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dear-mrs-otome · 2 years

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Holy Knight - Court of Darkness (Knight)

Fandom: Court of Darkness/CoD Warnings: None, other than vague spoilers for Knight's Main Story Summary: 2k words of Knight fluff I wrote for a Secret Santa exchange on Discord - figured I'd finally post it since it's his birthday today even if it is a little out of season. If you like masquerade balls and mistletoe snogs, this fic is for you <3

(NOTE: THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR AN MC NAMED 'ANGEL')

Holy Night had come at last.

You glance once more around the crowded hall, the glissandos of a waltz rising to curl about the high rafters overhead, echoing the swirl of dancers on the polished marble floor. They were a gauzy, colorful riot of fantastical beasts and figures - masks firmly affixed on faces, some even in full costume, all in deference to the masquerade that the Headmaster had abruptly declared this year’s event to be.

Not you, though. No dancing for you, at least. The costume part you had down, dressed in a brilliant red gown that shifted like flames and a gilded half-mask complete with tiny devil horns. A play on your name that had amused Sherry to no end when the idea had occurred to her, and she’d spent the better part of two days giggling along with you over the outfit as you both worked on the spells to craft it.

You’d been excited too…but that excitement had faded as the first sets of dances had begun and your dance card remained empty. As you scanned the crowd from the sidelines alone, the stem of your glass clutched tightly in your fingers, and searched in vain for a particular diminutive blond.

“He’s not coming…” Sherry had ambushed you shortly after walking in with the disappointing news, taking your hands in hers and squeezing them consolingly. “Something came up, Roy told me, and even Toa isn’t able to make it tonight.”

“Duty is duty.” The smile you plastered on felt thin and scraped on, but you held it up. “And it’s not as if we were supposed to attend together.”

That would have required you coming clean with your feelings, and that had been the last thing you wanted. Unwilling to take any chances when it came to upsetting the delicate balance of your friendship with Knight - your rock ever since ending up in this foreign, unfamiliar land.

“Are you not dancing?”

The words startle you out of your cup and you lower it, nearly choking on the sip you’d taken as you find a man standing before you. An unfamiliar man, for despite the feathered eagle-like half-mask he wears you’re sure you’d remember a figure as striking as this - tall and trim and broad-shouldered, finery cut in such a way it was impossible to miss the well-hewn muscles defined by fabric.

Eyes an almost painfully bright blue peer down at you through the furrowed hawk’s cutout, and his fair hair fading to an equally bright azure at the ends is pulled back in a neat queue. For half a moment the ridiculous notion that he shared Knight’s exact same coloring crossed your mind, before you dismiss it.

This man had a good eight or nine inches on your dear Knight…not to mention the brawn.

His expectant silence suddenly reminded you that you hadn’t answered him at all yet, and you scramble for a reply. “No, no, I…was hoping someone in particular would show up but it seems they weren’t able to make it.”

You wonder if the disappointment you’d tried to hide still managed to slip its way into your voice, when he cants his head slightly and studies you. “Who might that have been? Perhaps I know what became of him. This school isn’t all that large, after all.”

But you only shake your head. “I’ll only say that he’s a fellow countryman of yours. Any more and…” You trail off, not sure how to finish that exactly, but he seems to read your meaning in the way your cheeks flame. Cursedly exposed under the edges of your mask.

“Ah. So that’s how it is.” A flash of something akin to a frown tugs at his lips slightly, before he smooths it away. “Seems a shame to come all this way, dressed up, and not dance at least once though, doesn’t it?”

You had no counter to offer him to that, only a rueful smile, and are not exactly surprised when he extends a hand in your direction, clad in crisp white glove. “Fancy a turn about the floor, then, if your dance card is open?”

There was no compelling reason to turn him down at this point, you figured. It was clear that Knight had been irrevocably held up, and no one else had dared brave your gloomy little corner to ask. And so you set your drink aside on one of the many floating trays, and slipped your hand into his.

He guides you to the floor, just as the strains of the prior song draw to a close, and you step into an empty space between couples. His other hand curling around your waist as you take up positions, hesitant at first before settling firmly.

“May I at least know the name of the gentleman whose toes I am sure to step on?” you only half joke. “I’ve never really done this before outside of…a few tries practicing.” Your mind wanders back to the hidden study room and Knight’s offer to show you a few steps that he’d learned over the years when you admitted your ignorance. The empty tables and flickering fireplace and the two of you circling to unheard music.

But this was nothing the same. You have to tip your head far up to meet this man’s eyes - though they are no less fixed upon yours than Knight’s focused stare had been. “I s’pose you can call me…Gryphon.”

“Oh, so we’re to be coy then are we?” You laugh a bit, tickled. It is a masquerade, after all, you reason. “Then you may call me Gamine.”

That blue, blue gaze holds yours, unblinking. “A mischief maker? How fitting, for a fallen angel.”

Was it only your imagination that there had been an extra inflection on his last word? You shake it aside as the music strikes up, the gradual soaring of strings grounded by basso, and there is no more room left for thought as he pulls you into step. Only a whirlwind of sensations - the firm strength of his grip on the dip of your waist, the steady hand clasped around yours. The faint heady scent of his cologne, somehow both familiar and not. Frustratingly so, almost like the man himself.

He was no virtuoso but he was capable all the same, holding you easily when a complicated turn tripped you up and setting you back on your feet. His measured presence having the opposite effect on your heart, which tumbled over itself traitorously as your dance went on…skipping a beat entirely every time you steal a glance up only to find his eyes ever locked on yours. As you feel the faint wash of his breath warm over your cheek and ear as he bends in, talking over the swell of conversation that picked up in the silence as the musicians excused themselves for a break.

“You look flushed. Would you care to step outside for some fresh air?”

Breathless as you still are, the most you trust yourself with is a nod, and Gryphon weaves the both of you a path through the crowds towards the balcony doors, never relinquishing your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow even when you both step out into the cool night air.

It’s not quite the same as Christmas back home, you muse, as you turn to look through the wall of brightly-lit windows at the twinkling lights and evergreen swags decorating the hall. But it’s close, close enough to bring you a bittersweet pang of nostalgia.

“Something wrong?” Gryphon asks, and you realize you must have let it show on your face.

“No, no. It’s just…this makes me think of home, is all.”

“Do you find yourself homesick?”

“Not particularly. There was a time when all I could think of was going home, but that’s changed. I’ve met people…” Or person, singular, your thoughts unhelpfully supply. “I would miss them terribly if I left.”

“Ah.” He fidgets, seeming almost uncomfortable, and something like a shadow seems to darken his gaze for a moment. Or perhaps it’s just the cant of his mask darkening them. “The person you were hoping would show up at the ball, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” you hedged. But you knew you were fooling neither of you.

Gryphon looks away then, almost sulkily, and makes a small noise of frustration low in his throat.

A growling, wolfish sort of huff that you knew, oh so very well.

“Knight?” The question was out before you could reel it back in, spoken without thought even as the rational part of your brain told you this couldn’t possibly be Knight….even as the irrational part of your brain told you that this was Saligia, and stranger things had happened.

His startled jump is all the confirmation you need, and you take advantage of his moment of shock to reach up and slip the mask from his face, exposing the oh-so-familiar sapphire of his gaze.

It was Knight but it wasn’t. His jaw far more squared, features more chiseled - as if all traces of cherubic softness that defined his usual good looks had been sculpted away. The Knight you knew and loved was handsome in a precious, puckish way.

This man is downright stunning.

“What? Who? How?” You stop yourself just short of finishing out the five W’s and stare at him blankly. “You are Knight, aren’t you.”

His gaze darts about, meeting yours only to shift away again at your question turned statement. “Many an odd thing happens on Holy Night.”

“I think this -” You rake your gaze up and down his new, towering form, albeit appreciatively. “Is a bit more than ‘odd’.”

He shrugs helplessly, a faint dusting of pink on his cheekbones. “Tis all the explanation I’ve got. I don’t know any more than you do really.”

An awkward silence falls between you as a million questions tumble through your mind. And when you glance over at Knight again, it was to see his attention focused intently on something over your head.

A sprig of green with white berries hanging from the veranda roof. And looking closer you see them dotted all along the roofline amongst the festive greenery. Either a school committee member’s sly doing or a prank perpetuated by the headmaster, they both seemed equally possible.

“Mistletoe…Are there any traditions about it here?” you ask. It was a scramble for time, because it was obvious from the placement of them this was deliberate.

“It’s bad luck to stand under it and not receive a kiss, as long as there are berries left. You pluck one off for each.” Knight swallows thickly, and the banked heat in his eyes has you rooted to the spot as he leans in, hands carefully coming to rest on your shoulders as his lips hover just above yours. So close you can feel them move as he murmurs. “May I?”

You get only the first fraction of a nod out before his mouth brushes yours - almost clumsily at first, enough to make you wonder if this is his first kiss, before something seems to click. His palms smoothing down, one coming to rest in the center of your back and press you closer while the other finds the flare of your hip and pulls. A needy, desperate strength in the way he fits you flush together just as his tongue finds the seam of your lips and parts them, dipping inside to meet your own. A yearning in the way he devours you, like a feast so long off limits. Only seen, never sampled.

And when he makes a greedy sound, deep in his chest, almost a snarl - it rumbles through you like the prequel to a landslide. Stealing the strength from your knees and leaving you wilting, clinging to him.

He finally, mercifully, breaks away far enough to gaze into your eyes, his own brilliant and feverish above cheeks flushed. His breath little more than a ragged pant. Something huge and shattering in his stare as he starts to step back. “I shouldn’t have...I mean…Dragon’s Teeth.” Swearing, he abruptly lets you go and you almost stumble, still sapped from that searing kiss. “You were waiting for someone and…”

Dismay turns to relief, as you realize his mistake. “Knight. Knight. I was waiting for you.”

The look on his face was priceless, eyes flown wide and jaw dropping. “Me? But I…I was sure you meant Toa, and -”

Taking pity on his faltering, you cut him off with another brief kiss, and pull back only long enough to reach up and pull one of the small white berries from the sprig of mistletoe overhead, shooting him a cheeky grin. “Happy Holy Night, Knight. There’s a whole row of these we can work through.”

His only answer is to reach for you again…and it wasn’t long at all before counting berries was the last thought on either of your minds.

#court of darkness #court of darkness knight #cod knight #my writing #nothing serious here but wanted to do something for the birthday boy #he's the sweetest

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

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Helios- A Character Study

I have always been fascinated by Helios so I’m especially excited about this post! If there’s any other additional information you would like to add, ask, or discuss, feel free to send an ask or a post so I can adjust and clarify for you. But before that, I have other things I want to add that are important regarding my blog- I will be expanding and analysing other characters in MLQC, so not to worry Victor, Kiro and Lucien (and Shaw, Eli?, Savin?) stans! I has't not hath left thee! In addition, before every analysis/study that I do, I will post a hint (such a quote) that will foreshadow the upcoming character/topic I will be covering. I know it’s not necessary and literally nobody does it but this is great fun for me so I also want to try to make it fun for you guys to approach my blog and my work! This is a spoiler buffet. Please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled! This is probably the longest post ever on my blog so enjoy :)

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” -The Dark Knight

Who is Helios?

??: Do you know what Helios means? The mocking in his face had returned. He suddenly came close and placed his hand on the window behind me. I was imprisoned in his arms and couldn’t move. His eyes drilled into my own. I felt that if I showed even the smallest hint of discomfort or fear, he would use that as an excuse to push me away. MC: Helios is the sun god from Greek mythology- ??: I don’t like that name.

Helios is the God of the Sun, sight and a guardian of oaths. He is seen to be riding a golden chariot to bring the sun across the skies each day from east (where the sun rises) to west (where the sun sets).

Kiro has lots and lots and lots of sun, light, dark and shadow imagery attached to him. Kiro is noted to be everyone’s sun, especially for MC and vice versa as she’s noted to be the one to chase the darkness away with Kiro following through. When he has those stage moments as his idol identity, it’s expected for him to be the guiding light (especially for his fans, the Kirophiles)- “the sun” and “hope” as to what “Kiro” represents, without any impurities associated with that persona. Which is ironic for Helios, who dressed mostly in black without the blonde hair, to have that same name as the God of the Sun working in BLACK SWAN- the organisation with the name literally having “black” in it as well.

“If Kiro is this exuberance and this life, Helios is the opposite of that. It’s what if we took someone who stopped finding reasons to be happy, who stopped finding a lot of things to be passionate about and was just trying to get on day by day- they react to the things that happen to them, rather than going out to look for adventure. Helios lacks a lot of emotion that Kiro has.” -Sean Chiplock, Kiro’s VA

Kiro and Helios

“If I had a dark side… I should hide it from others, right…? Can I really be imperfect?”

