empty spaces inside his heart and whispered to him he was her only one.

          Unlike the previous years where his little lady did well to catch him entirely off guard, Ace would anticipate her sneaky plans right before her abrupt leaning in   —–   Candy pink lips so soft to the touch now generously granting him just a taste had prompted the immediate reaction of fishing for both a delicate pair of arms, pulling her petite figure against his own for an embrace so tight.  And triumphantly, he smiles against her kiss so passionate, savoring all that she was.

          Prompted by her spoken wish deemed ever so sweet to his ears, her beloved firefly would respond without a voice yet in a manner obviously very positive as he allows his hands to speak for themselves and trail her curves before cupping of both rosy cheeks and planting yet another loving kiss to his favorite pair of lips   —–   Only once parted does he flash her a grin rather smug.

          ❛❛   —–   We’ve got the rest of our lives for that, don’t we?  ❜❜

          An unexpected promise hinting he was in this for the long haul would fall sweetly from his mouth like honey.  It wasn’t an option he ever thought possible before this relationship as merely just contemplating the very topic of forever when he was a man despised by the world was but a dream deemed impossible. Never did he ever imagine burdening another with his load by allowing them into his life in such an intimate manner   —–   This being yet another example of just how much she truly changed him.

          Escaping his hold, his hummingbird slips past the crowd, leaving him rather lonesome, wondering of her absence while left to stare towards the skies of exploding lights in the company of his many brothers and very few sisters. Some of which that would find the opportunity to present to him with congratulatory words and a familial hug. Perhaps even a drink or two.

          Her return in the form of a gentle tug of his hand was one to catch him by surprise, soon to elicit delight to his expression—–  her request even more so as he allowed her to lead the way and whisk the two away from the crowd, leaving their loud, cheeky voices of support for the couple to become but a distant murmur now.

          Upon entering their room, silver is taken aback by the luminous colors now projected across their four walls like decoration. He takes time to admire the aurora indoors; the sight being a reminder itself of the familiar scenery that was their secret place of sanctuary. The cozy setting around them as well, almost as though to recreate the memory that was previously outdoors and several islands away from where they currently sailed.

          ❛❛  ..Rosa, this is—–  ❜❜   Interrupted, his attention is immediately seized by what seemed to rattle energetically, or say, desperately inside a box he now watched her reach for   —–   Immense curiosity colors a gaze of silver as he is handed the source of the sound, promptly quick to open the gift of which seemed to now fly out at him like a speeding vehicle   —–   although minuscule, the speed alone was shocking enough to make any human to pull away and reject the unknown as reflex, however Ace did not. Nothing of the fearful emotion could be seen, only his mouth was agape in wonder by the tiny creature he could not yet determine the type of.

          An explanation for the coat of orange and peachy hues mixing feline and bird traits into one, and whatever initial curiosity and surprise would disperse into that of utter amazement upon a visage of stars   —–   The last of his kind, she would inform him and his expression would transition into one quite thoughtful as he whispers to himself in a volume barely audible.   ❛❛  ..We’re the same then..  ❜❜   The similarity being that he too, was the last of his bloodline.

          She would suggest their new friend accompany him on his striker and there’s a faint smile upon his features before brushing off his previous thought entirely, now proceeding to play with the unnamed friend with but a lone finger, hoping to smudge off it’s adorable pout for being forced inside a box   —–   A name she would now allow him the honor of granting, and Ace was left to seriously contemplate one suiting of the flying furball in the palm of his hand. That was, until she was up and moving once more, prompting both his train of thought and a pair of silver to follow after her petite figure like a magnet he couldn’t quite control.

          Yet another gift   —–   surely by now she should have realized that just her presence alone was more than enough for her firefly on this special day. Though that may be true, still he felt of anticipation crawl at his expression, immediate in unboxing what was handed to him.  And to his astonishment, when revealed to be an olden day compass, initially, there is a pause and look of wonder towards Rosa, silver utterly awed by the sickly-sweet honey to now pass her lips.

