#but I'd wither away like a sad little flower I think

[weirdplutoprince]

Brazilian "lanche" is kinda a cognate and a false cognate at the same time because, based on what I've just searched, "lanche", meaning snack, comes from the english word "lunch", but since in the USA their lunch is more like a Brazilian snack and here in Brazil our lunch would be a midday dinner for USAnians. Poor USAnians don't even have time to be well fed for the rest of the day.

Literally... I remember watching cartoons as a child and being so distraught at the idea of having peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. Brother that's a snack... Lanche if you will...

[armandslestat]

Armand and Lestat Quote Masterlist

kinda self indulgent reference for every time lestat and armand think about each other/interact TVL-TVA

The Vampire Lestat:

This as a boy, as I had said, and he had a head of long curly hair, and he walked very straight and very simply through the silvery light and into the church. [...] His clothes were black velvet, once beautiful, and now eaten away by time, and crusted with dirt. But his face was shining white, and perfect, the countenance of a god it seemed, a Cupid out of Caravaggio, seductive yet ethereal, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes. p.200

He was all mystery to me as Magnus had been. Only he was beautiful, indescribably beautiful, and there seemed in him an infinite complexity and depth which Magnus had not possessed. p.201

He said, Come to me. Come to me because only I, and my like, can end the loneliness you feel. It touched a well of inexpressible sadness. It sounded the depth of sadness, and my throat went dry with a powerful little knot where my voice might have been, yet I held fast. p.201

I tried to penetrate his mind. He knew I was doing it and he threw up against me such strange images that I gasped. What was it I'd seen for an instant? I didn't even know. Hell and heaven, or both made one, vampires in a paradise drinking blood from the very flowers that hung, pendulous and throbbing, from the trees.  I felt a wave of disgust. It was as if he had come into my private dreams like a succubus. But he had stopped. He let his eyes pucker slightly and he looked down out of some vague respect. My disgust was withering him. He hadn't anticipated my responce. He hadn't expected... what? Such strength? Yes, and he was letting me know it in an almost courteous way. I returned the courtesy. I let him see me in the tower room with Magnus; I recalled Magnus's words before he went into the fire. I let him know all of it. p.201-202

[...] Yet he was clearly startled when he saw us at his side. And in the very act of being startled, he gave me a glimpse of his greatest weakness, pride. He was humiliated that we had crept up on him, moving so lightly and managing at the same time to conceal our thoughts. But worse was to come. When he realized that I had perceived this... it was revealed for a split second... he was doubly enraged. A withering heat emanated from him that wasn't heat at all. p.202

[...] He was perfectly the god out of Caravaggio, the light playing on the hard whiteness of his innocent-looking face. Then he put his arm around my waist, sliding it under my cloak. His touch was so strange, so sweet and enticing, and the beauty of his face so entrancing that I didn't move away.

"It wasn't that I wanted vengeance," he whispered. His face was stricken, his heart broken. He said, "But you came to be healed, and you did not want me! A century I had waited, and you did not want me!"

Queen of the Damned:

"A real devil among devils." Daniel laughed softly. With a subtle nod, Armand acknowledged the little jest wearily. He even smiled. p.110

[...]"And because you want to be with Lestat." No answer. "You know you do. You want to see him. You want to be there if he needs you. If there's going to be a battle..." No answer. "And if Lestat caused it, maybe he can stop it." Still Armand didn't answer. He appeared confused. "It is simpler than that," he said finally. "I have to go." p.111

Then as the others drew him away now, with embraces and kisses again - and even Armand had come to him with his arms out - p.432

I hadn't guessed Armand had been with him! Hadn't picked up the faintest indication that Armand had been there. And to think, whatever we might have said to each other, it was lost now forever. But then that couldn't be, could it? We would have our time together, Armand and I; all of us. p.436

"I think you should get out and do something," Armand said. "You've been holed up here too long." p.475

Tale of the Body Thief:

Then I envisioned Armand. My old enemy and friend Armand. My old adversary and companion Armand. Armand the angelic child who had created the Night Island, our last home. Where was Armand? Had Armand deliberately left me to my own devices? And why not? p.400

Memnoch the Devil:

"Are those the words Armand used, 'unbashed plea'? I hate Armand." David only smiled and made a quick impatient gesture with both hands. "You don't hate Armand and you know you don't." p.14

But the sight of the other astonished me. This was Armand. He sat on the stone park bench, boylike, casual, with one knee crooked, looking up at me with predictable innocence, dusty all over, naturally, hair a long, tangled mess of auburn curls. Dressed in heavy denim garments, tight pants, and a zippered jacket, he surely passed for human, a street vagabond maybe, though his face was now parchment white, and even smoother than it had been last we met. In a way, he made me think of a child doll, with brilliant faintly red-brown glass eyes - a doll that had been found in an attic. I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radient than he was. "That's what you always want," he said softly. His voice shocked me. If he had any French or Italian accent left, I couldn't hear it. His tone was melancholy and had no meanness in it al all. "When you found me under Les Innocents," he said, "you wanted to bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvet with great embroidered sleeves." ... "Yes," I said, "and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair." My tone was angry. "You look good to me, you damnable little devil, good to embrace and good to love." We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me, rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms. His gesture wasn't tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could have backed away. I didn't. We held each other tight for a moment. The cold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard. "Cherub child," I said. I did a bold thing, maybe even a defiant thing. I reached out and mussed his snaggled curls. He is smaller than me physically, but he didn't seem to mind this gesture. In fact, he smiled, shook his head, and reclaimed his hair with a few casual strokes of his hand. His cheeks went apple-perfect suddenly, and his mouth softened, and then he lifted his right fist, and teasingly struck me hard on the chest. Really hard. Show-off. Now it was my turn to smile and I did. "I can't remember anything bad between us," I said. "You will," he responded. "And so will I. But what does it matter what we remember?" p.157

