#they managed to make it even sadder i can't deal with this....

[eliseliedl]

Persona 3 Reload 11 / ? Shinjiro petting Koromaru one last time 😭🤧

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[pullupinarari]

I feel so cold without you [LH]

summary: Lewis' schedule has been crazy, and he can't spend much time at home. but little Grace doesn't understand why.

author's note: I am still struggling with a writer's block so I'm so sorry cause this is honestly so bad and makes no sense, but I'm trying to get my creativity flowing again so pls bear with me. this is angsty but doesn't have a destructive ending. also barely proofread

• masterlist

wc: 5531 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Everybody knows that Lewis’ life involves traveling a lot, to different countries, continents, all the time - that’s not new to anyone. You met him in this reality, married him with this crazy agenda, and Grace was born in the middle of what you consider to be ‘normal’ for your life beside your husband. 

As a couple, you always managed to deal with the schedules, the work trips, the races abroad. As a family, you learned how to juggle being a mum and a wife to a F1 driver, with your own work responsibilities, teaching little Grace the best you can all about why her dad has to be away so much. 

When Lewis is away for a little time, your daughter understands it. She sees her daddy racing on the television, she chants his name as if she was there in person - she knows her dad is doing what he is best at, besides being the bestest daddy ever to her.

But Grace is very, very attached to Lewis, in the exact same way that Lewis is extremely attached to his princess, and they can’t stay away from each other for long. The problem is, for the past couple of weeks, your husband hasn’t been home. 

Lewis was in Italy, preparing everything at Ferrari, and setting everything up for the day you and Grace will meet him there, at the new place that you will call ‘home’ for this new period of your life. Then, the driver had to fly with the team to Spain, to prepare for the pre-season. So, his schedule has been incredibly tight, leaving him with no chance of flying back to London, to his girls’ arms, even for just a night. 

As the weeks pass by, your daughter starts growing confused. Daddy isn’t racing on the telly, he isn’t home to play with her, so the toddler could show him how she is feeling more confident to ride her pink bike, and the only time she sees him is through a video call that he does when calling you at the end of the day. 

So, why is daddy not home to tuck Gracie into bed every night? To give her the special forehead kisses that only he knows how to do, the ones that would scare away all the monsters?

Inside the three-year-old’s brain, everything made more sense while she could see him driving his car on the television, listening to him talking on the interviews following the race, knowing for a fact that her daddy is working. And, as much as you keep telling the toddler that dad is at work, where is he working? Why can’t Grace watch him on the television now? And why can’t he come home?

It’s been too long - you know. You admit it too. But you can’t say that to your baby’s face, adding more to the exasperation living inside her confused mind. It’s already heartbreaking enough to see your daughter’s eyes growing sadder by the day, noticing how she grows quieter through the week, seeing the disappointment plastered all over her face every time you have to say ‘no’ whenever she asks ‘is daddy coming home today?’

The salty tears painting the toddler’s features when she begs her daddy to come home over the phone are enough to make yours and Lewis’ hearts sting with an indescribable pain - one that seems to never cease, no matter how hard you try to nestle her close to your chest, trying your hardest to shush her fears and insecurities, making her feel protected in the first home she ever knew - your skin. 

- You don’t love me anymore, daddy? - Grace blurts out in between sobs, her little voice sounding muffled against your skin as she hides her face on the crook of your neck. 

The words leaving her mouth were enough to make Lewis’ heart sink, making sure that question will forever be engraved in his mind, not letting him forget about this moment, about the hurt in his princess’ voice when wondering why he is not home with her.

The man is left speechless for a minute, feeling a bunch of hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as well. It has, definitely, been too long since he got to have a moment just for his family, dedicating all his hours to his favourite girls. 

He knows exactly how Grace is feeling, because Lewis feels the exact same void fulfilling his days, desperate to have some free time so he can go back home as soon as possible. But unfortunately, everything has been too much, lately, and the driver’s schedule is not giving him a break. 

- Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, princess, you know that… - Lewis’ trembling voice cuts his phrase short, swallowing the knot that’s stuck in the man’s throat as his daughter continues weeping on the other side of the line.  - Then come home! I miss you so much, daddy - Grace insists, her sobs growing louder as the little girl tries to understand why her dad can’t be by her side, right now. 

He wishes he could. Lewis feels every bone in his body frail at night, when he lays his head on the pillow and opens his camera roll, going back to every picture and video that reminds him of some moments when he genuinely felt happy and at peace - with Grace in his arms, with you by his side. 

Tonight, some silent tears are finally freed from his eyes, looking at all the pictures of his child in his phone, while his brain is still replaying the toddler’s harsh question that she let out over the call earlier today. 

Lewis feels this moment completely wrecking him, especially when he stops to think about all the videos you send him while he is away, updating him on every new achievement and discovery your daughter makes during the days, trying your best so your husband won’t feel like he is missing too much. 

But he is. And he knows it - especially when he realizes how fast time passes by, how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for anyone. How does he know that tomorrow is coming? Your husband keeps waiting for it, hoping that a break will eventually arrive so he can go home, but he shouldn’t suppose that tomorrow is coming, because nothing in this world can assure him that there will be one. And that thought kills him, because while he is thinking about it, he realizes that it’s been five weeks since the last time he got to be home, tucking his daughter to bed. 

The excited, bubbly Grace you know has been missing lately, leaving room for a sad and confused toddler to show up in her place - one that holds tighter to you when you hug her, when you’re holding her in your arms, kissing her curls as her lips just show you a downhearted pout. 

As your child grows up, she finds new challenges in life, and dealing with new emotions definitely is one of them - and missing her daddy this much has been leading to a rollercoaster of questions to erupt in your baby’s creative mind. You tuck her into bed, but it’s not the same thing. Your kisses are sweet and protective, but they are not Lewis’ cuddles that make sure to create a shield around the little princess, making sure no monsters can reach her. 

Your days have been hard as well, trying your best to deal with Grace’s doubts and tantrums, hushing her as you assure her that you are right there for her, informing her that her daddy will be by the girl’s side in no time. But, in the silent darkness of the night, heavy sighs escape your figure as well, loud noises of concern erupt in your mind, questioning if you are doing a good job, if you’re being a good mum, if you’re supporting your husband the right way. But, sometimes, you also ask yourself: where do you stand, in the middle of all this?

The arms that hold Grace are the same ones that hold Lewis when he needs it the most, you being the pillar of your family, holding everything in place when a storm threatens to push your boat away from safe land. Either way, you know better than to complain, understanding how this entire situation is hard for your husband as well, sharing the same pain and apprehension when you talk to him over the phone. 

Feeling restless from so many sleepless nights, being haunted by the infinite thoughts running through his brain, the man finally managed to get a free day - just 24 hours, but enough for him to fly back home, accepting the short break if that means he can hold the light of his life in his arms for a bit, shushing away all the small weeps that leave the toddler’s figure. 

Arriving early in the morning, you are already waiting to see your husband walking through the door, with a cup of warm tea in your hand. You can’t deny that there’s a small glimpse of nervousness bubbling inside of your stomach, at the thought of finally seeing him again, praying that his presence will lighten up the mood and help your daughter feel better. 

You’re sipping on your tea when you hear the front door open. Shortly after, his shadow appears on the kitchen’s tiles, mere seconds before the man himself is in front of you - the shine in his eyes, the relieved smile cracking through his tired features is noticeable, as he immediately walks over to you. 

Once your figures meet, Lewis wraps his arms around your figure, holding you close without saying a word, sharing a deep, tight hug while kissing your shoulder lovingly from time to time. There’s a heavy sigh leaving his body, as if being home is the magic solution that helps improve all his problems, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. 

His face is glued to the crook of your neck for a while, as your fingers reach to caress his scalp. It feels like time has stopped, as if the world is not spinning anymore. Both of you are merged in a bubble of comfort and reassurance, almost making up for all the stress and agony that your parental hearts have been feeling lately. 

When your lips finally connect again - after so long, a deafening silence is created between your bodies, as if your kisses speak for the two of you. I miss you, I need you, things have been so hard without you by my side. Both of you feel the same, both of you know how hard the past weeks have been for your family. 

Breaking the kiss, your foreheads are still glued, the tips of your noses touching, wanting to feel the other as close as possible. 

- She’s still asleep? - your husband breaks the silence, asking about Grace. He has very little time to stay, and he wants to enjoy every second by his daughter’s side. Still, the man can’t help but bite his own tongue as he looks at the time: it’s 7:24 am, and he knows that his baby usually doesn’t wake up that early. 

He earns a nod from you. The little girl hasn’t had nice nights of sleep lately either, constantly waking up after having bad dreams, always begging you to cuddle her to sleep, to let her sleep by your side. To tell the truth, your heart softens every time that your daughter asks to sleep with you, loving how she helps you fight Lewis’ absence as well, you two cuddling each other so you don’t feel so alone without his bright, powerful presence around.  

- She’s on your side of the bed, though - you inform him. Last night wasn’t any different. Another nightmare, another cuddle session in your bed before the toddler falls asleep again. 

Lewis furrows his eyebrows at your words for a second, before remembering that you had already told him all about how Grace has been having more bad dreams than usual, especially since she started feeling so down, constantly asking if her dad doesn’t want to be around her anymore. 

Again, a deep sigh leaves his lips, filling the air surrounding you. The memories of everything that his daughter has been saying, make an incredibly heavy weight to form on his shoulders, hating how he has to stay away for work so much, how he hasn’t been able to give his princess all the attention she needs and deserves. 

Trying to shrug those thoughts away, the man serves himself a cup of coffee before reaching for your hand, guiding you to lay on the sofa with him, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest - starting with a cuddle session with his wife, until it’s time for Grace to wake up. 

Having your husband’s arms wrapped around you again almost feels like a dream. Something that has felt so distant for the past weeks, that you were craving and needing so much. And now, you finally have him all to yourself, and as you rest your head on his chest, a comfortable silence strings your bodies along. No one dares to say a word, just focusing on how each other’s touch feels light yet soothing against the other’s skin, leaving kisses here and there, hugging tighter and closer. 

In the back of your head, there’s a small assumption that keeps itching you. As much as you want to believe that he is home to stay - at least for a week or so, unfortunately, you noticed how small is the bag that he brought with him when he arrived. An incredibly small one, the type that Lewis only uses when he is only away for a weekend or so. So, as much as you want to make the most of this, the cuddles, his presence, you know it’s something that it won’t last. 

It’s like Lewis can feel the tension that slowly creeps on your muscles the more you think about it, his hands rubbing your back to try and calm you down, showing that he is here, right by your side, trying to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. 