          While no words in his vocabulary were even closely capable of conveying his gratitude, his free arm reaches across her back, pulling her into his embrace before allowing silence to fill the air   —–   one of which that felt only natural for the two as he savored the moment simply with her in his hold   —–   look closely, and a soft smile adorns a visage of constellations.

          ❛❛  ..Looks like I finally figured out a name for this little guy—–  ❜❜   he finally releases his hold and protrudes the silence with a name she so kindly permitted him the honor of.   ❛❛  Arrow.  ❜❜   Like the compass of which she spoke of pointing to him always. He beams while pointing to the tiny creature who seemed rather pleased by the given name.   ❛❛  You like that name, huh, little guy??  ❜❜   He laughs, now smiling so loving towards his little lady.

          ❛❛  —–  Thank you, Rosa!  You’re always going the extra mile for me.. I’ll keep this with me, always!  ❜❜   The compass he meant just before a leaning down was on cue, claiming glossy lips with all he had, heart included.   ❛❛  Ah, and Arrow too!  ❜❜   An adorable laugh.

[your-disobedient-servant]

The whole diary is well worth a read, btw, it’s one of the pettiest, saltiest primary sources I’ve read and an anecdote goldmine. Maclay comes across as a cranky old guy who hates everyone (also his knees hurt like all the time) and has a real talent for creative insults besides.

My full list of highlights is too long, but I can’t help but add some quotes.

A couple more on Adams (he really had it out for Adams):

“He is not well furnished with small talk more than myself, and has a very silly kind of laugh. I have often looked with the utmost attention at him to see if his aspect, air, etc., could inspire me with an opinion of his being a man of genius; but it was like repeating "Tristam, tristam." No; the thing seems impossible.

“I began now to think of what Mr. Morris had told me, that it was necessary to make Mr. Adams Vice-President to keep him quiet.”

“Even the Vice-President himself seemed struck in a heap — Izard would have said rotundity.”

“I never was treated with less respect than this day. Adams behaved with studied inattention. He was snuffling up his nose, kicking his heels, or talking and sniggering with Otis the whole time I was up.”

“Next to [Washington], on his right, sat Bonny Johnny Adams, ever and anon mantling his visage with the most unmeaning simper that ever dimpled the face of folly. Goddess of Nature, forgive me if I censure thee for that thou madest him not a tailor, so full of small attentions is he, and so well qualified does he seem to adjust the etiquette of loops and buttons.”

“Did not attend in the House of Representatives. Our Vice-President goes every day, and the members spend their time in lampooning him before his face and in communicating the abortions of their Muses, and embryo wittings resound the room. Perhaps they may have got and dressed the buntings of their brains at their lodgings in order to pop them on the company to the greater advantage. A resolve passed the Representatives this day that seems to show that they begin to think.”

Washington playing with cutlery:

“The President kept a fork in his hand, when the cloth was taken away, I thought for the purpose of picking nuts. He ate no nuts, however, but played with the fork, striking on the edge of the table with it. We did not sit long after the ladies retired. The President rose, went up-stairs to drink coffee; the company followed. I took my hat and came home.“

“The President seemed to bear in his countenance a settled aspect of melancholy. No cheering ray of convivial sunshine broke through the cloudy gloom of settled seriousness. At every interval of eating or drinking he played on the table with a fork or knife, like a drumstick.”

Various senators:

“I really felt joy on this attack, and the more so when I saw Mr. Morris was moved. The buffetings that I used to get from some of these people in his absence, and the sentimental insults that I received, seemed now to say, "Take you, too, a part."”

“Memorandum: Get, if I can, The Federalist without buying it. It is not worth it.”

“He fairly tired the Senate, and was laughed at. I think he may well be styled the "Endless Elsworth."”

