#they all feel haunted and nostalgic in their own way and that gives me peace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year ago

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First of all, no worries lol. It's taken me literal months to respond to people sometimes, and not for any good reason so I'd say you're fine.

Anyways, with that out of the way let me just say I find that interesting. Kiri, to me, has always come off as someone who attaches herself to one place. In my experience, there's a difference between being able to adapt/connect anywhere you go and truly being a traveler at heart, and Kiri strikes me as the former. She yearns to dig deeper into her knowledge and connections regarding her home and thrives on the familiarity of the people, plants, and animals around her whereas I feel like Lo'ak needs to travel, needs to get out from under his father and brother's shadows. To just exist and be himself, find himself and his place without all of the history surrounding his birthplace. That's not to say I think Kiri doesn't like experiencing new things, I just see her as a very nostalgic and sentimental person who finds peace in the plants and animals and people she's known her whole life.

Ikr! I don't know why I haven't seen a single fic about it yet, but rest assured I have a doc opened rn (I feel like my wip list is just getting longer and longer dude). Little fun fact about me: I took horseback riding lessons for a good 5.5 years and so I'll be leaning heavily on those experiences for how Spider approaches his own riding experiences as a human (with obvious differences). There's something to be said for the feeling of a creature so much more powerful than yourself under you, having to be conscious of its every move, every action---the flick of its ears, the position of its head, etc.---- without being able to know for sure it's true thoughts or emotions but trusting it anyways that brings you closer to it in a way I can't explain, even with the ones you don't get along with. And I want that for Spider, I want him to embrace his humanity in this.

He doesn't end up in Awa'atlu at first for the ilu racing one, no. I've got a good idea what I want from this fic in the beginning, but what happens after he escapes is something I'm still pondering. I know for a fact I wouldn't want this to be a story where he stumbles upon Awa'atlu, though, if I end up writing it. I'm thinking maybe he ends up back at that one village and goes from there?

And I figured I'd tell you about another fic I'm working on as we speak because I'd love your thoughts: a world where Paz actually died back on Earth, but per a contract she signed giving away her memories (which she logged regularly) she was revived in an avatar body and put in the newest program. In this program, males and females are paired together to have children (for less than wholesome reasons). A big part of this is Paz being haunted by her experiences on Earth and not wanting to be a mother because of it, and she struggles to come to terms with it over the course of her pregnancy and the early days after Spider is born, along with being in this alien body that doesn't feel like hers. I think that by the time she's gotten pregnant with the 2nd child (they're going for a boy and girl per pairing) and is coming out of her numb fog, she's begun to truly think about the horrific future that awaits Spider and her unborn baby (spurred on by the threat of killing it if it's not a girl) and ends up plotting their escape and running away. Throughout the story thus far she's bonded with the other women in the program and comes to learn about motherhood and what it means to her, and when she escapes she takes the others with her and they make their own little family before eventually running into the Omaticaya and slowly becoming friendly. I'm playing around with timelines and stuff because I think it'd be interesting to compare her and Neytiri's and Grace's experiences with motherhood, which would be so interesting to write about (Grace doesn't die until later in this world, don't wanna give away the death I'm leaning towards though). I'm taking inspiration from the poetry book 40 Weeks and more, and I love the concept but am still working out the kinks. Thoughts? Still very much in the early phases.

Also, I saw you briefly mention my memory-loss idea and I'd like to say that that brought me literal physical pain. Why, you may ask? Well because my one and only doc of the draft I was merrily working on (around 10+ pages of gorgeous notes/early rough-draft work, which for me is astounding since I tend to just ball) was deleted??? And I don't know the fuck how???? 1000 emotional damage points.

And I'm so happy to hear you've taken inspiration from fmdttpt's world! Your idea sounds so fun!

~ CherryApollo

Haha, thank you, and I'm sorry I've done it again. I've been so busy with my new job that I am swamped all the time, lol. I'm bad at responding anyway but my job is making it even worse.

BUT ANYWAYS. I love your interpretations of the characters, I just love when people think of or experience characters differently but in a way that still fits to me. For Kiri, I've just always seen her feeling at home anywhere that Eywa is, and wanting to experience every part of her. Every way she can feel her or be expressed, explore different plants and animals and nature and study and be a part of it the way her mom would've wanted to. And I just think Lo'ak gets bored easily lol.

I looove the horse comparison, it's shocking no one has written this fic yet! You have a ton going but it's okay because I'm excited for all of them. Humans are experts at taming and riding shit, why can't he, especially something as intelligent as an ikran.

Hmm, okay, the village makes sense. They would be able to tell Tonowari and therefore the Sully's real fucking fast through, so it would be kinda similar to him finding Awa'atlu. You coullllld have him escape in the forest and find the Sully's missing? I've always wanted one of those fics.

That's a really interesting idea! I personally don't care much for Paz as a character, or stories about her, but that is a very cool idea and I'd definitely check it out to see where it goes.

NO NO YOUR MEMORY LOSS FIC IS ONE I'VE BEEN SO EXCITED ABOUT, THAT'S THE SADDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD. Google doc man, I only use google docs.

And thank u for being chill with me getting inspired by/using it! I'm trying to catch up on all my asks today (answer but not post, I schedule those), so hopefully I'll be faster to answer you next time! I'm excited to hear how your works are going!

#i swear the asks are coming i'm catching up and i'm scheduling them i promise #kiri sully #miles spider socorro #lo'ak sully #spider socorro #spider sully #paz socorro #grace augustine #tonowari #ronal #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 4 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Wei Wuxian wasn’t going to lie: it was weird seeing Nie Huaisang smiling again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t remember how Nie Huaisang used to behave when they were all back at the Cloud Recesses, and even before, but that seemed so long ago these days that it might as well have occurred in a past life. The expression just didn’t fit him anymore, like a grown man trying to return to the clothing of his childhood, and yet at the same time it was wretchedly familiar, even welcome – it was as if time had reversed course all at once, plucking them all out of the stream of their lives and returning them to how it used to be long before. Back to simpler, happier times.

It was kind of funny, actually.

Those that had not known Nie Huaisang as anything other than the Pallbearer seemed to be in a state of utter shock, gossiping madly – Did you see? He was smiling! He laughed at someone’s joke! He told a joke! He patted that child on the head and said ‘good job’ and the child didn’t cry even once!

Those that had known him from before only by reputation were, if anything, even more aghast – Do you think he’s going to start pouting and crying at things again? Surely not, I can’t even imagine! The last time he pouted was when one of his fans got stained, remember, after he stuck it straight through that man’s throat –

Those that had known him from before in person…

Well, the reaction was mixed. There was some relief, some distress, and a great deal of pain as they remembered once again how much their friend had changed in the wake of his brother’s near-death – the reminder of his former self was both nostalgic and bittersweet.

Personally, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were working through their feelings on the subject with the help of a lot of roleplaying involving their time at the Cloud Recesses. It was very healthy of them, emotionally, although maybe not so healthy for the state of Wei Wuxian’s waist. Or throat. Or hands…

(No, they weren’t officially married yet, since they were still hoping that they could have a proper ceremony when the war ended, but they were both of age and engaged. And that meant they could go to bed together, no matter what some of the more conservative Lan sect members thought – with Lan Qiren backing them up, which he did with no small amount of eye-rolling and deep sighs and long-suffering resignation, they were free to do as they pleased.)

That, too, was something they owed to Nie Huaisang.

Without Nie Huaisang’s timely intervention, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng would’ve fallen for the Jin sect’s instigation and turned against each other in an act of mutual destruction that harmed both of them, and everyone else besides. Jiang Cheng would have cut off his own right arm, voluntarily weakening his sect just at the moment when they needed strength the most, and rendered himself without any other choice but to be dependent on Lanling Jin, while Wei Wuxian would have remained trapped in the Burial Mounds in Yiling, getting called the Yiling Patriarch as some people still today did, growing ever more resentful at his isolation and poverty.

(That one uncomfortable month he’d spent arguing with Wen Qing and Wen Ning about whether they should try to grow radishes or potatoes had been very educational, especially since they were both not-so-secretly convinced that the argument was futile and that nothing would ever grow on the Burial Mounds, such that they were just whiling away time until they all starved to death.)

They would be scattered, weakened, unhappy and vulnerable. Wei Wuxian would be sitting there like a giant target until the Jin sect decided, in their leisure, to deal with him the way, in hindsight, they had so obviously always intended to.

Wei Wuxian would have missed his sister’s wedding, probably. He might even have missed Jiang Yanli’s widowing, and the consequences of that were unthinkable.

If Wei Wuxian hadn’t brought the Wen sect back with him to the Lotus Pier as a result of Jiang Cheng’s defiance of the cultivation world’s criticism, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli would never had the chance to hit it off the way they had, becoming fast friends. If they hadn’t been friends, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been visiting Jinlin Tower to check up on her good friend when the news of Jin Zixuan’s death had first spread.

His murder, rather – Wei Wuxian wasn’t terribly clear on the details, but it wasn’t really necessary. Jin Guangshan had pressed his legitimate son’s filial piety to the breaking point in his pursuit of power, and finally he must have done something to go too far, to cause there to be a real break between them. Jin Zixuan must have made clear that he would not play along, no matter what, and by that point Jin Guangshan already knew there was Jin Guangyao waiting in the sidelines to step up and take his place. There was no other way it could have gone, simply because there was no other reason for both Jin Zixuan and his mother to so conveniently die on the very same day.

If it hadn’t been for Nie Huaisang convincing Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been there. Wen Qing wouldn’t have been available to be bold and decisive, the way she was with her medicine; she wouldn’t have been able to persuade Jiang Yanli of the possibility of danger and then to smuggler out of Jinlin Tower and take her on the run in disguise, long before it occurred to anyone else that there might be some threat to her – that the Jin sect might decide to hold her hostage, or worse.

Definitely worse. If Jin Guangyao had had the chance to figure out what only Wen Qing had known back then – that Jiang Yanli, barely more than a newlywed, already carried the next heir to Lanling Jin within her belly…

Jin Guangyao’s ambitions would never have let Jin Zixuan live, a fact they’d all only realized in horrible helpless hindsight, but if Wen Qing had been trapped in Yiling with Wei Wuxian at the time, instead of visiting Lanling, then Jiang Yanli…

Wei Wuxian didn’t even want to think of it.

So, really, it was only fair that Nie Huaisang, who had whether intentionally or incidentally saved so many of them these past few years, finally, finally get what he’d been dreaming of all these years: his brother’s return.

It was only fair that he be allowed to return to being happy.

And yet, at the same time –

“You need to go talk to him,” Jiang Cheng said. His arms would be crossed in front of his chest if he wasn’t currently holding a sleeping Jin Ling, who’d had something of a fright upon meeting the new and improved Nie Huaisang. The poor kid had been convinced that his habitually bitter and vicious Second Uncle Nie was possessed by some sort of fierce but bizarrely friendly ghost. “There’s a war on, for fuck’s sake. He can’t spend all his time haunting the Unclean Realm trying to pretend that he’s something he’s not in order to keep his brother from finding out that he’s changed!”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Wei Wuxian objected. “I mean, Nie Huaisang’s always run most of the war through correspondence, anyway, and it’s not like we’re totally helpless without him to boss us around.”

“His absence hasn’t been noted by our enemies just yet,” Wen Ning murmured. His arms were similarly full with Wen Yuan – a little older than his friends, steadier and more mature, but a sympathetic crier, and spending a month of his childhood in the Burial Mounds made him more susceptible to fears of possession, not less, so he’d been set off by Jin Ling. And seeing them both in tears had, of course, made poor level-headed Jin Rusong, who didn’t cry easily at all, panic and try to help in a way that only made it worse; Xiao Xingchen had swept him away to the kitchen, and the two of them were currently making snacks for the other two when they woke up. “But it will be, soon. They are already puzzled by the change in tactics.”

Wen Ning’s voice was as soft as ever, his stutter subdued only by the fact that he was with company he liked, but his tone brooked no argument – he’d changed a lot since their youth, too, and knew more intimately than most how some things could not be undone.

The Jin sect, not content with merely killing him, had dubbed his resurrected self ‘the Ghost General’ in an attempt to incite the cultivation world into hating and fearing him. It had been a lie back then, when he’d been doing nothing more than planting radish seeds and babysitting, but now Wen Ning was a general in truth, the leader of their archers and one of Nie Huaisang’s right hands. He was still shy, still didn’t speak fluently and probably never would, but Nie Huaisang had assigned him several capable deputies who understood him even when he had to resort to the type of hand-signs used by the deaf or in covert situations. He was surprisingly popular with the cultivators on their side of the war, although Wei Wuxian acknowledged that perhaps his popularity shouldn’t be that much of a surprise: there was a certain morale-boosting effect in seeing your general continuing to fight even after being struck with enough arrows to create a porcupine.

“Being puzzled by a change in tactics is fairly run of the mill for any enemy facing Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian pointed out.

“Which is why they haven’t noticed it yet, Wei-gongzi. But eventually…”

Wei Wuxian grimaced. “Is it really that dire?”

“Not yet,” Lan Wangji said ominously, and – fine. If even Lan Wangji thought that someone should talk to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian would go and talk to him.

After all, they were old friends of long acquaintance.

Very long, even.

“I come bearing terms of peace,” Wei Wuxian announced, walking into Nie Huaisang’s study and waving a few jars of wine at him. “Come negotiate with me, Nie-xiong!”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to barge into my room,” Nie Huaisang said without looking up from his correspondence, a little flash of the vicious Pallbearer they’d all grown painfully accustomed to – he had his family’s temper but a cooler head, with rage that burned low and long rather than flaring up hot and burning out.

Wei Wuxian reflected once more on how apt Nie Huaisang’s personal title was. The foolish thought that it referred to the filial piety he showed in mourning the brother that raised him since childhood, the somewhat wiser to the way the attack on Nie Mingjue had forced Nie Huaisang to find the virtue he had previously lacked, but the really smart ones knew that the most accurate interpretation was that those that Nie Huaisang chose to accompany to their end would ultimately find themselves without any path forward but death.

Nie Huaisang’s cultivation was still nothing special, his ability to fight virtually non-existent beyond the most basic of saber forms – a saber he now carried with him often enough, but still almost never used – and he’d rejected Wei Wuxian’s very innovative idea (if he did say so himself) that he try to train with a war fan, both on the basis of it being both too much effort and furthermore thoroughly lacking in aesthetic. As a result, he had no particularly notable talents, and none that could allow him to triumph in a night-hunt or a duel.

It didn’t make him any less terrifying.

“You’ll forgive me,” Wei Wuxian said flippantly, and sat down next to him, looking at the words that filled the page with Nie Huaisang’s lovely, artistic calligraphy. “More spy stuff?”

Nie Huaisang’s lips curled up into a small smirk. “Naturally. The network never sleeps, as you well know. I assume you’ve been sent to scold me about the war?”

“Amazing,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “It’s almost like you have a brain in your head or something. Since you’ve guessed it, I don’t even know what more I need to say…how’s Chifeng-zun doing?”

That got Nie Huaisang’s face to soften, as he’d hoped it would. “Much better. He’s been sleeping and waking consistently, and the mobility exercises are working well, though of course he’s insisting on trying more than he can manage. He only just managed to walk across the room without stumbling yesterday, had to sit down right away after, and he’s already asking about saber training.”

That was very in character for Nie Mingjue.

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian said, meaning it with all his heart. “I missed da-ge.”

He owed him so much, after all.

So much more than most people knew.

It had been Nie Mingjue who had found him all those years ago, in the dark days when his parents had died in a night-hunt gone wrong and the money they’d left with the innkeeper turning out to be insufficient to keep him housed or fed for more than a fortnight. Wei Wuxian had been a spoiled, beloved child – even if his parents were rogue cultivators, his father originally a servant, they were famous; there wasn’t a town that didn’t welcome them with open arms. They had never lacked for money, for warmth and comfort.

Wei Wuxian might have had a chance if they’d died in the spring or summer. He might have been able to learn to sleep on the streets during warm nights and used those rich fat months to learn from all the other beggars how to eat refuse, but his parents had died in the winter. Even the beggars chased him away, unwilling to spare the smallest scrap of food or lose any bit of warmth by sharing the spots they had found to shelter from the cold; and when he went to the richer districts that had once greeted his parents with such enthusiasm, wild dogs were sent to chase him away, vicious and merciless…within a week, he had been very nearly dead.

Luckily, when hiring rogue cultivators turned out to be insufficient to deal with the problem, the miserly local landlord that had sent out the notice in the first place had finally given in and written to a Great Sect, begging for aid – as a rich man, he was obligated to contribute to the costs of a requested night-hunt, and the Great Sects, while generally more successful, were typically far more mercenary in that regard than rogue cultivators – and Nie Mingjue had come with his Nie sect, the most willing by far to do the work of defeating evil without charging too much for the privilege.

He’d found the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s parents.

Soon after, he’d found Wei Wuxian himself.

Wei Wuxian had been about seven, then. It had been a full two years before Jiang Fengmian had found him on the very same streets, hiding in the trash with a dirty face and a sad and miserable expression, ready to be picked up and taken home by his father’s old friend, the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang.

Just as anyone might’ve predicted.

After all, Nie Mingjue had never stinted on sending out spies, even if he never used them.

(He’d released Wei Wuxian of all those old obligations long ago – but Nie Huaisang never had.)

“Da-ge passes along his thanks, by the way,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks the array you created to help preserve his life is brilliant.”

“It is brilliant,” Wei Wuxian said, shameless as always. Getting a truly vicious scolding from his little master Nie Huaisang about exactly how close to the line his arrogance had brought him and the Wen sect had humbled him a bit, and the disaster of the Stygian Tiger Seal nearly going out of his control at the Nightless City not long thereafter had humbled him still more, but in the end he was still Wei Wuxian. He was awesome. “Could anyone else have done what I did?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes.

“He’s not angry at me for misusing Baxia?” Wei Wuxian asked, fishing for confirmation. If there was one thing that his two years in the Nie sect had taught him, it was a near-pathological revulsion at the thought of touching another person’s spiritual weapon – he’d been very nearly more excited to be allowed to put his hand on an unsheathed Bichen than Lan Wangji’s dick, although not quite – and Nie Mingjue was quite justifiably more paranoid than most on the subject.

Even that treacherous dog Jin Guangyao hadn’t dared touch Baxia. The spiritual poison he’d used on Nie Mingjue had been limited to the man himself, and that had been what gave Wei Wuxian the idea for the array he’d invented. Nie Mingjue cultivated with Baxia as his primary, if not only, spiritual weapon, and the disciples of the Nie sect were closer to their sabers than most – and by the end of the Sunshot Campaign, Baxia was a fearsome entity in her own right, possessed of her own spiritual energy.

And as he’d always said, energy was meant to be used.

There was something about the Nie sect’s cultivation style that reminded Wei Wuxian of his innovations in demonic cultivation, although it wasn’t quite the same. They didn’t manipulate resentful energy directly the way he did, but they still made use of it, refining their blades with it until the sabers were very nearly guai, cultivating saber spirits filled with a lust for blood – although the strict disciplines of the Nie sect cultivation path meant that every saber spirit that Wei Wuxian had ever had the fortune (or misfortune) to personally encounter just as absolutist in their disdain for evil as their masters.

Even Nie Huaisang’s saber Aituan was like that, and maybe that should have been Wei Wuxian’s first hint that Nie Huaisang wasn’t as simple as he appeared on the surface.

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Really. Da-ge said it was – how’d he put it – a charming contradiction, that his saber get used to cultivating energy for him rather than him for the saber. Though maybe he was just relieved that she was intact, given everything.”

Wei Wuxian grinned and toasted Nie Huaisang, drinking a little of the wine while Nie Huaisang continued with his correspondence.

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while.

“I’m not pretending,” Nie Huaisang said abruptly, and Wei Wuxian, who’d drifted off into daydreams involving him, Lan Wangji, and a very sturdy bathtub, turned to look at him. “I know what Jiang Cheng thinks –”

“Of course you do. I tell you what Jiang Cheng thinks.”

“Shut up, you – you calamity. I don’t need you to tell me what Jiang Cheng thinks, he tells me himself more often than not. He thinks that I’m pretending to be useless because I don’t want da-ge to know about everything I’ve done, but that’s not the case at all. He knows. I wouldn’t keep it from him.”

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said, because he did. Even at his most lazy and self-indulgent, Nie Huaisang abhorred the thought of lying to his brother. “But you are spending too much of your time in the Unclean Realm. We need you back in the field.”

Nie Huaisang scowled. “The cream of the cultivation world,” he said disdainfully. “Can’t they do anything by themselves, just for a few short months? You’d think my brother fought the entirety of the Sunshot Campaign by himself with how little they seem to contribute.”

“Personally, I think that everyone has just taken the Nie sect as lucky cats, and are afraid to do without you,” Wei Wuxian said, batting his eyelashes at him in his most provoking show of earnestness. “Nie-xiong, if I rub your head, does that mean I’ll win my next battle…?”

“Don’t you dare,” Nie Huaisang said, but the scowl receded and he looked amused again. “I can’t wait to send da-ge out on the battlefield again.”

“The Jin sect will trample each other in their eagerness to get off the battlefield rather than face Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian agreed, and couldn’t help his own smile at the thought. “The rumors that he’s returned have already started spreading like wildfire, but you’ve done well to hide him away so thoroughly. It means no one knows if the rumors are right or if you’re just pulling some kind of trick on the world.”

