#and like in chorus too he has flowers in his apartment

[birdmenmanga]

A while ago I received a beautiful painting of Eishi in the mail from @kitsoa!! I've been meaning to post pictures of it but I so rarely have physical objects I wanted a proper photoshoot to do it justice <3

When I first saw this I was absolutely blown away by the colors. These magenta-maroon hues aren't ones I associate with urban cityscapes at all and yet it's beautiful and dreamlike. There are a lot of poignant moments of loneliness in this series and this piece really captures that feeling, in my opinion. I almost feel like crying when I look at it sometimes. Kitsoa just has a way with color I can never hope of coming close to; I often look at her artworks and think, "Ah, her brain's just wired in a fundamentally different way from mine." (NOT a lamentation btw-- I consider it a blessing that we are put on this earth to show each other pictures of that which the other could not conceive of)

I have it up on my wall with sticky tack (didn't want to put tape on the front in case it got damaged when I inevitably have to move away) and I look at it all the time. I love it so much!! Thank you!!

[comfortless]

hades! konig and persephone! reader

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. abduction, voyeurism, dubcon, not very explicit smut.

notes: this has been on my mind for an eternity actually thank you sweet anon for finally encouraging me to write it out! if you celebrate, merry christmas! and if not consider this just a lil gift for absolutely no reason apart from for being my first Kö request. 💕

A hollow grows within him the moment his gaze meets hers. A chance crossing whilst collecting a rare offering of fruit laid out just for him. Most mortals wouldn’t beckon his attention, and the gods often left him just as well. He knows better than to take insult and become reckless, though… recklessness comes as easily as breathing when his stare settles on her across the glade. She twirls in silent dance, pirouetting carefully as if to avoid crushing the nature that springs up, brushing against her soles. Her voice picks up in a song when she notes the figure watching her from a distance, her cadence no less beautiful than any choir despite the flighty waver in her tone.

When the nymphs rise up from the stream to listen, he stands transfixed for a moment as they pull her in with them for a more elaborate dance, voices all melding until they break into a chorus of giggles and stories.

It should have been left at that.

She walks an earth made for her; flowers blossoming beneath her bare soles, each root extending for just a chance to brush against tender flesh, a breeze that flits gently against her hair. The daughter of Demeter, something unattainable, too precious to be dirtied by the howling abyss below her feet.

He is tethered to darkness and unknowns, an enigma with dried blood beneath his fingernails; the only songs he hears are screams. He’s since stolen flowers from the meadows she dances in. Beautiful peonies and soft green things that smell sweet. Flowers don’t bloom in the dark, they wither and dry.

Days are spent in melancholic longing, nights his roaring grief melds with the wailing of lost souls. Ugly and tainted noises that he dreams will reach her ears, that she will come to him with her lashes wet with tears, wrap him in her arms and quiet all but her own voice as she tells him that he’s more beautiful than her rivers and her blooms.

Yet, she never does.

König takes it upon himself to walk the land of mortals, teemed with life and pleasures more often now. He pulls himself from below with unnatural fire behind his eyes, a horrible, yearning abyss in place of the feathery, clumsy love that he’s watched so many others allow for themselves.

She notices him while he watches her bathe amongst the nymphs, stood upright and imposing beneath the shade of a tree. Each time, while the nymphs shy away with giggles and hands curled over their breasts, she merely keeps her eyes on him; lips-parted and pulse raging. He knows, would swear by it, that his obsession is not entirely one-sided.

Once, she chooses to wave at him, a demure flick of her wrist while his stare remains fixed upon her. The droplets of water from the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the pebbled nipples there— down, further into the water that envelopes her and sends his mind to flicker, a roaring flame building from his chest to his groin.

All of his frustrations pale and cower at the fantasy that he just may be able to grant himself the liberty of sinking into something writhing and warm from just one, simple gesture.

He knows he’s fucked, because his first thought after the lullaby of attraction subsides is to poke her just a little; prod her and see what makes her cry the hardest, blanket her in the shadow of himself and pick her apart like a vulture to a cadaver, do things to her that no man ever has or should. It’s not right, and he has to force himself to turn away, the fabric of the veil obscuring his face as he slinks back into the dark where he belongs. Away from the untouchable maiden who seems to haunt him endlessly with her teasing.

The giggles and splashes of the nymphs whisper through the air like the chirping of birds. Though, one voice stands out above the rest of the noise, causes him to halt in his tracks.

“Why does he never speak to us?”

Her voice, so sweet, asking about him when she should be speaking of nothing but the beauty surrounding her, the warmth of the sun and never the cold darkness of the moon.

It’s eating away at him, he realizes, when he can no longer satisfy himself. Nights lain in a haze, staring up at blackened walls with his length in hand. All it takes is the memory of wet lashes and a soft smile, usually. Her beauty is enough to bring even him to his knees, yet, he finds himself instead on the brink of hysteria the first night he finds a vision of her is not sufficient enough to reach the brilliant white haze of a climax.

The thought of stealing her away from her world of beauty to drag her down into the dark with him fills him with both elation and a terrible guilt. Zeus himself is no different; the thought shouldn’t warrant a seeping coldness in his veins, nor should it have caused him to spill his seed into his hand with only a mere flick of the pad of his thumb over his tip, yet it accomplishes both. A waste, when it should be buried deep inside of his beloved.

It takes only two nights for him to plot, to have Gaia choose to favor him, and on the third day the Narcissus flower blooms, pretty and golden. It echoes false promises, softness and beauty beyond even the daughter of Demeter’s imaginations. She will hate him, she will. Her very soul will sour the moment she lays her eyes on him next, but eventually… she will come to understand, return his love with a whisper of her own. Lightly, at best, but it would still be more than he had ever known.

He watches the roots of the plant from below, a pinprick of warm light shining down. The thumps of footsteps overhead, shaking down loose soil like raindrops, giggles like crackling thunder. She’s roaming about with her nymphs again, gentle with her and all of her beauty. After watching her for so very long, he’s more than certain they will be braiding the flowers and falling asleep after fits of laughter with the taste of fruit on their tongues. Only, she’s condemned herself by being so predictable. She will fall, not into soft grasses with a woman’s arms thrown over her, but directly into his own. She won’t eat the fruit of the earth, but drink his wine and allow him to lose himself in her flesh, bedded down against the pelts of beasts and blackened out by shadows.

The wait isn’t long. Her voice breaks through the quiet of the earth below her feet, seems to light up even the space between the two of them as her footfalls halt only several paces away.

“Look at this one!,” she calls out.

Several steps follow after her as one of the ladies of the river comes to join her. He imagines the smile on his beloved’s face, the way her body curves as she kneels down to his trap and his fingers twitch in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Maybe not that one, sweet,” the nymph warns. “There are prettier ones by the bank.”

König can feel his jaw tighten, eyelids pausing to narrow up at the small light as he tries, forces himself to believe that this was fated. She wouldn’t turn away— she couldn’t.

“No... just look at it. We’ve not seen one so lovely since last spring.”

“What if someone else planted it for themselves?”

“But… I want it.”

She sounds so pitiful, so gentle, and he can feel that swell of heat curling inside of him again. The urge to simply love her feels all-consuming with each word that passes from her mouth.

The two above giggle to themselves at her mischief, before finally, the roots begin to move from a gentle tug above. In a matter of seconds, the entire plant has been uprooted. For a daughter of nature to not long for its beauty would be unrealistic, yet he still exhales his relief. The earth riots beneath the women’s feet, splintering cracks and loud discordance echo through the valley. The nymph’s shrieks join the disarray as her featherlight footfalls lead her far, far away from what belongs to him: the dark, the rot, and now her.

With so little time to react, she falls headfirst into the abyss, clutching the narcissus tightly between her soft breasts. Waiting arms are raised to the glimpse of sun and beauty to catch her as he pulls her tightly against his chest, tucks her head against a broad shoulder and grasps at her waist. Whatever he had imagined her flesh to feel like paled in comparison to her warmth, the softness that gives with each press of a digit that makes her tense beneath his touch.

She’s crying, shaking, terrified as she weakly raises her head and offers him a smile. It’s the kind of smile that screams savior, and he can’t bring himself to correct her. No one has ever looked at him with such tenderness.

Everything quiets the moment she looks up to him like that, after condemning herself to him as though she knows nothing of men and gods. She looks at him like he’s an angel, in turn he bites his tongue so hard he can feel the pinpricks of blood and soreness blossom from the wound. He knows he isn’t good, but the heavens have got their filth, too.

“Thank you.” She speaks in a whisper as the world above falls back into place, blanketing them both in shadow and the scent of soil and brimstone. Politeness seems unnecessary, now, though he places her gently onto her feet.

He’s far too mesmerized to stop himself from dropping to his knees in front of her and trailing a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing flesh so warm that the very feeling lingers pleasantly against his palm.

If a god couldn’t pluck him from this emptiness and set him on a right path, perhaps a goddess could, as he has always imagined. It’s only confirmed the instant he realizes she isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“I didn’t save you,” he explains calmly.

He’s struck down titans, claimed rulership over the underworld, and yet nothing has made him feel smaller than the fretful look in her eyes as she looks down to him kneeling before her like little more than a common man. As if to provide comfort, selfishly to himself, his massive hands drift higher to rest on her hips still wet with river water and blades of grass clinging to her just as he has longed to do. For what’s felt like an eternity of waiting, of pining, only to have it end with something as simple as a flower.

“I brought you here.”

She’s still beautiful when she cries; a palm is clasped over her mouth, eyes swimming as she trembles in his grip. Of course, she knows what this is about without ever having to ask, yet she still does as if to plead him to tell her that her thoughts are all wrong— that she’s safe and will return to her lovely friends, to her mother that would assuredly be worried sick and furious.

The rise to his feet feels like a mile long stretch, whilst he keeps her caged between the dirty wall and the vast expanse of chest. He shushes her with a gentle tone, wipes her tears away with the ghosting of fingertips before pushing up the veil covering his face to lie claim to her mouth as though his very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. Though he did not fear Demeter, nor his brothers should she call upon them, he feared not having this ethereal, gentle thing at his side. He feared the creep of loneliness that ravaged his bed each night.

She sighs against his mouth, but does not reciprocate. Everything about her is tense and stressed, a wild mare preparing to kick out for the first time. His tongue lolls out to lap against her soft lips, just twice before he forces himself to part from her.

His beloved brushes away stray tears from her cheeks with the meat of her palms, shivering just a little as she tries to force herself to straighten up, appear braver despite the way she teeters on the edge of falling apart so easily before him. The heavy gaze of obsession fixed upon his face turns further predacious when she apologizes for not being able to help herself in response.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she explains, holding out the ruined flower to him in one, shaking hand. She protests in her own way, eternally kind, but it all falls on deaf ears as he brushes the petals from her palm and takes her up into his arms again. With an arm beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped tightly around her middle, he leads her deeper into the underworld.

A mere taste wouldn’t do.

Her protests are nothing more than soft sniffles when he does take her to his bed of pelts, her arm even thrown over his shoulder as her body presses tightly to him. He thinks for only a moment that he could take his time, stop this all before she truly does grow to loathe him, but the descent into the bed only fortifies his resolve; his belief that this gentle woman of the earth, who smells of magnolia and clear waters belonged entirely to him. For now and forevermore.

“You are to be my wife.”

That quiets her for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his once more as he hovers over her, a palm to either side of her head. She has a mind to shyly curl her hand against her chest then, centered between her breasts which rise and fall with each flighty breath. It’s not panic, but more— curiosity, a misleading thing that he takes to be acceptance until she graces him with a mere murmur of her voice again.

“I don’t belong here.”

König knows that she doesn’t belong in a place like this, for all her grace to be lost to the cold, the rot; his kingdom is nothing but a wasteland riddled with the dead and subjects who take up the mantle of cruelty in his stead. The thought of actually allowing her to go instills rage and melancholy so quickly, he curls his fingers into the fur below to keep himself from flinching.

“You will.”

A digit reaches to trail across her bottom lip, tentative, but the need to touch overwhelms him past the point of caring for much else. To his amazement, she still does not push him away.

“How could that be?”

He doesn’t respond.

More than bedding her, a matter more pressing pushes to the forefront of his mind. Though he knows the likelihood of anyone being aware of her disappearance is nonexistent, a mere whisper from the beaks of crows by this time, he would do well to ensure that she wasn’t leaving. Just as every other soul resigned to dwell here with him, she too would remain.

“You’re famished,” he whispers the suggestion as he splays a palm out over her bare abdomen, only backing away enough to allow her a small length of space between them.

Her concerned stare shoots from his palm to his veil in an instant before she weakly nods her head and props herself up on her elbows.

“Quite… yes.”

She allows herself to be pulled into his lap without a fuss, doesn’t make mention of the hardened cock beneath her. His mind is swimming with the fantasies that kept him tame on so many nights without her as he presses his nose against her temple. A shallow intake of breath, and her lips part readily for him as he pushes the sweet pomegranate seed into her mouth, savoring the brush of her tongue against his fingertip. She eats without thought, never knowing how she’s tethered herself to his plane.

There’s an offering of sweet wine followed by a gathering of honeysuckle for her to sip the nectar from as well before he’s convinced she’s pliant enough. Despite the desire raging within him for all of this time, he would not be cruel to her. The thought of hurting this sweet, little dream doesn’t excite him. It’s her love that he wants, not her anguish.

