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foolstower · 1 year

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Pomegranates & Brunch

Elliot x reader (Stardew valley)

A/n: obsessed with the dew rn

Pomegranates.

A peculiar little fruit that you didn't much care for until you moved to Stardew valley. Cracking one open you could see it's ruby red seeds gleam under the sunlight. Maybe he'll come by today. He'll ask, how are you? With a smile. His voice carries with the wind and draws your attention each time. You try to say something different each day. Hoping one of the topics will keep him around longer than usual. But it's always ends the same.

You give him a pomegranate. Like you have everyday this fall.

Picking two more pomegranates from the tree, you gingerly place them in the woven basket you were using to harvest all of your produce today.

It's been two seasons since you moved to the valley and you never would have guessed that the tree growing on your property would bear such beautiful fruit. When you first got here you noticed this tree was one of the few well kept things on the property. You soon found out that one of the valleys locals had been making trips out to the farm since he'd moved here. He said it was the only place close that he could get pomegranates anymore, so he'd come out and make sure the tree was doing ok. He came by when you moved in to ask if he could buy the fruits from you since you'd be living there from now on. You'd told him not to worry about it, he was more than welcome to stop by in the fall and take as many as he wanted, it could be a way of thanking him for keeping it healthy for so long.

but it was only half the truth. You were mesmerized from the moment you met him. He can take whatever he wants.

Continuing on to the barns, you promptly gave you're cows some amaranth you had stored away and a pat on the head. Then you made your way over to the coops to gathered eggs. Maybe you'll make breakfast this morning? Fresh eggs didn't sound so bad with a side of toast and some bacon. Your stomach started growling just thinking about it. That's what happens when you skip breakfast in favor of brunch to get things done early. You tried to ignore the slightly queezy feeling in your gut and continued on. The plan was to make a trip to Pierre's for some more pumpkin seeds before you notice a ginger head at the entrance of your farm.

You started your slow trek towards him, basket heavier now that it contained more items and the heat was sweltering. He looked more casual today, in a beige knitted sweater and jeans. His demeanor seemed more lax too. Did something good happen?

The breeze felt amazing once you made it to the steps of your home. Elliot met you there and you both took a seat together. You placed the basket down next to you and couldn't stop the yawn that released now that you'd finally relaxed.

"You look absolutely exhausted. Are you alright?" He asked, concern laced in every word. You turned to face him, and smiled. He was right, you were in fact extremely tired. The only thing keeping you going was a coffee break you had an hour ago.

"I'll be ok. I skipped breakfast this morning, but I was actually about to go inside soon and cook up something." You said. You looked at the eggs and milk in your basket and briefly fantasized about what kind of omelette you could make. When you looked back at Elliot he was staring at the basket too seemingly deep in thought. You quirked a brow. What's he thinking about?

"If its ok.. will you allow me to cook for you today?" The offer floated around in the air for a minute while you triple checked if you heard that right. "Listen, I know I mostly use these hands for writing but I'd like to think I'm a pretty good cook too." He said confidently. "Plus you've been a pleasure to be around since you got here. Let me thank you." He added, voice borderlining a teaseing tone. You blushed at that but more at the fact that he would be coming into your house. You can't remember if it was clean. Did you wash the dishes? How could he cook if the dishes are dirty... Oh well if anything you can just clean as he cooks. Plus how could you pass up a home cooked meal from the man of your dreams?

"Ok! I think I would like that actually." You say finally convinced. Standing up from your spot on the steps, you make your way toward the door. You leave the watering can next to the porch and pick up the basket. "Sorry if my place is a mess." You half mumbled as you grabbed the door knob and opened it up.

"Algae literally grows on my floorboards y/n."

"Touche."

Upon entering your home you noticed that the dishes were in fact dirty but it wasn't a mountain by any means. There were still clean pans and other utensils to be able to cook effectively.

"You have a very welcoming home, it's definitely yours." He admired, observing the various pieces of art on the wall and potted plants scattered around every possible area. It was cute.

"Thank you. I've always loved these things and didn't know I would find so many gems in the Valley." You fondly think of the traveling merchant. She's introduced you to so many things since being here.

"I wish I would've known, there's so many things I've seen that would fit perfectly in here." He thought back to all the things hes seen that's reminded him of you since meeting. You're so nice and he's been wanting to return the favor for all the gift you've given him. "Sorry I got sidetracked, two fridges? Which one should I use?" He questioned.

"I keep most things in the big fridge but if you need something else check the mini fridge." You told him as you picked up the sponge near the sink and lathered it up with soap. Turning on the faucet you started washing the spoons and forks. Elliot came up to the right of you and after a few clicks from the gas stove, it lit up. He placed a pan on top of the burner and then started to gather his ingredients from the fridge. He already looked handsome without trying but seeing him in the coziness of your home, cooking for you, made him undeniably more attractive.

You looked back at the dishes in your hands and started washing the plates. Thoughts of what it'd be like to have him in your life doing this everyday danced through your head. A soft grin sat comfortably on your face. You could hear the soft clinks of a metal fork hitting the bottom of a glass bowl as he stired eggs, milk and other seasoning into the mix. You didn't notice that he had tied his hair back into a loose ponytail and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow.

You put away the last dish and dried your hands. The kitchen was starting to smell delicious as he chopped up some spinach to put in the omelette that he had cooking in one of the skillets. Bacon was now sizzling on a second pan and a loaf of bread sitting to the side to get toasted later. You put on some coffee and grabbed two red cups from your pantry. After waiting about a ten minutes, poured two cups and placed them at the kitchen table and took a seat. A book sat on the table that Elliot had given you a few weeks ago. When you had first gotten 'Camellia Station' you were non-stop reading but as summer ended and fall began you had gotten too busy to wrap it up. Taking a sip of the coffee, you grabbed it and opened it up to where you had left off. There were only a few more chapters until the end.

It wasn't long before a plate was gracefully placed in front of you. An omelette that took up half of the dish, a few pieces of bacon, and two pieces of toast with butter spread on top. Green leaves were mixed into a soft fluffy yellow, freshly shredded cheese oozed from the center. You closed the book and sat it back in its place.

"Wow Elliot... This looks amazing!" You cheered. Your stomach started growling on cue as Elliot sat down in the seat opposite of you. A soft pink coated his cheeks at the compliment making you gush on the inside.

"It's not a problem at all, I hope it tastes as good as it looks." He nervously chuckled. He'd never really cooked for others since moving here. With no kitchen in his cabin and no one to really cook for there was never a need to go out of his way to do something like that. But after all you've helped him with he hoped that it came out at least ok.

You cut into the omelette a took the first bite. His hopes came true. The omelette was perfectly cooked, seasoned, and the cheese melted perfectly. You would dare say this is the best damned omelette you've ever had.

Elliot was pleased with what he saw. The look of pure satisfaction on your face was all the thanks he needed to be able to dig into his own omelette. His wasn't as perfect as yours was, considering his was the practice trial before making the the other one. It was still just as good however.

Though Elliot wasn't lying when he said he was making this breakfast to thank you for hanging out with him, he was also here to thank you for something else. Within the time span of knowing you he'd never experienced such a rush of creativity. Before he knew it he'd written a whole book by the end of summer. That very same book was now being recognized worldwide and he thought he should come clean about how exactly he got the idea for this novel.

"That was so goooood." You sighed looking at the empty plate Infront of you. Your stomach that used to be churning was now full and you felt like you had enough energy to power you into tomorrow.

Elliot chuckled softly and took a sip of his coffee before sitting it back down on the table. "Thank you, I'm glad it was to your liking." He glanced at his also empty plate as you picked them both up and took them to the sink. He debated how he should even bring the topic up. So many ways he could say this but none of them sounded right for you.

"Elliot, you ok? You seem deep in thought." You prodded. He had an elbow on the table with his cheek resting on the back of his fingers. His brows were knitted together but relaxed once his gaze landed on you.

"Im fine but if I'm being honest I did come here with other intentions." He said his olive green eyes stared at you for a second before continuing. "I need to confess something to you." He admitted.

Taking your place back in your seat, you gave him a questioning look. A confession?

"Oh? What about?" You said trying to hide the nervousness in your throat.

"Well, you've been a great inspiration to me, and I did come over today to thank you but not just for hanging out with me." He said gesturing to the book sitting on the center of the table. "Camellia station. It's a book I always had a general idea about. I knew how I wanted it to go but I never knew how to take it there." He said picking it up from the center of the table. "it actually wasn't until the beginning of this year that I was able to find the motivation to write it..... It was when I met you." He stated, Absolutely loving the scarlet that coated your cheeks at that last bit.

"When you met me?" The only thing on your mind.

"Yes, I met you and your presence brought a wave of complex feelings that helped me write this novel." He confirmed. He flipped to a page in the book and read one of the paragraphs aloud.

"Gozman had never met someone quite like Clara before. She had a certain allure that had her on his mind night and day. She was a hard worker with a kind soul and took time out of her busy life to always chat with him when he travelled. He doubt she knew considering she was a busy woman. But whenever he'd book his flights he'd always try and book her's. She brightened up his life a little and he found himself wanting to be around her more and more each passing moment." He read to you. His voice was soothing and deep. You stared on in wonder. Confused on where this was going but liking it none the less. This is the longest he's stayed around before and you don't mind one bit.

He closed the book and held it in his hands, reminiscing all the other lines he wrote with you in the back of his mind. His muse, you were a drop of fresh water that allowed his creative soul to blossom again. In his mind he would never be able to really make up for just how much you've truly helped him.

"You were the one on my mind when I wrote that paragraph. When I think of you, I get unusually creative. You've really helped me open up more as a writer and describe things in a way I never have before." He said. "I'm sorry if this is coming on too strong but I think you know what I'm trying to say. Don't you y/n?" He said taking your hand in his, he gently rubbed the top of your knuckles. This definitely wasn't his plan when he came over but here was no backing out now.

