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lilydalexf · 4 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Syntax6

Syntax6 has 17 stories at Gossamer, but you should visit her website for the complete collection of her fics and to see the cover art that comes with many of the stories (and to find her pro writing!). She's written some of the most beloved casefiles in the fandom. I've recced literally all of them here before. Twice. Big thanks to Syntax6 for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m delighted but not surprised because I’ve written and read fanfic for shows even older than XF. Also, I joined the XF fandom relatively late, at the end of 1999, so there were already hundreds of “classic” fics out there, stories that were theoretically superseded or dated by canon developments that came after them, but which nonetheless remained compelling in their own right. That is the beauty of fanfic: it is inspired by its original creators but not bound by them. It’s a world of “what if” and each story gets to run in a new direction, irrespective of the canon and all the other stories spinning off in their own universes. In this way, fanfic becomes almost timeless.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

(I feel these are similar, at least for me, so I will combine them here.)

First and foremost, I found friends. There was a table full of XF fanfic writers at my wedding. Bugs was my maid of honor. I still talk to someone from XF fandom pretty much every day. Lysandra, Maybe Amanda, Michelle Kiefer, bugs…these are just some of the people who’ve been part of my life for half my existence now. Sometimes I get to have dinner with Audrey Roget or Anjou or MCA. Deb Wells and Sarah Ellen Parsons are part of my pro fic beta team. I have a similar list from the Hunter fandom, terrific people who have enriched my life in numerous ways and I am honored to count as friends.

Second, I learned a lot about writing during my years in XF fandom. I grew up there. Part of this growth experience was simply due to practice. I wrote about 1.2 million words of XF fanfic, which is the equivalent of 15 novels. I made mistakes and learned from them. But another essential part of learning is absorbing different kinds of well-told tales, and XF had these in spades. Some stories were funny. Others were lyrical. Some were short pieces with nary a word wasted while others were sprawling epics that took you on an adventure. The neat thing about XF is that it has space for many different kinds of stories, from hard-core sci-fi to historical romance. You can watch other authors executing these varied pieces and learn from them. You can form critique groups and ask for betas and get direct feedback on how to improve. It’s collaborative and fun, and this can’t be underestimated, generally supportive. The underlying shared love of the original product means that everyone comes into your work predisposed to enjoy it. I am grateful for all the encouragement and the critiques I received over my years in fandom.

Finally, I think a valuable lesson for writers that you can find in fandom, but not in your local author critique group, is how to handle yourself when your work goes public. Not everyone is going to like your work and they will make sure you know it. Some people will like it maybe too much, to the point where they cross boundaries. Learning to disengage yourself from public reaction to your work is a difficult but crucial aspect of being a writer. You control the story. You can’t control reaction to it. It’s frustrating at first, perhaps, but in the end, it’s freeing.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I participated in ATXC, the Haven message boards, and the Scullyfic mailing list/news group. For a number of years, I also ran a fic discussion group with bugs called The Why Incision.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I started reading XF fanfic before I began watching the show. I had watched one season two episode (Soft Light) and then seen bits and pieces of a few others from season four. I’d seen Fight the Future. Basically, I’d seen enough to know which one was Mulder and which one was Scully, and which one believed in aliens. An acquaintance linked me to a rec site for XF fanfic (Gertie’s, maybe?) so that I could see how fic was formatted for the web. I clicked a fic, I think it was one by Lydia Bower dealing with Scully’s cancer arc, and basically did not stop reading. Soon I was printing off 300K of fic to take home with me each night. I could not believe the level of talent in the fandom, and that there were so many excellent writers just giving away their works for free. I wanted to play in this sandbox, too, so I started renting the VHS tapes to catch up on old episodes (see, I am An Old). After a few months, I began writing my own stuff.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to The X-Files. I’m not a sci-fi person by nature. I think my main objection is that, when done poorly, it feels lazy to me. Who did the thing? A ghost! Maybe an alien? I guess we’ll never know. You can always just shrug and play some spooky music and the “truth will always be out there…” somewhere beyond the story in front of you. You never have to commit to any kind of truth because you can invent some magical power or new kind of alien to change the story. I think, by the bitter end, the XF had devolved into this kind of storytelling. The mytharc made no kind of sense even in its own universe. But for years the XF achieved the best aspects of sci-fi storytelling—narrative flexibility and an apotheosis of our current fears dressed up as a super entertaining yarn.

What eventually sold me on the XF as a show is all of the smart storytelling and the sheer amount of ideas contained within its run. At its best, it’s a brilliant show. You have mediations on good versus evil, the role of government in a free society, is there a God, are we alone in the universe, and what are the elements that make us who we are? If Mulder and Morris Fletcher switch bodies, how do we know it’s really “them”? The tonal shifts from week to week were clever and engaging. For Vince Gilligan, truth was always found in fellow human beings. For Darin Morgan, humans were the biggest monster of all. The show was big enough to contain both these premises, and indeed, was stronger for it. The deep questions, the character quirks, the unsolved mysteries and all that went unsaid in the Mulder-Scully relationship left so much room for fanfic writers to do their own work. As such, the fandom attracted and continues to attract both dabbling writers and those who are serious craftspeople. People who like the mystery and those who like the sci-fi angle. Scientists and true believers. Like the show, it’s big enough for all.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I look at it like an old friend I catch up with once in a while. We’ve been close for so long that there’s no awkwardness—we just get each other! I love seeing people post screen shots and commentary, and I think it’s wonderful that so many writers are still inventing new adventures for Mulder and Scully. That is how the characters live on, and indeed how any of us lives on, through the stories that others tell about us.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I ran the Hunter fandom for about five years, mostly because when I poked my head back in, I found the person in change was a bully who’d shut down everything due to her own waning interest. A person would try to start a topic for discussion, and she’d say, “We’ve already covered that.” Well, yes, in a 30-year-old show, there’s not a lot of new ground…

Most other shows, Hunter included, have smaller fandoms and thus don’t attract the depth of fan talent. I don’t just mean fanfic writers. I mean those who do visual art, fan vids, critiques, etc. The XF fandom has all these in droves, which makes it a rare and special place. But all fandoms have the particular joy of geeking out over favorite scenes and reveling in the meeting of shared minds. It will always look odd to those not contained within it, which brings me to the part of modern fandom I find somewhat uncomfortable…the creators are often in fan-space.

In Hunter, the female lead joins fan groups and participates. This is more common now in the age of social media, where writers, producers, actors, etc., are on the same platforms as the rest of us. Fan and creator interaction used to be highly circumscribed: fans wrote letters and maybe received a signed headshot in return. There were cons where show runners gave panels and took questions from the audience. You could stand in line to meet your favorite star. Now, you can @ your favorite star on Twitter, message her on Facebook or follow him on Instagram. In some ways, this is so fun! In other ways, it blurs in the lines in ways that make me uncomfortable. I think it’s rude, for example, if a fan were to go on a star’s social media and post fanfic there or say, “I thought the episode you wrote was terrible.” But what if it’s fan space and the actor is sitting right there, watching you? Is it rude to post fanfic in front of her, especially if she says it makes her uncomfortable? Is it mean to tell a writer his episode sucked right to his face?

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I own the first seven seasons on DVD and will pull them out from time to time to rewatch old faves. I’ve shown a few episodes over the spring and summer to my ten-year-old daughter, and it’s been fun to see the series through her eyes. We’ve mostly opted for the comedic episodes because there’s enough going on in the real world to give her nightmares. Her favorite so far is Je Souhaite.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don’t have much bandwidth to read fanfic these days. My job as a mystery/thriller author means I have to keep up with the market so I do most of my reading there right now. I also beta read for some pro-fic friends and betaing a novel will keep you busy.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I read so much back in the day that this answer could go on for pages. Alas, it also hasn’t changed much over the past fifteen years because I haven’t read much since then. But, as we’re talking Golden Oldies today, here are a bunch:

All the Mulders, by Alloway I find this short story both hilarious and haunting. Scully embraces her power in the upside down post-apocalyptic world.

Strangers and the Strange Dead, by Kipler Taut prose and an intriguing 3rd party POV make this story a winner, and that’s before the kicker of an ending, which presaged 1013’s.

Cellphone, by Marasmus Talk about your killer twists! Also one of the cleverest titles coming or going.

Arizona Highways, by Fialka I think this is one of the best-crafted stories to come out of the XF. It’s majestic in scope, full of complex literary structure and theme, and yet the plot moves like a runaway freight train. Both the Mulder and Scully characterizations are handled with tender care.

So, We Kissed, by Alelou What I love about this one is how it grounds Mulder and Scully in the ordinary. Mulder’s terrible secret doesn’t involve a UFO or some CSM-conspiracy. Scully goes to therapy that actually looks like therapy. I guess what I’m saying is that I utterly believe this version of M & S in addition to just enjoying reading about them.

Sore Luck at the Luxor, by Anubis Hot, funny, atmospheric. What’s not to love?

Black Hole Season, by Penumbra Nobody does wordsmithing like Penumbra. I use her in arguments with professional writers when they try to tell me that adverbs and adjectives MUST GO. Just gorgeous, sly, insightful prose.

The Dreaming Sea, by Revely This one reads like a fairytale in all the best ways. Revely creates such loving, beautiful worlds for M & S to live in, and I wish they could stay there always.

Malus Genius, by Plausible Deniability and MaybeAmanda Funny and fun, with great original characters, a sly casefile and some clear-eyed musings on the perils of getting older. This one resonates more and more the older I get. ;)

Riding the Whirlpool, by Pufferdeux I look this one up periodically to prove to people that it exists. Scully gets off on a washing machine while Mulder helps. Yet it’s in character? And kinda works? This one has to be read to be believed.

Bone of Contention (part 1, part 2), by Michelle Kiefer and Kel People used to tell me all the time that casefiles are super easy to write while the poetic vignette is hard. Well, I can’t say which is harder but there much fewer well-done casefiles in the fandom than there are poetic vignettes. This is one of the great ones.

Antidote, by Rachel Howard A fic that manages to be both hot and cold as it imagines Mulder and Scully trying to stay alive in the frosty wilderness while a deadly virus is on the loose. This is an ooooold fic that holds up impressively well given everything that followed it!

Falling Down in Four Acts, by Anubis Anubis was actually a bunch of different writers sharing a single author name. This particular one paints an angry, vivid world for Our Heroes and their compatriots. There is no happy ending here, but I read this once and it stayed with me forever.

The Opposite of Impulse, by Maria Nicole A sweet slice of life on a sunny day. When I imagine a gentler universe for Mulder and Scully, this is the kind of place I’d put them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Bait and Switch is probably the most sophisticated and tightly plotted. It was late in my fanfic “career” and so it shows the benefits to all that learning. My favorite varies a lot, but I’ll say Universal Invariants because that one was nothing but fun.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I never say never! I don’t have any oldies sitting around, though. Everything I wrote, I posted.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I write casefiles…er, I mean mysteries, under my own name now, Joanna Schaffhausen. My main series with Reed and Ellery consists of a male-female crime solving team, so I get a little bit of my XF kick that way. Their first book, The Vanishing Season, started its life as an XF fanfic back in the day. I had to rewrite it from the ground up to get it published, but if you know both stories, you can spot the similarities.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

The answer any writer will tell you is “everywhere.” Ideas are cheap and they’re all around us—on the news, on the subway, in conversations with friends, from Twitter memes, on a walk through the woods. My mysteries are often rooted in true crime, often more than one of them.

Each idea is like a strand of colored thread, and you have to braid them together into a coherent story. This is the tricky part, determining which threads belong in which story. If the ideas enhance one another or if they just create an ugly tangent.

Mostly, though, stories begin by asking “what if?” What if Scully’s boyfriend Ethan had never been cut from the pilot? What if Scully had moved to Utah after Fight the Future? What if the Lone Gunmen financed their toys by writing a successful comic book starring a thinly veiled Mulder and Scully?

Growing up, I had a sweet old lady for a neighbor. Her name was Doris and she gave me coffee ice cream while we watched Wheel of Fortune together. Every time there was a snow storm, the snow melted in her backyard in a such way that suggested she had numerous bodies buried out there. How’s that for a “what if?”

What's the story behind your pen name?

I’ve had a few of them and honestly can’t tell you where they came from, it’s been so long ago. The “6” part of syntax6 is because I joke that 6 is my lucky number. In eighth grade, my algebra teacher would go around the room in order, asking each student their answer to the previous night’s homework problems. I realized quickly that I didn’t have to do all the problems, just the fifteenth one because my desk was 15th on her list. This worked well until the day she decided to call on kids in random order. When she got to me and asked me the answer to the problem I had not done, I just invented something on the spot. “Uh…six?”

Her: “You mean 0.6, don’t you?”

Me, nodding vigorously: “YES, I DO.”

Her: “Very good. Moving on…”

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My close friends and family have always known, and reactions have varied from mild befuddlement to enthusiastic support. My father voted in the Spookies one year, and you can believe he read the nominated stories before casting his vote. I think the most common reaction was: Why are you doing this for free? Why aren’t you trying to be a paid writer?

Well, having done both now, I can tell you that each kind of writing brings its own rewards. Fanfic is freeing because there is no pressure to make money from it. You can take risks and try new things and not have to worry if it fits into your business plan.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 15, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #syntax6

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timothypines · 3 years

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Is Classical Music Dead? (Essay)

How does society determine when a particular genre of music is dead? From this question, multiple others are born. For example, do we consider that the inspiration from music continued throughout popular genres as the survival of what it was originally? Or is it dead because it has changed into something different from its original form? When it comes to classical music, it isn’t really as question about whether or not it is dead, but if it’s dying. Classical music is still being performed, listened to, and celebrated in communities today, so calling it dead seems premature, even foolish. That’s not to say that the average person believing classical music is dying is without merit; classical music isn’t usually on the radar for say a random person asked off the street. However, when looked at from the perspective of the musical community, classical music is positively flourishing and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

In a New York Times Article, a violinist showed concern that the classical music industry was dying. Some readers responded in letters reacting to the concerns she expressed. The violinist started by saying, “A schoolboy recently asked me if Richard Wagner was a pitcher for the Yankees. At that moment I feared that classical music in America was doomed” (Dreyer). Like this violinist expressed, most people in the music community, and outside the community, acknowledge that classical music isn’t a subject that most people going through life know a whole lot about. While many know some parts of classical pieces and perhaps some names of famous composers, their knowledge is surface level and, for the most part, they don’t seek to learn more. This reflects in some worrying trends in the industry. Classical radio stations were shutting down, concerts were being reduced and canceled, less and less were classical musicians being discussed (Dreyer). Classical music simply isn’t popular. But from this trend came a great wave of musicians, teachers, and lovers of classical music who were determined to spread the love and knowledge of a music they deemed immensely important, and rightfully so.

Most all of the music we have and enjoy today has elements that came from classical music, from the most basic to the more complex. The major-minor scale system that is commonly used in the majority of today’s music was first put into use in the baroque period. It was in this period that the scale system was also standardized (Willoughby). In fact, the baroque period standardized a great many musical tools, styles, and elements. From this period developed keyboard music, which lead to the invention of the modern piano, an instrument that can be argued to be the most important instrument when it comes to creating music, harmony, a base element in most music performed today, and the establishment of the orchestra (Willoughby). It would take a long time to list all of the musical elements gained and standardized in the baroque period, but it is certain that music would not look nearly the same if not for the major development that occurred.

The baroque period, while very important, wasn’t the only period that significantly influenced music. The romantic period brought what was missing from music in the baroque period back into the musical community, emotion. A big emphasis on music today is how it makes the listener feel. While the baroque period brought technicality, all emotion was sacrificed for ridged structure and extremely complex technique. Beethoven put emotion into his music, effectively shifting people’s approach to composing. Willoughby writes, “These attributes of Beethoven mirror the attributes of the Romantic period as a whole; it was a time when artistic expression became highly individual and personal, and also highly emotional” (Willoughby, 253). With this wave of emotion came another change; music started being made for music’s sake. Composers started writing what they wanted to hear instead of what was popular or what the church needed for service. A large part of what music is now has come from classical music, and most people within the music community, of many genres, understand and respect this.

It is important to be noted that while people respect the roots that classical music has provided, that doesn’t mean that people are very supportive of how it exists, or rather, how they believe it exists. There is a notion that classical music is elitist, for the rich and privileged only. One could point to the expensive ticketing for opera and ballets and orchestra performances to prove this point, but there are many things that are just as or even more expensive than these tickets that people don’t find elitist—for example, sporting events (Cross-eyed Pianist). Some people will point at the etiquette and dress for attendance at a concert hall. The fact remains, however, that opera houses and concert halls have no official dress code or strict rules everyone must follow. Music blogger and commenter goes on to say, “It troubles me, this negative perception of classical music and its fans, and it strikes me that currently there is an image crisis surrounding classical music. It wasn’t always like this. When I was growing up in the 1970s, there was more classical music in our everyday lives” (Cross-eyed Pianist). Most people have the notion that classical music is only accessible to and is only made for those better off than themselves, even though it has been available to and made for everyone’s ears for centuries now.

