#wedding dress piano notes

[oepionie]

— "HE'S THE OTHER MAN!" . the corpse groom

SYNOPSIS: A ghost groom has claimed MC as his unwilling bride. Unfortunately for him, she's already got a lover

⊹ [ c.w ] — violence, possessive behavior, malleus blows a fucking green laser down ramshackle, mentions of blood, yuu is poor but we alrdy knew that, papa crewel crumbs

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.6k opening post with malleus! if this gets enough attention, I might do more :P

"You what?" Crewel seethed, eyes wide as an unsettling smile stretched across the red of his cheeks.

"Repeat that."

"I…I accidentally released that ghost from the spellbook," Grim sobbed, his glossy eyes reflecting both fear and guilt as he looked up at the imposing figure of the professor. "And he's taken my henchhuman as his bride!"

Oh, Great Sevens. Not again.

Crewel groaned, his hands reaching up to frantically rub at his burning eyes. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across his face.

"Please, do tell. How in Wonderland did someone with your lackluster skills manage to—" The professor was abruptly cut off by a loud, almost obnoxious cry that echoed from the doorway. Turning sharply, Crewel saw Crowley hunched against the entrance frame, hysterically sobbing into his palms. Fat tears dripped beneath his ornate mask, glistening in the low light. "They grow up so fast! My dear child is already getting married!"

Crewel's eye twitched as he took in the scene: Grim shaking like a leaf, and Crowley, dramatically weeping, pathetically looking to him for a solution.

"Fools," Crewel snarled, striding out of the room as he fished his phone from his coat pocket. "If you two won't be of use, then I'll have to enlist the help of those mutts instead."

The day had started like any other in Ramshackle, but you certainly didn't expect it to end with a wedding. Surrounded by the ghostly residents of the dorm, you stood dressed in all white, a bouquet clutched in your hand. Curling in yourself, you sighed and rested your head in your hands, avoiding everyone's gazes which felt like icy needles on your skin.

Ramshackle's old lounge, with its worn-out floorboards and faded wallpaper, was the chosen venue for your ceremony. Whispers rustled through the gathering, carried on a faint breeze that stirred the dust motes in the dim light. Somewhere in the background, the somber notes of an organ piano echoed. You didn't even know you had a piano…

"Dear?"

Jumping with a shriek, you whipped your head around. A ghostly visage, bathed in a deathly pale blue glow, hovered inches from your face, an unnaturally wide grin stretched across their blue lips. Bony fingers gently traced up your cheeks, sending tingles down your spine.

With sunken eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, Elizan—a "visiting" friend of one of Ramshackle's ghosts—was truly a sight to behold. His complexion had a pallor that matched the moonlight filtering through the decrepit windows of the form. Wisps of long, flowing indigo hair framed his face, swept back as if caught in a breeze that only he could feel.

"You look wonderful," he cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead, leaving your cheeks burning.

"Ah. Thank you," you stammered, averting your gaze and gently pulling away. You could hardly focus on the words being spoken to you, your mind spinning with the surrealness of it all.

"You look... Good as well," you forced out with a cough, tugging at your hair nervously. "But... Listen... I—"

Before you could finish, the door to the entrance slammed open, nearly breaking off the hinges with a sound that could wake the dead, sending cracks spider-webbing through the already dilapidated walls.

On the inside, you screamed louder than the hinges.

You had painstakingly patched up the door after Grim's recent screw-up—a feat that had tested your patience and carpentry skills to their limit. Unless you wanted to survive on a diet of stale canned food and cafeteria leftovers for another year, you couldn't afford any more repairs.

While you were busy mourning the loss of having decent meals, heaving and leaning against the door for support, your friends called out your name in a panic, their bleary and furious gazes zeroing in on your figure. Clad in white, you stood there, the perfect picture of a pretty blushing bride.

The uninvited guests didn't go unnoticed by your "groom," and in seconds, you were pulled into a suffocating grip. Elizan's usually serene demeanor shattered like fragile glass. His deathly pale features contorted into a snarl, veins pulsing ominously beneath translucent skin. His typically gentle eyes blazed with an unsettling fire, icy whites now narrowed and piercing.

"Mutt!" Crewel seethed, his foot slamming into the floor and shattering the newly installed tiles. Your soul nearly left your body as you screamed inside again. There go a thousand thaumarks…

"What in the Sevens is this!?" Crewel shrieked, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair. With sharp movements, he pointed a finger at Elizan. "I'll have you know I can have you arrested for trespassing, unlawful detention, and violating the sanctity of this academy!"

"How... How dare you? Barging into this sacred ceremony—Who even are you?!" Elizan snapped back, his arms coiling tightly around your torso. The crowd erupted in a haze of shouts and muddled answers. Unable to understand anything, Elizan's intense gaze shifted and bore into yours, demanding answers. You gulped nervously, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his grasp.

"Who is he?! Who are they?!" he barked like a dog, flashing his sharp fangs at you.

"Uh… That's my professor—uh, Crewel," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "And those are… They're my… friends?" Your gaze flickered to the group of men who had entered, their expressions ranging from confusion to anger.

Elizan's wide eyes now filled with shock, white orbs glossed over with luminescent blue tears. He pushed you away as if you had burnt him, recoiling from your touch as though it pained him physically.

"You know other men?!" the ghost cried out, his hands clenching into fists, his midnight blue hair cascading wildly around his face like a tempestuous sea. The tortured cries of the groom echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you awkwardly shifted on your feet, feeling like a character caught in an soap drama.

"…Yes?" you replied, unsure.

"How could you do this to me?!" He sobbed, a dark shadow covering his face. "Running off on an affair the DAY of our marriage?!"

"Well, that's a rather dramatic accusation—" you started, but Elizan shook his head in anguish.

"Answer me! Do you have another man?!" His voice shook the room, and you took a few cautious steps back.

"Elizan, please," you uttered gently, your eyes darting nervously toward one of the men in the room.

Your lover didn't meet your gaze; instead, his eyes were locked onto the ghost, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his features. As you jumped down from the makeshift podium, you shot an apologetic frown at the ghost, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. "Don't you understand? You're the other man."

"No! You're married to me!" Elizan shrieked, lunging forward in a frenzy, his nails clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

"Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

Lilia raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, his form reclined against a fogged-up window of the room. The weather was gloomy and stormy, the skies tinted green outside, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The window pane, streaked with raindrops and mist, blurred the view of the turbulent skies beyond. Lilia hummed a tune under his breath, a calm figure amidst the brewing storm.

With a sidelong glance, his eyes locked onto Malleus, whose entire figure shook with a barely contained wrath that threatened to engulf the very air around him. The young prince's chest heaved in violent, choked breaths as smoke wisped from his mouth and nose���tendrils of flames flickering amidst the swirling dust and ash.

A deafening crack tore through the air as a vivid surge of green emerald lightning erupted from the heavens, descending upon the roof of the venue with explosive force. The blast of energy painted the sky with a blinding flash of green as it crashed into the building, sending broken glass and wood raining down upon the venue.

Cursing, Elizan moved you both aside, a large chunk of debris hurtling past, narrowly missing your startled form. As more debris crashed down, he shielded you with an outstretched arm, a shimmering barrier briefly forming to deflect a particularly large piece of wood.

"Spectral pest," Malleus seethed, his eyes aglow with an eerie green hue as his nails elongated into sharp claws. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, summoning thorns that spiraled towards Elizan, ensnaring the ghost in their sharp embrace. Simultaneously, from the floorboards below, vines emerged like serpents, their tendrils gently but firmly pulling you away from Elizan's protective embrace and guiding you into the safety of Malleus's arms.

"How—?! Ngh!" Elizan writhed against the thorny vines. The prickly tendrils twisted around him like serpents, their sharp points digging into his ghostly flesh.

Malleus paid no mind to the struggling spirit, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he checked for any signs of harm. His expression softened with relief upon finding you unscathed, albeit a bit dusty.

"Beloved," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the lingering chaos. His gloved hand moved delicately, sweeping away the clinging dust from your shoulders and arms. Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingered there briefly, conveying a warmth that contrasted starkly with the raw power he had displayed moments ago.

"Are you alright?"

Blinking up at him with wide eyes and frazzled hair shooting up in every direction, you nodded dumbly. Turning away from him, you nearly gasped aloud to see the room in shambles, debris scattered everywhere, and the eerie green glow of energy still lingering in the air. The ghostly residents were in a state of panic, their translucent forms flickering as they moved frantically.

"My dorm," you whimpered, your mind racing as you calculated the cost of the damage.

With a chuckle, Malleus adjusted his grip on you, his muscles flexing as he gently set you down. Your legs felt shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

"I will handle the cost of repair, my dearest," Malleus assured you, bending down to your height, his voice dropping to a whisper. Green eyes bore into yours, strands of his midnight hair falling over his face. "You will not need to worry about such things once we are formally betrothed."

You froze, your face suddenly warming and burning.

"What?!"

Malleus reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek, claws dragging across your supple cheeks. "Yes, my dear," he murmured, chest rumbling as his lips curved into a sharp smile. "You heard me correctly."

"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, feeling dizzy with emotion.

"Will you consider it?" he asked softly, a faint hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Please?"

Caught in the depth of his gaze, you felt your resolve melting away. "I-I guess?" you breathed, your voice trembling. "I'll… consider it."

A smug smile spread across his face, and he tenderly pressed his lips against yours. "That's all I ask, my dearest."

After ensuring you were alright one last time, Malleus redirected his focus to Elizan. With a flick of his wrist, the thorns under his control tightened around the ghost. Elizan shrieked and thrashed about, his translucent form writhing in pain as the thorns dug deeper.

"Do try to exercise some restraint, my boy," Lilia drawled, tapping his sharp fingers idly against his crossed arms. "We do not want Ramshackle to be bathed in blood. It would be very unsanitary."

not too sure if i am continuing but feel free to suggest some peepl bookies

[lecsainz]

ׄFORMULA ONE MASTERLIST

( requests are OPEN || back to nav || back to main masterlist )

˒ ⌕ second f1 masterlist

fluff ಇ | smut ✧ | angst ✶ | sad ʚ | sugestive 𑁤

CL 16 ✶ CHARLES LECLERC

˒ ⌕ one shot

runaway bride: you were nervous before your wedding and realized your true feelings for your best friend charles.

love notes: you and charles spend a cozy morning together, enjoying breakfast and a sweet moment at the piano.

winning hearts: charles and you, a new driver on the grid, form a strong bond as you both pursue your dreams in motorsport.

stuck in the elevator: you and charles find yourselves stuck in an elevator.

always be here: after crashing during the quali at the miami grand prix, charles is devastated, but finds peace and comfort in your presence.

remind me: you and charles have been friends since childhood and end up dating when you're older.

big dream: y/n and charles's daughters, rylee and amelie, wish for a baby brother, leading to lighthearted conversations and laughter during a family lunch in monaco.

meeting of families: where charles becomes enchanted upon meeting carla's older sister during a family dinner. → PART TWO

saturday morning: the one where you decide to look for your boyfriend around the apartment after not finding him in bed.

home sweet home: you're charles' girl, and he catches you groovin' solo in the crib you both share.

˒ ⌕ smut

yacht experience: you're on a yacht with other drivers, and charles can't get your body out of his mind from the previous night, leading to him and you having sex in the yacht's cabin.

dress: you and charles are attending a gala event, and he can't hide how much the dress you're wearing drives him crazy. the night ends with the two of you having hot sex in the hotel room.

shower heat: charles and you engage in a shower sex, where he skillfully uses the showerhead to bring you to climax.

lust to love: coming soon!

honeymoon: the one where you and charles have sex for the first time after getting married.

just ride: the one where you decide to surprise and tease charles by riding him on the balcony of your apartment while he's on a call with his engineer.

you're mine: the one where you decide to tease charles and he ends up getting jealous.

sunset: charles being turned on by your sundress.

˒ ⌕ smau

hollywood rumors: the one where you recently broke up with actor dylan o'brien, sparking rumors of a potential new relationship with a formula one driver.

met gala interview: the one where you getting ready for the met gala and preparing for an interview with vogue and you receive questions about your secret boyfriend.

wedding to remember: you and charles, along with your daughters amelie and rylee, get ready to attend a friend's wedding where the twins will be the flower girls.

high infidelity: the one where you're famous and end up raising suspicions of cheating on your boyfriend carlos with charles, his teammate.

main thing: the one where you're an actress and a mom, and rumors about you and charles surface. → PART TWO

been mine: that one where you and charles have been friends since childhood and end up together.

˒ ⌕ fake text

this toxic twisted rush: the one where you get abandoned on your anniversary with charles and end up discovering his true colors.

sleepless: the one where charles can't sleep before a race day and ends up sending messages to his girlfriend.

interview distractions: the one where you're charles' girlfriend and decide to tease him a bit during an interview.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

i really like your curls i like a lot ಇ

˒ ⌕ blurbs

happy birthday love ಇ

perfume ಇ

CS 55 ✶ CARLOS SAINZ

˒ ⌕ one shot

she’s a bad bad girl: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

smooth operator ✧

˒ ⌕ smau

instagram stories: carlos and you had been keeping their three children out of the public eye for a while, but accidentally revealed them in a social media story.

bésame: the one where you are carlos' latina girlfriend and you exchange cute posts on instagram

˒ ⌕ blurbs

good night babe: the one where you are insecure about sleeping at the same bed as your boyfriend, carlos.

amor a la ventana: where you're the next-door neighbor of carlos, and he invites you to dinner.

LH 44 ✶ LEWIS HAMILTON

˒ ⌕ smau

we keep this lowkey: the one where harry styles' younger sister is seen with lewis and everyone starts commenting about a possible romance between them.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

˒ ⌕ blurbs

late night drive: the one where you are lewis, go out for a car ride at night.

KR 07 ✶ KIMI RAIKKONEN

˒ ⌕ blurbs

melting the iceman: the one where you see your husband taking care of your son and feel that you couldn't be happier as you are.

PG 10 ✶ PIERRE GASLY

˒ ⌕ one shot

hotel room: where the hotel mistakenly switches room keys, and pierre ends up in christian horner's niece's room.

bathroom incident: pierre takes his sister to a race, and you get trapped in the paddock bathroom.

LN 04 ✶ LANDO NORRIS

˒ ⌕ one shot

back to december: lando reunites with his ex-girlfriend in the paddock with another driver.

˒ ⌕ fake text

sweatshirts: the one where you steal lando's sweatshirts.

miss you: the one where you're lando's girlfriend and, because you miss him so much, you decide to go see him at a race.

date with my bestie? the one where you're best friends with lando but due to adult life, you end up drifting apart

miss you: the one where you're lando's girlfriend and, because you miss him so much, you decide to go see him at a race.

˒ ⌕ smau

triangle: the one where you're toto wolff's daughter and everyone wants to know who your boyfriend is.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

dating with lando norris

DR 03 ✶ DANIEL RICCIARDO

˒ ⌕ one shot

sister's support: you decide to accompany daniel to a race for the first time and end up being invited on a date.

tattooed: the one where you're a tattoo artist, and Daniel comes to your tattoo studio.

football game: the one where you're the younger sister of the kelces and you go to a travis game and end up meeting daniel ricciardo.

˒ ⌕ smau

mystery affair: the one where you, a famous singer, finds yourself in the midst of rumors when photos of her with lando and pierre surface, and no one expects the true identity of her mysterious man.

falling for you: that one where you're a famous singer, and daniel comes to your show, and you exchange love declarations on social media.