“Who, me? A trick?” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled thinly. “I only wish I could’ve seen the look on that treacherous dog’s face when his spies reported on my unusual behavior. I hope he’s afraid.”

Wei Wuxian agreed.

He had tried many times to imagine doing what Jin Guangyao had done. To turn your hand against the man to whom you had sworn to love as a brother –

He couldn’t even imagine hurting Jiang Cheng like that, and Jiang Yanli even less.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue his life. He had sworn fealty to him with all the passion and singlemindedness of childhood, and had never once regretted it. Nie Mingjue had taken him off the streets and brought him back to his sect, he’d taken back his parents’ bodies and buried them with full (if private) honors, he’d given Wei Wuxian training to make him strong and smart and capable. He’d sent him to do work in a place where he would prosper and thrive and be happy, and all the while promised that he would never be trapped – that he would have a way out if the Jiang sect became too suffocating or he was treated too viciously, on one hand, and on the other told him that he could one day petition to be released from his obligations to the Nie sect if he ever found them too demanding.

Wei Wuxian had asked to be released from those obligations after the fall of the Lotus Pier, unable to stomach the idea of reporting on Jiang Cheng now that he was all alone in the world in the way that he had so effortlessly reported on Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu. Nie Mingjue had granted the reprieve without a second’s hesitation, even though it meant wasting the years and years of investment they’d put into him, even though it would have been a critical moment to have an ear within the Jiang sect’s camp.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue everything.

And yet – if the man had asked him to kill Jiang Cheng, he would have said no.

Twin heroes, he’d promised Jiang Cheng, and if for a while he’d thought he would have to give up that promise because of the secret of the golden core that he still kept hidden away, he refused to think it any longer. Jiang Cheng was his brother in all but blood, in all the ways that mattered. Wei Wuxian would stand aside from him if he thought he had to, as he had with the Wen sect remnants; he would keep secrets from him, he would even deceive him, but he would never willingly seek to hurt him.

Jin Guangyao, though? He had attacked Nie Mingjue without even being asked.

He was like some rabid beast, a white-eyed wolf, Wei Wuxian thought. Utterly beyond his understanding.

He deserved to be afraid.

“Speaking of which,” he said, suddenly remembering. “I think I’ve figured out why Jin Guangyao was willing to kill his own heir to further his and his father’s ambitions.”

“About time,” Nie Huaisang said, and while his tone was stern Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that he was teasing. “I put you on that job months ago. What do you think I keep you around for? Your brilliant inventions? Your armies of corpses? Your amazing ability to stun irritating sect leaders into silence with your overwhelming shamelessness regarding Lan Wangji –”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Wei Wuxian said hastily, although the giant grin he couldn’t keep off his face said everything about his shame – or lack thereof – relating to that last one. You get caught doing one little roleplay about the fearsome demonic cultivator Yiling Patriarch being arrested by the righteous cultivator Hanguang-jun and suddenly no one wanted to look you in the eye anymore… “Anyway, according to all the rumors, you keep me around because you want me to raise your brother the way I raised Wen Ning.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one, and I still can’t believe anyone believes it. Da-ge’s a sect leader! Even if you wanted to bring him back, think about the amount of resentment he would have had to feel at his death to rise up again despite all the soul-calming rituals he’s gone through! If he ever became that resentful, he wouldn’t rise up as a ghost general, he’d be a ghost king, and then we’d all be screwed.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong. Nie Mingjue was one of the most powerful cultivators living �� if he rose as a fierce corpse, he’d be able to slaughter an entire village of common people overnight with just the energy in one hand. And if he were then allowed access to Baxia, her power added to his…he’d become a scourge on the world, a true calamity, and they’d need to find a way to appease his anger and somehow lock him away forever just to survive.

Assuming Nie Huaisang allowed something like that, anyway. Wei Wuxian was very happy they had never been forced to face the question of whether Nie Huaisang preferred his brother or his morality, as he suspected no one would like the answer to that. Not even Nie Huaisang.

“Enough speculation,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wei Wuxian twitched guiltily even though he knew Nie Huaisang was not, in fact, a mind-reader. “What’s the story with A-Song?”

“You want the long version with all the proof I found to support it or the conclusion?”

“Start with the conclusion.”

“Jin Guangyao couldn’t risk A-Song growing up into a half-wit on account of being a child of incest.”

That actually surprised Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian was pleased to see.

“Incest?” Nie Huaisang said wonderingly. “But how – oh, of course. Jin Guangshan and Madame Qin? An affair or rape?”

“Rape while he was drunk, supposedly, though of course we only have the relevant people’s words for that, and they’re not exactly impartial sources. Could’ve been an affair that had unexpected results, not that anyone would ever admit it.”

Nie Huaisang started laughing.

Wei Wuxian really wished he wouldn’t. It wasn’t the sort of happy giggle that he sometimes let out nowadays when he was thinking of Nie Mingjue’s recovery – it was the jagged vicious bitterness of the Pallbearer, through and through.

“Oh, Qin Su, Qin Su,” Nie Huaisang said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I gave you all the chances in the world, you stupid woman. I hope you’re happy with what you chose.”

“Can I ask?” Wei Wuxian said cautiously. “You never said – you just showed up with A-Song, no Qin Su and no explanation…”

“Says the person who adopted A-Yuan all but sight unseen?”

“I lived with him for a month, it’s different,” Wei Wuxian said. “What happened with Qin Su?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “Nothing dramatic. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her that her husband was planning on killing her son to frame his enemies, which is reasonable enough given that everyone knows I’m at odds with him. Even when I offered her proof, she said it was just a forgery – that he wasn’t like that, that she knew him, the real him, that she was the only one who really understood him, even though I’d say the whole cultivation world knows the ‘real’ him by now.”

“Irritating, but understandable, I think – he is her husband, the dashing hero that rescued her so valiantly in the Sunshot Campaign and which she defied custom and her parents to marry. So why all the disdain?”

Nie Huaisang��s lips pressed together tightly with disapproval. “I asked her if she was willing to risk losing A-Song just to show her husband that she trusted him, and she said that she was, because it wasn’t a risk at all. Because she knew he loved her too much to do such a terrible thing without a good reason.”

“Without a good reason?” Wei Wuxian demanded. “That’s her son!”

“Don’t you know that they can always have others?” Nie Huaisang said with a sneer, clearly paraphrasing words he’d heard. “They’re young, in love – it’s all my fault that he stopped touching her, apparently. I took Lan Xichen away from him and he’s so upset about it that he can’t come to her bed, but once the world is rid of me, it’ll all go back to the way it should be…”

“I’ll give her that much: she really loves him,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. The delusions of a person in love, he supposed. He hoped that he and Lan Wangji weren’t quite that bad. “She’ll be in for a disappointment. Given what I found out…he’ll never return to her bed or give her children, not in this lifetime.”

“No, he won’t.” Nie Huaisang reached for his fan. “Thank you for this. I’ll think about how to use it.”

“And?” Wei Wuxian prodded.

“And I’ll come back to the battlefield,” Nie Huaisang conceded, looking discontented, and Wei Wuxian smiled smugly. “You can supervise the Unclean Realm in my place.”

“What? No!” Wei Wuxian protested, his smile disappearing at once. “You have Xiao Xingchen –”

“He’s newly blinded, and out of all the cultivators we have available, you’re the most effective at fighting on a stand-alone basis. Think of it as having some time to bond with your mother’s shidi.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t want time to bond with his martial uncle – or, well, he did, he’d been dying for an opportunity to talk with Xiao Xingchen more or less since the man first made his name known in the cultivation world, but Nie Huaisang’s rules were such that no one outside the most trusted inner circles of the Nie sect was allowed in the familial quarters of the Unclean Realm, or even in the Unclean Realm at all. And that meant…

“But – Lan Wangji –”

“Will not die if he’s forced to be abstinent for a little while,” Nie Huaisang said, and oh, it was on.

“Did Qin Su specify the method by which you took Lan Xichen from her husband?” Wei Wuxian asked, crossing his arms. “I was under the impression that you still referred to him as Zewu-jun –”

Nie Huaisang glared.

Too bad – if the Pallbearer didn’t want to get mocked over his crush on the First Jade of Lan, he shouldn’t have let Wei Wuxian find out about the fact that the torch he held for him was still burning hot as ever.

“Perhaps my information is out of date. Tell me, little master, what means of seduction did you employ to convince Zewu-jun to betray his poor sad little A-Yao? Did you work your wicked wiles on him?”

“Wei Wuxian –”

“Did you play his xiao?”

Nie Huaisang let out an ungentlemanly snort and had to cover his face. “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no. Why did you have to give me that mental image? Fuck you, Wei Wuxian.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too. Abstinent my ass.”

“I think you’ll find that the problem with abstinence is that it’s not your ass,” Nie Huaisang said, shoulders shaking. “That’s kind of the point. Now go tell everyone that I’ll be rejoining them tomorrow.”

“I will relish their groans of despair,” Wei Wuxian said, standing up. He was clearly going to have to take as much advantage that he could of the little time he had with Lan Wangji before being cruelly locked away. “Oh, is there any news on Song Lan?”

“None,” Nie Huaisang said. “He may as well have ascended into the heavens. Don’t tell Xiao Xingchen, he’ll only worry.”

“I won’t, I won’t. As for you – could you try to lighten up on Zewu-jun? Now that da-ge’s awake again?”

Nie Huaisang frowned.

“I’m not saying forgive him,” Wei Wuxian clarified. “Just – you know that da-ge wouldn’t want you to be so mad at him, especially since you still like him and all.”

“I’ll let da-ge decide that, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, and the humor had fled his face entirely. “It was his assassin that Zewu-jun decided to trust and protect, after all.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, accepting the verdict – he disagreed, but he understood – and turning to leave.

He paused at the door.

“Just so you know,” he said, not looking at Nie Huaisang. “Having trusted Meng Yao doesn’t mean you have to be so mad at yourself, either.”

He left before Nie Huaisnag could respond, but he heard something shatter in the room behind him.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #wen ning #my fic #my fics #unfettered

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thevuclairarchives · 3 years ago

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𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚜

𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘖𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘪 𝘹 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘦!𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯 (𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳 𝘒𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Carth is stressed out by the whole 'Rescue Bastila from the Vulkars" quest and Amnesiac Revan, Karris, has a totally-not-awkward plan to help him ease the stress; Slow dancing.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, light angst

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I began playing KOTOR yesterday and couldn't help but love these two. Probably won't be the last story I write for this ship!

It was late in the night for the two, exhausted souls. Taris was truly a haunting sight to look at in the night, but that was just background noise for the troubles that made their way into Karris' mind. He had managed to keep his cool down while him and Carth searched for Bastila, but it could be unbearable sometimes. Especially with Carth's trust issues and lack of it on him. The man didn't trust him, and although a part of Karris understood, he couldn't help but grow annoyed.

Carth was pacing back and forth, low rambling to himself as he strategically formed a plan to get Bastila back. Shoulders tense, jaw locked, fingers moving inquietly - a state of mind that Karris knew very well. He hummed quietly to himself as he got up from the bed and made his way to Carth, stretching his hand to him.

"Yes?" The pilot looked down to Karris’ hand, and then back up to him again. A puzzlement look crossed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Karris cleared his throat. "Dance with me."

The sudden and unexpected request almost made Carth laugh, if it wasn't for the deadpanned expression seen across Karris' face. He was actually serious. He was inviting Carth to dance with him.

The pilot furrowed his brows, pondering on it. Was this some sort of prank? What were his motivations for this strange request? Sure, through the time that Carth has been with Karris, he had learned that the man was odd, to say the least. But this was most surprising.

"Ah, erm, I - I think I'm alright, thanks." Yet, the blank and grave stare that Karris was giving him was almost making Carth uncomfortable on his feet. Upon the initial denial, Karris further outstretched his hand, insisting on it.

"I wasn't asking," He replied, "I was telling you to." Carth should've seen this one coming, From their previous trust issues arguments, he knew that Karris wasn't one to give up whenever an idea crossed his mind. Sadly, it was always the worst of ideas.

Reluctant, Carth hesitated in taking Karris' hand, but once their hands touched, he felt some of the tension washing away from his shoulders. Karris guided him to the centre of the room and his fingers interlocked with his own. With Karris' free hand on his shoulder, Carth slowly rested his other hand in the small of Karris' back.

An unheard melody that only they could hear made its way around and through them, and before Carth could realize, his feet were moving in a perfect synchronization with Karris', as if they were on autopilot. Karris tightened his grip on his hand, and his hand was rougher than Carth had envisioned. Not a surprise since all of the work that Karris had to do wasn't particularly easy.

Although no actual music had been playing, both men could hear in the back of their minds, and that was all that was needed.

Carth glanced down at Karris. He wasn't much smaller than him, but his height only reached his shoulders. He noticed that Karris had a focused, dark look on his eyes, as if something clouded his mind. Carth had often seen that on the male, but never found the courage to question it. It was none of his business. For now, at least.

Karris locked up just in time their eyes locked into each other as they settled on a slow rhythm. The darkness was brushed away and replaced by something else - a soft and fragile feeling, a nostalgic one perhaps, of some other era. A feeling of belonging, of a home. It was if they were standing on top of a mountain, their music chorus replaced with silence, as if they knew what they wanted to say, but couldn't find the right words. Carth felt the same; the previous anxiety and stress had faded away into background noise, and was replaced by a serene feeling of peacefulness, just this once.

The apartment grew still once more. Unconsciously, Carth kept a strain hold on Karris' back and hand. It was like the two men were processing what had just happened and tried to find a plausible explanation for it.

Karris took a step back and cleared his throat once more.

"We should go back to our mission. Bastila needs our help." With further silence and lack of words, Carth nodded, and was left to his own thoughts after Karris exited the room and closed the door behind him with a loud «thund».

#kotor #kotor 1 #star wars knights of the old republic #carth onasi #male revan #carth x revan #carth onasi x male! revan #revan; allur karris #darth revan

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deathvsthemaiden · 4 years ago

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Tagged by the wonderful @sheherazade to make a 12 song long playlist (aka a good luck charm playlist!) that captures how I want 2021 to go! 💆🏽‍♀️

1. Hot Honey—Ari Chi. Reminds me of mornings where you’re up out of bed long before anyone else and feel super duper peaceful and careless and sunny in the chillest way as you drink tea and look out a window or read or something... I want even more mornings like that in ‘21 than I had in ‘20 god willing!! 🍯🐝

2. Green & Gold—Lianne La Havas. Lately i feel like her song Midnight (people think I'm crazy/lately I’m/living in midnight/just living in midnight~🎶 ) and it’s fun I’m having a grand isolated little time within the confines of my rich inner world but I hope to feel more like Green & Gold, the lyrics just feel way more... open and active/“ambitious” (for lack of a better word) than content. It’s witching hour I reserve the right to be vague and confusing 😔💕💕

3. Suspended in Gaffa—Kate Bush. God this song sounds like TRAVELING!! I want to do that! Not physically because of Current Events ofc but I want to feel the way this song makes me feel... energetic and like I’m going places in any sense of the word! I can’t explain it! 🧳👒 it reminds me of Tape Five’s Love Tonite and has lead girl of a musical in a bustling train station singing about the people around her and herself energy to me also it’s the one I’ve been looping most lately so GAISJAJJA

4. Everything’s Changin’—St. Arnaud. You know those cheesy montages of ppl slowly dancing in a funny way and mouthing along to the lyrics of a song together as it blasts out loud in sitcoms and such? Only this song would ever make me feel tempted to act that way.... only this one (not that I would but I would Feel A Pull) preferably on a boat in the middle of the ocean as the sun has almost totally set with string lights everywhere. also the lyrics are just so good please give it a try 🥺✌🏽

5. Making Love—Sir Woman. I know this is a smexy suggestive little song but it mostly reminds me of the beach and I just love the energy.... I know I said no traveling but like. To touch the sand of a beach with my own two feet again in the 21st year of the 21st century would not be abhorrent to me.... 🤕<\3 also idk part of the lyrics sound to me like they do indeed describe me at my best... almost-all-knowing and mischevious and fun loving @_@

6. Levitating—Dua Lipa. Even now, whilst on break, the phantom weights of my academic shackles pain and vex and haunt and taunt me (can’t chill out fully for some reason idk why. God help the mentally ill and academically incompetent such as I) not 2 mention the toll of all the extraneous family time I’ve been force fed lately so... I’d like to feel more weightless next year 👉🏽👈🏽 also this is just such a sparkly glitzy dazzling song it makes the child in me go: 🤩🌟💫

7. Hot Knife—Fiona Apple. Grievously, almost impressively late to the party in typical Hiba fashion, I only discovered Miss Apple and this song this year 😐🤭 but God! I miss myself I don’t want romance but I would like to find things that make my heart feel like a “CinemaScope screen showing a dancing bird of paradise” again 😔🔨!! And I love that the lyrics allow the singer to be the Hot Knife AND the Pat of Butter depending on where you are in the 4 minute long song... I love versatility I need to allow myself some more of it next year methinks 🤕✌🏽

8. Bambi—Hippo Campus. This feels way more like me right now than now I necessarily wish to be next year, down to the disobedient dysfunctional legs, but despite the sad state of affairs the lyrics describe the actual song is peppy and hopeful and jazz so like.. I hope to begin to undo the havoc I’ve wreaked on certain aspects of my life via neglect and/or as an unintended consequence of Being (Perpetually) (And More Than Usual) Out Of It. 🦌🪐👟

9. Mii Channel Theme. 1) it’s nostalgic 2) I added it to a recent playlist on a whim and every time shuffle spits it up it’s like I’m hearing the song for the first time... it’s so safe and fun and soothing and adventurous.... makes me want to act deranged in the most harmless way...... it’s an instrumental so when it comes on it empties my head in a comforting way....... I’d like 2021 to feel that balanced and pleasant if possible thank u in advance God<3 💓��

10. Slide—Calvin Harris ft. Frank Ocean. Potentially unrealistic 2020 goal # ???: make myself a snazzy little playlist of songs that make me wanna rollerblade/ice skate and actually. do that! This would be top of the list 🥺🛼⛸ as would this💓

11. Stuck in Your Head—Calista Garcia. Another beach like song and also very carefree, the lyrics feel all frank and unfazed... need that for me 🚗 🕶

12. Experience—Victoria Monét. I really do hope this year’s experiences teach future Hiba to be sharper and more proactive but we’ll see :/ anyway even if she totally fails this song is SO catchy and will still be there for her to listen to 🥺💃🏽

Tagging: @pinkafropuffs @noblyphantasmic @fatallist @thebodykeepsscore @dionhysus @netherites @natalya-romanova @miraclegirl @hotsharkgirl2000 @hotgirlkaladin @stereolovers @the-knights-who-say-book @haldimilks @ijaaazat @2006barbie @thoroughbredsbian @kashilascorner @kai-teuthis-satou @bluyuki @holmesianhive @slowlikehoney1996 @serduszko @k-amui @lylelylepantsonfyle @adorakeys @tricketra @howaboutswords and I’m def forgetting some ppl, plz consider urself tagged in spirit and do this if you’d like to participate!! And tag meee I wanna see 👁👁

#tagged in #OK SO I made an actual playlist for my own convenience linked at the top and since Spotify adds their own songs if you have less than 15 in #a playlist I mentioned 3 extras in this post so I could add them too and ~justify~ it #to myself WHAJWJWJ #ty ilika this was a lot of fun! 💕💕

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verothelilsparkleghost · 4 years ago

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Tranquility of the Heart

A Bleach Fanfic

Ichigo Kurosaki & Rukia Kuchiki

Rating T

Summary:

He wasn’t fond of rainstorms. Rain always found a way to make him sad, almost nostalgic, certainly emotional about the past and that wasn’t a feeling he appreciated. But her presence alone was enough to get him out of his dark thoughts.

Part of the August Writing Challenge for The Seireitei Discord Server. Prompt used: Rainstorm sounds. Also it could fit the prompt "Surprise" and "I love you" of the IchiRuki Month 2020. (That way I can feel I participated somehow xD)

Special thanks to @ariadnekurosaki for taking the time to help this fic make some sense, and answering all my silly questions <3 Thank you, Ari. (I wouldn't have finished this without your help).

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Ichigo woke up to the sound of pouring rain and thunder. Sleep still clouded his mind. Unconsciously, he turned over on his side and reached out to the other side of the bed, hoping to find the warmth of his significant other. His hand met the cold sheets. He opened his eyes right when a brilliant shock of white briefly illuminated the room, he didn’t see Rukia anywhere.

Soon enough, the lightning was followed by a loud boom of thunder.

He wasn’t fond of rainstorms. Rain always found a way to make him sad, almost nostalgic, certainly emotional about the past and that wasn’t a feeling he appreciated. He turned in bed, facing the ceiling. Another brilliant shock of white light illuminated the room, once again followed by a long rumble of thunder. A shudder passed over him; he couldn’t help the memories flooding his mind. Rainstorms always rendered him powerless, they made him feel like the scared little boy he once was. That scared little boy who couldn’t protect his mom.

But the world doesn’t stop on rainy days.

