#in searching for a dramatic and deep heartbreak

[righteousdelusions]

One year ago in a fit of rage I ended a long distance relationship, and you guys all know how hard that was for me. But at least the playlist was fire 🤪

[crescenthistory]

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back. 

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat. 

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable. 

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away. 

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it. 

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders. 

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling. 

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together. 

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you. 

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating. 

He thought of you constantly. 

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well. 

Should I go to her? 

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation. 

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you. 

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here. 

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was. 

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy. 

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

[slamdunkhcs]

I found a couple other old essays. I dont even remember writing this. 😭😭😭

the importance of failure in slam dunk

At the heart of the Slam Dunk manga lies the journey of Hanamichi Sakuragi, an immature and often ridiculous delinquent who finds redemption and development not in his victories, but in his failures. While his triumphs—such as him leading to Shohoku winning against Sannoh—are often at the forefront of fans’ minds, it is his failures that truly define his arc. Inoue’s genius lies in how he uses these missteps, both comedic and heartbreaking, to slowly strip away Sakuragi’s insecurities and guide him toward self-realization. This essay examines how Sakuragi’s failures, ranging from his rejection of basketball to his pivotal injury at Nationals, form the emotional and thematic core of the manga. In Sakuragi’s imperfections, Slam Dunk captures something universal: what it means to fail, to rise, and to find beauty in the struggle. As the rapper J. Cole once said, “There’s beauty in the struggle.”

Sakuragi’s story begins with rejection—a theme that repeats throughout his arc. Before the series even starts, we learn that he’s been turned down by fifty girls, a fact that he loudly exaggerates to mask his own embarrassment. His arrogance is a facade, one meant to protect him from the constant fear of not being enough. When Haruko Akagi enters his life, her kind demeanor and genuine enthusiasm for basketball give Sakuragi something he’s been searching for: a sense of hope.

Though not without its complications. Haruko’s admiration for Kaede Rukawa, Sakuragi’s rival in love and on the court, creates a dynamic between the two where every interaction is charged with Sakuragi’s jealousy, bitterness, and the need to prove himself. These failures in love reflect his early struggles on the basketball court: full of bluster, but ultimately rooted in a deep yearning for validation.

Sakuragi’s first steps on the court are anything but graceful. He fouls. He trips. He flails in spectacular fashion. And then there’s Captain Takenori Akagi, a towering figure of discipline and seriousness, who sees right through Sakuragi’s facade. In one particularly memorable moment, after being harshly scolded by Akagi for his antics, Sakuragi storms out of the gym, declaring that he’s done with basketball. It’s a telling moment: Sakuragi’s ego can’t handle criticism, and his instinct is to run away when faced with failure.

But Sakuragi comes back. Perhaps it’s Haruko’s encouragement, or maybe it’s the sting of Akagi’s words, but something pushes him to return. It’s a small act, but it marks the beginning of his transformation. Though his early games are riddled with mistakes, airballs, turnovers, even scoring on his own basket, these failures chip away at his arrogance, revealing a resilience he didn’t know he had. Inoue doesn’t shy away from showing how difficult growth can be. Sakuragi’s journey is not a straight line; it’s a series of stumbles, each one teaching him something new about himself.

The most profound moment of Sakuragi’s journey comes during Shohoku’s legendary game against Sannoh at the Nationals. It is the culmination of everything he has fought for—the respect of his team, the recognition of his talent, and his own sense of belonging. When Sakuragi makes the dramatic final shot, securing victory for Shohoku, it feels like the perfect ending to his story. But it’s not. His triumph is bittersweet, overshadowed by the cost: a severe back injury that forces him to sit out the rest of the tournament.

For Sakuragi, who has only just begun to understand what basketball means to him, this loss is devastating. After spending so much of the series trying to prove himself—first to Haruko, then to Akagi, and finally to his team—he is faced with the harsh reality that his body, like his ego, has limits. And yet, it is in this moment of loss that Sakuragi experiences his most profound growth. He doesn’t wallow in self-pity or rage at the unfairness of it all. Instead, he commits himself to rehabilitation with the same fiery determination he once reserved for proving people wrong. For the first time, Sakuragi is not playing for validation; he is playing because he loves the game.

Inoue captures this shift wonderfully, letting Sakuragi’s actions speak louder than his words. His injury, rather than breaking him, becomes a turning point. It is no longer about the crowd’s praise or Haruko’s admiration—it is about finding joy in the struggle, in the effort itself.

Sakuragi’s failures don’t just shape his individual growth; they also deepen his relationships with his teammates. Early in the series, his arrogance isolates him, as he sees basketball as a platform for personal glory rather than a team effort. This is particularly evident in his rocky relationship with Captain Akagi, who initially regards Sakuragi as a nuisance unworthy of the sport. Over time, however, his mistakes force him to rely on others. Akagi’s stern guidance, Miyagi’s quick assists, and even Mitsui’s sharpshooting show how basketball is a team sport—a lesson Sakuragi learns through repeated failure.

His relationship with Kaede Rukawa also evolves significantly through this lens. Initially, Sakuragi views Rukawa as nothing more than a rival to be humiliated, both on the court and in Haruko’s eyes. This one-sided antagonism leads to numerous comedic confrontations, such as Sakuragi deliberately fouling Rukawa in practice out of jealousy. But as the series progresses, their rivalry becomes one of mutual respect. A key moment occurs during the Sannoh game, when Rukawa silently acknowledges Sakuragi’s contribution with a fist bump. This small, yet deeply significant gesture, highlights how far Sakuragi has come—not just as a player, but as someone capable of earning and giving respect.

What sets Slam Dunk apart from other sports manga is its refusal to romanticize perfection. Sakuragi’s growth is not marked by MVP titles or championship trophies but by the incremental changes in his character. By the end of the series, he remains imperfect—still impulsive, still prone to overconfidence—but those flaws are what make him human. His failures do not define him as a player; they define him as a person.

Inoue’s portrayal of Sakuragi’s transformation is marked by moments of both comedy and deep emotional weight. For instance, his iconic rebound against Sannoh—a moment of pure athletic brilliance—feels earned precisely because of the countless errors that preceded it. It’s not a product of raw talent but of hard work, resilience, and the lessons learned from failure. This balance between failure and success mirrors the unpredictability of real life, where growth often comes not from moments of triumph but from the struggles that lead up to them.

Slam Dunk is a story of triumph, but not in the way one might expect. What sets the series apart from other sports stories is its refusal to romanticize perfection. Sakuragi doesn’t end the series as an unstoppable force or a perfect player. He remains impulsive, rough around the edges, and prone to mistakes. But it’s these imperfections that make his journey so compelling.

By the end of the series, Sakuragi’s story isn’t about winning over the girl or becoming the best player on the court. It’s about finding joy in the struggle, embracing the process of growth, and discovering that failure isn’t something to be feared—it’s something to learn from. His story reminds us that the art of losing is not about failure itself, but about the courage to rise again, no matter how many times we fall.

[mykoreanlove]

Unraveling fate

It is said that humans live a blissful life as souls up in the sky before they decide to incarnate onto the earthly realms. 

Up there everything is effortless and sweet, so perfect that we couldn’t ever imagine it properly. Yet, they decide to give up their eden perfection to come down to earth. Why you may ask?

Because they get bored. Too much of anything is deadly, even if it’s something as precious as blissful love. 

Hence, they make plans to come down to earth in order to play. Some souls are rather boring, whereas other souls are quite dramatic - making up a full play for them to enjoy. They look for other souls to play their part - mothers, fathers, villains or lovers. 

„You’re gonna do this to me and I’m gonna do that to you and we may hate each other for a while but in the end it will be all so sweet“, they giggle while making plots. What they don’t know though is that once their souls incarnate back to earth, they will forget everything they once knew - scheming plans included. 

The states of feeling mighty and powerful get replaced with vulnerability and insecurity, divinity in exchange for humanity.

A deep sigh escaped Eun Woo’s lips as he watched you cry into your pillows for the fifth time this week. 

„What’s wrong?“, his friend asked concerned.

„It’s y/n.“, he answered flatly.

„What about her?“

Eun Woo turned around and mustered his friend, thinking of the right words to predict his dilemma.

„Do you remember when she used to be with us up here?“

His friend nodded silently.

„Back then we made the perfect plan. We created our own drama, so to say.“

„What was it about?“

Flashbacks of those times entered his mind, filling his heart with a deep longing.

„Are you really sure, y/n?“, Eun Woo whispered while placing delicate kisses on your neck.

„Yes. I want to do it like that this time.“, you nodded enthusiastically.

„My love. Let’s go through the plan once more, then.“

„I will incarnate onto earth and live a miserable life. I will fail in love over and over until I can’t take it anymore. I want to discover love as a fragile, little human. I want to understand their pain and their agony. I want to be miserable, utterly miserable. I want to build my own hell and I want to understand how I’m doing it… And then, once I’m ready, then you show up, BOOM, the love of my life - in heaven and on earth and you rescue me from my deep despair and then we can be..“

„Happy.“, he interrupted. 

A big smile formed on your face. 

„Yes. Happy.“

„So, why are you so sad then? The plan seems solid.“, Eun Woo’s friend remarked.

„Somehow it’s not. She did fail in love. A lot of times. But somehow she can’t get past that stage..“, Eun Woo explained.

„How can that happen? Isn’t it written in the stars, like destiny?“

„It should be, yes.“

Both stayed silent for a while and thought about ways to resolve this. 

„Can’t you just swoop in and rescue her?“

He shook his head sadly. 

„Why not?“

„Because she wouldn’t let me.“

„Let you? Aren’t you like… her soulmate?“, his friend asked confused.

„I am. And because of that I will always find my way back to her, heaven or earth, doesn’t really matter. But she’s not ready for me, yet.“

„How can you tell?“

Eun Woo walked over to the shelf where he was keeping his collection of your play. Each act carefully documented, each act waiting for its grand finale. He came back with a heavy book, searching for the right pages.

„Do you know when souls finally find each other?“, Eun Woo asked.

„No idea.“, his friend remarked.

„It’s when they’re ready for one another. Now tell me - do you think this sounds ready?“, he asked as he pushed the book over to his friend.

It’s official - I am unlovable. Seems like everybody and their mother can find the love of their lives but not me. I’m not meant for love. I’m meant for heartbreak. Because that’s what men do - break your heart. First, they use me for sex and then they dispose me like a tissue. Reject me. Abandon me. Block me.

Relationships suck. Love sucks. This is too hard and it always ends in pain. Fuck this shit, I’m going to die alone. Because apparently nobody wants to be with me. Or get to know me. I’m just not someone you fall in love with.

„Yikes“, Eun Woo’s friend flinched. „Gotta give it to her - she does sound like a real human though.“, he drily remarked.

Eun Woo rolled his eyes in frustration. This shit was eating him up.