"Do I know what you're trying to say?" You asked. Half a tease and also genuine. Now was not the time to make any wrong assumptions. But how wrong could the assumption be when he's rubbing comforting circles into your acheing hand? He smiled.

"It means I like you. I haven't known you for even a year, yet you've inspired one of my greatest works. You're charming and I can't help but feel invigorated when you're around." He gave you're hand a comforting squeeze as you stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't come here with a bouquet but I would be honored if you'd be mine." He finishes looking up at you.

You're a mess. You don't know what to say, not that you don't accept his confession but how do you react to that? You're heart was racing so fast that the adrenaline was making you shake a bit. This made Elliot look at you with a bit of worry. Maybe he did come on too strong?

"I-im sorry I didn't mean to-"

"I love you!!" You blurted out. Immediately you covered your mouth you can't believe you just did that but you saw how worried he looked and that was the quickest way you could think to dissolve those fears. He looked at you shocked, not even he expected such a bold proclamation from you. You quickly gathered yourself and continued. "I think I knew I liked you too when I started obsessively harvesting pomegranates to give to you. I didn't know how else to convey my feelings for you, but knew you loved these fruits so I took extra care of the tree and harvested it's fruit everyday." You said finally confessing your feelings to him as well. You both relaxed. You stood up and headed to the woven basket where the pomegranates you picked this morning still rested and picked out the biggest one of the two. You made your way back and stood in front on Elliot, offering him the fruit.

"I don't have a bouquet either. But you can take this pomegranate from me again today, as a sign of my affection for you. Like it always has been." You softly stated to him. He took it from your hand and softly set it on the table next to the book before standing up and holding your hands, his right hand trailed up your arm to cradle your face.

"I love you too, my skills with words are unmatched but I can't think of any ways to properly tell you thank you enough." His hand gently slid down your cheek slightly and his thumb traced over your lips. "Allow me to show you?" He whispered. You answered by closing the gap. Your lips melted together like they belonged to each other. Your hands made it up to his chest and his made their way to your hips. He gave them a firm squeeze and backed you up against the table. A soft sound escaped the back of your throat and he lifted you onto the table. your arms were wrapped around his neck and he had a hand still on your hip and the other on your thigh when you finally broke the kiss. You both sighed trying to catch your breathes. Red dusted both of your faces, he definitely wasn't going home anytime soon.

"You're gonna stay and cook dinner too right? I can make it worth your while." You said hand coming down to trail suggestive circles on his chest. He blushed but softly laughed.

"Anything for you my dear, anything you want."

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew elliott #x reader #elliot x reader #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #elliot stardew valley

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heroofshield · 5 months

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Whumpcember Day 10- Freezing (Dragon Age 2 FemHawke & Varric)

Takes place during Act 1 before the mission in the Deep Roads.

@whumpcember

Growing up in Ferelden, Marian Hawke had experienced her share of cold; especially in Lothering where during the winters the snow could pile up almost to the roof. Escaping to Kirkwall, she'd thought that the winters would be somewhat milder since the city was by the Waking Sea.

She was wrong.

"Maker, this wind is brutal." Marian groused as a gust of wind whistled through the streets, drawing the shawl she had closer around her. "How do you deal with it?"

"Layers. Lots of layer and furs if you can afford it." Varric replied, dodging a pile of near frozen horse droppings. "This isn't even the coldest it's gotten. I remember ten years ago when the harbor froze nearly two miles out. Ice was so thick that you could walk on it no worries. Another time there was a blizzard so bad that it took the city the rest of the winter to dig out."

Marian let out a groan, "Don't say such things, Varric. You're just going to jinx it."

Turning the corner and seeing the entrance to The Hanged Man, Varric just smiled, "It's your second winter in the city, you should be used to it by now."

Marian sighed as they walked into the tavern and the warmth surrounded her like a welcome embrace. Flexing her near frozen fingers, she threaded her way through the crowd towards the stairs and Varric's suite of rooms. Standing in front of the fireplace, she felt her muscles start to warm up and relax. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

They needed money for firewood.

The winter had been usually cold, at least that was according to those who'd grown up in the city, and they'd had to spend more than usual to keep Gamlen's house heated. So if Marian wouldn't have to dip into the funds she'd been setting aside for Varric's expedition, she needed to take a few jobs. Her reputation working for the smugglers meant that those that knew were approaching her with 'job opportunities' since she knew the best routes in and out of the city to avoid detection. And while Marian knew those guaranteed a payout, she was trying to find more legitimate jobs.

"But those are few and far between. Not everyone wants to work with a Ferelden still." Marian thought as she stared at the household accounts. She'd promised Bethany that she'd take care of Leandra and Carver, and over the past few years she'd realized that that meant she'd have to do things that her younger sister might not have approved of.

"Guess that it's the smuggling jobs until something else comes along." Marian thought as she memorized the details of the job that would get them the coin they needed to get them the firewood that they needed plus some in case the winter decided to stretch itself out.

Hawke was missing.

She'd asked Varric if he was up for a quick smuggling job, but he'd replied that he was knees deep in his latest novel and didn't want to stop mid-stream; if he did then who knows if he'd ever finish the draft before his editor started sending daily letters asking where it was.

Hawke had just let out a laugh and said she better get to read it first before he sent it off before bounding down the stairs towards the main floor of the tavern, calling over her shoulder that she'd be back the next day.

"That was yesterday and normally she'd at least stop by to see if she could get a few free drinks from me in exchange for telling me about it for my next serial." Varric thought as he idly tapped the end of his quill against the paper. "She could just be resting at Gamlen's, it snowed pretty awful last night; had to make the mountain pass difficult to get through."

But the feeling in his gut told Varric that something wasn't right.

So he cleaned up his drafts and hightailed it to see Carver, and somewhat discreetly see if Hawke wasn't just sleeping it off, but she wasn't at home so her brother agreed to help look for her. Then it was to the City Centre and the guard's quarters to ask Aveline if she'd seen the quick witted warrior. She hadn't either and reluctantly agreed to join their small party to go hunt down the woman. One last stop in Darktown for Blondie just in case they needed a healer and they were on their way.

In the interest of time, and hoping that Aveline would ignore the fact that they were traveling through smuggling tunnels, Varric decided to use the Merchant's Guild route he knew would get the to the highlands the quickest. Stepping out into the snow covered pass, the cold air slapped Varric's face and he wished he'd brought his fur lined jacket. "Or at the least my shirt that closes all the way up." he thought, trying to suppress a shiver.

Glad for the snowshoes so he wasn't head deep in the snow, Varric called out Hawke's name as loud as he dared without causing an avalanche, "Hawke!"

"If she's unconscious she won't hear us." Aveline said, drawing her cloak tighter around her.

Varric chose to ignore the statement and continued trudging forwards, "Hawke, you out here!?"

"Marian!" Carver called out, narrowing his eyes against the brightness of the snow.

"Hawke! You still owe for those fines last month!" Aveline called out, knowing that if the woman could hear her then she'd protest. But silence greeted them.

"Search the ground for any signs of footprints, there would not be many traveling through here this time of year." Fenris said, starting to scout ahead of the small party.

They fell silent after that, spread out and focused on the ground-hoping for some sign that Hawke was still alive.

After what felt like an eternity, Carver let out a whistle to draw everyone's attention and they made their way towards him. "Look, footprints." He pointed to the ground where an indentation could just be seen. "Looks like they go off in this direction."

Varric looked in the direction that Carver indicated and in the fading sun could just make out the outline of a cave. "Even if it's not her, we need to find shelter soon. Otherwise we'll be icicles when they find us."

"Maybe who ever made the footprints is still in there and can tell us what happened." Aveline said, unslinging her shield from her back and making sure that her sword wasn't hindered by her cloak.

Anders nodded in agreement and readied his staff while Varric got Biance out and Carver made sure that his sword was ready as well.

Inside the cave it was a touch warmer than outside, but not by much. Their breath still created white clouds in the air and Anders created some mage lights so they could see.

What Varric wasn't expecting was for Marian Hawke to be illuminated by said lights; propped up against the cave wall, eyes closed and slumped over herself.

"Maker's kickers." he cursed as Carver sheathed his sword and made a beeline towards his sister. "Blondie, you're up."

Anders nodded, setting his staff against the wall and kneeling opposite of Carver.

Marian was freezing. The snow had been heavier than she'd expected it to be and that had caused all sorts of problems until she'd realized that she'd be stuck in the mountains without any supplies to get her through the cold night. It had been luck that she'd found the cave and had hoped that Carver or someone would miss her enough to come looking.

Feeling warm for the first time since setting out, she opened her eyes expecting to be greeted to the damp of the cave-not the whitewashed walls of a room in Ander's clinic. Confused, she tried to sit up and discovered that she was nearly being held down by multiple blankets.

"You gave us quite a scare."

Marian looked over to see Varric in the doorway, a bowl of something in his hands. "Oh?" she asked in a rough voice. Clearing it, she tried again, "Did I get bitten by wolves and almost turn into a warewolf?"

"Not as dramatic. Nearly became a human icicle though." Varric carefully set the bowl of hot soup on the small nightstand by the cot. "Good thing we brought Blondie along, he said that a few more hours and it would have been off to see the Maker for you."

Marian carefully pushed back the blankets so she could sit up and brushed the stray hairs out of her vision, "At least you missed me enough to go looking for me."

"Y'know Chuckles, if you needed the coin I would've let you borrow it. Didn't have to be so dramatic and nearly freeze to death."

Marian huffed in amusement, "You know me, I have to make a statement. Besides, we'd just gotten out of the smuggling guild-what makes you think I wanted to go into debt right after that?"

"Could've called it an advance on our delving findings." Varric shrugged, knowing that the casual way they were talking was the way they communicated; through jokes and playing it off like it was no big deal. "Unlike the Merchant's Guild I have reasonable terms. At least you wouldn't lose a limb if you couldn't pay it back."

At that Marian let out a laugh and knew the words that they weren't saying. "At that, how can I say no?"

