#so i can imagine so many different ways the melody could be organized on top of the same instrumental with the same mood you know

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Drive me crazy | Tom Felton one shot (smut)

Request: yes, by anon. 

Word count: 3,017

Pairing: Tom Felton x reader

Warning: sexual content, PDA, daddy kink, swearing, oral sex (female receiving)

It started as a stupid bet, and neither of us would have thought we would make it so serious. A month ago, Tom saw a stupid video on TikTok, where the couple wanted to see how long they can go without having sex. And of course he wanted to try it too. We both found it stupid, and thought we’d break after a week, but after eight whole days, we found a way to make it a little bit more spicy. Tom would come up behind me and kiss my neck while I was making breakfast, or I would go and sit on his lap in nothing but one of his tank tops. Small little things that we knew would drive the other crazy. We both tried to break the other and win this foolish bet. At first, I was actually glad that he found something that could make the quarantine life more interested, but when we reached the one month milestone in the bet, I knew we were both at the edge of madness. I had to do something. My body missed him, and I wanted to catch on fire when we were in the same room, yet alone in the same bed every single night. I would have gave up everything just to get my internal organs rearranged by Tom.

“Babe?” I called out his name. I heard the calming melody of the piano, and knew where I had to find him. I went to his little music room and watched how his long fingers ran on the keys. Tom always knew how to use those beautiful fingers of his. He looked up from the sheet music that was spread open in front of him and smirked at me. He knew very well what he was doing and he enjoyed seeing me suffer.

“Yes, darling?” His voice was low and he stretched his words. I had to bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning. My eyes wandered back to his fingers that were playing a faster song now. 

“We need to go grocery shopping and I thought we could go to the mall real quick” I walked up to him and hugged him from behind. I slowly slid down my hands on his shoulder blades, down on his chest and leaned to his ear. My lips brushed his ear as a whispered in his ear “I’m in the mood of a little bit of shopping” I kissed the thin skin behind his ear and gently scratched his chest with my nails. I felt his whole body tensed under my touch. I smiled to myself, knowing that he was as famished as I was. He was in my hands, and I wasn’t going to give him any mercy.

———-

We were walking hand in hand in the mall, enjoying that we were finally out of the house, even if we had to wear our masks. Tom was talking about a new trick that he wanted to teach Willow, and I tried not to pour cold water on him by telling him Willow hated to learn new tricks, because she preferred play time and naps with her Daddy. My eyes were scanning the shops and the shopwindow, trying to find something that I actually liked, but all my previous plans about buying some new clothes for spring, and some new hoodies for Tom were long forgotten when my eyes caught a glimpse of my favourite lingerie shop. 

“Come” I dragged him with me. I knew all his weak spots, and one of them being Italian lingerie. Lord knows how many of it ended up in the bin just after hours of purchasing them. They made Tom go crazy and brought out the raw caveman in him, which always left me shaking in bed and not being able to walk properly for days. 

“Didn’t you buy this stuff last month?” He asked me with tilted eyebrows. He could be so daffy sometimes “Or did they end up in pieces?” I laughed and walked in to the store, with Tom closely following me. I knew what I wanted and what I had to do to get it, and I wasn’t planning to play a fair game with him. 

I walked around the store, looking for the most beautiful, most revealing lingerie that I could find. I was playing with the different kind of fabrics, showing Tom, asking him to feel it himself and imagine how good it must feel against my skin. With each set, his patience was getting smaller and smaller, and his actions became possessive - always blocking me from other male costumers who were there with their partners. I was dancing on very thin ice, but I wanted to break the ice. 

“I’ll go and try these on” I kissed his cheek sweetly, dangerously close to his lips. I went to the changing rooms with a few new pieces of lingerie and waited for him to catch up with me “Be a dear, and hold my bag in the meantime, yeah?” I smiled at him innocently and closed the door of the changing room. I hesitated about my choice, but I finally settled with a black, lacy set with a suspenders attached to the bottom. I let my hair out of the messy bun and checked my reflection. I was more than satisfied with what I saw in the mirror. The lingerie fitted perfectly, my hair was wavy from the bun and it covered my shoulders. My face was glowing, I had a little red colour in my cheeks and my eyes were dark from lust and the fire in them made them look like they were shining like stars on the pitch black sky. I slowly opened the door, and leaned to the frame, playing with the ends of my hair as a looked at Tom, who was sitting on the sofa, placed right in front of the changing rooms. He was doing something on his phone, but he dropped it the second he looked up and saw me. His eyes turned black from icy blue in just a second, and he was on his feet. 

“So” I smirked at him, straightening up and turning around so he could get a better look at my chosen set “What do you think?” As a response, he pushed me back to the changing room and closed the door behind him. He threw my bag to the corner and pushed me against the wall behind me. His hands were gripping my hips and his face was inches away from mine. I could feel his heavy breathing on my skin and the burning of his gaze on my body. This was the exact reaction I wanted from him. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to me. His chest was pressed to mine and his thigh was between my legs, brushing against my aching core. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, woman” he growled in my ear and aggressively bit my skin on my shoulder. He was clever. He knew this game very well, and he still tried to win even though we both knew he lost the second he pushed me back to the changing room. Game was over, and I won our bet. And I knew my price was going to leave me shaking, screaming and unable to walk for days after this but it was so worth it “I want to taste you so bad” 

“Fuck this” I said and pulled him down to me. Kisses weren’t banned throughout the bet, but this definitely felt different than those. We didn’t care about it anymore, we just wanted to feel each other again. 32 days of abstinence was in that kiss. I felt his love, his lust, his struggle, his hunger and his desire. Tom’s grip got tighter and his kiss got deeper and more demanding. His hands wandered from my hips to my backside, smoothing his palms on the shape of it and grabbing it with such force it made me moan into his mouth. With this, he had the perfect chance to slip his tongue into my mouth and find its partner and ask it for a dance. I let go of my grip on his shirt and slowly slid down my right hand on his chest, his stomach and even more slowly on his abdomen until I reached him. He was already rock hard under my touch, and that deep groan that I loved so much broke out from him when I gently palmed him. With my left hand, I dig into his hair and pulled it slightly.

“Darling” he moaned and kissed alongside my jawline, his arms holding me closer than ever. I felt like a goddess under his touch. Tom’s hands left my backside and ran up on my back, straight to my hair. He pulled my hair with his left hand to tilt my head back so he could look into my eyes “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy, it was enough to push me into another dimension. Tom’s right hand grabbed my neck and held me in my place. He ran his thumb across my bottom lip and squeezed my neck gently, just how I liked it “You’ve been such a naughty little girl”

“Babe, please” I whispered and kissed his thumb, never breaking the eye contact. He was in my hands and I wasn’t letting him go so easily. Tom tilted his head to the side, his dark and dangerous side showing a little.

“Please what, princess?” He looked at me like a predator looks at its prey. My blood froze in my veins but blew up in just a second, under his gaze. I felt the heat rising between my legs and my knees seemed to be too weak to hold me any longer. Tom helped me to stay steady by locking my body between the wall and his body “Tell me what you want”

“Don’t be gentle” my voice was shaky. Tom cooed at me and brought his thumb to my lips, forcing it between my lips. I gently sucked on it and closed my eyes, imagining all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I wanted him to do to me right there and then. 

“What else do you want?” His lips were on my neck, leaving wet kisses and bite marks all over my skin. He was trying to push me to my edges. He was controlling me, and I was happily obeying him, which turned him on even more. He lived for being in control and being dominant in the bedroom, and I was perfectly submissive for him “Say it, baby girl”

“I want you to push my knees apart and paint my thighs with purple kisses” my eyes were begging him. Begging for him to ease my pain and make me feel fully alive. I wanted to scream his name and hold onto him while both of us came down from our highs. 

“Such a good girl” Tom was satisfied with me. And when he was, he always rewarded me with something “Daddy fucking loves you” he whispered in my ears and let go of my neck, sliding down his hand on my chest, grabbing my breast, massaging it while his lips kissed me with passion and hunger. Tom’s hands were exploring my whole body, they were everywhere where I wanted him the most. 

“Tom” I whimpered under his touch. I was craving him and I had enough of the teasing. I was burning inside and needed him to let me cool down “Do something, damnit” he looked amazed by my sudden demanding and bold tone. His fingers finally found my genitalia and hummed at how wet I was already. He slid his finger in the black lace thong and stroked slowly between my folds, pushing on my clit to make me go crazy. He started moving his finger painfully slow on my clit, pushing on it harder  after a few strokes. He was fast to cover my mouth with his free hand to dim my moan when he suddenly pushed two fingers in me. Tom moved his fingers in a steady pace, not letting me to close my eyes. 

“Quiet, baby girl. We don’t want anyone to find out what we’re doing, do we?” He whispered in my ear and bit my earlobe gently. I nodded slowly, my eyes shutting at the pleasure of finally feelings his hands on me again. Tom pulled his finger out and brought it to my mouth, touching my lips with it “Now suck” he ordered and my lips parted automatically at his tone. He pushed his finger in my mouth, watching with a satisfied look on his face as a sucked on it “That’s it, darling. Now be a good girl for daddy and stay quiet”

“Yes, daddy” I whispered and leaned my head on the wall, closing my eyes and enjoying the wet kisses on my skin what Tom left on me as he slowly moved down on my body and kneeled in front of me. He pulled down my soaking wet undies and threw it to the other end of the changing room. He slid his hand up on my calf and grabbed my right leg and placed it on his shoulder. My hands found their way to his hair and pulled it softly when I felt his lips on the inner side of my thigh. He planted open kisses on it, biting on the thin and sensitive skin, sucking on it to leave his mark on my body for him to admire his work of art later. 

“So soft” he spoke in a low voice and kissed along my bikini line “And so wet” he blew on my clit which made me shiver from pleasure “All for me” Tom’s praising was melody to my heart and soul, and it just made me want him even more if it was possible. His lips pecked my skin, slowly finding their way to my core. I had to bit my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming a little when I finally felt his warm tongue flicking my clit and diving inside of my fold while his lips closed up on my clit. His hands were grabbing my thigh on his shoulder, and the other pushing my hip to the wall, forcing me to stay still. My back arched at the satisfaction and my fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling on it with every gentle stroke he left on me. 

“Look at me” I almost sobbed when Tom stopped for a bare second just to order me and bite on my skin again “I want you to look at me while I’m eating you out” I obeyed his order, knowing very well if I didn’t, he would have stopped “God, you taste so fucking good, princess” 

“Don’t stop” I whimpered and pushed his head back which made him chuckle darkly, but chose to give me what I wanted. He let go of my leg and teased my slit, drawing small circles, before spitting on it and pushing them inside without any warning. His fingers were hitting the right spot every time and he double my pleasure and joy with moving his tongue on my clit quickly. My breathing became heavier and quicker as I was getting closer and closer to reach my high. It was impossible to stop myself from shaking and pushing my lower parts to his face. He looked perfect between my thighs, with his fingers deep inside me and his tongue spelling the most beautiful poems on my clit, while his dark eyes drowned me in “Fuck, Tom” I hissed. He sped up the movements of his fingers and gently bit on my clit. The suddenly came slight pain pushed me to the very edge and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I covered my mouth from moaning his names loudly. It was a torture, not being able to show how amazing he felt. 

“Come on princess, come on my face” his breath tickled my pussy as he spoke “Be a good girl and come for daddy” he bit my skin above my Venus mound. His fingers curved inside me, making me see stars from pleasure. He harshly sucked on my clit, pushing his warm and strong tongue on it to give me the full satisfaction. His voice, his look, the way his fingers literally conjured me and a month without having him inside me was enough to completely destroy me and push me to the land of pleasure. My leg gave up and Tom had to hold me while I rode out my high on his face. I felt his smile on my skin and he cleaned me up with his tongue, enjoying the taste of me. He slowly pulled out his finger and brought it to his lips, licking my juice from them and smiling at me darkly. 

“Get dressed” he kissed me sweetly, but I could feel the hunger in it “We’re going home. I’m not finished with you yet” he said and tucked my hair behind my ear “I want to hear you scream my name” he whispered in my ear “I want you to shake under me and beg for me” I swallowed hard, already feeling myself getting hot just by his words. He gave me my clothes and turned around to leave me alone to get my clothes back on, but he suddenly turned around before he exited the changing room “And I’m buying all of these” he said and grabbed all of the lingerie that were still untouched and hung on the clothes peg. By the time I was ready, Tom already paid for the different coloured and different styled lingerie and was waiting for me impatiently in front of the store. It was safe to stay, we didn’t left our bedroom for the rest of the weekend. 

#tom felton #Tom Felton request #Tom Felton one shot #Tom Felton imagines #Tom Felton smut story #Tom Felton x reader #Draco malfof #Draco Malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy smut #smut #Draco Malfoy x reader

[bts-weverse-trans]

201125 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - V

V: “I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.25

During V’s photo shoot, he’s wearing a different expression in every photo on the monitor. They create a tension and an anticipation because we have no way of knowing what he might do even one second later. But the result is cool from start to finish. It’s V.

How are you doing these days? It’s been a long time since you were able to see your fans. V: I’m not over-stressing about how I can’t meet the fans face to face right now. I just want to see them when it’s safe to meet. I think now, I can wait until then.

As your song says, “Life Goes On.” You decided to keep going on with your life. V: We have to move on. We can’t feel defeated forever. I felt a lot better after making some songs.

Other than working on “Dynamite,” you’ve spent very little time away from home. How do you pass the time when you’re by yourself? V: I really like just spacing out, so I’ll sit in my room doing nothing for hours. I could try putting on a movie, but then I couldn’t concentrate and would just zone out. When that happens, it’s kind of like I’m living without a thought or care in the world. Maybe I should make a song about all of this someday. Probably call it “Spaced.” (laughs) Anyway, these days I’m looking for ways to keep myself happy.

Have you found anything? V: Well, I’m listening to LPs lately. It’s getting to be Christmas season and I love snow, so I bought two or three Christmas LPs to listen to. I’m also listening to old jazz songs by Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. Frank Sinatra is cool, like chilled wine; Sammy Davis Jr. is crazy talented. (laughs)

So that’s the type of performer you find cool. V: Those two were also a big inspiration to me while we were working on “Dynamite.” Sinatra has all this jazzy body language, but he also threw some disco in there. And I imagined how Sammy Davis Jr. might dance if there were a mic on stage and he had to dance around it. They were a lot of help when I was finding a way to be upbeat and cool at the same time in “Dynamite.”

I guess making “Dynamite” must have been some consolation even when you couldn’t meet fans due to COVID-19. V: We couldn’t put on a concert and couldn’t see ARMY, so we were feeling more and more drained. It seemed like an endless battle. We really wanted to see ARMY feeling better, so we had to get back up on stage and make another album so that together we could beat this thing. I want to be the friend who’s always cheering ARMY on, but there aren’t many ways to make them feel better.

How was the whole “Dynamite” experience? You made it to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 and also had a chance to perform in a variety of different styles. V: Shooting the Tiny Desk Concert was a very natural process, which was nice. But actually, with the situation being what it is, we couldn’t really feel much. The day the news came out was of course thrilling. It was great, actually, all of us calling each other and some of us laughing and others crying: “We haven’t gone down the wrong path after all! Turns out we had a chance—it really was possible!”

While you were performing in “Dynamite,” you were also the visual director for BE. I’m sure you were unimaginably busy taking photos, but were you able to communicate well with the other members? V: We communicated smoothly, and I listened to all of their concept ideas and I organized everything around that. If we tried something too natural, it wouldn’t be conceptual enough, so we did our best to strike a balance.

You had everyone sitting in the middle, with the set arranged symmetrically around you. V: That was made possible thanks to everyone having their own ideas. There was no overlap between items, which actually allowed us to create a sense of unity by placing all these different props symmetrically. It wasn’t intended to be symmetrical; each member really did choose something unique.

In your room, you included a violin and a photograph. V: That’s a picture I took. I like photos and drawings, but if I had used any art then I would’ve been using that one particular artist’s work, so I thought I’d better use one of my own photos. I ended up choosing the violin because I learned how to play it but also because I enjoy classical and jazz.

So how do you feel it turned out? V: I made it, so naturally I like it. (laughs) Part of me thinks I should’ve tried something more conceptual. BE was supposed to give off sort of a magazine or poster feel since we didn’t shoot many of those, but it ended up having more of a natural feel to it. But I did think that the next time we try to make a photoshoot conceptual we should move away from that natural look a bit. The group explained their ideas clearly and they were simple enough to do, so I think it all went really smoothly.

It sounds like there were no problems choosing the songs for BE. How did you feel recording your parts on the other members’ songs? V: I like “Dis-ease,” which Hobi hyung wrote, but stylistically it was challenging. It’s really far from my own style so it took a long time to get used to. “Fly to My Room” used to be my favorite song, but it was also the hardest to sing. It was okay at first, until Jimin jumped in.

What about Jimin? V: Because I had to keep up with Jimin, the song went up maybe three keys. I thought I would die. (laughs) It started out as my favorite song, but it was just way too hard to sing.

But why did you have to sing that way? V: Jimin said he was sorry, that he couldn’t go any lower. (laughs) When I first heard the demo version, the key was perfect for me, so I thought it would sound great and I should definitely do it. But then Jimin said he wanted to do it too, so I said, “Great, let’s do it together.” Turns out we went up three keys. So I said, “Hey, what’s the deal? Should I just give up?” But, well, somehow it all worked out in the end. It was a happy ending. (laughs)

People might be able to hear that part better because it’s so much higher. (laughs) The tone of your combined voices and the way they contrast is really impressive. V: Yes, but all that aside, it was quite the struggle. (laughs) And the chorus is really long. I think it repeats, what, four times?

Yes, it feels like the chorus never ends. The production style is very unique. I like how the emotion is carried through the whole way. V: I agree, but it’s so long. The chorus turned out crazy, like I was kind of beating the melody into people’s ears. (laughs) The chorus is good, but the whole song’s melody is really catchy. Whenever I heard the beat, I was totally into it. The way the vocals pick up on the beat and the melody was so original and fun, I just had to do it.

What instructions did you give to the other members when they were singing on your song, “Blue & Grey”? V: I didn’t really have to give them instructions much. I told them it would be nice if they could think of all their problems and then try healing those wounds with their voices, since if they focus on those emotions, there’ll be more feeling in the song. They all did a good job expressing the emotions I wasn’t able to.

It seems like you intended “Blue & Grey” to be a melancholy song. I heard you had originally planned to put it on your mixtape. V: I wrote “Blue & Grey” when I was at my lowest point, when I was actually asking whether I could keep going with my work or not. Even the fun parts of work became a chore, and my whole life felt aimless. “Where do I go from here? I can’t even see the end of the tunnel.” Those kinds of thoughts hit me hard.

Was there a reason for that? V: It was when work was a major challenge. When I’m happy, I want to work, and when I’m happy I can put on a smile and see the fans, but there was just so much work to do. I’m an easygoing, you know, laid-back person, but I was stretched too thin and I was starting to sputter. What I mean is, I was having a really tough time, and thinking, “What’s waiting for me at the end? It’s important to be successful, but I’m also trying to be happy, so how come I’m not happy right now?” That’s when I started to write “Blue & Grey.”