But in reality, he too has been obsessively thinking about the time passing by, how he needs to leave again in the middle of the night, not even being able to sleep beside his wife for an entire night - wanting nothing more than to cuddle you and Grace to sleep in his chest, protecting the loves of his life. But he can’t. Not tonight. And he knows that he hasn’t told you about it yet, but it’s like he can’t find the courage in his body to do it, to drop the bomb in your face, to ruin the moment you’re having right now. So he decides to keep it to himself, for now. 

8:47 am, you and your husband are climbing up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where your daughter is still sleeping. Opening the door to her tiny figure wrapped in the sheets, her curls all over his pillow, truly is the sight that the man didn’t know he needed to heal every wound in his heart. 

Lewis doesn’t even hold back, his body moving on its own as he sits at the end of the bed, on his side of the mattress that now apparently belongs to Grace, so he can have a better view of his baby’s features. 

She looks gorgeous as ever, the most beautiful and precious thing that Lewis has ever laid his eyes on, the most important thing in the driver’s life, the owner of his entire heart, without a doubt. Some small tears tingle in his eyes as his fingers gently caress the toddler’s cheek, slowly nudging her so the girl can wake up. 

- Princess - he calls quietly, before landing a small kiss on his child’s hand. - Time to wake up. 

Slowly opening her eyes, the little girl rubs her features as she wakes up from her slumber. Her gaze immediately is glued to the figure in front of her, almost as if she is trying to make sense of reality, questioning if she is still dreaming. 

- Daddy? - Grace whispers, before some tears appear in her eyes as Lewis nods at her question, getting close so he can hold her small body close to him. 

Small cries escape the toddler’s figure, as she immediately wraps her arms around her dad’s neck, using all her strength to not let him go, scared that he might leave again if she breaks the hug. 

Lewis can’t even describe the feeling washing over him as he can finally hold his daughter safely in his arms, noticing the scent of her baby shampoo, how her skin still holds his favourite smell ever. He can only take deep breaths, kissing the top of Grace’s head countless times, trying to calm himself down so as to not break down crying while holding his baby.

It’s an emotional sight, even for you , now that you are watching your two favourite people reunite, feeling your heart beating stronger in your chest, as if it’s being refilled with love again, after so many insecurities pooling over your head lately. 

And your daughter’s cries quickly turn into an excited gasp that leaves her lips, forgetting about all the sadness that she was carrying lately - now being substituted by happiness, the genuine type, from having her father near her again.

Soon enough, the toddler is jumping on the mattress, giggling loud as she celebrates the fact that daddy is home again, and now he can have tea parties with her, she can show him how she has mastered all the techniques he has taught her about riding her pink bike, watch her favourite cartoons with her on the sofa, and do everything that the girl has been wanting to do with him while he was away. 

Lewis giggles for a moment, before feeling a weight sinking in his chest again, remembering how he can’t do any of that with his princess, because he will leave again in a few hours. 

- Daddy! Can we go see the cute ducks at the lake tomorrow? Mummy took me there the other day, and there are little ones now! You need to see them, they are sooo cute!! - Her excited tone, mixed with the puppy eyes that she is giving him, are enough to break the man’s heart. And he knows that his next words are about to break his daughter’s heart as well.

Sighing, he tries his hardest to find the right words to say it, but it’s like his brain just forgot every single one of them. 

- Daddy can’t make it tomorrow, love. - the little girl furrows her eyebrows, not really understanding what her dad is trying to say. - Are you tired from the trip back home, daddy? It’s okay, we can go the day after tomorrow. We can just stay home and have a tea party instead? - her cute smile is just making everything hurt even more for him.  - Bubs, daddy is only home for today. I have a day off work and came back to see you and mummy, but I have to leave again after you go to sleep tonight. - there it is, the words that he didn’t want to say, and the ones that no one in the room wanted to hear. 

Your head hangs low as you hear it. Deep down, you already knew it. You knew it, as soon as you saw the bag that clearly showed that he wasn’t going to stay for long, when neither of you wanted to talk about the day he had to leave you two again. And now, you know why. 

His words hit Grace like a million bricks, the poor little girl being met with reality once again as she tries her best to hold back the tears that still slide down her cheeks. 

- You don’t love me anymore! You don’t want to spend time with me anymore! - the toddler screams before running away from her dad, hiding in between the four safe, pink walls of her room. 

And again, Lewis is met with his daughter’s harsh words, that are enough to tear his entire world apart. He gets up from the bed, wanting to go meet his child again, only to be stopped by your hand, touching his chest in a silent ‘don’t’. He too can see the disappointment evident in your eyes before you break eye contact, turning your back on him as you go to your daughter’s room. 

Your husband sits on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands as he rethinks every small decision that he has ever made, questioning why his schedule has to be so chaotic, why life can’t ease up on him a little more, so he can have some more time for his family. At this point, he doesn’t know what he can do to be better, to make things right, to make it easier for everybody, knowing for a fact that he has, above all, been failing his family lately: failing you as a husband, failing Grace as her father. 

Opening the door of your shared bedroom a little bit, he can hear his baby’s loud cries again, as you hold her close in your chest, trying your best to calm her down again - something that has become a part of your routine already. And the sounds, the mental picture of what’s happening behind Grace’s bedroom door is enough to break him, to make some tears fall from his eyes as well as he clenches his fist, absolutely hating this entire situation, cursing himself from having to leave his family so soon. 

Grace doesn’t know how to deal with these new emotions that have been erupting through her small figure lately. All she knows is that she is sad, very sad. And very confused with her dad’s agenda, not understanding why this is making her chest hurt, only making her cry out more, feeling scared with the discomfort that these newfound emotions provide her. 

Tired of hearing his princess cry while staying still in his bedroom without doing anything to help or to make it better, Lewis decides to step up, gaining the courage to walk to the toddler’s room.

Knocking on the door gently, he hopes to be met with a ‘come in’. But instead, he is met with a loud ‘I don’t want to see you!’ coming from his daughter’s mouth, hearing how you reprimand her due to the attitude she is giving him, now. There’s a desperate sigh escaping Lewis’ lips now, but still, he decides to ignore Grace’s words, walking inside the room. 

Once he does, the toddler immediately hides her face in your chest again, trying her best not to look at her dad’s face, keeping her words. 

- Grace, please look at me - Lewis asks her with a serious tone, crouching down so he is eye leveled with the kid. But still, all he gets in return is silence, and the girl only hides her face further into the crook of your neck. 

Rubbing his features with his hands almost desperately, he looks up at you, giving you a pleading glance, needing your help with this - begging you to forget about how sad and disappointed you are feeling at him now as well, so you can help him solve this problem with your daughter now. 

With a tired sigh, you give in. 

- Grace, look at your father - you say. Still, nothing. You know she is as stubborn as you are, but you absolutely hate when she is acting up this way. - Grace. - you say more sternly, catching the girl’s attention as she slowly turns to look at him, now. 

Once Lewis’ eyes meet his child’s again, the pain in both of their chests connects, feeling it in the exact same intensity. Taking in the sight of his daughter’s tear stained face is the worst part of it all. 

- Bubs, please listen to daddy carefully. - he starts speaking, feeling his voice cracking a bit, laced with the million different emotions surrounding his body as well.  - You know how you and mummy are going to move to the new house that daddy got in Italy, right baby? I even showed you pictures of your new room and everything - he asks Grace, trying to give her a calm, light tone. The girl nods her head, not really in the mood to talk now.  - So, daddy needs to go because I am preparing everything so you can move there as fast as possible love, so we can spend every day together again. - the thought of having his family next to him all day, every day again, makes a small smile appear in the man’s face.  - But you are never home anymore. You can leave that house and come here! And you don’t want to play with me anymore. - the toddler finally speaks up, finding a perfectly reasonable solution for the problem. 

Lewis tries to get closer to the little girl, his fingers gently touching her small hand, hoping she will give in a bit, so she can better understand what’s going on and hug him again in no time. 

- Princess, my favourite thing in this world is to play with you. Tea parties, riding our bikes, you painting my nails, watching ducks at the lake, you name it. My favourite time in this world is the time I get to spend by your side - he admits, being completely transparent as he looks right into the toddler’s eyes. - You know daddy loves you more than anything in this entire world, bubs. 

The three-year-old slowly nods her head ‘yes’. She does know that her dad loves her more than anything, but she is still hurt. 

- I promise everything will get easier, princess. I’m doing everything I can so we can be together everyday again really, really fast, okay? Please forgive me, my love. Daddy never wanted to hurt you - landing a small kiss on her cheek, his hands caress her hair as the little girl moves in your lap, stretching her small arms to hug her daddy. 

And once Lewis is able to hold his princess in his arms again, everything feels a bit more right, as if the toddler has the power to glue the pieces of his heart together. The only things that can be heard in the room are muffled ‘I love you, bubs’, ‘I love you so much’, that Lewis keeps whispering to his daughter, to which Grace quietly replies ‘I love you too, daddy’. 

Today, there were no tea parties, the kid didn’t paint her dad’s nails, they didn’t go to see the ducks at the lake. Instead, they ate the toddler’s favourite breakfast together, at home, and decided to just spend the entire day cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the time together as a family, playing some small games, singing songs, dancing in the middle of the living room, to an extent that loud giggles would erupt through the walls.

After dinner, the air grows heavy again, as the three of you know that the day is coming to an end, and that Lewis won’t be home again once you and your daughter wake up. 

The man carries Grace safely in his arms, her tiny limbs strongly wrapped around his neck as well, as they reach the toddler’s bedroom. Now, you decided to let them have this moment to themselves, waiting downstairs for your husband to come back. 

Tucking his princess in bed as he usually does, the biggest kiss lands on the little girl’s forehead, ready to scare all monsters away, so she can have the most peaceful of sleeps, with the sweetest of dreams. 

- Have a nice night of sleep, my love - Lewis says, trying not to show how this goodbye is killing him, playing it off with a smile. 

However, he notices the kid’s big chocolate eyes looking up at him attentively. 

- Please come back fast, daddy. I feel so cold without you here. And mummy misses you too - the toddler whispers, almost on the verge of crying again. 

Lewis needs to swallow the lump forming in his throat again, staying silent for a second as he takes in his daughter’s words. 

- I promise I’ll be fast, bubs. You’ll be in your new room, in our new house, in no time. I promise - he shows her his pinky finger, knowing how serious Gracie takes pinky promises. 

The fact that her daddy is pinky promising her that they will be together again soon, makes a sparkle appear in the girl’s eyes, as she wraps her own pinky around his. 

