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buttercream-squad-imagines · 3 years

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Tinder in Real Life

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Sidemen x platonic!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Language some people may find offensive, sexual themes, recycled lines from Sidemen Tinder in Real Life because I'm not at all creative Request: Hey! Could you do reader x Harry imagine where the sidemen do a collab video with the reader who is also a big youtuber and Harrys celebrity crush. And during the video the reader is very flirty, leaving Harry a flustered mess when the flirting is directed towards him, but very jealous when its with any other sidemen.

The Sidemen were one of the biggest groups on YouTube and one that you were very familiar with. At the age of 23, you were a fair bit younger than some of its oldest members but yet you had a close relationship with JJ, whom you had met through YouTube.

You had started your channel when you were 17, just under four years ago, making makeup videos, which was a passion of yours when you were younger. Not that you were any good at it back then. Those videos quickly become unlisted when your channel started blowing up in late 2016, now nearing 20 million at the present time.

It wasn't long before you expanded your horizons and had started making different sorts of videos, including vlogs of your everyday life - which wasn't and still isn't that exciting in your opinion - and those where you just had a laugh, attempting to do stupid challenges that were so popular back then. It was those, however, that grew your channel. Your fans seemed to love them and so you gradually started to make more.

As your small channel began to grow significantly, it caught the attention of KSI, a member of the Sidemen, who reached out to you to for a collab. You were ecstatic. You couldn't believe it at the time, why would someone like KSI with 20 million subscribers want to collaborate with you? By that time, you couldn't exactly call yourself a small channel anymore, with almost 5 million subscribers but it still didn't make any sense to you.

You and JJ quickly bonded after filming together. You had a very similar sense of humour and interests. As the years went, the older boy became one of your best friends, the nature of your relationship being very teasing and flirtatious but the both of you knew it was a joke. It was just the way you both were.

Though despite having known him for nearing 3 years now, you had never met the rest of the Sidemen, with the exception of Simon, as he lived with JJ. Which is why when he texted asking you to collaborate with the Sidemen, you couldn't turn the offer down. You were a fan of the group and the content they were producing. You thought the videos that they made were exceptional, that they were pushing the envelope of the standard of content on YouTube and often found yourself excited for new videos.

He had explained that they were filming another of their 'Tinder in real life' but a YouTuber version with the likes of BambinoBecky and ChiWithAC. You were so excited. You were finally going to meet the rest of JJ's friends and you had the opportunity to be a part of a Sidemen Sunday.

You arrived at the studio the boys were filming at in the afternoon, finding and greeting JJ before he introduced you to the other sidemen in addition to Lux, Freezy and Stephen.

"And you've already met Simon." He finished.

"Yeah. Nice to finally meet you all. JJ tells me a lot about you guys." You laughed.

"Because that's assuring." Ethan pointed out with a chuckle, the other boys letting out agreements.

"Not all bad, I promise." You teased, winking at him. Ethan felt the blood rushing to his face, immediately becoming flustered and stumbling over his words. You found that you often had that effect on people as you could be very direct and flirtatious even when you didn't mean it. To you it was just friendly banter.

"Geez Y/N, stop flirting with people you met literally five minutes ago." JJ rolled his eyes.

"You sound a bit jealous, Jide." You smirked, a teasing grin spread across your face.

"Nah, allow it." There were eruptions of laughter around the room, coming from the boys. You were quick to notice Harry standing out of the way and was significantly quieter than the others, with what seemed to be a forced smile on his face.

Harry was in his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. When JJ had told him that you were going to be in the next Sidemen video, he panicked. You were an accomplished YouTuber who he was quite fond of to say the least. Well, that would be an understatement, he had a fairly large crush on you. A crush that no one but Freezy and Lux knew about.

He knew that JJ had been friends with you for some time now but never considered the possibility of even meeting you. His anxiety acted as a barrier to even the thought of it. But he was currently in the same room as you and had said nothing more than a short 'hello'. He longed to have the confidence Ethan had to speak to you, even more so for you to look at him the way you were.

Already you were flirting with JJ and Ethan, something that caused a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach. He wouldn't admit it, but he could slowly feel the jealousy forming. Not that he had anything to be jealous about in the first place!

You continued to speak with the boys as you got your mic set up, telling them stories you were sure would embarrass JJ.

"Y/N, stop." The older boy whined. He could be like a child sometimes, but it was one of his more endearing qualities. He simply wouldn't be JJ if he wasn't.

"No, carry on." Simon laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from." You teased.

"I think it's time we started, don't you think?" Harry grumbled.

"Right." You smiled at the boy, who's cheeks became tinted red. He ducked to hide his face and walked around to stand in the line, hiding himself in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm 23 and I'm from Y/H/T." You spoke to the camera once you were given the go ahead.

"I'm Simon, I'm 28. I like to practice safe sex."

"Always a good start."

"I could tie you to the bed, so you don't fall off." He finished with a giggle. You acted like you were pondering it for a moment before letting out a laugh and swiping right.

"I'm down for that." You teased. The boys all let out rumbles of laughter

"Hi, I'm Ethan, I'm 26 and kiss me if I'm wrong, but you're gonna swipe right."

"What would you rather?" You joked. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and walked closer to the board, sticking his head through with his lips puckered, eliciting a cry of protest from Harry that this wasn't allowed. You laughed and made an over exaggerated motion to swipe to the right, causing him to pout playfully but walked over to the right anyway.

"Hi, I'm Josh, I'm 28. KSI has a top ten single, but you're the only hot single I can see."

"Wow, that was smooth!" You said with a grin. "Definite yes from me."

"I'm Callum, I'm 26. Are you into fitness?" Freezy asked.

"Can't say I am." You replied, unsure of what turn this could take.

"How about you fitness dick in your mouth?"

"I wouldn't get too excited babes, I gag on my toothbrush." You laughed. "We could try though."

You swiped right on him, chuckling as you watched him let out a yes before joining Simon, Ethan, and Josh. You frowned slightly, a crease forming between your brows as you saw Harry whisper something furiously at his friend but ultimately got distracted by Vik stepping up to go next.

"I'm Vik, I'm 25. My ex-girlfriend always said I'd never do better than her, wanna prove her right?" You could hear the cries of the boys in the background, some scolding him, others laughing.

"Man actually said prove her right. Not wrong." JJ shrieked with a shocked look on his face, holding his head with his hands.

"You need to find someone for that." You snarked, swiping left on the boy, who shrugged and walked off.

"Damn! You got told!" Lux cackled.

"Uh hi. I'm Harry. I'm uh 25, no I'm not I'm 24." He stumbled. "Are you sure you're a muggle? Because that ass is magical."

"You should see how magical it can be." You spoke before cringing at yourself and laughing, swiping right to avoid a reply. The boy's face grew a bright shade of red, closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

"Geez, is that an offer?!" Freezy yelled from the right side. You laughed, observing how Harry whispered furiously to the boy to stop and winked at him once he had could see. Your laughter only increased as you watched JJ step up.

"I'm JJ. I'm 28 and are you a raisin? Cause you're raising my dick." The boy in question stood in front of you so confidently, hands clasped together in front of him so seriously that you just lost it. By the time you composed yourself, there were tears almost falling from your eyes.

"A* for effort." You laughed, swiping right eliciting a cry of success.

You had wrapped up filming your segment of the video, which conveniently was the last of the day. You found JJ who you spoke to whilst the other boys were otherwise occupied talking to each other.

"Cheers for coming, Y/N/N. You've been great."

"Anything for you." You joked.

"Don't tempt me." He laughed. You could feel eyes on you, eyes that were burning into your side. You turned your head to see Harry staring you and JJ down before looking away after being caught in the act, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Does Harry not like me or something?" You whispered to JJ, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Not that I know of." He frowned looking at the younger boy. "He can be a bit awkward at times and gets flustered a lot."

"Right." You agreed. You excused yourself before sauntering up to the boy in question, calling his name to snap him out of the daze he appeared to be in.

"Oh, um hey Y/N." He stumbled.

"Hi." You smiled gently. "I uh, I was just wondering, do you... have I done something to offend you?"

"Offend me? Why, uh, why would you think that?" He rambled.

"It's just... it's nothing, it's probably just me overthinking things." You waved it off, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I don't like you. I don't not like you, in fact I really like you! Oh, um I mean I like you, you're very pretty." The boy couldn't stop rambling which made you laugh. "No, wait."

"You think I'm pretty?" You blushed interrupting him. Harry felt his mouth go dry, not being able to get anything coherent to come out. "Well, Harry, I really like you too."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up so far it was almost comical. "Really? So, you don't like the other guys?"

"What? No." You laughed. "That's absurd. Why would you think that?"

"You seemed very..." The boy trailed off, not wanting to offend you after you had admitted to liking him.

"Flirty?" You finished, causing him to nod. "I'm like that with everyone, I don't mean to be half the time."

"Oh."

"Well, how about you give me your phone number and when you finally grow a pair, you can ask me out?" Your confidence levels had shot up spontaneously.

"Uh, sure." His cheeks had become a dark shade of red as he passed his phone to you so you could put your number in. You kept looking up at him as you typed, putting your name under 'Y/N x' in his contacts before handing it back to him.

"Y/N! Come on! We're going to Nando's!" JJ called from the other side of the room.

"Call me." You winked. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and was currently the only thing from stopping the wide grin from spreading across your face. A grin that hadn't disappeared from your face for the rest of the day, much to the curiosity of JJ, who was disappointed when you refused to tell him why, or more appropriately who, had put the smile on your face.

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happyandticklish · 3 years

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A Matter Of Spirits

Notes: Does anyone actually want a Dorian Gray fic? Probably not. Am I going to write one anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely. I do have a fic request that I’m editing right now, so that’s also coming soon. Based off the book, not any of the film adaptations.

Summary: When Dorian refuses to sit for a painting, Basil turns to Henry for assistance.

“Dorian. Please.”

The other continued to slump in his seat, staring off into the distance in that irritating, brooding fashion of his. This had been going on for a while now, no matter how Basil attempted to persuade the other. Dorian was in a mood which meant he would not sit for the painter and he most certainly wouldn’t smile. Normally, Basil was patient with Dorian’s swinging fancies, leading him to great heights of euphoria one moment and the depths of despair in the next, but today was different.

The painting wasn’t for himself this time. A client had offered a great price for it, a sum that left the struggling artist dazzled. Normally, he didn’t sell portraits of Dorian—they were his secret joy, a beauty he could admire without the prying eyes of others. But that much could not be ignored, and so Basil had decided to make an exception, just this once.

Unfortunately, it appeared his plans were going to be ruined if Dorian continued to act like this. Basil’s brow pinched in annoyance and exhaustion as Dorian fell back against the couch, one arm thrown over his face, the very picture of agony.

“It’s just one painting,” Basil tried again, trying to force his voice to take on an appealing tone. “One painting and then you can go about your tantrum.”

“It isn’t a tantrum,” came Dorian’s muffled protest. “How can you expect me to pose when I’m miserable?”

“I hardly think the situation calls for one to be miserable—”

“My favorite pair!” Dorian interrupted, sitting up suddenly to glare stricken at the other. He pointed to his pants, which now spotted a rather unfortunate blue ink splot. “Ruined. It’ll probably never come out, and even if it does, there will be a stain, and then where will I be? How am I to go on with stained trousers?”

Basil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was true that the paint might not come out, but Dorian was not one who could be accused of having a low supply of nice apparel. He had dozens of other pairs, all fairly similar in style. There was no need to get so worked up about the accident. Nevertheless, Basil knew if he put it like that his painting would never come about.

“What’s all this about?”

The pair turned to find Lord Henry strolling idly into the room, one hand poised elegantly on his cane. He was always elegant, no matter what the setting. Basil would have been impressed by it if he didn’t find it so irritating. Henry glanced between Dorian, distraught on the couch, Basil, standing next to an empty canvas, and finally at the empty chair in the middle of the room where Dorian would under normal circumstances be posing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Henry,” Basil said, a note of relief to his voice at the presence of his friend. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I let myself in. Dorian, whatever is the matter? You look as though poor old Basil here has just made an attempt on your life.”

Dorian sniffed, tilting his chin up petulantly. “He has, at least to me. Look at this!” He pointed to the stain, as though that itself should have been cause for outrage from the other.

Henry blinked, before nodding slowly. “I see. He has… stained your pants? To what end?”

“It was an accident,” Basil explained, crossing his arms. “I was showing Dorian some of the new colors I had got brought in recently, and a bit got on him, that’s all. He’s overreacting.”

“Ruined,” Dorian repeated with a lack of anything else to say in his defense.

Henry balanced his cane on the edge of the sofa, coming to take a seat beside the other. He examined the stain carefully, making sure to glance at it from all angles. Basil and Dorian watched him, both waiting to hear whose side he would take. Finally, he leaned back, clapping his hands together definitively. “Why, Dorian, you have nothing to worry about! It’s only a little stain, and hardly noticeable at that. A quick wash ought to fix it.”

Dorian fixed him with a suspicious glance, but it was difficult to doubt Henry, and finally a bit of hope came into his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Henry assured him. “Now, come, you’re being ridiculous. Sit for Basil. He only wants a portrait, nothing more. Surely you can accomplish that?”

Dorian looked as though he were on the edge of giving in, but finally he turned his face aside stubbornly. “I can’t. The mood is ruined. I can’t pose when my spirits are so low. I’ll look dreadful.”

Basil threw his hands up in frustration, ready to give up altogether and try again tomorrow, though he knew it would heavily delay the process. Henry, however, was not deterred. “A matter of low spirits, you say?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and all at once Basil realized his plan, recognizing the look from years of being around the other. Dorian had not yet experienced Henry’s fullproof method for cheering one up, and so he simply frowned in puzzlement, reluctantly glancing back at the other.

“What is it?” he asked apprehensively. “Why do you look like that? Henry, what—hey!”

Dorian’s next words were overtaken by a surprised giggle as Henry’s hands found their way suddenly to his sides. He squirmed back against the couch, weakly attempting to bat the other away. “W-Wahait, noho!”

“I’m simply raising your spirits, nothing more,” Henry replied calmly, expertly maneuvering against the clothing protecting the other and finding each and every spot that had Dorian desperate to get away. “After all, you’re laughing, aren’t you?”

Dorian was, quite a lot at that, and the sound was breathtaking as Basil listened and watched the scene unfold. His laughter had always been uproarious, a carefree, wild sound that brought to mind the joy of childhood; Dorian had never been one to hide away his emotions, always feeling and existing in his truest self. But now that same laughter took on a more frantic cadence, breaking off into fits of giggles and every once in a while a sudden shriek when Henry hit a good spot. It was unreasonably endearing, and Basil felt a blush fighting its way onto his features. He knew he should look away or help—though whether he was to help Dorian or Henry he couldn’t say—but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

Dorian was a mess of limbs, his outfit thoroughly rumpled by this point, something that he would have cared about if he wasn’t so focused on the way Henry’s fingers skillfully climbed his ribs. “P-Plehehehease, Ihihihi’ll dihihie!”

“I’m certain you shall be fine, there’s no need for dramatics,” Henry dismissed, working around Dorian’s attempts to shove him off. “Besides, to die of laughter would be a worthy death in my opinion.”

Basil scoffed at the vague poetry, stepping in and placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t you think he’s had enough?”

“That is up to Dorian himself,” Henry replied, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous delight. “Well? What do you say, my friend? Are you significantly cheered up yet?”

In truth, Dorian could already feel his poor mood dissipating, but despite this he continued to persist. “Of course not,” he huffed, grabbing at Henry’s wrists finally and holding them firmly. “This is ridiculous, I am not still a child. I have no time for such silly behavior.”

“And yet you were certainly acting like one earlier,” Basil commented without thinking, and Dorian shot him a betrayed look.

“Basil is right,” Henry agreed. “Which is why he’ll be assisting me. I can’t have you squirming around so much, you’ll only get in the way. Basil, his arms please.”

Basil snapped his head up, having not expected to get brought into this. “Well, I don’t think—”

“Basil is far too soft-hearted for this torture,” Dorian interrupted before he could finish. “He is not so bold or ruthless as you.”

The comment worked better than anything Henry could have said to convince him, and in the next moment Basil was on the couch behind him, slipping his hands under the other’s arms and securing them in a tight grip. “Henry, proceed.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide as he realized his predicament, and he surged against the hold to no avail. “Wait, hold on, there’s no need—ahAHA!”

His words broke off into wild cackling as Henry continued his attack, wiggling his fingers with quick, deft gestures under his arms. “Feeling anymore cooperative now?” Henry teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Thihihihis ihihis cruhuhuel!” Dorian protested, his actions growing more desperate as the vulnerable spot was continuously pursued. Yet no matter how he thrashed, there was no escape. “Bahahahasil!”

“Yes Dorian?” Basil asked, growing more confident in his actions as he listened to the sweet giggles, and the delighted expression that Dorian was doing a poor job at hiding. “Going to me for help will do you no good, not after all you’ve put me through this afternoon. I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to face the consequences of your actions.”

“Mehehehean!” Dorian kicked his legs out uselessly, throwing his head back into Basil’s chest. He jerked suddenly when Henry’s fingers began to travel, pinching up and down his ribs. His laughter pitched several octaves, and his hands flapped about, attempting to grab hold of anything that would help him out. “AhAHAHA, HEHEHENRY!”

“Dorian, please, calm yourself,” Henry said, shaking his head. “You are causing quite the ruckus, what if the neighbors hear?”

Dorian could hardly reply, too lost in his own laughter. Each tweak or prod of his ribs had him spasming, his layers doing little to protect him. The spot appeared to be unbearably ticklish, worse even than the cruel scribbling under his arms. Dorian was no stranger to his own sensitivity, a fact which had been brought to his attention in stark clarity when he was a child, but he hadn’t been tickled in many years and he was unprepared for just how intense it could be.

Finally, he managed to form enough coherency to spew a stream of giggly protests. “I-Ihihihihi dehehehehemand thahahahat—ehehehe, aha—thahahahat yohohou stahahahap ahahahahat ohohonce! Ihihihi wihihihill—ah! Heh, nahaha, nohoho! I wihihihill gehehehet m-my, mihihi—stahahap ihihihit, nahahahat thehehere!”

“You’re not making any sense, I’m afraid,” Henry informed him sympathetically. “Really, I have spoken with you about the benefits of proper articulation before, there’s no need to stammer so. Basil, can you understand a word of what he’s saying?”

“I can’t say I do,” Basil replied, and suddenly his own fingers had been added into the mix, scribbling over the edges of his armpits from where he held him tight. Dorian shrieked, unprepared for the double assault, and burst into a round of cursing as his laughter advanced to an even more frantic pitch. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep encouraging him until he remembers the proper form of speech.”

Red had begun to creep across Dorian’s features as well, a testament to the teasing that was slowly working to unravel with along with the tickling. With that, his stubbornness finally caved. “Ohohohokay, OHOHohohohokay, I-I’ll sihihihihit!”

Henry and Basil exchanged a pleased glance and collectively sat back, releasing Dorian to wrap his arms around himself in a giggly pile between them. After he had regained his breath somewhat, Dorian managed a half-hearted glare in Henry’s direction. “That was wholly uncalled for.”

“Are your spirits not cheered?” Henry pointed out. “You cannot convince me you weren’t enjoying yourself. You’ve never been one to give in so easily to something you weren’t willing to engage in.”

Dorian blushed, sitting up straight and adjusting his jacket with a cough. “That is ridiculous, Henry, utterly ridiculous. I did nothing of the sort. And to think I thought you were a man of intelligence.”

Henry raised a wry brow, shrugging his shoulders. “If that is what you must tell yourself, I will let you believe it for now. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I won’t discover the truth on a later occasion, however.”

Dorian’s stomach flipped not unpleasantly at the idea, but he merely scoffed, springing from the sofa and bounding over to the sitting chair. “Well, if I’m going to sit, I’m going to need a change of outfit at once. Look at me, I look positively tousled, like I’ve been out in a storm!”

Basil watched him as he continued to waltz about the room, making endless comments about dress and hair, but with a far more agreeable air than before. “Thank you,” he whispered gratefully to Lord Henry, who startled at the sound, tearing his gaze away from Dorian where it had previously been taken.

“Yes, of course old friend, always happy to help. Although you might be careful he doesn’t discover your weakness as well.”

He reached over and tweaked Basil’s side playfully. Basil yelped, having not expected the sudden attack, and batted away his hand quickly. He flushed, glaring at him. “Quiet down with that, will you? For your information, that is not information that will be getting out anytime soon.”

“Basil! I can hardly paint this portrait by myself now can I?”

Basil’s attention immediately snapped back to the other, and he rose to his feet, offering an obliging smile as he made his way over. “No, you cannot. You would make a miserable artist.”

The two continued to talk and bicker contentedly as Basil helped him fix his hair which had gotten tangled in the earlier tussle. Henry watched them with a knowing smile, certain they would figure themselves out. Perhaps not that day, but eventually. After all, they must do it in their own time.

Henry slipped out quietly while they talked, allowing them to have the day to themselves.

Maybe one day, he thought with a gentle smile.

#tickling #tickle fic #dorian gray #basil hallward #lord henry wotton #basil x dorian #fanfiction #classics #the picture of dorian gray

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idiotic-genius · 3 years

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How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

#writing #writing prompts #writing tips #writing advice #story prompt #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #immersion #writing immersion #immersive writing #story tips #how to write #tutorial #tips #request

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txemrn · 3 years

Text

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

Tag List (please please please let me know if you need to be added or removed!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @dcbbw @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #leo x madeleine #royal roulette #choices fanfiction #choices trr

78 notes · View notes

lumaejin · 3 years

Text

Your Highness | JJK

➳ Ship: Jungkook x Reader

➳ Genre: Fantasy AU. Prince!Jungkook x Warrior!Reader

➳ Word Count: 3.3k

➳ Rating: General Audiences (nothing mature/explicit)

➳ Summary: Your childhood best friend. The prince of your realm. One minute you were causing trouble together, the next he was... gone. But almost 100 years later, you finally see him again.

(banner made by me)

I lunged out with my wooden sword, the tip cutting through the dummy’s throat, sending its head flying. I smiled at my work, thinking about the possible praise I would get from my trainer. Someone started clapping from behind me.

“What are you doing here Jungkook?” I said, walking towards the decapitated head of the dummy and picking it up. With all my strength, I threw it across to the nearest bin.