So writing the song was sort of your way of bringing yourself some peace of mind. V: There was a time I was going through something like this. I was having the toughest time, but I couldn’t keep carrying that feeling around with me. Instead, I could use it as a kind of fertilizer. So I took care of that feeling by constantly writing it down in my notes. I just kept writing everything down, and when finally I felt like I wanted to try writing a song, I did. After the song was finished, I felt a sense of accomplishment, and that’s how I was able to let go of “Blue & Grey.” That was one way I wanted to try getting over my problem.

The songs you make or sing solo on all have similar images: night; loneliness; snow. V: I like nighttime and the late-night air, and when it snows, too. I liked those things since way back when, but lately I feel things like snow and the night air keep me alive. They may just be another part of normal life to other people, but to me, they represent very special moments.

That makes me think of the ending from “Blue & Grey”: “After secretly sending my words up into the air / Now I fall asleep at dawn.” V: I don’t really sleep well. I toss and turn and get caught up in a lot of thoughts. Even when I turn out all the lights, I can see everything clearly. I close my eyes, but all my thoughts spread wide open. Then I’m sleepy at work, and staring off into space when I’m alone, with bags under my eyes, but if I want to avoid that then I really have to sleep. Except, with the way I am, it doesn’t allow for it. I wrote about that in the first and second verses; a feeling like, “When I’m stuck thinking like this, everything is grey, and I’m all blue.” I wrote these feelings out as a song, and now that I’m thinking about it again, I’m actually over it. I feel a lot lighter. I sent my words out into the air, and now I fall asleep at dawn. You’re supposed to sleep at night, but I’m sleeping in the morning again. So I say “good night,” but it’s not actually a good night. “I pass out because I’m exhausted” kind of thing. It’s the emotions I felt in those moments that I wanted to express.

What do you hope hearing about that feeling will do for listeners? V: Rather than just some stranger telling them to cheer up, I think it’s better to say something like, “You seem depressed lately,” or, “Seems like these days it’s tough for you to perk up.” “Blue & Grey” is the same: “You’re depressed lately? Me too. We’re in the same boat. Wanna talk about how you’re feeling? You wanna feel better, right? I know, but sometimes it feels like you’re being washed away by a whirlpool of stress.” I want the listeners to hear me saying that to them.

It’s important to express your emotions right away when they’re so overwhelming. V: Yes. I usually write a lot of songs when I’m feeling emotional, but these days I have so many different things to do that I can’t really write anything. I tried to write something before when I had a little time, but nothing came out because the feelings I had were already gone. So I tell myself, “You gotta write a lot when you’ve got the feels!” (laughs) And then I open my notes app and come back to old notes, like, “Ah, so that’s how I was feeling back then? I see. Well, that’s how I used to be, I guess.” So I tried to write “Blue & Grey” quickly, as soon as a big feeling came on.

Then it’s important to revisit those feelings when you’re producing a song or choosing which songs to release? V: If you can’t bring the feeling back, you can’t make the song, either. I release a song if I feel it expresses who I was and how I felt at the time when I wrote it. Even if we record it perfectly, if the result sounds artificial, I would rather release another, more honest sounding song instead, even if it’s not perfect.

Are those the kinds of songs you selected for your mixtape? V: Um … I don’t know. This is my first mixtape, you know, so I feel a ton of pressure about it. I’m thinking all the time about what kind of album I should make so that I can feel satisfied with it. The title track is the title track, but everyone also says to just leave it as it is, but I keep getting the urge to keep putting in more and more.

You usually write and choose songs based on your emotions. Maybe the pressure to make your first mixtape comes from you having a hard time with that. V: I think it still has a long way to go. Maybe it’s because it’s my first mixtape, but it’s so hard. And I feel like it’s a little lazy. People tell me just to put it out and see how it does, but I’d rather know what needs to be fixed before I release it. I also don’t want the title track to be depressing. I want it to be positive and help people beat those depressed feelings. But it’s not easy.

That sounds a lot like what the members conveyed with “Life Goes On.” V: I think we showed the current situation in a very straightforward and honest way. We’re still going, going, going. And the going is tough. But it doesn’t end here. I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together. I hope we’ll all be happy in the future and keep on doing our own best, cherishing our hope for our happy future.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #taehyung #weverse magazine #comeback interview #201125 #2020 #be album

[nose-bandaid]

n.i.t.e.

hi 👉👈 may i please request reader&wooseok + wooseok giving reader guitar lessons or maybe writing a song together? i love the idea of quiet nights in the studio, just being creative together and enjoying each other's company... it sounds really nice 😔

Wooseok x (gender neutral) Reader fluff | 1.7k words

synopsis: nights like these, where it was just the two of you chilling, making music together — you found them most enjoyable.

a/n: BAM another request done. for you anon !!! i hope you enjoy, this was very fun to write :D

=====

"Home at last," Wooseok sighed as he punched in the pin to his studio and pushed the door open. Trailing behind him, you looked around at the familiar room and quirked an eyebrow.

"You call this your home now? Not the dorms?"

He shrugged. "I practically live here, so it might as well be. But you know," He gently kicked the leg of the couch nearby. "I got my bed right here." He then lazily gestured to the setup of all the music equipment you could possibly imagine. "Entertainment right there," Lastly, he turned around and placed a heavy hand on the top of your head, his other hand reaching down to tug the bag of snacks out of your grasp. "And my kitchen right here!"

"You calling me a kitchen?" You retorted in mock offence.

Your boyfriend ignored the comment. "I'd say this is a pretty good home! So come in, come in, welcome to my humble abode."

"You're kitchen says thank you." You replied and he sent you a cheeky grin as you shut the door behind you.

While Wooseok took a seat and started up the computer, you headed over to the low coffee table next to the couch. Scattered on top of it was a mess of sheet music and stray lyric sheets, forgotten by the other members. Instinctively, you sat down and began to sort through the papers, allocating different piles for different categories to the best of your ability.

"How do you guys manage to work like this? Nothing's organized." You chastised when you recognized papers from eras ages ago.

"We don't." Wooseok laughed as he continued clicking away on his software. "Thanks for cleaning it up, the others will appreciate it."

"As long as you give me credit." You hummed.

It was a peaceful setting — the shuffling of the papers mixed with the quiet tune playing from Wooseok's speakers every so often. The dim lights from above and the drawn curtains gave a cozy feeling. This place was just for the two of you.

You enjoyed it very much, it wasn't often that you got to hang out like this; basking in each other's presence.

Your hand hesitated when your eye caught a familiar title on one of the sheets. Pulling it out from the pile, you realized it was guitar part for one of their songs — your favourite.

"Hey wait I really like this song!" You gasped and the other idly replied, too focused on the work in front of him.

"Wooseok." You tried again.

"Mhm?"

"Teach me how to play this song, I wanna play it."

That got his attention.

Getting up from his seat, he walked over and glanced at the papers in front of you. "Ah, a classic, everyone knows how to play this song."

"So you can teach me?"

He smiled as he grabbed the guitar from its stand. "Of course."

Wooseok started right away, teaching you about frets and chords and how to read the tablature in front of you and how to properly position your fingers and woah — that was a lot.

But it's okay because Wooseok is sitting behind you, guiding you through everything and you're slowly managing to read through the music.

"This is a bit harder than I thought it would be." The utterance of defeat fell off your lips before you could even register it.

"No, no you're doing just fine. How about you try it like this?" He reached over your shoulders to position your hands correctly on the fret. "Try strumming it now."

You gave the guitar a tentative strum and perked up when the chord came out much clearer than it did before.

"See?" Wooseok chuckled. "You're doing amazing baby, it just takes time. At the rate you're learning at, I'm gonna have to tell Yuto you'll be giving him a run for his money."

You hummed in response absentmindedly as you slowly but surely tried to memorize the fingering for the next chord. "I guess it's not that bad."

"Exactly! There's always tough obstacles that come in the way of making music, but once you get started, all you have to do is go with the flow and you'll get there eventually." He explained as he went back to his seat and dropped onto it with a soft huff. He proceeded to search through his drawers in search of something before pulling out a book and pen.

"Speaking of music, I want to write a song," Wooseok said a few minutes later, out of the blue. "Like right now. I feel determined."

"All in one go?" You asked and he nodded in agreement.

"So," He continued and tapped his pen onto the empty pages of his notebook. "Tell me, y/n. What's something you've been thinking about these days?"

"What have I been thinking about...?" You echoed, still focused on playing the song in front of you. There was a suspenseful pause as you recalled your thoughts from the past few days.

"You."

Wooseok stifled a laugh from behind his hand. "Seriously? Don't you think that's a bit of a cliché thing to write about?"

You stopped playing fully and rested your weight on the guitar. "Then there must be a good reason why it's so popular, right?"

"Touché. Let's get started on that idea then — praise me! Compliment me! Tell me why you love me!"

"Ah... for some reason I don't feel like writing about this topic now." You teased.

"HEY!"

=====

Hours later, the lyrics were done, the melody was drafted and ready for recording. You let Wooseok do most of the vocals for the demo, but he insisted you take part in some of it as well. Looking back on everything that happened, you were amazed to see how your determination allowed you to get so much work done.

"What should we title it?" Wooseok asked and you heard the sound of him saving the piece.

"That's a very good question, I don't usually like this part 'cause it always feels like it has to be perfect."

He pursed his lips as he thought, staring at the LED clock for inspiration. "What about NITE? As in like, N-I-T-E."

"N-I-T-E for Noodles In The Evening?" You joked, nodding towards the empty cup noodles sitting nearby along with discarded snack wrappers.

The boy burst out in laugher at your statement. "No, no, not for that."

You tilted your head curiously. For someone who didn't have a title in mind a few moments ago, it seemed like he had underlying intentions behind that name.

"I was thinking... Never Is There Enough." He proposed, eyes hesitant, but a hint of confidence in his voice.

"Never enough what?"

Wooseok made an odd noise in his throat as he made his way over to the couch that you were resting on and flopped his body onto yours. You took a deep breath, trying to adjust to his weight and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Very faintly, you could feel his lips moving as he muttered something.

"Woo, never enough what?" You asked again, laughing lightly at his antics.

He lifted his head and stared at you with a newfound passion. "N-never is there enough of everything!" His voice died a little before continuing. "You know like... kisses."

Wooseok gave you a quick peck on the lips to prove his point.

"No matter how many times I kiss you, I feel like it's not enough to express how much I love you." He said in one breath. Even with the dim lighting of the room, you could tell he was blushing.

"And when I tell you that I love you thiiiiis much," he opened his arms as wide as he could, accidentally knocking his hand against the wall (and letting out a quiet ow). "Even though my arms are really long, I'd reach from here to the moon if I could."

"Okay—"

He continued rambling before you could fully reply. "There's also never enough time! I wish every night could be spent like this, just the two of us hanging out, but we're both busy so it rarely happens."

You faltered a little, no longer knowing how to respond to his sudden outburst.

"Sorry, that was a little overbearing, I'm just a little excited," Wooseok said sheepishly. "I really want this to be our song, you know?"

"I get that," You gently patted his head in reassurance. "I don't find it overwhelming, you were just too cute I needed a moment to register all of that."

"So you think the name is okay?"

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss.

"I think it's perfect, and you seem like it so much I don't think I can go against it."

You adored the glimmer in his eyes when he heard your reply.

"Though I think I still like Noodles In The Evening more... or Never Is There Enough noodles!" You added on and whispered a just kidding when his expression broke into a pout.

"Are you hungry again or something?"

You averted your gaze. "Maybe."

"Do you wanna order more food?" He asked.

You immediately perked up at the offer. "Seriously?"

"Always serious when it comes to food."

"What time is it?"

"Ehh..." He gave the innocent clock a disapproving look. "Late, but something's gonna be open so it's fine."

"Then I'm down," You said, sitting up and watching Wooseok reach over for his phone. As he searched for places to order from, you spoke up again.

"Hey, Wooseok?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do this again sometime, it was nice."

A small smile tugged on his lips at your words. "Really? Even though we didn't do much?"

"Dude, of course! Any time spent with you is amazing and we pretty much have our own song already made," you said, leaning forward as Wooseok listened to you with full interest. "Let's make it our goal to have an album done then. An album special to just the two of us, how does that sound?"

The smile on his face was wide now. "That sounds amazing."

"You're amazing," You kissed him on the nose and he flushed.

"I think every time you kiss me, I suddenly gain the ability to write a new song about just how much I love you," Wooseok admitted, before pulling you into yet another kiss.

"If that's the case, our album will be done in no time."

#newskynet #kdiner #pentagon #wooseok #pentagon wooseok #jung wooseok #pentagon x reader #wooseok x reader #pentagon fluff #wooseok fluff #jung wooseok x reader #nose-bandaid

[fykimtaehyung]

V: “I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together”

During V’s photo shoot, he’s wearing a different expression in every photo on the monitor. They create a tension and an anticipation because we have no way of knowing what he might do even one second later. But the result is cool from start to finish. It’s V. How are you doing these days? It’s been a long time since you were able to see your fans. V: I’m not over-stressing about how I can’t meet the fans face to face right now. I just want to see them when it’s safe to meet. I think now, I can wait until then. As your song says, “Life Goes On.” You decided to keep going on with your life. V: We have to move on. We can’t feel defeated forever. I felt a lot better after making some songs. Other than working on “Dynamite,” you’ve spent very little time away from home. How do you pass the time when you’re by yourself? V: I really like just spacing out, so I’ll sit in my room doing nothing for hours. I could try putting on a movie, but then I couldn’t concentrate and would just zone out. When that happens, it’s kind of like I’m living without a thought or care in the world. Maybe I should make a song about all of this someday. Probably call it “Spaced.” (laughs) Anyway, these days I’m looking for ways to keep myself happy. Have you found anything? V: Well, I’m listening to LPs lately. It’s getting to be Christmas season and I love snow, so I bought two or three Christmas LPs to listen to. I’m also listening to old jazz songs by Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. Frank Sinatra is cool, like chilled wine; Sammy Davis Jr. is crazy talented. (laughs)

So that’s the type of performer you find cool. V: Those two were also a big inspiration to me while we were working on “Dynamite.” Sinatra has all this jazzy body language, but he also threw some disco in there. And I imagined how Sammy Davis Jr. might dance if there were a mic on stage and he had to dance around it. They were a lot of help when I was finding a way to be upbeat and cool at the same time in “Dynamite.” I guess making “Dynamite” must have been some consolation even when you couldn’t meet fans due to COVID-19. V: We couldn’t put on a concert and couldn’t see ARMY, so we were feeling more and more drained. It seemed like an endless battle. We really wanted to see ARMY feeling better, so we had to get back up on stage and make another album so that together we could beat this thing. I want to be the friend who’s always cheering ARMY on, but there aren’t many ways to make them feel better. How was the whole “Dynamite” experience? You made it to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 and also had a chance to perform in a variety of different styles. V: Shooting the Tiny Desk Concert was a very natural process, which was nice. But actually, with the situation being what it is, we couldn’t really feel much. The day the news came out was of course thrilling. It was great, actually, all of us calling each other and some of us laughing and others crying: “We haven’t gone down the wrong path after all! Turns out we had a chance—it really was possible!”

While you were performing in “Dynamite,” you were also the visual director for BE. I’m sure you were unimaginably busy taking photos, but were you able to communicate well with the other members? V: We communicated smoothly, and I listened to all of their concept ideas and I organized everything around that. If we tried something too natural, it wouldn’t be conceptual enough, so we did our best to strike a balance. You had everyone sitting in the middle, with the set arranged symmetrically around you. V: That was made possible thanks to everyone having their own ideas. There was no overlap between items, which actually allowed us to create a sense of unity by placing all these different props symmetrically. It wasn’t intended to be symmetrical; each member really did choose something unique. In your room, you included a violin and a photograph. V: That’s a picture I took. I like photos and drawings, but if I had used any art then I would’ve been using that one particular artist’s work, so I thought I’d better use one of my own photos. I ended up choosing the violin because I learned how to play it but also because I enjoy classical and jazz.

So how do you feel it turned out? V: I made it, so naturally I like it. (laughs) Part of me thinks I should’ve tried something more conceptual. BE was supposed to give off sort of a magazine or poster feel since we didn’t shoot many of those, but it ended up having more of a natural feel to it. But I did think that the next time we try to make a photoshoot conceptual we should move away from that natural look a bit. The group explained their ideas clearly and they were simple enough to do, so I think it all went really smoothly. It sounds like there were no problems choosing the songs for BE. How did you feel recording your parts on the other members’ songs? V: I like “Dis-ease,” which Hobi wrote, but stylistically it was challenging. It’s really far from my own style so it took a long time to get used to. “Fly to My Room” used to be my favorite song, but it was also the hardest to sing. It was okay at first, until Jimin jumped in. What about Jimin? V: Because I had to keep up with Jimin, the song went up maybe three keys. I thought I would die. (laughs) It started out as my favorite song, but it was just way too hard to sing. But why did you have to sing that way? V: Jimin said he was sorry, that he couldn’t go any lower. (laughs) When I first heard the demo version, the key was perfect for me, so I thought it would sound great and I should definitely do it. But then Jimin said he wanted to do it too, so I said, “Great, let’s do it together.” Turns out we went up three keys. So I said, “Hey, what’s the deal? Should I just give up?” But, well, somehow it all worked out in the end. It was a happy ending. (laughs)

People might be able to hear that part better because it’s so much higher. (laughs) The tone of your combined voices and the way they contrast is really impressive. V: Yes, but all that aside, it was quite the struggle. (laughs) And the chorus is really long. I think it repeats, what, four times? Yes, it feels like the chorus never ends. The production style is very unique. I like how the emotion is carried through the whole way. V: I agree, but it’s so long. The chorus turned out crazy, like I was kind of beating the melody into people’s ears. (laughs) The chorus is good, but the whole song’s melody is really catchy. Whenever I heard the beat, I was totally into it. The way the vocals pick up on the beat and the melody was so original and fun, I just had to do it.

#201125 #taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #t: interview #sorry i split it i thought the initial part was rly important to highlight

[fyeah-bangtan7]

V: “I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together”

During V’s photo shoot, he’s wearing a different expression in every photo on the monitor. They create a tension and an anticipation because we have no way of knowing what he might do even one second later. But the result is cool from start to finish. It’s V.

How are you doing these days? It’s been a long time since you were able to see your fans. V: I’m not over-stressing about how I can’t meet the fans face to face right now. I just want to see them when it’s safe to meet. I think now, I can wait until then.

As your song says, “Life Goes On.” You decided to keep going on with your life. V: We have to move on. We can’t feel defeated forever. I felt a lot better after making some songs.

Other than working on “Dynamite,” you’ve spent very little time away from home. How do you pass the time when you’re by yourself? V: I really like just spacing out, so I’ll sit in my room doing nothing for hours. I could try putting on a movie, but then I couldn’t concentrate and would just zone out. When that happens, it’s kind of like I’m living without a thought or care in the world. Maybe I should make a song about all of this someday. Probably call it “Spaced.” (laughs) Anyway, these days I’m looking for ways to keep myself happy.