I didn't like it that they knew each other at all. David was my David, and Armand was my Armand. p.158

"But the only thing that's brought Armand here is worry for you." ... "Is that so?" I said. I raised my eyebrows. "Well?" ... "You know damned good and well it is," said Armand. His whole posture was casual; he'd learned, beating about the world, I guess. He didn't look so much like a church ornament anymore. He had his hands in his pockets. Little tough guy. "You're looking for trouble again," he went on, in the same slow manner, without anger or meanness. "The whole wide world isn't enough for you and never will be. This time I thought I'd try to speak to you before the wheel turns." ... "Aren't you the most thoughtful of guardian angels?" I said sarcastically. p.158

"Lestat, if you need me - " Armand said. "If this being tries to take you by force!" ... "Why do you care about me?" I asked. "After all the bad things I did to you? Why?" ... "Oh, don't be such a fool," he begged me gently. "You convinced me long ago that the world was a Savage Garden. Remember your old poetry? You said the only laws that were true were aesthetic laws, that was all you could count on." ... "Yes, I remember all that. I fear it's true. I've always feared it was true. I feared it when I was a mortal child. I woke up one morning and I believed in nothing." ... "Well, then, in the Savage Garden," said Armand, 'you shine beautifully, my friend. And in my wanderings, I always return to you. I always return to see the colors of the garden in your shadow, or reflected in your eyes, perhaps, or to hear of your latest follies and mad obsessions. Besides, we are brothers, are we not?" p.164

"Because I hoped and prayed for you, that you would remain in that mortal body and save your soul. I thought you had been granted the greatest gift, that you were human again, my heart ached for your triumph! I couldn't interfere. I couldn't do it." p.164

Armand had once again decked himself out in high-fashion velvet and embroidered lace, the kind of 'romantic new look' one could find at any of the shops in the deep crevasse below us. His auburn hair was free and uncut and hung down in the way it used to do in ages long past, when as Satan's saint of the vampire of Paris, he would not have allowed himself the vanity to cut one lock of it. Only it was clean, shining clean, auburn in the light, and against the dark blood-red of his coat. And there were his sad and always youthful eyes looking at me, the smooth boyish cheeks, the angel's mouth. He sat at the table, reserved, filled with love and curiosity, and even a vague kind of humility which seemed to say: Put aside all our disputes. I am here for you. "Yes," I said aloud. "Thank you." p.370

The Vampire Armand:

And the sadness came over me again, heavily and undeniably, of having come to this forlorn and empty convent where Lestat lay, unable or unwilling to move or speak, none of us knew. p.11

"I suppose I'm glad of it. You guard him. He's never alone." I meant Lestat of course. p.13

"David, I came to see him. I came to find out how it was with him, and why he lies there, unmoving. I came -." I wasn't going to say anymore. p.19

Clad in red velvet it came, the very covering my old Master had so loved, the dream king, Marius. It came swaggering and camping through the lighted streets of Paris as though God had made it. But it was a vampire child, the same as I, son of the seventeen hundreds, as they reckoned the time to be then, a blazing, brash, bumbling, laughing and teasing blood drinker in the guise of a young man, come to stomp out whatever sacred fire yet burnt in the cleft scar tissue of my soul and scatter the ashes. p.352

[...]who became a wild blonde haired celebrity of the boulevard gutter theatricals, a lover of men and women, a laughing happy-go-lucky blindly ambitious self-loving genius of sorts, this Lestat, this blue eyed and infinitely confident Lestat[...] p.353

He destroyed us. He destroyed me. p.353

It was Lestat who gave me the key. Lestat who gave me the place where I could lodge my crazed and pounding heart, where I could bring my followers together for some semblance of newfangled sanity. p.354

There is Lestat first and foremost, the author of four books of his life and his adventures comprising everything you could ever possibly want to know about him and some of us. Lestat, ever the maverick and laughing trickster. Six feet tall, a young man of twenty when made, with huge warm blue eyes and thick flashy blond hair, square of jaw, with a generous beautifully shaped mouth and skin darkened by a sojourn in the sun which would have killed a weaker vampire, a ladies' man, an Oscar Wildean fantasy, the glass of fashion, the most bold and disregarding dusty vagabond on occasion, loner, wanderer, heartbreaker and wise guy, dubbed the 'Brat Prince' by my old Master- yes imagine it, my Marius who did indeed survive the torches of the Roman coven- dubbed by Marius the 'Brat Prince', though in whose Court and by whose Divine Right and whose Royal Blood I should like to know.[...] Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whose love and companionship I have oftentimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I could not exist. p.369-370

Now I knew that my hard-won peace of mind might be shattered by the contact with him, but he wanted me to come, so I went. p.381

But as we waited finally in the handsome high-rise apartment above St.Patrick's Cathedral, I had no idea how much more he could stip from me, and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep. But let me take things one at a time. What good is it to go back down now to the chapel here and lay my hands on him again and beg him to listen to me, when he lives as though all sense has truly left him and will never return. p.387

I wanted to take him in my arms. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him wherever he'd gone and whatever had taken place, he was now safe again with us, but nothing could quiet him. p.389

As I sank down that morning into my own resting place, secure in clean modern darkness, I cried and cried on account of the sight of him. Oh. why had I come to his aid? Why must I see him brought low like this when it had taken so many painful decades to cement my love for him forever? Once before, a hundred years ago, he'd come stumbling into the Theatre des Vampires in the trail of his renegade fledglings, sweet gentle Louis and the doomed child, and I hadn't pitied him then, his skin scored with scars from Claudia's foolish and clumsy attempt to kill him. Loved him, yes, I had [...] But what I'd seen now was a devastation of the soul in his anguished face, and the vision of the one blue eye, shining so vividly in his streaked and wretched face, had been unbearable. p.389-390

