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josephbrassey · 1 year

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On Liechtenauer, Martial Arts, and a specific definition of winning.

To love for a lifetime is to fall in and out of infatuation. To see faults and determine to continue to put in the effort. It is to find yourself exasperated by the flaws in the place your affection is vested, only to come around again and remember where that love grew from to begin with. This essay is going to be about HEMA generally, about Kunst des Fechtens specifically, and about old books and why I don’t think anything passed down can belong to you.

This essay is going to be a series of disjointed thoughts that may or may not tie together at the end. There will be no citations, no references to specific pieces of text to prove a point. I’m not going to back anything up with data, and I’m not going to point to a specific part of something written and say “this is proof of what I mean.” This is no more and less than one person’s opinion, based purely on feelings and experience and anecdotes, for whatever that’s worth to the reader.

I have three books in my office that are over one hundred years old. Of these, one is a copy of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. It does not actually belong to me, but it was loaned by a friend who moved out of state before I could give it back. It is beautiful and thought provoking, but—and this will be relevant later—it does not actually belong to me. It’s on-loan, even if that loan is extended. The second of these books is a copy of the collected poetry of Sir Walter Scott. I have not read it, mostly because I am afraid that it will fall apart if I flip too thoughtlessly through its pages. I found it at an antique store ten years ago, and I did not realize how precious it was until I got home, where I discovered a letter from a father to his daughter written in the early 1900’s, and a perfectly preserved rose pressed between the pages. I do not want to damage either, so I keep them where I found them. They are in my keeping, but like the first book, they do not feel like mine.

The third book is a copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. I had a weird introduction to this book, which I have also read many times. When I was seventeen I was standing in a grocery aisle in Oregon, looking at beer that I couldn’t legally drink yet. Out of the blue, an old man I had never met approached me and started quoting from the poems. I don’t remember exactly what stanza—I think it was one of the ones warning people about drinking too much—but it stuck in my head and over the years I have acquired multiple copies, though none are as rare as this one. Even though I found it in a box of old books a friend had in their trunk, this one, like all the others, feels like a gift that I need to safeguard, until someday I give it to someone else.

I do not think that old things truly belong to us. Especially not those that have been passed down, and I think that treating them like possessions to be altered or discarded at will is a very consumerist way of thinking about things that should have more value. Especially when those things were created with blood, sweat, and tears, and when their existence was paid for in lives. Even if those lives were ended a long time ago. Even with treasured family heirlooms or old things that we stumble across, we are far more transient than they are, and at most we only keep them for a little while.

I started studying HEMA in 2008 with Fiore, and I transitioned to training Kunst des Fechtens exclusively in 2015. Liechtenauer’s art occupies a strange space, as far as Martial Arts go. Like the majority of earlier HEMA sources, it does not possess a living lineage of teacher-to-student transmission. What we have as practitioners is a series of texts expressing common principles and techniques, with only hints and bits of secondary and primary sources that offer suggestions as to the traditions that surrounded these arts when they were living. Because we are working to recreate this art from what has been left to us, it is easy to imagine that what we are creating is wholly new and our own, and that we have the right to make it our own. It is a common sentiment in many modern martial arts that the goal of training is to create a fighter whose deepest skill is expressed by the number of wins in competition and freeplay, however that’s defined. A not uncommon line of thought in many HEMA circles, including ones to which I am very close, is that creating great fencers, great fighters, is the primary purpose of our study. In some cases the only purpose.

I don’t really think that way. I used to, or at least I used to think that I should, but I don’t anymore.

What distinguishes Liechtenauer from other sources for me is the same thing that changed how I look at HEMA and functionally at Martial Arts in general. More than a set of techniques, more than the Five Words or the Haupstuck themselves, it is a system that teaches understanding of its subject material in a very layered way. I know consensus on this isn’t settled, but it’s always been my impression that the Zettel and several of the glosses are laid out in deliberate manner where techniques are unpacked in order to express the principles that they are trying to teach. Each section goes on to break down multiple ways to express the principle, and then the next section begins to unpack the next principle that the student will most benefit from learning in that order.

This layering of concept on top of concept, with later sections closing the loops that earlier ones began, immediately caught my attention, and years later it still has a hold on me. I think there is something deeply useful about the style of teaching that feels implicit in the text. We’re missing big parts, obviously, in-person pedagogy and the associated traditions that were associated with how the art was transmitted directly from teacher to student, but you can infer a lot from the structure of the texts. One of the things that stands out to me is that these aren’t just a formula for learning a martial art, but an expression of the writer’s understandings of how to learn to begin with.

And ultimately it has been this idea of understanding, itself, that’s come to shape how I think about not just Kunst des Fechtens, not just HEMA, but just about everything I approach in my life. The longer I do this, the less I give a shit about winning anything. The less I care about competing, or proving, or demonstrating the worth and value of this art. Some of that might be burnout, but I think the lion’s share of it is that as I’ve gotten older the value of what I’m doing has started to feel self-evident. This is something that, despite its severed lineage, was once a carefully guarded secret, an artform by which people lived and died. I don’t intend to wax romantic or melodramatic, but that weight means something. Immense and broad efforts were made through it’s two-century history to preserve and proliferate Liechtenauer’s art, and even though those works ultimately failed and the tradition died out, I feel strongly that those of us working with its remnants today owe it to the memory and spirit of those distant humans to respect the drops of blood and sweat staining the pages they wrote. The best way to honor this for me is to look at what they left behind, and dedicate my effort to understanding.

I talked earlier about how old things don’t belong to us. How what is old and has been passed down is on-loan, at least in an ideal world, because we are not its owners, but its caretakers. Through understanding, the Liechtenauer you study becomes not something you simply absorb and use as you choose, but a reframing of your mind that reshapes and reorganizes the flow of your thoughts. The ceiling on what a person can come to understand is so much higher than the accomplishments that are directly limited by physical health, age, ability, and athleticism. You can only win for so long, but your ceiling for deepening your learning is—if you’re lucky—limited only by your lifespan. Via this, the art expresses itself more and more through not only our arms and hands, but through how we think and feel and breathe. I don’t believe that any art-form can be grasped without allowing it to alter the fabric of which you’re stitched together, and when understood this way, not only does the art not belong to you, but it can’t.

Because the art expresses itself through you. You belong to it. It’s passing through you as you live your life, like the old books that come into your keeping to safeguard.

Until such time as you have to pass them on to someone else.

#hema #historical european martial arts #liechtenauer #martial arts

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hoshomccreesh · 2 years

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Arroyo...

At long last, Jose Pepe Arroyo’s book, SONGS OF DESPERATION AND REVENGE made its way into the world (and quickly sold out). Arroyo has been involved in the small press, both writing and also making beautiful woodcuts, for years now (he did some art for a couple of Ridgwell books, and TACO FAIRY), though he remains relatively unknown. If you enjoy my work, you may well enjoy his...so, if you don’t know him, here’s a small introduction.

We’re also hosting a giveaway right here on this very thread, so stay tuned!

7 QUESTIONS

Why should people give a shit about art?

Because it’s the only way. Politics and religion are confusing and misleading; art will always tell the truth. And also because society continues to idolize (and consequently bankroll the lavish lifestyles of ) the talentless while our great novelists, people that have been doing the work for decades, are on food stamps and Medi-Cal, it’s fucking pathetic.

I’m glad to see you’ve recently put together a website/store , why’d you put it off for so long?

Because I have ADD, haha, which, as it turns out, can be a good thing, but for the most part has been disastrous for me, especially when dealing with administrative stuff. Time management is tricky and reading boring ass instructions on something I don’t find interesting will instantly put me to sleep. The thing that motivated me was that in the past few months eBay raised their fees. I’ve been trafficking hats there since 2014 and was trying to figure out where else to do business when the editor who published my book suggested big cartel. At ten bucks a month you really can’t go wrong if you’re selling your art work or even just displaying it. I then decided to not only make it a place to hustle my hats but to display some of my other work as well.

What's better: writing or woodcuts?

They’re both good for me in their own way but in the end, it’s all fruit that falls from the same tree. I also fuck around with junk art and I make hats and do air conditioning for a living. I say this because it gets complicated when it comes to presenting my work, say on instagram. I’m a terrible instagrammer and what I have noticed is that some people follow me for my writing stuff and then unfollow me because I post too many hats, and vice versa. lol.

Who’s your favorite artist that no one seems to know about?

I have a few. One of them is my friend Mario who I went to high school with. He wrote beautifully back then but he gave it up, kinda like Rimbaud, except in his case he became a contractor. Still, every time I am around him, I am treated to his poetry. He just talks it now, he’s a poet that doesn’t write.

There’s this musician/poet named Fizzy Water.

He’s brilliant and has written some of the most heartbreaking lines…

Lastly, my brother. He has this god-given gift. His paintings are so full of life. Hopefully, someday the world will get to see them.

What's the funniest book you can think of?

A Confederacy of Dunces. Long live John Kennedy Toole. Some say it was the publishing houses that killed him, but I say they had an accomplice: his mom.

What mistake do new writers make?

Being their own editor. You know what they say, “If you are editing your own stuff, you got a fool for a fucking editor…” or something like that, haha. I’m not talking about editing as you go when you’re writing either. I’m talking about putting out your stuff without putting it through some critical process that doesn’t involve you. One of the things I learned from Gerald Locklin is to trust the wisdom of editors.

What mistake do old writers make?

If you made it to old age and you’re still writing, I say make all the fucking mistakes you want. Hell, edit yourself even, that inner fool should have gained some hard-earned wisdom by then.

Lastly — I heard, there was talk of a second printing in the works…but why wait? I just happen to have an extra first printing — and I’m giving it away to one lucky winner here! If you’d like to be in the running for it, just post a comment below. I’ll draw a winner in a week or so.

#jose pepe arroyo #woodcuts #art stuff #hickathrift

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heliads · 2 years

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TW imagine being Lydia Martin sister and being more artistic than her and the reader isn't a part of the pack so draws out the pack in her drawing book and stuff.

imagine it indeed

masterlist / part two

Y/N Martin is alone. As of right now, at least. According to a few secrets you’ve been keeping, someone or something will arrive in Beacon Hills in a matter of hours, someone or something that will force your twin sister and her pack to do their best to keep you safe. It may or may not work. You haven’t seen that far in the future yet.

Just in case you have and forgot already, you check the sketchbook lying listlessly on the kitchen counter in front of you. The cover is beaten and ragged from being carried around in a number of bags, boxes, and hands, but the pages are mostly still intact. Some of them have been torn or damaged from the sheer force of your pen strokes, but they still hold what you need to see most: your visions, the ones no one knows about except you.

You’ve been having these visions for a while. They happen out of the blue, and are inspired by seemingly nothing at all. Sometimes they start with a dream, or upon hearing a phrase that will have a far greater significance days, weeks, or even months later. Whatever the source, the aftereffects are strong. You enter in a trance of sorts, usually only when witnessing the visions of greatest importance.

Most days, you’re able to control it, to channel whatever it is that you’re seeing into a drawing in your sketchbook. Your knuckles clench around your pencil like you’re nothing more than skin and bone as you frantically sketch and trace whatever it is that your mind has dragged before you. At the end, you look up and find a graphite depiction of something, usually something bad.

Without fail, whatever it is that you’ve drawn ends up coming true. Typically, the visions are small and inconsequential; Satomi’s pack will grow to include another wolf, a group of two or three hunters will start patrolling in a new part of the Beacon Hills Preserve. Normally, you squint at your latest product for a couple minutes to decipher its meaning, and then go about your day. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

On the more difficult days, though, the visions shut you down. You don’t even remember the process of drawing, nor where you were or what you were doing when you started. You could be driving down the road and wake up pulled over on the side of a highway, the sketchbook clenched so tightly in your hands that the paper has started to cut into your skin. You don’t think you’ve hurt anyone while you were struck by your visions, but then again, how would you know unless you saw it in a vision yourself?

The visions are host to a variety of topics, but usually, they feature the McCall pack. Hell, one of your very first visions was when Scott first received the bite. You’d blanked out during art class, and instead of drawing a still life as you were supposed to, you looked up and found an image of Scott running for his life through the woods. You’d never been able to draw faces all that accurately beforehand, but this was perfect, down to every last curl on his head.

It freaked you out, this sudden gift. You tried to practice as best you could, filling up other sketchbooks with trees and wolves, fangs and claws, bow and arrows and everything that might someday cross your path. If you needed to, you could recreate the drawings from the visions. A couple times, you’ve had to do just that.

The worst part is that, for all the bizarre occurrences in this town, no one seems to believe you. At first, you thought that you deserved to be a part of the McCall pack, that you could save their lives if they just listened to you. As it turns out, you’re more of a Cassandra than you thought. Despite your strongest warnings, the members of the McCall pack never heed your advice, even when you’re proved right time and time again.

You don’t know what it is about them, why they’re so willing to shrug off your visions. Your irritation only builds when your twin sister Lydia discovers that she’s a banshee. Although you’re not a banshee yourself, as your screams only deliver frustration and nothing more, you can’t help but wonder if this explains your visions. Perhaps some of Lydia’s future-seeing abilities were shared with you.

You haven’t really been a part of the McCall pack before now, especially due to the fact that they seem to be Lydia’s friends more than yours, although not for lack of effort. During your years as Lydia’s sister, you’ve learned that what Lydia wants, Lydia usually gets. So, if Lydia wants to be a part of the pack, she’ll be a part of the pack. And, most importantly from your point of view, if she wants membership in the McCall pack to be a Lydia thing and not a Y/N thing, you’ll soon find yourself excluded from that hallowed group of supernaturals and friends of supernaturals.

At first, you tried to stay in the thick of things. You were certainly handy to keep the pack numbers up in the event of a hunter attack, but you could tell that you weren’t as necessary as the others. It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it, to be unwanted? You could tell that you weren’t as useful to Scott or Stiles as Lydia was, you could feel it in every exhausted look and snappish response to your comments. They stopped looking for you during fights, stopped trying to protect you and instead started asking you to just keep up or stay at home.

Eventually, you decided that you’d had enough and you left for good. It wasn’t an official goodbye, just a phasing out of old friendships. You felt more free, certainly, when you weren’t trying to change yourself to make the McCall pack like you, but you can’t deny that there are times when you look at them and wish that they’d cared for you just a little more.

It’s just– well, they seem so unified, so put together. They have everything they could want there within the bounds of their friendship, and if they ever need something they don’t have, they find a way to get it, or at least do without. If one of them is in trouble, they all but trip over themselves trying to come to the aid of the one in need.

To be honest, you’re jealous of it. You can admit that to yourself now that you’re outside it all, now that they’ve stopped having to look at you. You’re out of the spotlight and can think for yourself, and what you realize is that you wish you had a family like that, someone who would care for you like that. Lydia is your blood and bone, but she cares for the members of the pack in a way utterly unlike how she treats you.

Maybe that’s why so many of your drawings feature the pack, after all, why your visions seem especially attuned to the members of that friend group. On some unconscious level, you want to be a part of them, and your mind seems determined to scour the universe in search of some way to make that happen. If you can’t be a part of the pack yourself, at least your visions can clue you in to their future.

If this is your way of having a foot in the door, though, it’s not working out all that well. As the days go by, you watch the McCall pack slowly drift away from you. Some days, you swear they forget you’re even having the visions in the first place. All they see is all that you let them see: a girl alone, drawing in her sketchbook, never allowing herself to drift too closely to any one group out of fear of what had happened before.

Some part of you wants to stop it, the constant solitude. Whenever you try to reconnect with your old supernatural friends in the pack, though, it’s like you never left. You raise the concern that you’ve had a vision, they brush it off and ask Lydia if they’ve got a serious concern. It’s just not worth your time.

So, when you’re happily going about life in your senior year at Beacon Hills High School and Scott McCall actually approaches you of his own volition, you’re not sure what to think. It can’t be right, surely he’s not actually moving past years of ignoring you. Is this how times change, how new friendships forge?