“Well you know, escaping classes and what not,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Typical.

“You do know these will be important once you’re the emperor, right?”

“I still have ages until I have to worry about that. Besides, don’t you want to… you know, get out of here for a bit?” he asked, looking around at the old training arena, “It smells in here.”

“True that,” I said, contemplating his idea, “You know what… why not? BUT, I get shouted at for ‘being a bad influence to you’, you will not get off easily.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“Now help me with tidying up.”

“That’s not fair! You made this mess!” he pouted. You stopped for a moment to admire his expression, before looking away.

“But you,” I said, dragging out the u, “want to get out of here quickly.”

He sighed, walking over towards the rest of the equipment, grabbing it, “I could always go without you, or with my hyungs, you know.”

“We both know you would never.”

[…]

As soon as the dummies had been thrown out and the area cleaned, we made our way towards the stables. Technically, Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be here, so we couldn’t just ask Hoseok for the horses like we normally would. Instead, Jungkook was going to saddle them secretly, while I went to distract Hobi.

“HEY! HOBI OPPA!” I yelled out, waving furiously at him. Jungkook had already snuck to the other side, entering the stable from the back door.

“Hey Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Well, I was bored so I decided to come here.”

Walking towards a bench, I sat down, patting the spot next to me. Maybe I did feel a bit bad for lying to him, but that could be worried about later.

“Jungkook’s in class, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, his classes are getting longer and longer every day. So, what have you been doing?”

“Oh, not much, just this and that. Oh, we got a new horse, did I tell you?”

“You did? Is it a he or a she?” I asked, genuinely interested. Horses were beautiful creatures, especially the royal steeds.

“A she. Her name is Snowy and she’s beautiful! If you want, I can show you right now?”

Shit, no Hobi. I appreciate it but please don’t.

“Ugh, maybe another day? I’m sure she still has to get used to everything. Wouldn’t want to disturb her now, would we?” I said, mentally slapping myself. Couldn’t I have come up with something better? I glanced around, focusing on my peripheral vision. I couldn’t see Jungkook anywhere, so he was still inside. I sighed internally, couldn’t that boy hurry up?

“Ah no, she’s the sweetest. She gets along really well with the others, even with Flare and you know how she is.”

“Yeah. But just to be safe, you know.”

“Sure…” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you, but you smiled.

“How did your training go?”

“The usual, Taehyung managed to land himself detention once again, and I stayed back a bit to practice after that.”

“What did he do this time?” Hoseok said, shaking his head, a smile on his lips.

I laughed, replaying the scene in my head, “Well, the usual prank. This time, it was on the assistant trainer. It was hilarious, but no one was dumb enough to laugh.”

The image of the assistant, covered from head to toe in paint, flashed in front of my mind and I bit back another laugh.

At that moment, I saw a figure waving out of the corner of my eyes. Jungkook. Mission accomplished.

“Anyway, it was nice chatting and all, but I have to get back to my grandmother now. Thank you! I’ll see whether I can stop by later?”

“Sure,” he said, as I ran off to the back of the stable, waving at him until I wasn’t in sight anymore.

“…TELL JUNGKOOK THAT HE CAN’T SKIP CLASS FOREVER!” I heard Hoseok shout after me. He must have seen me glancing at the stable doors every now and then. I grinned at his words and shook my head, yelling back “I WILL!”

A second later, I reached the edge of the forest, where Jungkook was waiting for me.

“I’m supposed to tell you, from Hobi oppa, that you can’t continue to skip class,” I said, taking the reins, which he held out towards me.

“You have to be more subtle next time. I mean, if Hobi hyung can pick up on it, then anyone could.”

“Stop complaining,” I said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder, “I’ve been doing the same thing for years, and Hobi oppa and the rest of your hyungs are the only ones who ever pick up on it. By the way, why did you take so long? What the hell were you doing in there?”

“It’s not my fault that Fire over here was trying to bite off my finger!”

“You should have let her, you know how much she likes eating human parts. It would have made her happy,” I said, giving him a smile.

“Don’t you worry about my happiness, woman?”

“Nope.”

[...]

A long ride and a few close encounters with castle guards later, the rushing sound of the waterfall could be heard. The forest was teeming with life, like it always was. Birds were chirping happily, the leaves were rustling and every now and then, I could hear the sound of animals rushing around between the bushes.

As we got closer, the water splashing was more and more obvious and the air started to feel more humid.

“Y/N, look!” Jungkook said.

I turned around to look in the direction he was pointing to find the trees clearing up, revealing the waterfall we had been looking for.

“Woah! It’s not changed at all since the last time we were here,” I said, gaping at the beautiful sight. The fog started to get thicker, but still, it was beautiful.

“What did you expect to happen, for it to suddenly turn red?”

“You never know. Maybe someday one of you magicians decide red fits the landscape more?”

We dismounted the horses, tying them to nearby trees. The closer we walked, the louder the sound of the rushing water became. At some point, it started to be close to deafening, but neither of us cared. We walked to the side of the curtain of water and over a bridge.

The water was splattering me everywhere, but I didn’t notice too much. We kept on walking and soon we had reached the opening to a few dark caves. I took a torch from the wall and held it up for Jungkook to light. Immediately, the rush of cold air greeted me, as we walked further in, but I ignored it. A few moments later, we had reached our destination.

With a flick of Jungkook’s wrist, the lights in the small cave turned on. They were glittering in every different colour, creating a rainbow effect on the walls. A heap of blankets and books were piled in the corner, just like we had last left them.

I went over to them, while Jungkook unpacked the food which we had bought in village. The delicious scent of baked goods immediately filled the cave and I sighed in content. Quickly arranging the blankets, I grabbed a croissant from the basket and sat down in the fluffy haven. Jungkook plopped down next to me and I leant my head on his shoulder as we munched the food.

“I read that earthlings do similar things. They sit on a checked blanket and eat food like we are now, but I heard they do it on meadows or in a forest instead,” he said, staring into the distance.

“That’s boring! Why don’t they find more exciting places?”

“Dunno, but I think it’s interesting that they don’t,” he said.

I laughed. This was typical Jungkook. There was a comfortable silence, as we were both lost in our own thoughts.

“Kookie, what do you think will happen in the future?”

He didn’t reply for a while, thinking it through. “I’ll become emperor… probably marry some stupid whore my father wants me to marry, and die at some point I guess and you...”

My heart stung a bit, but I already knew what he said was true. There was no way he would ever fall for me.

“…you’ll become the best Valkyrie in the realm I bet!”

“As if!”

“Well, even if you don’t, as soon as I have the power to, I’ll appoint you head of the royal guard. This way we’ll never be apart.”

My cheeks felt warm and I turned my head to look at him, to find his eyes already on me.

---

TIME SKIP

I watched the scene unfold from afar, standing in the shadows opposite the small café. There he was, wearing normal clothes and working at a normal job, smiling at and interacting with normal people. With earthlings. Yet, as much as it was weird to me, I couldn't help but be happy for him. This was what he had longed for so many years.

Before he was banished, Jungkook had always been curious about the earth. He would read about it, the way things worked or the way people behaved, and then go rant about it to me. He had told me about how he found it fascinating and that one day, he would see it with his own eyes, regardless of whether he had permission or not.

Therefore it hadn't surprised me at all when his hyungs had informed me of his banishment. That couldn't be said about the people of Yinshratha however. It was the only topic talked about for days. No one had believed it at first, because Jungkook's father, the emperor, had always made sure that he was known to be 'an exceptionally well-behaved boy'. Any time we had gotten ourselves in trouble, his involvement was always kept quiet.

As a result, it had been a great shock for most people to find that Jungkook, their prince and the successor to the throne, had been caught returning from the earth. Going there without permission was a major crime, which was punishable by death. Normally, the emperor would have just kept it quiet, resorting to giving his son house arrest instead, but unfortunately, many people had witnessed Jungkook being dragged towards the palace. There wasn't much of a choice for the emperor after that, but to banish him. I hadn't seen my best friend since.

100 years had passed now, and every day, I had missed him. I had thought multiple times of just going to earth to find him, but the last words I had said to him before his banishment prevented me from doing so, along with my responsibilities as a Valkyrie.

A year ago, the emperor had declared war to a neighbouring realm, underestimating their power completely. Half of his troops, including most of my comrades, had been killed in the last battle, leaving the emperor no choice but to look for reinforcements where ever he could find them, which meant looking for banished folk. I had already found nearly all of them, the only one left now was Jungkook.

I had always doubted whether he would return when he was called, but instead of dwelling on it too much, I had pushed it to the back of my mind instead, focusing on tracking and finding the others.

Yet, as I watched him go about his business, serving customers in a small café, these doubts resurfaced. He seemed so happy, making me wonder whether I should really bother him with the news of his old home. As soon as I had registered what I was contemplating though, I shook the thoughts out of my head and moved out of my hiding spot. It was 16:50 now and the shop would be closing soon. I had already wasted enough time.

Silently, I entered the small shop, joining the shrinking line. There were people chatting happily everywhere, most of them were holding a weird rectangular thing in their hands and moving their thumbs over it quickly. In fact, there were multiple tables where all the people who sat there didn't talk to each other at all and just stared at their rectangles instead. How weird.

I looked to the front, where Jungkook was currently serving another customer. He was as handsome as ever, with his forehead showing underneath his hair, and his charming smile. There was that feeling in my stomach again, almost as if it had never disappeared and always been there. I was getting distracted again.

The line moved again and a while later, I was at the front.

"Good afternoon miss. Welcome to our café, what would...?" he trailed off, staring at me with wide eyes, "Y/N? What are you doing here?"

I knelt down in front of the counter, "Your highness."

There was a lot I would have given not to do it, but Vakyries who didn't kneel were often punished and even though I knew that Jungkook would never do anything of the kind, there was no telling who was watching.

The people in the café looked at me weirdly, while Jungkook's eyes widened, quickly telling me that there was no need to bow. I stood up slowly, "I have been sent by his majesty, the emperor-"

"Let's not talk about this here. Come with me," he cut in quickly, before more people could overhear and question my sanity, "Sejin, can you cover for me?"

I walked behind the counter and followed him into a back room. He pressed something rectangular, causing the room to suddenly be lit. A small table, surrounded by a few sofas was placed in the middle of it and there was a fireplace on the wall before the small setup. Additional tables lined the wall. He turned towards me, leaning against one of them, and smiled cheekily, "Since when have you called me 'your highness'?"

"It is required of all Valkyries to call all members of the royal family -"

"I've told you before that even after you finish your training, that you won't have to do that. It already gets annoying enough when everyone else does it, there is no need for you to do it too."

"Yes, your highness, but it's been a while since we've last talked," I replied. My thoughts strayed once again to the day we had last seen each other and I cringed internally. Clearing my throat, I said, "His majesty, the emperor -"

"I hereby command you to drop the 'your highness' bullshit and all that formality," he said, making me sigh with relief, "Now before you go on again about-" he imitated my voice in a ridiculous manner, for which I almost hit him with my bag and stopping myself at the very last second, " 'his majesty, the emperor-' I wanted to catch up. What have you been doing? How are you doing?"

"Jungkook, I- oh shut up," I said at his smirk. Only then realising what had slipped out, I quickly covered my mouth. 'Shut up' was not something I was allowed to say to the prince.

He laughed at my gesture, shaking his head, "Seriously, you've changed. When have you ever cared about this stuff? You used to hit me with a ruler and tell me to shut up for no apparent reason all the time."

"I was a kid back then! And you definitely deserved it. Your status was really getting to you," I said, smiling feebly at the old memories of us running through the beautiful meadows and laughing. Immediately, an image of the battle flashed before me, making me drop it instantly.

"Jungkook, listen. I was sent here to inform you that your banishment has been lifted," I said, " His majesty declared war to Hanashem and unfortunately, their forces are stronger than was anticipated. He sent all of the elites in, but- but most of us didn't make it. He's afraid of losing this war, with the majority of us gone." The images of the battle scene were there again, haunting me as they had done in the past few weeks.

"He...what?" Jungkook said, his voice laced with hatred, "How could he have been so careless to send you in? And what the hell happened to the 'realm of peace'."

"Please Jungkook, I know you hate him, but the realm needs you. Your hyungs need you. I need you," I pleaded, images of my dead comrades were now flashing before my eyes, "Please. Please come back."

The next thing I knew, arms were wrapping themselves around me, enclosing me in a comforting hug. Butterflies were gathering themselves in my stomach again, but I ignored them, subconsciously leaning into the embrace, forgetting the principles which had been drilled into me completely and any will that I had had in the last few years to get over Jungkook.

"Of course I'll come," I heard him whisper as he stroked my hair softly, "It's going to be okay."

We stayed like that for a while until he spoke again, "There's something that I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He pulled away, looking me in the eye. I had an inkling of what he wanted to say. This was something I had been dreading for a while. I had kept the thought at the very back of my mind, but it was always there.

"Did you mean what you said to me in the last few moments before I was banished?"

There it was. The words I had dreaded. If I told him the truth, would it affect his behaviour around me? I knew it would because there was no way he felt the same. I was just his best friend, nothing more.

But I couldn't lie to him: he always knew when I wasn't telling the truth, not to mention, however close we had once been, I would be lying to the prince, a member of the royal family, which was something not to be done.

I hesitated, avoiding his gaze, before bringing the words out, "I did."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"It doesn't matter, I-"

"Do you?" he persisted.

I sighed heavily, "I do, but I can get over it. I -"

But I never got to finish my sentence. I felt his lips moving against mine, carefully but passionately at the same time. My heart pounded loudly in my chest and I felt my knees going weaker and weaker. Heat rose from my stomach upwards and I felt the butterflies fluttering around. Was this a dream? If it was, it was one I didn't want to wake up from.

As we pulled apart, both gasping for breath, I could only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Did you expect me not to fall for you when you were, and still are, so perfect all the time?" he whispered.

A/N: This was written a long time ago on wattpad. I like to think that my writing’s evolved since then, which is why I will make time to edit in sometime in the near future.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #jjk #jeongguk #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts j-hope #jung hoseok #childhood best friend #friends to lovers #prince!jungkook #writing

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toh-writings · 3 years

Text

Fortunes of Love Pt 2 (Eda x OC)

Summary:

Eda and Niliana strike up a business deal. In the meantime, Luz tries to figure out what she's going to do about this love of hers.

Warnings: None

Pt 1 Pt2

“And then she said that I’d fall in love with someone close to me!” Luz said, eyes shining. Willow and Gus were listening intently, looking just as amazed.

“Whoa…” Gus said, voice quiet. “Amazing.”

“That’s great, Luz!” Willow said. “Do you know who it is?”

Luz thought for a moment, eyes squinting as she debated with herself. She shook her head.

“Not really. She said it might be one of my friends.” Luz narrowed her eyes at her two friends. “Do either of you like me?” She asked suspiciously. Her two friends looked at each other and shrugged.

“No, not really.”

“Not in that way.”

“Then who is it?”

The group went silent as they all thought it over. Suddenly, Gus began to giggle.

“Hey guys, what if-if it was Amity?”

Willow giggled a little at the suggestion, but Luz could only think about it. She thought about Amity, about how she read books to kids, how smart she was, the fun they had dancing together at grom, the grudgby match, her smile, that cute little giggle she had. The more she thought about it the redder her face got and the more the other two giggled.

“Ooooh, Luz has a cruuuush.” Gus said. Luz blushed harder, shoving his shoulder but all that accomplished was making them laugh harder. Luz laughed with them. She couldn’t help it, just was just a giggly person.

“Luz, you have to tell Amity!” Willow said. Gus nodded in agreement.

“I know, I know, but what do I even say?!”

Gus shrugged.

“Tell her about the fortune teller or something?”

Willow and Luz shook their heads.

“Whatever you do, can ya do it somewhere else? Your teenage gossip is scaring off the customers.” Eda gave them a hard look from her spot behind the stand’s counter.

The teen’s gave an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Eda! We’ll head off!” Luz said, ushering her friends away. “We can walk and talk, right guys?”

They, of course, agreed, but before they got too far Eda stopped them with a hand on Luz’s shoulder.

“You got this, kiddo.” She gave the girl a wink, earning her a smile.

“Thanks, Eda.”

Eda nodded, letting her go. She waved to them as they left, Luz waving back before continuing her talk with her friends. Eda shook her head and muttered “teenagers” under her breath. They’d figure it out eventually. She turned back to her shelves of human junk with a sigh.

“Alright, back to work.”

She decided it would help to rearrange the items a bit, put something different out front to catch the costumer's attention. It helped a little but overall it remained a slow day. Sure, it happened, but it was still aggravating. She was debating sending Owlbert out for more when she saw someone approaching from the corner of her eye. She instinctually put on her customer service face before dropping it for a smirk when she saw who it was.

“Nily! What a pleasant surprise.”

The other woman gave a little wave as she approached. She was wearing her hair down today, the dark curls reaching just below her shoulders. She wore casual clothes, probably off of work for the day or something of the sort, her staff in hand.

“What brings you out of the gloom and all the way to my stand?”

Niliana didn’t answer at first, her eyes gazing at the assorted human items. To anyone else, it would have just looked like she was perusing the available wears, but Eda liked to think she was better at reading people than most others. To her, she looked uncertain, like she was thinking something over that she probably should have figured out before coming over.

“I had a proposition for you.”

Eda raised an eyebrow at that.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I had the idea that we could possibly work together. You know about my hobby making and fixing stuffed animals. What if I gave you some of them to sell at your stand?”

Eda laughed, shaking her head. Niliana crossed her arms, just waiting for her to stop, an irritated frown on her face.

“Oh, Nily, I sell human stuff at my stand! Your stuffed animals wouldn’t fit here.”’

“Which is why I would make them out of supplies from the human realm,” Niliana said, not missing a beat. Perhaps she thought this out more than Eda initially thought. “Just grab some discarded clothes or blankets, I make them into my animals, and you can market them as a piece of the human realm for children. You’ll be widening your market. If you want, I can buy the fabrics off of you so if they don’t sell you don’t lose anything.”

Yeah, she really did think through this.

“And what would you get out of it?” Eda asked.

Niliana didn’t have an immediate answer. She thought for a moment before responding.

“Other than a small portion of prophets,” Eda nodded. She expected as much. “I really don’t want anything.”

Eda looked doubtful. The other witch sighed.

“Honestly, Eda? I’m bored.” Niliana admitted, surprising Eda a bit. “I do the same thing day in and day out. I live in my tent, go to work, maybe work on a toy and that’s it. I just want something more. I want some excitement!” And for a moment, she brightened. Eda hadn’t even noticed how down she looked before, but now her eyes were alight with emotion, she stood up a little straighter and even her voice was a little louder. “What better way to step up things then working with Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Eda didn’t even need to think it over.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal!” She declared, and they shook hands. Niliana had the biggest smile on her face. Eda had to admit, that sort of guine smile suited her. “I was gonna send Olwbert anyways, I can get him to pick up some things for you to get started.”

At her words the wooden owl sprang to life with a little hoot, flying over to Eda’s outstretched hand. She smiled at him softly, giving him scritches and petting his adorable little cheek.

“Thanks, Eda.”

She looked back to Niliana, that soft smile never really leaving her face.

“Of course. I mean, who am I to deny someone a little excitement. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna lose anything out of this. Worst comes to worst, I still manage to sell some of my wares. It’s a win-win!”

She turned away, entering her tent with a “Just one minute!” shouted over her shoulder. Now hidden away, she took the key out from its hiding place, pressing the eyes to open the door. With a few hushed words, she sent Owlbert away, ready to collect all sorts of new human memorabilia.

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

It didn’t take much for Luz to realize that yeah, she really did like Amity. She had wanted to be friends for so long she hadn’t even realized those feelings had changed. Of course, then there was the issue of whether or not Amity would like her back.

“She does,” Willow said, not a hint of doubt in her voice. They were walking through the market, cones of ice cream in their hands.

“How do you know?” Luz sounded uncertain and Gus gave a doubtful look, but Willow wasn’t deterred.

“Trust me, I can tell. Didn’t you see how red her face got when you picked her up after the game?”

“I didn’t notice…”

“You’re right!” Gus agreed, face brightening and a hand landing on his cheek. “Her face got so red!”

“Plus she said she loved how stupid you were sometimes right before.”

“And she called you sweet!”

“Honestly, I can’t believe we didn’t see it before.”

Luz could feel the heat in her cheeks, a smile on her face. This was perfect! But then her smile fell.

“That’s all good, but… how am I supposed to ask her out? I’ve never even dated before…”

“Can’t you just ask her? You like her, she clearly likes you, what more do you need?” Gus asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. Willow just shook her head.

“I’m sure that works for some people, but you can also make it this big thing! Maybe with flowers... “ Willow trailed off, already contemplating what arrangement would be best.

The three of them devolved into a fit of giggles. Luz felt lightheaded at the very thought of asking Amity out.

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

She didn’t really know how long it had been before they were headed back to Eda’s stand. An hour? Maybe two? Whatever the case, when the three teens returned Luz was surprised to find a familiar face at the stand, talking happily with Eda.

“Nily!” She cheered happily, running over to the witch.

“Oh, hello. Luz, right?”

She nodded.

“Yep! And these are my friends, Willow and Gus.” She waved to them as they caught up, giving their own shy little waves. She smiled at them, one of those warm parental smiles that some people had, the one that made you know they were a good person. They smiled back, not nearly as shy anymore.

“It’s nice to meet you two.”

“It’s nice to meet you two, Miss Niliana,” Gus said, stepping forward and offering his hand for a handshake. She took it and gave it a little shake. “Luz told us about you!”

“Did she? Well, I hope she said good things.”

“Yeah! She said you told her the future!” Willow said, beaming.

“And it’s been so helpful!” Luz pushed her way through the two to stand in front again. “You said I would fall in love with someone close to me! And I … think I figured out who.” Luz tried to turn her face away to hide the blush creeping onto her face. Niliana chuckled.

“You work fast don’t you?”

“But now I don’t know how to ask her out.” Luz sighed, looking a bit crestfallen. She looked back up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, the woman smiling down at her.

“Don’t worry too much.” Niliana said. “Love can be complicated, especially when you're young. Just don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

Luz smiled at her, a hopeful smile. Maybe things would work out, she thought. She just needed to keep it simple!

