#not to mention the letter itself. i wish i had found this on my first playthrough because i had to FIGHT with myself to even read it

[digirainebow]

jacob resisting and resisting after reading the last adler letter even though its clear hes about to break. and riley not backing down until he tells her he's not okay. and hearing him get choked up when he says it. do you understand how fucked up i am over this do you even understand

[onebadassunicorn]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none yet, but they are coming in subsequent chapters!

word count: 1.4k

story tags: if you want to be tagged, leave me a comment!

This is a slow-burn, angst filled story! So buckle up and hang on for the ride! Thank you for reading my dive back into writing fanfiction!

____________________________________________________

For all the girls who have been told you are too different and too weak, always remember you have everything you need inside of YOU and you are stronger than you know!

You are enough!

Chapter 1

Azriel POV

The missive arrived at dawn, delivered by a pair of Summer Court guards who greeted the House of Wind’s wards with nervous smiles and relieved sighs when it was received without incident. The guards from the Summer Court handed over a slender roll of parchment sealed with wax that bore the familiar crest of a seashell twined with vines of coral. Rhysand stood at one of the balconies as he cracked open the seal, his violet eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he read the elegant script. The morning light caught the silver accents in his tunic, and the wind ruffled his dark hair, but he paid neither any mind.

Azriel lingered just behind him, half in shadow. He noted every flicker of emotion that danced across Rhysand’s face—slight tension in the jaw, a thoughtful crease between the brows, a subtle shift in posture. Not displeasure, Azriel decided. More like careful consideration. Whatever was in that letter, it had piqued the High Lord’s curiosity.

Azriel moved to stand at his shoulder, reading over his friend’s arm. He noticed immediately how few details had been included. There was no mention of why Tarquin had requested their presence, no explicit reason for this sudden summons. Instead, the High Lord of Summer had written in polite, measured phrases—couched in formality and courtesy—but the essence was elusive. Tarquin asked for Rhysand’s “counsel” and his “company,” hinting vaguely at a matter of some sensitivity, a topic “pertaining to connections long misunderstood.”

The letter itself felt more like an invitation to a private conversation than a formal diplomatic gathering. No agenda was outlined, no negotiation topics listed, not even a hint of trade routes or mutual enemies. In fact, very little addressed the broader alliance between their courts at all. Instead, Tarquin’s words circled around the mystery he wished Rhysand to solve. It was an artfully arranged puzzle, each line carrying a quiet promise: come, learn what has been hidden, what might redefine all that you think you know.

Yet Tarquin never said what that secret was. He didn’t explain why now, after all this time, he was willing to peel back this layer of secrecy. It was only in the final line that Tarquin’s meaning became something Rhysand could almost grasp: “In your presence and hers, truths may finally step into the light.”

Azriel studied his friend’s face, searching for any sign of distress. Instead, he found curiosity, guarded hope, and wariness. “How do you feel about going?” Azriel asked gently.

Rhysand turned back to the view of Velaris below: the spires and terraces, shops opening their doors to the morning’s first customers, the Sidra glinting in the rising sun. “I don’t know yet,” he said quietly. “I must be careful.”

Azriel’s wings rustled, a subtle shift that conveyed understanding. Caution was wise. Still, Azriel could sense Rhysand’s intrigue. He, too, felt a stirring of curiosity. 

“Do you trust Tarquin?” Azriel asked.

Rhysand sighed, not taking his eyes off the shimmering city. “He’s a proud High Lord, one who wants to do right by his people. We’ve had our differences, but I believe he respects me—respects what we’ve built here. I trust his intentions enough to find out what he wants.”

“And if it’s a trap?” Azriel’s voice was mild, but his hazel eyes were cool and sharp.

Rhysand inclined his head, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt it,” he said. “But if it is, we’ll be prepared. That’s why I want you there, Az. Your shadows have a way of seeing what others miss.”

Azriel nodded once, accepting that charge. “When do we leave?”

Rhysand folded the parchment with careful fingers. “I’ll send a reply that we will come in three days’ time. That gives me a moment to inform Feyre, let her decide if she wishes to join us or remain here. But for this initial meeting, it might be best if it’s just me and you.”

Azriel dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll be ready.”

Azriel felt Rhysand’s tension increase as he read that last line. They exchanged a glance, and Rhysand’s brow furrowed. There was no denying the note’s courtesy, but its omissions were glaring. The High Lord of Night flicked his fingers in silent frustration, and Azriel understood his meaning at once: they were being invited into something unknown—perhaps delicate, perhaps dangerous. And the vagueness was intentional, forcing them to come to Summer if they wished to learn anything at all.

In the early morning hush of Velaris, with the dawn just breaking across the Sidra, they stood there a moment longer in companionable silence, the rolled parchment in Rhysand’s hand, knowing that the answers they sought would not be found in these few polite lines. They would have to go to Summer to discover what Tarquin truly wanted—and what secrets lay behind his carefully chosen words.

3 days later…

They chose a quiet, windswept terrace high atop the House of Wind as the place to winnow from. The morning sky blushed faintly with pink and gold, the hush of the early hour wrapping Velaris in soft silence. Rhysand and Azriel stood side by side, the brisk mountain air tugging at their hair and the edges of their cloaks.

Azriel could feel the taut energy humming through Rhysand—keen anticipation tempered by wariness. This would not be a show of strength or pageantry. It was a journey into unknown territory, a meeting built on secrets and hints rather than clear truths. Still, Rhysand’s posture remained confident and poised, his violet eyes steady as they fixed on a point in the distance only he could see.

Azriel took a breath, readying himself. Winnowing was second nature by now—a single blink, a gathering of night and shadow, and then the world would shift. No matter how many times he did it, there was always that brief, disorienting pull, as if reality blurred and stretched like ink swirling in water. But he trusted Rhysand’s ability to guide them both, to weave their powers together and reemerge exactly where they intended.

Rhysand offered him a faint, reassuring smile. “Ready?”

Azriel merely inclined his head. Words were unnecessary between them at a moment like this.

With a subtle shift of magic, Rhysand reached out, as though cupping the very night sky in his palm. Azriel’s shadows flattened and stretched, wrapping them both in a whisper of darkness. The terrace, the fresh mountain air, the distant murmur of Velaris below—they all fell away in an instant, like slipping out of a familiar dream.

Time folded. Space bent. A heartbeat passed, maybe less, and then the world settled again.

They stood on a patterned marble courtyard bathed in golden sunlight. Salt-tinged air drifted around them, warm and humid, carrying the distant cries of gulls and the gentle hush of waves rolling onto shore. The stone beneath their boots gleamed with the Summer Court’s signature warmth, and lush greenery framed the path ahead, leaves shimmering with tiny prisms of light.

Azriel adjusted to the sudden brightness and warmth. Only a moment ago they had been amid Velaris’s cool dawn. Now the day was brighter, the atmosphere heavier with the scents of citrus and brine. This was Tarquin’s domain—familiar in its own way, yet each visit offered something slightly different, as though the Summer Court’s beauty changed with the shifting tides.

Rhysand drew himself to his full height, his demeanor that of a High Lord who had come by invitation but would take nothing for granted. Azriel let his wings relax, but he remained vigilant, his senses attuned to every soft footstep or change in the breeze. They had left one home behind to step into another’s territory. There would be courtesies, discussions, revelations. And beneath it all, the unspoken question of what waited for them in these sunlit halls.

A pair of Summer Court sentinels approached, cautious but polite, their spears angled low in a gesture of greeting rather than threat. Rhysand inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Azriel noted how the guards seemed relieved to have their arrival proceed without incident. After all, High Lords did not always travel so peacefully into one another’s realms.

As they followed the sentinels toward the palace’s open corridors and glittering chambers, the hush of the morning terrace in Velaris already felt like a memory, a point on a distant shore. The path ahead was bright, uncertain, and filled with the secrets that had drawn them here.

Chapter 2

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[gogandmagog]

C’mon, I know you have a niche LMM post in your drafts to post, the tags are so empty 🤣

Lmaooo, I wish I had something good for this.

I don't know if it's really niche in a satisfying way, but it is certainly niche in a would-anyone-else-bother-themselves-thinking-about-this sort of way? 🥸 Here’s my most recent draft (that isn’t just a note to myself):

All just because a couple of weeks ago, I was reading this book of letters/correspondence between two Cambridge Apostles from around 1910 to 1915. Of course, the Apostles weren’t exactly a frat, so much as a secretive intellectual society, but as with most things, even the tiniest incidentals mentioned in (nearly any) text (or letters, in this case) will immediately return me to splitting Montgomery hairs, so basically I was (am, really) just over here fixating on the possible origins of the (quite fictional lol) Lamba Theta of Redmond.

To begin with, I’m 99% certain that it ought to actually be Lambda Theta* (lambda [λ] is the eleventh letter in the Greek alphabet), since Lamba doesn’t appear anywhere in the Greek dictionary, never mind the alphabet. That kind of small error was enough to launch me properly down a rabbit hole of Victorian (and then Edwardian) frats at Dalhousie University (Redmond’s basis), to see if there were any similarly named that might’ve presented itself as serving for Maud’s basis for the Lambs. As it turned out, there’s nothing. 🙃 The very first frat established at Dalhousie was Phi Kappa Pi, and that wasn’t until 1923... when LMM had attended some three decades earlier, back in 1895. Anne of the Island even predates frats meeting at DU, since it was first published in 1915.

For some scale, the first Canadian frat ever was est. in 1879 (Zeta Psi) at the University of Toronto, and then again in 1883, the same frat opened another chapter over at McGill.

Anyway, I guess was/is just interesting to me that when Maud was inventing up a whole fraternity for her alma mater’s fictional stand-in, she really wouldn’t have had any first-hand experience with one. 🤨 And yet… she understood enough of them to’ve had Gilbert rush/be initiated (with sun-bonnets and calico aprons), in order to become a fully pledged member. Google says that fraternities as we know them now didn’t become notable or popular in the States (which Canada was rather behind) until the mid-late 19th century. Sooo, I suppose Lamba Theta is attributable to just that (a thing of cute pop-culture), or else Zeta Psi at UT was infamous enough for word to get around, to even the more rural areas (there’s 1,801.7 km between UT and Dalhousie btw), about their proceedings.

*the first real Lambda Theta frat/sorority was founded in 1973, at Kean University, and it is a Latino/Latina fraternity; their colours are burgundy and grey - actually quite alike the colours of Redmond University

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

i have a request! + a little bit of a ranting because i love talking about this game (if you don't want to see the long rant you can skip to the two last paragraphs with the actual request :3)

ok so, i played SDV multiple times (although i never did the 100% challenge, i played at least 9 to 10 different saves), and i noticed that, throughout the entire game, the farmer's parents only send 4 letters for them, and for you to even receive said letters, you need to obtain certain amount of gold. plus, another detail is that only one of the parents will send you a letter (depending of the gender option you chose in-game), while the other one is never mentioned even once.

additionally, i also found interesting how, whenever Harvey mentions having to do "an emergency surgery" on the player, the parents never even send a letter mentioning it or anything. i would assume that for something as serious as a surgery, a family member would be contacted in case anything went south, but that never seemed to be the case. you simply wake up from the surgery, go home, sleep, and your parents never even show sign of being alive.

i know Eric most likely did this to 1. keep the past of the farmer as vague as possible for people who enjoy creating OCs/sonas to not have to ignore canon details, and 2. in regards of the letters, to reward the player for reaching x milestone. however, my little brain could not help but assume that the reason the farmer barely receives any letters from their parents (and when they do it's only from one of them) it's because they bought some heavy mommy/daddy issues™ baggage with them to the valley.

and that's where my request comes from: how would the older villagers (preferably those with no children and/or spouses, like Gus, Marlon, Willy, Linus, etc) react to the farmer accidentally calling them mom/dad, because the farmer views them as the parental figure they wish they had in their life? would it be awkward? would they be flattered? would they comfort the farmer? i NEED to know.

additionally, i would prefer if you could make it a mixture of angst and fluff. plus, you can choose any villager you want, i just ask you to include Willy, since he's the one that i made a father/child relationship with my OC and who inspired this request in the first place.

thank you, hope it wasn't too much!!! and take care :3

I have to say, when I first played the very first save, I was also interested in the fact that only one parent sent letters, and even the letter itself didn't say "me and your mom/dad are proud of you", but just "I'm proud of you, with love dad/mom). Then the letters stopped coming altogether. My first guess and failed headcanon for my OC is that Farmer only had one parent (the other parent abandon family/dead), and when the letters stopped coming, the other parent passed away as well. And then I thought it was a pretty dark headcanon and scrapped the idea. Don't want too much angst, nope!

I really like this ask, because in my opinion, even if Farmer has living and loving parents, they will still see some people in Stardew Valley as a parental figure, because Farmer's family is far away.

I hope you enjoy the stories, I tried to make them both sad and fluffy at the same time. Thanks for ask and enjoy! ❤️

Willy, Marlon, Linus and Gil react to Farmer calling them dad.

Willy:

Amazement, laughter and pride is what Willy felt as Farmer very emotionally showed how they caught the Legendary fish in the mountain lake, not forgetting to gesticulate. They and Willy were sitting on the docks on a late summer night when, a little tired from fishing, they began to tell each other their fishing stories over a bottle of mead.

"That fish almost tore the fishing line, but I still managed to pull it out. I swore and puffed, but I pulled it out! It was huge!" The farmer summarized his story.

"What a fisherman! Well done, lad/lass!" The old fisherman's heart rejoiced that young people were still interested in fishing.

"Thanks, Dad!" The Farmer quickly said the last phrase on emotion, but their smile quickly slipped and they slapped themselves on the mouth. Willy also sat silent, a little surprised at the last word. Dad... The sea wolf had his heart broken more than once in his youth, and he had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never hear that word. He wasn't sad, for fishing did bring him happiness. And still...

"Sorry, that was... Ugh, I didn't mean to-" The Farmer was already trying to get out of the awkward situation, except that they felt the old sailor's hand on their shoulder, Willy's eyes looking at them with pride and warmth.

"You're welcome, son/daughter. I'm really proud of you". Never did Willy think he could say such words, the words of a proud parent for his growing child. Willy did not have a wife or children, so he could not feel the pain of loss from something he never had. And yet, after that word, he felt as if a stone had been lifted from his shoulders, and a warmth flooded into the old sailor's heart when the Farmer, crying, hugged him back after his words.

Marlon:

"Kid!"

"I'm fine!" The Farmer's voice came up from the bottom floor of the mine, letting Marlon know that they weren't under a rubble pile of rocks or in a nest of monsters. After a moment, Farmer was able to climb out of the hole in the floor on their own, unharmed, just a couple of scratches and with dirt.

Seeing that the Farmer was standing on their feet and unharmed, Marlon sighed in relief. But immediately, anger filled the old one-eyed adventurer's chest. Using a mega bomb on slimes - how did they even think of this!? The uppermost levels of the mines can collapse from a not too strong explosion, and then there's explosives of such power!

"Things went a little off plan, but we still destroyed those slimes. I call it success," the Farmer didn't have time to finish, as Marlon walked up to them quickly and gave them a not too strong, but quite painful smack upside the head. The Farmer immediately writhed in discomfort.

"Ouch! Why?"

"What were you thinking!?" It was the first time the Farmer saw Marlon so angry, the one-eyed monster hunter rarely lost his temper, "Have you lost your mind? Using a bomb, here! You could have died under that rubble!"

"But I-" Marlon interrupted Farmer again, raising his hand in a gesture.

"We have to think about every step we make in a fight, and what did you do?" Marlon was already speaking more calmly, but his tone remained the same steely. The Farmer had already feel ashamed and regretted their careless decision.