Shaking the memories away, he sat up on his side of the bed, took a long breath and stood up. Over the sound of rain, he could hear Rukia in the living room. Ichigo crossed the small hallway, and from where he stood, he could see a lit candle on the small table by the main door. Rukia was on her knees searching for something in the closet by the door, where they usually hung their jackets and left their shoes. All the lights were off. He tried switching on the light, but there was no power, probably due to the storm raging outside. His eyes adjusted to the amount of light provided by the candle, and he could see that Rukia was frantically searching for something in the dark and murmuring to herself.

“What are you doing, midget?” Ichigo asked. She was startled by him and hit her head against the closet when she heard his voice.

“Ouch… Idiot, you scared me!” she replied while patting her head. For a second, he was concerned. It looked like she might’ve hit her head hard. Ichigo approached her.

“Are you ok? Does it hurt?” He asked while helping her stand up.

“It’s fine, I thought you were asleep. Did I wake you up?” Rukia lifted her eyes to see his face. Another bolt of lightning flashed, and for a split second she saw his conflicted eyes.

“No. The rain did. Let me check your head.”

“I told you, I’m fine. It wasn’t that hard.” He gave her a look and she sighed and gave in.

“Fine.”

He used his fingers to caress her silky black hair looking for a bump. He didn’t find anything. “I don’t see any bumps.” She scoffed and he kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.” she whispered. Rukia touched one side of his face with her hand. He leaned into her touch with his eyes closed. She knew he wasn’t fond of the rain and that many bad memories haunted him. Another roll of thunder could be heard in the distance and she pulled him into an embrace. He always felt at peace in her arms. She had always known how to soothe him. Her presence alone was enough to get him out of his dark thoughts. While his head rested where her shoulder met her neck, she caressed his spiky orange hair with her fingers softly.

He kept holding her, listening to the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain hitting the windows.

“What were you doing in the closet?” he murmured against her neck.

She gasped. “Oh right! The cat!” She let him go and lowered herself to the floor by the closet again.

“The cat? What cat?” He was confused, they didn’t own a cat.

“Come on kitty, I know you’re scared but you can’t stay in there all night” she mumbled. Stretching her arm, Rukia managed to pull the cat out. Ichigo saw her pull out a small ball of orange fur.

Once she was able to finally grab the orange cat, she cradled it against her chest to help calm it down. It was clear the cat feared the lightning and thunder going on outside.

“It’s okay little one, no need to be afraid” she whispered. One of her fingers caressed the cat’s fur behind its ears. But the cat kept mewling. “I woke up because of the rain too, I couldn’t fall asleep again, so I decided to make myself a cup of tea. Then I heard mewing outside! I opened the door to check and I found this little ball of fur hiding from the rain and shaking. I brought her inside and fed her some left-over chicken.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to say something but she continued before he could speak. “No Ichigo, you can’t feed a cat regular milk, but we don’t have cat food, so I googled it and chicken seemed like a good option, at least until tomorrow.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

Rukia gave him a look that clearly said I know you’re lying. “As I was saying, I fed her, but then there was a loud boom of thunder and she ran away from me and hid inside your shoes in the closet. I was trying to lure her out when you scared me” she finished explaining.

The cat in her arms kept mewing.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” He was genuinely curious.

“Because she looks like a girl.” Rukia replied, like it was the most obvious answer. The small orange cat was shaking in her arms, and she cooed at it to try and soothe it.

Ichigo scowled. “That’s not a good enough reason. Let me check.” Carefully he took the ball of fur from her small hands. For a moment the cat stopped the meowing and while cradling the cat he managed to check his gender. “Yeah, it’s not a girl. It’s clearly a boy”.

Ichigo placed the cat back into Rukia’s arms. The small ball of fur settled himself against her chest. Rukia grabbed one of Ichigo’s hand and lowered herself to the floor, next to the couch, pulling him down with her. He sat with his back against the wall and guided Rukia to sit in front of him between his legs.

Ichigo wrapped one hand around her waist and reached with the other to softly pet the orange cat. “Huh…I guess he likes you.”

Even though the rain and thunder continued outside, the cat was no longer visibly shaking, and was now purring, clearly content in his new position.

“Of course he likes me, I’m adorable.”

“Are you really, midget?” he snorted.

She could see from the corner of her eye that he was smiling. “Shut up.” She mockingly kicked one of his legs with her foot.

For a moment they sat in silence, with only the pitter-patter of the rain and some flashes of white light as company.

This was where he felt at peace, with her in his arms. Her presence would always soothe him, and she always provided the perfect distraction from his thoughts.

“Oh, he’s asleep.” She whispered so as not to wake the small animal.

Ichigo looked over her shoulder and confirmed that indeed the cat was asleep. He reached with one hand towards the couch and grabbed one of the small cushions. He placed the cushion right next to them and told Rukia to lay him there. She did so very carefully. The cat stirred as if to wake up, but she continued to softly pet him, and it seemed he felt safe enough to be lured back to sleep.

Rukia adjusted her position in order to be more comfortable. She rested the back of her head on Ichigo’s shoulder and stretched her legs without stopping her petting.

Ichigo moved some of her midnight hair away from her shoulder, he softly kissed her where her shoulder met her neck and tightened his hold on her waist. Rukia automatically moved her head to the side to give him and his kisses more room.

This moment lasted for a while, comfortable in each other’s arms. Both of them lost in their thoughts.

When Ichigo met Rukia, back when they were both 16, he knew he'd met his match. He was lost in a cave, with the ghost of his mother and the guilt he felt for what happened haunting him, and without even trying, she became his flashlight.

After several years of friendship, and a few of love, it was only a matter of time until they arrived at this moment. A moment full of serenity and peacefulness, where no words were needed.

And in that moment, a thought crossed Ichigo’s mind.

“Hey Rukia…”

“Hmm?” she moved her head towards him to properly look at him.

He knew he’d regret it if he didn’t ask her to be his right now.

“Marry me.”

She dried the rain; she changed his world for the better.

“What?” She was dumbfounded.

“I said, marry me.” He nonchalantly repeated.

“Oh. I heard you, I just don’t understand.”

He moved away from her.

“Hey, what are you doing? Where are you going?” Now she was confused.

Ichigo got up and quickly crossed the hallway and went inside the bedroom. From where she was, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing.

Having found what he was looking for, Ichigo walked out of the bedroom with something inside his right hand.

He lowered himself in front of her. His right hand, now in her line of vision, held a small dark blue box. With both hands he pried the small box open, and inside laid the most beautiful ring Rukia had ever seen. Her eyes shifted from the ring, to her lover’s brown eyes, and vice versa. The ring was simple, yet elegant. A diamond solitaire sat on a white gold band. He knew her like the palm of his hand, he knew she wouldn’t want to wear something extravagant.

“Marry me.” he repeated, taking one of her hands into his own, and rubbing it with his thumb. “We were apart for 17 months, and I don’t want to go through that again. That was an empty life and my life is not complete if I don’t have you here with me. Deep down I’ve always known that all I really need is you.” He confessed to her.

For a moment she didn’t know what to say; he’d caught her by surprise. “Are you… are you seriously asking me to marry you?”

He rolled his eyes. Of course she would ask him if he was serious, and ignore the fact he was kneeling in front of her with a ring in his hand.

“I’m very serious, Rukia. I love you. You’ve shown me something I don’t want to live without. Because of you the rain inside me has stopped. Life will make us face many more challenges, but I know I can get over them if you're willing to face them with me.” He was nervous, he wasn’t the type to go around proclaiming feelings. One of the things he loved about being with Rukia was that she could read him like a book. He didn’t need to tell her things; she already knew them. In any case, he was better at showing her. But she deserved to hear what he felt for her too.

She was quiet, her violet eyes never leaving his. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth for a second but no sound came out.

Ichigo was now worried. He let go of her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. It was his signature nervous gesture that he couldn’t seem to let go of. “Midget, if you’re not ready for this I understand… and we can wait. But I just… Ah, I want you to know where I stand.” A frown took place in his face. Seconds passed in silence. And Rukia hadn’t said anything yet.

A defeated sigh escaped his mouth as he slowly lowered the hand that held the ring in front of her.

She grabbed his hand before it reached the floor. “Wait, wait!” she exclaimed. “You took me by surprise.” One of her hands touched his cheek as she moved a bit closer to him. “Yes, you idiot. I’ll marry you”. She leaned in towards him and kissed his lips softly. It took Ichigo a moment to understand what was happening. He heard her say yes, and she was kissing him. He reacted a second later and responded to the kiss. His hand, the one not holding the ring, found its place between her neck and ear, allowing him some control over the kiss. Their lips moved in sync with a bit more force behind it as their tongues met each other in battle. Kissing her was always a thrilling experience. When air became a necessity, they separated from each other, but just a breath away with their foreheads touching. “You said yes,” he whispered against her lips.

“I did,” Rukia affirmed and gave him another small kiss. “After all, no one else will ever hold my heart the way you do,” she murmured against his lips. Ichigo took her left and brought it up to his lips to lay a kiss there before taking out the white gold ring from the box and sliding it on her ring finger.

Ichigo looked up from the ring on her hand to gaze into her violet eyes. There were tears in them. Rukia couldn’t help the rush of emotion going through her, and a single tear escaped one of her eyes. Ichigo reached with his thumb and wiped it away. “Don’t cry midget.”

After her sister died, she felt empty, alone and unwanted. Her relationship with her brother-in-law Byakuya was affected after Hisana died. They both had different ways of dealing with her death, which made them drift away from each other. For a long time, she felt lonely and empty inside. Nothing really mattered anymore. She didn’t want to try and connect with anyone. Rukia felt like she didn’t have anyone to talk to or turn to, that is until she met Ichigo.

Her eyes found his. She tried keeping her voice steady, “I’m so glad I found you.” Rukia leaned in to kiss him again, her lips finding his and expressing her feelings in ways her words couldn’t.

Back when they first met, he had been going through a similar pain, years of accumulated pain and guilt, after what happened to his mother. But Rukia came into his life out of nowhere and fit in right away. Without even trying, she became his light in the dark, tearing down all his walls.

“I’m glad you gave me no other choice but to love you,” he proclaimed before softly kissing her forehead. She let out a chuckle.

“Come, it’s late. Let’s go back to bed.” Ichigo stood up and offered Rukia a hand to help her get up.

She looked down at the ball of fur sleeping in the cushion in the floor next to them. “What are we going to do with the kitty?” she asked him.

“We can’t do anything right now, it’s almost 4 in the morning and the rain hasn’t stopped for even a minute. Let’s wait until the morning and then I guess we can take him to a veterinary clinic to see if someone is out there looking for him.”

She grabbed Ichigo’s hand before he moved away from her and stopped him from taking a step “Can we keep him? If… he doesn’t have a family already, of course.” Rukia asked timidly. She didn’t move her sight from the sleeping cat. On some level, she felt this kitty was in the same situation she was in years ago before she met Ichigo, alone and scared of the world.

Ichigo turned to face her again, looked down at the orange cat, and then back at her, seeing the concerned expression on her face. He didn’t consider himself a cat person, or a dog person, he just wasn’t much of an animal person in general, he didn’t have anything against them, but he never really thought about having one as a pet. However, there isn’t much in this world he wouldn’t do for Rukia, and if giving this small cat a place to live would make her happy, with joy reflected in her deep violet eyes every day, of course he’d do it.

He reached down to take the cushion off the floor carrying the sleeping cat on top. “Yeah, we can keep him.” He walked inside their bedroom and placed the cushion in the corner near their bed, closer to Rukia’s side. Rukia followed him inside after blowing out the candle, and once he placed the cat down, she stood up on her tiptoes and put her arms around his shoulders. His arms instinctively slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

His lips found hers as they met with passion. The deluge going on outside was long forgotten, despite the flashes of light and the sounds of thunder in the distance. Ichigo moved his hands down to her legs and pulled her up, making it easier for him to carry her towards their bed. Laying Rukia on the bed gently and pulling her close, Ichigo kissed her again. His fingers explored her body with a mind of their own as her hands touched his burning skin. His lips traveled down her neck, as Rukia threw her head back and gasped.

“I love you,” he whispered against her flushed skin. Her body arched up towards him wanting to feel him closer.

Her hands intertwined in his hair, and she pulled him up to meet her eyes, “I love you too,” she proclaimed before crashing her lips against his in a bruising kiss.

Later, they held each other close. Ichigo on his back with Rukia resting her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He softly caressed her back with one hand and the other held her own. They were both staring at the ring in her hand. A bolt of white lightning broke the utter darkness in the room for a moment, highlighting their bare skin and the tranquility of the rain tapping on the windows. There was no need to say anything. As they rested together the only sounds heard were their breaths and the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain outside that slowly lured them into dreamland.

For Ichigo, rain, lightning and thunder used to be terrifying. A reflection of his own turmoil of feelings… but right now lying here with Rukia, breathing in the musky scent and the tranquility of the rain, he didn’t feel frightened. Oh no. He felt happy, and for the first time it was exhilarating.

Notes:

Well... that was my first ever fanfiction. Hopefully it wasn't a waste of your time xD Thank you for reading :3 Any comments are highly appreciated :)

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth2020 #ichirukimonth #deathberry #bleach fanfiction

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bangtanblurbs · 4 years ago

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blue side *special post*

song: blue side - full version, by j-hope

first experience: would we consider the release of blue side, the full version the first experience, or listening to the version from hope world? either way, with hope world, i know i was listening after returning back to DC from ATL following spring break of my first year in my phd program. i was feeling all kinds of heavy, and turning on hopeworld i felt both uplifted and seen at the same time. for an album to carry a track like blue side, along with piece of peace, and then bangers like hangsang and daydream was a lot for me to process but the album instantly became something i listened to all the time. that year was really hard for me - i’d moved away from home, i wasn’t fitting in, i was questioning my abilities, my intelligence, i was so insanely depressed. it was eating away at me, and hope world dropped, making me feel more peace than i’d felt since i had moved. i am still so thankful for that.

feelings: i have so many. obviously, that’s why i had to make a blog for these things. there’s no way i could talk this out with anyone in a normal conversation. also i’d forget everything in my head. hoseok is my comfort idol. i feel very close to him emotionally. maybe it’s because he left gwangju for the big city, he fought like hell and made his way. meanwhile i left a small town and fought like hell, and am trying to make my way. he’s my role model as much as he is my comfort. blue side though, there’s something about it that hits. the lyrics, the sound, it all is about a desire for what existed before - before complicating things with my dreams. leaving the comfort of the familiar, the easy, the known, and making my way in the unknown to chase what i think “home” is supposed to be. sure, things are easier on the *blue side* but without running away from it, would i really burn as bright as a blue flame? give off the warmth that the strongest flame (blue) does? it’s like a double meaning, blue is the innocence and simplicity of the known and the easy, perhaps youth, perhaps home... but also blue is the hottest flame, even if it comes just before a fire dies and burns out, it is still the most significant - the hottest, it’s worth the chase to have this high.

like hoseok - i feel lonely - this song also deals with the loneliness of walking away from the known, the home. and i relate with it. but the color and the vibrancy of what’s knew, it’s not always so terrible. it’s funny, as i listen to blue side, i think of wildflowers by dolly parton. a song about how we all carry a nostalgia for whatever home is, whatever was simple and easy before we lost our innocence and moved on to adulthood... but the reality is, no matter how bad we want to go back - home doesn’t exist anymore in the way that we remember it. we’ve warped the idea of home and this earlier perfection in our heads. we’ve burned it. as we became strong blue flames, the past was also burnt up and changed. that’s how i feel when i visit home, it’s not what i romanticize when i’m away. and no matter what i always feel dejected, foreign, and alone. but even so, i’m burning bright. i’m *back to blue side* but not in the way of going back to a prior easiness and innocence, instead in the way of being bright and warm, offering others something new and improved.

personal experience: since the full song just released and i’ve already played in hundreds of times, perhaps i’ll talk about the present and how i will certainly remember this release in the context of where i am now in my life. it’s now been a whole year of the COVID-19 pandemic, a year where i’d really hoped to *find* myself after two years of my phd program continuing to make me feel lost and completely inadequate. the crippling depression, anxiety, and doubt that i carried since moving the DC is still with me, but before COVID-19 hit i had finally - in many ways - made peace with my life. i’d found some energy for my studies and future. things had been looking up. but since the pandemic, i’ve felt much of those feelings creep back in. slowly but surely my demons returned.

when i turned on blue side for the first time, the same emotions ran through me... a longing for simplicity, a longing for a time when my mind and heart weren’t constantly running, a time when i hadn’t complicated the future i wanted for myself. a longing not to be alone. immediately when i listened to the song i saw my painting of jo march’s monologue in the 2019 adaptation: “women have minds and souls as well as hearts, ambition and talent as well as beauty and i’m sick of being told that love is all a woman is fit for. but... i am so lonely.” while this has absolutely nothing to do with blue side - my mind went there. how life would be simple if i’d abided by the simple life that was destined for me growing up in a small town. i’d have fallen in love, taken a job without much thought, everything would have been easy, i’d never be lonely and the questions and complications of my dreams would be far away (or would they? this version of home is likely fabricated --- see above). as the quote says, she wants to have everything, but in pursuing her dreams she found tremendous loneliness. the blue side, that period of innocence though, perhaps it has it’s own demons as well. there’s the lonliness, the pressure, and the challenges of burning for your dreams as well though - and that’s where i am, that’s also what hoseok is speaking too. i’m not sure right now what exactly i’m longing for. perhaps it’s not the past, perhaps it’s a complete reimagining of my future as the uncertainty of the pandemic continues to play out... either way, there’s a blue side in my mind i *do* long for, a side of innocence and peace - where i can be content with myself and what i’m doing with my time, my thoughts, my energy. i truly hope i can go back to *that* blue side.

although i’m not sure when that will be, listening to blue side makes me feel that i’m not alone. others relate to this song, it’s message, and obviously it came from hoseok’s very heart. we aren’t alone. those of us that leave all that we knew, leave our innocence and homes in the past - we can forge ahead and become bright and give off warmth to others. hopefully we can sustain the blue fine inside ourselves - much like hoseok. or hopefully there’s a blue side in our minds we can visit when we need respite.

song breakdown

musically: blue side isn’t the type of track one would have ever anticipated from hoseok unless they’ve really listened to a lot of his interviews and content - where he shows his several dimensions and facets of his personality. hoseok is deeply emotional (not just a sunshine all the time) and his mind has a haunting edge of seriousness, loneliness, and longing to it. the tone of the song, the beat, it’s very soft. not sad, but relaxing, almost bringing in this numb feeling to it. there’s a lo-fi sound to it. as soon as it comes on the listener should feel a sense of calm. you cannot listen to blue side without just feeling mellow. it’s healing despite the darker lyrical content.

vocally: jung honey vocals hoseok. a combination of singing and smooth rap dominate blue side. ARMY may be unfamiliar with hoseok’s gorgeous singing voice, but they won’t be now. hoseok displays his emotion up front in his whisper singing. it’s almost like he’s telling himself like “just calm down now, it’s okay to retreat to a place where you feel safe.” his rapping voice takes on the same calm demeanor, delivering almost a lullaby to the listener - perhaps hoseok knew that the message of blue side would be one that all of us could resonate deeply with and wanted to ensure that when we listened to it, it was like having a conversation with a friend about feeling nostalgic and yearning for a version of yourself that doesn’t exist anymore.

lyrically: while we don’t know everything hoseok has gone through, we don’t know what exactly inspired blue side, we were lucky enough to receive a note with the extended version of blue side. hoseok states that when looks back at when he was writing hope world he feels he was a very innocent boy. he was coloring in the man he is today, and he stated that sometimes he truly misses who he was in the past, his innocence and the simplicity of that time. perhaps he’s speaking to the early days of BTS, or even before BTS, or perhaps just before he knew some of the hardships that come along with growing old (which growing old is something he also mentions in the note). hoseok also specifically references a growing homesickness that he’s felt as time has passed. a homesickness for who he used to be. before things picked up and pressure started.

in the first verse of blue side we are confronted with just this narrative. hoseok states “everything changed between us, i shout alone” - he feels like he’s left who he was completely and now he’s alone, that younger version of his isn’t something he carries with him anymore. it’s something though that he’d like the return to. that “time when i didn’t know anything” a time of innocence and ignorance. a time without problems and stressors. unlike today.

the chorus is very simple - in haunting and beautiful j-hope fashion - hoseok chants “back to blue side” and it’s almost like this is a return to simplicity. in simply saying what he wants and not complicating it, the juxtaposition with the choruses is quite profound.

the next verse is more tricky, it’s like a daydream (something that hoseok seems to do often - he’s got a whole song about it). it’s almost like hoseok feels like he can transport himself to that previous state he rides “the wind in the sky to that place in this moment, blue” and he states that it’s “now comforting my heart, blue” then the meaning of blue seems to change as we move into the following verse... hoseok is clearly speaking of making music when he says he “spits out my pains in the dark” he’s sharing his pain, all that he’s carrying with him. he “wanted to walk the blue road, on the rainbow” at this point it seems like the blue side is almost shifting to be his dreams (perhaps the blue side is something he’s nostalgic about but also he’s nostalgic for the version of his dreams that he imagined back when he was innocent and conceived of fame differently than the reality). he’s “singing my blues, singing my bloom, back in my room” alluding to pain that he carries now and the pain that he carried then - while different - it was present in both... but he’d prefer the pain of the past because “i was blue with light breaths” he had some reprieve, whereas now he doesn’t feel like he has the same.

the closure of the third verse is probably the most contentious lyric in the song. “but now i just want to burn blue and die.” likely because this is a dark lyric for someone with the public image that “j-hope” has. specifically i use j-hope here, as hoseok has been very candid in explaining that who he is on stage and in public isn’t entirely him and isn’t his whole being. while he is j-hope, j-hope is not completely him. part of me wants to go for the easy pickings and say that hoseok wishes sometimes that he could almost kill this persona, and return to simpler times when he got to be hoseok. or perhaps this is his way of saying he wants to share more of hoseok with us, rather than this polished image he’s created which is exhausting and feels alien next to the boy he was during the *blue side* of his life. but i don’t think this is all. i think it’s also got something to do with burning blue, hitting his peak, getting to the point he wants to get to and riding it to wherever it takes him next - to whatever his identity will change to, killing/burning the past and bringing about a new blue side. i think this line is also alluding to the desire to having time to just open up his entire being a truly feel all of the pain and emotions that he’s had over time as he had to grow up quickly and focus hard on his dreams.

finally - we get to the bridge. this is hoseok’s comforting message for all of us listening. hoseok’s dream has always been to provide others healing and comfort through his music, being able to do that is extremely important for him. the bridge brings that forward. i almost feel like this bridge is him acknowledging that that boy from the blue side still exists. the lines almost allude to us being with him in his “blue dream” he’s taken us there to “carry” and “hug” us. perhaps he’s felt further away from this dream as fame has taken over, and now he wants to reassure his fans and those that appreciate his art that he hasn’t lost his innocence or heart completely - he will carry us to that place of nostalgia, innocence and purity to offer us comfort as well. “you might say i cannot, but i’ll put you in my arms” he will defy those who discredit his depth and realness and take us into his mind and bring us the comfort he wanted to supply us.