There had been a lot of discussion around Helios in relation to his transformation, whether he was acting and what Kiro’s connection with BLACK SWAN is.

To clarify, yes- Kiro is Helios. Helios is Kiro. Just like how Kiro admitted to MC that he’s also the hacker KEY. Helios is just one of the personas that Kiro has (which I will expand on in a future post). This, however, does not hinder negatively on Kiro’s personality, but introduces us to another side of him, one that shows effective in-depth characterisation. Especially when we first view him as the cheerful idol with the power to passively attract others. Kiro first gave off the certain impression to Sean Chiplock that you “don’t take off the calm and quiet person, because you don’t want to see the other side of them”.

Kiro and Helios, which one was the real him? Neither? Or both? -Clinic Date

Before MC has her first encounter with Helios, we have to look more into Kiro’s background and childhood.

Kiro was experimented on as a kid. He didn’t know his name, his birthday or where he came from. Through the experiments of genetic modification, he obtained his evol. Only when MC and the original KEY came to him, did he really strive to fulfil his sense of purpose of “we shall stand in darkness as we defend the light”, and also to protect MC back. His mentor used to be the original Helios, one of the twelve-ranking positions in BLACK SWAN, but went missing when Kiro was 15. Been given the name Kiro, using his idol identity, accepted this as Helios and as of the leader of BLACK SWAN to rid Leto- the true evil of the Season 1 timeline.

It is evident that he does genuinely care about his fans, his career and music despite all of this. This aspect of him is very much true (we see that he exposes a person scamming his fans in Chapter 3 and that in his various dates he dedicates his work to comforting his fans in their everyday lives). However, with this much love and support from everyone with very few knowing his true intentions and darker past, it is easy to “trip up” upon these identities, in a way that he would feel so lonely (as I reiterate what I said above) that everyone would think he’s the perfect man (not saying he isn’t because we all know he is!) without any troubles or experiencing difficulties climbing up the ranks to be where he is now- especially with his evol being charm and control. He would wonder if it’s really him or his evol making people act this way towards him (why he has this much love and attention).

In reality, every teacher who has met him adored him very much. But because of this, Kiro always remained in fear. From the beginning to the end, he had felt that the love and care from others was akin to smoke - surging at first, but from thereafter, dissipates gradually. -CN Stunning Young Idol Rumours and Secrets

He’s like a little sun with no dark spots at all. No wonder people say people say he has a super power. He seems to be loved by everybody… -Chapter 3-1

“A lot of people adore me, but only when I’m doing my thing on stage. They wouldn’t want to see me now...” -Visiting Hours Date

It would be incredibly hard for him to keep this standard and uphold these burdens with his identity as Helios and KEY as well- where everyone would believe those personas of him to be the “vice”- the “evil”, in morality play. Because when the people who love you only know and love this side of you, what becomes of you when you lose it all?

Superstar Kiro was a little angel who received the admiration and respect of thousands and thousands of fans. What the hacker KEY sounded like was someone with malicious intentions.

Kiro didn’t know which one of his identities was more famous. Though of course, nobody would correlate these two polar-opposite identities together. -CN Heavens Home for Children Rumours and Secrets

He always looked so carefree in front of people, smiling and laughing. But when he was alone in the corner, he always looked so solemn and tired. Countless times, Savin had wanted to talk to Kiro about his work, life and feelings but with just a few words, Kiro would always put him to ease. -That Boy Makes Me Worry Rumours and Secrets

However, behind his brilliant smile, I could occasionally feel something different. It was like paper that couldn't be penetrated. After all, he was a superstar. Ordinary people like us wouldn't understand their world, they must have one or two faces of their own behind the screen. -Secret Base Rumours and Secrets

In the makeup room, sitting on the sofa, Kiro had lost some shine he had under the spotlight and looked a little bit exhausted. -Confession Date

In a way, Kiro still staying so pure and happy when others are around is because he doesn’t want people to suffer like he did. He had an extremely rough time when he was young, but his beliefs, light and hope that MC gave him allowed him to fight for better days.

I then thought about the superstar Kiro many years later, who was always shining and effortlessly charming. This made me really sentimental. How many things must he have been through to become strong enough to bring light to other people? -Echoes of Time: Parisian Salon

She looked so pretty when she smiled, and she also had a father who loved her dearly. She was definitely… someone who deserved to live the most. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

His dazzling smile conceals something underneath, just like how the dazzling sun shrouds darkness underneath. Hidden in the depths of his own secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth. Just as how everyone thinks of him as a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him, able to pierce through him completely, with rays of light refracting onto the floor. Actually, since a very long time ago, he no longer was a youth… But now, for her sake, he’s willing to become a youth again. -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

The thing I like most about you is that you never admit defeat and you always stay positive. Every time I see you it's like you’re this brilliant sun and I feel charged of energy. Maybe all the lonely times I’ve been through... was so that I could meet you. -Confession Date

When they were younger, they were together as test subjects for evol. MC promised him donuts. He gave her a stuffed teddy bear. Kiro tried to help MC escape but they got caught and separated. They had spent quite some time together, so Kiro would be able to recognise MC once they had met again. Kiro had to replace another child for a top experiment, and the workers thought he’d die anyway as he was too weak. But still, he had survived and became the first and only successful subject. MC showed him that there was kindness- light- that still existed in the darkest of places. And in the darkest parts of his heart, there was MC to light those areas up for him :)

“Look, this world is so beautiful, and you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” But till now, he has yet to find her. But he remembers her eyes. And one day, he will find her within a vast sea of people.

Kiro remains speechless- quietly listening to the little girl speak. The little girl struggles to pull on his hand. Their fingers interlock together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her perseverant brown eyes, looking at how the corners of her lips turn upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his own lips from her. It’s the first smile to have appeared on his face. “This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the airport, staring directly at the sun. “I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage- I’ll give them to you! And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!” -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

Helio’s Transformation

“Because only you can awaken me from darkness, no matter when.”

When Kiro transforms to Helios, it mainly affects his physical appearance. His hair grows longer and changes to colour, and his black (and super cool) NIRVANA tattoo appears. When he is weak, the tattoo fades (seen in Clinic Date.)

Nirvana- a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism.

I looked at his silver hair. It looked very natural with no signs of hair dye. In the serene moonlight, it was very beautiful. It wasn’t dyed, and it didn’t look like it turned silver because of an illness or something. -Chapter 17

Helios’s ring also plays part of his transformation. This is ultimately connected to BLACK CABIN and the 1908′s White House Explosion- when evol was born. From this high-dimensional space, Kiro is able to take on as Helios- who also known to be BS’s first generation of god. He can change upon his will, and influences from BLACK CABIN/QUEEN can cause him to lose control.

The golden hair mixed with the bright silver. He raised his finger, and the silver ring flashed. He muttered quietly, as if speaking to the ring and to himself. -Behind The Curtain Part 6: After Returning

Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating his silver hair with a golden glow for an instant. He buried his face in his right elbow, and large beads of sweat formed on his brow, as if a kind of uncanny transformation was occurring. “NOT NOW!!!” He howled hoarsely, his eyes now golden in the darkness. Residual power inside the Quarantine zone appeared to be affecting him. Violent forces jolted in the tiny space, and coursed through his obsidian ring. -Night Watchman Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 14

He turned and looked at me, his face a pallid white. His smile was still gentle. Suddenly, I felt intensely uneasy.

MC: “We’re going in, right?”

Kiro didn’t answer, his eyes intent on me gleamed with a flash of golden light above. When I looked carefully, I discovered his eyes turned into this exquisite gold like pure amber, or crystallised time.

Kiro: “I command you…”

I have never heard him sound like this before. Stiff, stern and solemn.

“All within my range of control belongs to me. Now walk onto the rooftop, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in… including me... Don’t be afraid. You’ll be okay. I said before, I will definitely succeed this time. I will always protect you.”

In saying this, he believes that his own sacrifices are necessary, no matter what the situation is. Kiro is willing to dim or even smother his own light and sun for MC to be safe and happy.

A black figure suspended in the air behind Kiro, just like scythe-toting Death himself… I seemed to see a golden-winged bird fly by, like a ray of light crossing the sky, leaving a temporary light trail in my vision.

“Death”, “golden-winged bird”, and “light”.

This sentence was highlighted in the chapters’ outline from the chapter contents. This implies the symbolism of the phoenix bird- the mythical bird that rises from the ashes and is reborn again. Kiro was captured by BLACK SWAN as punishment and had undergone modification- and was resurrected as Helios.

Chapter 17

He was standing in front of me. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but I could see the sharpness of his eyes and eyebrows. He took the notebook away from my hands before I could finish my sentence.

As MC gets tied to the table, flashbacks from suppressed memories emerge. We see Kiro and MC together being test subjects. (Fun fact- Kiro and MC’s blood type is O!)

White walls. A deserted lab. A cold med table. And a blond boy with agony in his face. Next to him lay a brown-haired girl who was unconscious. …Was that me? I looked at the blood pouring out from the IV. Tears came from my eyes. Kiro… Our lives were connected long before. But where are you now?

She finally realises that Kiro was that boy from the orphanage.

AND I JUST REALISED SOMETHING. HAS HELIOS NEVER OUTRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT HE’S NOT KIRO? LIKE HE NEVER SAID “NO”??

MC: Are you really not Kiro?

??: How long are you going to keep calling me by that wrong name?

(Yes, it’s technically the wrong name because right now he’s called Helios but he’s also technically still Kiro!)

He didn’t sound particularly annoyed, but I felt saddened.

MC: I…

I looked at his face. Every line, feature- they resembled Kiro, but at the same time wasn’t.

MC: I’m sorry… I must be wrong…

I hung my head low. His face may resemble him, but his expressions were so unlike Kiro and I didn’t want to see that.

But my intuition told me that my hunch was not wrong. If that was correct, then one of my paths was already sealed.

Helios: What makes you think that I wouldn’t? You already know where I’m from. Why are you being so naïve? I shook my head. MC: Kiro wouldn’t do this to me… An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes.

Poor Kiro, having to pretend to not know MC and act so cold towards her. It must have been incredibly hard and painful for the both of them. Please just LET THEM BE TOGETHER.

Kiro isn’t risking MC see this darker side of him. He truly doubted if anybody would accept him as Helios, because he was just so used it before as an idol having to act so perfect on screen, showing everybody what they wanted to see.

“MC. Step a meter away from him, and close your eyes.

The golden flashes in his pupils were the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

“I command you to forget what just happened. And I command you to forget about me. Remember, I’m just Helios.”

My memories were being erased bit by bit. Kiro was fading from my sight. His smiles, his eyes, his warmth… all of them became vague like a fog and disappeared. I tried my best to hold onto them, but it was all in useless.

Kiro… Even the name I tried to hold on till last was wrenched away from me. He watched silently as MC closed her eyes and blacked out in his arms.

“I’m sorry…”

He apologised again quietly. His eyes that once held warmth and brightness were again now filled with shadows.

“I will find the truth that you’re looking for. I don’t want you to bear that heavy burden. I’ll come back to you some day, but not today. Don’t remember my dark sides. In your eyes, I will always remain Kiro to you. After I take care of everything, things can go back the way they were between us. This time, I’ll make sure that you don’t have to wait long.”

“He looked a lot like Kiro. But it wasn’t him.”

In my palm was a small candy glistening in the sunlight. On impulse I unwrapped the paper and put it in my mouth.

MC: Apple flavour…

It somehow crossed my mind that it was Kiro’s type of flavour.

He wants MC to still have faith in him, and to trust in his abilities to protect her, as the candy is a motif for their relationship and exchange towards each other. (This was the same back in the orphanage when they were together too.) However, as his identity as Kiro, not the Helios she encountered. (Dramatic ironyyyy)

“We shall stand in darkness as we defend the light.”

Thorns Date

In the photo, Kiro looked completely different from what he usually looked like. On the glistening water, a youth held a birdcage, with a glint of melancholy in his drooping eyes. This was the last set of photos before quitting.

Kiro asked for my praise with shiny begging eyes, as if the prior sorrow and blue were all my illusions.

We stood very close to each other, yet at this moment, I felt there was a formed gap between us.

“MC, do you think the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

There seemed to be a ray of golden light flashing through my mind but I couldn't catch it. (The thought that Helios came to see her?? Yes.)

I remember his distance, his apathy, yet puzzling familiarly.

