#this month for sure

[wizardofarles]

Hello readers, I present to you another snippet of lykmc chapter 16, at the request of @snivelingshade !!💙

Laurent was raising his fist to knock again when the door swung inward, revealing the pale, oval face of Loyse Fortaine. Her eyes widened as recognition struck.

“Laurent!” She blinked, and quickly gathered her thin lips into a smile. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“I’m sorry to drop by unannounced,” Laurent said, “but I was hoping to have a word with you.”

“Of course! It’s no problem. Come on in.” Loyse stepped aside and ushered Laurent through the door, into her apartment, where he promptly stumbled over a pair of mud-stained soccer cleats.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, this place is a pigsty.” Loyse crouched to pick up the cleats. “I wasn’t expecting guests.” She carried them with quick steps to one of three white doors that Laurent could see off the main room.

It didn’t take her long to get there, only a few brisk strides, weaving through furniture that was too big and fancy for the space. Laurent recognized the couch and armchairs from their old house, as well as the mahogany dining table and chairs that Loyse had inherited from her great-great aunt or someone. They were starkly out of place here in this small, cluttered apartment with scuffed-up wooden flooring that even Laurent could tell was cheaply made.

“Julien!” Loyse rapped on the door with the back of her knuckles. “Guess who’s here!” She smiled at Laurent while she waited for an answer from her son.

Laurent returned the smile out of politeness, but his mind was fixed on a puzzling thought. Guion lives in a penthouse. He’s still a board member at Angelico. Laurent had glimpsed him talking with Kastor at his birthday party, dressed in a thousand-dollar suit. Supposedly, Guion even had access to a private jet. He was, by all accounts, still a rich man. Maybe richer now than ever.

So, why are his ex-wife and son living in a place like this?

“Julien!” Loyse knocked on the door again, rattling it in its frame.

The door swung sharply inward, and Laurent blinked back shock.

As children, Julien had looked the most like Aimeric out of all his brothers, but the boy who stood in the doorway was a stranger to Laurent. His round face had thinned considerably, filled out in angular lines where before there had been only soft edges. He’d chopped off his chestnut curls in favor of a short, spikey look barely longer than a buzz cut, and he was much taller than Laurent remembered him—his limbs stretched out in a way Aimeric’s never would. Only his eyes were the same; wide, and green, and angry. He fixed them on his mother.

“What?”

She pressed the dirty cleats to his chest. “How many times have I told you not to leave these in the doorway?” Clutching his cleats, Julien rolled his eyes and started to close the door. Loyse stopped the swing of the door with a stiff arm. “Look who stopped by! Don’t be rude, come say hi.”

Julien glanced over his mother’s shoulder and locked eyes with Laurent. His look of bored frustration turned into something more guarded; something colder.

“Hi,” Julien said.

Laurent remained perfectly still. “Hi.”

Julien turned back to his mother—“I have homework”—and closed the door.

Loyse sighed. “Sorry about him,” she said to Laurent.

“It’s you I came to see.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, her gaze flicked down to the violin case Laurent was carrying by the handle, and then quickly away. Rubbing at the fourth finger on her left hand, as though to twist a ring that was no longer there—an old habit—Loyse flitted past him and into the kitchen area of the apartment.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” she asked with her back to him as she began opening cabinets. “I haven’t been to the store this week but I’m sure we have something.”

“No, thank you,” Laurent said.

“Something to drink? Water, tea?”

“Some Earl Grey would be great, if you have it.”

“Of course.” Loyse tossed a smile over her shoulder. “I always have Earl Grey.”

“I remember.”

She showed him the back of her head again as she filled the kettle at the sink and carried it to the stove. There was a tension in the lines of her shoulders that Laurent knew only too well. He quietly took a seat at the table, clutching his violin case in his lap. Wordlessly, Loyse came over and set two empty mugs down—sliding one across the table to him—before seating herself in the chair opposite him.

They smiled awkwardly at each other for a long moment, both feeling the presence of the dark chasm that had ripped open between them, neither sure how to bridge it.

Loyse made the first attempt. “How are you, Laurent?” she asked with real warmth. “You look well. You’ve grown so much.”

Laurent stared down at the blue mug in his hands, suddenly crushed by an overwhelming sense of guilt. “I’m okay. And you?”

“I’m okay,” she echoed. Her voice betrayed her, strain and melancholy seeping through.

Laurent said nothing; the taste of his own lie still clung to his tongue.

“I heard your brother came home from Delfeur,” she said. “You must have been thrilled.”

Laurent smiled. It felt weak.

“How is he doing these days? Has the adjustment been hard?”

“Auguste is doing great,” Laurent lied. “I think the time away was good for him.”

Loyse became quiet after that. Maybe she’d heard more than just the fact that he’d come home, or maybe something in Laurent’s tone or expression had tipped her off. He silently cursed himself for forgetting how well this woman knew him.

“So,” she prodded, chewing her lip, “everything’s good at home?”

Uneager to traverse that particular path of small talk, Laurent cut right to the heart of his purpose in coming here. “I want to resume my violin lessons.”

“Oh!” Loyse tucked her wavy chestnut hair behind her ears. It was shot through with streaks of gray that Laurent didn’t remember being there before. “Wow, okay. That’s great! Are you looking for … a recommendation, or—”

“I want to resume my lessons,” Laurent clarified, “with you.”

[tariah23]

White people are miserable, racist losers period. They’ve even been getting mad at Japanese people for correcting them about Yasuke as well.

[transmonstera]

BE UNPALATABLE / SHOW YOUR TEETH

[IMAGE ID: "changing your taste for the cissexuals' palate is to sacrifice your own tongue" in black text. there are wolves on either side of the text with a black border and white background. black stars and trans symbols decorate the image. END]

[shepscapades]

Surely this will have no negative consequences whatsoever!

[buttercupdemise]

i think about this a lot. what if a deaf human fell down the mountain. would he make his threatening language accessible

[its-a-snowpoff]

happy pride everyone

[willabee]

look at this

[zglib]

Some of the cast members of guess the build, as portrayed and built by the cast members of guess the build

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Me irl

The Autistic Teacher

[its-tortle]

— taylor swift albums as months of the year —

[pjs-everyday]

uhhh *accidentally falls in love with wife* yea *does it again on purpose*🌹

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[pangur-and-grim]

are Devon rexes a small breed or is belphie just a runt/still very young and small?

they're a smaller breed (6-9lbs), but I think Belphie may also be a little small?

he hasn't been weighed in a couple months, but he was 3.3lbs at 4 months

[hopeinthebox]

bts + reductress headlines pt.14

[findmeinthefallair]

The healing and lasting love of a mom