Eda watched the interaction from her spot behind the counter, a soft smile on her face. She felt an odd sensation in her chest, one she was not entirely familiar with. It was all warm and fuzzy and other cheesy stuff like that. She didn’t like it, not one bit. The last time she felt anything even remotely similar to this it was with an old boyfriend of hers, one that ended up cheating on her for some cyclops floozy. It was not a pleasant memory.

“Anyways, you can pick up the supplies tomorrow.” Eda spoke up, interrupting their moment. Niliana turned her eyes to her, a little smile still on her face.

“Thanks, Eda! I’ll be sure to stop by to pick them up. I should have a few done in a week.”

“Sounds promising!”

The two shook hands and Niliana gave her goodbyes. The three teens shouted their own goodbyes back, waving madly. Eda waved too, albeit not with nearly as much energy. Her mind was far too occupied.

#the owl house #toh #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne x reader #edalyn clawthorne x oc #eda x reader #eda x oc #lumity #luz #amity #gus #willow

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mannien · 3 years

Text

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - PROLOGUE

The one with graduation, daisies and carnations, and a hopeless emotional addiction.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: some stress and anxiety here and there

Some feelings are addictive. It’s easy to get used to the way something tingles with excitement, warms up with passion, or stings with powerful adrenaline rush. People get comfortable with feelings known and desired and more often than not, they turn them into coping mechanisms. Whatever sticks their wobbly pieces together the longest, is the ultimate solution. Feelings don’t need to be entirely positive or with pure intentions behind them. As long as they cover up the shattered pieces, they stay. They may enhance some experiences, especially when someone decides to stick with something as simple as joy. But some make life more difficult than it seems; they mess up the timeline and allow people to feel so many wrong things before reaching the truth.

An array of emotions weaves through fresh university graduates. A sense of freedom and relief is somewhat clouded by fear or excitement. Someone has an internship lined up, their friends take a year to travel across Europe, a roommate has an apprenticeship at their next job. Others might take things slow and see what the future holds, while some students get prepared to have a fresh start. The overall unknown seems to be the underlying tone in the speeches during the graduation ceremony, but each person in polished shoes and with a rapid heartbeat subconsciously sticks to a feeling that makes them feel more at ease.

Students of each program are called on stage. Every little success along the way is cradled into slippery hats and fitted gowns with the university’s subtle emblem on the front. The audience is sitting on the large balcony above the graduates. People clap with appreciation at each young person walking across the wooden floor and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Some receive a more enthusiastic applause, sometimes even a roar of cheers. As the long queue of journalism graduates makes its way through the hall, the names are listed rapidly. Students walk as if they were a part of an assembly line, trying their best not to delay the process of the nerve-wracking hand-shaking and walking without tripping. The last are always graduates with exceptional results, so the crowds are encouraged to clap vigorously. And that’s what’s heard when the eyes of two women in the audience are focused on the proud figure walking on stage: the loudest cheers of the afternoon so far.

“Remind me, why aren’t we screaming for your boyfriend, and the whole department of journalism is?” A questioning voice surprised Millie so much that she jumped in her seat.

“I’m nervous, Thea. That’s why.”

She stated the obvious. Millie Beaver was the one to frantically fix the sleeves of her gown as a nervous tick. She got up early that morning, dreading the day full of polished festivities and exaggerated elegance requested upon a bunch of tired, educated enough people. The pride in successfully finishing her studies was yet to come; her body was rather keen on reacting dramatically to the large crowds of scholars, pupils and their families. The dread of participating in an unrehearsed event like this clouded her brain and made her focus solely on not loosing it. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the smiling man, who was just about to shake some hands on stage. The confidence he wore on his face was something she was used to seeing, even in the least favourable scenarios.

“I still don’t get it, how some people are born so talented that they don’t need to work their asses off to get somewhere,” she shrugged, making her tight black curls shake with her head, “I mean, the hours we spent on reading and researching…”

“I guess we’re just different.”

“Different? It’s not fair, that’s what it is. Patriarchy at its finest.”

The comment made Millie laugh and release some of the tension. Her eyes followed Franklin into the side corridor, where a little crowd of his friends formed a circle around him – the star of the department - before continuing into their seats. His cheerful stance made her bit her lip in excitement; for a moment, she tried to forget about whatever was said through the speakers. She genuinely wanted to be feel happy for him and his academic achievements. After all, she spent previous months on watching him get to the top of their classes almost effortlessly, as if he was born to be talked about by the teachers.

Millie felt her heart speed up at the thought that he might start searching for her for a little cheer, or even a tiny wave of support. But Frank sat down and continued to enjoy his fame, and Thea started to pull her up from the wooden chair.

“Come on, it’s our turn.”

She followed her friend and attempted to smooth out the heavy gown. Her light brown hair flowed as she walked, making her nervously fix it every now and then. She turned to the very end of the queue to find Jane, who wore a wide smile. They made eye contact and the blonde sent her a half-smile, knowing that they are almost through the tough part. It calmed Millie to know that she had her support system, not only up in the balcony, but also somewhere among the students of literary and media studies. At one point she feared that her nightmare of falling off the stage will become reality, but as a surprise to her and her close ones, clumsy Millie walked gracefully and with pride painted across her face.

Mission accomplished: she made it through college without falling.

The main floor of the event hall once again filled with students, their peers, and families. Loud chatter was heard across the building as people were celebrating the achievements of the year’s graduates. Some of the groups moved outside and took in the chilly London air. It smelled of rain and freedom, clouded with light grey pillows in the sky.

The three girls tried to make it through the crowds of chatting people in search for the perfect spot to take pictures together. Jane wore the highest heels of them all, so she was designated to lead them to the wall with the logo of the university. In a tight weave of pinkie fingers, they rushed through the hall just as they would through a college party. Millie felt dizzy from the sea of the same black gowns surrounding them from every angle. Some people waved at them, so she kept her smile wide and left Thea – with her one hand free – to the waving back duty. Their secure escape led them safely to the back wall on the side of the entrance, where some of the students usually found peace between classes and sat down on the floor, watching over the busy entrance to the building during the semester. The carpet remembered a lot of spilled coffees and teas in the wobbly little cups purchased from the cafeteria inside. Millie let out a breath of relief, seeing that only a couple of students found this spot perfect for keeping the memories.

“Hey, congrats! We’re graduates!” Jane welcomed the group that was finishing their poses in front of the wall.

Thea laughed with them, but desperately waved her hand in front of her reddening face to cool off.

“I hate your speed in heels. That was too fast!”

“Don’t worry, at least you don’t have to run to the Linguistics ever again.” Millie pulled her little bag from underneath the gown and looked for a sheet of paper with old notes. As long as Jane was busy chatting up other students, the other two tackled the makeshift air conditioning to prevent Thea’s makeup from running.

“Okay, are we ready for some iPhone memories?” The sound of a snapshot stopped Millie from frantically fanning their friend’s face.

“You sound ready. Do you have a tripod or a selfie stick, though? I want to have a picture with all of you.”

“We could still catch that group and ask someone to snap a few?”

“I’m not running anywhere, I’ve just fixed my face!” Thea puffed her cheeks and did a few more waves around them, certainly for an enhanced dramatic effect.

“Then don’t run anywhere, I’ll call my mom to come here, she’s probably out for a smoke anyway.”

“You really want to have your graduation pictures taken by your mom?” Thea and Millie chuckled at Jane’s resigned sigh. “Maybe Frank could come here? I trust his steady hands more.”

“He was supposed to go to the student’s office after the ceremony. Honours and stuff.” Millie pursed her lips.

“Right when we need him! What a boyfriend.”

“Jane!”

“Do you need a hand, girls?”

A sudden male voice stopped the rising argument and made the three of them look into the corridor. He welcomed them with a warm smile and soft wrinkles by his eyes. With a small bunch of colourful flowers, he stood out in casual, non-graduate clothes, yet with similar youthfulness to him.

“I’m not my brother but I can take a straight picture in focus.”

“What the fuck?” Millie covered her mouth in shock. Hesitantly, she took one step away from Jane and Thea, afraid of her next reaction. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to my friend’s graduation, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m serious!” She raised her voice and made her way over to him, meeting his steps somewhere in the middle of the distance. He was smiling at her stupidly and she couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his reaction.

“I’m serious too, you made it! That’s so cool!” He opened his arms and invited her in, with a small encouragement of his waving hand.

One of the most addictive feelings are those of an utter comfort and safety. This teasing sparkle making your insides warm up and encouraging you to be a little more positive. That’s precisely what Millie felt when she was engulfed in a tight hug by her childhood best friend. Tom held her tightly across her back and swayed them side to side, earning a hearty laugh from the girl who was now, shining. She felt a sense of genuine relief once he squeezed her in reassurance; her brotherly figure showed up, so she was finally able to relax. Suddenly everything felt easy and perfect. All of the stress, fear of the unknown, anxiety about the grand event of the day, and the rest of damaging emotions slowed down their tempo in her veins, simply because she was home. Her smile swiftly changed into more prominent and definitely brighter by a shade or two. As he held her close, he could feel Millie’s warmth suddenly radiate through his body, making his eyes twinkle with joy because of this very girl.

“Congratulations, Minnie Mouse, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered next to her ear, cautious of what others may hear from their little exchange. She did not need any more nerves weighting her down, so he decided not to make a big scene – even though he definitely wanted to tease her worrying head and make sure she’s having a good time. “you’re all grown up now, so I got you flowers.”

“Oh, so otherwise you wouldn’t?” Millie shook his head, but accepted a small bouquet of carnations and daisies.

“Nah, I know you hate flowers.” He winked at her and put his arm around Millie’s arms, tucking her into his side a little too tightly.

“Absolutely. Thanks Tom, I’ll throw them out after the pictures.”

“Go ahead,” He tucked her in even more, making her squirm in discomfort. It was one of their things, to squeeze one another too tight. It made them feel connected as if they were siblings. They knew how sibling love worked, Tom having three younger brothers and Millie being the youngest of three sisters, but it was refreshing to have it a little spiced up. She let out a shy laugh and pushed him away before taking the delicate bunch from him. She lost the smell of his familiar perfume and took a breath. Once he extended his hand to Millie’s friends, he was back to his public confidence and charm. “Hey! Thea and Jane, right?”

They took an intimidating number of pictures; some of them good enough to share with people, other more fitting into a private photo album filled with silly, heart-warming memories. The group shared a lot of easy laughs together; Millie’s girlfriends eased into the lightly flowing chatter with Tom in no time. It made her sink into the bubble of comfort and light; she was smiling brightly when they reached the entrance to the building. Tom opened the glass door for all of them. A slightly chilly air hit Millie in her blushing cheeks and slowed down the pinky glow spreading across her cheekbones. Somewhere in the distance she noticed her parents lurking excitedly at the group and waving them over expectantly.

There was this heaviness slowing her down and taking up an excess of space in the back of her mind. As they were making their way across the university’s main square, Millie slowly turned her head to the side. She perked up at the sound of loud cheers and noticed a familiar group of students. Among them, there was Frank—laughing and hugging people from his department—and he definitely enjoyed being in the centre of attention. She was sure he didn’t even notice her walking by, but she didn’t want it to affect her as much as it was going to.

In turn, what she didn’t think of was the attention someone would give to her best friend: the smiling, cheerful young man, who was shamelessly chatting up Millie, Thea and Jane.

“Oh my God, is that Tom Holland?”

This simple question, raised somewhere from the group of journalism graduates, didn’t surprise Tom. However, it definitely rose the hairs on the back of Millie’s neck. Though he brushed it off and sent her a reassuring smile, Millie felt panic flowing through her veins. They both knew it could happen, but Tom seemed to be focused more on making her a priority, rather than fearing being recognized as the famous actor. He watched her reaction, now fully aware of her boyfriend emerging from the crowd and skipping towards them.

“Hey, I was trying to find you earlier,” he brushed his hand through his dark blonde hair and gave her a brief smile, before turning excitedly to Tom. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“We just went to…” she paused, seeing as he was already extending his hand towards her friend. “…take pictures.”

“The girls had a nice little photoshoot back inside.” Tom cut short his smile, raising the side of his mouth only to her. He accepted Frank’s handshake but didn’t allow it to turn into a bro-hug. It was fairly easy to read their body language; Franklin tried his best to seem friendly with his girlfriend’s celebrity friend, but the said celebrity was too kind to allow his cheekiness outshine Millie’s comfort zone. Jane and Thea turned their heads away at the sight of palms squeezing a little too tight for a friendly greeting. Frank’s friends and a couple other bystanders watched the exchange with prying eyes, and Millie let out a frustrated groan at the unnecessary tension.

“Cool, cool. Can I steal my girl for a moment?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer, but rather just took her hand and pulled her to the side, hiding slightly behind the group of people. He fixed the tinsel attached to her hat and winked at her, giving her his full attention. He looked at her with his gleaming blue eyes and made her smile at the intimate moment.

“You good, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Are your parents here? I haven’t seen them.” She looked around, trying to find his mom’s flowing blonde hair.

“They went to get the table at the restaurant nearby. Wanna join us?” He searched her face and leaned in closer, brushing his nose against hers. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder and allowed him into her little space.

“Why are you asking me to choose between our parents?” She chuckled, but patiently waited for his reaction. “Could we all spend time together, at least once?”

“I told you, it’s not a good idea,” Frank brushed his lips against Millie’s, slowly easing her into him and making her return the kiss. “you can ask Tom to come to the party tonight, it’ll be fun.”

“No promises.”

They shared a few more kisses that left Millie breathless - Franklin wasn’t usually the one to publicly show his affection, so she craved anything he willing to give her. She smiled up at him and let him go, happy that he took the minute to catch up with her.

With one last wave of his hand, Frank joined his party. Although he was instantly pulled into celebratory pictures, he couldn’t help but watch Millie walk away; she joined Jane and Thea in a heart-warming group hug. She was just sweet like this: sticking to her people, making sure everyone’s happy, and embracing all the kindness in the simplest actions. Franklin smiled to himself at the sound of her cheerful laugh and turned back to his friends, but then he noticed the source of her laugh. Her and Tom did a barely-there joyful dance, raising their hands and curtseying to her parents. Alfred, her dad, patted him on the back and shook his hand vigorously, while Millie was being squeezed by her mom.

People from Frank’s department praised him for having any kind of relationship with Tom Holland. Frank watched Tom’s joyous exchange with his girlfriend. Tom was proudly paying attention to his best friend, and Millie’s cheeks were hurting from the smiles. She was content and felt at ease. She was sure that her heart was filled to the brim with love and comfort.

Yes, being addicted to feelings is difficult. It holds people hostage in the arms of the sole premise of positive emotional experiences. It’s also blinding for the addicts, making the loss of certain feelings hurt more than it should. Addiction feeds off the weak, the confused, and the uncertain. It eats them up alive and strives to receive more and more satisfaction. It allows for the illusion of reality, so that the addicts can project certain feelings onto their consciousness. They live in their bubbles of unruly contentment and often forget to look into their souls and perform a regular check-up.

Millie was an addict.

***

Please let me know what you think!

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear @sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection @cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #tom holland blurb

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whoistheasshole · 3 years

Text

How do I get out of this unsatisfying life I’m living?

Anonymous asks: So the thing is that I feel incredibly stuck - I have all the basics of life which I'm grateful for but also that was my BIG dream as a kid, to get tf out of my parents' house - but now I have that and idk what to do for the rest of my life. Like, if I try those "visualize your future" things I'm just like, "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer" & it feels like I don't really WANT anything so I can't plan, you know? Just flailing here honestly. Pretty tired of it.

I wrote back: I got your question. To pinpoint my answer a little better, can you tell me about your current situation, like how long has it been since you moved out? Which are the things you have in order to your satisfaction? Some vague idea of your age range would also be helpful, but I can work without it too if you’d rather not share.

Anonymous answered: Ah, sorry. I was trying to fit in the character limit & also whenever I think about this my mind just goes flbbbbth. It's been about 5 years? That's about the only thing I'm truly HAPPY about, I'm not thrilled with my social/love life, career, etc & have pretty much been just coasting tbh. I'm almost 30. Thanks for entertaining this.

Alright, thanks for adding some background. I will come at this from different angles and you can pretty much pick and choose what sounds helpful and leave the rest, okay?

First, while there are people who have it all figured out, methodically planning their next career step or fully certain that there is no greater joy than raising a child, there are tons of other people who just, to quote, go „ flbbbbth“ when asked about their next steps or, god forbid, their life plan. I would say I fall in the latter camp, but I don’t mind because I think there is nothing wrong with that. I let myself be guided by the things I need to be happy (more on that later) and by current necessities – if my job becomes shit, I need to find a new job. If a friendship goes sour, I need to end it respectfully. But I couldn’t tell you specific career or personal goals, except...

... let’s talk about the „later“ now.

I’m an organizer, maybe even a worrier, and therefore I like lists. And for that reason I made a list a while ago that I still have and expect to keep for a long time. It is a list of everything that I need to be satisfied with my life. It consists of 29 entries and has three of them checked, though several others could be counted as half-checked. I wrote down everything that came to mind, paying no attention whether it was reasonable or feasible to want. That wasn’t the question.

It covers stuff like a clean flat (not checked), restful sleep (not checked), friends that I see regularly (checked) or a job with purpose (not checked). This list is my guide. Well, generally my needs are my guide, but it can be hard to be aware of your needs sometimes, so I got this list. And if I wonder what I need or want to focus on, I can turn to it and choose one of the entries and see what I can do about it. I can also look over the list every few years and see if things have developed in the right direction. Little progress is no reason to chastise myself, but helpful information to see whether I need to re-direct my focus.

Please note that I wrote „satisfied“, not „happy“. Being happy is a passing emotional state. It is completely normal and okay not to be happy all the time. But quiet satisfaction with where you are or where you are going, that is pretty achievable. It certainly is a process, but an enjoyable one.

This list is not a race and it is not really a to-do list because most of the things I wrote down aren’t easy to accomplish with a single action. They take months and years and, for some items, I can only try and hope it works out some day (see anybody who ever purposely looked for a partner).

So maybe this kind of list could be an exercise for you. Maybe it provides you with some insight, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s not the right point in your life. But if you sit down and the only thing you can come up with is „cry forever“ or „sleep forever“ then, you know, that’s a sign.

Which brings me to my next point: Journaling or automatic writing. This method is especially helpful for those „I feel some kind of way and I couldn’t even tell you how“ moments – so maybe exactly where you are right now. Captain Akward has introduced me to a website called „750 words“ and I’ve used the principle of „morning pages“, though not the website, since then whenever I felt like some emotions were starting to boil over.

I sit down, ideally in the morning, and just barf it all on the (digital) page. There are only two rules: 1) Don’t edit or judge yourself, write everything as it comes to mind (that’s the automatic writing part) and 2) Don’t stop before you’ve reached 750 words. You are not looking to write anything readable or clever or lyrical, you’re looking to get all the weirdness out so you can move on. Repeat this as many days as you feel queasy or weird or confused or angry or sad. Each day, as soon as you’ve reached the 750 words, you can walk away. Heck, you could even delete/burn the document if that feels right. It’s just about giving your thoughts the room they need so you can continue with your day, hopefully feeling somewhat relieved.

While we’re at writing, I also have a question for you: Where is the pressure coming from to „do something with your life“? Is it truly coming from inside you or are there outside factors? Are people in your life asking you when you’ll have kids? Do you live in a culture where it’s expected that everybody does something of note, works certain prestigious jobs? Do you compare yourself to the people around you and feel like you’re „late“?

Maybe mull this over on a leisurely walk or write about it, using the method above. No matter where it’s coming from, the feeling of pressure won’t go away just by knowing its origin, but the knowledge can help you keep it under control. And if you find it is truly your own wish, you will have tools to shape your life according to your needs.

So, next, sleep: Maybe do that?

You wrote "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer". I understand this was half a joke, but also … it was probably more than a joke.

How are your energy levels? How does life feel? Are you trying to jog through jello most of these days?

If we’ve been overachievers or had a tough home life or needed to take care of ourselves pretty early, we can become accustomed to everything being difficult. This feeling and behavior can become a way of life, even when circumstances change and we have a chance to act differently.

Do you feel rested? Do you have regular moments of quiet in your life that let you breathe? If not, this is where I would start. Forget about lists, though morning pages might be a helpful accompanying tool (if they don’t become a task to punish yourself with if you don’t find the energy).

Take some weeks or months, maybe even a year to make rest your priority. You will have to find a way that works for you. Yes there is a lot of clinically proven stuff out there, but you will not see me do yoga or meditate. Though feel free if that’s up your alley. If you love cycling or taking photos or drawing or just plain lying on your bed and staring at the wall, see where you can add more of that to your day. Whatever brings you closer to yourself and makes you feel like you can exhale and stand still for a moment, that’s the way to go. Do this as long as sleeping seems like a fine choice. And for good measure maybe a month longer. You are ready to stop when you cannot wait to do something else goddamnit I’m bored!!! (you might say)

If you are in this picture, please start here. Any kind of life plan, next steps, strategizing, solving of riddles would set you back and perpetuate your exhaustion. Rest is not time wasted, rest is how you get your life back.

If you are in this picture, you will likely find that if you really pull through, if you truly rest, as long and boring or even scary as it may be, the other questions will probably have an intuitive answer afterwards. Not like „this is my 20-year career plan“, but „I feel like doing x this week“. And that is enough. Because you won’t need to strain to hear your needs through the fog of exhaustion anymore.

Finally, some practical information and links for when you do have the energy and inclination to tackle your job and social life. I am not saying you need to change anything if that’s not what you want to focus on. These are just some tips, in case they become relevant.

For your social life, I recommend what others have recommended before me: Pick an activity that you do with other people and stick with it long enough to become a familiar face, see also here and here (yes, meeting gay people is similar to meeting other people). If you try out new stuff, go there at least 5 or 6 times before you decide it’s not for you – of course assuming nothing bad is coming up like racist or abusive people in the group. Shop around if the first group/activity doesn’t work for you until you find something that you’d like to do permanently. Maybe you’ll gain some friends, maybe you’ll find a romantic opportunity. In any case, if it’s something fun that you like to do anyway, you will have found an outlet with a social group attached. It is absolutely not as easy right now, with Covid and all, but if nothing outdoors-y comes to mind, you could also use this time to brainstorm what sounds like fun for when things are safer again.

Of course you can also look at opportunities online, like Discord servers, online interest groups etc but I do understand if that’s just not appealing right now. I am certainly over sitting in front of a screen.