Helios saw the magazine falling from my bag, his face flashing with complicated emotions I couldn’t comprehend. And I felt the familiar feeling of being touched deep in my soul.

“You like gazing at me a lot.”

Standing at the edge of the dark abyss, he opened his arms and leaned backward without hesitation. He fell straightly like a folded winged bird in the moment. (Similes, metaphors and symbolism galore!)

I sat on the ground limply and closed my eyes to avoid the dazzling light. This scene felt so familiar as I had experienced such a farewell.. Why?

My senses told me this man was Helios, yet the feelings from deep of my heart were so real.

“Helios! Do you… know how the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

“Why do you think I will answer this question?” Behind such eyes, there seemed to be something else I couldn’t make out in the shadow.

I seemed to see him unfold a pair of black wings on his back and about to flutter away. No more cages could imprison him and nothing could make him stop. Helios walked from the bright light into the shadow.

He recalled her last question and her sad and confused eyes. Suddenly he recalled an ancient story. There was a kind of bird. It was always trapped in the thorns of fate from the moment of its birth. If the most beautiful thing was doomed to be exchanged with the deepest pain. He would overcome all obstacles to come back to her. And be her sun again.

The story that Helios recalled could be The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen.

In Ancient China, one of the forests lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully everybody would stop and listen. The nightingale was renowned to be the best wonder out of all the things that the travellers abroad had ever seen. However, the Emperor of China didn’t know that such a bird existed, and demand to have it found.

The bird had come willingly to sing for the Emperor, singing so sweetly that tears came out of everybody’s eyes. The nightingale lived in the court thereafter, until one day the Emperor had received a mechanical copy of the bird, golden with precious gems and all. The nightingale had left, and all the courtiers had said that it was an ungrateful creature. It was therefore banished from the empire.

The mechanical bird had stopped working, only being able to play once every year. Five years had passed, and the Emperor fell ill that nobody expected him to live. Death had arrived to the Emperor as he prayed for the bird to sing a note. The living nightingale had appeared again, and had come to sing out of trust and hope for the Emperor. Death went to look at the Emperor’s renowned garden as the Emperor was thankful for the bird’s singing. She sang again, and the sun rose through the window and as everybody thought the Emperor had passed. The Emperor wanted the nightingale to stay by his side but it refused. It cannot live in the palace, but promised to visit the Emperor to sing to him.

Similar to Chapter 14, in this date, Kiro is represented as the bird, trapped in the cage. He had to release what everyone wanted him to be- Kiro, the shining sun/bird trapped in the cage under their control- ironic how his evol is absolute control because his charm would have drawn people this way in as a result. And the only way to be free was to be resurrected, to escape, to disappear from public view- to become free as Helios.

Light Pursuit Date

“Will you forget me?”

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. This one step was like an unbridgeable gap between us, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head became clearer, and made me tremble in panic.

He had the name of a sun god, but even I couldn’t feel any bit of warmth.

MC: What is Helios here for?

Helios: We meet again, MC.

This was the first time that Helios called me by my name. He was brusque as ever, but there seemed to be a small amount of yearning in his voice. He did not act the way like the Helios that I used to know. His attitude and manners were surprisingly refined… like he was acting out a whole different persona.

The music changed into Por Una Cabeza- the tango song that I was very familiar with.

(I absolutely love the intertextuality that the game has. It’s a Spanish tango song that was also appeared in Scent of a Woman starring Al Pacino where the tango scene featured a blind man dancing with a woman who didn’t know how to dance and was scared of making mistakes. This correlates perfectly for MC and Helios. MC’s body is reacting to Helios as if he was Kiro...)

I didn’t drink, but I felt drunk somehow. Otherwise how else would this reachable warmth and illusion of intimacy familiar?

We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

He lowered his head and his chin rested on my shoulder. I have never seen Helios so vulnerable. His hands were wrapped around my waist, leaving no space between us. Helios didn’t answer and continued to keep me pressed to his body. There was a deep aura of loneliness and bitterness about him that was barely discernible from his cold exterior.

Because to me, you were familiar to someone I deeply care about. Because my soul resonates when I am close to you. Because…. of a ridiculous assumption. Did I reach the edge of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? A thick fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly. I didn’t continue talking or thinking. MaybeI was so vaguely aware that this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but a distance I could never close.

MC is also scared. She’s in turmoil. She wants to know the truth but she’s also sitting on the fence with it. Especially due to the memory wipe. It’s like, “maybe it’s better if I don’t,” and “I think you are that someone I care so much about but I can’t be sure about it because even if I ask you, you won’t tell me, and I don’t know what to do.”

Stardust Date

Kiro: That’s right. I’m going to a far, far place. And I will stay there for a very long, long time. Don’t cry when you start missing me. MC: I’m not going to cry!

Kiro: But I will. So promise me, alright? Don’t forget me, even if I leave.

Two days afterwards, I heard him talk to someone on the phone. I’m pretty sure it was his voice, but it sounded like he was a completely different person.

What was he trying to hide? Did it have anything to do with his “leaving”? Was it out of his own will or was he involved in something under duress?

The confident smile on his face as he glided his fingers across the keys fluently, showed his passion for this show. As songs were played after another, he became more focused. I could tell from his expression that he was fully immersed in this performance. As long as he was given a stage and music, he’d become the centre of attention no matter what position he was in. However, the more passion I saw, the more I was scared for his “leaving”. He is the sun- what will happen to his supporters when they lose him? And what about me? What will happen to me?

Light and Shadow Phone Call

MC: Is that melancholy in your voice? It’s unlike you to be down like this.

Kiro: Really? Does everyone think I’m that shallow?

MC: Of course not. But you are the brightest and warmest sun, so it’s easy to be touched by your optimistic side first.

Kiro: But right now, the sunlight is getting too strong that it’s scorching…

MC: Hmm? Is it? right now it’s sunset where you are?

Kiro: Yes. I’m sitting atop of Namibia’s Dune 45 and everything is red. Even the sun is sinking low.

MC: Soon, it will sink beyond the horizon.

Kiro: Yes… Miss Chips, Since you say I’m like the sun, and the sun eventually sets...

Kiro: If I have a dark side, I should hide it from others, right?

MC: Why should you hide it?

Kiro: Because, I don’t want to show you and I don’t want to disappoint others.

MC: But you’re just you, Kiro.

Kiro: I am who I am?

MC: Yes. Why can’t a sun have shadows? Even the real sun has sunspots! People who really care for you will love both the warm sunny side and the occasional dark, depressed side.

Kiro: But I always feel...

MC: Everyone has a side they want to hide in the shadows. No one is expected to be required as perfect. That applies to my little sun as well.

Kiro: Can I really be imperfect?

MC: Absolutely. To me, all sides of you are worth cherishing.

Kiro: Thank you, MC.

MC: What’s there to thank?

Kiro: Because… only you are willing to see the weak and plain side that I’m hiding and accept both my light and my shadow.

MC: That’s why I’m your own personal tree hole! I’ll keep your sorrows tucked away for you!

Kiro: Thank you Miss Tree Hole. I’m so lucky to have you. In fact, you are my sun who gives me light to embrace the world every morning. Thank you, for always being there by my side.

This call is so significant for Kiro, and his battle between light and dark. After his evol went out of control, he’s afraid of hurting his fans and MC. Similes and metaphors are used to compare his evol/different personas as the sun and how it will soon go down. He confronts the truth that he will also have to leave the public view soon, and uses this opportunity of the call to confirm what MC thinks if he had imperfections/shadow sides. And of course, to thank her before he leaves.

Chapter 21 (Winter World)

He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves.

“You seem to be completely ignorant about how weak you are.”

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields. he didn’t stop there. He leaned in with his whole body hemming me into the confined space he created.

Helios: Weaklings should learn to survive on their own. No one will teach you that.

MC: I don’t want to be a weakling forever.

Helios: Then you better figure out how to become stronger.

He dropped his sarcastic tone. Instead, each syllable fell from his mouth with upmost earnestness.

Helios: Use all your strength. Every method you can think of. Abandon your past...even abandon yourself. If you can’t do that, then just go back tot the world you came from.

1562 clutched tightly on his friend’s blanket, refusing to let go. However, in the end, he was shoved onto the ground because his strength was too weak. He had collided so hard that he couldn’t get up for a long while. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

If MC hadn’t come, then there would be no real sun in his life. He would only have artificial light. And he would be right- Helios would be just Helios. He wouldn’t bother much about fans or music, but using this identity to climb the system. He had to learn the hard way on how to survive. Nobody was there for him, thus it would be harder for him to feel empathy towards others in situations other than this.

The sun had risen completely. The increasing bright light drowned everything that belonged in the darkness. Helios remembered that day a long time ago. In the darkness, the withered hand touched his head and said faintly, “become Kiro, be the so-called “sun”.

At that time, he had lowered his eyes, nodded blankly, and simply walked out into the night, emitting a false light that was not his own. But today… Helios looked off into the distance, and seeing the dazzling morning light, he remembered the girl… At that moment, he saw the real sun. -Between Light and Darkness Rumours and Secrets

From “Behind The Curtain”, MC fell into the space-time gap and was saved by Helios. Even though he couldn’t see her as they were in different dimensions, she could be influenced by him. This wasn’t the first time that he’s tugged on that bond tying them together to BLACK CABIN. Thank you Helios also for helping bring MC back to her original world.

Chapter 28

Kiro: You should know about everything that I’ve done.

MC: I know that... you’re Helios.

Kiro’s eyes flickered and blinked at me. The golden hair under the now eclipsed sunlight seem to have an extra glow to it. Kiro: Is my name really that important?

MC: Why did you hide it from me? I trusted that you would tell me. That no matter what name you had, you really wouldn’t change...

Kiro: If a superhero were to turn into an arch-villain, would those who always believed in him lose hope? What he want most is for you to be a fairy, free of all cares. Not getting hurt, not getting worries, whose only responsibility is receiving signals and joy and happiness.

Kiro: However, if she is determined to go do something difficult, and she wants to bear this burden on her own... then I wish for her to be a little superhero, who can fly through it all with ease.

Chapter 29

“Don’t get all angry. The person beside you didn't even notice any difference between us. Or put it another way, it seems that “you” aren’t important in this role that you’re playing. Anybody can replace you.” -Anole

Anole is wrong (and just jealous). MC did notice, and plus, he probably wouldn’t have survived in the top experiment that Kiro had undergone in the orphanage. That was something only Kiro would have survived, with his willpower and determination in his heart to make a better life for himself and MC- something that Anole clearly lacks.

I had never seen Helios laugh before. His smile wasn't as dazzling as his golden-haired counterpart’s, but one could say that if the former him was the sun, then his smile was now a gentle moon.

THE IRONYYY. Helios is finally okay with showing this side of him to her, from watching her go through trials and tribulations in the Winter World with the other Helios- of course he wouldn’t want any danger to be near MC, but knowing that she can handle anything after all that she went through, he now knows that it’s better for her to be with him instead. Also he learnt how to smile from her and now he’s smiling again as Helios and I’m just so happy

Whether in the face of violent, nefarious enemies or a wave of blood and bullets, he’d never shown any fear. I got the feeling that he was somehow nervous, or even afraid. Was it because he had to return into the spotlight, back the shower of roses and applause?

Well… when he decided to give all that up and step into the darkness with no turning back, what was he thinking then?

He leaned on the wall and rested awhile, staring intently at the black tattoo on his right arm… he looked at himself in the mirror. His silver strands of hair were tingled with gold, as if bathed in sunlight. And for only that one time, he didn’t avert his gaze from the desire in his eyes. It was like looking at a self portrait—so distant, yet so familiar. It was only now that he realised: this was the moment in his life most worth reliving. Once again, he had become Kiro.

In the PV/Karma (photo down below), we see him wearing black- not as Helios but as Kiro! Again, ironic how he’s holding a comeback concert he’s wearing black, a colour that represents darkness and shadows. It had been noted in the Snooper Rumours and Secrets that this is way out of Kiro’s style wardrobe. However, this signifies a range of things. The two personas are “merging” as he no longer hides this persona to MC- they’re one in the same. It has always been this way and will never change. The colour black also means power and authority, but can mean fear and grief. This is the same outfit when Kiro was doubting himself in the Light Pursuit Date as well.

Right now, if we’re talking moon phases, Kiro right now is in “the void”. Meaning he’s “nowhere”. He’s Kiro but he’s also operating as Helios. He feels nervous to go back but it does come so natural for him to be in the spotlight. He feels stuck at crossroads with himself, especially when he got forced back to perform by Anole.