He lies her back with sweet whispers, gentle caresses as he listens to her murmurs in response. She speaks of the stories only small creatures would know; the way the winds change and the rivers flood, the prettiest places she’s been. No fruit has ever tasted sweeter to her than the pomegranate, and nothing has ever filled him with such emotion as the moment he penetrates her.

He speaks to her through it, tries to, whilst he’s overcome with a pleasure that assuredly no other has ever had the blessing of. She affixes herself perfectly to him, clinging to him as he takes her with gentle thrusts. Gritted teeth and barely contained grunts are met with dulcet mewls as her hands reach for his. His heart aches, truly, at the knowledge that she isn’t meant for this place; his kingdom is nothing but suffering, and she belongs beneath the sun in meadows of flowers. His last thrust is deep, reminds him of the places he dares not tread often, the domains of his brothers, pillow soft clouds and a heaven far above, lost to him.

It’s her consoling him when he fills her to bursting with his seed— delicate arms curling around his head, cradling him against her breasts as she silenced the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed. He had damned her, yet her soul had not soured; not all flowers withered in the dark.

The endless night is easier on his beloved after the first. She visits with the other souls and comes to him for comfort when the screams and cries in the darkness become too much to bear. She’s less fragile than he had anticipated when she demands he bring her home, and those demands so often end with little else than König taking her into his arms to lead her elsewhere. The underworld can be beautiful too, when seated upon a throne being hand fed by a man that knows little more than to blanket her in as much softness as he can muster. He tells her of the titanomachy, of the white tree, of anything to keep her entertained. His tongue does not shy from telling her that he loves her, too, often met with a shy glance or a soft giggle. Not outright disdain, and for now it feels enough.

She cries often, in longing for her mother and her friends, though never over this love she had never sought herself. Her loneliness only fuels her need for comfort. Selfishly, he believes that he’s saved the night she willingly wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and falls asleep nestled against his chest.

— — —

With the reliance on mortal offerings and Demeter’s anguish having been brought to light with seasons of failed harvests, it was only a matter of time before she was forced away from him. The months without her feel dreadful and empty, but he doesn’t dare disturb her while she walks the earth at her mother’s side. The agreement was beneficial for all of the gods and goddesses, and he knew better than to tread upon it by rushing to her like little more than a pleading dog. When winter took hold, bathing the lands in its icy touch and withering the plants she cherished and freezing over the rivers her nymphs played in, she would return to him as she must.

Each time is different. His beloved is not simply a thoughtless vessel as many of his subordinates. She is the most incredible thing he’s ever had the joy of meeting.

When she returns in tears, calling to him for his comfort he does not hesitate to kiss them all away and remind her that her summers will return and everything above will be just as it was on the day that he brought her below.

Sometimes, she’s angry, jealous even. She asks him often why he doesn’t come to see her while she’s away. He is her husband, after all. Was there anyone else in which he spent his nights with? Someone fairer than even she? The satisfaction of seating her on his cock, satisfying her as she does him on their shared throne far out rivals even ruling the domain itself. He would do anything to prove to her that she was his only; the sole thing he even thought of whilst her mind was filled with new songs and tales from the nymphs she spent her time away with.

Never has she returned with a gift.

Yet, she stumbles back into his realm clutching a small satchel, dripping with the scent of a juice sweet and familiar. A pleasant smile paints her features as she seats herself next to him on the throne. The bench of marble felt far too vast and dreadful to hold someone so delicate, the sight is something he’s grown accustomed to; emptiness is replaced with familiarity seeing her interact with anything here. It may not be home to her, but something in the way she looks to him— as she always had with tenderness, makes him question if a part of her sees him as home.

“I’ve brought something back for you,” she chimes as she pats her thigh.

Each time was different, but it had never been like this before.

He pulls himself to her side before slumping down to rest his head against her, tracing his fingertips along the length of her leg as his gaze drops almost sheepishly.

“Did you?”

She hums in reply, plucking one of the seeds from the satchel before slipping her hand beneath the veil to feed him. His lips part as he takes in the flavor of the aril, the honeyed taste almost akin to the look in her eyes.

“Just like…” She trails off for a moment as she lowers her head to press a kiss to the cheek of his veiled face. The delicate laugh that follows is unlike any he’s heard from her prior, it’s unique, saved solely for him.

“The six that I fed to you?” He asks her quietly, as he pulls himself away from her to meet her eyes directly. The air around them feels thick, loosely charged with a feeling that he can’t quite place; an intensity that he’s never felt before. Any groaning or wailing off in the abyss is silent now, just quiet words spoken.

Things have always felt warmer since her descent, but he’s learned to not expect anything more than she was willing to give. Still, hope cinches his heart tighter than it ever did prior. Even in battle, slaying his father alongside his brothers, he had never felt his heart race the way it does now.

She nods her head, opening up the satchel just wide enough to reveal the other five arils.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“You should.”

He mulls over that for a moment before the fog finally clears. Any doubt that he had is remedied by a mere two words. He stares at her dumbly, searching her eyes for any hint that this is some horrible, cruel trick; that the implication is something he’s horribly misunderstood.

She couldn’t possibly come to love him… could she?

“To tie you to me,” she says softly.

The smile remains on her face when she closes the distance to kiss him. Not over the veil, but beneath it this time.

Her descent was one of a selfish longing, and his felt as though he was plunging into a world of flowers.

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 41

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

NOTE: A bit NSFW, not explicit but tread with caution

The Box’s spells keep the lotus flower afloat in the days Remus works on the translation. Sirius isn’t needed for this part, there are no charms to break and no more curses to find, but he comes to the library every day anyway. Buys a record player and charms it to play their favourite songs, pesters Remus to take breaks for lunch. 

It’s to the chorus of Golden Years that Remus cracks the list of ingredients.

“It says Osiris’ gift of life, the water of Nile in flood,” he tells Sirius.

His flower, the lotus, red as your blood the mornings I find you after the change.

A lock of your hair, wolf-kind, to bind the potion to you only.

The tree of rebirth: wood of Acacia, it’s leaves, it’s sap.

“Good thing we already have a werewolf to use for the hair,” Sirius says, affectionately pulling on a stubborn curl behind Remus’ ear, “and the Nile is in flood.”

“Seems too lucky.”

“Seems like fate.”

It’s the kind of thing Sirius has been saying more. It tugs on Remus’ insides and on the part of him that wants to keep them just like this, forever, in the heat of Aswan and in library offices and in their lovely apartment.

The part that occludes the other, smaller one that says “Sirius did his job. There’s nothing left for him. You have to let him go.”

Because that was the deal. Sirius breaks the curse, Sirius is a free man. 

Relatively free, anyway. Not allowed back in Egypt, ever, but able to go home to England and to the Potters. Given by the length of letters James has been sending, he’s sorely missed.

But Remus stands in his way. Selfishly, greedily. Doesn’t say let’s let Kingsley know you’re finished. Doesn’t say thank you for your help, you did a great job. Doesn’t ask will you miss me?

He says nothing, and the guilt grows each day he watches Sirius wake up by his side.

It’s a week until the new moon, when the potion has to be brewed and they agree to get the water two days before it. Remus works on the rest of the translation. Peter comes to see them on the weekends, on some evenings they aren’t working. Remus gives them privacy. Locks himself in his bedroom with a book and falls asleep early, wakes up to Sirius pressing warm lips into the back of his neck. Arms around his waist, hands that drag him backwards and into the tightness of his embrace. Thinks this, please, every day in the soft delirium between sleep and waking as Sirius asks yes? and, always, he answers yes; the hand on his hip turning into fingers pulling him open then Sirius filling him up, closed, full.

Falling asleep like this, with nothing but a lazy spell Sirius used to clean them up after, with legs boneless and mind emptied but for the need to give. To offer at an altar, like ancient prayers, like: your goat is brought to you, its head is cut; your goose is brought to you, its head is cut. 

Like Remus is Osiris and Sirius is Isis, stitching him together, flesh to flesh.

NEXT PART

NOTES:

missed you guys <3

can’t believe this has reached 30k words now… I’ve still got probably about 5 to write?

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@arasael

@a-pine-cone

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[mynarco]

Fragaria Info Bureau #13 Music Details (ENG TL)

I haven't seen any public translations about the info from this livestream, so I'm stepping up to bat! Also with my own findings/analyses.

Note that even though I'm doing my best to make these as accurate as possible through editing/Jisho double-checks, I've still had to rely on translation machines for this. Sorry for the inconvenience- please let me know if there's anything I got wrong here!

Covers Your Melody, 拝啓、暁染める虹よ, and Charcoal White. A looooong post follows under the cut.

YOUR MELODY - QUESTION 1

"Regarding the flowers that appear in the music video, what kind of flowers are they? Also, what's the meaning of each flower?"

"The flowers that the three Fragaria are holding are as follows:

Hallritt: Geraniums

Merold: Roses and dahlias

Rimicha: Sunflowers and birds of paradise

Each of the flowers have a meaning and were specially chosen to match their Fragaria. We hope you can have fun thinking about why each flower was chosen!"

Geraniums symbolize a lot of things, but I think friendship and peace are the most important meanings when they relate to Hallritt and his Minna Nakayoku mindset. In the Victorian era, though, they instead symbolized foolishness; the mark of someone careless with their actions. (Also for those of you into astrology, geraniums are also the flower of Scorpio, which he just so happens to be. Take that as you will?)

Roses have an obvious meaning even if you don't care about flower symbolism; love. And that's fairly obvious for Merold's feelings about Melody. The colors themselves also have meanings, though; the white rose in his bouquet symbolizes purity and innocence (Melody is pretty pure and innocent), and light pink symbolizes happiness and admiration. Similarly, dahlias are a symbol of devotion and love, with white ones sharing a similar meaning to white roses.

Merold also has white lilies in his bouquet, which goes unmentioned in the answer for some reason... Another flower meaning purity, but it also represents commitment.

Sunflowers are a symbol of happiness, strength and loyalty, while birds of paradise symbolize joy, faith and freedom. I spent too much of my energy rambling about the other two, so I don't have a lot to say for Rimicha and his flowers... I know in my heart, though, that they suit him perfectly. Give that boy some happiness! He deserves it!

YOUR MELODY - QUESTION 2

"What's the meaning behind 'As more and more things break, I become cowardly, but I'm still so happy I dance on the staff'? Why is he 'happy to become a coward'?"

The question is referring to Merold's solo part at the start of the second chorus. Starts at 2:16. Translating song lyrics is absolutely NOT my forte so take the phrasing with a little more salt than the rest.

"The more important something is, the more timid and scared we become when we begin to think it might be broken or lost. At the same time, having something that important to you is such a joyful and precious thing that it can feel like a melody is playing in your heart. For Merold, the lyrics say that something like that exists for him."

All I'm gonna say here is. Yeah. They're right.

拝啓、暁染める虹よ - QUESTION 1

"This song is characterized by its poetry readings. Was there anything important that was kept in mind when deciding on the lines to be read?"

This question refer to the parts of the song where the knights speak in full sentences as opposed to singing.

"The poetry is read in parts divided between Willmesh, Louterstella and Myunna, but the meaning is retained even when read as a whole. It was created carefully to ensure its content would match Willmesh's worldview. However, even though the song has such attention to detail, each part read by the characters also conveys something they themselves resonate with. Please listen to them again with this in mind."

Focusing on Myunna and Louter specifically since every line resonates with Will in some way. The first readings are "Even if we're apart, no matter where you are" "If we believe in each other, we can communicate". Second readings are "I want to watch the scenery change with you" "I want to capture the unchanging beauty". Take these as you will.

Also Chiba-san starts emphasizing the "meru" part of the song's title around here due to the next question. I still get a laugh out of him going "Haikei, akatsuki soMERU! nijiyo" lol.

拝啓、暁染める虹よ - QUESTION 2

"Regarding the song's title, Dear Dawn-Dyed Rainbow, it's been stated that 'Rainbow' represents Wish Me Mell and her rainbow-colored tail, but what does 'Dawn' represent?"

"'Dawn' represents the connection between Willmesh and Cielomort. The title was chosen to express the relationship between the childhood friends who are connected by the same sky, the 'sunrise' leading to the 'blue sky'."

Do I need to say it.

CHARCOAL WHITE - QUESTION 1

"This song expresses Chaco's feelings towards Lord Pochacco, but does it also express his feelings towards Arupek?"

"Charcoal White is a song that expresses Chaco's feelings towards his lord Pochacco. However, from his perspective, it seems like Aru and Pochacco have a lot of things in common."

So it's a no, but also yes by merit of them being similar in Chaco's eyes... That's how I see it, anyways. Even though we already know he thinks Aru is like Pochacco (from the QnA), I could be reading too much into it.

CHARCOAL WHITE - QUESTION 2

"What kinds of feelings were put into the creation of this song?"

"Chaco is skilled in everything he does, but even he has a subject of admiration. Even though he admires them, he knows that can never become like them. This song was created with a feeling of 'accepting a grayness that can never become white', as he still believes in himself as he is."

Something about purity, it's definitely been said before me.

[foxes-that-run]

Falling

Falling depicts depression so well. I love it so much, this performance, the music video, his voice, everything. It breaks my Haylor heart but I love it.

While Fine Line is the decision point to step over the line of friendship, Falling is the aftermath of doing so. It is 'chase 2 girls loose the 1'. Cruel Summer was written in the same period with a similar meaning.