- I love you so, so much, princess. More than anything in this world. Never doubt that - he insists, kissing her forehead again before giving her another bear hug.  - I love you too, daddy. And please make sure that my new bedroom has the right shade of pink in the walls - the three-year-old jokes, lightening the mood as her dad gets up from her bed.  - I will, baby. I will - he giggles lightly, before blowing one last kiss to his biggest reason to live, closing the door behind him. 

Lewis takes a moment before coming downstairs again, wiping away some of the tears that escaped his eyes. Saying goodbye to little Gracie is always the hardest, and definitely the worst part. 

Finally meeting you in the living room, the man completely breaks down as you engulf him in your arms, noticing how much of a wreck he is. You let him cry in your arms, staying silent as he apologizes over and over again to you. For not being home as much, for not having many days off of work, for failing you when you need him the most. 

At this moment, he starts thinking that maybe you were right all along. He should have slowed down already, he should have left F1 behind, dedicating himself to his other projects and especially to his family, which needs him so much. But he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of joining Ferrari, putting his dreams in front of everything else. 

This might only be temporary, until you and Grace finally meet him in Italy, but you are sure that you can’t keep up doing this for much longer, now. 

- Things can’t continue like this, Lewis - you tell him, hot tears sliding down your cheeks as well, now.  - I know, love. I know. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make everything right. In a blink of an eye, the three of us will be together in our new home, baby. Please, just be a little more patient with me - he begs, his arms wrapping tighter around your silhouette as he voices his pleads. 

You sigh. You know you will end up giving in, but you can only take so much, and now, there’s not a day that you aren’t concerned about the future of your family. 

- Just don’t let this sport break you, baby. Don’t let them take you from us. We need you so, so much - you confess, seeing Lewis nod as his tears match yours, holding you in his chest as you mourn the time you had for each other. 

Before he has to leave, he makes sure to cuddle you extra close in bed, your words echoing in his mind to the point where he feels like he could drown in them, dying in your arms as you fall into a peaceful sleep in his chest, almost as if he will still be by your side once you wake up. 

But you know he will leave during the night. And so, while you have the privilege to fall asleep in his chest, you trick your mind to dream about him, so you can have him twice, making sure that, one way or another, he will still be with you once you wake up in the morning. 

In your absence, everything is suspended for Lewis. Your husband is so addicted to seeing you, that he just daydreams about your figure being right by his side, inventing you everywhere, feeding the void that the distance insists in creating between him and his family.

He hates it, he really does. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do right now. He wishes he could make a call and cancel all his responsibilities for the rest of the week, spending all day by his girls’ side. But he can’t. And right now, he can only pray for you to be even more patient, until the day you are together again, in your new house.

Tucking you in bed with a forehead kiss, the man leaves your shared room, feeling all the weight coming back to his shoulders as he picks up his bag, leaving his happiness behind as he travels back to his job, leaving his heart behind, in his home in the human shapes of you and Gracie, wanting to be right where his family is. 

[deusexlachina]

Wannabe Warden Part 3 (Varric and Anders): Fail to impress a Grey Warden

In which I would like to perform a daring rescue for a Grey Warden but am far too weak and instead install my transition goals as chief of police so I can recruit powerful criminals without fear of legal reprisal.

A year into my mercenary life, someone decides to rob me. A clean-shaven dwarf named Varric comes to my rescue, and advises the pickpocket to find a different line of work where he doesn't pick fights with people he can't handle, life advice that would have immensely benefited me a year ago.

There were a number of Varric mods, but most of them took away either his beardless face or his tits-out chest, both of which are iconic enough to be the focus of his tarot card in Inquisition.

I am perverse but not that perverse. So I only give him a more OP-looking Bianca, which is a package deal with a blue shirt.

Varric introduces himself, saying he's heard the name "Hawke" a lot, presumably from Other Aveline, who uses the term insistently in a desperate attempt to avoid a situation in which I'm Aveline and she's Other Aveline.

Varric asks me to invest in an expedition to the Deep Roads, which I would suspect is a con, except he has a friendly face and the avuncular voice of Brian Bloom.

This is my chance! In the Deep Roads, I can not only fight darkspawn, but if I'm lucky, encounter some Grey Wardens who will be happy to have a new recruit. The Deep Roads Expedition becomes the focus of my life - my Main Quest, if you will.

Varric says that the expedition has everything it needs besides my help, fifty gold coins, and also a map to where the expedition is heading. So. It has everything except everything it needs. Fortunately, Varric hears rumours of a Grey Warden in Kirkwall. I hope it's Good Queen Morwen! She's a badass! I hear she's a better tank than a warrior. (I didn't take her name because everyone knows her and it would just seem arrogant).

Unfortunately, it is Anders, who is only not known as the goofy chucklefuck of the Wardens because he fought alongside Oghren.

However - despite the jaunty tuquoise-and-yellow robe I've put him in - this is a much sadder Anders than the playful little goblin in Amaranthine. He merged with his friend, Justice, a startling twist of events that is very impactful if you know either of these characters, as I didn't on my first playthrough and Aveline doesn't either. After Justice came inside Anders' body, their relationship changed forever. Without boundaries between them, Anders lost his mirth and Justice lost his cool head. Two noble souls become worse than the sum of their parts.

I'm just here for a Grey Warden to take me to the Grey Warden tunnels so I can drink Grey Warden juice to become a Grey Warden. I ask him for help on the Deep Roads expedition, and he offers it if I can rescue his boyfriend, another runaway mage. Unfortunately, this is a trap, and unfortunatelyer, I am not strong enough to fight my way out of the trap, because this is Nightmare Ultra. So before I can get stronger by having Anders on my side, I need to get strong enough to fight my way out of a trap.

I start with helping Other Aveline with her new job, which is being a cop, because the cops saved her miserable life and also because Other Aveline sucks. Aveline Cops Are Bastards. This is extremely punishing, but eventually, I manage to save Guardsman Donnic, who has a crush on me even though I've never seen him before in my life. The chaser fuck.

In a plotline that makes me feel like Varric wanted to write noir, Donnic testifies to corruption within the guard that goes right to the top. I use this as leverage to install Other Aveline as Captain of the Guard, giving me the exact sort of illicit connection to the police that got her predecessor fired, because, as we will see time and again, Kirkwall has not invented the Rule of Law.

[weiszklee]

My flatmate's cat died a few hours ago, and it's making me sadder than I thought it would. He was old but could easily still have had years in him, at least he died quickly I guess, good for him, all the more shocking for the rest of us. He was very curious and cuddly, loved to come in my room and hang out in my wardrobe or lay around on my shoulder bag on the floor. And now he won't anymore. I only knew him for a little over two months (the flatmate only recently moved in with us), I probably won't get anything done today, but I will get over it. I don't think I could ever have pets of my own, this is too much to deal with.

I hear there are very different ways people relate to dead bodies, I am decidedly in the camp of: They're grotesque, occupying the form of something you loved, only to serve as an even greater reminder of what is now absent. I gave the dead cat a pat on the head, and that was about all I managed to do. My flatmate keeps talking about it like he's still in there, and I can't fault her for it, of course, but that's almost making me nauseous.

She's gonna have it cremated later today and keep the ashes, decorate the container or something, I hope that helps her. I feel a bit lost, in a way I wish I could do more for her, but I tend to deal with heavy emotions by isolating myself, so I don't really know how.

[h0neyjaehyun]

☁︎ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ☁︎

Summary // Taeyong misses his little girl

Characters // Talia Flores + Lee Taeyong (ft. Hyung Line 127)

Month / Year // 2020

Word Count //

It’s been a couple weeks since Tali came back from her hiatus. It’s like she never took one. She came back with a smile, continued to do a comeback. Something clearly happened as she had injuries still here and there that weren't there before, and it must've been big deal since the managers are not allowed to talk about it and told them not to ask her anything about it.

But Taeyong had enough, he needs to know what happened that night. He needs to know so he can help her, through seem like she’s fine, she's not, at times you can see the disguise disappear when she's on the phone speaking to her brother in a different language that the members can't understand but can hear the sadness in her voice.

Things have changed whether he accepts it or not. Tali doesn't hang out with them that much, they tried to get her to eat with them, go out a little, spend time with each other. She would always say no, even if it was indirect no or a direct no. She has been getting more distant even though she seems so close. They started it, but they wanna end it, the guilt is eating them from the inside out even though they don’t know from what. She acts like nothing happened like she didn't just disappear without them knowing. Like she wasn't just ignored, like she wasn't just brushed aside on that dreadful night.

She acts normal on camera. Like anyone would, but off she would be so distant, there..but distant. Then when she did go out it was with other people, sometimes stays over. For example, Stray kids, her brother, Allen, Blackpink. Especially with Chan, Allen or her brother, Song-ho not that much as he travels, she stays with them as she feels safe as she did all those years ago.

She wouldn't even be in the same car as them sometimes for reasons they don't know which makes the genuinely upset. They would see her brother, Allen, a manager, Chan pick her up and drop her off at the same location just a little late.

They feel helpless and just want to get closer to the girl like they used to, to make up for what has happened even though they know nothing.

"You think it’s a good idea?" Taeyong asked.

"I don't know Taeyong, it's super risky, too risky for my liking." Johnny said looking over at the paper in front of him, having a name and number of a person that Talia barely mentions.

"She hasn't even introduced us to the rest of them what makes you think she would be happy with this." Yuta asked a little baffled Taeyong would offer this and also questioning how he even got it in the first place. Taeyong is getting desperate to getting closer with Tali and its quite obvious as his desperate attempts to get closer to the girl like they used was getting more sadder to watch each day.

"I- I....ever since that day everything has changed and I feel like she might know, and they haven't seen each other in so long. She might be happy to see her, you never know." Taeyong shrugged. The older members could see it in Taeyong's eyes. He was losing it, Tali such an important person to him, has been with him through thick and thin, and the fact he doesn't know what’s happening with her is making him a little crazy.

"Taeyong I think we should ask-"

"NO!" Taeyong cut off Doyoung, he cleared his throat and lowered his head realizing he raised his voice unintentionally.

"No, I want this to be a surprise I want to see the excitement in her face. I...I just want to see her genuine smile again." Taeyong's voice cracked hands on his face clearly about to cry, the desperate need to make the girl happy was there clear as day. If you could see him in the state, all you could do is feel pity for the man. Thats all the members could feel for him.

Yes, Tali is such an important person to them. But for Taeyong it was something different. She was like his wall, his child of hope, with such innocence dripping from her. A heart of gold he would say, and for him to see her so hurt, not seeing her genuine smile broke him. He wanted to see her bright smile again. From mistakes he made to make her life more and more difficult when he thought he was making it better, he thought he finally saw he was the problem, he needed to fix his mistakes.