To round this up, don’t sneeze at contacts that you already have. Are there acquaintances, friends of friends, colleagues, family members who you would like to get to know better? Then go do that! Suggest a time and place to meet up and see how they react. Say yes to the potential friends.

Speaking of which...

The Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes might also be interesting. Sure, it’s a little pop culture positive thinking kinda stuff, but I did like the impulse it gave me to consider when I say no to opportunities out of anxiety or worry. It made me accept some social invitations from colleagues (… in the before times) that I would not have otherwise considered. I did not gain life-long friends, but I did learn another valuable info: That my FOMO wasn’t justified for these events ;)

It also lead me to the decision to do one new thing every month – visit a new place or try a new activity or cook a new food. If the concept sounds appealing, just think about what sounds interesting and achievable to you.

And finally, the advice blog recommendations that I’ll always have. For social life, love life, and general life planning turmoil: Captain Awkward. For everything job-related, including how to write a good cover letter or interview well and, of course, how to get out of the dreaded current job you have: Ask A Manager.

To sum it up:

1) Figure out if you even have the energy to tackle any of this right now.

2) Figure out your pillars for a satisfying life – nothing big and shiny, just … basic needs, wishes, social needs.

3) When you feel like it, pick what you want to tackle next and see where it leads you.

4) Stay flexible. This is your life and it’s okay to go where it takes you, even if it doesn’t look „cool“ or „impressive“ from the outside. All you need is to make it your own.

And if you want to, let me know how it goes some time. :)

#post #questions #advice #WHO IS THE ASSHOLE #life advice #rest #recovery

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caguaydreams · 4 years

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A thorough analysis on why Vah Medoh’s dungeon theme makes me want to cry

Yep, that’s an accurate title. Hi there! do you have a moment to hear about Breath of The Wild soundtrack? posting for yet a third time in hopes that tumblr won't hide it. I'm so tired

What started as a quick and harmless post, pretending to simply point out a couple of things, rolled downhill, out of my grasp and turned into a massive snowball of a short essay. How and why did this happen? Well, I assume a lot of people know about this song, and know what I’m talking about when I say that it makes me tear up and sob uncontrollably with every change in key as the seconds tick by and I spiral down into a dwell of misery from where I struggle to find the exit and to later recover.

……No?…..At the VERY LEAST it makes you a little uncomfortable. And I state this with much certainty, because after reading hundreds of comments everywhere online where this song is present, I picked up on a vast majority of people who expressed to feel the same way I did when it came down to our current music subject. See, statistics don’t lie… normally. So, naturally, my intrigue got the best of me. I wanted to find out exactly why this soundtrack was mercilessly stirring up everyone’s emotions, so I caved in and we ended up with this.

Buckle in, fellas.

Out of all Divine Beasts’ dungeon themes, Vah Medoh’s is the one that I can’t sit through. Not without growing antsy and wanting to turn it off as soon as possible. I find it genuinely difficult to listen to, and it’s not only because Revali is my favorite character and the song is just, plainly put, depressing, mind you.

We’ll start from 0 terminals activated.

It opens up similar to the other three dungeon themes; the pace is slow but eerie, gives off the impression that it sounds broken somehow. Something is off here, and it’s easy to figure out what that is from the get go: you’re basically entering a majestic, ancient, mechanical mausoleum, where everything went terribly wrong a century ago. Someone is gone, someone you knew, someone who was probably close to you, but it’s impossible to be sure. You don’t remember a thing, and this entire ordeal is confusing at best, and terrifying at worst. It’s your duty to make things right again.

It’s the same for all four Divine Beasts upon entering, save for the obvious little differences that separates them from each other and make them unique. Ruta’s is played on a major key, adhering to a sense of hopefulness. Naboris’s begins with a startling smashing of the piano keys, much like thunder of a sudden lighting strike. And Rudania’s theme starts threatening, dangerous, like scalding lava.

But now, back to Vah Medoh. The tone here is… alienating. The dissonant chords are all over the place, and feel disconnected, cold. It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want us to be here, or just like the elusive key, our presence is unexpected. Fitting, for a Divine Beast that’s high above the land, impossible for most to reach, yet we somehow made it. Apart from the piano, we have the occasional hint to rito culture, in the shape of a short, synthetic version of the rolled chords at the very beginning of Rito Village. A quiet reminder of where we come from. There is also, of course, the morse code distress signal, but we’ll talk more about that later.

As soon as this formal introduction is over, we finally get to the more, say, intimate stuff. Oh, and wouldn’t you know, it’s just tragic.

One terminal activated.

There’s no better short way I can describe this passage, other than anxiety-inducing. Especially when the strings come into play, and there’s two reasons I can think of why I feel this is an important thing to point out:

1- Characters and Symbolism.

I tend to associate stringed instruments, all of those which compose the violin family, with rito culture. And Revali, most specifically. In Creating a Champion we can see the early concept art and designs for all or most major characters in the game, and Revali’s highlighted rough design might be the one that changed the most throughout proper development of the character, out of all champions. He looks quite different from our usual depiction of him, it’s fascinating. What truly catches my eye, however, is the design of his bow.

You thought bird puns were bad? Oh boy, how do you feel about Revali having a bow that looks like a violin/cello/viola??? And do you need a bow to play it also??? Like, is it even an instrument or it’s nothing more than a mere fashion statement?-

Anyway. I believe this was originally going to be a not-so-subtle wink to rito culture, being heavily musically inclined as we can see and conclude for ourselves. Perhaps Revali was going to be a musician as well, now how cool it that!

Needless to say, the idea was eventually scrapped. But one detail I am CERTAIN carried over to the character we know and love today(okay not all of us love him but seriously if you dislike him why are you still here lol): strings. The association between bows(weapon) and stringed instruments, aside from being a quite clever and creative one, goes beyond the concept art and remains strong as part of Revali’s character, settling for having a presence via score. After all, Revali is a master of archery, so in that way it makes sense to keep strings as symbolism to reinforce the idea and drive it home.

But can you guess what other thing Revali excels at? That’s right: flying. He’s the only rito we know of who successfully managed to take advantage of wind currents and bend them to his will. And do you know what musical instruments are often used to evoke the feeling of flight and gale? If you thought of bowed strings, you’re correct! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much support on this topic online, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I am most certain that this is fact, although not something worth discussing on the Internet, by the looks of it.

Anyhow, violins/cellos/etc are ever-present whenever we’re close to Rito Village or dealing with a rito related mission. Attack on Vah Medoh, for example, features a sequence of strings that is meant to evoke the strong winds we’re fighting against in that particular moment(*). Another great example is The Final Trial, the song that plays at the shrine of resurrection nearing the end of the Champions’ Ballad. Preceding the activation of each terminal, you’ll notice that a new instrumental element joins the crowd: the first one corresponds to the tambourines, related to the zora and Mipha; the second one are strings, referencing the rito and Revali, etc. I tell you, the moment I heard this during the trial I almost started crying like a baby. And, although strings have a lot to do with Rito culture in general, they tie most strongly to Revali, since he was the champion of his people, and his legacy carried over throughout the years. His accomplishments became material of folk tale, a legend, a source of pride and inspiration for the village. And let’s not forget that, at the end of the day, Revali is the crucial and foremost connection Link has to this place. Other than appeasing Vah Medoh, Link’s responsibility here is to free his past fellow champion’s spirit from Ganon’s malice. The soundtrack is referencing Revali first, and by extension his devotion to his home.

With all that in mind, let’s move on to our next point:

2- Nowhere to Go.

You shoot the canons, land on top of the Divine Beast, do what you gotta do, activate the first terminal and the soundtrack goes off unannounced. Like some sort of surprise anxiety bomb. The rhythm turns fast, the melody erratic, incredibly desperate in its execution. There’s this sheer despair, fear, this feeling of suffocation almost, which are so well achieved in this particular piece.

And that is, partially, because a quite familiar resource is used here as well; one that we’ve heard before in songs such as Rito Village or Revali’s theme. You could even think of it as a motif: two notes are played in an semitone interval, repeatedly and in quick succession. For the sake of later convenience, we’ll call this the Flight Motif, now let me explain why. In Breath of The Wild, this semitone loop is often followed up by some form of resolution. In Rito Village, formerly known as Dragon Roost Island(**), that resolution consists of a graceful descent of the melody, from a high that was built up previously during the motif. On the other hand, if you listen to Revali’s theme, you’ll notice that the interval repeats itself for a couple of times as thought charging up, to then rise fast and determined into a triumphal reprise of Revali’s distinctive assigned melody. This juxtaposition supposes the difference that lays between common rito flight and Revali’s trademark ability; both musical sequences are speaking of flight, albeit in two different languages depending on the way to achieve it. While the rito traditionally use their wings to glide and let themselves get swayed by the air currents Buzz Lightyear style, Revali takes full advantage of his flying capabilities to somehow create an updraft of his own, rising meters above the ground whenever he likes or needs to.

So, now that I layed out my base of thought when focusing on the strings, this’ll be much easier to explain. We’ve settled what the instruments themselves are a symbolic representation of Revali, in this scenario specifically. He was the only one inside Vah Medoh, and the score is, in a way, a retelling of what we can vaguely assume went down here during the Great Calamity, as much as it is what sets the tone and ambience for Link’s mission. But what are we hearing exactly? What we talked about, the Flight Motif, is being repeated nonstop. And that’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that this sequence usually finds resolution at the end? Well. Inside Vah Medoh,… it never does. The melody picks up in numerous occasions, but it’s not nearly as graceful, or calculated, as we’ve grown used to by now. It gets tangled and lost, and then inevitably falls to the ground in disarray. The pattern repeats itself, reaching higher after a handful of failed attempts, but no matter how much it tries, the cycle never ends. What used to tell us about flying and freedom in the skies, has morphed into an almost sinister musical incarnation of a tornado, and there is no way out of this trap. What do you think it must feel like to mindlessly flap your wings against wind currents so strong and violent, that it is impossible to get anywhere nearby, let alone take off every time you lose your balance. Or every time you’re shot down. On top of that, trying to aim and fight back in whatever short breaks and opportunities you get, at an enemy that’s much more powerful and relentless, who’s using your own element as a weapon to destroy you… it’s a risk Revali surely had to take in order to put up a fight. Even knowing full well that the odds were not in his favour, that he was most likely going to lose this battle, that he was going to die. Let that sink in. I’ll skip the activation of the second terminal, since there’s barely any change registered in the theme in general. So-

Three terminals activated.

I know this post is supposed to be a breakdown of the song purely, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for a little theorising, and the following scrutiny is also quite relevant for our discussion. Bear with me for a bit. I’ve read almost everywhere about people’s most common interpretations on the Divine Beasts SOS signals, and how everyone thinks that Revali’s coming in last (a few seconds later than the other champions) has to do with him holding on for longer. Or, also, overconfident as he was, it means that the idea of calling out for additional support didn’t cross his mind until it was too late, and that’s why the beeping sounds more frantic and panicked than the others’ when it does appear. After giving it some thought myself, I’m betting on the latter option holding more ground, and that’s not all. I want to touch upon a detail of the piece that I never acknowledged was there until very recently(after seeing myself obliged to listen to this song fully and a handful of times, suffering every minute of it for the sole purpose of this analysis. It’s okay I didn’t need my heart anyway). Soon after activating the third terminal, the SOS signal disappears, or grows distant and faint enough that we can’t make it out from the background anymore. In its place, we’re confronted by this… shrill, piercing and painfully slow tune. It sounds synthetic, artificial, devoid of life. And it’s funny, because you know what it reminds me of? I’ll tell you:

A heartbeat flatline sound.

And I want to highlight that this doesn’t happen in any of the other Divine Beasts themes. All their SOS signals carry on, but Medoh’s is no more. This abrupt stop, followed by this bone-chilling tune…. makes me believe that Revali was the first of the champions to fall. A few days ago I came across SuperZeldaGirl’s video on a similar topic, theorising that this could very much be the case. There is not much evidence to support this claim other than some visual cues that could be suggesting to it, but after I found this in the soundtrack, and if we’re to rely on it for anything, I believe Revali was either the first champion to be ambushed by Ganon, or well…. the first to be killed. It is plausible, because short after Calamity Ganon unleashes his power, Revali parts from the group and flies directly to Vah Medoh, and he very well could’ve been the first pilot to arrive.

On this note…. we’ll have to wait and see for ourselves, when Age of Calamity provides long-awaited answers to many of our questions.

Four terminals activated.

An interesting melody is being played on what, for me, would qualify as a glockenspiel or a celesta, which are keyboard based instruments that produce a sound similar to that of a music box(***). If you want to pay more attention to it, I suggest listening to Vetrom’s Instrumental Mix Cover of the theme, where they practically zoom in on this part of the song (keep in mind that it uses the All Terminals’ time signature so it’s being played faster). For some reason, this particular addition makes me feel profound empathy. The sound of this instrument could be described as cute or childlike, magical, even. It is more often than not used to represent innocence, but I highly doubt that’s specifically the intention here. Much like the leading strings’ melody, the melodic contour of this one is trapped in a loop of going up and down constantly, but the difference is that this time around it sounds more under control. And much more uniform too. It doesn’t lose focus or takes risky, fruitless leaps, but rather chooses to stay on a path of waves that consistently rises and falls without taking detours. Like a determined battle strategy, giving it your all. You fall, but get back up again, and try again, and again. It reminds me of Revali’s approach to training, being persistent to the point of overworking himself. He had discipline nailed down to a tee, which I also think served him well in combat. It’s not just about being hard on yourself, either, but being confident and having complete faith in your abilities; believing that you’ll make it. For this to appear now, that the SOS signal is almost completely gone, is significant because it means that by this point, being so close to success on Link’s behalf, the music is sparing genuine encouragement for once, in spite of the tragic outcome of the past and the danger of the current situation. But, in all honesty, this is probably just me reading too much into it. Perhaps the composer just thought this addition sounded pretty bitching and there’s not much else to it, which is completely fine. Although, intentional or not, sometimes coincidences do happen, and at the end of the day, interpretations like this are a form of appreciation for an artist’s work and for what they can unknowingly accomplish.

All terminals activated.

This is the moment when the song finally lightens up. Notice how the strings abandon the wave pattern for a more even contour. The beat quickens, the melody stabilizes. At first I thought, coming from our flight analogy, that this meant a cease in movement entirely, and it was partly one of the reasons why the song in general makes me anxious. But thinking about it now, …there is something different going on here. The strings are playing on a steady rhythm. It resembles a march, it’s like a pounding heart. It’s a lively, hopeful statement. And what’s interesting is that, up until this point, there was so much fear and helplessness present in the score, even going as far as to reach a dead end when we activate the third terminal. But that’s it, isn’t it? the music just keeps going further.

It’s saying: this isn’t over yet. Even after complete and utter defeat, there’s still hope and an underlying wish to overcome this predicament, and we started to hear this as soon as a fourth terminal is activated. The melody we previously talked about? it’s here as well, and its beat is much more daring and confident.

And I just want to say… this is so powerful. Because this sentiment is deeply tied to the game’s story and Revali’s character arc. You see, he is introduced as someone who resents Link for being the manifestation of his failure, in a way, because Revali has trained arduously his whole life to be where he is, to be recognised. And yet… this hylian gets chosen by a magic sword and some tale of divine destiny and, apparently, that’s all it takes for him to be deemed the hero that will save the land. In Revali’s eyes, Link has done nothing to prove his worth before him, so it is easy to see why he despises the silent knight so much; he is yet another individual that was born into their destiny. Meanwhile, Revali has had to build his reputation from the ground up, earning him a place among the greatest warriors of Hyrule, and even then he finds himself surrounded by people who grew up praised for being born gifted. We can see how Revali is the odd one out, and can map out the reason for him acting so antagonistic towards Link.

But once we’re on Medoh, things start to change. When Link enters the Divine Beast, Revali greets him with disdain, as per usual. Of course, Link has no recollection of whatever happened a hundred years ago, other than a small glimpse of the rito champion talking down to him, a memory that came and went in a flash. So as Link, we more than expect Revali to act cold and mocking, which he does. He provides us with as little help as needed in order to free Medoh, reluctantly, shielding his wounded pride over having to wait for Link, of all people, to come to their rescue. But you can hear him starting to open up bit by bit(I wish I could translate his dialogue directly from Japanese but I’ll make do with a couple of dubs and other numerous sources from translators online). With each little step Link takes towards success, activating the terminals, the perception Revali has of him shifts from one of resentment to one of genuine admiration and respect. By the end of it all, he is willing to not only cheer on Link during the boss battle, but to trust him with his life’s worth achievement. And once left alone, he admits defeat and lets go of his bitterness, realising that he was wrong to underestimate Link, and later wishes he could’ve had a chance to measured up to him. To take all of this into consideration and work with it in the soundtrack I think it’s genuinely splendid. And for once, I am grateful that it ends in somewhat of a positive note that puts my soul to rest. I still have a hard time listening to the first two thirds of the entire thing, but now I can look forward to a hopeful and earnestly heartening conclusion for all the pain that this composition puts me in. I must admit that it’s beautifully and brilliantly crafted, and that I am enamoured of it regardless.

That is why I wrote roughly 4k words about it! I hate myself!

If you’re as crazy as me about the soundtrack of this game, I recommend you read the published cd interview with the composers themselves! if you haven’t already. I just found it yesterday(unbelievable but it’s true) and… after writing all of this and checking it out, I felt validated. It sure is a one of a kind feeling.

Alright folks, we’ve made it to the end. Congratulations for sticking around and thanks being interested in my nonsensical rambling!

I also hope that you, like me, will now be unable to listen to bowed strings without being reminded of Revali. Good luck!

————– Annotations/Sidenotes/Whatever

(*)The Flight Motif(in point number 2) is also present in this track. We can hear it in the background right after the Rito leitmotif, as per usual. It starts with a clarinet, I think, before the strings take the lead. (**) Note that the Flight Motif only comes into play in the Breath of The Wild rendition of the song. (***)I strongly associate this instrument with Mipha, given that it is used in her theme, in every “response” to the initial melody. It can be heard in Attack On Vah Ruta, as well, it enters the scene when the notes Mi(E) and Fa(F) are played. The initial tune, Si and Do(B and C) are played on a clarinet or oboe, wind instruments just like the flute that leads Sidon’s respective theme. The celesta can also be heard inside Vah Ruta, activating the first terminal…. when the song really takes a turn just like Medoh’s. Mipha has nothing to do with the song of this analysis, however. We must understand that instruments, although they are attached to characters/various story elements in some cases, can always be used outside of that context, for that is the nature of an orchestral soundtrack. If you have this many tools at your disposal, you will make good use of them.

#Revali #Vah Medoh #botw #loz #aoc

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

Text

The Soul-Eater’s Sorrow

I was rereading @fedoraspooky‘s and @lovelycoris‘s weresnoodle rp to de-stress and then got story idea and I had to pen it to paper immediately so here we are! This takes place before Lukas has met Hattie and about a month after his first transformation, so he’s still getting the hang of his curse (4,767 words). Please enjoy!

Lukas stumbled towards the tree with unwieldy roots, exhausted after a particularly rough night and long morning of sequestering himself as deep into the woods as he dared. When he hurried to correct his footing, his bag jerked painfully against one of the gashes on his chest. He hissed, accidentally biting down onto his tongue with his fangs and once more the taste of iron pooled in his mouth. Trembling, he spat out the glob of blood and wiped at his lips with the back of his hand.

The guard’s anguished howl when Lukas’ jaws had clamped around his shoulder echoed in his mind. Lukas’ grip around his bag tightened.

No.

His chest, littered with wounds from the guard’s frantic silver blade during the fight from the night before, stung but not as much as the guilt when he recalled the man’s expression contorted by terror and how even the man’s mustache had trembled.

No, please. Stop thinking about it.

The guard’s partner had come running to his aid, yelling as she banged her sword against her shield to scare the serpentine shadow away. He recalled her words with crystal clarity despite not having been all there in his beast form.

“Get away you—!”

“Monster,” Lukas whispered out loud, his breath brushing against his fingertips.

The hushed forest didn’t respond to his despondent sigh. Instead, he dropped his bag off of his aching back and slid down against the tree. Leaning his head against one of the raised roots, he stared up at the sunlight trailing through the leaves.

He couldn’t stop playing the night over in his head. It had been a whole moon cycle since he first transformed and fled a frozen Subcon. But having sensed the new moon would have him at his worst again like that terrible night, he had done his best to remain far from the nearest town. He recalled how he had even caught a deer quite quickly after sunset and had a soul to soothe and ease his hunger.

But he still went towards the town.

Groaning, Lukas cupped his head in his hands. His long, disheveled hair fell around his features like a curtain and he curled his legs to his chest.

He remembered an orange glow from the lamps at the town’s gate. His beast form had been drawn to them. Did he think they were souls? No, he distinctly remembered the difference between a soul and a lamp. But both did feel warm…

Scratching a bit around the itching scabs, he tried to remain calm. He still had the later half of the afternoon, judging from the sun, and he had found a secluded spot far away from any people. This time he was sure of it.

The guard would be okay. While Lukas knew he left him with terrible wounds, the guard had access to help and medicine and would ultimately be alright. He was deep in the woods and there would be a sliver of moonlight. Not much, and he would still be dangerous, but he had to cling to anything that might help abate the curse a bit.

His arms trembled as he slowly unfurled. They, too, were covered in scratches from the guard’s sword but weren’t as bad as the ones on his chest. Coupled with the fatigue from not sleeping at all the past couple days, the painful transformations, and the lingering, gnawing anxiety of carrying a dormant beast inside of him that reared its ugly head every night, he was exhausted. Maybe that was good. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could sleep through the whole night. He had managed to ignore soul cravings closer to the full moon. Sure, he felt a little sick in the morning but…

A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about what it meant to eat souls. It felt worse than if he was just eating the meat of an animal. It was like he was devouring its feelings, its memories, and every part of it that knew love and sorrow.

And when he did, oh, the bliss. It didn’t taste like anything, but it felt like everything. The warmth from swallowing a soul felt like the hope that hitched in his chest when he looked at the moon as a human. The warmth he felt when Vanessa smiled at him and held him when her powers weren’t fluctuating. The warmth that kindled in his core when he remembered his mother’s gentle lullabies and how kindly she cupped his hand in hers when she led him through the castle. The warmth of his father’s laugh. The warmth of his brother’s doting whenever Lukas took a spill when they were children. Souls filled him with that kind of lightness, but each animal’s soul he had consumed burned with flickers of their own joys that flittered just outside of his understanding.