MV 33 ✶ MAX VERSTAPPEN

˒ ⌕ smau

my brother's friend: the one where you're charles' sister and dating one of his friends, max.

˒ ⌕ one shot

foolish: where max has feelings for you but he's with kelly, and when he finally acts on it, it's already too late.

MS 47 ✶ MICK SCHUMACHER

˒ ⌕ smau

they're talk- talk- talking about: the one where you and mick have been dating for a while without the media knowing and you start interacting more on social media

SB 05 ✶ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

˒ ⌕ one shot

winter visit: the one where you go on a super chilly winter holiday date with your boyfriend for a mini getaway to meet his parents.

OP 81 ✶ OSCAR PIASTRI

˒ ⌕ blurbs

ON THE GRID ✶ READER DRIVER

˒ ⌕ one shot

sneezes and strategies: where you have a sneezing attack during a race.

fangirl moment: before a race, you encounter one of your favorite singers in the paddock, who happens to be your fan.

from pit stop to push-up: you go to the gym "of your own free will" with lando.

˒ ⌕ driver!reader x fabio quartararo

secret crush: you receive a message from motogp rider fabio quartararo aand become the subject of jokes about your little mishap from the entire grid.

date night: part two is a secret crush, where you go on a date with fabio.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Can you do a future story for Jin or Luca?

Melodies from the future

Jin slips to the future for the length of a nap

Wc: 1,2k

Notes: I really like this even if it's short (let's say it's short because it's supposed to just be a nap m'kay?)

The soft melody of a piano slips in the young master's ears, changing his dreams to distorted memories of his childhood. His first piano lesson was not later than a little after his fourth birthday, when a tall man approached him after tutoring so start teaching the basics of reading music and his very first song. 

The first few lessons he was such a brat, sneaking away to play with his toys until he saw his mother in the music room playing her violin alone, she usually would lull him to sleep after nightmares with a song. Back then he didn't notice it but her little sad comment about wanting someone to duet with her was so obviously a way to get him to sit through his lessons, it's almost embarrassing to recognize it did work and he learned many songs for his mom's sake. 

The slight sliver of conscience the sound opened was just enough to remember that in Frostheim there are no pianos, and even if there were, his own room was soundproof so he wouldn't know if anyone was playing.

That realization plus the horrid noise of the off tempo and very obviously wrong key, strikes Jin out of his sleep, nerves crisp against the soft silk bed sheets.

The half mind that he managed to gather allowed him to recognize how different this room was to his own at Frostheim, an L shaped room with the bed facing a wardrobe on the sharp angle.

Walking out of the bed and to the wardrobe trying to find the exit he catches for a second the reflection of his face on the full length mirror adjacent to the wardrobe and sticky disgust lingers on the base of his tongue and back of his throat for a minute. His white hair dusted with a few stray gray hairs just behind his ears, and some wrinkles starting to carve themselves around his eyes and his forehead. It's not the sudden aging causing him to step away from the reflection but just how much he looked like his father, as a child and even now, he always got told that he looked just like his dad but he never managed to see it beyond sharing hair and eye color until now, a splitting image. 

Deciding to not mull over that, there is a lot of time before this mess happens, something inside him insists. He watches some photos hung around the wall and wrapping around the corner, most are of white haired children uncannily similar to himself during different milestones, like walking or school graduations or a few ones where they were dressed formally enough for a gala. 

Following the flow of the photos around the wall, he finds himself mesmerized briefly for no more than one second with each and every photo, but the biggest picture and possibly centerpiece of the homemade gallery was one with with him and the honor student posing inside an old catedral, both wearing white wedding attire, wisteria and white roses adorning the venue. Was it Clementia? It's unlikely, it looked too clean and tidy, unlike how it looks after the incident.

In as much of a trance he found himself beholding the picture, a golden glimmer captured his attention. It's a gold wedding band, almost on instinct he puts it in his left ring finger and maybe it was something embedded inside his being after years of cohabitation… where did that even come from? The closest thing to cohabitation is how much time Thoma spends around him.

As he turns around to leave he notes there are two doors, one leading to a balcony and the other he supposes leads to the rest of the house. 

Walking through the marble tiles, his feet fall at the same time that the inexperienced rhythm of twinkle twinkle little star is played. Following the sound he finds himself in the family music room where he learned to play. Was he in his family home? The floor lay out did seem somewhat similar but the paint and furniture changed quite a bit. He guesses it's natural, if he himself aged for things to not remain the same, maybe should be even offsetting if they did.

A white haired child is seated in front of the big tail piano playing nervously for the audience that was his parent and baby brother. His nerves were so noticeable that it seeped into the music, an apprentice’s first but green attempts.

“Do it again, but this time with confidence” his voice echoes into the room, scaring the child into playing the wrong key.

“Looks like dad finally woke up, huh?” A teasing voice speaks from the couch and as their head turns around to face him Jin sees your face once again, a few years older than the photo in the bedroom and a lot older than your academy self he is used to, but still you after all “his grampa got him a piano teacher and wanted to show me what he learned. Maybe you could refresh on your own skills”

“Really, dad plays?” The child jumps in interest and tugs him by the hand towards the piano. Was it honest interest or did he simply not want to play anymore? “Play something for me!”

“What about what you chose for our first dance?”

“Salut d'amour” his words slip from between his lips before even thinking about a wedding. He did seem to be correct as you smiled complacently while hugging the year old in your lap.

Did he truly choose that? Even thinking about that song playing during his wedding and being the one who chose it made him feel like he was a whipped sappy loser like that blond second year yet at the expectant look of ‘his son’ and yours he obliges, it's a short piece after all, he reasons.

It isn't far after he starts playing that the five year old sits down next to him and perches himself on his arm, eyeing how he moves his hands majestically, even after all those years without training. 

“don’t pull on your dad's arm” without a noise you stand behind him while holding the kid he saw in one of the family photos. 

Breathing in, his eyes close and the unusual burn in his lungs itches from the inside but like sand slipping from his hand with the wind, the next time he opens his eyes he is seated on the couch looming over the coffee table. Almost at the same time Thoma enters with a tray and teapot.

“Abusing bhavishy incense again? I don't think you need another excuse to sleep more” and almost as if Thoma’s words were what he needed to puzzle it together and not the very clearly lit powdered incense holder letting off a pinkish mist “you should open a window, you are going choke on fumes”

He got his hands on a new batch of an artisan's mix and wanted to try it out, he remembers his simple motive of being bored and it being more interesting than annoying Thoma with tasking him to find some musician that never existed. 

His thoughts get stringed together slowly and carefully, still a bit out of it thanks to the fumes but it gets easier to think as Thoma opens the balcony door wide open, letting in Frostheim notoriously cold breeze to clean out the strawberry scent.

“I never took the captain for someone to be interested in love affairs, but at last it seems I have a lot to learn about you”

“Just shut it, you are making my head hurt”

“Are you flustered?”

[kimingyuslover]

Wedding vows

synopsis : mingyu is in awe when he sees you walking down the aisle with the dress you've been dreaming about for years, your favorite flowers bouquet, and white veil as the cherry on top.

word count : 544 & some change

warning : fem!reader, angst, bad grammar (i'm not a native speaker), wonwoo makes appearances, minhee is your bestfriend, tears, minimal dialogue.

note : feel the ending kinda rushed.. but it's already half past 1 here. my first time writing a oneshot.

this is the day that you've been waiting for the most of your life. The white gown that you dreamed of getting is draped over your body, the white veil that's going to cover a major upper body of yours with a bouquet of flowers in your hands, and you are ready to walk down the aisle.

"so, how's you feeling?" minhee asks while she holds her camera to your face, "i'm feeling ridiculously nervous and excited, i'm seeing him in the next five minutes after not seeing him this morning and last night," you said while you're getting your dress to get fixed so you're not going to trip while walking down the aisle.

one of the wedding organizers staff called you to stand in front of the door, because soon you'll be out of the room and chanting your vows with your soon-to-be husband.

on the other hand, mingyu is definitely nervous and scared to see you walk in the aisle with your father. he's always fixing his tie every now and then, feeling choked by the air and his tie.

the piano and violin start to play your wedding entrance song, which means you can come out of the door anytime soon.

and there you are. a beautiful white gown that you've been telling him years ago is now droop over your body. the bouquet of your favorite flowers is now on your hands, and the white veil that covers your upper body is like the cherry on top.

mingyu eyes are getting wetter by any seconds pass. he just wants to spill all his tears while he sees you walk down the aisle with your father. the sound of the music feels the air, making this moment's more precious to him.

you are now delivering your vows, and mingyu's tears began to spill all over his cheeks.

he has dreamed of this moment everytime he fell asleep while thinking about you. except, this one is real, but he's not the groom, wonwoo is.

he broke things up with you 2 years ago. he can still vividly remember how your face morphed into a horror when he tells you that he wants a breakup because he has lost his feelings towards you. the unspoken truth, he's not losing his feelings towards you. he just had a bad day and lashes it out on you.

That was his biggest regret. you two already planned your wedding, and that 5 years old relationship was gone because of his selfishness.

mingyu's always thinking about your relationship in the past. What would your relationship turn if he's not breaking up with you that time? Will you get married to him instead? having a child? hell, you both are even already talking about having 3 children, 2 boys, and a girl.

When you're finished delivering your vows, "you may kiss the bride," said priest, and that's when mingyu get out of his 'what ifs' images, to see you locking your lips with your now husband– Jeon Wonwoo, mingyu's best friend & roommate.

it's impossible to get your girl back when she's already someone else's wife, all that 'what ifs' are thrown out of the window, he can't be selfish for one more time, because for fuck sake, that's his bestfriend! but when he sees you smile at wonwoo, his heart breaks a thousand times.

[yokohamapound]

Since tis Spooky Season, how about some wedding headcanons for our goth boys Bram and Akutagawa? :3

It might no longer be spooky season but goth bois are timeless. <3

Characters: Bram Stoker, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Contents: gn!reader, nsfw mention

Bram Stoker

Bram is certainly the marrying type. Once he’s found someone he feels he can spend the long years of eternity with, he’ll want to lock you down quickly and make it official. Dating is a foreign concept to him, but he will spend some time courting you. He’s very likely the one who proposed marriage, and like, you have eyes, so of course you were going to accept. Who doesn’t want to marry a handsome vampire lord?

It’s not enough to call Bram ‘old-fashioned’. The man is at least several hundred years old, (depending on whether his age is based on the actual Bram Stoker or Vlad Tepes, basis of the legend for Dracula). He’s between approx 170-600 years old. He’s seen trends become traditions and vanish entirely. The wedding would probably be some flavour of traditional, whether that’s a Western white wedding, or a wedding steeped in his spouse’s culture. If you really wanted to, you could have a historical-themed wedding to make Bram feel at home—just expect him to be finicky on the minor details.

“This is the incorrect type of date for this pastry.”

It might take some doing to find a priest willing to marry you to a vampire, or you can forge the documents and have a civil ceremony. It depends on whether or not Bram can actually set foot in a church. He’s probably relieved to discover civil ceremonies are a thing. 

Bram looks beautiful in a suit. Just imagine it. A suit tailored to his ridiculous, 6’5” height, possibly a tailcoat, with a cravat, his long hair tied back. 

You’ll have to bring him up to speed and explain that, apart from certain cultural traditions, dowries aren’t that common anymore, and that he doesn’t have to offer your father 50 goats for your hand in marriage. 

Bram’s a pretty romantic guy, but he always does it with style. He pulls out your chair, his hand is going to rest on the small of your back, and he takes the lead in the first dance waltz, no matter your gender.

The speeches will be short—he’s had to put up with too many of Fukuchi’s soliloquies to want to hear any more monologuing. The wedding dinner—feast, he insists on calling it—is sumptuous, although Bram doesn’t partake. (You’re his wedding feast and he’d rather enjoy that in private.)

Godspeed on your wedding night. Bram’s spent years without a lower half of his body and now he has it back, and a spouse to enjoy. He is…pent up, shall we say~

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Poor Akutagawa is still reeling over the fact that he’s getting married. I would say that either you proposed, or Dazai planted the idea in Akutagawa’s head that it was time for him to put a ring on it. If Akutagawa proposed, your ring is some beautiful antique with a large stone and a creepy story attached to it. Don’t forget that Akutagawa makes bank in the Port Mafia. 

Please, please, please plan a goth wedding.

Please remember that this is the same young man who said this when asked what he would give as a wedding present: “I'd gift them the enemy's freshly severed head decorated with bloody barren flowers.” Suffice it to say, Akutagawa should not be left in charge of either your gift registry or the flower arrangements. You will end up with a load of obscure antiques, knives, and bunches of rotting flowers “to show the briefness of our lifespans.” 

Maybe compromise with dried flower garlands or even black roses if you want to go full 2007 My Chemical Romance-core. (Look me in the eye and tell me Akutagawa wouldn’t look up if you played him a G-note on the piano.)

He hates being the centre of attention in the actual wedding, so he’s more than happy to deflect it all toward you instead. The moments he seems happiest are when he gets to see Gin wearing a bridesmaid dress, when Dazai stands up to make a speech (during which Akutagawa sits up like he’s in a school assembly while the headmaster is speaking), and during the vows, when he’s focusing on you and only you. 

He looks wonderful in his suit - let him have full tails and black tie and he'll be content.

Your wedding photographs look like one of those austere Victorian family portraits, save for Tachihara throwing up the bunny ears behind Gin’s head. 

Akutagawa has a secret sweet tooth he won’t admit to, which is why he tries to pretend that he hasn’t had three slices of chocolate cake. 

Either get Dazai drunk or put him in a corner with a plate of crab cakes to keep him occupied, because you really don’t need him making sly comments when it’s time for you and Akutagawa to climb into the car and head off for your honeymoon. His wedding gift for Akutagawa is an inhaler and a note saying, “You’ll need this! xoxo Dazai.”

[everythingelseisextra]

Sometime Around Midnight

Request: No Description: After separating, Tommy sees you at a banquet. Warnings: Mention of alcohol Word Count: 1203 Author's Note: If you knew my old account, you've read a fic of the same plot. But! I rewrote it. This time it's different. This time it's better. Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

It starts sometime around midnight. 

At least, that’s when he starts to lose himself to the haze of the wine and the swell of the music and the bustle of bodies in the banquet hall. Events like this roll through his life, filled with interactions that mean nothing and the act of faking it til he makes it, always faking it, never truly being there as himself. The band plays some old song about forgetting yourself, and he sighs, looking down at the empty wine glass in his hand. His brothers are off somewhere, their own stories developing while his stays still. 

The doors open. You walk in, looking over the crowd, searching. His breath catches in his throat, he watches you shamelessly, and the memories rush back. Your bodies curled together like two perfect circles entwined, quiet laughter in the weak morning light, going arm in arm to events like this, knowing each other deeply, unconditionally. Looking at you too long brings a broken sense of abandonment to him, because you were supposed to stick together, a bonded pair, and he broke that. He shoved you away, denying your pleas, and he watched you leave. But, the first time you met, some part of him latched onto you and hasn’t let go, not then, not now, not ever.

Your eyes land on him, and he swears he sees you smile. You murmur something to the man on your arm and detach from him, walking over to Tommy with a faint fluttering of your heart. Only he makes you feel like that, with excitement mixed with familiarity mixed with admiration. Only him have you allowed to get so close to you, that you feel something so strong at such little prompting. Only him. 

You walk up and ask how he is. Your words are short, but gentle. You’re in charge of this conversation, not him, and you decide when it begins and ends. He knows it. He looks at you with those suddenly soft blue eyes and his next words hold everything in them, and you swear you see the world turn in his eyes.