To me, the narrative order would be: Sunflower Vol 6 / DBTC/ Golden > Fine Line > Cherry > Falling (& Cruel Summer) > To be so Lonely (& Afterglow). The Fine Line album order is more hopeful though.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left

I love the imagery in the opening verse, it's a clear reference to a similar time in From the Dining Table, but more mature. Like FTDT, it’s about Harry and his own self-reflection and regret.

Taylor has also referenced baggage in Renegade for Big Red Machine "Get your shit together / So I can love you? (carry your baggage up my street / And make me your future history)"

[Chorus] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

To Zane Lowe Harry said he wrote it in a towel in "20" minutes. When talking about Cherry Harry said he could see him becoming someone he didn't want to be. Falling is such a vulnerable song. Harry said the highs and lows of writing Fine Line were the highest and lowest of his life. He was certainly really feeling his emotions during the Live on Tour shows that year and spoke about therapy in interviews about them.

"What if I'm someone you won't talk about" hits me, this sounds like TS, she doesn't talk about him, but they constantly sing about each other. I think there have been times this relationship has been just as muses, rather than actual partners. When I hear this line I think he is scared of losing that because they were the later.

[Verse 2] You said you cared, and you missed me too And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

The 'too many songs about you' line is clearly directed to TS. In Little Freak, later that year, he said "Somehow, you've become some paranoia", HS was asked about TS constantly for years, they hid any interaction then both wrote most of Lover and Fine Line about each other. I think they were struggling with more mature lives, careers and how each other fits in.

The coffee is out at the Beachwood Cafe is a way to say the happy life once shared is now depleted and gone. Taylor also likens the end of a relationship to a drought in Clean, where she "The drought was the very worst / When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst". Clean goes on to have imagery of rain pouring in which the Falling music video uses.

'And kills me because we've run out of things to say' reminds me of the theme of not communicating and line in Two Ghosts "Tongue-tied like we've never known / Telling those stories we already told/ 'Cause we don't say what we really mean"

https://x.com/axlsugar/status/1813649655302910352?s=46&t=Flotf9--MTYBMMuqijZ9lg

[Bridge] And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again

The heart breaking bridge is a deep fear that his muse will never need him again because they are were in a long term relationship.

While in Cherry Harry has a begrudging, somewhat petty acceptance that CR had moved on. His relationship with TS is more complicated, even apart they sing of being fated so it's temporary, Falling is the fear of when it is not:

OOTW " We were built to fall apart/ Then fall back together (back together)

HYGTG "Broke your heart, I'll put it back together / I would wait for ever and ever (I want you for ever and ever)"

Suburban Legends " When you told me we'd get back together / And you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever"

Someday (Michael Buble) "We could be in love once more / Till then I won't give my love away / Darling, I'm forever only yours"

Golden "Hold it, focus, hoping / Take me back to the light / I know you were way too bright for me/ I'm hopeless, broken / So you wait for me in the sky"

There is a list of 20 songs here.

Falling and Clean are similar in that they actually consider an end. NTWDT does too, but it's more mad than resigned as in Clean and Falling.

Which is why Cardigan and it's music video is a response to Falling.

[thatonetwig]

Hood x Void stuffs because they won't get out of my head.

Dynamic: Cocky, egotistical, and short dude alongside his partner, who's nice, humble, and tall; thinks of their partner as a bit of a handful, but still loves them anyways.

Headcanons:

• Void has a habit of stealing his boyfriend's hoodies whenever he feels like it. He doesn't have a reason for doing it apart from, "They’re super comfy."

• Jet REALLY doesn't like Hood despite him and Void being together for a good amount of time (he's jealous that Hood is taking away Void's attention from him). He still tries to claw out his eyes if he picks him up.

• Hood sometimes sings the chorus/backing vocals and does the mixing for some of Void's songs. Void secretly finds Hood's voice to be great and wants to include him in a song or two with a lead part, but his ego hasn't allowed him to do that (at least not yet).

• The Accretions like Hood as a person, but they're just a bit apprehensive of who he's associated with and keep an eye on him and Void in case anything happens.

• Void let Hood brush his hair once, and then never again (Hood doesn't have any, and Void has a full head of hair, so I think you can guess what happened there).

• Speaking of hair, Void does let Hood play with his hair sometimes when it's just them because both of them like the feeling of it. Void does like Hood's head too...because it's a reflective surface and he gets to look at himself in it.

• Hood's main way of expressing his love is through physical gestures such as small kisses and quick hugs (he doesn't get to hold them out for longer very often, but loves every second of it when he does get to).

• Void's main way of expressing his love is through gift giving, such as merch from his concerts and other things related to him. Occasionally, though, he'll throw in an alternative gift such as an expensive microphone or a DJ turntable. Hood appreciates everything he gets from him.

• The reason why most of their hugs and kisses don’t usually last longer than a minute is because Void isn't used to physical touch. He likes the feeling of what's being done to him, but he feels uncomfortable at the same time and pulls away. When they do last longer than a minute (which is rarely), Void loves it just as much as Hood does and doesn't want to let him go.

Some Vocaloid songs I associate with these two:

• Kanadetomosusora - Sasanomaly (feat. Hatsune Miku)

• Lonely Universe - Aqu3ra (feat. flower and Hatsune Miku)

• It’s Just Life - nulut (feat. flower and Yuzuki Yukari

Finally, some Incorrect Quotes that may or may not be OOC!

• Hood: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE!

Void: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

• Hood: Are you ready to commit?

Void: Like, a crime or a relationship?

• Void: I’m having salad for dinner!

Hood:

Void: Well, fruit salad.

Void: Actually, it’s mostly grapes.

Hood:

Void: Okay, it’s all grapes.

Void: Fermented grapes.

Hood:

Void:

Hood:

Void: It’s wine.

Void: I’m having wine for dinner.

• Void: *sighs* I have no friends...

Hood:

Hood: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

• Hood: Void? What are you doing here?

Void, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

• Void: How do tall people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Hood: Void, it's four o'clock in the morning.

Void: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

• Void, to Hood: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

• Void: There is no i in happyness…

Hood: There is if you fucking spell it right.

• Hood: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant.

Void: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

Also:

*Void is about to go on stage and there is no mirror*

"Hood! Could you come here for a sec? I need to borrow the back of your head!"

Anyway, thank you for reading my propaganda about two gay grapes! Hope you enjoyed!

[trial-dogs]

I seen where you were asking of some people could request something outsiders related! So I’m here now, can you write a fic where Johnny accidentally confesses his love to you? It doesn’t matter how he does it though 😂 gracias me amigo !

alright, here you go ^^

____________________________________________________

Johnny and You had been spending a lot of time together as of recently. From the first time you’d happened to have met Johnny, shivering and beaten blue at that rickety old lot, Johnny’s benign demeanor had stood out against the rest of Tulsa. He was a far cry from what was typical from someone who lives in Tulsa. At the present moment, Johnny and you had taken a curt walk to the outside of town, far beyond the constant presentence of hostile people. People who wanted them dead simply for being born as what some would idioticily consider to be, “lesser.” 

Instead, they sat on soft grass. Flowers danced in the warm summer breeze around them, their petals ripping apart from them, off to somewhere far, far away. The skyward sun would soon retire to its place of rest for the night. Its confidant, the moon, would take its emplacement, ensuring it a peaceful rest. But for a little while longer, it sat tiredly in the sky, its rays overtook anything they could outstretch their hands to reach. It laid across Johnny and You, creating a blanket of warmth and comfort to hang over you two in an encompassing hold. 

You looked at Johnny, his tanned skin reflecting the yellowish-red from the setting sun. A scar  ran along his face, one left there by cruel, unjust and brutish people, seemed to nearly glow, sunlight dripping off of it. His adoring eyes, full of grace, stared pointed towards the open field in front of them. Its rays peeked over a downed tree that seemed to house wayward animals. 

Johnny adjusted from where his all too skinny arms held up his bruised form, to be laying on his back. His chest rose and fell, but it seemed more relaxed than normal. He wasn't tensed up as normal, content to lay on his back and be covered by the faint stars above, as they burned up what seemed like an impossible distance away. 

Johnny spoke up, his quiet voice joining the chorus of humming bugs in the foreground, 

“It’s so peaceful out here..” His words spoke more like a content sigh, a release of tension. You nodded, a slight and gentle nod. You laid yourself down beside him, a slightly startled squeak rang out from Johnny at the sudden motion. The sun had disappeared in the distance by now, the stars now watching over you two, suspended in the inky black sky.

Your hand landed atop his smallish hand. Warmth radiated from it, as the colder and harsher night air began to settle in the vicinity. Johnny, seeking out some sort of source for heat, began to shuffle ever so closer to you. His scrawny body began to inch closer to you, even if he seemed unaware of it. 

He turned his head to face yours, his sheepish expression painted across his face as you turned your own head to face him. He thought for a moment,  Eye bangs, salient on him, looked worse than normal as he sluggishly perked up to speak,

“This has been really nice… thank you for taking me out here..” His voice was full of adoration, as he seemed to hush out his next words whilst abandoning all thought or reason attached, a split second decision made by his sleepy brain. 

“I really love you, you know that?” He smiled tiredly for a moment, before his eyes widened and he scrambled in an attempt to explain himself. He stuttered out words and muttered apologies. He mumbled something along the lines of, “please don't hate me, I'm so sorry.” he looked lost, like he’d been dropped in the middle of the ocean, with his fragile body chained down to a cylinder block, and then left for dead. 

“Hey, hey. Don't apologize, it’s okay.” You pressed your hand gently, cupping his blushing form in your palm, and shushed him. Your eyes, full of kindness, looked in his fearful ones, and silent plea for him to listen to your words. 

“I understand if you’d never talk to me again..” He pointed his nervous eyes towards the ground below them, wishing the floor would just swallow him whole and he’d never have to think about this ever again. 

“No, I would never. It's okay, I ain’t mad at you.” You reassured him over and over again, attempting to get it across that you wouldn't leave him in wallow and regret. You pulled him closer to you, having his head rest on your chest while he listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to calm down.

“Really..?” Johnny spoke up, his eyes looking hopeful. A hopeful looked not often seen on his face anymore. It was a rare sight because there wasn't much of a reason to be hopeful anymore. He doesn't think so, at least. It was stolen from him a long time ago, ripped from his hands before he could even get used to feeling it between his fingers and running through his head. 

“Really, I promise you.” He smiled at your response, choosing to lay his head back down and revel in his feelings. He felt like a few words from you could tear it all away, and he’d be left alone. Alone, cold, lost. But he wasn't. And he felt as though he wished this could last forever, and he’d never to face those cruel, awful people who wanted to hurt him, hurt him so bad he’d pass out and never wake up again. 

The moon watched over you two, a pale light emitting from it. It wasn't as blinding or brilliant as the sun, but unlike the sun, people could fully look at it and appreciate its beauty. The lightning bugs around in the grass mirrored in stars, in a never ending dance between them. Your hands interlocked, and a content humming left his lips. He shrinked in on himself, and looked in consideration. He seemed like he didn't want to get too comfortable, fearful it was all going to be ripped away from him in a moment's notice. A few words left your lips,

“I love you too.”

[jaxs-beanie]

Hadestown Tour Notes 2!

I saw Hadestown on tour again today (technically yesterday lol, February 17 2023) and it was just as amazing, if not more so, than the first time! We had no understudies, so Orpheus was Chibueze Ihuoma, Eurydice was Hannah Whitley, Hades was Matthew Patrick Quinn, Persephone was Brit West, Hermes was Nathan Lee Graham, the Fates were Dominique Kempf, Belen Moyano, and Nyla Watson, and the Workers were Courtney Lauster, Jamal Lee Harris, Eddie Noel Rodriguez, Jordan Bollwerk, and Lindsey Hailes.

ACT 1

 No understudies and had front-row seats on orchestra left, could see the whole right of the stage! Hades’ leather coat hung on a coat rack on the far right wall. Jamal’s chorus member has a green beanie! Courtney looked kinda sarcastic at Orpheus at first, Jordan’s chorus member was very excited, Orpheus was bopping to RTH, Hades clapped by slamming his hand on the balcony railing. Eurydice and the Fates shared A Look, and she seemed to recognize Jamal’s worker when she came in the door.

The Fates scared Orpheus away at first in Any Way the Wind Blows, then he got stronger and tried to approach Eurydice again, and was right to the right of her when she asked for a match but was too late to give it cause she saw Hermes first. Clotho enjoyed teasing Eurydice a lot while Lachesis made a bit of a motherly gesture on her final verse. Hermes was soft and sweet about hearing Orpheus sing.

Hermes couldn’t help but laugh when Eurydice called Orpheus crazy, Courtney seemed to agree at first but by the end of Wedding Song she was totally shipping Orphydice. Lindsey has the red dishrag, and Jamal and Eddie were the table workers for the birds verse. Chibueze’s Wedding Song was smooth and bluesy kinda like Justinpheus. I got the feeling Jamal’s worker was really into it too, he felt like Eurydice’s friend.

Eddie briefly looked curious about Hermes in Epic 1, then got bored. Hermes drew out ‘Hades��’ like ‘Orpheus, you should know this already.’ Orpheus really enunciates every word on the Epics compared to Wedding Song, which was more breezy, and started a lil shy, then got strong. Eddie, Jordan, and Lindsey looked awed at Orpheus’s singing and very interested, plus Eurydice. During the final Epic 1 verse—down below and up above—Hermes had a small dance and look with each of the Fates in order. Eddie was back to his table spot on ‘that was long ago’ and looked sad.