What kind of wretched creature needed to feed off others’ precious feelings to survive? The kind of wretched creature he had become. Apparently.

Lukas shook his head, gaze tracing the lines in his palms. He still wasn’t sure how this all happened, but he could still try to fix it. While eating souls soothed his beast form, he would just have to try and do without. Clenching his fist, he solidified his determination. He wouldn’t eat a soul that night. He would hold himself back. He would be under control. He would prove he was more than just a…

Just a monster.

Lukas pulled himself forward, his back and chest protesting. Reddish-brown curls momentarily blinded him, and he tucked unruly locks back as he reached into his bag. If he was going to try to avoid hunting that night, he would need to fill up. He had found a handful of berries and acorns. A meal fit for a bird but not a human. Or soul-eating monster for the matter. But it would have to do!

Trying to taper his large appetite by eating slowly, he grunted as he pushed to a stand. He had passed a river as he fled civilization and thought now would be a good moment to refill his canteen and see if he could scavenge for more food.

At the river, he drank his fill and even found another berry bush. His stomach grumbled over the lack of protein, but he tried to savor the sweetness of the berries. While he snacked and gazed at the gurgling water surging over polished rocks, he tried to sort through his plans.

Because he had no lead on what kind of curse had been put on him and where it came from, as he traveled from town to town, he had been checking scarcely filled libraries and even chanced a few conversations with merchants or travelers, asking about their journeys and trying to get a sense of what manner of creatures and curses they might have encountered. Unfortunately, the longer Lukas lived with the curse, the more tattered and tired he appeared, making it harder to earn trust from anyone.

Still, he clapped some leaves and stems from his hands, he had to persevere. He had to break this curse and return to Vanessa. He hoped… he hoped she was okay. He hoped she was somehow not alone. Certainly, she was doing alright! He just had to remain positive.

Splashing some water on his face, he shook his head and tried to wake up. He had to wait out the rest of the day and would sleep through the night. He could not harm a single soul. He could control himself. Once he accomplished that, he could make his way to the next town and search its archives for anything that might help. He wished he could have safely entered the community his beast form had found, and maybe find out how the guard was faring, but since he had terrorized them and they might be especially wary of strangers with such a creature around, he figured it was best for him to move on.

He returned to his bag and dropped down, pulling out a book to keep his mind alert and centered. But he paused. The patch of grass nestled between tree roots was currently bathed in golden sun. His eyelids grew heavy and his sore muscles relaxed in the toasty spotlight. Just for a moment, he chanced closing his eyes as he leaned back, hand on the book cover. He drifted into a much-needed nap.

Lukas snapped awake when the all too familiar feeling of swallowing something hot seared his insides.

“No, no, no!” he gasped, flying forward as he glanced down in the dark.

Shadowy patches of fur had already sprouted on his hands and his fingers were in the process of combining. He fumbled to untie his cloak, refusing to tear it to shreds as the seams of his shirt popped with his bones.

“Don’t eat,” he whispered frantically as he dropped onto changing knees. “Don’t eat. Don’t eat. Just sleep. Sleep—ah!” He cried out as his fangs thrust forward, pushing against and out of his upper lip. His claws clenched around soil and the sound of splitting fabric tore through his mental checklist he was desperate to commit to memory.

Sleep. Don’t eat. Just sleep.

His vision blurred and he felt his body lengthen and muscles stretch as a tail pushed out. His bones bent and realigned, lurching into a larger, ghastly shape. Lukas’ jaw cracked open and from it came an inhuman scream that howled through the trees. A flock of birds fled nearby treetops and Lukas panted, clenching claws into the ground while golden drool dripped from the edges of his mouth. A similar substance oozed from the re-opened cuts on his chest.

Night fully encased the forest and the beast’s golden eyes shone brighter than the barest shaving of moonlight and pinpricks of stars. Breathing heavily, the creature thrashed his tail with agitation as he glanced around, searching for a meal.

A white light, glowing like the gentle reflection of the moon on rippling water, hovered in the distance, beyond a grouping of trees. The creature’s eyes narrowed into slits. Flames licked the corners of his maw. Hunger gnawed at his insides and urged him to feast on the warm soul that would pacify his deep ache. He stilled, crouching into a position to get ready to lunge, but then fragments returned to his thoughts.

Don’t eat. The feelings behind the thought ached with a despair deeper than the pain gnawing his insides. The creature let out a confused growl, keeping his gaze locked onto the soul. He pawed at the ground, wanting to give chase but the feelings twisting his stomach were enough to give him pause. Pacing by the tree, the creature lifted a paw towards the soul, but the frantic thought shifted into a ghastly echo.

Monster!

The creature whined, shrinking back as he ached and hungered and hurt. His spiky mane flattened and the twisting feelings inside him urged him to turn around and try to sleep through the pain. He conceded. Curling up on a bed of grass and torn clothes, he laid down and gnawed on the tip of his tail. The chewing motion helped to dispel some of his anxious energy as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Though ignoring his insatiable hunger long enough to fall asleep was tricky, once the creature drifted, he was exhausted enough to sleep through the rest of the night. His claws clenched and he occasionally growled, dreaming of chasing something he wouldn’t remember when he woke up.

Finally, dawn peeked through the treetops and the creature stiffened. With a high-pitched groan, the beast gripped the ground as his body reverted back into human. Painful pops resounded from his bones and his tail withdrew.

While shadowy fluff melted back into skin and Lukas’ auburn locks draped across his naked back, he tried to crack open his eyelids, but the soft sunlight stung his slowly adjusting eyes. He croaked, turning his face into the dirt and pressing his forehead against the ground to ease the pressure building in his throbbing temples.

Everything hurt. Not in the way it usually did after a night adjacent to the new moon but in a way that left him feeling like his limbs were securely trapped underneath an Alpine goat. He needed to get up, to try and put on some clothes. But when he so much as pushed his quivering hands beneath his chest and tried to push himself up, a wave of dizziness and nausea crashed into him and he dropped back down, groaning.

Why did he feel like this? He thought back to the night before. The soul he had seen and his hunger returned with clarity. But then, so too, did he recall his hesitation to pursue the animal. A swell of relief pushed through the torrent of unpleasant symptoms he was experiencing.

He did it! He had been able to control the beast a little!

The euphoria was short lived as pain pulsed through his head and he grunted, lifting his arms over himself as he tried to block out the sunlight and press back the ache. Maybe… maybe he would just rest a little longer…

Too many wasted hours later, Lukas had managed to dress himself in his spare clothes. He was able to fight past the headache to have the foresight to salvage the larger pieces of his ruined outfit from the night before. His legs felt like jelly beneath him and while moving too fast caused his stomach to flip, he heaved his bag over his shoulder and pushed on. Carding his fingers through his knotted hair, he blinked at the sunlight pooling in through the leaves and tried to focus on his objectives.

Find town. Find books. Break the curse.

Usually he would have ‘find breakfast’ somewhere in there, and while he certainly was aware of how empty his stomach was, his hunger was buried underneath how sick he felt.

Ambling aimlessly, he soon found the path and an apple orchard across from the forest. His stomach twisted, begging for food, as he stared at bright, red apples glinting in the sunlight. Salivating at the thought of sinking his teeth into a sweet, plump looking apple, he quickly swallowed.

No. No. The curse had made him many things, but he wouldn’t stoop to thievery. He still had a little bit of coin he could use in town. Turning onto the path, he felt something dribble down his chin. He brushed the back of his hand across his lip and found he had started to drool. Sighing, he glanced towards the apples, which taunted him as they perched just beyond a fence.

A small part of him still hesitated, wanting to at the very least find the owner of the grove and pay for a meal. His stomach growled (or, wait, was it his stomach that had growled?) and he took a step forward.

The hunger-induced stupor he had been in dissipated as soon as he chomped into an apple. He hadn’t realized he had hopped the fence or plucked an apple from the branch but now that the fresh juice revitalized his tastebuds, he dug in unabashedly.

It was only after he practically inhaled the fruit that he realized he was surrounded by other apples stripped to the core. His heart leapt to his throat as he examined the suddenly barer looking apple tree.

Did—Did he eat all of those without realizing?

Dropping the apple core dripping in his hand, he eyed the scene of his crime and lamented that even if he did find the owner and try to pay for the pilfered meal, he probably couldn’t afford it. What was worse was he was still hungry…

Grimacing as he reached for one more apple, he heard footsteps and quickly pressed his back flush with the tree bark.

“Muriel!” A feminine voice called from deeper in the grove. “Young lady, you better not be in the forest!”

Forest? Lukas’ gaze shifted as he scanned the uncultivated trees he had just come from.

The woman yelling for Muriel crossed towards the opposite side of the grove and Lukas exhaled. Carefully holding the apple between his teeth, he clumsily hopped back over the fence and dropped onto the path. He felt a bit more coherent now that he had eaten and while he could have kept going into town, the idea of a child wandering alone in the woods didn’t sit well with him. He promised himself it would just be a quick look around.

When he spotted a small footprint in a patch of soil, he decided he would be dedicating far more time to looking for the young girl. Finishing his apple, he discarded the core and followed the direction of the footprint.

In a turn of events, she found him when he reached the winding tree he had camped at the night before.

“Ha!” A small blur of red plunged out of the treetops and landed in front of him, waving a stick.

“Goodness!” Lukas jumped back. Still not feeling one hundred percent from skipping out on a soul, his dizziness combined with his trembling legs tripped him up enough that he fell back with an “oof.”

“Oh.” The girl wrinkled her nose. “Who are you?”

“Lukas,” he wheezed. Catching his breath and knowing he wasn’t ready to try and stand again, he opted to just straighten his sore back as he held the girl’s gaze. “Are you, by any chance, Muriel?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I believe your mother is searching for you.” Sensing her distrust, he summoned a gentle smile to try and ease her concerns. He knew he probably looked terrible despite his efforts. “Would you like me to accompany you back to the orchard?”

“I don’t need help!” Muriel turned on her heels, crossing over to the tree and jumping up onto the roots.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Lukas pushed himself up, stretching out his back and exhaling as it popped, “But your mother was worried—”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “I’m busy!”

Lukas tilted his head, watching as she started to climb the tree.

“Busy doing what? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m going to avenge the person who got mauled here!” she declared, scowling as she glanced down.

“Mauled?” He paled, thinking back. He hadn’t—Surely, he would remember—He couldn’t have in his beast form; he had slept the whole night! “What makes you think—”

“I found shredded clothes with blood on them.” Muriel lifted one of the remains of his shirt, a casualty of his transformation.

He sighed, wholeheartedly relieved.

“Oh no.” His mind whirled to come up with an explanation. “My deepest apologies for frightening you, but I camped out here last night and I suppose I accidentally left behind some… old… cloth I used for bandages.” He tried to conceal his wince at how poor an excuse he offered. Though he was still struggling with a headache and fatigue.

“You used a shirt?” Muriel catapulted from the tree and landed solidly in front of him. He jumped, reaching out on instinct in case she needed help, but she righted herself, brushing twigs from her scarlet tunic before crossing her arms. She crinkled her nose. “Are you homeless? And not the traveling-merchant-homeless but the pathetic kind?”

“Pa-pathetic?” Lukas bristled before slouching under her stare. “Well,” he admitted, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, “there’s no shame in being a wandering vagabond, but I’ll be the first to concede there are others who undoubtedly function better than I.”

Muriel’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile.

“You looked like a wild animal eating our apples.”

Lukas stiffened, his cheeks burning brighter than his newly awakened fire magic.

“Apologies. I don’t—I don’t know what, erm, came over me,” he stammered, already embarrassed by his ravenous appetite even without anyone watching him.

“If you camped out here, didn’t you hear that howl?” Muriel’s brows narrowed.

He froze, thoughts careening as he remembered the pain.

“I—well—yes, I did, but—”

“You weren’t scared?” Muriel’s eyes widened.

“A little.” He slowly exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. Offering a nervous smile, he added, “but I survived.”

“Wow,” Muriel gave him an impressed look. “Then you can help me!” She motioned for him to follow.

“With what, exactly?” He remained in his spot. A quick glance towards the sky told him the afternoon sun was slowly creeping. He wondered if he could even make into town at this point.

“Hunting the serpent shadow!”

He paled.

“Muriel—”

“Call me Mu!”

“Mu, then,” he implored, “It’s much too dangerous to try to hunt the beast and your mother is worried.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder with a scowl.

“You don’t have the equipment,” he continued, fiddling with his bag strap. “And I certainly don’t have anything to subdue the creature…” He intended to keep listing reasons for why it was a bad idea to chase after the beast without giving away he was the beast, but his growling stomach interrupted him.

“You’re still hungry?” Mu blinked incredulously.

He winced, tightening his fingers around the strap.

“You are pretty scrawny,” Mu huffed, turning around and shifting her stick to her other hand. Before Lukas could protest, she took his hand and tugged him back towards the orchard. “I guess you can’t go monster hunting on an empty stomach, but I don’t know how your stomach can be empty after eating nearly a whole tree’s worth of apples.”

“Ah, I-I suppose you’re right,” Lukas said faintly, letting her guide him back.

He inwardly sighed as he realized he hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out how to break his curse. It was due in no small part to how ill he felt going without a soul, losing a whole morning as consequence. And, if Mu had heard him last night, even from the orchard, he was still far too close to others. What precious hours of daylight he had left would need to be used for putting distance between him and everyone.

If he was still this famished, he couldn’t imagine what the night would be like.

Soon enough, he and Mu reached the orchard again and there they found her mother, getting ready to head into the forest.

“Muriel!” Her mother dropped her bag before running up to Mu and enveloping her in a hug.

Lukas smiled, releasing Mu’s hand and stepping back on the path.

“Mom, stop!” Mu grumbled, pushing her away before pointing at Lukas. “I got lost and he helped me find my way back. We should feed him.”

“Ah, it was nothing so serious.” Lukas flushed. He saw what Mu was doing, but he really hadn’t done anything to help her and he really needed to be going. The way that her mother was eying him with suspicion also made him a bit nervous.

It wasn’t like he had looked at himself in the mirror lately, but if his appearance was anywhere near as terrible as he felt, he imagined he looked frightfully haggard.

“I actually need to be heading on my way,” he offered, wringing his hands a bit as he backed up on the path.

“What?” Mu pouted. “But we need to hunt the serpent shadow tonight!”

“Muriel!” Her mother frowned, protectively pulling her back with an exasperated sigh. “A witch hunter has already made it to town. Let them take care of it.”

While Lukas’ eyes widened, processing what that all entailed and how he needed to get as far away as possible for everyone’s safety and his, Mu’s mother turned to him with a defeated look.

“But it is dangerous out there.” Her features creased like she was trying not to grimace at Lukas’ appearance. “It would be cruel to make you fend for yourself while there’s a terrible monster out there.”

“I really must get going,” Lukas said, summoning a charming smile. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be alright.”

“If you don’t believe a beast is out there, it tried to torment the townspeople, and nearly killed my brother.” Her features darkened.

“Wh-what?” Lukas paled, digging his nails into his hands.

“Uncle’s captain of the guard at the town over!” Mu cut in. Her voice grew bitter as she explained, “the serpent shadow attacked just the other night, but it couldn’t have gotten too far! That’s why I was looking for it! I won’t let it hurt anyone else.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” Lukas breathed out, shoulders slumping. Guilt weighed him down as he remembered quite clearly the guard’s agonized screams and the taste of blood. Lukas’ features crumbled as he held the woman’s gaze. “Truly, I’m so sorry. Is your brother—” Okay? Healing? Not completely traumatized at the very least?

“The doctor says he’ll heal. Luckily, the gash isn’t infected, but,” the woman scowled, “I hope the witch hunter skins that monster before anyone else gets hurt or worst.”

Lukas swallowed thickly, only able to nod.

“Would you like to spend the night?” The woman softened. “I’d hate for you to get caught by the monster or wind up in a battle between it and the witch hunter.”

“I’ll probably find shelter in the town,” Lukas lied. “But thank you for your generosity.”

Mu tugged on her mom’s sleeve and she bent down, listening as Mu whispered in her ear.

“I suppose that would be alright.” Her mom ruffled her hair and Mu beamed before dashing off into the orchard, towards a house that could be glimpsed between the trees. “So, where exactly are you from?”

While Lukas numbly recited his cover story about coming from a town near Subcon and inwardly grimaced when the woman recalled hearing something about a terrible tragedy befalling Subcon Village. He hurried to change the subject, inquiring about the orchard as he tried to appear at ease while the sun moved through the sky, his back ached from standing still with his bag, and guilt chewed his insides. Finally, Mu returned with a cloth bag filled with jars of pale amber-colored apple jam and fresh bread. The jars had mustaches painted onto them.

“Here you go!” Mu shoved the bag into him, and he fumbled to grasp it, eyes wide at the heft.

“I couldn’t possibly accept this.” He gave them both a wide-eyed look while biting the inside of his cheek. His fang pressed painfully into it.

“You brought my mischief-maker back. It’s the least I can do.” The woman shrugged before bending down and scooping up Mu. Mu squealed as her mom tickled her sides and that only encouraged her mom to blow an affectionate raspberry near her cheek. Giggling, Mu swatted her mom away, though she seemed comfortable in her mother’s embrace.

“Thank you,” Lukas whispered, knowing he didn’t deserve it, especially after what he had done… But the bread did smell tantalizing and the idea of eating jam with it was too rare a treat to pass up. He hugged the bag to his chest, still itching with scabs, and dipped his head. “I better be going, but I really do appreciate this, and I hope your brother recovers swiftly.”

Please let him recover swiftly.

“You better get into town.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Before the beast tries anything again.”

“You can come back tomorrow and help me with chores!” Mu called as Lukas started down the path, waving.

“If I’m able,” Lukas returned noncommittally. “Please take care.”

Please forgive me.

Mu and her mother waved as he left, heading down the path until he was out of sight and then immediately changing direction. After tucking the bread and jam into his own bag, he groaned lightly as he heaved the more cumbersome weight over his shoulders. The jam jars clinked lightly, and he ran a hand through his tangled hair.

He needed to run. If the witch hunter had plans to search the forest, it would not be safe in the slightest, and after how awful he felt from not hunting for a soul, he didn’t think he could keep his beast form from feeding that night and he did not want to chance being too close to others in that state.

He couldn’t hurt anyone again.

Lukas pushed on, weaving through the forest, crossing the river, and hiking ever deeper into isolation. He would ensure that he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

#a hat in time #fedoraspooky #lovelycoris #weresnoodle au #ahit weresnoodle au #ahit prince #ahit mustache girl #my writing #blood #painful transformation #i love..... the weresnoodle..... very much.......#also the guard is one hundred percent the mafia boss i thought it'd be funny #also right now Mu and Lukas are best friends in her mind but if she finds out about his curse #the friendship meter will crash down into the negatives like in the video game that's the vibe im going for #i got nothing else but Y'ALL SHOULD CHECK OUT THE RP IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY \O/#seriously it's so good and cheers my heart so often and is one of my favorite ways to unwind #just so much love..... for this au ;~; <3333333333333333

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seokmingiggles · 3 years

Text

peonies.

Prompt: "Going somewhere?"

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, quarantine!au (if that’s what you’d call it?), non-idol!au (this isn’t a typical tag of mine, but I want to make it clear!).

2.36k words

No warnings.

Being cooped up inside for the protection of others can become a redundant routine. Today, your boyfriend breaks that cycle and goes on an unexpected outing—safely, of course.

Alternatively, Taehyung decides that he wants to remind you of his love with the surprise of little gifts. Not that he needs to, but he wants to.

A/N: Here’s a little something I wrote in the span of a couple of hours tonight to separate my Seventeen teacup drabbles. By ‘quarantine!au,’ I mean this one-shot takes place in our current situation with Covid-19 :/ I truly hope all of you are able to stay safe and healthy. Please wear a mask when you go out! We will fight this pandemic!! ♡

•• The distinct metal clinking of keys jingling by the front door catches your attention.

"Going somewhere?"

Taehyung looks up from his feet after slipping on a pair of brown boots. He's got his keys in one hand, along with a slightly crumpled list of something illegible to you from your spot on the couch. A black medical mask is hung haphazardly to the side off of one of his ears.

He stands up tall, "Just got a couple of errands to run. I'll be right back." Your boyfriend flashes you a smile, rounding his cheeks into rolls of puffy dough.

You hum out, "Okay," and return his small wave as he leaves your shared apartment.

There's a slight crisp to the air outside today. It nips on the tips of Taehyung's cheeks exposed from his mask. The boy considers if he should have put on a scarf, too, overtop his jacket. Overtop his mask? It's too late now, he muses. At least his hands are warm inside his fleece-lined pockets, and his round nose is sheltered from the late-winter air. He clutches the piece of paper tightly in his right hand. Writing lists may be obsolete now in the digital age, but Taehyung can't deny how he likes the feel of pen on paper, even if he can recite each written line from memory; crossing off his to-do lists makes him feel accomplished.

His shoes gently click on the sidewalk. The streets are emptier than he's used to seeing. The light snowfall from a few days ago has already melted. Instead, some dead leaves rustle across the dry ground. Someone is walking on the same sidewalk, heading in Taehyung's direction. She's wearing a similar medical-grade mask with hands stuffed deeply into her pockets too. Her hair blows violently in the head-on wind. She looks up from her footsteps, and Taehyung swears he can see what might be a polite smile beneath her mask. The boy's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in response, continuing on his way.

His first stop is the used bookstore. The smell of old paper and the slight dryness from the dust make their way through Taehyung's mask, into his nose. He doesn't have anything specific in mind. He does, however, know the types of books you like to read. Shelf after shelf, he scans the spines one by one, in search of a title that stands out to him. Stardust, he ruminates, eyes inspecting the plain royal blue cover. It seems simple enough, and if you don't like it, he may consider reading it.

Taehyung weaves through the maze of piled books laid out on the floor; there are far too many for the small shop to accommodate. The owner of the store is sat behind the desk at the side, likewise surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. Some are dustier than others; some look newer than others.

"Just this one today?" the bookkeeper ponders, face half-masked.

"Yes, please."