"Let me go down into the streets, let me steak from some mortal, some evil being who has wasted every physical gift that God ever gave, an eye for you! Let me put it here in the empty socket. Your blood will rush into it and make it see. You know. You saw this miracle once with the ancient one, Maharet, indeed, with a pair of mortal eyes swimming in her special blood, eyes that could see! I'll do it. It won't take me but a moment, and then I'll have the eye in my hand and be the doctor myself and place it here. Please." He only shook his head. He kissed me quickly on the cheek. p.391

There was no denying the beauty of his smooth poreless sun-darkened skin, and even as the dark slit of the empty eye socket seemed to peer at me with some secret power to relay its vision to his heart. He was handsome and radient, a darkish ruddy glow coming from his face as if he'd seen some powerful mystery. p.391

Lestat, my Lestat - for he was never theirs, was he? - my Lestat was crazed and railing as the result of his awful saga, and held prisoner by the very oldest of our kind on the final decree that if he did not cease to disturb the peace, which meant of course our secrecy, he would be destroyed, as only the oldest could accomplish, and no one could plead for him on any account. No, that could not happen! I writhed and twisted. The pain sent its shocks through me, red and violet and pulsing orange light. I hadn't seen such colors since I'd fallen. My mind was coming back, and coming back for what? Lestat to be destroyed! Lestat to be imprisoned, as I had once been centuries ago under Rome in Santino's catacombs. Oh, God, this is worse than the sun's fire, this is worse than seeing that bastard brother strike the little plumb-cheeked face of Sybelle and knock her away from her piano, this murderous rage I feel. p.429 

I knelt down beside him again. I reached out, and without flinching or hesitating, I brushed his hair back from his face. I could feel the shock in the room. I heard sighs, the gasps from others. But Lestat himself didn't stir. Slowly, I brushed his hair, more tenderly, and saw to my own mute shock one of my tears fall right onto his face. It was red yet watery and transparent and it appeared to vanish as it moved down the curve of his cheekbone and into the natural hollow below. I slipped down closer, turning on my side, facing him, my hand still on his hair. I stretched my legs out behind me, and alongside of him, and I lay there, letting my face rest right on his outstretched arm. p.494

It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love, the love I could feel perhaps for one I killed or one I succored, or one whom I passed in the street, or for one whom I knew and valued as much as him. p.495

I climbed up. I rested my weight on my elbow, and I sent my right fingers slipping gently across his neck. Slowly I pressed my lips to his whitened silky skin and breathed in the old unmistakeable taste and scent of him, something sweet and undefinable and utterly personal, something made up from all his physical gifts and those given him afterwards, and I pressed my sharp eyeteeth through his skin to taste his blood. p.495

I knelt down and kissed his hair. He didn't move. He didn't change. I wasn't the slightest bit afraid that he would, or hopeful that he would either. I kissed him one more time on the side of his face, and then I got up, and I wiped my hands on the napkin which I still had, and I went out. p.499

At twilight, I rose, straightened out my clothes and returned to the chapel. I knelt down and gave Lestat a kiss of unreserved affection, just as I had the night before. I took no notice of anyone and did not even know who was there. p.500

At first I thought my eyes had deceived me, but very quickly I realized the identity of the figure who appeared as the gate opened and closed quietly behind his stiff and ungainly arm. He limbered as he approached, or seemed rather the victim a weariness and a loss of practise at the simple act of walking as he came into the light that fell on the grass below our feet. I was astonished. No one knew his intentions. No one moved. It was Lestat, and he was tattered and dusty as he had been on the chapel floor. No thoughts emanated from him his mind as far as I could figure, and his eyes looked vague and full of exhausting wonder. He stood before us, merely staring, and then as I rose to my feet, scrambled in fact, to embrace him; he came near to me, and whispered in my ear. His voice was faltering and weak from lack of use, and he spoke very softly, his breath just touching my flesh. p.519

[elegyofthemoon]

🍧💐✏️ if you're still doing oc asks :)

YES !!! the brainrot is unfortunately here to stay so i am happy to do more :D tysm friend !!

oc emoji asks

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

If she were to hold onto anything from her childhood, I feel like they were probably big marks of her upbringing, say like a symbol of the first ritual she had to conduct on behalf of her kingdom's beliefs (which... still need to read up on because the kingdom is run by a priest, her father, but as to what they believe - whether that is the gods that are in the game or if that is their own god, i'm uncertain). In this case, she'd be devastated if such a thing were lost and would attempt to rummage and look around for it.

But I do like the idea of her keeping a collection of even smaller things of her past of moments that she has enjoyed. Like I can definitely see her still holding onto all the paintings she used to do as a kid as a reflection of how much her work has grown for example ! I think if she were to lose these ones though, she would be a little sad, but be able to push herself forward.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

I love doing flower meanings for Genshin because Genshin has its own little sets of flowers and meanings haha so let me try to do two different bouquets for the princess: one using the flowers within the game and the other using flowers from irl lol

Within the world, I would have made a bouquet of glaze lilies, qingxin, and maybe cecilias. The glaze lilies come with a story of how it blooms to the sound of a beautiful song and is now a rare occurrence in the game. I feel like I picked the glaze lily because of the color lol but I think it's also just like it being a rarity now and how the princess's tale is hidden away like it is, it felt like it fit. Qingxin means "pure heart" and is often used to calm the mind as tea/infusions, so I chose it to depict her more calm demeanor. Cecilias were also used as a symbol of resistance in the face of trouble, so I picked this one because of her determination till the very end of her life. I think she would be found of the cecilias though as someone who yearns to be stronger and to keep trying to find a way through her troubles.