Have you found anything? V: Well, I’m listening to LPs lately. It’s getting to be Christmas season and I love snow, so I bought two or three Christmas LPs to listen to. I’m also listening to old jazz songs by Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. Frank Sinatra is cool, like chilled wine; Sammy Davis Jr. is crazy talented. (laughs).

So that’s the type of performer you find cool. V: Those two were also a big inspiration to me while we were working on “Dynamite.” Sinatra has all this jazzy body language, but he also threw some disco in there. And I imagined how Sammy Davis Jr. might dance if there were a mic on stage and he had to dance around it. They were a lot of help when I was finding a way to be upbeat and cool at the same time in “Dynamite.”

I guess making “Dynamite” must have been some consolation even when you couldn’t meet fans due to COVID-19. V: We couldn’t put on a concert and couldn’t see ARMY, so we were feeling more and more drained. It seemed like an endless battle. We really wanted to see ARMY feeling better, so we had to get back up on stage and make another album so that together we could beat this thing. I want to be the friend who’s always cheering ARMY on, but there aren’t many ways to make them feel better.

How was the whole “Dynamite” experience? You made it to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 and also had a chance to perform in a variety of different styles. V: Shooting the Tiny Desk Concert was a very natural process, which was nice. But actually, with the situation being what it is, we couldn’t really feel much. The day the news came out was of course thrilling. It was great, actually, all of us calling each other and some of us laughing and others crying: “We haven’t gone down the wrong path after all! Turns out we had a chance—it really was possible!”

While you were performing in “Dynamite,” you were also the visual director for BE. I’m sure you were unimaginably busy taking photos, but were you able to communicate well with the other members? V: We communicated smoothly, and I listened to all of their concept ideas and I organized everything around that. If we tried something too natural, it wouldn’t be conceptual enough, so we did our best to strike a balance.

You had everyone sitting in the middle, with the set arranged symmetrically around you. V: That was made possible thanks to everyone having their own ideas. There was no overlap between items, which actually allowed us to create a sense of unity by placing all these different props symmetrically. It wasn’t intended to be symmetrical; each member really did choose something unique.

In your room, you included a violin and a photograph. V: That’s a picture I took. I like photos and drawings, but if I had used any art then I would’ve been using that one particular artist’s work, so I thought I’d better use one of my own photos. I ended up choosing the violin because I learned how to play it but also because I enjoy classical and jazz.

So how do you feel it turned out? V: I made it, so naturally I like it. (laughs) Part of me thinks I should’ve tried something more conceptual. BE was supposed to give off sort of a magazine or poster feel since we didn’t shoot many of those, but it ended up having more of a natural feel to it. But I did think that the next time we try to make a photoshoot conceptual we should move away from that natural look a bit. The group explained their ideas clearly and they were simple enough to do, so I think it all went really smoothly.

It sounds like there were no problems choosing the songs for BE. How did you feel recording your parts on the other members’ songs? V: I like “Dis-ease,” which Hobi wrote, but stylistically it was challenging. It’s really far from my own style so it took a long time to get used to. “Fly to My Room” used to be my favorite song, but it was also the hardest to sing. It was okay at first, until Jimin jumped in.

What about Jimin? V: Because I had to keep up with Jimin, the song went up maybe three keys. I thought I would die. (laughs) It started out as my favorite song, but it was just way too hard to sing.

But why did you have to sing that way? V: Jimin said he was sorry, that he couldn’t go any lower. (laughs) When I first heard the demo version, the key was perfect for me, so I thought it would sound great and I should definitely do it. But then Jimin said he wanted to do it too, so I said, “Great, let’s do it together.” Turns out we went up three keys. So I said, “Hey, what’s the deal? Should I just give up?” But, well, somehow it all worked out in the end. It was a happy ending. (laughs)

People might be able to hear that part better because it’s so much higher. (laughs) The tone of your combined voices and the way they contrast is really impressive. V: Yes, but all that aside, it was quite the struggle. (laughs) And the chorus is really long. I think it repeats, what, four times?

Yes, it feels like the chorus never ends. The production style is very unique. I like how the emotion is carried through the whole way. V: I agree, but it’s so long. The chorus turned out crazy, like I was kind of beating the melody into people’s ears. (laughs) The chorus is good, but the whole song’s melody is really catchy. Whenever I heard the beat, I was totally into it. The way the vocals pick up on the beat and the melody was so original and fun, I just had to do it.

What instructions did you give to the other members when they were singing on your song, “Blue & Grey”? V: I didn’t really have to give them instructions much. I told them it would be nice if they could think of all their problems and then try healing those wounds with their voices, since if they focus on those emotions, there’ll be more feeling in the song. They all did a good job expressing the emotions I wasn’t able to.

It seems like you intended “Blue & Grey” to be a melancholy song. I heard you had originally planned to put it on your mixtape. V: I wrote “Blue & Grey” when I was at my lowest point, when I was actually asking whether I could keep going with my work or not. Even the fun parts of work became a chore, and my whole life felt aimless. “Where do I go from here? I can’t even see the end of the tunnel.” Those kinds of thoughts hit me hard.

Was there a reason for that? V: It was when work was a major challenge. When I’m happy, I want to work, and when I’m happy I can put on a smile and see the fans, but there was just so much work to do. I’m an easygoing, you know, laid-back person, but I was stretched too thin and I was starting to sputter. What I mean is, I was having a really tough time, and thinking, “What’s waiting for me at the end? It’s important to be successful, but I’m also trying to be happy, so how come I’m not happy right now?” That’s when I started to write “Blue & Grey.”

So writing the song was sort of your way of bringing yourself some peace of mind. V: There was a time I was going through something like this. I was having the toughest time, but I couldn’t keep carrying that feeling around with me. Instead, I could use it as a kind of fertilizer. So I took care of that feeling by constantly writing it down in my notes. I just kept writing everything down, and when finally I felt like I wanted to try writing a song, I did. After the song was finished, I felt a sense of accomplishment, and that’s how I was able to let go of “Blue & Grey.” That was one way I wanted to try getting over my problem.

The songs you make or sing solo on all have similar images: night; loneliness; snow. V: I like nighttime and the late-night air, and when it snows, too. I liked those things since way back when, but lately I feel things like snow and the night air keep me alive. They may just be another part of normal life to other people, but to me, they represent very special moments.

That makes me think of the ending from “Blue & Grey”: “After secretly sending my words up into the air / Now I fall asleep at dawn.” V: I don’t really sleep well. I toss and turn and get caught up in a lot of thoughts. Even when I turn out all the lights, I can see everything clearly. I close my eyes, but all my thoughts spread wide open. Then I’m sleepy at work, and staring off into space when I’m alone, with bags under my eyes, but if I want to avoid that then I really have to sleep. Except, with the way I am, it doesn’t allow for it. I wrote about that in the first and second verses; a feeling like, “When I’m stuck thinking like this, everything is grey, and I’m all blue.” I wrote these feelings out as a song, and now that I’m thinking about it again, I’m actually over it. I feel a lot lighter. I sent my words out into the air, and now I fall asleep at dawn. You’re supposed to sleep at night, but I’m sleeping in the morning again. So I say “good night,” but it’s not actually a good night. “I pass out because I’m exhausted” kind of thing. It’s the emotions I felt in those moments that I wanted to express.

What do you hope hearing about that feeling will do for listeners? V: Rather than just some stranger telling them to cheer up, I think it’s better to say something like, “You seem depressed lately,” or, “Seems like these days it’s tough for you to perk up.” “Blue & Grey” is the same: “You’re depressed lately? Me too. We’re in the same boat. Wanna talk about how you’re feeling? You wanna feel better, right? I know, but sometimes it feels like you’re being washed away by a whirlpool of stress.” I want the listeners to hear me saying that to them.

It’s important to express your emotions right away when they’re so overwhelming. V: Yes. I usually write a lot of songs when I’m feeling emotional, but these days I have so many different things to do that I can’t really write anything. I tried to write something before when I had a little time, but nothing came out because the feelings I had were already gone. So I tell myself, “You gotta write a lot when you’ve got the feels!” (laughs) And then I open my notes app and come back to old notes, like, “Ah, so that’s how I was feeling back then? I see. Well, that’s how I used to be, I guess.” So I tried to write “Blue & Grey” quickly, as soon as a big feeling came on.

Then it’s important to revisit those feelings when you’re producing a song or choosing which songs to release? V: If you can’t bring the feeling back, you can’t make the song, either. I release a song if I feel it expresses who I was and how I felt at the time when I wrote it. Even if we record it perfectly, if the result sounds artificial, I would rather release another, more honest sounding song instead, even if it’s not perfect.

Are those the kinds of songs you selected for your mixtape? V: Um … I don’t know. This is my first mixtape, you know, so I feel a ton of pressure about it. I’m thinking all the time about what kind of album I should make so that I can feel satisfied with it. The title track is the title track, but everyone also says to just leave it as it is, but I keep getting the urge to keep putting in more and more.

You usually write and choose songs based on your emotions. Maybe the pressure to make your first mixtape comes from you having a hard time with that. V: I think it still has a long way to go. Maybe it’s because it’s my first mixtape, but it’s so hard. And I feel like it’s a little lazy. People tell me just to put it out and see how it does, but I’d rather know what needs to be fixed before I release it. I also don’t want the title track to be depressing. I want it to be positive and help people beat those depressed feelings. But it’s not easy.

That sounds a lot like what the members conveyed with “Life Goes On.” V: I think we showed the current situation in a very straightforward and honest way. We’re still going, going, going. And the going is tough. But it doesn’t end here. I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together. I hope we’ll all be happy in the future and keep on doing our own best, cherishing our hope for our happy future.

© source

#bangtan #v #m:weverse magazine #o:interview #201125

[draconicocelot]

Hidden Talent ~ Little Vampire Fic

Hello Little Vampire fandom! Have another fic! :D

(Thank you to @poepoe-thebunny for letting me write about your headcanon and to @rudolph-sackville-bagg for the add-on to that headcanon)

Description: Tony finds out about one of Rudolph’s hidden talents

{Pst! One more thing! Whenever Rudolph mentions starting up music, you may want to listen to these while they dance!

Song One: Vampire Waltz by Derek Fiechter 

Song Two: The Last Dance by Peter Gundry }

****************************

With the sun officially setting over the horizon of the castle that had become a temporary home for many, the time came for mortals to start getting ready for bed and for vampires to rise for the night. Tony had a long day of traveling around the nearby town with his parents and was anxiously awaiting his extremely comfortable bed. 

As his parents went to bed, Tony made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. On his way there, he happened to see Frieda floating her way down the hallway.

“Good evening Mrs.Sackville-Bagg,” Tony greeted in a drowsy voice.

“Why hello, Tony. Heading to bed soon I presume?” She paused in front of the bathroom door as her pale face lit up with a kind smile. Tony nodded his head as he grabbed his red-handled toothbrush and the half-empty tube of toothpaste sitting next to the mirror. 

“Yep! Time for us humans to get some shut-eye,” he ran the toothpaste covered end of his brush under the faucet for a few seconds then started brushing his teeth as Frieda let out a light chuckle.

“Just as the vampires come out to play! So unfortunate...” Tony’s expression turned to that of slight concern, which aroused a bigger smile from her. “Do not worry, I am only trying to make a joke. My son has taken a strong liking to you, he would never forgive us if we made a meal of you!” Tony spit into the sink and tried to keep his nervous smile as convincing as possible as he wiped his mouth with a towel.

“Yeahhh… haha… Well, he is the best friend I could ever ask for,” Frieda seemed pleased with the genuine tone of his voice as her expression humbled.

“I’m not sure if I ever properly thanked you for saving my son. Just know that I will be forever gracious to you, mortal boy,” Tony tipped an imaginary hat in her direction as he shut off the light in the bathroom.

“Of course! To be fair, he saved my life a few times after that, so we’re pretty even,” just as a yawn escaped Tony’s lips, Frieda turned her attention to the hallway behind her as she heard one of the doors upstairs open and close.  

“Well, have a good night, Tony. May we see each other once more before the sun rises,” with that, she floated back towards the sound of the recently-opened door. Tony proceeded to his bedroom without haste as he just continued to picture his fluffy cotton sheets shielding him from the cold air outside. It was a wonderful daydream that would soon become reality. His bedroom wasn’t far from the bathroom, but it was still easy to get lost in a castle that was so large and had dark winding hallways that all looked very similar. However, as he got closer to where his room was located, he could hear music getting progressively louder. It was very gentle music, like an angelic choir of organ chords and a solo violinist that was combined in a very specific manner. Tony definitely could tell it was coming from his room as he reached his door. Not wanting to disturb whatever was happening inside, he slightly cracked the door open by slowly turning the doorknob and peeking one eye through. 

When he looked inside, he immediately noticed that the closet doors to Rudolph’s “coffin” were open. Not only that, but his phone was on and sitting on the bed. Tony had a phone for calling and texting his parents and for music, which he had allowed Rudolph to use whenever he wanted to. He saw that the music was coming from the phone and that Rudolph was in the center of the room dancing to its beautiful melody. It was actually quite amazing. His graceful movements fit the slow-paced tempo of a waltz. He looked completely peaceful as his eyes were closed and a wide smile rested on his face. The window to the room was wide open, and a cold-night breeze blew through his hair and cape as he swayed side-to-side in a circular pattern. Tony was in awe of his amazing companion. He had never told him about his ability to dance, let alone the fact that he was very skilled at it.  As the song died down into silence, Rudolph sighed with satisfaction and stood straight up in front of the window, staring out at the starry black sky. 

“Rudolph, that was incredible!” Tony decided that he had to know where Rudolph learned how to dance like that, even if he had been watching when he should have revealed himself. Rudolph jolted in surprise as he whipped his head around in his direction.

“T-Tony! How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to watch you dance like a professional! How’d you do that?” Rudolph’s cheeks blushed a deep purple color as he tried to act cool and collected. 

“I… I learned about it two hundred and seventy years ago…in the early eighteen-hundreds,” Tony sat down on the edge of the bed as he intently listened to what he had to say. Rudolph could sense that Tony had no intention of making fun of him for dancing, so he continued. “I have only ever done it with my family. My mother and father used to dance like this all of the time. As soon as we watched them dance, my sister and I were fascinated and we just had to learn. Gregory never really cared for dancing, but ever since then, we have perfected the form and rhythm. I’m sure Anna and I could dance to any waltz thrown our way,” Tony’s eyes lit up as he imagined how amazing it would be to show up to a dance and waltz to a dark masquerade song with perfect rhythm. 

“Wooow…” mused Tony, his eyes full of motivation. “Hey, can you teach me?” Rudolph’s eyes slightly lit up, similarly to the time Tony had called him a “friend” for the first time.

“You want me to teach you how to waltz?” Tony nodded his head excitedly as Rudolph smiled, his sharp fangs shining in the moonlight. “Very well! Let us start with music,” as he hit the shuffle button on a saved playlist on Tony’s phone, another waltz song began with beautiful yet haunting violin with a constant beat pulsing in the background from a deep organ. “Now, you want to keep in line with the tempo of the music. I shall demonstrate,” Rudolph held one arm out to the side with his palm facing the ceiling as the other was curled so that his hand was hovering over his chest, and he was slowly rocking back and forth in consistent, circular motions. There was a warm smile on his face as if he was enjoying reminiscing old memories of when he first started dancing. Tony watched his motions, and even found himself mimicking where he positioned his arms as he glided across the floor. “One, two, three… one, two, three…” he muttered the tempo under his breath as he danced, occasionally glancing over at Tony to see if he was watching. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so!”

“It’s quite easy. Just follow my lead, alright?” Rudolph extended an inviting hand towards him with a smug smirk on his face, “Shall we dance?” Tony didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was. He had never danced in front of anyone, let alone someone that meant so much to him, but he was excited to learn something that he had never tried before. However, he had already learned quite a bit from watching him and he was anxious to give it a shot. Tony grabbed Rudolph’s chilled hand as he guided him to the floor, then positioned himself so that they were standing across from each other. 

“Now, place your left hand right here around my shoulder, and your other hand will rest in my left hand,” Tony rested his left hand on Rudolph’s right shoulder, and Rudolph rested his right hand against Tony’s upper back, while their two open hands became clasped together. “To begin, we will be slightly offset to the left, but once we get into more advanced movements there will be times where we will be directly in front of one another. Not to worry though, we will start off easy,” As Rudolph shifted to the left slightly, with one foot following another, Tony stared down at his feet to try and copy his movements. “Yes! That’s it!” Tony smiled brightly as his eyes met Rudolph’s for a moment, then immediately focused back down on his movements. He was starting to get a hang of the swaying motion until his concentration was broken when he accidentally stepped on Rudolph’s boot.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Rudolph couldn’t help but laugh as he patted Tony’s back with his hand that was already resting there.

“It happened many times when I was learning, don’t worry. Just stay focused on the beat and following my movements,” Tony got back in line and listened intently to the tempo of the music. One, two, three… one, two, three… With enough practice doing the same moves over and over again, Tony was able to keep his head up and ignore what was happening with his feet. “Well done, Tony! You’re a fast learner.”

“This is fun! You said there were more advanced moves? Let’s try one out! I think we make a great dancing team,” Rudolph looked at Tony with a different expression than what he had seen before. It was a type of extreme gratitude and happiness that was masked by a humbled filter.

“I think so too, Tony. Now, would you like to try a spin?” 

“Of course I would!” After about an hour of dancing together, Tony glanced at the clock that read “1:34 a.m”.

“Oh geez… I stayed up way past any bedtime I’ve ever had set…” Tony chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and parted from Rudolph. The vampire smiled once more as he floated up in the air and sat on top of his bed. “I don’t know how to thank you enough, that was really fun,” Tony pulled out a set of pajamas from the chest across from the window as he walked over to the right side of his bed. Rudolph crawled over to the side that he was sitting on and hung over the top of the bed frame so that he was facing Tony upside down. 

“No need to thank me, I had just as much fun showing you one of my hidden passions.” 

“Well we should do it more often now that I know how to do it!” Tony held out a fist in front of him, patiently waiting for Rudolph to return the gesture. Rudolph smirked as he formed a fist and bumped it against Tony’s. It was one of Tony’s favorites that he had taught Rudolph. 

“I would like that. Now go to bed mortal, I have some food to catch,” Tony pulled off his hoodie as he shook his head.

“Yeah yeah… Just make sure you close the window, it’s freezing in here now!” Rudolph floated off of the bed and head for the window, but paused as he perched on the windowsill. 

“For the record, you are definitely a better dance partner than Anna,” with that, he flew out into the night, shutting the windows as he took off. Tony chuckled to himself as he changed into his pajamas, reminiscing over how much fun he had learning how to dance. As he drifted off into sleep, he dreamed of dancing to beautiful waltz music in the air. That was something he absolutely had to try with Rudolph. 

#the little vampire #the little vampire 2017 #tony thompson #rudolph sackville bagg #draconic_fics #my posts

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Chat log - Oct 8

Somehow we got from "Valera confronts Alastor about his obvious crush on her fiancé" to "Alastor makes a bargain with the fae in exchange for time travel" and that's why RP is beautiful.