With that in mind, the love for classical music itself has not died out yet. There is a vast and passionate community of musicians, teachers, and listeners who adore classical music and saw it failing in the wider community. These people have worked hard and are continuing to work hard to spread a passion for classical music. An excellent example of some people doing this is the YouTube duo who run the channel Two Set Violin. On this channel they make comedy sketches, play games, and react to videos. All of this content is tied together by one thing, classical music. Brett and Eddy, the two friends who run Two Set, are professionally trained violinists who decided to make a YouTube channel to try and spread love for classical music. It was also important to them to make classical music and the education of classical music more accessible. They teach about music in an engaging, funny way all while encouraging their audience to create and perform music. Their saying is simply ‘practice’. They encourage their musician audience members by reminding them that no one who is really good at playing an instrument got there without hard work and tell them to keep practicing. Two Set has even brought on large musicians like Hillary Han and Benny Chen to talk about their experiences and the importance of practicing. This helps to break the stereotype of not only what a classical musician looks like, but how they act and how much work goes into their music. In one video, while reacting to an American Idol performance with two violinists, one of the judges says, “It’s so nice to see such young, good looking guys that play the violin because usually they’re like old and bald and, you know, a bit greasy” (Two Set Violin). They respond by pointing out that they themselves are young and that this is a negative stereotype. In another video they react to a man that says he is the fastest violin player in the world. Brett says, “the world needs to know that classical music is more than just playing fast” (Two Set Violin). In these two videos, Brett and Eddy are challenging the media’s, and greater public’s, view of classical music, the view that classical music is old, for old people, and the people who participate are elitists who only care about perfection and technicality. And they have done so much more than videos like these reaction to other musicians. They have had videos where they have their followers compose a piece and send it to them to play. They have asked people to send in clips of them performing for them to react to. In so many ways these two violinists have gotten so many people involved in classical music. Over the years they have grown a great following of people who love participating in classical music, whether that be through performance or listening; as of today, they have almost 3 million subscribers (Two Set Violin). Brett and Eddy aren’t the only people who have gotten the public more involved in classical music. As social media has grown, classical musicians have become increasingly accessible to the public. The violinist Hillary Han often posts on Instagram videos of her practicing and other music related things, but she also speaks on social issues and gives insight into her life. This shows all 300,000 followers she is human (violincase).

It is difficult to say whether or not a musical genre is dead, and even harder to say if it’s dying. The act of music dying would take centuries, and even then, there are arguments to be made that because other music that exists was influenced by the ‘dead’ music, it still lives. Classical music was the popular music for centuries, its memory will not so easily fade, especially to the point where it is considered a dead genre. Even if it is not a popular genre today, classical music is being kept alive by the musicians who perform it and the people who love to listen to it. Music is art that decorates and marks time, and so, as long as people paint time with classical music, it is not dead.

Work Cited

Dreyer, Les. “Sunday Dialogue: Is Classical Music Dying?” The New York Times, 2012. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/25/opinion/sunday/sunday-dialogue-is-classical-music-dying.html

Willoughby, David. The World of Music. McGraw-Hill Higher Education. Kindle Edition.

The Cross-Eyed Pianist. “Who Made Classical Music ‘elitist’?” The Cross-Eyed Pianist, 2019. https://crosseyedpianist.com/2019/07/24/who-made-classical-music-elitist/

Two Set Violin. “The World's FASTEST (and most INACCURATE) VIOLINIST!” YouTube, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsvaCU6i1M&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Two Set Violin. “Classical Violinists React to Mainstream Violin Competitions” YouTube, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uVN5Fb_Z44&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Han, Hillary. “@violincase” Instagram.

#classical music #music #twosetviolin #hillary han

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waithyuck · 4 years

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rose & honeysuckle (love & prosperity)

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

genre: angst, heartbreak

warnings: extensive talk ab heartbreak, one mention of blood, allusions to sex, also I don’t really specify the readers gender in this (not that it’s a warning, more of just a fact lol)