He wants her to be happy, that’s what he promised her in his mind whether she knows it or not, thats what he promised her brother and now her brother won't even look in his direction and if he did, his eyes weren't the same as they used to be, they would be dead just like his sister's.

He just wanted his little girl to smile again.

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

Lestat de Lioncourt - A playlist

So, guess who made a Lestat Playlist (like there aren't enough already) and decided to sit down for 4-6 hours to find some excerpt corresponding with each song? Featuring 80s and 90s music (clearly showing my age...) as well as many european songs and showtunes. Enjoy!

1. Cathedrals – Ramin Karimloo (Original by Jump, Little Children)

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome There is a feeling that you should just go home And spend the lifetime finding out just where that is

And that was not a good year for me. I was wandering aimlessly. I was sick of things. I was furious with myself that the „beauty“ of life wasn't sustaining me, wasn't making my loneliness bearable.

I wanted to join them. Always do want to join them and never do. „Go home,“ he whispered. - Prince Lestat

(I actually feel like there are quotes that would correspond to this song in every one of the books and indeed have not yet found any other song that captures the general spirit of The Vampire Chronicles as perfectly.)

2. Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks

Well, I went today Maybe I will go again tomorrow Yeah yeah, well, the music there Well, it was hauntingly familiar Well, I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet and a voice from a choir And a melody, and nothing else mattered

He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said: „Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?“ - The Vampire Lestat

3. I ain't scared of lightning – Tom McRae

No I ain't scared of lightning And thunder never killed I was born in a summer storm and I live there still

I wasn't part of the world that cringed at such things. And with a smile, I realized that I was of that dark ilk that makes others cringe. Slowly and with great pleasure, I laughed.

And the labor that brought it forth was rapture such as I have never known. - The Vampire Lestat

4. Junge Roemer – Falco (Young Romans – Full Translation)

Don't ask for new old values See white light, see only feeling The night is ours till morning We play every game Don't ever let this journey end The doing comes only from the being Only from dimensions, that Are worth illusions and sensations Give me more, give me more, give me more...

... and again she laughed. „Ah, but we are splendid devils, aren't we?“ „Hunters of the Savage Garden,“ I said. „Then let's go into Paris,“ she said. - The Vampire Lestat

5. Running up that hill – Candy Says (Original by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building,

„Not even with Nicolas?“ „No, god, no!“ I looked at her. She nodded slightly as if she approved of this answer. „Why not with Nicolas?“ she asked. I wanted this to stop. „Because he's young,“ I said, „and he has life before him.“ - The Vampire Lestat

6. Florence – Notre Dame de Paris (Full Translation)

The little things always triumph over the large And literature will kill architecture The school books will kill the cathedrals The Bible will kill the Church, and man will kill God This will kill that

„I never lived in it. I push against the glass. But how do I get in?“ „I can't tell you that,“ I said. „You have to study this age,“ Gabrielle interrupted. Her voice was calm but commanding. He looked towards her as she spoke. „You have to understand the age,“ she continued, „through its literature and its music and its art. You have come up out of the earth, as you yourself put it. Now live in the world.“ No answer from him. Flash of Nicki's ravaged flat with all its books on the floor. Western civilization in heaps. - The Vampire Lestat

7. Go your own way – Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things that I feel

If I could maybe I'd give you my world How can I when you won't take it from me

You can go your own way You can call it another lonely day

„Keep your promise,“ she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it. „Gabrielle!“ I whispered. But she was already gone. - The Vampire Lestat

8. Désenchantée – Olympe (Original by Myléne Farmer - Full Translation)

If death is a mystery Life isn't exactly tender If heaven has a hell Then heaven can still wait for me Tell me how to handle this headwind Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing's fine

Laughter. That insane music. That din, that dissonance, that never ending shrill articulation of the meaninglessness... Am I awake? Am I asleep? I am sure of one thing. I am a monster. And because I lie in torment in the earth, certain human beings move on through the narrow pass of life unmolested. - The Vampire Lestat

9. A kind of magic – Queen

The bell that rings inside your mind Is challenging the doors of time It's a kind of magic The waiting seems eternity The day will dawn of sanity

And quite completely I understood that it was looking for me, this sound, it was seeking me out.

Blood like light itself, liquid fire.

It seemed beneath the roar of the flow he spoke. He said again: „Drink, my young one, my wounded one.“ I felt his heart swell, his body undulate, and we were sealed against each other. I think I heard myself say: „Marius.“ And he answered: „Yes.“ - The Vampire Lestat

10. La quête – Bruno Pelletier (French version of „The Impossible Dream“ from Man of La Mancha)

To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest To follow that star Ooh, no matter how hopeless No matter how far

I would remain in New Orleans if New Orleans could only manage to remain. Whatever I suffered should be lessened in this lawless place, whatever I craved should give me more pleasure once I had it in my grasp. And there were moments on that first night in this fetid little paradise when I prayed that in spite of all my secret power, I was somehow kin to every mortal man. - The Vampire Lestat

11. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. - The Vampire Lestat

12. Do I disappoint you – Rufus Wainwright

Do I disappoint you, in just being human? And not one of the elements that you can light your cigar on Why does it always have to be fire? Why does it always have to be brimstone?

„And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge!“ „Yes!“ he cried out suddenly, his hands out, his voice tinged with something other than anger.

And then I sensed it. He was afraid. Lestat afraid. - Interview with the Vampire

13. Ordinary World – Duran Duran

What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive

I do not remember when it became the twentieth century, only that everything was uglier and darker, and the beauty I'd known in the old eighteenth-century days seemed more than ever some kind of fanciful idea. - The Vampire Lestat

14. I'm still standing – Taron Egerton (Original by Elton John)

And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm coming back again

But after the third night up, I was roaring around New Orleans on a big black Harley-Davidson motorcycle making plenty of noise myself. […] I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground. - The Vampire Lestat

15. Catch my fall – Billy Idol

I have the time so I will sing, yeah I'm just a boy but I will win, yeah Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers, yeah Leave me sad and hollow out of words

It could happen to you so think for yourself If I should stumble, catch my fall, yeah

I've survived, obviously. I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't. And the cosmic dust has finally settled; and the small rift in the world's fabric of rational beliefs has been mended, or at least closed. I'm a little sadder for all of it, and a little meaner and a little more conscientious as well. - The Queen of the Damned

16. I want it all – Queen

I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all

It is not enough any longer that my little rock band be successful. We must create a fame that will carry my name and my voice to the remotest parts of the world. - The Vampire Lestat

17. Let me entertain you – Robbie Williams

Hell is gone and heaven's here There's nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream

I'm a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You're my rock of empathy, my dear

So come on let me entertain you

"I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I stepped way back from the microphone, and the sound was almost visible as it arched over the length of the oval theater, and the voice of the crowd rose even higher, louder, as if to devour the ringing sound. - The Vampire Lestat

18. La bien qui fait mal – Mozart l'Opera Rock (Full translation)

I can feel a violent urge I feel like I'm sliding towards the ground If I don't find out where this plague is coming from I adore having it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly all my cravings take off The desire becomes my prison Until I loose my mind

Yet I was in her arms in this chilling darkness, in the familiar scent of winter, and her blood was mine again, and it was enslaving me. When she drew away, I felt agony. - The Queen of the Damned

19. Tainted Love – Soft Cell

And you think love is to pray But I'm sorry I don't pray that way Once I ran to you Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not living, oh

„What do you think I am that I am so easily swayed? I was born a Queen. I have always ruled; even from the shrine I ruled." Her eyes were glazed suddenly. I heard the voices, a dull hum rising. "I ruled if only in legend; if only in the minds of those who came to me and paid me tribute. Princes who played music for me; who brought me offerings and prayers. What do you want of me now? That for you, I renounce my throne, my destiny!" What answer could I make? - The Queen of the Damned

20. Dancing in the Dark – Ruth Moody (Original by Bruce Springsteen)

They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

"I want you to put the book aside and come join us," he said. "You've been locked in here for over a month." "I go out now and then," I said. I liked looking at him, at the neon blue of his eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. "Yes," he said. "Want to go on a little adventure?" My heart was thudding suddenly. It would be so grand if- "Want to break the new rules?" "What in the world do you mean?" he whispered. - The Queen of the Damned

21. I want you – Savage Garden

Oh, I want you, I don't know if I need you But oh, I would die to find out

"You don't think you'll be back?" he asked. "I think you will, whether I call or not." Another little surprise. A little stab of humiliation. I smiled at him in spite of myself. He was a very interesting man. "You silver-tongued British bastard," I said. "How dare you say that to me with such condescension? Maybe I should kill you right now."

I thought of David Talbot's face, and that moment when he'd challenged me. Well, maybe he was right. I'd be back. Who said I couldn't come back and talk to him if I wanted to? - The Queen of the Damned

22. Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher I've been to school, oh baby, I've been the teacher If you show me how to get up off the ground I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down

I sat down on the bed beside him. And then I bent down and kissed his face again gently, as I had in New Orleans, liking the feel of his roughly shaven beard, just as I liked that sort of thing when I was really Lestat and I would soon have that strong masculine blood inside. I moved closer to him, when suddenly he grasped my hand, and I felt him gently push me away. „Why, David?“ I asked him. He didn't answer. He lifted his right hand and brushed my hair back out of my eyes. „I don't know,“ he whispered. „I can't. I simply can't.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

23. 20th Century Boy – Placebo (Original by T-Rex)

I move like a cat, charge like a ram Sting like a bee, babe, I wanna be your man, hey!