As for irl, the first thing that came to mind was forget-me-nots, and then I had to search the rest. I'd go with edelweiss (courage/devotion) and iris (faith, trust, valor, hope, wisdom) for the other two with iris probably being her favorite due to meaning, but I can sense that her love for the meaning would twist after the tragedy happens to her kingdom (the putting faith in the gods only for them to turn against her, losing faith).

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

ooo i haven't gotten to that point of the brainrot but now you got me thinking, so I winded up going with gut feeling and the first thing that actually sat with me are some of the lyrics from this eng version of Euterpe from Guilty Crown!

When you see loved ones withering What do you do with your remaining time When your leaves can't speak a word And your thoughts cannot be heard How do you convey your love When the summer's sun is hiding and Winds are harsh against our backs Everything seems to overlap I'll sing in your memory All the times you've spent with me We've lost your name but I'll sing for you

I think the song just fits with the final days for the whole kingdom and then her thought process during that time: what else is there to do now that everyone is dying around you and there's nothing else to do? In her final act, she creates these frescos to write their history in stone, but with time, it'll be lost to time, locked away in a hidden room in the frigid mountain.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Autumn Leaves Fall While Love Is Fading Andy Biersack X Reader

Word Count: 1,662

Warning: ANGST

Lyrics: Seasons Of Wither By Aerosmith (Except Changed Her To Him

An inextricable sadness can be experienced when love fades. You're left questioning what is left when the one you promised to love forever no longer loves you. I experienced this. I understand this. I know what it feels like to have my heart ripped out, leaving a gaping hole which can never be filled. I know the pain that comes with wondering. What did I do wrong? What didn't I do right? Is there any way I could have prevented this from happening?

The feeling of loss which stuck me whenever I thought about him.

Andy's words still lingered in my mind; Love fades, mine has…

They stung. After everything we'd been through together this is how it was ending. I'd glimpsed that light at the end of the tunnel; the one telling me that I had what I'd dreamed of in my grasp… but now it has slipped away… it's just completely gone. Andy no longer wants me… the realization hit some storms are simply not meant to be survived but designed to strip you of everything and anything. 

Loose-hearted man, sleepy was he

Love for the devil brought him to me

Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin

Seasons of wither holding me in.

Flashback…..

“Andy,” my voice is thick with emotion because all that we'd been through. Anger is turning into desperation but he can't, he just can’t do this anymore. – “Please. I need you here.”

“I can’t.” his voice is weak and trembling slightly and I force my eyes shut–   the singulat though flashed...damage. Hide. Now. In that moment there was no way to know my world would completely unravel, we were two souls of one beating heart cursed to be untied never to be whole. But the love between us Andy discarded aside as if it were nothing, yet out of our control we would be forever tangled within each other's embrace. 

I didn't exactly understand why he felt differently or what caused him to just without warning drift. All I now knew, was that the man standing before me has changed, there is an indifferent air around him. 

*********************************

6 months ago…..

Andy pressed his chest against my back  wrapping his arms around my waist before kissing the back of my shoulder tenderly. My heart swells at his gesture, leaning back into his embrace.

“I love you” You whisper, Andy’s arms tightening around me.

He presses another kiss onto my shoulder. I let out a small sigh, I breathe him in deeply, taking in his the deep scent of hiscologne. Letting the smell wash over me, I close my eyes, I completely lose myself in the feel of his presence. 

……….

I trudge through the apartment, breath shaky and tears welling in my eyes. But they still don’t fall. I feel completely numb.

I walk into our bedroom, completely catatonic and moving as if on auto pilot. I sit on the bed, staring at nothing in particular. The moonlight streams through the window catching a large photo frame hanging on one of the walls. My eyes are unspeakably drawn to the glinting photo.

It’s our wedding photo.

It’s a candid shot. Me and Andy are staring at each other, smiling tenderly at one another. Andy’s arm is around my waist, his head slightly bent and leaned into mine, almost as if he’s about to kiss me. The white of my dress is a stark contrast against his black suit, the pale pink bouquet of roses on the floor as I hold onto his arms. The sun is setting in the background, both our silhouettes set ablaze with a halo of sunlight.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life. Andy sang to me in his deep vibrato voice of his. He danced with me. Held me close. He kissed me telling me he loved me. The memory of him reciting his wedding vows pops into my mind.

I can’t help it. I break down, sobs wracking through my body as I cry into the dark, quiet of the room. My body shakes with the cries, tears flowing freely. I feel the warmth of them run down my cheeks before disappearing into my shirt. I fall back onto the bed, curled into a ball as I weep out all my feelings, all of the hurt and heartache I feel.

I cry and cry until finally, I can’t cry anymore. My throat is raw, now only dry hiccuping as I somehow run out of tears. My heart aches, my headaches and my eyes sting. 

I tried my hardest to remind him why we fell in love with each other  and why we married. But the harder I tried, the more he pulled away. Bit by bit, he slips from my life. I didn't understand why can but he fell out of love with me; I could see it in his eyes when he walked away. He wouldn't buy me flowers every week anymore. He no longer kissed me goodbye. He no longer sent me little messages about how much he loved and missed me. The more I try to occupy his attention, the more he refuted me, and my heart just aches all over again, longing for him to come back to me.

Heat of my candle show me the way

Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin

Seasons of wither holding me in

Oh woe is me, I feel so badly for you

Oh woe is me, I feel so sadly for you in time

Bound to lose your mind

Live on borrowed time

Take the wind right out of your sail

Time heals nothing it only makes the memories fade away, It’s sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew. 

What hurts more than losing Andy is knowing that he wasn't fighting to keep me. Nothing hurts more than realizing he meant everything to me, but I meant nothing to him. It’s funny how he could break my heart, and yet I can still love him with all the little pieces. 

Love is not as much a choice as it is considered a feeling. Staying in love takes a commitment. The worst thing is not only being told that someone has fallen out of love with you but being told that they haven’t been in love with you for some time. When you find out you're losing your soulmate it's as if every bit of oxygen has been expelled from your lungs. 