I’m getting along. He inclines his head. And you. How are you?

You shrug and glance back at the man you came with, who watches you speak with the powerful and ruthless social climber you used to love, you still love. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want you anymore, that this softness and earnestness you see belongs to someone else, that he’s a talented actor and liar. And he waits for your answer as you look back, patiently engaged with every little shift of your body. 

I’m okay. You repeat his words back at him. Getting along.

Good. He says, a weak smile gracing his lips. Your heart sinks a little, though you’re not sure what you were hoping for, other than the fact that the sadness in his expression is not it. That’s good.

It was good seeing you. You have to escape, the breath in your lungs becomes too powerful, the part of you that wants him too strong. You came with another man, you can’t stay with him, you can’t go back. 

Yes. He nods, briefly looking down at his feet. It was good.

Heart in your throat, you return to your tether. He watches you go, lost, and suddenly the bar lights are too bright and the piano playing a bit too melancholic, and that white dress you’re wearing is a little too much like a wedding dress, and he’s losing you. He sees you go back to a man that isn’t him and he can’t stand it. The room spins and he can smell your perfume still lingering around him, like the ghost of a relationship he wants so badly but took away from himself. 

Arthur walks up to him, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open. What ‘appened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

He shakes his head. I did. 

It takes time. It takes him standing there watching you, laughing with the man on your arm, holding your gin and tonic like a crux to your chest, turning and swirling that white dress of yours. It takes him watching you stand on your toes to kiss the man, smiling as your lips meet. But, in the end, when he watches you leave with someone he doesn’t know is good, he decides to stop being afraid of his own life. He decides that, instead of draining the muddy pond of emotion that grows stagnant in him, he will free the water, let it rush, let it fall, let it run the way it was meant to. 

You walk out the door and his blood is boiling, his stomach is in ropes. He takes one step, then another, and the wine in him makes the world fall around him. He steadies himself and makes for the door, and, though he doesn’t notice, eyes follow him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what he looks like, doesn’t care how pathetic it may seem, doesn’t care if he never sees you again. He cannot leave you as a ghost in his life. He cannot let your memory die with the only reminder being a brief conversation at some banquet. 

Everyone says to let ghosts go, let them fly, let them return to the earth, but he refuses. He will make his ghosts into stone. He wants them to stay. He wants you to stay. 

He walks quickly under the streetlights, coursing through the spots of light and darkness, following after the paired silhouettes in front of him. Hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning forward slightly, walking with the intent of a predator but with the heart of a lover. 

He catches you, slightly breathless. Wait. Listen to me.

You pause and turn. Your partner tries to keep going, but your heart has jumped at the sound of his voice, and you can’t ignore him. You could never ignore him. 

I’m not a good man. Never have been. I don’t know what the future will hold. The only thing I know, the only thing I know, is that I love you. Without you, I’m hopeless. You know it. I know it. Please, love, give me another chance. He almost gasps the words, so desperate to get his message across. I’m sorry I sent you away.

You’re stuck, because he always knew you were a bleeding heart, always knew that earnestness would win you over. When you look at him, you don’t see manipulation. You don’t see the spark that always told you he had a plan. No, this is a drunken show of emotion, so anguished that he cannot hold it back. He just has to see you. He just has to take you home. 

Please. I made a mistake. I don’t want to be without you.

You step towards him, then hesitate. The man behind you is kind. He’s gentle. He’s harmless. There’s no risk to him. There’s no chance of harm, or terror, or pain. He doesn’t excite you, doesn’t charm you into admiration, but he makes you feel safe. 

I’ll be good. I can make that promise now. Please. Give me another chance.

[lanas-delight]

the one that got away.

♫ rec: when i was your man by bruno mars

✰ an enhypen scenario || word count: around 2k, w/ fem-presenting!reader, heeseung, & sunghoon

✰ description — years after an anniversary dinner gone wrong, heeseung finds himself singing at your wedding as a favor to you and your new husband, even if that meant he’d have to bury his feelings and his regrets from the past.

✰ warnings — angst. literally just a lot of angst.

✰ note — inspired by the off my face cover by heeseung (and A LOT of kdramas....). 🤍 enjoy !

(why didnt i change the warnings good god IGNORE THE OG WARNINGS ITS FIXED NOW I FORGOT TO CHANGE IT WHEN I COPIED THIS FORMAT FROM MY OTHER DRAFT OMLLL)

The sun had fallen in the early evening. The sky was dark, though plastered with stars. It was a day in mid-July, a clear day after a week's worth of rainy days, and the air felt so clear, the breeze so warm but soft. It was a day that would begin your new life, and relive in your memories every day for the rest of your life. You knew that too well.

In a white tent surrounded by a meadow of sunflowers, lights all around, lighting up the grounds as the wedding march echoed from the grand piano, everyone was standing, watching as you, the bride, walked down the aisle, hooked arms with another’s arm, as you approached your fiancé, soon-to-be husband, Sunghoon. His furrowed brows raised at the sight, you in a beautiful white dress, lace at every edge of the dress, your hands delicately shown off bare, your ring finger empty only for a few more moments. Sunghoon gazed at you, admired every piece of you, curving his lips into a smile. A whisper, “You��re so beautiful, Y/N,” comes from his mouth for only you to hear. Your cheeks heated up, just like they did on your first date, when he said a cheesy pick up line to make you laugh, which it did, but you felt your cheeks heat up, like you were blushing, too. He noticed it quick.

The priest started to speak, everyone took their seats once again. It went quiet, only the soft echo of crickets in the far distance behind the strong voice of the priest’s. He goes on to welcome the guests and start the speech to where Y/N and Sunghoon would repeat his words and then kiss to confirm their marriage to one another. They had said their vows privately that morning, backs facing each other on a wide bench by the water. It was beautiful, and it respected the tradition of not seeing each other before the wedding. It was your idea, and Sunghoon tried his best to not sneak a glance but he knew you looked so beautiful.

You had this day planned out since you were six, the first time you took one of the pillow sheets and put it on your head like a veil, prancing around the house like a happy bride. You picked out your ideal dress through boredom on a late night in middle school, chose what your bouquet would like in after a trip to a community garden. You had met the most perfect man, had the perfect life, your perfect wedding, but there was something missing.

In the crowd, in the middle of the third row on the left side, sat Heeseung, his hands knotted together in his lap as he watched you kiss him. His face was pale, his eyes wide but inside, he felt his heart shatter and all the little pieces fell to his stomach. There was a part of him that knew he had no reason to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. He only went because you asked, as a favor. He was a singer, a very good one, and the original singer you had hired came down with the flu last minute so you called him in a panic as a last resort. He said yes, which surprised you, but you were thankful. You gave him a list of songs that the original singer had made for their performance, and Heeseung told you he’d be there and that was the end of it. Now, at the wedding, you had forgotten he was to attend at all. You felt his stare, amongst the other eyes glued to you from all around the room, but his was distant, yet it tore you apart little by little.

After the kiss, everyone rose from their seats and clapped, cheering for you and Sunghoon, except Heeseung. He didn’t stand with the others, but once he did, he turned and scooted through the other people in the row so he could get ready for his performance at the reception.

If he was asked about how he felt, not that he ever would be, but if he was, he would say that it took everything in him to stay for the reception and to sing in front of everyone—old friends, some faces he didn’t recognize, and the family he was supposed to be apart of. It was his fault, everyone in that room knew it, claiming more than Heeseung did, but that wasn’t true. He relives his nightmare everyday, seeing you with another man, happier without him.

You and Sunghoon had gone off to change into more comfortable, though still formal outfits, with Sunghoon wearing a lighter colored suit, a loose tie and one open button at the top. Meanwhile, you looked like a diamond, white dress that fell to just above your knees, maybe of silk and satin, oh it looked wonderful on you. It was the dress Heeseung had picked out for you years ago, but you had forgotten that. It was now the dress that you and Sunghoon would have your first dance in. Nothing Heeseung ever did for you mattered anymore, maybe it never once did.

Everyone had taken their seats at their tables, drinking champagne and waiting for the speeches to start. Heeseung sat at the stage, his face low to keep hopefully no attention on him whatsoever. You and Sunghoon sat at this long table, with the maid of honor, best man, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen all on either side of them. The best man started first with his speech, his name was something with a “J,” an English name, but his accent was no American. He was apparently dating the maid of honor—who started her speech directly after the best man’s—which made Heeseung smile a bit because he had met the maid of honor plenty of times before, when he was with you. She used to be voluntarily lonely, never wanting to date because she could never find the one. But it seemed she did. They have a son, last he heard. He was happy for her, even though he knew that she hated him for everything that happened with you.

Sunghoon’s speech was next, and it was absolutely beautiful. Poetic, if you will. He spoke nothing but beauty and love of you, every word a new meaning for you, describing every perfect you behold. It made Heeseung want to fall apart right at the spot. He promised himself he wouldn’t let himself fall down this hole again, that he’d move on and fall out of love with you, but that could never happen. He was stuck on you. There wasn’t a single reason to him that made him not love you, or even consider the possibility of not loving you. You were his moon, his star, his every part of him, but you didn’t love him. You haven’t loved him for a long time. You weren't his, and he wasn't yours.

Then, it was time. Sunghoon and you walked to the middle of the dance floor, holding each other’s hands and preparing to dance as Heeseung stood up and approached the microphone stand. He glanced back at the pianist behind him who nodded at him before starting to play the song, Off My Face by Justin Bieber. Their song. But it wasn’t theirs anymore. He was sure that it never was.

Heeseung clears his throat quietly as he turns back to the microphone, one hand wrapped around it while the other fell to the stand, holding it gently, space between his palm and the pole. He starts to sing, every note and every line perfectly harmonized as the couple danced together.

Everyone watched the couple quietly, with eyes of admiration and small smiles, but only one ever looked at you and it was you. Sunghoon’s back faced Heeseung for a few moments as you and him swayed together, and that was when, just between the chorus and the verse, you had met eyes with the boy you once loved, the one singing at your wedding to another man.

Once the song was over, Heeseung stepped back to take a drink out of his water just as everyone else joined in on the dancer floor for another song, one more upbeat than the slow, love song he had just sung for the couple’s first dance. He sang another song, then another, and a couple more before his set was done and he grabbed his stuff and headed out of the reception tent. He headed to the parking lot just a hundred feet away but just before he made it there, his name was called and his heart stopped for a second. It was you.

“Heeseung, wait,” you caught up to him, holding your heels in your hands so you wouldn’t break them or twist your ankles trying to catch him before he left. “You’re leaving?”

Heeseung quickly looked over to the tents then back to you. “Yeah, I, uh, finished my set.”

You reached your hand out to him, “No, you should stay. Enjoy it,” you gave him a smile, “Might be the only wedding you’ll attend,” it was a harmless joke, but Heeseung took it differently.

“Are you saying I won’t get married?” His voice sounded hurt, but stern at the same time. He was trying to stand his ground, while dying on the inside.

“What? No, I— I was joking,” You lowered your hand, “What’s wrong?”

But Heeseung raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” He scoffed, “You asked me to sing at your wedding, of all things, of all people, you asked me to come here and relive everything that happened.”

You were confused, “Relive? You mean I would have to relive it? You broke my heart, Heeseung. You were never going to marry me. We had no future—”

“Did I say that?”

“Say what?”

“Did I say I would never marry you?” Heeseung repeated, “Did I ever say we had no future?”

You stepped back, “Well no but you never did anything that proved otherwise.”

But Heeseung shook his head and rubbed his face, trying to stay calm as you continued on.

“You never told me you would marry me, you never even asked about our future or even talked about it. You and I were together for three years and there was nothing you did that gave me any hope at all for us.”

Heeseung clicked his tongue, pushing his hair back, “God, Y/N, are you really that oblivious?”

You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“I was going to propose to you that night.”

Seven years ago, you and Heeseung met at your work—a cafe at the time—because that morning, he was craving a frappe and he knew that the cafe you just so happen to work at made the best coffee. You were his barista, and he fell in love with you the moment he saw you. He left his number on a napkin and you waited a day to call because you didn’t want to seem desperate, but also that you didn’t want to see him again either. On the first date, so memorable, you read out your favorite quotes from your favorite books, which he asked for because he knew you liked to read. Over a handful of dates and a million talks, you and him fell for each other—hard. He was all who you wanted, for three years, he was the boy you wanted to marry. He was your endgame, or you wanted him to be it.

For your three year anniversary dinner, he had made a reservation at your favorite restaurant, bought your favorite flowers, and dressed in your favorite suit of his. You wore his favorite dress, a white, short dress that fell just above your knees. You two headed to the restaurant around six, seated around six-thirty. It was good at first, he opened the car door for you, held the restaurant’s door open for you, pulled the seat back and pushed it in for you. He did what he always did. But for months, you wished for more. You had been wanting to hint for him to do something more, to take the next step in the relationship, but it was never the right time to talk about it. But instead, you dropped hints. For a year now, every day, you’ve dropped some kind of hint, and only realized that morning that it had been a year, and there was nothing. No conversations about the future, not even a poke at it. Nothing. You had enough.

During appetizers, you broke the silence, which was only there because he was eating and you were sipping on your wine, with a simple, but cold statement—“I don’t think this is going anywhere.”

Heeseung, confused and taken aback, almost spit out his food. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us, Hee. You’ve done the same thing over and over again, for the last three years, and you’ve never even given the thought of asking me to marry you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I’ve dropped hints, every single day since our two year anniversary—a year of this cycle, I can’t,” You shook your head, “I had your mother talk with you about proposing, I had your brother talk to you endlessly about his own wife. God, I even had a fake email about wedding rings sent to you by my friends so you’d finally ask me!” You abruptly stood up from your seat, everyone in the room was staring at you and him. You sighed. “I can’t wait around anymore for you.”

Heeseung stared at you, tears slowly forming in his eyes, those bambi eyes of his, “Y/N . . .”

You shook your head, “It’s over, Heeseung.” And you grabbed your coat and left the restaurant. He sat there, completely still. Everyone stared for another few moments out of pity before turning back to their own dinners. Heeseung slowly took out the box from his pocket and set it on the table, opening it and looking at the ring he had bought months ago, waiting for this exact day to propose to you and to make you his bride. But he was too late. He was just a day too late.

“I took you to your favorite restaurant, asked you to wear my favorite dress—which you’re wearing for him tonight, ironic enough!—and I wore your favorite suit. I took you there and I ordered your favorite foods, your wine, everything. I had it all planned out. I was going to tell you how much I loved you after we ate the appetizers,” Heeseung declared to you then, a choking sob in his throat, “I was going to propose to you minutes after you decided we were over. I noticed every hint and I planned it all, from the beginning. But I was too late. Right?”

You had started to cry, “Heeseung . . .”

He shook his head, “I have never stopped loving you, since the day I met you. Not even when you ruined me, when I cried for months on end, for the humiliation, the heartache, I have never stopped loving you. Until tonight,” he turned, "Goodnight, Y/N."

“No, Heeseung, please,” you went towards him, grabbing his arm, “Please,” implying you wanted a second chance, just a few yards from your newly wedded husband. Heeseung knew he didn't love you anymore. Tonight was his closure. The regret, the miserableness, the mourning of what could've been—it was finally over.

“You remember that quote you told me? On our first date?” Heeseung stared at you, coldly, “Maybe if you were the moon, I could’ve loved you the same,” he then scoffed, “It had always been about us, huh?”