Yet, when Marlon calmed down and scolded the Farmer, taking their word that they would never act so recklessly again, the elder adventurer offered to return to their Guild, since it was getting dark. The Farmer breathed a sigh of relief, and on the exhale they said: "You're such a dad..."

Marlon stopped after that, turning to face the Farmer, who seemed to be surprised at their own words. And Marlon himself was surprised at how he snapped at the shout: he knows that the life of an adventurer is a constant risk, but Farmer had become a close person to him to let them risk their lives so recklessly. Just like... Just like his own child. And then they call him dad...

After Farmer's words, the one-eyed adventurer hummed playfully:

"In that cases, I, as a 'dad', officially declare to you: once again you use a mega bomb at the first levels, or do another stupid act, and I will flog you with a belt so that you won't be able to sit for a week, let alone swing a sword", Marlon is unlikely to ever carry out his threat, but he must make it clear to the Farmer that he is not joking.

"Ok, ok! I won't do it again! Sheesh...", Not wanting to argue with their mentor any further, the Farmer quickly followed Marlon to the exit of the mines. Before they left the cave, Marlon put a hand on their shoulder.

"Stay vigilant, adventurer. I've lost many people dear to me to let this happen again..."

Linus:

Linus hadn't noticed that the Farmer had managed to doze off by the camping fire. After all, a hearty supper of fried mushrooms had put the Farmers to sleep and made them fall into the realm of dreams. Early fall had already rewarded the Stardew Valley with cool nights, and so Linus decided to wake the Farmer so they could head to their warm home. The task was not an easy one: besides the delicious food, the Farmer had been very tired lately, and so he slept like a dead man.

"Get up, my friend, it's time for you to go home," alas, all of Linus' efforts were unsuccessful, and then stopped altogether when Farmer sleepily said: "Dad, please, five more minutes..."

"...Dad?"

Linus heard many words for himself: homeless, crazy, wild man, freak, stinker, weirdo. But Dad...?

While Linus was processing the information, Farmer had already managed to fall back into a deep sleep. The wild man decided to let Farmer finish his sleep in peace here near his tent. He took out a warm blanket from the tent, which he had made himself from fur, and covered Farmer, who was shivering a little from the cold night.

"Sweet dreams, my child", Linus had never thought that Fate would let him consider someone his child and pass on his wisdom, even if they were not related by blood. He made a promise to himself to always keep an eye on this kid and to help them in any way he could, whether by advice or deed.

Gil:

The knocking of stone against stone. Bang. And another ban

Another failure.

"Ah, damn it..." The Farmer cursed, throwing two geodes at their feet.

"Try it again, kid, you'll learn in time. See, you do it like this..." Gil again demonstrates how to open the geodes by himself, without Clint's hammer. With movements that had been honed over the years, he again held two halves of a split geode in his hands, from which amethyst and rock crystal druzes glistened.

"You didn't get into farming the first time either, yeah? You told me yourself, kiddo". Gil was absolutely right - to achieve a prosperous farm, the young Farmer had to work really hard, and success did not come immediately. So Farmer, sighing tiredly, took the geodes in their hands again in an attempt to open the mineral. Knock, knock, knock.

Crash.... Pop.

It worked!

"Told ya, kid", Gil smiled at the excited Farmer, who, twisting the two halves of the open geode, couldn't believe their own eyes.

"Yo, I finally did it! Thanks, Papa!"

It took the Farmer about ten seconds to realize what they had just said. Their cheeks flushed. Oh...

Gil, on the other hand, was quite ok to such a word in his address. In fact, he did not even miss the opportunity to tease the young adventurer a little.

"Papa, huh?" Though deep down Gil was touched by the fact that he had become this kind of father figure to Farmer, he wouldn't miss the opportunity to have a little fun. Especially since he knows that Farmer, though embarrassed by their confession, will also catch Gil's mood.

And the old adventurer is not mistaken.

"Well, should I call you mom then?" The Farmer was not in debt, deciding to play along with Gil as well.

"And that's how you talk to your papa, kid?" Gil rewarded the Farmer with a playful slap on their shoulder, "Come on, get outside. There's a whole bag of geodes lying by the supply boxes. Bring it over here and we'll practice some more," Farmer nodded and ran merrily toward the Guild exit, almost hitting Marlon, who was just entering the building.

The one-eyed adventurer, seeing his cheerful friend (it was rare to find Gil in such a good mood):

"Did something happen while I was gone?" Marlon hummed favorably and waited for Gil to stop snickering and calm down.

"You can congratulate me, brother," Gil said, "I just became a dad."

[saltsicklover]

To Love, To Die, and Everything In Between

This was a requested work, you can find the request HERE Find my Master List HERE Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader Word Count: 3k+ Rating: R Should I put an old school Wattpad excuse as to why I've been gone so long? Also, I really hope my tag list is right!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of war and fighting, mentions of death, regular cannon violence (probably less), No use of y/n, the term Sweetheart, Tons and Tons web weaving, credit at the end. This is so fucking angsty.

---

They say it's about the journey, the destination itself nothing more than an ending, all the importance found in the steps it takes to get there. But really, it's the destination itself that holds the meaning. After all, if that wasn't the case, the destination wouldn't come with a soul crushing grip, fingers digging into the folds of my lungs just to starve out the capacity for air. 

The journey's memories would not be left with inky smears of fingerprints, the clarity nothing more than the orange tinted, overexposed film and the whirring of a projector still clicking though no more film is passing through. Nothing left but the flickering light of the present, the whirring akin to blood rushing over ear drums. 

Destination means death to me. If I could figure out a way to remain forever in transition, in the disconnected and unfamiliar, I could remain in a state of perpetual freedom.

And this in and of itself is death. Squinting through the glaring light that is now I can see the curve of his lips, the way they give frame to perfect teeth and a tongue that has done nothing but speak promises that his hands have kept. And his hands are gentle. They are clean. They have guided me, unseeing, through the journey of the last year. 

It's been months through screens. Fingers hovering over buttons. The decision of to call or not to call. Messages collecting in inboxes and photos of moments I never had the hope of being a part of. It's better than our mother's had, or their mother's before them. Crackling phone lines and tear soaked stationary from wars past. Though the story has been the same, it has always been the same. And the story is this: man fights for his country, for his love, for his honor, for the women behind them and the men standing at his shoulders. They fight for dignity, out of duty, out of order and for a future they have no hope of seeing. That is not to say that they won't make it out alive, that they won't come home. No, it is to say that they are leaving a legacy, moving pieces of a chest board from which the game was erected at the turn of the first war and shall be played until the end of the last. 

Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. 

And what are we? The women who stand behind them. The women, the families, the love that stands behind them as they fight for dignity, out of duty and out of order as they search for their honor. Tear drops on stationary, kisses pressed to closed envelopes spritzed with perfume. We are crackling voices through barely connected telephone lines. We are the viewers of the photographs and the "likes" on social media, the wish you were here comments and the well wishes from worlds away. We are the same as every woman that has come before us. In love with a Soldier, an Airman, a Seaman, a Marine who's gaze is forward. 

You have a row of dominoes set up; you knock over the first one, and what will happen to the last one is that it will go over very quickly. 

From NAS Pensacola, to just east at NAS Jacksonville. Jacksonville turned to NAS Yorktown which gave way to Miramar in the way the coast gives way to the waves. The letters came in sparser than the phone calls ever did, but maybe that's what did me in. That last letter, an acknowledgement of life in the wake of something horrible having been prevented that now sinks below the horizon, down, down, down. 

It's always my own breathing, my own heartbeat. After all, I am still alone, even if he is alive and well. He stands an ocean and a world away. It's always my breathing. 

She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter.

She follows the letter down, down...

Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo.

Sounds of breathing.

The Hard Deck on a sunny evening is all rich wood and the stark smell of the ocean, the windows pushed open to invite the fleeting warmth into the bar. I haven't made it further than the front stair case; Jake Seresin's smiles, an invite and a warning all at once though it isn't directed towards me. He doesn't even know I'm here, and I could keep it that way. I could run now, I could leave, deal with everything over the phone and through ink strokes of dying fountain pens in the same way we have been dealing with everything for months. 

I can at least be neat. Walk out and be seen as clean. 

The thing is this, Jake is home. Here at the Hard Deck, on the beach in Miramar, California surrounded by his squad, his newly minted and now permanent squad. The Daggers, the name fitting the feeling that the news pushes into the space between my ribs. An ache lives there now, unrelenting and dangerous. A reminder that the journey, our journey, has found the light at the end of the tunnel, and it's a train heading straight for us. We stood no chance, not with out feet planted firmly on the tracks. 

The shame of being seen consumes me. 

I know the look that will streak across his eyes before that smile lands full and glistening on his lips. I know that look of happiness, the one that is unburdened and surviving though it shouldn't. A smile that knows nothing of the pain looming around the corner, the dagger still stuck in my side and the way that I have been tracking blood behind me, droplets splattering crimson sick on the pavement as I limp out from hiding. He's not going to notice the way my skin is still slick with blood or the way the proverbial handle still hangs from it's new sheath between my ribs. It's red ink under his rose colored glasses. 

I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone.

Though it wasn't a choice he made, at least, it hasn't been since he agreed to this job in the first place. The moment that ink dried on his contact, royal blue and officially binding, it hasn't been his choice. Not really. And maybe somewhere along the line I got tangled up in it all. In the kindness of his words that snuck out from his cocky grin and the way his eyes raked over the unbroken skin of my body and claimed it as land to tend. Maybe my heart has always been in my hands; why he has shielded me from the horrors of the world with his own body, even before he had a chance to see them with his own eyes. Maybe he knew my skin was supposed to stay unbroken. 

Maybe it wasn't. 

But either way, I still bleed now. And Jake still wears the rose colored glasses that come along with survival like this. A second chance at life, he declared proudly over the phone no less than a week ago, a chuckle laced in his voice in a shallow attempt to hide his utter bafflement. He wasn't supposed to make it back from this one, no matter the promises his Captain made. Jake's tone worn thin over the phone like he knew it was the end. He wasn't supposed to make it back. Our story was supposed to end there, my own body on the other side of the railroad crossing while Jake fell gallantly from the sky; a blaze of glory and red hot heat. 

But now he's home. Home, home, home. 

That's the whistle of the oncoming freight train, a warning call. 

It’s not enough nearly to survive. One needs to flourish.

I push into the bar, squaring my shoulders with my chin held high. There is no white flag here, no surrender. If one of us must fall from the sky, all burning red heat and glory, I guess it's going to be me. 

To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light.

I know the look that's coming, the look that will dash across his eyes and the smile that will bloom. Worse yet, I know the look that will succeed his smile. That look where he will square his jaw and narrow his eyes, batting down the hatches to make sure no sense of hurt will make it through. 

The hurt will make it though his eyes anyway. The cracks in his facade akin to the humanity he wishes he could keep from display. Hangman: a persona to keep emotions at an arms length though they already has a noose securely around his neck. I can see it in the pinprick tears collecting in the corners of his eyes even as he lifts his chin up; a Tarantino tilt of the head.  

He spots me, eyes going wide as his smile. "Oh my god, Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" The sight of him in all his blond hair, blue eyed glory gives me pause. God, he is beautiful. He is beautiful, with kind hands that have guided me through these last few months and now, this moment will be the last time I truly get to appreciate it. 

Those kind hands are working their way around my frame as he pulls me into his chest. He bleeds warmth, and for a moment I wonder if he can feel how much blood I've already lost, if it's wet against his palm as he grazed over my ribs. I wonder if he can feel it, and if it would still be warm. Warm with the feeling of me, and the love that I have for him. God, I love him so. 

There can be no friendship with someone I am not ready to betray. 

It's in this moment that I know, with his hands wrapped around me and my cheek pressed against the heat of his chest as his heart beats thickly in my ear, Jake Seresin is my best friend. He is my best friend and he doesn't know I'm bleeding out. 

The train is getting impossibly closer, now. It's horn blaring in my ears so loud it's giving me vertigo. I sway a bit in Jake's arms; he grips me impossibly tighter- I begin to hemorrhage. 

"Oh, Sweetheart, I am so glad you're here. If I would've known you were coming, I would've picked you up! I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming! Jeez, I can't believe you are here, Sweetheart, really. God, you feel good," Jake's words come uninterrupted, punctuated with another squeeze of his arms. 

"Yeah... I'm," The words come out muffled against his chest, though it sounds like my own voice is a million miles away, "I'm here." 

A moment more passes gently, stuck in the confines of his embrace before he pulls back. His eyes meet mine for a moment, stark blue in the way the the flag is, embedded with stars and glory and a weight I can not even imagine- before they are flicking back up to his squad.

And it's in this moment where I realize that Jake Seresin may love me, and I may love him, but there is no blood left in me. I have nothing left to bleed, only words to bare. There is only desperation on my tongue to beg the man before me to love me more than he loves his own glory, his own noble sacrifice, and his country. 

Let me be very clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered. 

I will be slaughtered too, whether it be from the knife still stuck in my side or the incoming train, I will be flayed open under the hot California sun for the world to see. 

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly. 

And yet, it will be okay, because I will be seen. Jake Seresin will see me, unclean and unkempt, void of blood and tears, the only thing left over will be the ghost of us and all the love that I still have left to give. Atoms cannot cease to be- I think my love for him is one in the same. 

I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room. 

"Can we step outside?" I peer up at him, my chin pressed to his sternum. Truth be told, I look past him, over the prominence of his brow bone and up to the planks of the ceiling. It's easier to take a hostage when you don't have to look them in the eye.  For a moment I wonder if I should have feared getting blood on him to begin with, but knowing he himself could not feel it even as it coated his own palms helps me guide him from the audience of his friends. His wrist held loosely in my grasp until we've made it to the sand. For a moment I almost forget to let go. 

Of course love is still there. Still, still, still. 

There is a sort of sticky sweetness in the cavern of my chest now as I stand next to him. Maybe it's been there this whole time, encasing  my heart and thickness of it's beating. Jake wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side with gentle hands. He hums with contentment, fingers brushing over my arm. 

"I can't believe you're here," Jake still looks at the sky, the horizon line drawing his eye. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?" 

My heart stutters in my chest. What am I doing here? My eyes catch the horizon too, as I pull the proverbial blade from it's place between my ribs. It too is sticky sweet with blood and smeared fingerprints. 

I write my own deliverance. 

The words are written on my tongue in bile. My hands shake. I shove them into my pockets, eyeline still stuck on the orange of the setting sun. It's warmth accompanies Jake's, sinking into my hollow corpse. Again I threaten to sway under the momentum of the moment. This is it. The ending.

"I came to say goodbye," They are not the correct words, the letters all jumbled up and ill-fitting in my mouth. "I came to wish you well." He turns his chin down to me, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

"Goodbye?" The word rakes itself out of his throat, all gravel and uncertainty. His hold tightens on my shoulders, just a little, pulling me tighter into his side. Heat continues to roll off his frame. My hands form fists in the confines of my pockets, an attempt at clutching this moment before it  slips past. 

"Yeah, I mean..." There's a pause. Breathing room. A forcing of air in and out of my lungs. Jake doesn't seem to breathe at all. "This is it, isn't it?" 

"What could you possibly mean by that?" His gaze meets mine for the first time, steady and unyielding.  Suddenly I am aware of just how much blue surrounds me now. From my cheap cardigan, littered with holes that still manages to fight off the chill of the breeze to the royal of the ocean waves. The sky is azure too, melting into orange and pink hues that will give way to the vast deep navy of the night. But there is nothing more royal that of Jake's irises. Still weighty with stars and glory, but reflecting my own strangled feelings back at me. The destination grips my lungs just a little bit harder, the train wheels squealing against the tracks, but it's too late now. 

Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, too tight, and everything my eyes see is blue then, too. "I came to say goodbye, so you could continue your life, you know,?" I shrug vaguely, hoping he will get the idea, "Like really continue your life here, settle down. This is your home base now, and your family is in there. I'm not really sure what else you'd be expecting to happen right now." 

The words pour out of me, not crossing my brain before they leave my tongue. A strangled sound of confusion leave Jake's lips as his arm slips from it's place around my shoulders. The chill gets in after that, right down to my bones. 

"I-" The words catch. I hold my breath waiting for a moment, then another, then another. Jake breathes deeply now, forcefully. Taking each beath deep into his lungs like it's painful. I continue to hold my breath. 

The spot between my ribs, now void of proverbial blade still aches, but now with more loneliness and finality than strikes of pain. A fact dawns on me in that moment, as my lungs  burn for air, watching Jake's jaw stutter with upspoken words. Maybe this wasn't supposed to be an ending. Not like this, maybe not at all. 

You are a burning house that I want to live in. 

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" With Jake's unsure words, I manage an uneasy breathe. My lungs feel aflame with new oxygen. My eyes meet the sand, my dirty sneakers looking out of place next to Jake's nice leather boots. I can't help the almost chuckle that escapes my lips, it comes out as more of a grimace. 

It occurs to me that maybe Jake has no idea about just how much I'm falling apart. Just like my mother, and her mother before her. Loving men from afar as they fight- Soldiers, Airman, Seaman, and Marines. The shock of it all ricochets through me; a generational pain that is now mine to hold. 

The splendid thing about falling apart silently... is that you can start over as many times as you like.

"If you're saying what I think you're implying here, I need you to say it out loud," Jake breaks through the fog of it all, his voice stern and commanding. It sends a shiver down my spine. I have never seen him like this, burning so fiercely with love and it makes the sticky sweetness of my insides warm. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, I need you to say it. I need you to say the words out loud for both of us to hear, because I need to hear that goodbye if you're going to walk away from me. Oh God, Sweetheart, please don't walk away now,"

"When you were on that ship," I kick some sand with the toe of my shoe, a neat little pile of it forming in front of me, "When you called, I didn't think you were coming back, and now that you're here, you're alive... God, you're alive... I just thought that I'd be holding you back. I mean, if we kept this going, there would always be something dragging you backwards, and I don't want to drag you back, Jake. But, I also can't do it like this anymore. Our relationship has been spent through phone calls and letters and I don't think we've spent more than three days consecutive together, ever," 

"I am so fucking glad that you are alive," I can't help but laugh, the pressure a little less crushing, "But we are both worth more than this," 

When I finally gather the courage to look up, Jake's eyes are already on me, running over my features so slow like he's working on memorizing them. I have so much more to say, so many words that wouldn't fit on the collage ruled paper or in the textbox of a message.  All of these words just begging to escape from behind my tongue. 

"I love you," I blurt out, eyes linked with his blues, unhindered and unbashful. "God, I fucking love you, and I can't believe I'm saying it for the first time now, not over the goddamn phone, and we are on the periphery of a fucking ending," 

"It's only an ending if you call it as such," Jake reaches for my hand. I extract them from the their denim confines and let them slip into his. "Because I am not fucking walking away. Do you think that I would?" 

What a question. What a loaded fucking question. 

"No," I answer honestly, "Not on purpose, but I know the fight is always in front of you, and that leaves me in the rearview, and I am not going to ask you to give up that, to give up all of this, for me. You have a family here, now, even if you don't want to use that word. Those folks in there, the people you almost fucking died with, those are your people forever, now. They are who you have to fight with, and fight for."

"Yes, they are my family, but that doesn't mean that you aren't anymore," Jake squeezes my hands, pulling me just a little closer. 

"Anymore?" I barely hear my own voice, but I do feel the tears welling up in my eyes. "Have I been your family before now? Before this moment, before you almost died?" 

"Of course you have," Jake chokes down a chuckle. "You are my person, my home, and I want you here, here with me,"

"But what about everything that comes next. The next time you have to go somewhere in the middle of the ocean to fight an unknown battle, with enemies who are just trying to do the same thing. Everyone is just fighting to stay alive, to get home, what then?" 

"Who do you think I was fighting so hard to get back to?" Tears fall from my eyes at his words, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. "Who do you think I will continue to fight to get back to? Sweetheart, I will dogfight my way out of anything if that means making it back to you," Thumbs swipe at my tears as he leans in, pressing his lips over mine. A welcome home and a goodbye all in one, but not a goodbye from one another, but from the people we used to be. 

Death frees us from the torment of parting. 

And so the train passes, I remain un-flayed to the world and Jake didn't go out in a blaze of glory and red hot heat. I may have bled out, but that dagger was never mine to carry- even if we were both fighting to get back to each other. And maybe a part of us died there, on that beach, our lips pressed together as Jake breathed life back into me. It's a death, but not one of finality, because If you're lucky, you die many times before you ever really do.

----

QUOTE CREDIT

Destination means death to me. If I could figure out a way to remain forever in transition, in the disconnected and unfamiliar, I could remain in a state of perpetual freedom. - David Wojnarowicz

I can at least be neat. Walk out and be seen as clean. - A burning Hill - Mitski 

"She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter.

She follows the letter down, down...

Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo.

Sounds of breathing."

― Sarah Ruhl, 

Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. - Hamilton 

"You have a row of dominoes set up; you knock over the first one, and what will happen to the last one is that it will go over very quickly." - President Eisenhower in April 1954 

The shame of being seen consumes me. - Cynthia Cruz from  diagnosis, The Glimmering Room

I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone. - Matchbox 20

There can be no friendship with someone I am not ready to betray. -slavoj zizek 

Let me be very clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered. - anecdote of the pig, tory adkisson

I hope death is like being carried to you bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room. - lilies abounded

It’s not enough nearly to survive. One needs to flourish. - Jack Tanner, The Source of Dreams, When Human Imagination Died

To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light - rainer maria rilke

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly. - Anne Sexton, A self portrait in letters.  

Of course love is still there. Still, still, still. - unknown, tumblr

Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. - Halsey 

You are a burning house that I want to live in. - unknown, tumblr 

“The splendid thing about falling apart silently... is that you can start over as many times as you like.” ― Sanober Khan, 

If you're lucky, you die many times before you ever really do. - Jake Weasley Rogers. 

Death frees us from the torment of parting. lighthousekeeping, jeanette winterson 

TAG LIST @its-the-pilot @t4medicroe @inkandarsenic @kmc1989 @inky-sun @harperdoodle @possiblyexisting @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @jessicab1991 @muddwheelz123

[nordleuchten]

Heyy, have you ever wrote about Lafayette and Napoleon's feelings/contact with each other?

'cause even knowing some stuff about them, i think that there might be more for it than I know

Thankss <3

Dear Anon,

the relationship between La Fayette and Napoléon was a very complex and layered one, but I will try to give you detailed summary.

The first link between La Fayette and Napoléon was in January of 1791 when a young Napoléon mentioned La Fayette in a letter to his friend Matteo Buttafoco. The letter and commentary on it can be found in this post here.

The next serious connection between these two man came when Napoléon defeated the Austrians and the Treaty of Campo Formio was signed, thus freeing La Fayette and his fellow prisoners from Olmütz. La Fayette, duly thankful to Napoléon, wrote the General a note of thanks. Again, the letter itself and commentary can be found in this post here.

La Fayette spend the next years in exile and he and Napoléon had next to no real connection at the time. This all changed when La Fayette, due to the brilliant work of Adrienne, returned to France during Napoléon’s Coup d’État in 1799.

His name and the names of many of his family members were still on the list of émigrés so legally they could not return to France. When La Fayette did so anyway, Napoléon was not amused. He was eventually consoled by Adrienne and Napoléon eventually restored La Fayette’s citizenship in March of 1800.

La Fayette was banned from attending the memorial service for the American General George Washington who died on December 14, 1799. George Washington had been a close friend, confident and father figure for La Fayette. Despite all this, La Fayette’s and Napoléon’s relationship still was rather friendly. They actually had a certain respect for each other as Generals but especially Napoléon was from the start quite wary around the Marquis. La Fayette had been vastly popular in France and still was. His popularity had greatly suffered during the second half of the French Revolution but his time in prison and the actions of his wife had partly helped to restore it. La Fayette had no political ambitions when he returned to France and his popularity was still tarnished but he nevertheless could have posed a threat to Napoléon if he really, really would have wanted that. The two of them met a few times at social functions and also exchanged letters but their relationship deteriorated more and more with time. They were similar in one aspect though, they both longed for glory – but their approach was different.

Napoléon hoped to gain La Fayette’s support for his government but La Fayette refused to serve in the Senate and to become the French ambassador to his beloved America, although both positions were suggested to him through different sources. La Fayette was also offered to be made a member of the Legion of Honour. He again refused. He had no interest of being overly entangled with Napoléon. Although not being outspoken in public La Fayette would not keep his opinions for himself if somebody asked him about his opinions. Actually, there was no need asking him about his opinions, La Fayette was one of the most well-known men in France, everybody even remotely interested in politics knew his stance. There is a passage from a conversation Napoléon and La Fayette had in the summer of 1802:

‘I [Napoléon] must tell you, General Lafayette, and I see with regret that, by your manner of expressing yourself on the acts of the government you give to its enemies the weight of your name.’ Lafayette replied, ‘What better can I do? I live in retirement in the country, I avoid occasions for speaking; but whenever anyone comes to ask me whether your regime conforms to my ideas of liberty, I shall answer that it does not; for, General, I certainly wish to be prudent, but I shall not be false.’

Bayard Tuckermann, Life of General Lafayette; with a critical estimate of his character and public acts, Vol. 2, Low, London, 1889, p. 158.

La Fayette did not trust Napoléon and did not wish to be part of his government. La Fayette voted against the consulship for life and this decision was at least from Napoléon’s point of view the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. La Fayette explained to Napoléon himself in a letter from May 20, 1802:

General – When a man who is deeply impressed with a sense of the gratitude he owes you, and who is too ardent a lover of glory to be wholly indifferent to yours, connects his suffrage with conditional restrictions, those restrictions not only secure him from suspicion, but prove amply that no one will more gladly than himself behold in you the chief magistrate for life, of a free and independent republic.

Life of Lafayette: Including an Account of the Memorable Revolution of the Memorable Revolution of the Three Days of 1830, Light & Horton, Boston, 1835, pp. 1.

But La Fayette was still somewhat out of Napoléon’s reach. But his son, who joined the military in 1800, and his son-in-law, Louis de Lasteyrie, were not. Although both of them and especially Georges, distinguished themselves in battles, they were not promoted. Whenever a promotion for one of them was up for debate, it never came to pass. La Fayette’s son and son-in-law therefor left the army in September of 1807 – there was just no point in serving any longer.

During the 100 Days, Napoléon’s brief return to power after his exile on St. Helena and prior to his exile on Elba, La Fayette became outspoken once again. He had been elected to the Chamber of Representatives (not to be confused with the Chamber of Deputies; both were the lower chambers of the French Parliament but the Chamber of Deputies was active during the Bourbon Restoration, the Chamber of Representatives was only active during The Hundred Days) in 1814. He had previously argued that too little people in France were eligible to vote the members of the Chamber of Deputies that such a political body could never represent France. Anyway, La Fayette was pretty silent as a Representative until June 21, 1815, after Napoléon’s defeat at Waterloo. The Chamber meet early that day to discuss the general state of affairs. La Fayette rose and proposed the following:

Representatives! For the first time during many years you hear a voice, which the old friends of liberty will yet recognize. I rise to address you concerning the dangers to which the country is exposed. The sinister reports which have been circulated during the last two days, are unhappily confirmed. This is the moment to rally round the national colours—the Tricoloured Standard of 1788—the standard of liberty, equality, and public order. It is you alone who can now protect the country from foreign attacks, and internal dissensions. It is you alone who can secure the independence and the honour of France.

Permit a veteran in the sacred cause of liberty, in all times a stranger to the spirit of faction, to submit to you some resolutions which appear to him to be demanded by a sense of the public danger, and by the love of our country. They are such as, I feel persuaded, you will see the necessity of adopting:

I. The Chamber of Deputies declares that the independence of the nation is menaced.

II. The Chamber declares its sittings permanent. Any attempt to dissolve it, shall be considered high treason. Whosoever shall render himself culpable of such an attempt shall be considered a traitor to his country, and immediately treated as such.

III. The Army of the Line, and the National Guards, who have fought, and still fight, for the liberty, the independence, and the territory of France, have merited well of the country.

IV. The Minister of the Interior is invited to assemble the principal officers of the Parisian national Guard, in order to consult on the means of providing it with arms, and of completing this corps of citizens, whose tried patriotism and zeal offer a sure guarantee for the liberty, prosperity, and tranquillity of the capital, and for the inviolability of the national representatives.

V. The Ministers of War, of Foreign Affairs, of Police, and of the Interior are invited to repair immediately to the sittings of the Chamber.

Bayard Tuckermann, Life of General Lafayette; with a critical estimate of his character and public acts, Vol. 2, Low, London, 1889, pp. 190-193.

The resolution was soon adopted with the exception of the fourth paragraph. Please note that the exact wording of La Fayette’s little speech differs a little bit from translation to translation, but the gist is always the same. La Fayette more or less openly called for the abdication of the Emperor Napoléon. When Napoléon’s brother urged the Chamber to reconsider La Fayette answered him that (again, different sources translate slightly different):

Who shall dare to accuse the French nation of inconstancy to the Emperor Napoleon? That nation has followed his bloody footsteps through the sands of Egypt and through the wastes of Russia; over fifty fields of battle; in disaster as faithfully as victory; and it is for having thus devotedly followed him that we now mourn the blood of three millions of Frenchmen.

Life of Lafayette: Including an Account of the Memorable Revolution of the Memorable Revolution of the Three Days of 1830, Light & Horton, Boston, 1835, p. 114.

Yes, la Fayette could give quite a speech - if he wanted to. Other the next days, Napoléon was urged to abdicate (June 22, 1815) with the threat that the Chamber would otherwise abdicate for him. The Chamber selected a committee of fife men to meet with delegates of the allied forces for the allies had promised peace negotiations, provided Napoléon was not longer in power. One of these fife men was La Fayette. There are not too many letters from La Fayette about these events that I can show you, but here is an excerpt from a letter to Thomas Jefferson from October 10, 1815:

In your Letters of Last year, anterior to the first Abdication of Bonaparte, you Had Expressed a due Sense of that Character who Having it in His Power to Be a Blessing did prefer to Become a Curse to Mankind. His despotism and His follies Had made the Restoration of the Bourbons, notwithstanding foreign invasion, a popular Event—They Returned the Compliment. Their prejudiced mismanagement, the more Glaring improprieties of Privilege-men Gave Napoleon the Opportunity to Reappear as a Representative of the Revolution. Whatever may Have Been a few Subaltern Intrigues, the Great, the Efficacious Conspiracy in His Behalf may Be attributed to the Counter Revl[uti]onary party.

in those transactions I took No part altho’ I would Have Readily assisted in Opposing Napoleon Had Not the patriotic System me[t] the Same objections which Had Ruined the Constitutional throne of 92.