Valera

Valera walked through the front door of the hotel, a folder of newly acquired sheet music swapped between one hand and the other as she shrugged her way out of a coat that dissolved into so much sparkly vapor as it hit the floor. Ah, the smell of paper and ink, the thrill of a New Thing To Play With. Why, her tail would be wagging if she wasn't consciously trying to avoid accidentally stabbing Alastor! Speaking of, she turns back, waiting for the aforementioned deer to join her.

Alastor

Alastor, on the other hand, will be keeping his coat on. He checks to make sure Valera's entire tail is safely inside before letting the door swing shut. "And there—safely back in the hotel! Mission accomplished, and with no shots fired!" He says this as if that's a common danger when going to the music store. Everything's relative.

Valera

How generous of him! "You say that so casually, Hell must be quite a bit more exciting when you've made a name for yourself! But thank you, my dear. The escort was appreciated." She offers a shallow curtsy, fanning herself with the folder for added effect before popping back up. "Actually! Would you like to come try the new music with me?"

Alastor

"You're quite welcome, any time. It's both more exciting and less exciting! But I've been a sensation in Hell since the day I arrived, I can't truly tell you what the alternative is like."

Oh, the magic words. His grin stretches wider. "I'd be delighted to!"

Valera

Hook, line, and sinker. She grins, luring him away to his doom the piano, where she makes a dramatic show of plopping down on one end of the bench with plenty of room left for him, and setting the sheet music up. "Here, get comfortable! Fair warning, I'm better on a harpsichord than a piano, so I'm sure you'll do much better than I will."

Alastor

Oblivious to his pending doom, he takes the offered seat and glances over the sheet music. What have we got today? "I don't think I've ever played a harpsichord! But I can imagine the adjustment—I've taken a spin once or twice on an organ, and oh, what a world of difference! Isn't it amazing how many instruments have identical keyboards and yet you have to play them completely differently!"

Valera

"Oh yes! Harpsichords don't have any subtlety to them. No matter how hard or gently you hit the keys, the note is always top volume!" A wink. "Like a certain snake, come to think of it!" She'd thought of him in the music store, lucky him, and went out of her way to find a piece or two from his own time along with a few well known showtunes from Broadway. And in the back, a few pieces from Disney. Scandalous. "Figured we'd start with something simple. Are you familiar with Carroll Gibbons?"

Alastor

"Hah." And he'd been doing so WELL trying not to think about Sir Pentious; he'd lasted almost five minutes—which was pretty long when he was talking to Sir Pentious's fiancée. "All the better to ensure as many people as possible hear his grandiose proclamations, I'm sure!"

He skimmed over the sheet music. "Vaguely familiar, can't say from where." Muffled disembodied piano notes played the melody sped up as Alastor glanced over the first page—ought to be simple enough to play. "Sounds like my time."

Valera

Poor, poor Alastor. Wipe off that chalkboard, he wont be making much progress on that timer today. "I asked for something from around that era, so I certainly hope so! You were right though, it's a very fine store indeed. We're lucky you couldn't go in with me or I might have gotten more than I could carry, and we all know I'm struggling enough with that problem already." Wink!

She cracks her knuckles, trying to keep a straight face as she puts her fingers to the keys. Oh, the funny little inside jokes of friends who are obviously both in on the bit.

Alastor

He wonders whether that was a sexual euphemism or just a reference to Sir Pentious's new length. "THAT weight, I could have helped you carry!" He's gonna quietly pretend he doesn't detest the implication that Sir Pentious is too much. Probably just a reference to him being fifteen feet long, don't read into it.

It's music time now!

Valera

The answer seemed in line, no reason for Valera to hesitate, so instead she gives Alastor a smile and launches into a rendition of The Gay Imposter's medley. A simple enough piece for her to start with, and while she starts with a heavy enough hand on the keys that even she flinches at the sound, she eases off quickly into something he wouldn't have to shout to duet with.

Alastor

She adjusts fast, he'll give her that; and makes a mental note that apparently one has to play harder on a harpsichord. He doesn't know if he'll ever use this knowledge, but one never knows.

And so a duet it is—or more, once he realizes that this little medley could benefit from some strings, couldn't it, and calls up a shadow with a violin to improvise an accompaniment.

Valera

She hums and pulls her hands away from the keys, reaching for the folder for another piece to try. "Here, the next one is yours." Actually, now that she's said that.. That brings something to mind. "Do you want to go hunting on Earth, when this.." A gesture towards herself. "..Ordeal? Is over? So, sometime next month? I've seen you talk about missing venison."

Alastor

Hunting on Earth—there's a thought! Something he never imagined he'd do again!

Something he isn't sure he should. That's... something he's going to have to consider. But he doesn't need to give an immediate answer, does he?

"'Ordeal'? I hope you're not referring to your own company! I wouldn't call a stroll to the music store and a spin on the piano an 'ordeal'!"

Valera

... She blinks, brows slowly furrowing as she turns that over in her head. Did he not know? Was he playing it off? Fuck, maybe Pentious hadn't said anything yet, if he'd even planned to. Uh oh. Alright. Carefully, carefully, she turns back to the folder, browsing through sheet music to keep her hands busy.

"Apologies, dear Alastor. I thought Pentious had informed you shortly after he told Match." A polite clearing of her throat, her fins dipping down apologetically. "I'm chock full of eggs, dearie."

Alastor

Alastor blinks in amazement, gaze flicking from Valera's face down to her abdomen and then back up to her face.

For a couple of seconds of loudly buzzing static, a hurricane of thoughts storms through his mind:

Why hadn't he been told? Did Sir Pentious not want him to know? No, that's ridiculous, Sir Pentious trusts him—even though he shouldn't, it's obvious he does—so it wasn't a decision made out of secrecy but out of—what, apathy? Apathy toward what? Certainly not the eggs, certainly they weren't too uninteresting to share, not when Sir Pentious wants children so badly he collects dolls of them, he has to be brimming over with joy—then the apathy was toward Alastor himself, he didn't qualify being told the news. Why should he? They barely knew each other—sure, their friendship had moved fast—sure, the second time they'd met they'd fallen asleep together drunk and curled around each other and— But what's rushed intimacy like that worth when they hardly know each other?

All that in just a couple of seconds as his heart plummets. Then a broad smile breaks out across his face. "Are you really! Well, a thousand congratulations to you both! I'm sure you must both be completely overjoyed. And they're due sometime next month?! I suppose you'll be scheduling that wedding a little sooner, ha! My, but we rarely get news like this in Hell!"

Valera

A moment of calm as she watches him take the information in, and then he starts in with the cheer and she has to watch. The moment he's done, she practically vibrates, hands frantically waving between them as she resists the urge to grab the poor man by the shoulders and shake him. No shouting, she has to hiss whisper before the whole hotel hears their conversation. "Wh-- No, whoa whoa no!!! No you put those thoughts back in the pit they crawled out of, I could FEEL your brain breaking!!! Alastor they're completely nonfertilized. There's not going to be eels tearing through the hotel anytime this year! You're okay!"

Alastor

"I—Oh!" Give him a split second to restructure all his thoughts. "Oh, are they!" He laughs. "Goodness me, and here I was about to run off and buy baby bonnets as a gift, hah—Pity, though." And it is a pity. Does that mean Sir Pentious and Valera aren't fertile together after all? Or did they expect this?

As delicately as he can, he says, "I'm afraid I don't know enough about your people to tell if I should be offering you my deepest condolences, or if you just lay a batch every once in a while like a chicken."

Valera

Oh, now he's trying to be kind? How sweet of him. She chuckles, a bit breathless, and puts a hand to her chest. That could have gotten ugly. The questions are a bit TMI, but such things can't be avoided, sometimes. She'll try to keep it vague, for Alastor's sake.

"I'm on contraceptives! He just confused my body into thinking it was fertilized. Overachieving first timer performance, you know? Which I suppose I understand. Thirty six years of nothing, nada, and then constantly being in contact with someone who keeps sending all the right signals." It's funny, now that she thinks about it. But very nonhuman. No wonder everyone keeps being confused.

Alastor

He'd like to think he's been trying to be kind the whole time.

He blinks for a moment as he tries to wrap his mind around that medical explanation. "Well... I... can't say that I've ever met a creature that can get false pregnancies just from an enthusiastic lover. It certainly doesn't happen among humans!"

Or does it? Maybe that's what some miscarriages are? He has absolutely no idea, it's never been relevant to his life. Certainly, if it does happen to humans, that hadn't been part of the medical knowledge in his time. "Poor man must have been completely baffled by the whole thing."

(He's doing a pretty good job of not thinking about the "right signals.")

Valera

"It doesn't happen often, it threw BOTH of us for a loop. But he took it remarkably well, all things considered! Just the proof he needed that we really are compatible. He's just being a bit more possessive and touchy feely since he heard, and that's hardly a negative." Her cheeks flush. Oh yeah, not a negative at all. But best not to think about that around Alastor. He's already trying so hard not to die over her relationship.

She coughs. "Actually, that brings something else to mind, if you'll humor me."

Alastor

"A test run, then! In that case, my congratulations again—for the evidence of your compatibility." It'll make things easier later on, won't it? And that's something Alastor has worried about—whether Valera's species really would let Sir Pentious get around the natural infertility of demons. Well, there it is.

"Oh, does it?" He gives her a sly look. "Well, I didn't think we'd be having this conversation so soon, but since you brought it up: yes, if you insist, you can name the first boy after me, as long as you promise to spell my name right! You'd be amazed how many people don't spell it with an O." Laugh track, laugh track. "But really—what's on your mind?"

Valera

A wheeze, her body nearly doubling over, a fist over her mouth to muffle stifled giggles as Alastor yanks the rug out from under her feet with his bit. Dear gods, the very idea. The scandal! It's more tempting than it should be, but Pentious would murder her... Probably. Maybe not.

"Well, I mean...... No no, I could never. Veci can have multiple sires for a single pup, people would think you really were one of the fathers. But tell you what, you think of a good snake pun and I'll put it on the list." Humor aside, time to get serious. A pause while she composes herself, smooths down the front of her dress.. And she is suddenly very nervous all over again. Lovely.

"There's no graceful way to put this, I'm afraid. And let me preface this by saying. I'm not angry or judging you, I wont tell anyone without your explicit permission, and I'm willing to shake on that if it brings you peace of mind." A beat. "But I am fully aware of your feelings for Pentious, dear Alastor."

Alastor

His mind is bouncing between the medical miracle of a child with multiple fathers and the list of snake puns that as it so happens he already has, trying to decide which he wants to comment on first—and then it's his turn to have the rug pulled out from under him.

He only spends a split second silent, mouth half open from almost starting a sentence on a prior topic he's already forgotten; and then his teeth click shut like a dial turning off, and now he's all polite smiles and genial tone. "Are you?"

Valera

She nods, just once, and offers Alastor what she hopes is a comforting smile, though it may be a grimace with how her stomach is turning. "I am. And again, I have absolutely no intentions of breathing a word to even suggest it to anyone but yourself. I wont run off and tell Pentious, or writing it out on dash for anyone to see. I'm speaking to you about it because I want to make sure you know that I don't mind. You've been a good friend to him, and myself as well. You've been incredibly respectful, and I want to acknowledge that. This isn't an accusation."

Alastor

"Ah." His glowing red gaze lingers for a moment on the piano keys—no hope of getting to play for a while now, is there—and then his traveling gaze falls on the shadow he summoned up earlier. "What—Are you still here? Aren't you nosy!" He hops out of his seat, making a comical little pantomime of shooing the shadow until it hustles across the room and vanishes, taking its violin with it.

"Eavesdroppers." Alastor tisks, critically watching the spot where the shadow disappeared.

His gaze is still across the room when he says amiably, "You're wrong, though." The corner of his mouth twitches up: haha, gotcha, had you fooled. "It's not him. Just someone who looks and sounds and acts the same."

Valera

Valera turns back to the piano, playing a few barely audible notes to buy herself some time while Alastor busied himself with shooing off his shadowy minion. It was easy to go in heavy handed, get the most from your efforts. But a delicate touch made sweeter sounds, in and out of the world of music. Perhaps she needed a more delicate approach..

Wow, that was as stupid as it was fake poetic! Ugh, back to what she SHOULD be focusing on. "The Pentious of your own Hell, then. My apologies. So you're projecting your feelings for your own Pentious onto the one we both know, then?"

Alastor

"Oh, completely!" He laughs ruefully. "I've known him a mere thirty-three days! Everything I know about him amounts to thing I can assume about the one based on the other, and a list of points that differ. I don't really know him at all. How could I?"

Valera

Well now, that seems unfair to both Alastor and Pentious! She knows for a fact that the two of them have had GREAT fun together, with and without her around to witness it! "I understand what you're saying."

She stops, squints. Shakes her head. "No. I shouldn't say that. I don't understand what you're saying, I just think I can empathize with your predicament. I've spent years knowing various iterations of all sorts of people, but I've never met an alternate of a person I pined over. It sounds like torture."

Alastor

The word torture is met with studio audience laughter. "Then you should consider yourself lucky!" The chipper tone doesn't falter for a second. "I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, hah! Well, maybe my worst enemy—PROBABLY my worst enemy, truth be told, I am not and never have been gracious to my foes—but that aside, oh, no, the experience has nothing to recommend it." Prattle, prattle.

Valera

She licks her lips, raspy tongue flicking out far further than necessary as she weighs her options. She could try to end the conversation here, reel him back in with a musical number. Or dive into his emotional anguish and run the risk of either bonding with him OR making him so wildly uncomfortable he'd avoid her for weeks.

Eh, fifty fifty shot, she likes those odds. She hops off the bench, walking over to Alastor to.. Well. She wont touch him, but she'll just make her presence.. present. "Alastor. I'm going to ask a lot of you here, but tell me. In your ideal outcome, the best case scenario, what would you want out of this whole... Thing?"

Alastor

"Oh! Jumping straight to the thousand dollar question and skipping over the tens and hundreds?" He puts a hand over his heart as though the audacity has sent him into near cardiac arrest. "No no—the last time we played this little question-and-answer game, you remember, we left off on my turn. I get to ask the next one."

He turns more fully toward her—still the polite smile—to ask, "What gave me away? I am a performer, you know; I do pride myself on my ability to keep in character!"

Valera

If Alastor wanted to make a game out of it, so be it. Maybe that was simply what he felt comfortable with. Hope he can appreciate an honest answer. She makes dead eye contact and grins.

"You're touch averse to everyone but Pentious. You latch onto him given the slightest chance, jump on every excuse to be around him. Always craving any kind of touch. A bite, laying on his coils, anything you can get. You stare, you sigh, you practically swoon every time he smiles at you. I act the same way, don't get me wrong, but I'm engaged to him."

Alastor

Thank god for being dead, no blood flow means one's cheeks never burn. Alastor would point out that Valera has never seen him around anyone but Sir Pentious, how would she know whose touch he is and isn't averse to—but no, he confessed that one himself, didn't he? Slouched all over Sir Pentious at the theater while laughing about how much he hates being touched.

An uneasy pit forms in his stomach. (A second, new, additional uneasy pit, next to the gaping sinkhole that's already been forming.) That was right before Sir Pentious shoved him off and didn't address him for the rest of the show. If Valera had been able to put two and two together then...

He draws himself upright in mock offense. "I do not sigh! I won't object to the accurate accusations, but I'm quite certain I'm not a sigher!" He pauses. "And I'd protest the swooning too, except I don't know what a swoon looks like. I don't think anyone actually does that outside of novels."

Valera

She snickers, bouncing on her heels while her fins waggle. Good, something she can crack a joke about, the atmosphere in here was getting downright suffocating. "Well! I'd show you my best swoon, but I'm very heavy and I think I would break either your bones or the couch if I tried it." His skinny little arms would shatter like toothpicks trying to catch her, probably. And that was IF he caught her. No no, there will be no trust falls today.

"Now answer my question, dear fellow. What would be your ideal outcome in this terribly tricky predicament? It doesn't have to be realistic, it just has to be what would make you happiest."

Alastor

He arches an eyebrow. "No working your way up with the easy ones?" He's stalling.

Valera

She arches her own right back! "No. If I wanted to pussyfoot around difficult subjects, I'd find a cat to dance with, not a deer."

Alastor

"Why, don't you know how skittish deer are? Liable to bound off into the woods at a moment's notice!"

He's still stalling.

Valera

She leans in closer, all three eyes narrowing as she stares down at the smaller man. "Alastor, if you keep stalling I am going to start shaking you until the answers fall out, touch aversion or no."

Alastor

His polite smile turns cold. "Try it and you'll never get another word out of me again." It's gonna be all instrumentals all the time, baby. Just orchestras and sound effects.

"If you'd rather wait in silence than enjoy my delightful banter, then fine. Just—give me a moment. To think. I don't have all my dialogue prewritten, you know."

He doesn't yet have the words for something he's never, ever considered putting voice to.

Valera

She withdraws, glossing over his cold threat with a pleasantly bland smile and nod. "Fair enough. My apologies, you were starting to sound like you were about to make a break for it to avoid the discussion entirely. Take your time, Alastor."

Guess she might as well get comfortable then, the couch is looking rather inviting, and as fun as towering over people is, it does tend to make them more nervous than necessary. He's going to talk, she's going to magic up some tea.

Alastor

He plays an idle boring tune over a metronome to fill the silence as he sighs, shuts his eyes, and tilts his head back, thinking.

The problem isn't that he doesn't know what he wants. The problem is he wants so much in so many different ways. The problem is choosing one facet of it that's small enough to say out loud. The problem is putting it into a sentence that won't terrify his nosy guest. The problem is finding words that he can squeeze out before a lump forms in his throat.

Finally, opening his eyes, still staring at the ceiling, he says, "The most ideal, most unrealistic outcome would be to go back in time—fifty-four years, four months, and two days—and change one thing. In a way that doesn't cause the timeline to form a new branch, but that—erases this path completely. So it never existed." He gives Valera a tired look. "But that's beyond even you, isn't it."

Valera

Her mouth opens, but she hesitates. Then shrugs, and gestures for him to take a seat with a far more genuine smile.

"If I answered that in any kind of simple manner, we'd be here all week. Why don't you sit down and have a drink with me, and we can approach this more gently. I'd like to help you, Alastor, even if my methods are.. Overly direct at times." That's putting it mildly. After a day of politics, her capacity for subtlety was shot at the BEST of times. Poor Alastor was getting her at her finest, here.

Alastor

He studies her a moment, a spark of energy lighting his eyes with interest. "Well, if that's your way of saying 'maybe'—I've waited fifty-four years, what's another week?" He waves a nearby chair into sliding over and takes a seat. "Go on."

Valera

She slides a cup of tea across the table, mutely gesturing to the customary cream and sugar she'd not bothered to partake in herself. As an afterthought, she drags a plate of venison jerky through from her own realm. Not a customary tea snack, but it's not like she could truly enjoy anything sweet right now. Plus, gnawing on a piece of jerky was a wonderful stalling tool for both of them now.

Mm, jerky. Now.. Goodness. How can she be delicate about this? "In theory, my dear, I could attempt to put your current mind back in that exact moment you described. It would, of course, destroy this current reality and everyone in it if it worked, and force you to relive the trauma from a spectator's perspective if it didn't."