You shook your head, “Hee, please—”

“No, Y/N.” Heeseung took his arm out of your grasp, stepping back from you, “Congrats on your marriage,” and he walked away from you, leaving you to fall to your knees on the grass, crying to yourself as he got into his car and left. You got up a few moments later and returned to the wedding.

You never told Sunghoon what happened, claimed you fell on the way back to the tents after you had gone out to thank Heeseung for coming since he was leaving so abruptly, and Sunghoon, being the kind person he was, didn't question any of it. He helped you get cleaned up and danced with you until it was time to head off to your honeymoon. But Heeseung never left your mind.

Months went by, then years, and Sunghoon never knew what you had done that night, begging Heeseung for another chance, that you would've thrown everything you had for the boy you broke. He never knew.

On the night of Christmas Eve, the one following your eleventh wedding anniversary, the kids were asleep in their rooms while you and Sunghoon put out the presents from "Santa." One girl, and two boys. You didn't think you'd want kids, let alone three of them, but you loved and cherished your kids entirely. Your oldest was ten, middle was seven, and the youngest was three. You had gotten them toys, clothes, etc., but that didn't matter. It was when you seemed off, like you did every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, every holiday. Sunghoon finally asked about it, and that's when you told him.

You told him about Heeseung, what he said to you, how you feel about him, and the absolute and miserable regret you had for letting him go. Sunghoon didn't say anything for a while. He just stared at you blankly, not sure how to respond or react, so he didn't. He just sat down on the couch and covered his face with his hands. You tried to sit with him but he scooted away before turning to you, telling you that he should've known. You reassured you loved him now, but that wasn't enough. You both knew it wasn't enough.

Divorce followed shortly after, joint custody where the kids will spend every other week with either parent. Sunghoon was cordial about it all, which was good for you, you guessed, but you didn't want a divorce. You loved Sunghoon, but not the way you should've all these years. He deserved better, and you wish you could've gave him what he deserved, but at the end of the day, you didn't love him. You loved Heeseung.

You searched Heeseung up the moment it came to mind, thinking you could go back to him as your last resort—just like before—but to your unfortunate surprise, Heeseung was married. On the night of your wedding, Heeseung drove to the bar to straighten out his thoughts over a few drinks. There, he met his future wife who sat beside him and actually bought him a drink because he was looking at her a lot but not actually making a move. They married the next year, and have a son around your oldest's age. He looks at her the way he used to look at you. He didn't love you, and hadn't for a long time. You lost him, and that was never going to change. There was nothing you could do to get him back, to make things right, to fix your marriage, your family, to get closure. Alone, you were, but you sought out to get better.

You started therapy, and eventually, convinced Sunghoon to go to couple's counseling with you. A year or so passed, you and Sunghoon decided to give it another try. You wanted that happy ending, and you worked for it. You loved Sunghoon, more than ever, never to lose that love, because he was your husband, the love of your life, the father of your children. Sunghoon was who you wanted to love for eternity, not Heeseung. You didn't love him anymore. You finally moved on, just as he had.

Because he wasn't yours, and you weren't his.

end.

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a/n—i'm gonna be completely honest.. i was watching a lot of kdramas when i thought of this shit, but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyways! thank you for reading <33

[alaezasmystery235]

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꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 ; 𝗚𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮.𝗸.𝗮 𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

⋆·˚ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 ⋆·˚ ----- This reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn't, you don't need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn't resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious!

⋆·˚ 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 ⋆·˚ ----- All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from 'pinterest' i don't own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and belong to me only @alaezasmystery . I use the editor tools canva and kapwing for the header and divider. Extra credit to @daninixx for giving permission to use her rules and disclaimer.

ＰＩＬＥ 1

First court marriage then there will be big luxurious wedding party . It's a royal wedding !!!! You'll look like a powerful person . That's your day and you're just not ready to share it with anyone . Your Future Spouse can be famous or has fame to their name . Many people will make posts of your wedding photo viral in social media .

Extra information :- owl , Tik tok , China , Sushi , Pens and highlighter , Baby cradle , Red hair , Green and black eyes , 5 ' 6 - 6 ' 0 in height , garters , stockings , statement jewelry , diamond bracelet / heirloom , summer and June .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 2

Big fantasy wedding ceremony . There will be a huge celebration in your wedding . You'll look so gorgeous and luxurious on that day . You're manifesting a successful huge ceremony . I'm seeing many expensive gifts being given to you . A presence of child / children will be there too. Maybe you'll own a pet by then whom you treat like your own child.

Extra information :- Swan , Sunflower , mesh net , Zari works , minimal jewelleries , boots , blonde highlights , peach and white colours , grandparents , 2211 , 1818 , Name starting with R , S , W , U , 2009 , 1998 , 25 .

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𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 3

Cute destination wedding is going here. Small amount of people are going to join your wedding . It's like a magical sacred union of two matured person. This wedding is going to be so intimate and exquisite. I'm seeing nature is included in your theme . Like beach , waterfall or ocean is present by your side. You'll look like an angel straight out of a fairytale .

Extra information :- Candles , fairy lights , cars , potluck , hotpot , 444 , piano , fluffy dresses , braids , ace of spades , Middle of the night by Elley Duhé , tulips , Netherlands , old photos , X , D , G , H , Ticket .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

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ＰＩＬＥ 4

Okay this is giving me destination wedding vibe !! It maybe a small wedding but this is going to take place in different place than yours . I'm seeing a very vintage vibe from here . You'll be radiating so much that day. A sense of pride is in the air. People will be talking about this for a while . Many of your family members will be shocked to see that you're finally getting married .

Extra information :- Old money , Manor , Dolce & Gabbana , Jesper , Finland , Bees , Long drives , 26 , 30 , 4+ years age gap , Teacher - Student vibes , Seashell , Mirror , Buddha .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

© @alaezasmystery ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[heeliumhaze-elle]

live and let die

「synopsis」 — it's time to face the music. the day y/n's been dreading as finally arrived: lee heeseung is finally getting married. 「warnings」 — angst, angst, angst. please dm me if i missed anything! 「word count」 — 568 words 「author's notes」 — lowercase intended. first-person pov, present tense. not proofread. — technically, this can be read with any of the enha members, but there's a moment at the end where mc says “hee” so do with that what you will. — this is based off the song 'bride or groom' by india parkman, so i definitely recommend listening to it while reading! — after finishing this very short song-fic, i debated heavily on turning it into a series of its own. i'm still unsure if i want to pursue that avenue with this story, so depending on its reception, i'll probably do something with it. — this is all fictional. the way the idols are portrayed in this story does not reflect how i view them by any means.

“i’m sorry?”

“are you here for the bride or the groom?” the usher asks once more — almost sardonically.

no, you're being too sensitive. it’s a simple question.

… with no simple answer.

i stutter on my response, or, rather, lack thereof. … bride or groom? such formalities seem strange.

the usher looks at me with a new sense of urgency as the sound of the piano echoes through the church.

i feign a smile, waving to no one on the groom’s side of the chapel.

“don’t worry!” i whisper to the usher as the piano grows louder. can she hear the slight quiver in my voice? am i going to hell for lying in a church? “i see my family over there, i’ll seat myself.”

it’s time to face the music…

so like some awful dream, i move my feet and take my seat. the procession begins and there you are.

maybe in another life— NO.

gritting my teeth, i gnaw on the inside of my cheek. there’s no use in thinking like that today — or ever.

never again.

today is about you. the both of you. today, the two of you become one.

today, my childhood best friend marries the man of my dreams.

and it takes everything in me not to run from the church in tears.

and then i see the dress.

if i had told you sooner…

in another life, would that be me?

“she makes a lovely bride,” your older brother says. and i can’t help but agree.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡♡♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the clinks of forks to glass fill the ballroom as you lean in to kiss her.

i’m seated at a table with unrecognizable faces.

you stand, with your wife seated beside you, as you profess your undying love for her. and there’s a moment in your speech where i swear you almost say my name.

it’s the first dance. the music swells and i watch you dip her in a well-choreographed move. the look in your eyes tells me how delusional i was to think my name would ever slip from your lips during that romantic speech; i see your face, it’s clear as day, you love her and it shows.

it’s over, isn’t it?

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡♡♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the party is almost over, but deciding i can’t take another moment of this, i march over to the head table with my head held high and my smile convincing. but the wedding march from this afternoon is still plaguing my thoughts, mocking me.

🎶 this is goodbye, this is goodbye 🎶

because… in the lifetime, i’m not yours.

🎶 always the bridesmaid, but never the bride 🎶

and now, i never will be.

“she makes a lovely bride, hee,” i say when it’s just us two, repeating the words i heard your brother say at the chapel — my eyes trained on your wife and your in-laws across the dance floor as they speak frantically to one another.

“y/n…” i can barely hear you over the music, but i can hear the warning in your voice. one look at you tells me there’s something more you want to say.

… but i can’t stand to be here another second. so i offer you one last teary smile before i do an about-face and walk out of the hotel ballroom — and, decidedly, out of your lives.

and i can’t help but wonder if i told you sooner, would i be where she is now?

[celestmilena]

Westlife - I Do with lyrics

The song that has inspired me the most as I hold it near and dear to my heart is Westlife - I Do

I have written a true love story and this song was played at our wedding. Please enjoy.

Gigi was a vision of beauty that could make any heart flutter, even amidst the salty sea spray. As the waves gently rolled in, they caressed the shoreline as if they were in a rhythmic purr that soothed the evening air. The horizon was a canvas of soft pastels, the sky blushing in anticipation of the sun's final goodbye. The beach was meticulously groomed, the sand a canvas of pristine white, unblemished by the world around us just beyond the shoreline. A solitary figure stood at the water's edge as the waves lapped at her bare feet.

Gigi's hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, allowing her tendrils to dance freely in the breeze. She was dressed in a wedding gown that clung to her figure like a second skin, it was a masterpiece of lace and silk that whispered secrets of her love for me and me alone. Her gown's train fluttered behind her, like a soft cloud that kissed the sand as the gentle breeze moved it. The pearls around her neck and the crimson pout of her lips added a touch of sophistication to her slightly androgynous look.

The air grew thick with anticipation as the first strains of romantic wedding songs began. Our guests, a collection of friends and family dressed in their finest, shifted in their seats, their eyes trained on the pathway lined with candles stretching from the arch of flowers at the water's edge. As the music grew louder, the tempo increased slightly, urging for our moment to arrive. As every note played on the piano, my heartbeat with excitement, echoing the rhythm of my racing pulse.

I took a deep breath, as my hands rested on my bouquet of white roses with a hint of baby's breath, my eyes fixed on the horizon as if the sun was playing a dramatic game of hide and seek. As the music swelled, I began my walk down the aisle as I began to sing "I Do" by Westlife as each note wafted through the air. I chose this wedding song and dedicated it to the love of my life, Gigi.  The candles flickered in the breeze, casting a warm, ethereal glow that painted shadows across the sand. The fabric of my gown whispered against my legs as I moved, the sound mingling with the symphony of waves and the gentle rustle of leaves in the palm trees above.

My gaze remained steadfast on the altar where Gigi, my love, stood waiting, resplendent in a form-fitting wedding gown. The candlelight danced in Gigi's eyes, reflecting the warmth emanating from her heart and soul. Gigi's smile grew wider with every step I took. Her eyes sparkled revealing the very depth of her heart and soul that had captured my heart. Our love was palpable, a living, breathing entity that brightened the air around us.

The bridesmaids, dressed in shimmering gowns that mirrored the ocean's depths, as I watched our friends with misty eyes, their smiles were a mix of joy and admiration. We both had a handkerchief ready, knowing that this moment would be one we would cherish and remember for the rest of our days on this earth. Whispers of congratulations as I passed by made my eyes swell with tears.

As I reached the altar, I took Gigi's hand, and as our gazes locked, the world around us faded into a soft focus. The celebrant, a wise woman with a gentle smile, began our ceremony, her voice carrying over the lapping waves like a lullaby. She spoke of love's enduring strength and the beauty of finding one's soulmate. The words resonated within my chest, echoing the truth I felt within my soul.

Our vows were personal, conveying the tapestry of our shared moments and our whispered promises. The love in our eyes was unmistakable, a silent conversation that transcended from our hearts without a spoken word. The guests leaned in, their collective breaths held in suspension, as they watched and listened as we recited our vows. The air was thick with emotion, our heartfelt declaration was a testament to our unshakable bond of love.

As we reached the part where we would exchange rings, our hands trembled slightly as our gazes never wavered, our thumbs tracing comforting circles on the back of each others hand. The warmth of her touch steadied me, as I knew mine did hers, reminding us that we were in this together. With a deep breath, I slid my ring onto Gigi's finger, as she did the same. We both felt the cool metal encircle our ring fingers with the weight of a thousand promises. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, the sound blending with the waves like a standing ovation from the Heavens.

The celebrant pronounced us wife and wife, as Gigi then leaned in to claim her first kiss from me as her wife. Our kiss was soft and lingering, filled with the sweetness of a love that had blossomed over the last few years of shared experiences. It was a kiss that said "hello" to a new chapter in our lives, a promise of forever that resonated through the air.

The applause grew louder, and as we pulled back, as our family and friends stood,  a sea of love and well-wishes resonated. We turned to face our guests, hand in hand, our smiles as bright as the stars, showing that our lives were just about to begin as one. Our photographer, a friend with a keen eye for capturing moments, snapped away, preserving our memory for all eternity.

I Love You Mrs. Gigi Princeton-Milena for all Eternity and Beyond….

Mrs. Celest Milena-Princeton

@dryndelicate @danni-gurrl @gigiprinceton

@ai-satin-chic @softsmooth69 @fluffyfaza

@mohairmaster @mistressmaurahypno @hollyjumper

@andysfantasie @milunessence @anderii @burningpoisonroaster

@alyssa-ai @synth-ai

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 This city’s dying by the day, and you know it always will 🎶

Antoine kept his head dipped and his face hidden as he neared the spot where Giorgio had asked him to meet. The secrecy in Gio’s note had been absurd: Meet me at the docks facing the cathedral at eight. And come alone. As he approached, the rhythmic ringing of the church bells told him that he was just on time.

Antoine’s steps crossed from the cracked pavers onto the wooden dock, the hollow sound alerting Giorgio to his presence. He jumped to his feet and nervously took a drag off his cigarette, smoothing down his hair behind each ear. Antoine rounded the crates that he was hidden behind and narrowed his eyes, “Christ, Gio, what’s going on? What’s with all this fanfare and secrecy?”

“Antoine, thank god. To tell you the truth, it’s Jo. She never takes my ideas seriously and I’m sure she’d tell me I’m operating on false information. Plus I don’t want to create a stir, tip off my contacts that I’m sharing this information with anyone on the outside. Sit, please. I think you might need to.”

Giorgio sat back onto the crate next to Antoine, looking over each shoulder before he began, “I’ve got cousins, Antoine, cousins with real business interests up in New York. There’s serious talk that this whole bubble we’ve been riding, it can’t last forever, and the whole economy is gunna tank.”

Antoine shook his head in disbelief, but Gio went on, “I’m telling you, it’s true! Some of them are already pulling out stocks. Your sister will think I’m just as crazy, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be in any city when shit hits the fan. Especially this city. You see, I know I said one job, but once they get their teeth into you, once they know where you are, they don’t let you stop…”

Gio stopped for a moment to let the implication of he and Antoine’s entanglement with the city’s mafia dissipate in the twilight air, “Now I’ve heard talk of riches out west. Railroads or highways being built right through your property and being paid in handfuls. Plus land is cheap, real cheap. I found a plot through some connections with the farm house built. I’ve still got that money from the deal we made, so I can purchase it myself, but if you’re holding onto that cash we can split it equal, go in as co-owners.”