On a certain Mr. Wynkoop: “I can not help having a despicable opinion of this man. It would not be easy to find a more useless member. He never speaks, never acts in Congres, but implicitly follows the two city members. He does not seem formed to act alone even in the most trifling affair. Well it is for him that he is not a woman and handsome, or every fellow would debauch him.”

“Gerry took up the time of the committee to the hour of adjournment. He is a tedious and most disagreeable speaker”

“Colonel Hartley returned to town this day. What a strange piece of pomposity this thing is grown! He is, if possible, more affected and disgusting than ever.”

“I can not help writing that senatorial honor dwells not east of the Hudson. Strong was most uncandid and selfish, and often up. I wish I may soon have occasion to retract my above opinion; it is painful to think so badly of one's fellow-members.”

(And just as an aside Joanne Freeman does really good commentary on the diary and its purpose and why Maclay failed as a politician in Affairs of Honor.)

William Maclay’s insults on the founding fathers:

(Maclay served in the Senate from 1789 to 1791. Most of this insults were written in his private journal.)

“a damnable villain” @ Alexander Hamilton

“His Littleness” @ James Madison

“a monkey just put into breeches” @ John Adams

A poem written by Representative John Page of Virginia on John Adams:

“ I’ll tell in a trice—

‘Tis old Daddy Vice

Who carries of pride an ass-load;

Who turns up his nose,

Wherever he goes,

With vanity swelled like a toad.”

Source: John Adams by David McCullough

[marriedthedark]

I was tagged by the super awesome @primordialpaper and I’ve never done one of these before so lets see how this goes.

rules: post the rules, answer the questions given to you by the tagger, write 11 questions of your own, and tag 11 people.  

1. At what age, if ever, did you start drinking coffee?

I only started drinking coffee this past year so I guess 19. The temptation of coffee in college is too damn strong.

2. Name a trope you really like.

KUUDERES. I just always seen to gravitate towards them (ex. Blake in rwby). Bonus points if they’re sassy/sarcastic.

3. Name a trope you really dislike.

Tsunderes, depending on how shitty their behavior is. Also not a fan of love triangles. 

4. What kind of ship are you most likely to get into? (Enemies to lovers? Big scary person A and smol ray of sunshine character B? ect. ect.)

Aw man I’m a huge sucker for the stoic cynical person A with the fiery passionate person B. “Opposites attract” is generally what I go for.

5. Are you a dog or cat person?

Dogs. I’m allergic to cats.

6. Fantasy or Sci-fi?

Fantasy. I really can’t get into the majority of sci-fi.

7. What was your first job?

Babysitting

8. Do you ride roller-coasters, or steer clear of them?

I LOVE roller-coasters. I’m usually that one friend that forces you on them even if you really don’t want to.

9. Favorite video game?

Despite it frustrating me to no end, Dota 2 is a really great game.

10. Favorite band?

I don’t really listen to many bands as I do solo artists. Lady Gaga my bitch though.

11. List 3 qualities you like about yourself.

Nothing. I’m good at writing, I’m good at making others laugh, and I love my brunette hair.

My Questions:

1. What bender would you rather be: fire, water, earth, or air?

2. Favorite Disney song?

3. What is your favorite Tumblr fandom?

4. Dawn or Dusk?

5. If you could have any animal as a spirit guardian, which animal would you choose?

6. Which fictional character do you wish you could be friends with in real life?

7. Any superstition(s) you believe in?

8. What food item do you think is overrated?

9. What is the most serious injury you’ve had?

10. Polka dots or stripes?

11. What was the last song that made you cry? (If a song hasn’t made you cry, what song has inspired you the most?)

I’ll tag @rosamage, @cloud-illusions, @shreyderjoes, @snowembrace, @crows-and-sunflowers, @visage-is-a-thot, @internetcoward, @magicalbabycamelsfromouterspace, @getsomeicefortheburn, @daniethespy @velvettskyqueen

[truesymphony]