You’re half right in your optimistic questions. Scott hasn’t forgotten about your visions, and he’s actually here to ask your opinion on a new development in the town. A boy has arrived in the dead of night, another werewolf who saved the pack from an attacking supernatural being on the evening of the Senior Scribe. Scott wants to know if the guy’s trustworthy or not.

You have your answer on the tip of your tongue, and then you hesitate. This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it? A chance to be a part of the pack once again, the opportunity to rejoin the friend group that always looks out for one another.

Then you start thinking. You can see the restless look in Scott’s eyes, you’ve seen it on many different days and in many different times, both in real life and in your visions. It’s the kind of look that means he’s about to leave, that he’s only here for one goal and once that’s accomplished, he’s gone.

You know how this is going to go, don’t you? Scott will collect your advice like a flier from a bulletin board, he’ll consider it a few moments and then probably throw it out in favor of whatever he was thinking before. Maybe he’ll even ask Lydia instead, and forget your words as soon as they leave your mouth.

What do you owe Scott McCall, anyway, other than the muse of many of your recent drawings? After all the times he’s ignored you, why should you tell him a single thing? You do not owe him his safety, he has not given you the same in return. You do not owe him the fruit of your gifts, he hasn’t used his claws and fangs to defend you in many months. Basically, he’s asking for your help as a throwaway, because to him you are nothing more than a tool that he’ll never use again.

So, you close your mouth and consider what you’re going to say. At last, you smile. It’s not a kind smile, but Scott is fooled nonetheless.

“Theo Raeken?” You ask, although you don’t need the confirmation. “Of course you can trust him. No, I’m sure everything with him will be just fine.”

You know how the story goes, of course, you’ve already seen it. Scott hasn’t, and he goes about his way once again. This time, you get to sit back and watch it all play out again. For once, you have a feeling that you’re going to enjoy yourself.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #lydia martin #lydia martin imagines #lydia martin oneshot #mccall pack #mccall pack imagines #mccall pack x reader #mccall pack oneshot #scott mccall #stiles stilinski

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werewolf-witchboy · 3 years

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Tokoyami Fumikage X Male Reader

Being A Witch Boy And Dating Tokoyami

WARNINGS: none uwu

Being a witch has nothing to do with your quirk, you just like practicing the dark arts and witchy things.

I'm not going to mention what your quirk is, so you can imagine that you have whatever quirk you want, or you can imagine yourself as someone without a quirk.

💀 Tokoyami had been fascinated with your hobby of witchcraft ever since he met you. He was most fascinated with the fact that your actual quirk has nothing to do with how your witchcraft works.

🕯 He had already thought you were cute before, and he had been in that time of his life where he was starting to question his sexuality a little- but after you showed him your witchy interests, he fell hard for you.

💀 He may be a dark and edgy birb boi, but he's also quite shy and awkward. He probably would have never confronted you about his crush if you hadn't told him your feelings for him first.

🕯 When y'all started dating, literally everyone was like "FINALLY!!" cuz it was super obvious that the two of you were meant for each other.

💀 When it comes to what type of witch you are, i'd say you're a witch of all traits.

-You love dark and spooky things, but you also love pastel colors and nature.

-Your room in the class 1A dorm is most likely full of plants, candels, a variety of antiques and trinkets, and shit that you can't buy at stores until it's around Halloween time.

🕯 Tokoyami likes to ask many questions about all of the different types of things you do, and he actually pays attention and is super interested. You'll even teach him some new things, and show him how to do them himself.

💀 You love Dark Shadow as much as you love Tokoyami himself. Though they're both very different in personality, you find them both charming and adorable (despite them both saying they're not "adorable," they're dark and spoopy lmao).

🕯 He also loves your animal familiar.

-Your familiar rarely comes out of your bedroom. Since you're dating Tokoyami, you allow him in your room (which means a lot more than he probably thinks it does, cuz spaces where witches do their magic and recharging are very sacred to them) so he gets to see your familiar quite often.

💀 It's rare for familiars to show affection to anyone that isn't their bonded witch, but your familiar absolutely loves Tokoyami.

-They'll hop onto his lap immediately as soon as he sits down in your room.

🕯 Both you and Tokoyami thrive in the darkness, so there are often times where you both hang around in your dimly lit room cuddled up together just talking all day (or even sometimes laying there in comfortable silence).

-You'll be in there together for so long that all of your friends will start questioning where you're both at, and not even realize that you're just in your room.

💀 He obviously likes you a whole lot, but he's super bad at saying it with words. He's just shy and bashful. BUT THEN DARK SHADOW EXPOSES HIM LMAO-

-You'll be standing there looking super cute, and Tokoyami will just stare at you and want to say something so badly. Then Dark Shadow appears and is all like "wOw yOu'Re sUpEr hOt" and Tokoyami just dies right there in the very spot he's standing cuz he can't believe that just happened.

🕯 That's another thing- Tokoyami stares at you a LOT. He even did it before y'all started dating, but now he doesn't even try to hide it.

-You barely noticed at first, but once you started noticing how often you catch him staring at you, you can't help but tease him a little.

-You'll stare at him back, directly in the eyes, and he'll get super flustered and embarrassed.

-Then to calm him down and make him feel less embarrassed, you'll giggle at his flustered-ness and give him a lil beak kiss...which just makes him even more flustered.

💀 He's definitely the type who wants to be a total romantic, and speak all poem-like to you, and shower you with praises, ect. BUT he gets so flustered when it comes to affection, and second-guesses himself when it comes to his ideas of showing affection.

-He's scared of coming off too strong, or seeming to clingy, or even not doing enough, so he never really gets the chance to act out any of how he wants to show affection- and to top it all off he can't help but be absolutely smitten every time you give him affection of any sort, and he'll not know how to react to it.

🕯 You never call him out on his shyness or how he reacts to your affection, you're not offended with any way he reacts to you. You think it's super cute how innocent he seems when it comes to all of this, and of course you encourage any time he gets a little bit of confidence to hold your hand or compliment you (without the help of Dark Shadow lol).

💀 His feathers get all ruffled when he's flustered, and OMFG it's too cute. 🥺😭

🕯 Something that he loves so much is when you borrow his clothes. Because for him, it's kind of a way to show affection towards you without being super direct about it.

-So him being like "you're cold? here, wear my sweatshirt" translates to "TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME, KEEP IT FOREVER, I LOVE YOU FJSKDJFHR-"

💀 Don't come @ me- Tokoyami listens to death metal, but he'd totally vibe with something like kpop if you introduced him to it.

-He's definitely a Loona stan.

🕯 Highkey though, now that I think of it- he probably also listens to Joji and Billie Eilish.

-Like, really moody sad boi hours indie music.

-He'd have Will He playing in his headphones, and he'd be all edgy and in his feelings, but he'd also be doing something like baking cookies at the same time lmfao.

-He'd have a playlist named "songs to cry to," but he'd be listening to it while knitting sweaters for puppies or something.

💀 No, you didn't ask me what kind of music that I think Tokoyami listens to, but you got it anyway. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

🕯 If he's at a store, and sees something kinda spooky looking that makes him think of you, he'd quickly get it and think all day of giving it to you, and he'd want to watch you add it to your collection of lil trinkets and antiques.

-....But he'd chicken out so hard I stg.

-This poor baby would rehearse how he'd give it to you in his head over and over again, and then when the time comes to give it to you, he'd get suddenly so tongue-tied and worried if you'd actually like it or not.

-But, of course, you love whatever he gets you every time. Your always super surprised when he gets you something, cuz it's not your birthday or any special day, and you never expect gifts from people.

-Every time you accept a gift from him, you always want to squeal, tackle him, and shower him with kisses- but you resist doing so with all of your being, cuz you know he'd malfunction.

-Instead you very profoundly thank him many times, and give him one especially loving kiss.

-Seeing your extra surprised and happy reaction always relieves him so much, and it makes him want to do it all over again and gift you a whole shop full of trinkets. His lack of hundreds of dollars is the only thing that stops him.

💀 You're the type of person who wears a lot of black, and scatters bright colors here and there within your look. Your style ranges from goth to pastel e-boy.

🕯 You don't like to change other people's styles or tell other people what to wear, but every once in a while, Tokoyami expresses an interest in dressing like you- which you go NUTS over.

-You'll let him borrow your pastel sweaters, and he'll let you put bright colored hairclips in his feathers.

-He now even owns some pastel colored clothing of his own, that you either gifted him or he secretly bought himself at some point.

💀 He used to be shy about changing up his style every once in a while at first. Whenever you'd take pictures of him wearing bright clothes, he'd softly ask you not to show them to any of the others.

-Eventually he became confident enough to go out in public those rare days he'd wear bright colors, and everyone is always super supportive of the different style.

🕯 He had never been in a relationship with another guy before he started dating you.

-He started questioning his sexuality around the time he started high school, but it was never a priority at first because he was more focused on working hard to get into U.A. and thinking about his future being a hero.

-aNd tHeN hE mEt yOu, and now we're here lol.

-ANYWAYS, y'all go to pride parades together.

-Something he isn't shy about is his sexuality, cuz as soon as he realized how he felt about you, he was all in and that was that.

-Y'all go all out for parades with face and body paint, and shirts with your flags on them, and even sometimes bringing signs and flags to hold up and wave around.

-Some of your friends will come with the two of you, whether they're there because they're also lgbtq+ or just because they support it.

-It's the most social the two of you are the entire year, cuz your both introverted lil emos that don't really talk to many people outside of class 1A.

💀 So yeah- I think Tokoyami is highly underrated and I'm extremely soft for him. He's an emo birb boi, what is not to love.

-I believe in emo birb boi supremacy.

-Rise all Tokoyami stans, we shall take over the entire anime world someday.

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lnc2 · 4 years

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this time next year

Summary: Marinette is worried about the future. Adrien wants to know where he fits into it.

A/N: This piece was written for the @mlwriterzine and I’m so excited to finally share this with you! I hope you enjoy it and also go check out the zine because there are so many amazing stories/art pieces collected there.

AO3

The party was well underway by the time Adrien knocked on Nino’s door. Alya was the one who answered, half of her face obscured by gold tin foil pinned to a green beret.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned, leaning heavily on the door frame.

Adrien bussed her cheek and passed over the bottle of rosé he’d swiped from his father’s wine cellar. “Sorry, Alya. The show ran late. You know how those things go.”

She waved him in, whistling at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head. “Thankfully I don’t. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Adrien followed her into the kitchen instead, eyes straying over the tipsy, crowded apartment. Back against the wall, where Nino’s faded and cracked leather couch usually sat, was a long table covered in gold plastic sheeting. Green and gold hats of various styles were littered across, as well as glitter, rhinestones, netting, feathers, and any other number of crafting materials.

He smiled. “I see you’ve all started without me.”

“Naturally,” Alya said, putting his gift in the fridge to chill. “You’re several drinks behind us now, Agreste. Pick your poison.” She gestured to the half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the bar.

“No tequila?”

She snorted. “You’ll have to track down Marinette for that one. She ran off with the bottle half an hour ago.”

Something warm filled his chest. “A cup of ice and a lime then.”

“Good luck with that,” Alya said, bumping his shoulder as she passed him the glass. Adrien laughed as he followed her into the living room, his smile widening as he spotted Kagami fussing with the green flowers on her gold newspaper hat.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Alya batted her hand away. “It’s tradition!”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s archaic.”

“Boo,” a familiar voice called from behind him. Adrien’s heart stuttered as a familiar pair of arms slipped around his waist. “It’s just for fun. No one takes it seriously.”

Adrien thought back to earlier in the evening and Gabriel’s annual Saint Catherine’s Day gala and couldn’t agree. There was a stark difference between the frivolousness and whimsy of Nino’s house party and the staid sobriety of his father’s fashion show.

As if reading his thoughts, Marinette’s eyes sparkled up at him beneath gold netting. “At least no one here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alya said. She adjusted her hat and threw an accusatory look towards Nino. “Tick tock, babe.”

“You won’t let me propose until you’re out of grad school,” he whined.

Adrien hid his grin as the familiar argument ensued. Instead, he tipped his cup of ice towards the half-empty bottle in Marinette’s hand.

“You’re one of the few people I’d share with,” she said, filling his glass. Adrien leaned down to whisper his gratitude only to be pushed from the other side, causing them to knock heads.

Marinette laughed waving off his apologies with a squeeze to his waist even as their assaulter continued to elbow into the group.

“I’m never getting married,” Alix announced from her position on the back of one of Alya’s coworkers. There was a crown on her head but no decorations. She gestured wildly with her free hand. “Just call me Queen Catherinette.”

“All hail,” Alya said, clinking her wine glass against a reluctant Kagami’s. Her glassy eyes strayed towards Marinette. “What about you, girl? It’s been a while since I’ve heard about Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Adrien tried not to sound too interested when he asked, “Who?”

Marinette laughed, her flushed cheeks flushing further. “I’m afraid that future is on hold, Al. I need to find a boyfriend first.”

She removed her arm from around his waist then and Adrien had to restrain himself from pulling her back to his side. Instead, he took a healthy swallow of tequila and let the conversation drift into less turbulent waters.

Now was hardly the time to volunteer his name to the top of her list.

Adrien could think of two, maybe three very important conversations they needed to have before he could even approach that topic. The most pressing of which weighed heavy on his right hand and sparkled like precious gems on his lady’s ears.

He watched over the rim of his glass as Marinette giggled with the other women in their silly hats. One of them—Alix’s roommate, he thought—burst out with a jubilant, “For pity’s sake, give us a husband!” only for the others to raise their glasses with various tipsy rounds of, “Hear, hear!”

He smiled as Marinette wrestled Kagami’s fidgeting hands away from her hat. It had only been a few weeks since their reveal but Adrien was struggling to see how he could have missed the woman he’d loved for a decade in his dear and wonderful friend.

“Some party, huh?”

Adrien coughed as Nino slapped him on the back just as he was swallowing. Nino laughed at his accusing glare.

“Sorry man,” he said, grinning. “I thought you heard me coming but I guess you were distracted.”

Adrien ignored the teasing lilt in his friend’s voice.“It’s a good crowd,” he said instead. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No worries. Although if everything goes well hopefully this will be the last Saint Catherine’s party we’ll be hosting.”

Adrien laughed. “You think you’ll have worn Alya down by then?”

Nino shrugged. “Fingers crossed. I’ve had this ring burning a hole in my pocket for two months now.”

“Maybe you should be the one wearing the hat.” He grinned, only to receive a rough shove to his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.”

Adrien pretended not to understand.

“Seriously, dude?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not that slick. If you like her you should just ask her out. I know for a fact she used to have a thing for you.”

And even though Adrien already knew that, even though Marinette told him so several years earlier when her crush was a thing of the past as she’d laughingly put it, hearing his heart’s desire put into words so matter-of-factly did things to him.

Things like make him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall or tear out his hair in frustration.

Because really, how was it fair that the one woman he’d spent years chasing had actually spent several years of her own chasing him right back?

It wasn’t.

Not when Adrien still found himself in the chase and she had apparently just … stopped.

“That was a long time ago, Nino.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“... Why?” Adrien stared, stomach clenching. “Did she say something? Did Alya say something?”

His heart raced like hummingbirds wings in his throat as he tried to catch his friend’s gaze.

Adrien grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Nino.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” He laughed, before hiding his smile behind his glass as they caught Alya’s attention across the room. Adrien met her suspicious frown with a wave even as his other hand tightened on Nino’s shoulder.

“But …?”

“But … I wouldn’t count myself out just yet.”

Adrien’s hand fell to his side as all of his breath rushed out of him. “Oh.”

“Although, that may change if you don’t do something about it. Sooner rather than later if Kim’s roommate is anything to go by.”

Nino nodded towards the corner of the room where Marinette was chatting with a tall brunette. He was leaning towards her, his fingers playing at the edge of the netting on her hat as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Adrien was already halfway across the room when Nino shouted, “Good luck!”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to break up their little tete-a-tete but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he was in her line of sight Marinette’s smile lit up like the Eiffel tower and there was little left for him to do other than introduce himself before the interloper tried his luck elsewhere.