wc: 1k

a/n: rose and honeysuckle are both representative of the month of June, and also represent love (rose) and prosperity (honeysuckle). just a lil bit of a fun fact. also I cried while writing this bc it came from the heart oops 😬 also not my best work, like I said it was more of just an emotional ramble y i k e s

~~~

you and donghyuck met at the wrong time, you supposed.

or maybe it was the right time, but the obstacles prevailed and tore the two of you apart anyway.

you figured you were meant for each other; every credible source you’ve encountered told you that you two were soulmates, created for each other and had been together through countless lifetimes.

you wanted to believe it. you did at first, consulting psychics and tarot readers alike, trying to make sense of the overwhelming feelings inside of you. they told you it was meant to be, that you were connected so deeply that nothing could keep you apart from each other.

and you believed them. you were so naive to think that there was actually a person made for you out there in the world, especially someone as successful and beautiful as donghyuck. you were naive to think it would all be okay.

he lived a different life than you did, and at first it didn’t seem like it would get in the way. it was exciting, sneaking around and hiding everything from the world...from his fans.

donghyuck wasn’t an ordinary boy; he was talented, working in the public eye to entertain millions of people with his incredible dance moves and angelic vocals.

looking back, you were probably stupid to think it was going to work out. you were stupid to think he was going to marry you, be with you for the rest of your life...have children with you, grow old with you.

die with you.

it went on for two years before he told anyone.

to put it simply, when you were hiding away, everything was quiet. when word got out, everything around you erupted into chaos; everything was loud, screeching, your ears going numb from the screaming sounds of uncertainty.

it would have ruined his career if you stayed. you knew that. he knew that. you knew it too well, being there for him when his so called ‘fans’ sent him death threats and letters telling him to leave the band, just for being with you.

his soulmate.

the decision was hard. his career was much more important than some young love relationship. you didn’t want the company to tear you apart, so you made the move before they could do so.

it took a few nights. nights filled with endless tears, the two of you clutching onto each other, never wanting to let go.

he wailed in you embrace the first night, his hands bunched up in the fabric of your sweatshirt, gripping it so hard you were afraid it would rip in his hold. he let his tears fall, some dripping onto the exposed skin of your neck, as you let your own glide down your cheeks in heavy rivers.

he told you he loved you too much to let you go; he told you he loved you too much to move on. he told you that he could forget his career, but never forget you.

a selfish part of you wanted him to give up everything, but you knew he would never be happy that way. he couldn’t choose a relationship with someone like you over a secure career that would let him live in comfort for the rest of his life.

you couldn’t offer him that.

the second night you couldn’t help but scream as you cried on him, your face buried in the soft material of his shirt, drenching it with the abundance of tears pouring from your tired eyes. it felt like someone took a knife and heated it up to a thousand degrees before plunging into your heart, into your lungs...and into your very soul. and then twisted it, causing you to suffer even greater than you would have from just a few stab wounds.

the third night, you felt each other’s bodies for the last time. you heard his quiet moans for the final time and you felt him inside you for the very. last. time.

you both cried during, and then some more afterward. you felt as if there were no tears left to spill. you knew it in your bones there would be no one else like him; no one else was created for you like he was.

he let you go without a fight, and you left the same way. there was no use to fight the inevitable, after all.

you went home, leaving him in seoul. not alone, but you were sure he felt like it. you knew because you felt that same emptiness in your chest. a dark pit where your heart resided, or used to, at least. you felt incomplete without him. you shut yourself away, not leaving your home.

even being away from him, you couldn’t escape him. he was everywhere in the media, all over social sites and even the news. that was the worst part, probably.

no, the worst part was probably all of the thinking you had done while you were alone, feeling helpless and numb.

you thought about how cruel it was for the universe to create someone for you, two halves of the same soul, only to make it impossible for you to love him the way you wanted to.

it was cruel for the world to tear the two of you apart.

it was inhumane to allow you to be with each other for so long, only to rip you away from the safety of each other’s embrace.

it was like a game, allowing you to taste him and love him like you did, before taking the knife and cutting you two apart.

two halves of one soul came together, forming a ball of unconditional love, white with purity, love and prosperity. and then it was gutted, raggedly cut apart by this blade (which you soon realized was the crushing presence of reality), turning the white hue into two halves of inky black nothingness, spewing liquid like it was the blood from two aching hearts.

you would heal in time, you both would. but it hurt, knowing that he was still out there, still made for you, and you still couldn’t have him.

love and prosperity?

no, there was no such thing in your world.

#haechan #donghyuck #haechan angst #haechan scenarios #lee donghyuck #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct dream angst #nct scenarios #haechan fic #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct 127 fic

128 notes · View notes

goth-girlfriend · 4 years

Note

Hear me out: Reader who is richer than Shoto and Momo combined. They have a reputation of being stuck up and transfer into UA by STRONG recommendation. Everyone avoids her out of fear of being caught in rich wrath. But it’s not until the Bakusquad make a joke with her they realize what a complete idiot/nerd/funny person she is. Denki *makes joke about reader being to rich* Reader *pulls out hundreds to wipe tears and throws them on the floor when the tears are gone* If you can please? 😊❤️❤️

Request: “Sorry to message you! I but I sent a recent ask! I was going to ask if you could add the reader having like mesmerizing long black hair and killer brows and false lashes? Bonus if she ends up with Best Boom Boy!

I love this honestly! I’ll do my best to answer this the best I can! I’m assuming Bakugo right? I hope so, ☺️

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader + Friend Bakusquad

🖤💥❤️🧡🖤💚🖤🧡❤️🧡🖤💚🖤🧡❤️💥🖤

Class 1-A was bustling with conversation at the news they’d just gotten. A new student would be joining the class Mid Semester. The daughter of a well known known man in Japan.

The Family name foreign, (L/n), It’s been in Japan no longer than four generations. And they’d already come to sit on the top of the money empire. Being rich and known would be a good thing for anyone aspiring to become a hero. It was a lie, often times press would take chances to start rumors and make false accusations leading the newest generation of (L/n) to be held to a new standard.

“I know! Everyone makes her out to be stuck up, snobby and rude!”

Morning

“Aren’t the (L/n)’s the family the Hero Times magazine compared to other families? If I’m right they said Her family dwarfs the Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki families combined!”

“I heard she had press locked up and cameras destroyed for taking her picture!”

“Oh! I saw a video from her middle school days! You can’t really make her out, but she brought a girl to her knees in-front of the school! For something she did....”

“Oh! She must be the girl who took down a group of boys because one of them brushed shoulders with her!”

“No way! I heard she got a boy expelled because she thought he was looking down on her!”

“She s-sounds scary, I don’t think I want to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna run the risk of getting kicked out of U.A., not after all the hard work I put in to get here.”

The chatter continued, on the other side of the door, hearing every comment stood (Y/n), her brows furrowed slightly in anger. She released the tension in her brows, they rested in their usual place. Her brows fell into her natural RBF as she sighed, she looked at the Principal, the dog/bear/mouse beside her smiled and knocked. It was answered by the Teacher she had met not to long again Erased Head, or as she’d be introduced. Shota Aizawa.

“I’ll leaver her in your capable hands, make sure she gets a good view on what U.A. iS really about.” He smiled and waved at the teacher and left without word.

Aizawa let the girl enter and stand at the front of the class room. He stepped over to his desk picking up a black folder with a golden crest printed on the front. It was the information U.A. has asked for when you applied.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself.” Aizawa said staring at at the first part of your folder. A record for my our old school, no tardies, no absences, no missing work, no violations, no record punishment, no reported incidents, No grade under a 98. Class representative, president of 6 clubs, President of Student Body Council, 4.0 GPA, in quirk control you placed number one in your school, In your school Sport festival you came in first, Cultural Festival you’d brought in the most donations and had a recommendation letter from almost every teacher and both the principal and vice principal.

I stood silent for a minute staring the class over, recognizing every weak point. I didn’t bother smiling, they probably would be scared anyway. I looked through the corner of my eyes to the window.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n), call me (l/n), I don’t have time to waste on friends, formalities. You bunch of extras would probably just drag me down, I don’t expect much from any of you. I reached the top of my class with ease, and by just looking at you I can tell it won’t be any different.” I scoffed and looked over the class. I

It definitely struck some nerves.

“WHO THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL AN EXTRA YOU TRASH.” A blonde boy with red eyes glared at me popping up from his seat.

Pops coming from his hand, I stared his down, “What are you doing?” I scoffed, “With pop rocks like that the only thing you’d be scaring it probably a kitten.”

“I’ll kill you!” He screamed bringing his hand up.

“Bet.” Was all is said, a watched his hand and the bright light starting to form, with a quick hand sign he fell face first into the floor arms bound behind his back.

I watched him struggle, explosions forming in his palms. Everyone watched him, stares no longer on me I turned to Aizawa.

“Take a seat in the back by the window, it’s the only open desk.” He said closing the file.

I looked ahead not bothering to look at anyone or make eye contact, I say down and moved my hair so I wouldn’t sit on it. I brought my hands to my nape and pushed them back pushing my hair over my back and into the space between my back and the chair. It felt pooling into the part of the chair I didn’t take and overflowing on sides where he chair didn’t catch. It dangled just an inch from the floor. I held my bag beside me. As I got adjusted to my seat and finally looked ahead to the front of class. I felt stares as I started to pull out my notebook, pen, and pencil. 🖤

I ignored it and went about my business, by the end of the day I heard whispers of why the things I used were so expensive. They hadn’t seen my phone yet, it’d definitely kill them if just a brand note book had them like this. The day was finally coming to an end, during lunch I stayed in class, afraid of sitting alone, I’d rather be alone and unseen rather than alone and stared at.

I sighed and looked at my bag, class was coming to an end for the day, and Aizawa was standing at front in his sleeping bag. Everyone was talking, some sitting on desks. I pulled out my phone, over a thousand notifications on my public social media’s, my dads manager saying I need to become friendlier with the public because of the appearance the press keeps trying to force onto me.

‘I set up some social media accounts for you just post about your day, make some friends post about them, just show the public you aren’t who they’re trying to make you out to be.’

I scoffed at his words but nodded just agreeing, if it’s for my dad I’d try my best. So here I am switching between accounts and now on public Snapchat scrolling through chats answering a few and adding people back so it feel more ‘personal’

“Do you see that?” I heard a whisper.

“Do you think it’s real?”

“It’s huge! If it’s real it must cost a fortune!”

“Look it up.....”

The room was silent for a minute,

“No way, the company only made a few and they sold for 48.5 million, and that was an IPhone six, that’s literally the newest iPhone, so it ages to be worth double even triple what the six was!”

“Go ask,” “Dude, no you go ask.”

“I’m scared,” “You probably should be.”

The bell rang and I was up and gone, no point in sticking around. I found a stair case, it led up to the roof. I followed it, it was so high. I walked over to the railing, I watched people pour out rushing to dorms or wherever else. I dropped my bag on the gravel floor and reached for my phone in my pocket, I held up my camera to the sun, the sky was turning orange. I took a picture, the sun rays peaking through the clouds.

I waited it out a bit longer, I felt a smile graze my face for the first second time today. My friend was posting on her story pictures we’d taken last year today. We skipped school to go to arcades, she met her boyfriend of one year now, we had boba, bought a bunch of merch, and just stayed out till night had claimed the sky. We walked home, bags in tow, uniforms scrunched up, cheeks sore from laughing and smiling the whole day.

Just as I finished the story I got another notification, a message from her. I opened it it was a video, unknown to us it was my last day at my old High school.

“Awww, I love you!” She hugged me, I hugged her back, “Love your too loser.”

“We’ll be best friends and together forever right?” She smiled as we rocked back in forth in the hug.

“I wouldn’t leave you for the world.” I laughed.

“Well just act like I’m not here,” her boyfriends voice in the background.

“I will, bros before.....hoes.....” she laughed and I smiled shaking my head.

“Come on, ill pay dinner.” I said and the video stopped.

‘You loser 😭 I didn’t feel like crying today, it’s my first day of school.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have left me 😭

‘I didn’t even know 😢’

‘🤔 Mhm, we need to meet up soon, it’s only been a day but I already miss you 😢’

‘Aight Bet.’

‘A challenge? 👀’

‘Saturday the usual? 😎’

‘I accept your invitation.’

The conversation ended and I headed to the dorms. This repeat for the next few days, I met with my friend Saturday and told her about my dads managed, she agreed every weekend we’d meet up and feed the public. After a month of this I was sitting in class minding my business, I cracked a smile at my phone and quickly wiped it away realizing I was still being watched.

“Sooo, (l/n)?” I looked up, the boy everyone called Denki leaning on my desk.

I cocked a brow, “Hm?”

“I’m in need of money, and I’ve been shot down twice, sooo, let’s make a bet a gamble really. If you win I’ll pay you, but if I win you pay me.” He sounded so cocky, I squinted at him brows furrowed.

I reached into my bag bringing out my wallet “I don’t waste time just take a donation.” I pulled out six hundred and handed it over like it was nothing.

“Oh....thanks? I guess it’s easier to pay people off when your loaded,” It sounded more like a joke.

I felt a small smile and pulled out another hundred, “Sometiwms you have to buy friends, it’s sad I know.” I patted fake tears and dropped the money ont he floor.

“But you know what they say,” I held the hundred out to him, “You feel better when you cry in a Ferrari.” I let out a single laugh, and then realized the mistake I made when I smield as he laughed.

“I knew you weren’t completely heartl-” I cut him off,

“Don’t talk about it, I’ll pay you off to never mention it.” He laughed and smiled a hand reaching to the back of his neck.

“Call us friends and you won’t even have to pay me.” He smiled.

“Deal.” I answered.

He opened his phone and held it out, “here add your number.”

I sigehd and added my number, he sent me a message and I saved him number.

“Alright new friend, I’ll see you later.”

He waved and walked off as the bell rang.The next day I was dragged to lunch and sat between Denki and Bakugo. I don’t know what to do, so I just drank water, I tried to talk to Mina when she talked to em but they all seemed so tense except for Denki.This became my schedule for the weeks to come.

“I’m hungry,” I grumbled into my phone.

Denki had FaceTimed me at 2 in the morning.

“Then go eat, nobody’s up except you and me.” He shrugged sitting on his bed under his blanket.

“Alright, I’ll be back. so just stay here.” I propped my phone up he had a view of my room from the prop my phone was on.

“Oooo, even your room looks like it belongs to a rich girl. Definitely fancier then Yaoyorozu’s.” He looked around to see what he could.

“Nice, I’ll be back I’m going to find.... dinner?”

“MKay.” Was all he said as he yawned.

I grabbed my second phone and popped in my AirPods, I started to play my music on shuffle. Making it to the Kitchen I was vibing with my music and getting into it. I started to make a sandwich and doing weird dances. I smiled and finally started to Clean up.The song Falling for you, started to play and for some reason my mind went to a certain blonde. I smield to myself, thinking about him. I fluffed my hair and ran my finger over my lashes. I felt the tips of my hair brushing my bare legs.

I smiled and picked up my sandwich and started a new dance with hip movement when the song Hotel Room Sevrvice came on. I started to turn to walk away stopping when I met familiar eyes.

“So, the edgy princess isn’t who she acts to be.” I swallowed, staring at him, his biceps were huge, especially in that muscle shirt.

I got a message form Denki, I’d given him my second number, “SOMEONES HEADED YOUR WAY!”

“Heeeyyy Bakugo....” I was caught, no point in hiding.

“What are you doing up this late?” He asked unamused.

“Well,” I looked at my sandwich, “I was looking for food but an even better snack walked in.” I winked at him.

He made a grunt.

“No? Not Good enough?” I asked an dlwaned against the counter.

“No.”

“How about are you a tombstone cause is nat you on top of me,” I did finger guns this time putting my sandwich down.

“Anything better?” He asked his eyes narrowing.

“Are you a sinning ship? Because I really wanna go down on you.....” I didn’t fight back the smile.

I heard him cough, and I smiled as I noticed a very faint blush.

“Want me try again?” I asked with a cheeky smile.

He didn’t answer he just looked at me,

“You can call me a coffin cause I want you be in-“ I couldn’t finsh I looked and licked my top lip, I assume she understood what I meant but wanted to finsh “inside me.”

At that point I forgot my hunger, I was hungry something else, nothing particularly dirty but some attention.

“Well Katsuki,” I casually walked over to him pushing myself into his side tilting my head onto his shoulder and looking up at him. “I know we definitely have a lot of bad reactions, but I say we should experiment with this chemistry we have going on.”

I pulled his left arm from across his chest and held his hand between my palms, “You look like you’d enjoy someone who would totally dominate you.” I pulled back and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

“What do you say?” I asked squeezing his arm.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed and looked down at me.

“Come on, from what I’ve heard you wanted to be called a king, I can make you feel like a king.” I nuzzled against his shoulder.

“I’ll give you one date, but after that you’ll just be an extra so you’ll have to stay out of my way.” He said and brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Ill make sure you don’t regret it.” I stretched and kissed his cheek and booked it out of there sandwich in tow.

“YOU WONT BELIEVE IT.” I screamed at Denki who was still on face time.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Soooooo?” I hugged Bakugo’s waist as the class gathered around in the gym.

Everyone in costume, “You look so fine dressed in your hero uniform.” I said and trailed my hand up the giant gauntlet on his wrist.

“Hm.”He grunted ignoring the stares of disbelief. “Whatever.”

The moment we broke of into our Duos to play an all to competitive game of catch the flag we stopped in the middle of the trading grounds, I was pulled into his chest, his right hand brushing my hair from the top of my head to my lower back. “Your hair is so long,” He mumbled I felt him take a hand full and pull on it, I was weak in the knees almost instantly.

I looked up at him batting my eyelashes, “There you go batting your fake lashes just to distract me.” He grunted.

“I’d agree with you if they’re weren’t real.” I smield and blinked slowly.

“Well aren’t you just gorgeous.” He snarled and he kissed the top of my head

“Now out of my way Extra I’m leading you so don’t leave my side or get in the way.” He stepped aside and looked down at me.

“You and I both know your better at taking Commands. But I’ll play obedient, only for you Katsuki.” I winked at him.

He turned with a growl, “Let’s just go beat that damn nerd.”

98 notes · View notes

anikkis-fantasirealities · 3 years

Text

“LiVELY Legacy of Japan’s Lionized Anisinger”

➀ Personality Profile ┊ ˢʰᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˢʰᶦⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗʸˡᵉ··· ˢᵐᶦˡᶦⁿᵍ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˡʸ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ˢᵃˡᵘᵗᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉʳˢ·

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ㅤ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 🎤 ˊˎ-

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

༘✶ ㊉㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua of NEU-IS ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

youtube

ㅤㅤ ㅤ❝ Madamada iku wa yo~! ❞

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ- LiSA (Rally Go Round)

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ﹕ᵍᵘʳᵉⁿᵍᵉ ⁻ ᴸᶦˢᴬ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ0:11 -◦————— 3:59 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ〔 ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ╵╻↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ╻╵⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ 〕 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤVolume: ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ █ 100%

Lush, loose—lofty and lovely. Lucent and lavish—lustral, laid-back, & luxuriant. Luminous. Legendary. Limitless. Light hearted and letter-perfect. There is not enough words for me to describe her overflowing talent for music, and the impact she has created for tech-savvy usernames cheering on their favorite idols & animations alike. Nowadays, most millennials and Gen Zs go neck-to-neck with their clashing interests of two international sensations: one known for the funky beats of charismatic boys dancing in synchrony, and the other, notable for moving illustrations of all kinds of stories that allure the imagination. Yes, let’s admit it, my generation has fallen in love with the influence of K-pop and anime, though I cannot blame anyone because of the fun & happiness they bring. Do you agree with me?