In Living it Up, Jamal was the first to take off his jacket and was eager for spring, Courney was shipping Orphydice and encouraged Eury to dance, Eddie caught the flowers and spun. Tour workers have a new line; after ‘Anybody want a drink’ they all go YEAH! Lindsey danced first, then Jordan and Courtney danced, then Eddie and Jamal. Lindsey was a dance machine! Eddie and Jamal’s workers felt like a couple, especially down below. Jordan yelled ‘YEAH, ORPHEUS!’ followed by Lindsey. Orph was teary during the toast, especially with Persephone ‘asking nothing in return’, also felt a lil drunk. Then Hermes gargled on his toast and we all laughed, Eddie held and spun Seph to end the song.

Hermes looked kinda protectively at Persephone during All I’ve Ever Known and guarded Eurydice’s candle, while Jordan took Orpheus’s guitar. Eurydice was cautious at first and Orpheus matched that energy, and his legs wobbled when she pushed him backwards. When they stargazed at the end they raised their hands to the sky and held each other’s hands.

Persephone’s ‘OH, COME ON’ was hilarious, Jordan put guitar back, Eurydice was curiously watching Seph before she started dancing, and when Hermes mentioned hound dogs she moved to protect Orpheus, who looked terrified and scrambled into her arms. Hermes was repeatedly scaring Orphydice apart before they danced, then laughed and cuddled before Hades showed up. Courtney and Jordan got Persephone’s coat, the audience laughed at ‘You’re early’, Orpheus hugged Eurydice on the last note.

Courtney gave Eurydice her jacket and Eury gave Orph a shoulder brush goodbye, and the Fates blocked him from hearing her—the wind drowned her out.  Orpheus held ‘king of oil and cooooal’ a very long time, and the Workers did some really cool spins as Epic 2 ended. Hades was super duper proud of himself and Persephone was upset, while the workers were scared and kept protecting their faces from the balcony, where they’d be seen. Orpheus felt like he was swimming through a sea of fog in Chant, and when Eurydice saw Atropos she ran for her life. Hermes was calling for Orpheus like he couldn’t see him. Eurydice put her hands in her pockets to try and save the coat but failed. Persephone felt sad for the workers and Eurydice on her last verse.

Hades saw the light, shielded his eyes with a hand, then put on sunglasses. He felt confident and secure that Eurydice would follow him, and was dripping with scorn on the ‘hand to mouth’ verse. The Fates looked like they were measuring Eurydice’s thread on the intro to Chips, and Hermes looked stoic, almost like a statue. Eurydice was scared and felt desperate to avoid her fate but gave in.

Orpheus heard Hermes playing with the coins and got curious. Hermes didn't blow out the candle during Gone I'm Gone...he blew it out around the 'you'll find another muse somewhere' line and was holding it when Orpheus came by. Orpheus’s ‘no’ was broken and kinda sounded like a ‘nope.’ Hermes was a drama king as he gave directions, Workers right behind Orpheus with the lamps. Orph ran straight into one center stage but I think it was planned. When the Fates caught him the Workers were working, and at the end the lamps raised into the ceiling. The Workers were still and quiet for Why We Build the Wall, Jordan prepped Hades’ microphone. Hermes looked upset at Hades, while Jamal looked really into the song. Hades loosened his jacket early, where Eury could see, but undid his tie when only Seph was looking. The band hung around onstage a bit after the act break.

ACT 2

For Our Lady of the Underground Hermes looked worried about Seph and her drinking, he made a tsk motion as he watched her drink like he was warning her to be careful. Persephone looked right at me before the sky verse, and we have a new ship, Hermes and trombone man (first name Tim). He had a cowboy hat on and Hermes was swaying and laughing to the music with him, holding the flowers before handing them to Seph. Hermes looked scandalized on the final OLOTU moments ‘tell my husband to take his time’ and backed away a bit.

Way Down 2 felt like Persephone was seeing the workers’ and Eurydice’s conditions for the first time on the ‘floor’ as it were and she didn’t like it. Eddie was the Fates’ model worker and he didn’t even blink when they presented him. He and Courtney felt like the workers’ leaders, the others physically leaned on him for support later in the song. Clotho felt like she was enjoying it the most.

In Flowers Persephone was facing Eurydice for the whole song, but her eyes were closed as she and the workers slept. The air was smoky and hazy from fog, it felt like you were drifting just like Eurydice was. She was broken and scared for herself and her life, and by the end she really felt like she was dead and had resigned herself to it. Orphydice did a HUGE hug and spin and the biggest laugh was Orph’s blunt ‘No!’ when she asked if he heard. Hades shows up and is lit in blue on ‘No you can’t’ before revealing himself.

Persephone was reaching out to Orpheus like she wanted to hug him in Papers and even when Hades shut her down it took a while for her to stop reaching. Clotho took the guitar and Orpheus sounded so broken when he asked Eurydice if what Hades said was true. Eddie and Jamal led the charge in beating Orpheus up, Hermes, Hades, and Persephone all watched, Eurydice ran to the side I think, Eddie pinned Orph down. Hermes and Persephone watched Nothing Changes while the workers all gathered in a clump.

Afterwards Eurydice was scared to approach and Orpheus was scared to let her. Eurydice reached out a few more times and gave up while Persephone looked distressed and Hermes watched him with pride as he found his footing again. It felt like a lot of this If It’s True was directed at Persephone, and Orpheus was crying for a lot of it. Courtney rose first, then Eddie, Jamal, Jordan, and Lindsey, Eurydice ran for the door and barely made it. She took Orpheus’s hand as they went through the door together.

Hades felt frustrated and defensive in How Long while at the same time trying to understand and comfort Persephone. When they reached an impasse he felt very bitter and defensive, shouting ‘the song people sing’ sarcastic and upset. He watched the piano guy play for a bit.

Hermes was super happy about the rebellion going on while Hades lounged on the stairs like a predatory animal. Courtney and Jordan hugged, then Jamal and Lindsey clasped hands, then Eddie and Courtney held one another’s shoulders. Hades did the finger guns again while Orph’s ‘raise my voice’ was angry and proud, determined to make a change. Jamal and Lindsey high fived while Eurydice and Courtney did a secret handshake. Hades’ ultimatum was playful at first but the Great Beyond was snarled, there was stunned silence for a bit from how epic it was. Eurydice gave Orph a soft, scared hug before Epic 3.

Hermes prayed for Orpheus just like Andre did, he seems a bit more fatherly to Chibueze. Hermes looked right at me when Hades said ‘Awww, it’s about me?’ Orpheus got really strong on ‘I know how it was because he was like me’ and Hades got distressed at the first lalas. Orpheus looked at Eurydice, who stepped forward when he began to cite AIEK, and when Hades yelling at the workers didn’t work he started yelling at the band to quit it. Persephone was shocked as Courtney, Jamal, Lindsey, Eddie, and Jordan all took off their caps while Eurydice looked so proud of them—I feel like she made friends. Orpheus looked so sad singing about Hades, did the Damon riff on ‘see how he laaaabors beneath that load’ and was crying for the back half of Epic 3.

There was a huge gasp when Hades made the flower. Lindsey and Jordan and Jamal and Eddie stood in pairs while Courtney stood alone. The workers all hugged and Hermes took the mic, Eddie and Jamal felt super close and I feel like their workers were a couple or maybe related. Big laugh on ‘but how?’ and lots of sniffles as Hadeseph embraced through Promises. Orpheus suddenly backed away scared at first like he felt like he didn’t deserve Eurydice and pleaded his case. When he was done Courtney was ready to go and she and Eurydice shook hands, then Eury held arms with the other Workers.

Someone laughed really hard on ‘I dunno’ and the Workers were SO upset :( Clotho indicated Orpheus on ‘men are frail’ and it really looked like Hades was going to smite him as he slowly walked over and suddenly pounced, with Orpheus holding his guitar in front of him for protection. Orph looked totally convinced that he was gonna die and was surprised he wasn’t dead. HTKR was very unhinged especially on ‘freedom… FREEDOM’ and the ‘idle hands’ verse. He looked at Persephone who was protecting Orphydice and then beckoned Hermes over, who seemed to be trying to steady him so as not to do anything rash. He scared Orphydice again at the end of the song for no good reason, and then chilled by the band while Hermes relayed the news.

Courtney was ready to book it when Hermes said they could go, Hades was still looking at the band and the way he was standing showed off his butt for about a whole minute. Then he watched the workers when they were singing about leaving, and both couples were pulled apart at the same time by the turntable, it was really affecting how neither wanted to let go but were forced apart inch by inch. Clotho got in Orpheus’s face and he was super scared. Then Hermes got her back by indicating the Fates on ‘the dog to dread’ lines. Orpheus approached Hades for the handshake and Hades felt insecure about it. Eddie led the Workers on the ‘walk’ out.

Doubt Comes In gave me the timeless feel from Edmonton as they walked through the mist. As soon as the violin came in, Eurydice shrunk and fell back, out of sight, and Orpheus was alone for the moment. Atropos put herself and sisters between Orph and Eury, they couldn’t hear one another, and the Fates raised their lanterns only on their own lines. Courtney led the workers’ chain as Orphydice walked out, Orpheus sounded very scared of Hades on his second verse, then got angry. The fates scurry like mice to prepare for the turn, which got a ton of big gasps. Orph’s ‘Eurydice’ was so desperate and he reached for her to no avail.

Hermes began RTH 2 with his hands on his head, then cooled from distressed to sad as the fates and chorus watched. He was really sad on ‘from way back… when.’ Courtney, Eddie, and Jamal feel like their characters remember the reset as they were happy to see Eurydice back and ready to try again. Persephone brings spring flowers and Eurydice takes out the red carnation at the exact same time. Jamal and Eddie were a pair again. We gave another standing ovation, and in Cups I noticed Hades has steel-toed shoes. Jamal passed out drinks to the Fates and Hades, and Persephone and Eurydice were next to each other singing. Clotho looked right at me at the end of Cups, and Hades waved goodbye to us :) And we all went ‘WOOOOO!’ at the end of the instrumental after!

[granvarones]

in the vast universe of hip-hop’s fifty-year history, certain songs stand out for their musical brilliance and place within pop culture and their profound impact on how we eulogize the lives of the loved ones we lost. among these iconic tracks include pete rock & CL smooth’s “they reminisce over you (t.r.o.y.),” geto boys “six feet deep,” puff daddy’s “i’ll be missing you,” coolio’s “gangsta’s paradise,” cuban link’s “flowers for the dead,” and bone thugs-n-harmony’s deeply moving 1996 chart-topper, “tha crossroads.”

emerging in the early 1990s, the trail-blazing cleveland, ohio group achieved multi-platinum status several times under the guidance of mentor and west coast gangsta rap pioneer eazy-e. the group’s distinctive style was an exquisite fusion of rapid-fire flows, gripping storytelling, and melodic doo-wop vocal harmonizing that set them apart from the prevailing sounds of their era. their 1995 magnum opus, “E. 1999 eternal,” cemented their standing in hip-hop, and solidified their legacy.

“E. 1999 eternal” arrived in july 1995 to critical and commercial acclaim. while the lead single, “first of the month,” became the group’s first top 20 hit on billboard’s 100, it was the yet-to-be-released track, “crossroad,” an elegy for a friend lost to gun violence, that quickly generated buzz. when the song was released as the album’s third single in 1996, it had been reworked as a tribute to eazy-e and rechristened “tha crossroads.”

eric “eazy-e” wright co-founded ruthless records and the west coast hip-hop group NWA in 1987. the group’s 1988 album “straight out of compton,” which included the still relevant “fuck the police,” propelled gangsta rap to the forefront of commercial viability and is widely regarded as one of the most influential albums in hip-hop history. eazy and ruthless records continued to impact hip-hop landscape with the signing and global success of bone thugs-n-harmony.

on march 20, 1995, four months before bone’s “E 1999 eternal” was released, eazy-e stunned the hip-hop world when he announced that he was dying from AIDS complications. in a statement issued through his lawyer, eazy courageously stated, “i’ve got thousands and thousands of young fans that have to learn what’s real when it comes to AIDS. like the others before me, i would like to turn my problem into something good that will reach out to all my homeboys and their kin, because i want to save their asses before it’s too late.”” eric “eazy-e” wright died six days later on March 26 at the age of 30.

released in april 1996, a year after eazy-e’s untimely death, “tha crossroads,” debuted at #2 on billboard’s hot 100 before topping the chart for an astonishing 8 weeks. the emotional and spiritual tribute to their friend wally, uncle charles, eazy-e, and other family members, resonated with listens who themselves had experienced loss due to AIDS and gun violence. “tha crossroads” was anchored by a music video that provided a powerful visual to song’s chorus, “see you at the crossroads, so you won’t be lonely,” and offered hope, reminded that those lost to AIDS and gun violence would find solace in the afterlife.

the legacy of “tha crossroads” highlights hip-hop’s extensive history of amplifying social issues, including HIV/AIDS. in october 1995, urbanAID 4 lifebeat hosted hip-hop’s first AIDS benefit concert at new york city’s madison square garden. the now legendary roster of performers included run DMC, the notorious big, wu-tang clan, salt ‘n pepa, mary j. blige, brandy, and to name just a few. the concert also featured video testimonies from people living with HIV and a video message from bone thugs-n-harmony.

“see you at the crossroads, so you won’t lonely.”