BUT i also think this message is for himself. he will find away to carry who he is today back to his blue side, back to his period of innocence and purity. he hasn’t turned his back on who he was, he longs for that person more than ever and he’s determined to continue to carry who he is and who he was at the same time. while that’s not exactly the same as being in the blue side - it’s like being in a “blue dream” which can be enough to suffice for some time.

tl;dr: blue side is a masterpiece. it’s a highlight for hoseok’s career. the depth of emotion conveyed in this piece is insane. hoseok offers up a level of vulnerability not often found in the music industry. he serves it packaged in a unique sounding song that offers the listener nothing but comfort and nostalgia (especially given that it is a reboot of an album that many of us hold dearly to our hearts). what’s even more beautiful about it is that likely many of us have our own blue side from when hope world was released, and perhaps we too are longing for the innocence and purity of that time... this song offers us solace in that we aren’t alone in this feeling.

#bangtan #bts #jhope #blue side #lyrics #analysis #hoseok

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nose-bandaid · 4 years ago

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seventeen masterlist:)

☼ → fluff | ☁ → angst

Seventeen as sad and nostalgic feelings pt.1 | ☁ (i guess?)

Seventeen as sad and nostalgic feelings pt.2 | ☁

spoopenteen (a choose your own adventure!) | ☼

synopsis: it’s that time of the year! yep, you know it — it’s spoopy season! a time for costumes, trick or treating, candy, decorations, haunted houses, and of course, the annual halloween party amongst you and your friends. what year would be completed without one? and this time, the party was held by the one and only joshua hong himself. before you get there though, you gotta choose your outfit of course! so, what’s it going to be?

S.coups as your boyfriend

Late Night Hero | ☼

synopsis: you wake up from a bad nightmare and now what? you can’t possibly fall asleep anytime soon, and the terrible thoughts just won’t stop chasing you, so you decide to get some work done while you can. but your sleepy boyfriend seungcheol, disagrees with your decision and insists you let him protect you instead:)

“what kind of boyfriend would i be if i weren’t there for my girl when she needed me?”

tikelen | ☼ [for cwc’s valentine’s gram event]

synopsis: “i like your laugh.” // seungcheol is just here to appreciate the little things.

coming soon !

Smitten | ☼ (requested)

synopsis: you’ve got a new neighbour — as you’ve been expecting for the past few months. what you didn’t expect was for you neighbour to be the most polite, kind hearted, and not to mention beautiful, man you’ve ever met. alternatively:

“when your pet dog does a better job at getting you a date than all of your friends combined.”

cat treats are meant for cats (only) | ☼

synopsis: the faint meowing you’ve been hearing for the past half-hour was actually, in fact, just your boyfriend.

Hoshi as your boyfriend

the moon told me so ☾~ | ☁

synopsis: in a world where you and your soulmate share a special marking that appears on one’s body at the age of 18 or later. you were wonwoo’s, but wonwoo was no one’s, and you were the fool who didn’t say a word about it. alternatively:

you are in love with jeon wonwoo, but jeon wonwoo isn’t ready to love yet.

the little flower on your wrist ☁ ☼

synopsis: four years have passed since wonwoo left to study abroad. four years without your soulmate. four years, spent doing all you can to stop your heart from racing every time you thought of him, because he wasn’t ready for love. and yet, suddenly, with a little mistake on your part, you find yourself next to him again, picking at the same flowers in this flower field of life.

kairosclerosis | ☼

synopsis: it’s been a while since wonwoo’s returned and needless to say, things between you two haven’t been perfect — but that’s what life’s all about, right? what matters most is that you’re giving each other a chance; a chance to love each other.

Piano Man | ☼

synopsis: you’re a music major just trying to get through school, which meant dozing off during class, and cramming study sessions with the rest of your friends. the usual. until one night you come across a mysterious man playing a familiar song, and soon comes the harmony of the melody that is your life.

dolce ♪ | ☼ (requested)

synopsis: a museum date with minghao — the place where you are at peace of mind. the place where you share fond memories and can love each other sweetly and softly.

mini.gyu | ☼ (requested)

synopsis: in which you surprise mingyu with a visit to his dorms on his birthday. in the midst of your small celebration, he admits to you his worries that despite him growing up, the age gap between you two will never change. alternatively:

mingyu needs some reassurance that your age difference won’t change your love for him

layers | ☼

synopsis: seokmin first captured your attention with his smile, and you were more than enthralled. then you captured HIS attention by utterly destroying his favourite scarf and then fleeing the scene (oops). but surely you can fix this before things get awkward, right?

88% chance of rainfall | ☼

synopsis: why use two umbrellas when you could share one?

coming soon !

and so what if the sky falls down on us? | ☁

synopsis: lee chan was your best friend, and there was no other way you would want to have it.

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lilacyams · 4 years ago

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The Savior

Wayhaven Week 2020, Day 6 - Daydream / Nightmare

@otomefandomevents

Pairings: F!Detective/Ava Du Mortain

Summary: Detective Kassandra Remender has trouble sleeping, she always has. As duties, guilt, and lack of sleep eat away at her, there’s only one woman who can give her some comfort: Commanding Agent Ava Du Mortain. After a bumpy start, the two have grown quite close – closer than Ava would like to admit. They’ve made a habit of meeting at night, in the quiet of the training room; tonight, Kassandra has something to say.

Word count: 3,725

Rating: Teen and up audiences (anxiety references)

AO3 link: click here

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, heaving myself up in a sitting position. The thump thump thump of my racing heart fills my ears and doesn’t let me think; I let few minutes pass, giving it enough time to slow down and clear the fog in my mind. There is no need to touch my forehead to know it’s drenched in cold sweat, so I stand up and drag myself to the bathroom. Washing the nightmare away from my face will be something, at least.

It’s all fine, I tell myself, it’s routine at this point. Murphy might be locked down forever in a facility miles away from me, but in truth it feels like he never left. The vampire is still here; he haunts my sleep. I can see him in the mirror, right here in this faint half-moon scar on my neck. My index finger traces over it carefully, as if too much pressure might tear the healed wound open.

But it’s not just him. I see his victims in my dreams. Their cold bodies laying on a table, their cloudy eyes snapping open and burying into mine, accusing me. I failed them. I failed them, and I’ll carry this weight for as long as I can breathe.

Patting my face dry with a towel, I inspect the woman staring back at me through the mirror. She looks pale and tired, brown eyes dull with lack of sleep and long, dark locks disheveled by all the incessant tossing and turning over the previous hours. I brush them back in place. After all, I’m not going back to sleep now.

Wading through the gloomy corridors of the warehouse at night, my footsteps lead me to a familiar place – a place where I know I’ll find exactly what I’m looking for. Or rather, who.

The heavy doors of the training room have been left open. I head inside, now fully assured of her presence.

It has become a common occurrence, ever since our first nightly encounter in the training room. Every time I decide to stay over at the warehouse, should I have trouble sleeping I know where to find her. Given the repeated scenario, I might even call it “our spot”. We either talk about the most random things – with me doing the bulk of the talking, of course – or we just sit in silence. It does not matter: it’s comforting.

Does she really train every night, or does she only do so when she knows I’ll be there? Is she doing it for me? An interesting question I might ask her someday.

I have the impression that she feels bad for me, though she has no reason to. What I’m going through is nothing but the inevitable baptism of fire of a detective at the beginning of her career. And yet, the thought of the stoic vampire waiting for me in the training room every night, just to offer me some comfort in her own way, is… heartwarming.

Moonlight spills inside of the broad, high windowed room. It highlights the contours of various equipment items, which shadows stretch and dance all over the floor, and makes every metallic surface glow in silver.

I notice Ava laying on a mat, busy with a series of crunches. Preferring not to disturb her, I sit cross-legged in a spot nearby and wait.

Her skin glistens with sweat as she works, and I can’t help but fix my eyes on the attractive lines of her side profile. Moon rays cast their shine onto her top lip, nose, and cheekbones; and the labor-induced dampness makes them shimmer in a rather entrancing way.

The silvery gleam highlights her pale body and golden hair, giving it an almost holy appearance. She looks like a Renaissance sculpture, magnificent and timeless.

The vampire is obviously aware of my presence, but she keeps on exercising for another minute before she finally halts to a stop.

“Last set?” I call out with a smile. She faces me, turning around with a heavy sigh to settle herself onto the mat in a sitting position.

“You had another nightmare,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.”

Ava frowns in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitches as she stares at me intently, lips parting as if she’s going to say something else; but in the end she doesn’t, and her lips press shut.

I acknowledge her concern with a nod. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. Don’t mind me now, finish your workout.”

Evidently not convinced by my attempt to brush off the subject, the woman pinches her eyebrows together tighter and straightens herself.

“I wish I could do more to help,” she states with determination. But her voice becomes uncertain as she speaks again. “I am not… good at this.”

My eyes widen in surprise at her words, what with not being used to such openness on her behalf. She’s definitely opening up to me as we’ve been spending more time together, but it’s always a welcomed surprise to see her showing her soft side… And admitting her feelings out loud.

Perhaps noticing my astonishment, Ava snaps her gaze away. I make an attempt to draw it back to me.

“You are good at this,” I reassure her. “Actually… you are the only one who can help me now.”

Now it’s her turn to be surprised. As we exchange a long and meaningful look, her piercing gaze acquires a softness. It’s the softness I always look forward to see in her eyes; not the icy green everyone can see, so sharp in her usual guarded look, but the liquid emerald that melts its ice away. The warm look that makes me think I might actually be special for her.

Her words come out only a bit louder than a whisper. “Why?”

My lips curve upward in a gentle smile as I fidget absentmindedly with the hem of my shorts . The sudden need to be closer to her eats me alive; the urge to touch her and tell her how I feel is so strong that resisting it feels like torture. I wonder if she can sense that.

Suddenly nervous and no longer knowing what to do with myself, I stand up and go sit on the first bench I can reach; much to my shock, Ava joins me almost immediately, taking the spot right next to me.

My head leans back to rest against the wall, the cold feel of it seeping through my skin as a welcomed sensation. Might help me cool down a bit, at least.

“Look how far we’ve come,” I start with a nostalgic smile, eyes fixed on the metal doors on the opposite side of the room. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Ava is looking at me.

“Do you remember the first day we met, blondie?” A chuckle catches my breath. “I mean… The one in my office, though we might count the one at the warehouse too if we want to be super precise.” I don’t need to look back at the vampire to know she’s shaking her head, not thrilled by the memory. Admittedly, shooting her was not the best way to introduce myself.

“What I mean is… Who could’ve predicted something like this? The first thing we did was arguing – and in a pretty heated way, and many, many times at that, and damn, I feel for whoever had to endure being in the same room as us – and now we sit here, just the two of us, with you keeping me company whenever I can’t sleep”

It does feel surreal.

“If someone back then told you we would be like this today, would’ve you believed them?”

Ava chuckles softly, drawing my attention to her amused face. “In all honesty? Never.”

“Right? And yet, here we are. And you know why?” I make a brief pause, my voice losing any trace of irony. “It didn’t take me long to understand it. You and I… we are similar. That’s why we butt heads so often, that’s why in moments like these I feel that you’re the only one who can understand me: because at the core, you and I are the same. We want to get things done, even though we might have a different approach at times.” I let out a content sigh, releasing the tension bit by bit; a playful smile dances on my lips as I speak again. “See, I like my women with a strong character. Challenge is fun, after all.”

The vampire considers my words carefully, then she nods. “It makes sense, I guess. What I don’t understand though, is why would you approach me for comfort. I’m not the first person you’d think about for such a task. And as you said, we have a different approach to things. Why me?”

Her green eyes inspect my face from beneath blonde lashes, in anticipation.

My shoulders relax: this one is easy. “Because it’s you.”

She looks puzzled.

“You know what’s wrong with me? I’m always worrying. I’m a detective, so I can’t stop worrying about this or that. The people who lost their lives before I could help them, the people who took those lives away, the people who still live and trust me to always do my best to keep the town safe. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. But when I’m with you, all those worries stop for a little while. All those negative thoughts just… leave me be. When I’m with you, I feel in peace.” I smile at my own words, recognizing how much they ring true. “I don’t usually like to show my weaknesses, but I feel that with you I can be myself. I can allow myself to be weak, and you don’t judge me for it. Maybe it’s not that bad to be vulnerable sometimes, right?”

“Detective…”

“It’s Kass,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “And I needed to get that off my chest, because tomorrow it’ll be another unpredictable day, with brand new stuff to worry about. We might argue again, or you might be sent off somewhere for a while and… Hell knows.” I take a deep breath.

Is it just my impression, or has she shuffled closer? Her thigh almost brushes against mine, and I can swear her body is leaning in to me. I wonder if she even realized that. Shaking my head, I swallow down my excitement and get back to the subject at hand.

“I keep on thinking of the people who died. I see their faces when I can’t sleep at night. You said it doesn’t ever get better, so how do you move forward? Do you just live with it?”

My question wipes off any hesitation from her face, the fiery resolve slamming back in place as her voice comes off as solid as steel. “You honor them by doing better the next time.”

Her piece of advice catches me unprepared in its simplicity; it’s an option I didn’t even consider. My mind is exceptionally good at going into circles and chasing the most intricate possibilities… only to find out that the actual solution is never as sophisticated, in the end.

It’s easier said than done, but I appreciate the wise advice nonetheless.

“Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate, man is no more. Although I haven’t been human for a long time, I find that these words still apply to me. And they most definitely apply to you,” Ava’s voice is soft as she pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look back at her to find a small smile on her lips.

“I recognize that quote,” I say with a half-chuckle.

“I know your virtues, Kassandra, and I have no doubt that you will make it,” she states, her words tinged with pride. It’s still an unusual occurrence for her to call me by my name, to the point that it makes my heart skip a beat every time. But the way she pronounces it… she makes it sound like the most beautiful word.

Her smile doesn’t falter as she holds my gaze with confidence. A couple of unruly locks have escaped her bun and hang down on the sides of her face like a golden frame; others stick to the skin behind her neck, messed up by the previous workout. Even so, she looks otherworldly graceful. I find myself to be too stunned to say anything as a quick flush spreads across my cheeks.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last as long as I hoped. A sudden seriousness snatches her gaze away, and the vampire straightens herself in her seat. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

I wait for her to continue.

“What you said earlier, about feeling in peace,” Ava pauses and clears her throat. Is she getting flustered? “You’re clearly at ease with this kind of thing. I could say I feel different as well, when I’m spending time with you.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Is she really going to…?

“However, it’s not peace that I feel. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s… turmoil. Tension. Chaos. I feel on edge and I find it difficult to think straight. I feel… out of control. It’s a most unexpected phenomenon, as unfamiliar as it is alarming.”

It takes an insane amount of self control not to topple over my seat at those words. I force myself to keep my composure, lest I end up ruining the moment before she’s even finished talking. “I know what you mean,” I only manage to mumble.

She turns back to face me. “So… what is it that you do, when you feel like that? How does it become peace?” There’s something different about her expression. It looks hopeless, almost pleading, as if she’s in trouble and I’m the only person on Earth who can help her out.

It seems it’s my turn to dispense wisdom. I take a deep breath and offer her a kind smile: it feels good to know the answer. “You embrace it.”

Ava leans back for a moment, a deep frown settling on her face in disbelief. “Embrace the chaos?” she asks, as if I just said something utterly nonsensical.

“You heard me.” Though my words ring with a playful tone, my gaze on hers is steady and reassuring. She knows I’m serious.

Silence settles over the training room for a while, as the vampire seems deep in thought and I have no intention to push her. The light pouring through the glass panels above us is starting to change its colors: soon enough, sunlight will replace the silvery palette painting the room with night. The moon will go to rest and call it a day, but not me. Not yet.

Looking over at the woman next to me, I purse my lips. Maybe it’s because my brain is foggy with lack of sleep, maybe it’s because I really just want to find an excuse to make some progress in our strange relationship; but my body moves on its own accord as I slowly lean in, the want to be closer pulling me in like a magnet. She snaps her head toward me with such a quick motion I almost flinch, green eyes widening in surprise at my unexpected move. Yet, after the initial shock wears off, she does nothing to stop me – though she’s still eyeing me carefully.

Uncertainty fills my gaze as I keep on inching closer, scanning her face in search of any sign of discomfort to pull back. My daring move is met with the most unsure frown, which knots and smoothes over her forehead several times, as if she’s internally struggling to decide whether or not to let me get close. Eventually she allows me, both her expression and her body seeming to relax, and I bring my head to rest on her shoulder.

The scent of fabric softener on her t-shirt and the warmth of the skin underneath fill my senses, and I let out a content sigh as her taut arm muscles progressively unclench against my cheek.

I close my eyes.

“Ava?”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

She stiffens. Even though I can’t see her right now, it’s not hard to picture her signature “I’m a big nervous soldier” pose with shoulders bunched up to the ears.

“Shouldn’t you go get some sleep?”

I groan loudly. “It’s Saturday, mom. Remember?”

No answer follows.

“I have. Been in love, I mean. Or at least, I thought I had. It was… a long time ago.”

The vampire remains quiet, but the silence isn’t an uncomfortable one. It encourages me to go on, and so I do.

“Have you ever been in a situation when you thought you really knew something, and then… something else happened, and you came to the realization that you actually knew nothing? That’s how I feel. I was an ignorant kid then… and now, now I think I know it for real. It doesn’t make sense, right? Sorry, I’m tired.”

Again, my words prompt no reaction. I think I can hear Ava drawing a deep breath, but I wouldn’t count on it.

Then, against any prediction, a soft hand reaches for my cheek and cups it, tilting my face upward. The sudden, unexpected contact sends a ripple of shivers coursing through me, and I open my eyes. Ava doesn’t pull back, but doesn’t advance either. She looks as stunned by her own move as I am.

A rare display of affection from the usually stoic vampire opens up a precious window of chance I don’t want to lose. This is where my straightforwardness comes to play.

As gently as I can, just as if I’m trying to approach a nervous deer that would run for the hills at the mere sound of a branch being stepped on, I mirror her gesture and cup her cheek with my own hand. The green in her eyes darkens, her pupils appear dilated; she parts her lips in such a slight movement I almost miss it.

Mere inches separate our lips, and all I want to do is to make them disappear.

As I move closer, I expect her to pull back and storm out of the room, like she always does when we have our almost-moments. I had never managed to get so close before, so I silently pray that this time she won’t leave. Losing a race always feels worse when you’re so close to the finish line.

Let me have it, just this once. Don’t leave, don’t argue with me.

Just this once, let me have it.

Her heavy-lidded eyes engulf me, her warm breath tickles my face as our parted lips are about to finally meet, after all this time, after all this longing. I close my eyes in anticipation.

The last inches of separation feel like an eternity, excitement heaving on my chest and stealing my breath. Her top lip brushes against mine and my mind goes blank. Goosebumps prickle at my skin and I forget about anything in the world that isn’t just me and her.

Then, just as my hopes were about to finally gain shape into the real world, two hands grab my shoulders with a gentle but purposeful amount of strength, keeping me in place and preventing me from diving in to the contact.

My lips purse as I fail to hide my disappointment. What did I just say about races and finish lines?

When I open my eyes again, I find Ava looking at me with an unreadable expression. You might think it’s another frown of hers, but this one has something different to it. Regret, perhaps?

This situation is unprecedented. She’s not running away. No jolting up from her seat, no marching out of the room and slamming doors off their hinges. She doesn’t push me back nor find a reason to fight. On the contrary, the woman seems reluctant to let my shoulders go.

After some moments of dealing with whatever internal turmoil is eating at her, her fingers unclench their grasp and fall down. There’s sadness in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I readily reassure her with a smile. “That will be for another time.” I want her to know I’m willing to wait, that what I feel is real and I won’t give up so easily.