He drew back with a speed that astonished me, cleaving to the wall. „Don't do this, Lestat.“ „Don't fight me, old friend. You waste your effort. You have a long night of discovery ahead.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

24. Way down we go – KALEO

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve And way down we go

„In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don't leave me alone.“ - Memnoch the Devil

25. Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Reach out, touch faith

"Don't tell me," Gabrielle said slurringly, "that it's a matter of faith." She sneered and shook her head. "You come like doubting Thomas to thrust your bloody fangs in the very wound." "Oh, stop, please, I beg you," I whispered. I put up my hands. "Let me try, and let him hurt me, and then be satisfied, and turn away." - The Vampire Armand

26. Papillon – Editors

Darling Just don't put down your guns yet If there really was a God here He'd have raised a hand by now Now darling You're born, get old, then die here Well that's quite enough for me We'll find our own way home somehow

"And if I spill my blood down into this coffin now," Lestat asked her, "what do you think will come back? Do you think it will be our Louis that will rise in these burnt rags? What if it's not, chérie, what if it's some wounded revenant that we must destroy?" "Choose life, Lestat," she said. - Merrick

27. Sunday Light – Choir Boy

Why, why, why, are you silent on the ride home? I'd love to see the temple with you Heavenly and bright, golden angel twisted scathing You were one of us, one of us, one of us, you were one of us

"Then come, Little Brother, take me to where you want to talk," he said, and I felt the soft squeeze of his fingers on my arm. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked him. "You're used to people being paid to do it, aren't you?" he asked. - Blackwood Farm

28. Für mich solls rote Rosen regnen – Hildegard Knef (It should rain red roses for me - Full translation)

It should rain red roses for me All wonders should encounter me The world should rearrange itself And keep its worries to itself

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes- Wait a second. Do you know who I am? - Blood Canticle

29. Constant Craving – K. D. Lang

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin And constant craving Has always been

I was hunting, thirsting though I didn't need to drink, at the mercy of the craving, the deep agonizing lust for heated pumping human blood. - Prince Lestat

30. Kalte Sterne – Jan Ammann (Cold Stars from the musical Ludwig² - Full translation)

Get up, ride home, on your horse, through your land Across the morning with your reins trailing behind you Build a castle like a dream, build it with mighty hands And it shall be named „future“

Build a castle like a dream Up from the ashes and close to the heavens Build a castle like a dream And realise the future as king

If we wanted to survive, if we wanted to inherit the millenia […] then we had to meet the future with respect as well as courage and count fear and selfishness to be small things. - Prince Lestat and the realms of Atlantis

31. C'est une belle journée – Mylene Farmer (Full translation)

I'm going to bed To bite eternity With my mouth wide open It's a beautiful day

And I felt the cold numbing shell of alienation and despair which had imprisoned me all of my life among the Undead – I felt that shell cracked, broken, and dissolved utterly into infinitesimal fragments. - Blood Communion

32. Princes of the Universe – Queen

Fly the moon and reach for the stars With my sword and head held high Got to pass the test first time, yeah I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day But I can prove them wrong 'cause I'm right first time

„I know that you meant full well to bring Rhoshamandes down, of course you did. But you had no way of knowing that you could. And no one would have predicted that you could. And with the willingness to die, you gave yourself over into his hands... and you disarmed him and destroyed him.“ – Blood Communion

And finally, because I can, a bonus track:

33. Primadonna – MARINA

And I'm sad to the core, core, core Every day is a chore, chore, chore When you give, I want more, more, more I wanna be adored

[abombihoney]

i hope you're happy, because you managed to make EVERYONE cry

that is such a sad idea! like, knowing how the only cordy that has the memories of the host still has some gaps there and there means that vi may end up forgetting things. what would be worse is that she may forget some things she did together with the team. even worse: maybe the cordy will also forget things which, you know, is BAD in a way. like, it may end up forgetting more important things.

tho, this really shows how she's also kind. like yeah, she uses bravado and anger to deal with her emotions, but that doesn't mean she's completely bad! she's just a teen after all (which also makes the situation sadder, since of course everyone would assume that she is lying; she's just a child! no one really believes a child, they are easy to manipulate. like, she is NOT lying but nobody believes her. the fact that she ends up in such a bad situation is horrible, since no child should fear the people that were close to her. of course she can't see the queen like a kind being anymore; she doesn't understand that she KNOWS. she KNOWS what she's saying, so of course vi would feel betrayed; no one takes her seriously)

tbh i also really like how you made crow be the one who helps them in escaping. it's a nice touch, considering that the team comments on how she seems to be overworked. she could have easily overheard the discussion (since it's a tattle) which was a sign for her that hey, someone cares a little for her.

(btw, you're working on a fic? that's awesome! also sorry for this whole dump! i'm very interested) - mothposts (i'm on mobile so i can't send an ask from my account)

Good! If I had to cry so did everyone else!!!!

on the memory thing: :)

Yeah nobody ever believes kids or teenagers about anything, I remember how much that pissed me off as a kid. I never could understand why I would have to explain myself about w/e, if the adult in question had already made up their mind, but was just hearing me out "to be fair" or some bs.

which as an adult now, there is a degree of "oh this is teenage emotions/oh yeah they're a teen. teens just be like that." Teenagers are very emotional, they lash out A Lot.

The teenage years are when you start learning all sorts of shit. You learn that adults don't actaully know everything, they probably don't know much more than you. Teenagers are really getting into the concept their own personal morals and ethics, every single small issue seems huge to them! This is the first time they're dealing with stuff in a context more complex than "following the rules is good, otherwise is bad."

anyway, kids aren't stupid. adults just tend to get up their own asses so much that they forget kids are just inexperienced people. Have you ever heard of baby powder effect? i think its called?

it's the concept that someone who changed your diapers is never going to take you seriously. anyone who knew you when you were just a baby are never going to see you as fully functioning adult, and worse, as an adult of equal standing. I'm sure that when you are the mother of your entire kingdom, you might have a problem with listening to your subjects.

Yes with crow it's also that she is the assistant to the head scientist. you don't see someone you know play card with occasionally get vivisected and just, go on with your day.

i have Thoughts on Kabbu and Jaune :)

Yes! the fic i'm working on is actually just fleshing out these concepts! I'm just adding narration, concrete series of events, and slighter better drawings. I already have seven chapters outlined lol.

[fallenrepublick]

you can't do this to me so I must demand: FORCE GHOST READER! FORCE GHOST READER! How would Maul and Thrawn deal with their late lover coming back to haunt them bc it's obvious even from the other side how badly they're doing?

Perfect I’m gonna make you all sadder

Maul

Already there had been instances where he could have sworn you were standing right in front of him, only to be met with emptiness the moment he blinked. As a result, seeing you standing before him scares him, but he makes every attempt not to interact with you, if only to save himself from disappointment again.

But blinking doesn’t make you go away, and the small, sad smile you offer only makes him realize you’re real.

And he runs to you, frantically, seeking you out beyond all hope, knowing nothing else in the galaxy could matter more.

But he passes right through you.

He may as well have lost you all over again.

But you’re as there as you can be. You say his name and it’s quiet, as if you’re guilty of something, and when he turns to look at you, you wonder if being here only made it worse.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say, stepping towards him, your movements too light and figure too translucent. “You’re going to be okay.”

His first reaction was to shake his head, arms recoiling against his chest.

“No, it’s not,” he whispered, hands raising to press against each side of his head. “It’s not okay, it can never be okay... What am I going to do without you? How could I possibly move forward?”

To see you standing there, to know for sure what had become of you, it made him even more fearful. You were at peace, in a place where you could continue beyond your death. But he would never reach such a luxury. Even after his own passing, he would never be able to meet you, to hold you again, to be happy at your side.

Still, you stood before him, holding out a hand that lingered just against his cheek, the energy of your ghostly form sending just the slightest ripples through the force towards him. If he hadn’t been so terribly aware of the situation, he might’ve thought he could truly touch you.

“You’ll find a way,” you said, smiling again, this time warmer, more comforting. “You always do.”

And he blinked, and you were gone, the only hint that you were ever there the remaining sensations of your hand on his cheek.

As days went by, he wondered if it were yet another figment of his imagination, if this hallucination just happened to be more intricate than the others.

But then he remembers your touch, how real it felt, and he clings to the memory desperately, promising you that he’d find a way.

Because he always does.

Thrawn

Your figure stood in his office, an unnatural blue glow about your frame that he was entirely unfamiliar with.

His first thought was that it was impossible. He knew that you were gone, that it was permanent in every way. So how could you be here? Why?

But as improbable as it was, you were too real to ignore, and the way you looked at him was something he missed far too much than he would like to admit. So he allowed himself this. If only for a while.

“You’re burying yourself,” you start, frowning sadly at his tired eyes. “Why are you trying to hide?”

He maintained a fair distance. He knew if he didn’t, he might snap.

“You managed to be the only one I never hid from,” he lamented, gaze downturned. “I’ve nothing to show anyone else.”

Your head tilted, searching his expression. “Keeping it in will only hurt you.”

As he came closer to you, he reached out, hesitantly hovering in front of your face.

“Can I...?” His voice trailed, almost afraid of the answer.

The expression on your face told him everything he needed to know. Yet his hand didn’t lower, instead following the curves of your face with his fingers, regardless of what he couldn’t feel.

“Don’t be so sad,” you said, smiling gently. “Nothing really changes or goes away. And if you ever want to stop hiding, I’ll always be here listening.”

Almost as quickly as you’d arrived, you were gone, and Thrawn was left with nothing but an empty room and a strange sense of being accompanied.

Of course he knew what you meant. Speak to others, find solace in those he’s surrounded with, even if it isn’t the same. But instead, he finds himself speaking to an empty room as he once did when you were sitting with him.

He doesn’t know if you still listen. But somehow, he wants to believe you do. And maybe if he ever sees you again, you’ll know he didn’t forget about you.

[vintagedean]

HEY! I was cruisin through your page and saw that post you made about JDM and wondering what John and Dean would be like if John had lived, and now it's just stuck in my mind what kind of chaos that would be. Like imagine if Dean still sold his soul for Sam, went to hell, Cas pulls him out, but John is still alive? How would blood junkie Sam play out? And imagine John and Dean trying to fall back into a relationship post hell? So many factors I can't even deal with it all. I can't kick the idea.