Flashback…..

“Do… do you even love me anymore?” I whisper, dread heavy in my bones as the question slips from my lips. Andy’s eyes soften and I see the hesitation on his face as he contemplates whether he should answer me or simply walk away. Finally coming to a decision, he stares directly in my eyes and I can almost feel the next words.

“I don’t know” he replies, the uncertainty reflected in his eyes before he walks away.

I watch him walk away from me, I was trying much harder to save this relationship than he was. In the last few months it was a last ditch effort to go through couples therapy. I know my husband wants to be anywhere but here at the moment. His entire demeanour is closed off, arms and legs crossed as he stares out the window. 

"When was the last time you actually paid attention to your wife?” he asks and Andy balks, unsure of what to say at the sudden tangent. More importantly, he doesn’t know the answer to his question. Andy abruptly turned about to storm out of the office, “If you have nothing to say that’s fine. Just think about it. I believe our next session is in another two weeks. I want you to think about this relationship carefully." The therapist says, his tone final. Andy quickly leaves the room, his mind in a jumble for the first time in a while. 

…………..

For the first time in over half a year, Andy look at me; pays close attention noticing the sadness in my eyes. He swallows thickly, eyes scanning over my face and as if willing me to look at him. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He frowns slightly at that. You’d been together for almost ten years, so why was it suddenly so hard to speak to you?

All of a sudden, the distance between you two hits me like a freight train. I can feel the huge rift between the two of us. I sigh slightly, wondering when it had gotten so big. Did he always feel this far away from me? 

Why did it feel like I was worlds away, almost unattainable? The two of us had always been close, always been able to speak about everything and anything. There were times when we’d both wake up in the early hours of the morning, still in bed and voice heavy with sleep and speak about the smallest, silliest of things. 

We had spent close to a decade together; we knew each other like the back of each other’s hands. He didn’t look back as the the door closed behind him that night.  Bereft now of pain and I felt the dying spark of embers from our relationship. Like autumn dyes the leaves bright red, I encountered a love that I'd hoped would last longer than a fading breeze. 

Beauty is fleeting, evanescent,  But all of it ended, Andy’s presence in the photos won't fade away as easily with the flow of time.

Because love is ephemeral and memories die, only the photos of him will accompany me until I take my last breath. I can say, I was once loved; Together, in the fires of hell, we will burn with the memories of the most beautiful moments in life, the moments I shared with Andy the remaining proof.

[ethereal-wishes]

Meet Me Halfway: Part One

Sir Maurice – Duke of Avonlea – had pledged his daughter, Belle, to be wed to King Raul's son, Neal, ever since she was born. The pair would wed on her eighteenth birthday. Belle French had never met Neal, but she had met his father – King Raul. He was a man with short graying hair and a stern countenance. He never smiled, and Belle was aware of the ruefulness always lurking within his soulful depths. When, Belle, had asked her father why Neal had never visited, Maurice had informed her he was a sickly child. Raul would often journey to Avonlea and converse kingly affairs with her father. He'd never spoken to her in passing, often pretending she was invisible whilst in her father's presence.

Belle inwardly dreaded the day she would have to leave Avonlea and become the wife of a man she'd never truly met. She'd filled her time with educating herself about kingdom affairs, leading up to that moment. She'd received an extensive education during her childhood, because she didn't intend to be an ignorant ruler. By the time her eighteenth birthday arrived, she assumed she would meet the prince she was destined to wed. She'd been mistaken when her father revealed that Prince Neal had died a few short years earlier of the bubonic plague. In fact, Raul's wife – Queen Milah had passed as well.

“I don't understand, Papa. What are you saying? I've been expecting to marry this prince my entire life, yet why am I just finding out he's deceased?” she queried, her mind buzzing with questions.

The duke exhaled sharply. "There will be a wedding, Belle. It just won't be to Prince Neal.”

“Then who!?” She demanded, sickness roiling in her gut.

Maurice swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "King Raul still intends to honor the marriage agreement we forged at your christening. You'll marry him instead. He's without an heir and needs a new queen to rule beside him.”

Belle's countenance fell at the mention of the callous, standoffish royal. “You can't be serious, Papa. That man has the personality of a dead fish,” she countered.

Maurice sighed, wrapping his arm around his daughter's delicate shoulders. “You don't know him like I do. I know he's twice your age, but he's an honorable man. He'll be a good husband to you, I have no doubt. Though you may find you have little in common, you'll have a comfortable life.”

Belle nodded. “I'll accept King Raul's proposal because it's the right move for both of our kingdoms. I never knew the prince, but I'd hoped to.”

Maurice smiled, pulling her close. “You make me proud, Belle. Tomorrow, Raul will arrive for the wedding celebrations, and then you'll be escorted back to Albannach.”

“Let it be as you say,” she consented, spending the rest of her evening being refitted for her wedding gown. When she was finally granted some solitude, she spent her time reading in a cozy nook in her personal library. She would dearly miss her castle, her father, her friends, including every other piece of herself she was leaving behind.

~X~

The day of the wedding left her stomach tied in knots. He'd met her at the altar, decorated in his kingly ensemble. The veil hid her rouge cheeks and lacquered lips. The first words they'd speak to each other would be their vows. She fought back the urge to tremble as she spoke the sacred vows pauper and prince had exchanged for ages. His eyes fixated themselves on her, studying, committing each detail to memory. She became enraptured by his eyes, the wind being knocked from her as he brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. She blinked as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. There wasn't time to contemplate what had just transpired, before she found herself being led by his arm to a carriage. Once the doors shut, she knew she'd never step foot in Avonlea again. A tear trekked down her cheek, and she couldn't stop the way her body trembled. The king gazed at her, his eyes filled with something unreadable.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “For ripping you away from everything,” he spoke – the sound of his lilting brogue filling the carriage, startling her.