“Come outside with me,” she said, tugging his arm. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Your fault,” Adrien said, happy to follow her anywhere. “You canceled patrol.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You know I had to finish up those pieces for your father’s show.”

“At least you weren’t forced to go.”

She laughed and leaned back against the balcony railing. It was cooler than usual tonight as fall slowly gave way to winter and they had the little patio all to themselves. “Perks of being a lowly intern.”

“Please,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “You’ll be a junior designer by next year.”

She hummed, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle only to cough as it hit the back of her throat.

“You can mix that with something you know?”

His lady winced and took another sip, smaller this time. “Who has time for that?”

“You if you’d just slow down.”

It was only half a joke. Lately, even before their Big Reveal, Adrien noticed something changing in Marinette. She was a little less scattered, a little more single-minded. There was almost a frenzied focus about her, like some great fear was nipping at her heels, spurring her forward.

It wasn’t until her timer ran out during an akuma attack that he began to understand why.

“It was ten years this September,” she murmured, turning out to face the cobbled streets below.

Adrien hesitated before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

“We’ll get him, bug. I promise.”

“But when, Chat?” She started to lean her head against his shoulder only for her hat to get in the way. Frustrated, she ripped the little masterpiece off her head and crushed it in her hands.

“Stupid holidays aside, I do want a life, Adrien.” She ripped lightly at the netting. “You said I’ll make junior designer by next year? I don’t see how that’s possible when I’m running out of work every other day because someone couldn’t control their emotions.”

Her voice caught on the last word and he was horrified to realize she was crying. “I want to run my own business someday. I want –– I want to fall in love and get married and have babies.” She looked up, teary gaze meeting his. “How can I do anything when I always have one foot out the window waiting for the next catastrophe? Who could put up with that?”

“You’re not someone a person has to put up with, my lady.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Right. Tell that to my exes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because really that’s all he could do.

“Don’t be.” She sniffed, giving him a sad, sad smile. “You can’t do anything about it any more than I can.”

That wasn’t entirely true though.

Adrien turned his attention towards the scrunched up hat in her hands. Marinette followed his gaze and gave a watery laugh.

“I want it all, Adrien,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide and blue and wet and angry. “Do you really?”

Adrien pulled her to him then, giving her the hug her fears deserved. Marinette clutched at his back, her arms sliding beneath his coat to wrap around his waist, giving as good as she got.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Tears stung his eyes and words, the right words, stuck in the back of his throat as she gave voice to desires he’d never been brave enough to even dream. Not when Ladybug said no and not when Marinette said not anymore and not when they merged and became everything he’d ever wanted but feared he’d never have.

She wanted it all.

Adrien closed his eyes and breathed in his lady’s perfume. Freesia and jasmine and something he’d never been able to name. Marinette’s arms loosened around his waist when it seemed like he would pull away, but Adrien only held her tighter.

“I––” He stopped. “You said you don’t want to slow down?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well … how—how would you feel about a chaser?”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “A chaser?” she repeated, frowning.

Adrien bit his lip, feeling heat rushing up his neck and ears. “Ah, yeah,” he said, doing his best to hold her gaze. “Like—like a partner. To your tequila, I mean.”

Adrien watched as confusion gave way to understanding in the form of a perfect little open-mouthed oh. His heart was pounding hard enough he was starting to suspect she could hear it when her eyes glistened up at him beneath the dim porch lights.

God help him but he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t trust the gentleness in her gaze or the way her body went soft against his or the purse of her lips as she watched him with that pleased little half-smile as realization gave way to something and that something could only be called wonderful as she ducked her head beneath his chin, pressed her lips against the open collar skin of his neck and finally, finally whispered in that small, hopeful impatient way of hers,

“Are you volunteering?”

And even though he knew she knew and even though the question really didn’t require an answer, Adrien tightened his hold on her until they were swaying together chest to chest and repeated the only thing he’d ever wanted to give her.

Yes.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #post reveal pre relationship #adrinette #ml writer zine #adrienette

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tteokggukk · 4 years

Text

welcome to my youtube channel → kth

✳ pairing: idol!taehyung x youtuber!reader

✳ genre: fluff, taehyung scenario, stranger to lovers, reader is an artist who posts art videos on youtube

✳ warnings: none!

✳ words: 2.9k

✳ a/n: hello, this is my second bts oneshot/scenario. i just like to write for fun but if you’d like to let me know if there’s anything i can improve on please do so! i’d love to know how to improve. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

"Hey guys, welcome to my YouTube Channel."

You spoke in front of the camera. Sets of acrylic paint were spread out across the table next to a stand that held an 18x24 inch canvas. You were in the middle of making your seventeenth video, a highly requested one at that, and deep down you were ecstatic to start working on the painting.

Never in your life did you think you would ever start a YouTube account. You always considered yourself a very shy and private person, not one to go out of their way and broadcast themselves all over the internet. Your best friends, however, were two very well-known YouTubers and always found a way to include you in their videos and live streams. Somehow people liked seeing more of you, and so you were convinced by your best friends and the audience to start your own YouTube channel.

But you weren't very accustomed to bringing a camera everywhere with you to document and share whatever was happening in your daily life, you found it too awkward and you were still camera-shy, so you decided to create content in a way that would still keep you comfortable while doing something you loved.

An art channel.

Your channel blew up pretty fast. Requests started pouring in here and there. You became known for your very calm demeanor and artistic skills, so you took this as an opportunity to sell your works online as a way to earn some extra money for your future. Occasionally, you'd do lives to talk to your fans and you were happy at the support they showed you, which only encouraged you to keep making videos.

"This was a highly requested video, and I honestly can't wait to get started," you told the camera, mentally telling yourself to insert the comments and messages you got in your DMs to paint this Adonis-like human being. The requests started coming in after you had an Instagram live where you did some quick sketches while playing some of your favorite songs in the back, and people noticed one of the songs you played was by him.

"You guys also asked if I could sell this painting, but because of the "high demand"," you spoke, adding air quotes, "I'd like to keep it up for auction so the proceeds could go to different fundraisers."

You started mixing different colors in your palette and showed everyone the picture for your reference.

"So, without further ado, today I will be painting Kim Taehyung."

"Hey guys, welcome to my YouTube Channel."

Taehyung watched as you spoke in the video, looking behind you to see a bunch of art materials. The title of the video was left ambiguously, only being named most requested video, leaving him no clue on what it was you were going to create this time.

He's been watching your videos for quite some time now, ever since your channel started rising. Art was one of his major interests and he absolutely adored the way you made your videos with the calming, ASMR-like sound of mixing paint and how you skillfully glided the brush across the canvas. On days when he found himself tired and in need of a quick way to relax, he'd subconsciously find himself binge watching videos on your channel— even repeating several videos since you were only starting. He found it fascinating, but also because he found you interesting.

Because of your channel, he even created an anonymous YouTube account just to leave nice comments on your videos along with a private Instagram account to be able to watch your lives.

Needless to say, he didn't miss that one live where you played the song Winter Bear. It made his whole night, making him sleep with a smile on his face.

"This was a highly requested video, and I honestly can't wait to get started."

He watched as a bunch of comments started appearing onscreen popping up one by one as they gradually got faster, eventually covering you. It took a moment before it sunk in that he was the highly requested person they wanted you to paint. He paused the video, wide-eyed, before shouting in excitement. Jimin had to come in and check what the whole commotion was about.

"Y/n's going to paint me!" Taehyung exclaimed, his mouth turning into his famous boxy smile.

"Ah, the YouTuber you really like?" Jimin smiles before sitting down next to Taehyung who continued playing the video, "I wanna see."

"You guys also asked if I could sell this painting, but because of the "high demand", I'd like to keep it up for auction so the proceeds could go to different fundraisers."

"Wow, she seems really kind," Jimin says, while Taehyung only nods, his eyes glued to the screen.

"So, without further ado, today I will be painting Kim Taehyung."

He felt his heart beat fast when you mentioned his name, and without realizing it his ears have gone all red.

On screen, you began sketching, "You guys have also been sending me a lot of questions lately, which is why I decided to tweet about doing a q&a."

"What questions did you ask?" Jimin asked Taehyung.

"I asked her if being an artist is something she'd like to pursue," Taehyung told him.

"Ooooh, trying to get to know her," Jimin teases, "Our little Taehyungie has a celebrity crush."

Taehyung rolls his eyes but breaks out into a grin anyway, "I just respect her artistry."

"Right, okay," Jimin snickers, obviously not buying it.

Taehyung knew he was telling the truth, though. It was impossible to have feelings for someone who you only knew through a screen. He found you attractive for sure, but he of all people would know that almost no one is completely one-hundred percent themselves on screen. Genuine as you may be, there are still things that are best kept to yourself. He couldn’t lie though, if given the chance to get to know you, he’d never pass up on that offer.

"Someone asked why I don't use that much ready-made paint," You spoke on screen, "It's ‘cause I learn a lot from mixing my own colors, and also I just really enjoy it."

The painting was beginning to come together halfway through the video and Taehyung's question finally made its way to you. "Kimyeontan95 asks, ‘is painting a career you want to pursue? I love your work, by the way’."

"That was basically I love you," Jimin holds back a laugh, earning him a light punch in the arm from Taehyung.

"Thank you so much, kimyeontan95, and no, painting is just a hobby of mine and a way to earn some future savings. I actually really want to be a novelist."

Taehyung smiled after hearing you answer his question. Later on, the video was over and his portrait was complete. He hurriedly redirected himself to the link that was provided for the auction.

Something in him wanted to have that painting no matter what, so he set himself as the highest bidder and eventually had it mailed to his home where he put your work up in his room to cherish.

A day after your video was posted, you woke up to a thousand notifications from your phone. Hundreds of people were mentioning you in tweets and you had numerous missed calls from your best friends and some texts telling you to check your online art shop. You groggily scroll through your feed, a bit confused as to what was happening.

I wanted to buy this painting and I had it in my list, but now it's unavailable!

Y'ALL WHAT RICH KID SET THE HIGHEST BID TO A MILLION DOLLARS IM CRYING

@yourtwittername are you planning to sell a new collection?

a million dollar bid wtf swownwowksodiowl

Someone just bought all of @yourtwitterusername's paintings. I'm crying in broke eye—

but like what if taehyung set that bid? @yourtwitterusername

What?

I just woke up and my mentions are pouring. What is going on? You tweeted.

Thousands of replies began coming in leaving you feeling overwhelmed and confused on where to start. Everyone was telling you to check your site, and so you did. You felt your heart almost stop beating when you saw that every single artwork you had up for sale were sold out. Nothing was left behind. You checked your emails, and the confirmations were there.

How could this have happened overnight?

ALL MY WORKS ARE SOLD OUT?!?!?!?? WHO COULDVE DONET THIS??? You tweeted, hands shaking.

You felt your heart race, a wide grin that could go even wider if possible was plastered on your face. You tried to stop yourself from screaming in excitement but couldn't so you ended up jumping up and down and doing happy dances before calming down to assess the situation. Finally, you sat down in front of your laptop to see where all your works were being shipped to.

Replies started coming in.

CONGRATS YOU FIGURED IT OUT

WILL U RESTOCK

AHSKWJOA CONGRATS BB

I'M SO HAPPY FOR U

BUT Y/N WHO BOUGHT THEM ALL

Checking your emails, you discover that your art works were all bought by one person. Anonymous. There was no name and someone requested to have their personal information redacted.

Anonymous? Surely this wasn't a joke?

The person kept their name anonymous. You tweeted and muted the notifications just to allow yourself to focus on finding out who it was that bought everything.

At the bottom of all the removed personal information, there was one username that you were sure you've heard or seen somewhere.

@ Kimyeontan95.

Underneath the username was a short but sincere message.

"Your videos have always helped me wind down after a long, busy day. I can't express how much you inspire me with your talent and how I wish someday you'd teach me to be half as good as you, as I'm not very gifted in the painting department. I admire how you put your gifts into good things, and I very much idolize you in one way or another. This is just a small way of showing my support for you, but also because all your works are amazing and I'd love to have a small room filled with my favorite art works. I look forward to reading works of yours soon, future novelist.”

Feeling the heat creeping up on your cheeks, you smiled to yourself. The letter was definitely heartfelt and you wanted so badly to thank the person who sent it.

Later that afternoon, you decided to go on live to personally thank the anonymous buyer for buying your works and for sending that wonderful note. You fixed yourself up a little bit and pressed live as thousands of your followers began to tune in.

"Hello, everyone," you greeted, smiling. Replies with greetings started coming in and you couldn't help but chuckle at the eager messages your followers were sending. They truly made you happy.

As expected, several questions began pouring in.

"Right, so, I wanted to do this live because of what happened. As you may have noticed, all my works were suddenly sold out which definitely took me by surprise," you started, "Unfortunately the buyer left everything anonymous. They only left what I assume is a username and a short letter, which I will keep to myself for personal reasons."

@follower1WHAT

@follower2 will you keep selling your works?

@follower3 THATS SUCH A SWEET GESTURE THO OMG/

@follower4 am I the only one who thinks a secret admirer bought it

@follower5 check my YouTube channel I made a theory on who bought her works

@follower6 i rlly think it's taehyung

@follower7 I’'m so proud of you :(((

"If the person who bought all of my paintings is watching this, I really want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate the letter as well, you've honestly made me the happiest person on Earth," you smiled.

@follower8 AWWWWW

@follower9 ANON COME OUT

@follower10 i really wanna know what the letter says

@ Kimyeontan95 I'm glad :)

Your heart stopped at one of the replies. You took your phone immediately from its fixed position with wide eyes and began scrolling up fast because of the immediate replies coming in. Wasn't that the username?

@follower11 what's going on?

@follower12 y/n are you okay?

You could no longer find the reply so you set your phone down, fixing it back in place.

"For a second I thought the person who bought it was watching my live," you sighed and smiled nervously, "So anyways— I'd really love to express my gratitude so if they're watching, please contact me. I can't say thank you en—"

Suddenly the replies were frantic. People were sending keyboard smashes here and there. Only a few of them were actual coherent comments. "What is going on?" You asked as you began scrolling through.

@follower13 Y/N CHECK VLIVE

@follower14 TaEHYUNF IS ON LIVE

@follower15 I kNEW IT THOUGH???

@follower16 Y/N CHECK TAEHYUNGS LIVE

@follower5 Y'ALL I WAS RIGHT I SAID CHECK MY YT

Keeping your live on, you grabbed your laptop as fast as you could to check out the links being sent to your live. When it finally loaded, you could've sworn you'd have a heart attack.

"Oh, I think she's watching me," Taehyung grinned through his live, holding his phone in front of the camera. He quickly shows the viewers his phone screen, which showed your live of you watching him through your laptop. Your eyes widened and you looked back at your phone camera that was broadcasting your live, then back at his live.

Taehyung started giggling, "I guess we're just watching each other, huh?" He smiled. Behind him were packed and unpacked parcels of paintings you recognized were yours. If it was even possible, your eyes grew even wider at this, "Oh my god," you breathed out.

"I should probably introduce myself," Taehyung spoke, "Hello everyone, I'm Kim Taehyung. How are you all doing? Today I’m planning on redecorating my room after our practice. What are the packages behind me? Oh, these are paintings I recently bought."

"Are those my paintings?" You asked out loud, though you knew the answer.

"Are those my paintings?" Your voice echoed from Taehyung's broadcast as your live was streaming from his phone. He grinned sheepishly, "Yes, these are your works, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," You smiled, "You were the buyer?"

You mentally slapped yourself for asking such obvious questions, but you just couldn't believe everything that was happening now.

"Yes," he chuckles, "I really love your paintings." Suddenly the sound of Jimin’s voice echoed from behind and Taehyung quickly stood up to lock the door, knowing he’d get the teasing of a lifetime if Jimin came and saw him talking to you.

"Thank you so much, I—" Your voice began to crack and your eyes welled with tears that you tried to fight back, "I really appreciate it. And the letter, that was really sweet."

"No, thank you. Wait, don't cry—" Taehyung spoke nervously.

"I'm just so happy," You laughed while wiping the tears off.