The blue-bound book finds a place in the crook of the boy's elbow, pressed to his chest as he returns on his walk. This time, someone is on a run with their dog, jogging on the opposite side of the street. Taehyung never sees his face, only the back of his head as he moves ahead. But he does notice the little elastics of his mask tucked around his ears once he passes by. Muscular, yet lean calves push him to run further; the brown spotted dog seems to skip happily along the sidewalk next to its owner.

The aroma of the bakery is mildly evident before he crosses the street. Located as the first shop on the corner of a new avenue, the little store contains your favourite treats, Taehyung's too. A family-owned business, the boy wants to support their shop during this time of limited sales. Frankly, the boy wishes he could do the same for all of the little stores lining the streets here downtown.

The bell above the door chimes when Taehyung enters the store; the sound resonates in the single room. A rush of hot air smacks his face.

With the sound of footsteps coming down from the upstairs attachment, the shop owner appears in a blue mask. "Welcome!" her voice is jolly, eyes in crescents. "Is it the usual for today, Taehyung?"

The boy in question nods with a smile, fluffy bangs bouncing with the movement, "Please."

The patissier moves to the windowed counter displaying significantly fewer treats than what would have been a year ago.

"Is it a special occasion?"

"No," Taehyung admits. "Just because."

There's a twinkle in the baker's eye. "They're a lucky one."

Taehyung doesn't say anything, and instead, he thinks how he's the lucky one out of the two of you.

He pays with cash, rounding up as an extra tip. The two exchange thanks and other pleasantries, and Taehyung sets back out in the cool air on his way. The paper gift bag holds the two cardboard containers with mouth-watering snacks inside. He slips the novel carefully into the bag, making sure it doesn't rip.

The florist is his final stop on today's little journey.

Blooming buds of each and every colour of the rainbow and then some invade Taehyung's vision. He's sure the fragrant floral scent would be more potent without wearing his mask. He tries to sniff one of the bunches of tulips near the entryway. No, it's mostly neutral with a hint of dust leftover from the bookstore.

"For any reason in particular? Birthday? Anniversary?"

Taehyung is brought from his flower-sniffing, seeing the florist behind the counter bearing what might be an amused grin. The boy hides his frustration at being unable to read people's expressions properly when concealed by the masks.

"Ah, no," his face flushes slightly, "not today. Could I still get some flowers, though?"

"Of course," she beams. "Anything specific?"

The boy ponders, examining each prearranged bouquet laying about. They all look beautiful to him, but Taehyung also doesn't know much about flowers. What's more important to him is how much you like them; that's all he needs to know.

"Surprise me," is his answer, confident in the florist's abilities.

Taehyung ends up leaving the store with a combination of delicate daffodils, carnations, roses, and two large peonies in the center. The bright yellows of the daffodils compliment the ivory carnations and ruby-red roses. The pastel pink peonies, Taehyung thinks, might be his favourite from the bunch. Maybe the two of you are peonies? You're certainly pretty like a flower, yes, so why not a peony?

Taehyung heads in the opposite direction from his travels, starting the walk back to the apartment. The paper bag containing the pastries and the book is still clutched tightly in one hand, while the colourful, decorative flowers are held with significantly more care in his other hand.

The sky is grey today, filled with an abundance of dense clouds. Taehyung swears it had been blue when he had left the house earlier, although now, it looks like there may be another snowfall. More leaves scatter with the wind, blowing in Taehyung's direction. They dance in the breeze, scraping the cemented road and landing in the crook of an alleyway between two shops, both with their lights off and variations of 'Closed' signs decorating the doors.

Sure enough, what can barely be classified as snow begins to fall from the heavens. Tiny flakes of white flutter down, instantly melting as they hit the sidewalk. The only evidence of their existence is when they land on Taehyung's black woollen jacket, but even then, they don't last for very long.

The distinct metal clinking of keys signals your boyfriend's return home. Taehyung takes in your appearance, now off the couch and facing the stove with your back to him. You've changed out of your trusty pair of sweatpants you've been housed in for the past months, opting for something slightly more form-fitting, but comfortable still, nonetheless. Your hair looks washed. Maybe you took a shower in the time Taehyung had been out. You're boiling some water in a pot, from what the boy can tell. Yes, upon moving closer, some pasta swirls around in the churning bubbles, steam escaping only to be swept up in the oven range above.

"You're done with your errands?" you call out over your shoulder, returning your gaze to the cooking pasta as you listen to your boyfriend removing his outerwear by the front door. "How was it out there?"

Taehyung moves his sock-clad feet to where you stand. After washing his hands, a pair of warm arms tenderly wraps around your torso from behind, followed by a brisk peck to your cheek.

"It was quiet out there, as you'd expect," the boy mulls over as he traces some unknown shape onto your hipbone. "Do you want to see what I got?"

You comply with his request, turning the stove's burner down before moving in his embrace as he shifts the two of you to the kitchen island. There, the array of treats are splayed out.

Your eyes immediately land on the flowers: the colours nearly take your breath away. It's been so long since you've seen something so alive. You don't fail to notice the brown paper bag with your favourite bakery's emblem stamped on the side. Something else is peeking out of the bag, something blue that you can't distinguish.

"Why?" you can't help but ask Taehyung. "What's the reason for all of this?" Still held in his arms, you slightly twist so you can glance upwards at your boyfriend.

He's already looking at you with his big brown eyes. Little droplets of melted snow rest daintily in his hair. You reach upwards to brush some aside, also smoothing down some of the astray strands displaced from the wind.

"The reason is that I love you."

"You're too good, Tae," you whisper, hugging the boy properly and burying your face into him. "I love you too."

Another kiss finds your head before you pull away, but only to move closer once again to place your lips on Taehyung's. His nose is cold, but his mouth is hot as you move together with years of practice. You're the first one to part, but staying close enough for noses to brush. Taehyung has a hand cupping the side of your face, thumbing over the roundest part of your cheek from your smile: a shape comparable to a soft bread bun.

Being stuck inside has its downfalls; you and Taehyung are no exception. You've had more arguments in the span of the past ten months than all of the years in your relationship combined. Considering them as arguments may be putting it harshly, disagreements or miscommunication are more accurate depictions of your quarrels. Perhaps the fatigue of being confined indoors is to blame. The worst dispute was a couple of months ago, where you and Taehyung grimly doubted the status of your relationship—if any of it was worth it anymore.

Clearly, you managed to work things out as here you sit on the sofa now, biting into one of the flaky, buttery croissants—one of the few treats adorning the inside of the paper bag. The raspberry preserves on the inside burst across your tongue in a pleasant tartness, complementing the sweet pastry. The pasta on the stove now forgotten, moved to the side and off the burner for another time. You offer Taehyung a bit of the croissant to which he complies, taking a large bite from it. Little flecks of gold decorate the corners of his mouth; one finds a spot on his upper lip beside the dimple of his cupid's bow.

"You're cute," you mumble, gently removing the crumbs from his mouth.

Taehyung disagrees, a voice so soft you'd nearly miss it if he weren't in such proximity, "Not as cute as you, my love." He takes your hand in his, pressing a string of little pecks onto your fingers. Your hand stays in his even after the kisses placed, digits now laced comfortably.

You take another bite of the raspberry croissant until there's one mouthful left. You wordlessly offer it to your boyfriend.

The floral bouquet occupies the center of the kitchen table. It's a fluorescent sight between the dulled walls of the apartment. Like a little piece of sunshine, the flowers provide you with a sense of warmth or energy that you no longer experience trapped in your confined space day after day.

The snow has picked up outside. The clouds have only gotten denser since Taehyung's return home. The sky is gradually growing darker with the hour; streetlamps flicker on one-by-one, lining the streets in glowing amber and putting spotlights on the colourless, falling flakes. Rooftops and tree branches gradually become covered in a dusting of white.

"I love you," Taehyung repeats out of the blue, causing you to remove your gaze from the winter landscape forming outside.

You examine his face as his eyes flutter between yours. A pretty shade of pink blossoms on his cheeks while his mouth lifts into the smallest of smiles.

"I love you too," you say with all earnest. "Thank you for everything today."

"Of course," he nuzzles into the top of your head, pulling you close against him. "I'm sorry we have to stay indoors most of the time."

"It's not your fault, Tae."

The boy hums in acknowledgement. "Sometimes I wish I could solve it all, you know? Like if I wish or pray, or maybe if I believe hard enough, everything will be fixed. Everything will be normal again."

"Things will be normal again," you return. Your thumb strokes over Taehyung's on the hand you're still holding. Your head finds his shoulder.

Taehyung is warm and familiar and possibly the only constant in your life right now. Your eyes reach the flowers in the vase on the dining table once more—vibrant and attractive yellows, reds, and pastel pinks.

You squeeze your boyfriend's hand: a silent thank you; an unsaid I love you.

Taehyung squeezes your hand back.

To do:

live for today

and cherish (Y/N)

••

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung scenario #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung imagines #taehyung scenario #bts #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung x reader #bts v x reader

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passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

youtube

Great Albums is kicking off Pride Month with a special feature on one of the weirdest and wildest queer artists of the New Wave era: the one and only Klaus Nomi! Combining glam, synth-pop, and opera, of all things, Nomi’s tragically short career is nothing short of mystifying. Check out the video or read the full transcript, below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at the self-titled debut album of one of the most unique, incomparable, and unforgettable artists in music history: the one and only Klaus Nomi. What is it that makes Nomi so noteworthy? Perhaps the most obvious thing is his background as a classically trained opera singer. While a lot of pop vocalists have some degree of classical training, it’s rare to find one who worked so hard to bring ultra-mannered, literally operatic lead vocals into an otherwise pop context.

The other thing I should mention is that Nomi’s voice part was the “countertenor,” giving his vocals an even more unusual dimension. Countertenors are men who sing in a high range usually covered by women, and even in the operatic tradition, they weren’t necessarily all that common, particularly since the rise of opera coincided with that of the infamous castrati--male singers who were castrated to preserve their prepubescent voices. The combination of partially electronic, New Wave compositions with these bizarre, but ultimately “traditional” vocals results in something that sounds simply otherworldly.

Music: “Total Eclipse”

“Total Eclipse” is probably Nomi’s best known track, due in part to being featured in the seminal concert film Urgh! A Music War, which sought to capture the diversity of the early 80s New Wave scene. Like a lot of classic songs of this era, it tackles the subject of nuclear annihilation, albeit with a nearly depraved, gleeful tone, that makes it feel like more of a party. For the verses, Nomi adopts a sort of rhythmic speak-singing, which was much more par for the course for “New Wave” music, only to shockingly explode into a powerful operatic rendition of the refrain. It reminds me a bit of how, in musical theatre, tension builds through spoken dialogue, before characters are so emotional they feel compelled to burst into song--or, of course, how recitative blossoms into arias in opera. In the context of this particular track, it’s easy to interpret it as an embodiment of how “cold wars” can suddenly burst into flame. While “Total Eclipse” was a new composition, written specifically for Nomi by Kristian Hoffman, this album also features several covers of past hits, such as “You Don’t Own Me.”

Music: “You Don’t Own Me”

Nomi’s covers of the Midcentury pop ditties “Lightning Strikes” and “You Don’t Own Me” repeat the structure of “Total Eclipse,” showing that this signature pattern of increasing tension leading to increasingly mannered vocals is just as effective when retroactively applied to pre-existing compositions. What’s also significant about “You Don’t Own Me” is that it was originally written for a woman, Lesley Gore, and its defiant assertion of self-confidence has long been associated with women’s liberation. Being openly gay, Nomi sees fit to leave the lyric “play with other boys” just as it is, and could be interpreted to be deliberately emphasizing that last word, intentionally queering his rendition of the song. Nomi’s ability to sing in a traditionally female voice range, combined with his eccentric, gender-bending personal aesthetic, makes the interrogation of traditional concepts of gender an integral part of his art. Some of the other covers on the album are even older than the Midcentury, coming from the golden age of opera, such as “The Cold Song.”

Music: “The Cold Song”

Also known by its opening lyrics, “What power art thou?”, “The Cold Song” is a rare operatic aria that was actually designed for the countertenor voice part. It was written by the English composer William Purcell, a noted fan of countertenors who lived outside the influence of the Italian castrati, for his 1691 opera King Arthur. Well, King Arthur is actually what’s sometimes called a “semi-opera”: not all characters sing, and those who do often tend to be supernatural entities. “The Cold Song” is sung by a winter spirit called the Cold Genius, when reluctantly awakened from icy slumber by Cupid. His lines are sung so as to stutter, as he shivers from the freezing cold of his surrounds. Unlike the pop covers on the album, the arias are actually played pretty straight, almost as if they serve as evidence of Nomi’s actual chops doing traditional opera the old-fashioned way. “The Cold Song” is certainly a great fit for Nomi’s unique stage persona, which presented him as a fey or elfin non-human visitor from some mythical Otherworld, or perhaps an extraterrestrial from outer space. This theme is addressed most directly by the one track on this album composed entirely by Nomi himself: “Keys of Life.”

Music: “Keys of Life”

“Keys of Life” is the album’s opening track, and perhaps serves as Nomi’s personal introduction to the people of our realm--a sort of musical “we come in peace” message. Its lyrics seem to portray Nomi as a benevolent visitor, but one with a dire warning for mankind: we need to get our act together soon, for our actions now are of great import, as we humans “hold the keys of life.” Perhaps Nomi’s mission is to prevent climate catastrophe on Earth, or, given the context of “Total Eclipse,” a nuclear apocalypse. With its warbling synthesiser backdrop, and Nomi singing fully in the operatic style throughout, “Keys of Life” is arguably the most experimental piece to be had on the album, and putting it as the very first track certainly pulls no punches.

It is, of course, difficult to fully address the significance of Nomi’s persona without getting into his visual identity. The cover of Nomi’s self-titled debut features his most iconic outfit: an oversized plastic tuxedo, with hugely exaggerated shoulders, and a pointed hairstyle with a bit of Streamline Moderne flair. I mentioned earlier that Nomi’s work seems concerned with gender, and in that context, I’ve often interpreted this look as a sort of caricature of masculinity, parodying men’s formalwear and calling attention to Nomi’s receding hairline. There is certainly something absurd about a high-pitched, perhaps feminine-coded voice emerging from a ludicrously masculine sort of character. The use of thin, shiny, reflective plastic, and the aforementioned Midcentury feel of the hairstyle, make me also consider interpreting it as less of a parody, and more of an alien’s bad attempt at adopting the appearance of an “ordinary,” upstanding, conservative human male in attire, using space-age materials to cobble it together.

The oversized, geometric appearance of Nomi’s garb reminds me of the great Dada poet, Hugo Ball, founder of the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Ball was the inventor of what he called “sound poetry,” and enacted lively readings of poetry that consisted of entirely nonsensical words. He did this while wearing a strange, cylindrical-shaped cardboard suit, said to restrict his movements so much that Ball needed to be ceremoniously carried off stage when he was finished reciting. Given their shared German heritage and cabaret avant-gardism, I can’t help but wonder if Ball’s striking costume was something of an influence on Nomi here.

This album is, of course, self-titled, but that, too, is an artistic choice that can be analyzed. The artist was born Klaus Sperber, but adopted the stage name “Nomi” for his creative endeavours. In the context of the track “The Nomi Song,” the name is often used punningly in comparison with the English phrase “know me.” Nomi’s choice of stage name is almost a dare or a challenge, a request for us to attempt to know and understand this seemingly inscrutable being before us. As with many other portrayals of queerness as alien or otherworldly, the messaging here seems to be that Nomi may seem different at first, but his intent is ultimately benign, should mere mortals like ourselves be kind enough to give him a chance.

Nomi’s follow-up to this debut album was 1982’s Simple Man, an album which is much more similar to its predecessor than different. It has a wider variety of contributing musicians and different instruments employed, but it’s got a similar overall feel, and mix of tracks. You’ll find more covers, like “Falling In Love Again” and even “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead,” more original compositions, like the Hoffman-penned sequel to “Total Eclipse,” entitled “After the Fall,” and even some more arias, like this stunning rendition of another work of Purcell’s. Referred to here as simply “Death,” it comes from Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas, and is sung by the titular Carthaginian queen, Dido, as she prepares to commit suicide. Also called “Dido’s Lament” or “Thy hand, Belinda,” its darkly descending melody is as captivatingly ominous today as it was when it was written, over three centuries ago.

Music: “Death”

Sadly, Nomi became gravely ill at around this time, and his own untimely death was just around the corner. He died of complications of AIDS in 1983, at the age of just 44, leaving behind an unfinished opera of his own creation, Za Bakdaz, which would go unreleased until 2008. That, and a posthumous live album released in 1986, would be the only other works under Nomi’s name. As with all artists who die tragically young, we will always be left wondering what else Klaus Nomi might’ve accomplished in the ensuing decades. I find it hard to imagine a timeline in which this sound ever became particularly mainstream, but anything else Nomi came up with would have undoubtedly been fascinating.

My favourite track on Nomi’s debut is “The Twist.” Yes, this is indeed Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” another one of those Midcentury covers that Nomi was so fond of. But compared to the rest of Nomi’s covers, this one is much more of a deconstruction, perhaps even a “piss take,” featuring a sparse instrumentation, centered around a lethargic bass guitar, and the overall pace is slowed to a crawl. Add in Nomi’s piercing vocals and some nearly demonic, chittering laughter, and you’ve got a track that turns a fun, light-hearted dance craze into a surreal nightmare. As difficult as it is to be the strangest track on an album like this, I have to give that honour to “The Twist.” That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “The Twist”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #klaus nomi #new wave

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opes-magnas · 3 years

Text

『 as lonely as time can get. 』

It’s finally here!! I’m a terribly slow writer, and am really thankful to all those who waited for this! Hopefully you enjoy. Thank you so much to @hamjjy, @kaavijournals and Lady L for beta reading this, you guys are the best!

Listen to this playlist here for the best experience!

tw: cursing, body sensitivity, very subtle idea of anxiety and toxic relationships are portrayed.

~calypso <3

I. the moon can't shine on her own.

She looks serene tonight - high up in the night sky, not a single star to accompany her. Does the moon feel lonely like that? Does she ever need a warm hug? Perhaps she gets one from the sun, and he accompanies her all time. Does the sun shine for her? So that the world can see her beauty? Perhaps so. When she can't see him, she turns bloody red; she seems disturbed. Hurt. Lost. Her fury always frightened the humans. It made them shiver inside their homes, praying to see the familiar ball of light rise from the east to calm her down. Perhaps it is better if they could only see her beauty. But does that mean the sun shines, not to show her beauty, but to protect the humans from her true self? Perhaps so.

The sun and the moon are a pair. And they will continue to be.

As long as the moon can't shine on her own.

Let's stop thinking, Luna.

The moon seems lonely.

I look up at the clock. A red, metallic light tells me its 3:48 am, 3rd April. Great, now I can have four shots of espresso for breakfast. Thank you, oh great mind, for deciding that we needed to have that conversation earlier. I sit up on the bed and rub my eyes. The curtain flutters from the soft wind blowing in through the window. Cicadas fill up the silence as I look at the full moon illuminating my room another time. Oh, how I hate the moon. What a hypocrite. I look away, and my eyes find the pile of open textbooks and spark notes I abandoned. A small smile creeps up my face. At least I'll ace that History test tomorrow. I could imagine the Boba Tea reward from Leo in my hands already. Leo. The annoying kid next door who's been stuck with me since I was five. Don't worry, though. I don't like him. Not anymore. He made it extremely clear that I was 'a size too big' for him. Then why do I still hang out with him? Short answer - I beat him up, he apologized. I shall offer no elaboration. Still, a lump forms in my throat. And maybe because he wasn't completely wrong.

I get up to go grab a glass of water. Mochi is lying in her bed in the hallway. This is the first time she didn't stir awake when I thumped across the room. The poor fluffball of a cat is probably very tired from the bath I forced her into in the evening.

You need to lose a few pounds anyways, Luna. Get rid of those love handles. Maybe some fat on your back too. That'll make people find you more approachable.

It isn't toxic if it's true, right?

That night, I decide that my glass is half-empty rather than full, and go back to bed. Suddenly, Mochi wakes up and runs into my room. She snuggles in and throws her paws on my hair like it's her property. I choose to oblige the demon for today.

The last thing I see before sleep lures me is the clock gleaming '3:59 am'.

/////-----

It's too warm in my blanket. I almost want to peel my skin off. I need to get sleep, I have a test soo- I jolt awake. Mochi is no longer next to me. I assume she's back in the comfort of her bed, considering the temperature in the room. I let out a groan as my hand outstretches to the switchboard. After a few terrible attempts, I finally turn on the ceiling fan. As sleep threatens to take me again, I see that it's still dark out and the moon looks just as annoying as it did earlier, its ever luminant light breaking down the walls of my privacy. My eyes turn to the direction of the clock- 3:48 am, 3rd April. Huh, weird. I realize I must have had one of those five-minute, extra strength-giving, amazing nap- Wait why does the clock say it's 3:48 am?

I grab my phone. The sudden light blinds me for a second, and through squinted eyes I see 3:49 am on the screen. Huh, really weird. Wasn't I awake just now - err, earlier? Wait what? I realize I make no sense, maybe I just read the time wrong the first time. My brain is repeating the features of the Hammurabi Code, my drowsy eyes are drooping, and I meet slumber once more.

I barely feel Mochi slipping back into my blanket.

/////-----

I wake up in wonder why my alarm hasn't rung yet. The room is still dark, the moon stares at me curiously. Give me some privacy, moon. My eyes turn towards the clock for the third time this night- 3:46 am, 3rd April. Bullshit. I've been asleep for hours now; I won't need those four espresso shots for breakfast anymore. My tongue clicks involuntarily. Is this some sort of a stupid prank? Leo is definitely behind this, I'm going to hunt that dipshit down.

Come to your senses, Luna. The universe cannot prank you. That's impossible. And stupid.

I grab my phone again. An attempt in vain, I realize, when I see the screen displaying the same time. I text Leo.

| loser |

you (3:46 am, 03.04.2021): you awake? (read)

loser (3:48 am, 03.04.2021): no

A chill goes down my spine. Did the just relive 3:38 am? I decide to call Leo. Two rings in, I hear a familiar voice, 'I said I wasn't awake.' He sounds tired, voice raspy and strained. You'd think he'd just woken up from the but he's the sort of person who thinks sleep is for the weak. 'Yeah no shit, Sherlock. I'm speaking to your alter ego, Thomas.', I reply.