DUDE UR MIND.

so i admit to being hung up on how john would still be alive, unless maybe in this verse john gets a year like dean? so like on top of the s2 stressors of sam's visions and abilities, there's also the ticking clock on john a la dean's ticking clock in s3. and honestly this begs other questions i haven't answered previously, like what are john and dean like relationship-wise after john goes on his hunting trip and dean feels compelled to go get sam.

i personally feel like there isn't enough time, like literally logistically, for dean and john to do much more than pine and be petty when they reconnect at the end of s1, and so i do wonder if once john makes a deal for dean's life (which im just gonna stick with in this thought experiment) and everyone is still alive, THAT'S when dean and john finally have a minute to awkwardly and bitterly and emotionally have their first conversation. i won't get into what i think that looks like now, bc you're asking about stuff further down the timeline, but like, for my own records lol, i want it known i think this is how the rekindling starts.

i think re: dean selling his soul for sam, even more interesting to me is john's reaction to that fact. john who has only days left before his deal is coming due, only days left to kill yellow eyes and break the contract, suddenly dealing with a) the death of his youngest son and b) the sacrifice of his oldest one (who he's also in an obsessive, consuming relationship with) like, the incredible blow out fight that dean and john would have (nowhere near as heartfelt, maybe is the word, as the one bobby has with dean in canon) but just the first real screaming match. john raging about how on earth dean could think this was the right choice, dean screaming I DID WHAT YOU DID. SAM IS WORTH IT. ughghghghghghghgh. and then they do manage to kill YED and get john out of his deal, and then once again things have to be dealt with.

god thinking about season 3 with john in the mix is making me want to...eat glass, get drunk, do cartwheels, like im losing it. bc if we think about the sam and dean dynamic of three, sam's terrible grief, the stressors of the demons let loose at the end of s2, worrying about lillith, plus dean spiralling, drinking, fucking, not caring. and then i imagine JOHN FUCKING WINCHESTER in the middle of this, in the middle of sam trying to save the most important person in his life and dean trying to deal with the fact the most important person in his life is maybe not happy at the choice dean made for him, and then john trying to manage two men who don't hold the same respect and fear that they used to (god "a very spn christmas" would probably be a much sadder episode). and then adding another layer of john and dean bitterly separated at this point. angry fucking, bordering on hate fucking, none of the tenderness john used to reserve for dean in these moments because they don't know how to talk about what's happening. john feels like he's watching dean die slowly, and so does sam, and them wanting to connect over that and share that grief while also still being themselves and therefore largely unable to authentically connect bc they have yet to heal the wounds of sam's childhood.

okay im spiraling on that, it hurts too good, so lets jump to the end of season 3, john having to watch with sam his oldest son, his longest-running lover, get ripped to shreds before his very eyes. and like after, i mean, i don't think there's any way sam and john stay together after losing dean, like. there's so much johndean content revolving around the pair of them losing sam, but how miserable and interesting to think about the pair of them after losing dean, without the sexual tension to lean into and watch explode. like no, sam would just leave. he'd find a way to make it john's fault (lets be clear: i wouldn't blame sam for doing that), and john would find a way to make it about sam, and they'd just have to go their own ways which would open the door for sam to go down the sam track with ruby and john to probably do fuck all. drink, fuck random people, generally self destruct.

okay, season 4 is a huge trip to think about bc the story gets so much bigger than just the three of them. i like the idea of dean coming out of hell and still going to bobby first, and then bobby taking dean to sam and then all of them waiting for john to come around to bobby's. this is like almost too much to think about so i have to take it piece by piece.

first of all, for whatever reason, this feels like the season when dean and john finally break through back to what they used to be before john ditched dean to hunt YED. and i think part of why i feel this way is that there'd be a natural alliance in their upset with sam over the blood drinking BUT i think as in canon dean would recover from this bc sam is the most important person in his life, so what would actually end up happening is that dean would fall back into moderator between john and sam's fights, with bobby backing him up.

i also think dean would come out of hell with a clearer idea of what's worth fighting over and what isn't, and i think after hell there COULD be a version of events where he decides sleeping with his father is hardly the worst thing he could do, and also when you've already been to hell, i would imagine it sort of levels out what's really hell-worthy. being in love with your father which ultimately hurts no one, would probably not feel like such a sin after literally being one of hell's best torturers.

i also think dean would be drawn back to john bc with the angel stuff, he'd want guidance from someone other than castiel, and his historically consistent leader is john, so that's who he'd be going to for advice, esp. since sam seems weirdly excited about angels where dean finds them sus af. and also i kind of think john might be a little softer about how he handles dean after hell, and could possibly turn into a more supportive figure EXCEPT for when it comes to his issues with sam that dean would have to mediate.

is this making sense? I feel like this isn't making sense, but my brain is whirring, and im just typing as i have a thought lol.

i think ultimately, a john in season 4 and 5 is a john with a reduced role who would be struggling to find his footing in such a massive production. he spent years with a mission: find and kill YED, and then immediately following that, find a way to get dean out of his deal. i think failing to do that and watching dean die as traumatically as mary (oh god, think of what watching dean die with sam in the room would bring up for john fuck fuck fuck) would do a fucking number on the senior winchester, and that his goal in s4 and s5 would be reconnecting with BOTH of his children, especially as they prepare to face such an enormous challenge as the apocalypse. i think this would be made difficult though, because for dean and john that would initially look (probably) like starting to have sex again, but with a completely different context. so whether that would help or hurt the relationship, idk.

and i think for sam...idk. i think sam would have to work through a lot of shit with learning he's the vessel for lucifer and feeling like he's exactly the disaster fuck up his father always thought he was, and with john RIGHT THERE it'd be even more of a thing. and it would be their goal to find a way through that.

omg this got so long im so sorry, ill stop here, but thank you for these brain worms and feel free to tell me im totally wrong and all that you think as well!!!

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Welcome Back, Pinetree

Chapter : 1 / ???

"How exactly did you imagine that, Dipper? We can't separate! We are the Mystery twins," Mabel exclaimed angrily and ran up and down in their shared room. "Mabel, but you want to...", Dipper started, but his sister interrupted him immediately. "What I want doesn't matter, Dipdop! What you want doesn't matter! What we want counts. Wasn't it always like that? We against the rest of the world", Mabel asked and looked at him with her huge eyes. Dipper hated it when she did this. Then he could never refuse her a wish. "Mabel, it would only be three years. And it wouldn't be like we couldn't see each other anymore," Dipper tried to calm his sister. "No! You would have no more time for me, because then you would constantly hang out with your nerd friends", tears rose to her eyes. Dipper would have loved to start chewing on something, but he tried for years not to follow this terrible habit anymore. "Mabel, you will always be my number one. I promise you that. Come on Mabel, mystery twin promise," Dipper reached out to his twin. But she turned her back on him and began to sob. "Mabel, that's really unfair..." Dipper muttered. "It's unfair that you leave me alone", she sniffed. "I... Mabel, I would never leave you alone. How could I leave you alone?" Dipper asked and got up from his bed. Carefully he went over to Mabel's side of the room. "Mabel, you always wanted to go to this funny designer school. And now is your chance! Mum and Dad made it possible for you. You can make pig fashion like you've always wanted." "But not with you..." sobbed Mabel. Dipper took off his cap and scratched the back of his head. "Mabel... Sometimes... Oh man, Mabel, don't make it harder for me than this farewell already is," he whispered and stared at his twin. She turned around to him again. Her light make-up, was smeared and she looked like a little panda. Mabel's long brown hair was tied together in a loose bun, single strands fell into her face, making her look even sadder than she already was. Dipper suppressed a groan. Mabel chewed on her lip. You could see she didn't know what to do. "Watch out for Mabel, I promise you something. We will Skype every weekend, really every weekend. And I'll write you every evening a detailed report on what happened during the day. And during the holidays we take turns. Sometimes you come to me and sometimes I come to you," Dipper tried to find a compromise. "Every day", Mabel wiped her nose with her flashing sweater. "Every day," Dipper promised with a smile. "But the same goes for you. Every day and every weekend." he quickly added.

In the end, Mabel had agreed. Relief spread to Dipper. Of course, it was also terribly difficult for him to leave Mabel. But they would soon turn 18 and soon it was time for them to leave the nest, as his great uncle Stan always said. Her parents were of the same opinion, too. They could not spend the rest of their lives together. They had to go out into the wide world and meet new people. Further education. To live their lives. But it was easier said than done. Especially when, like Dipper and Mabel, you had spent your whole life together. Their parents didn't understand this relationship. Mabel was Dipper's best friend, just like Dipper was Mabel's best friend. They had had their greatest adventures together. Great-Uncle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford were supposed to understand them best and not try to separate the two siblings every time.

Sighing, Dipper packed the last remnants of his clothes into the suitcase, then closed the zipper. "You're already driving...?" he heard his sister behind him. Dipper turned around and saw Mabel standing in the door frame. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest. "On Saturday. Stan and Ford were waiting for me," Dipper explained. "Okay...," Mabel whispered and again Dipper could see tears in her corner of her eye. "Hey, don't cry. We made a promise, didn't we?" he smiled encouragingly. "Right," she nodded and the tears were gone again. "You see. And now, how about I invite you over for an ice cream," Dipper grinned. "As many bullets as I want," Mabel breathed reverently. Dipper already regretted this answer, but nodded anyway. Immediately Mabel jumped for joy.

Shaking his head, he followed her out to his car. For their 17th birthday, their dad had financed their two driving licenses. Because you never knew when you needed a car to quote his words. However, Mabel had refused this gift, because it was enough if one of the two could drive. And since the two had firmly assumed that they would never part, it was a done deal. So Dipper had made his driver's license and Mabel had spent her money on funny printed fabrics.

"Honestly, I'm already very excited," Mabel jumped around in her seat. "Mabel, stay seated, otherwise you'll distract me and then we'll drive into a tree," Mouthed Dipper, concentrating on the road, which was once again extremely busy today. It was nice weather, many of the inhabitants went to the local swimming pool or the lake of Piedmont to lie in the sun or to cool down. Dipper was afraid of the snake at the ice cream parlour he had planned for. "But Dipping Sauce! I can finally make fashion for waddles," Mabel exclaimed excitedly, picking out a box of lozenges from her trouser pocket. Dipper was only able to guess how long these things had been in there. This summer Mabel hadn't worn these pants yet, that much was for sure. She threw one of the sweets into her mouth and then started humming the melody of her favorite song. "Just turn on the song," Dipper grumbled. "You sound like Grunkle Stan already," laughed Mabel and switched on the radio. Then she switched to the CD player and already 'Disco Girl' from BABBA roared out of the speakers. Sighing, Dipper shook her head, but remained mute. Mabel danced like crazy to the music. Well, she didn't have much freedom of movement, but somehow she managed to perform exotic movements. Dipper could only hope that his sister would not break bones or pull other injuries. Or even worse, destroyed his car.

After Dipper found a parking lot that wasn't in the midday sun, Mabel jumped out of the car before Dipper had turned it off and ran away. Sighing, Dipper looked after her and dropped his head on the steering wheel. A loud horn sounded and frightened a family passing his car. Dipper made himself as small as he could. Then he switched off the car and got out as well. There was no trace of Mabel. "Sometimes...," he murmured, pocketing the keys and shouldering his bag.

He ran across the parking lot until he discovered Mabel. She stood at a small stall and looked at the flowers the old man exhibited. She turned to him and smiled broadly. Then she waved at him. Smiling, he went to her, "Dipper, which flowers should I take? The white ones or the blue ones," she asked when he arrived at her. "The white ones," he shrugged his shoulders. "You didn't even look. You saw that too, didn't you?" Mabel asked the man excitedly. Dipper twisted his eyes, then he looked at the flowers. "The white ones. And I looked. Now stop bothering the poor man, take the flowers and let's go for ice cream." "Dipper you are boring. What do they say, which one should I take?" Mabel asked and smiled at the old man. He tilted his head. "As your friend said, they take the whites," he smiled. Dipper and Mabel stared at him with open mouths. "That.... That's not...", stuttered Mabel. "We... Oh heaven! That's my sister," hissed Dipper. The old man just laughed, then handed Mabel the flowers. "I give them to you, young lady. As an apology." Mabel took the flowers. "Thank you very much," she smiled.