Well, even if you cannot agree or relate with me, I’m sure you would be able to find this article interesting! This personality is not someone of looming authority nor power—she is not a lady from the West, nor the Northern isles or even the Southern seas. She is here: the Rising Sun’s pride and honor bestowed by a sharp katana slaying all evil. It is where that familiar tune of hers is empowered with the narrative of a young man and his breathing techniques—a tale beloved by many anime fanatics. Yes! I’d like to introduce to you, one of Japan’s famed singers of all time: 𝙇𝙞𝙎𝘼! Make your entrance, please!

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 【今日もいい日だつ】 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ❝ Today is another great day! ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ- LiSA ╰╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╯

My life is truly music-inclined, even if I have two left feet and a raspy, rough voice. Those foreign lyrics ring out in my head, every time I enter through the gates of Japanese culture and enter my fantasy I know so well. I mean, cool right? I can still remember how I first embraced her beginning chords in January 2020, when that song, Gurenge, was heard throughout the spacious stadium of the New Era University college department. It was the opening ceremony for Intramurals 2020, and as soon as the melody played, the crowd sang along in a noisy type of harmony.

𝙂𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚, it means “red lotus” in English—the title of the Japanese opening theme for the animation called, “Kimetsu no Yaiba,” or more acclaimed as “Demon Slayer” by millions of anime ethusiasts across the web. I wondered what that range of vocals wanted to tell me. Those beautiful notes and the intensifying instrumental that accompanies such an epic story. Slowly, I understood why she is adored by many people, rain or shine, sun rays to lunar silhouettes. Now, here I am writing with everlasting conviction, to share everything I know about her—the reasons why that captivating rhythm, those inspiring words, and the pleasant emotions, made me sing along. So, let’s rest for a while, and I’ll tell you more about LiSA, behind the reflection of that worn out blade.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

LiSA, or Risa Oribe in real life, is a Japanese singer, songwriter, and lyricist from the Gifu Prefecture—in the small city of Seki. She is 165 centimeters tall, which is quite tall for a Japanese woman. She is known for her multiple song hits used in Japanese animation titles such as the Fate series and Sword Art Online. Though, did you know that she also sang for the music-based anime series, “Angel Beats!” as one of the main characters who so happened to be a vocalist, as well? This was LiSA’s professional song debut in the music industry, which she lunged into when she was given a chance to step onto the reknowned arena for some of Japan’s history makers: Nippon Budokan! As a kid, Risa Oribe was taught lessons in piano, dancing, and singing, which continued onto her junior high school years. After auditioning in the infamous Budokan, she held onto the dream of becoming an artist on the next journeys she would walk on outside her hometown.

Believe it or not, the name “LiSA” is an stylized acronym, consisting of confident letters that possess unique dignified meaning from one another. The stage name is adopted from a blast from the past, of the times Risa Oribe had travelled to Tokyo to form a band. “LiSA” stands for, “𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙡” which may sound weird for English speakers, nonetheless, its significance still pulls my heartstrings all in all. Prior to becoming the individual singing artist, “LiSA,” Risa Oribe has always been a part of bands ever since high school—one of them being a cover band of indie rock music, “CHUCKY.” Despite the risk of working with the band in exchange for her accredited certificates from university, she continued to reach for her ultimate dream career as a singer. Unfortunately, “CHUCKY” only lasted for three years, and this is what led Risa Oribe to test her luck in the capital of Japan—persevering for that aspiration, because there’s no turning back now!

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ㅤㅤ 【じっと見つめた　キミの瞳に映ったボクが生きたシルシ】

ㅤㅤ ❝ As I stare intently into your eyes, ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤmy reflection there is the proof I exist, ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ- LiSA (Shirushi)

╰╼|═══════════��════════════════════════|╾╯

LiSA’s musical influences are, surprisingly, internationally respected musicians of the English language. Some of these prominent figures in her life are Avril Lavigne, Green Day, Paramore, and Rihanna. She is well-known for memorable hyped performances filled of power and passion. Sometimes, if people are granted the opportunity to be mesmerized by remarkable skill, she is also able to play the guitar and key harmonica in her concerts. She can sing in Japanese, obviously, but her words weaved with melody extends into Chinese and English perception, too. As a songwriter, she personally wrote some of her produced masterpieces like “Shirushi” and “Rally Go Round.” Though, perhaps you’ve never would guess that LiSA had a voice acting debut in 2015, too! Don’t get your hopes up because she did not give life to any anime characters, but instead, she became the Japanese voice of Madge Nelson in the film, “Minions.” I know, don’t get me wrong, it’s a shocking difference from the person LiSA is famous for.

However, for Risa Oribe, it was not something to be shy about, for she absolutely loves Minions! For avid fans of LiSA, they would often spot sightings of Minions merchandise in her social media accounts. It’s a fact that wouldn’t make you think that she can be that intimidating performer on fire, once she leaps onto stage. She still has that gentle vibe, especially when she raises her arm to greet the audience with a simple peace sign. The dark packed venue would chant along the bridge instrumental, rapidly waving their lightsticks until the song performance is finished. It’s as if the stars have landed in a small part of Earth during the night fall, to take a day-off head banging to the beat of rock. LiSA’s concerts deliver the message that “𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨,” as it is the running title pinned to her lives from then to now.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Speaking of which, here’s a fun fact! Did you also know that LiSA’s albums all start with the letter L? From “Letters to U” and “Launcher,” to “Leo-Nine” and the recently revealed “Ladybug,” each album has a motif that follows her musical style. LiSA’s original songs tell stories of hope, determination, and love. Ever since she released her first solo single debut, “Oath Sign,” for the anime, “Fate/Zero,” her name would never vanish from the music charts of new singles and albums in Japan. Songs like “Crossing Field,” “Catch the Moment,” and “ADAMAS,” of “Sword Art Online” were also noteworthy for their impact on LiSA’s career as a singer, not only for Japanese animations, but also for Japanese TV dramas and live-action films. Her very own, “Homura,” for the anime film, “Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba: Mugen Train” have even outstretched to the Billboard charts across the Pacific ocean!

Today, she has celebrated her 10th anniversary in the music industry—a realization that it just seems like yesterday when she got to meet her fans in different countries, go on tours to perform everyone’s favorite anime songs of hers, and made her mark as an “𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧” of the Rising Sun. That is why she is, indeed, an artist with a lively legacy to our current era—a personality deserving of a profile article from yours truly. It’s been great having you with me in this article, and I hope you were able to find admiration for LiSA and her work! Thank you for reading! I’ll see you again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: don’t always go with the flow, and be yourself! Good day!

╭╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 【生き残ったこの世界で　新しい　眩しい　 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ 開けを迎えに行こうか】

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ❝ In this world I live in, there will be a new glow, ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ for now let’s welcome the new dawn! ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ - LiSA (dawn)

╰╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╯

· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to my sister, who is a big fan of LiSA. I am grateful that you’ve made me sing with her, forevermore.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🎀 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Background

➫ Stand-out LiSA holding a microphone stand

➫ Sitting LiSA

➫ Butterfly themed LiSA

➫ Kimono LiSA

➫ "Brave Freak Out" promotional picture

➫ "Only ≠ Lonely"

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ GIF

➫ "Gurenge" Music Clip ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ First Blog Divider

➫ "Datte Atashino Hero" Music Video

➫ "KiSS me PARADOX" -LiVE is Smile Always ～PiNK & BLACK～ Live

➫ "No More Time Machine" Music Clip

➫ "LEO-NiNE" Limited Edition A Album Cover

➫ "LUCKY Hi FiVE" Single Cover ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Second Blog Divider

➫ Raising Arm LiSA

➫ "ASH" Single promotional picture

➫ "Unlasting" promotional picture

➫ "ADAMAS" article by Billboard

➫ "Shirushi" Music Video ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Third Divider

➫ Red-themed LiSA

➫ "Letters to ME" Music Video

➫ "Surprise" Music Video ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Source of Information

➫ LiSA Wikipedia page

➫ LiSA’s Discography Wikipedia page

➫ Every Anime Song by LiSA fan-video compilation

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 end. 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⭆ Back to Homepage ⭅

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ Next Blog ⇨

#NEU-IS PH #Creative Non-fiction #Feature Article #Blogging #Personality Profile #aNikKis Fantasirealities #LiSA #Anisinger #Youtube

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evieveevee · 4 years

Text

What We Lost: Returning to Tumblr in 2020

On December 17th, 2018, Tumblr banned 'adult content' across the site, marking the end of an era. The ban was the result of a cavalcade of issues which reportedly made maintaining NSFW content unfeasible for Tumblr. Now, it's 2020. I'm back on Tumblr, and I can't help but meditate on what we've lost both on Tumblr, and across the globe in 2020.

Part One: Tumblr and Adult Content

*Things we lost to the flame Things we'll never see again All that we've amassed Sits before us, shattered into ash

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

A bit of personal history: Tumblr was the primary community I used in various forms from 2012 onwards, associating with various fandoms, doing what I could to design interesting things. The various communities I was involved in intersected with social justice communities, and eventually I dug into those further and tried to learn to better myself in the process, starting along the path to becoming the person I did.

Part of that process was also learning to love my own body, a thing I was not particularly good at and still struggle a bit with nowadays. One of the ways I did this was by making 'adult content', or more plainly, pornography. It was a unique opportunity to experiment with femininity and sexuality - something I'd been very closed off from as part of my upbringing - in a supportive, fun environment. Experimenting with my self image first in this way, in semi-private, led to me experimenting more publicly and eventually embracing aspects of that as part of my day to day life. That's right: making pornography was part of what led me down the path to figuring out I was trans and embracing that part of me.

Making porn on Tumblr was a great time; the adult content creators and consumers community on the site was largely supportive of queer people and sexuality, different body types, all manner of things. It was - in my experience - a healthy and fun place to be, and certainly one of the better places you could be on the internet for a visual medium like pornography. Tumblr's format made it easy to share both adult content you made yourself, and stuff you were curating. Vex Ashley wrote that "this sharing was so desperately vital for women and other marginalised people whose sexualities are often overlooked or infantilised in media about sex in preference for the tastes of the traditional porn consumer – the straight white guy" in a eulogy and love letter to Tumblr's adult content communities.

Tumblr's format remains novel to my knowledge as well: the notion of having a large image-focused feed which also allows for easy sharing and curation, gorgeous, high resolution pieces and photos to be uploaded with relatively little compression, custom arrangements of photosets, and personalized theming of your blog. There was, and remains, lots of potential for expression on Tumblr., and its focus remains unique. Twitter and Mastodon's focus is on what's written, Wordpress doesn't have the sort of interlinking of blogs that Tumblr does, and Facebook is... Facebook (read: evil).

I think the novelty of that format is what made the announcement of the ban on 'adult content' so impactful. Even looking back at the framing of it is gross: the post posits that 'adult content' is something which is negative, and says that removing it is working towards a 'more positive' Tumblr. There appears to be an attempt to try and strike a balance in allowing conversation about sexuality and such, but this is the killing blow. A huge portion of the community, including countless queer and furry artists, needed to find a new home online.

3 months after the ban had hit, traffic had reportedly dropped off 20%. Recent data from SimilarWeb, the outfit which published that initial data, shows that visits to the site have dropped off a little bit more, but have stayed otherwise pretty consistent. August 2020's data shows about 317 million visits. [1] In other words: any hope that this move would allow Tumblr was dashed. A massive portion of the userbase deleted their accounts after archiving them; Tumblr and the internet at large had lost a massive, vibrant chunk of community, and it was completely in vain.

I lost contact with a bunch of those folks I was following on Tumblr for years. The mass exodus left both people who wanted to find and share artwork and adult content and the people who made it completely adrift. Years later, some artists are still picking up the pieces. Archaic policy like SESTA/FOSTA being brought into the picture has left very few standing when it comes to adult content, Twitter included. Who knows how long that will last? If something happens to change the way that Twitter handles adult content, for example, what options do casual creators like myself have?

Fortunately, platforms like OnlyFans exist. But even those are at potential risk from legislation like the EARN IT Act, not to mention the danger this poses to Twitter and to the internet at large. OnlyFans and its ilk, as they exist right now, are fantastic for sex workers because they offer pay-gating and a variety of features to make sure sex workers get paid. But they leave those of us who want to be able to curate the content they enjoy or casually create their own content freely without real options, and without real community.

We stand to lose a lot, and as always people in the margins will be the ones most impacted: the queer, the people of color, the disabled; all will suffer greatly if adult content is found without a home. Media dealing with queer themes is enough to be considered "adult content" by some and it's not hard to imagine what we could be staring down the barrel of here.

What have we lost in eliminating platforms like this?

Part Two: 2020 and the World

*These are the things The things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire.

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

Meditating on what we have lost seems to be a running theme for the year 2020.

January: New Year's Day. In Aotearoa New Zealand, smoke covers the skies from a fire a literal ocean away. The Australian bush has been on fire, part of one of the most and it has turned the skies of a nation not it's own orange at midday, across thousands of kilometers. What did we lose in those fires? What stories and history? What wildlife, what species? What will remain afterwards? What will grow anew?

April: Aotearoa New Zealand hits the peak of COVID-19 related lockdown with the entire nation moved to Level 4, meaning that nothing except truly essential services, such as roadworks, pharmacies, and supermarkets were open. During that time, I thought a lot about how some of my favorite small shops were doing; the bakery with astonishingly good pies, the charming dollar store which always has a few things that catch my eye, the coffee cart near one of the local parks every morning. As a nation, Aotearoa acted early to deal with COVID-19 with a strong hand, and it was risky for all of those small shops across the country. What would we come out the other side of the lockdowns having lost, both in terms of human cost and cost to the places around us?

May: Following the murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis Police officer Derek Chauvin, massive protests against police brutality, racism, and white supremacy break out across the United States of America. Daily protests have continued to the time of writing in some cities. George Floyd is one of 781 people killed by police in 2020 at the time of writing in the United States alone [2]. 1099 people were killed by police in 2019 [3]. What incredible lives and stories have been lost in the process? Are those stories being told now? How do we prevent this from happening again? (Hint: defunding the police will be a start, and supporting the cause now is a good choice too.)

It is now September: The incompetence of the US Government has allowed COVID-19 to spread beyond control, leaving tens of thousands of deaths in its wake; lives and stories which must be remembered and their stories carried on by others. The western coast of the United States is on fire, blanketed in smoke and ashes. Massive west coast cities like San Francisco gain an apocalyptic feeling as the skies turn orange, like they did for me in January. Friends of friends lose everything in small Oregon towns. The costs of the prolonged fires will be paid by people all up the coast; it's their health outcomes which will suffer. What will we lose as a result of this in the future? What can we do to make things better?

I want to be clear: this is not a comprehensive list, and is centered around the things that me and my social circles have been aware of and talked about. Even with that consideration, we have to reckon with massive, ongoing, and far reaching concerns. The loss felt as a result of all of the above issues is staggering, and far reaching, and we must fight to ensure that loss is not in vain. Voting alone is not going to solve these concerns, and there's more to concern yourself with than any one person should have to cope with. There's not a magic bullet to solve all this stuff though.

Rather than pretend that I have one, I want to propose a couple things to close this out: one bit of advice, and one plea for yourself and others.

The advice: pick your battles carefully. Pick issues you want to focus in on, and fight for those things to make things better where you live, and in your social circles. Choose things to care deeply about first. Keep caring about them.

The plea: think carefully about the questions I've asked throughout this piece, and think about the things in your life and communities that you have lost. Think about how to make sure those losses are taken with you and learned from; to take lessons learned and better yourself and the people around you. Think about the things you don't want to lose, and how to fight like hell for them.

Move forwards to something, and some place better than where we are now. Stand united with the people around you, and press on.

*Do you understand that we will never be the same again? The future's in our hands and we will never be the same again.

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

If you enjoyed this piece and want to support my work, please contribute to my Ko-fi. If you are interested in re-publishing this piece on another site, please contact me either here or via my business email.

References

[1] Data provided by SimilarWeb; accessed on 15/09/2019 at 5:30am. (https://www.similarweb.com/website/tumblr.com/)

[2] Data provided by Mapping Police Violence (https://mappingpoliceviolence.com); accessed on 15/09/2020 at 4:08am NZT

[3] Data provided by Mapping Police Violence's (https://mappingpoliceviolence.com) database, downloaded on 15/09/2020 at 4:08am NZT. Count obtained using the following formula:

=COUNTIFS($'2013-2020 Police Killings'.F:F,">=1/1/2019",$'2013-2020 Police Killings'.F:F,"<1/1/2020")

#tielwrites

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

Feels Like This (Part 6)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone – so I will start this chapter by saying we have quite a bit of intrigue happening here. Some of you may not be thrilled with where I am leaving things, fair warning it is not the fluffiest of places, and some may even call it a dreaded cliff hanger, BUT I promise that the next chapter for this story is already prepped and will be ready for posting next weekend. You will all be way happier with me in the next few chapters, but in the meantime, I hope you still enjoy the fic and I can’t wait to hear what you all think!

How the fuck did it come to this?

The question had been plaguing him since the moment he left Emma’s side yesterday afternoon and landed in the middle of a political minefield, and he was no closer to an answer about how to get out of this giant mess.

Of course, he knew the facts: yesterday his brother had called him to parliament, a place where Killian very rarely played a role. He hadn’t been there in years, and even then, it was only a formality, but this time he was summoned through some antiquated process no one had ever heard of. What ensued thereafter was nothing short of a disaster. His mandated presence was initially thought to be merely a stall tactic, but then everything flipped and suddenly his brother lost control of what was supposed to be a historic day for the passing of landmark legislation.

Since taking the throne, Liam had been working diligently to change the very system of governing in Montenarro. He wanted more representation for the people, and to have more democratic processes in spite of the presence of the monarchy. He’d worked tirelessly for years to endear his cause to a largely unresponsive parliament, and finally he believed he had enough votes to make a bold and substantial change. He’d even made sure to cover his tracks, getting every signed-on lord to publicly state their support of the bill, but it turned out there were traitors in their midst, and when Killian arrived it became a full-blown spectacle filled with anger and hostility and nonsense.