We then Have Seen the Imperial destroyer of french Liberty Reassuming a Republican Language, Bowing to [na]tional Sovereignty, allowing a free press, and altho’ Vindictive or Arbitrary acts too often Betray’d old Habits, persuading many patriots to Rejoice at His Conversion—Not So did I—But While I Shunned personal Communication with Him, I declared that, if a free Representation was Convened, I would Stand a Candidate—we were, my Son and myself elected.

at the Same time a million of foreign invaders were, in Concert with Lewis the 18t and the elder Branch of His family, Led Against Bonaparte, was it Said, against what and whom the Event Has proved—the defense of national independance and territory Became, of Course, our principal object. it was my opinion that Unanimity and vigor Could Better Be Roused By a popular than By the Imperial Government—The Majority of the Assembly and Army depended more on the General Ship of Napoleon altho’ His whole troops did little Exceed two Hundred thousand. So we all joined on that Line of Resistance. No impediment was thrown, Every Assistance was Given. Never did our Heroïc Army fight Better than at waterloo. a Stubborn Mistake of Bonaparte Lost the day. He deserted His Soldiers, and Determined to dissolve our Assembly, usurp dictatorial powers, prefering the chances of Confusion and involving destruction to those of firmness and patriotism. That part of the impending Evils was timely prevented. it might Have Been the Case with the other part, altho’ Coming upon us in a Storm, Had Not the old diplomacy in poland, Napoleon’s policy in Spain, the Spirit of pilnitz in 91, and of the Last Congress at vienna Been far Surpassed By the present Coalition.

inclosed you will find a few pieces Relative to our Late House of Representatives. their declaration of the 5t July 1815 Congenial with the principles of 1789 are an additional proof that if the french people Have deplorably Erred in the means they Have Steadily persevered in the primary object of the Revolution.

“Lafayette to Thomas Jefferson, 10 October 1815,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Retirement Series, vol. 9, September 1815 to April 1816, ed. J. Jefferson Looney. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012, pp. 67–69.] (05/22/2023)

After Napoléon’s abdication, the relationship between him and La Fayette effectively ended safe for one important letter that I would like to show you. La Fayette had himself been a prisoner of war for several years and he had suffered under the conditions imposed upon him. When there was talk that the British mistreated Napoléon on Saint Helena, La Fayette wrote a letter to the American Secretary of the Treasury William H. Crawford in 1819 – and as before, the letter can be found in this post here.

I hope this answer is helpful to you and I hope you have/had a wonderful day!

[get-back-homeward]

Now and Then Day

This sideblog began after watching Get Back nagged and nagged at me until finally I started to look closer at context relative to the Beatles discography and suddenly started experiencing these WAIT WHAT moments every day as what I thought I knew got turned inside out. The appeal was in looking at something you knew like the back of your hand from another direction and seeing/hearing something new you hadn’t seen/heard before. But I had no idea we’d get another song to add to the mix in 2023.

I knew Now and Then day would be an experience. I thought I’d have to wait the whole day before listening. But I got lucky and found a few minutes to listen to Now and Then when it was first released this morning. And inexplicably clicked to hear the remastered Love Me Do instead. I cannot explain my brain.

I then tried to start Now and Then and noped out before 15 seconds in. Too overwhelming. Not the right time. I was too rushed and needed more space to mentally prepare for it.

I caught NPR covering the Now and Then release today on my drive home. They had a Lennon biographer (I didn’t catch the name) reviewing the song. He said the song recalls John’s more delicate tunes like Beautiful Boys (sic) and mentioned John started the song in 1970.

Say what?!

Here I was late last night trying to nail down a better date for John’s demo than “late 70s”. Meanwhile, biographers are just here on national public radio pushing lies. Did he have ChatGPT write his comments?

Oh yeah, they also said it was created with AI no qualifier.🤦‍♀️

They played a few snippets of the song including one new piece not in the doc but refrained from playing it in full. It was mostly wrong Beatles facts all segment.

Trying the song a second time hours later, I got through it in one piece but was feeling abit 🥴 about it as a song itself. Having just listened to the original demo was probably a mistake, and I could hear all the seams and feeling the Frankenstein song effect.

Third attempt sounded more together, with the seams not quite as noticeable. I was prepared for the changes, the layering bits from other songs, and noted highlights of the instrumentals: the strings, George’s guitar bits, and Ringo’s flourishes. I love Paul coming through on the future tense certainty of “I will love you” (is that I Will?). Ringo’s shimmering effect choice (is it tams?) is such an entrancing closer. Giles’ score and Beatles recycled bits do mend the seams well once I stop thinking about them too much.

On fourth listen, my biggest notes are questioning why Paul’s harmony with John isn’t more distinct. He shows a lot of restraint here but maybe too much? Did Get Back get to him in other ways than the most obvious? Is he just self-conscious about his own voice? Or is it the limitation of the tech when it comes to harmony mixing?

The strings were what I was most worried about, but their entrance at the 1:15 mark really kicks it up a notch to transition into the singalong. Other standouts are 1:40 with George’s flourish and 2:29 peak with the guitar solo.

Lyrically, it’s the conditional and if I make it through it’s all because of you that haunts in layers of meaning both grim and cathartic that reverberate through time and space.

If John makes it through emotionally to 1980 and has a comeback? Congrats, bud you did it. But he’s stopped physically through no fault of his own. There’s the obvious mourning of that lost potential even 40 years later.

If this song this voice this message of John’s makes it through to 2023 and reaches the public? Well, success there, Paul’s tenacity saw it through with help from many friends. John’s voice and song lives on through Paul’s wish to conjure him by his side. On the Day of the Dead no less. I was reminded of the concept of tulpas today and was knocked back on my heels by the thought.

If John as an artist and Beatles as a band make it through so fans are still listening in 2023? This doubles as a bit of a fan love letter, and thank you for 60 years. Released on the day Beatlemania first appeared in black and white.

But then there’s also a reflector on this. Some original Beatles fans have aged with Paul and Ringo and others have not and aren’t here to share this like John and George. There’s grief and mourning from those still here about those lost, and the song acts as a catharsis. A kind of thank you to the band for being there for fans in good times and bad. The symbiosis of fame between a band and its fans across the decades.

It’s a lot.

I spent some time looking at the youtube comments on the song. Some original fans but many second and even third generation fans. And quite a few stories about a loved one who loved the band and recently passed away like this one:

And this:

But also in there are stories of catharsis and healing.

And many memories of the joy that Beatles music has brought to people’s lives. We all have these stories of how their songs weave into our own life. But it’s the joy that I keep coming back to as the secret sauce to the band’s earliest days. I often think of those early songs more in terms of feeling then anything, and it starts with the first single.

I love the Love Me Do remastering. That harmonica sounds so crisp. The bluegrassy harmonies have never sounded better. The ones on ple-ee-ee-ease still give me chills. Ringo’s drums moved forward in the mix to appreciate that driving beat just a bit more. I can hear the bass too. I can’t wait to hear what the other early Red album tracks sound like.

But next to Now and Then, I’m also looking at the lyrics like I never did before. Why give it another glance? Written by a 16 year old kid, it always sounded a bit juvenile and simple. But suddenly next to Now and Then, there’s a weight to it I never heard before.

Love, love me do

You know I love you

I’ll always be true

So please, love me do

It sounds like a promise. Now and Then is fulfillment of that always. It’s no longer just the whim of a kid. But rather the beginning of 7 decade devotional: To John, to the band, to fans, and reflected back again. The love is reciprocal from all sides.

How’s that for a WAIT WHAT moment? Paul turning the least likely song inside out and backwards. And he didn’t even add a lyrical middle eight.

[moonferry]

FSIOY CHAPTER 3!!!!

guys i finally did it. i wrote chapter 3. ur welcome. anyway this one has been particularly eating at my brain so i hope you enjoy.

chapter name: happy birthday, don't die.

chapter summary: kent and jodi continued to get to know each other. soon, it's kent's 18th birthday and he is being called into service. he continues to develop feelings for jodi but can't tell her for fear of losing his job. he explains the situation to jodi - who met up with him to give him a birthday gift - and realizes he is much more afraid that he originally thought.

word count: 1755

warnings: mentions of death, fear of dying, war enlistment/draft

ao3 linkie -> here

other chapters: chapter masterlist

April 19XX, Midtown of Zuzu City – The Middle of The War | Kent’s Birthday. 

Kent received the job, which he was grateful for, but there was something he couldn’t seem to shake: a feeling. Over the course of the next few months, Kent continued to spend time with Jodi - as coworkers at first, and then the two formed an unlikely friendship. As much as he tried to deny it, he was beginning to really like Jodi; she was nice to talk to, a great listener, and extremely funny. The two learned a lot about each other - Jodi’s favorite fruit, for example -  and Kent even confided in her about his father’s death, something he hadn’t spoken about with anyone but his mother. 

In fact, he probably considered Jodi to be one of his closest friends. There was something different about himself whenever he was around her. Kent couldn’t quite place what it was, but he seemed to like this change. Which is probably why, on his eighteenth birthday - after he had received a foreboding letter in the mail - he had marched into town to find Jodi. 

Apparently, the conditions overseas seemed to be worsening and they were issuing another recruitment wave - well “recruitment” was a nice way to put it, indicating there was a choice to enroll. Kent was not given a choice. He was given a small slip of paper telling him to be at the nearest recruitment office by the end of the week or he would be fined and possibly jailed. Yikes. 

As silly as it was, Kent couldn’t help but think about his life and all the things he had yet to experience. That he may never get to experience. It filled him with nothing but dread. With this in mind, Kent found his feet leading him into the center of town without a second thought. He walked onto a nearby pier and looked at the water beneath. It was very still, barely moving more than a gentle lap against the wooden stilts the pier rested on. Kent felt jealous. He wished that, for once, his own life would remain as stagnant as the water beneath him, but he couldn’t be so lucky. 

Kent was interrupted from his “brooding” by a gentle tap on his forearm. He glanced up and saw Jodi’s cheerful face, a contrast to his own - which was rather grim. 

“Hey, Starfruit,” Kent greeted, forcing a small smile to form across his lips. He didn’t want to ruin Jodi’s good mood. Well, not yet, anyway. He’d have to tell her eventually. 

“Hey, Cactus,” Jodi smiled once again before tilting her head to the side. “What are you doing in this part of the city? You’re not scheduled to work today,” She explained, taking out a small pocket watch from her cardigan and checking the date. 

“Cactus?” Kent raised an eyebrow as he questioned the new nickname. He was greeted with a small laugh and Jodi pointing towards the top of his head. “Oh.. Because of my hair. Very funny,” He replied with a slight shake of his head, a genuine smile finding itself on his lips in response to Jodi’s joke. 

“Thank you, I try,” Jodi replied, another laugh escaping her lips as she took a mock bow. The sight made Kent’s heart ache. He was going to miss this. Jodi didn’t seem to notice Kent’s demeanor and continued talking, “Oh yeah! I was actually looking for you. I’m glad you showed up.” 

“You were?” Kent asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Why would Jodi be looking for him? 

“Yeah, I have something to give you,” She piped up cheerfully. She took a small, neatly wrapped present from behind her back. “It’s your birthday, right? I stayed up all night wrapping this for you.” Jodi admitted proudly before placing the gift into Kent’s extended palm. 

“Oh,” Kent replied. His eyes widened as he felt the box - which was much heavier than it looked. What in the world did Jodi put in here, he wondered. “You didn’t have to get me a present,” Kent explained, his brows furrowing together. It’s not like he didn’t appreciate the gift, whatever it was, it was that his mind was already preoccupied. He couldn’t afford anything to make the decision even more difficult. It wasn’t like Jodi could read his mind, so she wouldn’t know how much a small gift from her would affect him. Besides, Kent promised her mother that he wouldn’t try to “woo her” - so it didn’t matter what he felt. 

“I know,” Jodi nodded, her excitement never leaving her face, “but I wanted to.” She pushed the box closer to Kent and gave him a look of anticipation. “Open it,” she pleaded, practically bouncing up and down. 

“Okay, okay,” He conceded, throwing his hands up before carefully ripping the wrapping paper, “I’m opening it.” Kent fully removed the beautiful paper before inspecting the item. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he knew it was definitely something. It was extremely bulky - and heavy, he might add. Kent awkwardly turned the item in his hands, trying to find the best way to hold it. 

“Well, what do you think?” Jodi asked. She clung onto his forearm, glancing up at him with a hopeful expression. 

“It’s.. unique,” Kent replied, a mixture of a smile and a grimace contorting his features. “I know what it is, obviously.. But, you know, just so we’re on the same page, what.. What is it?” Kent asked as he once again glanced at the item, utterly confused. 

Jodi crossed her arms with a small frown. “It’s a risotto, duh. I made it myself,” She groveled, her voice filling with disbelief. Couldn’t he tell? She put so much work into it, after all. 

Kent cautiously nodded his head, “Right.” He looked at Jodi’s expression and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I totally knew that. It looks great, Jo. Thanks.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Kent,” Jodi scolded, her frown deepening. She glanced at her own creation and gave a small sigh, “I know it looks like.. Well..” 

Kent shook his head, interrupting Jodi before she could finish her sentence, “I’m not lying to you. I really do appreciate it.” He glanced down at the item once again before looking up at Jodi’s gloomy expression. “I’m sorry if I insulted you.” 

Jodi shrugged her shoulders. “It’s fine,” She dismissed, waving her hand to clear the air of the conversation. She glanced at Kent again and remembered how strange it was for him to be here. This piqued her curiosity. “Why did you come here, anyway?” Jodi asked, turning to full face Kent and crossing her arms over her chest before continuing, “You didn’t answer me earlier.” 

Kent took a deep breath. He knew it would come to this, but he imagined he and Jodi would have segwayed into it with a better mood. Oh well, Kent’s impeccable luck strikes once again. He remained silent for a moment before fishing around in his coat pocket, his fingers grasping the smooth envelope he had placed inside earlier. 

“I have to go overseas soon,” Kent admitted emotionlessly. He glanced down at his shoes. He didn’t even notice when he brought out the envelope or that Jodi had gently grabbed it out of his hand. 

“Oh, Kent, I’m sorry,” Jodi exclaimed, her expression darkening as she read the words neatly scribed on the paper. She placed the letter back into his hand and let out a small sigh. Jodi placed her hand on Kent’s shoulder and gave him a soft, reassuring pat. 

“Don’t be. I mean, we both knew this day would come,” Kent spoke once again, a small hint of sadness seeping into his voice. He looked up and met Jodi’s eyes. Jodi could see everything he had been hiding: every emotion clearly plastered across his face, but the most prominent one was fear. 

“How long do you have?” She asked before looking away from his face. The raw emotion had begun to eat away at her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she may start crying. 

Kent took another deep breath, clutching the paper in his hands so harshly it crumpled. “A week,” He stated matter-of-factly. His voice quieted at the end of his sentence. It was all he could do to stop it from breaking completely. 

Jodi gave a small nod. She had begun to speak, but was quickly interrupted by an unexpected emotional outburst from Kent. “Jodi, I’m so scared,” Kent spoke. He moved and buried his face in his palms, sniffling as a small stream of tears flooded from his tear ducts. “I don’t want to die,” he admitted, his voice finally breaking. His breathing was quite shaky and everything he said seemed barely audible, but he kept talking anyway, “There’s so much I haven’t gotten to experience and I’m so scared I never will. I don’t want to be another name they announce over the radio or a coffin buried in some far off location. I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this.” 

Kent was now curled up into a small ball, clutching his head between his hands. More tears streamed down his cheeks and Kent didn’t even seem to notice the feeling of soft pressure against his back. Jodi placed her hand there and gently moved it in small circles. 

“Kent, you aren’t going to die, okay?” Jodi spoke calmly, crouching down to look Kent in the eyes. She waited until he looked up, letting him meet her eyes, before firmly placing her hand on the side of his face. Jodi gently brushed away a stray tear and her expression softened. “You know how I know that?” She asked. 