Alastor

He glances at the cup, but doesn't move to take it. "I like those odds."

Valera

"Really? Most people would hear that opener and cut the conversation there. Though I suppose you aren't most people." No, this was the Radio Demon himself, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wanted! Allegedly!

A dry smile. "Might I remind you that I'm thirty six years old and entertaining the notion of attempting to rewrite reality itself for a man I've only started growing comfortable with calling a friend, all so you can fix whatever you broke on that fateful day, dear Alastor?"

Alastor

He blinks. "You're thirty-six?"

Valera

That's what he fixated on? Dear gods, the cackle that came out of her.

"Yes, yes I am. Thirty six years old, and already so accomplished that I've seen both Heaven and Hell. Aren't I lucky?"

Alastor

When she'd mentioned "thirty-six years" earlier—in the middle of a conversation about her sex life—he'd thought she was giving the length of her dry spell, not her life. "My, oh my! Amazing! What's that in Earth years?" He leans forward, all chipper again. "And look how lucky you are NOW. A chance to attempt rewriting a reality you have no personal attachment to, on behalf of a man you only barely consider a friend—no great loss to you! All the risk falls on me! You get to document the results and learn something new about these fantastic abilities you're wielding—even as impressive as they are, I'm sure you must have more to learn! Why, I don't see a downside for you!"

Valera

Her nose scrunches in disgust. "Ugh, you're going to ask me to do math? Some friend you are. But more seriously."

Give her a moment while she adjusts herself, shoving a pillow under her back as she lifts her legs to take up the couch in a comfortable lounge. Oh yes, that's the good stuff. "You really don't see any downside for me? How about the risk of re-traumatizing my friend if it fails? Or destroying an entire reality for one person's desires? That would mean destroying the residents of this hotel, plus the Pentious that exists right now."

Alastor

"I'm in Hell, I deserve the trauma." Absolutely no hesitation. "Destroying one reality to create another. Another with the exact same people who were erased. Another where he wins. Where he comes out on top." He scoots forward in his seat, insistent, animated. "This isn't about me, darling—the fact that I benefit is just a bonus. This is about him. He was poised to conquer. Change one detail, one decision, and he could be ruling half of Hell by now. Maybe more! My god, he was already unstoppable, what if he'd picked up the pace?!"

He reaches for one of Valera's hands to squeeze. "I'm trying to give him Heaven and Hell—I want to give him everything he's ever wanted. Wouldn't you?"

Valera

The sudden touch was jarring, but her hand curls around his reflexively, the warmth seeping through his gloves a marked contrast with the coolness of her scales. It was almost enough to make her relax into his touch, and that was dangerous. She hesitates.

"Would I do anything in my power to help Pentious? Of course I would. But.." She would. She'd make a deal with just about anyone if it meant helping her beau. And Alastor was trying to do that now, for his own object of affection. It was between helping Alastor, and.. Well. An entire reality possibly being voided.

"Are you certain it's worth it? Could you live with yourself if you tried, and failed, and came back to this current present with all those memories fresh? What did you do, Alastor, that was so unmendable that you'd turn to a coinflip to fix it?"

Alastor

"I'm damned. I don't need to live with myself." His smile thinned grimly. "I'm asking you to try to help me cheat the system. If we succeed, then he gets what he wants. If we fail, then that just means the system works, and—and I get what I deserve. Hell is a punishment. I accept that."

He holds up a finger at her last question. "We're supposed to be taking turns asking the questions. I don't see any reason why you need to know if you aren't going to help me fix it. So: are you?"

Valera

Valera looks down at the table, staring into her teacup as if it could answer the questions racing through her mind. Was it worth it? Could she willingly sacrifice the people she'd met at this hotel, in this Hell, just for a chance to help a friend fix a problem it sounded more and more like he'd caused? Was this really a deal she could make? What would she want?

She takes a breath. Lifts her gaze to meet his. "If you're certain you're willing to try this, I'll help you. I'd beg, borrow, and steal from anyone capable if I was the one in your situation, even if the odds were a hundred to one. I'll give you one chance, Alastor, to fix your wrongdoing. But I can't promise it'll go how you want it to. You know that."

Alastor

He lets out a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. "One slim chance is more than I ever dreamed I'd get! Five seconds, one word, that's all it'll take, and the universe changes!" He seizes both her hands as he jumps to his feet, beaming broadly. Behind him three different songs are trying to play simultaneously. "A water spirit from a place without a Hell—I should have known, the moment I met you!"

Valera

Oh, dear gods, what has she signed up for? What is she doing? She couldn't even regret the decision, the sheer ecstasy on Alastor's face was near heartbreaking in its sincerity. The absurdity of it all forces a chuckle out of her, hands squeezing his as she indulgently clambers off the couch.

Great! Two idiots holding hands in the middle of the room while the invisible orchestra goes buckwild! This is great! It's fine! Her chuckle is more of a wheeze, but she smiles indulgently. "Known what, my dear?"

Alastor

"That—never mind, Earth things—that you can help! That's all!" Get ready, it's dancing time, Alastor is pulling Valera into a waltz. An extremely enthusiastic waltz. "So how's it done—what's it going to take?!"

Valera

Let it be said that Valera always enjoys a good waltz, and especially when it distracts her from the gut feeling that she's just agreed to do something awfully selfish that nobody would approve of. Now THERE'S something she hasn't felt in a while! But no, she's falling into step with Alastor for their merry The King and I moment, a genuine smile breaking out across her face at his gleeful energy.

"Not as much as you may think, dear fellow! I'll need to gather materials to build the anchor and casting line, and you'll need as much hell energy as you can muster to manifest yourself strongly in the time as possible. Do you have something significant you associate with that day? A possession we could use as an antenna, more or less? It would let us focus in so I could try and take you there as precisely as possible."

Alastor

His dancing slows as he thinks. What does he associate with that day? A quilt. A robe. A pipe organ. Tea. Cold. A scent he'll never smell again. "Does it need to be a literal possession from that day? Or would a symbolical representative be close enough? I didn't keep souvenirs." He has nothing from that day but the clothes on his back; a coat he'd been wearing since 1933 would make for a poor antenna.

Valera

She purrs, pursing her lips as she considers the question. She shouldn't be excited, but the idea of such a dramatic project was sounding better and better. What was this, if not a test of ability? "Anything you can use to attune yourself should work. A smell, maybe? Human memory is tied to scent pretty strongly. The important part is the emotional tie, something to take you back to that moment, essentially. As long as I know where and when we need to be, I can compensate for one or the other. Ideally not both, that'd be a strain."

Alastor

He stops dancing completely; he's gotta focus. After a moment of thought, he says slowly, "There is a scent. But, there's... no good way to acquire it again. Besides, that moment is... still a couple of seconds before taking action, but after the decision's been made. It might be too late." Not that, then. "Would weather work? Cold?"

Valera

Great! They can just stand there, frozen mid waltz. She'll just sway them back and forth, a nervous tic of her own. "Yes, if that would take you to the moment again, cold would be one of the sensations that would suffice. Would a combination work? Cold, and a sound we could mimic? Something like that?"

Alastor

A sound, what sound? The exact moment he needs to reach—the organ wasn't playing right then, Alastor was by himself. Pacing the hallways.

"Maybe the... the airship. While it's flying." He hasn't been aboard one since then; but he remembers how the sound of the engine underscored everything. "I don't want him—yours—to... to have to hear about this."

Valera

"If you don't want him to, he wont. I promised confidentiality on your terms." She looks around as she gives Alastor's hand a comforting squeeze, glancing from the piano to Alastor and back.

Sound, sound.. "So it was on the airship. I'm familiar with the sound of the mechanics going, the engines humming away. A constant undercurrent. Relaxing, once you get used to it." Thinking about it made her feel at ease, but Alastor seemed to have a very different emotional association with the sound. "Maybe you could reproduce it on your microphone cane?"

Alastor

A nod—yes, yes, yes that's the sound. "One of the airships," Alastor corrects. "Back then, he—" hrmph. He's not getting that sentence out. "My mic doesn't make the sound effects, I do. And it would just be... remembering out loud. I don't know if that would be close enough." A jerky shrug. "I'd say get a recording out of his ship, but... different airship model. The engine might sound different. I'll know when it's flying again."

Valera

She keeps rocking them back and forth, tail slowly curling one way, then the other. "I see! So, what would you like to do, then? I hope you aren't going to ask me to slip my way onto your Pentious' airship circa the time period and try to grab a recording. I don't much fancy the idea of trying to pass myself off as an egg."

Alastor

"No, absolutely not. It's unthinkable." The only, only reason Alastor would even consider going back there would be this one time, to fix what he'd broken. Not for any other reason. Even sending someone as his proxy was too much. "We can wait until yours has finished his repairs. If it sounds the same, wonderful. If not... we'll figure out a plan B then."

Valera

"Sounds like a plan! You focus on getting hell energy, and I'll get the materials. We'll see how Penny's ship shapes up." Another squeeze to his hand, and she leans in to bump against him, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. "I promise, Alastor, as friend and fae. I'll do everything we decide I should to make this work in your favor. You're my friend, and I do genuinely want you to be happy." Okay Val just say that I guess.

Alastor

Oh. He grimaces and endures the bump. Well he was making eye contact, maybe he will again once he gets his personal space back.

"Then consider my happiness optional. I had my chance and I blew it. I don't need another chance." Not in Hell. Not even with fae help. "But he had his chance taken from him. That's what I plan to fix."

Valera

The message got across, no need to stay in his personal bubble. Being close to people who were viscerally uncomfortable always made her scales crawl, it was downright nauseating after long enough.

"Good gods, you're head over heels for him, aren't you my dear fellow? But very well. If those are the terms you want met, I will put his own happiness as my priority for this venture." Ooh, that's a little ominous. Maybe she should reword that? A glance at Alastor.. No, she'll leave it. "Well, our game plan is set. Now, I believe you owe me a story, dear fellow."

Alastor

He endures the vicious accusation without a flinch. He has no argument against it, anyway, except for his perpetual simmering indignation over the fact that it's true.

"Not a story; just an explanation." Might as well step back. They're not dancing anymore and he can use the added space. "At a point, I had to choose whether to stay forever or go forever. I chose to go." He's whittled away at what's a massive tree of a tale until it's a toothpick, small enough to squeeze out of his throat. "Of course, he's—stubborn. You know him. If I'd simply left, he would have pursued. I had to convince him I wasn't worth following." He huffs. "So I told him he bored me and blew up his fleet."

He spreads his hands as a little fanfare sound effect plays. Tadaaa.

https://youtu.be/bjxf-eQWKoo

YouTube

baniger3711

SOUND EFFECT TADA

Valera

Alastor may have gone out of his way to make the explanation as unimpressive as possible, but the look Valera gives him is one of pure horror. She backs away, gracelessly flopping back onto the couch and very deliberately taking up her tea to give herself something to do.

Her mind runs through the idea of wounding her own fiancé like that, betraying him so completely at the peak of his game. The damage that would cause would be... Dear gods. Would he even recover from that? No, no. She can't assume Alastor and his own Pentious had a bond like that. But they'd been close. Allies. And he'd clearly been in love, who knew how his Pentious had felt about someone so important. It's hard not to feel a tinge of malice for her friend, but. No, he was many things. Unrepentant wasn't one of them. He knew what he did was wrong. She said she'd help him fix things. By gods, was she going to fix things if it killed him. He might even like that.

"So you lied, and you ran, because.. You were afraid? Of what, your own feelings? The idea of being with him forever?" She snaps a hand up, a barrier between them, and shakes her head. "No, you don't have to answer that. You told me what you did, you answered my question. I've got no business pressing." Her cup is shaking in her grasp. When did that happen?

"I'm going to help you fix this. But I see now why you place his happiness at a higher priority than your own."

Alastor

She's horrified. He's vaguely glad of that. She should be. He knows what he's done, knows it's so monstrous that he can't even feel the monstrosity of it anymore. It's been over half a century. She's reacting the way he ought to every day when he sees himself in a mirror; but it hurts and he's gone numb.

He hopes he's dropped in her estimation.

He nods when she gives him permission not to answer—good, he doesn't want to answer. He doesn't think the answer's relevant. No possible motive short of I'd discovered he'd killed my mother would justify what Alastor had done; and if the motive doen't justify it, then the motive is irrelevant. "Good." His wan smile widens. "So we're on the same page now. Got all our priorities in order."

Valera

She takes a moment before she forces herself to look at him again, eyes sharp and lips set into a thin line. He wanted to fix his mistake. He was desperate to. He was willing to jump through any hoop it took, and she had to remember that. Chant it over and over in her head as she made herself nod. "We are." A slow breath in, a hold, and a slower exhale.

"What you did was.. I don't need to tell you. But I think you've beat yourself bloody over it without my help, there's no need for me to salt the wound. You want to make it right. That's the important part." Another breath. She isn't going to lash out. She's better than that, and it wouldn't help anyone. "You are my friend. I want to help you fix this horrible, awful mistake. Because it was a mistake. You chose wrong, and you've had to live with that ever since. When Pentious' airship is flying, we will review this. Shake my hand."

There are no pyrotechnics. No magical flair of lights or ominous humming, nothing to mark the moment binding as she extends a hand towards Alastor. Only the look in her eyes, and the unnatural stillness of her frame.

Alastor

He has fallen. Good. He should. And it means if things start to go wrong, she'll have a higher chance of trying to make sure things fall apart in a way that benefits who it's supposed to rather than in a way that benefits her "friend."

He'll be the one to mark it as binding, then. The lights around his hand are subdued compared to his usual glow; just a few little green threads coiling around and between his fingers.

He shakes without hesitation. He doesn't know what's put on the line in a bargain with a Veci—but this is the one, the only thing he'd sell his soul for.

Valera

The smile she forces is sickly sweet. The grip on his hand curling in until her claws are digging marks into his glove. But she releases before any damage is caused. Even now, she wouldn't hurt him unnecessarily. Anger isn't enough.

"Good. Until we review our terms, the only thing I ask is that you remain a good friend to my love. He thinks highly of you, and the bond you share is good for both of you. Rest assured, after I leave this room, I will treat you as I always have. He will hear nothing about this from me."

Alastor

Oh, he's plummeted. He takes a long, slow breath in. Okay. He understands. This isn't a friendship he deserves.

At her request, his breath catches. His eyes widen. Even after, she'd still trust him with...? "I..." His voice is thick with distortion; he tries to clear his throat with a staticky noise. "I—would do nothing less." He examines the marks on the back of his glove; then clasps his trembling hands behind his back and stands straighter. "I'd do anything I can, for him." Borderline unintelligible beneath the static. Shameful. His station would have been inundated with angry letters if they'd ever broadcast such a poor signal.

Valera

There it is. What she'd been waiting for. The disbelief, the raw emotion. A genuine show of weakness, intentional or no, at the barest trace of kindness he knew from the bottom of his miserable heart that he didn't deserve. Just what she needed. Somewhere, a balance tips.

Her smile turns, as soft and warm as ever, and she raises those same claws to cover her mouth as she chuckles. "I know, Alastor. I've made mistakes too. Nothing exactly like yours, but.." A shrug. "Mistakes that cost me dearly. Don't worry. I'm angry, and I'll need time to really absorb what you've told me here, but you're always welcome in my home. We'll fix this."

Alastor

The switch is too fast. He can't trust it. Suddenly it's only "mistakes." Suddenly it's merely "angry." Suddenly it's "welcome." Either it's a performance worthy of the Academy, or it's true—and of the two possibilities, the latter is infinitely worse. He's afraid that one's true.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he thinks if he tries it will just come out as static. He turns away sharply, and nods without showing Valera his face.

Valera

Oh, this poor man has no idea what to do with himself! She should at least put on a better face about it, but.. No. He'll have to realize at some point, that her emotions are purely her own to process, act on, or shove down into a tiny box and stomp on as she sees fit. Oh, if Pentious could see her he'd be shaking her by the shoulders by now.

She sighs, moving back to the piano to reorganize her sheet music. A polite disengagement, a chance to collect himself while she's busy. "I believe it's your turn now, Alastor. Though I can't imagine you coming up with a question in your current state."

Alastor

In your current state. That's galling enough that now he has to take his turn. "Wh—What—" pardon the interference, "—will it be like—on my end? Do I teleport back? Do I—ride my younger self?"

Valera

She cannot believe that worked. But it's a fine question, and the answer may distract him.

"If I were creating a branching reality, which would be the easy route, I'd take you back on a physical level and you'd simply march up to your younger self and tell him what for. Or kill him and attempt to take his place, I suppose, but that tends to work out very poorly."

A scoff. Oh, to be a being who had more than one version of themselves to worry about. "With what we're attempting, I'd essentially be melding your mind into that of your younger self. Like overlaying old film. Your time appropriate memories would be the most vivid, but you'd keep your current knowledge as reference, including our deal to send you back in the first place. A bit recursive, perhaps, but I'm not a temporal being."

Alastor

A pause. "Melding" sounds a little permanent. "And—at the end—how do we... get old me out of young me's head?"

Valera

"Well my dear, I'm surprised you'd even want to, when it would be so easy to crush you into one being, but the answer is simple!" She glances over her shoulder, grinning with all of her teeth. "I pull him out like a worm from the mud!"

Alastor

"Of course I want to. I don't get to stay there." Still turned away, he roughly wipes his face with the back of his sleeve. "Not after what I've done. But, the me as I was then—his conscience is clean. Let him reap the benefits alone."

Like a worm from the mud. How fitting.

Valera

She twitches, then reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief. Was this one of the ones she stole from Pentious? Yes. But she'll float it over to him anyway, like a tiny ghost. She'll even use it as a prop, dancing it around as she speaks. "And what am I to do with your current self, my dear Alastor? Keep you around like a leashed trophy, a wisp tied to no reality for my own amusement? That seems heartless, and I'll have you know that I've got four hearts."

Alastor

That's definitely one of Sir Pentious's. He snatches it out of the air. Valera's never getting it back.

"Toss me in the trash when I'm done." He laughs bitterly. "By all logic, I ought to disappear with my reality, oughtn't I? As far as things are concerned from your point of view, I'll just suddenly be upgraded to a better version of myself—less baggage, fewer regrets, and consort to the new king of Hell, hah."

He finally turns back around. Still smiling. Pay no mind to the slight redness around his eyes. Have you seen his eyelids?—that redness was probably always there maybe.

Valera

That's fine, she can steal more. Besides, better than using his sleeves. "Were it that easy, dear fellow! But I am not part of this reality, I'm a guest. I'll remember all of our dealings, like I've remembered every dealing I've had. I could toss you out, but why would I? The you that I know is the you that is a friend to my beau. The new you would be unpredictable. Is there any insurance, any reason for me to believe you would still be so kind?"

Alastor

Alastor considers that a moment. "Tell me you're a water spirit, the same way you did the first time we met, and tell me you sent the messenger who kept me from making a stupid mistake. There's your insurance."

It won't guarantee he'll be kind. But unless he changes beyond recognition, it will at least guarantee he'll be respectful enough not to be an enemy.

Valera

Valera mulls it over, turning it round and round in her mind as she approaches Alastor once more. This was too serious for playful distractions. And finally, she nods.