Even if he descended onto earth now and forgot about all your pain, he would never be able to get through to you. 

„Men really did a number on her, huh?“, his friend asked. 

„It’s what she wanted. Some drama to enjoy our love more. And drama she got…“, he explained sadly.

„So what are you going to do?“

Eun Woo averted his gaze back onto you, watching you from above as you cried and cried and cried. 

„Waiting for a miracle, I guess.“

„Aren’t you tired of waiting?“

„What else am I supposed to do?“, he snapped.

„The plan is already rigged, you said so yourself. Can’t you use that to your advantage and rig it further?“, his friend proposed.

Eun Woo thought for a second - could he really do that? Go against fate like that? 

Your sobs made his stomach churn once again, he had to act, no matter the consequences.

„Come with me“, he demanded as he left the room.

„Where are we going?“, his friend called after him.

„Rigging the fucking plan.“ 

[thistlearts]

My first degree is musical theatre and direction. I swear to you no composer in their right mind and understanding of musical storytelling writes a theme song of a character like “Song of Balduran” with a simplistic egoistical villain in mind.

The musical direction is superb in this game. They definitely knew what they were doing. This song is filled with very specific dramatic storytelling which is anything but villainous. It’s bitter, very sad and very heartbreaking but filled with hope. Just listen to those harmonies, how the music BREATHES as if trying to soar up, and going down in sorrow. It has a very sinister yet deep and sincere feeling to it.

It juggles “dark” minor tragic passages with light and uplifting elements with incredible mastery. It's lyrical and yet has a very strong dramatic base. The music sold me the character sooner than I got to know him. Music is the language I speak much better than words, tbh.

Everything from the choice of instruments, harmonies, tempo, key screams drama and complexity and even tragedy. Nothing villainous there. While Raphael’s theme is intentional “Disney villain stylisation” which was clearly meant to be this way. Astarion's theme song "I Want to live" is an edgy rock ballad, which also suits the character very well in terms of symbolism. They are so intentional with sound directing. They don't stick to a single genre. They use some obvious folk motives with Nightsong's theme, for example, with all those mythical references to ancient goddesses.

The key instruments in The Song of Balduran are a fucking harp and soaring violins, along with little bells. Come on! Those instruments together are just as heartbreaking and "darkness searching for light" as you can get in terms of musical symbolism.

[carefulfears]

how do you see mulder leaving in season 9? scully giving up william? how do they deal with these things? (their guilt, resentment, futility, etc)

i know i have a realllllllly unpopular opinion on all of this but as i've said recently, i just don't think there's anything easier on earth to convince mulder of than "things are safer if you're not here."

i usually come back to doggett's confusion in the beginning, the way he keeps asking and arguing and scully just keeps saying "he's gone" and shutting it down, until the end of the premiere when he realizes: "oh my god. it was scully. scully made him go."

god, it's sad. it's hard to talk about. i teared up trying to write this, as much as i am fonder of the storyline than most. i don't find it unrealistic or out of character or unfitting of the narrative. it doesn't mean i don't feel it's heartbreaking. i have such a hard time thinking of mulder missing that baby. not even having the chance to put up a fight, walking back into empty rooms. the show as a tragedy, finding your burden again, etc. the x-files as the gap between teary smiles at baby kicks to screams in a jail cell. as what it was in the beginning: unknowable answers to insurmountable grief.

and i just think about mulder's dramatic emails, writing that he doesn't think he can survive being away from them. spender looking at the baby and telling scully he's heard "so much" about him. mulder being tortured by soldiers, saying he's just thinking about his son. keeping 1 baby photo for 15 years. "i just missed both of you so much."

scully's fertility treatments and her prayers and her tears and her "last chance" and her miracle. and how deeply unfair it is, what happened to her. i don't think a single one of us could say what we could do if people kept breaking into our homes to suffocate a child we were still nursing. she didn't ever want to do it alone, that was never the plan.

but scully desperately wants to keep everybody safe. she thinks she’s keeping everybody safe. it’s hard to be starbuck. it's this conflict i keep talking about recently where you really start to notice how controlled she is by fear, how difficult it is for her to balance it all. my favorite visual on this is the gate at the house in i want to believe: every day the way she pulls up to it, gets out, opens it, pulls through, stops, gets out, closes it. repeat in reverse. and then she comes home and she says "the truth is, i worry about you." and that he's too isolated. turns around and shuts the door, leaves the house and locks the gate.

i wrote a bit a few weeks ago about scully's protectiveness and it made me think about what a trap it can be, how defending lends to fear and fear lends to defeat. to standing in a church 25-years deep and saying "i failed." in the tags of that post i asked "could they ever recover from her exiling him from being with their child because she was afraid it would kill him?" and said i don't know. and i don't, i don't know.

but i think there's something so brave in saying: i did the best i could, and maybe that wasn't right. it's why ghouli is one of my favorite episodes. scully sobbing to her son that she's sorry. she's sorry he doesn't know them. she wanted him, they loved him. "i was trying to keep you safe. i hope you know that." and she thought she was being strong, but maybe she was wrong.

things don't always shake out the way you want them to. it was always mulder that called their son a miracle, and mulder doesn't believe in miracles. mulder believes in the world, and the search, and the after.

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제2장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest

wc ≈2.6k. unedited. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but the story does develop a little more. hongjoong is introduced as wooyoung's friend. hongjoong jokingly flirts with the reader. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart". hongjoong and the reader mildly curse.

“hyung.. this is beautiful.”

“you think?”

“absolutely!”

seonghwa and san stood side by side in the art studio, their eyes fixed on the finished piece that would become the cover art for san’s new album. the canvas displayed an absolutely breathtaking combination of colors, and the raw emotions from the soul seemed to leap off the surface. to say it was capturing and alluring would be a total understatement. it was the perfect combination of paint, love, passion and longing - a true window into both artists’ souls.

san’s eyes glimmered with awe as he took in and absorbed every detail. the painting depicted seonghwa’s elusive muse with hauntingly expressive eyes, ones full of love and fear and yearning, painted with a delicate and carefully crafted mix of blues, purples, and hints of gold. behind them was a whirlwind of vibrant, dramatic and contrasting hues, capturing both the intensity of emotions that san poured into his music, and the conflict of emotions seonghwa fought within.

they both continued to stand in silence, letting the artwork speak for itself. the whole room seemed to hold its breath, even the dust particles seemed to stop in time - as if in complete deference for the deep, profound connection between music and its visual counterpart.

san finally broke the silence, and time seemed to flow again.

“i mean - seriously, seonghwa. this is more than i could have ever imagined. i would be lying if i said i was surprised though - only you could pull this off.”

seonghwa smiled humbly, a soft pink blush creeping back onto his cheeks.

“you’re too kind, san. and i want you to know that - it has been an honor collaborating with you. my only regret is not doing it sooner.”

with a chuckle, san lightly punched seonghwa on the shoulder.

“then may this be the first of many.”

“... hey san?”

“mm?”

seonghwa took a deep breath.

“i listened to a bit of the title track. you know, just so i knew how to put your own voice, your own words, your own emotions, into visual form. and i’m just curious…what inspired you?”

san’s smile softened as he averted his gaze, eventually opting to close his eyes and take a moment to relive the melody before answering seonghwa’s question.

“what inspired me? well… it's a mix of things, really."

“you don’t have to tell me.”

"no, it’s okay. honestly, the entire album, is a reflection of my whole life journey. it's about the highs and the lows, the love and the heartbreaks, the gains and the losses, and the constant search of meaning and purpose. each song represents a different chapter of my life. except for one.”

“that’s beautiful, sa- sorry, except for one?”

san meekly looked back at the painting, his eyes tracing the careful, delicate strokes and vivid colors that bounced back at him.

“yeah. the title track you mentioned. i wrote and sang it for you. well, more so how i think you feel about the person you keep painting.”

seonghwa’s eyes widened in surprise, his head snapping to look at the other with complete awe. his heart began to race, and his hand quickly flew to his chest. the room returned to its original silence - one that seemed to go even deeper as san’s words sank in. the humble painter was completely taken aback as he struggling to find the right words to such a jarring reply.

"f-for me?" seonghwa finally managed to splutter, something san smiled warmly at.

“yeah. for you. and that person. i mean... even though i said i wasn’t able to understand you, anyone can still see the true love and longing you have etched into your features. you’re not able to see the way you look at them whenever you bring them to life through your passion of art. and that's what inspired the song. it’s my own personal perception of your own personal emotions."

seonghwa stood there, still stunned by what he had just heard. the thoughts and emotions that had been buried deep within him, the ones he thought he had concealed and hidden away from the rest of the world, had just escaped san’s lips in word form.

"i… never expected you to see it," seonghwa murmured, his face now tinted pink. "you know me. i’m not an emotional person. i thought i was good at hiding my feelings."

san laughed and shook his head.

“hey, hyung, listen. i do know you, and you’re right - but also incredibly wrong. while you may be good at hiding your emotions from others, you can’t hide them from me. and when it comes down to your art, your mystery person, you can’t hide them from anyone. the vibe is beautiful, at times bittersweet - so in a sense, hyung, you and your muse have become my muses.”

the revelation that san’s title track was inspired by seonghwa and his emotions left the studio enveloped in yet another silence - this time one of profoundness and comfort. it simply became a moment between two artists and an enthralling muse.

"san," seonghwa finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “thank you for understanding me in a way that no one else ever has. and… thank you for giving my thoughts and my muse a voice."

“hey, you don't have to thank me. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

“and through the pages of time, i’ll still search every space, and through the darkness of shadows, i’ll still chase every trace, and though you maybe may be a love undefined, i’ll give to you this promise, ‘til our destinies can entwine…

~

“through the realms of dreams, i’ll journey far, for the love that's written in every star, with every heartbeat, i’ll stay true, until the day, the day i finally find you.”

“oh my god, wooyoung…”

you gawked at your best friend, who grinned at your reaction.

“so? what do you think?”

“i think it’s amazing. you really wrote that?”

“yeah.”

you shook your head at him, the rest of your body paralyzed in its place.

“dude, you have to take that to a recording studio or something.”

“hah, you really think so?" wooyoung replied with a playful smirk, trying to hide the genuine feelings of relief he felt at your positive response.

they were inspired by your love for your muse, after all.

but of course, he could never tell you that. not when you were already deeply troubled by the unfulfilled feelings of love and longing you had for him. he figured if you were to know, you would figure it out in your own.

“maybe i should consider it - though, i don’t want to put an end to everyone else’s careers.”

you nudged him lightly with your elbow, poking your tongue out at him playfully before letting out a laugh.

"okay, mr humble. if you’re going to be like that, i’ll take it all back. the fame’s already getting to your head and you haven’t even left the room yet.”

feigning the utmost shock and betrayal, wooyoung gasped dramatically and draped an arm over his eyes - which in turn, resulted in probably your biggest eye roll to date.