Gio’s proposal made Antoine’s head spin. Leave his home? To go West, of all places? What the hell did he know about the West? About a land he had only heard tales and hyperboles of, a land that seemed unreal, one that still seemed to promise some semblance of the American Dream…

As Antoine tried to focus, to force himself see his choices clearly, a series of images flashed through his head in immediate succession.

First, he saw himself atop a horse, the sun beating down on his his face as the arid breeze whistled through the brush and the blue sky blended into the yellow of the mountaintops. Around him was nothing but land: vast, empty expanses of land without a single rule or expectation to impose upon him.

Then he saw Zelda in a tiny chapel, bedecked in a white wedding dress and her finest pearls. She had a wide smile on her face and a delicate hand extended toward him, beckoning him to the altar at the end of the aisle. Through the windows the desert sun streamed in around them, finally free to walk in the streets however they pleased, finally married, finally his wife…

But with almost an almost visceral sense of vertigo he was transported back to New Orleans, back to the club with Violette, who was now grown as she sang along to the notes he played on the piano he had owned all his life. Her laughter told him that she had always loved it there, just as much as he did, and she would only grow to love it more, to be just as inspired and connected to the only home he had ever known.

Finally, his mind drifted back to Zelda, this time in their kitchen cooking a recipe that his aunt had taught him. He stood behind her in the same place where they had some of their happiest memories, their most intimate moments.

As he pulled her closer to him, he could hear people yelling in French through the doors open to the street below. Their accents sounded just like his own, just like his mother and his aunt, perhaps just like his daughter’s would one day. The sound of their voices drifted into the kitchen, mingling with the scents of cooking and the feeling of Zelda in his arms, telling him that he was already home.

In the seemingly suspended year of 1928, Antoine buried his head in his hands. None of the visions or the dreams mattered anyway; the choice had already been made. The money was gone, long gone. He had spent it paying bills for the club and buying food for his family, just trying to keep the club afloat while the bribes grew larger by the month.

Antoine finally looked back to Gio, making sure the tears in his eyes had dried enough so that they wouldn’t betray his words, “I’m sorry Gio, but it sounds like nothing but a pipe dream to me. Why would I leave when there’s nothing to go on but your word? I’ve got the club, my family, my city; I won’t throw that all away for a rumor.”

Giorgio visibly flinched, as though Antoine’s words had come directly from Josephine herself. Then he swallowed the dismissal, knowing that it was only a taste of what waited for him at home. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back out over the Mississippi River, “Suit yourself then, old sport. I hope it doesn’t come to all this, but I have a feeling it might.”

[starg1rlie]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⟡ rating. fluff ( general audience )

⟡ prompt. "calla lily" ( getting married to character )

notes. joined ying's lil' milestone event , hehe , hopefully this doesn't botch on me . . . personally , weddings to me are so vv cute and magical !! ( also pardon if the wedding vows don't match the ones that you're used to , i just did it from memory ) reblogs and likes are appreciated ! | wc. 852 words ( 4,742 characters )

⟡ feat. various x fem! reader ( tartaglia, ayato, diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, thoma )

ㅤㅤWhat a feeling it is to be wed to someone, to be linked to the love of your life, to feel such joy and happiness as you look into your spouse’s eyes and know that your unconditional love is reciprocated, maybe even multiplied by tenfold. Marriage. Wedding. Vows. 

ㅤㅤYou liked to replay that night, the night he proposed to you, in your head as the two of you began wedding preparations. Thinking of the engagement ring sliding down your finger as you made plans for the wedding cake (he preferred a cake with the sweetness level lowered accordingly to match his palette), thinking of the way he swept you up in his arms while you were being fitted for your dress, thinking about the amount of unbridled affection and love in his eyes as you prepared yourself to do a practice walk down the aisle you’d walk on come next morning.

ㅤㅤ“You’re beautiful,” he murmured that night as he wrapped you up in a blanket and pulled you into his warm embrace. “You’re amazing.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re all that I could ever want or need.” He burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning out against your collarbone, eliciting a giggle from you. “You’re my everything.”

ㅤㅤYou remembered quite vividly how happy you felt in that moment, simply you and him, tangled limbs under the bedsheets, thinking of the future that you two would share together. You remembered linking your hand with his, fingers lacing through his own, and staring into his eyes, his dazzling and mesmerizing eyes. You remembered watching him sleep, head propped up by one hand, the other still clasping your fiance’s, watching his chest rise and fall steadily with each intake of breath, admiring the curve of his jawline, drinking in every detail of his face, his body, his entire being so it would be permanently seared into your brain. 

ㅤㅤAnd so when the fateful day finally came, when you slipped into the wondrous dress your friends had picked out with you one night, when you held onto the bouquet of flowers in your hands tightly, when you adjusted the veil so that it would obscure your face (he’d chastise you for wearing it, covering your beautiful face from him, and you’d simply brush it off with a “it’s tradition”), you felt ready. Actually, scratch that, you felt more than ready. The procession began; someone was playing the wedding march on the piano, a child (no doubt Jean and Lisa’s; they recently adopted an adorable little girl) was wailing before she was soothed by her mothers, and even a few sniffles and tearful gazes. What a wonderful day it was to be married, to be wed to the love of your life.

ㅤㅤ“Do you, (Name), take this strapping young man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?” the priest inquired, looking up from his book. 

ㅤㅤYou nodded, murmuring the words “I do” as the man proceeded, asking the same question to your soon-to-be husband.

ㅤㅤ“And do you, sir, take this lovely young lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

ㅤㅤHe looked at you for a moment, a smile flickering over his lips, before nodding firmly. “I do.”

ㅤㅤ“And so, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husband, and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

ㅤㅤA cheer rose up from the people seated within the quaint little chapel he’d picked out, everyone rising to their feet and clapping loudly. You turned from your now-husband to wave at them all, blowing kisses towards everyone before turning back to face him. 

ㅤㅤ“Hey,” he said softly, quick to pull you in by the waist, using his free hand to push up your veil to get a better look at your face.

ㅤㅤ“Hey,” you replied with a small laugh, tugging off the elbow-length gloves you were currently wearing, placing a hand delicately against his cheek, cupping it and rubbing a thumb over the skin soothingly.

ㅤㅤ“So. We’re married now, huh?” He said with a low chuckle, that smirk never leaving his face as he slipped his hand under your chin, tilting you up closer to his face. “Who woulda thought? If someone told me ten years ago that I would marry my best friend, I would believe them to have rocks in their head.”

ㅤㅤYou tittered. “Yeah, I wouldn’t believe them either. But here we are.”

ㅤㅤ“Here we are,” he repeated, fondness clear in his tone. His eyes darted down to your lips, ignoring the ongoing chants of “kiss him!”, instead, initiating the kiss first, turning his head to angle his lips properly, locking against yours. The cheers rose again once more, noise amplified even louder, ringing in your ears as he swept you up in his arms, true bridal-style.

ㅤㅤ“Shall we go, wife?” he said with a grin.

ㅤㅤYou beamed at him, pecking his cheek. “We shall, husband.”

📮 tagging. no one yet ! fill out this form if you want to be tagged (@i23kazu )

[lightninginapuddle]

Blackbeard's musical theme S1 vs S2 observations

I've been rewatching the show recently to find the scenes where Blackbeard's Theme is used, and here are some observations I can share with those interested. I'm not going to get technical or anything, just pinpoint some things I found interesting in the use of that theme in the context of the show, the characters, and the scenes it appears in.

Just so you have it in your ears, this is Blackbeard’s Theme. When I searched for scenes, I was looking for a specific leitmotif that derives from the very beginning of that linked song: the 3 held, rumbly, low notes (E, G and D#/Eb in that order), or a variation of that pattern. In the show, this main theme is often followed by strings playing a high-pitched sustained harmony with fast repeated notes (that or maybe these are long slow strokes with lots of vibrato, you tell me, I don't play a string instrument).

The theme is meant to be menacing.

My observations under the cut, sorry it's a little messy!

- Season 1: the theme is introduced by Izzy in A Damned Man and last heard in a scene with Ed in Wherever You Go, There You Are. The theme is never played for anyone else but them throughout season 1.

- Season 2: the theme is reintroduced by Ed at the wedding in Impossible Birds, and we last hear it at the beginning of Izzy’s death scene in Mermen.

- Contrary to season 1, the theme also appears with the crew when they are fighting with each other in Fun and Games, and with Lucius when he's alone and holding the wooden shark in The Curse of the Seafaring Life. The theme we hear in the scene with the crew is a variation from the original theme.

Some analysis could be drawn from this, such as Blackbeard's poison leaking out of Izzy and Ed and contaminating the crew and reflecting in the way their trauma is portrayed on screen. The theme being heard with lucius is particularly interesting to me, though I'm still trying to form my analysis of this. Maybe because the shark is a physical embodiment of Blackbeard to Izzy? And thus the essence of Blackbeard is transferred to that wooden shark? Who knows, your guess is as good as mine.

- Season 1: the theme is in 21 scenes in 5 episodes only (2,3,4,6 and 10). I’d argue that Izzy is the driving force of the theme in at least half of these scenes (12/21 vs Ed 9/21) as he carries the threatening essence of the theme.

- More than half of those appearances are in only 2 episodes: The Art of Fuckery (7 scenes) and Discomfort in a Married State (5 scenes), but never less than 3 scenes per episode for the other episodes.

- Season 1: we don't hear the theme in The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, This is Happening, We Gull Way Back and Act of Grace. It's interesting to note that, apart from Act of Grace, Izzy and Ed don't interact at all in those episodes.

- Season 2: 14 scenes in 6 episodes (1,2,3,4,5,8). The theme centers a lot more around Ed. At first because he's lost in the persona of Blackbeard and carries the threatening essence of the theme, and then because his fractured vision of himself is mending back with the Kraken and Ed to become one by the end of the season.

- 11 of those scenes are in 3 episodes: Impossible Birds and Mermen (4 scenes each) and Fun and Games (3 scenes). We hear the theme in only one scene for the other three episodes.

- Season 2: similarly, we don't hear the theme at all in Calypso's Birthday and Man on Fire. Maybe signifying the healing amongst everyone involved with Blackbeard? Ed is turning poison into positivity and the crew is healing and embracing him back, and similarly Izzy is embracing his own self-discovery rather than focusing on Blackbeard. In Man on Fire, Blackbeard seems to have become something of the past, especially symbolised with Ed throwing his leathers in the ocean.

- Season 1: the theme is recognizable from one scene to the other, sometimes changing the melody of the motif a little bit, sometimes it’s instrumentalized a little differently (a piano instead of a cello for example), sometimes the motif is only one or two notes, but it mostly stays the same throughout the season.

- The only two times I can think of when the theme is the most “different” is in 1) The Art of Fuckery, when Ed is doing a fuckery with fireworks and descending from the sky with a harness. There, the theme mirrors the theatricality of the scene; 2) the very last time we hear the theme in Wherever You Go, There You Are, when Ed keeps Jim and Frenchie on his crew. The theme is sped up, more colorful and rhythmically more dynamic. To me, it symbolises the change in Blackbeard's persona as someone a lot less stable and more dangerous.

- Season 2: still mostly the same theme but it shapeshifts a lot more. The range gets broader, getting more and more high pitched, to the point of being shrill at times, which contrasts a lot with the low, rumbling sound of the cello we're so used to hearing, the main melody has more variations (with the crew in Fun and Games, with Izzy in Fun and Games and Mermen) and it even appears very distorted when Buttons is talking to a bound Ed in Fun and Games. Interestingly, the theme appears in more distinctly different variations in Fun and Games than any other episode, when every one is dealing with the brunt of their trauma.

- Season 2: when Ed is pointing his gun at the crew then at himself in Impossible Birds, the theme is the most shrill we've ever heard as the tension rises, with the same sustained harmony from the original motif played at a very high pitch and doesn't cease to be played until Izzy yells and the music completely stops. It picks back up once Ed shoots him, and the lower range of the theme emerges as well with the shrill harmony.

- Season 2: When we hear the theme with Ed by himself in Mermen, it's never heard on its own anymore. We hear it partnered with the Kraken theme and/or Gnossienne n°5. BUT the theme is pretty much in its original form and at that point in the season, we haven't heard it like that since Impossible Birds (if I'm not mistaken).

- Season 1: This happens only once, where the echo of Blackbeard's theme quickly morphs into Gnossienne when Stede realizes that maybe Ed does fancy a fine fabric in Discomfort In A Married State. (And no, I’m not taking the Kraken Theme followed by Gnossienne in The Art of Fuckery into account, as I’m only focusing on Blackbeard’s Theme here).

- Season 2: Let me also point out that we don't hear the theme with Ed after his discussion with Buttons in Fun and Games, and it's so fractured and distorted that it's hard to recognize at all. We hear it with the crew, Izzy and Lucius but not Ed until Mermen. And it comes back in Mermen following Pop Pop telling Ed to go back to what he is good at. This time however, what he's good at is not only being Blackbeard but channeling all the parts of himself to protect others.

- Also, as mentioned before, Izzy has a strong connection to the theme in season 1 but not nearly as much in season 2, if at all. The theme really is his in 2, arguably 3, scenes even though he is present in more than those two scenes (6/14). Now this is my interpretation, you're free to make your own, but I tend to analyze this as him losing control over Blackbeard, especially at the beginning of the season where we can see how he doesn’t know how to stop the spiral Ed is in. Izzy wanted Blackbeard and not Edward but it resulted in him having neither. And the disappearance of the theme with Izzy also symbolises that, Blackbeard doesn’t belong to him anymore. It's even more clear when we consider how Izzy was a driving force to the theme in season 1 or at least Ed and Izzy shared the theme somewhat equally -though in Izzy's favor (12 for Izzy, 9 for Ed)-, yet in season 2, 9 scenes out of 14 are all Ed compared to Izzy's 2/3.

- When the theme is heard with him again, Izzy is at his lowest point mentally. He's lost his leg and throws the unicorns ones to the feet of the crew before falling down and crawling away while the crew watches him move away with concern and pity. I personally think the theme coming back in that moment is some sort of reckoning for Izzy, and the theme is a variation of the original one too. Izzy fully faces what pushing for Blackbeard to keep existing cost him and he's having a hard time coping with it.

- The last two times we hear the theme with him after that, are: when he talks to Ricky, and the theme turns almost positive, hopeful even, maybe Izzy is allowing Blackbeard to be something positive instead of negative, paralleling Ed doing the same as he embraces all the parts of himself? Then, as a last echo, the final nail in the coffin so to speak, the theme shows up at the very beginning of Izzy's death scene. Here, the theme is higher pitched than the original version of it, and feels tight, strained and weak, almost paralleling Izzy holding onto life.

Feel free to draw your own conclusions if you even read all of that. That was a lot of rambles, sorry!

[marie-swriting]

I Really Care About You - Anthony Bridgerton

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Summary : When Anthony sees you in the arms of another man, he remembers how he sabotaged your relationship because of his feelings.

Warnings : set in 1807 so Anthony is 23, angst, sad ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word Count : 2.8k

French Version on Wattpad

French version on Tumblr

Song mentioned : Piano Concerto No.20, K466 by Mozart

Songs inspiration : When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars and Decode by Sabrina Carpenter

Leaning on the wall, Anthony Bridgerton is looking at you from afar. As he sees you dancing, a smile on your face, he can’t help but do the same. He knows how much you love balls, how much you love dancing at the rhythm of the strings. When your dancing partner makes you sway, Anthony feels a memory coming back to him.