“Pardon?” She spoke, startled by his phantom voice.

“The ripping. I'm sorry for ripping you away from your homeland, your friends, your father,” he paused. “The ripping hasn't stopped though, the seam hasn't been mended.”

“Why do you speak in riddles, your highness?” She addressed him formally, trying to wrap her mind around his enigma.

He smirked at her response. “I'm used to the ripping. My son was ripped away by the plague, my wife, my subjects, my countrymen. There's so much blood it would flood the towns. I need the ripping to stop.”

His countenance fell, revealing those same sad eyes she vaguely remembered during her girlhood. She longed to reach out to him but wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but she supposed it mattered little because it was their wedding night. Soon his hands would be anywhere they wished, marking her as his prize.

Despite her hesitation, she reached out to him, grasping his hand in her own, and testing the weight of it in her palm. He stiffened, and she assumed he wasn't used to this kind of touch, but she continued, stroking his fingers, admiring his beautiful, weathered hands. “You have beautiful hands, you know?”

He scoffed, amused. “There's nothing beautiful about me, princess. The years have worn me away, until I'm a shell of the man I used to be.”

“Your highness, I believe we're all layered. And maybe the years have been unkind.” She continued her gentle ministrations over his digits. “But my father said you were a good man, and I don't doubt him at all.”

He interlaced their fingers, startling her. Her breath hitched in her throat as he began making obsolete patterns on her skin. “These worn, despicable hands have killed men, princess. Yet, you touch me without revulsion.”

Belle dared a glance into his eyes. “I'm aware the cost of keeping a kingdom, securing your reign for centuries to come. It is built upon blood and alliances. And it's the reason we're sitting here in this carriage. I wasn't supposed to marry you, and you weren't supposed to marry me. However it's the way fate destined it to be – You and I, sitting here in this carriage, hand in hand.”

“Now who speaks in riddles, princess?” His age lines crinkled into a smile, as he drew her knuckle to his lips, kissing it reverently.

Belle's breath hitched in her throat. “Tonight, I apologize for my inexperience.”

The king gazed at her, full of wonder and awe. “And I apologize for mine, it has been many years since a woman has warmed my bed,” he admitted, sending a shiver down her spine.

He gathered her hands in his own, gazing into her cerulean depths – his eyes filled with so much sincerity, it wrenched her heart. “I would never hurt you, princess, and tonight I will treat you as a delicate flower. It will be a new journey for us both, this union. I'm sorry I'm not young or handsome.”

“I think you're handsome though.” She brushed prettily at his statement, and he half smiled. He couldn't help but think of her as his delicate flower, one he hoped wouldn't wither at his touch.

“And twice your age,” he teased, planting a sensual kiss against the underside of her wrist. She shuddered at the contact, aware their hands were still connected.

“38,” she answered coyly.

“39,” he corrected. “Today is my birthday.”

Belle blinked owlishly at his statement. “Why ever did you choose to wed on your birthday?”

The king shrugged. “To make a fonder memory. My birthday isn't exactly a joyous occasion.”

Before she could inquire further, the carriage came to a screeching halt. Screams erupted from the outside, and her eyes grew wide as she observed him brandish his sword. “Stay in the carriage, and whatever you do, don't leave. I shall return,” he commanded swinging open the door. He shut it, and she bolted it, sinking down – muffling her ears to drown out the screams coming from the outside. She wasn't sure if it had been hours or days, but the screams finally ceased and all was quiet. She stayed frozen in the carriage, wondering if he was dead. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing his cloaked form.

“Bandits, bloody bastards killed my driver and a few guards, but we got them rounded up,” he cursed, and Belle's face paled when she noticed the blood drenching his tunic.

“Are you hurt?” She inquired, her ears beginning to ring. He reached for her, bracing her fall. He pulled her onto his lap, commanding his men to make haste. He knew she'd only fainted. She was too delicate for him, and he secretly feared he would crush her with the weight of his sins. An innocent lamb caught in the lion's den.

She awoke, lying in his arms. She blinked, noticing a far away look in his eyes. The carriage was dark, and she assumed the sun had already set. She admired his beautiful, careworn face. She absentmindedly reached up to caress his jawline. He shuddered, gazing down at his new bride, unused to such a reverent touch.

“What are you doing, princess?” he mumbled, taking her hand and delicately kissing the underside of her wrist.

“I was hoping to, get a feel of what my new husband's skin felt like,” she spoke, blushing deeply from her admittance.

He gently brushed chestnut locks from her eyes. “Oh how delicate you are, wife. So innocent and fair. What have I done to deserve such a gift?”

Feeling bold, Belle raised up to capture his lips in an inexperienced kiss. The one they'd shared back at the ceremony was brief, but this time, she allowed herself to truly explore the outline of his lips – truly taste him. He kissed her back fervently, cradling her face in his hands. She'd shifted her position and was now sitting on his lap. He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and she carded her fingers through his soft mane.

He gripped her hips gently, securing her onto his lap. The kiss made her feel pleasantly warm, and she ground her hips into him, causing him to jerk forward. He broke the kiss, a predatory look in his eyes. “Be careful, little lamb, not to awaken the lion. The beast within has quite an appetite,” he warned.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360130/chapters/66855967

Belle experimentally ground her hips into him again, causing his grip on her to tighten. She flushed deeply, her rosy cheeks eclipsed within the darkness of the carriage. His gaze grew intense, and he bruised her rosebud mouth with his lion teeth. Tongues and teeth clashed messily together, battling for dominance. The kiss was short lived for the carriage had came to a halt.

“We are here, my delicate bloom,” He purred deliciously in her ear, causing her entire body to tremble in the most pleasant of places. “We are in Albannach.”