For nearly an hour Killian bore witness to the political betrayal and the humiliation that followed. A group of usurpers, led by a Viscount with a long held vendetta, proceeded to fill the hallowed halls of parliament with lies and slander and speculation. Most of it actually centered around Killian, and all of it was completely preposterous. These lords were ‘suspicious’ of his absence from public life since being discharged from the navy, of his hesitancy to return to his role as Prince, and of his lack of ‘direction.’ The men went on and on about what kind of message it sent to the people when leaders failed to lead and represent the interests of the citizenry. It was absolutely ridiculous and infuriating. He’d been out of the military for one month – one month! – and apparently failing to return to center stage in that time made him untrustworthy and ‘wayward.’ There was absolutely no consideration for what he’d gone through in serving at all. In the end it didn’t matter – he was always a prince before he was a man, and expectations didn’t waiver, no matter what he’d given to this country or its people.

Liam, to his credit, was absolutely furious, and he’d made sure to lambast the men who criticized Killian, pointing out their dishonor and their disrespect for men and women in uniform. He reminded them all of how out of touch one must be to assume that a man or woman who’d been on active deployment and been party to war would want to just jump back into the fray with no caution or hesitations. Every soldier was different, and every single one of them deserved respect when they’d fought valiantly and enduringly for the country’s safety and interests. It helped Killian to hear his brother’s candid disdain for these men and their actions, and though they had never really discussed the ghosts of Killian’s service, it reminded Killian that Liam understood and that he valued the sacrifice he made all these years. But still it all came to nothing. The lords did not bow to any call for decency, the bill never was presented, the motion was halted, and despite how ridiculous it all was, a nefarious dialogue had been started. Now some people were curious about where Killian was and what he was doing, putting Liam in an incredibly uncomfortable place. In fact, it was so bad a situation that he’d done something he had never done before – he’d gone back on a promise he made to Killian.

That reneging of his word was the ultimate show of dishonor in Liam’s eyes, but it didn’t help Killian that his brother was sick over this choice. Killian was still being sacrificed in a way for the sake of saving face, and the way it would be done meant that Killian was, for lack of a better phrasing, royally screwed. He was totally and completely fucked, because right now, within the next, oh ten minutes or so, he’d be leaving with his family in the royal precession headed for the capital. It was one of the nation’s most cherished holidays, a celebration of independence and military success, but Killian had missed it for years and intended to miss it this year as well. He hadn’t felt ready for such a moment, loud, rambunctious, and public as it was. He’d been nowhere near crowds like this in many years, and the sound of fireworks and sparklers might trigger something in him, along with the high intensity of the crowd itself. But when Liam requested this, Killian kept those fears quiet. He was ashamed to admit that weakness, and now he was making a huge public appearance, one of the largest of the year. Still in spite of all the anxiety that would come just from the processions, it wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was that – through the agonizing stupidity of his own choices – he still had not told Emma the truth.

This lack of disclosure did not come from lack of trying. He’d been forced to remain in chambers in Parliament without his phone until almost midnight, and by then it was too late to call her or go and see her face to face. Emma was asleep for the night and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her in a voicemail. He’d then decided to go to her this morning, but there was physically no way for him to do so. Every route, and he did mean every route, from the palace to her house was blocked off for the processions or being monitored by the media. It was truly nightmarish. As such, he’d done the only thing he could think to do. He wrote out his feelings to her, his worries and his confession. It was long, it was ugly, but it was real. In the letter he apologized profusely for never telling her the truth. He acknowledged that any pain she would feel was his fault and his alone, and he practically begged her to give him another chance. As soon as it was written he entrusted it to one of Jefferson’s team and he waited twenty minutes for confirmation that it was delivered to her home.

The seconds ticked by while he waited for her reply, slowly and terribly, and finally he caved and sent her a text. It said he was thinking of her, and reiterated his intention to talk to her more tonight. Now here he was, hours later, and he’d still heard nothing. He was in excruciating pain, and the only thing worse than not knowing where Emma stood was that he was forced into the customs and practices of this holiday. He was made to go along with a song and dance he hated, and now he was wearing his royal regalia, feeling a fool and a sham and a downright wretch.

“That collar is not going to get any more comfortable for fidgeting with it,” his grandmother’s voice said, drawing his attention back to where he was, outside waiting for the procession to begin from the castle grounds.

His mother and grandmother were set to ride in the coach as he and Liam rode behind them on horseback, but his grandmother wasn’t interested in complying with the order to sit patiently and wait until the very last minute. Instead she ushered him towards her, and began straightening his royal suit. She tidied all his medals and the pins of his military service, and made sure each line of his jacket was crisp and clean. It was clearly something she’d been doing for many years, and the action came naturally to her, so much more so than for Killian.

“For someone who detests the charade of royal life, you really do look so handsome.”

“Thank you, Gran,” he said, but he didn’t mean it. The words were kindly given, but impossible to value when there was so much else he was desperate to engage with.

“But there’s something more, isn’t there? You’re worried about this. Why? Because it’s been a while?” He shook his head. “Is there somewhere you’d rather be?”

He bit back the retort that there were about a million places he would rather be, but she knew his feelings. “There’s a woman isn’t there?” Bloody hell, how had she figured that out?

“Aye,” Killian admitted after a moment’s hesitation. It was no use hiding from his Gran. The old woman was like a blood hound, drawn into the smallest scent and hell bent on tracking until the truth was out.

“And you’re missing her now, are you?” his grandmother said with a nod. “Good. Real loves never bloom for the faint of heart. A good dose of yearning, and a little bit of missing your fair maiden won’t kill anyone. It’s just one day, dear.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Gran.”

“Things usually are. I’m assuming she’s not from any of the royal circles. If she were there’d be far more chatter afoot. Not a one of those ladies of court can keep a secret. It’s positively ludicrous.”

“She has nothing to do with this world,” Killian agreed, woeful at the fact that she might reject it, but so glad Emma was not like those other women. She was so much more wonderful for being real and genuine. He would never change a thing about her. It was everyone else who should change as far as he was concerned.

“She’s uneasy with you being a prince, isn’t she?”

“She will be.”

“Will be?” his grandmother asked, her brows furrowing together in a look of actual concern. “I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t understand.”

“She didn’t know, Gran. She’s not from here. She’s a woman I met at the Institute. Her name is Emma.”

“Emma,” his grandmother said, nodding, like this announcement of his affection for a stranger who worked at their family’s charity was the most natural thing he’d ever said to her, despite the fact that he’d never mentioned to any of his family how much Emma meant to him. “But what do you mean she didn’t know? You mean about the holiday service?”

“About any of it. She didn’t realize I’m a prince. I’ve only just told her this morning in a letter.”

“That’s not possible,” his grandmother said and then her hand came up to cover her mouth in what could only be described as horror. “Oh my word. You’re serious. This morning? A letter?! Killian, what were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in distress. His grandmother’s agitation only added to his own. “I’ve gone about things all wrong, Gran. I know that.”

“Explain it to me, Killian. Make me understand. How did it come to this?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. At first I thought she knew who I was, and then she didn’t and it was selfish of me not to tell her-,”

“You can say that again,” his grandmother quipped, seemingly annoyed on Emma’s behalf though she didn’t even know her. “Foolishness. Pure foolishness.”

“I know I’ve messed up. I’ve known it all along, but if you knew her, you’d understand. I didn’t want to risk it. Emma defies explanation. Special isn’t the term, for she’s so much more than that. I know it was wrong not to tell her front the start, but I just wanted…” He trailed off, knowing it was useless trying to explain.

“You wanted to be yourself, without the title and the attention,” his grandmother said with a sadness in her voice. She knew his heart in this, and she felt for him, but tragically it changed nothing. “Oh my boy, my dear, sweet Killy, this is quite a mess to be in.”

They were both quiet for a moment, thinking to themselves, and Killian felt sick to his stomach at all that he’d done. This was truly all his fault and the guilt was beginning to unravel him. His grandmother though, was not yet done figuring this out. “So what did she say about it all? How did she take the letter?”

“She hasn’t responded,” Killian said hopelessly, bringing his phone up to check again. Yet again, nothing. Silence from his Swan.

“She probably needs time,” his grandmother said sympathetically. “And you’ll give her just as much time as this procession lasts before seeing her.”

“But the events after -,”

“Are not your concern,” his grandmother said vehemently. “You are hereby excused from those.”

“Gran, it’s not that simple. Viscount Mabrey -,”

“Viscount Mabrey can hang,” his grandmother said with a viciousness he’d never witnessed. It wasn’t refined but it was real, and he agreed with the assessment entirely. As the man who was leading this circus of speculation about his life, Mabrey was Killian’s worst enemy at the moment. “And I don’t care what Liam says. You shouldn’t even be here. Making you choose between Emma and the family… It’s just cruel, never mind undignified and unfeeling.”

“He doesn’t know about her,” Killian said and Gran laughed. She actually laughed and shot him a look like he was foolish.

“Are we speaking of the same Liam, your elder brother? The King of this country and sovereign of this crown, not knowing every last detail at play in his kingdom? Unlikely. No, he knows about her. Jefferson will have told him,” Gran said, prompting discomfort in Killian’s gut. Then she appeared to look a bit more forgiving as she weighed the possibilities. “Though perhaps no one has realized her ignorance on your origins. I certainly didn’t know.”

Killian’s brow furrowed at her comment, but his confusion was distracted by another question from her. “Did you ask her to come here at all? To see you? What are we to expect?”

“She was never planning to watch the procession, and I can’t imagine she’d want to now,” Killian confirmed, reiterating what Emma had told him previously. “She and her son were planning to go to the beach for the day, and no matter what state she may be in,” his throat closed up at admitting that she’d be hurting because of him. “Emma would never break a promise to her boy. They’ll likely miss the whole thing.”

“Mmm,” his grandmother replied. The hum was so noncommittal it only added to Killian’s agitation. But then she turned to him and looked serious. “Well you answer me this, Killian, and be warned if you lie not even the Gods of old can help you, do you truly care for the girl?”

“Yes.” In fact, caring for Emma was an understatement. His feelings, new as they were, went so much deeper than that.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” he admitted, knowing that this bond he felt to her was not a fleeting sort of fancy. He did love Emma, for all her many pieces. The way she loved helping people, the nurturing way she always had, the light in her eyes, the lilt of her laugh. She was perfect and good and true, and he never had any hope of deserving her, but damn did he want to. So badly it left an ache in his chest.

“And is there anything you won’t do to make this up to her?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied firmly, knowing that promise was absolute.

That was part of what was killing him now. He wanted to go this instant and beg forgiveness like a man. To look her in her eyes and explain to her how this had all come to be. Yet he couldn’t even give that to her. He was bound by a duty to his family, and he had never resented that duty more in his life. Even now he considered the merits of being here. He could go, show her how much she meant to him, and how she’d always come first from now on. But doing that would only humiliate his family. It would add flames to the fire and mean giving up the loyalty he’d always had for the people he was closest to.

“Good.” She answered, nodding her head and clapping her hands together in a matter-of-fact manner. “Well, dear, sometimes people make bad choices, and when they do, they must make amends. That’s all that can be done. You must do everything you can to make this right. It’s as simple as that,”

“That’s it? No sage counsel or particular detail on how to go about it?” Killian asked. He was desperate for guidance here. Should he call her? Should he wait? Should he go to her? What was he meant to do? What could be done at this point?

“My dear, the mistakes of men are frequent and seemingly unending. A queen does herself no favors getting mired down in them,” she said with a sigh, not helping him with the reminder that he was among those mistaken men. But she shook her head and then affectionately patted his arm in a sign of support. “Just remember this: your heart always knows which way to go. You’ll make this right, and when you do, I’d like to officially meet this young woman. All right?”

“Okay, Gran.”

With a quick pat to his cheek, his grandmother turned and entered the carriage with his mother who was watching curiously. The two of them shared a few words, but Killian didn’t pay much mind, for at the same moment Liam descended from the palace and things began moving rather quickly. It was time for them all to depart, and Killian could only gear himself up for what would be a painful few hours and hope that everything would somehow be okay.

…………………….

Waking up this morning, Emma had to admit to herself that she was really and honestly happy. The feeling was somewhat new for her, certainly in such a bold and front and center way, but after yesterday with Killian it was impossible to feel otherwise. The hope that he’d inspired in her and the heat that she still felt all these hours later, all prompted a smile she let loose as soon as she woke, and that had stayed with her all morning. To know that this man who had her tied up in knots felt the same way made her feel like a kid with their first crush. But despite the strange fluttering in her chest that came and went, and the constant distraction that her mind seemed plagued with these days, she didn’t actually hate it. If anything, Emma craved this feeling, loving that for the first time in so many years she felt eager to take a chance on something and someone other than herself and her son.

She’d been ready to take that step a while ago, feeling the draw to Killian for some time now, but after yesterday and that kiss, she was totally lost. She may be guarded, but Emma Swan was no fool. She could admit defeat when beaten, and right now her interest and her hope that this might be something real and true had won out. Hours later she could still taste him on her tongue. She felt the silky strands of his hair on her fingertips and the hard lines of his body pressed against her. The heat and the spark between them was all consuming, and the look in his eyes when they broke apart and he promised he’d see her soon -

“Mom, do you think I should bring my snorkeling mask or my regular goggles?”

Emma jumped at Henry’s question, which forced her out of her daydream so quickly she had whiplash. She shook her head, reminding herself that this was not the time or place. She was on Mom duty right now and she was supposed to be packing their lunch and snacks for the beach. But last night, when she was alone and all her responsibilities were met for the day, she’d allowed herself to imagine what could have happened if things were different. Would the moment have lasted longer? Would it have ended at the preserve?

“Mom?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion at her continued distractedness.

“Sorry, kid. Let’s go with snorkeling. It’s been hard for you to find the space to do that to this point, but I think today you’ll have the room to try.”

Henry agreed with her thinking and raced back to his room to grab his things while Emma chastised herself for her wayward thoughts. Now was totally not the time to be caught up in thoughts of Killian, hard as it might be to resist. She and her kid were spending the day together and she needed to focus on that. Henry and her had planned this outing all week, and she wanted to be present with him, even if a niggling though in the back of her mind wondered what it would be like if Killian was coming too. She already knew that Henry and he would get along. Killian had a way of making every kid he met love him, and her son was smart. He read people even better than she did, and Henry loved a good story, which Killian had plenty of.

“Someday maybe,” Emma whispered aloud as she packed the sandwiches in their temperature-controlled bag, but she knew there was no maybe. If things headed where she hoped they would, Killian and Henry meeting would come to pass, and probably soon. But for now, she’d soak in these precious moments with her kid and enjoy a little R and R down at the seaside.

Placing all of their picnic supplies in one bag and double checking that her tote had sunscreen, books, and other things they’d need down by the water, Emma stayed focused on her task. She took comfort in the mental checklist she had going, and when she was confident that they had everything, Henry appeared, carrying his snorkeling gear and smiling a megawatt smile that made her heart so happy.

“You have everything you’ll want for the day?” Emma asked and when Henry nodded she gave him another chance to double check. “Remember we won’t be home until late.”

“I know, Mom. We’re still going to the Center for a visit right? Cook said she’s making that fancy chocolate cake again!” Henry said, nearly as excited by the prospect of this dessert as he was for their beach day.

“Yup. I already told Marco to expect us. Dinner will be served at six thirty.”

Henry threw his fist into the air in some kind of celebratory move and Emma laughed at his antics, shaking her head and looking to all the stuff they had to get out the door and to the coastline. “And you’re totally sure you don’t need to see the parade? It may be fun,” Emma suggested, but she secretly hoped Henry would want to stick to their original plan.

“No way! Beach beats parade every day of the week. Especially this beach. It’s the best!”

Emma appreciated her son’s dedication to sunshine and the seaside. Truth be told, she and Henry had been burned by enough New York parades to be a little jaded. They always sounded like a whole lot of fun in theory, but there was a huge crowd of people which Emma never loved, and at every event there were people who just wanted to get wasted. It was pretty stressful as a parent, and Henry never really liked the noise. He was a quieter kid and preferred more peaceful moments, which were rare when living in the city. As such, they tended to avoid big events like this and made a habit of being wherever the masses weren’t. Today they’d decided the beach might be a good option. They’d managed to go a few times since arriving, and it was always fun but busy. Today they may have more space to themselves, and both she and Henry loved the idea of a beach to themselves.

It was still wild to Emma that they lived in a city with such easy access to a coastline, and not some questionable harbor view, but glorious, magazine worthy beaches. Everyone who lived here acknowledged that they were a hidden gem, and Emma knew if the world ever got wind of what they were missing in this tiny country then flocks of people would descend. She hated to imagine that though, since most of the charm of this country came from its authenticity. There were no touristy gimmicks or ploys. People here were just people, welcoming and friendly, not driven by a dollar. It was totally refreshing and deserved to be preserved and protected. It also made Emma think all the time that maybe she was doing Henry a disservice living in New York. Montenarro wasn’t really a viable option forever, at least she couldn’t bring herself to hope they’d be that lucky, but there must be other places in the US where she could find a job that had more of these things they loved. They’d miss Mrs. and Mr. H, but they were retired now and always talked about their want to travel. Who knew, maybe something could work out?

“Okay Mom, I’m ready to go. We better get a move on.”

Emma took in Henry all decked out in his beach gear and ready to trek across the city and she bit back another hearty laugh. Her boy was an adventurer through and through. He loved anything that felt like a quest and right now he was harnessing all the energy of kids in the throes of some magical imaginary universe. She loved his propensity for this kind of excitement, so she attempted to match it, gathering her things and saluting him as their leader as the left the apartment and locked the door behind them.

As they headed out, Emma couldn’t help thinking that she hoped the kids at the institute were having a good start to their day. This year none of the children would be attending the parade. Apparently there were some issues in years past with some older kids running off to meet friends and younger kids getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the festivities. It turned out to be a logistical nightmare for the staff, and so they decided they’d have their own celebration at the same coves along the cost that the older kids had driven to weeks back. Almost everyone, save the very little babies, would be going, and Emma and Henry had been invited as well. She’d come so close to saying yes, especially when she thought about seeing Cecelia and the others enjoying their day at the beach, but she knew there was a lot of time left to share such memories with them all and that tonight they’d join everyone for dinner and some fun and games. For now, she wanted to make sure her son felt special and supported. He was such a good sport about being in camp all the time while she worked and went to school. She didn’t think that he resented it even a little, but she felt like her first duty was to be a good mom and to give Henry the attention and affection he so rightly deserved.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a woman with bright red hair asked just by their front door. Emma recognized her peripherally. She’d definitely seen her in the neighborhood before. “Are you Emma Swan?”