"Just promise next time you decided on a 'quick job' you at least take two other people."

"I promise to cut other people next time."

"Good. Now drink your soup so I can go back to my writing."

#whumpcember2023 #dragon age #da2 #marian hawke #varric tethras #fanfic #my writing

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sweet-heyheyhey-you · 5 months

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Like A Dragon Gaiden: The Man Who Erased His Name.

...SPOILERS BELOW... READ AT OWN RISK...

Okay, so I have waited for this game for such a long time. I went in originally with no idea what to expect for this 'mini in-between game' from RGG. But I did know I wanted to know more about what Kiryu Kazuma had been up to since his fake death in Y6 and then appearing in LAD.

For me, this game scratched that itch. It gave me a look at Kiryu's new life as a dead man and a puppet to Daidoji.

I remember playing through it and being so excited at the possibility that he would be helping the Tojo again. I just wanted to see him back in his own Yakuza glory days of kicking ass! Plus I had played LAD, so I knew we did get a mini sort of reunion with the gang gang! But as Kiryu and the reunion with Daigo, Majima and Saejima were not the main characters in LAD, we didn't really get anything substancial.

THANKFULLY... In Gaiden, we get that proper reunion. We get the dialogue, and in my opinion even a bit of a pouty Majima 😉.

The fight at OMI HQ with the Gang Gang was the best thing for me. I honestly lived for it!

I did love most of the game to be fair, I would happily give it a solid 8.5/10, and that's me being stingy. In my opinion it could easily be higher.

The castle coliseum was so much fun for me. I never usually hang around in them much in any of the other games, however this one... I felt like I spent hours just fighting and trying to get S ranks in everything. It probably helped that I got to fight as Majima the majority of the time, and if anyone knows me, they know how much I LOVE Majima's fighting style! He is my all time fave!

One of the only critiques I have on the game, is the lack of random encounters. Anyone who is anyone, knows a Yakuza game is full of them crazy situations that Kiryu would randomly get into as he is just casually walking down the street. However in this game there is none of that. All missions are through the Akame network. Don't get me wrong, I see why we don't have all of the random encounters. It's only supposed to be a small game, not a full fledged one. But it is just something I noticed.

It didn't bother me enough for me to say the game was weak or anything. I still thoroughly enjoyed the missions that we got through the Akame Network.

Another thing I loved... was the breakdown of Kiryu.. When Hanawa shows him the video of the kids and the drawing that Haruto drew.. watching Kiryu break and sob. It broke my heart. It was the first time In the game that I felt the weight of his choice from Y6 and how much he wished he could be with them. Honestly it was beautiful even if it was gut wrenching to witness.

Now... selfishly, if I could have had more Majima, Saejima and Daigo screen time and interaction with Kiryu.. that would have been brilliant. I feel like we have not seen them together in such a long time that my heart ached, longed and wept for it. The way I feel nostalgic for it, honestly made me cry as I was playing through that fight outside with them. I was button mashing whilst trying to blink away my tears because I missed them so much!

Anyway, I have rambled on so so much about this, but I think that goes to show how much I really enjoyed it! I will happily play it again. :)

Maybe I will revisit Y0 and then play through them all again :D

Okay now rambling over! Go play the game!

...

And yes, I have seen the story trailer for Infinite Wealth, and yes my heart is broken for it. I'm not ready to talk about that yet. BUT Majima looked like a SNACK!!!!

Toodles.

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piers-wifey · 2 years

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Pumpkin carving with the S.T.A.R.S. members

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–Albert Wesker–

“You want me to what? Dearheart, don't you think we're a little too old for that?” After your like twentieth attempt at changing his mind, Wesker finally gave in and allowed himself to sit beside you and start carving the pumpkin that has been sitting on the table the entire time. To your surprise, Wesker's carving skills were remarkably good, making you wonder if he really was such a big holiday grouch, or just too reticent to show that he too could enjoy silly little things like this.

–Chris Redfield–

Chris is a huge Halloween fan and down for it like no other. Will spend hours looking for the perfect pumpkin with you and once you found it, there's no stopping. There's not really a set design, you two just carve whatever you want. All you and Chris care about is to have fun and enjoy the little things, and that's exactly what you two do. Being silly together and creating a unique looking pumpkin, while giggling like little kids.

–Jill Valentine–

Jill is anything but good at pumpkin carving. Not to mention that her lack of patience for such activities often ends in literal pumpkin massacres. But, since she wants to be part of the things you like and help you as much as possible, she offers to spoon out the pumpkins and leave the carving to you. You're much more talented than her anyway. Plus, she loves the concentrated look on your face when you dive into your work. So, it's a win-win for both of you.

–Joseph Frost–

Joseph is a man-child through and through. He loves Halloween with all its traditions and spends days and a good amount of money preparing his apartment for the spooky season. So, it's no surprise that he's a master at pumpkin carving. Watching him create literal art is almost more fun than to do it yourself. But, Joseph wouldn't be Joseph if he didn't let his cheeky self get the better of him and throw the pumpkin pulp at you as 'payback' for letting him do all the hard work.

–Brad Vickers–

Whatever you do, do not let Brad near any knives or sharp tools in general. Man's too clumsy and would probably end up in the ER with a nearly cut off finger or something. Instead, you should let him pick and spoon out the pumpkin and do the carving yourself. Trust me, it's the best option. Alternatively, you two could paint the pumpkin instead. It's much safer anyway and you two can still have lots of fun.

–Barry Burton–

A certified pro with a love for teamwork. He lets you pick the pumpkin and design, while he guts it out and carves it. But he wouldn't say no if you asked him to let you do the hard work. It's actually pretty nice to be the one who watches every now and then. But, he'll be by your side the entire time, making corny Halloween puns and, of course, helping you out if things get a little trickier. In the end, he's super proud of you and the way the pumpkin turned out.

–Enrico Marini–

Not the biggest Halloween fan, but thanks to his kids, he ended up carving dozens of pumpkins for them regardless. His skills are a little rusty - considering that his children are now adults and don't need his help anymore - but he still got it. His usual go-to is the classical Jack-o'-lantern design, but if you ask him for another design - and help with drawing the motif you want - he'll gladly oblige. Enrico doesn't say it out loud, but deep down he enjoys every second of it, because it brings back good memories.

–Richard Aiken–

Since he has never done this before, Richard is a little left-handed at first. To the point where he accidentally cuts himself a few times and ends up with nearly all his fingers covered with colourful bandaids. To cheer him up, you draw cute little faces on the bandaids. Despite the rather bumpy start, the pumpkin ends up looking pretty good, given that this was Richard's first attempt. And although he enjoyed it, he'll leave the carving to you next time.

–Forest Speyer–

Pumpkin carving with him almost always ends in a food war between the two of you. It usually starts with him flicking a pumpkin seed at you and then slowly spirals higher and higher until you both have completely forgotten about the pumpkin and instead chase each other around the house/apartment with the insides of the pumpkin in your hands, while you're laughing and giggling like a bunch of children.

–Edward Dewey–

Let's get this straight: Edward is terrible at anything that is related to art and crafting in any way. His pumpkin looks derpy and the proportions are more than 'just a little' off, but, just because he's bad at it doesn't mean he won't keep trying; even if it's just to see you happy. Which you really are. And knowing how stubborn and determined Ed can be sometimes, you'll have to be sneaky when offering your help. It's not that he doesn't notice, of course he does, but he pretends not to, just to see that triumphant sparkle in your eyes.

–Rebecca Chambers–

A bit nervous and overcautious when it comes to the thing. Don't get me wrong, she loves Halloween and especially the pumpkin carving, but her fear of you getting hurt outweighs her excitement a little. You have to reassure her that you'll be fine and in good hands, should you get hurt. Rebecca herself is pretty skilled and a little perfectionist. Her pumpkin is littered with squiggles and little curls.

–Kenneth Sullivan–

Grows a big pumpkin in his garden every year. You don't know how Kenny does that, but his pumpkins always end up being too big to be carried into the house, leaving you no other option than to do the carving outside, sitting in his backyard on a blanket, wrapped in warm clothes and with a cup of tea/hot chocolate to keep you warm. And the pumpkin seeds are not thrown away. Instead, they are fed to the birds.

–Kevin Dooley–

Kevin goes absolutely feral when it comes to it and tends to make a huge mess. There will be pulp all over the floor, on his clothes and even in his hair, but, he couldn't care less. He just wants to have fun and be creative. His skills may be pretty decent, but you can't say the same about his creativity and silliness. Forget about spooky faces, how about a cat presenting its butthole? Or one that has the word "taxes" carved into it? Scary, isn't it?

~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @mirandawesker @eviltothecore13 @dagrans @ravenrune @sevythebeanqueen @aurorapink10 @silvevia @sassiest-captain @albertweskerxchrisredfield

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snellyfish · 1 year

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Not to bother you but since we're talking about rarepairs....how about Leobuki?

Oh this is so embarrassing for me, this was sitting in my drafts for MONTHS I'm so sorry HERE IT IS. Was planning to draw them for this ask but didn't get around to it.

TLDR: FUN!!!!!!

Mnnhnhghgh MUSIC PALS!!!!!!…or more…? shh!!!!