"Very well, Alastor. If you're so willing to sign your existence over to me for destruction, I'll try to play my part." Or something close enough, anyway. "For now, I suggest you do your best to get used to my company. We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other in the coming weeks."

Alastor

That's what he's doing, isn't it? Destruction. Hah. At least he's taking down a whole universe with him, that's something.

No, not destruction; replacement. With a better version of himself. The worst decades of his life scrubbed off like they'd never happened—like he'd never caused them. Cheating the game on a cosmic order. He is going to survive this, and he's going to get everything he wants.

"You say that like it's going to be a chore." He scoffs. "I have no reason to resent your company. I suggest you do your best to get used to mine."

Valera

Now it's HER turn to scoff. "Alastor, my good man, every day I wake up and you didn't sneak into my bed to try and cozy up to Pentious is a day I wake up surprised. We are from very different cultures with very different standards."

Alastor

"Well." Rueful laugh. "If he'd ever invited me to, you'd never get rid of me."

Just saying that out loud sends a shock of alarm through his system; even though there's hardly anything left to hide now, even though he's not saying anything that she doesn't already know.

Valera

Who knew all it took to get direct responses from Alastor was offering him his deepest desires and making him cry? It was so simple all along, how hadn't anyone else thought of it?

"Well! I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, I think we've had more than enough excitement for one day, don't you? Unless you've got any other questions you feel are pressing at this current time."

Alastor

Admittedly, the crying was optional.

And make no mistake—the only reason he's offering a direct response now is because he remembers full well that her encouragement is why Sir Pentious offered friendship in the first place. If there's the slightest chance that Sir Pentious would like a second guest in his bed and he conveys that info to Valera, she'll remember this conversation.

He racks his brain. "Poor interviewer that I am, I think I've run out of questions for my interviewee! Although I admit you've been less an interviewee and more an interrogator." Modest studio audience laugh; Alastor's getting back in character. "No queries, but one humble request: the next time you plan to rub my nose in my dirty laundry, let me take the first turn on the piano, would you?"

Valera

She snickers, but makes a show out of curtsying deeply in a grand show of apology. Yes, this is more comfortable. An emotional barrier by virtue of theatrics, something they both knew well. This was good. "I'll do my best, dear Alastor, but is it required after every piano recital, or can I enjoy your talents without the dramatics and emotional anguish?"

Popping back up, she tips her fins forward, then back, quirking one side of her mouth up until the dimple showed. "Oh, I should probably give you some form of resistance to my toxins, hm? I doubt we'll be touching each other often of our own free will, but being in close quarters to Penny means being close to me."

Alastor

Dramatics? The nerve. "The more recitals that conclude without my sins being flung back in my face, the better! I'm a comic actor—I'm just not suited to star in tragedies!"

Exactly how close are the quarters she's expecting to be in? He shrugs. "I'll never say no to a spare antidote. Or whatever it is you're offering...?"

Valera

"I could offer an injectable antitoxin in emergencies, but in your case, I think an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." And now Alastor gets the pleasure of watching Valera go back to her own cup of tea, slam back the liquid like a shot, and then crush the cup in her fist. Then she turns back and he has a tiny bottle of pills shoved at him, Valera's emblem emblazoned on the lid.

"You get seven. Take one of these each time you anticipate being at risk of my toxins. They're take ten minutes to set in, they're effective for twelve hours, and they wont save you from ALL the symptoms, but they'll stop the worst of it. Don't expose them to high heat, it'll melt the casing off and then the magic will explode out violently."

Alastor

She's basically guaranteed that he's going to drop one of these in a cooking pot on a campfire and then watch from a hill with binoculars.

He examines the bottle curiously. "You simply must teach me how you make these."

Valera

He should. She did, and it was incredible.

The pills inside are the size of a pinkie nail, white and round with a pearlescent.. Actually, they just look like pearls. Did she give him a bottle of pearls? She might have. "You want to learn how to make an antitoxin? Or the magic behind it?" She'd be willing either way, she's VERY proud of her accomplishment.

Alastor

"Both, obviously! A form of magic I haven't played with yet and the ability to brew up my own antitoxin so I don't have to pester you for more after every few visits? Why would I pass up on either?"

Valera

"Hah! Fair enough. Alright. Next time we visit, your place or mine, I'll teach you. I'd love to see if you could master it, I had to create the technique myself and it is quite the hodgepodge." Alastor's going to have to learn to extract toxins from a fish, oh boy.

Alastor

"Everything I know is a hodgepodge! I look forward to the challenge." And he's going to love doing it.

Valera

Well, that's all she can think of-- Oh wait. "Alastor, while we're on the subject, did you want a sampling of Veci flesh to try? Not mine, unfortunately, but the fellow that Pentious disposed of. I saved a sample for you, but never thought to offer it up."

Alastor

"I'd be delighted to! I hope the sample comes with a recommended recipe or two?"

Valera

A dainty gasp, mock offense painted on her face. "As if I'd ever neglect you so terribly! I transcribed a few of my favorites over into English, just for you." She claps her hands, and presents Alastor with a torso sized chunk of tail, chopped straight from the bastard himself and neatly wrapped in cheesecloth and cooking twine. Craving seafood, Alastor?

Alastor

Always.

He accepts the bundle with a gracious half-bow. "As always, a pleasure to deal with you." And one of Sir Pentious's kills, no less. My, my. He looks forward to finally hearing that story.

Valera

A pleasure to deal with her? Of course it was. "Of course! Now. Recipes are on the table, help yourself to the venison. I'd best be off, Penny's sure to get lost in his own mind if I don't check in and harass him to rest. I'll be seeing you, my dear."

Alastor

He glances at the table, almost says something, then just nods. "Until next time."

Valera

And she's off, gone in the blink of an eye back to.. Wherever she was going.

Alastor

And Alastor goes to pick up the recipes and venison from the table... then instead sets down the chunk of tail meat, sinks onto the couch, and stares at nothing.

#autokrates #chat log

[watarigarasu]

May 9th – Change

Lyn’s Writing Event

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 1,691

Warnings: Heavy angst

Author’s note: And for my next trick I’ll step on your feelings :)

Thorin Oakenshield considered changes as an inevitable part of life.

Unlike humans, he was allowed to live through the centuries and watch the world change in front of his bare eyes—the cities to be build, the lands to be conquered, the friends to be made and the foes to be defeated. Although the longevity of Elves was still out of his reach and the cold breath of death always one step behind him, he considered himself somehow lucky. Not everyone could live long enough to obtain a knowledge and skill as great as him, just like not everyone could make a good use of the life given to them.

And he was, indeed, rather proud of his achievements. His family and friends were, too.

Standing next to the majestic oak tree with branches so wide they could reach from one side of the main gate to the Erebor to the other, Thorin thought that he has seen the sun setting behind it thousands of times. It truly was a good idea, to plant a tree when it was barely a seedling on the meadow behind the Lonely Mountain and watch it grow.

He smiled at the memory.

It seemed as if that day happened no longer than few months ago. The grass was as yellowish as today, still not woken up from the winter slumber, the sky crystal clear and the smell of the sun in the air. The first day of spring and yet, the birds were understanding that it was their time coming, chirping sweetly in the distance and flying cheerfully around. It suited your excitement perfectly, the seedling in your hands soon to be placed in the ground.

“I just cannot wait to see it grow big and strong,” you admitted, not vary to get your hands dirty in the ground, while Thorin held the tree to make sure it was positioned straight. “We can get a wonderful place to rest during sunny days. And the birds will surely enjoy it, too, a new place to build nests.”

“Weren’t you saying that their morning serenades are disturbing your sleep during the journey here?” he reminded.

“It was something completely different! Now, look, it is almost done.”

Indeed, it was, the smile on your face so wide, Thorin could barely remember when was the last time you were so eager to do something. He found himself observing you instead of the plant, your features and the sparks in your eyes much more interesting than even the most special tree.

“I love you,” he confessed all of a sudden, causing you to blink and look at him puzzled.

“I love you, too, Thorin,” you answered and moved near him, to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “More than you do love me.”

“No way,” he groaned. “I am the King and therefore I love you more.”

“And I am soon-to-be Queen and therefore I cannot love my future husband less than he does.”

“Nonsense, I see no correlation.”

And so, you teased him from time to time, just to see the King under the Mountain fall for you all over again. It always ended with a kiss, hands held together and the promises of even better times to come.

You looked stunning in your wedding dress, the jewelry given to you by him only making your beauty more visible and radiant, and for the first moment, Thorin was completely speechless. He stood there like a fool, unable to move or say a single word, simply eyeing you and not believing that you were really going to be his wife—that the love of his life, his One was truly there, within reach. After all he has been through, there was finally a time when all the troubles left him, the bold line being drawn at the end of this chapter with an intention of starting a new one.

The better, brighter one because you were there.

The way your laugh echoed in the halls was a music to his ears, no matter that sometimes, when you got particularly amused, it was nowhere near ladylike. On the contrary, that was when he loved it the most, the genuine expression of utter happiness floating from your heart. You taught him how to smile more often and to find the reason to do so every single day.

Countless stuff were filling Thorin’s once neat and minimalistic bedroom, since you moved in. Naturally, you wanted to make this place look as comfortable as possible, considering the fact that you were surrounded by the cold, dark stone, and he never argued with that. Whatever meaning were your things hiding, he realized that their presence was quite nice, always reminding him of you and your interests.

He did not even say a word when he found out that there was only one shelf destined for him left, all the rest occupied by your belongings. It was precious, to watch you place them and for your bedroom to seem more and more like a journal—every page filled with various memories you wished to cherish.

Thorin was the one to notice the first gray strand in your hair. You were resting your head upon his chest and slowly falling asleep, listening to him telling you an old story from his childhood, when his gaze landed upon something different. Not stopping the lazy strokes over your head, he took a closer look to make sure that he was not mistaken but no matter how much he wanted it to be some kind of hallucination, the single gray hair was stubbornly there.

Soon enough, he did not see it anymore, for the image in front of him got blurry, but the tone of his voice remained the same.

“I love you,” he told you the next day in the morning, right after you woke up in his arms. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Well,” you started, still not completely awake and surprised by his sudden confession. “I hope so. I would hate to participate in a duel to win your heart again, but if I had to…”

He chuckled.

“I would never doubt that and I can assure you that there is nobody else to duel with.”

“Good,” you yawned. “I would like to have a breakfast with my lovely husband first.”

Thorin kissed the top of your head, in the same place where he found the damned hair previous night.

“You will, my dearest.”

The music was rapid and chaotic in the background and yet, you paid no attention to it, as you swayed with Thorin to the rhythm of a completely different melody. Slow and steady steps taken back and forth and to the sides were creating such a contrast to the joyful jumps and swirls of the other members of the great feast organized to celebrate Fíli’s hundred birthday. In the arms of the King under the Mountain, however, you were safe from the whole world, keeping him close to you with eyes closed and simply feeling his presence with your body and soul.

It was warm and peaceful, just like his love for you.

Wandering through the lands you almost forgot about, you realized how much they changed during all those years spent in the Erebor. The forests seemed to grow taller, the roads longer and the hills higher, as if the world was spreading to every side. It was hard to imagine that you were travelling there with The Company once, on a quest to kill the dragon and reclaim the place you knew now as your home. Thorin, walking by your side insisted that he remembered the way perfectly and encouraged you to visit Shire as a small substitute of the adventure you once had and a present for your anniversary.

Also, to visit an old friend of yours.

Not Bilbo, nor his habits differed from what you remembered and after you crossed the threshold (naturally, without knocking first), you were both welcomed like a guests of honour, with tea and snacks.

“I have to admit,” you stated after walking over the small hill and leaving Bag End behind. “It was a good idea. Thank you for suggesting that.”

“I am glad you consider it as such,” Thorin smiled. “It would be a terrible waste of time and energy if you did not.”

“Time spent with you is never a waste, Thorin. No matter what we do or where we are, it is always good when you are with me. I love you and it is honestly all that matters.”

He truly hoped that the words you spoke that day were genuine, because the thought of wasting your life was haunting him for many weeks after you were gone. If he only did not meet you during the quest, you would have a completely different life, perhaps better than the one he could offer you—living and dying in the kingdom of stone and steel.

Standing alone under the tree you planted together and observing the setting sun for the countless time, Thorin realized that although he seemed to come back to the very same place he started from—to the crushing loneliness and lack of purpose—everything was different. You were the most beautiful and significant change that has ever happened to him and there was no way he would ever be the same as he was before seeing you for the first time.

Thorin was back in his home, the place he knew from an early childhood and nothing was the same.

You gave his life the meaning he was desperately looking for, you showered him with love he believed he did not deserve, you willingly devoted your whole life to him and spent your last hours in his arms. It was much more than he could ever ask you for, the greatest and most precious gift handed to him long before he realized what it was.

The privilege of growing old together, where the only permanent and constant thing remaining was his endless love for you.

And maybe it was meant to be this way.

#lyn's writing event #thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #the hobbit

[likecastle]

Witcher Noir AU, part 6

More Witcher noir AU, following on from part five. All previous parts can be found here. Jaskier sings “I Fall In Love Too Easily” and “My Funny Valentine”.

This part is for my friend M, who requested Jaskier singing “My Funny Valentine” on top of a piano, and boy was it a pleasure to deliver. If you have prompts or suggestions for scenes you’d like to see incorporated here, please send them my way! 

“Does this place have a phone?” Geralt asks.

Mousesack, as if roused from some dismal dream, gestures around the corner in the direction of the restrooms. Geralt gets to his feet and sure enough, there’s an enclosed phone booth, surely a holdover from this place’s past as a legitimate business.

He drops his coin in the slot, gives the operator the number, and waits. It rings for a long time.

“What?” growls the voice on the other end of the line, when someone finally picks up.

“Renfri,” he says, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Her silence is pointed in its duration.

“It’s important,” he tries.

“You know I’m not just some gal Friday you can call up whenever you need information, right?” she says, as if anyone could mistake the most ruthless investigative journalist in town for some romantic foil in a screwball comedy.

“I know.”

“I’ve got my own work—my own priorities. You can’t expect me drop everything just because you need a fucking favor.”

“I don’t.”

He can practically hear Renfri clench her jaw. “Damn it, Geralt, I was meeting with a source who was willing to talk to me about that son of a bitch Stregobor. She was risking a lot to come here. And then you had to call and spook her.”

Geralt leans his forehead against the cool glass of the telephone cabinet and closes his eyes. Renfri’s been chasing Stregobor for years, trying to find enough proof to finally expose his corruption. It’s more than some story for her. Although she doesn’t like to talk about the reasons for her vendetta against the Chief of Police, Geralt’s pieced together enough bits and pieces about her life to make an educated guess. She told him once that Stregobor was the reason she became a reporter in the first place—“because somebody’s got to bring the things men like him do in the dark out into the light and make them pay for what they’ve done.” Geralt knows how much a real lead on Stregobor would mean to her. “I’m sorry.”

Renfri lets out a heavy sigh, her breath rough against the phone’s receiver. “I know you are.”

“What I need to ask you, it’s about Stregobor.”

“I’m listening.”

So Geralt tells her everything he knows—about Calanthe’s fall, and the runaway nightclub singer, and the missing girl, and Eist’s murder, and Stregobor’s threats to Mousesack, and the man with the feather in his hat standing watch outside the Palace Hotel. He tells her Yennefer’s theory about Calanthe’s turf war with Emhyr, and his own suspicions that something much more dangerous is afoot. There aren’t many people he’d lay it all out on the table for, but Renfri is one of them. She’d slit his throat herself if it meant she could finally get what she wants, but unlike most people in this town, she’d do it while looking him dead in the eye, and he can’t think of a better reason in the world to trust her.

Renfri is quiet so long Geralt is afraid they’ve been disconnected. At last, she says, “What do you need me for?”

“Emhyr having Calanthe killed, that’s one thing. But the girl—” All of a sudden, he can’t bring himself to say Cirilla’s name, as though speaking it aloud to a stranger is too much of a risk. “I can’t make the pieces fit together. I need to know what Stregobor gets out of this. I figured if anyone would be able to find out, it’d be you.”

“And in return?” she asks.

“I can’t promise anything, but if you want proof about Stregobor, doesn’t this seem like a good chance to get it?”

“Fine.”

Geralt lets out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Save your thanks till you’ve found the girl,” Renfri says. “Just hope she comes out of this in one piece.”

Geralt can’t consider the alternative, so he hangs up.

“Well?” Mousesack says, when Geralt returns to the booth.

He doesn’t sit down. “We’ll see.”

“You’re not staying?” Mousesack asks, gesturing to Geralt’s meal.

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve got to get going.” It’s later than he thought, and he doesn’t want to risk missing Jaskier’s set.

Given the time, he decides to shell out for a cab downtown. When he tells the driver where he’s headed, the man gives him a skeptical look in the rearview mirror, but pulls into traffic without comment.

When Geralt steps inside the club, he understands the driver’s reaction. The Nightingale is patronized almost exclusively by men—men drinking together at the bar, men necking at candlelit tables, men dancing swaying slowly on the dancefloor in each other’s arms. Geralt has hardly lived a sheltered life, nor is he innocent of the breadth and variety of desire, but he’s never seen anything like this. It tugs at something behind his sternum, an ache he hasn’t let himself feel in a long time—not lust, which is a familiar enough companion, but longing. And onstage, sitting atop the sleek black piano under the spotlight, is Jaskier.

“My heart should be well schooled,” he sings, “’cause I’ve been fooled in the past.” He looks different here than he did at the Last Rose—and not only his clothes. Though the sleek suit the color of the midnight sky does make a change. Jaskier’s face is just as boyishly handsome, his voice just as smooth and sultry as Geralt remembers. The real difference is in his demeanor. Where his persona in rehearsal this morning was brashly flirtatious, here Jaskier is sensual and languorous and just a little bit sad. “But still I fall in love too easily,” he sings, with a wry, melancholy smile in his voice. “I fall in love too fast.”

Applause breaks out across the club as Geralt weaves through the crowd, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the room. He can’t risk Jaskier spotting him and bolting a second time.

“I don’t know about you all,” Jaskier says to the audience, “but I really do have the most atrocious track record when it comes to affairs of the heart.” The crowd laughs knowingly.

Geralt sneaks up the steps at the far side of the stage, and slips the stagehand standing there the last cash in his wallet to let him watch from the wings. It must happen often enough, because the man doesn’t even give him a second thought, and when he gets backstage, Geralt can see why. From close up, he can see that Jaskier’s suit shimmers subtly under the lights, and that he has a fine rim of kohl around his dark-lashed eyes. The sight makes Geralt’s mouth go dry.

“It’s such a nuisance, this vital organ,” Jaskier’s saying. “It goes too fast, then it goes too slow. They’re not in love with me, or by the time they are, I’m not in love with them. And you know, this heart of mine is always falling for the most unsuitable of people. I like to tell myself I’m a man of discerning taste, but, well, I’m sure there are a few of you here tonight who know better.”