Ultimately, it’s like he’s saying “no matter what becomes of me, I will always stay true to you.” And I think this is perfectly translated as Kiro says,

“Miss Chips, wait for me.”

(”Wait for me as I fight for us both. So you don’t have to suffer.”) But we suffer either way.

His light and sun has always come from MC. He will always keep running towards his sun, no matter which persona he embodies. This, we can be certain on. (New Season 2 Chapters please don’t oppose this LOL.)

“I await you at the end of the opposite path.”

#26 pages long #I actually love his voice so much #mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc helios #helios #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc en #恋与制作人 #mlqc analysis #mlqc translation #mlqc zhou qiluo #zhou qilou #kiro #mlqc spoilers

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kuroopaisen · 3 years

Text

02:26 pm | kageyama tobio

➵ he’s as bright as fire.

wc: 1140

warnings: gn!reader, time-skip occupation spoilers (?), sfw shirtlessness?

a/n: my darling ren, my bosom friend, love of my life,,, happy birthday! i know i’ll get too sappy on main if i write your birthday message out here, but know this: i’m so, so incredibly thankful to have met you. i had no idea that hq x reader tumblr would grant me the joy of coming across a true kindred spirit, someone who i can let my walls down around and be unafraid. you have one of the kindest, most thoughtful hearts i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. yours is truly a beautiful existence, and i hope this little fic can bring you even a tiny ounce of the serotonin you’ve given me. i love you so, so much :( thank you for everything ♡

Summer ebbs on languidly, a season of brilliant golden light and long afternoons. The city thrums with its usual heartbeat, the humming of cars and the bustle of people. Your apartment is too high up to see any of that with great detail, but you feel it. Even the buildings seem to pulse with life, cast in the warm gold of the afternoon sun.

Today, everything seems to be moving in slow-motion.

Perhaps it’s the heat. Everything moves slower in the warmth of the afternoon sun. It’s almost like the world is catching it’s breath, before diving headfirst into the vibrancy of the night.

It’s also more important to stay hydrated in this heat; something you frequently remind your boyfriend of.

He’s currently been delegated to ‘a day of relaxation’. He’s not the sort to sit still, but under insistence from you – and from Iwaizumi Hajime (27) athletic trainer – he’s agreed to take a day off from his admittedly intense training regimen.

But he’s still Kageyama, after all. That means that he takes a day off to the absolute extreme – so a lazy day spent in bed it is.

You settle onto the bed with a satisfied hum, the mattress not too soft, not too firm. Kageyama’s shirt is breathable, comfortable as anything on this nameless summer day. The season has only just begun. Or perhaps it’s at its peak. You’re not quite sure – you haven’t been keeping close track.

Next to you lies your boyfriend in all his shirtless glory. He’s not the sort to revel in getting praised for his body – in fact, he still gets quite bashful – but you’re not about to dismiss fine art when you see it.

There’s something about Kageyama that seems to make people think about winter, with hair the colour of early nightfall and eyes of dark ice. But to you, he is summer. It’s in the warmth of his skin, the brilliant clear blue of his eyes, the fire and the passion that burns deep through his veins.

You sigh, laying your head on his chest. His skin is hot against your cheek, his torso thick and solid with muscle.

His heart echoes softly in your ear.

It beats both steady and relentless, a strong, deliberate thud in his chest. This rhythm is what keeps him alive, allows him to push forward with the same uncompromising tenacity.

He’s worked hard for this body, even if it’s not something he’s paid particular attention to. Kageyama never seemed aware of his looks; his body is just a vehicle through which he can play volleyball. The aesthetics of his looks have never crossed his mind; he doesn’t even know how attractive he really is. He looks after his body not because he cares about his looks, but because he instinctively understands what it takes to move forward.

Kageyama Tobio is a testament to what it is to be alive, and he doesn’t even realise it. He simply gives it his all, moving so quickly and with such hunger that he doesn’t have time to account for failure. But he always looks back for you, making sure you’re still within reach. He knows that he doesn’t have to be alone.

It had taken him a while to realise that he was in love with you – that he wanted you to be part of his life, no matter where his path took him. But as with everything he’s passionate about, he applies himself with everything he has.

Every spare inch of that beating heart is yours.

“Your heartbeat’s so strong,” you hum.

“Is it?” He asks. His voice is a little rough, ragged with drowsiness.

“Mhm.”

“Iwaizumi-san said that’s a good thing.”

You chuckle. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.” You smooth a hand over his chest. It’s warm, firm, smooth. He’s knitted together with muscle and determination,

He really is in top physical form. “But I’m glad he’s taking such good care of you,” you hum.

It’s true. Iwaizumi is the perfect blend of caring and stern that’ll get your boyfriend to look after himself. You do your best in these quiet moments, these weekends stolen away at home. One thing is for sure – he wouldn’t have his famously bright complexion if you hadn’t introduced him to your skincare regimen.

Bless his soul, he’d approached that with such intensity that one might be mistaken in believing his career depended on it. But it’s nothing like that. It’s just that it’s something you were teaching him – something you care about. He’d wanted to understand.

“Did you want to go out tonight?” You ask.

A sound rumbles from his chest.

“What was that?”

“No,” he murmurs, voice thick and heavy. “I want to stay here.”

“You sure?” You tilt your head up slightly in an attempt to catch a glimpse of him. “But you’ve got the night off.”

“And I want to spend it here,” he says, resolute. “With you.”

You blush at his words, your cheeks feeling just as warm as his chest. “Ah. I see.”

Perhaps spending time with you is a reprieve. Not that he’d ever say that with his words. But he implies it in how he leans into your touch after a long day of practice, in how he prioritises spending time with you on a day off, in how he determinedly carves a space for you in his busy life.

“Is that a problem?” He asks, sincere as always.

“Not at all,” you smile, moving your arm down to cup his waist.

The evenings are usually reserved for practice, but his mornings are all yours.

“What would you like to do?” You ask.

He ponders it for a moment, pink and gold scattered across his cheeks. “Do you have any face masks left?”

“Always,” you chuckle. “There’s an entire shelf of them in the fridge.”

While you have no qualms storing them in the normal fridge, Kageyama had bought you one of those little cosmetics ones for your last birthday.

He nods.

“Then let’s use some of those,” he murmurs. “And we should order some curry.”

“Or, we could make some,” you tease.

He mumbles something you can’t quite hear under his breath, but you manage to catch the word ‘disaster.’

“Fine,” you smile. It’s not like buying curry would leave you wanting; one of the few benefits of having a professional athlete for a boyfriend meant that he had cash to burn.

And it’s preferable to burn that instead of the pork.

But you can’t blame him. It’s just his way.

His fingers trail down your back and leave fire. You find comfort in it.

Kageyama Tobio is a force of nature, an unrelenting will, a constant push to grow.

But he is also the warmth of the afternoon sun, the dedication it takes to love, the comfort of a heartbeat.

#kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama imagine #rowan shut up challenge #ANYWAY #fluffvember 2020

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lilyseed · 4 years

Note

I saw you have requests open, so exciting! If I could request Kiro, hurt/comfort for MC (any pronouns) struggling with nightmares and/or insomnia, please (also if possible, no spoilers for the 19-21 chapters). Feel free to change anything if inspiration rebels c: Thank you!

Thank you, lovely, for requesting as part of my “Birthday Babbles” ♡

genre: hurt/comfort

fandom: MLQC

pairing: Kiro x female MC

warnings: nightmares pertaining to all the insanity that MC has seen so far (spoiler free!), very brief mention of blood

word count: 290

A/N: Angst and hurt/comfort are well within my wheelhouse (for better or worse lol). If you think about all the horrific things MC has seen, even leading up to chapter 19, I’m surprised the poor girl is still able to function T_T If anyone would like to request something, please click on the “source” of this post~

She awakens with a sob tearing from her throat, the scene of her nightmare still flashing through her mind. A gaping, hollow feeling yawns far across the expanse of her chest. Despite the emptiness, she feels its weight threatening to crush her racing heart. She chokes through another sob, hot tears flowing fresh down her already damp cheeks.

The impenetrable blackness of her bedroom offers no comfort–she can see splatters of crimson and the gutwrenching screams echo against the walls. She shuts her eyes and curls in on herself, clutching her chest to find some anchor to reality; proof that her heartbeat is real.

A soothing voice finds her in the chasm left by the nightmare and muscled arms wrap around her, pulling her tight into a cacoon of protection.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here with you.”

She opens her eyes to find a brilliant pair of blue staring back at her, framed by a messy fringe of blond hair.

“Kiro,” she whispers, relief smoothing over her invisible wounds like a salve.

He answers her with a gentle smile and it is enough to flush out the rest of her tears. He says nothing, only pressing soft kisses to her forehead. Her fingers wind themselves in his shirt, desperate to feel the steady beating beneath his ribs. He is real–alive–and she is safe here with him.

They lie like that for some time–her head nuzzled into the firm planes of his chest as he rubs circles against her back. At some point, when her body grows heavy with unburdened sleep, he begins to hum a calming melody.

It is uncertain when the horrors will cease living in her dreams, but he will always be there to chase them away.

#kiro #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mlqc kiro #replies #belovedstill #*birthday babbles #eep thank you for the request my dear!!#i hope this (somewhat) fulfills what you were looking for~#i'm terribly rusty i haven't written anything of worth in nearly two months ;;#but i enjoyed writing this

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starcunning · 5 years

Text

Drasteria adumbrata

Happy birthday to my very favorite Leo/Virgo cusp.

Oh, you thought we were done? We might actually be less done than before.

[M/F] [WOL* (Kallisti)/Nabriales][G-rated Fluff][ARR 2.56][Shadowbringers spoilers][Erebidae][4k words]

[AO3 mirror]

The air in the cave was gelid. That might have been a problem once, long ago, but Kallisti had passed beyond such concerns in the moors of Yafaem. There was a stillness to the aether, too; much of it was likely bound up in the summoning of Saint Shiva.

That might have been a problem she was expected to address once, but to slay that false goddess would have seen Kallisti turned out from the shelter of the Warrens. She had been accepted among Iceheart’s heretics only by Nabriales’s insistence, being otherwise too recognizable a figure. And being still wanted for regicide, there was little to be done but shelter among the ice and snow while Nabriales and Igeyorhm directed events.

Soon enough, she had been assured, it would not really matter what she was accused of.

It was evening, and the wind whipped her indifferent cheeks as she strained to catch the last rays of the sun. The heavy blanket of clouds overhead dampened the sunset to something almost unrecognizable, but she did not turn her head as she felt the displacement of aether that presaged teleportation.

“Your work is done for the day?” she asked. The wordless affirmation was felt rather than heard, but Nabriales nodded. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment. “Trying to remember what daylight looks like,” Kallisti replied. “It’s so cold here.” “You do suffer so, don’t you,” he said, tone dripping with false sweetness. “Things are drawing to a close.” “We should go to Costa del Sol,” she said. “If there’s time.” The non-sequitur seemed to confuse him. “You want to take a vacation?” “It will be time for a Calamity soon, won’t it?” Kallisti wondered. “That’s why you’re doing all this? The last one changed things significantly. It seems a shame not to enjoy it while it lasts.” Nabriales pursed his lips beneath the rim of his mask. For a moment she thought he might refuse, but when he spoke, he said, “There is another place we should visit before the Ardor. It will not survive the Rejoining, and it is past time you were illuminated on certain matters.” “My schedule is clear,” she said.

Nabriales extended one hand. The claws of his gauntlets glittered like ice in the dim light, but when she put her palm in his she was surprised to find he was as warm as ever. He drew her in, enfolding her in his own aether, his darkness blotting out her vision. She closed her eyes and leaned in against him, reaching out with her senses to feel him—not just the cloak of shadow wound around her like clouds around the moon, but the core of dark crystal at his heart. She felt it distantly, through her body and his, but focused upon it as she had learned to do when he had brought her to the Chrysalis.

She did not think they were headed there now, but dared not speculate on what might be so important to him that he would derelict his duties for it. It was easier to travel with an empty head in any case, so she focused only on the sound of her own breathing, and did not allow it to hitch as the teleportation hooked into her gut and reeled her along. It seemed to last a long time—longer than she was accustomed to, and when she felt earth beneath her feet once more it took her a moment to get her bearings.

They stood upon a stony beach—white rocks about the size of her fist dappled the shoreline. The water was clear blue, the waves dappled with golden light. Kallisti adjusted the brim of her hat, turning in a slow circle, but found no sun sinking upon the horizon. Against her better judgement she glanced up, expecting to find it at its zenith, but the firmament overhead was undifferentiated light—equal but opposite, in its way, to the clouds that blanketed Coerthas where she had stood but moments before.