Ava chews at her lower lip and falls quiet, yet doesn’t move an inch. She lowers her head, and locks escaped from her bun fall on her eyes. Our thighs are still pressing together, our bodies close. She won’t run this time.

I wish I could know what’s tormenting her, so that I could help. She would do the same for me.

Birds sing their cheery morning songs from the outside: though it might seem to me that time has stopped, the spell doesn’t escape these four walls. It’s a brand new day out there, and life will go on.

Drowsiness and lack of sleep weigh on my eyelids, slowly dragging them down. I resist.

I glance over at the woman next to me; that crestfallen look on her face is something I’m definitely not used to see. Concern and genuine affection overcome my entire self and before I can stop myself, I find myself slipping an arm around her waist and pushing my head in the crook of her neck.

“If you wish to talk… I’ll always be there for you, do you know that?” I mumble against her soft skin. “I’ll be there to help. Whatever it is, you have me. Anytime.”

Ava slides her arms around me and holds me in silence. Her nose buries in my hair.

Soon we’ll have to return to our daily lives. I’ll go back to my worries, my friends at the station, my mom, the rest of the Unit, and whatever the new day will have in store for me. Days will go by, one after another, with no way of stopping them. I will grow, I will laugh, I will cry.

But now it’s just the two of us, and I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

The warmth of her body eventually lulls me to sleep.

#wayhaven week 2020 #ava du mortain #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava x detective #ava du mortain x detective #my writing #kassandra remender #twc fic

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wwwmikeyxyz · 5 years ago

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🌻

I’ve been listening to Tally Hall’s album “Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Muesum” nonstop for all of quarentine so here are my opinions on all of the songs individually:

Good Day: I love this song! It makes me feel excited and it’s a bit of a power anthem for me! I especially love the chorus and outro, and all the little things you can pick out are neat little touches! Favourite Line: “Kill all it’d bad dreams, wonder ‘bout no things, circles and spirals in mind.”

Greener: Transitions smoothly from Good Day, and I love that! Not exactly my favourite, but it’s a good break up song (or long distance relationship if you think of it like that). Favourite Line: “… you get a little cleaner of me, and I find a little greener shade of envy.”

Welcome To Tally Hall: There’s so many things going on in this song. What genre is this, rap? Pop? I don’t know, but it’s pulled off great. I like that they use the tie colours as identifiers instead of names for people not as invested in the band! Also again the little audio bits you here sound like old video or arcade sounds and it’s nostalgic for me! There’s also TONS of puns and references! Great song! Favourite Line: “On booty duty like your name is Eddie Thatch’.”

Taken for a Ride: I LOVE THIS SONG, it may be my favourite, for good reason! I love every single demo of this song too, it’s interesting to see how the robotic voice evolved, and it reminds me of Hawaii Part II (which was my first taste of a few of the members of Tally Hall). I really love the story of this song, and the sections blend into each other so well! I adore this song, it makes me want to dance and sing at the top of my lungs during the verses, but it’s so soothing in the pre-chorus and chorus! Favourite Line: “The actor with his world renown was thinking ‘bout his last real day of silence. Was it over?”

The Bidding: I think this was the first Tally Hall song I heard. I heard the “I graduated at the top” verse from Instagram edits, leading to my love for both this song and the band. This song isn’t the best compared to Taken for a Ride and Spring and a Storm, but it still bops pretty hard. A solid 9/10, in my opinion. Also I love how well their voices are in the beginning! Also also, it’s a lovely metaphor. Favourite Line: “I’ve been here like a thousand times, dated every woman in the atmosphere…”

Be Born: Not my favourite, not a fan of more acoustic songs, but it’s still pretty good. I love the chorus though. Not much to say on it, really. Favourite Line: “I was in your shoes before, or, lack thereof, and things worked out for me.”

Banana Man: The VIBES!!! It’s really just a silly little song. It is just immaculate, I don’t think I could explain it if I tried. Incredible, please listen to it! (Also I love the little 1, 2, 3, Go! In the background!) Favourite Line: Look you, you too uptight you know! You could laugh and kick it back and go (whee) but without a rhythm or a rhyme you do not banana all de time.”

Just Apathy: Least favourite song, it’s just not par to the others in my opinion. I like the chorus but I really don’t like the verses that much, and the story is just kinda. Sad. It’s called Just Apathy for a reason… Favourite Line: “Consider the possibility that you’ve been had, but not by me.”

Spring and a Storm: I lied Taken for a Ride isn’t my favourite song, it‘s definitely Spring and a Storm. The uke? The lyrics? The background noises? THE MR. MOON SECTION??? It’s all fantastic, and I love it so so so much. 10000000/10!!! The demo’s also fantastic, and has a completely different Mr. Moon section! And Joe’s Mr. Moon in the demo is so sweet sounding, and Rob and Zubin’s children voices are incredible in the demo. Favourite Line: literally all of it it’s all so good please listen to it

Two Wuv: The fact that in the Internet Show that this takes place in a grave yard is so fucking funny to me. Nonetheless it’s a solid song with strong 90’s vibes. Relatable if you liked Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Favourite Line: “It’s sadness every day that passes without you and I really wanna really wanna really wanna hold you both tight…”

Haiku: THIS SONG IS SO CLEVER! The verses all have a 5-7-6 syllable pattern, so it’s like you can feel the haiku is so close but not quite there. It’s over all so so so sweet and I love the song so much, definitely in my top 5. Favourite Line: “Words don’t work like Webster says, they trip me up all night. I’m just trying to write for you, but you’re hard to write down right.”

The Whole World and You: IF YOU HAVE A CRUSH SEND THEM THIS SONG. It is literally the sweetest song I’ve ever fucking heard. It’s the embodiment of the “🥺” emoji. Anyway the song itself is so incredibly lovely. AND THE TRUMPET!!!!!! Favourite Line: “I hope you’re happy now I’ve revealed the truth. I’ve even written this whole song about you, and not about me, and not about me.”

13: 13 is a wonderful intro/transition to Ruler of Everything. I love the violin!

Ruler of Everything: THIS SONG SLAPS! Also the constant clock sounds? Holy shit this is a wonderful metaphor for time, and it’s so catchy. And all the voice changers are so funky! Favourite Line: “Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk? Do you like how my face disintegrates into chalk?”

Hidden In the Sand: A great end to the main album! It’s short and simple, but it love it! The ukulele is wonderful, and the almost haunting backup voices give this peaceful song an almost eerily touch. When this is paired with the music video, which is absolute chaos, it’s amazing how it all works together! Favourite Line: “When you had to bid adieu, said you’d never love anew, I wondered if I could hold it and fall in love with it too.”

Mucka Blucka (Bonus Track): I find it hysterical that I can vibe so heavily to a song containing nothing but chicken noises that resemble vague profanities. I find it even funnier that I can hit the highest solo in it. In context of the Tally Hall Internet Show, it’s only that much more hilarious. Favourite Part: That one fucking solo that goes so fucking high it’s so fucking funny-

Dream (Bonus Track): like the name suggests, it’s incredibly dream like! Every single melody has its own place, but they all blend together so well in such a haunting way. It’s a beautiful song, and it has such a unique balance of beauty and dread to it.

#tally hall #marvin’s marvelous mechnical muesum #drhabbytat rambles

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thelure · 4 years ago

Text

ERNIE MACMILLAN: AN APP

so this is an app for one, ernie macmillan, on a time clash site (i promise i don't only rp hp but i've been in a nostalgic mood). anyway, i am posting it here because i'm proud i finished it (lol) and because i've had so much anxiety about my writing, if anyone ends up reading this for fun please tell me what you think <3

who are you anyway? a macmillan, so they say. but you aren’t one, not really.you bare another name, secretly hold it close to your chest. they might find it burnt into your bones but they would have to skin you for it first, you’ll be damned.so who are you? a macmillan, or so your mother says. it is up for you to choose but do you have a choice? not really.for who would willingly choose a father that refused to let your mother hyphen your surname? nothing but a shame on your paternal family’s house, on their pure blooded legacy, all because you were born a bastard before marriage. but weren’t they betrothed anyway?weren’t they getting married? mother reasons that it’s not so bad, that she had tried to love your father but couldn’t.mother reasons that it’s not so bad because for all her trying at least she got you.you’ve never been able to ask that big question: why. why couldn’t she love him? why wouldn’t he love her? but you think you understand that cold, hard, faraway look that glistens in her eyes when she talks about your father. the way her eyebrows furrow with a fierce determination. you think you understand that she was too good for your father. in more ways than one. so, who are you?ernest. ernie.pride is a fickle thing if you haven’t got the self-esteem for it and you’ve never had that problem. no. not you. for what better way to spite the family that rejects you? what’s really wrong with you anyway? just a bastard pureblood, raised by your single mother, but really, what’s wrong with that? for there was really no shame in the name ‘macmillan’ no matter what room it was you walked into. macmillans are truly not used to being anything outside of well liked and prominent. as far back as wizarding society could remember, only your untraditional birth is the ink stain on a perfectly fresh parchment. what’s wrong with being macmillan when it means you could walk into a room a black may be occupying while chatting with a werewolf — if the company might have pleased you — and toujours pur would still maybe even give you a quick hello under that nasty breath.(pride is what you hold on to as if it’s the last thing you do. you walk with your head high, you walk with your back straight. you move crisp and fluid, unaffected like a thick skinned boar.)mother’s love has always been enough. tall and willowy, gaunt faced mother who loves linen cloth and muggle records and wearing sheer glitter on her eyelids. who always smells like soap and fresh lilacs. who’s smile is as golden sweet as honey. as a small child you loved to watch her arrange flowers in a vase, freshly cut from her own garden, and the way she’d concentrate so hard the tip of her tongue poked out the side of pink lips. you sat there perched with one of her old first year books but it’s really her you study. engraving every inch of the moment down to the golden hour sun setting alight her hair through the window because you always wanted to remember this:to remember the way mother was always giving and good natured. to remember that she never walked around with a chip on her shoulder, holding grudges. that she was always considerate even to the tiny petals of the flowers she loved so much, ensuring that not even the limpest of them were ever mishandled.to remember how you swore to yourself every time in such moment, that you would always be her son. dutifully. that you were always going to choose to be the kind of man that made that kind of mother proud. you love your mother dearly, for all that she has done for you. so you choose to be macmillan.(not like you had a choice.)

ii.

if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too.but it’s hard. to look back and remember the beginning. such a peaceful, hopeful beginning, full of love and the addictive buzzing of an excited, thrumming heart. it’s a struggle but with a bit of effort — with a bit of conviction and sincerity — and the ghost of your mother’s smile, it comes back to you.(almost.)the moments that remind you what you’re living for.to remember that dark haired boy who couldn’t seem to quite make it past the first step on the hogwarts express, the panicked look he’d shoot to those behind him. waiting. watching. how it brought a smile to your own. for you were nervous too but you were always much more brave. much more prideful. you push through the older and the taller and when he makes another attempt to step down back on the platform you place the palm of your hand on the small of his back. firm but kind and encouraging. “up you go now, next foot forward. you don’t want the train to leave without you.”it’s your mother’s way of speech that comes out of your tiny mouth but it seems to be what he needs to continue moving. justin finch-fletchley. it rolls off your tongue. not as your mother’s words but your own that feel almost like a stranger to you. justin finch-fletchley. you repeat his name back to him before introducing your own. you repeat his name over and over again in your mind. it rolls around as you look into soft, kind eyes and you smile so hard it makes you both blush. you think before you know, before it truly manifests itself, that you would like to stay by his side forever.( he is beautiful. not like you. you who have become sharp and angular. you who bares scars, some uglier than others and the memory that for all your wounds, you’ve still seen worse. and maybe he has too. maybe his scars are hidden in his breastbone like the name you secretly carry. but he is beautiful, not like you. soft and gentle and like the foggy glow of a full moon reflecting in a midsummer night’s lake. and his eyes. somehow, through it all, his glittering, kind eyes stayed the same and you fear most that when he looks back at you he sees something different. something that’s changed. that something which has been lost to you. and yet nothings lost, not really. not when his eyes are fixed on yours and his body is so close. when despite all the metallic sweat and blood and dust, his lips are so sweet and warm— the only thing you taste. and finally— finally, you know he’s alive and you’ve got him in your arms and without even having to think, you know that from now on, you’ll be by his side forever. )if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too.but it's hard.hard to rejoice in the now when you remember what you had done it all for. the memories don’t come back in night terrors but rather like this: when the caressing summer breeze, folds around your face and the sun peaks out into a blue sky, so warm and so welcoming, it’s light seeps through to the bone and wraps around your soul. the innocent sound of laughter from children no older than eleven, the buzzing excitement of first time wands and school robes rings through your ears and one accidentally bumps into you sending their ice cream cup flying so you offer to buy them a new one. and like a flood it comes back. knocks the very breath right out of you and suddenly you are back on hogwarts grounds and right in front of you is a child, eleven. a child being punished with the cruciatus curse and your body moves faster than your brain can think, faster than your wand hand can jinx, and collides with a carrow. hands with a mind of it’s own shoving a face into wet dirt. a righteous fury burning in your heart. a group of first years silently horrified. like fighting through thick fog you blink your way back into the present but the glaze that covers your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed and you can feel them watching you when you awkwardly stumble away — with the ringing of screams in your ears and the pulseless wrists of the bodies you check on

your fingers and the smell of metallic blood in your nose as you help heal the wounded — because it is not your name they know or remember. and you don’t blame them. you’re not prideful any more anyway and you’re not bitter because for all your scars, you’ve seen worse.if only you knew what i had been through, if you knew, you would rejoice too that you're still here amongst the living.

iii.

bones stretch against hard surface that is as cool as the marble statues that haunt the old macmillan estate. hot flesh stings from the chill so that the sweat stuck to your back starts to make you shiver. you had sworn you could do this. where had that little boy gone? you swore that you were fine, strong enough to follow the seasons into the icy winter where wildflowers died waiting to be reborn. redefined with the melting renewal of spring. you got stuck in the winter of your life.( and how dare you feel this way, what gives you the right? how selfish and miserable it makes you feel when you know it could all have been worse. much worse. when you know how fortunate you are that at least justin and hannah and susan are breathing, and ginny, neville and luna, and god— harry! thank god for harry, who suffered most of all. )healing is a hard, thankless work and you feel the weight of lives in the bags of your eyes and in the bag you once called your body. and there you are scared to close them even for a moment because they are heavy and you fear you might not wake up again. for while you wrestle with the lives of the living, you feel like you're walking amongst ghosts. the resting of eyes so tempting and sweet, you could keep your body there: propped up against the walls of st. mungo’s where you melt under pressure and remain but a ghost along with them. he was cut out for this. you? you don’t know who you are anymore or where that little boy has gone. and all you want to do is cry out for mother (hold her a little bit, feel the stroke of her gentle long fingers, her soft voice as sweet as her honey sweet smile vibrating from her chest as your head rests on her shoulder, mother who would know exactly what to say) but you know she won’t hear you being just another ghosts too. one more casualty of war, a death kept close to your chest. he was cut out for this. you? what happened to you?where did you go?back to where you could feel the presence of mother in search of some peace of mind. back to the dusty boarded up shop, strategically placed right before diagon alley gives way to knockturn, where you begin to clean up the last of the aftermath of war in your life. the one thing you had yet to touch because it had hurt too much to see it. hurt to see the dried blood left over on bits of broken glass because she had not gone easily, your mother. and you try your best not to think of your father as you sweep up the dust and pieces of wood, or what he would have thought upon hearing the news. you don’t want to know which of the bastards had done it, try not to think of how many there had been to come calling once she’d been found out for helping muggleborns flee the country. most of all, as you fix the apothecary your mother left behind, you ignore the nagging thought in your head that maybe he had been here too.( in fact you try hard not to think of him at all. he’s always been a fragment rather than a memory. a looming presence like the dark side of the moon to which you know is there but as they say— out of sight out of mind. and what had he ever done for you to occupy a space in your mind anyway outside of conflicting you with a deep sense of loathing and a burning need to prove yourself better off. what had he given you other than small fragments, not real memories of being around for a christmas or two, and maybe he had taught you how to read on one of those occasions. been the one to show you that you pause for a breath after a ‘period’ so that your sentences weren’t all monotone and run on. but what did he really give you aside of a deep sense of shame?and possibly a memory, not just a fragment, of being the one thing that could always make your mother cry. )so what happened to you, where did you go?back to where love was more than a distant memory. something you knew of once in your past. for not even the soothing waves of the ocean that sing you lullabies and glitter against light like an omnipresent beacon could have given you such peace as this kind of love.where he smells like wildflowers and wet

earth in your bed and has a smile that is so warm and sweet, warmer and sweeter than even honey, that it feels like you’re being kissed by fresh spring sunlight after a dark, bitter winter whenever he fixes up the corners of his mouth. how could life be so pure with him that even the sight of the smallest potted succulent could have made your heart do flips. how come every place you went all you thought of was him. how he would like this and how he would want that. how was it possible that loving someone this way could have tempered your soul and suddenly you saw more — in everyone, young and old, every walking soul — of what people needed. you wanted to be kind like he was, much softer than someone like you could have been brought up to be. you wanted to smile at a stranger, to warm their heart and make their day, through the love that he has given you. it is not me you see but the man who loves me.justin finch-fletchley. (you’ll never forget that moment you saw him from across the great hall. how your body was ready to break and your heart swelled so large that it hurt inside your chest because there he was. brave and beautiful and my god- alive! you had spent every single day — waking and sleeping — thinking about the last time you’d seen him. how you watched his back until it disappeared in the train station with all the words you wanted to say boiling at the tip of your tongue and your hands tingling because they had wanted so badly to grab him and shake him and call him a fool, didn’t he know that it was all going to be different? couldn’t he sense that all your lives where about to change? but instead you watched him, silently let him go. and it dug in your brain like the worst, most sour kind of memory. and for every pain a carrow could have inflicted on you, it never felt worse than that image of watching his back fade away. but there he was brave and beautiful and my god— alive. and as your body had moved towards him you swore you would never leave his side. that you would stay there forever.)you think— you feel, as you put the pieces of your mother’s shop back together, that life should be simple like this. you had figured out that sometimes you could do more outside of the ministry and even further, you realized that sometimes you could heal others without healing work. sometimes you could heal them with some love, some kindness from a stranger.

iv. “give us a peace equal to the war or else our souls will be unsatisfied, and we will wonder what we have fought for and why the many died… “ - langston huges

you feel strange as you struggle to wake up from a dream that felt so tangible and real and you could have sworn that your fingers had been gripping justin’s hand— or was it susan’s? maybe hannah’s? with elation and excitement before the gravity that tethered you to the world breaks, pings melodically like the thread of a unicorn hair ripping apart, and your foot breaks through cement into a veil, like you are slipping through the crack of a sidewalk and it all goes dark. fuzzy. what had you been dreaming that felt so real? and why does your body feel so strange. knees burning with a sharp pain, spine twisted, a forearm pressing into a headboard so unfamiliar and yet too familiar. where did it go? this dream. why was everything in your mind so foggy and why does your heart feel so desperate like something is wrong. like something has been lost when finally all the pieces you’d been trying to pick up were reshaping into something exciting and new. you feel unfamiliar and familiar at the same time and it’s that familiarity which fills you with further dread. you stretch out old bones too big for the bed it’s curled up upon and instantly know where you are. home. and now you reason this must be it. this is the dream and you must have fallen asleep (so weird). so vivid and real but how else could you explain the unmistakable sound of the pan sizzling in a distant kitchen, and the sound of joni mitchell’s 'blue' album skipping where the vinyl was scratched, and the sound of your mother’s voice humming along. sweet as ever but off key like a little bird chirping at the wrong time of day. you stretch out your bones and your whole body cracks and that dread that you’ve been feeling seeps into where they’ve popped but you can’t help yourself. you must see it to the end. you jump up quickly, your childhood room not being spared a glance (but you wouldn’t have recognized it anyway if you had really taken a look and maybe that was for the better because it would have frightened you) and you run for that sound. the sound of home. of mother. and you tell yourself, very convincing of a job you do, rationalizing that you are trapped in a dream regardless of how it all feels so real. as real as the other dream. but which one is which? and your mother? her eyebrows frozen in a furrow at the sound of your footsteps tumbling through the house. the sound of a man’s body lumbering through. and the moment your eyes lay upon her you think, yes, it must be true. so your heart forgets that dread it had been feeling because she’s here. with you in this place. because you are home and you missed her so dearly. but her body feels too real, her heart hammering against your chest when in a thoughtless, childlike moment you hug her. you cry on her shoulder and you cry out the name ‘mother’ with such mournful sorrow she jerks away and it dawns on you she’s real. that she’s real but you’re real. but what does that mean? and oh, god— where is justin?

#character-dev*

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snowbellewells · 5 years ago

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Self-Promo Sunday: “Under the Weather”

This is just a little post-Neverland one-shot, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was probably originally inspired (some years ago) by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook manages to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. And cold January weather brought it back to mind today to dig out for Self-Promo Sunday. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy - even all these years later and after how much closer our pirate and princess became...

"Under the Weather"

By: @snowbellewells

Also available on ff.net or AO3

If anyone had asked her, Emma Swan couldn't have explained why she felt the sudden prickling of concern in the back of her mind, nor the unexpected, pressing need to make sure he was alright. Shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, she had fought against her impulses all day. She had busied herself with paperwork and answered calls about power outages and other inconveniences that came with the cold, wintry Maine weather, but there weren't enough jobs by early afternoon to keep her mind from wandering back to him and her eyes from every so often floating up to check the clock.