Finally they had made it to the city center. It had never taken them so long to get there. So many people could not be on the way in this weather. Dipper wanted to chew on something. He did not like these large crowds. They made him nervous. The last time he faced a large crowd, they had all been stacked into a huge stone throne. Nervously, Dipper's eye twitched at the thought of the Fearamid and their owners. "All well?" Mabel asked worriedly. "I was just thinking about the summer when we were 12.", Dipper muttered. "Hey, Brobro! Don't panic. Don't think about it anymore. Bill is history," she cheered him up. Dipper nodded. Easier said than done. Bill Cipher had taken over his body and not hers. Bill Cipher had almost killed him and not her. "Look, the ice cream parlour is empty! Let's go before it gets full," Mabel exclaimed and pulled him behind him. Stumbling, Dipper followed her and the dark memories of her childhood were forgotten.

Dipper knew he should regret the decision to promise Mabel as many scoops of ice cream as she wanted. His wallet certainly didn't thank him after it was $10 empty. After Mabel proudly marched her six scoops of ice cream out of the ice cream parlour, Dipper followed her out with his two scoops. Sadly, he stroked the empty purse. "Let's go window shopping," Mabel grinned at him. "Why?" asked Dipper. "Just so. Why does everything always have to have a reason with you," she raised him. Dipper twisted her eyes. Not everything had a reason with him. Sometimes he also did things because he felt like it and not because he had a reason for it.

Again she dragged him behind her as if he were a dog. "Mabel, I can walk alone. And besides, your ice is melting," Dipper ripped his arm out of her grip. "What? Oh dear," Mabel moaned and started licking the paper cup cleanly. "Mabel," Dipper scolded. Why couldn't his sister even behave in public? He went on with a bright red head. "Wait for me," she shouted after him, but Dipper simply went on.

"That would be something for you or not," Mabel asked and plucked his shirt. Dipper looked up and immediately recognized what Mabel meant. It was a vest with a huge tree printed on its back. "No. Not in life. My cap is enough for me," he said and straightened this one, "But Dipdop! That is your trademark," Mabel shouted indignantly. "So what? I already wear it on my head. That should be enough," Dipper said with folded arms. Mabel looked at him again with those huge, sad eyes. "Ahh.... Mabel, you're killing me. I won't buy them," Dipper remained steadfast. "But if I buy them for you, you can't say no. Here, hold this, I'll be right back," Mabel shouted before she flew into the store. Sighing, Dipper looked after her.

Half an hour passed before his sister came back. The worst part, however, was that she not only held one bag in her hand, but four. "Do I want to know?" he asked carefully. "No," grinned his sister broadly. "All right," he muttered and eyed the bags one last time. "Well, besides the vest I bought two trousers, three shirts and two sweatshirts. You clearly don't have enough clothes. How will you manage with just one suitcase, three years?" Mabel asked with a grin. "You have... Mabel you... sometimes I really wonder how it can be that you're not broke all the time," Dipper said. "But thank you. "Not for that, little brother," grinned Mabel. Dipper twisted his eyes. When they were 12, Mabel was bigger than him. But that had changed when they turned 16. Now Dipper was bigger than Mabel. But that didn't stop his sister from still calling him that.

"Do we want to go back slowly? I wanted to pack some more things," said Dipper. "Already? It was just getting so funny," sulked Mabel. "Come on, Mabel, we still have three days left to do funny things," Dipper suggested. "She asked and stroked one of the loose strands from her face. "How would it be with... We could go to the lake to our common, secret place. Or we could go to the viewpoint tomorrow night. There's a shooting star shower," Dipper suggested. Mabel was immediately thrilled.

When they arrived home, they were greeted by their parents. It was a rare event that the whole Pines family sat at one table and mostly it never meant anything good. "Hey Mum! Hey Dad," Mabel greeted her parents. "Hello Mabel. How about your day?" asked her mother. "Funny. Dipper gave me six scoops of ice cream," Mabel beamed. "Mason, you shouldn't always spend so much money," his father rebuked him. "What? But... I'm sorry," he muttered and buried his hands in his trouser pockets. Every time he spent money he got in trouble. Mabel never. Sometimes Dipper was sure that his parents loved Mabel much more than him. "Sit down, we have something important to tell you," his father said and finally put the newspaper aside. That was also a point that disturbed Dipper. His father never looked at him when he scolded him. As if Dipper and his 'infamous deeds' were only a trifle that had to be punished but not heeded. With Mabel it was different. She was looked at by her parents.

Slowly the twins sat down at the table. Her parents looked at her seriously. "We will leave tomorrow morning. Some friends invited us to spend our holidays with them. That is why you will also leave tomorrow morning. Your great-uncles are ready to go.And your school, too," his dad said. "What? But... I thought Dipper wouldn't leave until Saturday," Mabel shouted indignantly. Dipper couldn't believe his ears. Had he understood his father correctly? He should separate earlier than necessary from his sister? "No 'but'. You are old enough. That's why it would be better now if you pack your bags, Mabel. Then we can leave tomorrow morning on time at 6 o'clock. Your plane takes off an hour later. And you'll most probably be driving, Mason," his father asked. Dipper bit his lip and just nodded silently. Then he got up, grabbed Mabel's wrist and dragged her up to her room.

"They can't do that," Mabel shouted. "You can see that. They can do it,' Dipper said listlessly. He didn't want to say goodbye to his sister yet. He wanted to spend more time with her. His parents were not allowed to do that to them. "Dipper! We can't let them separate us sooner than necessary," Mabel stretched out his arms and stared at him. "Mabel, what should we do? They are our parents and if they think they have to tear us apart early, then they do. Now don't complain, pack your things," Dipper said. Mabel stared at him in horror. She crossed her arms in front of her chest: "You are... You really are the very last Dipper," she sobbed and threw herself on her bed, only to cry into her pillow. "Mabel. I'm sorry. I don't think this decision is great either. I wanted to go to the lake with you tomorrow and watch shooting stars in the evening. I want to spend so much time with you. But you know our parents. They will not deviate from their opinion," Dipper explained. "That is unfair...", Mabel had got hiccups. And again she looked like a panda. "Of course it's unfair," he agreed with her. "I really wish our time together would never end," whispered Mabel and pressed her pink pillow against her chest. "Watch what you wish for..." muttered Dipper. Mabel stared at him. "It... Oh God Dipper, I'm terribly sorry," she shouted, threw the pillow off and stumbled over her cuddly toys to him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed Dipper against her. "It's all right. Mabel, that's all right," Dipper smiled.

That night Dipper dreamt terribly badly for the first time. He was used to dreaming badly, of course, at least the things he had experienced in Gravity Falls were still following him now. 5 years, 4 therapists and countless sleepless nights later and he was still afraid of a dream demon they had defeated 5 years ago. Dipper would never get away from Bill Cipher. Still, this monster held him in his claws. Dipper would never be free.

Dipper woke up around 4 o'clock. Bathed in sweat and wheezing. He stared into the dark room and buried his hands deep in his blanket. How he would love to finally stop having these terrible nightmares. He didn't want to think about what Bill had done to him, his family and Gravity Falls. He certainly didn't want to think about what Bill would have done if he could have broken the force field and plunged the entire world into total chaos. "Dipdop," Mabel whispered in the darkness. "Hey..." Dipper murmured and stroked his face. "Is everything okay?" she asked quietly. "Yes... Yes, of course," he nodded and knew that Mabel couldn't see his nod anyway. "Can I come over? Somehow... I feel lonely," his sister muttered. "Sure..." Dipper replied and moved closer to the wall.

Not a minute later the mattress sank and Mabel lay next to him. "What if people at the designer school don't like me," asked Mabel. "How can you not be liked", Dipper asked and pressed her hand. "After all, you were always the cooler twin." "But you were the cooler Dipper. You always knew a solution, no matter what the problem," said Mabel. "That's not true. Many situations I could solve only thanks to your genius. Like the secret about Quentin Trembley and the cheater Nathaniel Northwest," Dipper said. Mabel giggled next to him. "I made a ship's hat out of the paper and we found the map with it." Dipper smiled. "You see? Without you I would have been lost. Or when we fought Gideon and almost fell into the abyss, but you magically saved us with your grappling hook. Mabel, people will not like you, they will love you and celebrate you. You'll find friends everywhere," Dipper said. That was the truth. Mabel has always been better at making contacts than he is. He preferred to hide under books. "And you'll find nerd friends everywhere," laughed Mabel. "Absolutely," Dipper nodded.

Half an hour later, it was 5 o'clock in the morning, his father opened the door to her room. "Getting up her sleepyheads. We leave in half an hour. Get Mabel's things in the car, get ready and then we'll leave," his father grumbled and thundered the door shut again. Sighing, Dipper and Mabel got up.

After everything was packed, they got ready and had breakfast, they stood in the now empty room and stared at each other. Tears shimmered in both their eyes. "Well... that was it, then?" Dipper asked. "That was it then, I guess," nodded Mabel. There was this strange silence between the two. From below they heard their parents walking through the house looking for some important things. "Dipper... I..." Mabel began. "Don't say it. It's not goodbye forever. Think about our promise. Every day a report and every weekend Skype. And we also spend the holidays together," Dipper grinned and raised his arms. "And now come. One last embarrassing sibling hug." "Embarrassing sibling hug," Mabel laughed and wrapped her arms around his upper body.

A few minutes later they stood in the front yard and stared up at the window behind which they had lived less than five minutes ago. "Call me when you arrive," said Mabel. "Holy promise," said Dipper. "Say hello to everyone for me," Mabel smiled and stroked her hair from her face. "I'll definitely do it," Dipper nodded. "Good. And take good care of Waddles," Mabel looked at him badly. "Of course I take good care of waddles," laughed Dipper. "Come now, Mabel," his mother shouted. "Come on! Please take care of yourself. And if anything happens, no matter what, call me! I'll always have time for you," Mabel shouted before she turned her back on him and ran to her father's car. Dipper stopped a few minutes longer and watched the car driving away before he turned himself towards his car and got in.

There was nothing on the radio, so he switched to the CD player. BABBA ran again. Smiling, he listened to the song and sang along at full throats. Only Mabel knew of his secret passion for this Icelandic 70s band. He would never admit that he knew all the songs of BABBA.

So it happened that the whole trip to Gravity Falls 'Disco Girl' was in a continuous loop. When he left the Gravity Falls welcome sign behind, he switched to a less embarrassing band.