“oh y/n, you wound me once more! you’re so willing to retract your compliments - were your words merely superficial?”

you couldn't help but laugh loudly, drawing a few curious glances from your classmates. which of course, only resulted in wooyoung laughing loudly at you too.

“okay, okay. come on, wooyoung, you know i’m just kidding," you teased, nudging him again. "but seriously, i think you should at least try and contact a few studios. even if you don’t hear back, it’s worth the effort. you have a true gift for art. it’s beautiful, just like your photography."

as he absorbed your words, wooyoung’s playful demeanor shifted to a warm, gentle one. he looked at you softly, a small smile etched into his features.

“thank you, y/n. all jokes aside, your support means a lot to me. i’ll consider it, i promise.”

returning his smile, you took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. but before either of you could even have the chance to speak again, a scoff caught your attention.

peering over the shoulder of the purple headed boy in front of you, your eyes landed on another student, who you immediately recognized as one of the more recent transfers into the fashion department. you guessed he would roughly be around wooyoung’s height if it weren’t for his shoes, he sported a rather colorful mullet and he was dressed head to toe in a messy array of clothes and accessories.

you arched an eyebrow at him, noticing a glint of amusement in his intense gaze. he looked like he was holding back a laugh, as if he found something amusing about the conversation you were having with your best friend.

"what?" you questioned, eyes narrowing at the unique man.

rather than replying, he shot you a wink before making his way over, seemingly unaffected by your scrutiny.

“nothing," he replied casually, his chunky platforms causing him to tower over wooyoung - something you had to hold back on joking about. “i just couldn't help but overhear the two of you talking about music. and then some sappy shit."

a playful grin tugged at wooyoung’s lips as he sized up the new arrival.

“oh, so you were eavesdropping, huh? you’ve got quite the sharp ear. but i suppose that’s to be expected by such an esteemed musician like yourself.”

you glanced between the two, a puzzled look taking over your once suspicious expression. you were aware of this guy - he was hard to miss - but they seemed to share a camaraderie that you weren't aware of.

“wait, you two know each other?" you blinked, still trying to figure out the dynamic between them.

the vibrant multicolored haired man extended a heavily ringed hand, swiping his pierced tongue along his bottom lip and shooting you another wink.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, sweetheart. the name’s hongjoong. but you could call me yours for tonight, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

you quickly pulled your hand away from his rather tight grasp, a slight blush creeping onto your face.

“uh… nice to meet you too, i guess. but i think i’ll stick to calling you hongjoong."

“yeah,” wooyoung snickered, clearly amused by the interaction. “unfortunately for you, ‘sweetheart’ isn’t really the one for cheesy pickup lines, hyung.”

“oh, i see how it is,” hongjoong chuckled, visibly unfazed by both of your responses. “well, the offer still stands.”

you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this newcomer you now knew was named hongjoong. he certainly had a magnetic personality that demanded everyone’s full attention, but despite his playful demeanor and rather straightforward flirting, there was still an underlying feeling of genuine warmth radiating off of him. wooyoung looked comfortable - and you laughed when hongjoong flicked his forehead.

“you know, i appreciate it, but i’m still gonna pass,” you replied to him. “so how do you guys, you know, know each other?”

“wooyoung and i met when the fashion department and the photography department collaborated on a project last semester. we made the pieces, they took the pictures. then they served as our professional photographers when we had a showcase modelling our creations.”

wooyoung chimed in, his eyes glinting with fondness as he recalled the encounter.

"we were assigned together. honestly, i thought it would be a disaster at first. hongjoong has such a wild and bold sense of style and i’m all about subtle elegance. but somehow, our creative differences ended up complementing each other perfectly - i really got to gain some experience with experimental looks and got to expand my portfolio. it could really help me if i wanna apply for something surrounding haute couture.”

as you listened to wooyoung speak about his collaboration with the uniquely dressed man with a belt made of chained up teddy bears, you couldn't help but admire a rare instance where fire and ice were actually compatible. never in a million years had you thought someone as poised, sophisticated and traditional as wooyoung could come close to being friends with someone as bright, daring and unconventional as hongjoong. but alas - here it was in front of you, a strong friendship between two polar opposites (besides their humor).

“that’s amazing," you said, nodding your head in approval. "i think it’s amazing how two ‘contradicting’ art styles can create one extraordinary art form.”

hongjoong smirked at your words and took a little bow.

“thank you, sweetheart. you bet it was extraordinary. our work had people talking for weeks. did you read the local paper? we got an article and everything. it’s all about pushing boundaries, you know? not just in art, but every aspect of life is more exciting when you dare to step out of your comfort zone and take that risk."

you nodded again in agreement, finding yourself captivated by hongjoong's outlook on life.

“besides,” hongjoong continued matter-of-factly, “the exposure really helped with my music career.”

you tilted your head, eyes darting to wooyoung.

“wait. music career?”

“yep,” wooyoung reaffirmed. “hongjoong’s in an indie rock band.”

you were taken aback, pleasantly surprised by the sudden turn in conversation. though the subject of hongjoong being a musician came up earlier, you weren’t sure how serious wooyoung was being.

"an indie rock band? that’s incredible! why didn’t you say so when you scoffed at us?”

hongjoong shrugged with a nonchalant grin.

“you judged a book by its cover sweetheart. but yeah, now the cat’s out of the bag, we started playing gigs at local venues and have been slowly building our presence in the music scene. now we play at festivals, and shit. you and wooyoung should come along next time. i’d like to see some familiar faces that don’t belong to the groupies trying to get into my pants.”

the more you learned about hongjoong, the more fascinated you became. he was a true artist in every sense of the word, an epitome even, excelling in multiple creative avenues. suddenly it all made sense why his and wooyoung’s friendship worked so well – despite their differences, they were both passionate and unafraid to explore their own personal boundaries.

“you know, that sounds great, i’d love to come to one of your gigs one day. hey, i was just talking to wooyoung about the possibility of him making music. what do you think? genuinely this time, don’t be a smartass.”

“well,” hongjoong’s eyes shifted back to wooyoung as he considered your question. “i didn’t know wooyoung was interested in making his own music, but from what i know about his ethic and from what i heard just before, i don’t doubt he would excel in the industry. tell you what - i’ll speak to the others, maybe we could collaborate on something.”

as soon as hongjoong’s preposition left his lips, a spark of excitement danced in both your and wooyoung’s eyes. the idea of combining their talents seemed like an incredible opportunity to create something special - and your mind began filling with possibilities.

it was apparent that wooyoung thought the same, as he barely managed to get out a faint “are you serious?" - something hongjoong chuckled at.

“of course! i think our styles could create something powerful. i trust your artistic abilities, so let’s give it a shot. but just know, i hold a high standard and i’m going to be tough. i may believe in freedom of expression but i’m still a perfectionist.”

“understood, hyung. i won’t let you down."

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading

[alpydk]

The Circling Sky (Part 7)

Time for another dose of angst - I did warn this was not a happy story from the start...

Her dismissal bothered him a little. It reminded him oddly of his meeting with Elminster and Tav’s attempts to cheer him up. They’d tried for hours after the stabilisation of the orb to discuss it with him, to make him see reason about Mystra’s request and yet he’d pushed them aside, deep in his own thoughts and his mind made up over what he had been told to do. Something that he had been prepared to do for a long while. Is this how Tav had felt? Helpless? Lost?

Ao3 Link

Gale woke the next morning alone, the sheets next to him now creased and cold as he reached his arm over them in search of the company he had shared with the night before. Had the night been that bad that Lissa could not stand to be around him or had her father dictated a command to her that she had to obey? He rose from the bed, pushing away his wild locks of hair, before getting dressed and going in search of her.

She sat at a table outside, seemingly lost in thought as he found her. The air was cool and crisp; a soft dew settled over the surfaces. He approached, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder only to pull back as she flinched at his grasp. “Sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no. You didn’t.” She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the pleasant tones of her voice.

“Is everything alright? You seem a little more subdued than I would have expected.” He sat down beside her and noticed as the familiar tapping of her fingers began.

“I’m fine. A little tired after you kept me up last night.” A small smile but without the following brightness of her eyes that he had learnt to recognise.

He placed his hand over hers and gave it a soft squeeze. “Lissa... If you regret last night, then so be it, but you need not hide it from me. I’m an adult and can accept a little heartbreak more than most.”

Lissa looked away from him considering the words he had said. He watched as she sighed deeply and he prepared himself for the comments that would follow, that maybe he had not been good enough after his long pause, or maybe she had just decided that it was a quick fling, and she wasn’t as interested as he’d initially believed her to be.

“Gale... it’s not that, it’s-”

Her voice was cut off by the shout of the innkeeper. “Is there a cleric about!?”

***

Lissa stood at the entrance to the small room, her father’s body lying on the bed in front of her.

“Dead for some hours, I’d say.” “Booze probably. He was drinking quite a lot on the trip.” “Could have been his heart, he was moaning about it a bit yesterday.” “You’d think ‘is daughter would’ve noticed.” “Yeah, but she’s been flirting with that wizard, ain’t she.” “Well, wouldn’t you? He’s not ‘alf bad.” “Wait, isn’t that...?”

She ignored the gossip of the travellers who’d spent the journey falling for Viktor’s charms. All she could do was focus on the corpse that lay a short distance from her. She’d always thought of this moment, of some dramatic breakdown, sobbing into the arms of someone or crying to the gods, and yet, here, now, it was only confusion. She felt sick, happy, numb. She longed for her mind to focus on one sensation alone, but it jumped from memory to memory, to his body lifeless in front of her. His colour was different, unnaturally pale, almost grey in the light; she didn’t recognise him and yet did at the same time. This man, her father, dead.

She looked at the floor, the walls, the bedsheet, anything to get her mind to start working, to start processing. She felt Gale’s soft hand lightly touch her own, a form of comfort in these moments, or at least it would have been comforting if she was feeling the overwhelming sadness she had expected. “I need something to eat.” The food she would cope with; food was an acceptable response right now, wasn’t it?

***

She sat with the small plate of bread picking at it, Gale watching her every move, waiting for the breakdown that was to come. “I’m fine, really,” she said, not making eye contact with him.

He sighed at her words. “Lissa, it’s quite acceptable to be upset at this time. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Tap, tap, tap, the fingers under the table. “Ah, it’s fine. This is what I wanted after all.” She lifted her head with a smile and a distant look in her eyes. “We’ll just transport him to Baldur’s Gate as planned and cremate him there, I suppose. It’ll be just like when he was passed out, only cheaper...” Her mind pulled in opposite directions, guilt already plaguing her about her choice of words, but the anger driving her forward. Where was the freedom she was promised? What were all these new feelings she had not been warned of?

“You know that’s not possible, my dear. To transport him.” She heard the seriousness of his tone, the way he was trying to provide solace but also meaning in his words. Her father would have to be buried close by before his body inevitably broke down; another inconvenience given to her from beyond the grave.