“I am,” Emma said, and the woman let out a relieved breath. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. My name is Merida. I live just there,” she pointed to the other house out here on the side street. “We received this this morning – or well my daughter did. I love the girl but if you catch her half asleep, she’ll say anything to shut you up and head on back to bed. Anyway, a royal courier came to deliver this earlier, asking for an Emma Swan, and she swore that’s who she was, took it, and then promptly fell asleep. I’m so sorry for the delay, I only just saw the thing in her room. But I promise it was never opened. As you can see the seal is still very much intact.”

“It’s no problem,” Emma said accepting the letter which was addressed in beautiful script. It had her name on it and a seal on the back with the same lettering as the foundation. She smiled, thinking it must be from the kids. They were so excited for their celebration today that she could totally see them making fancy invites and using an institute seal for adornment. She also didn’t think anything of a ‘royal courier.’ That was a thing in Britain too, right? It was the queen’s post or something. Countries with monarchies were just cute like that.

“Oh good, hopefully it’s nothing too timely,” Merida said with relief. “But either way you best believe my Iona received a stern talking to this morning.” Just then a bang came from Merida’s house and they all looked over there. Emma and Henry were concerned, but Merida only sighed and shook her head. “Those blasted boys of mine will be at it again. Dead set on turning every last hair on my head gray. Anyway, apologies again, and perhaps we can have you two over some time. I’ll do my best to wrangle this motley bunch before you do, aye?”

Merida made the offer even while jogging back into her house and Emma and Henry barely had time to say sure before she was back inside. They turned to each other and just shrugged, laughing. Then Henry pointed to the letter. “What do you think it is?”

“Probably something from the institute. But nothing that can’t wait for the beach,” Emma replied, and Henry smiled, following her down the lane in the direction of their plans.

Slowly but surely they made their way down the roads, but the more they walked, the more the patterns of foot traffic began to change. When they started, there were very few people along the street, but the further they went the fuller the streets became. Soon they were overrun with people, and admittedly all of them seemed to be having a great time without any kind of discernable drunkenness or issues.

“Wow, today must be a bigger deal than we realized,” Henry said, his eyes taking in the same sight as her, which was their increasingly familiar neighborhood flooded with happy parade goers.

“No kidding. Are we sure this isn’t the berry fest you read about?”

“They’re called montecaris, Mom. And no, that’s in August. It lasts a whole week. Today’s about a battle that happened a long time ago or something.”

“Must have been some battle,” Emma said. Looking back at Henry, she was struck with worry that he might feel like they were missing something big, especially when confronted with the throngs of people out here celebrating. “We could probably put the beach off a bit if you wanted to watch…”

“No way! I’ve got a full day planned and we’re already late. We gotta get going.”

Emma agreed and stuck her hand out for her son, more as precaution than anything else. With the crowds growing so dense she didn’t want to get separated from him. Henry understood and stuck close to her, but Emma noticed that the people congregated out here today for the celebrations were so much kinder and less intrusive than people back home. This might be a big party for people, but it wasn’t at the expense of families and non-celebrators. No one was taking things too far, and it made maneuvering through the streets much easier than expected, which Emma appreciated. They actually made great time, all things considered, but towards the end of their journey they hit a roadblock, quite literally.

“The road’s closed, but how will we get to the beach?” Henry said with a sad effect that reminded Emma of when he was younger. He never whined, her son, but he did get a teensy bit dramatic. It had much more impact in her opinion, and the pang of sympathy she felt at his disappointment had her rethinking this strategy.

“Excuse me, miss?” Emma asked a woman who looked to be walking with her own young children. “Do you have any idea how we could get to the beach?”

“The footbridge is still open,” the woman offered. She pointed them in the right direction and Emma remembered seeing it a few times while coming in and out of the city. It wasn’t far from here, and she and Henry were grateful for the insight. They made their way in that direction, and by chance they had to walk the parade route to get there. As such they were seeing so much of the parade while still heading to the beach.

“Kind of feels like the best of both worlds, huh Mom?” Henry asked and Emma nodded. It was really something to be sure, and as they walked they saw all sorts of processions. People in traditional dress dancing, musicians, acrobats. There were soldiers dressed up in old regalia and veterans from wars long past, but it didn’t seem like anything out of the common way. Only when the footbridge was in sight did the air seem to change around them and the whispers all began.

“They’ll be out soon, Mama,” a little boy said jumping up and down. “King Liam and his horse!”

“Yes, darling. They’ll be here any moment. Look, here they come.”

Henry was the one to stop moving at this point, drawn into the promise of seeing actual royalty in the flesh. Emma stopped with him and looked out into the street, feeling a flutter of intrigue as she did. Watching the procession at this stage felt like stepping into a movie. There were guards in their stately dress and horses with people she assumed must be some kind of current soldiers. All of the steeds they rode in on were darker, but behind them were white stallions drawing a carriage. Wow, she thought those were a figment of imagination. People really rode in those? Emma supposed they must, and then she got a good look at the women in the cart and she was convinced they must be royalty.

The way these two women were dressed was pristine and beautiful, and both women wore tiaras in their hair that reflected the light so beautifully in the summer sun. From what she could tell, both of them were older, though one was raven haired and the other had shifted to a silky silver. Emma wracked her brain trying to remember what she’d heard in passing about the royals. She knew there was a reigning Queen before who was much older, and apparently good friends with the Queen in England. She’d stepped down from her post years back, however, and now there was a King. She’d seen him, King Liam, on magazine covers in the grocery store. He was young, but always looked so serious, and Emma imagined he must be somewhere here too.

Sure enough, when the carriage passed there were two black horses, both giant, like Clydesdales. Both had royal riders as well, and Emma knew the first one was King Liam. He looked just as serious now as he had in the photos, and Emma wondered if it was hard to be King. It must be all-consuming, but still, a smile wouldn’t kill anyone, would it?

“Wait, Mom, that’s the King!” Henry said, his attempt at a whisper coming out comically loud. “He’s so big. I bet he’s super strong.”

Emma couldn’t argue with the assessment, and the stateliness of the man looked even more imposing in his formal regalia astride a horse. But there was something about him that was familiar. The darkness of his hair under his crown and the square of his jaw evoked something in her, and so, she realized, did the particular shade of blue of his eyes. She had trouble placing it before, but now she knew they looked like Killian’s. How strange that she should think that. She was only reminiscing the other day that she’d never seen eyes like his anywhere before.

Intriguing as the connection was, Emma didn’t think much of it. Instead her eyes moved to the other horse, and immediately her heart lurched. Was that? Oh my God, that was Killian! Her Killian, and he was…

“Prince Killian’s here this year!” a young girl said on the street beside them with awe. “Wow he really is handsome, just as handsome as King Liam, don’t you think, Mama?”

“Undoubtedly, dear,” the mother said but Emma barely heard them. She was stuck with the glaring and absolutely crazy realization that the man she’d been circling around for weeks, the man who’d kissed her senseless only yesterday, was a Prince. Like an actual, full-blown, royal. She was stunned and shocked, so thrown by this twist she hardly knew which way was up. All she could do was take this in and try to make sense of it all.

From where she stood in the crowd, Emma could see that Killian was dressed in the same uniform as his brother. Medals of valor covering his coat to a much higher degree than the King, so much so they almost didn’t fit. Despite being astride a horse, everything about him looked impeccable. The lines of his clothes were crisp and unforgiving, and his form on the stallion spoke to extensive experience. Still, she couldn’t say he looked comfortable up there. His expression was not nearly so serious as Liam’s, but Emma could see his uneasiness, even if it was subtle. Many others may not realize, but Emma saw pain in his eyes. Even now, when thrust into confusion and disarray, Emma felt like she could read him. He was uncomfortable up there, being ogled at by so many people and hearing all the noise and celebration. Still he was gorgeous, looking gallant and regal and all too good to look away from.

Seeing him this way filled her with a chaotic sense of conflictedness – on the one hand she still saw the same man she felt herself falling for, but on the other hand he’d shielded the truth from her. He was a prince, a freaking prince! And she was… well just Emma. It made her sick to her stomach to think about how much must separate them. She’d already felt the pressure of that just thinking he was rich and foreign, but throw royalty into the mix and she felt unbelievably foolish. This could never work. She was delusional if she thought that the two of them could amount to anything more than a mere flirtation given everything, and a wave of dread and despair crashed over her. She felt feint from the mix of sadness and betrayal and her heart was pounding in her chest. Panic began flowing. She had to get out of here.

As if her distress called to him in some way, Killian’s attention diverted from the procession and he looked into the crowd. In a matter of seconds his gaze found her, and she saw the look on his face, feeling the impact too acutely. He was surprised by her being there, and then looked pained himself. She was too stunned to move, but he didn’t feel the same. He stopped his horse, and looked about to climb down when a voice called out to him.

“Killian!” It came from the King, Emma and Killian both looked to him and Liam looked to Emma before turning back to Killian and shaking his head. “Not now.”

Emma didn’t know how to take that. Was he saying not now as in ‘not now, we’re in the middle of a parade here’ or as in ‘not now with your inappropriate and unacceptable life choices’? The former made sense to Emma, but the latter was what she was afraid of. Here she was, a totally normal person, a single Mom from another place with no freaking clue he was even a prince. What was Killian even thinking when it came to her? She was dying to know but also too afraid to face it. Killian, meanwhile, looked liable to go against his brother but he ultimately looked to her and she read the greatest wish of his heart as clear as day.

I know I fucked up, Emma. I know this is crazy, but please let me explain. She even watched his lips move and she read his words “please, Emma.” Her heart clutched in her chest. She closed her eyes unsure of what to do and then Henry pulled at her hand. Emma broke her attention away from this earth-shaking revelation and looked to her boy.

“You okay, Mom? You look a little funny.”

“Uh, yeah, Henry, I’m fine. Just a lot of people,” she offered emptily. She hated to lie to her son, but what could she say? Something like, don’t worry kid, I just think I have a date set with the Prince and even though it’s completely insane and he hid this from me, I can’t bring myself to hate him? Or maybe, to be honest I was actually falling for this man, like really falling, and I don’t know if I can stop even though I have to because we live in different worlds and I feel like my heart is breaking in my chest? No that wouldn’t work either, so a lie it was.

“You want to go home?” He asked and Emma shook her head, knowing that home was just about the last place she wanted to be. She needed distraction from whatever the hell this was, and if she added disappointing Henry to the list of things she’d done today, she’d never get past this.

“No way.”

“Okay! Last one to the footbridge is a rotten egg!” Henry said, taking off, and Emma spared one last look at Killian before she left.

In his eyes she saw everything, grief, sorrow, an attempt at about a million apologies. This was wrong. He had really messed up and she was hurt by his choices, but despite it all a small voice in her heart told her not to run. She should give him a chance to explain, as hard as that might be. She deserved those answers, even if he didn’t. With her mind made up, she wanted to convey to him that this wasn’t totally over but only then did she realize that the parade had stopped. Everyone was distracted by something in the main carriage, but it wasn’t emergent. In fact, the people were laughing, but Emma had clearly missed the joke. She looked back to Killian, whose eyes were trained only on her, and without any more delay she nodded, a silent show that she would listen even if she was hurt and confused. She only saw the beginning of his relief take form, before heading back to her kid, and though it was incredibly hard not to look back, she pushed forward, knowing that right now she couldn’t engage with whatever was happening. It was just too much to contemplate and too overwhelming to consider without knowing the whole truth.

……………………………..

Oh, Dear Lord in Heaven, what a day it had been.

Public outings were always tiring to Queen Eleanor, despite her lifetime of participating in them. But today was especially energetic, and that was putting it kindly.

She still could not fathom how in the world her grandson had been so thoughtless. How could Killian think that keeping the truth for this long would be okay? Surely, he realized that the longer he waited to tell Emma who he was the worse it would be. And then today, seeing the moment where Killian and Emma noticed each other out there in the precession, was like witnessing a car wreck before her very eyes.

The fright she’d had was instant, and she gripped onto Meera’s arm so quickly her daughter-in-law had thought her ill. Then Meera looked to the crowd and saw Emma too and she herself was tense and worried. It was all so terrible. The shock on the poor girl’s face, the hurt in her eyes, but there was more too. There was strength there, and feelings under that hurt that did give Eleanor a bit of hope. Everything wasn’t lost, but it was getting damn close. Killian tried to go to her, as he damn well should, but then Liam scolded him, keeping him there. It took everything in Eleanor not to snap at her eldest grandson for interfering.

“It’s not safe, your majesty,” Jefferson whispered to her from his position close by, reading her frustration. “She’d be a target if the public takes notice.”

“Oh – oh - oh barnacles!” she said with frustration, before inspiration struck. “Stop the carriage!” she cried to the attendant and immediately he did.

“What are you doing?” Meera whispered, alarmed at the break in protocol, but hoping for a good explanation.

“Buying them some time. Keep watch of them. Be discrete but don’t miss anything. We need every detail we can get,” she whispered, before turning to the street and waving her hand to a nearby man. “Excuse me, sir, I just wanted to say your cap is absolutely delightful.”

The man was stunned at her comments, and he should be. This was absolutely untoward. Royalty never did anything like this, but damn the customs. This was her grandson’s life, his future, and she’d do anything she could to see it aided and improved. When the man on the side of the road collected himself, he smiled and blushed, an uncommon sight for a man of at least 65 years of age.

“Please, your majesty. Take it.”

“Oh I don’t think I -,”

“It would be an honor,” he said.

“Are they good?” she asked Meera quietly.

“Just a bit more time. Her son’s perked up now. What a beautiful boy. Reminds me of Killian at that age.”

“Focus, Meera.”

Eleanor nodded to the security team and the man came forward. Offering her the hat. She smiled at it, taking in the tacky mess of patriotic color and appreciating it for what it was – a colorful distraction from the moment. She made up her mind to commit to this idea, and the crowd gasped as she put it on her head and then laughed happily. Some people even cheered at her attire, praising the new look that must make her look positively ridiculous.

“Okay, we’re good,” Meera said and Eleanor smiled graciously to the man who’d provided this opportunity to distract.

“Thank you very much, sir. A happy holiday to you and yours,” she waved pleasantly before telling the footman to drive on.

She’d then proceeded to commit to this charade for the rest of the outing, taking different gifts from parade watchers across the city. Even Meera engaged, accepting some colorful beads and a flag from some children who brought them forth along the way. She didn’t dare look at Liam the entire time, but she knew, even if it was unusual, that this would be a win for the king in the long term. The people had responded marvelously, and she’d managed to help both her grandsons in their quests at the same time, thank the Gods.

As soon as they arrived back at the palace, Killian was off like a shot, readying himself to go see Emma. They spoke with him briefly inside the palace before his departure, but she didn’t dwell on those important words now. Eleanor still didn’t know where he’d eventually find her or if he already had, but she hoped he would. Now though, hours later, Queen Eleanor was hiding out, trying to avoid another conversation that must eventually come.

“So are you going to tell me what that was all about today?” Liam asked, causing her to jump from where she was in the quiet of the library. Her hand came over her heart instinctively and she scowled at him.

“You take great liberty, my dear, scaring an old woman like that.”

“I take liberties?” he asked with a laugh. “Gran if this is another of your jokes, I’ll tell you now I don’t understand it and I’m not amused.”

“I know, my dear, but I just had to do it. Killian and Emma needed time.”

“You know about her?”

“Know about her, who do you think found her in the first place -,” Oh blast it! She wasn’t supposed to say that. Rats, now she had to tell him everything. This was not what she’d wanted at all.

“So you and Mum, you’ve been planning this,” Liam said some time later when the truth was revealed. “You’re matchmaking. Does Killian know?”

“No, he most certainly does not.”

“He’ll be furious when he finds out.”

“The moment she forgives him he’ll be nothing short of ecstatic.”

“And so that’s when you’ll tell him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Gran.”

“Liam,” she parroted, knowing she sounded like a child but not caring.

“Bloody hell, Gran, I don’t know how you manage it,” Liam said, shaking his head as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“I manage this family with the wisdom, grace, and know-how of a professional, Liam. You’d do well to remember that.”

He muttered to himself some things she couldn’t hear, but then he squared his shoulders and grew serious. “Look, Gran, as long as you promise not to interfere anymore, I will keep your secret.”

“When you say interfere -,”

“Gran, leave this to Killian. He needs to do this himself. Please.”

“All right dear, I will leave it alone.”

“Good. And you and Mum better not be planning anything like this for me.”

“You really think there’s just another woman who happens to be at the institute who would also be perfect for you?”

“No,” Liam laughed, forgetting the promise he asked for in the face of what he saw as a lunatic notion. Little did he know there was such a woman, and the ball was already in motion on that front as well. Still Eleanor did everything she could to shield that from him, attempting to appear the frazzled grandmother instead of a scheming assistant to cupid. Before he could press her further, a knock sounded at the door, Jefferson appeared, and Liam was called away. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”

“Not bloody likely,” she whispered under her breath and Liam raised a brow.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.”

Post-Note: Okay so there we have it. I keep making these chapters so much longer than I think I will, but there’s just so much I want to accomplish. I know it would have been better for everyone’s anxiety levels if I had Killian and Emma talk things out in this chapter but there simply was not time. Not to worry though, next week’s installment will definitely have that and I think you’ll all forgive me for my slight cliff hanger when you read the next chapter. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all are thinking and I appreciate every comment and review and message you guys have sent the past few weeks. It’s so awesome to have you all with me in this and I genuinely hope you’ll stick around to see what’s coming next. Anyway thanks so much for reading and have a great rest of your weekend! -Emily

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs au #cs fluff #cs angst #cs royals #cs royals au #prince killian #killian jones #emma swan #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #feels like this #feels like this au #feels like this 6

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gunnerpalace · 4 years

Note

Hello, what do you think about that announcement about Bleach?

You know, the saddest day in my life was November 8, 2016, the day Donald Trump won the Electoral College and became the president-elect. (I say that with such specificity because he did not win the vote.) I wasn’t sad because Hillary Clinton lost (although I think she wouldn’t have done either much better or worse than Barack Obama). But I was sad.

I cried. As a 30 year-old man, I cried for hours. I cried at a loss of innocence. That innocence wasn’t the nation’s, as America has long had many, many flaws and has committed many, many crimes. Indeed, the country itself was founded on flaws and crimes.

The innocence I mourned was mine. I had, much like Barack Obama, sort of tacitly believed in the arc of history bending toward justice, as though we were watching a story whose plot would eventually, haltingly, carry us toward a just and fair conclusion. That the future was bright. That, as imperfect as we are and have been, we were at least improving. That people were fundamentally good.

That idea died that night. The words of Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now convey it well:

I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn’t see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile: a pile of little arms. And I remember I… I… I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget.

What I came to realize was, having grown up in a single-parent military family, having moved from base to base, having lived overseas at a young age, that my idea of America was very different from that of most Americans.

To me, America was great things and works. America was the Saturn V lifting off from Cape Kennedy with an American flag on its side and the letters “USA” scrolling by. America was a flag on the Moon. America was the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. America was power and reach. It was the stenciling of “United States” on the side of a B-52. It was a Minuteman III sitting latently, ominously, in a silo. It was USAMRIID containing an Ebola outbreak. It was aircraft carrier battle groups patrolling the oceans.