Relief spread through him. Finally he was back again. Back in his home. Back in Gravity Falls.

To read more AO3.com

[arpov-blog-blog]

Most people are blaming Joe Biden for conditions setup by Republicans and DJT. Folks say the withdrawal from Afghanistan was sloppy, but actually DJT set the original withdrawal date and also made a deal to free Taliban leaders from a Pakistan prison a year before. By the time Biden Administration began the withdrawal, The Taliban had already taken over all but Kabul.

People complain about gas prices and inflation, they ignore that the crisis in global not just in the US. Inflation was created by countries that like China that manufacture a significant portion of the world's product. They ignored worker protections during the pandemic and now they don't have enough workers to meet the world demand for products. That is part of the 'Supply Chain' crisis. That crisis drives up prices.

Gas prices are driven by the increase in the price per barrel for oil. Those prices currently driven by the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Oh yeah, it turns out a substantial part of the word depends on the farmers of Ukraine to provide essential grains for food. Guest what country is now stealing the grain? I would remind you that DJT all but rolled over for Putin to rub his tummy. If he were President today, NATO would not be in position to assist Ukraine in fighting for off the Russians.

In the meantime major American companies are reporting record high profits, and you're asking why isn't Biden doing anything? Where were you folks when the discussion of the powers of the President were compared to the powers of King were taught in school? Where were you when Conservatives were reminding former President Obama that he wasn't a King?

Biden is the right President to clean up the mess left by DJT and Republicans, you folks just have to get out and vote smart to increase the number of Democrats in the Senate and the House of Representatives. They need to add three to four seats to the 50 they hold so that people like Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema can't stall the agenda for more progressive and fair policy making, and the US Government can tax those businesses profiting off of the pandemic, oil prices, and price gouging..."The Joe Biden who ran in 2020 appeared wiser, sadder, somewhat deflated, and seemed to be taking on the presidency as a public service and a burden. Time and tragedy had tempered Biden, and I liked him even more than I did in his flashier, Jason Sudeikis–like youth. These days, I think he’s done a pretty good job, especially given the fact that he’s dealing with a pandemic, revelations about an attempted American coup d’état, and an economic slowdown over which he had no control.

Oh, and by the way: He’s also managed (so far) to head off World War III and a possible nuclear conflict. We seem to forget that this is Job One for every American president, but while we’re griping about the gas prices (over which Biden also has no control), the Russians are replaying the Eastern Front against 40 million Ukrainians and also threatening NATO. It’s been reassuring to have a steady hand in charge of our foreign policy.

So why can’t the president catch a break? The public blames him for almost everything, and his approval ratings are cratering. What’s going on here?

Forget about the Republicans; controlled by their wackiest members (I would say “the fringe,” but they are now “the base”), they have fallen into a vortex of nihilism and desperation. They’re almost a lock to win the House in 2022, but they’re not sure why they want it, other than to protect themselves both from having to live among their own constituents and the slow but steady approach of justice for GOP involvement in January 6.

One might have hoped, however—and by one, I mean “me”—that the Democrats would hold their fire and stop their whispering about what happens if Biden steps down, or even dies. And if Biden does hold on—well, there are some prominent young Democrats who haven’t decided if they’re going to support him. (And by young Democrats, I mean “Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.”)

My suspicion is that the full weight of our foreign and domestic crises has not broken through the self-absorption and solipsism of not only our political parties but the American public. We are just not capable of understanding that at home, we are inches away from the meltdown of our constitutional system of government, and abroad, we are one errant cruise missile away from a nuclear crisis.

But this is all the president’s fault because Joe Biden is old and talks like … well, like Joe Biden.

This is part of a more general problem in American politics: We have come to regard the presidency as a temporary appointment to Superman, and the White House as a gleaming Fortress of Solitude full of potential miracles. In doing so, we let ourselves off the hook for any responsibility either for our own actions as voters, or for any requirement to face our problems together with resilience and understanding."

[softersinned]

Her fingers beat a rhythm against the cup and her smile shifts into something gentler, sadder. "He didn't tell me that," she says, voice soft as though she's trying not to disturb some fragile peace. "But it doesn't surprise me. He's all heart. It's the sort of thing that makes for good kings and grieving men." Astoria's fingers pick up speed, and the tea in her mug starts to heat, bubbles forming at the bottom of the cup and rising slowly. She notices it only when it's come to a simmer, and she withdraws her hands, presses her palms to the tabletop. "All that heart is hell after a few years. I don't know how he's managed it for this long."

For all her many flaws she's never been much for insecurity; old loves are just that, however they ended, and she doesn't resent them. If anything, she wishes Arthur had more to think on, if only so he hadn't gone through so many centuries feeling so alone. "I don't know how he does any of it," she confesses after a moment, taking the mug in her hands again. "I've always been good at shutting down the parts of me I can't tolerate feeling. I can't imagine carrying that sense of responsibility for everyone else's wounds in addition to my own." Under the table, she stretches a leg out to nudge his shin with her toes, and she lifts the tea, though she doesn't drink just yet.

"I've been warned against playing darts with you," she tells him rather dryly, but her eyes are sparkling with laughter. "You should teach me how to throw a knife, though. Just sayin'. Friends don't let friends suck at throwing knives. But I can respect that—not wanting to engage with that kind of violence." A short life must seem like a privilege, if it means carrying regret for comparatively little time. "And I think it's a fair fear. Human nature seems to tend toward the cruel when they think they won't have to deal with the repercussions of the damage they do. Remember that Abramović performance? Rhythm 0, I think?" She remembers her own experience with being the subject of experimentation, and that had been idle curiosity more than anything. What would anyone do to get their hands on real immortals?

What would she do? She has limits, of course, but there will come a time when she asks Arthur for a blood sample so she can try to replicate it for herself—and because she loves him it will be just that, an expression of love, the overwhelming desire for more time with him. Because she is herself, it will be the transformation of her desire for more time, rather than its inception. She would never harm him, would never harm anyone he loves, but those limits are selfish at their core, because she loves him and therefore he is a piece of her.

Even so, she knows how badly she wants it—what would someone else do to get it, if they felt that same desire, without the limitations she builds for herself out of love and her own memory?

"My kind of witch doesn't usually go in for that sort of thing." She shouldn't be talking about this with an outsider, she knows, but she and Desi are bound together, now. She is as much an outsider as he is. It doesn't feel like a betrayal of her own to tell him. Besides, a secret for a secret; hasn't that been her approach to this? And he hadn't chosen to share that secret with her, though he's dealt with the aftermath admirably. "Ancestral magic relies on death. Each witch draws from the witches before them, and when they die, they feed the witches yet to come. The witches who do fuck around with living forever end up excommunicated, and most are too weak to survive without a coven.

"But alchemists still try. Some nature witches give it a go, but they don't usually get far. I don't know if it's any help, but you're welcome to take a look at my library, see if there's anything there. Magically, though, as far as we know, it can't be done, and if anyone else has figured it out, they sure as hell wouldn't advertise it. But the invitation always stands." She takes a sip of her tea, now, and she nudges his shin again. "I think he'd like it if you visited, too.

"Thank you, by the way. My underwear choices notwithstanding." She laughs, now, wrinkles her nose. "Just between you and me, I think he might be the best thing that's ever happened to me. That's insane, right? Completely insane. I mean it, though. I mean every word."

     there is, admittedly, a rather impressive grin stretching his lips that desiderius tries to hide by sipping on a steaming cup of yunnan black tea.  as is normally the case, he’s tied his wild waves back into a ponytail so he can’t hide behind any of the strands.  the book in question sits between them.  everything he’d been able to gather about it’s contents was so split down the middle that he’s honestly not surprised to hear it may not help.  then again, he has not been so hit by the world that he wants it to end.  knowing what he knows about immortality he’d also never strive for it.  desi simply wants to make the best use of his time while he had it.  he knows about lykon and knows the death took everyone by surprise.  chances were he’d never live to andy’s age, nor would he want to.

     any thoughts on the book are cast aside by one word that sets his back a little straighter.  tilting his head, the immortal notes a gentle flush of color tinting the witch’s cheek.  my my.  that was interesting.  he leans forward, more than willing to gossip like the girls in town used to when he was growing up.  that’d hardly been his aim, though.  “ that is the most interesting shade of pink you’ve turned, ms. grim, “ desi winks before leaning back to take another sip of his tea. 

     “ i was honestly teasing.  i didn’t  expect him to open himself up enough to let the idea sink in.  arthur’s always bristled at the idea of relationships.  especially after michel. “  he wondered if astoria knew arthur had called several times to ask what he was doing.  that he had no right to take time away from someone as beautiful and wonderful as astoria.  love scared him.  desi wasn’t sure if arthur even realized the toll all his losses had taken.  “ did he tell you he bought their apartment building in paris after the incident?  still blames himself. “

     blue eyes cast down and his thumb starts idly drawing a line up and down the handle on his mug.  softly, the immortal continues.  “ i catch him talking to guinevere sometimes.  he looks up at the stars and he talks about his day.  like a journal, almost.  often he asks for guidance.  but, mostly, i think he’s comfortable being stuck in the pain he’s endured.  being happy and living for himself is a lost concept. “  lips part and his gaze shifts as if focusing  on something else.  “ not to say he’s been miserable.  he’s just never gone searching for joy.  like he’s a ghost watching his own life. “

     then, desi focuses back on astoria.  in the short silence he has the thought that he would absolutely be violent if she hurt him down the line.  not anything like heartbreak, arthur would survive that.  but betrayal.  the kind that would rip his heart out and shoot it like a cannonball to the middle of the ocean.  the words go unspoken because instinct always told him, as terrible as she thought she was, there was a kindness she managed for the very few who managed to slide their way in.  someone else could be there to protect arthur just in case something did happen to desi and that was worth more to him than any of the information the book contained.  although, answers would’ve been nice.

     with everything astoria has uncovered about both he and arthur in the duration of the mission there is another level of trust he feels he could - should - put into her.  for the foreseeable future she was as good as family.  though, the secrets of their immortal kin weren’t his to tell he could at least be honest where his own intentions were concerned.    

 “ i’m not looking to end it, if that’s what you’re getting at. “  he smiles easily enough.  reaching for the book, desi toys with the corner closest to him but makes no move to open it or look inside.  “ i’ve never liked violence.  i always hated how good i am at it.  so, this is how i help them since i rarely fight.  our fearless leader is terrified we will one day be trapped.  that someone will figure out we exist and will try to cage us like animals. “  desi’s focus goes a little distant remembering andy speak of quynh.  part of the reason arthur never wanted to get attached, he suspected.  “ i try to find temptation and lock it away. “