The audience’s laughter is warm, self-deprecating. Jaskier’s at home with this crowd. It’s still an act he’s putting on, just like the one he was putting on at the Last Rose—or the one he used in his dressing room with Geralt, for that matter—but this one feels truer, or at least as if he’s exposing some vulnerable part of himself. In the corner of his vision, Geralt is half-aware of a change occurring in the crowd on the dance floor, but he can hardly take his eyes of Jaskier.

“But, oh, who am I kidding? It doesn’t take much to get my heart beating faster, and I’m not going to waste my time feeling bad about that, not when there are so many better things to do.” He flashes the audience a wicked grin that garners him a wolf whistle from someone in the crowd.

The pianist starts the next melody. Jaskier adjusts his position on the edge of the piano, recrossing his legs, and begins to sing again.

Geralt lets the sweet, resonant sound of Jaskier’s voice wash over him. Watching Jaskier as he sings “you make me smile with my heart” proves to be too much for Geralt, so he turns to look out into the crowd, wondering what it would be like to be one of the men on the dance floor—so certain of his own desires, so at home in the casual intimacy of someone else’s arms thrown around his neck. Even with Yennefer, it was never easy. Loving her was hard work—is hard work, since he has to admit his own foolish heart doesn’t seem able to learn its lesson—and even when they were good together, he had to fight against every instinct in his body to let himself relax into her touch. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to hold someone in his arms and think, unequivocally, Yes, this is right.

Geralt is so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he almost doesn’t notice the man pushing his way through the crowd of dancers—the man in the stark black suit with the feather in his hat. But when the man’s hand reaches into his jacket, Geralt snaps to attention.

“Stay, little Valentine,” Jaskier croons, just before the shot rings out.

*

Part seven

#the witcher #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #mousesack #renfri #renfri of creyden #stregobor #geraskier #geralion #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #some background yennalt here #witcher au #noir au #witcher noir au #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them

[esabri]

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son See lake Moment moment Maßstab scale laut loud Frühling spring beobachten observe Kind child gerade straight Konsonant consonant Nation nation Wörterbuch dictionary milch milk Geschwindigkeit speed Verfahren method Orgel organ zahlen pay Alter age Abschnitt section Kleid dress Wolke cloud Überraschung surprise ruhig quiet Stein stone winzig tiny Aufstieg climb kühlen cool Entwurf design arm poor Menge lot Versuch experiment Boden bottom Schlüssel key Eisen iron Einzel single Stick stick Wohnung flat zwanzig twenty Haut skin Lächeln smile Falte crease Loch hole springen jump Kind baby acht eight Dorf village treffen meet Wurzel root kaufen buy erhöhen raise lösen solve Metall metal ob whether drücken push sieben seven Absatz paragraph dritte third wird shall Hand held Haar hair beschreiben describe Koch cook Boden floor entweder either Ergebnis result brennen burn Hügel hill sicher safe Katze cat Jahrhundert century betrachten consider Typ type Gesetz law Bit bit Küste coast Kopie 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instant Markt market Grad degree besiedeln populate küken chick liebe dear Feind enemy antworten reply Getränk drink auftreten occur Unterstützung support Rede speech Natur nature Angebot range Dampf steam Bewegung motion Weg path Flüssigkeit liquid protokollieren log gemeint meant Quotient quotient Gebiss teeth Schale shell Hals neck Sauerstoff oxygen Zucker sugar Tod death ziemlich pretty Geschicklichkeit skill Frauen women Saison season Lösung solution Magnet magnet Silber silver danken thank Zweig branch Spiel match Suffix suffix insbesondere especially Feige fig ängstlich afraid riesig huge Schwester sister Stahl steel diskutieren discuss vorwärts forward ähnlich similar führen guide Erfahrung experience Partitur score apfel apple gekauft bought geführt led Tonhöhe pitch Mantel coat Masse mass Karte card Band band Seil rope Rutsch slip gewinnen win träumen dream Abend evening Zustand condition Futtermittel feed Werkzeug tool gesamt total Basis basic Geruch smell Tal valley noch nor doppelt double Sitz seat fortsetzen continue Block block Tabelle chart Hut hat verkaufen sell Erfolg success Firma company subtrahieren subtract Veranstaltung event besondere particular viel deal schwimmen swim Begriff term Gegenteil opposite Frau wife Schuh shoe Schulter shoulder Verbreitung spread arrangieren arrange Lager camp erfinden invent Baumwolle cotton geboren born bestimmen determine Quart quart neun nine Lastwagen truck Lärm noise Ebene level Chance chance sammeln gather Geschäft shop Stretch stretch werfen throw Glanz shine Immobilien property Spalte column Molekül molecule wählen select falsch wrong grau gray Wiederholung repeat erfordern require breit broad vorbereiten prepare Salz salt Nase nose mehreren plural Zorn anger Anspruch claim Kontinent continent

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I always think of you as Kristin Scott Thomas’ character Fiona in Four Weddings and a Funeral as a beautiful woman who is scarily clever and classy. So with my upcoming wedding (next year!) and especially wedding music I thought of you. I really would appreciate your advice on Mendelssohn or Wagner as they seem to be the traditional choices of music to play at a traditional church wedding. My fiancé isn’t bothered what music we play but I can’t decide. Please do help as I value your unvarnished truth.

Thank you for the flattering words which while well intentioned are nevertheless entirely misplaced.

Swiftly moving on, a sincere congratulations on your forthcoming wedding. I can only imagine how stressful it must be running around like a headless chicken trying to desperately organise everything. And desperate you certainly must be - perhaps even certifiably insane -  if you’re turning to me on Tumblr for advice!

I’m not married....yet ( oops! better get that caveat in before I am chastised by those who really know me)  but I am a wedding veteran - some would even say, a jaded one (thank you, mummy).

Every season there is a string of wedding invitations that I can’t turn down and I feel obligated to attend. While great fun, one wedding starts to blur into another especially when the champagne starts to copiously flow. I have my own thoughts on the good, the bad, and the tacky about wedding etiquette but I don’t want to disappear down that rabbit hole. Instead let’s talk about Mendelssohn and Wagner.

Both music pieces have traditionally struck a chord (pardon the pun) and have become a staple of traditional weddings since time immemorial.

Mendelssohn's ‘Wedding March’ was originally composed in 1842. He got there first.

Wagner's ‘Bridal Chorus’ came later in 1848. The ‘Bridal Chorus’ became a popularised piece to play at weddings around Europe after it was most memorably used as the processional at the wedding of Victoria, the Princess Royal to Prince Frederick William of Prussia in 1858. Nowadays - certainly in Britain and the US -  it is generally known as "Here Comes the Bride”.

I suppose the straight forward answer is that it doesn’t have to be Wagner vs. Mendelssohn. Why not both?  Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’ can be used for the entrance processional of the bride walking down the aisle and the Mendelssohn ‘Wedding March’ for the recessional walk out of the church.

But you did say you wanted my ‘unvarnished truth’ so allow me the small luxury of an arm chair rant from the Coronavirus self-isolation of my Paris apartment. 

Of the two I would definitely ditch the Wagner piece. Please don’t misunderstood me. I am a huge fan of Wagner’s music - like any true Wagnerian I have taken more than one pilgrimage to Beyreuth - but in this case playing Wagner’s music would show a frightful ignorance of the meaning behind the ‘Bridal Chorus’ piece.  

I don’t know why more people haven’t picked up on this but I’ve always found it a terribly odd piece to play at a wedding especially as it originates from Wagner’s masterful opera, Lohengrin.

Wagner came upon the opera's inspiration around 1845 when he took interest in the legend of the Holy Grail through the poems of Wolfram von Eschenbach and the anonymous epic of Lohengrin. Composed by 1848, Lohengrin features "Bridal Chorus" as the prelude to a very short-lived, doomed marriage between Elsa and Lohengrin.

The famous ‘Bridal Chorus’ is lustily sung by women of the bridal party serenading Elsa to the bridal suite after the wedding in Act III. Elsa is not allowed to know her true knight’s true name and identity. But this is a romantic German opera and so of course Lohengrin is found out with dire consequences for all.  A sad Lohengrin ends up revealing that  he is in fact a knight of the Grail and son of King Parsifal, sent to protect an unjustly accused woman. The laws of the Holy Grail say that Knights of the Grail must remain anonymous. If their identity is revealed, they must return home. Lohengrin is lead back to the castle of the Holy Grail. Elsa is grief stricken at being left behind.  Poor Elsa (naturally) collapses and dies with a broken heart.

Charming.

To say it’s not the happiest of allusions of looking forward to a long life of wedded bliss would be an understatement.

However my objections against Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’ goes beyond this. For one thing I find it rather too sombre - Oh dear God! Is marriage really like this?!

My main ire is that it overly used and therefore boring to listen to. And when one is bored the mind wanders.

In my case, without sounding malicious, my mind just drifts to whispering mischievous lyrics under my breath that go like, “here comes the bride, big fat and wide, here comes the groom, skinny as a broom.” Try as I might I can never get those words out of my silly mind whenever I hear the organ music playing “Here come’s the bride.” Not my finest hour.

Now Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ is different beast entirely. Beast being the operative word as we are dealing with Pagan deities.

Typically used in church wedding recessionals, the ‘Wedding March’ piece has sparked controversy due to its literary origins. The Prussian monarch Friedrich Wilhelm IV commissioned Mendelssohn to compose incidental music for many pieces that were based upon Greek mythology and tragedy in order to revive the genre of literature and performance. Among his commissions, in 1843 Mendelssohn composed a setting for William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream; the setting comprises twelve musical numbers and a finale. The plot of Shakespeare's play focuses on a pagan god and goddess and is filled with fairies, magic, and fantasy. Due to the piece's pagan, fantastic inspirations, some puritanical leaders and musicians - particularly in Roman Catholic churches - have found the piece to be inappropriate for a Christian religious ceremony. In its defence at least Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream was a comedy with a happy ending.

If you’re feeling traditional rather than puritanical then the joyous Mendelssohn ‘Wedding March’ might still be a great option either as a processional or recessional.

If you’re looking for options outside of either Wagner and Mendelssohn then it’s really a matter of exercising good taste alongside what suits the personal tone of your wedding.

Off the top of my head I keep coming back to Johann Sebastian Bach.

Bach’s many cantatas and fugues seem to tick all the boxes. In particular there is Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (derived from the cantata Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben, "Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life”). There is also the Toccata and Fugue in D minor ‘Dorian’ BWV 538 and the Toccata and Fugue in F Major, BWV 540.  Arioso in A flat for solo piano from Cantata No. 156 "Ich steh`mit einem Fuss im Grabe is softly elegant. A particular favourite piece of mine is Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten, BWV 202, the ‘Wedding Cantata’. Of course many would point out that Bach’s Ave Maria would be perfect for a processional but I would think twice about that. As beautiful as the piece is it is about the Virgin Mary after all and you may invite unwanted speculation from your guests if you are (cough) chaste.

Trumpet Tune in D by Jeremiah Clarke is a little more festive. Or consider his more famous Trumpet Voluntary ‘The Prince of Denmark's March’.

Charles-Marie Widor  was a fine composer and his Toccata (from Symphony for Organ No. 5) is spiritually intense for traditional organ music.

Eugène Gigout's famous Grand Chœur Dialogué might appeal to you as well.

G.F. Handel’s Water Music Suite - Air has a graceful and calming tone. The Arrival of The Queen of Sheba (Solomon) HWV 67 is upbeat and was made for a processional.

Beethoven’s Für Elise is perfect to calm last minute panic attacks before you go up the aisle.

And how can one forget Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

The Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major, K. 525 or more commonly known as Eine kleine Nachtmusik KV. 525 - II. Romanze: Andante is a beautiful melody familiar to many and sets a soothing tone. Ave verum corpus, K.618 is profoundly spiritual and lifts your hearts up to the angels. ‘Alleluia’ from ‘Exsultate, jubilate’ is wonderful if you can get your hands on a competent soprano. If you are feeling more adventurous then the Spanish Wedding March from The Marriage of Figaro which might be to your taste. 

Elgar’s Salut d'Amour, Op. 12 is soft, inviting and makes one feel you’re in some 19th Century romance novel set at court.

Elgar finished the piece in July 1888, when he was romantically involved with Caroline Alice Roberts, and he called it Liebesgruss ('Love's Greeting') because of Miss Roberts' fluency in German. When he returned home to London on 22 September from a holiday at the house of his friend Dr. Charles Buck, in Settle, he presented it to her as an engagement present. The dedication was in French: à Carice. 'Carice' was a combination of his wife's names Caroline Alice, and was the name to be given to their daughter born two years later.

Edvard Grieg’s Wedding Day at Troldhauen, Op. 65, no. 6 is magnificently playful.

Jean-Joseph Mouret’s Rondeau from Sinfonie de Fanfares is a beautiful Baroque piece. What’s a wedding without trumpets that could be heard all the way into the heavens?

Gluck’s Dance of the Blessed Spirits from his Orfeo et Euridice can be an elegant choice to do a recessional. Perfect for sensitive souls.

Gabriel Fauré’s Pavane, Op. 50 is sublime. I can never get tired of listening to it. Would make a worthy piece as a processional.

I would also throw into the mix Gaetano Donizetti’s ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ (A furtive tear) is the romanza from Act II of his delightful opera L'elisir d'amore.

It is sung by Nemorino (a tenor) when it appears that the love potion he bought to win the heart of his dream lady, Adina, works. Nemorino is in love with Adina, but she is not interested in a relationship with an innocent, rustic man. To win her heart, Nemorino buys a love potion with all the money he has in his pocket. That love potion is actually a cheap red wine sold by a traveling quack doctor, but when he sees Adina weeping, he knows that she has fallen in love with him, and he is sure that the "elixir" has worked. It may not fit your idea of a processional but I would try and use it some where in your wedding - perhaps at the reception.

I feel guilty about trashing on Wagner and Mendelssohn so I will leave you with two final thoughts. Reconsider Wagner’s opera Lohengrin. Forget the Bridal Chorus but instead listen to the chorus ‘Gesegnet soll sie schreiten’ in Act II. The various horns give this chorus a dreamlike quality and you feel like you are floating on air. Mendelssohn’s On Wings of Song is a powerful and poignant piano piece and quite suitable to play as your guests away your arrival in church.

I am sure there are other great classical music pieces that I have neglected to mention but others reading this might give their thoughts in the comments below.

If knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, then wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. So give careful and considered thought to what music you throw together into the mix as your church wedding processional and recessional.

Congratulations again and I hope it’s a special day for both of you and your families and friends.

Thanks for your question.

#question #wedding #music #wedding music #classical #tradition #church wedding #processional #recessional #personal #bio

[gascon-en-exil]

Ranking Zelda Water Dungeons

@thehylianbatman asked for this, and I’ve been sitting on this idea for something like two years now so I figured it’s a good a time as any to pull it out. Water dungeons in The Legend of Zelda have collectively garnered a bad reputation, with some of them among gaming’s most standout representatives of all the annoyances that come with Down the Drain levels. Because I like to be contrary watery environmental aesthetics are typically among my favorites however I have a particular fondness for many of these dungeons, and so I’m giving them a bit of time in the limelight (while also acknowledging that some of them nonetheless really are terrible, even if they’re pretty). Also note that I have not replayed any of these games to make this list, so I’ll be going entirely from memory. While that’s hardly the most accurate way to do something like this, it’ll be helpful in gauging which dungeons leave the most lasting impressions.

First off, a list of dungeons I will be excluding from this ranking because they don’t meet my personal requirements for what constitutes a water dungeon.

Any mini-dungeon, ex. Pirate’s Fortress from Majora’s Mask or the water-based shrines in Breath of the Wild

Dungeons where the name and/or location is suggestive of a watery theme but the experience itself fails to deliver, ex. the Palace on the Sea from The Adventure of Link, Catfish’s Maw from Link’s Awakening, the Ocean Temple from Spirit Tracks

Dancing Dragon Dungeon from Oracle of Seasons, because a waterfall entrance and some short swimming segments do not a water dungeon make.

The Tower of the Gods from Wind Waker, because only the first floor is even partially water-based and it’s just the tide going in and out which is both uninteresting and rather frustrating to play around. I thought about including it, but it would be very low if I had.

Skyview Temple from Skyward Sword, as its swimming segments are also brief and come more in the odd return visit for a midgame fetch quest than for the initial run through.

Now for the ones that made the cut:

#13. Water Temple (Triforce Heroes)

This one just barely made the list, and my decision to include it in the end is mostly on account of the novelty factor. Of the three stage select-style Zelda games, Triforce Heroes is the only one with any notable water levels and even dedicates a full world to the theme. It’s too bad that I can only really count the last level in that world as a dungeon, because this Water Temple is just a knockoff of the Swamp Palace from A Link Between Worlds adjusted for three Links. There are tektites and octoroks and you play around with water levels and this game’s iteration of the hookshot before fighting a version of the OG water dungeon boss Arrghus. Much of TH feels like a quirky theme park version of a Zelda game, and unfortunately this particular example does little to elevate the concept and as a result feels uninspired. The rest of the Riverside world fares better, especially in its use of the new water rod item, but its last level is a dungeon only because it has to be.

#12. Jabu-Jabu’s Belly (Oracle of Ages)

If I had to choose one dungeon as an example of what people tend to hate about this group on the whole, it would be this one. Less infamous though it may be coming from a handheld title rather than one of the 3D games, this version of a dungeon inside a giant fish suffers precisely because it is not 3D, or more specifically not Ocarina of Time. It combines aspects of both of OoT’s water dungeons and fails at each of them because of the limitations of the game’s format; the unpleasant environs of being inside a digestive tract don’t come across well on the Game Boy Color, and raising and lowering the water level is harder to visualize in only two dimensions. Combine this with bland visuals that make it easy to get lost, a dungeon item that’s only a length upgrade of an item you already have (also like OoT’s Water Temple), a droning musical track, and the less fluid swimming controls that come with OoA’s mermaid suit “upgrade,” and there’s not much saving this one. The boss is sort of fun I suppose, but it’s a bioelectric aquatic monster...hmm, now where have I seen that before.... 

#11. Swamp Palace (A Link Between Worlds)

I did want this one higher, but it’s so short. That’s true of all but two of the Lorule dungeons really, with them being streamlined and in many cases more thematically pronounced rehashes of the Dark World dungeons from A Link to the Past, but because the original Swamp Palace is already solid (see below) this one just doesn’t have much to do. It adds some raft puzzles and marginally more complex changes to the water level, but that’s about it. The boss is also almost identical, which isn’t saying much because “monster with a single eye that is also its weak point” describes most of the bosses on this list, but here it’s just Arrghus again. I will say that I was grateful for how short this dungeon is in my single run of this game’s Hero Mode, because it holds the valuable defense-boosting Blue Mail. Imagine the developer trolling that would have been leaving it where it had been in LttP: in this game’s equivalent of the Ice Palace.