Lissa nodded at his words. “Then I guess we should get started.”

“Do you not need time? This is a lot to be dealing with.”

“No, it needs to be done and I don’t want to hold up the caravan because of him.” She was already starting to move to get things prepared, her body going into autopilot and approaching the innkeeper to ask for details; Who could she pay? Where would it happen? This was much easier to focus on than the hard truth of the matter. He had died, and it was all her fault.

***

Gale watched from the table as she discussed her options with the innkeeper, handing over a small locket from around her neck, another memory given away in payment for her father’s needs. He stood to offer his own services, but as he approached, she turned to him. “I’ve dealt with it all. I can manage this. Why don’t you just go and pack.”

Her dismissal bothered him a little. It reminded him oddly of his meeting with Elminster and Tav’s attempts to cheer him up. They’d tried for hours after the stabilisation of the orb to discuss it with him, to make him see reason about Mystra’s request and yet he’d pushed them aside, deep in his own thoughts and his mind made up over what he had been told to do. Something that he had been prepared to do for a long while. Is this how Tav had felt? Helpless? Lost?

He went to his room and began to arrange his belongings. She’d yet to shed a tear or even react to what had happened. He briefly wished he had access to the tadpole to be able to hear the constant thoughts undoubtedly racing through her head, but what good would that do if he couldn’t understand them? He straightened out the bedsheets, last night’s events now a distant memory.

***

Viktor was buried in a shallow grave a short distance from the inn, a small wooden stick marking the location, Lissa wanting to waste little time in the area. Her logic was that they were holding up the rest of the travellers and she could not afford to do that. The last of the dirt settled over the corpse and still the tears would not come as she wanted. This should have been the moment to say goodbye, to let the grief flow and yet it didn’t. She just wanted to keep moving, to keep busy and process everything. She felt as Gale stood with an arm around her, waiting for the moment of mourning to begin.

She had no flowers, no words of love, of life, of how much she would miss her father. She had nothing. At least that part he had been consistent with when it came to his death. She turned from the spot, flattening down her shirt. “I guess, it’s time we got moving.”

Gale gripped her wrist as she began, stopping her from leaving. “Do you not want to say a few words? Have a moment alone with him perhaps?”

“I’d rather we continued where we left off last night if anything.” She leaned up at him, a playful smile on her face, but an uneasiness in the way she looked at him; Anything to keep going, to stop thinking.

“Lissa-"

“Don’t Lissa me. Look, we’ve got one week of travel left. Or well...” She thought back to the reason she was even on this journey. It had all been for him, her father looking for his escape. Well, he had found it, but now she had no reason to be where she was, on the route to Baldur’s Gate. “I suppose you have one week left. I need to figure out what I’m doing.”

Gale released his grip on her. “Continue with me. If I’m quite honest with you, I don’t really want to entertain the thought of leaving you alone at this time.”

She gave him a smile. “Let’s go then.”

***

The cart rocked and Lissa rested her body into Gale’s arm, his warmth a welcome change from the distance they’d had to hold when her father had been there. Her mind kept hopping between the night and the morning, two very different events but both bringing equal discomfort that she wanted to ignore; Gale’s hands controlling her body, her father’s death controlling her emotions.

Gale had said very little to her since they had left the inn, most likely unsure of what to say. You can’t show sympathy to someone pretending everything is okay. You can’t wipe away the tears that won’t come. He’d still stayed by her side though, waiting and watching. That was enough. That was something she wanted.

She reached for a journal in her pack and started scribbling notes, inspiration as always striking when she was at her worst. Small poems reflecting abuse, others about hope, but all a similar theme of her life. Today’s notes, her father.

Gale watched over her shoulder as she wrote a few words and then scratched them out with the pencil. “Poems of your own making, I see.”

She chuckled. “Poems are a far cry from what these are. Nothing worth reading or trying to understand.”

“I doubt that my dear. Even the worst poetry is an attempt to express meaning and emotion. Tanil’s poem on clouds was not well received but it still conveyed the longing for freedom.” Gale, yet again conveyed the beauty in the world around him and for a moment Lissa was a little jealous of his optimism. “What is it that you are trying to write? Maybe I could be of assistance.”

She hesitated for a moment. In her life, nothing had truly been hers, her money, her body. The poetry, as questionable as it was had always belonged to her, and to share it with another, to have them edit it or offer advice felt wrong. “I’d rather only share when it’s finished if that’s okay.”

“Of course, but I am here for you. For anything you might require.”

***

Gale saw the words flow, get erased, the tapping of the pencil on her knee, but as requested he offered no advice, simply waiting until she was ready to share. The day had turned to evening and each person had retired to their tents. He’d asked if she needed company only to have been rejected and he tried to figure out what he had done wrong, why she kept pushing him away.

He retraced his steps back to their night together trying to pinpoint the moment things had changed and yet nothing would stand out. She had been willing; she had seemed to have enjoyed herself; the small moment of uncertainty was probably just one of nerves. Maybe something had happened during the night that he was unaware of, but now was not the time to ask.

He lay in his tent, his body growing heavy with sleep when he felt the touch of a hand running up his inner thigh. He opened his eyes seeing Lissa, her shirt loose, leaning over him. 

“Shh.” She whispered to him, her hand tracing the laces of his trousers.

He rested his head back down letting her hands dance, his body reacting instinctively as she touched, the pressure building as she rubbed the leather and his erection beneath. His earlier doubts were silenced as he felt himself grow against her touch. He glanced over at her, the creeping smile she held on her face, the pink flush of her cheeks, the cold look of her eyes. He gripped down, holding her wrist. “Stop, stop,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him confused. “But isn’t this what you want?”

“No, not like this.” Though he wanted to focus on her, his mind drifted back to Astarion, the same emotionless gaze he’d shown whenever they’d spoken of intimacy. “Lissa, I can see it in your eyes; something is wrong.”

Lissa pulled her hand back, looking away from him and trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions. It would have been so much easier to just bury them and lose herself in him.

“My dear, we both know this is not what you want.” He rolled a little making room next to him on the bedroll and opened his arms for her to join him. “Just come here, please.”

Gale watched as she stared at the tent entrance, almost considering if leaving would be the easier path before eventually choosing to settle into his arms, the silent tears dampening his shirt. In quiet breaths, she spoke. “It all just hurts...it hurts so much.”

He had no words to support her, no understanding of anything she was going through or had been through. He could only do the one thing he knew how to; he held her close and listened, as Tav had done with him all those moons ago.

[kpodcast]

It's about the YEARNING

Hello and welcome back to Yeaji's immaculate vibes for Friday! Maybe it's because it's October, or maybe it's because I love this song, but it feels like it's time for some yearning. There's plenty of songs that have the feeling, but I think there's one song that stands above the rest.

I'm talking about "Higher" by A.C.E of course. If you haven't heard it, please do yourself a favor and listen to it!

There's a lot musically going on to give it the yearning, but that's more of a Tuesday post, don't you think? The point for today is that it's there. There's an aching feeling deep in this song.

If I remember right, "Higher" is about a mermaid who's planning to risk everything for love. And that is translated perfectly in the music.

This is the song you listen to while riding the bus home in the rain, staring out the window like you're part of a dramatic music video.

This is the song that you would use as a backdrop for a fanmade anime video (iykyk).

It's desperate. It's longing. It's hopeful. It's resigned. It's searching.

It's a love song. It's a breakup song.

It somehow brings every fleeting emotion you might experience in a romantic relationship and puts it into one song.

I have a hard time putting this into words because this song is just... it invokes such strong and dynamic feelings. The song itself is pretty fast, and the music is pushing (reaching? chasing? searching?) and yet it feels like a ballad - maybe because of those long notes in the chorus.

And when I didn't think I could get any more feelings, A.C.E did a live version that sent my heart soaring. It's softer. It has tight harmonies that emphasize the desperation of the music. The band is quieter, without the extra effects in the studio version.

Not to mention, there's something special about listening to live music - I think we can all agree on that. As for "Higher", this live performance, with the adlibs and harmonies, adds so much to the music. There's a rawness in their live vocals (this is also true of the music show stages btw).

Whenever this song comes on, I can't help but belt out the chorus (and I can never hold that note as long as A.C.E but oh well) and the lingering message of "you're in my heart, let's do it, let's do it again"

It almost feels like a tragedy, doesn't it? Like in the musical "Hadestown". Which, side-bar, is excellent. But that tells of the Greek tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, and it has this same message. It's a sad song, but we keep singing it. No matter how many times the story is retold, it ends the same.

And yet we keep singing it! We continue to tell the stories of Greek tragedies. We keep reading/watching Shakespeare's tragic plays. We listen to songs like "Higher" or "Glimpse of Us" and we feel the tragedy and the heartbreak.

It may end in tears, but we experience it together. And maybe that's why I like this song so much. Because we all experience this particular yearning together. We carry this longing and loss together.

[dangal9932]

Explore The Iconic Hindi Romantic Serial On OTT Platforms.

Introduction:

The world of television entertainment has changed dramatically with the explosive growth of OTT services, enabling viewers to rewatch their favorite series whenever and wherever they choose. Dangal Play has become a retreat for fans of vintage Hindi Romantic Serial among the many accessible platforms. Whether you're a long-time lover of these beautiful stories or a newcomer eager to explore the world of Indian TV romance, Dangal Play has a vast collection of legendary series that have made an unforgettable impression on viewers' hearts.

We'll closely examine a few of the most popular Hindi Romantic Serial on Dangal Play in this blog.

Kitani Mohabbat Hai Season 2:

"Kitani Mohabbat Hai" is one of the most recognizable Hindi Romantic Serial when it comes to classic love tales. The deep and passionate love story between Arjun and Arohi continues in the second season of this beloved show. The emotional rollercoaster they experience together and their on-screen connection have made this serial a fan favorite.

Amidst miscommunications, familial disputes, and the difficulties of romantic love, Season 2 explores the intricacies of Arjun and Arohi bond in greater detail. The program has become a timeless classic thanks to its distinctive storytelling approach and engaging soundtrack. Dangal Play is ideal for immersing yourself in this epic story of love, grief, and redemption if you have yet to experience their journey.

Rehna Hai Teri Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein:

A further jewel in the Hindi Romantic Serial crown is "Rehna Hai Teri Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein." This series tells the heartwarming tale of Suman, an orphan raised by a kind family. The narrative tackles love, belonging, and self-discovery issues as Suman works through her new life and its complex relationships.

The plot revolves around her romance with Karan, full of delicate, longing, and heartbreaking moments. The show does a fantastic job of capturing the courage needed to overcome life's hardships and the innocence of first love. You may watch this touching narrative and relive the enchantment of Suman and Karan love story on Dangal Play.