David knew something was bothering her; Emma could feel her father's eyes studying her for clues to her agitation. However, he was also wise enough to bite his tongue and not ask questions. She wanted to tell him to go on home to Snow, and she would finish up. Yet she didn't, knowing that would only make him more curious. Resolutely, stubbornly, she kept finding any bit of busy work she could lay her hands on to stop the disconcerting waves of concern for him that were now rolling through her at regular intervals.

'He's a 300-year-old pirate captain, for Heaven's sake!' her mind berated her seeming irrationality. 'He can certainly take care of himself in a sleepy little town. What in the world could he need you for? You haven't had word of any kind of trouble…' Still, while all of these arguments made perfect, reasonable sense, Emma found they didn't soothe her unease in the slightest.

When the clock finally struck five, David stood casually, announcing that since they weren't busy he was going to head home and help Snow with supper, if Emma didn't need anything. Emma shook her head 'no' with a small smile, thanking him and saying she would see him shortly.

"You're sure I can't do anything else to help before I leave?" her father asked sincerely, again looking at her so closely that Emma knew he was trying to divine her thoughts.

"Positive," she reiterated with a definite nod, giving him a playful smirk and waving him out the door. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I should be right behind you in an hour or so."

Once her father had left her to her own devices, Emma tossed the case files she had been pretending to read across the surface of her desk and gave up all pretense of working. Standing up and beginning to pace, she at last admitted to herself that the worry swirling inside her for Hook was not going away – in fact, it was only growing stronger. Taking one last glance around the interior of the station, she realized that she wasn't going to get anything else done, and she wouldn't have any peace until she put her awful hunch to rest. Hook was going to tease her mercilessly about her concern for him, but apparently she was going to have to live with that. The fact that he tended to haunt her steps and turn up anywhere she might be, made it especially disconcerting that she hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. At least, she was telling herself that was all it was.

She grabbed her jacket, hit the lights, locked up, and was headed for her car before she could fight with herself any longer. Parking the bug at the docks, Emma stepped out, straightened her clothes, and steeled her nerves before striding purposefully to the spot at the far end where the Jolly Roger had been anchored since their return from Neverland. Normally, the Captain was so alert and aware that the moment he heard anyone nearing his ship he would have already been standing on deck looking down in challenge, but Emma didn't see any sign of him.

Walking up the gangplank, she let her boots stomp and echo loudly; giving him fair warning that she was coming aboard and expecting him to appear any minute with an "Oi! Who goes there?" and brandished sword, but she was greeted with nothing but silence. Finding her footing on the familiar wooden deck, Emma actually experienced a strange sense of welcome reunion. Since they weren't hiding from Pan and Henry was safe, it was actually nice to be on the sturdy ship once more. She could have really grown to like the adventure and thrill of sailing, if the situation had been different and her son hadn't been in danger. She didn't linger in her nostalgic thoughts for long though. Trailing a gloved hand fondly along the ship's side, she moved toward the open door of the stairway which led below decks. Poking her head in, she tried calling out, "Hook?! Are you here?"

Again she got no response, so tamping down the feeling of trespass, she entered the darkness of the stairwell and stepped lower, growing more concerned all the time. 'Where had the insufferable idiot gotten to? And even more disturbing, why did she care?'

Remembering the lower level of the ship from their time in Neverland, she found her way down the hallway with a guiding hand along the wall, even though evening dusk was closing in and none of the hanging lanterns were lit. She passed the crew quarters that the rest of them had stayed in and didn't stop until she reached the room at the furthest end of the ship – the Captain's quarters. Pausing for a second, she drew in a quick, tight breath and then rapped her knuckles on the door. "If you're in there, Pirate, you'd better answer me," she warned, before adding with wry humor, "and I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in."

Whatever she had been expecting, the sight that met Emma's eyes when she entered Hook's chamber was not it. He was there, but the laughter that had been about to erupt at bursting in and catching him by surprise died in her throat when she got her first good look at him.

He was curled up in his bunk, even though it was barely 5:30, and he looked dead to the world, completely unaware of her presence despite all her yelling and stomping around. Even from across the room, she could see those unfairly long, gorgeous eyelashes flutter fitfully as he hovered not-quite-asleep, not-quite-awake, and he rolled from his side to his back with a pitiful, low groan.

"Hook?" she questioned worriedly, her voice small as she walked toward him, already stretching out a hand hesitantly. Once she got close enough to touch him, she nearly jerked back on contact; his skin was burning with fever under her fingertips. Emma gasped in surprise and leaned in closer, now truly concerned that he wasn't responding to her. She swiped her hand up his sculpted cheekbone to brush under the fringe of his dark hair and feel his forehead, equally hot and clammy from dried sweat.

It might have been the cool feeling of her hand on his flushed skin, but those stunning blue eyes, looking much more bleary and unfocused than usual, finally forced their way open to gaze at her in confusion. "Swan?" he mumbled, his voice sounding ragged and raw, probably from coughing, she realized sympathetically, "What are you…? Am I dreaming?"

She shook her head, smoothing his damp hair back and trying to calm her heart, which was now fluttering erratically at seeing him so vulnerable. "No, I'm here, Hook….I…" she hesitated, feeling that maybe she was giving too much away, "I just had a feeling…that something was wrong…that you needed help."

Hook started to smirk at her and, she was sure, offer some sort of smug comment on her admission, but he was shaken by violent tremors just then, shivering uncontrollably and a gruff sort of moan escaped against his will instead.

Her heart went out to him. Emma had honestly never pictured the man getting ill; he had survived a violent amputation, the Dark One's hand squeezing his heart, the rough, dangerous adventures of a pirate, and centuries of life in more than one realm. She would almost want to tease him for being felled by something as simple as the flu – if she weren't so concerned at the condition she found him in. She couldn't help wondering how long he had been lying there like that. Had he taken too much of a chill before she even arrived? What would have happened if she hadn't felt so compelled to come looking for him?

Reaching her other hand out in an effort to take his good one, Emma heard Hook's breath wheeze disturbingly as his mouth fell open, obviously trying to get a deeper breath through what must be badly congested lungs. "We'll be lucky if you haven't holed up in this drafty old boat and let your flu turn into bronchitis, Buddy," she chided him.

He tried to chuckle good naturedly, she could tell, but it became a wracking fit of coughs that made him clutch at his ribs and squeeze her hand in his, as if for reassurance that she was still there. "Hang in there," she whispered, squeezing back. "You're going to be okay." He barely nodded, but then his eyes fluttered closed and he didn't respond to her anymore. His loud, openmouthed, stuffy breathing let her know not to be alarmed, but Emma took the chance to look away from him and glance around the cabin.

There was a fireplace, but he had obviously not even felt strong enough to get up and tend it, as it had sunk to embers and was about to go out. She felt her own teeth nearly chattering it was so chilly in the room. He should probably be taken to someone's house – or to the hospital – but she didn't think she could move him alone, or that he was going to be able to stand and help her much.

Forcing herself to clear her head and draw in a deep, steadying breath, Emma tried to focus on one problem at a time. She pulled her hand from his clasp, and then patted his arm gently as if to reassure him she would only be a minute, though he made no movement and seemed out of it again. Stepping to the other side of the room, Emma took the poker from the mantle and stoked the fire until the embers flickered to a bit more life and then added a couple new logs. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't looking, and then began to rummage carefully through the heavy old trunk she spotted in the corner until she found a few more blankets than the single one that Hook was already using – which must have already been on the bed. He was obviously sweating and feverish, but she knew that he was still chilled and needed to stay covered.

Coming back to his bedside, she sat tentatively on the edge of his bunk, just next to his hips and gently spread both blankets over his inert form, tucking them in with a level of care and concern that bewildered, frightened, and warmed her all at once. Hook didn't even open his eyes, but let out a breathy sigh and murmured in a voice even lower and rougher than usual, "Emma…you came…"

Her name on his lips with such pure and simple affection stilled her motions and she froze for a moment, hands hovering over him as if she had forgotten how to move. Blinking, Emma came back out of her trance and stood again, looking around to see that the fire was crackling and the room was already less cold. With a nod of approval to herself, she quickly escaped above deck for a moment.

She knew her first call should be her parents, to let them know she wouldn't be coming for supper after all. However, she dreaded explaining to her suspicious, overprotective father why she had felt the need to check on Captain Hook and now didn't want to leave him sick and alone. So she put it off by calling Ruby first, knowing the other woman was about to get off work at the diner and asking her to pick up some orange juice, bottled water, cough syrup, and Kleenexes, and bring them to the Jolly, promising she would explain when Ruby arrived. Then, once she couldn't put it off any longer, Emma was relieved to get Snow on her parents' phone. Her mother actually seemed concerned about the Captain as well and wanted to help, but Emma managed to dissuade her – for reasons she didn't even want to study too carefully. She informed her mother she would be back in the morning, once she made sure Hook had some fluids in him and his fever had broken, and they ended the call.

She paced on the deck until she saw Ruby striding down the dock – sashaying was more like it. The female wolf had a sort of wild grace even in her human form that Emma wasn't ashamed to admit she envied. Emma gave Snow's best friend a wave, and Ruby grinned widely, holding up the bag of requested items. Emma thanked her, explained what was going on, paid Ruby, and tried not to dwell on how anxious she was to get back to Hook and make sure he wasn't any worse.

"You've got it bad and don't even know yet," Ruby murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously at Emma.

Emma felt her hackles rise as she shot back defensively, "What are you talking about?"

Ruby just raised an eyebrow at Emma, giving her a look that said she might be fooling herself, but it was right there for anyone else to see. "You can't lie to someone with a canine sense of smell," Ruby smirked teasingly. "The pheromones are literally rolling off of you in waves. Not that I blame you…" she paused, licking her lips almost predatorily, "…that swagger, those eyes, and all that leather…"

Emma snorted indelicately, rolling her eyes at the waitress' antics and turning Ruby to give her a push towards the gangplank. "You're crazy!" she added, laughing even as her pulse raced with the truth and she hoped the other woman couldn't sense that too.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sheriff," Ruby called back as she sidled off with a wave. "I'll let you go…for now. But I want details later." She turned once to wink at Emma, then she was gone, her chuckling at Emma's expense fading behind her.

Once Ruby had left, Emma redirected her steps below; trying to wipe her mind clean of the werewolf's teasing and her heart's whispering that was true. She stepped back into Hook's cabin, eyes immediately drawn to him across the room as she rooted through the bag to pull out the medicine and a bottle of water. She moved closer, only to see that he was shaking, teeth chattering, limbs shuddering enough that the blankets were sliding off him. His eyes were no longer closed, and they rolled up to meet hers weakly as he coughed harshly, sounding as though it raked his chest raw. "No need to gawk at me, Emma love, it's embarrassing enough having you here when I'm like this." He didn't get any more out though as the effort of speaking set off another coughing fit. Trembling, he suddenly wouldn't look her in the eyes.

She took pity on his pride and leaned in to help him sit, offering the plastic cup of cough syrup.

Hook wrinkled his nose, looking at it doubtfully for a moment, then glanced to her, "What is this, Lass?"

"Medicine, you stubborn pirate," she laughed, shaking her head at his hesitation and holding it out to him again. "Come on, I'm trying to help. We need to get some liquids in you."

He held out his hand to take the cup from her, but his fingers trembled so badly that Emma could see he was going to spill it all if he did. With a sigh, she brought it to his lips instead, tilting it so he could swallow, and gasped slightly, feeling a tingling sensation run through her hand as her knuckle brushed his chin. Their eyes locked together at the shock of the contact and neither moved until he shivered violently again, the shakes actually rattling his teeth and jerking them from the strange sort of reverie they had entered.

"Go on, Beautiful," he grit out, lying back as comfortably as he could manage and averting his eyes, "can't have you getting sick too. I'll survive. It will not be the first time in 300 years that I've been ill."

Something about the way he said those words and the look in his eyes stopped Emma cold. Her insides squeezed painfully at the thought of him suffering like this before with no one to rely on or even care if he recovered or not. That realization alone made her more determined than ever to take care of him, despite him being too proud to ask for help or want to trouble her. She shook her head, leaning with him as he tried to back away from her. "Nope, sorry, Hook. You're stuck with me." She held out the water bottle next. "Here, drink up."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to growl at her, but the menacing effect was ruined by his raw throat and how pathetic it ended up sounding. "I'm not an infant, Swan." He grumbled a bit more, but drank about half the bottle with her holding it for him, before he stopped with a short sigh of frustration. "Go on. You must have better things to do, and I don't wish to impose."

"Really?" she shot back at him, arching a brow at his attitude, but not put off by it for a second. It was scary how alike they were; she could tell he detested looking vulnerable in front of her, or anyone. If she was honest with herself, she probably acted the same way anytime she was sick. "Stop being such a baby, Hook," she added, kicking her boots off and hanging her coat over his desk chair, "and slide over."

She nearly laughed out loud at his startled expression, and his confused, "Swan? What are you on about?"

"You're sick. You're cold. You need someone to look after you. I'm the only one here, so I'm not leaving. However, I'm tired, and it's chilly, so scoot over."

For a second, she thought he was going to fight her, and she wasn't sure if he was embarrassed, worried she would get sick, or if he truly was – despite all his innuendo – the gentleman he had always claimed to be. A round of chills and coughing gripped him again though, and once his head dropped to the pillow once more in defeat, she knew she had won. "Scoot," she ordered again, lifting the covers to crawl in next to him once he did.

So close to him, Emma realized how clammy and chilled Hook truly was. He had felt like he was burning up earlier, but the shivers would be hard to miss, curled up next to him as she was. To her amusement, as reluctant as he had seemed moments before, Hook was now pulling her closer. "You're so warm, Emma," he murmured, his arm coming to rest across her middle and shooting heat through her veins.

"You're a little bit out of your head right now, aren't you?" she teased him, still genuinely concerned, but also touched at the fact that he had allowed her comfort, feeling needed and wanted right where she was. Without thinking, or stopping to second guess what her hand did instinctively, she began to lightly stroke her fingers through his coarse, black hair, sifting it soothingly and watching as his breathing smoothed out and his forehead came to rest in the crook of her neck. It gave her an adorable little thrill in her stomach at the sight of him looking so young and unguarded, as if his burdens had lifted away.

"Emma," he murmured out under his breath, and neither the scratchiness nor the softness could mask the gentle affection in his voice.

Her heart stuttered, wondering what he was thinking as he whispered her name in his sleep. For a second, she wanted to panic and bolt, but then she realized how lovely the moment actually was. She could honestly lie right there with him and never want to move away. Occasionally, a small little tremor still ran through him, but they seemed to finally be lessening. She smirked wryly to herself, knowing that if she was smart, she would be out of his bed by morning, before he woke up feeling better and ready to plague her mercilessly for all of this. She lightly traced her hand in circles on his back, hoping he was warm enough and that she had gotten enough medicine down his throat.

Shaking her head, Emma chuckled at the way he had curled himself around her protectively, smiling in his sleep unawares. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy, and the thoughts that had troubled and distracted her all day simply floated out of her mind. She was almost grateful she had the excuse to be so close to him and hold him; she would never have done it otherwise. Defining this could wait; she was going to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Tenderly, she tilted her head just a bit to place a light little kiss to his forehead, amazed at how beautifully at peace he looked in sleep, then cuddled deeper into their embrace. Deciding just this once not to be in control, but simply to feel, she allowed her eyes to close and followed her pirate's lead, drifting off to sleep at his side.

(I was originally so flattered that "Under the Weather" received so many nice reviews, that though I really only had that one-shot in mind, the requests for the next morning caused me to re-think and come up with this. After all, good reviews are nearly as irresistible as Killian Jones' smile. It's (again) pretty sweet and fluffy...)

Epilogue: The Next Morning

Rays of warm, golden sunlight filtered into his cabin, tickling Killian Jones' face and waking him groggily from sleep. He yawned, intending to roll over and go back to sleep, when he froze, his movement arrested in shocked surprise at discovering that he was not alone in his bunk. He stiffened, years of being on guard and ready for attack taking over unconsciously as he turned his head tentatively to the side. Despite the lingering stuffiness and congestion in his head and the weak sensation in his limbs, he was pirate enough to have already reached for the cutlass he had stowed at his other side before lying down the night before, tucked hidden between the edge of the bunk and the wall. However, the vision that greeted his eyes stilled his actions and stole his very breath.

Emma Swan was curled up next to him, actually cuddled into his side, her long, blonde tresses arrayed across the pillow with the sunlight glancing off them in a glowing halo. She let out a sweet little sigh and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, bringing her hand to rest unknowingly on his chest. There was a look of such peace on her face, that he had never seen her wear in waking hours, and it completely enchanted him.

Killian knew without a doubt that if he woke her, she would run – shut him out again, pick up her cares once more, and reinforce her walls. It pained him, but he knew it to be true, as surely as he breathed. He wanted desperately, more than he had any right to hope, for her to stay. Emma had come to him, cared for him, when he was ill and alone, and it had kindled a longing in him that she would trust him enough to stay always. From the moment he had met her, with her fiery eyes and stony determination, a modern woman out of her element in the Enchanted Forest, he had been drawn to her as strongly as had been pulling away from him. She didn't want to be abandoned as she had been before, so she had made sure to leave him first. He had been following her ever since. Her turning up last night changed the game. Suddenly, he was not the only one who cared.

Emma's brow furrowed in her sleep, as if something in her dreams troubled her, and hoping to soothe her, Killian reached over to brush a finger across her cheek, feather light, then smoothed the crinkled skin between her eyes. He was hoping to ease her back into quiet slumber, not wanting her to wake, or for this dream to end. It was as if he had wakened into a serene moment of refuge from the world that had been nothing but a bitter storm of hate and cruelty for as long as he could remember – until she entered it.

Her lovely face smoothed again, and she mumbled sleepily, a tiny smile quirking one corner of her perfect, tempting mouth. She practically hummed the word that he leaned in to hear. "Killian…" she whispered, her tone sounding so warm and happy caressing his given name that he could not help but smile and long for the day when she might speak it to him with that much affection while awake.

It didn't matter that his throat was still raw and he would kill for a drink. He tried to stifle the need to cough, for fear it would jostle the golden-haired angel who had now rolled over to face him and twined her legs with his as surely as she had twined her grasp around his heart. He hardly dared to breathe, much less move, but he was still staggered by how much better he felt just being able to clumsily sift his calloused fingers through the strands of her silky mane.

Sunlight might have been pouring in to wake them, but he was going to ignore it for the chance to have this incredible, broken, infuriating woman in his arms as long as her possibly could. "I love you, Emma lass," he whispered hoarsely under his breath, placing a kiss to her temple. Then he closed his eyes, not sure if he could actually manage sleep with her so near, but needing to savor this moment. So gently it was almost imperceptible, he cradled her even closer to the warmth of his body, glad he had woken to find her still there.

Someday, he did desire to wake her with languid kisses trailing down her neck and along her collarbone, whispering endearments before either keeping her in his bed all day to love her as she deserved or venturing out to fetch her breakfast and talk to her and she readied for a new morn. Yet he knew that day had not yet come. He would not rush her. Instead, he would celebrate the step she had taken in allowing him to know of her concern for his well-being. He would hold her close enough to memorize and treasure the feeling – in all probability, she would fight its happening again anytime soon – and be glad she had given him reason to hope. Killian touched one flaxen strand of her hair, twirled it around his finger for a moment, and then tucked it behind her ear. "I can wait as long as you need, Emma," he whispering fervently. "I have all the time in the world."

Tagging a few who may enjoy (or did before): @effulgentcolors @let-it-raines @spartanguard @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @sherlockianwhovian @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @snidgetsafan

#self promo sunday ff #cs canon divergent #post 3a ouat ff #sick! killian #flustered worried Emma #cs ff #cs two shot

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teaplease1717 · 4 years ago

Text

Story: Ashes of Love and War

Chapter: 11 / ?

Couple: Todoroki Shouto / Yaoyorozu Momo (TodoMomo)

Rating: M (for language and violence)

Betas: @flourchildwrites (Link) & C’s Melody (Link) and 666-HyuugaNeji-999 (Link)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638800/chapters/63366469

XXXXXXX

49 days post the fall of Troy

Shouto adjusted the wooden crate on his shoulder as he pushed his way through the suffocating hallway and out into the courtyard.

The pirates had arrived the evening prior, bringing with them much needed food and supplies. And, with the additional bodies, the house was overcrowded. A cacophony of curses and shouting ricocheted off the walls as fifty or so pirates spilled out of the various rooms and into the courtyard, unloading wooden crates and setting up quarters.

It made the house feel more like a military encampment or a shipyard than an orphanage. The whole scene was nostalgic, and Shouto was surprised by how at ease he felt.

He dropped the crate on the ground and drew in a deep breath as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He could feel sweat beading his forehead and sliding down his neck. He straightened and looked up.

The summer had been unnaturally hot, and that day was no exception. Even in the shade, Shouto felt the abrasive heat dancing along his skin, searing his flesh.

He wondered briefly if he could actually burn. His magic had always protected him from the heat in the past, but now that he couldn't access his powers, he wondered what would happen if he stood out under the scorching sun all day — or if he had to face Dabi again.