He decides to ignore my bad retaliation, and saves me from the embarrassment. 'Why is my star pupil awake at 3 in the morning? Has she forgotten about the test she will help me cheat tomorrow?', he asks. Ah, this freeloader. I'm gonna kick his ass. My hands move frantically in the air out of annoyance, 'I am not helping you with anything!', I scream-shout into the phone, afraid I'll wake Mochi up in the hallway. She's a bigger annoyance than Leo; no one in the universe has energy to deal with a grumpy Mochi.

'Honey, you love me.'

'You're being delusional.', I deadpan.

'Is my chubby baby irritated?', he says in a fake cooing voice. And that got me.

'Leo, I did not call you at 3 in the fucking morning for you to put me down.'

The other side of the line immediately goes silent. Silence that reminded me of the last time this happened. Silence between the two of us on a Boba Tea study session in the park after an argument, the only sound being the pages of my sociology textbook being turned, and of the sound of baby birds in a nest nearby. Though I know that Leo meant it as a term of endearment, I couldn't believe he wouldn't ever, well, consider me more than just a friend because of it. A few seconds (sometimes minutes) pass before -

'I'm sorry, Lunie, you know I don't mean it,'

Another apology.

I sigh. I'm tired of this conversation again. I'm tired of having to deal with the same problem again. I'm tired of people putting me down. I'm tired of blaming myself. I'm tired of trying to look pretty. I'm tired of Leo. I'm tired of me. I'm tired of another heartbreak. I know his apology is genuine. I know he doesn't mean it. I know he's just being the Leo he always is. But somehow his words still continue to haunt me. Maybe it's because it's coming from someone who means to me the most, coming from someone who brightens me up, like the sun does to the moon. Then why am I the only one taking it seriously? Why am I trying to fit into someone else's standards? Why am I so painfully aware of everything but still choosing to be blind?

Why am I not able to love myself even though I want to?

'Luna? You there?', his voice breaks me from my train of thought. Weirdly, he sounds quite scared. 'I didn't realize how much it bothers you, I swear I won-'

Mochi jumps onto the bed and snuggles into my head again, paws in a similar place in my hair. A weird sense of Deja vu washes over me again. And then-

『 pop! the world has reset.』

My eyes opened in fear as a gasp escapes my mouth. I'm sitting on my bed, trying to comprehend what just happened. The curtains flutter with the wind blowing by. The moon stares in curiosity. My phone's on the bedside table. The clock gleams with a bright '3:01 am' displayed on it. And the problem is that I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't mistaking the time either.

I'm in a time loop.

II. a tub fills with water only to spill it.

I fucking hate whoever wrote Groundhog Day.

Like who decided that? Who decided to say 'Hey, let's make a movie based on time loops!'? 'Let's make a dude live the same day all over again till he gets it right! Let's make him really happy, then really sad!'

Son, I'm this close to pulling an Ides of March on you.

I seem to be looping every hour, more specifically from three in the morning to four. Five hours have passed by, but my clock tells me it's precisely 3:18 am. Great. My dearly detested friend, the moon, is my only companion in this war with time (sorry Mochi). In the five hours that should have gone by, I have accomplished the following:

Two and a half hours of sleep - though I wake up when the clock resets.

Half an hour of revision for that History test I need to write after I get out of this shit.

Thirty minutes of planning a workout, Fifteen minutes of Yoga.

Five minutes of trash talking the moon, Ten minutes of dealing with grumpy Mochi who woke up as I exercised.

Thirty minutes of wondering if Leo's looping with me, and

Half an hour of figuring out what went wrong, and how to make the night perfect.

I don't know how much longer I'll be able to remember anymore. I've tried everything - making notes, scribbling on the wall, writing on myself, engraving things on desk - but none of them seem to make it through when the loop resets. I'm too tired to talk to Leo, knowing very well that he would definitely not believe me. And partly because I'm afraid I'll lose my temper and get hurt again. I'm afraid I'll end up being the insecure bad guy, and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves someone better. Someone who's prettier, kinder and happier. Not telling him for the time being also meant that I'll never find out if he was looping with me. But that probably isn't the case, the universe is cruel for a reason. This is perhaps its punishment for me. I must go through this alone. No one's ever been by my side anyways.

I'm as lonely as the moon.

/////-----

Another few hours pass. The pop between every reset scares me lesser and lesser. But my desperation to return back to normal is growing. I've been trying to figure out what went wrong for the past hour in the neighbourhood park. The cold air perfectly paired up with the mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hands. Was it me staying awake this long? Should I have just gone to sleep? There must have been something I did wrong that hour. My heart wishes to call Leo and confide in him. And the more time goes by, the more my mind wishes to oblige to that crazy request.

I pull out my phone, which gleams a bright '3:58 am'. It's almost time for the reset. In two minutes, I'll be magically transported back to my bed. I sigh. I can't take living the same hour again. The hour grips my sanity like it is a play toy. I waste another countless moment wondering where I went wrong.

『 pop! the world has reset.』

Well, I guess there's no place like home. I wonder if Mochi was worried the previous hour when she didn't find me in the bed. Do cats feel worry for their owners? Does Mochi care for me? What kind of a disgusting ship is this? Cringe, cringe, cringe. Shut up, Luna. I bury my nonsensical idea of my cat showing me love for once in the deep pits of my mind, and pretend I never thought of such blasphemy. I shift under my blankets, and decide to sleep through this hour, foolishly hoping that the reset would never take place if I was never awake, though I woke up when the clock reset each time earlier. My eyes look at the clock - 3:05 am.

That's when doorbell suddenly rang. I launch up in surprise. This didn't happen before. My heart begins to pound extremely hard, my head hazed in confusion. I run towards the door as quickly as possible stirring Mochi awake in the process, and fling it open.

It's Leo. And he's in tears.

His eyes are filled with fear, breath unsteady. Beads of sweat line his neck as he tries to get words out. Leo grips my hands tightly, as though he wants me to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. This hasn't happened in a very long time. He's gotten a much better hold on his anxiety in the past few years. I pull him into a hug and mutter words of comfort. His head is leaning on mine, and his breath slows. I tell him we'd be alright, and hum a calming tune. And we stay like that for the next five minutes.

'Luna,', Leo whispers into the night. 'Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?'

'Like what?'

'Like a war against the clock.'

And that's when I knew. Tears start brimming in my eyes as I give out a sigh of relief. 'Like a time loop?', I say as I hug Leo a little tighter. This time I needed one to remind me I wasn't alone. He seems to catch on as well, a sob escapes from him as he melts in. We stay in each other's arms, in each other's comfort - a place where walls were deaf to all the shared secrets, a sanctuary with no limits.

Oh, what I'd do to protect it.

Leo pulls away, his eyes disappear and his lips form into a sheepish grin. His face is puffy from all the crying, but it glows in the soft moonlight. My eyes widen in surprise as he grabs my hand and drags me out the door. I manage to see the clock on the kitchen counter gleaming with a bright '3:15 am.' before blood rushed to my face upon meeting the cold air.

'Where are we going? Are yo- ah it's fucking cold out here!', I complain.

'Ice Cream.' Classic hungry Leo. This boy is a demon.

iii. the twilight hour.

'What's wrong with you?!', I huff as I bend down to catch my breath and hide myself under a tree. Leo, on the other hand, is breathing quite easy, a stupid grin plastered on his face (oh, how I want to punch him). His hands hold up a bag with three tubs of mint chocolate Ice Cream like they're the greatest creation of God. 'Did you really have to steal Ice Cream?! Are you five?', I say as I recall the incident that just took place, how Leo basically ran out the convenience store with the sweet goodies without paying and left me, his dear, penniless (and only) friend as the bait to a potential flat-earther of a cashier (long story, don't ask).

And now we're here, the park I was in the previous hour. There's not a single soul around. The only companion being the moon once again. His smile shines through like the sun, however.

'I'm rweally sowwy, delulu,', he retorts.

'My name is Luna, and no one can ever be as delusional as you, you dill hole.', I say, my ears red.

'Good now, I shalt promoteth thee to 'Deluna'. Thee has't been felicitat'd.'

I click my lips in annoyance. I know quite well that when the clock resets, all the stolen Ice Cream would be back in the freezer. But I try my best to maintain a straight face to show my discontent. That's right Luna, assert your fucking dominance. I notice that his hazel eyes shining with the mischief I'm used to once again. He's back to the loud, obnoxious and teasing Leo he's always been. Leo who's carefree, Leo who's horribly reckless, Leo who finds happiness in uncertainty. My Leo. My lips slowly curl into a smile, and I give in. He's happy, and that makes me happy too. Leo suddenly pulls out his phone.

'Look here, Partner in time.', he says cheekily. I hear a click. My brows wring into discomfort and confusion.

'What? You look pretty in the moonlight.', he states without skipping a beat. There's a million tugs in my stomach, and blood rushes to my bronze skin. Butterflies soon turn into more sinister as I remember our conversation on the phone earlier. My face falls, if only this boy knew what he puts me through. First I'm not good enough, and now I'm pretty? Does he really throw around stuff like that without giving it a second thought? Does he not realize all that he's putting me through?

This is pointless. My feelings for him are pointless. The amount of time I waste on this is pointless. 'Our friendship is pointless.', I say. Regret follows immediately. Leo's face turns grim too; an unreadable expression plastered on his face. I suddenly remember something I jotted down my sociology textbook.

words left unspoken, my hearts screams, my head's in pain, we are in conflict.

Tears well up in my eyes again. This is a conflict, the most peaceful one at that. Terrifying. One that makes you curl into a ball and wish you never existed. One fueled by guilt, by insecurity, by ignorance. I remember the rest of the poem.

one of us was meant to get hurt, almost as though the heavens proclaimed it, on the day of creation. the celestial sky cried tears of gold, for it knew fate was cruel, but humans are crueler.

My hands are getting colder. My breath is hitching as my sobs get louder. Leo rushes towards me and tries to pull me into another hug. As much as I try to resist, he pulls me into his embrace. Fear devours my heart as I realize how I didn't feel at home anymore. I knew this sanctuary was going to break sooner or later. My heart is sick. It pains far too much as it beats in his embrace. Will it stop if I pull away? I try.

It does.

'Luna, what's wrong?!', Leo asks, truly afraid of what was happening.

'Us, Leo. Us.', I reply, voice barely a notch away from a whisper.

'What's wrong with us? We're Leo and Luna! You're the other half of thi-'

'Stop. Please.', I say firmly. My head feels too heavy, my heart too light. The moon shines down on me in its disgusting glory. I can't take it anymore. 'You're the reason I hate the moon, Leo. Because you are the sun. You only shine on me to mock me. To make me feel inferior.'

'What're you talking abou-'

My tongue clicks loudly. 'You're so hypocritical! You're an asshole who makes me feel like I'm the only one in the world, before throwing me out yourself. You make me feel insecure, Leo. I don't feel like I'm myself with you anymore.', I say, vitriol burning my throat. 'You disregard what I feel for you, because I'm the moon. You outcast me, because I'm the moon. You tie me down.

'You remind me of why I'll never shine on my own.'

I look at Leo. His hazel eyes turned dark, head down in shock. There's not a single drop of water in his eyes. He stands under the moonlight in silence. I can hear my heart palpitating.

'Why do you think the Sun shines, Luna?', he whispers. 'Is it to light the day, or to light the night?', he asks, a little louder this time. I open my mouth to answer.

'It's to light the night, Luna.', he interrupts. He knew I'd say neither. The sun shines for himself. He is selfish.

'The sun sheds it's light, because if it didn't, the moon would never-'

'That's exactly the prob-'

'get to see the world.' I stop midway in confusion. What is he saying?

'The sun shines because he wants the moon to see the world, Luna. He shines because if he didn't, the moon would be lonely. He makes sure to shed the perfect amount of light on her, so that she guides the traveler without scalding them, without making them blind.

'If he never shone, he'd have never have found his other half. The sun would have been just as lonely as the moon would have, Luna. The sun and moon are a pair, not because the moon can't shine on her own, but because they are lonely without each other.', Leo says.

And epiphany struck down like lightning. Leo needs me as much as I need him. He'd be just as lonely as I'd been without him. The moon's identity without the sun hadn't ever been her own. It was due to the sun's light she was herself. The sun made her the moon, and the moon made him the sun. They were inseparable, as destiny willed them to be, for they needed each other. For the sun to shine the brightest, and the moon to give comfort. But all that didn't answer why-

'Why did you say I wasn't enough for you?', I say, reminiscing that day in the park. I remember picking out a bouquet of purple lilacs after studying a book about plant symbolism in the library. I spent hours trying to make myself look pretty. I spent a lot of time trying to make up my mind. And everything came crashing down.

'Because you deserve more!', Leo says in defeat, fingers brushing into his hair. 'Do you know how much of a loser I am? You deserve a hunk-a-ilicous person, are you really going to settle for a noodle?!', Leo says, gesturing to his lean figure. As sarcastic as his response seemed, he meant every word of what he said. That's just how Leo is.

'Leo, that's exactly how I've been feeling this whole time.' I pull Leo into a hug.

Leo is no different than I've been my whole life. He's just as insecure and broken as I am, as I've always been. All my life, I'd seen him as a completely different person. We have different hobbies, we have different personalities. But we're still similar in ways that make us, well, us. It's just that our sanctuary needed to break to have it's walls built back stronger. I feel at home again.

'You're more of a sausage though. Alri-ALRIGHT lemme clear up, you're MY sausage okay? The best one in fact, I will use you in all my dishes.', Leo says as I pull out of his embrace and find a stone on the road to attack the disrespectful brat. Leo runs away and makes his way behind the usual Banyan tree at the edge of the park. 'That's literally the worst nickname ever!', I yell as I chase him.

'Mine own dearest sausage I begeth thee to reconsid'r!'

'TRY ME BITCH.'

'Hey, hey wait.', Leo holds down my hands and blocks my attack, and I'm left with no weapon except for the daggers in my eyes I choose to use against him. 'So, what are we now?', he asks.

'We're still Leo and Luna, dumb head.', I say after giving it a thought. Leo opens his mouth to refute, but soon decides against it. I assume he's content with the answer. We were friends, nothing could ever break that. Would we ever be something more? Who knows, maybe we would in the future when we love ourselves a little more, when we're comfortable with who we are, rather than who we're with.

Until then, we are Leo and Luna.

///////------

My eyes flutter open. I am leaning on the trunk of the Banyan tree next to Leo. I find myself in sleepy laughter as I look at his head lodged in between the roots of the tree. And suddenly, I see light in the distance. I immediately wake up from my position near the tree and walk to the edge of its canopy, heart beating in my stomach and look at the sky outside. The dark navy night melts into a light lilac, small streaks of tangerine bordering the the horizon. The birds are beginning to chirp in the trees, though the street lights are still on.

The time loop has stopped.

Meanwhile, Leo had stirred awake. He runs with his eyebrows up in surprise and squeezes the life out of me before his eyes turned dark in fear.

'WE HAVE SCHOOL.', he exclaims. I ignore him, and choose to stare into the sky. I look at the twilight hour. The sun and the moon were side by side, in harmony, like Leo told me. Tears escape my eyes in a sense of accomplishment. I could rest now. I give myself a small hug, and tell myself I'd worked hard. ('LUNA DO YOU REMEMBER THE HAMMURABI CODE.' 'That is not important right now!') The sun rises up, and salvages the few moments he has with the moon. I turn my head to the side and see that the moon looks serene, her light glow slowly fading as she decides to rest too.

But above all, I see that the moon is no longer lonely.

a/n: ahhhh yes if you’ve made it this far, i truly truly appreciate you for reading this, it means a lot to me. the past few days have been a little weird for me, and it took more than just motivation for me to get through writing this. again, thank you to all my beta readers, i really treasure all of you! i’d really love to get an ask about the short story, so if you enjoyed, make sure to send me one! i hope everyone’s staying safe! stay tuned with us because we have another surprise coming soon!

alatcg taglist: @blue-hairbrush, @kaavijournals, @artbyeloquent, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art

general writing taglist: @shinesundark, @the-writing-avocado, @raenawrites

@original-writing

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

winter’s warmth.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: fluff

word count: 6046

remarks: i’m sorry this took so long but this fic was so!! cute i was melting every second :(( i hope hayami was in character as usual, and thank you for trusting me with your commission @hinokami-s 💖

Hayami wakes up to the feeling of cold air biting at her bare toes.

“Hnng…” Eyelids too heavy to open yet unwilling to submit her extremities to any more of the freezing temperatures of late autumn, she feels about the futon she’s lying in with a fumbling hand, searching blindly for a corner of the blanket to pull at. Instead of the cotton of her blankets, however, her hand finds warm skin - and for a moment, Hayami frowns, confused.

Rolling over in her bed, she opens her eyes fully this time - and comes face to face with her sleeping husband.

For a while, Hayami doesn’t move an inch, content with simply watching the person lying before her. Mahogany hair falling over his forehead and a gentle curve to his lips, the rise and fall of his chest a steady rhythm, Tanjirou is a lovely sight to behold in the early rays of this morning’s light. It’s the only sight Hayami wants to wake up to for the rest of her life.

Reaching out, her fingers wrap around a wizened, skeletal hand and bring it to her, her lips brushing gently over the wrinkled skin. “Good morning,” she whispers against it, feeling a secret, tender smile tugging at her own mouth.

“Good morning to you, too.”

Taken by surprise, Hayami glances up to see Tanjirou’s eyes open, a sweet smile on his face as their gazes meet. Although his eyes are still clouded with sleep, the sweetness in them is unmistakable. “You got up early today,” he says, sleep roughened voice like music to her ears. When he gestures for her to come closer, she does so, hand still gripping his tightly as he leans forward to press a kiss on both her eyelids - as gentle as the flutter of butterfly wings. “Did something wake you?”

“Just the cold,” Hayami giggles quietly at the ticklish feeling of Tanjirou’s lips ghosting over her skin. Tanjirou smiles at the sound of her laughter, the expression on his face so tender Hayami can’t help but feel gentle heat burning at her cheeks. Glancing away for a moment to collect herself, she squeezes Tanjirou’s hand lightly. “Do you have anything to remedy that?”

Tanjirou’s smile alone warms her heart, but the slow embrace he takes her in chases the cold out from her very bones. With a sigh of happiness, she settles in her husband’s arms, her back against his chest and his chin resting on her shoulder. They should probably get out of bed, Hayami has the sense to wonder, but forgets it as soon as Tanjirou begins rubbing at her hands gently. After fighting so much, so hard, for so long - isn’t this idleness the least that they deserve?

Sometimes, Hayami wakes up with the urge to pick up her sword again, to train until her hands are numb and her legs are weak. Her mind chants Muzan’s name over and over again, the desire to kill the progenitor demon so overwhelming that it renders her breathless. But now, there is no trace of Muzan left except the weakened state of Tanjirou’s arm that will never heal, and the scar tissue over her left eye from the injury that had rendered her partially blind.

Still, she can admire Tanjirou enough with a single eye, and Tanjirou’s one armed embraces are just as warm as the time he still had both.

The demon slayers have disbanded officially as an organisation - with triumph and grace, after having completed their destiny to defeat the evil that has plagued the world for years. The swords that they had carried with them for so long rest on a stand in the main room of the house, but Hayami hasn’t had need to pick it up since that fateful battle so long ago. Life has been good to them so far-

A gentle kiss to her shoulder blade pulls her back. She’s reminiscing again, Hayami realises with slight horror, in a manner all too similar to that of an old lady. “Thinking about something?” Tanjirou says with a light laugh, and Hayami quickly shakes her head to dispel her thoughts. Why, she and Tanjirou are barely into their twenties - they have their entire lives ahead of them!

And Hayami intends on spending every second of it with Tanjirou by her side.

“Nothing, just thinking about what needs to be done around the house.” To be honest, there was nothing that needed to be done with the house even as winter drew nearer - the current head of the Ubuyashiki, Kiriya, had ensured that every slayer would have the means to live comfortably after the disbandment. This house had been constructed upon the Ubuyashiki head’s command after hearing of Tanjirou’s intention to propose to Hayami as a wedding gift. Hence, it is still relatively new with no maintenance needing to be done, and Aoi has sent them enough hand pickled cabbage to last an entire winter and the rest of the year. Nudging Tanjirou in the side lightly, she asks, “What do you usually do for winter, Tanjirou?”

Tanjirou rests his chin on her shoulder for a moment to contemplate this question. “Well, when I was with the demon slayers, I would make snow bunnies with Nezuko. But before that, when I was still living with my family,” the word family makes Hayami’s heart give a little squeeze, “I would chop lots of wood to make charcoal. People in town would usually buy more around winter, but our house was located in the mountains where it’s colder, so we needed plenty of wood to stay warm as well.”

“Chopping wood?” Hayami repeats, curious. This is the first winter she will spend with Tanjirou, and back when she stayed at the Sumiyuri Estate, the family servants would take care of such household affairs. It’s a little embarrassing to think that she could have forgotten something as important as firewood. Sure, they could always buy from the merchants in town like she’d done while living alone in the mountains (with their inexhaustible supply of money from Kiriya), but where is the fun in that? “That sounds nice. How about we do that today?”

“That sounds nice,” Tanjirou mumbles into her shoulder, and Hayami glances at him to see him wearing a peaceful smile on his face, eyes shut in contentment. “But can we stay like this for a while longer?”

Hayami smiles, and rests her hand on his, lacing her fingers with his. They fit together perfectly, as if this had been their very purpose since the beginning, instead of gripping the handle of a sword. Those days are behind us, Hayami reminds herself.

“Of course you can,” she says. “We have all the time in the world.”

>>>

It’s much colder than Hayami expected.

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Tanjirou frets over her as both of them make their way up a mountain path. After bundling her in an excessive number of layers and asking three times if she needed gloves, Hayami had finally been able to reassure him that she would be fine, and that she would definitely be accompanying him up to the thicket a short walk from their house. “What if you catch a cold? The mountains are cold around this time of the year, and-”

“You’re forgetting that I stayed at Mount Saigiri for a while with Urokodaki-san,” Hayami reminds him with a light squeeze to his hand. The wood axe that they’d found in the shed earlier is hoisted over Tanjirou’s shoulder, and although Hayami had initially worried that he would struggle to accomplish this task with only one functioning arm, Tanjirou had reassured her that he would be fine. “Besides, I could help you.”