[thestormlionessmemes]

Memoirs of a Geisha Quotes

At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.

The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.

This is why dreams can be such dangerous things: they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes they consume us completely.

He was like a song I'd heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.

Grief is a most peculiar thing; we’re so helpless in the face of it. It’s like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it.

I don't know when we'll see each other again or what the world will be like when we do. We may both have seen many horrible things. But I will think of you every time I need to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in the world.

I dont think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it.

We lead our lives like water flowing down a hill, going more or less in one direction until we splash into something that forces us to find a new course.

I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see.

If you aren't the woman I think you are, then this isn't the world I thought it was.

I had to wonder if men were so blinded by beauty that they would feel privileged to live their lives with an actual demon, so long as it was a beautiful demon

Sometimes we get through adversity only by imagining what the world might be like if our dreams should ever come true.

Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.

Now I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean.

If a few minutes of suffering could make me so angry, what would years of it do? Even a stone can be worn down with enough rain.

A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course to victory.

Water is powerful. It can wash away earth, put out fire, and even destroy iron.

If you have experienced an evening more exciting than any in your life, you're sad to see it end; and yet you still feel grateful that it happened.

We can never flee the misery that is within us.

If you keep your destiny in mind, every moment in life becomes an opportunity for moving closer to it.

Waiting patiently doesn't suit you.

Of course, a sign doesn't mean anything unless you know how to interpret it.

We none of us find as much kindness in this world as we should.

She dances, she sings. She entertains you, whatever you want. The rest is shadows, the rest is secret.

A tree may look as beautiful as ever; but when you notice the insects infesting it, and the tips of the branches that are brown from disease, even the trunk seems to lose some of its magnificence.

Flowers that grow where old ones have withered serve to remind us that death will one day come to us all.

Well, a peach has a lovely taste and so does a mushroom, but you can't put the two together...

Yet somehow the thing that startled me most, after a week or two had passed, was that I had in fact survived.

At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.

Nothing in life is ever as simple as we imagine.

You seemed so desperate, like you might drown if someone didn't save you.

A wounded tiger is a dangerous beast.

All at once I felt so vain, like a girl posturing for the crowds as she walks along, only to discover the street is empty.

Never give up; for even rivers someday wash dams away.

We human beings have a remarkable way of growing accustomed to things.

I didn't say to act dead. I said act helpless.

When a man takes a mistress, he doesn't turn around and divorce his wife.

Nothing is bleaker than the future, except perhaps the past.

Every step I have taken has been to bring myself closer to you.

Passion can quickly slip over into jealousy, or even hatred.

[croatian-magician]

since the granny request you wrote was so gooood I decided to request a fic as well :) could you write something about Luka comforting Ivan, I'd love to read something of yours with that plot

Thank you so much, I’m happy you enjoyed that first fic!

Here’s your fic of Luka comforting Ivan then, I hope it will live up to your expectations. I love you

Ivan wrapped his arms around his own chest, trying to warm himself. The coat he was wearing was protecting him well from the wind, though, but the cold biting at his heart was coming from inside. In his hand, he held a worn-out news paper, torn from having been read too much already.

The defeat against Spain still stung and knowing that his plane would arrive in just a few hours to take him back to Barcelona hurt even more. He should have enjoyed what little time he still had with his teamates from Croatia, he knew that, but he just couldn’t do that, not without tears threatening to gather in his eyes. Since he didn’t want anybody to worry about him, he decided to take a walk. The place he reached was nice, full of pretty flowers and tall trees, but it didn’t do anything to dissipate his bad mood.

His 100th game with his national team. The worst game ever in Croatia history. The words were written in fire letters in his heart, consuming all his hope and happiness to leave nothing but ashes and an empty void. He should have been able to prevent it, but of fucking course he messed up and now his mind was clouded with regret.

He wandered through the park, no destination in mind, only wanting to take his minds off the defeat. But the more he tried to do it, the more the images of that terrible game invaded his mind, taking him to the edge of tears.

When that happened, he was standing on a bridge above a small river. There was a wonderful view from there, but Ivan just wasn’t in the right mood to appreciate it. He swallowed a sob back and tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t work to calm him down. Ivan could hear his heart beating too fast in his chest and he was frightened at the idea of having a panic attack here, in public. Until strong arms circled his waist from behind in a tender gesture and a familiar body pressed itself against his back.

“You were walking so fast, I though I would never catch up with you.” Luka whispered.

Maybe Ivan couldn't see Luka’s face, but he could easily hear the worry in his voice.His presence helped him to ground himself back to reality, to the hands gently resting over his stomach, to the warmth spreading from Luka’s body to his.

“Did you follow me all the way from the hotel?”

“Of course. What did you think, that I would leave you on your own after we suffered such a hard defeat? I thought you knew me better than that, cariño.”

“Aren’t you afraid of people seeing us here? What do you think they would say of you standing so close, not even an inch away from me?”

“I don’t care about what anyone would say, except for you. Right now, you’re the only one that matters, Ivan. You should learn to stop caring about what journalists and magazines say about you, though. I’m sure it would make you feel better, trust me.”

As he talked, his hand quickly moved to rip the newspaper out of Ivan’s grasp. The taller man looked down, embarrassed, since the headline was about that horrible game.

“Don’t look at it, Lukita, please. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“If I shouldn't look at it, then why are you doing this to yourself Ivan? Reading about this won’t help. Feeling like shit about how we played won't help. Come back to the hotel, train a little, bond with the younger players who just arrived in the team. This will help. Going here all on your own to mope and make me worry about you at the same time won’t achieve anything, though.”

Luka words made sense and all of a sudden, Ivan felt even more miserable than before for running away from his problems instead of doing something useful.He shivered as he tried to restrain a sob and Luka certainly sensed it because he hugged him a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cause any trouble, to you or to the team. You’re right, I was… No, I am such an idiot.”