“How?” Kent asked, leaning his face into her palm. He just hoped Jodi didn’t notice the slight temperature difference in his cheek. He was pretty sure he looked like a mess right now: puffy, red eyes and light pink cheeks. He felt like a mess, that’s for sure. Everything seemed upside down. 

“I know this because you’re going to use that pointy hair of yours as a weapon,” Jodi joked, trying to lighten the mood. Kent gave her a playful eyeroll, though Jodi swore a small hint of a smile spread across his lips. 

Jodi pushed herself into a standing position before extending her palm towards Kent. “C’mon,” she urged, gently tugging Kent to his feet before continuing, “We’re going to make this the best week of your life.”

[pepperonijem]

v. more myself than i am || all my love

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - Wuthering Heights; Emily Brontë

Summary: lego aisle arguments turn into confessions over waffles... Pairing: high school!bucky x f!reader Warnings: food mentions Word Count: 4.1k A/N: fun fact, as soon as bucky got home he stared at the ceiling while listening to jazz (also surprise early post!!)

previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

“Welcome! You guys are nearly an hour late,” Scott chastised them as soon as he opened the door.

“Sorry,” Bucky heard you apologize ruefully as you handed the gift bag of Lego and candy to Scott. “Somebody had a stick up his ass so it took us a little longer to get around.” Bucky scoffed at the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder as you walked past Scott and into the party.

You were glad to finally be away from Bucky, if you were being honest. The silent car ride was suffocating, and you couldn’t help but be angry at him for his question earlier. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

Because they’re his friends, you had reasoned. Because you care about him and they mean a lot to him and you would like to mean a lot to him. But you can’t really admit that to the guy who publicly rejected your confession and is now your roommate that you’re kind of friends with. 

It was the “kind of” friends that irked you the most. He didn’t make any sense. Some days he was kind to you, and some days he was the same icy James Barnes who didn’t even read the letter you had spent hours writing. But unfortunately, no matter how he acted at any given moment, he was still constantly on your mind. So much so, that you didn’t even realize your best friends had appeared in front of you with a beverage to offer until you heard his name.

“What happened to Bucky?” Wanda wondered out loud as she looked past you to where Scott was interrogating him at the front door. 

“I overheard Scott asking what he did to piss you off,” Steve explained as he gestured towards you. 

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment. “So then what happened to you?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.

You let out a sigh as you accepted the soda from Steve, opening it up and taking a sip before you explained what happened in the Lego section of Target earlier that day. You also explained why Bucky’s comment frustrated you more than it should and how you honestly felt kind of silly for being so bothered by it.

“Stop,” Steve said as he led you outside to the patio where he sat beside you on the bench and wrapped an arm around you. Wanda sat down on your other side. “If it bothers you then leave it at that, it’s okay to be upset especially with someone as confusing as Bucky.” 

You looked across the yard to see him laughing at something Sam was explaining and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking, you know?” You confessed. “Or even better, I wish I didn’t care what he thought of me.”

It felt more than a little bit silly to still be upset by his words. A part of you wanted to believe that he didn’t mean to be malicious, to have his words dripping with a hint of venom. Why do you care so much?  However, that part was overshadowed by the way your heart still continued to ache at the sight of him, wishing that you could make him laugh the way his friends did.

Now it was Wanda’s turn to let out a sigh, causing you to turn to her. “It’s no use lingering on it,” he commented. She stood up and extended a hand out to you and Steve to help the two of you up. “Do you remember when we were little and we watched Hocus Pocus for the first time?” 

Steve smiled at the memory. ��How could I forget? I was traumatized after the cat reinflated itself.”  You let out a laugh too and reached out for Wanda’s hand, forming a circle between the three of you.

“Are we doing a calming circle?” you questioned. Wanda nodded as you and Steve shared a look, both of you chuckling at the idea. “Okay, think soothing thoughts, you guys. Soothing thoughts.” 

It felt, for a few minutes, as if you were children again, spinning around in the park with your two best friends. It was easy to forget the world outside of your bubble, especially when the three of you were mostly just shouting ridiculous things. You were sure that if anyone else at the party saw you three, they’d be laughing at the silliness of the situation.

“Rain, movie marathons,” you called out, struggling to keep up with the speed of the circle. “Standing still!” You added and immediately felt your own momentum leading you to crash right into Steve’s chest. You could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed and wrapped an arm around you, trying to help you keep your balance.

“Feel better?” You heard Wanda call as she embraced you as well from behind. 

Was there any way you couldn’t feel better? Sandwiched between your two best friends, you couldn’t feel any safer. When the three of you finally broke apart and stumbled your way back to the patio bench, you let out a contented sigh. If life was hard, if life was cruel, at least it was kind enough to give you Steve and Wanda. 

“You know,” You began. “I’m really glad we’re going to university together. I don’t know if I can imagine not being with you guys.” If you weren’t already feeling upset about literally everything else, you wouldn’t have noticed the pointed look Wanda gave Steve, who looked away quickly. “Am I… missing something?” you asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Wanda repeated. “Are we missing something?” She raised an eyebrow at her friend who turned around with a guilty look on his face.

“Listen, I–” Steve started to speak before you heard Peter call your name as he ran to you from across the yard with your phone held up. You glanced at Steve who let out a sigh of relief at the interruption. He looked all too relieved to be out of the hot seat. 

Peter handed you your phone, just as it stopped ringing. “You left your phone inside,” He panted. “Your dad’s been calling for like 10 minutes.” 

“My dad?” you asked as Peter nodded. “He doesn’t usually call while he’s at work.” By now, the effects of your calming circle had sadly begun to wear off, and been replaced with early grumbles of anxiety. You stepped away from your concerned friends to find a secluded space to call your dad. 

It only took two rings for him to answer. “Hey, honey,” he greeted, already sounding apologetic.

“Hey dad,” you replied. “Is everything okay?” you asked tentatively, trying to stop your mind from immediately jumping to the worst case scenario.

You could hear him let out a sigh before answering you. “Yeah, everything is going well,” he said. “So well in fact, that my boss wants me to stay here for the rest of the month…” the end of his sentence trailed off as he waited for you to respond.

“What does that mean?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“It means I won’t be seeing you until next month at the earliest,” he replied. It had been over a whole month since you had seen your dad, the night he dropped you off at the Barnes residence, and it was the longest you’ve ever been away from him.

To say that it was hard to be away from him was an understatement. For so long it had just been you and your dad. Besides Steve and Wanda, he was your best friend and your number one supporter. He was your shoulder to cry on, your favorite gossip-buddy, and you missed him. Phone calls with him lately have been far and few and between, and they couldn’t match the excitement of coming home from school to have a snack with him while you talked about your day. On top of that, there was a senior awards ceremony this week, and you had been excited for your dad to see you receive an award from the literature and writing department. 

But you didn’t want him to know that, so instead you put on a smile and pushed the tears back down. “It’s okay dad,” you replied to him. “I miss you, but I’m sure they’ll miss you more at the restaurant. Besides, Mr. Barnes and Bucky have been making sure I eat all my meals and drink enough water and get enough rest.” You let out a chuckle to really seal the deal, hoping it was enough to convince him.

“Okay,” he let out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m really sorry again, but I’ll see you soon, I promise. I love you,” he added.

“You too, dad.” As soon as the red button was pressed, the tears began to spill from your eyes. If it wasn’t for the argument you had earlier with Bucky and the anxiety you felt about what Steve was going to tell you, it probably wouldn’t have been this hard. But sometimes, things just add up and make you sad. And that’s okay. You were thankful for the pair of arms that wrapped around you and the soothing voice that reminded you of these things because it was definitely hard to remind yourself.

“Hey,” Wanda called to you as you rested your head on Steve’s shoulder. “Is your dad okay?”

You nodded softly. “Yeah, he’s fine. But he said he won’t be coming home till next month.” By now the tears had kind of stopped and you took a step back from Steve, still feeling anxious about what news he would tell you. “Steve,” you asked tentatively. “What were you going to tell us earlier?”

Steve’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours as he looked across the yard to where everyone else was gathered. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I’ll tell you another day.” His smile didn’t meet his eyes and his words did not convince you to not worry about it. But now was not the time to push him and instead you let it go, letting a beat of silence take over among the three of you.

“There’s something about sunsets in October that just feel poetic,” Wanda mused aloud as she looked to where the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. “Do you think the sunset is just as beautiful everywhere?” 

Although you know she didn’t mean for it to, Wanda’s question made you sad again. Was the sunset your dad saw just as beautiful as this one? Was it just as beautiful when he saw it without you? Or was he like you? Unable to see the oranges and reds in the sky fading into indigo without remembering the smell of the mug of his special hot chocolate that was always waiting for you on cold fall evenings.

Suddenly, all you wanted to do was be away from everyone. While Steve and Wanda were busy discussing the beauty of the sunset, you found yourself sinking back towards the door. It seems however, you weren’t the only one who wasn’t feeling the party mood anymore because you suddenly found yourself alone in the kitchen with Bucky, who was still watching the party going on outside with a far away look that made you wonder what was on his mind.

Unsure what to say, you stood at the kitchen island beside him and stared out into the yard where the rest of your friends were about to start party games and let the silence rest between the two of you. You weren’t sure if it was because of the weight of your dad’s call outweighing your petty argument from earlier, but you somehow felt safe here in Bucky’s company, comfortable even in the silence.

The silence sat for what felt like minutes until Bucky spoke first with a much softer voice than he used earlier. He sounded tired. Resigned. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked, looking at you for the first time since you had entered the kitchen. You nodded in response, thankful that he was the one to bring it up and not you. “You can head to the car first.” You honestly feel a little bit guilty that you were about to leave without saying goodbye, but as if Bucky noticed the way you shifted hesitantly, he added “I’ll make sure to give your regards to the birthday boy… I’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”

He handed you his keys, the jingle of his many souvenir keychains providing you with a sense of familiarity. You watched as he walked back outside and put on a smile that didn’t feel as real as the ones you had seen earlier, and made your way to the front door.

“You’re leaving?” A familiar voice called from behind you. Your hand froze on the doorknob as you turned to see Steve standing what felt unfamiliarly far away from you. 

“Yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “Bucky  said he was ready to go home.” That wasn’t really what happened, but for some reason you felt guilty for not wanting to spend time with your best friends and their best friends.

“Oh,” Steve acknowledged. He paused for a second, letting his eyes wander anywhere else before continuing. Why was he awkward all of a sudden? “I could just take you home if you wanted to stay longer,” he finally added, his hand coming up to run through his golden hair as he hesitantly took a few more steps in your direction. 

On any other day, you would have taken him up on his offer, but thinking back to his words earlier, you had a feeling that making the choice to go with Steve would lead to more bad news and that was just something your heavy heart could not handle any more of tonight. So with a soft shake of your head, you turned him down. “Sorry,” you apologized with a sad smile. “I can’t tonight.”

Steve nodded and took a step backwards, wringing his hands together uncomfortably before shoving them back in his pockets, as if the question meant more to him than he was willing to let on. “Another time then,” he said with the same hollow smile he had earlier before offering to open the door for you. He watched you walk into the now indigo evening, watching until you made your way to the passenger’s seat of Bucky’s car and only finally waving goodbye when he heard the lock of the car door, making sure you were safely inside.

Something felt off today, you thought, not just with your own emotions, but with everyone else. There was an air of unnamable sadness that seemed to sit on everyone’s shoulders and it made you feel a little guilty to be wallowing in your own when you could be caring for your friends. It was an easy rabbit hole to fall into, especially sitting alone in the cold and darkness of the car. Realizing how quickly you could snowball, you opted instead to turn the key and start the car, reaching over to start the heater and the radio.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Bucky opened the driver’s side and entered the car. “Thanks for starting the heater,” he said with an echo of a shiver in his voice. He plugged his phone in before opening his GPS app. “Do you want to go home?” The tone in his voice implied that he did not.

“Can we drive around for a bit instead?” You asked as Bucky hummed in response. He closed out of the app, opting instead to put on his driving playlist as he pulled out from his spot and onto the road.

Much like earlier, the drive was silent. But unlike earlier, there was no tension that lay like a bridge on fire between the two of you, but rather there was comfort like opposite sides of a still lake. You found yourself looking up at him, admiring the way his left hand rested on the top of the steering wheel, and his right hand on the gearshift. His dark hair, disheveled from brushing falling leaves out of his hair outside, reminded you of the night you drove home from the football game. 

It was much colder outside than it was that night, but at this moment, you still felt warm. Much like that night, he was glowing in the city lights. You hoped he couldn’t see you staring at him, but part of you felt like even if he noticed, there was no need to look away. 

“Bucky,” you called his name in a whisper and he turned to glance at you before turning his attention back to the somewhat empty city streets. “Do you hate me?” The question surprised even you as you said it. But before you could make an attempt to retract it, Bucky pulled into a parking lot and quickly parked his car before looking at you with a more serious look than you had seen on him before.

“No,” he answered firmly. “I don’t… hate you.” Honestly, you didn’t expect him to answer that quickly, or with that much conviction. Bucky looked at the surprised, blank look on your face. You don’t think he expected it either. “What made you think that?” Was he… hurt by your question?

The slight pout on his lips and the way his eyebrows scrunched together made you want to take the question back altogether. “I…” you began, unsure of what to say. Would anything you said even change anything? Deciding that words left unspoken now would be silence you regret later on, you took a deep breath before continuing. “I just never know what you think about me. I know it shouldn’t really matter, but it does. To me, it does. Sometimes, it’s like we’re in sync, like we know each other’s thoughts, but then we argue in the middle of the store and I suddenly feel as small as I did when I first tried to jump off the swings and sprained my wrist in kindergarten.”

You knew that now that you had started, there wasn’t any way for you to stop until you had run out of things to say, so you let yourself continue. “I want to know because I hate not knowing. And I know you know what that feels like and I also know how much you hate it too. I’m tired of this weird back and forth, and all this whiplash. There’s too much uncertainty in my life right now, and if I could find even one corner where I just know what’s going on, I’ll take it, even if it means knowing you want me far away from you. So tell me again, and tell me honestly, do you hate me?”

You were breathing hard now, and you prayed that the tears that threatened to spill would recede. There was a bit more you wanted to say, but you knew it wasn’t the time. Balling your fists up to hide how badly your hands were trembling, you looked down at the center console where Bucky’s hand was trembling just the same, as if itching to move. You found the courage to meet his eyes to find a surprising tenderness in their soft blues.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again with such softness it made your heart stutter. He swallowed before opening his mouth to continue, but not knowing what else to say. For a second, you just stared at him. His features were now tinted with hints of blue and red as you saw the reflection of the neon sign of a diner in his crystal blue eyes. Were you going crazy or was he leaning ever so slightly into you?

Before you could realize your eyes were beginning to flutter shut or the way your hand was inching toward his on the center console, you were interrupted by the gnarliest growl from your stomach. Suddenly time was frozen until Bucky’s deep laugh broke the silence, soon followed by your own fit of laughter. The two of you pulled back quickly, Bucky running a hand through his hair. For a second, the two of you were silent, unable to look each other in the eye. Were we about to… kiss? The idea bounced around in your head until the sound of Bucky’s voice cracking snapped you out of it. This was not something to fixate on right now.

“I think I, uh… owe you some waffles,” was all he said before turning off the engine.

About an hour and half of a stack of waffles and a very large and very sweet milkshake later, Bucky asked you a question. “Did you actually like The Stranger?”

You were confused a second before it faded into surprise that he remembered that interaction. “I did,” you answered honestly, cutting into another piece of your waffle. “But I don’t think I like it as much as I used to.” Bucky hummed in thought as he stuffed a whole strip of bacon into his mouth as you laughed at the sight. “Why do you ask?” you asked in between giggles.