Baazi Ishq Ki- Ek Jaal Ishq Ka, Ek Chaal Ishq Ki:-

The gripping tale "Baazi Ishq Ki- Ek Jaal Ishq Ka, Ek Chaal Ishq Ki" skillfully combines romance, mystery, and the complex nature of relationships with others. The program centers on the lives of its characters, whose paths unexpectedly intersect and result in situations that alter their conceptions of loyalty and love.

"Baazi Ishq Ki- Ek Jaal Ishq Ka, Ek Chaal Ishq Ki" explores themes of sacrifice and the decisions we make for the people we love, even if romance is at its core. The story has plenty of twists and turns and well-drawn characters to keep readers interested to the very end. If you're searching for a romantic comedy with a twist, you should watch "Baazi Ishq Ki- Ek Jaal Ishq Ka, Ek Chaal Ishq Ki" on Dangal Play.

Sindoor Ki Keemat 2:-

The compelling story of "Sindoor Ki Keemat 2" still focuses on love, sacrifice, and the social constraints frequently associated with marriage. The significance of sindoor as a symbol of marriage commitment in Indian culture is examined in this serial, emphasizing the difficulties the main characters in the program confront.

The plot lives are explored in greater detail in the second season as they work through the challenges of marriage, love, and familial expectations. Fans of dramas portraying the struggles and victories of love are drawn to Sindoor Ki Keemat 2 because of its compelling plot and deep emotional content. This show, available on Dangal Play, is ideal for anyone who likes moving tales with a vital emotional component.

Sawaare Sabke Sapne Preeto:-

The charming love drama Sawaare Sabke Sapne Preeto immerses us in the life of Preeto, a young lady who serves as her family's pillar. Set in Punjab, the drama masterfully conveys the essence of love, family values, and the challenges of striking a balance between one's own needs and obligations to one's family.

One of the many distinctive features of this drama is Preeto's love story. Her decisions and path to self-discovery are depicted with compassion, making it an engaging and sympathetic watch. Dangal Play presents this serial to audiences who want a mix of drama, romance, and strong female leads.

Janam Janam Ka Sath:-

"Janam Janam Ka Sath" delves into eternal love and the conviction that certain relationships endure beyond time and reincarnation. The show narrates the tale of two spirits who are meant to be together despite the difficulties they encounter in each existence.

This serial is ideal for individuals who trust in fate and love. The story Janam Janam Ka Sath is a monument to the enduring power of genuine love, with its captivating storyline and profound emotional depth. Experience this timeless story on screen with Dangal Play, where you'll witness a love story that transcends time.

Conclusion:-

Some of the most well-known and influential Hindi Romantic Serial have their roots in Dangal Play. The platform offers something for every romantic, whether in the mood for an enduring love story, a drama with lots of twists and turns, or a story of unending love. Dangal Play presents a wide range of productions honoring the various dimensions of love, ranging from passionate romance.  

[allaboutdigital2024]

Check Out Ajay Devgn’s New Movie : Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha(2024)

The most versatile actor in Bollywood, Ajay Devgn, comes back with a bang in his most recent film, “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha.” Acclaimed for his powerful performances and alluring on-screen persona, Devgn never fails to mesmerize viewers with the characters he takes on. Let’s explore the factors that make “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” a must-see film.

Movie Overview

Title: Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha Director: Neeraj Pandey Genre: Action/Drama Release Date: July 2024

The action-drama “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” was directed by the well-known director Neeraj Pandey, who is renowned for his compelling narrative and dynamic direction. The movie is expected to be an intense, dramatic, and action-packed roller coaster, with Ajay Devgn playing a strong role that solidifies his place among Bollywood’s biggest performers.

Summary of the Story “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” is a Bollywood film that is set against the backdrop of a busy Indian city. It centers on the life of Ajay Devgn’s character Arjun, who has a fascinating past and a strong personality. Arjun becomes caught up in a web of corruption, betrayal, and personal grudges as he makes his way through a sequence of unanticipated activities. Justice, atonement, and the unrelenting search for the truth are among the issues that the movie tackles.

Cast and Characters As Arjun, Ajay Devgn: Arjun is a multifaceted individual with a concealed past who is driven to find the truth and battle injustice. Taapsee Pannu plays the strong-willed journalist Meera, who works with Arjun to assist him both strategically and emotionally. Commissioner Suryavanshi, played by Anupam Kher, is an experienced police officer torn between duty and morality. The character of Rana, played by Rana Daggubati, is a strong adversary who contributes complexity to the conflict.

Music: Vishal-Shekhar, a gifted partnership, composed the soundtrack for “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha”. They have created a musical experience that goes well with the story of the movie and are well-known for their ability to combine modern beats with emotional melodies. The songs are a mix of energetic hits that will connect with the crowd and heartbreaking ballads.

The vision of the director Famous for his roles in movies such as “A Wednesday!” and “Special 26,” Neeraj Pandey contributes his own touch to “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha.” His talent for crafting gripping stories with compelling character development guarantees that viewers will be engrossed in this movie from beginning to end.

Why You Should Watch

What Makes Ajay Devgn’s Performance Worth Seeing: Devgn shows off his ability to delve deeply into difficult characters with his dramatic and captivating depiction of Arjun. Captivating Storyline: Plot twists and turns abound, giving this compelling tale to watch. Robust Supporting Cast: The movie features a cast of gifted performers, including Taapsee Pannu and Anupam Kher, who deliver hit roles throughout. High-Octane Action: Sensational and realistic action scenes are expertly orchestrated in this film. Depth of Feeling: The movie delves into deep issues of justice, selflessness, and the human spirit in addition to action sequences.

Where to watch The movie “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” is scheduled to open in theaters both domestically and abroad. A few months after its theatrical debut, the movie should be accessible on popular streaming services for people who would rather watch at home.

In summary It appears like “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” would be among the most eagerly awaited Bollywood films of the year. This film, which stars Ajay Devgn and is directed by Neeraj Pandey, is expected to provide a cinematic experience that combines drama, action, and emotional nuance. Don’t miss this exciting adventure as Arjun fights against all obstacles to reveal the truth.

[eudaimon-h]

arz-e-ahvāl ko gilā samjhe

kyā kahā maiñ ne aap kyā samjhe

sāz-e-ulfat chhiḌ rahā hai āñsuoñ ke saaz par

muskurā.e ham to un ko bad-gumānī ho ga.ī

Explain these as if you are in this situation.

Explanation

arz-e-ahvāl ko gilā samjhe

kyā kahā maiñ ne aap kyā samjhe

Translation

You took my expression of my state as a complaint

What did I say, and what did you understand?

In this couplet, the poet is expressing a deep sense of frustration and bewilderment. The speaker is pouring out their heart, sharing their innermost feelings and state of being, only to be misunderstood. The listener, instead of empathizing, perceives it as a complaint. The poet sarcastically questions the listener's comprehension, highlighting the chasm between what was said and what was understood. This miscommunication adds a layer of emotional complexity, as the speaker feels both unheard and misinterpreted.

sāz-e-ulfat chhiḌ rahā hai āñsuoñ ke saaz par

muskurā.e ham to un ko bad-gumānī ho ga.ī

Translation:

The melody of love is being played on the instrument of tears but,

When I smiled, they became suspicious of me.

This couplet beautifully captures the paradox of love and sorrow. The poet uses the metaphor of a musical instrument to describe how their tears are the notes in the melody of love. It's a poignant image, suggesting that love and pain are intertwined. The second line adds a touch of irony and sarcasm. When the poet tries to mask their sorrow with a smile, the beloved becomes suspicious, perhaps thinking the smile is insincere or hiding something. This reaction adds to the poet's anguish, as even their attempts to appear happy are met with doubt and mistrust.

Misinterpretation and misunderstanding act like a swift poison, capable of destroying even the strongest of bonds within minutes. Regardless of the depth of your honesty or the strength of your relationship, these miscommunications can erode trust and connection rapidly, leaving emotional devastation in their wake.

While these couplets are rich in emotion and metaphor, they also reveal a somewhat pessimistic view of communication and relationships.

The first couplet underscores the difficulty of being truly understood, suggesting that even heartfelt expressions can be misconstrued. This can be seen as a critique of human relationships, where genuine emotions are often lost in translation.

The second couplet, while romantic in its imagery, also highlights the inherent suspicion and mistrust that can plague relationships. The poet's tears are a testament to their deep feelings, yet their smile—a universal sign of happiness—is met with skepticism. This duality can be seen as a commentary on the fragile nature of trust in romantic relationships.

The emotions expressed resonate deeply, almost like a haunting melody that lingers long after the song has ended. It’s truly heartbreaking how love often intertwines with sorrow, as if they were dance partners in a tragic ballet. Genuine attempts at communication can feel like navigating a minefield, where every heartfelt expression risks being misinterpreted. Confusion and frustration bubble up when sincere feelings are met with suspicion, leaving a sense of isolation that feels heavier than a thousand-pound weight.

It’s almost comical how the simplest words can spiral into misunderstandings, turning a sweet confession into a dramatic courtroom scene. One can’t help but wonder if there’s a secret manual on how to misread emotions, because it seems like everyone has a copy. There’s a longing for clearer communication and deeper understanding in relationships, as if searching for a rare gem in a sea of pebbles.

This highlights the fragility of human connections, where a single misstep can shatter what was once a beautiful bond. Thank you for sharing these poignant thoughts; they reflect the emotional turmoil many face, reminding us that love is not just a feeling but a complex puzzle that often leaves us scratching our heads in bewilderment

Some examples

You can also check out these couplets in which there is some misunderstanding between people

dil hi to hai na sang-o-khisht dard se bhar na aaye kyun

roenge hum hazaar baar koi hamein sataye kyun

In this couplet, Ghalib emphasizes the vulnerability of the human heart. He questions why it shouldn't be filled with pain when it is not made of unfeeling materials. The poet also highlights the emotional complexity of enduring repeated torment, suggesting a deep sense of sorrow and resilience.

mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang

maine samjha tha ke tu hai to darakhshaan hai hayaat

Translates:

Do not ask for the love I once gave you, my beloved

I had thought that if you were there, life would be radiant

The poet reflects on his past belief that the beloved's presence would make life bright and beautiful. This couplet captures the emotional complexity of lost love and the miscommunication of expectations.

raanjhā raañjhā kardi ni maiñ āpe raañjhā hoi

saddo ni meñu dhīdo raañjhā, heer na ākhō koi

Faraz delves into the theme of identity and transformation through love. The poet suggests that by constantly invoking the name of the beloved, he has lost his own identity and become one with the beloved. This couplet explores the emotional complexity of losing oneself in love and the miscommunication of one's true self.

wo to khushbu hai hawaon mein bikhar jaayega

masla phool ka hai phool kidhar jaayega

Parveen Shakir uses the metaphor of fragrance and flower to explore the theme of separation and loss. The poet suggests that while the beloved's essence will remain in the air, the real issue lies with the one who is left behind. This couplet captures the emotional complexity of dealing with loss and the miscommunication of permanence.

ab nahi koi baat khatre ki

ab sabhi ko sabhi se khatra hai

Jaun Elia's couplet reflects a deep sense of mistrust and paranoia. The poet suggests that the world has become a place where everyone is suspicious of everyone else, highlighting the emotional complexity of living in such an environment. This couplet explores the theme of miscommunication and the breakdown of trust in relationships.