I don't talk about it much, or like, at all, but I wholeheartedly LOVE Leon. He's weirdly someone I can relate to-- stop laughing-- mostly in regard to his view of talent and the social acceptance of it-- GUYS BEAR WITH ME HERE--

I fffffeel that a lot of his ideology is that he doesn't want anything forced on him and his lifestyle, right? Regardless of WHAT is actually being forced. He's a huge free spirit and just wants to do whatever he wants, anything that comes to him easily isn't fun at all, that's where his hatred of so-called "talent" comes into play. Baseball was literally handed to him on a silver platter and he said "ayo this sucks DICK, send my complaints to the chef," he was quite literally blessed by the God of talent himself and he could NOT care less. For Leon, it's about what you love, not what you've been gifted: he's not grateful for what he has JUST because he has it, he would be grateful for what he had if only it were something he liked, something he asked for, something he WORKED for. Don't get me wrong, I think he genuinely does like baseball, but it's paired with the fear of falling into "destiny," of sorts. It all comes back to conformity, ugh. Boo, get off the stage! Silly Leon, society loves talent, not SKILL! :)

Meanwhile- Ibuki herself is the literal definition of free spirit, even moreso than him, she would encourage him relentlessly no matter what his next big ambitious dream of the week is: she will consistently exclaim the exact same amount of hyper energy every time he bounces back from hating to loving baseball and his top 50 impulsive career choices. This is PEAK. Chances are, Leon absolutely blows at guitar and singing and anything music-based, do you think Ibuki would cringe at him for it? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! she will think it's his unique sound and will cry horrendous tears of joy because she knows how happy it makes him to work hard for something. They can witness his unstable horrible progress in a newfound skill…together!

PLUS. LIKE. NEEDLESS TO SAY BUT. GUYS!! THEY'RE BOTH SILLY PUNK ROCKERS!! LIKE. COME ON. UGH!

Due to my own headcanon, I don't personally ship Ibuki romantically with men but I could 100% see them either super queerplatonic or just inseparable besties in general. "I wanna be a rockstar to get with girls" "NO WAY ME TOO!!!!!" Absolutely nothing against them romantically of course, any content of them together is huge brain in my eyes. slash gen. Leobuki 4lyfers.

(As an added note later, I have recently heard they do have an interaction either in DRS or UTDP and apparently Ibuki hated his guts haha, I should read it sometime and be really bitter about it because I think they should be BESTIES and Danganronpa just has an undying biased vendetta against Leon)

#leobuki #i should start a tag for these ship analyses......#ship analysis #leon kuwata #ibuki mioda #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 1 #deadprussian #not art #ask

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esparafuso · 1 year

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Monday, November 7th, 2022

Dear Diary, where do I even begin. Perhaps saying I still can't believe I saw my favourite band performing live for the first time.

I'm an anxious person and shows always seemed so far away from me, from where I lived and from what I thought I'd have the guts of attending. If it wasn't for my friend Lya (@/sorethpid) I'd perhaps still be dreaming about how cool it would be if I lived the same experience I keep seeing others have for years and years.

In an impulse, we bought tickets for Primavera Sound 2022 happening in São Paulo. It wasn't cheap, but both of us had savings and were crazy enough to spend it on a ticket and flight tickets and a hotel room.

We live in different states, so it was thrilling to meet her again (third time personally), as we met on the internet 6 years ago here on tumblr, two artists drawing Arctic Monkeys fanart and rambling to the other about our favourite things about them, and our favourite album, and how much we wish we had the chance of hearing them live.

It happened on Saturday, November 5th. Her first festival, my first show ever in life, we got to the place and tried to keep it cool among all the stylish people around. It was okay though, we were just happy to be there. We decided to buy two donuts (we admittedly didn't plan food very well, too anxious to get to the place already) and after a couple stops we headed to the stage to take a look, but decided to stay there already when we saw the narrow place and the realisation that soon the whole thing would be packed w ppl hit us (later on, we saw we would better had stopped by a nearby bathroom for Lya, but okay)

The gig would start at 10pm, and we were there at 4:30pm. We got to know the music of a sweet artist called Helado Negro, which we supported and danced along even not knowing the lyrics. One hour and a half break, and then came Interpol. I personally didn't listen to the band much, but they kicked ass and made everyone super pumped and jumpy (myself included). Another one hour and a half before AM.

Gigs aren't kind to shorter ppl, we learned that. We tried our best to adjust and see the stage (which was actually way closer than we expected to get) and managed with some struggle. Our boots were also a literal pain, and I don't remember feeling my feet hurting this bad in my life, to the point I had to keep dancing to keep the pain manageable - only forgotten when an artist was performing. Especially the ones we were dying to see more.

Seeing the stage being set up made us already excited. Matt's golden drumkit, Nick's bass, Alex's and Jamie's guitars going through the soundproof, curtains being set on the back of the stage - we saw THREE regular sized disco balls being brought up when Interpol's stage was being set, and we knew who they belonged to, and yet they didn't make it to the final thing for AM.

After 3 false alarms, here they come. Screams ringing in my ear, I saw those four men (plus two) walk into my sight of vision and I can't even describe how I felt. They quickly assumed positions and the heavy synth of Sculptures resonated from the speakers - the The Car song we were more hopeful they would perform (we didn't even know they had played it before in Rio).

the photos really aren't the strongest bcs of how overwhelmed I was and the little space in my phone (another thing I forgot to prepare properly, like an idiot)... some recordings didn't go through, like Potion approaching, which made me sad but at least I got some :'D

I wish I could put here what my eyes saw, because I could see their FACIAL FEATURES from where I was, which was unbelievable close in my book. I managed to save the recording of Pretty Visitors, really hoping to get my beloved Agile Beast's crazy good drumming

I recorded another for Do Me a Favour, my favourite Arctic Monkeys song, where I kept shaking from crying but can't upload here pls of Tumblr's limit of videos in a post.

The whole time I sang and danced and screamed and cried, I just kept repeating in my head that they were real people, they existed, they weren't a fever dream or a gif or a video I saw on the internet, they were living humans right in front of me, and up until now I can't wrap my head around the fact I stood so close to them. I listened to them sing and play a few meters away from me, I could feel Matt's drums resonating in my heart, I saw Nick on the side looking SO soft, Jamie being the closest one, doing his little quirks and hops, Alex singing and dancing and. being a goofie, Matt playing and singing and making me absolutely lose it.

Even now typing all this makes me cry becasue I know I will never forget this experience. I just love and appreciate this band so much. I'm not the fan that knows all the lyrics of ALL songs yet, and I don't have their physical merch and albums, and this was only the first time I saw them live, but they hold a very special and meaningful place in my life that I will never forget.

The crowd overall was amazing, we sang everything they put out, screamed our lungs out and clapped and threw our hands in the air and pleaded them to come back. They waved to everyone and Alex threw us many kisses, and I hope they enjoyed their night as much as we basked in their presence.

Leaving the festival was very difficult due to bad logistics, my feet were incredibly sore, it was super cold outside and hundreds of ppl couldn't get a ride back home for the life of us - but we managed. And even then, when we arrived at the hotel, the only memory in our minds was their presence and their music still buzzing in our heads and hearts.

I hope we will have the chance of going to another one - we sure are thirsty for more now that we saw that it IS possible to see them live - but until then: Thank you Monkeys for this unforgettable night, and for existing and making us feel such strong emotions with your amazing music and journey as a band overall.

P.s.: thank you also whoever recorded the gig properly, because then we can see everything we lived in another, high definition angle, for the rest of our lives.

#arctic monkeys #the car #the car era #AM7 #Primavera Sound #long posts #my memories #my first gig!!!#Arctic Monkeys exist and are living breathing people #I'm still so fucking emotional and stunned #thank you for everything

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sleepy-bunbun-ace · 10 months

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twst incorrect quotes but it's just my various yuu ocs (plus twst ocs). just a warning, this'll be a long one.

yume asta:

Yume Asta: Hey, Ace? Can I get some dating advice? Ace: Just because I’m with Deuce doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

Yume Asta: If Ace and I were drowning, who would you save? Deuce: You two can’t swim? Ace: It’s a hypothetical question, Deuce! who would you save? Deuce: my time and effort.

*The group is getting into the car* Yume Asta: I’m driving. Alexander Goldenheart, out of view: Shotgun! Sue Times, turning to face Alexander G: Aww! But you had it on the way here- Everyone except Alexander G: WOAH- Alexander G, holding a shotgun: No! I found a shotgun! And I want the front seat! *Pumps gun*

Yume Asta: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Alexander G: How am I supposed to know? Sue Times: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Alexander G: *sighs* Alexander G: You wouldn't be trapped.

Yume Asta, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Riddle: You did WHAT– Epel: William Snakepeare

Yume Asta: HELP! I TOLD EPEL I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Riddle, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

-- (don't worry, yume can cook)

Yume Asta: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Silver: Wasn't Sebek with you? Sebek: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Yume Asta: What do you think Silver will do for a distraction? Sebek: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do. *Building explodes and several car alarms go off* Sebek: ... or he could do that.

Yume Asta: It’s dark in here Kalim: Don’t worry dude I got this Kalim: *Stomps their feet* Kalim: *Skechers light up*

Yume Asta: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? Kalim: You mean literally or figuratively? Yume Asta: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

---

yume rosalia:

Yume Rosalia: *Trying to fill out legal paperwork stuff* Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB? Cater: Bold of you to assume I was born at all. Idia: I personally was created in a lab. Ortho: I just straight up spawned lol.

Yume Rosalia: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them. Suggestions? Cater: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm currently taking suggestions from literally anyone but you. Idia: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm currently taking suggestions from anyone but you two. Ortho: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm no longer taking suggestions.

Yume Rosalia: Yo is Malleus sleeping or dead? Leona: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts. Azul: Yeah, so did I. Malleus: Okay first of all, fuck you-

Yume Rosalia: *Gently taps table* Leona: *Taps back* Azul: What are they doing? Malleus: Morse code. Yume Rosalia: *Aggressively taps table* Leona: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Yume Rosalia: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness. Lilia: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you. Silver: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

Yume Rosalia, to Lilia: My life is in the hands of an idiot! Lilia, motioning to themself and Silver: No no no no no, TWO idiots!

Yume Rosalia: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder? Malleus: Stop romanticizing the past.

Yume Rosalia: Malleus... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Malleus: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Yume Rosalia: Yume Rosalia: I wrote sanitize, Malleus.

---

silvester hatter:

Silvester Hatter: Is stabbing someone immoral? Grim: Not if they consent to it. Ace: Depends who you’re stabbing. Deuce: YES?!?