“tha crossroads” is a heartbreaking hymn that envelopes you. it is a song about remembrance without making those lost too saintly to reach, touch, feel, and mourn. the song is about personal grief. it is about communal grief. it is testament that hip-hop has the power to inspire transformation and compassion. “tha crossroads” is a song that serves as a comfort for the grieving and dead – a reminder that a reunion will be at the crossroads.

“’cause i know ima meet you at the crossroads.”

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 20th February

You really don't get much more different than this week's songs. They're not stylistically a million miles apart - both swing-ish pop tunes - but in practice they're just aggressively different in tone. Not in a bad way, but each song is doing something very distinct within the genre niche they inhabit.

Magic Moments - Perry Como (peaked at Number 1)

Before getting going, a slight amendment: I think when I was talking about Pat Boone being grandfatherly, a week or two back, I was partly thinking of Pat, but also partly of Perry Como, that other perpetually sentimental American artist whose name starts with P. Perry's not a senior citizen by any means - he's in his mid-40s in 1958 - but he's definitely older and so the slightly mawdlin nostalgia of this song does feel a little more earned than Pat's did, a few weeks ago.

So yeah, this song. It's a surprisingly well-known song, I'd say - I didn't think I knew it, but it turns out it's the song that's used for the British adverts for Quality Street every Christmas. It's been used in a tonne of films and TV shows, too, so even if you don't think you know this song, you possibly do, or at least the chorus, as Perry warbles along gently: Magic moments, / When two hearts are caring, / Magic moments, / Memories we've been sharing.

It's cute - almost too cutesy, but there is something a bit more real and grounded in the way that Perry doesn't just wax aimlessly nostalgic. Instead, we get a whole series of actual descriptions. And I do like that the "magic moments" aren't all super perfect and romantic, that a lot of them are just these little everyday things, or even funny mishaps, the sort of thing that you can imagine becoming a family story, in the future, something you tell the kids about.

They're also fun beause they do give glimpses into 1950s romance and young people's social life, which you just know I'm a sucker for. We've got a telephone call that tied up the line for hours and hours, we've got the Saturday dance I got up the nerve / To send you some flowers. We've got a glimpse of dates at a penny arcade, hay rides, sleigh rides, watching sports matches together, and the Halloween hop when everyone came in funny disguises. It's all genuinely sweet - I really wanted to dislike this for being saccharine and twee, but the specificity and period-specific variety of date ideas just kind of charmed me, somehow.

I should admit, I am concerned about the time that the floor fell out of my car when I put the clutch down. Is that... a thing that can happen? What kind of piece of junk car was Perry driving? He's very much framing it as a funny, relatable anecdote, but I can't imagine any scenario where the whole floor falling out of your car doesn't straigt up injure you. Unless cars just could fall to bits like that in the 1950s? Alarming, in either case.

The whole song's fine, though, and has a very distinctive sound - you've got this very repetitive tune, a little bit of guitar, bass and what sounds like a bassoon, plus the occasional bit of whistling. It's perfectly engineered to sound quirky, cute and just a little bit silly. And Perry, throughout, sings like he's sitting by his fireplace reminiscing, not a trace of intensity or agitation in his voice. Just a chill wander down memory lane.

You Are My Destiny - Paul Anka (6)

And so, on the polar opposite end of the drama spectrum, we reach Paul Anka with You Are My Destiny, a song that is many things, but never subtle. I mean, you can tell that from the title, but if you didn't, the opening gives it away. You've got a big, shrill run up on violin, timpani rolling, cymbals crashing and a whole backing choir singing destiny! you're my dest-i-nyyyyyyy!

And then, a huge pause, right before Paul comes in, much slower, his voice hanging on each note desperately. He's emphasising every note on some lines, here, as he sings about how You are my destiny / You share my reverie / You are my dream come true / That's what you are. So yeah, lyrically, it's not a song afraid of going big, or slightly emo, either, as we move on to singing about how You feel my emptiness. Paul, clearly, is feeling some big feelings, clearly, wailing them into the mic like his life depends on it.

The music really rises to the occasion, here, with this gorgeous slinky arrangement. You've got a bass doubled by a bass saxophone or horn, playing this low, slinky ostinato, you've got the violins playing a similar pattern but in a much higher register, all vibrato and dramatic jumps in pitch, you've got a piano playing quiet but insistent triplets underneath, and then, offset from it all, you've got a single female backing singer doing an ethereal sort of wail that should sound silly, but really works.

The whole thing works, actually, much better than it has any right to. It's dramatically big, but there's something classy about it. The lyrics are positive, but the sound is a little bit downbeat, a little bit desperate, very emotionally-charged, a little bit dangerous, even. There's something a bit James Bond about it all. It's that kind of vibe, right? And the more I listen, the more I spot little musical moments that I really like, from the bit where the backing singers drop out, to the Big Old Ending, which feels earned here, in a way it doesn't always. Man, it's great!

I'd love to see this being used (or even covered) nowadays, because I really think you could do cool things with it. Weirdly, I can imagine a rock band like Muse, who really go all out with theatrical performances, doing a particularly good version - but perhaps that's because the melody for the opening line of it sounds a bit like the opening sung line of Supremacy, an (excellent) Muse song that coincidentally also has some serious James Bond vibes.

Both of those were pretty good, but there's only one that I'm left hankering to hear more of. So as cute as all those magic moments and cosy domesticity were, I think Paul has to take it, with his epic wailing and dramatic strings. Good stuff - highly recommended!

Favourite song of the bunch: You Are My Destiny

[mpxayden]

[...] Careful, airy steps made their way to the door so he could invite his friend in from the cold-The cold he now thankfully had shut the sliding glass door to, so his home should be heating back up soon-and with every bright fleck in his warm brown eyes he expressed so much appreciation for the man in front of him. "Oh Ayden.." His smile is just as warm and welcoming as he takes one of Ayden's cold hands into his own, squeezing it for a moment in his version of affection. "It has been far too long, how I have missed you!" Tau had never been told per say why December is so hard for his friend, but he did notice how every year the man just wilted around this time. A beautiful flower that still tries to stand so tall even when the frost is trying to take it's petals. Ayden still always stood tall, and it was so wonderful to see him blossomed and perky now. Of course he would always rather his friends be feeling their absolute best, and of course he is always willing to be the one to help them get there. He would be here for Ayden whether he was wilted, or like now when he stands tall. "I have to say I've been well simply because I feel I learned sooooooooooooo much while I was away this time. Though, I dislike that being gone, now has me unaware of how you have been, Ayden! Please sit sit I will light the fire, we must catch up." Tau strides to the open hearth fireplace, letting the logs catch to let a beautiful glow cast through Tau's mostly cream and brown toned interior. Warm and peaceful, a space that gave him the same feeling his friend gave him. Almost gliding around his house he returns with two blankets for the couch and a glass of wine for Ayden. Also the rest of the bottle. "Now please tell me what's been going on lately. Of course only what you wish to share you know I would never try to pry." To say he was excited to reconnect after so long was an understatement.

It was way beyond his expectation, how easily seeing Tau again and being welcomed into his serene apartment made him glow in bliss.

The moderate squeeze of Tau’s hand demonstrated his thankfulness to the other’s existence. “I feel like I should have been mad at you for how long you were away,” Ayden stated, his wide smile got his eyes curled up to mimic a crescent shape as he added. “But we both know I can’t, I’m just too happy to see you back!”

Running into Tau was like running into a breath of spring, like when one opened the window to the early morning’s glorious sunlight, to its merry dawn chorus, and saw that the once scrawny twigs had started to sprout. Decembers were harsh, each year with another creative way to bend him under their will, yet every time, he was propped right back up by the precious relationships that he got a fortune to keep throughout the years. Their presence in each other’s life may not be constant, and their friendship had a bumpy start, but Tau remained a true friend, someone Ayden could hold hand and felt like there had not been a day when they were away from each other. Ayden knew he would risk it to keep that happy smile on Tau’s face. There was no need to understand why, since their friendship was not built on reasons or conditions.

“You’ve got a looooooooot to tell me as well, Tau! Like seriously, don’t think about kicking me out before you give me the whole story of your journey,” he warned jokingly, reluctantly letting go of his friend’s hand as he sat down on the couch as told, taking that time to let his eyes take in the space. He watched closely as Tau lightened up the fireplace, observing the other’s movements out of habit. When the fire came up, he could not help smiling as the touch of pleasant warmth on his whole body. Rubbing his bare hands together, he cooed softly. “Aaahh, it feels so nice!”   

Ayden had stopped drinking alcohol for a while, after several incidents he sent himself headfirst into under its influence. Yet, for Tau and this very special occasion, he gladly accepted the glass offered to him and took a decent sip from it. While his friend excitedly asked to hear updates from him, Ayden put the glass down to tug one blanket over Tau’s lap, then the other on his own, suddenly having the urge to make Tau feel the warmth that he was also feeling inside. 

“Uhmm, where should I start?” He said sinking deeper into the couch and the comfortableness it offered, buying a little time to gather the most significant news that he would like Tau to know. Fiddling with the blanket, he started to list the events in no particular order. 

“So, you still remember Yeji, my twin lil sister? Last month she moved to Seoul to learn her way to becoming a violinist, going to spend quite a while there. I still work at The Rises, am trying to not drink too much, paint more, and my boss Ahri is now also my girlfriend,” he paused for a sheepish smile to bloom on his face, still finding it somewhat unreal that she agreed to date someone like him.

He then added, quite less joyful, but still got the need to let Tau learn about it. “Uhm, and, I also talked to Inari, and learned things about Yeji’s and my human father. His name is Akihide. I’m planning to go visit his tomb in Japan soon, maybe in March.” 

“That’s all about my life lately, now it’s your turn! Tell me everything you want to tell me please, I’m all ears!” He passed the ball to Tau, excitement to learn about his friend’s life while they were apart shining bright in his eyes and voice tone.

[luckyqueenreign]

The Story of Us - is a four-part series that will delve into MC (Gemma) and Suresh's relationship pre-villa.

If you missed and of the previous parts click here to read Part One + Part Two + Part Three

PART FOUR: The Hardest Part

So step right out, there is no amount Of crying I can do for you All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

Tag List: @squishy-noodles @hi-im-karla @kunepie @brasister @kvngdomheartz @whati390 @smexilexi420 @viperidae94 @misterytull @theesocialintrovert @kiwi-tai @future-mrs-suresh @ordoesshemouthfuckyouforever @kikithegr8 @fujihime-litg @0shewrites0 @roundbrownlover @katsie

NC-17 🥵🌶

Thank you thank you to my bra 💖 @katsie for being my editor and fixing my dumb mistakes and leaving way too many reaction emojis on the google doc..love you ❤️

The hardest part of finding love and finding that one person you can’t live without, is learning to live without them. 

Suresh was lost. Figuratively and literally. He’d been driving home from his parents house, after celebrating his mother’s birthday, and he realized that he’d never gotten off on his exit. He looked at the time, he’d driven almost an hour out of his way in a daze. 

Fuck. I’m lost. 

He pulled his car over, wrapping his large arms over the steering wheel and rested his head on top of his hands. He closed his eyes and was transported back to this afternoon, to the chorus of “Where’s Gemma?” ringing out the second he walked in the door, only to be replaced by despondent, sad faces when he revealed the truth. They were done. Over. No more. Finished. His mother’s disappointment somehow shattered him even more than he already was. It had been two weeks. Two weeks of no Gemma, no laughter, no love, only pain and hurt. Pain and hurt that he’d caused, that he’d been the catalyst of. He tried calling and texting her, he sent her a florist shop amount of flowers and called all of her friends begging them to convince her to speak to him, but she ignored every attempt. As he sat in his car now, he thought about typing her address into the GPS and driving to her apartment. He almost stopped himself, but deep down he knew he would never have been able to do that. He needed to see her, whether she wanted to see him or not.

When he arrived he noticed the lights were off and she didn’t seem to be home, but he still tried her doorbell. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer. 

Wait for her. She has to come home sometime. 

The autumn air was cold and pricked his skin. His lower back was starting to hurt from standing and shivering, but he refused to turn back and give up on her. After a few hours, he saw her car turn onto her street and his chest tightened in anticipation of seeing her for the first time since they broke up. He was partly hidden by the shadow of the awning, so Gemma didn’t see him right away, but he saw her. She looked absolutely stunning as she stepped out of the car, too pretty to have just come home from work, and then he noticed she was not alone. Gemma smiled at her new male companion, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. There was a sadness in them that he knew he was the main culprit for. She took his hand and they made their way to the door, but then she spotted him. She stopped dead in her tracks, her feet frozen to the ground as she stared up at him. The fake smile she plastered on her face formed into a deep scowl. She looked at Suresh with determination and turned to her date, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss. Even he seemed surprised by it, but returned it with enthusiasm. Suresh felt like he’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t breathe seeing Gemma kiss another man. And he knew what would come next. She broke away from the kiss, then grabbed her date's hand and walked with him up the stairs.

“Gem…” Suresh tried. 

But Gemma refused to look at him. She focused on her keys and twisting them through the lock, leaving him alone in the cold. 

“Who was that?” the new guy asked as they made their way inside. 

“No one important,” she laughed and closed the door behind her. 

Suresh’s blood was boiling. He balled up his fists at his side as his heartbeat quickened, and his chest felt like it was going to explode. 

Is she fucking serious right now? No one important. Over a year, and what? I’m just nothing to her now? No one important? One mistake and she can just throw us away. To go and fuck some loser who doesn’t deserve her. Fine, Gemma. Two can play that game. 