Rebuilding trust and repairing miscommunication with a blend of hope, introspection, and emotional depth is necessary.

As there are many ways poets do so few examples are mentioned below

hazāroñ ḳhvāhishẽ aisī ki har ḳhvāhish pe dam nikle

bahut nikle mire armaan lekin phir bhī kam nikle

Translation:

Thousands of desires, each worth dying for

Many of my wishes were fulfilled, yet they were too few

Ghalib reflects on the multitude of desires and the fulfillment of some, yet he acknowledges that they are never enough. This couplet can be interpreted as a metaphor for the continuous effort required to rebuild trust and repair miscommunication. The poet suggests that despite achieving some level of understanding, the journey is ongoing and requires persistent effort.

dil na-umīd to nahīñ nākām hī to hai

lambī hai ġham kī shaam magar shaam hī to hai

Translation:

The heart is not hopeless, just unsuccessful

The evening of sorrow is long, but it is just an evening

Faiz offers a message of hope and resilience. He acknowledges the presence of sorrow and failure but emphasizes that these are temporary. This couplet encourages the idea that trust can be rebuilt and miscommunication can be repaired with patience and perseverance.

wo to khushbu hai hawāoñ meñ bikhar jā.egā

masla phool kā hai phool kidhar jā.egā

Translation

He is like a fragrance that will spread in the air

The problem is with the flower, where will the flower go?

Parveen Shakir uses the metaphor of fragrance and flowers to convey the idea of enduring presence and the challenges of separation. She suggests that while the essence of a person (trust) can linger, the physical presence (relationship) needs nurturing and care to survive. This couplet emphasizes the importance of continuous effort in maintaining and rebuilding trust

ab ke hum bichhḌe to shāyad kabhī ḳhvāboñ meñ mileñ

jis tarah sūkhe hue phool kitāboñ meñ mileñ

Translation

If we part now, perhaps we will meet in dreams

Like dried flowers found in books.

Jaun Elia poignantly reflects on the possibility of meeting again after separation. He uses the metaphor of dried flowers in books to suggest that memories and trust can be preserved and revisited. This couplet highlights the idea that even after miscommunication and separation, there is hope for reconciliation and rebuilding trust.

I hope you work towards your relationship. All the best

[thepermanentrainpress]

MEKEL: HOW TO FORGIVE (AND LET GO)

How to Forgive (and Let Go) – mekel Release Date: February 3rd, 2023

Track Listing:

1. TEETH 2. Not Good Enough for the Truth 3. SICKWISHES 4. HOUSEPARTY 5. Would-Be Memories 6. DROOLING 7. Fragile Fragility 8. How to Forgive (and Let Go)

How to Forgive (and Let Go) is self-described by singer-songwriter mekel. The Edmonton-raised, now Montreal-based artist debuts her first album with an impactful punch, laced with traces of pop, girl-punk, and r&b. mekel is exceptionally talented at capturing the story of love and the loss of it; bitterness, truth and acceptance are all themes explored in this album with a rawness and dramatism that feel authentic. It is perfect for when you’re mourning your shitty ex, and all of the emotions that come with being in and out of love.

Right away I’ll call out my favourite part of the album: the lyrics. mekel reads poetic by nature. Her lyrics are entrancing, with a mixture of metaphor and storytelling contrasting very simple and blunt lyrics. For example, in the opening song “Teeth” mekel sings, 

"Is it my teeth or the way that I speak that makes you question “why?”

Wasn’t I skinny enough to fit into the void that was in your heart?”

The style reminds me of early Paramore and Avril Lavigne — women that knew how to sing about how love (and breaking up) are ultimately nothing in the journey of self-worth and emotional expression. Paired with her dreamy synth-pop production and guitar, mekel should be listened to alongside new faces like Olivia Rodrigo and Willow.

I think mekel’s artistic vision for the album shines through in her darker songs. “SICKWISHES,” “HOUSEPARTY” and “DROOLING” all feature the constant thrum of a deep guitar, snare, or drums and bass juxtaposed with mekel’s haunting, airy vocals. These vocals are treated with reverb or autotune to give the songs a chilling quality to it, amplifying the feelings of betrayal and rage. It provides the album with the right energy emphasizing that How to Forgive (and Let Go) is “not a linear process” (mekel, 2023). Nobody wakes up after hardship and gets better everyday. We slip up, get angry, and sometimes find ourselves in the same place we started. mekel is here to remind us that it’s okay, and there’s feminine strength in that.

Speaking of the album’s narrative, I feel it does a good job of guiding the listener through this non-linear process in a way that is not jumbled. It still feels very cohesive, and it is songs like “Fragile Fragility” – my favourite on the entire album – that remind us of the pain and remorse that come with heartbreak. “Fragile Fragility” also highlights mekel’s production in a way that the other songs do not. It features mekel’s lullaby-esque vocals layered on top of each other accompanied by a haunting, minimal piano progression. It is different from the rest of the songs and makes for a striking track.

Each track searches for something that is either explicit — when can you leave that awful houseparty? — or something that the listener can uncover and find for themselves. The ending track, “How to Forgive (and Let Go),” is different for a reason. Not donning most of the pop inspiration the rest of the album has, this track is quiet and focused on the soft strumming of a single guitar and mekel’s vocals. mekel describes this track as “finding the answer” and I think it is a beautiful way to conclude an album about processing, expression, and healing.

Written by: Alexa Tarrayo

[sleepysigh]

I can't help but see this song and "Autoclave" as being linked by the same speaker who has aged in real time, 21 years between songs.

The emotive, dramatic declarations of Maize sound so young and wounded-by-surprise, like a teenager discovering one of the agonies he's never felt before, thrashing on the ground, internalizing it. Autoclave, by contrast has phrases that border on "professional", like it's all old hat to him now, and it is far more externally oriented.

It's so easy to imagine someone who has been carrying around the same fatally wounded feeling for so long, every indignity and heartbreak tearing it open all over again, waking up already hopeless and worn out but with no choice other than go on living, as if he could really be expected to cope with any of it. Of course he'd sound colder, cynical, more mechanical years later, if he still hadn't found a way out.

But despite everything he says in Autoclave -- everything is so unforgivably poisoned and terrible that he has no response but to indiscriminately destroy whatever he touches, all he knows is an eternally frozen, unchanging suffering -- the intervening years have slightly loosened his resolve.

After 20 years and who knows how much gnashing of teeth, Autoclave begins with a humble request for the comfort of touch, for something to hold on to, since everything seems to be doomed anyway. He's still deep down in the agony during this song too, but there is just a hint that he might realize he could try something other than drowning in this debilitating fixation.

Listening to both of them, on the surface it looks like he's run in useless circles for twenty years, but that's not quite right. He's been banging his head on the same wall, and he hasn't noticed it yet, but just now it started to crack. There's faint hope that one day he might realize he's allowed to have mercy on himself; it's no crime to savor peace and no humiliation to reach for warmth, however fleeting or hopeless it seems. I think, whatever happens after Autoclave, it isn't the end quite yet.

Who's to say, when he wakes up the next morning, he doesn't dwell in the memory of his hands and how hers felt inside them, doesn't find a balm in the way his wild eyes searched and met with a gentle face turned unflinchingly to witness him, even as he felt the boundless sky bring its weight to bear on them both? Does it not crack the shell, make the bitterness seem less precious, to know others will not abandon you simply because you believe they should?

Is it not a sturdy enough foothold for some kind of peace simply to know that he is not alone? He is not uniquely cursed, this is one of the most mundane tortures humans can experience. Would it not be enough after all if, as the sky fell, a sudden melody took him by surprise, distracting him completely with the unfettered exuberance of a fledgling cardinal's first full-throated song?

If there is the slightest crack in his intolerable cell, then couldn't it permit a filament of sun to reach down to him like a lifeline of glowing spider silk, a fragment of unknown comfort and unconsidered possibilities? If, by degrees, he allowed himself the mercy of a touch, then there is a chance for him to see the inevitability of not only grief, but comfort, not only loss, but love, not only fear, but joy.

There is a chance, before the infinite rushes down upon him at last, for him to meet it as an equal -- neither strangled by fear nor distracted with rage. Only with the warmth of a hand in his own and the benediction of loving eyes, which is the most anyone could really ask.

maize stalk drinking blood is SUCH a song like yes this IS an empty country i AM the king i should NOT be allowed to touch ANYTHING

[fappellmoan]

listen i love the cast of stranger things dearly but compared to them... i am being fed by the casts who just decide to pursue the homoerotic subtext and play it as such. i dont need the lies anymore

[talesmaniac89]

Halloween Surprise

Pairing :  (Former) Dean x reader

Summary: You're out trick or treating with your son when you run into someone from your past. Someone with the same green eyes as your son.

Warnings: Feelings of betrayal, secrets, breakup and heartbreak.

Word Count: 5081

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

“Lucas! Are you ready to go?” You called up the stairs as you frowned down at your wristwatch. It was already getting a bit late, and you didn’t want to be out when it was dark outside. You’d long since learned what was lurking in the darkness, but ever since you had your son you’d grown even more wary of the lengthening shadows that came with twilight. 

Yet, though you were on a pretty tight trick or treating schedule, the little rascal upstairs remained nearly suspiciously quiet as you tapped the boot of your Wonder Woman costume impatiently. 

“Lucas (Y/L/N)!” You called up again, channeling every ounce of strict motherly love you could into your voice as you debated going up to check what the cheeky little five year old was up to. The beginning of fear and panic rearing its ugly head as your carefully developed hunter’s instincts always went to the worst possible outcome.  Yet, the little giggle that easily reached you from the top of the stairs quickly calmed your frayed nerves and reminded you that you were no longer a hunter. You’d left that life behind you nearly six years ago. The moment you realized you were pregnant. 

“No Lucas up here mommy!” Your son’s cheeky little voice called back, the poorly concealed giggles drawing a smile out of you as you rolled your eyes at the little guy. His love for the dramatic was clearly something he’d gotten from his father. Though the man in question would probably disagree and say it was a trait your son had gotten from you. Swallowing down the bittersweet feeling that always followed any thought of the man you’d loved and lost, you took a deep breath before calling back up to your little man.

“Really? Oh, that’s too bad, but… Does Batman wanna come trick or treating with mommy then?” You called back with a small smile. One that only grew from the happy squeal leaving your little vigilante as he bounced into view. Before carefully taking the stairs the moment you reminded him not to run down the carpeted staircase. 