His voice was filled with sadness and tears started to fall on his cheeks. This immediately alerted Luka and his captain was quick to react, freeing Ivan so he could move and finally face him.

“What? No, that's not what I meant at all! Oh my god Ivan, I didn’t want to make you cry, please calm down. You’re not an idiot, Ivan, you’re just hurt, like us all after this defeat. I just don’t want you to isolate yourself. I’ve tried it at first too and it doesn’t lead you anywhere, trust me. All I want is for you to stay close to me, so I can watch over you and make sure you’re alright.”

“Lukita…”

Ivan didn’t think anymore, he just threw himself in Luka’s arms and started crying on his shoulder, before covering his face in kisses. His tears weren't only of sadness now, but also of joy because of the support his boyfriend was showing him.

“How do you do this? How do you manage to stay so strong even when things are bad?”

“Are you really asking me? You, the guy who fought to the last second of the game against England, despite having a fever? You already know the answer. I’m staying strong for the team and for you, Ivan.”

“I should be able to do it too, then.”

“Not always. You can’t be strong at all times, and it’s not a problem if sometimes you stumble, as long as you get up afterward. That’s why I’m here, Ivan. To offer you a hand so you can do that more easily.”

Ivan didn’t have to tell Luka that it was working, that he was already feeling better. His lover could see that in his eyes, from the way he stopped crouching to stand up tall instead. However, another fear soon crept up on Ivan’s mind, making him feel distressed once more.

“Yes, but soon enough you’ll leave to Madrid and me to Barcelona. I don’t know how I’ll manage to stay strong without you, Lukita. And I’m already so pissed at myself because I wanted these few moments we have together to be happy, to be about us fooling around or cuddling in bed or making love, but I ruined it all by not being good enough during that game and then withering into sadness. I’m so sorry, Luka…”

“Shh, it’s alright, Ivan. You don’t have to be sorry. I know all moments we spend together can’t be happy ones. That’s just how it is. Sometimes you just need to express how you feel deep down and I won’t blame you for showing your pain. It’s part of our relationship too and I want to have this, to know every side of you. And don’t think I’ll stop being there for you just because we won’t be in the same place anymore. You can call me at any time you want, day or night, and I’ll be there for you, I promise.”

“Oh, that’sbgreat to know. I’ll call you during games, then. I’m sure Barcelona will get to the top of la Liga fast if Real Madrid plays all his games with his team reduced down to ten players.” Ivan teased him, a smirk on his lips.

“Now don’t try to take advantage of my love for you, dragi.”

“What? You don’t love me enough to let me steal all the trophies from your team? Now that’s selfish.”

Luka rolled his eyes, but Ivan could tell he was amused by their little game. The smaller man reached in for a kiss, taking his lover’s breath away as he used all his skills to make him lose his mind. When they parted, his captain had a satisfied smirk on his face and Ivan shivered, not used to seeing him looking this cocky.

“Don’t challengebme by speaking of our clubs, Ivan. I’m small, I could always sneak into Barcelona’s locker room before a clasico and then make sure that you won’t be able to concentrate on the game to come.” Luka whispered in a low, husky voice filled with unsaid promises, all while staying close to Ivan’s ear so that only him would get the words and what they implied.

“Bold of you to assume you wouldn’t be the one getting distracted.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised to see how resilient I can be.” Luka taunted him back.

Ivan was looking for an answer, but he suddenly froze, realizing that the emptiness in his chest was now filled with warmth and joy. He looked down at Luka, at his Luka, and he was overcome with pride and happiness at knowing that this man was his.

“You’re distracting me right now, just in a different way, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Luka declared proudly, a cute smile on his face.

Ivan pulled him closer, but instead of kissing him he simply rested his forehead against Luka’s, simply happy to have him in his arms, even if it was only for a few more hours.

“I’m so lucky to have you Luka. You always know how to make me feel better, even when the times are harsh for you too. How should I thank you? I’d give you anything…”

“Even the titles for my club?”

“Lukita, I was being serious here.”

“Who says I’m not too?” His captain replied back, but the gentle look on his face spoke for itself. “But if you really want to make me happy, how about we go for a walk together? I mean, you found a nice place here, let’s not put that to waste. I’m sure it will be relaxing for the two of us and we won’t have to worry about watching over the team. It will be only you and me, for once.”

“You know well certainly come back to Sime and Domo wrecking havoc on the hotel, right? I won’t explain to you how out of control they can get, especially when Dejan and Mario aren’t there.”

“One more reason to stay here and enjoy our last hours together, in calm. Maybe we'll even find a secluded bench to stop and make out of a while.”

“Did I already tell you that I love your mind, Lukita?”

“No, but you already said you loved me. That’s close enough for me.”

“Oh, I definitely can’t deny that. I love you Lukita, so much. Thank you for coming here and working your magic on me, you magician. I thought nothing could make me feel better today, but I’m so happy you proved mewrong.”

Luka giggled, a genuine smile on his face, and he intertwined his fingers with Ivan’s.

“Then my job here is done, I guess. Time for my walk now. I do expect you to spoil me a little bit in return.” He joked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint.” Ivan laughed, the biggest grin on his face.

He would definitely never get over how lucky he was to have Luka, that was for sure.

Taglist: @puolendollarinonni @smolmandzo @winters-chiid@tinymodric @pachua @sejan-is-love @marilyn-mandzukic@zadarskabagudina @mandzukics @mandzos-bitch@mandzomandzo@incorrect-croatia-nt @slashandsports @mad-for-mandzukic@sebby-ravnica@synne-sol @kettie09 @ed-dzeko @flemishyugotalian @ante-ray-bitch@federicobernardeschi @domo-no-domo-yes @lovefor-lovren@lovren-la-vida-luka @mrsmodric