The replies from both ends were coming in like crazy. On one hand, majority of everyone watching found the whole scenario cute and started pairing you two out of nowhere, though there were a few haters on the other. It didn't really bother you, you were just so happy someone you idolized noticed your work.

"I'm glad," he was watching you with a fond smile through his phone, then the sound of the Jin’s voice began coming from outside Taehyung’s room, "Sorry for this sudden grand reveal. I really can't stay on live for too long but I'd love to keep talking to you." He spoke.

"Oh no, that's okay," You spoke fast.

"Do you mind if I send you a message? Assuming you already know the username," he asks.

"No not at all, I'd love to keep talking as well," your heart was beating erratically now. You didn't have to see your face to know how red it was becoming.

"Alright, great. Um, before I end this vlive I just wanna say you're a great artist and to all my viewers watching this, please support y/n's artworks and her channel! If I see any negative comments, I'll be taking responsibility and I'll unfortunately have my agency involved in taking those out," he spoke in a commercial tone kind of voice, "And to y/n, I'll be keeping in touch.” The door from behind him suddenly bursts open and Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook rush inside.

“You were talking to her!” Jimin shouts excitedly.

“Finally!” Jungkook claps.

“Is that why you kept the door locked?” Jin teases.

“Bye, everyone!" Taehyung quickly waves goodbye to the camera and smiles before turning the broadcast off.

You sat there stunned, almost forgetting you were also on live. You turned to your phone which was still recording you, "That was unexpected."

Suddenly, a notification in your DMs popped up. "I'll go ahead and process everything that just happened now, bye guys! See you in my next video." You ended the live with a wave and smile.

You quickly went into your direct messages and found the same username, Kimyeontan95. You opened it and found a picture of Taehyung holding one of your paintings with a peace sign on his other hand, the other members behind him posing with your other works, making you laugh.

Your heart fluttered at the message below the picture.

I hope this isn't too sudden, but would you like to go out with me sometime?

a/n: hello! if you finished it, thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked it hehe. i think i’m gonna keep posting the stuff i write bc i have so many ideas for the other members as well. also this is fun hehe. if you wanna read my other work, let’s fall in love for the night, ← here’s a link! thanks again for reading and please look forward to my future writing/edits.

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sanzusbaby · 2 years

Note

Hi !! How are u? Hope you have a nice day <33 Can I ask for a Tokyo Revengers Character match up pls? ♡ I'm a 5'3" Spanish cis girl that really likes to draw and makeup, my MBTI is INFP and my zodiac sign is Scorpio! At the beginning I'm kinda shy but then I become that goofy friend that sends you the best memes when you are feeling bad. I have a big patience but when I snap I start swearing a lot, kinda clumsy too and usually get a lot of injuries just by doing stupid things lol I'm into videogames too and practiced martial arts (Taekwondo) for like 10 years. Love doing tiny handmade gifts like cards or drawings but hate when someone gifts me something bcs I feel bad that they waste money on me, my fav music type is freestyle rap and pop !! Also I'm studying for being a beautician, so I usually ask my friends to come over and help me to practice doing skincares, nails and massages ☆ My love language is physical touch (hugs and kisses!!!!) But I'm really innocent with a lot of things... kinda dumb yeah. Top kinks are size and praise me thinks !

And again, have a nice day !! ☆

Hi!! I’m great thank you for asking! 🥰 you’re too sweet! I hope you’re well and having a good day also💓☺️

I’m shipping you with! (In no particular order)…..Mitsuya, chifuyu, mikey!

Mitsuya would think your clumsiness is absolutely adorable! You ever find yourself bumping into a table or tripping over your own feet, mitsuya will be behind you to catch you before you fall and chuckle at your clumsy tendency’s. He’s not mean about it though! He’d make sure you’re not hurt, even if it was the tiniest thing he would offer to get you ice, a plaster or just his company to make sure you don’t end up getting into any trouble. After a while, he would totally have a little first aid kit put together especially for you due to how often you get hurt. Everything in that kit is catered towards you, often covered in bruises? He’s got arnica in there. Always getting scratches and grazes? He’s got little bandages and the cutest plasters for you. Tripped over and ever sprained your ankle? Compression bandage and ice pack already in there!. Truly is a gentleman, even if he still teases you a tinnyyy bit, but you can’t fault him. Chifuyu has a lil bit of a geeky/boyish side that he tries to suppress so he can be “cool” for you. But oh man, once he finds out you ACTUALLY LIKE video games and stuff too?! Pls he’s so excited and definitely wants to know your favourites and all about them. Would show you his gaming and manga collection- pls he’s excited, be excited w him he’s precious. Gaming marathons? Check! Chill rainy days binge reading mangas? Absolutely!. This boy is so happy that you enjoy that stuff, pls, look after him. Making cute little notes to put in his lunch? Popped into his uniform pockets? Mikey didn’t think he could love you anymore than he already did, but he was wrong. His heart squeezed and his cheeks felt warm. Next time he saw you he’d squish you into a hug, rocking you side to side somewhat violently but✨ with love✨ cooing about how cute you are. Somedays, you and mikey would spend the majority of the day communicating solely through memes or vine references. Especially if he’s feeling a lil down and you send him a meme, it’ll make his heart flutter knowing you’re still there for him and even if he may not be ready to reply with words, he’ll send memes back and forth all day. Mitsuya knows you don’t like people going and spending money on you..but, technically when he sews you lil things here and there, he’s not spending anything. So pls let him stitch little hearts onto things, or you may even just start finding them on the corners of your sleeves or collar of a shirt. Tiny hearts or flowers. His and your initials together🥲 he’s so cute. He adores all the little notes and cards he gets from you, he keeps them all neatly in a pretty box, dated and organised with love.

Please imagine gaming spa dates with chifuyu, and peke j of course. Fuyu would let you make a lil pony tail out of his fringe so it’s not on his face, already adorable. Put on his facemask for him, there’s no way he’s going to be able to apply it without A. Him getting it everywhere or in his eyes, Or B. Breaking it if it’s one of those sheet masks. Even if he might be incapable of putting on his own, let him put of yours! Pls! He would be extra careful, putting on your headband carefully making sure not to hurt you at all. After he’s sure your hair is out the way, he’ll get to putting your mask of choice on. He takes his time as to not mess it up. Once you’re all masked up, you know there is a lil kitty friendly headband for peke j, pls give pets and treats before you and chifuyu start playing your game.

Mikey would want you to ✨bedazzle ✨ his nails. He’s surprisingly bossy about it though, this colour,that colour, this design, not that design. He’d sit watching you paint and draw on his nails in awe while he snacks on some treats. Is the type to keep snatching his hand away from you to look at the nail you’ve JUST finished. He’d probably mess it up a few times, great way to practice for fidgety future clients. For real though, he loves to be pampered so he would let you do them whenever. Also a huge fan of having his skincare done while you watch movies with snacks and cuddles. He straight up asks you to do the skincare routine for him every morning and evening. You’ll have no peace with mikey wanting everyday to be spa day. Mitsuya would probably let you do anything to him, but this man would love getting a massage. Boy has a lot going on and he definitely gotta have some stress built up. BUT imagine doing Luna and mana’s nails one time when you came over to mitsuya’s place😩💓 they would absolutely adore having someone around to pamper them, giving them the cutest little nail designs and stuff skksjksjk. Now every time you come over they would want their nails done again and would bug mitsuya about when you are next coming over 😭🖐🏻💓 Mitsuya definitely loves seeing you and his sisters get along well, seeing as you will probably be spending a lot of time around them hes glad they love you and you do too.

Mitsuya is a praise pro. He’s got the sweetest talk game and whispers out the most heart/pussy fluttering praises you have ever heard 😩🖐🏻

Bestie I am so sorry about how long this took me I literally- I don’t know what happened I am just🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️ very sorry and I hope you enjoyed this. To everyone else to sent match ups I promise I have not forgotten about y’all 😭💓🖐🏻 I’m trying besties, you’ll get em I promise

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x y/n #mitsuya tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya headcanons #mikey x reader #mikey sano #manjiro sano #chifuyu matsuno #tokyorev chifuyu #matchups.with anna

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

#fandom #fic things #mymetas #never any easy questions on this blog huh? lol

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arknights-imagines · 3 years

Note

For the Christmas thing can you do SilverAsh. hope you have a nice day! merry early Christmas

From, SilverAsh

Christmas Letter and Gift event

It's Christmas Day where I am, so Merry Christmas avshvsvs! ☃️🥺 SilverAsh's letter seems to be the most anticipated one considering I got so many requests for him shsjbss so I hope you all like it 🥺👉👈 Tysm to all of you for everything so far! 🥺😭 I'll make a more formal thank you post later on 🍡 for now, please enjoy the letter 🌸

- A very jolly Exe ☃️

--------------------

You wake up just as the sun rises; rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you move to separate yourself from your covers in order to dress yourself for the day when your eyes are drawn to the snow-blanketed view of the RIIC main deck from outside your window.

Surprise paints your face for a moment when you notice Operators and staff alike frolicking outside in the snow, filling the air with mirth - and then you remember, ‘it’s Christmas Day.’

The realisation causes a smile to come to your face as a wave of cheeriness invigorates you. But then you reach toward your nightstand to grab something, you instead discover a lustrous silver envelope, propped up against the various items occupying the top of the nightstand. Pausing, your brow quirks up and you slowly take the envelope into your hands.

The envelope is devoid of any words or stamps, so the only way to figure out who it’s from is by opening it - and you do just that. The stark white paper you find inside of the envelope feels cold to the touch, but even so; when your eyes come to the familiar thin penmanship all over the page, your heart swells with warmth.

--------------------

Ever dearest [name],

Sleep well, my dear? I sincerely hope so, as today is a rare occurrence that should be cherished while it’s here. In order to participate in Christmas festivities, you of course need to be well rested.

Christmas morning...what every child seems to anticipate from the first sight of snow. In Kjerag, Holiday celebrations are quite ostentatious; as expected, considering we bear the title ‘the Snow Realm’. But what’s more curious is that Christmas and its heartening traditions have persevered even in a world as wartorn as ours. Seldom is Rhodes Island a jubilant place, but that seems to have changed for Christmas.

To me, Holidays have always held little to no meaning. After my parents died, my sisters and I didn't gather together to celebrate the Holidays in the slightest; I have attended formal Christmas balls and traditional ceremonies out of obligation, but the last time I received or sent a gift feels like centuries ago. I believed my Christmas evenings were best spent dealing with business affairs for Karlan Trade Co., and so if you ever wished to find me on Christmas Day, a wise decision would be to go straight to my office.

However, outside the windows of my office and on the bright illuminated streets, revelers would dance and carolers would sing; though I never wished I was there celebrating alongside them, it was still quite the heartening sight. The Holiday experience in Kjerag truly is the epitome of Christmas and its spirit. Someday I’d like to take you there; I’ve never quite cared for the Holidays much, but I’m convinced that with you by my side, I’ll find myself enjoying Christmas and its celebrations more than I originally anticipated.

My apologies, my dear. I’ve long since strayed from my original topic. I suppose my thoughts are not as organized as I thought.

All beginning with my contract with Rhodes Island, or more well expressed - all beginning with the day you and I crossed paths, many things have changed. The day we met….my dear, has it really been that long? The calendar tells me so, but my heart does not. I suppose it is as they say; when you’re with your beloved, time flies.

To call you my beloved is in truth an understatement; [name], you may be that, but you are so much more. You encapsulate warmth so effortlessly, and you somehow imbue that warmth into someone as shrewd as myself. Through you, I have learned to understand compassion, and I have gained something to fight for. I never thought I would ever find someone to love in the way that I love you...but alas, here we are, my dear.

I’m well aware many hours of my day are spent with you, with working hours and leisure time melded together, and occasionally I am blessed with being able to spend the night with you. But quite simply...it’s never enough. I understand how that may sound, but it's how I feel in my heart.

Every moment you are gone, you occupy my thoughts, especially during this season of Christmas; My dear...the time we have together is not as long as it may seem. This world, with its catastrophes and its ruined society, can take either of our lives whenever it may like. As such, I wish to spend as much time as I can with you during the holidays.

As per Christmas tradition, I’ve purchased a gift for you. I have gifted you many things, though I feel this one is special. I choose it with only you and I in mind; no thoughts about outside things distracting me.

[Name], my dear; I love you, more than you can fathom. My affections toward you come without any conditions; toward you, I never have, and will never have ill intentions or ulterior motive. Some may persuade you to believe otherwise, but should that ever happen, remember this letter and what I’ve expressed through it.

I have more to tell you, but perhaps I should save that for when we see each other, which I hope will be very soon. Well then, my dear, I only have one last thing to ask of you; linger in the moments we spend together. Visit me to wish me goodnight before you go to bed, stay with me a few seconds longer when it’s time for us to part, forget your jacket in my room and return for it later.

Come meet me when you can today; I’ll wait for you, my dear. Perhaps this may come as unceremonious, but - from today and onward, my heart is yours, [name]; do what you will with it.

Yours eternally,

Enciodas

--------------------

A effusive, unrestrained smile paints your lips as you read the last line of the letter. SilverAsh’s every word is enough to cause warmth to explode in your chest; such sincerity and tenderness from him is reserved solely for you.

Your eyes are once again drawn toward your nightstand, where you this time notice the rectangular box on its top; its colour identical to the envelope, white decorative ribbon ties the box closed. You reach over and retrieve it quickly, eager to see what SilverAsh has gotten you. The box feels weighted in your hands, and upon ridding the box of the ribbon and lid, your gaze falls on a delicate, beautifully-carved sculpture of marble.

It’s so detailed that almost immediately, you recognize the two figures embracing as SilverAsh and yourself; it's a sculpture of you and him. Your features and his are captured with impressive perfection, and the marble feels smooth and cool against your fingers once you remove it from the box.

A sculpture of such degree almost screams wealth, but because of its rather petite size and simple pale colour, it executes a bold yet warm message while not being unsightly to the eye. You smile down softly at the small sculpture of SilverAsh and yourself, then you glance back at the giftbox.

The last thing left in the box is a slip of paper with SilverAsh’s thin penmanship creating lines of words on its surface. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear. I had this sculpture commissioned by a very well known artist in Kjerag; quite captivating, isn't it? Even so, even the most beautiful art pieces cannot compete with you.’ You pause for a moment - attention drawn to your window once more. Your eyes widen slightly when you notice that a familiar, fluffy-eared figure has joined the ever growing crowd outside.

SilverAsh. He stands with his sisters, watching as his fellow Operators launch snowballs at each other and stumble in the snow; then his eyes meet yours. Even from your room so far away, you catch his expression as his lips fall agape, then a charming smile comes to his face. You're unable to stop yourself from grinning back - you quickly read the last sentences of the note, ‘[Name], even if you must work today, at least spare a moment to smile at me, won't you?’ Then, like a child rushing to their Christmas tree to open gifts, you waste no time grabbing your coat and hurrying out the door, knowing SilverAsh awaits you with a warm smile, ‘Even that smile alone would be a suitable enough Christmas present for me.’

#merry christmas everyone 🥰🎄#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights silverash #arknights x reader #silverash arknights #christmas event #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing

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sparklesparklekoushi · 4 years

Text

Choose Your Glucose Guardian! (Ushijima Wakatoshi Ver.)

This is part one of a seven part series based on some of the Haikyuu! Captains.

This was originally posted on my Ao3 here: link

Minor spoiler-ish? Mentions a timeskip! team.

That’s all, enjoy!!

You don’t even know how you got here. You were in bed, in a really really oversized shirt with nothing under it. But no, nothing had happened prior to that. You were snuggled up to none other than Japan's volleyball ace, Ushijima Wakatoshi. A movie was playing in the background, probably The Princess Diaries for the nth time during the week. It was a normal occurrence, at night you would find yourself in one of his jerseys or snuggly shirts that were at least 2 times bigger than you, snuggled up to him watching the same damn movie or some other teen flick until who knows what hour.