“Yes! Batman wants candy!” His young voice was still high pitched and innocent. But Lucas still tried to mimic the deep, whispered voice of Batman as he hurried down the stairs. His Batman mask was slightly crooked on his freckled nose as he came to a full stop in front of you with green eyes looking up at you in anticipation. 

“Alright then Batman. It’s just you and me today then. We’ll have to bring some candy back for Lucas too,” You said with a soft laugh as you kneeled down to fix his crooked mask and smooth his slightly tousled nest of hair. 

“It’s me mommy!” Your little guy whispered as he lifted the mask, showing you his best conspiratory look as he gently placed the mask back on, just as crooked as it had been before you initially fixed it. 

“It’s a secret, hussssh” He continued as he let you fix his mask for him once more. 

“Mommy won’t tell anyone. Promise. Now, are you ready to go trick or treating pumpkin? Remember, we have to be back before it gets dark,” You asked your little superhero as you reached out for his Batman windbreaker and helped him put it on. 

“Yes! Trick or Treat!” He called out loudly and cheerfully, just like you’d practiced. Giving him a warm smile, you grabbed his little bucket in one hand, before reaching out to put his small hand in your free one. Ready to go door to door in search of treats, and hopefully no tricks. 

--- 

Halloween had never been your favorite time of year. Which was understandable, given how you’d grown up. But Lucas had given you a newfound appreciation for the day. And though you were still slightly on edge as you scanned the busy crowds out in your little, safe, cul de sac, you were much more at ease than you’d been when you first left the hunting life behind you. 

Which was probably how you missed the two men mingling with the crowds dressed in suits, stopping parents to show off fake FBI badges as you focused on getting your son from one house to the next. Along with a few of the other neighborhood moms. 

Hell, you even missed the clearly lustful looks thrown their way by Sharon, your neighbor three houses down from yours. Even though she was barely watching her own little monsters as they tried to steal an extra chocolate bar from the bowl, choosing instead to oogle the two agents as they quietly questioned parents a bit further down the road, making their way up towards you. 

Honestly, even if you had noticed him before Tara had leaned over to you to whisper some not so child friendly words into your ear, you weren’t sure what you would’ve done. Would you have ran away? Maybe… Frozen in place? Probably. 

Considering that was exactly what you ended up doing. Your hand squeezed Lucas’ a little as you gently pulled your little superhero behind you and let your eyes follow Tara’s down the street, just a little past the next house your route would take you to. Where a face you thought you’d never see again was looking back at you, green eyes wide and FBI badge lowered from where he’d just raised it to interrogate yet another thirsty soccer mom. 

“Dean,” The name that once had tasted sweeter than pie on your lips came out as a broken whisper as you tried, and failed, to tear your eyes off of the devastatingly handsome man. 

“Wait, you know him? When did you meet an FBI agent (Y/N)? And can you introduce me to his partner?” Tara asked, a little too loudly for your liking, next to you as her excited eyes went from you and over to Dean before coming right back to you again. 

“I… Yeah, I know him. Look, Tara. Could you take Lucas to the next house? I should… Say hi?” You managed to push the words out as you fought against the nearly nostalgic cotton mouthed feeling Dean Winchester always left you with. Though you were still not sure you had what it took to speak to him after… What had happened. You really had no choice. Not only because he’d spotted you. But because he was there. On your street. 

And when a Winchester came to your street, it was usually not just for a friendly visit. 

But still, you couldn’t bring Lucas with you. Not when the bright green eyes and dusting of freckles over a button nose easily betrayed whose son he was. A son Dean had no clue you’d been raising for the last five years ever since he pushed you away. 

“Only if you get me the number of that tall drink of water over there,” She shot back, already undressing Sam with her best bedroom eyes as you rolled your eyes at her. 

“Tara, you’re married. Happily at that,” You reminded your best ‘mom friend’ as she grinned back at you. 

“A girl can dream (Y/N),” She laughed, before shooting you a small cheeky wink, and dropping down to speak to Lucas instead. 

“Lucas…” She started, before your little guy shook his head quickly, still hidden from Dean’s view behind you. 

“Batman,” Lucas corrected as he clutched his bucket of sweets. As if he was afraid his aunty Tara was planning to steal his hard earned loot. 

“Alright Batman. Do you wanna come with aunty and Robbie to the next house? Your mommy needs to go talk to someone,” Tara said as she reached out her free hand, patiently pretending she couldn’t feel her own one year younger kid pulling at her other hand for her to hurry. As if the little ninja turtle next to her thought the houses would run out of candy if they didn’t hurry. 

“Can I mommy?” Lucas looked up at you through his little Batman mask. Puppy eyes fully engaged as he looked from his bucket of treats and back up at you, as if to stay he still didn’t have enough sugar to last him till next Halloween. 

Even though he already had plenty. 

“Go ahead, pumpkin. Mommy will be right there,” You nodded as you let go of his little hand and let Tara grab it instead. Somewhat reluctantly, as your hunting instincts always worried when the apple pie of your eye was out of reach. 

Giving your friend a grateful smile, you watched the three of them for a second as they walked up the path to the next house. Smiling slightly at Batman’s happy bounce up the footpath, before you turned back to look at Dean again. 

Only to realize he was no longer there. 

“(Y/N),” Just as you were about to scan the crowd for him, the sound of his voice to the left of you made you jump slightly as you cursed your rusty reflexes and pivoted to face him. Doing your absolute damndest to pretend his deep voice didn’t still send pleasurable shockwaves through your body. 

“Dean,” You whispered back as you tried to find your voice under the breathless vertigo that always took over whenever Dean Winchester was anywhere nearby. 

“Thank God. When we didn’t hear anything I thought you…” He said, relief evident in his voice, though you could also hear the early warning signs of worried anger brewing just under the surface. Though he had no right to be angry at you. Not since… 

Not after what happened that night. 

“I’m fine. I just… I quit the business,” You shot back, biting back the words you actually wanted to tack on to the end of your sentence… After you broke my heart. But by the way Dean’s shoulders fell, and the way his worried anger retreated behind a veil of sadness and regret in green eyes, you knew he’d still caught the silent addition to your sentence in your slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Oh…” Was all he managed to push out as he dug his hands into his suit pockets. Fidgeting in front of you in the same way Lucas always did whenever you caught him doing something naughty. 

Like father, like son. 

“Yeah,” You sighed, keeping back the many words you wanted to say as you threw a wary glance over to where Tara and the boys had just reached the next house. Though Dean’s next words forced your eyes back on him. 

“I missed you…” He started, before a quick shake of your head stopped him from continuing. 

“Dean… It was your choice,” You shot back, a small grimace of pain following your words as you remembered that fateful night when Dean Winchester broke your heart. For your own good, he’d said. But it had been anything but. 

You’d loved him, with every damn cell in your body. Hell, you still did. But according to him, six years ago, the two of you had been a liability. You were a weak spot he couldn’t protect. And that scared him. Enough to let you go. Even when you begged him not to.

“I know, and I’ve been regretting it ever since,” Dean broke through your trip down memory lane as he reached out to you in that achingly familiar way he’s done so many times before, to brush some stray hairs out of your eyes. Yet, before those slightly calloused fingers could reach you and burn against your skin, you sidestepped him and crossed your arms. Hugging yourself close as you suddenly felt very underdressed in your Wonder Woman costume. 

“It’s too late for regrets,” You whispered, unable and unwilling to meet his eyes as you instead looked around at the crowds or trick or treaters. More specifically their parents, your neighbors. Many of whom were looking your way. Or more like Dean’s way. Since his FBI outfit stood out among the costumes. 

“I…” Dean started, but you simply shook your head before cutting off whatever he was trying to say.

“Why are you here? Is there a… Anything I should be wary of?” You hesitated over your words. Keeping them vague enough to not arouse the suspicion or attention of one of your nosier neighbors as you felt your muscles tense. Still strong and lithe enough, even six years after your retirement. As you refused to rest on your laurels and kept up your training. Just in case your past caught up to you. If only to protect Lucas. 

“No,” Dean said as you eyed him warily. Not buying the single syllable answer. 

“I promise, there’s nothing here. We’re just looking for someone living nearby who can help us out on a… Case,” He explained, keeping his words equally vague as he let his eyes travel across the crowds that were all inexplicably slowing down when they got close to where the two of you were standing. Looking for the latest piece of juicy cul de sac gossip most likely.

“Alright, that’s good,” You said, a relieved sigh leaving you as your tense shoulders relaxed. Lucas was still safe. You both were. Which was all that mattered. It was all that could matter. Dean couldn’t. Not anymore.

“(Y/N)...” Dean tried. Though you knew what he wanted to say. And you couldn’t have that conversation. Not in the middle of the street with Mr. Brown, your neighborhood gossip, dressed as Frankenstein casting not-so-hidden curious glances in your direction. 

“Look Dean. I’ve gotta go,” You rushed out, avoiding his pleading eyes as you busied yourself with fixing the already perfect whip of truth replica on your hip.

“But…” Dean kept pushing, his hand once more reaching out for you, as if to stop you from slipping through his fingers. 

Yet, before he could continue, or you could think up any excuse, an excited little voice loudly called out to you from your right. A small little streak of black and yellow wobbling up towards you with one hand lifted high in victory. 

“Mommy! Look! They gave me a big chocolate!”

As you refocused your attention towards your little superhero, you barely caught how Dean’s eyes opened wide as they went from you over to the little Batman hurrying up towards you as fast as his little feet could carry him. Cringing internally, you still pretended you didn’t notice the look he threw you as you instead kept your eyes on Lucas.

“Is he…” Dean started, but you missed the question as you wiped the heartbreak from your eyes and focused your attention back on your son. Dropping down to his level, you let him run into your arms waving the chocolate bar in his little hand. 

“Wow! That’s great, pumpkin! Did you say thank you?” You said, adding a layer of fake cheer into your voice as you squeezed your little treasure closer.

“I did! And I said Trick or Treat too!” Lucas said as he wiggled slightly out of your arms without actually leaving the hug to look up at you with a proud beaming smile. Clearly wanting to show you how he was a big boy now. 

“You did great! Such a big boy!” You praised as you ruffled the little nest of messy dark blonde hair on top of his head. 

“Hey there Batman,” Next to you Dean had also crouched down to be at Lucas’ height as he shot him a small smile. Before looking over at you out of the corner of his eyes, making you freeze up as you held your son closer. 

“Who are you?” Lucas asked, suddenly shy as he half hid behind you, still clutching the chocolate bar in his small hand.  

“I’m a friend of your mother’s,” Dean said with a soft smile as he looked down at the full bucket of halloween treats. His eyes wide in admiration, though you could still see the hint of heartbreak and loss behind those green orbs as he clearly came to the wrong conclusion regarding your son. Imagining another man where there wasn’t one, and probably never would be. Yet he didn’t let it show to Lucas as he beamed at him. “Wow! You’ve gotten loads today, haven’t you?”