It was two years ago. Anthony had started courting you a few months before that. You knew him only by name but you had been intrigued by him. At first, he wasn’t opening up to you, only giving you a few moments of his times, but bit by bit, you had started to grow closer to each other. As you got to know each other, you had discovered a new side of the serious man who was crumbling under responsibilities. Even if you felt like he hadn’t shown you his whole self yet, you were already thrilled to see he had broken his shell a bit with you. Therefore, you had let your feelings take over, allowing yourself to fall in love with Anthony Bridgerton. Besides being a good catch, like your father wished, you felt deep down you’d be well with him. There was no doubt, you could picture yourself being with Anthony forever.

So, at every ball, you were dancing with him as much as you could. Of course, you would be dancing with other men as well. After all, you loved dancing with anyone, even if the Viscount was your favourite partner.

That night, Anthony had invited you for the first dance of the night. When the first notes of Mozart's Piano Concerto No.20, K466 could be heard, you had started to waltz, your eyes deep in his just like his were in yours. If a stranger could’ve seen you, they would’ve thought you were newly weds as your gazes were full of love. Anthony couldn’t stop admiring your beauty. Everytime he thought you couldn’t be prettier than the day before, you proved him wrong. As he was a bit more under your spell, he couldn’t help but share his thoughts with you.

“You are radiant, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Lord Bridgerton. You are handsome as well.”

“Not as much as you. Your dress is beautiful. You truly are breathtaking.”

“Be careful, Mister Bridgerton, people could be mistaken and think you want to ask for my hand.” You laughed, trying to hide your discord.

“Would you say ‘yes’ ?” He genuinely asked you.

“First, you shall talk about it with my father, then I will give you my answer.” You answered with a smile.

“After our dance, I shall talk with him.”

“I really care about you, My Lord.” You admitted.

“As do I, My Lady.”

At that specific moment, you both had only one wish, kissing each other, but the presence of the good Londonian society prevented you from it. You only felt his lips on your right hand clothed with a white glove when the dance was over. His eyes hadn’t left yours when he softly kissed your hand.

But now, it’s Lord Egerton who is kissing your hand with as much tenderness as he did two years ago. Anthony looks away when he sees your face brighten at this touch. Anthony is too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the group of gentlemen coming toward him, Lord Egerton is among them. He only realises their presence when he hears your dance partner making an announcement with a proud smile.

“Lady Y/L/N has accepted my proposal yesterday.”

“Congratulations !”

“You two look happy together.” The men state.

“We are getting married in a few months and I cannot wait. I have never felt that way before.”

Anthony says something polite before his eyes land on you. From afar, he sees you talking to other women. You removed a glove to show your engagement ring. You’re deep in the description of your proposal when you feel a gaze on you. Quickly, you glance around and find Anthony. You see him observing you with a sad look. For a second, your heart feels heavy but you pull yourself together and put your attention back on your friends. You try to get Anthony out of your head, reminding yourself he’s the one to blame for this situation. He doesn’t have the right, with one look, to make you feel guilty because you’re moving on while he’s the one who ruined everything.

You had been engaged with Anthony for three months and still madly in love. Your wedding wasn’t planned for another six months. Your mind was always set on wedding planning. There were only a few moments during the week where you’d allow yourself to do other things. That day, you were doing needlepoint, you had forgotten about it since Anthony’s proposal. You were putting the needle back in the cloth when you got interrupted by one of your servants, telling you about Anthony’s arrival. You allowed him in. You put your embroidery on the table next to you and you stood up to greet your fiancé. When he arrived, your smile grew bigger like it always did when he was in the same room as you.

“Lord Bridgerton, I was not expecting you today.”

“I know, my apologies, but I had to talk to you.” He informed with a serious expression and your smile left your face.

“Of course, is something the matter ?”

“May we sit down ?”

“Please.”, you agreed as you showed the couch and sat down, “My Lord, you are worrying me, are you well ?” You questioned when he had sat down next to you.

“What I have to tell you is not easy, Lady Y/L/N. I… I wish to break our engagement.”

Following his announcement, you stayed silent for a second, wanting to be sure you understood correctly. When you realised you hadn’t mistaken, you opened your mouth several times, hesitating before succeeding to talk.

“What ?”

“I do not wish to marry anymore. I wish to wait a few more years. I am sorry.”

“I do not understand, Mister Bridgerton. Have I done something wrong ? If it’s the case, I apologise.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” Anthony reassured you quickly, making you frown.

“Then why did you change your mind ? I am sure we can find a solution. Lord Bridgerton, I care about you, I can wait a few years if it is what you really wish for.”

“I cannot ask you for this. I will not change my mind.” He affirmed, avoiding your gaze.

“Can you at least give me an explanation ?” You pleaded with teary eyes.

“I made myself a promise and if I marry you, I know I will betray it.”

“What promise ?”

“To not have a marriage of love.” Anthony stated, confusing you a bit more.

“I do not understand you.”

“I am the Viscount Bridgerton, I need to find a woman who can be the perfect Viscountess, like you, but I do not want feelings. But these last few weeks… I realised I loved you. I am sorry to hurt you this way.”

It took you a second to assimilate his words. Finally understanding what he said, you stood up from the couch, stunned. You put yourself in front of him, your confusion visible on your face.

“Are you really saying you love me so much you do not want to marry me ? What do you have against marriage of love ? Don't you think it is better to share your life with someone you love ?”

“I do not wish for this.”

You stopped talking, thinking about what this new information would mean for you. When it finally hit you, you stood up, your breath quickening. 

“Do you have any idea of how humiliating it is ?”, you questioned rhetorically, a tear rolling down your cheek, “Everyone is expecting our wedding and no one will understand because I do not understand myself.”

“I will take care of the rumours, if that is your fear.”

“No matter what you will say, people will think something is wrong with me because you decided to break our engagement.” You exclaimed, emphasising on the pronoun ‘you’.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I do not want your apologies. I want a clear explanation, Lord Bridgerton.”, you retorted, frustration growing bigger, “I would have never thought our feelings would be a valid reason to stop our courtship. Well, our feelings, I shall say my feelings. If you really loved me, you would not be doing that.”

“I assure you that I really care about you.”

“How do you want me to believe you ? You were only interested in me because you saw me as a young woman from a good family, matching the criterias that are expected from me as a wife. They always told me if I was polite, considerate and attentive, I would have no problems finding a husband and yet, even when I match those meaningless standards, I am not enough. What have I done to deserve that ?” You cried, looking up.

“Even if you do not want to, believe me when I say it is not your fault. You are good enough. More than enough, even. The real reason I refuse a marriage of love, it is because I do not want to be the cause of pain.” He clarifies.

“The more you explain, the more I am lost.”

“After my father’s death, my mother was devastated.”, he started to explain, standing up in front of you, “She was barely there for me and my siblings. I had to take care of everything instead of her. I do not want the woman I will marry to experience a similar situation. I do not want to be the reason for a future heartbreak.

“You cannot let your father’s death prevent you from loving.”, you said, losing a little bit more hope, “Even if I could never understand it, I know his death affected you but you cannot lock your heart away. Anthony Bridgerton, I am begging you to reconsider your promise.”

“I will not do it.” He repeated, sure of himself.

“Very well then.” You let your anger win over you and give him back his ring.

“I deeply apologise.”

“That is enough.”, you interrupted him, angry, “I do not want to hear anything anymore. Leave, Lord Bridgerton. Please, show him the door.” You ordered the servant closer to the entrance.

You didn’t make sure he heard your order, too shaken from your conversation. You left the room, trying not to cry even more. You went upstairs, wanting to close yourself in your bedroom. When you arrived, you heard Anthony walking through the doorstep. When you walked in your room, you collapsed on the floor, heartbroken. You couldn’t believe it was real. You hadn’t prepared yourself for this discussion when you had seen him entering. You thought back at his words and tried to find what you could have said to make him change his mind. Maybe you could have avoided this situation if you had found the right words.

Wanting to rest from your dance, you’re drinking some champagne while you’re talking to your fiancé. You had met Henry Egerton the year after your break up with Anthony. You had danced a few times and talked a bit but you still weren’t feeling ready to move on. You were still too busy to analyse your relationship with Anthony, trying to find a flaw to bring him back to you, but it was a lost cause. Only when you understood this, you had accepted to mourn the future you would never have before getting closer to Lord Egerton during this social season.

While you’re talking with your fiancé, you’re telling yourself how lucky you are to have found him. He is not and will never be Anthony but you know you can be happy with him. He proved to you that you deserve to be loved and you’ll forever be grateful to him for that. You’re laughing at one of his jokes, which he alone has the secret, when you look on your left, feeling someone getting closer. Anthony is in front of you with a neutral expression on his face.

“Lady Y/L/N, may I have this dance, please ?” He asks.

“I apologise, My Lord, but I am currently talking with-”

“There is no problem”, Henry interrupts you with a smile, “I need to talk with Lord Featherington anyway. Go dance, dearest.” He affirms walking away.

“Very well, it seems like I have no other reasons to turn you down, Lord Bridgerton.” You state as you put down your glass on a table nearby.

Anthony gives you his arm where you put your hand, like you used to. The familiar contact brings you back two years ago, but you try to stay focused. You bow before getting in position, waiting for the sound of the violins and pianoforte. When Piano Concerto No.20, K466 starts, you’re mentally cursing at the musicians. They really couldn’t have chosen another music ? But for Anthony, this song sounds like a sign. Even if it’s a reminder of a time where you were happy together, it still belongs to you, despite the distance.

Anthony and you start waltzing in silence at first. You don’t even dare to look at him, your eyes searching for your fiancé. You see him talking with the Featherington patriarch, like he said he would. While you’re swaying , you look for another distraction whilst Anthony keeps his eyes on you, appreciating the closeness of your body against his. Most likely for the last time before you’re officially married. However, Anthony doesn’t want this last exchange to be silent.

“We were dancing on this song when I told you I wanted to marry you.” Anthony reminds you.

“What do you want, Lord Bridgerton ?” You ask, dryly.

“I heard about your engagement. I am happy for you, congratulations. He seems to be a good man.” He says genuinely.

“He is, I can assure you. We talked a lot and we are sure we want the same things in our lives.”

“I am sorry I broke up our engagement. Sometimes, I think I should not have done it.”

“Stop it, please.”, you beg him, not wanting to hear anymore, “You cannot tell me this, especially not now. I spent the last couple of years of my life trying to find a solution to sort out our relationship. I spent my days over analysing it, hoping I’d find the signs that could have told me you never wanted a marriage of love, I also searched for a way to make you change your mind. I spent my nights awake trying to understand your sudden change of heart. Now, I wonder why I let your confusion keep me up at night. I’m so tired, Lord Bridgerton. All is done, there is nothing left here to decipher. There is nothing to change. Nothing could have changed what happened. I finally accepted it and walked away from it, something I learned from you. At least, our courtship was not totally vain. So please, do not tell me you regret your choice. It is too late.” You affirm, looking at him in his eyes.

“You are right. It was improper from me. I apologise.”, he states and you sigh with relief, “However, let me say I should not have acted that way. It was not honest on my behalf. I should not have let you hope. Even if, I admit it, I was first interested in you because I knew you would be a perfect Viscountess, my feelings for you were real. I did not show it properly during our courtship but I want you to know it. I would have been lucky to have you by my side. And I know Lord Egerton will be. But above all, I hope he will realise his luck. I hope he will treat you better than I did. I hope he will always be close to you, he will always dance with you, I hope he will give you all of his hours. All the things I could not do, but I should have done. I wish you the best, Y/N.” He says with a light smile.

You keep your eyes on him trying to assimilate his words. It takes you a few seconds before being able to speak with a tender look.

“Despite everything we went through, I hope you know I wish you the same. But above all this, I hope you will find the woman who would make you reevaluate yourself. The one who will make you realise you deserve a life full of love, no matter your fear of pain. I, unfortunately, could not be that woman, but I know she exists. I just hope you will find her before it is too late.

The musicians play the last note so you stop your movements. You both keep looking at each other with regret and remorse visible in your eyes. You bow without breaking eye contact, taking in this last moment in your mind.

“Goodbye, Anthony.” You murmur before walking away from his life.

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{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Chapter 1

When retired time traveler Elaine Byrne accidentally goes back to 1941, she meets Robert Rosenthal on the eve of his enlistment.

Author's note: I wrote this fic few weeks ago and I only now had the guts to post it here in Tumblr. Thank you to the lovely people who read and commented my work in AO3. If you prefer to read there, I got you...here's the link. I've not written for a long time, so I hope you will enjoy this. Thank you! ❤️

Chapter 1: a time traveler walked into a bar

For the past three years, Elaine Byrne avoided being alone in dark enclosed spaces or visualizing vivid sceneries with her eyes closed. Whenever she feels bad about life, she smokes in the nearest smoking area or writes it down in her journal.

However, this time it was different. 

This time she forgot that she’s not supposed to go inside the restaurant’s cold room on her own. It was Friday and the chef was chewing her ear off over a wrong order. Her energy was already depleted and all she wants to do is go home. Almost instinctively, she went straight to the cold room to shed some tears. 

As she walked back to the dining area, faint jazz music could be heard. It grew louder as she continued on, and Elaine does not remember a band being hired that night. A male waiter almost bumped into her, half-shouting, “Hey! You can’t be here!” She took note of his uniform. It was a shirt with a bow tie, black pants and a white apron covering half his pants. 

The sight of her destination surprised her. 

It was the same dining area, with stage and piano in it, except that the people now are wearing clothing from a bygone time. Men were in suits, women in knee length dresses with slightly defined shoulders. The upholstery and furniture are no longer the same color. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of alcohol and sweat made her gag a little. 

She has done it again. The very activity she avoided for the past three years. With this realization, she went to the bathroom and luckily, it’s still in the same place where she remembered it.

Picking the last sink in a row, she opened the faucet, and splashed some water on her face. When she finally faced the mirror, her mouth fell open. Besides from the water droplets falling from her face, her makeup is not her usual. She now has a redder lip and defined eyebrows. Her brown hair is now curled and pinned in ways she would never do. 

She took some paper towels on the side and dabbed her face in it. This time, Elaine took a longer moment to observe the image in the mirror. Aside from the makeup, she finally noticed her change of clothing. No longer in her trusty vested white polo and black slacks, but now she’s donning a dark red dress with slightly puffed sleeves and triangular cut outs on the collar. It was slightly figure hugging, which highlighted her curves that were often lost in her waitress uniform. Elaine held up her hand and touched the mirror’s surface. It’s me. This makes me feel like Peggy Carter minus the combat skills.

She was about to go when she heard heels clicking towards her direction. For some reason, she locked herself in one of the stalls and someone started sniffing and a vague ‘There, There’ could be heard. 

“Oh Mabel,” a high pitched voice said. “At least he let you down gently and did not lead you on. You know Beth in Accounting? Her man just left her without a word!” 

“That’s because he’s just feeling sorry for me!” Mabel cried. “I already thought about the wedding we could’ve had, Jo.” 

Jo audibly sighed. “Mabel, you know you were only seeing him for three weeks, right?” 

“He’s dreamy and nice! A lawyer! And my cat even likes him!” 

Mabel’s own statement made her cry even more. 

“I know, but at least he let you down gently. He has a point. You don’t have to wait around for him anymore,” Jo comforted. 

The two women she was eavesdropping kept quiet for a little after that. Then she heard the faucet running and paper towels being ripped off. A few clinking more and she heard someone exhale loudly. 