He would fall asleep faster than you would, but you wouldn't have it any other way this way, you could stare at him lovingly without having to hide it. This way you could admire his peaceful features in contrast to how cold and stoic he looks when he is awake. He doesn't snore, but sometimes you'd catch him sleep talking about volleyball if you're lucky enough. When that would happen you would giggle and smile at what you would hear. But then again, you shouldn't be feeling this way at all…

After all, these were against unspoken rules…

The unspoken rules of being a sugar baby

Yes, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Ace of the Schwieden Adlers, was your sugar daddy.

Yet why did you feel this way?

Maybe it was the way he held you close, like you were something to protect. Or it was in the way he actually smiled when he was with you. Was it the fact that he wasn’t much older than you either? He was only 27 and you were 21, not much of an age difference there and that made you bond, you could say, even closer.

Another thing is that Ushijima would never do anything you wouldn’t consent to. He knew his boundaries and knew how to respect your space. In fact, he was more of a friend at this point than someone who was supposed to be spoiling you nonstop. He just appreciated your company while you loved his company. You didn’t need fancy gifts or anything lavish, you honestly just wanted him. You, if you were to consider him as a friend, really wanted to take things to the next level.

But then, who were you to be anything but a plaything to get bored of? You were just a university student, an art student at that. You were just an expressive mess who was in love with someone who truly isn’t yours. You weren’t poor, in fact, you had a stable internship at an art gallery and your boss says you would make it big someday. You sell cute art and it's fun and fulfilling, so why were you in this situation.

It was another day at an art fair, but this art fair was somewhat different. You weren’t at some anime convention or anything like that, you were selling your original art at a local art fair. You were all dressed up as this took place at a fancy gallery. It was fun, but then this was sort of a test of how much you would sell. You were honestly scared, since this could be a stepping stone to becoming a recognized artist.

Some people had bought your art pieces and it made you happy, you didn’t really know how to price things at first, but your art teacher at your uni had helped you throughout the whole process, in fact, they were the reason you were here now. You were seated at your table, taking a break from talking to all these people when you were approached by a red haired man who seemed to be in the same age group as you.

Woah, that's cool, wish I was this big at that age… you thought to yourself.

He smiled at you when you met each other's eyes, “Excuse me, but would you happen to know the artist of these paintings?”

He was pointing in the direction of your most prized painting, the most expensive one at that. It was your definition of love at that time, a whimsical, beautiful thing.

You nodded, “Yes, that would be me.”

He smiles a little shocked, “Woah that's cool, how old are you? Aren’t you too young to be here?”

You knew he was joking as you both laughed, “For the record, I’m 20. So no, I don’t think I'm that young to be here.”

He nods in respect, “I’m Tendou, Tendou Satori. I’m actually asking about the painting for a friend.”

“(l/n) (y/n). If I may ask, who is willing to buy my painting?”

“I am.” A deep voice says sending shivers down your spine.

You looked behind you to see a tall man who seemed to be the same age as Tendou. And as much as you hate to admit it, he was really good looking.

You learned when talking to him that he was Ushijima Wakatoshi, and the Ace of Japan’s men's volleyball team. Soon enough he asked you to make him another painting… but that didn’t go that well at first.

Some things had happened and your family disowned you completely as you shifted to a full time art major. You argued with them constantly recently as they never supported you… And I guess going to local art fairs proved that you would not listen to them… so a few days later you were disowned. You didn’t know what to do, but you did have enough money for now, to last through the semester.

Eventually however, you had to call Ushijima to tell him about how you would not be able to produce his painting anytime soon. He had been talking to you for a while now, about mundane things like your lives. He thought you were a breath of fresh air and that was when he suggested it.

You were hesitant at first, but he reassured you that he would never do anything that you didn’t like. So you agreed to his somewhat proposal.

So just like that, it's been a year since that has happened. In all honesty, you could walk away from all of this now as you can stand on your own feet and all that. But Ushijima wouldn't let you go. He would always say that he wanted you to stay with him until you finished college at least or he would make other excuses.

You just wish he would do that out of the fact that he wanted to love you for you, and not because you were some fragile girl.

That night, you couldn’t take it any longer. Your thoughts piling up and eating at you were causing you to think of crazy things, so in the middle of the night, you left his house. You wandered out in his old shirt and some leggings as it was a cold night. You brought your phone but put it on airplane mode so you could listen to music. It was going to be a rough night for sure…

Ushijima stirred awake to find you missing from his arms. He was extremely worried. He tried calling you and giving you some time, but as 30 minutes passed and you didn’t answer, he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to find you. He heard you crying a few nights ago, and he wondered why. He thought that he might not be giving you enough art supplies or something, but he wanted you to tell him. So he hinted these things at you through the way Tendou had taught him.

He was honestly sick of this no feelings and strings attached relationship. He truly wanted to love you, but he was scared that you didn’t see him as anything more than a person to talk to, or dare he say it, a friend. He called up Tendou to help him and his friend sighed over the phone saying; “You better make her your girlfriend after this or I’m going to make her my sugar baby.”

That was enough of a push for him to find you and do what's right.

It was getting late, and both males had no hint of where you had gone. They had checked almost everywhere. That’s until Ushijima had realized that there would be a place you would 100% be in, the art gallery where you first met. It would be open until this time as it was open 24/7… plus, you interned there. He sent a text to Tendou to meet him there as he ran over to the place. And there you were, headphones in, about to enter the building. He came up to you and enveloped you into a hug, a hug that made you feel loved.

“Be mine.” He says as your eyes widen.

You’ve never felt so happy in your entire life, and with that, you shared a kiss under the moonlight.

#ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#shiratorizawa imagine #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #sugar daddy au #haikyuu captains

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twstarchives · 4 years

Text

Sebek Zigvolt・Voice Lines

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Get to class now! You’re wasting time.”

Groovy “Someday I ought to teach you how you’re supposed to behave towards your superiors.”

Home Setting “I take close care of my appearance.”

Home Transitions “I was miraculously able to enroll at the same school as the Young Master. I’d like to watch his growing success from as close-up as possible.”

“I’m hungry... The bread from the school store isn’t filling at all. I want more meat.”

“I joined the horse-riding club because I thought it’d be wise to pick up practical activities. All knights should be able to ride a horse.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “To make sure that you’re not a threat to the Young Master, I’ve decided to observe you all day today. Don’t run out of sight.”

Home Taps “Styling my hair every morning is a chore, but I never want the Young Master to see me looking sloppy.”

“Silver is the only person I know in the Valley of Thorns from the same generation as me. ‘My friend’...? As if I’d call him a friend!”

“The Young Master is also taking classes here. It’s 1000 years too early for us to be skipping them!!”

“I have a loud voice? What are you saying? Your voice is just too quiet!!”

“Are you trying to play tag? I’ve long since outgrown childish games like that.”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “As if I’d lose any contest! The training all of you have done is nothing compared to mine!”

Groovy “Want me to tell you my training routine? Only if you can keep up.”

Home Setting “Let me take you on.”

Home Transitions “To improve yourself, you need to eat well, work well, sleep well, and play hard! ...That’s what Master Lilia taught me.”

“I train so that I can be the Young Master’s sword and shield whenever he needs me.”

“I heard we’re having a long-distance race for our next PE class. I’m better at short-distance, though... No. You aren’t a guard without good stamina.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Why is your back hunched over like that? You look sloppy! Stick out your chest and fix that posture!”

Home Taps “Whenever I go to practice for the horse-riding club, the horses always get scared of me. I’m not going to eat them or anything. They’re so skittish.”

“Being left-handed often comes in handy when I’m sparring. But no matter which hand I use, my victories will always be in the name of the Young Master.”

“There’s no point in training without a reason. It’s important to me that I gain power to protect the Young Master.”

“Don’t waste your breath. All that matters while you’re training is willpower, persistence, and a fighting spirit!! That’s it!”

“You want to play soccer together? ...Alright. I certainly have no plans of losing to a human.”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “Your appearance reflects who you are inside. I won’t let a single wrinkle to pass.”

Groovy “You want to study with me? Very well. Show me what you’ve got.”

Home Setting “I don’t have any blind spots in today’s class either.”

Home Transitions “I’ll get the highest score on our next test. And then the Young Master will praise me...!”

“The environment in the greenhouse is just amazing. It’s warm, humid, and so easy to relax in there.”

“I learned everything that was covered in our lesson last period when I was in middle school. Education in the Valley of Thorns was very intensive.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The most I’ll do is give you a few hints for your assignment. I’d rather not be dragged down during our joint class.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “You look exhausted. I’ll share some tips with you on how to remain focused.”

Home Taps “I’m very good at solving both numerical and chemical equations. But there’s never a need to use cheap tricks like that when the Young Master is around. Heheh.”

“Do you have any Awakening Potions? I want to try making Silver drink an entire bucket full.”

“Master Lilia gave me this drink. He said it’s an excellent beverage that lets you take in your meat, fish, fruits, and vegetables all at once!”

“I’m not good at art, since it’s so subjective. Subjects where the solutions are very clear is more my speed.”

“Stop tugging at my clothes. I can’t appear in front of the Young Master looking indecent!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Could you recommend a book for me? I’ll try reading it tonight.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “The Young Master would never get upset over something as minor as a school assembly.”

Groovy “Hmph. Even you look befitting today.”

Home Setting “I don’t want to see the Young Master look so dejected...”

Home Transitions “As if I’d ever feel nervous at a school event of all things! Festivals in the Valley of Thorns are so much grander than this.”

“Have you seen the Young Master anywhere? I haven’t been able to reach him in a while. ...Don’t tell me he— ...Again?”

“It’s not worth having a ceremony if the Young Master isn’t participating. They should just stop it midway through.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “YOUNG MAAAASTER!! Where did you go...? Oh, perfect timing. Come look for the Young Master with me.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Grim was causing a ruckus again. I swear, I can’t believe how much of a pig he is. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Home Taps “Before coming to this academy, I spent an entire year dedicating myself to my studies. I did it because I had faith I’d be able to get into this school too.”

“No matter how alert you think you are, Master Lilia will always find a way to sneak behind you. Oh, see? Turn around.”

“I feel like I’ve gotten taller again lately. These robes might even end up being too small for me.”

“Do I look okay? Nothing’s out of place? It’s fine if I appear in front of the Young Master like this, right..? ...Oi, are you even listening to me?”

“Stop with that mumbling. If you want to say something then say it loud and clear!!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “The Young Master’s ideas are so grand. Sometimes, I can’t even begin to understand them. That’s why I admire him so much.”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Sebek’s birthday event (Mar 15 - Mar 21, 2021).

Login on Birthday “Human, have you come to give me a birthday present? I see... Thank you! I was just giving the Young Master my gratitude earlier as well. I am the luckiest man at this school!”

Unlock Card “No matter if it’s my birthday, I’m not going to abandon my duties as a guard or stop being vigilant!”

“I-I never thought I’d be able to receive a birthday blessing from the Young Master... How lucky am I!!”

Groovy “Despite being a human, you’re celebrating to make me happy... I’ve improved my opinion of you, just a little. J-Just a little!”

Home Setting “Alright! I think I can still perfectly carry out my guard duties in this outfit.”

Home Transitions “This cutlery and tableware is placed in the wrong order. Did you not know I’m left-handed? You didn’t do enough research beforehand!”

“Lilia told me that ‘a sound soul lives in a trained body.’ I must not forgo my training, even on my birthday.”

“My magic manifested at a late age. When I was little, I always wanted to be like my older brother and sister, who could magically light the candles on a cake.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’ve gone hungry all day to get ready for this party. I only had three servings for lunch!”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I-I lost again... This may be a party game, but I can’t stand to keep losing to the likes of a human! One more round!”

Home Taps “Azul told me ‘I heard you liked Magical Analysis’ and gave me a rare book on it... but I feel like he wants something big in return.”

“Riddle gave me a special horseback riding lesson. You don’t often get a chance like that. I’ll remember it as a fond birthday memory.”

“Silver, that bastard! He gave me dumbbells as a gift! That can’t mean anything but him thinking my training isn’t enough!”

“Epel gave me a fruit carving of the Young Master. It’s an incredible piece of work... but there’s no way I could bring myself to eat it!”

“I-I hear an explosion!? What’s happening!? ...Oh, you’re popping party poppers? It’s so loud! You know you’re bothering the people around you!!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Here, I went and got you ten plates of food. ...You’re good with just one? Heh! I know you’re a human, but you eat so little.”

Duo Magic Sebek: “Let me thank you for your blessings, Cater!!!” Cater: “HBD, Sebek-kins~!”

Tutorial “Follow me, human! Make sure you commit the grand sight of the Young Master to memory.”

Lv Up “Did you see that!? Look at the progress I made!”

“I’ll be able to take even more action now with this!”

“Mm. Not bad.”

Max Lv Up “Maybe now I’ve turned into a man who can gain just a little of the Young Master’s approval. ...No, I shouldn’t act conceited. I need to get rid of these thoughts and focus on keeping myself devoted. Let’s go!”

Episode Lv Up “I always viewed you as nothing but a meager human, and yet you’ve become someone I rely on so much... You’re just always surprising me.”

Magic Lv Up “This power...! Young Master! Did you see that just now!? Wait... He’s not here. Kgh. That must mean this still isn’t enough...!”

Limit Break “I need to get even bigger, smarter, and stronger to be a proper servant for the Young Master!”

Groovy “I’m feeling happy and energized! This really does feel nice. Make sure you never forget all this success I’ve made!”

Lesson Select “Human! I decided to take a class with you today. Which one do you want? Hurry up and pick.”

“What? You look so nervous. Isn’t the point of classes you’re weak in to be a challenge for you?”

“Master Lilia taught me that your classes are just another part of your training. I’m not going to slack off in any of my subjects.”

Lesson Start “Let’s give today our all!”

Lesson End “Knowledge enriches the body and soul! Let’s work hard next time too!”

Battle Start “I’ll swallow you whole!”

Battle End “This win is for our king!”

Other

Profile Quote “Don’t even think that you can come close to the great Lord Malleus Draconia, lowly human!”

January 2020 Trailer “Are you a new student too? Take utmost care not to be rude to the Young Master.”

Countdown Poster “Meager humans ought to bow down before the Young Master.”

Player Birthday Wish “What are you doing here? On your birthday, you’re supposed to eat your favorite food, sing, and celebrate. You didn’t even know that…? Very well, then. I’ll teach you how to spend your birthday the right way!”

Magic History

Good ★

“Come at me anytime!”

“I’m... not tired!”

“Humans are so shallow.”

“I learned a lot from this.”

“The Young Master is even more incredible.”

“Cat! Shut up!”

“Serve the king.”

“The Young Master will make history.”

“Silver’s asleep?”

Great ★★

“I want to get closer to the Young Master.”

“Fascinating...”

“Piece of cake!”

Perfect ★★★

“Easy.”

“I have no business with weaklings.”

“Don’t make light of me, human.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“My answer is this!”

“How old is the Headmaster...?”

“I won’t let you disturb me!”

Flying

Good ★

“It’s a beautiful morning.”

“I’m not letting Silver win.”

“I’m not scared of getting hurt.”

“I can’t turn smoothly.”

“Trust me on my speed!”

“My stomach growled.”

“I respect our coach’s stamina.”

“Take control of your problems...”

“I’m going to master this.”

Great ★★

“Oh...! Young Master!”

“I feel like jumping for joy!”

“I’m never off my guard.”

Perfect ★★★

“No one can catch up to me!”

“All right!”

“You want to challenge me?”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Headmaster, what do you need?”

“Don’t stand where I’m about to go!”

“Everyone’s so slow!”

Alchemy

Good ★

“You’ve looked miserable all morning.”

“I’m keeping an eye on Master Lilia.”

“I’m very adept.”

“Let’s do this!”

“Immortality, huh...?”

“Did I get ahead of Silver?”

“That’s a gross color...”

“I’m hungry...”

“I’m not a dog!”

“Did you read the footnotes?”

“I see.”

“Humans are so greedy.”

“Gold isn’t going to satisfy me.”

“This jewel would suit the Young Master.”

“Be quiet and take your lesson!”

Great ★★

“There’s nothing I can’t eat.”