“Yeah! Mommy taught me how!” Lucas said proudly as he wiggled fully out of your arms now that he knew the man wasn’t one of the scary strangers you’d cautioned him of. Gingerly putting down his bucket, Lucas lifted his mask to properly take in his haul and show his new friend all his treats. 

Without the mask, there was no denying whose son he was. And as recognition flashed in Dean’s eyes, you knew he hadn’t missed the similarities between your child and him as he looked back up at you. An endless amount of questions painting his green eyes a deeper shade as he looked between Lucas and you. 

Wetting dry lips, you took a shaky breath as you gave Lucas a strained smile. Avoiding Dean’s eyes as you focused all your attention on your little superhero instead. 

“Mommy still needs to talk to her friend. Why don’t you go with Aunty Tara to the next house, alright Batman?” You finally managed to push out as you gently fixed your son’s mask and tried to soften the edges of your smile as you gave him a little nod towards where Tara was waiting when he seemed to hesitate.

“Will you come soon too Mommy?” He asked, his young little voice seeming a little dejected as he looked from his candy haul and up at you. 

“I will baby,” You softened as you placed a feather light kiss on his crown of messy hair.

“Promise?” The mini Batman asked as he set those big green puppy eyes in you. Eyes you could never resist. From neither of the two men to either side of you. 

“Pinky promise,” You swore, crossing your heart before stretching out your pinky and linking it with your son’s.

Giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek, Lucas finally seemed happy with your answer as he grabbed his little pumpkin shaped bucket again as hurried back over to Robbie and Tara while loudly telling them both that “mommy said she’s coming soon”. 

For a second, Dean stayed silent next to you as you both got up from where you’d been crouched to speak to Lucas. The sounds of children’s laughter and hushed conversations between nosy neighbors filled the space between the two of you as you looked for a place to have the conversation you’d never thought you’d actually have to have. But as Dean grabbed your wrist, you were left stuck in place in the middle of the busy sidewalk. 

“Is he…” Dean started, not letting you move away from the crowd before he asked the question that had been shining out behind green eyes since he put two and two together. 

“Let’s go somewhere else…” You hesitated, throwing cautious glances at the crowds around you. Though most of them had seemingly grown bored of your conversation once they realized nothing juicy was being said.

“Is he my son (Y/N)?” Dean insisted, though he kept his voice low and his words barely a whisper. Keeping them between just the two of you. 

“... Dean,” You sighed, still not meeting his eyes as you looked around you. Making sure no one had heard his question. But Dean didn’t let you shift the topic as he shook his head and kept his hand circled securely around your wrist. 

“(Y/N), please,” He nearly begged, squeezing your wrist softly to make you look up at him. The fractured light hitting green eyes nearly took your breath away as you saw the desperate need to know shining back at you.

“Yes. He…” Swallowing heavily you took a shaky breath, before once more looking down the street to find your little Batman in the crowds together with Tara. 

“Lucas is your son,” You finally continued as you found him. Happily talking Tara’s ear off like the little ladies’ man he was. 

“Lucas,” Dean said carefully. Rolling the name around on his tongue as he followed your gaze down to look, awestruck, at his son. 

“Yeah, he’s just turned five not long ago,” You added with a soft smile. Remembering the late September birthday party. Which, no surprise, had been fully Batman themed. Just like everything had been lately. 

“Five… Not long ago?” Dean questioned. Brows furrowed as he did the mental math. Counting backwards to the cold January night when he broke your heart. 

“I found out I was pregnant shortly after you told me to leave,” Your words came out a bit more bitter than you meant for them to be. The sour taste of heartbreak still made it hard to sweeten the words.

“I never told you to leave,” Dean shot in, arguing semantics as his hand tightened slightly around the wrist he was still holding onto. Tugging your hand gently towards you, you shook your head at him when he still refused to let go. Biting back a bitter laugh and unwanted tears as you took a shaky breath. 

“You told me we’d never work out. Did you really think I’d stick around after that?” You whispered, still managing to keep your voice low, though your emotions were causing havoc within your chest. Making it hard to even hear your own barely even there words.

“I just wanted you to be safe! You kept…” Dean’s voice was loud enough to draw a few more curious glances  as you shot him a wide eyed, panicked look before shaking your head imperceptibly. Wordlessly reminding him to be quiet. Taking a deep breath, Dean shot your nosy neighbors a shaky smile before leaning in closer and lowering his voice.

“Look, I know I fucked up. But, even if I did, how could you not tell me I had a son?” His whispered voice muted the incredulity and slight sadness at the betrayal in his tone, but it was still painfully clear to you as you grimaced. You knew you should’ve told him. But your wounds had just been so damn fresh. So instead you’d relied on excuses. The same you leaned on as you finally looked back up to meet his green eyes.

“I tried… Your number was disconnected. The only number I had for you. And… Hell, I just didn’t want to hurt anymore,” You sighed. Some of the truth slipping out together with your practiced excuse from nearly six years ago. 

“It was? Shit… Damn it. I lost a phone during a hunt. And I would’ve done anything to have you back (Y/N). There’s no way I would’ve hurt you. Not when every day without you was hell. Still, you could’ve called Sammy. Or just driven up to the bunker. Or…” Dean was ranting as his hand finally slipped from your wrist to card through his hair in frustration. Though, from the way his eyes fell to the forgotten badge in his own hand, you knew he was mainly blaming himself as he cut off his words with a tired sigh. 

“Maybe I could have, but I just… Fuck. I just couldn’t. You hurt me and..” Cutting yourself off with a shake of your head you wrapped your arms back around yourself as if to protect your barely patched up heart and wet dry lips. Before squeezing your eyes shut, in a foolish effort to shut the world out. 

For a few seconds, you let the silence settle between you as you tried to find the words. Knowing Dean was doing the same in front of you. Though you couldn’t see him as you kept your eyes closed and let the bright dots floating in your cut off vision hypnotize you believing none of it had happened. That you were still just next to your son. Not being confronted with the ghosts of your own messy past. 

“Look Dean… I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not while I’m dressed as fucking Wonder Woman,” You finally said with a tired shrug of your shoulders as you finally opened your eyes and met Dean’s head on. You knew you couldn’t hide from your past anymore. Not when it had come nearly all the way to your front porch. But Lucas was waiting for you, and you needed privacy for the long overdue conversation with Dean. Something that was in short supply on the small cul de sac. 

“You look good in that…” Dean cut in, a small hint of his boyish grin and that trademark charm as he took you in, as if for the first time while you rolled your eyes at him. Though his attempt at lightening the mood still fell flat when weighed up against the heavy weight in your stomach from the many broken pieces of your heart that had dislodged from seeing him again. 

“I know I do. But that’s not the point. I can’t. Not now,”  You still let a small smile slip before you shook it, and the nostalgic emotions it was painted in, away and replaced them with tired resignation. As your own small smile that had temporarily brightened Dean’s fell away, so did his. Though his green eyes had softened slightly as he seemed to resign himself to not having all his questions answered by interrogating you on the sidewalk of your own street. 

“Just tell me one thing. Are you happy? Is Lucas happy?” Dean’s quiet voice asked after a beat or two of silence. His eyes slightly shrouded by enviably thick lashes as he kept them downcast and focused on the polished shoes of his FBI outfit. His words made you look towards the houses again, easily spotting your little man a few homes down as you smiled and waved in his direction where he was busy waving your way.

“We are and he is. We have a good life here. A safe home. He’s the smartest little boy ever. Just like his dad,” You finally said as you let your hand drop. Glancing Dean’s way, you caught him looking towards Lucas as well. His eyes watching the small boy wistfully as he once more stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Wetting his lips, Dean seemed to hesitate for a second as he opened and closed his mouth wordlessly before finally tearing his eyes off of the son he hadn’t known he had to look at you instead. 

“Can I… Is it alright if I see him again? See you again?”

For a second, you hesitated. Your heart was stuck in your throat as you mulled over your answer. Thinking up and throwing away a million what ifs and reasons not to. But in the end, your heart won the battle. You could never forget Dean Winchester. And, no matter how he felt about you, and you about him, Lucas was his son. He deserved the chance to get to know the coolest kid you knew. 

“... Bring Sam over after 7 pm tonight. Bring candy. And change out of those stuffy suits. We’ll… Talk over dinner,” You finally sighed, losing the battle with your heart as you hesitated over every word, even as you’d made up your mind to invite him over and already started planning the night’s dinner in your head now that you’d have two more mouths to feed. 

“Yeah? Alright, yeah… Ok. Seven.  I’ll be there,” Dean was already walking backwards away from you, looking slightly hopeful and clearly itching to fill his little brother in to let Sam know he was an uncle. That bright boyish spark that you’d fallen in love with many years ago back in green eyes as he smiled cautiously at you. A slightly crooked smile that slowly grew warmer as your words sank in. 

Throwing you a little wave, he turned around, ready to hurry back to his brother and call off the search so he could go raid some stores for candy and change. Yet, before he could take another step, your exasperated laughter made him stop as you rolled your eyes at his broad back. 

“Dean!” You called out after him, a raised eyebrow paired with a small knowing smirk as you watched him turn around to look at you. HIs green eyes wide and looking more than a little frazzled as you melted at the sight of the gorgeous man you’d fallen in love with many years ago. The man you never stopped loving. Even if he broke your heart.  

“You need to know where I live first,” You called out to him. No longer caring about nosy neighbors as you warmed your words with a small laugh that only grew louder as the ‘FBI agent’ stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to come back over to you. 

“I’m just down the street, look for the white house with the green door. Down there,” You said, pointing in the direction of your small home. Next to you, Dean leaned in to see things from your viewpoint, carefully following your pointer finger as you felt your temperature rise from his proximity. Swallowing the cotton mouthed feeling, you found your lost voice between one heartbeat and the next as you let your hand fall and took a step back away from him to relearn how to breathe again. 

“7 pm,” You repeated. 

“7 pm,” He confirmed. 

Before quickly throwing you another small, hopeful smile. And hurrying away with a mumbled promise of talking later and bringing candy. 

As he walked down the street, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. You couldn’t help the soft smile that played on your lips. Though you didn’t know what would come from it. You couldn't help but feel slightly happy that he’d ran into you. 

Like your own special Halloween treat. One that definitely didn’t fit into Lucas’ plastic pumpkin bucket. 

And though only time would tell what would happen. You couldn’t wait to introduce the two bravest men you knew to the bravest, smartest little boy you knew. Casting one last glance at Dean, you quickly hurried after Tara and the boys. 

Now you had another reason to make sure Batman and you were back home before the sun fully set. At a distance, you swore you could hear Dean’s excited voice as you smiled to yourself. 

“SAMMY! You’ll never guess…”

Dean Winchester Tags: @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester 

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