“Are you ready to say goodbye?” Jo asked. 

A sniff. “Okay, let’s go, Jo.” 

“That’s more like it,” Jo replied. Their heels started clicking away from the bathroom. Elaine waited for a minute or two just to make sure they weren’t coming back and she emerged from her stall. 

She gazed at the mirror one last time and exited. Inhaling the strong scents of tobacco and alcohol, she scouted for a place to sit in. It was hard to see who’s sitting alone or not at first glance, so she slowly dragged her feet, hoping for the one.  

Instinctively, she touched her side and thanked the heavens for its pockets. She reached in and instead of a phone, she felt a small notepad, a pencil and coins. Helpful .

Finally, she saw her target.

The one was a lone, mustachioed man with a half-empty glass of beverage in front of him. He seemed to be in deep thought while his fingers were tapping the table in tune with what was being played on stage. He looks nice. Taking a deep breath, Elaine strode towards his table and pulled a chair beside him. He was startled with the sound of chair legs against the floor.  

“What–” 

“Hi there,” Elaine greeted, flashing her best smile. “Great night?”

“It was until I heard the news,” the man replied. She was about to ask what was the news but he beat her to it. 

“The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.” 

“Oh, that’s what it is,” Elaine realized. “A woman in the bathroom was crying because her boyfriend was enlisting.” 

The information made the man perk up and turned to her. “Was she blonde? In a purple dress?”

“I don’t know. I was hiding in one of the stalls.”

This amused the man beside her. “What? Why were you hiding?” 

“I was having a moment, then I heard them come in. They were coming in fast, click click click, so I hid. Then someone started crying and I didn't want to intrude, so I stayed there.” Elaine explained.

“‘They’?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Two women. Jo and Mabel,” she shared. 

“Ah, yes. They were with me earlier. Mabel wanted to go home, so I guess it’s official now.” 

Elaine scrunched up her nose. “Ah, that sucks, man. Too bad her cat loves you.” 

“Hmmm. Yeah, Mr. Giggles.” 

“Although,” she started. “You do know you could be in a relationship while overseas, right?”

He shook his head. “I can’t afford to have any distractions. And I don’t want life to pass her by because she was waiting for me. What if I never return?” 

“What if you do?” she countered. “Have a little faith.”

“How do you know that?” 

She kept quiet, feeling like his question was rhetorical. He has a point. When he’s on the battlefield, the chances of him coming back are slim to none. 

As the band played another tune, the upcoming war entered her mind. This man is enlisting in the army tomorrow to fight Nazis. Jesus Christ, what was the closest thing she could experience to that? The thing that came to her mind was nothing compared to going to war on the other side of the world.

“Oh well. You’ll meet other women,” she assured him. Then she proceeded to scan his appearance. “You’re tall, handsome, and that pornstache would definitely rake in the girls.”

“Porn-what?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

Elaine closed her eyes at her words. Her hand went to her head, scrunching her eyes to think of what to say. Of course, the day she dreaded finally came. The day where her weird attraction to 70s mustaches will be her downfall. 

“Never mind. It’s your mustache,” she corrected, motioning his face. “And those baby blue eyes? Ridiculous.”

Her companion was about to answer when a blond man came to their table. 

“Good evening, Miss.” 

It took her a moment to realize that a man standing on their table was referring to her. She smiled at him. The man she was with eyed the stranger with suspicion. “Hello there.” 

“The tune’s pretty swell, can I dance with you? Miss…?” 

Elaine scanned the man’s appearance. He was tall and thin with wide shoulders and almost white hair. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. Who are you supposed to be, Draco Malfoy?

“I’m Elaine,” she introduced. You are?”

“Albert.” 

For a moment, her mission of attempting to know which year she was in felt futile. What’s a little dancing when you’re time traveling? Without taking a second look to her companion, she nodded and took the man’s hand and made their way to the dance floor. With their hands on their proper positions, they started swaying to the music. 

They were having a nice conversation until the guy started to lean in for a kiss. She managed to avoid this and his lips landed on her cheek. The reek of alcohol from his mouth made her wince. She gave him a fake smile, hoping that all of this will be over soon. They swayed once again, but this time she felt his hand moving from the small of her back to her butt and grabbed it. 

Her eyes widened and pushed him away. This made a mini domino effect on the other couples on the dance floor, earning them weird looks and glares.

“Back off,” Elaine warned. 

This did not deter him and took it as a challenge instead. 

“Aww, baby, you’re feisty. I like that,” Albert taunted, cornering her like a prey. 

Elaine took short breaths to calm herself, her right hand slowly turning into a fist.

Suddenly, a loud thud of falling tables was heard. The music stopped. 

“Fight! Fight!”

He rushed where the scream was. He was observing her in a distance to somewhat guard her, as if she was someone he needed to look after. The man she was dancing with did not seem trustworthy enough for him, especially when he saw his companions laugh at them for some reason. 

The blond man was bleeding out of his nose while she was grunting in pain.

“Fuck you!” Elaine yelled.

He went to her and took her hand. “What happened?” 

“That asshole,” Elaine growled, pointing to the man on the floor, “was feeling me up!”

A small crowd gathered where they were. One older man lunged at Elaine’s curly haired companion and started throwing punches. He missed and continued pursuing. Elaine jumped into the brawl, attempting to break them apart. Few patrons, probably thrilled with this sudden turn, dove in as well, unknown whether to pull her out of the commotion or punch the other guy.

It continued on for a few minutes until someone blew a whistle.

The crowd departed and it revealed a portly, semi-bald man with a whistle hanging on his neck. 

“WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING HERE?” he roared. Those in the brawl slowly detached themselves from each other. Everyone was in varying degrees of bleeding and pain, most especially that man who felt up Elaine. 

The portly manager glared at all of them then his eyes filled with recognition. “Robert? Is that you, boy?” 

Elaine looked at who he was referring to. 

It was the lonely, mustachioed man who broke up with Mabel. His name is Robert.

He does look like a Robert, Elaine thought. The carefully gelled curly hair, neat mustache, smell of manly perfume with hints of tobacco and alcohol…It’s like she was transported to a 1940s movie with Cary Grant as the lead star and she’s the fast-talking femme fatale. 

“Minty!" Robert smiled and shook hands with the man as if there were no two slightly injured persons in front of them. The manager pulled him from the floor and when they stood up, he towered over Minty.

“Minty, I’m so sorry about the mess. This guy made moves on my friend and she just defended herself. I had to jump in,” he explained.

“Picking fights already? Save some for those Nazis!” Minty exclaimed. He snapped his fingers and two broad men appeared. He ordered the troublemakers to be taken outside the club.

Robert only smiled sheepishly. Minty seemed charmed by this and asked both of them to follow him. Elaine looked at him suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

“I know him, don’t worry,” he assured her. 

The trio entered a small office. The walls were painted red and there was a sturdy table that is the main piece of the room. It has a matching leather chair behind it and several crates of alcohol stacked up to the ceiling. Papers are haphazardly piled up and a clothes rack near the window. It felt like a claustrophobic’s nightmare. 

“Sit down, sit down, kids,” Minty motioned to the two leather chairs in front of the table. The two sat and Elaine’s eyes laid at the calendar hanging behind Minty. 

DECEMBER 1941

Ah, fuck. Wrong guess! All of the numbers on the first row were crossed except for number seven. They watched Minty pour three glasses of whiskey (or scotch?) and gave them one each. 

“What’s your name, doll?” 

“I’m Elaine. Elaine Byrne.”

“So, how did the two of you meet?” Minty asked, eyeing the two of them. 

“Um–” Elaine started. Robert covered her hand and started talking. 

“We only met tonight. Mabel stormed out when she found out I was enlisting. Told her I don’t want her waiting for me while I fight.” 

Minty nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t take it away from Rosie to meet a girl after breaking up with one!” 

Elaine glanced at the two men curiously. 

“Why is that, Minty?” she questioned. “Is Rosie here a player?” 

This made Rosie blush a little. Minty shook his head. 

“No, doll, he’s a lawyer! He sweet talks for a living!” 

Elaine turned to her companion. “A lawyer, huh? Interesting.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Rosie confirmed. “Although, I don’t sweet talk anyone, Minty.” 

“Tell that to anyone who would listen, Rosie.”

“Why is he called Rosie?” Elaine wondered, looking at Minty. “Is it the rosy cheeks?” 

“Ah, it’s because of his surname. Rosenthal. Only friends and family are allowed. That’s why I only called him that in here,” Minty informed her. 

Elaine listened to the two men catch up with their lives. Rosie confirmed his enlistment tomorrow, and Minty seemed to be worried about his young friend. Rosie is a strapping young man of twenty-four and Minty said that America joining the war will be a bloodbath. 

“I will be fighting for my people and country, Minty,” Rosie solemnly reasoned. “These people we will be protecting, they can’t fight for themselves, can they?”

“You seem like you made up your mind quite fast,” Minty observed. Rosie only nodded. 

The three of them sat in silence. Elaine was feeling a bit uncomfortable with it, so she downed the glass of amber liquid given to her. She coughed a little, for she rarely drinks this type of liquor. Call her childish, but she would rather sit happily with her colorful drinks with an umbrella in it than pretend to be like Don Draper. “What is it, whiskey?”

“Scotch,” the older man confirmed. “Too strong for you?” 

Elaine agreed. “Yeah.”

When she finished the drink, Rosie stood up. “We better be going now, Mint.”

“Say hi to your mother for me,” Minty told Rosie. He nodded. 

“Thank you for the scotch,” Elaine said, waving Minty goodbye. The two made their way back to the dining hall. They did not see Minty smiling at the sight of them.

The band was playing something more slow, and the atmosphere felt like no brawl happened. However, it felt more somber. Maybe it’s the music that the band was playing. The dance floor seemed shinier, the lights dimmer, and couples are dancing closer than ever. It was probably the news of the Pearl Harbor attack that made them rethink the time they have. 

For them, it’s only the beginning. 

For Elaine, it’s only looking at the past at a closer look. Beyond the bigger picture that history books offer. She is no longer reading these big events in a book, but the individuals that will soon be affected by this attack. 

For a night, she’s one of them. 

Rosie was observing her as she watched the dance floor. Her hair is still quite a mess after the brawl and yet, the out-of-place hair strands seemed to be framing her face instead. She seemed oblivious to any of the music being played, but then maybe she’s not a fan of jazz and prefers something else. 

This strange, pretty woman felt like trouble. Minutes within meeting her, and he was already fighting in a brawl for her. He never did that to any girl he went out with. He felt guilty about what happened between him and Mabel and maybe he’ll think about it tomorrow still. 

But he cannot deny wanting to get to know Elaine more after tonight. 

“Let’s dance, Rosie,” Elaine invited, extending her hand to him. Rosie gazed at her hand, thought about it, and took it. She pulled him into the dance floor, slightly squeezing in among the sea of couples. He placed his hands on its proper positions and she did the same. Slowly, they swayed along, closer than ever.

“Is it okay if I call you Rosie? Minty said only friends and family are allowed to call you that,” she wondered aloud. 

“You’re already calling me Rosie anyway, so go ahead.” 

“What were you thinking about earlier?” 

“When?” 

“When I asked you to dance, you’re deep in thought. Any thoughts you want to share?” 

He sighed. “You won’t let this go, won’t you?” 

“Nope,” she smiled. “I want to hear it.” 

“I was thinking about what you said. That maybe I’ll come back from the war alive? Have a little faith?” 

Elaine glanced at her side, suddenly feeling shy. She was only trying to encourage him to take a chance on romance during the war. She did not realize he would pick on it and discuss it further. 

“Well, going to war alone seemed like a sad thing to do. Sure, it might be invigorating for you as a man, getting in combat and all, but what happens when you’re all alone in some trench?” Elaine explained. 

“I can write letters home,” he reasoned. 

“But can you share what you’ll see in the field with them?” 

“I can’t share it with my imaginary girlfriend either, Elaine.”

With no answer to give him anymore, she rolled her eyes. Rosie caught it and found it endearing.

“Speechless? No rebuttal?” Rosie challenged.

“Shut up, Robert.”

“So it’s Robert now when I annoy you?” he teased.

“Yes, Robert,” she pointed out, trying to hide a grin. 

Rosie pulled her a little closer and she felt his hands get a little sweaty. She tried not to chuckle, but her body reacted before it was too late. The band played another new song, and when she glanced at him, she watched him mouth the words.

“Do you know this song?” she asked. 

“We’ll Meet Again,” he replied, looking down at her.

“I doubt that, Rosie.” 

Rosie chuckled at her. “Silly. I mean, it’s the title. We’ll Meet Again.” 

She rested her head at his chest, once again embarrassed by her blunder. “Oh god. I’ve been just an embarrassing person all night, am I?” 

“This is the most interesting night I’ve had for a while. Don’t worry about it,” he assured her.

She only nodded. She took in his scent, and wondered if he noticed it. I hope he didn’t. But maybe he did. My inhale was pretty obvious. As the song went on, Elaine thought of why she is here at this very moment. She could’ve been back in Minton’s by now by going back where she came from—in the cold room. 

Instead, she stayed and now slow dancing with a man she just met. 

Elaine stopped time traveling on purpose three years ago. It was once an exciting thing to discover at eighteen, but now at twenty-six, it felt like an unhealthy coping mechanism. She made mistakes on those travels and made her run away from her life. She stayed far too long in some places and saw the consequences blow right up to her face. 

However, tonight, she did not time travel on purpose. 

And there must be a reason why it happened.

The song finished and everyone clapped. Rosie and Elaine removed their hands from each other and joined the crowd. Backing away from the dance floor, they sat in an empty booth.

As she stared at Rosie, she knew she had to go home. Rosie felt her eyes at him and they spent a good few seconds memorizing each other’s details, like taking a photograph. Elaine took in his blue eyes and the styled curly mop of hair, while Rosie gazed at her hazel green eyes and a small scar on her forehead. She wondered how it would appear if not styled with sticky gel. Rosie blushed a little at the intensity of her gaze, smiling shyly at her. Elaine chuckled at how ridiculous and romantic it all must have looked like. 

A gentleman with a big camera managed to capture this romantic scene. The blinding flash  surprised the two, making them jump in their seats. The bulb was still smoking.

“I’ll send it to Minty once it’s developed!” the man with a camera said. “You’re one good looking couple!”

“That’s one big camera,” Elaine observed. “That flash almost blinded me!”

He laughed at her observation. “Will they ever make a flash bulb less blinding?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered, smiling.

They settled for a moment and Rosie waved at a waiter. The waiter was quick at his feet and reached them. However, Elaine grabbed his arm to stop him. “I need to go home now.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, a slight disappointment in his tone. The waiter seemed to sense this and looked at Elaine. She lifted her head to dismiss him, which the waiter did.

“Yeah, it’s quite late and I’m on opening shift,” she reasoned. It was true though. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll take you home,” he declared. “Where do you live?” 

He can’t take you home! You don’t live in 1941, girl!

“Just a few blocks away, but I’ll be fine. I’ll walk.” 

He looked at her with disbelief. “Elaine, I’ll walk you home. Or at least call you a cab. You can’t walk by yourself at this hour after what happened.” 

“I can. I can throw in a punch, you know.” 

“Elaine, no.” 

The way Rosie said her name made her melt a little. That deep dulcet tone with a hint of concern (or was it disappointment with hardheadedness) made her rethink about her decision to leave. One more drink can’t hurt, right?

“Fine. But first, I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she said. 

“All right. I’ll wait here.” 