“Please praise me!”

“You think I could fail at this level?”

“Hmph. Piece of cake.”

“Gape at the power of the Valley of Thorns!”

Perfect ★★★

“Young Master, please accept this.”

“No trouble at all.”

“This is probably how the Young Master would do it.”

“What do you think? Perfect, huh?”

“You still can’t do it?”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Stay cool... and composed.”

“No one could outshine the Young Master.”

“Hm? He’s watching me.”

“I’ll get grades that won’t tarnish our dorm’s name!”

“A perfect brew.”

#sebek zigvolt #voice lines

234 notes · View notes

bittywitches · 4 years

Note

How do you think Grayson would act when meeting your younger sibling (like toddler)?

This is such a cute concept ok I wrote this with the thought of like,, 17 year old y/n and Grayson and 6 year old sister

I think before he’d even end up meeting her he’d be so nervous? Like of course he’s excited but he has so many hopes for when he meets her and he’s scared it’s not gonna go how he’s imagining it

You guys are still so young, you both met and became friends as freshmen, and only started dating at the end of sophomore year, but you already knew how much of a baby fanatic he is. He’d mentioned how excited he was to have a kid of his own, and he was always just so fun and loveable around kids. There’s been a few times where you’d gone to the elementary school nearby to volunteer, and Grayson had become best friends with almost every kid in the class you were helping with. It was easy, the kids were naturally attracted to him, and he was just so soft and tender with them. It made your heart swell, sometimes making you think about what it’d be like to have kids of your own with him someday... but you’d of course get embarrassed as soon as the though entered your mind.

Either way, it was safe to say that you were confident that your sister Oviya and your boyfriend would get along.

He, however, was incredibly frantic on the trip over, you having to drive because you didn’t trust him to with his bundle of nerves.

“But what if she doesn’t like me?”

“For the billionth time Gray, she’s going to love you.”

“How do you know? There’s a very big chance she’s gonna hate my guts.”

“You do know she’s a six-year old girl and not a high school cheerleader, right?”

“Y/N seriously! What am I gonna do if she doesn’t like me?” He looks away from the street his eyes have been following and looks at you. “I’m literally already in love with her, she’s the cutest thing ever all the photos you’ve shown me are so adorable and I just want to hug her and be best friendsss” He whines, falling back into the car seat as he brings his hands up to rub his face. “And oh my god that photo you showed me of her in that little blue dress and tiara? The one from her birthday? UGH-” He claps a hand onto his chest and clutches his shirt, groaning. “She owns my heart babe I will be BROKEN if she doesn’t like me, do you hear me? BROKEN!”

You can’t help but try and stifle a laugh, trying to shield your giggles from him as you turn into your street.

He scoffs. “I can’t believe you find this funny.”

“I’m sorry but it is!” You shake your head. “Besides I told you already, it’s not like this is the first first time she’s meeting you, she’s talked to you on the phone before and she loved you then!”

“That doesn’t count.” He crosses his arms. “Some random person on the phone she can forget about isn’t gonna be her best friend.” He mumbles under his breath.

You laugh. “Babe, it is hard enough trying to keep that girl’s attention. The fact that you were able to keep her on the phone for like, 20 minutes, that’s enough to earn you a medal or something.”

He sighs. “I just really want her to fuckin like me.”

You look over at him, his solemn eyes staring out the window, and you can’t help but feel a bit soft for him. “God, you’re adorable.” You say, pulling into your house’s driveway. You park, turn the engine off, and twist in your seat to look at Grayson. “She’s going to adore you. So much.” You take his face and give him a quick peck on the lips, then turn around and step out of the car. “Now come oooon, I’m sure she’ll be-”

“Y/N!!!” You hear that familiar high pitched voice behind you, and you turn to see Oviya standing in the doorway, her hair in two little pigtails and the biggest grin on her face.

You sigh, smiling at her. “-waiting for you.” You finish.

Grayson steps out of the car on the other side, walking around and up to stand beside you, and the second his eyes fall on to the sweet little girl now standing on the porch in her little denim shorts and flashing sneakers, his eyes soften, the smile on his face growing so wide.

"Hey Vi, when’d you get home from school?” You shut the car door and scurry up the steps, bending down to give your sister a hug.

“Just a lil while ago.” Grayson made his way up the steps behind you. Oviya looked up at the boy, and he smiled at her, almost too giddily.

“Hi Oviya, I’m Grayson!” He crouched down next to her, so he was eye level with her. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You’ve met me already!” She exclaimed, giggling. Grayson smiled, laughing in return.

“Okay, I guess I have. But I’m happy I get to meet you in person! I love your shoes!” He looks down at them, and she grins at him.

“Thank you! Look, I can do a trick-“ she stomps both her feet on the ground one by one, making them flash pink and blue again.

Grayson gasps. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cool! Where’d you get them? You think they’d have a pair in my size?”

She bursts out laughing at that, and Grayson can’t help but stare at the way her tiny hands come up to cover her face.

You, watching all this, once again feel that familiar warm fuzzy feeling in your chest, the same one you felt when Grayson had talked with Oviya on the phone.

“Oh! Oviya, I’ve got a little surprise for you.” He stands up and slings his knapsack off of his back. You look at him questioningly. What was he up to?

Oviya’s eyes widen. “Ooh! What is it?”

He sticks his hand into his bag, then pulls it back out to reveal a colourful box around the size of one of your school binders.

“Well, Y/N told me that you really like drawing and making art so...” he hands it to Oviya, and she grabs it with wide eyes. You lean over, curious to see what it is he’s giving her, and you eyes widen as well.

“No way did you get her-“

“An art kit??!” She rejoices, her mouth agape as she runs her fingers over the pictures of all the supplies she’d find inside, ranging from pencils to crayons to markers to paints, oh and all the colours and types and papers and—

“Do you like it?” Grayson asks, crouching down again, her silence unnerving him a little bit.

“Oh my gosh yes, thank you!” She places the box on the ground before throwing her arms over his shoulders, hugging him so tight. “Thank you thank you thank you!!”

Grayson grins from ear to ear, wrapping his arms around the small girl. “Of course,” he says, then pulls away from her. “Wanna go try it out?”

“Holy crap yes!!!”

“Hey, language.” You finally speak up, still a bit mesmerized yourself at the gift.

“Sorryy,” she said hastily, picking the box up off the ground and rushing into the house, eager to start using the supplies.

Grayson gets up to follow her, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“Gray, how did you even know she wanted that kit?”

“I saw it in your camera roll, remember? When you were showing me pictures of her? You said she wanted it.”

“So you just got it for her? Gray this thing is like fifty dollars.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been saving up.”

“For what? Like six months??”

“Hey!”

“I know what your allowance is like Dolan.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does it matter? Look how happy she looks.” He peaked into the house and saw her sitting at the kitchen island, looking through the different patterned papers with stars in her eyes.

You can’t help but feel your heart triple in size. “Fuck, how are you the sweetest boy in the world?” He turns back to face you, smiling again. You return it, almost feeling like there may be tears prickling your eyes. You chuckle, cupping his face in your hands and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

“I love you.”

He grins. “Yea, I know.”

“Grayson, what’s your favourite colour?” You hear Oviya yell from inside, and Grayson pulls away from you, grabbing your hand to pull you inside the house.

“Why do you ask?”

“I wanna draw you!”

He turns to you again, covering his mouth with his hands. “She’s so fucking cute I’m gonna die.” He whispers to you, and you laugh, closing your front door behind you.

#I'm so frickin SOFT #grayson dolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #dolan twins #dad!grayson #grayson dolan fluff #anon #ask

98 notes · View notes

raviliuz · 3 years

Text

"Here comes the sun" Blaise Zabini x Theodore Nott

Muggle, retro au

@lifesucksandiwanttobeamarauder I finally translate that fanfiction, I hope you like it 🥺

The dark-skinned boy has tried to sit still from three hours already. It is incredibly hard for him, because of his amazing hyperactivity. In all honesty, sitting here as a model doesn't count to his dreams or favourites activities but he couldn't deny to Theodore's asks.

Just because of that — his bloody weakness for the older boy — he must stick up there and pose to Theodore's new painting. Blaise perfectly knows that person on that work of art won't be even similar to him. But it will be beautiful, perfect as everything that has been made by gifted hands of Theodore Nott.

There's music, playing quietly at the background, played on a gramophone, restored by Blaise himself. He gifted it to his friend as a birthday present two years ago on an incredibly warm and short night, 22th of June.

He has so many memories with that slight, passionate boy.

"Theo," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. He sounds like a dissatisfied kitten and when he doesn't notice any reaction, he repeats meowing "Theo, I'm bored."

The other boy finally pays his attention to Blaise, not his reflection on painting, which is created on a canvas (too small in Theo's opinion).

"Blaise, you really can't stand it for a while more?" Theodore asks and there is a nuance of desperation and melancholy in his voice, "I want to end it."

And Blaise has already known, he loses again. He won't be able to deny his friend the pleasure that results from looking at the painting — finished, after hours of working.

"I'll stand it, Theo" he sighs and in his mind adds 'always for you'. At this moment all he can do is begging and praying that Theodore is not able to read minds, just like some characters in their favourites comics.

"Nah, Blaise" slight boy says suddenly and leaves his paint palette and set of brushes on the cupboard, promising himself that he will wash it carefully within a few minutes when paints won't be already dry "I know you don't want to."

"It's not like that" Zabini starts to explaining himself chaotically because he doesn't want hurt Theodore's feelings, "I love watching your painting and you while you're painting. And I love that you have a passion and you're so talented. I just... It's May Day and we are sitting in your room..."

"It's alright, Blaise" Theodore interrupts his with the most beautiful, in Zabini's opinion, smile — that carefree, happy and only a little faraway one.

"We should do something and bring Hope with us to take many photos and place them in our albums with dumb yet cute captions" Theo proposes with a light laugh.

The younger, but taller, better built and more mature, of boys, stands up and brushes off invisible pollen from clothes. He reaches his hand to Theodore to help him stand up.

"Wanna go?" he proposes and even if Theo doesn't know where he agrees without a single question.

It doesn't matter where they go, it will be awesome as always if Blaise is with him.

He catches Hope and puts it on his neck. Theo loves his polaroid camera with whole his heart, even if it isn't the newest and all the better photos were made by Blaise.

Blaise is still holding Theodore's hand in his (definitely larger and rougher), like he doesn't care about rubs of paints in many different colours on Theo's hand and now, also on Blaise's one.

He pulls his friends outside and enters the garage like he is in his own house. Theodore knows what he means without words and grabs his bicycle with a big smile on his slim face.

Meanwhile, Blaise grabs his skateboard, which, only in the form of rebellion against sentiment, he did not give a name. But he perfectly knows that by his skateboard, people could see a different side of his personality, which he doesn't show often — bloody sentimentalist who loves very clichéd books or movies and constantly remembering beautiful moments, and it doesn't matter if that happens a year ago or two hours ago.

The skateboard has its best years far behind its. The picture which was printed on the underside of 'his love' (although, of course, incomparable to that of the boy just standing next to him) has almost completely faded and crumbled, peeling paint seems not so good, to put it mildly, but in Blaise's opinion, it adds the special character and charm to his skateboard. Every scratch and every cooked screw tell a story and Blaise thinks it definitely better than new skateboard — probably glamorous but without its own character.

Blaise isn't similar to Theo, not it that topic. He has never had boxes filled with various craps, which refer to many different events and happenings. He doesn't have special notebooks with tickets, a diary or millions of notes with quick sketches, created under the influence of a sudden flow of wen. He doesn't keep every notes and message on scraps of papers, which have been hand down on lessons, in hope that the teacher wouldn't see that. In first, even having a photo album was strange for Blaise. It shows, that he likes looking back at past and that feeling, which sometimes accompanies you right before falling asleep, when you remind yourself one of those pleasant situations from childhood, isn't foreign for him. It was all he was trying to defend himself against, but only for a time.

For a time when on his way stood that quite frail and nerdy boy. Theodore showed him being sentiment isn't something bad just as singing songs out loud in public places. As compensation, Blaise showed him the magic of comics and all these beautiful, charming in their area, which he discovered while taking a walk daily. Blaise pulled Theodore out of his room and dragged him away from the easel to lead him everywhere he can.

"To our place?" Theodore asks and gets on his a little too small, colourful bike. The seat creaks quietly under his mass but none of the boys pays any attention to this.

"Exactly, now ride, my carriage" Blaise screams and catches up on Theo's seat so the movement of the bicycle can drag him.

"Pff, flax" Nott giggles and Blaise find it as the most sonorous, melodic sound in the whole world.

They ride slowly through all that musty hole, also known as Torquay, or — their home. The road even if it's really old and it remembers when they as children drew chalk on a street, is not in a bad condition. A worse fate befell the road signs — some of them are smeared with sprays, and some are knocked off the ground, due to a car accident or a group of probably drunk but still strong young people.

There are many houses near the road. They are quite poor and definitely not as modern as houses in the capital. At some time, before he started taking daily walks, Blaise dreamed about living in London. Or rather, to be able to tell others that he lives in London. It's another thing which distinguishes him from Theodore — the older boy sees beauty everywhere, in everything and in everybody. Blaise envied him with this skill, for him the world has been boring or just ugly and people have been cruel sometimes.

The sun is warming their backs when they slowly ride on a well-known path. They pass Mrs Shermik, so out of courtesy from four meters away from her, they shout to the old woman joyful 'Good morning'. As they turn into a lane, which is fortunately dry as it hasn't rained much lately, Theo starts humming under his breath.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad" he looks at his friend (nearly losing control of his bike) and Blaise quickly understands what he means.

Blaise joins to his singing and adds next line:

"Take a sad song and make it better".

Someday Blaise would have worried. He was worried about what people would think, he was afraid someone would hear them. But not now. Now he doesn't care when the words flowing from the depths of memory, and when the song ends, he starts another, definitely his favourite — "Blackbird". Neither of the boys has a perfect voice, singing is definitely not their hidden talent, but that doesn't matter. And that is wonderful, isn't it?

Here Blaise can no longer skate further — the ground is too uneven, even ploughed by the tires of wheelbarrows and carts of people from the neighbouring village. The dark-skinned man rejects Theo's offer to simply get his bike's rack and chooses to run next to the boy. The basketball team and two trainings a week are finally coming in handy — thanks to this, his condition is really good and he doesn't gasp like an old man with asthma after twenty meters run. Theodore, noticing how well his best friend is doing, accelerates, forcing Zabini to run, which he accepts with a groan. Nevertheless, he catches up with the older boy and promises himself that as soon as they get there, he will get his revenge.

After five more minutes, they are a destination of their travel. The place they describe as "their", although they are well aware that they are not the only people who come here, is exactly as they remember it — beautiful.

It was Blaise who discovered them during one of his walks over three years ago. He perfectly remembered how it happened.

That day he was trying to find a rather fast but shallow brook, which he remembered from his childhood. Before Draco's move to London, they told Draco's parents that they were going to the field, but in fact, they went to the brook and walked back and forth on a tree that had fallen over the river. He remembered just as well how Draco's mother, on her way to the store, noticed they were not on the field, prompting a search. When their parents found them by the brook — wet but in unusually good moods, they were already too worried to be upset with them.

After searching for more than an hour (during which he definitely fulfilled the daily, maybe even a week, step norm, but he didn't care) he found a place from his memories, although it was difficult to recognize its. The brook had dried up completely, leaving only a faint riverbed and tree roots washed out of the ground, but the place has definitely retained its charm.

Theo drops the bicycle, leaning it hurriedly against one of the roots, and lays down on the grass, staring at the almost cloudless sky, hidden only by tree branches. Blaise, slightly out of breath, rests his hands on his knees and stays like this for a moment. When his breath normalized he comes closer to Theodore. There is a snap and a Polaroid camera gracefully named Hope spits out a photo in which the image hasn't shown up yet. Theo enthusiastically grabs a small piece of paper and starts waving it so fast that it is about to reach orbital velocity. After a while, the picture clears up the silhouette of a younger boy, who was about to lie down next to his friend. Blaise looks at the photo and asks smiling, even though he already knows the answer:

"For your or my album?"