A storm raged on in Suresh’s mind as he entered The Social for the first time in weeks. Suresh hadn’t been single for over a year and his little black book had been limited to only Gemma, until “the incident.” He didn’t know where else to turn to look for eligible women but he did know one that might still be interested in him, if he played his cards right. 

“Thought I’d seen the last of you, Mr. Fraser,” Gabi cooed, batting her eyelashes at him. 

“Maybe I was playing hard to get.” He winked.

Gabi leaned in close to him and whispered, “I’m off in ten minutes…” 

He grinned. “Then I’ll have a whiskey neat while I wait.” 

Gemma wasn't spending her nights alone so neither would he.  

Fuck. She's moved on. He thought. She doesn't care about me anymore. Maybe she never did... No one important. 

“Alright handsome, your place or mine?” Gabi had come around the bar, now leaning on the counter as she stared up at him and chewed on her bottom lip. Suresh downed the rest of his drink.

“Let’s go to yours,” he volunteered. 

He couldn’t take her to his apartment. Not when it still had so many memories of Gemma all over the place. Her pictures still littered every wall in his apartment, her toiletries still invaded every shelf in his bathroom, and he swore that her side of the bed still smelled like her. He couldn’t bring her back to his place and risk losing Gemma’s scent. 

No one important. No one important. No one important.  

Gabi pounced on him the second they entered her tiny studio apartment, crashing her lips onto his as she pressed her body into him. It didn’t fit his like Gemma’s did, everything about her was different. The way she smelled and tasted was so foreign to him, but he didn’t care. Not tonight. Not when he knew someone else would be touching Gemma the way he should’ve been. 

No one important. 

“Take your clothes off,” he growled.

No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, her top was falling to the ground and she was sliding her skirt off. He did the same, ripping off his own clothes in a hurry and moving closer to Gabi, who was now waiting for him on the bed. His muscular body towered over her, his gaze burned with a mixture of desire and anger. 

No one important.

He swept her in a long, passionate kiss, lacing his fingers through her hair and letting them explore her body. 

No one important. No one important. No one important. Those three words haunted him and whenever he started to get clear of it, they lashed out at him with a fresh wave of pain. 

He groaned in annoyance, but Gabi didn’t seem to notice. He really needed to get his mind off Gemma, so instead he tried to focus on Gabi, kissing her hard. He slid two thick fingers into her slit, and she welcomed him with a soft moan. 

“Mmm,” she panted. “Suresh.” 

As he increased the pace, her cries intensified, and her body wriggled under his touch. 

“Yes…oh my god…don’t stop.” 

He quickened his pace further as her moans grew louder until she screamed out his name as she came all over him. He snapped his fingers out and plunged into her so suddenly and so deep that she screamed out in pleasurable surprise. 

No one important. No one important. No one important. 

He let out a low growl before starting to thrust into Gabi with a ferociousness he didn’t know he possessed. It left him wondering if she’d be able to handle him, handle his size. With each thrust he felt her orgasm closing in as she clenched around him. He grabbed her thighs, pushing himself deeper into her still as she arched her back and met his thrusts. 

No one important. No one important. No one important. 

Underneath him Gabi screamed as pleasure surged through her body as she neared her climax. 

Focus. 

But all he could see was Gemma. And instead of pushing her away he leaned into her memory. He thrust into Gabi, picturing the last time he held Gemma in his arms. He steadily drove into her now, his breathing intensifying with each stroke. 

“I’m so close,” she screamed. 

He crashed his lips onto hers. He didn’t want her to speak. He didn’t want to hear her voice, to break his image of Gemma in his mind. With one final thrust, Suresh let out a low growl as he came. 

“G…” 

He collapsed onto the bed next to her, trying to catch his breath while Gabi stroked his arm. She inched closer to him, lazily draping her leg over his. 

“That was…amazing,” she purred. 

“Mmm…” He smiled back. He didn’t know what to say, but her leg suddenly felt too heavy on his, and her studio apartment walls felt too small, like they were closing in on him. 

He looked down at his watch and feigned shock at the time. “Shit, it’s already 1:30? I have a deposition in the morning, so I should head out.” 

Gabi looked slightly disappointed as she moved her leg off of him. 

He slinked away from her, grabbing his clothes and dressing quickly. She grabbed an oversized shirt from a drawer and draped it over her body as she walked with him towards the front door. 

“I’ll text you,” he said as she smiled back up at him. 

And he did, about a week later, when the emptiness and void that Gemma left got too unbearable to handle on his own. And again he left in the middle of the night citing excuses of early morning meetings on the other side of town. This became their pattern for a few weeks and before he knew it, it’d been over two months. 

“Resh…it’s late. Don’t go,” she whispered, and moved to climb on top of him. 

He chuckled in the dark. He was exhausted, but in the two months they’d been seeing each other he had yet to spend  the night. 

“I wish I could, but I don’t have a toothbrush or a change of clothes, and I have to be up early tomorrow.” 

“Hold that thought!” She excitedly jumped out of bed and raced over to the bathroom. She returned with a small bag from Boots, and handed it to him. 

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Open it!” She beamed at him.

He looked inside the bag to find a brand new toothbrush and dental kit. He looked up at her and smirked. “Wow, you really thought of everything, didn’t you?” 

She smiled shyly and shrugged, but he leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the lips.

“Ok, I’ll stay. But I do have to leave quite early so don’t be mad if I wake you,” he said smiling.

Three Months Later

He was comfortably numb. Dull. Complacent. Gabi was a perfect distraction to the hollowness he felt inside. She didn’t make his life difficult like Gemma had, there were no complications with her. She was easy going and didn’t ask too many questions. For one, the fact that she never complained about never having been invited to his apartment in the five months they'd been dating. She didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t text her all day, or sometimes even for a few days in a row, if he was too busy at work. And they carried on this way until one afternoon. 

“You know, babe… We’ve  been seeing each other for like… five months now and we never leave my apartment or the bar. I’ve never been to yours, and we’ve never really had a proper date.” 

He was snuggled up close behind her on the couch and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m sorry Gab, work has been so crazy these last few months. I’ve taken on double the workload basically and it’s been so hard to make plans outside of that.” The lie rolled off his tongue with ease. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight, somewhere nice. I’ll make a reservation now.” 

“Really? OK! I’ll go get ready!” 

He took out his phone while she went to change, and scanned the restaurants he had taken Gemma to so many times before. If he was honest with himself, the reason he never took Gabi to any of these restaurants was because he hated the thought of being there with someone other than Gemma. So he found a brand new restaurant that had only recently opened and made a reservation for two. 

Perfect. No  memory of Gemma. 

They arrived at the beautiful, dimly lit restaurant, and took their seats in the center of the room. 

“Suresh, this place is so nice! I love it!” Gabi beamed as she looked around. 

It’s so easy to impress her.

“You were right, Gab. We should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said, taking her hand and smiling at her. 

“So tell me, we haven’t talked much about your previous relationships before me.” 

“Before you?” he asked, slightly confused.  

“Yes…any messy breakups? Ex-girlfriends that broke your heart?” 

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. For five months he’d done his best to guide his thoughts away from Gemma. Her ghost haunted him less and less frequently, and he was getting to the point where he believed he was finally ready to move on. Maybe he was finally over her. 

“I’ve only had one serious relationship. Gemma. We dated for over a year but things ended badly on my account and I’ve learned my lesson from it. I won’t lie, it was hard at first to get over her, but honestly I feel like I’m in a great place now. My career is skyrocketing and my winning streak has never been this good. I just made an offer on a  new apartment and I can’t wait to move in…” 

“And you have me,” she interrupted with a smile. 

“Yes, and I have you,” he said with a laugh. 

“So you’re over her then?” 

“Oh, god yes. Completely.” 

“Good. I’ve been thinking about us lately, and maybe taking our relationship to the next level and wanted to…” 

Gabi's voice was drowned out by an all too familiar sound that he hadn't heard in months, that he hadn't realized how much he missed. Gemma’s laugh. 

But it can’t be her laugh. Gemma can’t be here tonight. Right?

His heart started to beat out of his chest as he followed the sound, and then finally he saw her. She was walking down the large marble staircase from the restaurant’s second floor with her parents by her side. Her dad held her mom’s hand, and whatever separation they had been  going through before seemed to have been resolved in the months since their  break up. But all he could see was her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looked stunning. She looked happy. She didn’t have the same fake smile plastered on her face like she did on that night she’d rejected him and left him standing on her doorstep. The night it all ended for him, that made him realize there was no coming back from what he’d done. This was a real smile, a real laugh. 

God, I missed you, Gem. 

“Suresh, did you hear what I said?” Gabi asked. 

“Yes, of course,” He had no idea what she had said, he’d stopped listening to her the second he heard his favorite laugh in the world. The laugh that still made him weak in the knees, that could right all the wrongs in the world. He needed to hear that laugh again. He wanted to be the reason she laughed like that again. 

Fuck. I still love her. 

He watched them as they were leaving, and he was left with the bitter truth that he wouldn't get a chance to see her again. To talk to her. To make her laugh. How would she react if she saw him here now? His chest ached as he nursed the idea that she would probably look away in disgust.

“Are you listening to me? You seem distracted…” Gabi turned around to follow his eye line but by the time she did, Gemma and her parents were gone. 

“Yes!” He cleared his throat. “I just thought I saw a former client of mine. What were you saying?” 

“About us! I’m really starting to fall for you…how are you feeling?”

Fuck…

Her confession alarmed him. It was never supposed to get to that. And seeing Gemma? Even if he didn't want it to, it changed everything.

“Of course I like you too, Gabi. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, right? Don’t be silly.” 

But Gabi had reason to ask, she had reason to worry. Even in the minutes since he’d seen Gemma, his whole mood shifted. The hollowness, the emptiness that he had been trying to avoid seemed to grow inside him again. He spent the rest of the dinner trying to take his mind off of Gemma, but he was failing miserably. He couldn’t get her smile or her laugh out of his mind. And the harder he tried, the more memories seemed to rush back in with that same smile, that same laugh. That godforsaken, painful, beautiful, gut wrenching laugh. Suresh knew then that he was still in love with Gemma, and anything he thought he had going on with Gabi was done. 

“Let’s grab the check,” he said with a small smile. 

As they walked out of the restaurant, Gabi grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his. Something that had felt normal just hours before, now felt so strange. 

“Resh, I was thinking maybe tonight we can finally go to your place?” She looked up at him expectantly and he knew this was the last time he was ever going to see her face. He couldn’t keep seeing her anymore, not after tonight. But he couldn’t break up with her right here, he’d find another way. 

“I can’t tonight. Actually I can’t come over either. I have this case I’m working on. It requires my full attention right now.” 

Gabi couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes. “OK, I understand. Listen, don't worry about dropping me off, I’m going to meet my friends down the street. They invited me out earlier but I said I was with you, but since my night cleared up I’m going to meet them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said icily.

Suresh turned to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before he jumped into his car. 

Six Weeks Later 

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just call Gabi and break up with her like an adult.” Simon glared at his best friend. “She’s reached out how many times now? And you just ignore her every time?”  He was one of Suresh’s closest friends, and always told him how it was. He was also the reason Suresh and Gemma ever got together. After Simon's girlfriend Chloe, also Gemma's best friend, had dragged her along to his birthday party and the two met for the first time. 

“She stopped reaching out two weeks ago,” Suresh huffed. 

“But she’s still looking at your Instagram stories, and she knows we’re here. What if she just shows up to confront you for ghosting her?” 

“Gabi’s not really fussed,” Suresh said running his fingers through his hair.

“Gabi’s not really fussed?” Simon snapped. “The second I walked into her bar the other day she asked where the hell you’ve been.” 

“You didn’t tell me that. You’re supposed to be my best friend, what happened to bro code. What did you say?” 

“I told her the truth…I didn’t want to get involved in your mess and if she wanted to speak to you, she should reach out. But I didn’t realize, you’ve literally been ignoring her all this time.” 

“It’s just…” Suresh sighed as he looked down at the drink in front of him. “It’s Gemma, man.” 

“Gemma?! What do you mean?” Simon asked incredulously. 

“Ever since I saw her that night at the restaurant I can’t get my mind off of her.” 

Simon took a long sip of his drink, then circled the glass with his thumb and groaned. “I don’t know if this is my place to tell you,” he hesitated. 

“What?” Suresh asked. 

“It’s about Gemma…” 

“Out with it already!” 

“Gem and Chlo had a girls’ brunch date, that turned into day drinking, that turned into them coming back to mine and Chlo’s. They were absolutely wasted, watching TV, gossiping, and having even more wine when a commercial came on with some bloke, Rocco selling aftershave. Apparently he was on Love Island… Well this got the girls talking about whether they would ever do it. And then Gemma said she was going to apply.” 

“Oh. Well, don't thousands of people apply every year?” 

“Yes, they do, but yesterday she got a call from a producer. They want her to come in for a screening.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Yeah Resh… and you know Gemma better than anyone. She’s passing that screen test. They’re going to love her.” 

“Well, if they want her, then they’ll definitely want me, too.”

Simon eyed up his friend with uncertainty. “Where are you going with this?"  

“I can go on and win her back, mate,” Suresh said. 

“Suresh, what? You’re not thinking of actually applying, are you? That’s not why I told you.” 

“Why not? Imagine how the producers are going to feel when one of their favorite girls has an ex who wants to come in and win her back. They’re going to eat that drama up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Suresh.” 