Elaine made her way to the ladies’ room, her heart beating so fast it’s the only thing she could hear. This is the moment she leaves him. It has to be. Damn that dulcet voice for making her doubt. When she reached the ladies’ room, she took the notepad and pencil inside her pocket and quickly scribbled. After that, she folded it neatly and got out. She waved to the same passing waiter who almost took their order earlier.

“Yes, ma’am?” the waiter said. 

“Can you pass this to the gentleman with the mustache?” she requested, pointing him to Rosie who was chatting with an elderly man.

“You mean Rosie? No problem, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. When the waiter was out of sight, she made her way to the turn. She wondered if she would take one last look at Rosie. But she decided against it. 

The storage room was there, waiting for her. Sighing, she took one last look at her surroundings, checking if she was being watched. Then she slid the door and entered. 

She murmured and closed her eyes.

Moments later, there’s knocking at the door. “Elaine! Get out! I need some supplies!” 

Maybe we’ll meet again, Rosie.

“Coming, Bunny!” 

—

When Elaine left to go home, the new busboys were left after they cleaned up the place. They sat to rest before actually going home. One of them, Jerry, was looking at the wall filled with pictures and memorabilia from old patrons and past owners from different decades. Their jazz club had been open since the late 1930s and it could feel like a museum sometimes. 

While he was scanning the frames, one picture stood out to him. It was a photo of a couple in a booth, staring at each other adoringly. The picture seemed like straight from a movie scene, which made Jerry think if it was a screenshot from an unknown movie of the time. 

He leaned in closer and noticed the woman in the photo. She looked like one of their waitresses. Elaine! But the woman in the photo was with better hair and of course, wearing vintage clothing. She was gazing at the mustachioed man as if studying him, and the man was doing the same to her. They looked cozy and adorable.

“Hey Bunny, look at this,” Jerry called. The woman he was calling came to him almost immediately.

“What is it, Jer?” she asked. 

“She looks a lot like Elaine, no?” 

Bunny leaned in as well to check the photo. “Oh yeah, she does. Maybe her grandma or something?”

“Maybe,” Jerry replied. 

“We’ll tell Elaine tomorrow,” Bunny said.

What the two failed to notice was the small inscription at the lower right edge of the photo. It said:

Rosie & Elaine, 1941

[enigmaxcx]

Gothic Chronicles: Midnight's Veiled Secrets

This is a collection of poems that explore themes of loss, love, and the supernatural. Each piece offers a unique perspective on the complex emotions that accompany these experiences. As you read through this anthology, you may find yourself connecting with the universal truths that resonate within these lines.

1st poem: **Crimson Manuscripts**

In ancient halls where silence reigns,

Dust-laden tomes breathe secrets, unrestrained.

I walk the edge of lore, long since forgotten,

My heart inscribed with desires begotten.

With quill in hand, my constant guide,

Into the well of night, I confide.

A scribe of echoes from the void,

Crafting words, in melancholy alloyed.

"Unveil your stories, O manuscripts of red,

Your vellum skin to my soul is wed.

A nomad I, charting celestial designs,

In the margins of sonnets, my spirit aligns."

Shadows dance in the candle's fickle glow,

Over leather-bound legacies of long ago.

My pen bleeds ink, as if it were life,

Carving my essence amidst existential strife.

Epochs lost, their essence I distill,

In a whirlwind of memories that time can't kill.

An alchemist of words, in the arcane I delve,

Turning longing into verses, transiently shelved.

"Speak, O crimson tomes, your veins wide spread,

Upon your pages, my yearnings are said.

A wanderer am I, through constellations I roam,

In the forgotten verses, I find my home."

Gargoyles stand guard, stoic and grim,

At the gates of forever, their visages dim.

Their stone-cast gaze, the moon's sorrow reflects,

As I seek comfort in ancient dialects.

The piano's lament, the violin's cry,

And the cello's deep thrum under centuries lie.

On the brink of the void, I dance alone,

My steps resounding in a timeless tone.

"Reveal your depths, O manuscripts of hue,

My longing etched on your surface true.

A traveler of the stars, in your words I'm dressed,

In the forgotten poetry, my journey's expressed."

As the last note into silence wanes,

Within these lines, my spirit remains.

A ghostly minstrel serenading the night,

On eternity's parchment, my soul takes flight.

2nd poem: **Eternal Shadows**

In this manor, I wander, through silence and gloom,

Footsteps echo softly in each abandoned room.

Moonlight bathes me gently, as I softly tread,

Among the living's memories, I whisper with the dead.

In the moon's soft glow, my secrets unfold,

A phantom in the night, a story left untold.

Eternal shadows, where I roam free,

In this house of spirits, it's just the ghosts and me.

Through halls of mystery, where silent echoes play,

We're the souls of forever, in the night we stay.

Dust dances in the beam, time seems to freeze,

In this place of stillness, where moments cease.

Portraits watch silently, as I pass them by,

In the manor's heart, where old secrets lie.

Shadows cling to my steps, as I tiptoe through time,

In this spectral dance, where memories chime.

In this realm of silence, where I drift unseen,

Amongst the echoes, a solitary queen.

In the mansion of whispers, where secrets sway,

We're the timeless wanderers, in the shadows we play.

Feel the past's chill, as it draws near?

In the wind's whisper, it's our voices you hear.

Shadows stretch eternal, in this spectral ballet,

With the phantoms, my companions, in the night we sway.

Through corridors of enigma, where muted stories say,

We're the everlasting echoes, in the twilight's gray.

In the moon’s waning light, I catch a fleeting glimpse—a face unfamiliar, yet tethered to my soul.

The manor murmurs secrets, and I am but an echo, lost in its labyrinth of forgotten moments.

3rd poem: **The Raven's Whisper**

Beneath the silver veil of moonlight's kiss,

Where shadows merge and secrets intertwine,

I wander through the garden of forgotten dreams,

Seeking solace in the petals of night-blooming flowers.

The moon, a silent witness to my yearning,

Whispers ancient verses to the restless wind.

Its luminescent fingers trace delicate patterns,

Weaving tales of love and loss across the sky.

In this nocturnal sanctuary, memories bloom,

Each petal a fragment of a fractured heart.

I pluck them one by one, like fragile confessions,

And scatter them upon the dew-kissed grass.

The nightingale, perched upon a moonbeam,

Sings a requiem for love's ephemeral dance.

Its melody weaves through the jasmine vines,

Echoing the ache of longing in every note.

I trace the constellations with trembling fingers,

Mapping out our celestial rendezvous.

Did you once stand here, beneath this same moon,

Whispering promises that time has now erased?

The night wears on, and I become a ghost,

Drunk on moonlight and the fragrance of roses.

Perhaps, in this enchanted hour, you'll return,

And we'll dance once more in moonlit reverie.

4th poem: **Whispers from the Veil**

Beneath the moon's soft veil, we gather,

In the dim-lit chamber, secrets tethered.

A séance of souls, both lost and found,

Where spectral echoes dance, unbound.

The crystal ball, a portal spun,

Holds reflections of lives undone.

Its facets catch the flicker of stars,

As we seek communion beyond the bars.

The medium's breath, a whispered plea,

Invites the unseen to speak with glee.

Their voices rise from shadowed past,

A chorus of memories that forever last.

"Tell us," we implore, "of love's sweet pain,

Of promises broken, of longing's refrain."

And the room trembles with their reply,

A symphony of whispers, reaching sky-high.

The air thickens, charged with their essence,

As they recount tales of love's evanescence.

Their fingers brush ours, a spectral touch,

And we glimpse eternity in moments such.

The séance chamber hums with cosmic threads,

Binding us to realms where time unweds.

In this dance of spirits, we find solace anew,

As moonlight weaves stories, both old and true.

5th poem: **Portrait Of Despair**

Whispers haunt the hallowed space,

A gallery where time's embrace

Has left a mark on every face,

Each portrait tells of sorrow's trace.

A viscountess, her gaze so stern,

Her lover's touch she did spurn.

Now in her eyes, the cold fires burn,

For his return, she'll always yearn.

A captain, lost to ocean's wrath,

His ship did stray from charted path.

In stormy seas, he met his fate,

His portrait speaks of storms innate.

A child, with eyes so wide and clear,

His innocence was held so dear.

Yet fate was cruel, the night unkind,

His story leaves tears behind.

A maiden fair, with golden hair,

Once danced with grace, a pair so rare.

But love was lost, the dance did end,

Her silent song, it does transcend.

A poet's quill, now still and broke,

His verses lost, like vanished smoke.

The inkwell dry, the parchment torn,

For his muse, forever mourn.

A duelist with rapier drawn,

Stands proud and fierce, yet all forlorn.

His honor kept, his life forsworn,

In morning's light, he lies forlorn.

A widow's veil, her somber shroud,

Her whispered grief, it speaks aloud.

Her heart entombed, her love enshrined,

In painted form, her woes confined.

A jester's laugh, forever mute,

His mirthful mask, a grim dispute.

Behind the paint, the tears dilute,

His joy's facade, now destitute.

Each frame, a window to the past,

Holds echoes of a spell once cast.

The gallery, a somber host,

To each despairing, silent ghost.

So tread with care through memory's lane,

Where painted eyes live on in pain.

For every tale the portraits share,

Reflects a soul once trapped in despair.

The gallery grows, the walls extend,

New portraits join, old stories blend.

In this domain where spirits send

Their silent pleas, their hearts to mend.

Here, time stands still, the world outside

Fades to a whisper, hushed and wide.

Each canvas breathes, each shade confide,

The depths of pain they cannot hide.

So linger long, and gaze upon

The faces here, not truly gone.

Their silent mouths may yet respond,

In this gallery, they live beyond.

6th poem: **Cryptic Alchemy**

Shadowed chambers, whispers weave,

A blend of dark synth and mysterious chants,

Forbidden knowledge etched in cryptic runes,

Where secrets stir and ancient echoes dance.

No sun's embrace, no moon's soft kiss,

Only shadows' veiled embrace and moonless nights,

The alchemist, a weaver of enigma, chants,

Arcane melodies that pierce the void's veil.

Ebon potions simmer in onyx cauldrons,

Their essence distilled from forgotten realms,

Each drop a tincture of forgotten memories,

A concoction of lost dreams and starlight's breath.

The astral symphony crescendos, spiraling,

As darkness and light entwine, seeking balance,

The alchemist, eyes ablaze with ancient fire,

Unravels the cosmic threads, seeking truth.

Glyphs etched on obsidian tablets sing,

Their meaning veiled, yet yearning to be known,

For Cryptic Alchemy weaves the fabric of existence,

Where shadows birth illumination, and silence speaks.

So listen, mortal seeker, to the whispers of the void,

For within their echoes lie the keys, the ciphered codes,

Unlock the gates, step beyond the mundane,

And become the alchemist, weaver of mysteries.

7th poem: **Whispers from the Attic**

Creaking floorboards, distant voices,

A symphony of past choices,

Echoes of steps that once did pace,

Through corridors of time and space.

Above, where dust motes dance in light,

The attic holds its court at night,

A realm of silence, still and deep,

Where secrets their sacred vigil keep.

What tales are etched within these walls?

Of grandeur's rise and empire's falls,

The gentle touch of a lover's hand,

A sailor's journey to distant lands.

Here, the whispers are not of dread,

But of life's tapestry, finely thread,

A dressmaker's needle, a writer's pen,

Moments captured, again and again.

The attic, with its musty scent,

Is a treasure trove of times spent,

A chest of memories, locked away,

Awaiting the light of day.

Photographs in sepia tones,

Love letters in heartfelt overtones,

A child's toy, long forgotten,

In this space, nothing is rotten.

Each creak a word, each shadow a story,

A chronicle of both joy and worry,

The attic speaks to those who hear,

Its whispers clear, its message dear.

So venture forth, if you dare,

To uncover the mysteries waiting there,

For in the whispers from the attic's heart,

Lies a world set apart.

8th poem: **Gargoyle's Serenade**

I was supposed to be sent away,

To lands where stone figures don't sway,

But here I stand, a guardian grim,

Upon the cathedral's highest rim.

Carved from the earth's own rugged bone,

I watch the city, silent and alone,

A sentinel in the sky's expanse,

Overseeing the human dance.

My gaze is fixed, my purpose clear,

To ward off evil, to calm the fear,

With guitar in hand, I play my part,

A serenade from the stone heart.

The melody weaves through spire and stone,

A song of ages, through winds blown,

It tells of battles, of love, of strife,

Of the endless ebb and flow of life.

The chords resonate, deep and profound,

In every corner, the notes resound,

A testament to the watch I keep,

While the city below lies in sleep.

By day, I'm still, a figure austere,

By night, my music, the heavens hear,

A symphony for the stars above,

Played with a touch of eternal love.

The moon bathes me in silver light,

As I play on through the quiet night,

A gargoyle's serenade, pure and true,

For the cathedral and for you.

So let the guitar's voice rise and swell,

Let it break the night's silent spell,

For in this song, you'll find ensnared,

The spirit of the guardians paired.

And when the dawn paints the sky anew,

And the city stirs, life to pursue,

Remember the music that filled the air,

From the gargoyle's perch, high up there.

9th poem: ** Midnight Masquerade **

Under the moon's silver gaze, the night unfurls its cape,

A ballroom emerges in the forest's embrace.

"Midnight Masquerade," whispers the wind's soft escape,

Where shadows and starlight waltz in silent grace.

Masked figures glide, their steps a silent plea,

To the rhythm of hearts, to the pulse of the night.

Each turn, a story, a hidden fantasy,

Faces veiled in mystery, souls alight.

The moonlit sky, a witness to their dance,

Casts a glow on masks of velvet and lace.

In the masquerade's enchanting trance,

Time dissolves in the dancers' harmonious space.

A clock strikes twelve, the spell gently breaks,

But the dance lives on in dreams it awakes.

For in the night's tender, fleeting sweep,

The masquerade's magic is ours to keep.

10th poem: ** Fading Candlelight **

Quiet whispers linger in the room's embrace,

Where the last candle's flame begins its trace.

"Fading Candlelight," it hums with grace,

A tale of twilight, in the evening's chase.

Its flame dances with a tender, wistful air,

A ballet of shadows in the dimming lair.

Each flicker, a memory, each spark, a sigh,

A symphony of moments, as time ticks by.

The wax drips slowly, a river of tears,

For the passing days, the fleeting years.

The light wanes gently, a golden hue,

A silent sentinel in the dusk's purview.

Around the flame, the darkness creeps,

A cloak of obsidian, where daylight sleeps.

Yet in its warm embrace, the candle stands,

A beacon of hope in the night's vast lands.

The room breathes softly, a lullaby's tune,

As the candle's aura fills the cocoon.

Stories unfold in its radiant bloom,

A dance of life in the encroaching gloom.

The flame leans low, a lover's caress,

Against the night, a silent confess.

Its brilliance wavers, a faltering heart,

A sign that soon, it must depart.

But oh, the tales it could tell,

Of love and loss, of heaven and hell.

In its light, life found a stage,

A book of hours on an ephemeral page.

Now the candle's breath grows thin,

A final flicker from within.

The shadows lengthen, reaching out,

Embracing all in a silent shout.

And as the last ember takes its bow,

The room is shrouded in the now.

"Fading Candlelight," a whisper's trace,

Leaves behind a darkened space.

Yet in the black, a new day stirs,

For life persists, it still endures.

The candle's gone, but in its wake,

A new dawn blooms, for us to take.

So let the night claim its due,

For with the morn, we start anew.

In the heart of darkness, find the light,

And hold it close, through the longest night.