"Of course mine," Theodore replies quickly, grinning happily, "Why do you need your own photos? They will be much more useful to me."

The dark-skinned boy can't help but messes Theodore's hair in one move of his hand. However, Theo is not annoyed by that, he reacts to it like a cat, moving closer and silently demanding further caresses, which the younger one does willingly.

They are sitting like that (or rather, Blaise is sitting and Theo's half lying on him) till the sunset. There is a flower crown on Blaise's head, made by Theo with field flowers collected by him. And of course, Theodore took a photo of Blaise in his work of art.

It's getting dark. Butterflies, which were flying around them flew away and gave way for beautiful moths and fireflies. Theodore stands up energetically and starts jumping on protruding trees' roots, chasing insects to take a photo of them.

"Theo, please be careful," Blaise says attentively but the only response is 'don't worry' screamed by Nott.

Blaise unwillingly starts remembering his childhood. Times, when he wasn't Theodore's friend and all that connected them, was the same neighbourhood, chalk and short-term relationship of their parents. Then they found that as a stupid and loathsome. Nowadays, at their seventeen's, just as weird. But they weren't friends. After all, Blaise was friends with Draco and the teacher in primary had repeated that it's better to have fewer friends but true friends. So Blaise fraternizes with Malfoy till he moved to London.

It's not that now Blaise finds it as a mistake or holds any grudge with Draco. But nowadays he thinks that it is not good to withdraw from others.

When Draco had left and moved to London, Blaise had thought they now he stayed alone but on that moment, Theodore slowly crept into his life. Nott sat next to Blaise on school basketball pitch and started reminding happy moments from times when Draco lived in Torquey.

And later he showed his painting to Blaise and dark-skinned boy couldn't believe someone his age could do something that beautiful. A week later Blaise sat down with him in the canteen and sometime later also on most of the lessons so he could distract him from learning to read their favourites comics.

Now, Blaise would imagine his life without his always laughing and only sometimes a little faraway friend.

His thoughts are interrupted by a quiet scream.

"Ouch!"

Blaise, worried, stands up imminently and run through Theo. He is curled up in a fetal position between roods of the biggest tree. Zabini hugs him tightly and Theodore accepts that willing, cuddling to his chest while holds back tears.

"Ah, Theo" Blaise whispers, still cuddling the boy in his arms, "I asked you to be careful."

"I'm sorry, Blaise" he answers, sniffing.

"Don't apologize to me, silly" Blaise couldn't stop himself from nuzzling his friend's cheek.

"But you are worrying now and you warned me that I might get hurt..."

"Shhhh" Zabini interrupts him and places his fingers on Theo's mouth to shushes him "I always worrying about you, no matter if you get hurt or not" he admits truthfully and after a few seconds of silence adds "Please, stop crying.

He stops hugging Theodore, although he wants to do it forever. Blaise squats in from of him and gently grabs his friend's head. He wipes away tears, flowing slowly on fairy (although all that time, spends under the sunlight) skin.

He wants to not cry because of sadness or pain, wants him not to have reasons for a cry.

He wants him to be always happy, even if that meant that Blaise wouldn't be on his side.

Wants, wants, wants.

But the world isn't always beautiful, even if Theodore thinks so. Sometimes the world is cruel, ugly or just totally boring. The same about people who live in it.

Do it's really important to find your refuge. A place, a person or a hobby, which will be like an escape from all evils in that world.

Blaise thought that his escape is comics. Reading them has dragged him into the world of superheroes where he could use his imagination and think about meaningless things for hours such as what superpower would he choose (flying, of course). Besides that, the world in comics is just easier. It isn't hard to differentiate who is good and who's bad. Good people fight with bad people, that's all. The Justice League cares about Gotham and saves innocent people from Joker, Deadshot or Darkseid. In the real world, it would be an unsolvable matter with billions different threads and complications so even the best detectives wouldn't be able to decide who is guilty.

Comics world is just easier.

Lately, Blaise has got to understand that the whole beauty in that world is locked in its confusions, problems and ambiguities. Because the world is beautiful, even if sometimes it's cruel or ugly.

And the one who made him understand that is his only real refuge — Theodore Nott.

He is the one who makes reading comics even better.

He is the one with who Blaise could do anything and it would be incredibly good.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to talk about 'good old times' and makes new memories to remember.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to stay forever.

Theodore Nott is the one who Blaise bestow that hot and unique feeling which, no matter what since says, comes from the heart.

And that feeling, now makes him do something, he has been dreaming about for that long. Blaise gently and unsurely grabs the head of the person, who since a year isn't only a friend for him. He delicately raises Theo's head a bit upper to look him straight into his eyes. Their lips touch slowly and gently. Both of them don't feel so confident with what's going on but they will worry about that later. Now, Blaise doesn't have the time and desire to thinks about the consequences. Not now, when he feels the structure of soft lips of his love.

When the dark-skinned boy doesn't notice any objections from the older boy, he let himself do a light, carefully move with his lips. He doesn't want to scared Theodore, knowing how delicate and artsy person he is. He would ever forgive himself hurting Theo.

If he only knew how long Theodore was waiting for it and how much he enjoys that kiss, even if Blaise's lips are rough and chapped.

Blaise gently moves away and hangs his head down, looking at too long grass. He's afraid of seeing Theodore's reaction for what he has done because he's afraid of rejection and ending that important relationship.

However, Theo, likes he doesn't see his friend insecure, giggles lightly and grabs the younger boy cheeks, turning his face to him.

"Oh, finally. How long might I wait?" Theo says with a delightful smile.

"Really. You... Me..." Blaise mutters like he doesn't know what he wants to say.

"Yeah, silly" Theo chucked and hits an end of Blaise's nose with his "You're definitely my favourite person in that universe. And every other, alternative universe too."

Blaise, still can't believe what's happening, hugs his boy and kisses him quickly. The kiss is one hundred per cent cute and totally not sultry. Because feelings as sultry and desire don't fit Theodore, even in an alternative universe where Bruce Wayne become the Devastator instead of Batman. It just does not fit.

"Yeah, and you're my fav person."

They sit in silence for a while, but it's nothing wrong. The silent can be calming and comfortable, it can say more than every word in the world.

The air is getting cooler and owls' chirps become more ominous, so finally, Blaise breaks the silence and says:

"Theo" mentioned boy turns to him and glance at Zabini, "Is your knee still hurting?"

"It's not that bad" Theo shrugs but Blaise quickly understands that it's not good either, "But can you ride the bicycle? I'll drive on its carrier."

"But what with my skateboard?" Blaise asks inconvenience.

"I'll carry it, please" Zabini's only answer is a sigh but not the irritated one. He doesn't know what would Theo had to do to irritate him.

"Alright, but please, be careful."

Blaise raises Theo's bicycle from the ground and helps the boy to climb up to the luggage carrier and then he carefully sits on its seat. Theodore holds Blaise's skateboard (which he has named against his will — Faith) with one hand and the other one is embraced around Blaise's stomach so Theo can stably stay on the carrier. Well, maybe not only because of that.

"To me?" Blaise proposes and slowly leaves their place.

Theodore automatically nods but then he understands that Blaise can't see him so he quickly says 'yes' some times.

Boys are leaving, slowly and without unnecessary haste, but that moment is different than every previous one, they have spent here. Now, they're leaving their place not as just friends.

From Theodore Nott's album:

"4th of May, 1984 —

My favourite day to remember"

#harry potter #slytherin quidditch #bxb #slytherin quidditch team #blaise x theo #blaise zabini #theodore nott #zabini x nott #mrs zabini #muggle au #non magic au #retro #retro au #slytherin #slytherins #slytherin quartet #draco malfoy

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esmeraude11 · 4 years

Text

Till All Aches Are Embers

Summary:

Elros was gone. He had chosen the Gift of Men.

His was the choice of Lúthien. He would never walk through the front door of the house she had built in Dor-Rodyn. She would never meet the woman he had married. Never get to see the children he had welcomed into his life. The grandchildren that had filled his heart with the same joy that he and his brother had given her.

Elrond was still parted from her and Elwing could only hope and pray that he would choose to sail someday.

Word Count: 5358

on ao3:

-*-*-*-

"I thought...I thought that we were going to be killed. I thought..." Elwing struggled to speak. To breathe. Tears tightened her throat. Grief clung to her as thoroughly as the sea spray to her dress each morning. "Eärendil, forgive me. Forgive me."

"I forgave you long ago, dear heart." Eärendil's voice was gentle. His hand warm as it lay between her shoulder blades. "You forgave me for my abandonment of you.”

"You did not intend to leave me. You were seeking your parents in Dor-Rodyn and aid from the Rodyn. You meant to return."

"And yet I did not. Not in time. Elwing...." Her husband's gaze was soft. His eyes filled with a familiar sadness. "It is long past time that you forgive yourself."

"Our son is dead. Our son does not know us." She could hear the rasp in her voice. The delicate rattle of air slipping from her throat as she curled into herself. Her forehead pressed against the wind-worn fabric of Eärendil's tunic. Elwing could taste the scent of wood and tar that clung to his skin. It stuck to the back of her throat. His hair, tied low and flung messily over his shoulder, was coarse with salt against the curve of her cheek. The pale golden strands caught in her fingers as she dug them into firm muscle.

The sound of the gulls crying seemed to echo her grief in the skies beyond her home.

It had been built against a cliff. The fine white limestone had gone into the creation of the house she called her own. A small settlement had sprung up around it as those of her people that could be counted among the dead had been slowly released from the Halls of Mandos and come to settle within the lands she had, in her grief, claimed.

The cliff face was home now to many small burrows and nooks that had taken shape at the mercy of her sorrow-filled songs. Many songbirds had made their homes within them. Birds that Elwing would normally say had no place in such spaces. The little creatures were drawn to her, however, and would remain by her side much as their brethren had oft remained by her grandmother’s.

She would gladly admit that the early years of her stay in the sheltered seaward cove had been filled with ready entertainment. Her songbirds had quarreled often with the native gulls of the region. Both had sought the cliff-side nooks and crannies for their nests and her mornings had been filled with the sight of birds wheeling above and below and alongside exposed stone for desired nesting spots.

Elwing could not say if her people would remain at her side in the future. Her father and mother had not yet been released from the Halls. There were few among the Sindar who believed that her great-grandfather would be re-embodied before them.

She had been told that guilt and grief weighed heavily on his spirit.

Many among the Sindar said that the King of Doriath took comfort in the company of his old friend, the King of the Ñoldor, as such she would likely remain Lady of the Sindar and Queen of Doriath-in-exile until her father's return.

Perhaps then she would know where she stood amongst her people.

Elwing did not know if her father would desire his crown and title back. Nor did she know just what he would wish to be called.

Their people, the Sindar, clung to the past. They sought assurance in old titles and names. Her father may or may not desire the same.

Elwing could not say.

She could only act as was required of her and hope for the best.

There were many who still saw her as the Princess of Doriath and the Sindar. As Dior's youngest child and King Elu's surviving heir. They had named her Queen of Doriath and Lady of Beleriand as soon as they were released from the Halls. These were the elves that had fallen in the Hidden Kingdom.

Those of her people that had fallen in the Havens in turn referred to her as Queen of the Sindar and Lady of the Havens.

The chosen name of their little realm was still under spirited debate in the public meeting hall that had been constructed at the center of their settlement. Many desired that it be named for Doriath. Others thought that the cove should be named for the Havens and the sea it bordered.

Elwing did not see them coming to a decision any time soon. She did not know if the Sindar who had slowly joined her would wish to rejoin her parents but she was grateful for their presence and continued support nevertheless.

A tall lovely tower had been built at the top of the cliff overlooking both the wide brilliantly blue sea and the steadily growing village camped within the cove.

Every morning was spent walking up a slow winding path from the base of the ridge to its top. A handsome door greeted her upon the completion of her small journey. The wood had come from the maple trees that shadowed the river that had cut a winding path through white limestone to empty into the sea and created the cove in the process. They were beautiful trees and grew tall and fragrant in the way that was pleasantly common in Avon and so rarely seen in Beleriand.

The door had been a gift from Queen Eärwen for Elwing and Eärendil.

Swans spread their great wings over a wide endless sea. A shoreline so distant as to be nonexistent. The sea churned and frothed underneath them. A tiny glimmering ship seemingly bobbed along into the distant horizon.

A great amount of detail had gone into the images construction. Pearls and shells had been polished and ground and set into wood. Delicate veins of lapis added color and definition to the water. Pale aquamarines, deep blue topazes, and dark shimmering sapphires twinkled from their settings within the fine grained wood.

It was beautiful. Perhaps a touch too ostentatious for what should be a simple external door. But such was the way of the Eldar of Dor-Rodyn.

Certainly a work of craftsmanship fit to be seen among the Noldor. But the Queen of the Ñoldor had commissioned the piece from craftsmen of renown among the people of her birth.

She had, Elwing remembered, smiled. Understanding shining within queer lamp-stone eyes. The sight altogether sweet and sad. An old bitterness had clung to the corners of her lips as she commented in a voice that echoed a song of wine-dark seas and a grieving people standing knee-deep in murky fouled waters that it was enough to have a home built by the Ñoldor.

No matter that the buildings were of Elwing's own personal design. There was no need for the entirety of Elwing's hearth and home to have been built by the hands of a people that she had only ever known terror from.

The knowledge that Eärendil had thrown himself into the task at hand had made the presence of his forefather's kin more bearable. But the Queen, his great-aunt, she had understood and Elwing had seen that understanding mirrored in the subtlest of ways.

Large white stones had been raised from a nearby quarry. The same white as the cliffs her house sat against. These became the walls of both her achingly empty manor home and her lighthouse. Its roof, and the roofs of many of the houses in the Sindar's new settlement, was made of a pretty blue stone. Near marble-like in texture and appearance. It ranged from a dark blue-black to a purer lilac in color and the Sindar had delighted in decorating their spaces with them.

These had been cut, carved, sanded, and polished by the Glinnil stonemasons that had been leant to her at Eärwen’s gentle suggestion to her father.

A vein had been discovered nearer the woods to the west within her chosen realm by the Noldor that King Olwë had sent for. A gift, he had said, for the great-grandniece he'd only just met. She could only smile and agree.

No matter that these Noldor were entirely unlike the ones that had attacked the Havens. They were men and women with the same grey-hued eye and features that carried more than a passing familiarity with the Fëanorean soldiers of her memories. She had, however, been surprised to see a fair number of green and amber eyed elves among them. To find faces as fair as the Fëanorean host with blond hair and grey eyes.

These, she had been told later, were the sons and daughters of the Minil that had intermarried with Ñoldor of Dor-Rodyn in the wake of Queen Indis’s marriage to King Finwë. They were the same as Eärendil and she remembered the easy and interested manner in which they had interacted with him. He was, regardless of his royal heritage, simply another blond-haired Ñoldo among their number.

They were the finest craftsmen among the Elves of Dor-Rodyn. The finest left among the followers of High King Finarfin. King Olwë's son-by-marriage. Eärendil's own great-granduncle. They had mined and shaped the stone for her home and the tower whose addition she had insisted upon.

A lighthouse to guide Eärendil home. To brighten the skies around her in the dark of night. To make her stay seem a touch less lonely.

Elwing could not deny that her home was too large by far.

Long hallways.

Sweeping staircases.

Echoing floors and wide windows.

All things that her caretakers could not afford to build in the Havens of Sirion. Eärendil had breathed life into her wishes and wants. His mother had been a skilled architect and had taught him as much of the arts that had constructed the White City of Beleriand before she had sailed. Seeking for her husband’s sake the land of her birth.

The house he had built her was beautiful. It would withstand a siege with an ease that the Sindar built homes within the Havens could not. Her people for all their skills could not claim the same prowess and powers that a Noldor prince could. Certainly not one of King Turgon’s line and trained in the arts that had built Gondolin. His was the mind that had constructed the Hidden City and seen it endure centuries in a war-torn land, after all.