She turned back to Nabriales, thinking to put the question to him, but he was cringing beneath the brilliant sky. Instead she asked, “What’s wrong?” “The Light,” he said. “It is anathema to us. Beneath the water is better, I’m told.” Then he was off, wading into the surf, Kallisti’s hand still in his own. “Where are we going?” “The Caliban Trench,” he replied. “To the last place the Light does not touch.”

He seemed eager to get there, already submerged to the waist. Kallisti’s robes billowed around her, the waves lapping at her chest. With her free hand she clutched at her hat.

“Nabriales,” she said, drawing him up short. He turned back to look at her, seeming baffled by her hesitation. “I still need to breathe.” “You had no such need when we visited the Chrysalis,” he pointed out. Her ears brushed the brim of her hat, laying back. “Why would the air of the Chrysalis be unsuitable?” she wondered. He grinned. “The moon you are all so keen to worship as a goddess is more like Dalamud than you think. It, too, serves as a prison, and at its heart slumbers Zodiark. The Chrysalis is as near as we are allowed to His presence.” She squinted, not merely at the brightness of the sky, but at him. “The Chrysalis is on the moon?” “In, rather, in much the same way the Sharlayan Antitower penetrates to the heart of the star, unto the borders of Hydaelyn’s influence,” Nabriales said. “Antitower?” she echoed. “What? I think I would have heard of it.” The Ascian’s smile broadened: “There is much that was kept from you,” he said. “The secrets of Sharlayan not least of all.” A wave broke upon his back, and he took a step closer to her. “I still don’t think I can do it,” she said. Nabriales merely shrugged, and then reached up to take her by the throat. With exacting delicacy he put the claw of his other forefinger to the side of her neck. She felt her pulse leap and then settle—surely the Echo would warn her somehow if she were in mortal danger.

Not that it would save her, she could not help but reflect. After all, Laurentius Daye had had her dead to rights, as Nabriales did then.

She could feel her blood trickle over her skin as he opened a slash in the side of her neck, so delicate as to be almost painless until the sea spray hit it, and then salt seared the wound. He turned her head by force, repeating the gesture on the other side. He reached into her, then, his aether commingling with hers and felt herself rearranged—not in the same way that Lensha might have done, straightening and reinforcing in the service of healing, but in a way that left her transmogrified thereafter. Her neck tensed, and new muscles flared—her gills gaped, for that was what he had opened in the sides of her neck. She pressed her hand to his, feeling the edge, and then dove past him into the water. The drag of the water tore her hat from her head, but she abandoned it, reveling instead in the coolness that suffused her.

The light that permeated did not warm, but it was altogether more temperate than had been Coerthas—it did not seem to be winter here at all. As Nabriales caught up with her and they broke from the surface, threading through forests of seaweed, she recalled the question that had struck her first when she arrived, forestalled by the sight of him in pain. He seemed relaxed—even content—then, so she opened her mouth to ask the question. It came out in a rush of bubbles, and she felt water fill her lungs.

When it had finished—and she could walk along the seabed—she repeated the question. “What is this place?” “This is the First Reflection,” he said. “Mitron and Loghrif had primed it for Rejoining before they … retired from this place. When we trigger the Ardor upon our return, it will be reabsorbed into the Source.” “It looked a lot like La Noscea,” Kallisti noted. “Functionally, it is,” he replied. “I was born not far from here,” he said, “albeit on a different Reflection.” “The Twelfth,” she said, remembering distant Dravania. “Do not ask to see it,” he said. “It was Rejoined shortly after I was uplifted, some time after the Thirteenth collapsed.” “Do you miss it?” she wondered. “Do you never wish to go home?” “Where do you think I am taking you?” he wondered, his lips quirking in a crooked smile.

He led her then to a place where the current swept out to sea, and they let it carry them—past the shelf break, and they sunk to the slope. The water dimmed much of the light overhead, everything dimmed to a murky green that reminded her, almost, of home. Their passing startled schools of fish, and once a coterie of Sahagin drew near, but Nabriales’s sigil flared over his mask, and they dared no closer. Soon, however, they came upon it.

There was a vast ruin beneath the sea, in a trench that opened before them. Its structures were in ruin, shattered glass in broken tracery, spires of corroded metal stretching upward toward a surface they would never reach. Even broken, she could see its grandeur.

“What is this?” she asked. Something stirred in her breast—some half-forgotten dream of a memory not her own. Was it his? “This was Amaurot,” Nabriales said. “The original Nabriales was born there.” Her brow knit, and she looked from the city to his masked face and back. He reached out with his empty hand. A moment later her hat settled upon the crown of her head. She tugged it into place, ears swiveling and flicking to settle it correctly. “Shall we go down there?” he asked.

He awaited no answer, only stepped from the ledge. His robes billowed around him in the water as he sank. Kallisti clutched the brim of her hat and stepped after him. There was a walkway below, but it had crumbled into dozens of rough-hewn boulders. Still, when she touched down upon it, her feet met level ground, and she looked down to find the stone underfoot smooth and unbroken, graven with an elegant, regular zig-zag pattern. Nabriales offered her one gloved hand, and she took it, careful of his claws.

She could see fish and other creatures among the ruins, flitting through the water or peeking from the crevices. Still, for a bubble several yalms wide around the pair, the stone was repaired; the facades of the buildings gleamed; even grass and trees grew in the wells in the stone. Looking back at the way they had come, however, left no trace of their passage.

“What did you mean, ‘the original Nabriales?’” she wondered. “Oh, little fool,” he laughed. “Your mothercrystal would not have told you. Before She sundered the world, there was but one race of man, and we lived free of worry or need. We were ageless beings, and given to us was the power of creation. Nabriales is not a name, but a title, and we lived here, in Amaurot.” “Your name,” she said, tail twitching sluggishly behind her, “is not Nabriales?” “No,” he said, as though this were obvious. He led her from the walkway up to one of the buildings. In one instant it was all but collapsed, the door sagging from the hinges; in the next it was pristine, lamps casting cones of light up the white marble facade. The door was heavy and paneled in bronze, and when he pushed it open they stepped into an atrium of golden yellow stone with bronze pilasters. The floor underfoot was inlaid with contrasting cream and deep brown stone. These too were bounded by gleaming metal. “So what was it?” she asked, approaching one of the empty benches there, wrought on a scale rather too broad for her. “I had thought you might like to know your own name,” he said. “You were Eris.” “We knew each other?” she said, reaching out to touch the lacquered wood. It was cold, but solid and real. “Were we lovers?” He laughed softly—not the triumphant sound she had grown so accustomed to, but something gentler, more intimate. “No,” he said. He reached out to curl his hand around her throat, tipping her chin upward. Her gaze lingered on the chandelier there, its milky glass and metal inlays reminding her of the nautilus shell motif of Sharlayan. “Who were you to me?” she asked softly. “We were rivals,” he said. “Of a kind. My colleagues and I were members of the Convocation of Fourteen, and you … were always bringing a dissenting opinion to our public addresses. Debate was something of a pastime in Amaurot, so none of us really minded. Elidibus,” he said, his tone souring, “was quite amused, actually.” “There are fourteen Ascians?” she mused. “I had assumed one for each shard, plus the Source, so wouldn’t that be fifteen?” Again his laughter sounded in her ear. “We were not Fourteen when Zodiark was made,” he said. “One of our number left after his wife, Helen, departed for one of the cities already in the grip of that first primordial calamity, which we summoned Zodiark to halt.”

“And it was her fault,” came another voice. Kallisti whipped around, her robes swirling in the water. She regarded the newcomer, and was surprised to note that he was Garlean, of all things. He wore no robes and no mask, but a dress uniform heavy with medals. He looked at her for a moment, then scoffed and snapped his fingers. The room changed around them, the details of the mosaic refining into sharper clarity. “Really, Nabriales,” he said, “stick to what you’re best at.” “What is that?” Kallisti wondered, head canting beneath the brim of her hat. “Supercilious self-aggrandizement,” the man said. “‘The Majestic.’ Well. It certainly was not architecture—and not recruitment. Do you even recall the trouble you caused, Eris?” “You knew me too,” Kallisti said, blinking in fascination. Nabriales shifted his weight, interposing himself between the pair. “Emet-Selch is of our number,” he said to her, then turned his face forward. There was a tension in his posture. “Why are you here?” “You are not subtle,” Emet-Selch said, rolling his golden eyes. “I am steward of this shard until it is rejoined, since I have no need of my mortal guise, and its original tenders sacrificed themselves to prime it. But why are you here?” “To show her the city,” Nabriales replied. “It is her birthright, which Hydaelyn has kept from her.” “Mmm,” Emet-Selch temporized. “No. I suppose, being born to the Source, she might have better claim than you, pale shade that you are. What did you think? That she might become the new Mitron? Igeyorhm has already asked me to consider elevating her half-formed pet to Loghrif’s station. But she is no Ebrietas, and this is no Eris.” “She is as much Eris as I am Nereus,” Nabriales—Nereus?—said with quiet vehemence. Emet-Selch laughed, though it sounded deadened in the water. “She actually is more Eris than that,” he pointed out. “But she is not Mitron, much as you might like to dream of her filling the seas with new life. When this shard is rejoined, we will go and find a proper Mitron. Eris was the one responsible for Menelaus’s departure from the council; it is not just that she should sit among us like she was fit to govern.” “That is Elidibus’s decision to make, not yours,” Nabriales said. “Oh, so his authority is at your convenience. I cannot imagine Lahabrea will speak for Ebrietas, and I certainly will not speak for Eris. Really, what will you do when you are denied?” Emet-Selch asked. “Put your head underwater and scream? You are already here, so I will leave you to it. Do remember,” he said, “that if things go poorly on the Source because you could not attend to the simple tasks you were given, we know exactly where to find the next Nabriales.”

It was a threat, Kallisti grasped instinctively, though she could not exactly put what it meant into words. Nabriales bristled, stepping further in front of her, blocking her view of the room beyond. When she looked to peer around him, Emet-Selch was gone. “Are you alright?” she asked. The new name felt strange upon her tongue, but she forced it over her lips just the same. “Nereus?” “He does love the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he,” the Ascian said. “Why do you remember this place and I don’t?” Kallisti wondered. “Because I was ascended, and while I can unmoor you from your mortality I cannot do that. That is reserved to Ascians of the Source—their souls are more complete and their powers greater. It is why you are stronger than me, when you remember how to be.”

She thought about that a moment, and then she pulled herself up onto one of the too-large benches, settling there with a sigh. “Elidibus knew,” she decided after a moment. “I have to assume so,” Nabriales agreed, materializing beside her. Kallisti leaned against him, letting his aether wash over her, much warmer than the seawater around them. “Who is Ebrietas?” she wondered. “She was Igeyorhm’s partner. She was not part of the Convocation.” “No, I mean, who is she now?” “Guess,” Nabriales laughed. “Who have you seen in Igeyorhm’s company of late?” “Wait, Lensha?” she said, sputtering. “The very same,” Nabriales confirmed. “She was of the faction that departed with Menelaus.”

“Who’s Menelaus?” Kallisti wondered. “I guess it would have to be Arenvald; he’s the only male Echo-blessed I can think of.” Nabriales shook his head. “We don’t always come back the same,” he said. “The other shard of Nabriales they have waiting in the wings should I ever require replacement is—you would recognize her as a Xaela Au Ra, though she would call herself something else. Menelaus could have incarnated as a woman. He has before, in eras past. But his last incarnation was shortly before the Sixth Ardor, known to you as the Calamity of Water. He usually does come back just as conditions are becoming ripe for a rejoining.” “So he could be Minfilia.” “He could, but he is not,” Nabriales said. “His absence has made us bold, it’s true; we would not have primed another shard so quickly, were he here to stand against us.”

“Why did he leave?” “He departed the council because he objected to our plans to halt the destruction of our very star. In pursuit of his wife he visited the cities across the sea, and was disturbed by what he saw there. That should have strengthened his convictions; instead it made him doubt. It is he that created Hydaelyn.” “Created Hydaelyn?” Kallisti sat upright. “And you summoned Zodiark … but that would make them …” “At last you see, little fool,” he murmured, pulling her in to press his lips to her forehead. “Your goddess is the very thing you sought to destroy. What did you think Her blessing was, to protect you from tempering? Only the very same thing.”