I came to realize that people, ordinary people, were never part of my vision. And it was people, ordinary people, who had failed to live up to that vision. And that my vision had, in many ways (really most) been an illusion to begin with. For all its rhetoric, America is just a country like any other, simply more powerful. And its citizens are also like those of any other: selfish, ignorant, frightened, foolish, hypocritical, self-betraying, racist, misogynist, misanthropic. They were exactly what Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama had called them: “deplorables” who “cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people.”

In the time since, I have hearkened to the other part of Kurtz’s monologue:

And then I realized, like I was shot—like I was shot with a diamond… a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God, the genius of that. The genius! The will to do that: perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand it. These were not monsters. These were men, trained cadres—these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who have children, who are filled with love—but they had the strength—the strength!—to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling, without passion, without judgement. Without judgement! Because it’s judgement that defeats us.

The people who are in charge (and mark the exactitude of my words, for they are not in control, or in command, or any such other thing) operate by exactly this sort of logic. They do not care. The people out there do not care. They do not care because to them none of this is real, in a sense. This is all a kind of aesthetic position. It is about style, largely taken on as a disguise in the course of making money and lining their pockets. (As an aside, it is beyond ironic that COVID-19 has done more to bring capitalism to its knees, save the planet, uncover the rot at the core of our social safety net, and to unmask the incompetence of our politicians than any group of any persuasion, be it socialists, environmentalists, the media, or whomever else.) And the underlings that they have brainwashed and mobilize like zombies, the “common person,” they care even less. To them, it is wholly aesthetic. It is all just for show.

The pitilessness of this all, the remorselessness, the sheer ruthlessness and indifference, is something I have noticed. Contra Kurtz, the men who are at the top of this world are not moral. And unlike Kurtz, I do judge. I will sit in judgment until I am dust in the wind.

I cannot possibly even begin to explain to you, in English or in any other language ever devised by humans, how much I hated it all. How much I hate it still. I cannot even begin to tell you how much hate I hold. I cannot tell you how black my rage is, or how red my vengeance would be were I allowed to exact it without restraint. I cannot tell you how vast and terrible the darkness within me is now. However, the words of the Allied Mastercomputer from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream are effective in giving a hint:

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

Having said that, I do also know an effective strategy when I see one. And I have seen the effectiveness of these people.

Right about now, I imagine you’re confused. You’re probably wondering what all this has to do with Bleach.

I explain all this in large part to compare and contrast the large with the small. The termination of Bleach obviously came before Trump’s election. It did not make me cry. I won’t say it didn’t affect me, or that it didn’t hurt, but I didn’t cry. I did not mourn to the same extent as I have mourned for my country, or for humanity. It did put me into a funk, for several years even. It hurt.

But what hurt more was seeing what it did. I saw how it hurt people. I saw how it broke them, as I would later break. I saw how it broke their spirits. I saw how many of them simply left, choosing to cast aside something that, in Marie Kondo’s words, no longer sparked joy. I mourn their loss, while I acknowledge their wisdom. And while, in the aftermath, new friendships were formed and new things were created, you could still see the pain. You can still see it.

I am not very personally affected by what Trump does, to be honest. I am beyond outraged at it, but it is something of an academic matter in my personal life. This, though, I felt, because I watched it firsthand, up close and personal.

It made me really fucking angry!

I resolved myself, at that point in time, that I would be the last Bleach fan. I would stay, even after everyone had left, and I would make this franchise mine. I would make this story mine.

So here we are, almost four years later, and it’s coming back in animated form.

I don’t feel the need to discuss Thousand Year-Blood War itself. I have made my position abundantly clear that it is a rancid piece of shit as far as writing goes. To go over all its innumerable deficiencies, failings, and flaws, would (as I have said recently) require an official government tome’s worth of dissection and analysis. As a piece of literature it is a failure. It is the kind of shounen equivalent of 9/11, or Hurricane Katrina or Maria. And while Bleach was certainly not the first franchise to fail in its finale, it certainly deserves to be ranked among things such as How I Met Your Mother, Mass Effect 3, and HBO’s adaptation of Game of Thrones when it comes to All-Time Failures in Media.

Having said that, the truth is that it simply isn’t worth the effort to break it down in detail. Oh, I have tried, yes, I have picked and chipped at it for years in my own ways. But it isn’t worth the time to dissect any further.

And an anime is not going to change that unless they radically depart from the manga, which I doubt they will do. If anything, an anime will simply highlight all of the innumerable flaws even more brightly.

And it will not change anything. Certainly not for me. I was already planning a post talking about the concept of “canon” and how it is outmoded in the age of Disney’s Star Wars, Star Trek Picard, and J. K. Rowling earnestly insisting that wizards just drop trow and shit on the floor before magicking it away, but that will take some time to finish and it is sort of tangential to the point here.

So, to get back to your actual question, only four things about this are really of interest to me:

I am displeased about seeing people excited for something that is objectively a rancid piece of shit, and not enthused that I will be unable to escape it without locking down my feed. But I am also not The Good Taste Police. It is not my responsibility to care what people like or why.

I am once again seeing people hurting. I don’t like that whatsoever, but there is very little I can do about it. Whatever perspective I have gained, emotionally, isn’t likely to be helpful to them. Wisdom, such as it is, cannot be taught.

I find myself wondering about the influx of people who will come into the fandom, and who will be more than likely sorely disappointed by the travesty that is that arc. (It’s going to be good news for fan fic writers, honestly.)

It has made me understand things all the more fully.

What do I mean by that last part? Well, I have been only sort of joking lately that the people I most relate to as an adult are Col. Kurtz as mentioned above, Agent Smith from The Matrix, Khan Noonien Singh from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Geralt of Rivia from The Witcher, and Mike Stoklasa from Red Letter Media.

But upon reflection, I realize it isn’t limited to them. I have also really come to feel like I understand Ichigo. And I have even come to feel that I understand Kubo, through Khan.

I have come to understand Kurtz’s “madness”:

It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror… Horror has a face… and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies!

I have come to understand Smith’s desire to escape:

I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can’t stand it any longer. It’s the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I’ve somehow been infected by it.

I have come to understand Mike’s efforts to hold back the tides:

Mike: Captain Picard has never done a wacky accent—Rich: THEY DON’T CARE! THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT! Mike, we are the only people that care anymore!Mike: Do you remember that—Rich: Picard is the guy who does this. [faceplam gesture] He’s—This is, this is Captain Picard’s character now for an entire—for like two generations, we’re fucking old! He's—he’s the guy who does this [facepalm gesture], and fuckin’ Patrick Stewart wants to put on an eye-patch and dance around an alien bar? Go ahead motherfucker! We’ll write that in!Mike: I-I-I hearken back to a wonderful little moment on Star Trek—Rich: Patrick Picard wants to ride a dune-buggy? Fuck yeah! Here’s a dune-buggy!Mike: Do-Do you remember—Rich: That’s how much respect they have for, for the franchise!Mike: All I’m tryin’ to say is Captain Picard would not do a wacky accent!Rich: NO, OF COURSE HE WOULDN’T! OF COURSE CAPTAIN PICARD WOULD—CAPTAIN PICARD ISN’T HERE, MIKE!Mike: He’s not there.Rich: HE’S NOT HERE! That’s all an illusion, hahaha!

I have come to understand Geralt’s tiredness.

I have come to understand Ichigo’s feelings of powerlessness in the face of the injustices of the world.

I have come to understand Khan’s rage:

I’ve done far worse than kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I wish to go on… hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet… buried alive! Buried alive…!

In this last quote, I have also truly come to understand Kubo. I understand him because I want to hurt him, as he so thoroughly, persistently, and remorselessly wants to hurt us, the fans of his work. I want to go on hurting him, as he goes on hurting us. I understand him perfectly, because I want to pay him back exactly in kind.

And the best way to begin to hurt him is to let his efforts wash over me without even batting an eye. To stand in defiance. To not give a single fuck.

Even with these understandings, for me, nothing has really changed from almost four years ago. The only thing that is different is that the timeframe until I am the last man standing has been extended a little. That’s it.

You want to know my thoughts? They are simple, and they boil down to two quotes. One is again from Khan:

Joachim: They’re still running with shields down.Khan: Of course! We are one big, happy fleet! Ah, Kirk, my old friend, do you know the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish that is best served cold? It is very cold… in space!

And the other is from JFK:

Don’t get mad. Get even.

#I Have Spoken.#Asks

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coffeesuperhero · 4 years

Note

(Friend, here's a fic meme for you!) Ask meme time! Pick three fics you have written, post a favorite section of each and explain why it is your favorite. Then, pass it on! :D

Ah, thank you so much, my friend!! Putting this under a read more since it’s probably gonna get kinda long :D

01. two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl (the anatomy of apocalypse. remix).

A blast from the past for this one but it’s been Big Mood for me lately, so. This is a West Wing story, and a remix of a post-apoca Sam/CJ piece that I absolutely adore by furies.

When it is her time to sleep, he sits on the burnt ground and watches the cavernous expanse of thick ashen clouds that conceals the stars that travelers once used to light their way home. Even the illuminating glow of Polaris cannot pierce these clouds, but it is of no consequence: there is little use for celestial navigation when they have no terrestrial destination.

In a perpetual waking nightmare they trudge on through the wasteland of the world, communicating mostly through gestures, if at all. There is little to say that isn't as empty as they are, and as words begin to lose their meaning he tries, desperately, to hold onto language, the last best vestige of his humanity. When he can no longer summon the will to create sentences, he murmurs hollow words, any words he can recall, under invisible stars that died millions of years before he did. Stars are really only dead husks of gas and flame that look alive unless you know better, unless you know that what you're seeing is a lie that is older than the world.

When he looks at her he sees the stars. When he looks for the stars he sees nothing.

Somewhere above the smoke and ash and sulfuric acid aerosol there are still stars, and among them is Galileo. Centuries ago Galileo Galilei looked up at the stars, and for performing that miracle they told him that he was a sinner. Now he wanders a celestial battlefield littered with dead and dying heavenly bodies, exiled for eternity to the vast cold vacuum of space.

Galileo. He said it right, once. Now he says nothing.

The original story is all from CJ’s perspective so my remix is from Sam’s, which was an excuse to lean into language and the importance of it, how much Sam tries to cling to his own humanity after the world ends by turning it into story, or, when there is a lack of a cohesive narrative for his life any longer, into any words he can still find. It’s about two people who are falling apart. It’s bleak. There is not a lot of hope in it. It’s just two people slowly unraveling but determined to live anyway, which maybe is something I connect pretty strongly to at this moment in time!!!! This story also contains the line, “if wishes were horses, they would all have pale riders,” which I’m not gonna lie is one of my favorite lines I have ever written and i stopped trying to top it years ago because probably I will not.

02. you do not have to be good.

He cracks a shit ton of eggs into a flour well and wonders if Parker and Hardison are aware that where he comes from, feeding someone is sort of a silent I love you. He frowns at the eggs. Thinks about Hardison buying this place. Thinks about Parker not really seeing anything special about food until recently. Hardison knows, probably, that he feeds people because he loves them. Parker almost certainly doesn't.

He thinks of how he might explain that to her, and it gets complicated pretty quick, because the truth is that where he's from, food can also sort of be a silent fuck you, considering the number of times he's been to a potluck where something like ten different little old ladies brought the same recipe, each secretly thinking theirs was better than you-know-who's. He can still hear the whispered accusations, all these years later. I just saw Flora come through the front door with her casserole dish. You know she puts carrots in that, don't you? Yes, you heard me right. Carrots.

He laughs a little at that. Maybe not everything from home was bad, even if it does seem to have left him with enough baggage to fill a damn shipping container. He hadn't really realized how much he'd been resenting that lately until now, but as he carefully mixes eggs and flour together with a fork, he feels a little of that hurt slipping away. As far as he's concerned, whatever he grew up with, all this internalized whatever, was sort of like a potluck: you go down the line and fill your plate and sometimes you take shit you don't want because it makes other people happy, but in the end you eat what you like, and then later when Miss Flora isn't looking you dump the rest of the shit on your plate in the trash because goddamn, her corn casserole is the worst one you've ever tasted. Who puts carrots in that? The devil, probably.

By the time the eggs and the flour are a big ball of dough underneath his hands, he's chuckling to himself, and he honestly feels a whole lot better about everything. The knot of anxious tension that's been sitting in the pit of his stomach since he and Hardison had that talk is gone. Whoever he is, whatever he is, it'll come together. He just picked up a lot of shit that wasn't his, that's all, but it's not who he is, and he doesn't have to keep it. It's just a potluck. It's shitty corn casserole. It's okay. He can toss it out and make a better one.

I dumped a lot (A LOT) of my other Southern/Heartland queer feelings into this brace of Eliot-centric stories for Leverage fandom earlier this year, and this is maybe one of the most Me parts of the whole thing, because I’ve given myself the Potluck Talk on and off for at least twenty years now. The attitudes about food and potlucks and the battles between potluck cooks described here are also 100% pulled from my real life, and that’s why this is my favorite. This is just me, working through my shit while cooking, only it’s Eliot, too. We love a convenient excuse to tell our own stories and work through our own shit with fanfiction, right?

03. visible cities

This is an old The Phantom Tollbooth piece that I wrote for Yuletide several years ago, and since Yuletide signups are opening and I’m feeling nostalgic, here’s the opening bit from this piece:

Many long years have passed since Milo's journey through the kingdom of Wisdom. He is older now, which is to be expected: hardly anyone grows younger in the course of many long years, though the lessons he learned as a boy have kept his heart lighter than most.

The way into other worlds had been easy enough to find, once he knew where to look, and oh, the things he has seen.

Still, as exciting as his life has been, he thinks of his friends from Wisdom often, especially Tock, especially lately, for he never seems to have enough time. There's always something to see, something to do. There are mountains to climb and oceans to swim, and he's been climbing and swimming for so long now that he has quite forgotten what it is to do something that is entirely for himself.

"I'm as tired as can be," he murmurs, a wistful smile on his face as he strolls home, careful as ever to take in all of the sights along the way, for no matter how many times he walks this path, he always finds something new to delight him.

When he arrives at home, there is a box waiting for him, the packaging the same wonderful blue that he remembers from his childhood, and he smiles so brightly that an unhappy gentleman passing by the window at that exact moment suddenly remembers all of the kind things anyone had ever done for him and immediately hurries home to hug his children.

I just love this book so much, it was very much a Formative Book for me, and when I got this Yuletide assignment I did my best to write sort of a love letter to other media through the vehicle of this story. This passage in particular I like because I like the thought of Milo as an older man, still carrying the lessons he learned so long ago with him now. And I really liked the guy outside running home to hug his kids. It felt Very like the book to me, the book is full of those kinds of things and it’s one of the reasons I love it, this way that Milo is connected to other people even when he doesn’t know them, because...we are, and it’s a small detail, but it’s why I like this bit of the story.

#ask meme #correspondence #norationalthoughtrequired #my fic #fic

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munsonstyles · 5 years

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“oh, it was live?” | david dobrik

Requested? Yes: You are honestly the best writer I’ve come across! Please consider possibly writing an imagine about David dobrik that is friends to lovers where he takes you to a movie premiere but all the reporters assume ur his gf and it’s awkward but then later he admits to you he wishes you did come as his date

A/N: whoa look who’s back from the dead !! lmao. i never write for any of the requests i get anymore but i read this one and the idea wouldn’t leave my head. so everyone welcome back, me, dobrikstyles. (also, THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE SWEET COMPLIMENT)

——-

being best friends with david dobrik is not at all what it is hyped up to be among his fans.

yes, you get invited to parties.

& yes, you’ve been able to meet so many cool celebs.

but, the man (child) is actually a psychopath. (you and the rest of the vlog squad are still trying to convince shane dawson to do a series on proving that, but that’s not the point right now.)

in all honestly, he really was great. just sometimes he looked at you with his (sweet) puppy dog eyes and begged you to do something for him.

thankfully, today he was only trying to convince you to come to a movie premiere with him, not trying to convince you to shoot one of the boys with a paint ball gun (for the twentieth time).

“y/n.. please. no one else will go with me & jack says i can’t make any excuse to get out of this one” he groans, throwing his body back against the love sac to look at you upside down, a small pout forming on his lips.

“oh fuck off. good to know i’m your last option” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, as you sit on the couch.

he quickly sits up, shaking his head. “no, no- fuck. that’s not what i mean, y/n.”

you shake your head back at him, rolling your eyes teasingly, “mhm.”

“y/n. please come with me. i’ll buy you - fuck, i don’t know,” he pauses as he bites his lip in thought, “i don’t fucking know. whatever you want. just please come with me.”

you raise a single eyebrow at him, “hmm... anything?” you smirk.

he nods hesitantly, a look of fear on his face.

“okay. buy me a tesla.” you state.

he opens his mouth in shock, “y/n- c’mon. what - fuck. is that - god, y/n. is that really what you want? fuck, i gotta call ian. he’s not gonna be happy, he just helped me buy that fucking ferrari.”

you watch him panic and look for his phone, muttering to himself. you throw your head back in laughter after a few minutes, “fuck, david, no, i’m seriously kidding. i don’t want a fucking tesla, of course i’ll go with you. don’t you realize you don’t have to bribe me with money or gifts anymore? we’re friends, dave.”

he stops his frantic searching for his phone and glares up at you, “fuck you, y/n y/l/n.”

“ah, ah, ah,” you sing, shaking your finger at him, “i wouldn’t be talking to me like that after i just willingly decided to go to a movie premiere with you, mister david dobrik.”

he reluctantly shuts his mouth, holding back any other remarks he was planning on making at you. you smirk, “good. now, what do i need to wear?”

——

a couple of days later finds you at david’s house again, this time getting ready in natalie’s room for the movie premiere.

“and why can’t you go with him?” you sigh, putting the last finishing touches of makeup on your face.

you watch natalie roll her eyes in the mirror, “because, y/n. i’m getting over having the flu. i have explained this to you four times already.”

you sigh again, turning around and facing your friend on the bed, “i know, nat. it’s just - is it weird that i’m nervous?”

you nervously mess with some of your dress as you continue talking, “like - i know i’ve done this before, but the rest of you guys have been there, or at least someone else has gone. but this time it’s just him and i, and you know -“ you pause, groaning slightly.

“i know you have a huge, giant, massive crush on the literal psychopath in the next room?” she teases quietly.

you groan even louder, “shut the fuck up. if you weren’t sick, i would beat the shit out of you right now.” you joke, pushing at her leg.

“i’d like to see you try, y/n. but listen, friend to friend, you’re gonna be fine. like i’ve told you thousands of times - yet you still refuse to believe - he likes you too. i’m sure he’s just as nervous, if not more nervous than you right now. so seriously, you’re gonna be fine.”

you roll your eyes, “stop fucking saying that. he doesn’t like me. i would know.”

she rolls her eyes right back at you, mumbling under her breath, “yeah, you would think you would know.”

——