“I need to try. I’ve done everything else and she won’t speak to me. If she’s going on Love Island that means she’s ready to find something again. Why can’t it be me?” 

“You’re going to humiliate yourself on national television! No INTERNATIONAL television, they air this show in so many countries. You’ll be a worldwide laughing stock.” 

“I don’t care. It’s Gemma. I have to try.” 

[tarydarrington]

With a jerk, Caleb shouts himself awake.

Four globules of light wink into existence around the bed with a flick of his fingers, and Caleb’s eyes dart fearfully about the room. His room in the tower, entirely empty aside from himself. Everything where it should be, everything where he left it.

Not home. Not burning. Caleb rakes his hands down his face. The only one screaming had been him.

Hastily, he kicks his way out of the sweat-coated sheets and out of bed. The room feels too tight. Too close, too chokingly humid. Willing his hands to stop shaking, he grabs his coat and slips out into the hallway, down the central chamber, and out the front door.

The Blooming Grove is cold even indoors, after the hearth-like warmth of the tower. Caleb pulls his coat on over his sleep clothes. The chill bites, but the harsh undeniable presence of it in his nose, his throat, his lungs anchors him to the here and now. His breath billows out in front of him in pale white plumes, the polar opposite of smoke.

Trent Ikithon is here. He is here, but he can do no further harm. Neither can Caleb.

It’s impossible not to feel a pang of guilt as he looks at the building from the outside. The roof has been patched up, a group effort born of spellwork and manual labor alike. It isn't the fine work of a real craftsman, but it keeps out the rain. There is none tonight, but nighttime here is loud even without it; a chorus of crickets, frogs, and birds keeps up a constant buzz, and Caleb’s heart slows to match the rhythm as his feet carry him away from the temple and into the garden.

In the dark, Essek’s wide eyes flash towards him like a cat’s where he sits amongst the flowers.

Caleb raises both hands. “Just me,” he says.

“Oh.” Essek’s hands relax at his sides. Fleetingly, Caleb wonders what spell was waiting to rend him apart, had he been an enemy. “Caleb.”

Caleb lets his hands fall, too. “I apologize for the start, friend.”

Essek waves a hand to dismiss the apology, an echo of courtly politeness that feels entirely out of place here. “I… had assumed that you were asleep.”

Caleb's tight smile goes unnoticed as Essek's attention returns to his work. “Ja, for a while," he murmurs.

The night is dark and moonless, but a scattering of glowing, blue mushrooms works in tandem with a sparkle of fireflies to cast a soft glow over the garden. It’s enough to see the pensive concentration in the lines of Essek’s face as he tamps down a pile of dirt to cover what must be a newly planted seed.

Many afternoons have found Caleb by the temple windows, looking on as Astrid and Wulf tend to their portions of the garden. Always, it seems to him as though they see it as a chore. Penance, perhaps - but not a penance they enjoy. A solemn and grim duty at best, and an annoyance at worst.

Essek, though?

“You have taken to the garden quite well,” he observes quietly.

Essek glances at him over his shoulder with a wry smile. “Did you come for a lesson?” he asks. “I’m afraid you would be better served asking the Clays.”

The dirt crunches under his feet as he moves to stand beside Essek, careful not to tread on any growth. The night feels at once alive and still around them, heavy with the late hour.

“I would take a lesson, if you’ve one to offer,” he says. "The world will soon be overrun by wizards with a working understanding of botany."

Essek’s smile turns soft, and for a moment, as Caleb matches it, the cold night air between them feels warm.

“I can certainly think of worse areas of expertise,” Essek says, and dusts his hands against each other as he stands. He peers sidelong up at Caleb, smile still tentatively in place. “Practical uses, then? I’m afraid I don’t have your gift for memorization, when it comes to the names.”

“Ah, what’s in a name?” Caleb bumps his shoulder against Essek’s gently. He points down at a little patch of flowers, each with rows upon rows of curled petals. “What are these for?”

The way Essek tries to swallow his widening smile is terribly endearing. “Chest pains,” he says, “according to Clarabelle. Calliope has mentioned that it has myriad other uses, but has yet to elaborate.”

Caleb hums in acknowledgement. “She knows you will bolt as soon as you know them all. She is afraid to lose the help.”

“Of course,” Essek agrees. “That has been my true mission, from the start.”

Their eyes find each other again, and just like that, they’re sharing that smile for a second time in as many minutes. Essek is joking, quality of said jokes notwithstanding. Caleb is joking with him, and it’s easy as breathing.

He clears his throat and nudges a thumb towards a tower of bell-shaped blossoms. “How about these?”

Essek frowns at them for a moment. “These, ah… Constance recommends saving them for potion-making, but they can also be used as, ah…” He sniffs primly. “They unblock the digestive system.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows with amusement, but Essek studiously avoids his gaze. Instead, the elf points to a small plant with thick, fuzzy leaves.

“Colton advises that, crushed, this one can ease an aching stomach.”

He moves to the next one, a spiked plant with yellow flowers. “The petals of this are one of the primary components of healing potions,” he says. “Harvested very carefully.”

Caleb’s gaze traces down the stem to a cluster of little pods. “What are the, ah… balls?”

Jester’s laughter echoes in his head as Essek turns a bemused look in his direction. Without comment, Essek kneels down beside it, running his thumb along the side of one of the pods.

“These are, ah, defensive. Puncturing one would release a repulsive odor.” He turns it over between two fingers, as though to show Caleb the way the skin gives. “It... can also be used to produce a rather devastating corrosive agent, when the juice is mixed with the proper chemicals.”

Caleb regards him dubiously. “Which of the Clays turned you onto that one?”

In the dark, Caleb can barely see the ghost of a smile on Essek’s lips.

“Yeza Brenatto.”

He straightens up, brushing his fingers off against his cloak. It’s a lighter one than his mantle, crafted by Jester. The style is adjacent to Essek’s usual, but far more whimsical; the hems are ringed with little flowers to match the roses on his gloves. So far, Caleb has only sussed out two subtly embroidered dicks among them. What truly sets it apart from what he’s used to seeing on his friend, though, is the thin layer of dirt that coats it from shoulder to toe.

Caleb gives him a smile. “Have the two of you been collaborating?” He leans a bit closer, and murmurs, “That is a partnership that could bring the world to its knees.”

Essek’s smile widens a touch, though his eyes stay fixed on the flowers. “Perhaps,” he says. “Though I would call it…” His fingers fidget at his sides. “Reconciliation hardly seems the word if all the wrongs were mine. But overtures of that, perhaps.”

Standing so close as this, it’s easy to slip an arm around Essek’s shoulders. The elf bumps into him with a soft “oh” of surprise as he draws him flush with Caleb’s side, but only stays stiff for a moment before relaxing into it.

Quiet pools like still water between them. The frogs and the crickets and the birds keep up their concert, and pressed this comfortably close, Caleb can feel Essek’s heartbeat tapping along in time. He lets his eyes fall shut, leaning his head against Essek’s, and for a long while does nothing but breathe. It’s easy. It’s natural. It’s as though this is where both of them ought to be. And when, after several moments, Essek’s timid hand comes up to cover Caleb’s on his shoulder, it feels just as right.

With no small measure of regret, it’s Caleb who breaks the silence with a yawn. “I should, ah… probably be getting back to bed,” he admits at Essek’s questioning look.

He had forgotten, until they’ve stepped apart, how cold the night is. With a deep breath, he offers Essek a smile. “Goodnight, friend.”

Essek’s smile mirrors his again, and for a moment the two of them stand as though caught by some strange gravity among the blooms. Then, Essek reaches out to pluck a small, white flower from its vine. Stepping closer to Caleb again, he worries the stem absently between his fingers.

“This, ah…” He addresses the flower more than Caleb. “Caduceus informs me that the petals of this flower, ground into a tea, can ease troubled sleep.”

Stiffly, as though afraid he’s overstepped, Essek holds the flower out between them.

Their fingers brush just barely as Caleb reaches out to take it, and he dips his head in apology as Essek’s hand twitches at the unexpected contact. The night is cold around them, still, but the warmth in Caleb’s chest must be glowing like the fireflies.

“Thank you, friend,” comes out barely more than a whisper, and there’s something painfully fond in Essek’s responding smile.

The warmth of the tower feels less like it will smother him now, as he makes his way back to his rooms. Caleb twirls the flower by its stem. It is 1:41 in the morning, and Beau and the others will be waiting for him first thing in the morning. He could ask the cats to prepare the tea, or take the time to boil the water himself. Either option will take at least a few more minutes, and he risks shaking the haze of sleep that has finally returned to his head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Carefully, he lowers the flower onto his bedside table.

Coat hung once again over the end of the bedframe, Caleb crawls under the covers and watches the little, white flower until he falls asleep.

[pang3l]

Miracles

Ergi x Mckenna (The Remarried Empress)

Words : 878

Warning : Slight cursing and Ergi being "why the fuck not" the entire time

A/N : For a certain mother-therapist-Erkena enthusiast of mine (@imbouttasue)

Summary : Ergi is a disabled young man, as he goes on with his life as a streamer and hoping for a while miracle to come by. Fortunately, a certain blue bird came to his life. (ao3 link)

"And that's a wrap for today!" shouts the blonde haired man into the microphone. Despite his energetic outburst, he was pretty tired from streaming for 4 hours straight and his body was sore for sitting down on his wheelchair and looking at nothing besides the screen, though it wasn't as if he could just walk up and stretch.

His chat immediately spikes up fast with his watchers telling him to play one more game, "Geez guys, it's been 4 hours, aren't you all tired?" by which the chat responded with a chorus of "NO"s. Ergi just laughed at his chat antics "This is why none of you have a life." Before he could even make his way to read donations, the text-to-speech was activated, "At least we can walk" it said.

Ergi just sighs amusingly as the chat went wild, this is the norm for him. His chat definitely likes to point out the very obvious and he's too used by this even before he started streaming to even get annoyed by the constant teasing by his chat or bashing by random online strangers.

But then his attention was drawn to the light tapping of his bedroom window. He brightens up, knowing who, or I guess what, it is. He lived alone on the 5th floor of an accessible apartment. While it wouldn't be considered that high, it would still be difficult going in or out from the balcony, especially considering Ergi's disability.

"Okay guys i have to go now" he said without even looking at his camera. Another text-to-voice message popped out, "You won't let a human take care of you yet you'd allow a fucking bird" it said. Ergi grimaced, "Yeah yeah, i'm motherfucking Cinderella, bye bitches" he finally closed his stream and turned off his computer before making his way to his window.

He opened the window and immidiatly a blue bird flew into his room. He doesn't know why, but this little birdie who he has named 'Chiper' has been visiting him almost everyday, mostly in the evening. Even if it doesn't get a chance to visit him in the evening, it usually comes by at night, knocking on his window but doesn't fly in instead just placing a small flower for Ergi.

He didn't question it much. He's not someone to believe in miracles but the fact that he's still alive and doing well was already a miracle enough so a blue bird that takes care of him isn't that weird to him. Even his chat seems to not find Chiper's behaviour weird and yes he had introduced them, much to Chiper's dismay.

Chiper was flying around Ergi's head before Ergi outstretched his finger and Chiper landed on it. "Well hello there little birdie. Enjoyed your evening stroll?" the bird only chirped and nuzzled it's head against Ergi's thumb. Ergi chuckled, he loves seeing the bird cooed up against him. At least someone wants to be near him.

Before long the bird flies again, this time tugging Ergi's sleeve. Ergi understood and chuckled, "Okay okay, don't rush me or you'll get hurt" yes this was what the bird usually does, trying to get him to bed.

Ergi had his own bedroom away from his streaming room, but he has made a habit of sleeping there that he just sets up his own bed. Ergi slowly moved with his wheelchair as Chiper chirps at him on his bed. He gripped the side od his bed and slowly got up, Chiper immidiatly held his other sleeve to help him. Once settled and Ergi is laying on the bed, Chiper flew again this time to grab the blanket that was messily thrown to the side and, while struggling, he managed to at least cover Ergi's legs so that Ergi doesn't get cold and can cover his body anytime.

Chiper landed on Ergi's chest, tilting it's head and flapping it's wings. Ergi just smiles, he's usualy more talkative to the bird but he's just way too tired. "Thank you for always taking care of me" his eyelids starts to feel heavy. "If you were a person… i would've fell hard for you by now" and finally he couldn't fight back the urge to sleep and doze off.

Chiper just stood there watching the sleeping Ergi. It cooed and peck Ergi's cheeks and flew to his balcony. But he didn't leave. Instead he returned back to his human form, he sighed and ran his hair to his fingers. "Damn that bastard" while his words was harsh, his face and gaze couldn't be anymore softer.

"Oh right i'm naked"

——————————

When Ergi woke up, to say he was shocked to find a gorgeously naked man with blue hair sleeping next to him. He blinked once, then twice, then checked under the covers to sigh in relief to find that he was still clothed and the man had a pair of shorts on.

He layed there, staring at the ceiling, then stared back at the stranger. He watches as his breath rises up and down slowly. He should be questioning and panicking… but he doesn't. Instead he just snuggles closee to the mysterious man.

Well, his life is full of miracles, who's to say this isn't just one of them?