“But-” Tanjirou begins to say, before he cuts himself short with a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “Right, I… I’m just new to this idea of marriage. I know your strength, but I can’t help but want to spoil you… is that strange?”

It seems that Tanjirou will never understand how easily he can fluster Hayami, with his simple yet genuinely sweet words that have Hayami melting on the inside. How could she possibly catch a cold in the winter when he insists on making her cheeks heat like this? And perhaps, she too, will never get used to this - the gentle warmth as Tanjirou lays a swift kiss on the eyepatch over her left eye.

“As if I would ever complain about my husband wanting to spoil me,” she says, in an attempt to exact some revenge for her blushing cheeks. The moments those words leave her lips, Tanjirou’s own face colours, bright red against tan skin. Both of them stand there awkwardly for a moment, both too embarrassed to look the other in the eye.

“Well, it’s only natural to want to spoil my wife...:” Tanjirou answers shyly. When he holds out his arm once more for her to take, Hayami takes a moment to look at him in the sunlight and thinks - yes, this is the man she would be with for the rest of her life.

“Mm, of course.” Leaning over, she kisses him on the cheek before taking his arm, and both of them continue through the woods hand in hand. Not too long after, they come across a small thicket that Tanjirou declares suitable for firewood.

As Tanjirou lines up the axe with the tree, Hayami decides to take a seat on the ground to watch him. Overhead, only a few birds remain in the trees, peeking down curiously with bright eyes as they watch Tanjirou at work together with Hayami.

“I haven’t done this for a while,” Tanjirou says over his shoulder, shifting the axe blade as if deciding where would be best to cut the tree. “Don’t laugh at me if I miss it, would you?”

As if he would, Hayami thinks to herself with a quiet laugh and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about that, honey.”

Only with one hand, Tanjirou takes a deep breath and lets loose a powerful swing against the trunk of the small birch. For a moment, nothing happens. Confused, Hayami frowns, squinting at the tree with her good eye. She’s sure she saw Tanjirou cut the tree, and Tanjirou looks just as perplexed as she feels-

There’s a creak, a groan, and when Hayami looks upwards, the tree slants over dangerously - and goes falling to the ground with a deafening crash.

After the leaves settle and the birds have taken off into the sky, startled by the noise, Tanjirou and Hayami look at each other with wide eyes.

Tanjirou begins to speak. “I didn’t mean to-” he tries, when Hayami suddenly dissolves into a fit of giggles.

“So much for not being able to cut it down,” Hayami shakes her head, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Seems like you’ve still got it.”

“I guess some things can never really be forgotten.” Looking down at the axe in hand, he gives a slight smile before turning to another tree, carefully lining up the blade of the axe with its trunk once more. “This brings back memories.”

Hayami hums lightly, placing her chin on her arms so that she can watch Tanjirou more comfortably. “Oh? What of?”

“I used to bring my younger brother Takeo with me when I went into the forest to cut wood for the charcoal,” Tanjirou explains. Drawing the axe back, he swings it again, strength more controlled this time. The blade sinks into the tree and leaves a deep notch in the wood. “But he wasn’t strong enough to swing the axe yet, so he would just sit there and watch me, just like what you’re doing now.”

“From the way you talk, he sounds adorable,” Hayami says. Tanjirou smiles, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Mm, he was. I miss my family a lot.”

Family. Thoughtfully, Hayami picks up a leaf on the ground in front of her and holds it up. She’s aware of her own desires in life - and having a family is one of them, has been ever since she was still trapped by the name of the Sumiyuri clan. But now, she wonders if Tanjirou would still truly want to start a family, considering the circumstances behind his own family’s death. If Hayami told him that she wanted children, she was sure Tanjirou would agree - but

“Hayami, do you want to help me with loading the logs?”

Tanjirou’s question pulls Hayami’s head out of her thoughts, and she scrambles to her feet. “Of course!”

She’ll have to ask him about this later.

>>>

The kotatsu is delightfully warm.

Sighing happily, Hayami tucks both her legs under the thick quilt, enjoying the warmth of the charcoal brazier as it chases away the cold from their little outing earlier. Not too long later, there’s a creak of the dividing screens that separate the rooms in the house, and Hayami looks up to see Tanjirou stepping in with two steaming cups, one in each hand.

“Here, I made us some sencha. Careful with it, it’s hot.” He places one cup in front of Hayami before taking a seat next to her, their bare feet brushing together underneath the table. With thanks and a smile, Hayami picks it up gingerly with her fingers, blowing lightly over the surface of the tea to cool it. “How’s the kotatsu? It’s been a while since I’ve set one up, so…”

“It’s fine. Lovely, actually,” Hayami tells Tanjirou as she takes a sip of her tea. The hot liquid scalds her tongue in a strangely pleasant way, warming her down to the tips of her toes. Tanjirou smiles from next to her, raising his own cup to his lips, and the two of them enjoy their tea in comfortable silence and the warmth of the kotatsu table.

It is this warmth and the familiar grassy flavour of the sencha that lulls her into a drowsy haze, the atmosphere blanketing her in cozy comfort.

“Don’t you think it’d be nice to have a family?”

Hayami almost spits out her sencha.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” She barely manages not to spill the contents of her cup all over herself despite the shock, testament to her bygone days as one of the Pillars of the demon slayers. Hayami would have pat herself on the back if it weren’t for the words that had just escaped Tanjirou’s mouth. “I… I…”

Tanjirou’s cheeks are blazing red, which Hayami would have normally fawned and cooed over if it weren’t for the scrambled state of her mind at present, but her husband only coughs to clear his throat before he continues. “I said,” he repeats, more slowly and clearly this time, “it’d be nice to have a big family.” His voice cracks a little at the end, but Hayami is all too willing to overlook it in favour of his words.

So much for asking Tanjirou about his thoughts on having a family, because he’s beat her to it… he can’t possibly have read her mind or something along those lines, could he?

Tanjirou’s good eye is fixed intently on her face, although his good hand is fidgeting with the sleeve of his checkered haori, betraying just how much her answer will mean to him. For a moment, she dreams - of a little girl with Tanjirou’s eyes, the colour of the heart of an ancient mahogany, a young boy with Tanjirou’s smile and laugh.

Hayami imagines waking up in the morning to the sound of pattering feet on the wooden floorboards, the voices of children calling them to awaken and make them breakfast, the warmth of a humble home filled with laughter and love - one that she’s been craving for her entire life.

She can’t help the smile that forms on her face. How could she?

“A big family would be nice,” Hayami muses out loud, more to herself than to anybody else. But Tanjirou, of course, hears every word that she’s said.

The red hue on his cheeks don’t fade. From the way his hand reaches out to rest lightly on hers, however, Hayami knows he’s more than content with her answer.

>>>

A family.

Chop.

A family. Hayami wants a family. With him.

Chop.

The tree groans as it keels over to the side, the sound of branches snapping filling the winter air. Huffing out a breath, Tanjirou watches it fog in the chilly temperature and dissipate before he steps towards the fallen tree, his axe hoisted over his shoulder. Kneel down, check the condition of the trunk, before splitting it into smaller, more manageable logs. Repetitive. Familiar.

He remembers the way Takeo would sit behind him, grumbling that he wanted to have his turn at swinging the axe instead of just trimming the branches off the trunks. He remembers his first time trekking up the snowy mountains, close on his father’s heels as he explained the path to him. He remembers returning home to a hut in the woods, the fire roaring in the hearth, Nezuko and Hanako making fresh rice crackers over the brazier for them all to share.

It feels as if he has only blinked, those strong feelings of affection now laced with nostalgia, those days a tender, yet bittersweet memory.

Tanjirou had been thinking about it for a while. After getting married to Hayami with the Oyakata’s blessings, it had only seemed natural to move on to the next stage - that was, having children together and starting a family. That was until he’d remembered Hayami’s own relationship with her now estranged family. The thought had led to some hesitation on his part - on one hand, he dearly desired a family of his own, but on the other hand, if it was against Hayami’s wishes…

Hoisting his basket of neatly trimmed logs over his shoulder, he turns back to the path leading home, boots crunching in the fresh snow. Hayami had still been asleep when he’d left the house, and knowing her, she’s probably still fast asleep even now.

He hadn’t planned on asking on that day, so abruptly and out of the blue. For a moment, Tanjirou had almost regretted speaking when he’d seen the expression of shock on Hayami’s face, but when she’d smiled and told him that she would like a big family, he had almost felt his heart overflow with emotion - too much for him to convey with words, so all he could manage at the time was a light squeeze of the hand.

The walk from the thicket back to their house isn’t very long, and by the time the sun has just begun to rise over the snow capped mountaintops, Tanjirou is at the door to their house, shaking the snow from his boots.

The house is silent, just as he expects it to be, but what he doesn’t expect is for the futon in which they both sleep in to be completely empty.

Tanjirou’s out of the door before he knows it, heart racing in his chest with worry. Part of the instincts hammered into him after years of battling scream demon, but the more logical, rational side of his mind shuts that down immediately - no, Muzan has been defeated, and no demons would be returning to harm his family. Hayami is strong, strong enough to face demons and survive, surely she is fine.

Still, still…

Reaching for his boots, Tanjirou makes up his mind to go and look for her. She can’t have gone very far, and he’s worried. It’s not like Hayami to leave the house in the middle of winter, and something could have happened to her-

Scent! He smacks himself on the head. His nose, how could he have forgotten? The very thing that allowed him to hunt demons when he first started out as part of the demon slayer corps! Tanjirou has been with Hayami so long that her very own scent is mingled with his. If he can’t see her, he can definitely smell her out!

Raising his head, he takes slow deep breaths to calm himself and clear his mind, before sniffing the air carefully. Almost instantly, he catches a whiff of familiar scent on the wind, the faint floral fragrance of lavender comforting to his senses. The scent is strong, nearby. Tanjirou moves as fast as his feet will take him, circling their small wooden house and following the scent until he sees…

“Hayami!” Tanjirou cries out in shock the second he sees Hayami, slumped over on her knees. He rushes over to her side instantly, his hand reaching out to rub soothing circles on her back. Under his palm, he feels Hayami cough and retch, and panic shoots through him like Akaza’s fist through his chest.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, trying to keep his voice level so as to calm her down. Hayami shakes her head, sucking in uneven, unsteady breaths - and Tanjirou’s heart thumps in his chest with fear.

“I-I’m fine,” she reassures him, even as Tanjirou wipes the side of her mouth with his sleeve as gently as he can. To his concern, her skin feels clammy to the touch, colder than normer. It’s worrying. “I just woke up feeling a little sick, so I went out to get some fresh air. I didn’t think that this would happen… sorry for making you worry about me.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Tanjirou tells her before she can continue apologising. “Do you think you can walk?”

Hayami nods, looking pale. “Yes, I think I can. Just give me a moment.” The second she tries to stand, however, her knees buckle under her and Tanjirou lunges to support her before she can fall.

“Hayami!’

“Sorry, sorry,” Hayami manages weakly as Tanjirou dabs the sweat from her brow. “Maybe it was the sudden change in weather… or did I eat something wrong at dinner yesterday? I really didn’t mean to fall ill like this… I’m being such an inconvenience-”

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Tanjirou repeats, more firmly this time. Reaching out, he scoops Hayami into his arm, struggling slightly to hoist her into a comfortable position. “Hang on tight to me, I’ll get you inside.”

Hayami’s hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, and Tanjirou carefully makes his way into the house, careful not to jostle Hayami too much. He makes a beeline straight for their bedroom, settling Hayami on the bedding. Should he call for a doctor? Someone from the Butterfly Estate, Aoi, or Kanao, perhaps? He could send a crow, but in this weather the message would take too long to deliver. He could fetch Kanao or Aoi from the Butterfly Estate himself, but he couldn’t possibly leave Hayami all alone in this state-

A gentle hand touches his cheek.

Tanjirou snaps out of his thoughts, realising that Hayami is smiling at him from the futon fondly. “You’re such a worrywart,” Hayami says, her hand moving up to poke at his forehead. “Go away, go away, frown lines…”

A small smile manages to break through the worry gnawing away at Tanjirou, and he raises a hand to clasp Hayami’s to his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss against her palm. “How can I not?” He says, with a shake of the head. Hayami only laughs, as if she wasn’t just sick and retching into the bushes earlier. Even her scent seems to have changed a little, for reasons that he’s not completely sure of. It worries him.

“I know my body, Tanjirou.” Hayami assures him, her fingers running through his hair in a rhythmic manner. Slowly, Tanjirou feels his taut muscles begin to ease. “I don’t think it’s anything serious, but it wouldn’t hurt to send a crow to the Butterfly Estate. You can stay here to keep an eye on me in case anything happens. Does that sound alright to you?”

“Sounds like a plan.” An obvious one, in fact. Was he really so worried he couldn’t even keep his head on straight for a few seconds? Embarrassing… Making to get up, Tanjirou glances over his shoulder. “I’ll send the crow off with a message right now-”

Hayami’s hand wraps around his wrist, stopping him from leaving. Tanjirou looks at his wife in surprise, but Hayami only smiles.

“Stay with me for a while longer first.”

At her behest, Tanjirou manages a slight smile through the anxious beating of his heart and seats himself next to her bedside, running his hand through the long platinum strands of her hair. In response, Hayami only closes her eyes and hums pleasedly.

When she asks him like that, how could he possibly refuse?

>>>

Tanjirou’s footsteps crunch in the snow as he makes his way back to his home.

In the distance, he can hear the sound of songbirds chirping, the steady dripping of water, the running of a trickling stream as the ice finally begins to melt, winter giving way to spring at last. This afternoon, Tanjirou had been kicked out of the house earlier - by Kanao, who got the message that Tanjirou had sent via crow and decided to make the journey all the way here to give Hayami a medical (and very private, Kanao had informed him as she steered him out of his own house) check up.

Hayami has been getting better, much to Tanjirou’s relief. She’s still sick some mornings, but the number of that happening has been decreasing steadily after Tanjirou picked out the foods that Hayami seems to have developed a sudden distaste for. Perhaps it’s the change in environment, or the change in diet due to the food available in the mountains, Tanjirou reasons with himself, as he continues up the slippery path. All he needs to do is figure out the rest of the things Hayami can’t stomach, and she should be fine once more. Besides, Kanao is here to give Hayami a look over, and she’d trained under Shinobu in the medical department while the latter was still alive. Hayami is strong. Hayami will be fine.

Tanjirou had decided to pass the time by gathering mountain herbs that his mother had used to brew tea with. Now, his basket is laden with an assortment of flowers and grasses, and he sniffs each of them carefully to make sure that he has the right ones - plants can be tricky to the eye, so it’s much safer to use his sense of smell. Satisfied with his haul, Tanjirou walks towards his house, hoping to catch Kanao before she leaves so that the two of them can catch up a little.

“I’m back!”

When he enters the house, the first thing he notices is the scent of something baking in the oven. Mildly surprised, Tanjirou glances at the clay oven in the kitchen as he sets his basket of herbs on the table. He wasn’t aware that Hayami was intending on baking anything today. Perhaps it’s for Kanao to have?

“You’re home, honey?” Hayami’s voice comes from the next room. Tanjirou sniffs the air lightly. It seems that Kanao has already left, her scent no longer as prominent in their house. “Kanao said she had other matters to attend to, so she had to leave first.”

“That’s a pity, I managed to get a few herbs for tea,” Tanjirou lets out a rueful sigh, reaching for the kettle. “Never mind, it’s alright. I’ll brew some tea for both of us, then. How was the checkup?”

“It was completely fine. Nothing’s wrong with me in the least.” Hayami’s answer is a little softer, and Tanjirou has to strain his ears slightly to catch her words. He doesn’t detect any hint of untruth in her words or in her scent, so he doesn’t question the slight change in her tone of voice. Filling the kettle with water from a wooden bucket, Tanjirou moves to put it on the fire when Hayami suddenly pipes up again.

“Oh yes, Tanjirou, could you get the things out of the oven for me? They should be done anytime soon...”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Turning to the clay oven that Aoi had made for their home, Tanjirou pulls the cover aside, reaching for the tray baking inside. When he pulls it out and sets it on the table to cool, he takes a moment to look at what Hayami was baking earlier.

Two simple, round buns sit on the tray. Tanjirou peers at them curiously, mildly confused. Only two buns? Hayami usually bakes in bigger batches than this, since their clay oven is rather large in size.

He turns to call over his shoulder. “They’re out! Do you want me to set them aside to cool?”

“There’s no need for that. Actually put them back in the oven.” The door to the kitchen slides open slowly, and Tanjirou looks up to see Hayami standing in the doorway, a hand pressed to her abdomen and a gentle, tender smile on her face. Her good eye falls on the two buns sitting innocently on the tray, and her smile widens before she looks at Tanjirou once more. “They’re not done yet… maybe, they’ll take another nine months.”

Tanjirou frowns, opening his mouth to comment on how he has no knowledge of any bun that takes a whole nine months to back before something hits him. Nine months… that duration of time sounds familiar, but why…

Nine months… a new dislike for foods Hayami had previously loved… the short bouts of nausea… a change in her scent…

The breath in his lungs seems to be trapped there, unwilling to leave, his heart pounding in his throat. Hayami smiles at him, watching the emotions play out over his face, his eyes fixed on the hand that’s resting on her belly.

“Are you…” Tanjirou’s voice breaks from sheer emotion alone. “Are you… pregnant?”

Hayami’s radiant smile is answer enough for him.

He doesn’t really remember what he does next, all he knows is the next second his arms were wrapped around Hayami, his lips pressing gentle kisses to every inch of her face he could reach. Faintly, he tastes salt on his tongue, Hayami’s tears of joy streaming down her cheeks as the two of them share this precious moment together, just the two of them.

“I…” Tanjirou can’t seem to form words. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“Not a dream at all,” Hayami tells him firmly, and that’s when tears finally escape the corners of Tanjirou’s eyes, overflowing with emotion.

“I can’t believe it… I can’t… we’re going to have a family, Hayami,” Tanjirou whispers, his voice rough with emotion. His own throat feels thick, and Hayami looks back at him with wet eyes, shining like the stars with the happiness contained in them. “I… I can’t thank you enough for the gift you’ve given me.”

“No need to thank me, silly, it’s going to be our family,” Hayami teases lightly through her tears, reaching up to kiss Tanjirou’s forehead. Subconsciously, Tanjirou’s own hand reaches down between them to touch Hayami’s stomach reverently, closing his eyes as if that will be able to connect him with the life growing within his wife’s belly.

“A child of our own,” Tanjirou says aloud, as if trying to test out the words on his tongue. To his surprise, Hayami only shakes her head with a little giggle, pointing back to the tray on the table. The two buns sit there innocently, the only witnesses to the joyous occasion happening in the kitchen right now.

“Two buns,” Hayami repeats, emphasizing on the number with a little poke to her husband’s nose. Tanjirou’s eyes widen, before he stares down at her belly once more.

“Twins?” He says, so hushed with shock that Hayami barely manages to catch it. Still, she laughs, nodding indulgently at her husband. Seriously, Tanjirou can really be dense sometimes.

“Yes, dear.”

Hayami squeals in surprise when Tanjirou suddenly scoops her up with his arm and spins her around once, laughing so brightly that Hayami’s heart feels like it’s singing. For all she knows, it probably is.

“I can’t wait,” Tanjirou says when he finally sets her down, his cheeks flushed from exertion and breathless. His arms remain tightly wound around her waist, loathe to let her go for even a second. “I can’t wait to have a family with you, Hayami. I want to be a good father and a good husband, I really do. I swear that I’ll do everything to take care of our family together with you. So,” he presses a kiss to her lips. “Thank you so much for blessing me with your presence in my life, Hayami.”

“You will, Tanjirou.” Hayami whispers against his lips tenderly. “I know you will.”

The two of them remain like this for a while, arms wrapped around each other as they bask in their shared happiness together, until Hayami suddenly takes a step back and twirls a strand of hair around her finger shyly. When Tanjirou looks at her with concern, she only smiles a little embarrassedly, a sight that has Tanjirou’s heart fluttering in his chest.

“So, about children’s names,” Hayami begins, “do you have any ideas?”

>>>

The mountains that the Kamado household reside in are always cold.

“Daddy, give me a hug! It’s freezing!” A little boy with chestnut hair and lilac eyes skips along the path to tug at the hem of his father’s shirt, dragging out the last word to make it as dramatic as possible. The father pauses chopping at a tree to smile at his son, before he sets the axe down and extends his arm to his child. The boy squeals in delight and throws himself into his father’s chest, laughing happily all the while.

“Oh dear, your fingers are all cold, Akihiro.” The father says, concerned as he looks over his son’s hands. The little boy nods excitedly. “Whatever will your mother say? She’d probably scold me if she sees your hands like this… let’s head back home, then.”

Akihiro barely manages to contain his energy long enough for his father to pack away all his woodcutting items before he’s jumping around his father. “Piggyback! Piggyback!” He chants, and his father smiles indulgently at him.

“Come on, Akihiro. Let’s go.”

The little boy clambers up his father’s back, before his father straightens up and the two of them make their way back, down a little mountain path marked with colourful ribbons that his wife had used to wear in her hair, tied there by their daughter so that her father and brother would never lose their way home. In the distance, not too far away, a warm glow lights up the stark mountain air.

The closer they draw to the light, it reveals itself to be a small mountain house. Small as it may be, the light pouring from the windows radiates warmth. As the two of them step onto the porch, the charcoal markings on the wooden pillars show the increase in height of two children every year, taken precisely during the first day of every new year.

At the door, father and son repeat a familiar ritual - take off boots, shake off snow, the father blowing lightly on his son’s fingers to warm them before he opens the door to his house.

“Daddy!”

A small weight throws itself into his arms and the father nearly stumbles backwards from the force. When he looks down, bright lilac eyes flicker up at him with excitement, the exact same shade as that of her twin brother’s. “Daddy, I missed you!”

“Mm, I missed you too, Ayaka.” The father leans down to press a light kiss to his daughter’s forehead, and the little girl giggles brightly. Behind him, his son pouts, waving his fist at his twin sister.

“Daddy missed me more!”

“You were with Daddy the entire time!”

“Both of you, stop bothering Daddy.” At the voice of the master of the house, both children immediately cease their squabbling, both running over to their mother, clamouring excitedly for the freshly baked sweet buns that she’s holding. With a sigh and a contented smile, Hayami steps over to her husband and kisses him on the cheek. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Tanjirou smiles.

“I’m home, Hayami.”

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