He looked down. Turning his arm, Shouto studied his skin for that telling reddening, but, as far as he could tell, it appeared the same. Perhaps his magic was still inside him? Shouto drew in a deep breath and tried to focus, but as he suspected, he still couldn’t feel anything.

Sighing, he looked up as movement across the yard drew his attention; his eyes immediately gravitating towards her, like they always did. Like the earth was pulled towards the sun.

Yaoyorozu stood at the fountain filling vases with water. She set one down and gathered her long, dark hair up, lifting it off her neck and fanning herself with her other hand. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin.

Shouto stared at her, and his fingers twitched. In the back of his mind he wondered, with how his eyes were pulled to her, if the story about soul mates were true. Had the human body once been composed of both male and female halves? Perfectly balanced, with the male half created from the sun and female from the earth, before Zeus separated them. Forcing the separated souls to roam the earth looking for their other half?

He pressed his lips into a hard line and dismissed the thought. It was only a myth, and while some myths were rooted in fact, this one couldn’t be true. It would mean that he was capable of love and being loved.

As if feeling his gaze, Yaoyorozu looked up, and her onyx eyes met his. They stared at each other for a long moment before her expression abruptly flickered, and her lips thinned. She dropped her hair and turned back to her task.

Shouto’s chest tightened, and he looked away. His hands twitched slightly at his sides, and he brought his left up to rest on Endeavor’s hilt. What was he thinking? He knew Yaoyorozu didn’t want anything to do with him.

She may have started speaking to him again, but it felt forced. He could see it in her expressive face. She spoke to him with a cautious air, as if she thought he’d transform into a monster at any second.

And could he blame her?

He'd fucked up.

Shouto rolled his jaw. He hadn’t meant to force himself on her that night. But, when she looked at him so vulnerably under the moonlight, the curse had activated, pushing him to kiss her. Or at least, he had thought it was the curse that had forced him to lean down and capture her lips -

Fuck. He closed his eyes and pressed his right fist into the center of his forehead. He was no better than his bastard of a father.

Shouto felt his insides curl at the thought. It had been haunting him since the incident, swirling in the back of his mind. He inhaled slowly as the sour taste of guilt, which was becoming all too familiar, filled his mouth.

Where had he gone wrong? Hadn’t he promised himself that he would never be like his old man?

What a fuck up.

He unfurled his fist and rubbed at his temples.

It had been their first real conversation too, and he had ruined it by acting impulsively on imagined feelings.

He didn’t know why the curse had made him think that Yaoyorozu would be okay with him suddenly kissing her. Shouto reasoned it was some misplaced fantasy derived, most likely, from the magic and the hope that she’d felt the same pull as he had that night.

But, of course, she wouldn’t feel the same way. Yaoyorozu wasn’t under the influence of a curse. She was only entertaining him to maintain her side of their bargain. That’s why she had apologized last week and why she still forced herself to speak to him. It was because she thought she had breached their agreement, not because she cared for him.

Shouto dropped his hand and raised his head to watch some of the pirates set up tents in the courtyard. Slowly, he loosened his hold on Endeavor’s hilt.

Fuyumi had raised him to be better than this. Even if it was within his rights as Yaoyorozu’s master, was he really so weak that all it took was a little push from a spell for him to start forcing himself onto an unwilling woman? Hadn't he promised himself, after seeing what that bastard had put his mother through, that he'd never make a woman do something against her will?

And not only that, he had kissed her twice. Shouto sighed. He should have apologized properly last week when she had.

And maybe he should’ve told her about the curse.

The thought made his stomach twist viciously, and he clenched his jaw. It was hard enough for him to admit to himself that he had been cursed, but thinking of speaking it aloud made him feel sick. And angry. It felt like a moral and physical failing on his part.

Sparta’s top warrior brought to his knees by a low-level fucking god.

Shouto swallowed over the bitter taste of pride that had lodged itself in the back of his throat like a stone. He ran a hand through his hair before unconsciously glancing back at Yaoyorozu as she continued to work.

Maybe there was another way to apologize? It wasn’t like he expected her to ever fall in love with him, but maybe they could have a tactical peace. And, if he ever could get the magic under control, maybe they could even be on friendly terms.

The sound of cursing and grunts from the doorway broke through Shouto’s thoughts. He turned to watch as two pirates emerged from the hallway carrying crates identical to his own. Shouto stepped to the side as the men dropped their boxes on the ground next to his with heavy grunts.

“Fuck, that was heavy,” one of the pirates said, as he straightened and cracked his back. He was slim with short brown hair. “I can’t believe this is only vegetables. It feels like Emi has stuffed a body or two in there as well.”

“Stop complaining, Haimawari.” The other man looked up at Shouto as he wiped at his brow with the back of his arm. He had black hair down to his shoulders, which he had tied into a low braid. And the skin on his arms looked dry and flaky, reminding Shouto of a reptile’s scales. “Hey, Todoroki,” he said hesitantly.

The other man, Haimawari, turned to look towards Shouto as well and smiled. His expression lacked the hesitation of his companion’s.

“Thanks for the help, Todoroki. I’m Koichi Haimawari, but you can call me Crawler, and that’s Rin Hiryu,” he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to the man with black hair tied in a braid.

Shouto nodded slowly. “It’s not a problem.” He dropped his hand from Endeavor’s hilt as he turned towards the two.

Haimawari’s expression flickered, and his eyes glittered as he took a step towards Shouto. “But you’re a beast, Todoroki!” he said excitedly. A genuine smile spread across his face. “Being able to carry your crate so fast up the mountain. We were struggling.”

“You were struggling,” Hiryu emphasized under his breath.

Haimawari ignored him as he continued. “And you are unexpectedly nice,” he said with a laugh. “When the aurai showed up and told us that you’d be here, I placed a bet with some of the other men that you would be an actual monster — like the stories — but you’re a lot nicer than people give you credit for.”

“Crawler, you can’t say things like that to people’s faces,” Hiryu whispered behind him, grimacing.

Shouto’s lips twitched. He had never been the social type, but he found himself not hating the two pirates. If anything, Shouto felt the weight of his earlier thoughts fade slightly. “And you don’t seem particularly like pirates.”

Haimawari grinned. “Well, most of us weren’t. Emi saved us.” He lifted his chin in pride. “We are living upstanding lives now.”

Shouto snorted; he highly doubted that.

“Most of us were slaves or from overtaken villages in the South,” Hiryu clarified, stepping up next to Haimawari. “You wouldn’t think it, being a pirate and all, but Emi makes us decent. Unlike others, we only steal from the Persians.”

Shouto nodded but didn’t know what else to say to that. It wasn’t his place to judge others; the gods did that enough for everyone.

At least, they didn’t seem that bad.

“Hey,” Haimawari said suddenly, clearing his throat. “Todoroki, you seem to be the type that’s really popular with the ladies. What do you do when a woman’s angry?”

Shouto blinked. “What?”

Hiryu rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

Haimwari ignored him. His eyes glittered as he looked at Shouto. “I’ve got this really cute girl back in Crete. We actually met when we were younger — I saved her from drowning. Anyways -” He waved his hand. “I was thinking that it's about time I settle down and start a family, but I haven’t been very good at staying in contact with her, so what does a man do to win a lady’s affection and say sorry for not being around?”

“Beg for forgiveness. And pray to the gods that she doesn’t kick you out,” Hiryu said seriously, without missing a beat.

Shouto’s lips twitched.

“Hey!” Haimawari’s eyes narrowed. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay. Okay,” Hiryu said with a soft laugh. Then he tilted his head back and rubbed his chin. “Well, when I get on boss’ bad side, I usually get her a present,” he said thoughtfully.

“A present?” Shouto echoed, tilting his head slightly to study Hiryu.

“Yeah, women love getting things,” Hiryu said with a firm nod. “Like fancy outfits and jewelry and food.” He counted on his fingers.

“Oh, I see,” Shouto said.

“Why? What do you usually get women?” Haimawari asked, his expression intent.

Shouto tilted his head back in thought. “I don’t know.”

Haimawari’s expression flickered in annoyance. “Oh, the life of a good-looking man. You have it so easy.”

“Crawler! Scales!” someone called from inside. The two pirates looked up.

“Anyways, we’ll talk to you later,” Hiryu said. Shouto nodded, and Hiryu smiled.

“There’s a couple more crates we have to grab before it gets dark,” Hiryu said in conclusion, pulling Haimawari after him back into the house.

Shouto watched them disappear inside before he turned his attention back to Yaoyorozu.

While they had been talking, three pirates had stopped pitching tents and had instead moved over to Yaoyorozu’s side, crowding around her as she offered them water. They smiled shyly at her and rubbed at their necks as they spoke to her.

Shouto’s jaw clenched, and he felt his hand touch Endeavor’s hilt again as he watched.

His lips thinned. Red anger built in his throat, and he swallowed thickly as he tried to push the feeling down. Yaoyorozu could take care of herself. He'd seen her ward off a group of soldiers alone, so she could handle three men. And they weren’t doing anything but speaking to her.

The thought didn't make the knot of annoyance in his throat any looser.

Shouto sighed and looked away as he tried to shift his thoughts back to what Hiryu had said about women. Presents, huh? He tried to remember what he used to get Fuyumi whenever she had been upset.

Flowers.

And bugs.

He snorted slightly at his childhood memory before his expression hardened, and he looked down at the ground. There was a haze dancing above the earth. Everything in the yard had shriveled weeks ago. Flowers weren’t going to be an option. Shouto tilted his head back in thought.

He really wasn’t good at this.

"What's on such a handsome man's mind that he’s just standing out here?” a feminine voice teased from behind him. “Were you waiting for a beautiful lady, like myself, by chance?"

Shouto stiffened and looked down as a petite woman slipped up next to him. His lips twitched. “Shouldn’t you be helping?” he asked dryly.

“That’s a man’s job,” Emi Fukukado said with a light, airy laugh. She pushed green-dyed bangs behind her ear and turned her head to stare up at him from the corner of her eye. “Besides, I don’t want to break my nails.”

Shouto lifted an eyebrow. “Seems like you only like to say that when it’s convenient.”

She giggled, her eyes turning into crescent slits as she placed her hands on her hips. “Perhaps,” she said in a singsong voice, lifting her chin. “But I’m the captain, so I get to decide the rules.”

Shouto snorted softly.

Fukukado shifted, dropping one of her hands from her hip. Her expression flickered, and she changed the subject. “I heard from Nejire that most of the Greek soldiers are still fighting their way back home. The gods weren’t happy with their temples being ransacked and have been making it difficult for the troops sailing home. Have you heard anything from yours?”

Shouto nodded faintly. “Yeah, the aurai said that Bakugo got our troops back to Sparta, fortunately.”

The pirate captain’s eyes flickered. “That’s good. I’ve heard the king of Ithica has practically disappeared off the face of the earth. I would think your father wasn’t too happy to lose either.”

Shouto’s lips twitched. “No, he wasn’t.” His fingers tightened around Endeavor’s red hilt, and he could feel the metal biting into his skin.

Fukukado hummed. “I see,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head back. “I was actually surprised to hear you fought for the Greeks instead of aligning with him.”

Shouto studied the pirate captain. “I may have Ares’ blood, but I was raised in Sparta. My loyalty lies with the two princes, Bakugo and Midoriya,” he said after a moment, avoiding her gaze.

Across the yard, the three pirates were still speaking amiably with Yaoyorozu. One said something, and she brought her hand up and laughed softly.

“You know,” Fukukado said. “If you keep glaring like that, my men are going to catch on fire.”

He turned around and scowled down at the pirate captain.

“Eep! There it is! The fierce glare of Sparta’s top warrior. Just kidding.” She laughed, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “But why don’t you go to talk to her?”

Shouto rolled his jaw and looked away. “She doesn’t want to talk to me,” he muttered under his breath.

Fukukado raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

Shouto sighed. “I made her angry.”

She hummed. “I see. I see,” Fukukado said sagely, crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels as if she knew all the answers. Perhaps she did. Women were a mystery, no one understood them except other women. “Yet, she keeps looking over here.”

Shouto’s heart skipped, but he pushed the feeling down and twisted his mouth into a thin line. “She’s probably scared and wants to make sure I’m not going to get angry.” He narrowed his eyes at Fukukado and changed the subject, “What did you want from me? I can’t imagine it was just talking about the Greek troops returning home.”

“Oh, you’re observant.” Shouto jerked as Fukukado slapped his back. “Nothing much. I’m bored. Aizawa and I were supposed to catch up on our future marriage over drinks, but he’s not here.”

“He’ll be back soon. He just went to put out another bushfire,” Shouto said, adjusting his chiton.

“Yeah, yeah. He said that,” she added with a playful pout. “It seems like he’s been busy, though. With the new kid and hosting you three, it sure has been active for that old man.” She laughed.

Shouto shifted. “If you don’t have anything important to talk to me about, then I’m going to go help unload more crates. We only have an hour or two before the stymphalian become active,” he said, taking a step back.

“That’s no fun,” Fukukado whined. “I need a drinking buddy.” She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky; muted hues of orange and red surrounded the sun as it slipped closer towards the horizon. “But — it is strange — the stymphalian were never like this before, that’s why Aizawa liked this island.”

Shouto stilled for a moment, but Fukukado didn’t say anything else.

XXXXX

Shouto made his way back to the front of the house, the pirate captain’s words sitting heavily on his mind. He had been paying extra attention to the monsters’ activities ever since his conversation with Yaoyorozu a week ago.

It was subtle, but it was becoming apparent that the stymphalian were acting strangely; it was as if they were saving their strength for something. And the fact that Fukukado also seemed worried troubled him more than he wanted to admit.

Shouto briefly contemplated whether a god was involved, but it was too hard to tell. The island was filled with the scent of magic. But it was unlikely — the gods favored using humans to do their bidding; using monsters was considered beneath them. Still, it was strange. With the bushfires that the stymphalian had been setting and the recent prints around the orphanage, it was hard to argue that they weren’t up to something.

Shouto stepped outside. The aurai was busy playing ball with Eri and Hime as the men brought up the last of the crates. He could make out the white cloth of the pirate ship’s sails docked over the hills to the south.

“Todoroki! Come play with us!” the aurai called playfully.

He looked back at the nymph as she floated over the girls’ heads. She had faithfully told Midoriya his message, so perhaps she wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. “Not right now,” he said absently as movement from the east side of the mountain caught his attention. Shouto turned to see Aizawa and Tokoyami making their way back up the winding path.

Eri dropped the ball they were playing with and ran towards the orphanage master. Aizawa crouched down as she held up her arms, and he leaned forward to hug her. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Shouto looked to Tokoyami as he walked past him. “How was it?” he asked.

Tokoyami paused, his yellow-bird like eyes hardening for a moment as he surveyed Todoroki. Then, he shook his head and answered. “The stymphalian have figured out how to be even more annoying than they already were -” He hesitated. His gaze flickered towards the children before looking back at Shouto. “They left some half-eaten boar carcasses for us with the intestines all pulled out and arranged in strange shapes,” he said quietly.

Shouto’s jaw tensed. "Do you know what they were?"

Tokoyami shook his head again. "No, but I have a bad feeling. We must do our utmost to stop them."

Shouto nodded, and Tokoyami dipped his head and swept past him back inside. Shouto turned his attention back to the orphanage master.

Aizawa slowly stood up, holding Eri in his arms. His black eyes flickered towards him. “Todoroki, I need to speak to you. Nejire, take Hime and Eri back inside.”

“Okay!” the aurai said, smiling brightly and returning to the ground. She took Hime’s hand and reached out for Eri. The little girl wrapped her arms tighter around Aizawa’s neck.

“It’s okay. I’ll be right there. I just need to speak to Todoroki.”

Eri looked up at Aizawa’s face and then nodded faintly. He put her on the ground, and she took the aurai’s hand as she followed the nymph back inside.

Aizawa watched them return inside, before motioning for Shouto to follow him. They walked out to the edge of the hill, and then, Aizawa stopped and pulled a leather pouch from his chiton.

“Here.” Azawai tossed him the bag.

On instinct, Shouto caught it. The pouch tinkled as it landed in his palm. Shouto hesitated and then opened the purse to find a handful of silver drachma. Enough to live comfortably for a year. Shouto looked up at Aizawa and raised a brow.

“Change,” Azawai stated. “For the gold bracelet and your help.”

Shouto nodded and drew the strings on the pouch closed and tucked it into his belt. He looked back at Aizawa. The older man seemed to be studying him. “How’s your eye?”

Shouto shrugged slightly and looked away. “Better. It’s not perfect, but I can see out of it.”

“Good.”

“And your magic?”

Shouto stiffened. “What about it?”

Aizawa turned and looked back out at the ocean. “You haven’t used your magic since you arrived.”

“It’s fine,” he bit out, avoiding the orphanage master’s gaze as he looked out at the pirate ship in the distance.

The bright light of the sinking sun began to cast soft rays of red and orange across the blue sky. As Shouto looked out at the pirate ship, a shadow flickered in his periphery.

Shouto froze. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

It was only for an instant, but he was sure he had seen something move in the fading light. He brought his hand to Endeavor’s hilt and squinted into the brush.

“Todoroki, what is it?” Aizawa asked. His voice was tense.

Shouto’s lips thinned, and he tightened his hold on his sword. “I don’t know. I thought I saw something.” The words had barely left his mouth when it hit him.

Dark magic.

It was so thick in the air; he could almost taste it.

Stymphalian.

They had never come out this early before; Apollo hadn’t even finished pulling the sun across the sky yet, but the magic was unmistakable.

“Get inside!” he shouted.

Aizawa nodded sharply. “Hold them off!” He turned and took off back towards the house.

Another shape flickered. Closer. To his left.

Shouto pulled out Endeavor and took a step forward. Aizawa was almost at the door. He just needed to keep the stymphalian busy until they got inside.

Razor-sharp feathers suddenly shot out of the bushes on his left. Shouto raised Endeavor, blocking the stymphalian’s attack, but his spatial awareness was off, and the attack knocked him off balance. Shouto twisted, catching himself from falling. He looked up. The hillside was filling with stymphalian. They had used the bushes and shadows of fading sunlight to surround the house.

From his right, a shadow emerged, launching itself at Aizawa’s retreating back, its talons outstretched. Shouto lunged forward, and with a quick movement, cut the legs off the creature. The stymphalian screamed in pain as its body skidded across the ground.

Another stymphalian leapt at him, and Shouto spun and buried Endeavor in its throat. From the corner of his right eye, he saw the rest of the stymphalian dash after Aizawa into the house.

Shouto cursed. He pulled Endeavor out of the creature’s neck and rushed after them.

The house was a war zone. Screams ricocheted through the hallways, and the tile was already slick with blood. Bodies and limbs lay scattered throughout the rooms. They had been caught unaware.

He wondered if any of them were Yaoyorozu’s.

Shouto's stomach plummeted. He hoped she had stayed outside. He hurried along the corridor, checking each body quickly. None were her. He almost breathed a sigh of relief but forced himself to move on.

He knew that she was smart and a fairly good fighter, but that didn't lessen the sudden worry he felt for her well being. Shouto ground his teeth.

A woman’s voice sounded from the courtyard. It was Yaoyorozu’s. He was sure of it.

Shouto rushed towards the back door.

Sharp-edged feathers suddenly shot out of one of the side rooms to his left. Shouto twisted, but not fast enough.

He stumbled back, glancing down, and found feathers embedded in his arm. Blood was flowing freely down his arm. He hissed through his teeth as he pulled the feathers out.

A couple of stymphalian had emerged from Aizawa’s storeroom. The corridors were too tight for their winged bodies, but they were also too narrow for Shouto to be able to swing Endeavor around easily. He snarled and slid into a defensive stance.

One of the stymphalian sprang forward. Shouto readied himself, but before the stymphalian’s talons could clash with Endeavor, two pirates jumped in front of him, paring the creature’s steel feet.

Shouto’s eyes widened as the men pushed the stymphalian back. It was the pirates from earlier.

“Don’t worry,” Haimawari said, bringing his sword up.

Hiryu moved closer. “We got this. Go help everyone else,” he shouted, stepping up next to Haimawari. “We’re used to fighting in narrow spaces.”

Shouto nodded and turned, rushing out towards the courtyard and the sound of metal clashing.

The yard was bathed in dusty blues and reds of the setting sun and the thick stench of blood. The tents that the pirates had erected earlier were torn piles of cloth on the ground. The flock of stymphalian had climbed over the wall and roof and destroyed everything in their path.

Shouto looked up, and his eyes immediately fell on Yaoyorozu fighting on the second floor. Asui and Eri were with her.

Immediately the tightening in his chest lessened as he watched her slash one of the creatures. She could do this. She wasn't weak. Shouto took a quick breath and forced himself to survey the rest of the chaos.

Everyone was spread out.

Some of the pirates were on the roof, trying to keep the stymphalian from landing. Aizawa and Tokoyami were taking down the few in the courtyard, but with the sun not yet set, Tokoyami's power wasn't as effective.

He tightened his hold on Endeavor’s hilt and rushed forward. A stymphalian turned to attack, but the creature wasn't quick enough. Shouto's blade slid through its chest. He twisted and pulled his sword out and jumped back as feathers rained down onto where he had stood.

There was a scream. Shouto spun. A pirate fell back, metal talons embedded in his chest. Shouto leaped at the creature, cutting its head off with a clean movement.