Silvester Hatter: Grim, I'm sad. Grim: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. Ace: Deuce, I'm sad. Deuce, nodding: mood.

Silvester Hatter: God, give me patience. Harper Pendragon (TWST!Howl): I think you mean 'give me strength'. Silvester Hatter: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.

Silvester Hatter: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Harper Pendragon: It’s not a joke. Harper Pendragon: *sniffles* Harper Pendragon: I’m a legit snack.

Silvester Hatter: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Riddle? Riddle: … No. Trey: I do! Silvester Hatter: I know, Trey. Trey: I’m sad! Silvester Hatter: I know, Trey.

Silvester Hatter: Riddle and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Trey: *Sighing* What did Riddle do? Silvester Hatter: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Riddle: Who wants a steering wheel?

Silvester Hatter: If you had to choose between Idia and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose? Ortho: That depends, how much money are we taking about? Idia: Ortho! Silvester Hatter: 63 cents. Ortho: I'll take the money. Idia: ORTHO!!!

Silvester Hatter: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Idia does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Ortho: If Idia were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Idia jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Silvester Hatter: You jump off a cliff! Ortho: Gladly. Provided Idia did first.

---

yuu:

Yuu, negotiating with Jamil: We have Ruggie. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed Ruggie: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars? Yuu: Ruggie: MAKE IT ONE MILLION– Yuu: RUGGIE STOP

Yuu: You have to apologize to Jamil Ruggie: Fine. Ruggie: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

Yuu: We need to get through this locked door. Jack, give me your credit card. Jack: Here. Yuu, pocketing it: Thanks. Ace, kick down the door.

Yuu: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it. Jack: Yuu no. Ace: Mistlefoe. Jack: Please stop encouraging them.

Yuu: I just ended a four year relationship. Epel: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Yuu: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship. *Vil and Rook fighting from across the room*

Yuu: *Screams* Epel: *Screams louder to assert dominance* Vil: Should we do something?! Rook, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

Yuu: Why is Riddle so sad? Jade: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes Yuu: And...? Jade: She got Floyd.

Yuu, about Jack: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group. Deuce: Are we stealing them? Ace: New or used? Yuu: Wonderful responses, both of you.

Yuu: How did none of you hear what I just said? Jack: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Deuce: I got distracted about halfway through. Ace: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Yuu: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Grim: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Yuu: Yes! Ace: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Yuu: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity? Grim: *turning to Ace* How tall are you?

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cloudsoffire · 1 year

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Old Art Part 2

i have some more art from high school that i never posted, so i will do so now because the only thing i've been able to draw recently is a messy colored sketch of L from death note.

quick note before hand: a lot of these are of my sona because i'm trans and wish i looked a certain way so i drew my sona to cope. even now i don't look like my icon. plus it was a character i didn't need a reference for so it was easy to experiment with. the only other character i could do reliably from memory was... a skeleton. so yeah that's why these characters look alike.

small one but i like the angle

this one has some detail you can tell it was drawn in class. that's some terrible foreshortening on the second scythe though. also wildly impractical.

the proportions on this one aren't incredible but again you can tell time was spent on it. a note above it says "form: dragon" so like that explains the scales. stomach and torso could stand to be wider but i don't remember the drawing process. i probably wanted to keep the shoulders close together for dysphoria reasons, and then i wanted the left arm to be visible. idk something like that. i also only recently started drawing wings the correct way so if there are any other "m" shaped wings you now know why.

phantom of the opera but make him a handsome anime twink

thumbs up

get a load of this society.

i think the image explains itself. must've been using a different pencil than normal. maybe with thicker lead. obviously didn't like it. i don't think my other character drawings were this disproportionate, so i might've been trying to include some of my irl weight while also not including a gut because i'm hugely insecure. either that or i just didn't plan to draw legs the majority of the time so i didn't sketch them out. either one really

is this what you would call vent art?

idk if anyone has been here long enough to remember my friendship with thatmegalomaniac/sushiibetrayal/mental-1llness but i'm pretty sure this is him in a suit. if you've been around that long i am so sorry you had to endure my cringier-than-normal years

anyway that's all for this post, reached the image limit. i'll continue in a sec.

#my art #long post #old art #the girl in the snow drawing from the last art dump wasnt a sona #it'll be obvious if its a sona because the hair is always the same #or at least very similar #if its bouncy and covers the right eye it's probably a sona

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katamarei · 3 years

Text

i love me a good critique that makes me feel like the smartest motherfucker on the planet

this one girl did a series on various social issues and one was about Abortion and she said, "I'm not really for or against abortion, so that's why it's on this flimsy material, sort of putting myself into it a little bit"

why are you making art about it if you literally don't care either way

#another girl did a really big thing which was ambitious and cool #but then when she had to explain it she just went 'this side is expectations and that side is reality'#and then rambled about her major (fashion) for - I'm not even kidding - 10 minutes #'I just really liked this dress I made and it's sorta become part of my identity :)' cool. what does that have to do w societal expectations #one guy didn't start his project until the night before critique (worth mentioning this is a semester-long project not one short one)#another girl made it about her dad and his life (? still not sure why besides just 'its my dad'?) and wanted to put the drawings in a book #but she used. literal actual butcher paper. to make the cover. for her 'book'#plus. and I didn't have the guts to say this. but the drawings were so. SO bad. like. some1 trying to draw human people for the 1st time.#like. you know those fucked up wikihow drawings?? kinda like that. stiff poses and tube arms and flat uncanny faces.#and then she's talking about taking figure drawing last semester like. bro you should probably go take it again I'm 💀

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kakubun · 3 years

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So I had this idea stuck in my mind for a few days now (you don't have to write it if it's too much)

So bonten kidnapping the wife of a famous gang as a threat since they found out he's been smuggling their stuff so the man is 65 years old

What they didn't expect was his wife who was early 20s and already looked beaten up, mickey asks if she resisted since the bruises seem recent and his men say no.

Fastforward to you waking up and mickey sitting in front of you whole sanzu holds a gun behind your head mockingly apologizing for the rough treatment and explaing the situation to you.

Everyone in the room stopped smiling when they heard your maniac laugh saying that the old fucker wouldn't care and for them to kill you now to save their time

The dead look in your eyes told mickey enough, and for the first time he felt anger when he called the basterd and his reply was "kill her, use her, fuck her I don't care I was going to sell her anyway"

When sanzu suggested that they would make lots of money on you that was when everyone saw you panicked for the first time, you weren't panicked when you woke up and found out you were kidnapped but you're terrified now looking them all dead in their eyes and begging for them to just kill you instead

JFJDJXJX OK THAT'S TOO MUCH INFO SORRY I GOT Carried away djdjdjdj this could be mickey or haitani centered

deadly grip

pairings: bonten x fem!reader

a/n: i didn't know if you wanted a romantic route so i'm sorry if i didn't do one, sorry sorry

warnings: violence, mentions of suicide attempts, cursing, death, angst to comfort (?)

water was your best friend.

bodies of it overlapping over you and you fall deeper into suffocation and the idea of ending your life draws near but,

there was always somebody stopping you.

who was it this time?

two brothers yanking you up from your bathtub? pink haired mullet man sneering at your suicidal state? a long white haired guy who went through your wallet and is dissappointed to find nothing? oh, there was more; a whole gang.

you realized that it was a kidnap and you were the kidnapped.

everything was a lot more clearer when a gun was placed behind your head and the supposed leader let a hush fell among the noisy men. he quirked an eyebrow eyeing the bruises and red on your skin from your loose dress and looked up at the other mullet haver, saying they didn't hurt you.

you blinked twice and they noticed and the supposed lap dog of the boss started speaking, mocking you about your husband and you probably were about to kill yourself after you knew your husband touched on bonten's business and smuggled them, knowing they might be after you next.

yeah, 'your husband' the one who abused you almost everynight, choked the living shit out of you, touched your body like a ragdoll hanging by a rope and the one who had many of his prostitutes over just for them to beat you up and spit on you.

oh how impressive, you could just laugh. laugh so hard, you might snap your neck and die. so you did, a bit suprised the men in the room even had the expression of pure shock when you did that. telling them yeah you wanted to kill yourself because of your husband plus it's not like he cared anyway.

"don't waste your time on me, pull the trigger then work is done." you had a soft smirk plastered on your face but the look in your eyes made mikey look properly again, your expression irking him since you looked about his age and for the light in your eyes to be ripped out of you tells him that you weren't in on this. the white hair man tossed his phone to him and he dialed your husband's number, eyes not leaving you then even when your smile fell.

"you have my girl? i have plenty-" his speech about wanting to sell you off made him grip his phone, lord knows it could crack from how harsh his hold was. hearing his voice again was a sick melody that twisted your guts that you just want pinky to pull the trigger already.

"are you sure you aren't scared? we could easily sell your wife and that's bye bye for you-" pinky spoke up, digging the gun into your head and when you focused on what he said, every dignity in your body was gone. you cursed, screamed telling them no possible way that you're getting sold again and to just end your life. put the gun in your mouth and shoot, just end your life already.

your husband's voice was shut down when mikey finally squeezed the phone and broke it, all executives in the room taken back by this but his face still remain the same, deep frown with his eyes dark but perhaps it widen a little: something snapped in him.

a blindfold pulled over your eyes as you're roughly pulled up to walk with them and it was quiet, eerily quiet and you guessed that leader wasn't with them anymore as you're locked into a room. there wasn't any rules for pulling off the blindfold so you took it off and you were in a big, empty room with a bed as it's only furniture with a bug window right infront of it. stepping closer to feel the mattress, just a normal bed you start crawling into.

natural instict is to sleep, if your many attempts of drowning in the bathtub doesn't work, you sleep it off. though bed was creaky and a bit stiff, you manage to close your eyes and hear nothing. no ticking from clock or bangs from doors alerting the man who abused you was home, it was silence, comfortable silence. you can't genuinely smile to this but you felt safe enough in these sheets away from your abuser's house.

your life stolen away at 17 years old when you could achieve greatly in school and graduate with friends, now you're in your early 20's roughed up in many edges that you don't want anyone you know to recognize you because even if you meet them again, you're just not the same.

being sold off to a man who uses you made you so close off to the world that you smile to the strangest things, in the gang scene your lips tilt up to the most fucked up things.

the hum in your ears always stayed there as you sleep, another comfort to stay that doesn't involve anything from things you've experienced so far.

clicks from the door jolted you awake and a half blind man entered it along with the leader and he stood by the door supposingly shooing away whoever was at the crack of the door while the man with his dead eyes approached you. he sat on the bed and looked at you, engulfing you in the darkness of his eyes as if you didn't do the same.

he stayed quiet before he said his words as if he was picking of what to say to you.