“I was reading it again,” he answered after swallowing his bite. “And like you said, it’s just not as good as I used to think it was. Then I remembered what you said to me that day, about stories about life not having meaning.” 

You took another bite as you waited for him to continue and watched as he began to mindlessly fidget with the bottle of maple syrup. “I think you’re right about that,” he mused. “Maybe you and I have started to find more meaning in life.” He looked up at you with a small smile.

“You might be onto something,” you replied. You already knew that though. That book stopped being your favorite the day he stole it from you. After that, you were much more interested in the story you were telling with your own life than the hollow life of the man in The Stranger. “What books do you think are actually good then?” you asked curiously.

“It’s kind of dorky,” he began, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he pushed around the remains of his dinner on his plate. “But I’m a big fan of Jane Austen and all those classic romances.” You let out a surprised scoff. You weren’t expecting Bucky to be such a romantic. He rolled his eyes as you grinned at him in shock.

“No way?” you remarked. “That’s so… literature-teacher-esque of you.” You leaned back in surprise  as you took another sip of your milkshake.

“I know,” he agreed. “You should see what my books look like. It’s every literature teacher’s fantasy.” He tried to fight back a smile but immediately failed when he saw how excited you seemed to be upon learning this information.

“Why don’t you be one then?” you asked. “Like seriously? I think you’d be a great teacher. You taught me math, so obviously you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Part of you was joking, but when you saw the way he ran his hand on his cheek to hide the furrow in his brows, it began to sink in how great of an idea it was.

Bucky leaned his chin into his hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never really thought about being a teacher.”

“Well maybe it’s time to start,” you replied cheerfully. “What was your original plan?” Now that you were thinking about it, you realized that for a man of routine and planning and detail, he seemed to have a pretty fuzzy idea of what life would be like after high school. Every time someone mentioned college plans, he’d give some vague and lofty idea to pacify whoever was asking. 

“Honestly,” he answered. “I don’t really have one.” His shoulders fell as if he had been waiting for a long time to admit that to anyone else but himself. “What about you?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” you replied with a smile and Bucky couldn’t help but mirror it back to you.

“I believe it,” he agreed. “You’re a great writer.” Your smile turned into a look of confusion. Where had he seen your writing before? You had never written anything outside of your diary except essays for English class. 

Bucky let out a cough as he saw signs of recognition light up your features. “I mean, I heard you were a great writer,” he tried to cover up. “I overheard some of the teachers talking about giving you a writing award at the ceremony.”

The compliment he was paying you was shadowed by the memory of your phone call with your dad earlier. Bucky quickly picked up on the sadness that swept over your features.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his head lowering to try to meet your own lowered eyes. 

“Yeah,” you replied unconvincingly before you let out a sigh. “My dad isn’t going to make it to the ceremony. He called me at the party.”

Suddenly, it was Bucky’s turn to piece things together. “Ah,” he replied. “I see.”

You cleared your throat and put your face in your hands. “But it’s fine, it’s just a piece of paper,” you tried to convince yourself, but Bucky saw past it. However, he could also tell that it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about anymore and you looked at him gratefully when he changed the subject. He waited a beat before clearing his throat, finally getting you to look up at him.

“So,” Bucky began. “How many more pancakes do you think we can demolish?”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you prayed to anyone who heard your thoughts for you to be as content as you were right now.

[tanjir0se]

you mentioned a fic in one of your reblogs!! an entertainment district au with giyuu and shinobu,

and i wanna read it so so so bad- could you lmk the name and where to find it?

Hello!!! Thank you for your interest! _(:3 」∠)_

I actually never published the fic! I think it’s my first KNY fic ever, it was kind of me coping with not knowing what happened to the kids after s3ep11 Never Give Up so honestly I kinda dropped it like it was hot once that season ended!

It was part of a larger speculative fic where I basically just made up a backstory for Giyuu (I didn’t know anything yet). In it, as a child he had a brother and sister growing up, Goichi (older) and Kanoko (younger), who were killed by a demon when they were 13 and 5 respectively. Throughout the fic he’s been receiving letters from Tanjiro thanking him for his support and has struggled to find a way to respond.

(If you’d like I can post another installment later on, but I didn’t want to make the post too too long lol)

Here is the scene where he discovers the boys in the ruins of the Entertainment District!

✨✨✨

“Tomioka? Are you in there?” Shinobu’s voice, uncharacteristically serious. Giyu bolted upright and attempted to shove his unruly sleep-worn hair back into its ponytail at his neck.

“Yes.” He said. She didn’t hesitate in sliding the door open and taking a step inside. As soon as he saw her, his heart leapt into his throat.

Her hair was down, though she was in the midst of tying it up into a hurried and messy version of her usual butterfly-framed bun. Under one of her arms she was cradling her wooden elixir kit, and her sword belt was hanging loosely on her hips, as if she’d thrown it on in a hurry. “I’m going to Yoshiwara with the Kakushi.” She said.

He waited, not breathing, remembering Tanjiro’s letter. Undercover in an Oiran house…Yoshiwara. Giyu grabbed his sword and held it with a white-knuckled grip, never taking his eyes off Shinobu.

“Uzui and Tanjiro.” She continued, confirming his worst nightmare. “All four of them…”

Giyu felt his head spin and wished he could sit down. It was as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him and he was in free fall. Throat clenched, he stared at her with his mouth open, trying to spit out the only question he could even think to ask. “Are they—?” His mind conjured horrific images that continued to stun and disorient him. Tanjiro’s sun-bright light snuffed out and smoking.

He stared at her for so long that his eyes began to water. Stunned and terrified into silence, the instant between his ask and her answer felt like years.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “The city has been destroyed. The four of them are still missing.”

Missing. Giyu repeated the word in his mind and tried to find his feet beneath him. Better than dead, he supposed. Stiffly, he nodded and placed his sword into his belt, then turned toward the door where Shinobu had already turned back, heading out of the mansion. At the last moment he turned back, seized both of Tanjiro’s letters as well as his unsent reply, folded them into his pocket, then followed Shinobu’s lead toward the battleground.

She brought him up to speed on their journey to Yoshiwara, the both of them sprinting faster than seemed possible. The demon presiding in the city was a twelve Kizuki, or rather two. Two in one? It didn’t matter, and Giyu barely listened to the specifics. He still hadn’t been able to get the image of Tanjiro’s corpse out of his mind. He even found himself praying the nightmarish visions would remain just that: merely a nightmare.

She’d learned of the situation from Uzui’s crow, sent by one of his wives. It had detailed as much of the battle as the sender and the crow itself knew: upper level demon, poisoned blood art, massive explosion. Missing. That word again, squeezing Giyu’s chest with every heartbeat. Missing. Missing. Missing.

Though he didn’t share Urokodaki’s nose, Giyu could smell the smoke thick in the air as they approached. Dawn was breaking, but the closer they got to the town the darker the sky became until the new morning sun was choked completely out by thick red smoke. Embers still danced in the air and fire crackled and nipped at what few structures remained. Shinobu and Giyu slowed to a stop.

Kakushi and citizens alike were shouting and running and trying to sort through the rubble for survivors—and bodies. A trio of women at what was left of the city’s gate were apparently leading the effort, though they were all clearly injured themselves. One of the least injured, a woman in purple, limped to greet them, leaning heavily on a broken piece of wood as a crutch.

“Lady Kocho.” She said tightly. Her voice was hoarse and pained. “Master Tomioka. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Giyu moved beside her and helped her stand.

“Hinatsuru,” Shinibu breathed. “Tell me what happened.”

“M-most all of the citizens were already evacuated. Lord Tengen and Tanjiro beheaded the poison demon. They were too fast to see, but Zenitsu must’ve beheaded the belt demon too. The demons’ dying attack was an explosion of poisoned blood. The buildings collapsed, we couldn’t find them in the rubble.”

Giyu helped her to the ground, as she was clearly losing the stamina to continue standing. Shinobu opened her tincture box and began mixing substances. “Who all has been poisoned?”

“Makio and I were hit by one of the poisoned slashes during the blast.” She nodded at a woman in red lying on the dirty ground, her head being supported by a woman in blue. “Lord Tengen and Inosuke, the boar-headed child, definitely, though Inosuke seems to either be immune or highly resistant. It’s very likely that Zenitsu has been poisoned as well. And T-Tanjiro—”

Giyu leaned forward in frightened, aching, horrified anticipation. The tears at the edges of the Hinatsuru’s eyes were not a good sign. “Lady Shinobu. Tanjiro was gravely injured before the blast even came. Stabbed through the throat by the poisoned blade. He and Lord Tengen were very close to the blast, and Tanjiro couldn’t even move before it went off. Of course I have hope, but—”

Her voice, thick and pained, cut off. Shinobu was already drawing a pink liquid up into a syringe and flicking the air bubbles to the top. Giyu looked up at her helplessly and continued to watch her even as he spoke to Hinatsuru.

“Where did you last see them?” he asked quickly.

“The town plaza, near where the trolley station used to be.” Shinobu poured off several vials of her new antidote and handed them to Giyu with a small syringe kit. The action was wordless but Giyu understood and gently allowed Shinobu to take over his place holding Hinatsuru up. He stood and clutched the antidote vials tightly in his fist, looking toward the area where the smoke was the thickest. Without a word, he leapt onto the rooftops and sprinted into the fire.

The smoke became thicker and thicker until Giyu couldn’t see far enough ahead of him to continue at such a speed, but a broken down and burnt out trolley car signaled that he was getting close. He slowed to a jog and searched, heart pounding in his throat. Without Urokodaki’s sense of smell or Uzui’s keen hearing, he could rely only on instinct to locate the four missing slayers.

The air around him was scorching, so hot on his face and hands he would’ve thought his own haori was aflame too. Still, he managed to cup a hand around his mouth and call out into the hell around him.

“Tanjiro!” He yelled it at the top of his voice, but the call still felt pitifully small against the walls of flame and ash and broken buildings. “Uzui!” His voice faded into the crackling fire around him. The silence was oppressive. His eyes burned from the smoke and the heat. Giyu glanced down at what once was the street below his feet and swallowed when he noted that he was leaving bloody footprints in the ash, having walked through several large pools of it.

“Tanjiro!” he screamed again. This time, he got a reply, though not from the person he was calling.

“Put me down!” someone was saying. He knew the voice, even weak and choked in pain. “You’re worse off than me, dammit!” The protests were interrupted and contradicted by a string of wet and painful-sounding coughs. “And you’re not even asleep!” Giyu stopped and turned toward the sound.

“Inosuke?” he called. The boar didn’t respond, but a strange yellow shape was materializing out of the smoke. Giyu almost gasped at what he saw.

Zenitsu, the yellow boy who always seemed to be shaking in fear, was staggering beneath the boar’s weight on his shoulders, carrying the injured boy from the fire and the rubble. Blood dripped from the end of his haori-turned-kimono and smeared his legs, which nearly buckled with every step as he picked his way over rubble and embers. Blood covered his shoulders and arms and matted down his hair, though none of that was his.

Knowing what he knew of Inosuke, which, granted, was very little, Giyu figured he must be gravely injured to allow himself to be carried, even if he was protesting the whole way. His boar mask was still on, though his head was hanging limply against Zenitsu’s back. Blood poured from the half-open maw of the boar’s face, ran in rivers down Inosuke’s pale arm and dripped off of his limp fingers.

Giyu jogged toward them, prompting Zenitsu to look up from his focus on his own feet. The moment the kid’s bright honey-brown eyes hit him, they filled with tears.

“Master Tomioka!” He cried in relief. “Thank god you’re here!” He finally allowed his legs to buckle, but Giyu caught them both before they could hit the ground. Zenitsu bowed his head and allowed Giyu to pull Inosuke off of him. Inosuke coughed and he could feel the boy’s eyes on him behind the boar mask.

“Not this guy again.” he complained weakly, voice marred by the blood in his throat.

Giyu ignored the jibe and pulled out two antidote vials. “Were either of you poisoned?” Zenitsu’s hands shook as he held them in front of him anxiously, eyes flicking fast between Giyu and his injured friend.

“I’m okay!” he practically shouted. “But Inosuke got stabbed through the chest with the poison blade.”

“I’m the lord of the mountains.” Inosuke insisted, his voice fired and tight. “A little poison won’t stop me!”

“Maybe.” Giyu conceded evenly. “But a stab wound to the chest might.”

Inosuke scoffed, though the sentiment was lost in the rush of blood that followed it. Zenitsu whimpered beside him but did not shy away, instead removing the belt from his makeshift kimono and practically shoving it into Giyu’s hands.

“Here! Use this!” By the time he said it, Giyu was already pressing it tightly into Inosuke’s wound with one hand and drawing up the antidote with the other. Even if he was immune to the poison, better safe than sorry.

“Don’t worry about us.” Inosuke’s voice was uncharacteristically serious as he raised a hand to press the fabric into the wound himself. “Tanjiro was much closer to the boom. You help him.”

Giyu couldn’t help stop the surprised and frightened look that he could feel on his face. “Where is he?”

“Close. I can feel it.” That wasn’t really much help. Zenitsu gripped Inosuke’s arm tightly for a moment, his round eyes conflicted and frightened. They seemed to have some kind of silent communication, because after a moment, Inosuke nodded tightly and Zenitsu turned those eyes to Giyu.

“I can help you find them.” He said. “I’ll be able to hear them under the rubble.” Giyu didn’t miss the reluctant way his hand lingered in Inosuke’s arm before he stood, wavering on his bloodied and bare feet. He nodded at him and followed as the kid closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, listening silently.

Wordlessly, Zenitsu took off walking, eyes still closed, and Giyu followed. The air still burned around them and somehow there was even more blood on the ground than a few blocks over. Even Giyu could smell it in the air, wincing each time Zenitsu walked over a pool of it, swallowing the acid in the back of his throat at the smell of it wafting in the superheated air. Again, he pictured Tanjiro bleeding, broken, and worst of all still. And what of Nezuko? Could that box of hers survive such a raging fire? Broken wood and twisted metal was everywhere. It was very easy to imagine her being torn to shreds by the flames and poison. If he looked down the wrong alley would he find bits and pieces of her scattered everywhere?

A pink ribbon in a pool of blood. His tiny, pale, yellow-ribboned sister drowning in red.

So lost in thought, Giyu almost didn’t realize when Zenitsu suddenly spoke. “Heartbeats!” He said abruptly. He turned his head to the side, positioned his body aligned toward a nearly pile of debris. “Two heartbeats. One is slow. The other is quiet.”

Zenitsu began running and Giyu followed. “No, there’s three. One is wrong. Not human—“ he gasped “That’s Nezuko! They’re here!” He opened his eyes again and stopped in his tracks. They were standing in front of the ruins of what once was a large building of individual apartments.

Giyu’s own heartbeat felt loud and frantic in his ear as he fell to his knees and began to dig. Zenitsu followed suit. They both tore into the pile, throwing beams and metal and debris over their shoulder, slicing their palms open on broken glass and ignoring the pain. The deeper they dug the louder Zenitsu’s ragged and frightened breathing became, as if echoing the rise in volume of the heartbeats they were digging towards.

Giyu paused only slightly to wipe his bloody hands onto his uniform, and in the brief moment that he wasn’t digging, the wooden slab below him suddenly twitched on its own. Giyu paused, and Zenitsu stopped to watch as well.

The slab suddenly went flying. If Giyu hadn’t moved out of the way it would have hit him square in the head and probably knocked him off his feet, and indeed it did just barely catch the end of his ponytail, slicing it cleanly short. In the small space left opened by the wooden slab being pushed away, Giyu and Zenitsu both gasped when they saw who—or rather what—was responsible for pushing it.