He knelt down to check the man’s pulse. It was faint but still there. He was lucky.

A child’s high pitched scream rang out through the yard. Shouto looked up sharply. A stymphalian had grabbed hold of Eri. It had sunk its talons into her shoulder.

“Eri!” Aizawa roared, shooting knives at the creature, but it flexed its steel wings, and the knives bounced off.

Eri screamed in pain as she tried to pull herself free. The stymphalian moved, beating its wings as it pulled her from the veranda. Asui tried to jump for her, but it was too late — the monster was already out of reach.

The aurai darted at them, aiming some sort of sparkling, yellowish magic at the creatures, but as if in sync, the flock suddenly took flight, filling the sky with their steel wings. The aurai’s magic hit against their wings and bounced off, ineffective.

Shouto’s breath caught in his chest. His mind raced. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. The stymphalian weren’t supposed to be smart enough to think of strategies like this, but they had.

The stymphalian carrying Eri climbed higher into the darkening sky.

There was no time to think further. The creatures were focused on blocking the aurai and the pirates shooting at them from the roof. The window to take down the monster with Eri was closing. Shouto tightened his fingers on Endeavor’s hilt, pulled his arm back, and flung his sword.

Endeavor whirled through the air, cutting through the stymphalian’s unprotected neck. Its head toppled off, and the creature’s talons released Eri. She plunged towards the ground.

Shit.

She’d hit her head and crack her skull open.

Suddenly, Yaoyorozu jumped from the veranda and grabbed the girl mid-air, tucking her head into her chest. They hit the ground together with a loud thud.

Shouto’s eyes widened. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His insides felt like they had cauterized as he staggered towards them.

Then, Yaoyorozu sat up slowly, and Shouto almost fell down in relief.

She was safe.

He drew in a deep breath when a feral screech of rage sounded to his left. Shouto wiped his head around, and his eyes widened as his gaze landed on the last stymphalian.

It was rushing across the yard towards Yaoyorozu.

Her eyes were dazed as she stood up shakily, Eri in her arms. She hadn’t noticed the creature yet.

Everything within him went cold. Shouto’s vision narrowed, and he stumbled forward.

He needed to get to her. He needed to save her.

Shouto broke out in a cold sweat as he lunged forward. He grit his teeth. He could taste a metallic tang on his tongue. There was no other sound besides the rushing of blood in his ears.

His heart was beating rapidly. Everything around him blurred as he bolted across the yard.

It was almost on her.

He wouldn’t be able to make it in time.

Yaoyorozu’s eyes suddenly widened, and he could see the fear flicker across her features as she finally registered her surroundings.

Then something white and hot exploded inside him, and Shouto felt inhuman strength rush through him.

XXXXX

Notes:

Sorry, I know there wasn’t a lot (any) of TodoMomo interaction in this chapter, but hopefully it was enjoyable enough. ^^; I always feel bad posting when TodoMomo doesn't interact, but this chapter was needed to set up the climax. I promise next chapter there will be more!

Notes: 1. “Sun to the Earth” - this line, used earlier, is actually in reference to a Greek myth around soulmates. According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. The gender of humans had to do with their origin; the Men were children of the Sun and Women were the children of the Earth. In this state, humans were said to be incredibly powerful. And fearing their power, Zeus split humans into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. Apollo, feeling bad for them, sewed them up, leaving just the navel as the only reminder of their original form. So, humans went from double face and double sex creatures with eight limbs, to single faced ones of a single sex, with two arms and two legs. And they forever longed for their soul and physical other half. Their physical nature would feel a burning desire to be completed with the physical nature of the other sex, and their soul alike would yearn for their soul’s other half be complete, their soulmate.

2. Persia - Persia, which would have been in modern day Iran, built their empire around 550 b.c. At the empire’s height, would have encompassed modern-day Iran, Egypt, Turkey and parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan. They were generally considered the enemy of Greeks.

3. King of Ithaca - this is a reference to Homer’s epic poem, Odyssey. The story is about the King of Ithica, Odysseus, trying to get back home after the Trojan war. To sum the story up, he angered the gods on his way home, and so they blew him off course and he spent 10 years trying to get home. Harsh...

4. Koichi Haimawari “Crawler” - is from the spin-off Vigilante series of Boku no Hero. In this he’s a pirate. I’ve actually never read Vigilantes so sorry if his personality is completely off.

5. Hiryu Rin - is from class 1-B. In this he’s a pirate.

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #shouto todoroki #Yaoyorozu Momo #ashes of love and war #My writing #My Story

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hermionegranger56 · 4 years ago

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ok lads its time for my breakdown of folklore, something absolutely no one is asking for but here we are!! this album. thIs ALBUMMMM. dear GOD. the intersection of my two favorite things, taylor swift and indie folk???? i feel like i’m dreaming. when she announced the surprise drop i literally burst into tears and evidently for good reason lol.

anywho here’s the thing. Red has been my all time favorite album for 8 years now. it holds such an important place in my life and i never thought anything she did could come close (though Lover almost did). but this. THIS IS BETTER THAN RED

the lyrical genius is unmatched here. taylor isn’t just writing songs here, this is POETRY. every song is nuanced, intricate, devastatingly beautiful, with words that’ll haunt me for a long time. and the fact that it’s stories, literal folklore, no longer just about her own life is incredibly creative and is executed so well for someone who has interwoven her life into her entire body of music thus far. folklore blends facts with fiction so seamlessly and is a true exhibition of taylor’s power as a songwriter.

and the vibessss!! from haunting heartbreak songs, to ethereal lost-in-the-woods vibes, to a comforting return to her old self, this album has everything. taylor is without a doubt one of the most versatile artists of our generation, having success and skill in multiple genres and folklore only solidifies this fact.

ALL RIGHT KIDS LETS JUMP IN

the 1: hell yeah explicit tswift give it to me lol you ARE on some new shit!! ok when i first listened to this i hadn’t read her statement about the other perspectives and i was about to RIOT about her and joe breaking up (like they could ever lol). this is such a catchy beat, such a casual?? look at such a painful feeling? a really good start to this album. the part where she goes another day waking up aLONE killlllllls me wow

fave lines: “in my defense i have none/for never leaving well enough alone”

cardigan: (don’t get me started on the mv it’s gorgeous) YES THE TEENAGE LOVE TRIANGLE suchhh a good concept!! the melody of this song is unreal, the chorus makes me want to scream it’s so beautiful, the i-i-i is SOMETHING ELSE. it’s crazy how just the melody makes betty’s pain so palpable, but so enchanting at the same time. it’s bittersweet and cinematic and i’m in love. PETER LOSING WENDY GOD. easily top 5 song here

fave lines: “when you are young they assume you know nothing”, “cause i knew you/ heartbeat on the high line/ once in 20 lifetimes i” “you drew stars around my scars/but now i’m bleeding”

the last great american dynasty: watch hill!!! her watch hill house!! i live near there!! oh i think this song is so clever and i love how it ties into mad woman as well as harkens back to starlight. i LOVE the way she ties her self in, “and then it was bought by me” like ughhh her mind? and its catchy AF

fave lines: “i had a marvelous time ruining everything”

exile: YOU KNOW HOW TO DO AN INDIE ALBUM??? BRING BON IVER INTO THIS SHIT!! wowww this song is haunting and is definitely the “i’m you but stronger” version of The Last Time. the overlap of both of them singing and their parallel lines are flawless. i could play this on repeat for hours and contemplate my whole existence

fave lines: “you never gave a warning sign/i gave so many signs”

my tears ricochet: ok somehow a track 5 with tears in the title is not the saddest song here but DAMN is it good. I love the visual of someone watching over their funeral and reacting. the music is stunningggg here. ALSO i am pretty convinced this is about the whole scott/scooter drama, like the lyrics fit so well? and she said it was the first song she wrote so the timeline kinda fits?? geniusss

fave lines: “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace”, “and if i’m dead to you/why are you at the wake?”

mirrorball: ohhhh this one is so pretty!! it just makes me want to dance around the kitchen with the person i love??? its comforting, ethereal, happyyy ugh i love it. I also think it could be about her relationship with her fans? like her music shows us different sides of ourselves idk? or just absorbing into a relationship?

fave lines: “on my tallest tiptoes/shining just for you”

seven: i’m gonna call this now: this is going to be the most underrated song on this album. it is STUNNING. POETIC. HEARTBREAKING. the music is so hauntingly nostalgic. and the lyrics, holy absolute shit. they’re a delicate testament to childhood, memory, and innocent love. it’s gut wrenching and i love it so so much

fave lines: “i’ve been meaning to tell you/i think your house is haunted/your dad is always mad/and that must be why”, “and just like folk song/our love will be passed on”, “before i learned civility/ i used to scream ferociously” ALL OF IT

august: and now we get the girl james cheated with’s perspective, which i think is great. its sunny, wistful and sad underneath all that beautiful production. when she slides from the chorus to the “back when we we’re changing for the better” and hits that “mineeee to lose” GOD, it just fills your chest. i feel like even if you never have, this makes anyone feel like they know exactly what a summer fling feels like. one of my faves

fave lines: “august slipped away/like a bottle of wine”, “cancel my plans just in case you call/ and say meet me behind the mall”

this is me trying: the slow pacing of this melody serves to show these EXQUISITE lyrics here. this is so intimate and personal and i feel like everyone can relate to this feeling of just trying to hold on and put on a brave face?

fave lines: “they told me all of my cages were mental/ so i got wasted like all my potential”

illicit affairs: ok all you need to know about this one is a) I’m obsessed b) this is the closest she has come to creating a bridge that makes me feel like the All Too Well bridge has, like scream sobbing in the car type vibe??? its unreal. and this song makes me feel that shitty feeling of: “this was supposed to be casual but oops its very much not” hmmm maybe that’s where the scream sobbing comes from hahah

fave lines: “don’t call me kid/don’t call me baby/look at this godforsaken mess that you made me/you showed me colors you know i can’t see with anyone else”

invisible string: this. THIS is probably her most stunning love song. like. i thought it was Lover. i was wrong. this one is confidently from Taylor’s perspective, about Joe and dear lord i want a love like theirs. and shit does this song put the folk in folklore, the music is so simple and gorgeous and harkens back to her country roots without losing this new sound she has. and the first few notes remind me of Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens so instantly im sold. this and betty are tied for my number 1, it’s just too beautiful

fave lines: “time curious time/give me no compasses/give me no signs” “isn’t it just so pretty to think/all along there was some invisible string/tying you to me”, “cold was steel of the axe that i had to grind/for the boys who broke my heart/now i buy their babies presents”, “hell was the journey/but it brought me heaven”

mad woman: FUCK YOU FOREVERRRRRR!!! yes taylor said fuckkkk ugh i LOVE this vibe, the revenge of the mad woman that the town cast out is so eerie and powerful, i’m obsessed. it ties back into the maddest woman of TLGAD and it feels like a spiritual sequel to The Man, the same feminist thread weaving through it. the lyrics are razor sharp and biting, i love it

fave lines: “and you poke that bear/till the claws come out/ and you find something/ to wrap your noose around”, “it’s obvious wanting me dead has really brought you two together”

epiphany: so uhhh THIS is the saddest song on folklore. fight me. the seamless comparison between wartime and the pandemic and waiting for some epiphany that could make sense of all the horrors surrounding the both. idk man, as someone who’s been a covid nurse since March, i just….this one HURTS. similar to Soon You’ll Get Better tbh

fave lines: “hold your hand through plastic now/doc i think she’s crashing out/and somethings you just can’t speak about”

betty: OH I LOVE IT WITH MY WHOLE HEART! this is such a TRIUMPHANT return to old taylor, it is so joyful but sad at the same time?? the harmonica?? the last part of the love triangle?? it sounds like Taylor Swift and Fearless all grown up and it makes me ache for back then, but love where we are right now. tbh the first time i heard this i sobbed through the whole thing just out of pure nostalgia. she’s back but at the same time she never left. this feels like a love song to original fans and it. is. incredible. my favoriteeee goddd

fave lines: THE WHOLE CHORUS BABYYYYY

peace: it’s gorgeous, especially the guitarrr ugh. this feels like delicate’s quiet older sister. i think it’s definitely about joe and how taylor, despite loving him, still has these insecurities and fears about what a relationship with someone in her position could be like? like there will be struggles, but he’s her family and she “would die for you in secret”. stunning

fave lines: “i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm”, “the devils in the detail/but you’ve got a friend in me”, “give you my wild/give you a child”

hoax: i’m surprised she ended it on a sad one (but we still have the lakes!!) but this song is hauntingly beautiful WOW. every line of this absolutely floors me. i think this one will also be largely underrated, but it is pure poetry and deserves so so much hype

fave lines: “stood on the cliffside/screaming give me a reason/your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in”, “it still hurts underneath my scars/from when they pulled me apart/but what you did was just as dark” “my kingdom come undone/ my broken drum/ you have beaten my heart”

ANYWHO TAYLOR HAS PRODUCED HER BEST WORK TO DATE AND IM READY FOR SAD GIRL AUTUMN

#taylor swift #folklore #tswift #folklore the album #taylor swift folklore #ts8 folklore #folklore era #betty #august #cardigan #exile

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goldenmusicmoments · 4 years ago

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Taylor Swift - Folklore (Review):

The 1 - The album starts of with a mellow piano driven track in which the person who’s prospective the song is written from seems to be looking back at a time that once was. It seems like the character is looking back on a relationship and she thinks to herself that if things had been different that person could have been the one and that would have been a pleasant prospect. She is also letting her past lover know that she is doing fine. The track has a nostalgic feel to it which is also emphasised through Taylor’s vocal. The track sets the mood for the rest of the album really well providing the record with a strong beginning.

Cardigan - The rustic feel provides the track with a unique opening moment immediately drawing you in. Here she seems to be singing about what you can either take as a feeling/person where it/they have become older yet to this person they are new and their favourite thing regardless of that. The track lyrically has such a full circle moment taking you on journey with the person who’s prospective it is written through. Her vocal on this track has a dreamy and sensual feel to it. On top of that the production on this track is stellar. Taylor has stated that this song is from the prospective of Betty who track eight on the album is about. Taylor also released the visual for this track on the day of release which compliments the song so well.

The Last Great American Dynasty - Now we get a track with a bit more of a groove to it. The production has a really bright feel to it that lifts the mood from the previous two tracks. Here she is tells the story of the previous owners of the house that she now owns on Rhode Island. It describes the downfall of a family and the outsiders knowing nothing seem to blame the woman and claim that things could have been different if she hadn’t shown up. When Taylor moves in the people around seem to form the same judgement of her. This track doesn’t immediately strike you as you are thrown off by the change in feel from the previous tracks, however do pay attention to everything from the lyrics to the production and you’ll see how great it is. You can really get lost in this track.

Exile (Ft. Bon Iver) - This piano driven track starts of with Bon Iver’s vocal which catches you off guard as you are expecting Taylor to open the track. Here it seems like the relationship has fallen apart after them trying to make it work. You can feel the pain and emotions behind the lyrics through the pairs vocals. The build in the song is stunning making you want to bask in its beauty. Their vocals come together so beautifully here. This track showcases how a duet should be done with its conversational quality. It also seems to have been an immediate favourite of those that listened to the album.

My Tears Ricochet - This self written track begins and ends with these haunting ‘Oooooh’s’. This track seems to be about a relationship that has come to a bitter end. As the person who the prospective character seems to be talking about is dealing with the demise of this relationship in a rage filled mannerism. Death being used metaphorically here to depict that is very fitting. The person of topic doesn’t seem to be past the relationship, as much as they seem to be trying to get rid of the other from their memory, something seems to prevent that from happening in totality. Also their way of dealing with the situation is causing them harm as well. The build in the bridge gives you a sense of urgency particularly through the production. The song completely encapsulated you in its eerie feel. Again this song showcases how great of a songwriter Taylor is and it surely goes down as one of the best in her discography.

Mirrorball - This dreamy track has a very cinematic feel to it. You feel as though you are at a dance where there is mirrorball hanging in the centre. The mirrorball here is metaphorically used to describe how a person tends to vary how they present themselves depending on who they are with. Just like the mirrorball having many faces each of which show something different from the other. It also speaks to an aspect of celebrity. The bridge depicts this desperation we have to impress others or do everything possible to keep people interested in us. This song grips you in its beauty.

Seven - Here the piano opens the track and then is joined by the strings. On this song it seems that she is looking back at her former self when she was seven years old. She is remembering who she was at that age and how that age was a turning point in terms of reaching civility. It is a calm track that has a slight feel of longing which is highlighted through her vocals.

August - The opening of the track draws you in immediately. Here the prospective character seems to be going over memories or moments from her past. She compares the departure of the person of topic to that of how a month goes by. The lyrics touch on how in a relationship you get lost in love, that it makes you forget that at any moment it could fade, and you end up losing the person you thought you’d be with forever. She seems to be putting on a front that she is fine with the relationship ending. Her vocals in particular give you this light and dreamy feel that you seem to get lost in. Then when the bridge hits you are lifted out of that dreamy vibe as the vocal delivery of the lyrics here have a sense of urgency to them. The outro to the track is beautiful and really leaves you lost in your thoughts, kind of like how you’d feel when you get to the end of a memory.

This Is Me Trying - Here she sings about being in a place of struggle where she isn’t doing so well mentally/that she feels lost in life with all its uncertainty, however she is trying her absolute best to keep herself going and getting through all that she is going through. She more so is letting the ones around her or herself know through her actions that she is trying her best. This track will surely resonate with a lot of people and it shines even brighter in the current state that the world is in right now. It is a beautiful track that will have you feeling emotional and teary. Her vocals have a very airy quality to them here that add to the nature of the track elevating the meaning of the lyrics.

Illicit Affairs - This song kind of feels like it is giving off a warning of the bad side of having illicit affairs. However here the person who is having these illicit affairs has their doubts, however they have too strong of an attraction to this person for them to end it. Sometimes desire outdoes morality and logic which this song depicts. Plus it showcases the extent people go to in order to cover up their tracks when having an affair. Her vocals are really beautiful and have a sense of remorse to them. In terms of production it does seem a little chaotic, eluding to the nature of the situation.

Invisible String - This track has a bit of a quirky vibe to it. Here she sings about fate through this invisible string that ties her to the person of topic. It seems like this was what was meant to be and she seems to have come to a place where she feels content with life and who she is with. It is a gentle track that holds true to the calm nature of the album both through its production and Taylor’s vocals.

Mad Woman - This track has a moodier vibe in comparison to the rest of the album. Here she sings about women being labelled as mad and how people seem to have a negative view of a mad woman. However what they don’t realise is that she isn’t mad because she wants to be but more so because someone else is the cause of her being mad. It speaks to the double standards faced by women when defending themselves, where a man defending himself would be him being defensive, yet the opposite the woman would be seen as being mad.

Epiphany - The opening of this track gives you this feeling of vastness. Then when the vocal kicks in the feel shifts to something ethereal. This song was inspired by her grandfathers experience in the military during the war. She uses that and compares that to what those working at the frontline (doctors, nurses etc.) during this pandemic must be experiencing. Pointing to the similarities. It highlights how tough it is for them and how their short moments of rest are the only moments they seem to find relief or escape from the difficult reality. A stunning track in which the lyrics are complemented so well by the production on both the track and vocal.

Betty - After a long time we get another taste of country from Taylor Swift on this track, particularly through the instrumentation. This is written from the male prospective. Although he confesses to what he has done, he doesn’t actually apologise. He seems to think that him showing up is enough to win her back, in fact his attempt at justifying his actions seems to only dig him a deeper hole. This song also completes the tracks known as the trilogy (Cardigan, August & Betty).

Peace - This track starts with a very intriguing pulse like beat which is eventually joined a by the strings. On this song there is something very somber about her vocals. Lyrically she sings about limitations in how much she can control in terms of what she has to offer in the relationship. Her asking whether it would be enough if she could never give him peace, is her trying to see whether he’d still be interested after knowing that. Her confessing to what she can give to this relationship prior, is what provides this track with a standout moment on the album and showcases that she cares about the other person. A beautiful and somber moment on the album.

Hoax - This piano led track brings the album to an end on a rather sad moment. Here both through the lyrics and vocals you get this feeling as though she feels defeated. However the lyrics ‘Don’t want no other shade of blue, but you’ provide with a small moment of hope. The bridge to this track is one of the standout moments on the album, showcasing her talent for writing a strong bridge. The song closes the album leaving you lost in thought trying to decipher the lyrics.

The Lakes - This bonus track gives the album an alternate ending, this song was inspired by her trip to Lake District and her discovery of artists that moved to live there and create art. Here she fantasies about doing the same and what she imagines it would be like. The song has a romantic and vintage feel to it due to the production style and her vocals emphasis that feel. It brings the album to an end on a very different note to that on the standard edition.

Overall this maybe Taylor Swift’s best project to date. It’s a cohesive record as the album has a cinematic, mellow and moody vibe to it. There is something vintage about the album. The lyrics hold your attention throughout as you try and decipher the lyrics. It also feels like her most mature record. Taylor shows us that she is a versatile artist that isn’t afraid to change things up. Even though this record isn’t her most personal record, as here she writes from the prospective of other people, it still feels personal through her songwriting style.

#TaylorSwift #Folklore #GRAMMYs #Swifties #AlbumOfTheYear #Cardigan #Betty #August #Peace #Music #Billboard #BonIver #Review #TheLakes #Mirrorball

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