"you're free.. what are you going to do now?" free? was he killed? if you could, even if you wanted you couldn't cheer out or hug him or do anything. the 17 year old self in you was excited, telling you how great this was, how the fucker was long gone and you could be relieved now.

but you aren't.

atleast you needed to know somehow you were hopeful for yourself, calm even but the wreckage in your heart still couldn't ease itself. you removed the covers from your body, to stare at the window where the clouds cry out lightly and you placed a palm on it.

deep in thought you were, knowing you always thought of escape but it's completely zapped away from you when it happens.

"can i walk in the rain for a moment?"

he looked at you, maybe trying to understand how fragile you were and said yes, you could. letting your slow steps to the door alert the man near it but mikey halted him, wanting only him to accompany you to the rooftop.

the cold air hit you, letting the numb of your bruises hurt, letting your skin grow goosebumps as you held out to hold the rain water in your palms. the rain sliding down your face and it drips on you. the touch of soft droplets on your head letting you know this is real.

letting you know the man behind you released you from your chains.

water was your best friend, it was either death do us part or it stood out for you as a way to comfort yourself.

the water of the rain flows freely on you while the water in the bathtub you sink yourself in hugged you to your death.

the rain must have meanings like how free you are like it is right now, this is where you genuinely smile; something you always wanted to do from the very start.

tag tag: @lucylicious , @makimoo , @haruchyio , @fyotituti , @coconois , @gyros-cum-sock , @ashrakat-lovesbaji , @dragon-chica , @erishaitto , @crapimahuman , @kawaii-desv , @xxrwzy , @erinhaitani

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marichat-verse · 3 years

Text

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend

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shepard-ram · 3 years

Note

Let's go third ask of the day honestly plot bunnies are running rampant in my head today so let's do a second part to the Mulan ask.

Technoblade was starting to lose his patience how hard could it be to find the soldier that had won his affection? It turned out to be very hard since the nation in questions record keeping was appalling even months later he was no closer to finding them. If this continued the voices would drive him mad before he had even figured out what part of the army your armour even belonged to begin narrowing down his search which ya no he kind of had to do he couldn't just visit every single person on the conscription lists considering A he didn't actually see your face due to the standard issue helmet you had on and B you never spoke so he could even go off of Reginal accents. Seeing his eldests growing rage over this (and to be far he was starting to lose it as well since it's rather hard to fight wars without your best general or plan a wedding with one party missing) asked Wilbur to assist. Wilbur did arrive within the month but kept getting into arguments with his elder twin about why did they have to spend their time on this singular soldier even if they did injure Techno it's only when Techno quietly confesses the extent of his injuries and the fact that his piglin instincts had decided that you were the one to be his that Wilbur throw's his full weight behind solving the issue of finding this soldier (People often forget that they are twins by blood and that despite how human he looked and acted compared to his twin he had just as much piglin blood in him, he knew how much Techno's instincts declaring you as his mate really ment) and within a few weeks he had made more progress than Techno and the captive government did in the months that had being trying by using both the information on what part of the army the armour was from and cross-referencing that with information he had managed to get from Techno about the type sword that they used he had finally narrow down the search area enough so that Techno could find them in person. Wilbur had only just finished telling his brother this when he saw Techno rush of to the stable to grab both his horse Carl and his personal squad of soldiers on his quest to find you.

You were a hairs breath from a complete meltdown the Arctic Empire's bloodthirsty crown prince was going around the region fighting every soldier conscripted in the nations army to the death apparently he was looking for revenge against a soldier that injured him, who ever that was and there were only a few villages until he reached yours. You couldn't just grab your brother plus your friend and run not only was your brother to ill to make the journey but someone else had tried that and not only had the prince hunted down the runway soldier and kill him but he had wiped out the village as an example so no you couldn't run. A thought did enter you head you had beaten that general maybe you could pull off the same trick again no if you killed the prince they would just wipe your village off of the map in retaliation. As the days until the prince's arrival drew near you saw others saying goodbye to their loved ones and you saw your friend come to terms with their impending death you wanted to scream in rage at this prince's cruelty at his callousness towards a defeated people. You couldn't find your sword when the day came, your brother hobbled out of your house leaning heavily on his cane and your friend conversed with him while you searched for a sword to use in place of your own. Now however you could hear the names being read out, a pause, a clash, a scream and then repeat grabbing a training sword (better than nothing you supposed) after all your name would be soon. Stepping outside just as someone was cut down ( the bakers husband your mind supplied as you saw his corpse get dragged away by a soldier he had two small children you remembered you hoped that they hadn't witnessed their fathers death) sweat covered your palms as they worked their way down the list drawing ever closer to you name until they called your brother's name instead.

Why did they say your brother's name you were the one who went did they never update the conscription after you went in his place? You had to correct this,you had to stop them before they killed you brother due to a mistake you stepped forward to voice this only for a hand to quickly pull you back and cover your mouth preventing you from stopping your brother as he hobbled through the crowd with your sword in hand how,how long had he had that? You could hardly hear you friends apologies about how they and your brother refused to let you throw your life away when you had so much life left to live compared to them over your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Though when the prince loudly declared he would grant your brother a swift and painless death ( as if that was any comfort to those who loved him, to you) you thanked every god you could think of that your friend was physically weaker than you as you elbowed them in the gut and ripping your self free, charging through the crowd and raising your training sword to meet the blade about to crash down in your brother's head finally laying eyes on the prince only for you to recognise the general you left for dead instead.

Technoblade recognised the eyes currently meeting his with rage melting into fear once you recognised him in turn. He had finally found you after all this time, his eyes traveling over you face and body burning every detail into his mind. However one thought dominated his mind. Why did you charge out to face him now he had slew many unworthy opponents today? Why did this sickly mans imminent death cause you to stand and fight? What was he to you? It's only when your clash unfortunately ended him stumbling back as (for the first time he heard you voice after this it would never leave his head) you yelled at the man to run you called him brother, oh he couldn't kill him then, your loyalty to protecting those dear to you added to the list in his head of things that made you more than worthy as far as the voices and his instincts were concerned but also it was something he could now exploit. So he gave you an offer as you protectively stood in front of your brother come with him and nobody else has to die it was such a generous offer in his opinion after all if you refused he would have every villager killed and take you by force . He could see someone who had just pushed their way to the front of the crowd begging you not to ( the soldier that you had stopped him from cutting down when you first met the voices told him) but you looked at him trembling ( in fear or rage he couldn't tell) and told him that you accepted his offer. With barely contained joy he strode up to you as you discarded your weapon, and picked you up in a bridal carry as he went over to Carl and lifted you on to him before mounting up himself before riding out of the village his men falling into line behind him. That night as he held your sleeping for close in your shared tent (as if he would allow you to leave his sight now that he had finally found you) after sharing a meal with you ( though he had made sure to add a sleeping potion to your meal to help you sleep after such an eventful day) he just held you in his arms nuzzling the top of your head as he took in your scent burning it into his mind in a pure state of bliss as he finally had you and he could scarcely wait until you both returned to the capital to where his father had every ready for your wedding.

Ender-anon

This was not supposed to be this long my brain just took it and ran away with it before I could stop it.

He recognized you instantly, how could he not? Everything you do is so distinct, so perfect. You're so kind and bold and amazing- and now you're his, forever.

#ask #ender anon #tw. yandere #tw. death #c: techno

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garden-of-thestars · 2 years

Text

||TWST OC Profile: Liang Zhu||

He's been sitting in my drafts for too long. I haven't had the chance to draw him ack— I'll update that later.

For now, I'll just give you all this for his appearance: He has black hair, dark brown eyes, and his hair length isn't really short per say. It's more like almost going past his ears.

Name: Zhu, Liang

Birthday: December 19

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 5'10 (178 cm)

Family: Parents, Grandparents

School Year: Third Year

Occupation: Student, Farmhand

Best Subject: Magic Analysis

Dominant Hand: Right

Hobby: Crafting

Dislikes: Tests

Favorite Food: Spicy Cauliflower Stir Fry

Least Favorite Food: Cabbage Soup

Special Skill: Gymnastics

Unique Magic: TBA

Liang can be described by other students as a reliable guy who at times can be humble of his achievements. Even before he was a third year, he had the instinct to look out for his fellow students and acts as a helping hand to some. He is the type to actually bend the rules if absolutely necessary and will stay firm to his choices through and through. This does extend to everything he does and not just bending the rules. Liang believes that sometimes we need to follow what our gut is telling us, even if it seems crazy at first. He specializes in improvisation, knowing when to keep his mind clear to come up with a plan on the spot when he really needs to. However, he does tend to come off as aloof when first meeting people but that is only because he isn't used to interacting with people his age too often plus he mostly spends his time alone with his thoughts or to goof off. Despite all that, he does come off as friendly and someone who doesn't give up easily. People usually remark his determination as stubbornness, to which he would respond with a chuckle and a "maybe... sometimes I just don't know when to give up". His willpower is pretty darn impressive as well.