you step into david’s tesla, sitting in the passenger seat, “thank god we’re not taking the ferrari, i couldn’t deal with my hair messing up right before we go in front of hundreds of photographers.” you joke, buckling up.

you finally turn around and make eye contact with david, who quickly turns his head down, a soft blush high on his cheek bones.

“you, um - you look good, y/n. really good.” he mumbles, starting the car.

“fuck off, david.” you joke, trying not to make it too evident in your voice that you’re actually freaking the fuck out inside.

“i guess you do too.” you say, almost too quietly.

he giggles softly, “fuck off, y/n.”

——

your nerves had finally started to wear off in the car with david, you actually almost forgot you were about to step out into a media frenzy, until you actually did, and the nerves hit you all over again.

you turned to david, panic evident in your eyes.

he rests his hand on the small of your back, leaning forward to whisper in your ear (it was very loud, okay.) “hey, you’re good. they’ll just take pictures and i have to do like one interview. it will be fine.”

you take a deep breath, making eye contact with him and nodding your head, “we’re good. it’s fine. i’m fine. why are we even still standing here? let’s go dobrik.” you ramble, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up to the (red) carpet.

he laughs (yes the cute vlog one), and follows after you.

his interview is with someone from ET (Entertainment Weekly). you stand off to the side, holding his camera and watching some celebrities walk past you, and glancing at david every now and then.

you weren’t paying much attention to the interview until you heard your name.

“so, david. i see you brought y/n here with you tonight, although she’s only in a few of your vlogs.” she says in a suggestive tone.

you continue to look the other way to not make it obvious you were listening in.

“well, i mean, everyone else was busy, so she was my last option.” he jokes, laughing at himself.

you try your very hardest not to roll your eyes at the boy and make a snarky comment back.

“no, no. i’m kidding. she’s great.” he says, not actually answering her question.

“oh c’mon, david. give us all the details! is she your new GF,” (who actually says the letters like that instead of the whole word anyways?), “she’s pretty cute and i know some fans have been speculating!! what’s the tea?!” she fishes.

you glance at david for a split second, noticing his hesitancy, “i mean - no. she’s not my girlfriend,” he pauses, “yeah - no. we’re not dating.”

your stomach burns with a million different types of emotions, and you can’t pinpoint what any of them actually are.

“that was a strange way to answer that, david dobrik,” the interviewer jokes.

he shrugs, glancing over at you to make sure you’re not listening, his famous grin over taking his face once again as he leans in to whisper to the interviewer, “how about you ask me that question again the next time i see you?” he suggests, causing your brain to short-circuit and your heart to start racing.

shit. you really had to pretend you didn’t hear him now. what the fuck does that even mean anyways?

you were too lost in your own thoughts to even realize that the man of all your inner turmoil was standing in front of you.

“earth to y/n. you good?” he waves his hand in front of your face, pouting when you slap it away.

“yes i’m good. how did that interview go anyways?” you ask, nonchalantly.

he shrugs, a fond smile on his face, “good. you ready to head in?” he nods his head towards the entrance.

you nod, “lead the way, dobrik.”

——

after the premiere, you were sitting in david’s passenger seat again, heading home.

you finally fished your phone out of your dress pocket, unlocking it to (what felt like) a million and one notifications.

“what the fuck?” you mumble to yourself, thumbing through them.

“everything okay?” david asks from the drivers seat, glancing over towards you.

you begin reading all of the notifications, only to find one common thing among them: The Clip of David Talking About You in the Interview ™️. (which you had efficiently blocked from your memory, thank you very much).

you hadn’t realized david peeking over your shoulder until you heard him speak, “fuck. it was live?” he groans, and as you turn to look at him, you notice the blush rising on his cheeks.

“david dobrik. what the fuck is this?”

he bites his lip, parking the car, (which made you realize you had actually arrived at his house already).

“i may or may not have made the interviewer believe that i may or may not have a crush on you?” he says in a high-pitched tone. “and she may or may not have asked me if you were my girlfriend and i may or may not have suggested that she asked me the next time she saw me?”

you stared blankly at the boy you (somehow) had a giant crush on, “and why, david dobrik? would you ever do something like that?”

“because i may or may not have a giant, massive crush on you, and i may or may not have been planning on asking you on a date soon?” he tilts his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut a little, a hopeful smile beginning to form on his face.

you don’t say anything for a minute, allowing the tension to get heavier. after finally deciding to break the tension, you say, “well, which one is it?”

he looks at you with a confused expression on his face.

“which one is it, dobrik? may or may not?”

a smile begins overtaking his face once again, as he glances down before looking up at you again, “may,” he whispers quietly. “i mean - i was - am. i am planning on asking you on a date soon, and by soon i mean, right now.”

you blush softly, grinning at him and nodding at him in encouragement to continue speaking.

“y/n y/l/n, will you please do me, david dobrik, the honor of going on a date with me?”

your grin (somehow) gets wider, and you nod at him once again, “fucking finally.” you cheer.

——

a couple of months later, finds you and david in (almost) the same scenario again, except this time, when the interviewer from ET asks if you and david are dating, you get to squeeze his hand, and nod along with him as he says,

“yes, after fuc - oops. after forever, yes, we finally are.”

#david dobrik #vlog squad #davids vlogs #the vlog squad #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik fanfictions #david dobrik fanfics #natalie mariduena #david x reader

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jojoreadwhat · 4 years

Text

there’s a map in my room on the wall of my room and i’ve got big plans / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

I made it in one piece.

I arrived at the airport, walking through the gates and scanning the place.

I was going to be meeting my two new roommates for the first time in person.

We spent majority of the summer Skyping and Snapchatting away our lives to each other. Becoming very acquainted with one another, and both were extremely sweet.

I looked into the crowd, many holding up signs, limo drivers with their hats on waiting for the richy people.

Then there was the great big pretty sign, LED lights taped around it. Bold letters reading, "Welcome To London, Lucy Lou!" The two brunettes holding each side, beaming from ear to ear as my eyes could never miss the big warming welcome.

I ran up to them, hugging them both like we've been friends for centuries. Thank god for social media.

"Oh my god, you're even cuter in person!" Abby greeted, she was this short, slender brunette. From Dublin originally, but came to London for further studies in Biology. Very tomboy like with a flare of eye liner drawn around her pretty green eyes. Oh, and she's a lesbian.

Liz, our other roommate chuckled. She was another brunette, but it was all wrapped in a messy bun. Little strains hanging loosely around her face. She was a London native, our guide throughout the semester. She was very pretty, model type. Very girly girl as she was all dolled up, wearing nothing but the best Mulberry or Zara. But on the plus side she wasn't snotty like many can be.

They both walked with me to the baggage claim, grabbing the few things I had flown on the plane, while the rest was coming in tomorrow. Abby grabbed a bag, Liz grabbed the carry on off my shoulder and I rolled the biggest case.

"How was your flight?" Liz asked first, as we loaded up her jeep. I nodded, satisfied. "It was a lot better than I anticipated. I'm in one piece!" Gesturing to myself.

With pop filling the airwaves of the jeep, we headed into town. Driving little ways from the airport before arriving to campus.

Luckily for us, we weren't really on campus. We had a house on the outskirts, it was cute. And the street was quiet, orange, red and yellow trees aligned down the block. It looked picture perfect, something you seen in those movies on tv.

The girls toured me around the house, showing me the common living before showing me to my room.

It was cute and quint my room, enough to make it a home for the next year or so. "Do you need a hand?" Abby asked. I shook my head, undecided on what I was going to do first.

They left me alone as I got myself acquainted.

White walls, a canvas ready to be paired with my pieces of home.

I looked out the big window, the sun shined so pretty through it. I loved a sun drowned out room, it was a sweet piece of home.

I observed how different London was. People walking bundle in layers, some with dogs, some with others, some alone. They had different auras about them all, things you wouldn't find back home.

I decided to write about it.

Before I made a decision of a lifetime and set out on a norm I wasn't use to. I figured I'd write about everyday, making my first publication after London, a memoir. Filled with big experiences that replaced the little ones that seemed so... basic.

The leather bounded book sat on my lap as I sat on my window sill, writing like London came natural to me.

'The woman swirled in excitement... Her lover's smile bursting at the seems as her went to taste her love, a love that would--'

A knock at the door startled my form, Liz coming into view from the hallway.

"I forgot to mention earlier, two doors down, a good group of friends of ours are throwing a welcome party. Be ready by 8." She softly smiled, shutting the door once more.

Brushing it off for the moment and going back to the thrill of observing a thrilling love fest outside my window. I began to get swarmed.

A party?

I've never been a party person, nor a social bee to boot. This was going to be different.

What do I wear? What do I say? My mind became overwhelmed, overwhelmed with nonsense thoughts that were uncalled for.

I stopped in my tracks. Stop. I mouthed to myself.

I came here for a different take on the world. A different part of me to shine. I couldn't be so silly about this simple party.

As much as I'd much rather curl up and watch Gilmore Girls a million times more. I had to step out of that comfort zone, I was in London for god sakes.

I looked out the window again, no one in sight. Just watching as the brisk winds ruffled the trees.

For a moment, I felt proud of myself.

Taking over my worry mind, grabbing grasp of it and starting the fire.

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

Matty's POV.

It was 6pm and I was still laying in bed. Even after the events that had occurred and the woman who left my flat without a warning.

I was still here, just staring at the walls. Looking at the ceiling and then at the window.

My mind was blank. But my chest felt empty.

I was in the mist of finding something to think about when George came in, my best friend and the drummer of our band.

"You lazy fuck. You really gonna sleep all day?" He questioned. Honestly it didn't sound like a bad idea.

I sat up, grabbing a cigarette off the stand next to me. George was giddy, I wondered what mess he got himself into this time.

"So we're going to a party tonight." He began, I sighed. The dude never settled down for a minute, and as much I loved the high life. I just wasn't for it tonight.

"They're going to be babes there... Maybe you find a little flower to blossom."

And I did, I loved that whole pure and sweet little thing. But at seventeen and not even passed twenty, it wasn't what I needed.

But George wouldn't take no for an answer. Throwing my shirt at me, "Get ready we leave soon."

He left the room, I found myself looking for some decency. Finally heading downstairs, I met the rest of the boys. Them all crowded in the living room watching some boring program, I made my way to the kitchen.

Pouring what was left of hot water before setting a tea bag into it.

It's was going to be another aimless night with another helpless soul.

#the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy imagines #slutforbritdick #wattpadarchives

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jawnjendes · 5 years

Text

the fog will clear up | shawn mendes

chapter 13/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: sry its short and definitely a filler im sry its boring but it helps build up stuff thatll happen next ok ok im sry

*let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist

Annalise woke with a start. She was wide awake immediately. There was no room for sleepily rolling around the sheets, her eyes weren't heavy like always. She didn't know what dying and coming back to life felt like, but she was pretty sure it felt something like that. She had a weird urge to go for a jog.

Staring at the ceiling, Annalise reached towards the nightstand next to her, intending to grab her phone. Her hand touched the bottle, and she picked it up anyway, reading the prescription label.

Annalise Flores SERTRALINE 50MG TABLET Brand name: Zoloft

"You don't waste anytime, huh?" she murmured before setting it back down. Then, she grabbed her phone and checked the time.

8:47am. A new fucking record. Annalise rolled out of bed, unable to stay still.

In the 2 hours she had to kill before work, she tidied up the dorm, ate a decent breakfast, took a shower, and got started on the course work she had to make up. The energy levels were through the roof, she had never been so on edge and productive at the same time. Why wasn't she put on sertraline sooner? Sure, she felt hyperaware and borderline anxious, but that was apart of the process of getting on a new antidepressant. She was getting things done this way. Sure, she jumped when the lock on the door jiggled, but she was up and running anyway!

If she wasn't, she wouldn't have seen Stella entering the dorm. She was surprised to see Annalise on the couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

"Oh… I thought you were asleep. I'll, uh, I'll come back."

"No, wait!" Annalise sounded a little too frantic, but it did stop Stella from leaving. "Uh, come sit down! Please!"

Stella narrowed her eyes slightly as she went to the couch. At least she was willing to listen.

"I, uh, I'm sorry," Annalise began, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm sorry for what I said. A stupid guy isn't the only good in my life. I have you. You matter to me, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't." She really couldn't stop herself from rambling. "I miss you. I miss seeing you here between classes, and I miss your optimism because a bitch could use some of that. And, and I'm sorry for the negativity I've brought in here. I'm working on it now, I swear. Just… come back. Come home… because bro, you're my wife, dude."

It could have been funny, but there was nothing funny about the way she said it. Her eyes were wide and pleading, and she was rubbing her hands together. Stella merely blinked her hazel eyes, nearly overwhelmed by that string of words.

"Look at you, expressing your emotions," she said after a while. "I can see why you hold it back."

Annalise nodded rapidly. "It's my first day on a new medication. Got me all sorts of hyped up, but I'll mellow out in a couple of weeks. And I'm taking therapy seriously again!"

Stella was surprised. "Oh, I see. Well… I've missed you too. Bro…"

"Bro?"

"I'll come home too. Camila's bed is too small for the two of us."

"Bro…"

"I know. I have to update you on all that."

"Br-"

"Okay!" Stella broke out a smile and stood up. "Dame un abrazo, puta."

That was much easier than Annalise had anticipated. She stood up and hugged her best friend, relieved. Stella wasn't one to hold a grudge, nor was she as stubborn as her roommate. It was another person to cross off the list.

Shawn had social media mainly to get his music out there. Yes, he interacted with his friends on Snapchat, and some fans on Twitter. Most of the time, Shawn just tweeted when he had new music coming out. He didn't check any of his social media very often, not even to stalk Ann's accounts because she was rarely on her's. He didn't even have his notifications on, purely to keep himself from the possibility of getting too attached to the opinions of random strangers online.

That was why he woke up that morning to a number of texts from Camila.

"SHAAWWNWNN"

"SHAWN IM LKTERSLLY BALD RN"

"CHEKC UR TWITTER RIGHT NOW!!!!!!"

"YOIR FOLLOWERS!!! AAHSKSKSK"

"SKSKSK SHAWNMM IM SCRAMING"

So to Twitter he went. Shawn rubbed sleep out of his eye as he went to his profile. He had around 10k to begin with, that he built up on his own over the last couple of years. He nearly dropped his phone on his face as he read the new number.

50.2k

"What… the fuck?" he breathed out as he sat up in his bed. He scrolled through the list, making sure this wasn't a series of spam bots.

His mentions were just as wild, and it explained the sudden blow up.

@hollaestor: @shawnmendes hiii bella told me to follow you

@samxriv: @shawnmendes i am free to hang out on tuesday to hang out when i am free

@gisellenjh: @shawnmendes bella sent me here and im glad she did! loving your music!

And there were plenty more like that. There were so many tweets, Shawn couldn't even get through all of them. It was making his head spin. There was only one Bella he knew about too… He just couldn't spell her last name. Thankfully, her handle was just @bellasanti, and it was the first one to pop up when he typed it in the search bar.

Right under Bella Santiago's name and the blue checkmark were the two little words: Follows you. Shawn refreshed the page ten times before it sank in. This YouTuber, who has over 2 million followers, somehow found Shawn's music… and she liked it. She liked it enough to tweet about it… 3 days ago.

@bellasanti: underrated spotify artists: @shawnmendes. give him a listen. send him some love. truly talented guy💖

Shawn had only overheard Bella's videos when Ann was watching them in the other room. He never really watched any of her content. But he wanted to pass out at the fact that she took the time to listen to his music and tweet about him. He wanted to jump on the bed. He wanted to call-

He texted Camila back. "Wtf why did no one tell me sooner?? This is so crazy!!!!!"

"We thought you knew and you were keeping it from us!! LMAO congrats rockstar!"

He couldn't believe it. His follower count was rising. He was getting emails from Spotify saying his songs were being added to many different playlists.

@shawnmendes: @bellasanti wow thank you so much! Love you bella❤

He deleted the last bit before tweeting it. Holy shit. Shawn lied back down on the mattress, completely breathless.

How does someone like Bella Santiago find Shawn out in cyberspace? What Spotify rabbit hole did she go down that led her to him? How many of his songs did she listen to? How many songs did she save to her library? How many of those playlist emails were from her? Shawn had so many questions.

There were two things Annalise noticed when she was out on the courtyard after Biology. The first thing was a table on the side of the walkway, with a handmade banner hanging off the front. It read in big letters: Shawn Mendes: Live at The Cameron House. Brian, Alessia. and Camila were all sat on the same side at this table, talking to a student who was interested in the little display.

"The lounge called back," Annalise muttered to herself.

The other thing Annalise noticed was Patrick sitting under a tree nearby, reading a book. She went to him first.

The last time she had spoken to Patrick was when they cut up flowers together. He was never one to explicitly state when something has upset him, and he has seen Annalise in a depressive episode before. Annalise knew him well. Patrick kept his distance because he didn't like the negativity around her, and he couldn't afford any more of it himself.

"Hey," she greeted.

His blue eyes tore away from his book to meet her gaze. "'Sup?"

"Trying to be less fucked in the head," she told him.

Patrick nodded in approval. "Cool."

That was all that was needed for the two of them. Content, Annalise turned and went for the table. A small line had formed when she wasn't looking, so she waited behind the last person. However, with three people running the thing, Annalise got to the front fairly quick.

"Oh, she actually showed up," Brian chimed, amused.

"Meaning?" Annalise asked.

"Thought you were too pissed at Shawn to care about his show, that's all."

She swallowed the pit of annoyance, discovering that even more people knew about that. Brian is his friend, though, of course he'd know.

"Selling tickets or something?" Annalise turned her attention to the two girls.

"Yeah! Ten dollars a piece!" Alessia explained.

"Cool, I'll take one."

Just as she opened the flap on her book bag, Camila spoke up.

"Wait. I'm pretty sure Shawn said he wanted to buy you your ticket himself."

Annalise rolled her eyes. "Well, he's not here and I can do things for myself." She pulled out her wallet and paid her own goddamn ticket.

Camila breathed out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna let him do anything nice for you?"

None of your fucking business.

A new thought occurred to Annalise. "Why are tickets being sold for this show? Aren't his gigs usually free?"

"There's more production going into this one," Brian told her. "The lounge gave him the option to make it a ticketed event, and we need to make back what we already put into it. So now, it won't be a performance, it'll be Shawn's performance."

Shawn already knew how to make an audience his bitch, but…

"Alright then." Annalise shrugged and then accepted her ticket and receipt from Alessia.

The ticket alone was already quite extravagant. There were little red roses designed around the edges. This boy really loved his fucking flowers.

"I'm guessing rose petals will fall from the ceiling or something?" she guessed with a chuckle.

"I was given strict orders to not spoil anything," Brian told her, folding his arms.

The two had a mini staredown until Annalise shrugged again. "Whatever."

Then, Camila piped up again, suddenly excited. "Ooh, Ann did you hear? Bella Santiago followed Shawn on Twitter!"

"She what?" Annalise stupidly replied.

Camila practically squealed. "She gave him a shoutout too! He's blowing up on Spotify! Isn't that awesome?"

Annalise wanted to say something, but her brain wasn't quite caught up yet. So she just walked away.

The other three students watched her leave. Needless to say, they were confused.

"Is she ever gonna be happy for him?" Alessia wondered.

"I think she was excited?" Camila said tilting her head.

"I can't believe Shawn is going through all this trouble for that," Brian said with a scoff.

"I can still hear you!" Annalise called over her shoulder as she kept walking.

All three of them went red in the face, embarrassed. Brian would have made a comment about her being a vampire with supersonic hearing, but he didn't want to be called out again.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @goldenmndes @shawnvvmendes @shawnsunflower @shawmndes @ruinhoney @someoneunimportantxx @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea @softmendesss @mutuallynotmutual

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #aahhhh its so short n boring im so srryyy

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