Kallisti closed her eyes, but found little comfort in his embrace. She slipped from his grasp, and made for the door of the room, which now seemed much too close, for all it was vast. Nabriales followed after, his restorative bubble recreating the stoop out front. She left the door open as she withdrew, until they stood in the middle of a grassy plaza, the bounds of the Ascian’s influence clearly visible.

Beyond them—past the crumbling rim of their circle—the door to the building hung open, not returned to its crumbling state. She could see the gleaming metal inlaid upon the floor within, and the warm light of the chandelier spilled out into the ruin. A school of fish swam through the shaft of light, glittering, and darted into the chamber. She waited for it to decay; to crumble back to metal skeleton and shattered rock, but it did not. It stood, unchanging, and she stood facing it, feeling unexpectedly defiant.

“If you were to revive Zodiark,” Kallisti said softly, still staring into that open door, “what would you do?” “We would restore things to how they used to be in our time. Part of this would happen automatically—when the sundered souls come together—but we would use the powers of creation restored to us to recreate the rest.” “As Emet-Selch remade that room,” she said after a moment. “I am surprised he stopped there,” Nabriales admitted. “He is fond of gilding the lily.” “And nothing would ever change again,” Kallisti asked, not quite a question. Nabriales shook his head. “Life … would continue, of course; children would be born and new concepts would be developed and refined, but the ideal is a complete existence in a perfect world.” “I thought you were bringers of chaos.” Kallisti scoffed. “But really, you’re more bound to order than anyone.” He laughed, turning to embrace her, his clawed gloves pressed to her cheeks. “You sound just like you did then,” he said. “You were never happy here.”

She watched the ebb and flow of water through the city—invisible to mortal sight, but her aetherial senses were awakened to the subtlest change. Fish swam through the ruins, and some few creatures crept toward the open door, drawn toward the light that spilled out into the street. None dared approach the pair, skirting the bubble of restoration. They might have, Kallisti assumed. There was no barrier that separated the two of them from the vast seas. They were merely discomforted by the sudden change in the environment.

So too was she.

“I don’t want this,” she said after a while. “I don’t want to suffocate under rules or tempering.” “I wonder,” Nabriales said, “were I made whole, and none could dispute that I owned the name ‘Nereus,’ would you remember me?” His expression was half screened away by the mask, but the way he pursed his lips betrayed some discomfort with the question. “I don’t know,” she said. “Well,” he murmured. “We need not worry on that now. What strictures bind you we can find a way for you to slip. You were not of Her party when She was made. She has little hope of keeping you under Her thumb.” “I am worried now,” Kallisti insisted. “If this city is my birthright, I want to abdicate. Would you choose me over this?” She reached for him, skimming her hands over his chest until she cupped his head between her palms, and put her thumbs to him to pry away the mask. It dissolved at her touch, and his dark eyes fixed on her. “Yes,” he said. “Then …” She paused, trying to organize her thoughts. “I don’t want to be Eris, and don’t really want you to be Nereus. Let them ascend the other Nabriales in your stead.” “You’re asking me to run away with you?” “Yes!” Kallisti said. “I think so.” “Where will we go?” “I don’t know!” she laughed. “Where do dragons come from? Meracydia, sure, but Lensha told me they were from somewhere else before that.” “True,” the Ascian said. “They arrived after the sundering of the shards, and none of the reflections have them.” “Then we have a destination,” Kallisti said.

He leaned down to kiss her, the warmth of him smothering in the cold, deep water. Something occurred to her, then. “If you’re giving up your title and your ancient name … what do I call you?” “My name before I was ascended …” He paused, seeming to think about it a long time. “It was … it was Brett.” “Hi, Brett,” she said, giggling. Then she said, “Do you think we have time to visit Costa del Sol before we leave?”

#wol/nabriales #kallisti #original content #starcunning writes #fanservice friday #nabriales #hydaelyn trusts only the most idiotic cats with Her blessing #Erebidae #y'know that name reveal reads like a joke but it's what we've been calling him for the last #ten fucking months

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scripts4dreamers · 5 years

Text

Long distance love

Long distance love pt. 2

Part one AN: Roger was finally home, but would that make any difference? Characters: Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon, Freddie Mercury Pairings: Roger Taylor x reader Warning(s): none Spoiler(s): none Prompt: “I know I fucked up, I know I did.” for anonymous

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Roger was so excited to get back to London that he almost couldn’t stand the eleven hour flight from Brazil. Every moment was a moment wasted, a moment he could’ve been spending with you. Just the thought made him practically boil with impatience. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid of the huge, possibly life altering chance he was about to take with you, he definitely was, but Brian had lit such a fire under his ass that he almost didn’t care.

It had been a pretty normal day for Queen when it happened. They were practicing for their upcoming tour in the studio when you’d bounded in, looking windswept and breathless and so painfully gorgeous that Roger had done the unthinkable; he’d dropped his drumsticks in the middle of a song, bringing the practice to a grinding halt. You hadn’t noticed, luckily, but the boys had and, as soon as you’d handed him a huge mug of steaming hot chocolate, kissed him on the cheek and bounded away again, they’d pounced on him.

“So, what was that, darling?” Freddie asked, piercing Roger with his bright green eyes.

Roger blushed and scratched the back of his neck, purposely avoiding the mischievous smiles from his bandmates as he shrugged and mumbled incoherently.

“No, no, no, you can’t get out of this that easily,” Brian teased, “You’re flustered. Y/N made you flustered.”

“Roger Taylor, flustered around a girl?” Deaky chimed in.

Freddie smiled knowingly, “Oh no, I simply won’t believe it.”

“But it’s true!”

“It can’t be!” Freddie countered.

“And yet it is,” Deaky said.

“What a scandal!”

“Okay guys, that’s enough, alright?” Roger finally cut in, forcing down a smile.

“But we’re right though, aren’t we?” Brian pressed, “You do have feelings for Y/N, like proper feelings?” He waited, but Roger didn’t answer, still determinedly avoiding meeting his eye. Apparently that was answer enough, because Brian continued, smiling fondly, “Well that’s great news, Rog, I was starting to think it wasn’t possible.”

Roger tried his best to look defiant, but he knew that it came off more sheepish, which made the boys laugh. Roger blushed deep red and looked down, fiddling with his drumsticks.

“Yeah well, so what if I do? It’s normal, isn’t it?” he argued.

“Of course it is Rog,” Brian assured him, “It’s like a proper grown up thing.”

“Yes, truly, she’s a lovely girl,” Freddie contributed, “far too good for the likes of you.”

“We’re proud of you, mate,” Brian smiled, “I’d get a move on with telling her though, otherwise someone else will snap her up.”

“Might be me,” Freddie teased, twirling for emphasis.

Roger had smiled and laughed along with everyone else and the practice went on as normal, but Brian’s words had buried into Roger’s heart and he’d found them difficult to forget. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that someone else may get to you before he got up the nerve. The idea made him feel unsettled and irrationally angry with himself, after all, he’d had years to do it. When it came down to it, Roger Taylor had been in love with you since he was fifteen, even if he hadn’t noticed until he was twenty. No matter which way you look at it, that’s an awfully long time to pine in silence. The girls and the booze and the parties...they only distracted him for so long and then, inevitably, his thoughts would turn back to you and he’d be left feeling emptier and more alone than he would’ve been if he’d just stayed home and phoned you instead.

Freddie was right, you were a lovely girl and he was stupid for letting it go this long without taking a shot but, as he stepped off the plane and into heathrow airport, he knew that that was a mistake he would soon be rectifying. The drive to his apartment seemed to take even longer than usual and, by the time he was unlocking the door and throwing his bag onto the couch, he was breathless with anticipation. He hadn’t spoken to you in days and he was desperate to hear your voice again. Roger had dialed your number and held the receiver up to his ear before he’d even consciously decided to do anything, and he chuckled to himself.

“Hello?” A deep, unfamiliar voice answered.

“Oh,” Roger said, the bubble of euphoria in his chest popping loudly “sorry, I must have the wrong number-”

“No, are you looking for Y/N?” The strange man interrupted quickly, “She’s here-Y/N/N! Y/N! Phone for you!”

There was a shuffling noise, during which the last remnants of Roger’s earlier joy seeped out of him, leaving him cold, and then, blissfully, your voice, “Hello?”

“Hey,” Roger said again, feeling completely numb.

“Rog,” you replied, smiling to yourself, “hello, lovely, are you home?”

“Just got back, yeah,” he answered, his stomach still sinking as he heard the mystery man call something from behind you that made you laugh.

In Roger’s mind, he was some tall, dark man with a square jaw and some pretentious, intellectual finance degree that he was using to take over his daddy’s business. Roger hated him.

“Sorry about that, Rog,” you said, your voice still carrying the memory of your laugh, “what were you saying?”

Roger swallowed hard, no longer excited about his plan, “I was-uh-I was just wondering if you’re free for coffee tomorrow. You know, to catch up?” he asked, hating the note of pleading that had crept into his voice.

“Yeah, yeah of course!” You agreed quickly, “The usual place at say, 11?”

“Cool, I’ll see you there then,” Roger said.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there-”

“Well, bye then,” Roger concluded quickly, now every bit as desperate to end the conversation as he’d just been to start it.

“Rog, wait!” you called quickly. Roger’s heart leapt and, as much as he hated it, he couldn’t have hung up if he tried. There was a moment of silence but then you said, fondly, “I’m really glad that you’re back.”

Before he could think of an answer, he heard the distinctive click that meant that you’d hung up and he let the receiver fall to the ground with a loud clang. The sound echoed through the rooms, sending a sharp stab of loneliness directly into Roger’s heart. His head was such a mess that he felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

“Fuuuuuck,” he cried, running both of his hands over his face in frustration.

Normally, the chance to see you would have Roger feeling on top of the world, and he’d spend ages thinking about that last, sweet comment but now, all he could think about was “Jason” (that was what he’d named the mystery man who’d answered your phone) and wondering what on earth he was doing it in your apartment.

The logical part of his brain reminded him that there were like a thousand reasonable explanations, but his heart roared that he was too late. It screamed that you’d moved on and found love with Jason and that soon you’d forget all about him. He took a few deep, calming breaths and, when they didn’t work, he grabbed a nearby brandy decanter and swigged straight from the bottle.

Roger Taylor was halfway between rage, grief and massive confusion and, subsequently, was poised to make a terrible decision. He’d never seen you with another man before, you’d always kept your romantic lives and your friendship separate and honestly it was driving him insane. He paced up and down his empty apartment like a caged tiger, feeling trapped in his own home, drinking steadily.

“Y/N/N! Y/N! Phone for you!” Ghost Jason called.

He heard you laugh at something Ghost Jason said and hot, boiling hatred rushed up to fight with the tidal wave of sadness in his chest and he had to blink away tears. Why did he know your nickname? Why did he get to see you and hold you while Roger had to wait? And why on earth was he in your bloody apartment? Roger was drunk, drunk and sad and painfully, painfully lonely and, well, there was only one person who could help with that. Knowing, deep down, that he was about to make a massive mistake, Roger picked up the receiver and dialed a familiar number.

“Freddie,” he croaked.

“Roger, darling, what a surprise,” Freddie answered, “what can I do for you?”

“I need you to take me out and get me wasted,” Roger explained, slurring some of his words, “like, so wasted that I forget everything I’ve done today.”

“Sounds like you’re already well on your way to that, darling,” Freddie teased, “why, you don’t seem to need me at all.”

“Freddie,” Roger practically growled, “will you do it or not?” and then, after a pause, “Please.”

“Alright darling, alright. I’ll send a car over to fetch you. We’ll get absolutely shitfaced.”

Roger smiled, wiping his face with his hand, only half surprised when it came back wet.

“Brilliant.”

—————-

On the other side of London, you were fastening your earring and worrying at your bottom lip while your friend, Michael, observed you from his position on the couch.

“So, Roger Taylor, a man you claim to have been in love with since you were in college, calls and asks you for a date and this makes you...unhappy? Somehow?” He clarified.

You rolled your eyes and shifted your weight from one foot to the other, “It’s not a date Mike. He wants to talk to me about something important, most likely to introduce me to whatever new woman has captured his fancy.”

“I don’t know Y/N, you didn’t hear his voice when I answered the phone. There was definitely some disappointment going on there.”

You shot Michael a look and turned back to the mirror, “There’s nothing going on with Roger and me, Mike. He doesn’t see me that way.” You tried to keep the note of bitterness out of your voice, but failed miserably. You swallowed hard past the lump in your throat and forced a smile, turning to face him, “Well, come on, we’ve got a birthday party to go to.”