Trivia

• Many were taken by surprise by the immense impression he made during a Magift Tournament for someone who was in their first year at RSA. Liang didn't intend to achieve such a goal and was only there to help out a friend. Because of this, he does know a bit about Leona and Malleus (because all he knew about the Diasomnia dorm leader was that he'd destroy the competition). Also Leona probably doesn't really like him for this (´▽｀;)

• He lives with his family at a farm and helps around the place. Though, there are times where he'll try to finds ways to pick up the pace in case he'd like to attend events or go to his little hideout in the woods. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

• Many of the kids around the area know about him and he'd hang around to either play with them or assist in whatever they need (for example, one kid's paper boat had strayed too far into the lake). They all fondly refer to him as big brother and such.

• Funnily enough, despite having a phone and access to internet, he doesn't really keep up with everything... So he genuinely didn't know who Vil or Neige was upon first meeting. Sure, he may think to himself that they seem familiar or that he might have seen them from somewhere but that's it. It's like that nagging feeling where you know you have a name in your mind but you just can't get to it. Basically he doesn't keep up with current trends and just likes looking at stuff he likes.

• Tends to ask friends to help study with him because he is hopeless on his own. Liang feels better studying with others because he states that the notes stick more when he speaks them aloud to people or when others are talking to him about it. Discussions really help.

• Funny story: he once tried to cut his own bangs. It was an utter failure and his mom would only laugh as he told her to stop and just help him. Even his dad chuckled at the events that unfolded. Sometimes they bring up that story when friends come over.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twisted wonderland #[liang.tag]

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thekaijudude · 2 years

Note

Do you have any hopes for Ultraman Decker? Is there anything from Dyna that you want to see expanded on, like the Spires?

Ah yes indeed

As I've pointed out, since the Sphires seem to also be an integral part of the Decker series like Dyna, especially now that Decker's antagonist also hails from the future as well as the existence of King Sphere

I suspect that there's an inherent link between all of these known factors which would likely tie in to the existence of sphires in Dyna as well

Wouldn't be a far-fetched idea to say that perhaps Decker's antagonist created Sphires for a large-scale invasion cause the sphires have very convenient abilities to quickly amass a legion. Not far-fetched either to suggest that he can do that as well since we also know from leaks that Teraphaser originally belonged to him before somehow falling into the hands of GUTS Select. And the possible link between Decker and Dyna here is that Decker's antagonist possibly sent his sphires throughout time and space to amass legions throughout the space-time continuum. With potentially a 'leader' being put in charge of each invasion like Grand Sphere and King Sphere for example

Tho this means that after Decker, on top of the Devil Splinter spreading throughout the Multiverse, they're now aware of a potentially bigger problem of Sphires being set loose throughout the spacetime continuum, which conveniently enough, once UGF 3 wraps up with the Absolutians and the Ultra species as a whole making peace, this is actually a problem that Tartarus can actually assist the Ultras with, so theres a very convenient linkage setup there already. Also yeah that's another expectation, but I guess this goes for all subsequent series post Z, that the main series will somehow integrate with the UGF series

And another aspect I hope they'll get into is Decker himself and how did he came across the Ultra Dimension Card

A tangentenial point along this line of discussion I had with a follower of mine recently is just how far in the future did Decker and his antagonist come from, relative to where Ginga and Dark Lugiel did. Because I hope it'll help shed some light on just why did Ginga and Dark Lugiel came to the present back in 2013.

While Dyna would most likely soow up in Decker, I dont expect them to draw other characteristic parallels between the two since their origins are fundamentally different. Where Tiga and Dyna were of the same species, because Trigger's origin wasn't revealed, I don't expect Decker's to be as well. And if that's the case, I don't expect that aspect of Dyna to be expanded upon here. Especially since if you noticed, they didn't attach the 'New Generation Dyna' in Decker's title. Plus, Dyna's series didn't had much to expand upon unlike Tiga.

Other than that, from the outset, we can more or less kinda guess what forms are Decker going to have as pointed out in my design review. His Super and Final form is kinda obvious if you read watched Dyna and read the Dyna magazine (I think it's the one where the 'Zero Drive to the future' novel is from iirc)

Can't say much about the Decker movie yet, as I've also pointed out that I expect the movie plot to totally come out of left field like Saga, with potentially Z and X in the mix. Either those two or with Trigger and someone else. Which would inherently link with the various Saga references TsuPro has been not so subtly throwing around in Chronicle D

On the other hand, I expect a very good story from Decker since we kinda already know what's up with the action side of things. Especially since unlike Trigger, they aren't just only gonna use 20% of their originally planned content.

Tbh I'm more interested in what's in store for New Gen Gaia relatively speaking, cause there are more exciting factors they can play around with and implement in the series if you've seen the original plan for Gaia and Ginga

Thanks for the question!

#ultraman #ultraman decker #asks

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brasskier · 3 years

Text

Inspired by @valdomarx, @therogueheart, and that one anon, here’s a post-mountain Deaf!Jaskier story. Read it under the cut below or find it on my ao3 here.

Geralt stumbled upon Jaskier for the first time since the dragon hunt early the next spring, at a crowded market a week or two northeast of Oxenfurt. He'd stopped into town to stock up on supplies and maybe pick up a contract or two before moving along. If asked, he'd insist it was a series of hunts that brought him so close to the Academy, that he might as well follow the coin. And if he happened to run into his bard (ex-bard?), and happened to have the opportunity to apologize, and the bard happened to choose to follow him again? Well, so be it.

He smelled Jaskier before he could see him, head perking up and eyes searching the crowd for the flash of a colorful doublet and that soft brown hair. The market was teeming, thrumming with chatter, and just as vivacious as Jaskier himself.

"You goin' ta buy that or not?" The stall keeper asked, jarring him back to his abandoned transaction. He dropped a few coins on the stall, pocketed the herb, and disappeared without so much as a grunt. Weaving through the throngs of people, he relied on smell - on that familiar chamomile and saffron - until he finally spotted a glint of emerald green, and the strap of a lute. He watched from a distance.

Jaskier's hands were flashing about as dramatic as ever, glancing back and forth between the balding man tending the stall and another man standing beside him. His companion was as flamboyant as he was, dressed in a regal blue and arms waving about just as exaggeratedly. But then Geralt realized he couldn't hear Jaskier, which was unusual, because the bard had never in the two decades he'd known him been able to keep his voice down. The crowd was certainly cacophonous, but not that loud.

"Jaskier?" He drew a little closer and called his name tentatively. The bard didn't seem to react, carrying on with whatever he was doing. He tried again, a little louder, and then a third time, increasingly forcefully. He was getting irritated now - how dare he pretend to not hear me - and was tempted to simply move on. With a heavy sigh, he approached even further, lingering just a few paces behind him. "Jaskier?"

"Think someone's calling you," the stall keeper announced, jerking his head in Geralt's direction, and Jaskier waved his hands again before turning to follow the man's gaze. He blanched when his eyes finally met Geralt's, mouth hung open and hands dropping to his side.

"Geralt?" He squeaked out finally, dragging a hand up to his heart. There was an unusual quality to his voice, Geralt was quick to note. Not hoarse, like he'd heard him after many a late-night performance. Just different.

"Jaskier," he repeated, casting his gaze down to the russet dirt at his feet.

"Gods," Jaskier breathed. "Just - melitele's tits - I just…" He trailed off, wringing his hands together. Geralt couldn’t help but think he looked like one of the stray fawns that would occasionally stumble upon his campsite and linger frozen for a few moments, cast in the firelight and trembling with fear.

"It's okay, I know." He kept his eyes trained at his feet, trying to pin down the bard’s tone. The way Jaskier produced certain sounds, dragged over his vowels, a little bit of its usual edge missing. He must be overwhelmed, Geralt concluded, but he wasn't particularly convinced. "I'm sorry." He waited patiently, uncertainly, for either his acceptance or rejection.

"I need you to look at me," he said instead, surprising Geralt. He did as he was told, lifting his chin to face him. "Can you repeat that?"

"I'm sorry," he reiterated. He felt frustration welling again - he got his apology, does he really need me to repeat it? - but he quickly quashed it.

"Thank you, Geralt." He could see the emotion brimming in Jaskier's eyes. "We have a lot of catching up to do." Jaskier glanced sideways for a moment, fidgeting with one of his rings. "Perhaps we could share a drink? There's a tavern not far from here." He jerked his head to the right. Geralt grunted, and Jaskier raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Sounds good," he clarified. He was becoming increasingly convinced that Jaskier was toying with him for pleasure's sake. He knew full well how to interpret the Witcher's grunts, after all. And yet the expression drawn across his face looked impressively genuine. Humans are weird.

Jaskier uttered his thanks to the stall keeper and turned to face his companion - who'd been waiting patiently behind him - again. He wagged his hands about wordlessly, and it finally dawned on Geralt that this was not his usual theatricality - this was common sign language, and he wondered when exactly Jaskier had picked it up.

Jaskier was quiet most of the way to the tavern but seemed to perk up once they were seated - in the far back corner, Jaskier's choice. Geralt spoke first, determined to get this apology over with and behind him.

"I'm sorry about what happened." Jaskier tilted his head as he listened, chin resting on folded hands. "What I said was wrong. I shouldn't have blamed you, and…" he exhaled sharply, as if apologizing - or, more specifically, being honest and vulnerable - caused him actual pain. "The best blessing life has given me is finding you again." Jaskier's head tilted impossibly further, and then came the tears, and - fuck - did Geralt say the wrong thing?

"That's awfully sweet, Geralt," Jaskier eventually choked out, and he relaxed a little. "I'm sorry, I just--" He dragged a hand across his face. "That was so kind." He sniffled into his sleeve before finally re-righting himself. "I guess I'm just a tad sentimental." Geralt forced the best smile he could manage across his lips. "Gods, it's been so long. Go on, tell me everything you've been up to."

"Not much," he replied between sips of ale. "I'll tell you everything later." He chided himself as soon as the words left his mouth for just assuming there might be a later. "How have you been?"

"Hmm?" He sighed, fighting hard to keep from rolling his eyes.

"How have you been?" Jaskier seemed to spark to life again at this.