A pale, pink-clawed and blood-stained hand reached up at them from the darkness. Writhing, clawing, it scraped and scrabbled around on the debris around it until one of them remembered how to speak.

“Nezuko!” Zenitsu shouted. He leapt forward and grabbed her hand tightly in both of his. While he held onto her hand, Giyu set his jaw and peered into the space it had come from, reaching in and ripping out debris with abandon until a pair of glowing pink eyes could be seen peering back up at him from below.

“Nezuko,” he called down to her and was surprised at how tight and desperate his voice sounded, but didn’t care. “Can you help us get Uzui and Tanjiro out?”

He saw her nod—those bright magenta eyes bobbing up and down—and heard her soft grunt of agreement. With her pushing from below and the two of them ripping debris off the top, within a few moments they were able to unearth enough of the bottom layer to finally get a view of Uzui and Tanjiro. Once they were close enough, Nezuko climbed through the passage of debris, aided by Zenitsu’s grip on her arm, and climbed up to join them as they laid eyes on the missing slayers.

At first, all they could see was Uzui; it appeared the Hashira had used his body to shield Tanjiro from the falling debris. Uzui was so soaked in blood that his blue-white hair had turned the same color as Tanjiro’s. Any flesh that wasn’t bloody had purpled and rotted, surely a side effect of the poison coursing through his system. He turned his head slightly to the side, and Giyu could have cried in relief to see Uzui’s bright purple eyes slide tiredly upwards and land on them.

“Uzui!” He shouted, because there wasn’t much else he could say. “Can you move?”

Uzui turned his head away from them and looked down. It was only then that Giyu even noticed that Tanjiro was lying beneath him. He couldn’t see much of him other than a limp hand—had he always been this small?—a slack mouth, flowing with blood and purpling into the hollow of his throat, and a pair of half-open red eyes, gazing into nothing. Beside him, even distracted by trying to ensure the smoke around them was thick enough to shield Nezuko from the rising sun, Zenitsu gasped in horror.

“Kamado.” Giyu heard Uzui murmur. “It’s time to go. Our rescue party is here. Flashy entrance, no less.” His voice sounded as if every word was a battle to push out of his throat. Tanjiro didn’t respond, and Uzui turned his head back upwards, toward Giyu and the others.

“Yes.” He said. Giyu watched with a tight throat as Uzui wrapped his left arm around Tanjiro’s waist and reached up with his right to pull them both upwards. Giyu reached down to grab Uzui’s hand but Uzui grunted and practically threw Tanjiro forward so they could pull him out first. Giyu’s hand found purchase on the back of Tanjiro’s haori. Zenitsu’s made it onto the top of Tanjiro’s arm, and Nezuko’s hand found its way to her brother’s wrist. The three of them managed to pull Tanjiro from the rubble.

Giyu passed Tanjiro to Zenitsu and Nezuko, deliberately keeping his eyes focused on Uzui rather than the broken and bloody body that now lay sprawled across their laps. He reached into the hole again and locked his hand into Uzui’s, a task made considerably more difficult by the hot blood all over Uzui’s hand. He pulled with everything he had, lifting Uzui with him, and Uzui threw his other arm across the debris to help leverage himself out of the hole. All three of them gasped to see that his arm stopped abruptly and grotesquely at the wrist, his hand having been severed clearly through. Once Uzui was safely out of the rubble, everyone turned their attention back to Tanjiro.

If it weren’t for the frankly frightening rattle of his breaths in the back of his throat, Giyu would have thought Tanjiro was already dead. His once golden skin was sickly pale, his haori and uniform and hair and skin was soaked through with blood, more blood than felt possible. Zenitsu held tightly onto his friend, tears beading up and rolling from his eyes. Nezuko gripped her brother’s hand. Without her muzzle, her tightly clenched teeth and horrified wince was as plain on her face as daylight.

Giyu stared in shock. He saw Goichi, covered in blood, ocean eyes looking up to nothing. He had thought Inosuke’s wound was horrific. Tanjiro’s chin had been skewered straight through into his mouth like a fishhook. Blood ran both from his mouth and his throat and pooled on Zenitsu’s lap. There was a deep laceration in his left shoulder, so deep that Giyu was almost surprised Tanjiro’s left arm was still attached to his body. He could see exposed ribs through the margins of the wound. Somehow, it had stopped bleeding. Whether that was Tanjiro’s doing or the edges had simply managed to clot already was anyone’s guess.

“Tanjiro…” Zenitsu whispered brokenly. Giyu felt himself shaking but kept his jaw clenched tight. There was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding; most all of it came from inside his mouth. Knowing Tanjiro, he’d probably pushed himself too far in a rage and torn himself apart. There was little to be done about that. But from his ripped-out throat, purple toxin was beginning to spread, and if nothing else, they could fix that.

He wordlessly pulled the vial set from his breast pocket and retrieved two more syringes with antidote. They clinked together quietly, his hands shaking. He tried to offer one to Uzui, whose ragged breathing over his shoulder was becoming increasingly labored, but he pushed his hand away and nodded toward Tanjiro.

“I’m fine. The boy first.” He insisted. Giyu simply nodded.

He was so focused on Tanjiro that he barely heard the Kakushi shouting from the distance, drawing nearer to their location. Giyu tried to keep his eyes on the vein he was injecting the antidote into, but found them wandering to Tanjiro’s face, slack and sallow. They looked nothing alike but all Giyu could see was his own brother, surrounded by red. He felt the blood weighing down his haori and cooling on his skin. Ocean blue eyes staring up through blood.

Last time he’d lost a brother there was nothing Giyu could have done. He’d been frozen and silent. He would not be helpless again.

Tanjiro grunted slightly and closed his eyes as Giyu finished injecting the antidote. He could have sworn he saw the boy’s hand grip his sister’s a little tighter. As he was turning his attention to Uzui, the Kakushi’s voices became louder.

“There! I see them!”

“Quick, bring the stretchers!”

“Please, don’t try to walk by yourself!”

The last statement was closer than the others and prompted Zenitsu to turn, then gasp.

“The god of the mountain doesn’t need help walking!” Inosuke was jogging toward them (leaving a trail of blood behind him), though now with his boar head under his arm rather than on his head. His chest and back were wrapped with a combination of bandages and Zenitsu’s belt. Ignoring the Kakushi’s protests, he stumbled over the rubble and came to stop beside Zenitsu and Nezuko, and knelt down.

“Tanjiro.” He breathed, putting his hand on Tanjiro’s forehead gently, almost as if bestowing a blessing on his friend. Giyu finished injecting Uzui with the antidote, then stood.

The Kakushi reached them and began to separate them; with Zenitsu’s help they moved Tanjiro to a stretcher, and though it took a little convincing from both Zenitsu and Uzui, Inosuke allowed the Kakushi to lift him onto a stretcher as well. Giyu watched Uzui rise to his feet, wavering a little, then hold out his hand for Zenitsu.

“Can you walk?” He asked. Giyu was surprised at the very real tenderness in Uzui’s voice, the patience in his eye while he waited for Zenitsu to respond. Zenitsu set his jaw and grabbed Uzui’s hand, using all the rest of his strength—and Nezuko’s help—to pull himself up. He whimpered lowly in the back of his throat and tears stung at his eyes, but he managed to get to his feet.

“Good job.” Uzui helped him down from the rubble pile and let the Kakushi take him from there. Once the three of them were taken care of, Uzui exhaled, then wavered, then fell to one knee. Giyu heard him grunt in pain, and jogged down from the pile to help him, but once he got closer to him he knew there wouldn’t be anything he could do. With the horrifying state of Tanjiro and the other Kanoe, it was easy to overlook how grave Uzui’s injuries were.

Giyu waved the Kakushi over and knelt down beside Uzui. From the look of things, he’d been prepared to give anything to protect the boys and Nezuko. He’d already given a hand, and nearly his life. Giyu examined the pained expression on his face, then helped him onto the stretcher.

“Thank you, Uzui.” He blurted as the Kakushi lifted him and made for the city’s gates. Uzui nodded just before he let his head fall limply onto the stretcher.

Giyu was left with Nezuko as the sounds of the Kakushi faded away. He stared at the trail of blood they’d left and suddenly, even in the oppressive, dry heat of the air, he felt cold. He suddenly remembered letters in his breast pocket. They felt heavy.

It didn’t feel real. How could everything have gone so wrong? The kids were all still breathing, but even that wasn’t a guarantee that things would stay that way. Somehow the worried ache in his chest had only worsened to the point that he felt he could hardly move.

He could feel Nezuko’s eyes on him. He needed to move. He needed to lead them out of there. At the very least he should say something. His vision had turned red, his heart was in his ears, and the world seemed to have come to a dead halt.

Then, a hand in his.

His lips parted and brow raised as he turned to see that Nezuko had claimed his hand in hers, no longer looking at him but straight ahead. Her jaw was set tight and her eyes shining, she was silent but gripped his hand tightly and resolutely, like they were old friends. He thought of the way Tanjiro had signed off his letters.

Nezuko says hi! Your friend, Tanjiro Kamado.

Giyu couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of her, and stood there staring for so long that Nezuko finally turned to meet his gaze, probably wondering why they weren’t moving. Her expression only made it more difficult to find his feet beneath him. Tenderness, maybe. Recognition, as if seeing through him and into someone else. Trust, definitely. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that.

Reaching out for Kanoko but being torn away before he could get to her. Her screaming his name, calling for help. Her tiny hand and yellow bows soaked in blood.

Giyu set his jaw and in a motion almost too small to see, tightened his grip on Nezuko’s hand just a little. “Let’s go.” He murmured, and led her back through the flames.

[oceangirl24]

BMW FanFic Rec List: Updated 02/17/24

I felt it was time to put together a list of my favorite BMW stories. These are the hidden gems that I feel deserve more love.

All these rec can be found in my AO3 collection and is often updated first.

If you check any of these out, I'm sure the authors would love to hear your thoughts.

*NEW

In for three, hold for three, out for three by Thalia_the_tree_girl

Shawn has a panic attack in class, Mr. Turner comforts him.

George and Lila's Walk in the Park by @fandoms4lifesblog

George and Lila walk into the park to discuss their future

In between Bee True and State of Unions episodes

Valentine's Day- George and Lila by @fandoms4lifesblog

A one shot story of a first valentine's day with George and Lila

More BMW gems below the cut:

The Proposal by @fandoms4lifesblog

Missing scene of The Proposal of George and Lila

Topanga Meets The World by osced

There are just not enough Topanga-focused fics out there. This one takes a look what was going on with Topanga and her family when she wasn't with Cory.

Murphy's Fool by darkblueau- This is an incredible look at all the continuity and character inconsistencies we saw in BMW through Eric's eyes.

Very clever.

Boy Meets Family by Myfavoritefoodissoftpretzels

The boy in this story is Shawn and it takes a closer look at his life with Chet and Virna post "Fishing for Virna". The thing that makes this story so unique is that it keeps the sitcom vibe of the show while dealing with more serious issues. It's rare to see someone follow the show's formula.

Complete with Cory and Shawn antics, this WIP is worth checking out.

How Can You Blame Me? Growing Up Is Chaotic by @winterlovesong1 - I'm linking to her entire profile because there is just too much Shawn/Angela goodness to pick just one story. Her character study of Shawn is perfection. Her writing has an ethereal quality which make her stories feel like a dream.

For Those Who Would Wish In Happily Ever Afters by @justanotherpersonwhowrites - this is a WIP that is very much worth checking out. It's a fresh look at Jon and Shawn's relationship post "Cult Fiction". Shawn is spiraling after Virna's letter turns his life upside down. With nowhere left to go, he ends up back at apartment 8.

Aside from the plot itself being engaging, there is an OC introduced who is new to Shawn but not to Jon. If you like Audrey, you'll like Sarah.

They Say Ignorance Is Bliss by @justanotherpersonwhowrites

Beautiful take on Cory and Shawn's friendship from Cory's POV. Canon inconsistencies are mentioned and given a twist that makes sense. Pre-show set up for this iconic friendship.

My Own Boy Meets World Reboot by @obscureobsidiandraws - I cannot recommend this one enough and it deserves more attention than it's getting. I can't find a complaint that BMW fans have had over the years that isn't addressed and corrected. While changes have been made to character backgrounds and it's no longer the 90s the heart and humor of the show shines through.

If you like early seasons Eric, you'll definitely want to look into this. Those wanting Jonathan Turner to adopt Shawn will be happy too. Audrey is also a part of the cast, although with a bit of change to her as well. It's been a lot of fun discovering this new version of her.

The series is written in script format, but I encourage you not to skip past it because of that. These scripts are detailed and make me feel like I'm watching the show as I read.

For an idea of what the series will be like, learn about it here and here.

Let's Get All the Mirrors at the Bottom of the Well by Veillee- set before the show begins, this one shot takes a look at Shawn's life with Stacy and Eddie.

A Test of Time by The Rising Phoenix- Shawn is struggling with losing Angela so his best friends step in with a distraction that takes him on a journey through NYC.

I love this one for the concept.

Although unfinished on AO3 it is complete on FFN.

[snicketsquadron]

VFD Is fundamentally voluntary

I know it’s a lot of fun in the ASOUE fandom to point out the sinister nature of VFD as an organization. The books themselves make a point of how no person is purely good or evil, and people can be pushed into all sorts of actions by circumstances. That being said, I think it can kind of flatten the point to argue that the VFD recruitment process is kidnapping/indoctrination in the same way that the snow scouts being kidnapped by eagles is. And I recently reread the Unauthorized Autobiography so here are some quotes:

A lot of folks will quote “The Little Snicket Lad” but the point of that chapter is that the lyrics are inaccurate.

“The cheesemakers...remain very close associates of my entire family.” Given that this was Valorous Farms Dairy, and the dairy is written to directly or mentioned in several future letters by the Snicket siblings and others, it seems likely that the cheesemakers were and remained VFD members.

“As part of my work with the heroes of this ballad, I often have to deliver secret information” VFD referred to as heroic. (You can, of course, disagree with Lemony)

“I was far past crawling on the day in question” Less of a voluntary take but more of a factual note, as people often interpret that Lemony was recruited as an infant.

Now the quote: “My mother asked the same question when she came home that fateful day and found waiting for her not three young children but one worried husband and two half-full cups of tea” is concerning. But it should be considered in the context of a later section.

Regarding the lyrics “One evening Jake was chopping wood/And his wife was at the mill” Snicket writes:

“This is more or less accurate, much to my mother’s dismay, who always wished that she had delayed her investigation one more day, so she could have been at home that day to say goodbye. My brother insists that he was allowed to finish his tea before departure”

So the Snicket parents were worries/dismayed, but not because they thought their children were kidnapped. They were already aware that their children were to be taken, and just wanted to be around when it happened. Given that his mother was investigating a mill and the Valorous Farms Dairy association mentioned above, it seems reasonable they were volunteers themselves.

Furthermore, Snicket notes he was able to visit his parents “rarely”, which may still be sinister to some people, but is hardly the often-implied total sequestering.

This exchange is small but important:

R: R’s right. We are entering people’s homes- J: We get permission first

And from Nero’s letter regarding K’s recruitment of two children at Prufrock Prep:

“Like all orphans, the two kidnapped brats were so stupid that they didn’t even look scared as Ms. K. carried them away. Their faces were very serious, as if they were embarking on an important mission of some kind.”