She had not been able to quiet the smallest hope within her heart in those days that one day it would no longer be quite so large and empty. Elwing had dreamt that her uncle and cousin and their families would join her. Her sons with them.

She knew better now. Celeborn was a lord of elves far inland and beyond the shattered and sunken remains of Beleriand. Oropher was a king and had joined his people with those who called themselves the Tawarwaith. Her sons would never rejoin her.

Not together at least.

Elros was gone.

He had chosen the Gift of Men. His was the choice of Lúthien. He would never walk through the front door of the house she had built in Dor-Rodyn. She would never meet the woman he had married. Never get to see the children he had welcomed into his life. The grandchildren that had filled his heart with the same joy that he and his brother had given her.

Elrond was still parted from her and Elwing could only hope and pray that he would choose to sail someday.

There were days when she could not bring herself to return to the echoing quiet of her house at the base of the cliff. Her home was, more often than not, the Lighthouse's compact little apartments. Tight and confined. Filled with whittled bits of wood and spun threads ready for embroidering. Loose dust and wood shavings littered her workspace in small piles from countless hours spent carving and smoothing hand-sized pieces.

"By all accounts Elros was happy. He died surrounded by family near and dear to him." Eärendil's voice was hoarse now. With grief. Regret. Elwing could not discern the emotion within. But she could feel them as surely as she felt her own. His lips pressed, warm and wind-chapped, against the crown of her head and he continued. "Elrond is happy. He is married, the elves from Mithlond say, and his home is filled with laughter. The Enemy does not trouble them in the little haven that he has built for himself."

"I am glad." She felt the grief, ever present and yawning, press at the cage of her breastbone with every beat of her heart. And she was. Glad, that was. Nevertheless, she could not help the feelings that thrummed through her at the loss of her sons.

Elros had died and she had been unable to sit at his side. His had been the choice of Lúthien and he was lost to her now as surely as Lúthien was to her great-grandparents.

He had had children. Children that she would never meet. One had been named Tindómiel in the tongue of the people who had stolen him from her side. She could not forget that it was also Eärendil’s mother-tongue and the language of the Gondolindhrim that had once followed him and his mother and who must now surely follow Elrond on those distant shores. For her last living child was as much a prince of the Noldor as he was a prince of the Sindar.

Elros's decision to enshrine the dialect of the elves that had taken him from her within the culture of the kingdom he had founded was a pointed one.

It spoke of the feelings he must have had for the Fëanorians. The elves that had raised him and his brother. Men that had completed a task that should have remained with his parents not the people that had absconded with them.

But he had honored her in his only daughter's name and Eärendil in the name he had given his eldest son.

A nightingale and a jewel yet lived in the Land of Gift.

And yet... Elros had chosen to walk a path that honored the Fëanorians as well. A young and vibrant kingdom that sought knowledge and answers to all the questions that could be asked under the stars.

Perhaps it was in the nature of Men and their interactions with the Noldorin kingdom of Lindon. Elwing, however, could only compare it to that which she knew. And the Men of the Western Gift resembled the Noldor in such a heartbreaking manner that could bring nothing but grief to her heart.

He had been happy. And Elwing would never know the man that he had become.

There was some small part of her, a part that was mean and petty and grieving, that wished to lay blame upon the Sons of Fëanor for her son's decision. But...it had been his choice. None could force a child of the line of Lúthien to do anything that went against their own desires.

It would be wrong of her to deny him his choice.

Elrond had chosen the Path of the Elves.

Elros’s choice had lain with the Gift of Man.

Could she deny him his choice when Eärendil had given her his? Her choice had been her own heart’s desire and a selfish one that had allowed her to keep her husband. Had she any right to resent Elros the path he had chosen to walk?

"I am glad, Eärendil. I am glad and yet my heart weeps. And I...why do I grieve so? He was happy and that should be enough. It should be enough and yet it is not."

Why do you not weep as I do. Why- She could feel the questions bubbling up within her. They sat at the tip of her tongue and weighed heavily upon her mind.

It was terrible enough to have thought them knowing as she did that he might hear. She could not bear to speak them aloud and have them stain the air with their bitterness.

She felt his sorrow wax and wane in tandem with her own and Elwing tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss to her husband's jaw in silent apology. Eärendil’s arms tightened around her. His mouth sought hers out and he deepened the kiss for a fleeting moment.

"I do grieve, Elwing." His voice was soft and firm as he spoke into the space between their lips. "I am grateful that his life was happy in spite of all the terror and horrors of his youth. I am glad that the Fëanorians were kind to him in those by-gone days of captivity. It was never what I would have wanted and I will always grieve what was lost to us. But my heart rejoices too for Elros lived a life all his own and resides now in that unfathomable place beyond the circles of the world where all Men's spirits must go. "

"Eärendil. I-" She felt distress spark within her at his words and hastened to speak. Eärendil pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth and continued once she had quieted.

"Do not misunderstand me, my love. Some part of me will always wonder. My fëa will always ache for the fate of the Children of Man. But I do not regret my choice. For it was my own and in the end how could I choose anyone but you? She whom I had in ignorance and innocence both named 'daughter of moonlight' by the mouth of the River Sirion.

"He is gone and our grandchildren might very well walk the same path. We may never have the pleasure of meeting them and I will always mourn that. But Elwing. He was happy. He was happy and it is alright to feel as you do. For he was your son, same as mine. The manner of your grief is no greater or lesser than my own. He was our son and we had only a few short years with him. We were parted on such unhappy grounds.

“Should the Fëanorians be found repentant and remorseful of their actions and allowed re-embodiment for a chance to atone their fell deeds. Should they be able to atone for them. It will have changed nothing. For we will always be haunted by our loss and should Elrond sail for Aman, his brother will not be beside him. Elros will never again step foot into our home and we will still have lost our son when he was but a boy."

Eärendil was smiling now. His eyes bright with the light of the Silmaril that he had carried for these last centuries. He was a vision of beauty in his sorrow and tears clung to golden eyelashes like dew as he met her gaze.

But there was a tentative joy shining within the Mariner. A strength that bolstered his shoulders in the wake of his grief. Eärendil stood before her. Tall and proud. An Elven prince as beautiful as any of the lost kings and princes of Beleriand. Strong and unbent as his father Tuor was.

Elwing wavered there. Her eyes fixed upon his. Her hands pressed firmly against skin-warmed cloth.

"Elros was happy." It was as much a reminder to herself as it was a statement of fact. She returned his smile and sighed softly into the gentle breeze her grief had stirred. "I am glad. Truly. And I pray that his children and their children will have blessed lives in the Land of Gift, his Númenor, should that in-turn be their choice. But I shall always wonder." Here her smile turned bleak and Elwing looked away.

Her husband's gaze softened. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple and hummed low in his throat.

"Such is the fate of the Peredhil, I suspect." We who linger on these shores will always struggle with the fates of those who have chosen another path. His voice echoed clearly within her mind and Elwing allowed herself to take comfort in the gentle touch of his mind against her own.

Eärendil had come about his gift with osanwë naturally for all that he was one of the few members of his family outside of the House of Finarfin to do so. It had become stronger in the years that had followed his decision to plight his troth in marriage to her.

The power of the Silmaril had strengthened his reach all the further. As had her own influence upon his mind and fëa.

It was a comfort knowing that she would never truly be alone now.

Elwing could always reach out and know that Eärendil would be there in mind if not in body. Eärendil himself often made use of the unusual strength of their bond to share glimpses of sights that only he and his crew could see as Vingilot sailed across the star-strewn heavens above Ennor.

"He was a king." She tilted her chin up and tracked the movement of Anor far above them. The fruit of Galadlóriel sat heavy and golden-red in the center of a cornflower-blue sky. "He ruled a land that was fair and free."

"His mother was a queen." Eärendil's voice filled with a gentle warmth. Grief fading into the background as he pressed a calloused palm against the small of her back. "She is the lady of a people fair and free."

She smiled at that and met his unflinching gaze.

"Is she?"

Eärendil grinned, an impish curve touching his lips as he leant forward a touch.

"She is. A white-clad lady unrivaled by any in might or in beauty. She is lovelier than even the silver flower itself. A fair compliment, I should say, for all know that mariners love none more than Ithil.” Eärendil paused. A smile tugging at his lips as he peered down at her. “She is the fairest maid in all the land and fairer yet for she is my wife."

Eärendil’s mouth met hers in a gentle kiss and she could not help the smile that graced her lips. His eyes still red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears, her husband dragged his fingertips up the knobs of her spine. His lashes were long and beautiful. They glimmered golden underneath Anor’s light and she sighed once more.

It, unfortunately, only encouraged him.

"Elrond is a lord." Elwing leaned into his touch and pressed her forehead against his. A smile tugging reluctantly at her lips as she stared into her husband's eyes.

"A fair lord indeed for he is his mother’s son!" Eärendil laughed now. His voice still tight with grief but a balm to her soul nonetheless. His eyes crinkled at the corners in well-trodden lines as he smiled. Eärendil’s eyes, normally a lovely blue-tinged grey, gleamed like brightest silver in his happiness. He pressed a chaste kiss against her lips as he pulled her closer to himself. As though they were not already so close as to be one person.

"His father is fairer yet for the Mariner-Prince is my husband." Elwing faltered then in the midst of this sweet moment. Her joy wavering as she stared up at the man before her. "I miss him. I miss them both."

Eärendil's mouth twisted unhappily and he sighed. His hold tightened around her the moment her own regret curled within her mind and he kissed her once more. As much a gentle rebuke as it was a comforting gesture.

"I know. I miss them as well. But there's naught we can do about it now. Elrond may yet join us here. His children with him should he have any in Endor. We will be reunited someday and that day will be filled with all the tears and joys of ages spent apart." Her husband’s fingers combed through the wispy curls at her nape and Elwing could hear the smile in his voice as he turned away. His face tilted towards the East. "I suspect that these feelings will never fade. But I pray that we will find some measure of happiness here."

"I am afraid." Afraid of.... Elwing trailed off within her own mind. And Eärendil's eyes filled with a quiet understanding.

"Afraid of replacing them?" Do you truly think that our sons would begrudge us our happiness? That they would resent the possibility of siblings in any measure? His voice was filled with a gentle warmth. The sound akin to the cresting waves that had once washed clean the sides of his ship. The taste of starlight and cold darkness echoing within the mental vowels of his words.

"Would they see it as such?"

"We could never replace one child with another." Eärendil’s voice deepened and hardened as his brows wrinkled in a rare show of displeasure. "Nor would I wish it." I do not think they would see it as such, no.

A song of rumbling skies and churning waters rang bright as bells in his voice to her ears. There was a light so bright and fierce in his eyes that Elwing could not help but wonder if this was how his grandfather, noble and doomed Turgon, had looked in his final moments in fair Gondolin when confronted with the destruction of that which he held dear.

She could not bear to look away. She had rarely seen Eärendil so overtaken with passion and it was as captivating a sight now as it had been then.

"One day Elrond will return to us. And..."

"Perhaps he will come to Aman and find a bright and happy home. One filled with laughter and moonlit smiles rather than grief and a cloying sadness."

A vision teased at the edges of her mind. Elwing could not say if it was touched with foresight for it was a nebulous gift and difficult to discern at the best of times even for one such as she. It was, nonetheless, a beautiful dream.

Elrond stood in the Lighthouse’s doorway. He was tall and fair. She could have easily mistaken him for herself if not for his height and the breadth of his shoulders. Those were his father’s.

Elwing could see hints of her husband in the man before her. His long dark hair was braided and bound in the manner of the princes of the Noldor, however. While Eärendil was likely to keep his hair tied in a simple mariner’s tail or leave it unbound and unadorned in the manner of the Sindar.

Her son’s eyes were filled with emotions she could not name as they stared at her. Ithil's soothing white light washing over her entryway and casting shadows into deep contrast.

A woman, silver-haired and lovely and oddly familiar, at his side dressed in the colors that she had come to recognize as belonging to the High King of the Ñoldor in Tirion. Though her gown resembled the cut that Queen Eärwen tended to favor rather than the high fashions of the City of the Ñoldor. A ring sat on her finger. Delicate silver and sturdy mithril to match the ring on Elrond's left hand. Both of such exquisite quality that they could only be Noldorin in nature.

Eärendil stood before them. A smile tugging at his lips. His eyes were bright with happiness and a child sat upon her husband's strong shoulders. Dark hair tumbling over narrow shoulders as they peered down at Elrond and the stranger.

She could not say if the child was male or female. But she could see herself in their face. Melian's influence lingering in yet another child. In the shape of their face, the color of their hair, and the light in their eyes.

But they had Eärendil’s beautiful wind-spun curls. His smiling mouth and laughing eyes. They had Elrond’s unfaltering gaze and she could Elros’s own sweetness in the child.

The vision was a lovely thing. It filled her with hope.

"Perhaps." Elwing could not help the smile that tugged at her lips then. Nor could she stop herself from pulling Eärendil into a kiss this time.

Her father might return someday. Her mother and brothers as well. Perhaps not. Elwing would always mourn what had been lost. But she would hope for the future too.

Elros was lost to her. To them. But Elrond would join them in the Uttermost West some day in the distant future.

Elwing would always grieve and she was right to do so. As her husband was in his hope and unfailing belief.

But... there was a glimmer of light in the darkness.

She would be happy someday.

Maybe not now and not always. But she would be. And there might yet be fair voices and sweet faces tumbling about within the wide echoing halls of her home at the base of the cliff.

Laughter would someday fill the still air of the lighthouse and lift stone dust and wood shavings in gentle whorls and eddies of joy.

Eärendil was here and they would never be parted.

None would invade their home now for a fair blood-soaked jewel.

Eärendil would come and go but he would always return in the end. She need not fear him lost to the sea. The Silmaril would light his way and the song her heart sang would always lead him home.

Elwing reached up and with gentle hands cupped her husband's face. She met his gaze and smiled with all the sweetness his love and her own happiness could muster.

I love you. Her words echoed the song of the nightingales and the gentle rustling of river-reeds swaying in a warming breeze.

Eärendil's mouth softened into a crooked smile. The silver of his eyes fading into a gentler cleaner shade of blue all too reminiscent of the waters that surrounded their home.

"And I, you."

They were here. They would wait. She could be content with that. Happiness would come in the future and might deem itself ready to stay one day.

The present was bleak but a light gleamed in the distance. It whispered of long-awaited reunions. Elwing could only hope that they would one day be reunited with Elros but she would look forward to the day that Elrond came westwards on a grey swan-necked ship.

She had waited so long already…

She could wait as long as was needed. So long as she had Eärendil at her side. Elwing turned in her husband’s arms and pressed herself against his side. Her eyes sought the distant horizon where the sky met the sea and she breathed a gentle sigh of contentment.

"We will be here."

Always. A promise within his voice and she could feel the determination that unfurled within him.

They would wait as long as it took for there was no hurry. She would take comfort in that and she suspected that Eärendil would as well.

That was alright.

Elwing would shoulder his burdens as readily as he did hers.

It was no true hardship.

The Enemy was defeated and though the Free Peoples of Ennor yet fought his lieutenant the greatest of threats had been beaten and locked away. The monsters forged of his corruption, gone with him. Eärendil had slain the Great Dragon himself. Elrond might still die in the Hither Shores but it was no longer as certain a fate. He might choose to sail rather than be forced to return through the Halls.

She could wait.

She would wait for his return.

The future awaited them all and she would meet it with eyes turned always to the East and a mind in-tune with her husband's.

Elwing would be the first at the docks of the Swanhaven to welcome her son to Dor-Rodyn. But she would graciously accept second-best only to Eärendil.

Elrond would come and their home would no longer be quite so empty.

Yes. Elwing would await that day eagerly with her heart in her throat and her eyes fixed upon the clear blue skies and the trembling blue waters of the sea by her home.

#My Fic #Elwing #Eärendil #Elros #Elrond #The Silmarillion #Tolkien #Okay #I am Done #I can sleep now #It is 3 am and I have work in seven hours #But this fic is done #god #I love Elwing and Eärendil so much #but they would not shut up #and it turned my editing session into another writing one

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