"Oh," he said simply, pushing his hair behind his ear and chewing on his lip. "Well, I returned to Oxenfurt, taught for the winter. I just headed out, actually. I've been a bit preoccupied." He leaned in closer, stared past Geralt at the wall behind him. "I, uhh, I got sick, coming down from the mountain." Geralt hummed, drawing a slow sip of his ale. "I mean, I kinda woke up sick, but then there was the dragon and…" He rubbed his thumb against the rough wood of the table. "Well, I was a little distracted. I don't even really remember making it off the mountain, to be honest."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice." Geralt might as well get all his apologies over with at this point, he thought. Jaskier waved a hand to hush him.

"I woke up at a healer's. Apparently someone had found me not far out of town and dragged me in." He let out a shaky exhale. "He said I'd had an infection in… In my brain." Geralt watched him with a sour mix of pity and regret, unable to shake the feeling that he should've been there. The image of Jaskier, waxy pale and slumped unconscious, trembling in a stranger’s arms, burned into his mind. "Anyway, I'm lucky I survived. But my hearing did not." Oh. Fuck. Suddenly the pieces slid into place - the sign language, the strange quality to his voice, the incessant requests for Geralt to repeat himself.

"Fuck, Jask, I'm sorry." He rarely shortened Jaskier's name, but he knew the bard liked the nickname, and it was the least he could do for him. His mind reeled with regret. He should've been there. A random stranger shouldn't have been the one to find him and rescue him. If he'd known, he'd have never - no. No, what he did was wrong outside of the context of what'd happened next, and he was not about to qualify it. Jaskier, for his part, seemed relatively unfazed.

"Nothing you could've done about it, really," he insisted, running his finger along the rim of his glass. "The healer said I just needed to fight it off on my own." This did absolutely fuck all to ease the guilt gnawing in Geralt's gut. Questions swirled in his head - how was Jaskier going to sing or play anymore? Could he still compose even? How was he going to survive; that was how he procured coin, after all? Was he… was he happy? Did he blame Geralt?

"I know, I just… can you still sing?" This question seemed to amuse Jaskier, who laughed heartily.

"Yes, Geralt, I can still deliver my fillingless pie." Geralt couldn't tell if he was serious or not, and while he used to be able to read his voice a little more consistently, he was unsure now and kicking himself for not making a better study of the bard's facial expressions and body language when they'd been together.

"You know I didn't…"

"I know. I know you didn't mean that." They sat in silence for a beat while Geralt wracked his brain for his next question.

"How? Do you sing, I mean, if you can't hear. How are you even talking to me?" He shrunk behind his tankard, suddenly embarrassed by the utter lack of tact that'd never bothered him before.

"Well, one of the perks of teaching at a premier Academy is access to some of the finest physicians this side of Nilfgaard. I'll be honest, it took a lot of work to relearn how to sing and speak; I was mute for most of my travels back to Oxenfurt, mostly out of shame." Geralt's stomach churned, imagining Jaskier entirely and utterly silent. That wasn't the bard he knew. His Jaskier never shut up, mouth constantly running faster than a horse, always a story to tell or a song to share or a joke to crack. And certainly never worried about whether anyone else wanted or needed to hear him. Jaskier was not quiet. "But fortunately I still have a tiny bit of my hearing - on the lower end, mostly, which is good for you. Plus I have decades of muscle memory, so it wasn't so bad. And as for right now? I'm mostly lipreading, though the pitch of your voice is helpful." Geralt couldn't tell whether he was being genuine or just trying to placate him. "It's just different. Have to feel it more than hear it, which if you ask me more musicians should try."

"I'm glad," Geralt gritted out, nodding at the bartender to bring another round of ale. "That you can still sing." Jaskier beamed.

"I knew you always liked my singing," he declared triumphantly, arms folded across his chest.

"Did you already know common sign?" Geralt asked instead of retorting with something snarky; let the bard have his victory.

"A tiny bit, but the language professor at the Academy was fantastic at teaching me." Geralt closed his eyes and tried to envision the odds and ends of common sign he'd picked up over his years of travel. "I made a lot of Deaf friends; they've been so supportive of me." With a sigh, Geralt decided to give it a try.

"I know a little," he signed, tentative and deliberate. Jaskier's eyes lit up.

"You do?" He signed back, eyebrows raised and grin spread across his face.

"Not much. I can…" His hands slowed, wracking his brain for the sign for learn. He sighed again and said it aloud instead. There he goes again, assuming Jaskier will stick around long enough to warrant learning more. Jaskier teared up again, and he cursed inwardly, wondering for what must've been the trillionth time that afternoon if he'd messed up.

"You'd do that? For me?" Jaskier squeaked, pawing at his eyes with a hand tucked in his sleeve.

"Of course." For a moment Jaskier looked like he might fling himself across the table and into his arms, but instead he fidgeted in his seat.

"That's enough about me now, isn't it?" Jaskier asked, always a master at changing the topic when he grew bored with it. "Tell me about your hunts." He leaned over, fished around in his pack, and plucked out his notebook and pen.

"First was an infestation of drowners," Geralt began, taking extra care to face Jaskier as he spoke, and pausing when he went to scribble something in his notes. They spent the next hour like this until, just as Geralt was beginning to wonder if the bard was going to force him to talk all night, Jaskier was tugged to the front of the tavern while excited patrons clamored for a performance. Jaskier obliged, as always, and Geralt watched, as always.

When Jaskier dropped back into his seat, shuffling his lute unceremoniously to the floor beside him, Geralt expected him to bid him a hurried goodnight, get on his way, and leave. Just a nice day catching up shared between two friends (?), and decidedly not the start of their next joint adventure. But instead of any of that, Jaskier called to the bartender for another mug, busied himself fixing his hair and his doublet.

"Told you I could still sing," he said with a wink as the bartender deposited his ale on the table in front of him. "And something to eat, please," he added before returning his attention to Geralt.

"I never doubted you," Geralt's reply came easily. It was, perhaps, the truth.

"Now then, would you say it has more or less filling now?" He leaned forward on his elbows, cheeky grin and narrowed eyes, and even Geralt could recognize the facetiousness of his words. Before Geralt could answer, he waved a hand, as if dismissing himself. "So, where were you? Something about a missing cow?" Geralt nodded, leaning back in his seat.

"So the boy told me his father would pay me, if I could find the cow. So I said, 'how much?'" He continued on with his tales, no matter how excruciatingly mundane they felt to him, until Jaskier's head dips forward and then picks back up for a third time. "Think it might be time for you to get some sleep?" He asked, and Jaskier blinked away the sleep in his eyes.

"Yeah, probably," he muttered, scrubbing at his face with one hand, the other dipping down to reach his lute. "Are you staying overnight?" He asked, and immediately flushed at the confused look he received from Geralt. "I just mean… I don't… you can't leave before I get to say hi to Roach."

"It's too dark now. I'll get a room at the inn." Jaskier’s face lit up, and he followed him in rising to his feet. "Just have to grab Roach first," he said when they finally made it out the door and into the cool early-spring night.

"M'kay," Jaskier hummed with a fond smile. He rested a hand on Geralt's shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning." It was a firm statement, certain and unquestioning.

"See you then," Geralt replied, heading back to the stable where he'd docked Roach so he could bring her closer to the inn. And he, too, was certain.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #henry cavill #joey batey #mountain breakup #deaf jaskier #deaf character #fanfiction #the witcher netflix #ao3

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: 4 O’Clock

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All This Time

"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!"

"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"

"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too."

I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator.

Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist.

The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step.

"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me.

I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?"

As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles."

"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!"

We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?"

"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"

"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!"

Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met."

It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

"Really?"

Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help.

"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!"

Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him.

There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares.

What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him.

I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow.

"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear."

Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved."

Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"

"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."

"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—"

I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—"

After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him."

Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom."

And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too.

Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday.

Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?"

Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"

Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin.

"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!"

Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace.

It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake.

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful."

After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking."

Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please."

Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that.

Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?"

Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders.

"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?"

Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!"

Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be.

"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—"

Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment.

Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!"

"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!"

I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.

. . .

Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately.

"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"

It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with.

It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share.

Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist.

I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet.

I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day.

Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home.

Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together.

"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"

"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet."

Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too.

Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes.

The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.

Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father.

Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?"

Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei."

Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod.

At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!"

I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them.

Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days.

Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery.

I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow.

I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees.

We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats.

Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?"

Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?"

Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?"

Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest.

"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!"

Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!"

"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"

As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”

When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips.

At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight.

. . .

It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie.

Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face."

I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face."

Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help.

Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight."

Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better."

Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow.

I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom.

"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"

Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it.

"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"

Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me.

She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"

I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.

"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—"

Mom smiles, so I smile too.

"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."

. . .

When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol."

I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?"

Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!"

Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"

"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?"

"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile."

I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path."

Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps."

Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way.

"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have."

He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will."

Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."

I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me.

His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away.

We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist.

"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."

That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed.

Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child.

"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip."

They do all of these things at our request.

Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?"

"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"

Taemin's voice falters.

One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation.

Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons.

He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there.

He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us.

The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again.

I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album.

Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"

Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:

"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"

Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine.

Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try."

I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that."

"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"

"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all."

He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom."

I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do."

Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again.

He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember.

"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"

Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything."

He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand.

"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."

When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper.

While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?"

Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy."

Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal.

Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands.

Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.

"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!"

Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"

When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while.

"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?"

"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!"

I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"

Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy."

At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin.

As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!

Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush.

"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed."

Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"

"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"

As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way.

. . .

I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera.

The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2."

Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay.

"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"

I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes."

My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl.

His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge."

Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time."

Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"

"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you."

After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"

I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."

Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?"

"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait."

Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?"

"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor."

Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day."

"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."

"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee.

"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations."

My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"

Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight."

I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that."

Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—"

His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—"

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside.

Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time."

"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?"

From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace.

Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything."

Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?"

Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try.

"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can."

I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom— that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning.

Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"

As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so."

"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way."

Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.

Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.

Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next."

My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next."

Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it.

The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.

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