And finally, there’s the recruitment script itself, which follows three steps:

“What was that noise?” “Nothing”

According to Snicket, the parents saying “nothing” is already coded, as there is never nothing outside. So this already implies permission/engagement on the part of the parents. But even if the parents do not know about VFD, or the phrases happen by accident, it is much much less likely that anyone would completely by coincidence say the third phrase:

If there’s nothing out there then what was that noise?

Which signals listening volunteers that it’s safe to act. (This is also why it’s significant that Lemony was not an infant at the time of recruitment. All VFD volunteers recruited this way make a conscious choice to consent to recruitment.

Now, of course, in the real world children can’t legally consent or make binding contracts. But that gets into Doylist arguments, and this book series at a Doylist level is written for kids, so depicts children as full moral and intelligent agents who can make independent decisions.

[readsalot1]

Just found out they made a movie version of Matilda the Musical. As someone who was so obsessed at age 12 that I can still remember most of the lyrics to the songs at age 19, I've decided to chronicle my thoughts as I watch. (NOTE: anytime I mention "the OG" I am referring to the broadway musical, not the book)

I thought the "I can be a solider and shoot you in the face" line was very fun and original. Can't believe they sanitized it and we're not even 3 minutes in.

I am enjoying the "Miracle" segment so far. It's giving music video vibes. (but also, Disney just straight up added the Hamilton stage performance to their streaming service, and I'm already wishing they did that. The show was really fun!)

I thought part of Mrs. Wormwood's denial could've been more convincing if she wasn't obviously pregnant (admittedly they didn't do that in the original either--it's too bad; she should've been in really good shape to still almost make her dancing competition)

They cut Ruuuuuuudolpho the dancer how could they

Library bus is fun but real actual libraries are also great. Mrs. Phelps seems nice so far.

Mr. Wormwood being worried about debt actually makes more sense for him to be doing all his shady stuff.

Miss. Honey seems like she's doing her best.

I take it back the dad's even more of an ass in this--I don't remember him setting her up and then GLOATING ABOUT IT

I liked "Naughty" except for the roof bit; Matila's supposed to be smart, not climbing all over the exterior of her house like an idiot. (note: Movie Matilda is also a bit of a dumbass)

Since Mr. Wormwood is going on about the escapologist, does that mean we're getting less of Mrs. Phelps?--never mind

So is the Trunchbull not the acrobat's sister in this one?

They changed some of the story--she doesn't try to do the *circus announcer voice* "it is the greatest feat EVER known to man"

Kiddo knows that turnabout is fair play

Isaac the lizard might be the best addition to the story (we will see)

"School Song" is simultaneously most similar and most different from the musical and I didn't like it at first (I thought the school gate with the letter blocks was the coolest thing) the way they managed to incorporate a lot of stuff from the original

Nigel panicking about advanced math (relative to himself) is very relatable

They're all so tinyyyyyyyy when you're 12 you don't notice as much

Thinking she meant finish instead of erase, omg kiddo

That booklist, holy crap. I was a reading addict in HS and now the most I read is sections of my textbooks (I love STEM but it's so much workkkkk)

They cut all of "Pathetic" except the last line (don't be pathetic, netflix)

OMG it's the Hammer song (can't remember the official name right now D: oh no) The actress doesn't make the song hit the same way as the OG actress. The recording part is funny though

Honestly the bits of Miss. Honey's voice from the hammer song makes me even more disappointed they didn't include "Pathetic" she sounds good

The dad had a fun song making fun of authors and also the audience; it doesn't lend itself well to movie adaptation but it was funny as hell.

Pretty sure the book that was ripped up in all the previous adaptations was Moby Dick

The dad is even crazier business-wise in this and in the OG he cheated the Russian mafia

"Telekinipsis" you precious child

Wait omfg they brought back Hortensia

I liked "Chokey"

Narcolepsy was kept yay

Poor Amanda

OOOOOOOO evil stepsister (wait was that the original plot anyway?)

It was indeed not the OG plot I now remember "Forgotten by everyone except... the acrobat's sister" was the line

Mrs. Phelps I love you omg

The kid constantly trying telekinesis is so cute

The hug was interrupted how could she

Bruce I hope you get your song

"a pact with Satan and stolen my cake" she's so extra

Yay he got his song!

Where did she even get a teaching certification

"When I Grow Up" had no lyrics changed and yet the vibes were entirely different. I liked the adult ensemble coming in and all the swings and stuff in the OG. Again, Miss. Honey has a great voice and I'm disappointed they cut "Pathetic"

The story sequence was good, but it would've been better if they kept the fire extinguisher foam bit.

Mrs. Phelps ready to call CPS on Matilda's nonexistent aunt

The dad was a comedy figure in the OG why is he like this

The story is back yay and I like that she's putting herself in the daughter's place (we know it's Miss. Honey but she doesn't)

"Don't Cry" was excellent

It's fun that everyone thinks Matilda is a hero

"Smell of Rebellion" is more solid than "Throw the Hammer"

Gym is apparently the hell class

Zeke was a dwarf I think why is he a parrot now???

OMG the telekinesis boy was Eric Ink

I liked this version of "Quiet" but thinking about it now, 90% sure it's called dissociation, kiddo

"My House" was really nice but I feel like the actress was a bit breathy at first; she did better when the song let her push more. (again, she'd be really good with the song "Pathetic" (open the door))

Chokey is supposed to be a tiny closet, not an outhouse

Oh good, they kept the mafia that was a good subplot

*rebels* [insert 50 chokeys here]

THEY CUT REVOLTING CHILDREN THE RATING IS GOING DOWN

WAIT NO NEVERMIND

I like that Hortensia got to be the deuteragonist in the song initially written for her. However, the song wasn't quite as good as the OG version.

The song Miss. Honey sings after the parents drive away I'm 90% sure is movie-musical-only

Isaac deserves the best life I'm glad that Lavender got her bestie back

THE CREDITS VERSION IS THE OFFICIAL BROADWAY CAST RECORDING OF WHEN I GROW UP I KNOW THIS SONG (sidenote, I am dancing in my dorm room at 12:25 am and having the time of my life)

Final rating 6.5 to 7 out of 10. Solid, would recommend, but the stage musical is still better. Would listen to my CD of the show rather than watch again.

((I would like to specify that my family IS NOT RICH. There's this option on Broadway that you put your name in a raffle for a show that day (I think? again, I was 12) and if you win the tickets (which are like the last few seats in the theater) are much cheaper. If you are in NYC and you have this option, 10/10 would recommend))

[ghostgirlgeist]

task #3- absence

november felt like it was already moving quicker than phyllis could keep up with. the library had been receiving an ample amount of business lately, and when phyllis mentioned it to other librarians, they would inform her that it was not out of the norm for reading to become a more desirable hobby when the air outside grew a bit crisper and spending time outdoors wasn't the preferable past time of most evermore residents. phyllis never minded when the seasons changed, though she was exempt from feeling the bite of cold air against her skin being as she was, you know, a ghost and all.

slipping the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, she nestled deeper into the chair behind her counter, head lulling to the side as what could be considered exhaustion hung heavy on her lids. eyes focused on a pen that was sitting atop her unattended paperwork, her mind allowing it to spin oh so faintly to keep her somewhat grounded. her efforts failed, of course, and as weighted lids rested shut... her mind wandered, drifted, into what wasn't particularly sleep but a phantom's equivalent of it.

the pen found itself lifting from the old and worn desk, it's drying tip due to a cap long-lost finding companionship with the parchment that now lay blank beneath it. phyllis, sleepily blinking herself awake, watched as it began to dispense ink against the page... reading as it did.

❛ dear miss grimwood,

hello again. it's me, phyllis, writing another letter to you even though you'll probably never receive it. now, whether that's because i don't understand how the post service works or because the weirdness of this town won't let me, or any part of me, leave it ... i'm not sure. but, maybe it's for the best you're not able to read the letters i've written to you. there have to be hundreds by now, even though i don't write as often as i used to. i'm sorry for that.

when i first came to evermore, i spent a great deal of time missing you. i'm sure the other ghouls felt the same way but, it seemed like they all had an easier time settling in then i did. maybe that isn't true, i dunno, but it felt like it. i used to see this therapist, they were so grool, you really would have liked them— but all i'd do is sit there, the whole time, and just wish i was talking to you. it made me feel guilty, like i was wasting their time, like i didn't really care if they listened because they weren't you. i think they noticed this, because they started to ask me why i didn't talk to you anymore or why i didn't just reach out to you. it's not that i don't want to talk to you, miss grimwood, i just didn't know how. i still don't. i don't know a lot of things, i've realized.

i think part of me is scared to tell you about my life in evermore. it's nice, it's lively and the people here are particularly peculiar and fascinating enough to keep me on my toes. they're not all human, i've learned, but all of them are strange. i know we aren't strangers to strange but... somehow, even still, i'm still feeling like the odd one out. i find it harder to grasp onto things than i did when i lived at the school with you and all the other ghouls. even with coach. i just feel... different. i know i am different, and you always told me that being different is what made me phyllis but, i'm growing tired of being SO different i don't feel like i could have anything in common with anyone if i tried. i am lying to more people than i am not, saying silly things just to hide a part of myself that i worry will scare people away if i'm not careful. i make up ridiculous excuses for why i can't eat the delicious looking food the cute man at the tavern offers me, for why i don't want to go outside when it is raining, why i couldn't ride any of the carnival rides or how, when i doze off, i just seem to disappear... i'm so tired of lying but i'm too scared to tell the truth. i know you'd assure me you aren't disappointed in me but, you practically raised me and i know that wouldn't be true. a part of you, even if it was the smallest bone in your body, would be disappointed i took all of your talks and lessons for granted like they never happened.

you always told me to embrace the things about myself that make me different from anyone else. i try to remember that you always told me you could only count on one hand how many ghouls you knew who could spin their head in a full circle like me. i try to remember you told me it always chilled your heart how i could laugh so loud even though i had no lungs to fuel the sound. how you could feel when i entered a room, even if i was silent and invisible all at once. the ghouls here do a lot to make me feel better but the guilt for putting that responsibility onto them eats me dead. coupling that guilt with the potential disappointment just feels like.... it just feels bad, miss grimwood. you are one of the only people who truly has ever made me feel seen, even when i don't have the energy to make myself visible. i just miss you so deeply and am so ashamed because you worked so hard to teach me to love myself and.... i just don't. i find myself wanting to be like everyone else and i just picture you, in the back of my mind, shaking your head. i know you're right. i'm disappointed too.

i'm sorry i don't write to you as much. i'm sorry none of the hundreds of letters i haven't sent don't have anything good to say. maybe one day i'll send a letter, but like i'm doing to everyone else, i'm sure i'll lie to you too. i'm sure i'll tell you i'm having a shrieking good time, that i'm settling in great, that there is no where else i'd rather be than here in evermore with all the new friends i've made...

if i ever do send that letter, miss grimwood, i hope you don't reply.

forever your little boo,

phyllis geist ❜

a sudden clearing of the throat had phyllis stirring fully awake, her breaths heavy and infused with emotion as she looked around a bit sporadic for a moment. eyes, brimmed with what could be called tears, lifted to meet the tentative face of a concerned library-goer. stitching a smile upon her face, rubbing at her eyes, stifling a yawn — phyllis disguised her emotion as exhaustion. ❛ gosh, i'm so sorry... i uh, must have dozed off there... what can i help you with ?? ❜ the individual then dismissed phyllis, politely, and instead opted to inquired if she was alright. the most insincere smile fluttered across the phantom's lips, hands waving around as if to shoo off the mere IDEA of her being anything but alright whilst simultaneously covering up the letter with the paperwork she had neglected.

❛ oh, i'm just fine, i promise... a little tired, is all, but truly- i'm happy to help you with whatever you need. ❜

ah yes, phyllis, yet another lie.

[soraeia]

The invitation envelope is sealed with blue wax, the outline of the Meriet royal seal carefully pressed into the the center. The invitation itself consists of a single letter that reads:

❝The kingdom of Meriburn cordially invites you to join them in celebrating the Festival of the Blue Moon. We humbly look forward to your presence in ushering in a new lunar season that is set to begin on at . We advise that you dress in light, airy clothing and have footwear that will not be damaged by any amount of water. We also advise that you arrive by sunset on the first day of the festivities in order to fully experience the welcoming ceremony.❞

Along the bottom of the letter, the words “Please dip in water and turn over.” is written in neat lettering along the bottom of the invitation card. Once done, the rest of the letter continues as follows:

❝ Dear Allisae and Liliana, I hope you both are well. Though I have not seen you as of late, you are always in my thoughts. To know you are out of that awful place and away from the people that harmed you is more than I could ever ask for. I am not sure if you remember but, once upon a time, my sister and I offered you sanctuary in Meriburn should you ever need it. That offer still stands and will stand for as long as you need it to. Meriburn's doors are open to you whenever you need them to be and if ever there comes a point where you need us to help you cross that threshold, we will be there. Dakota will be hosting the Brecaean ceremony... but she sends her well wishes and implores you to enjoy the festival. After all you've been through, you deserve a moment of peace. Likewise, I look forward to seeing you and your darling daughter. Sincerely, Princess Cassandra Tetrarch of Meriburn❞

@sansloii , mentions @soulsxng || Festival of the Blue Moons

Liliana sat by the window of whatever building she and her family found refuge in that night, playing with the newest doll Mr. Taari had gotten her as her mother stayed nearby looking at her pretty new ring.

The doll pirouetted across the windowsill, graceful--at least in Lily's mind--under Naziliv's blue light. When she makes the doll take an elegant leap into the stars, she notices one of them...moving. A little dot dancing in the distance, as though it wanted to play with her too, growing bigger and bigger as it...got closer...

She tils her head. It's not until the "star" becomes rather bird-shaped does Lily finally realize that it wasn't a star at all. A smile lights up her face, wide and giggly, as she starts to bounce with excitement upon seeing something thin and rectangular tucked into the bird's feet.

"What is it, my love?" Allisae chuckles softly at the bouncing, standing to walk toward the window and see what had her daughter so excited---gasping when she saw the little bird made of light, bringing fond memories with it as it landed with a flutter of its wings.

"...Cassandra..."

A few years ago, when Liliana was much smaller, Allisae had met the royal sisters of Meriburn. It was a precious memory, a speck of gold in the handful of dirt and gravel that had been her experience on the Aegis, that Allisae held dear because they were the first friends she had made in what felt like a lifetime.

They came back every now and again. Though when traveling to the Aegis became too difficult, Allisae and Cassandra came up with the idea of creating something of a magical link--a special, and secret, channel for letters and small things to be carried directly between them. Of course, Allisae had her magic forcefully sealed away. So the connection had been made...with Lily.

With everything that had happened, she'd almost forgotten.

"{ It is a writing from Cassie and Miss Koko! }" Lily gave the bird a pet before taking the letter it'd dropped, the avian disappearing in a flurry of glowing furthers that faded like snow melting on the ground.

When it was given to her, Allisae broke the blue seal and began reading it to her daughter, the contents bringing bright smiles to both their faces.

"A festival, Lily!" There's a bounce in her step when Allisae stands, looking around for the glass of water she'd been drinking from earlier. Once found, she followed the instructions on the bottom of the letter, rolling it up carefully and dipping it in the glass.

This time, when she reads, Allisae's voice fades into quiet. And though Lily was able to somewhat read along on her own, though not quite as fast, seeing the her mother's watery gaze confuses her. She doesn't question it, however, for soon she's swept up in a happy embrace.

"Oh, I can't wait! I hope Tahariel takes us!" ...How the letter got to them, exactly, she knows will bother Tahariel. But hopefully he'll find Cassandra' message trustworthy enough to at least attend the festivities. Hopefully, he'll trust Allisae enough to see them as friends as well.