————-

Tag list: @frandalf, @xxxdaddyxxx-1, @cherry3bombshell

#jordsie #jordsie writes #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rapsody movie #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy! roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy!rodger taylor x reader #ben hardy!roger x reader #long distance love

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satyrykal · 5 years

Text

Once Upon a Dream

Title: Once Upon a Dream

Author: Satyrykal

Pairing: Natsu x Lucy

Genre: Romance/Supernatural

Rating: M

Spoiler Warning: Not in the canon-verse, but pays homage to ideas in the Alvarez arc.

Summary: In a world where soulmates can manifest in each other's dreams, Lucy has known her other half her entire life. He appeared in her fantasies as a child, a figure blanketed in shadows but she'd never seen his face. However, visions are seldom what they seem - and when she finally meets him in person, she realizes his eyes hold a familiar gleam. Modern Soulmate AU.

Read the story here, or preview the excerpt below!

CHAPTER 1 Excerpt – Once Upon a Dream

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…"

– Sleeping Beauty, 1959

Ever since Lucy could remember, there had been a figure lingering just in the corner of her eye – a shadow lurking in her dreams that had become a familiar presence. He was a mischievous little sprite, running wild in the forests of her imagination – always two steps ahead of her. She'd spent hours chasing him down – only for him to laugh, a tinkling muffled echo in her ears. She would often call out to him, though he would never respond to her – his form wavering in that world between slumber and wakefulness.

Still, she'd come to think of him as a friend, this small child who hung in the periphery of her mind – warm and inviting and safe.

She was five years old before she was realized it wasn't normal to have another soul living in her thoughts.

To this day she would never forget the surprise on her mother's face when she found out.

"Darling, what do you mean there's a person in your head?" Layla had asked her carefully, gathering the child in her arms as they sat on the lawn – the grass cool and prickling against the bare skin of their calves.

"He's my friend, Mama! He's always jumping around and he chases away the nightmares when I'm scared." The small blonde had told her, distractedly plucking at the dandelions growing by her feet, the sunny yellow bright and cheerful in the summer haze. "Do you have one too? Does Daddy?"

Layla's response hadn't been instant, the older woman peering down at her daughter with a chuckle, something unfathomable in those wise chocolate irises. She'd reached out with a gentle hand, brushing the little girl's hair behind her ear – letting her fingers trail along her cherub face.

"I did, once upon a time ago, or I should say I still do. I didn't meet him quite as early as you've met your friend, but when I was a young woman, I finally got to meet him in person." She'd explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners when her daughter clapped in delight.

Lucy had cheered, pigtails bouncing as she twisted in place to search the lawn, as if she could see a shadow peeking out from behind the great wood. "Is he here? Can I meet him?"

"You already know him quite well. You see baby girl, when I was a older, I found a man who shared my dreams. clearer than anything my mind could create on my own – I could even hear his voice. Then one day he just appeared – standing there in the middle of the street. This stranger who wasn't really a stranger, who I knew almost as well as I knew myself. Can you guess who he was?"

The child had tapped her chin, deep in thought as she'd considered the people she knew in her life. She squinted, button nose wrinkling as she scanned the yard. Noticing their elderly gardener tending the roses a few yards away, she'd immediately pointed towards him. "Was it Philip?"

Her mother had laughed, full bellied and unrestrained as she'd tipped her head back – a curtain of gold spilling over her shoulders as she had glanced down to her bemused daughter. Layla caught her breath, snickering slightly as she'd shaken her head – the baubles in her ears tangling in her coif. "No silly, not Philip. Your father."

"Daddy?"

"That's right. He became my best friend and I loved him to the moon and back. The universe gave me a way to find the other half of myself – he was my soulmate."

Lucy had rolled the word silently on her tongue, finding she'd liked the sound of it, the syllables seemed to settle into her, heating her bones as they whispered through her. She'd chewed the inside of her cheek, glancing back towards the flowerbeds.

A beat of silence had passed as they lounged in the August heat, the earthy aroma of snapdragons heavy in the air.

"Does Phillip have one too?"

That had left the older woman in a sputtering guffaw, tweaking her daughter's ear when she too, let out a peal of giggles – more because of her mother's reaction than anything else.

"No goose, he doesn't. It's a rare thing, enough that many doubt the bond even exists. You see, I was one of the lucky ones." Layla had paused, lips quirking up in fondness. "And it seems that you're one of the lucky ones too."

Lucy had lit up immediately, warmth blooming in her at the thought of being special. "Then the boy in my dreams is my soulmate?" She'd questioned, wiggling slightly when her mother had nodded. "And he's going to be my best friend! Oh, I can't wait to meet him!"

Layla had indulgently ruffled her daughter's flaxen tresses. "I'm sure he'll be wonderful – though remember Lucy, it usually takes time to find each other. You will have to be patient."

The little girl had furrowed her brow, bobbing her head seriously as if being entrusted with a valuable secret, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I can do that, I'll even write him letters when something important happens so that I won't forget to tell him about it when I meet him!"

"That's a brilliant idea. I'm sure I'll love meeting him as well. I really am happy for you darling. My lucky Lucy." She'd cooed, squeezing the child tightly and nuzzling her cheek against the crown of her fair head.

The rest of the afternoon had flown by pleasantly, a hum of laughter and smiles buzzing around them as the woman continued to regale her daughter with legends of bonded pairs.

Of famous loves, daring encounters and whirlwind romances – of dashing suitors and distant stars touching as they trekked across the skies. Of that fateful meeting with her own future husband on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Lucy had listened to them all happily, tucked under the crook of her mom's arm.

It was one of her favourite memories of her mother, and one of her last.

Layla passed away less than a year later.

She never met her daughter's soulmate.

The illness had taken hold suddenly, sapping her strength until she was little more than a husk – a falling, fading star of the woman she used to be. To watch that light go out had killed Lucy, leaving her confused and angry as she'd asked to see her mother – not understanding when she'd been told she couldn't. That her mom was gone.

Perhaps the only one who had taken it harder than she did, was her father.

Jude Heartfilia had never been a firecracker, he was stern where his wife was kind – reserved where she shined. They were opposites but they fit together in perfect harmony, bringing out the best of each other. When she passed, she'd taken a part of him with her – a shard of his soul that had left him broken, a candle doused of flame. He was never the same after that, withdrawn and quiet.

The doting father and husband had vanished, leaving a distant and icy man – unable or unwilling to face the child she'd left behind.

For the next week he'd locked himself in his office, throwing himself into old photos and memories – blind to the tears on his daughter's face and her desperate knocks on the door – too wrapped up in his own grief to recognize hers.

The night of the funeral, Lucy's dreams had been bitter and cold – full of inky darkness that threatened to suffocate her, blocking out the light as the walls crept in. Layla's voice had called to her from beyond a sheet of mist, haunted and yearning as Lucy had clamored towards it, stumbling on the rocky path. Then suddenly, crimson eyed creatures had emerged from the fog of her mind, all jagged teeth and sharp claws.

She remembered crying, running into the forest before she fell – recognizing it as a distorted mirror of the woods behind her home, skeletal and lacking birdsong. She'd shut her eyes then, folding into herself as she had sobbed.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours that she'd hidden there in the stark black – the nightmare twisting inside her as her heart had throbbed.

Then she'd felt it.

A warmth had engulfed her shoulder, steady and peaceful despite the turmoil raging inside her. She'd taken in a ragged breath, letting the calm seep into her at the touch. She still couldn't see him – her constant companion. He had still been an obscure shadow, but she could feel him.

She could feel his presence, his comfort as he'd curled around her.

And for the first time since her mother had died, she hadn't felt quite so alone.

End of Excerpt

Find the rest of the story on Fanfiction.net here.

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birthdaystranger · 4 years

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Birthday Stranger #9 (2020)

“It is true that those we meet can change us, sometimes so profoundly that we are not the same afterwards, even unto our names.”

— Pi Patel in Life of Pi by Yann Martel

First, thank you A.M. for taking time out of your life to meet with a complete stranger. Our conversation enriched my life. I wish you all the best.

There are three types of fencing: foil, épée & sabre - each a little different. A.M. had an early interest in fencing & got into it later in life. As I listened to her talk about fencing, it became obvious to me why sabre is her preferred discipline.

Though fencing may seem to have little in common with her current job in Human Resources, there’s a thread that runs through both & stitches her life together in a brilliant way. This thread consists of being proactive & utilizing all available resources.

A.M. spent her childhood outside of Peoria, Illinois with her parents & two younger sisters. She mentioned having varying degrees of relationships with them. As we talked about her childhood she mentioned how her family changed over the years after her parents’ divorce. A.M. cited her mother’s shift to a more progressive viewpoint as one outcome. From the interest & sincerity A.M. exhibited in our conversation it’s clear that A.M.’s mom raised her daughters to be ambitious mature women. “She's an amazing individual & sacrificed a lot for us,” is how A.M. describes her.

She & I had a wonderful discussion about the changes that growing up entails. A.M. told me that, now that she has moved closer to her mom again, she has received a number of boxes from her filled with personal items & old school projects. A.M. said some of the positions held in a few of those early school projects are completely cringe-worthy. She laughed when I quoted an unknown source; “You know you are growing as a person if you continue to look back & cringe at some of your decisions.” A few of her childhood dreams have remained the same though.

One example of A.M.’s ambition is from around age nine. She recalls an article from an airline magazine about the annual Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta held in New Mexico. The countless forms & colors of the balloons stuck with her over the years and is still a life goal of hers to experience. That location is actually marked on a map that she & her husband keep of places they would like to visit together.

Another example of her good upbringing is her mother’s urging her daughters to grow outside of their comfort zone. Each daughter studied abroad to this end. A.M. herself did this in Italy.

Her journey came with an unexpected turn. This is where her proactive nature ripened.

A.M. traveled to Italy & stayed with a host family for her study abroad program at the age of 17. Within the first month she accompanied the family on a trip to their own relatives in Croatia.

She commented that tensions within the host family grew shortly after departure & added: “I didn’t think anything of the arguing.”

These arguments gave rise to a full-blown family dispute upon return to Italy. The next morning A.M. woke to find herself in a nearly empty house. A family schism had formed overnight & everyone but the grandmother had moved out with their belongings.

Understandably upset, A.M. walked into town to access the internet & contact her mom to tell her what was going on. A.M. highlighted the time difference as her major obstacle. Her family would be sleeping between 3 & 4 AM central time.

She contacted a friend who happened to be up during those wee hours. This friend in turn phoned A.M.’s mother who finally connected with her daughter.

She managed to turn an unsettling situation into a positive & memorable experience thanks her being proactive & using the resources at hand; she traveled to Hungary to visit extended family then to England to spend some time with a friend of her mother’s before finally returning home. What she called, “not a full year but a good story,” is an understatement. Honestly, if this had happened to me at seventeen I’d probably have freaked the hell out.

“I had to stop hoping so much that a ship would rescue me. I should not count on outside help. Survival had to start with me. In my experience, a castaway’s worst mistake is to hope too much and to do too little. Survival starts by paying attention to what is close at hand and immediate. To look out with idle hope is tantamount to dreaming one’s life away.”

— Pi Patel in Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Her return to the states was a return to academia. A.M. majored in religious studies.

She said, “I’ve always [been] interested in people’s views on religion.” A.M. attributes these studies as what ‘broke’ her, as she put it, of Christianity. I find it interesting that she occasionally likes attending church to “see the [current] interpretation of what is read, what the pastor thinks is a good sermon & what the [believers] focus on.”

A.M.’s college also put her in contact with her now long-term interest of fencing. It is not an affordable sport, she explained. Though she could afford to join the college fencing club, enrollment had recently closed. Eager to hold a sword & ready to undertake any measure to make it happen she followed the coach’s advice of attending a weekend clinic held by the club. A.M. not only attended the entire two-day clinic but outlasted every other beginner. She made it in the club that day.

Though she combats irregularly, A.M. has coached & refereed sabre fencing for a handful of years. Her favorite age group to work with is 8 to 12 year olds. She says this is because they “understand what you want them to do & generally want to do what you tell them to do.” Her work in the sport reaches beyond overseeing individual fencers & bouts, however; as A.M. put it, “I see a need & just want to fill that need.”

Unhappy with increasing harassment in the sport, A.M. performed studies on sexual harassment & assault in fencing & has published her findings online.

A.M. did not consider marriage for most of her life. She said she had little interest in the type of relationship that eventually divided her parents. Consequently she lived a mostly autonomous life attending schools in different states. One longstanding male friend of hers, though, made a point to visit her in many of these places. This deepening friendship lead A.M. to ask herself if marriage was on the table.