[nincompoopydoo]

Could I request a oneshot with Remus Lupin with the promt "kiss me so i can feel alive again". Also congratulations on 1000 followers 🎉✨💕

ALIVE AND TRUE

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x reader WORD COUNT: 2k (whoops) SUMMARY: Having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. A/N: Thank you for requesting and I’m so sorry for taking so long! This is one of my favorites because it’s so soft and romantic and I adore this request. Please tell me what you think of it xo. WARNINGS: Angst. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

It’s the house you see from trudging down the walkway that forces you to double take your previous steps. Silent and empty, it seems to twist into the forest from afar. Bent trees adorn the lane with overgrown greenery at its feet and ancient brick walls that run along with it. The fields in Yorkshire are vast and immaculate but right now, you are alone and suddenly the far stretch of land doesn’t seem to have the shine of the countryside. Your eyes shift to the house that sits behind a rusted gate, joints barely holding together from the years of rotting and exposure to the heat and rain. It’s barely a house but more of a cottage. No, it’s not even a cottage. Semi-derelict and tumbledown, it looks more like the ruins of what used to be a home.

You look down to the note in your hand, parchment torn at the edges with the cursive words of your handwriting that make up an address and coordinates. Visually, there’s no indication of where exactly you are but according to the coordinates, you are precisely where you need to be. For the past three years, your investigation into finding your friend has proven to be impossible and almost met with the acceptance that you will never see him again. Yet, after an anonymous tip had been owled to your doorstep, indicating the suspicions of the presence of a werewolf somewhere in Yorkshire as overheard by the locals of a nearby town, gave you a tinge of hope to reconnect with someone you lost.

The sight bears a high chance that he may be hiding here, unfortunately. It makes it hard to believe that someone you saw had so much life in him, is living in this condition.

Anxiety starts to creep onto you as you push the worn-down gate. It creaks with the rustling of the wind, a sign of an imminent storm. The sun doesn’t shine anymore, clouds of grey congregate in the skies above in the chorus of rainfall. You don’t do too well with apparition, thankfully having only lost half of your hair during the war. Hence, if the anonymous tip turns out to be a fake, you would have to make your way out of the countryside in the rain or even worse, take the Knight Bus.

You hate the Knight Bus.

Attempting to conjure up whatever courage you have left, you steadily make your way into the compound, plodding through the overgrown grass. As you grow closer, the cottage looks even worse than it was from afar, climbing plants of dull green embellish the walls of the ruins.

Then, in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of violet—Bluebells. The same flowers that used to grow on the forest floor of the forbidden forest. You remember him telling you about how he had seen a white bluebell, rare to its nature.

Warmth fills your chest, you know he is here.

The door is wooden, climbing plants seem to have made their way to it, branching around its handle.

You knock once. No answer.

You knock twice. There’s footsteps, they’re heavy.

With the swing of the door, you are met with none other than Remus Lupin. He looks older, dark circles below his eyes that have lost their intensity of blue, hair unkempt and shabby, and a beard, tracing along his jawline. He has his wand directed to you in defense. Probably because no one ever visits.

The smile on your face is impossible to suppress. It's bright at the recognition of the familiarity of his face. “Remus,” you breathe, eyes crinkling and gleaming with the bliss from the effort and worth of your investigation to find this very man, who stands just a couple of inches away from you. You swallow, not wanting to blink away the possibility that this may all be a dream. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He says your name through a whisper like it’s the answer to the millions of prayers recited and uttered from his lips as he drifts off to slumber under the moonshine, beaming through the shattered glass of the windows by his bedside. He dreams of you, often in times when his body is too weak to endure the aftermath of a full moon.

Yet, you're here and very real.

Then, he watches your grin falter and how your eyes move around the curves of his face. The deep cuts are there and visible. Although magic heals, time and energy play a crucial factor in healing wounds. In an instant, his apprehension creeps in, and suddenly, he feels small. The memories of you are forever intertwined with the rest of his friends, memories too painful to endure.

Your hand reaches out for his face but he staggers back in his step.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean it. Remus really wants you here. To feel your warmth, your touch, the smell of your hair and to hold you but he sees the way you bring your arm down to your side, shoulders slump in near defeat. In reality, you would never let him go that easily.

“Don’t say that, Remus.”

The crinkle of your eyes is gone, now sharp with the frustration of his tendency of locking himself away from the world out of paranoia. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen his face after three long years and he’s already trying to chase you away.

Typical Remus.

An odd sense of nausea takes over him, knees buckling as his surroundings begin to spin like he is on a sailing boat at sea. His body is frail and with a blow, he will fall. His eyes are trained on you as he feels his feet give way and his body drifting towards the ground. Just then, he feels your touch, arms around him like an embrace. You’re holding him in his weakened stance, stabilizing his balance by moving his arm to hang around your shoulder. He immediately shifts his weight on you, uttering a soft apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for something you can't control.” Your voice is soothing, speaking so close to his ear. Your tone is laced with knowing and care. You both know those words have been articulated from your very lips many times before. And your hands are gentle upon the curve of his waist, against the rough material of a dress shirt but your grasp is strong—the true touch of a healer’s hands, precise and careful. Remus always knew you would turn to become a highly-skilled healer.

With every cautious step, the creaks of the parquet flooring are loud and lasting. It’s as if the house itself cries for its condition, like a child with a wound to their knee after taking a nasty fall. The wailing wind outside doesn’t help with the fact that everything seems to be falling apart.

You guide him to the armchair by the fireplace, pressing him by the shoulders to sit. He plops onto the chair with a heavy sigh and feels a sense of regret sinking in his chest at the sight of the visible scowl of your lips and the turn of your brows.

Your open palm finds his cheek. He hears the drag of your deep exhale. You don’t say anything, only to pull out your wand from your back pocket. Yet, Remus is quick to grab your hand, halting you in your movement. Your frown a little deeper, sharp eyes finding him.

“Just let me heal you. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a promise, a vow, uttered from your very lips filled with dignity and hope. So, he lets you, just to feel you close to him.

—

The rain is yet to arrive. Thunder booming through rolling clouds above and still not a single drop of rain but there’s a peak of sunlight between the cracks of the storm. Maybe, it’s because you’re here and sunshine always seems to trail your steps, no matter where they lead.

Now, Remus is seated on the toilet seat facing you, who has settled for a shaky stool to perch on as your gentle hands hold the edge of his jaw while the other grips onto a straight razor, gazing along the cheek. He cannot take his eyes off the crease between your brows and the way your eyes slowly shift along with the moving blade.

Magic is meant for convenience in small but necessary tasks like these yet you insisted on doing it in the traditional muggle way—using your fingers. Your hands work wonders, beautifully moving as a paraclete. You hold him like you’re maintaining his strength, to keep from fracturing into pieces. You look at him like he’s your masterpiece, carving every curve and bend of his skin and structure.

You lift the blade away from his face, dabbing it onto a rag cloth hung by the sink. Remus finally finds the time to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” You simply laugh and it comes out like a puff of air. Your eyes are still trained on cleaning off the razor. “Of course, I don’t. But, I also don’t want you competing with Dumbledore’s beard.”

Remus laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and echoes within the walls of the tiny toilet. “I could never beat him.” You’re laughing too, grin wide as ever. Then, after a beat of silence, your grin suppresses into a small smile, lips pressed together as you place the razor aside. You’re clearly in deep thought.

“Come away with me.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

You turned to him, eyes glinting with expectancy. “Stay with me. I live a few blocks from St Mungos...and you get to see me at work.” You watch how his mouth is now agape, half of his chin still in shaving cream.

“And I’m sure you look magnificent in green but you know I can’t—”

“You can, Remus. You can come here a week before the full moon and then come back to my place. I’ll help you heal, a lot faster and you know that’s true. Maybe, I could get hold of aconite for Wolfsbane at the hospital— ”

You hadn’t realized your rambling until Remus began to shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with an odd sense of serenity and hint of urgency for you to stop. So, your words immediately halt with a turn of your head to meet his gaze. Your expression is soft. His hand drifts to yours, holding it in his. “You know I can’t because if they find out you are living with someone with lycanthropy, you will lose your job and I don’t want you to lose it for my sake,” he squeezes your hand with assurance. “But, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me.”

The candle flickers from behind you, sitting idly on the ceramic shelf above the sink. No sunlight beaming through the room and only the hues of flame, beginning to shrink with the melting of its wax. Your hair presents an illusion of golden threads against the candlelight, face as warm as your hand on his as you shift your fingers to the back of his palm. Gradually, you sigh whilst raising his palm to you and press your lips to the arch of his hand. It’s quick but affectionate.

Your stare is strong and his heart stutters for the millionth time since your arrival.

Remus is drawn to you and the thought of how your lips should be on his. He drifts closer, eyes roaming your face, feeling your breath against his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” your question is soft, a whisper, only for his ears. A secret so sacred that you’re afraid nature would hear the words of your confession that was solely reserved for your mind and the man you are confessing to. He nods, it’s slight but it’s true, feeling like this is all a dream. He doesn’t want you to dream anymore. For you are here, hand tangled in his, thinking about his lips on yours.

Then, he whispers as the candle flickers once more. “Kiss me so I can feel alive again.”

So, you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, your hand still in his.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

You know what’s the real impressive thing about Tucker’s character development in Red vs Blue? *kicks seasons 16 to 18 under a rug, pours mantis maintenance oil on the rug, lights the rug on fire, scatters the ashes with future cubes* It’s not just positive character development. 

Tucker starts off as quite insecure, and rather more emotionally open than the rest of the Blood Gulch crew. Then Tucker gets better and better as a soldier, but it does nothing for his insecurities. He gets his sword, his first badass achievements (beating Wyoming’s clones), and his first arch-enemy (“CT,” the first of three nemeses) - but he rarely, if ever, actually brags about any of those things: he only brags about his alleged sex life, not his actual skills. It’s only after losing Church three times (Alpha first, then Epsilon in the unit in s10, then Epsilon again between s10 and s11) that it starts to become a character trait. Church was his life’s constant, and Tucker would have been happy to just stand around and bitch about stuff with him for years, but Church keeps distancing himself from them all, thereby forcing Tucker to root his identity in something else - his own abilities - which exacerbates the abandonment/loss issues, culminating in Tucker’s s11 outburst. 

So Tucker, an increasingly competent soldier, starts expressing his insecurities more and more through bragging, a coping mechanism that gets shut down by his experiences on Chorus. Tucker’s insecurities are compounded by the fact that he keeps getting abandoned (from his pov, by Church multiple times, by Wash...) or outright betrayed (Felix). His greatest fear at that point are being alone, and being too weak (true warrior test). Tucker used to be able to ‘bounce back’ from loss, abandonment and betrayal (-> he was the first to accept that the Reds and Blues were the same, immediately accepted Wash into Blue Team, was the first to decide to go help Carolina and Church, even though he’d been the first to walk away...) but Chorus and the Staff of Charon are the breaking point.

And what happens is: negative character development. Tucker, in the wake of s13, has become hyper protective of his own little circle of people (=> fear of loss: Church + Staff of Charon / => fear of falling short: the soldiers he lost + SoC), especially Caboose, and hyper suspicious of anyone who isn’t them (=> Felix), and develops huge anger issues. 

The guy who wanted just about anybody to mentor him in any capacity (Flowers, Church, Wash, Felix, Kimball...) and trusted people accordingly doesn’t extend his trust anymore, except with Temple, who gives him the validation he still craves but hasn’t really gotten since he stepped up as a leader - because it feels like everybody (except Wash) was too busy expecting him to know what to do to see how much it was weighing on him. Tucker sees Temple as a reflection of Church, and Tucker is the only one of the R&B apart from Grif not to develop a relationship with his mirror image, Buckey. (When the R&B are lined up in front of the B&R, Tucker is in front of Temple.) He’s so far from that person now that he finds himself drawn to the leader who seems to have his shit together, and who reassures him that he does too. And then when Tucker is betrayed again, his first thought on why he failed is that he trusted. (”I trusted Temple, I let down Wash, and I lost my sword. [...] I’m a liability.”) 

S15 is really the culmination of Tucker’s problems. He didn’t trust Dylan, he kicked Jax’s butt, he was ready to kill Chorus’ mail delivery guy (though do NOT get me started on how bad that joke was) for hurting his friends, and when Temple revealed Church’s message was fake, Tucker was enraged. He was also VERY angry at Grif for his perceived betrayal, and he was downright furious at Sarge. He destroyed a tank with his bare hands out of anger, and he would have killed Temple. He is also terrible at finding closure, because he asks Caboose to pull Church through - again, because of his issues with loss.

The more badass Tucker becomes, the more protective and angry he is (kinda... like Epsilon-Church), the less forgiving he is, the harder he takes failure (Wash’s injury) and the more he tries to protect himself from emotional hurt by immediately cutting ties with people if he perceives they might be turning on him (like when he says he doesn’t need anybody on Red Team after Grif refuses to come along, or when he says “screw this, I don’t need any of you” when it looks like his team is turning on him). Of course, all of that is coupled with his very deep loyalty and attachment for the R&B, Wash and Carolina. He never loses his temper with Caboose throughout the season when he’s pissed at everyone else, he listens to Simmons’ issues with Gene, Grif giving him a pep talk is enough to pull him out of the pit of self-loathing, guilt and insecurities (”tell me how special I am, Grif), Carolina assuring him she’ll be fine spurs him on even though he’s angry that he has to leave her behind, and her telling him not to kill Temple works. 

He cares for his friends more than he hates his enemies. But he’s clearly unlikely to ever make new friends in any deep capacity. 

And damn, that’s some character development.