Before that question could be answered their relationship had one more hurdle; while her partner lived in St. Louis, A.M. had just been accepted to grad school in New York. A.M. & her boyfriend managed not only to make the long distance thing work for two & a half years but also planned their life.

After earning her degree she moved to St. Louis. It was A.M.’s belief that moving in with her fiancée who already had a job & a house “made more sense.” This practical outlook is another example of her proactive nature.

Her grad school studies lead to her current position in human resources. A.M. credits a few “happy accidents” to the exact position she had at the time we met. She since has been promoted with expanded responsibilities. (Congratulations, A.M.!) She also may go back to school, citing: “the people who have the jobs I want in my department all have higher education than I do.”

Expanded responsibilities may sound daunting but she noted that she is usually a bearer of good news. I imagine working with the dynamics between an institution & a large number of employees utilizes similar skills as in sabre fencing: being proactive & taking advantage of available resources.

This is the thread I mentioned earlier. A.M. take on fencing also speaks to her approach to life: “What I like about sabre is its very proactive compared to épée & foil. You have to make the decision before the referee says fence...” Not to mention that sabre is different from the other disciplines in that strikes with the edge of the blade count in addition to strikes with the tip... that is, there is more to utilize during a bout.

This is a clear parallel to the way A.M. lives her life. Here’s another example: A.M. began crocheting recently to deal with increasing acute physical restlessness. She initially learned it from her mom’s mom, “Oma”. She found that keeping her hands busy helps her relax & allows her sit still for longer periods of time. Repetitive motion is quite meditative not to mention productive in this case - she’s got more sweaters & scarves now.

We also talked favorite movies. A.M. enthusiastically identified Life of Pi as hers. (Hence the quotes that fit in nicely with her life story.) Her religious studies introduced her to this movie - one she described as having “captured the essence of the book perfectly.” Elaborating she said, “I loved how it [is] blend of religions. The thing that [is] important to me [is that] it's not about whether or not the guy is right or wrong, [it’s] all about the faith of [the viewer] to determine whether or not they have faith in what he's saying - which is just a play on religion overall.” I found deep appreciation of that sentiment.

Never has it been so clear to me that a person’s favorite movie echoes their own way of living. {NO SPOILERS} In the movie Pi is nothing less than fully proactive facing uncertainty. He uses everything at hand as well; there is not one item he takes for granted floating aimlessly in the ocean.

A.M. has these qualities. Without giving anything away, I want to point out that Pi’s narration of the calamity he endures proved a foundation for his own faith in humanity as well as the viewer’s. I can’t help but feel those who know A.M. likewise benefit from her friendship. This is especially true during the outbreak we are all facing right now {note: this write-up was done mid-March 2020 during the Coronavirus pandemic).

The pandemic highlights exactly how the actions of one person can ripple across the planet. As powerless as we feel I see so many people taking innovative & fresh action to make it better. We all have something to offer. The sooner we see that the better. We don’t all have to drown during this difficult time.

A mouthful of water will not harm you, but panic will. — Mamaji to Pi in Life of Pi by Yann Martel

And to A.M., I will alter a quote from the movie to fit my feelings about your sharing your life with me: “How bitterly glad I am to have met you. You brought joy & pain in equal measure. Joy because you shared yourself with me, but pain because it wasn't for long.”

#Birthday Stranger #41st #2020

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nickireadstfc · 7 years

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The Foxhole Court, Chapter 3 - Ball Is Life

In which things get progressively gayer, Neil has a boner over Orange Sportsball, Andrew’s Serious Issues™ continue and youth alcoholism has never looked this good.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

Neil spotted the Foxhole Court long before they made it onto the stadium parking lot. Built to seat sixty-five thousand fans, it’d been placed on the outskirts on campus.

SIXTY-FIVE THOUSAND WHAT. To put this into perspective, the three biggest stadiums currently used in American lacrosse seat 30,000 (Harvard Stadium, Boston Cannons/Harvard Crimson), 34,000 (Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium, Chesapeake Bayhawks) and 70,000 (Sports Authority Field at Mile High, Denver Outlaws).

It should look something like this (the Hard Rock Stadium in Miami, used in football, seating exactly 65,000):

And that’s the seating capacity for a shitty Exy team.

What the fuck. I’m beginning to realise that this sport may be bigger than I initially thought.

Neil went up to the fence and stared through it at the outer grounds. (…) It made every hair on his body stand on end, and his heartbeat echoing in his ears sounded like an Exy ball rebounding off a court wall.

This is some Oliver Wood type of sportsball obsession, holy shit. Calm down, hombre.

(Will I make a Harry Potter reference every single chapter? Probably.)

And now, things get good:

“What’d your girlfriend get you [for your birthday]?”

Neil looked at him. “What?”

“Come on, cute face like yours has to have a girlfriend.”

Okay, first I freaked out over this because he’s canonically cute omg this is the best th-

And then this happens.

“Unless you swing my way, of course, in which case please tell me now and save me the trouble of having to figure it out.”

NICKY I LOVE YOU. YOUR ASS HAS JUST BEEN INSTANTLY PROMOTED TO SECOND FAVE.

Canon gay people!! I expected this but still!! This is chapter three and we’ve already got canon gay people!!

Am I biased because of my own queerness? Totally. Ya girl loves herself some good representation.

But hold on, my friends! This masterpiece of a scene isn’t done yet!

Neil stared at him, wondering how Nicky could care about such things when the stadium was right there.

I am HOWLING. This may be the best sentence in this entire chapter.

BALL IS LIFE. BALL IS LOVE.

Neil has priorities, you guys.

“I don’t swing either way,” Neil said. “Let’s go in.”

“Bullshit,” Nicky said.

“I don’t,” Neil said, and impatience put an edge in his voice. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough.

Spoiler alert: He’s demisexual, tumblr (and certain demisexual friends) have told me this as I got it wrong in my powerpoint slideshow post. Sorry about that.

S/o to all my demisexual peeps, and s/o to Nora Sakavic for representation beyond the usual. ❤

The majority of the pictures looked like they’d been taken by one of the Foxes themselves. These were scattered anywhere they could fit and held up by tape.

Where is the Foxes’ snapchat I need to see it.

Nicky probably uses the Fox filter all the time. Andrew probably hits him for it.

Exy was a co-ed sport, but few colleges wanted women in their lines. According to Fox lore, Palmetto State refused to approve any of the women Wymack asked for his first year.

*effie trinket voice* That is MISOGYNY!

Nicky tapped the faces in the closest photograph. “Dan, Renee and Allison. Dan’s good people, but she’ll work you to the bone. Allison’s a catty bitch you should avoid at all costs. Renee’s a sweetheart. Be nice to her.”

Yet another quote I fucking knew by heart before even starting the books. Y’all really aren’t very creative in finding captions for your grunge-y pastel moodboards.

Also, if Renee is such a sweet soft angel (which is pointed out again later, so I believe it), the fuck is she doing with the Foxes? Has she killed a man with kindness? Am intrigued. When do we meet this murderous snowflake.

Next up, they enter the actual stadium and Neil proceeds to have the Biggest Sports Boner Ever over the court.

I can’t quote here because this description goes on for two pages, but I would like to point out that this is one of the most well-written passages of the book so far. I had the scene play in my head like a film, lights flooding the stadium, Neil imagining what it would look like flooded with people caught up in thrill of a game, his longing to play this court even if it will cost him his freedom. Chapeau, Miss Sakavic.

Also damn. And they said Kevin is the obsessed one.

(Cue generic “enemies discover they have more in common than initially thought and overcome their differences by playing sports together and become close friends” trope.)

(I apologize for calling this generic. I love it.)

“Satellites can pick these [windbreakers] up in outer space,” [Neil] said.

Nicky laughed at that. “Dan commissioned them her first year here. She said she was tired of everyone trying to look past us.”

Nicky laughs, my skin is cleared, my crops are growing and an angel gets his wings.

Also I will present this Dan with the Best Captain Ever Award instantly when we meet her.

“You know we donate a portion of our ticket sales to charity? Our tickets cost a little more than anyone else’s because of that. Renee’s idea. Told you she’s pure gold.”

WE HAVE FOUND THE SECOND HUFFLEPUFF THIS IS NOT A DRILL. RENEE LET ME LOVE YOU.

And now it’s Orange Sportsball time!

“Is Kevin not going to play today?”

Nicky looked surprised that he’d ask. “Kevin only tolerates our court under two conditions: Alone, or with Andrew on it.”

Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, I had momentarily forgotten what level of EXTRA Kevin is on.

“Thank you,” Neil said belatedly.

“Huh? Oh no. Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me some other time when the others aren’t around.”

“Can you try and get ass when I’m not standing right here?” Aaron asked.

I thank our otherworldly overlords every day for the comedic gay blessing that is Nicky Hemmings.

“If you take German as your elective here, just let me know and I’ll tutor you. I’m good with my tongue.”

For fuck’s sake, keep it in your goddamned pants.

Or, as Germans would say: Jetzt ist nicht der richtige Zeitpunkt, den Lörres reinzuhämmern, mein Freund. #erstmaldlrh

Also, is this Erik guy for real? He sounds p irrelevant. 10 bucks says they’re gonna break up.

They play a beautiful game of Orange Sportsball, Neil gets a glimpse of happiness (yay), and on their way out they are greeted by Kevin being Mad and Extra.

Kevin got right in his face and tangled his fingers through the netting on Neil’s racquet. (…)

“Forget the stadium. Forget the Foxes and your useless high school team and your family. See it the only way it really matters, where Exy is the only road to take. What do you see?”

[bla bla long sequence in which Neil ponders on the fact that Exy is Everything™]

“You,” Neil said at last.

“Tell me I can have your game.”

It wouldn’t do them any good, but Neil wasn’t going to get into that. “Take it.”

“Neil understands,” Kevin said.

*”enemies discover they have more in common than initially thought and overcome their differences by playing sports together and become close friends” trope intensifies*

Do people ship those two? Because I can totally see that happening.

Speaking of shipping: Andrew is back!

[Andrew] scooped the whiskey up and twisted the lid off.

(…) “About time you stopped that, don’t you think? Abby’s going to beat me senseless if she realizes you’ve been drinking.”

“Doesn’t sound like my problem,” Andrew said with a brilliant smile.

Daamn Andrew, back at it again with the youth alcoholism!

I’m not kidding though, manic Andrew scares me so much more than soulless Andrew did. I want my murder son back, not this fake-cheery, Joker rip-off version.

I’m temporarily comforted as we are reminded that Wymack is, in fact, the Best Person Ever:

“Showers aren’t communal here. Coach put in stalls when he built the stadium. The board wouldn’t pay for it – they didn’t see the point – so it came out of Coach’s own pocket.”

LET ME LOVE YOU, YOU WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING.

Andrew makes fun of Neil for wanting to shower in privacy and for having a beat up body, Neil freaks out, yadda yadda, go die in a fire, you manic asshole.

Also, I know this isn’t what’s meant here, but I’m really liking the idea of trans!Neil. Scars on his torso? Always showers in privacy? Changed his identity and his name? Just saying.

They then drive over to Abby’s house, who also immediately claims a place in my too-big heart:

“David? Shut up and make sure the vegetables aren’t boiling over. Kevin, check the bread. It’s in the oven. Nicky, table. Aaron, help him. Andrew Joseph Minyard, that better not be what I think it is.”

What. A. Mom.

For the record: I’m chipping in with Nicky’s betting pot as well. Those two have skipped long past the boning zone, straight into actual married couple land.

Everyone gathers round and eats some lasagna like the wonderful dysfunctional family that they are. Yay. Now I want some lasagna.

(Note to self: Do not read before dinner.)

Then, Neil is taken to his new home by Coach Wymack, and Nora Sakavic gets childhood abuse trauma spot on once again:

Getting in the car alone with [Wymack] was the hardest thing Neil had done all day. Andrew was crazy, but Neil had an ingrained distrust of men old enough to be his father. He spent the entire ride frozen and silent in the passenger seat.

Kudos.

However, of course, Wymack is totally undeserving of distrust as he is the Best Person Ever, Coach of Champions, Owner of My Heart.

“Use what you need, and take what you want from the kitchen. It’ll piss me off more if you act like a skittish stray cat than it will if you eat the last bowl of cereal.”

Happy sigh.

Nicki out.

#the foxhole court #tfc #the raven king #the kings men #nora sakavic #nicki reads tfc #erstmaldlrh

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