#10.  Lakebed Temple (Twilight Princess)

As the first 3D entry on this list I suspect this may be a bit surprising, but I have to say I’ve never liked Lakebed much. A big part of that is how there’s relatively little water inside the dungeon despite it being on, you know, a lake bed. It’s a shame too, because Twilight Princess has the second-best underwater controls of the 3D games and even underwater bombs. Have fun using them in maybe three rooms. It’s also an uninspired experience beyond that, with drab visuals - despite its reputation for being gritty and brown TP can do good visuals, just not here - a music track that’s more atmospheric cave music than identifiable melody, a structure that resembles what would come from welding the two tower climbs of Ocarina of Time’s Fire Temple to the central structure of its Water Temple, and a tedious backtracking segment in the middle if you want to get all the chests (and all the stamps in the HD remake) which of course I do because 100% completion. Redirecting multiple currents and using them to flood the central room is admittedly neat, but I can’t give Lakebed too much credit for what the clawshot does to distinguish itself from the standard hookshot when much of the difference here comes down to hanging from slowly rotating platforms. Whee. Morpheel is also a joke, initially a riff on OoT’s Morpha that looks genuinely impressive when its leviathan main body emerges for the second phase...and then dies in a minute while posing next to no threat to the player as it swims around aimlessly. The frog mini-boss leaves more of an impression for striking an odd balance between goofy and gross...but why is a giant frog at the (partially dry) bottom of a lake? Gah.

#9. Angler’s Tunnel (Link’s Awakening)

Easily nabs the award for best glow-up in a remake, and indeed this ranking owes itself mostly to the Switch version. The original deserves some praise for being the second water dungeon in the series while not copying too much from the first, and it’s the only one on this list where Link can’t swim at all until he acquires the dungeon item meaning for the first half he’s got to avoid water like it’s lava. Still, the remake massively ups the aquatic ambiance between the cool blue lighting and environmental pieces and the remixed music (with bits of the original Game Boy chip tune left in, as with most of the soundtrack). It also buffs the boss so it dies in thirty seconds instead of five - go marginally threatening Angler Fish! Less than half of the dungeons in Link’s Awakening have traditional themes, instead preferring such odd motifs as bottles and keys and amateur demolition, but Angler’s Tunnel is one of the few that does so I’m happy to see that the development team for the Switch version really leaned into that distinction.

#8. Divine Beast Vah Ruta (Breath of the Wild)

I struggled considerably with ranking this one, and even now I’m still not satisfied. On the one hand this ought to be easy; everyone knows that the Divine Beasts are a low point of Breath of the Wild, small and monotonous with few enemies and similar boss fights and puzzles that are only slightly beefed-up versions of those found in shrines. On the other though BotW more than any previous game blurs the definition of a dungeon with its multitudinous shrines, lengthy (or not) quests leading up to the entrance of each Divine Beast, and Hyrule Castle providing an open-world dungeon experience like no other. In this regard Ruta is easily the best of the Beasts, as the sequence of events leading up to it involve a mostly linear narrative and geographical progression (helped by Ruta drenching the area in constant rain and preventing Link from climbing over everything like usual) that organically follows from the story progression near the start of the game and concludes with a thrilling mini-game in which Link rides Sidon smashing ice blocks and shooting targets mid-air after being launched from the top of a waterfall - and also forever blessing the internet with more gay shark cocks than it could have ever needed or wanted. Ruta’s interior has a few points in its favor as well; the obligatory dungeon movement mechanism only shifts the aim of the water spraying from the elephant’s trunk which is less disorienting than the equivalent mechanics in the other Beasts, and Link has a rune (Cryonis) naturally attuned to water/ice puzzles which somewhat makes up for BotW’s bizarre lack of underwater swimming. So yeah, lots of pros and cons and Link the DP’ing fish fucker bottom, so I’ll have to settle for sticking this one just below the middle.

#7.  Jabu-Jabu’s Belly (Ocarina of Time)

It seems strange how everyone accepted it at the time, but Ocarina of Time’s initial trio of dungeons keep the training wheels firmly on. All of them are fairly short and straightforward, none of them have locked doors, and the first two are as aesthetically generic for their respective themes as it gets. Then comes Jabu-Jabu, which is still short and key-less..except you’re inside a giant fish so here that makes sense and we’re all better off not thinking about how the barred “doors” work. As I alluded to in the entry for the inferior Oracle knockoff, this dungeon sells it on the nastiness: Link’s footsteps make squelching sounds, the walls appear to pulse (and have live cows in them serving as switches in the Master Quest revamp...again, don’t ask), glowing white growths serve as slingshot targets, there are mysterious tentacles everywhere and not the sexy kind, and the boss is a swollen mass of viscera that explodes in a shower of green goo when it dies. Extremely gross all around, but then you are inside a giant fish. Funny too that Jabu-Jabu throws a hitch in the usual dungeon pattern in the form of an escort quest of all things, but thankfully Link has to carry Ruto around instead of waiting for her to follow with dodgy AI. I also have to give credit for this dungeon making extensive use of the boomerang you find in its depths, easily one of the most fun items in OoT that goes criminally underutilized since only young Link can use it and it comes right at the end of his portion of the quest.

#6. Mermaid’s Cave (Oracle of Ages)

Oracle of Ages makes up for its counterpart’s lack of water dungeons with two of its own, and Mermaid’s Cave is by far the better of the two. It stands out as the only dungeon in either Oracle title to make use of its game’s defining gimmick, which in this case means that there are past and present versions that have to be explored separately. Ocarina of Time had earlier featured a dungeon with a similar concept in its Spirit Temple, but as with time travel in OoA more generally Mermaid’s Cave takes it a step farther with major structural and environmental differences between the two versions. The water source at the base of Rolling Ridge dries up over the course of four centuries, leaving the dungeon partially flooded in the past but mostly dry and ruined in the present, and doing some things in the past Mermaid’s Cave will affect the dungeon in the present as well. Unfortunately the novelty is somewhat undone by the dungeon item, the clunky mermaid suit that I’ve previously complained about. It leads to the game’s first fully underwater segments and plays a major role in the boss fight which alternatively engages you above and below the surface, but the letdown that is this dungeon’s namesake keeps me from placing this one any higher. Well, that and the fact that you have to do two Goron trading sequences to get inside, because of course you need a key for each era. OoA loves little annoyances like that.

#5. Swamp Palace (A Link to the Past)

While you’d be hard-pressed to call it the most iconic anymore, this is without a doubt the ur-water dungeon of the series - and I don’t only mean that it’s the first one. It’s got raising and lowering the water level, swimming against currents, redirecting channels, electric enemies, the hookshot as a dungeon item, randomly unintuitive nonsense (flooding a canal in the Light World does the same in the equivalent Dark World building because...?), and a squishy boss with a giant eye. As I did when I was ranking the games I had to bump this dungeon up a few spots specifically for how important it was in inspiring future dungeons, but nevertheless I believe the Swamp Palace holds up on its own even today. It’s notable that, in the game that arguably has more dungeons than any other in the series depending on how you count them, this is one of only a handful to even have a clearly identifiable theme - and that so much of what’s on display here has been iterated upon in so many future titles. That’s some classic Zelda stuff right there...and funnily enough this isn’t among the most annoying of the Dark World dungeons. Safe to say that a certain later title was the one to acquire a bad reputation for this dungeon type...ahem.

#4. Water Temple (Ocarina of Time)

Here it is now, possibly the most frequently maligned dungeon in the entire series. For the N64 version I absolutely understand it: the layout is unituitive and forces a lot of backtracking if you don’t know exactly where you’re going (especially with that block in the central tower...you know the one), most of the rooms look similar so it’s harder to memorize the locations of each, needing to open a slow-loading menu to take the iron boots on and off repeatedly is exceptionally tedious, movement and combat options are awkward and restricted underwater making enemies more annoying than they should be, Dark Link can be a nightmare of a mini-boss if you don’t know the flaws in his AI, the dungeon item is merely an extended hookshot, Morpha can kill you very quickly if you don’t know the even bigger flaw in its arena design...it’s one big mess, and little wonder it’s about the only dungeon to actually be easier in the Master Quest. All that said however the 3DS remake fixed around half of these issues including the iron boots and some of the navigation woes, and it’s a much smoother experience overall in that version. This Water Temple still doesn’t crack the top three for me though, in large part because I view it largely as bringing the ideas of the original Swamp Palace into three dimensions rather than creating something truly unique and memorable - or memorable for the right reasons anyway. There’s also the curious aesthetic choices in this dungeon that I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone discuss before. Between the music, the pagoda in the middle, the serpentine dragon statues everywhere, and Dark Link’s room there’s a distinctive East Asian flavor to the temple that I don’t quite know what to make of. It’s nowhere near as pronounced in any of OoT’s other dungeons or major set pieces, so it all feels quite random.

#3. Temple of Droplets (The Minish Cap)

Heavy bias factor here, because ice is another favorite gaming aesthetic of mine and this is somehow the only Zelda dungeon to combine it with water (Phantom Hourglass’s Ice Temple doesn’t count for the same reason that neither DS game appears on this list: Link can’t swim in those games, so how could there be water dungeons?). That aside however the Temple of Droplets is just delightfully creative, as is typical for this game’s dungeons. It starts with predictable ice block puzzles that lead to a fake-out with the boss key, but then it opens up to a diverse blend of lily pad “boating,” diving, melting ice with sunlight, burning ice and webs and lighting dark rooms with the lantern, and still more ice block puzzles. It’s so many different elements mashed together and enhanced even further by The Minish Cap’s unique shrinking gimmick, because this is one of the two dungeons to be fully Minish-sized. The mini-boss is an electrified Chuchu, and the boss an ordinary Octorok with a weird floral growth and separate water and ice phases that make defeating it much more of an ordeal than such a basic enemy normally has any right to be. I believe I mentioned in my game ranking that TMC is one of the more underrated titles, a creative sleeper hit that still manages to pack in tons of references to earlier, better-known 3D games. That’s certainly true of this dungeon, which throws in a quick little puzzle reference to earlier 2D games’ habit of designing their dungeon maps in particular shapes. The similarly-shaped Bottle Grotto wishes it was this good.

#2. Great Bay Temple (Majora’s Mask)

Notwithstanding that it’s in my favorite game in the series, Great Bay Temple took a while to grow on me. At first I was skeptical that an anachronistic waterworks was the right fit for a dungeon in the grim and apocalyptic Majora’s Mask - I’m always leery about fantasy media injecting random bits of other genres such as this dip into (sort of) steampunk. It didn’t take long however for me to fall in love with the place, with its rapidly-paced dynamism and brightly-colored plumbing a stark contrast to the slow and plodding Water Temple of the previous game. It perfectly accentuates Zora Link’s speedy swimming, and while the ice arrows slow the second half down a touch I’m just grateful that at least they have a point in this game unlike in Ocarina of Time. The enemies are hit or miss, although I say that less about Gyorg and more about Wart, the mini-boss that thoroughly demonstrates why Arrghus is an exercise in tedium in 3D (which is even less forgivable in a game where you’re always on the clock). Still, that doesn’t detract from how fun it can be exploring while redirecting water currents and getting all of the colored pipes flowing, and this isn’t even too frustrating with the water pushing you through the areas you need to be in sequentially. What does detract from all this somewhat is the 3DS remake; Zora Link’s infamous swimming nerf isn’t so bad in the dungeon’s narrow corridors and I can live with the more restricted ice arrows (creating icebergs in random places isn’t my idea of fun, so I don’t feel like anything was lost), but the changes to the Gyorg fight make it longer and more RNG-dependent than it should be. It’s not the only boss in the remake to become worse apparently out a desire by the developers to waste more of your limited time with them *glares at Twinmold*, but Gyorg hits worse in my minimal cycles runs on account of where Great Bay Temple falls in my scheduling.

#1. Ancient Cistern (Skyward Sword)

I didn’t want this to be #1 - it’s just not fair. The Ancient Cistern is more or less the only entry on this list that escapes the water dungeon stigma, and in fact gets consistently ranked as the best dungeon in all of Skyward Sword. Everyone loves this place, and it’s easy to see why. The aesthetics are gorgeous, it’s decently challenging but not labyrinthine, the whip is fun to use, Koloktos is awesome and unique and mildly disturbing, and the whole thing is wrapped in an explicit allusion to a Buddhist fable that comes across in the environmental details and in the dungeon structure alike. I wouldn’t call this a perfect experience, but my objections feel like nitpicks. The underwater swimming controls in SS suck...but you’re not underwater much, and there’s a much more infamous section for that later in the game. The dungeon is only half water-themed, with the basement being more of a shadow dungeon and (unlike with the Temple of Droplets) little being done to blend the two...but that plays into the fable reference and at a key point the feeling of ascending a thread from death/hell into enlightenment. The Buddhist trappings are extremely overt particularly with the shape of the boss key and the giant statue that is the dungeon’s central structure...but if the presence of that in the Zelda universe isn’t immersion-breaking to the developers for whom Buddhism is a present cultural reality then it would be petty of me to consider it more than a curiosity. None of that was enough for me to place Great Bay Temple over it, especially in light of the mild downgrade that dungeon got in its remake. Here’s to hoping that when/if SS ever gets a port or updated rerelease that the Cistern will be as good or even better than it is now. They can take the motion controls off swimming, for starters....

#The Legend of Zelda

[hadestownmodern]

Worth

Hey guys! Annika here! I hope the queue worked if it did this should be posted at 8:15 pm when I'm in the show. This is a piece that comes right before Melody which is one of Danielle’s parts and is such an important part of the AU. I suggest reading that after this, because this takes place probably 2-3 days before that does!

“You’ve looked better.” Persephone doesn’t even really look up, trying to finish grading this last page of a student’s work. The essay was already covered in red ink, but she needed to finish so she could put the grades in. She knew, however, from seeing Eurydice earlier, that she wasn’t looking too great today.

“I can’t do this, Persephone.” The voice is soft and barely audible, and causes Persephone to snap her head up to look at Eurydice, who looks on the wrong side of exhausted. Her bag is already on the ground, and the young girl is standing before her in desperate need of rest. Heavy, dark rings sit under her eyes, and her hands are shaking as she uses them to hold her daughter.  

“Can’t do what, baby?” Persephone’s crossing the room to her in an instant with gentle hands on her shoulders to encourage her to sit on the well-worn couch she keeps in the corner of her office. She is careful as she lowers her onto the cushion, being careful not to sit her on top of her own napping daughter, who was tired from her day at preschool.

“I can’t do this,” Eurydice gestures at the sleeping baby in her arm, and the bag on the ground beside her. “I have a test in three weeks and I can’t have her with me and she fights Persephone, and I mean fights us when we try to give her a bottle, and I can’t type when I hold her but she cries when i’m not, and she’s only a month old and it hurts to be away from her and- I can’t do school and be her mom. I can’t be the mother she deserves and-” Eurydice has Melody in her shaky arms, holding the baby as close as she can manage. “I’m failing as her mother and as a student and Orpheus and-”

“Hey, Eurydice, sweetheart...You are not  failing. You are not failing your classes and you are most certainly not failing Melody.” Persephone is kneeling before Eurydice, and takes her free hand in her own. “Orpheus thinks you string the stars in the sky! He is so proud of you every day. We all are.” Persephone’s other hand rests on Melody’s dark hair, taking note of how yes, the baby was calmer than anything when she was with her mother. “You are the mother she deserves because you’re you, Eurydice. She won’t go to anyone else because she loves you so much…” 

She brushes her thumb over Eurydice’s cheek, the other hand brushing comfortingly over her arm. “Eurydice, you had a baby a month ago. That’s four fucking weeks. You came to class, the first day, with a two week old. When Junie was two weeks old I don’t think I had left the house. You are far from failing, she’s going to admire you so much. You are a force, Eurydice. A force of nature.” 

“I-i’m so tired, Seph.” Eurydice broke, leaning heavily against Persephone. “I’m up with her and then when she sleeps I try to do my work and then I have to go to class and Orpheus he does so much for me and I know it breaks his heart that he can’t help me but- I’m just so tired.” She hiccups as she lets out the breath she was holding her whole sentence, glancing down at Melody to be sure she didn’t wake her. “How do you do it? You have it all, all the time, how can I be more like you?”

Persephone felt her heart break a little as Eurydice spoke to her. She surely couldn’t think her life was perfect, did she?”

“You think I have it all, all the time? Baby, I wish. To this day I can’t cook. I only see my husband a few hours a night sometimes, and right now he’s got a case thats taken up so much of his time I’m afraid Junie’s gonna forget what he looks like. It’s the second week and i’m behind on grading. I can promise, it’s not a walk in the park always for me. I’ve just learned to enjoy stopping and playing in the grass sometimes.” She pauses to look at Junie, who’s tiny body was curled up on the couch, holding the edge of her favorite blanket they kept in the office for times like these. “It wasn’t the same, when I was taking care of Orpheus at your age. There were three of us, and he likes hermes and I equally. Junie Bee, here, when she was a baby, she didn’t let anyone else near her for the first three months of her life. Screamed like a banshee when I put her down. I couldn’t imagine Eurydice, being in school, and working all those jobs you have, when I had a baby like her.” She can empathize, truly she can, to an extent. “It’s just a little different. Melody was like a souvenir you didn’t anticipate...like an award you didn’t realize you were competing for. But you would defend that title, now, with your life, you know? . Junie was a hard fought for, a hard earned prize. LIke the competition I practiced for my entire life, and lost and lost and lost. That makes a difference, I think. You were thrown into this, Eurydice, and you’re learning as you go. I learned, then thought i’d never get to use it. So don’t think i’ve got it all, or that i’ve got all my ducks in a row. You just are lucky enough to have missed my really bad, really really bad, dark days.” 

“I-” Eurydice was wordless. What did you say to a subtle reminder that things are so different between you and the person you admire most. 

“Don’t you worry about it. I can promise you, though, I do not have it all together by any means. We’re human..we can’t have it perfect. But I can promise, too, that you’re doing a hell of a good job already.” She kisses her forehead, in that maternal way only Persephone could, and holds out her arms. “You, lay down. You look exhausted, and you already told me you are. I’ll entertain Melody here..”

“She’ll fuss if you take her-”

“And if she gets to be too fussy I will lay her next to you. Now move Junie out of your way and lay down. I bet she’ll even share her blanket with her favorite auntie ‘rydice..” Persephone pulls melody into her arms, tucking her head against her shoulder before giving her a pointed look. “Will you lay down and nap, you are worse than Juniper.”

Eurydice puts her hands up in defense, and lays beside the four year old, curling her body around her as they had done so many times before. She is keenly aware of Melody's whimpering, but even more so aware of Persephone's gentle humming and soft voice keeping her calm. She is not expecting to fall asleep, but is out before Persephone reaches the second chorus on the song she sings. 

When Eurydice awakens, she is aware of the lack of a toddler in front of her, and the way the blanket seems to cover her whole body now. She stretches her legs, trying to get her bearings when she hears. 

“Junie, no baby, you can’t give the baby your milk.” Eurydice peaks an eye open to see Persephone sitting on the floor, Melody in one arm, with the other outstretched to block Junie’s drink cup from getting closer. 

“But, mama, you said babies drink milk! I tried to give her cookies, you said no. I try to share my milk, you say no!” Junie is shaking her head, shrugging in confusion. “You say it’s nice to share!”

“It is so nice to share, but she needs special milk.”

“It is special milk, Mama. It’s chocolate al-mun milk. Amma says it’s og-anic.” Junie’s inching closer, hands outstretched to touch Melody’s face. “Why can’t she have it.”

“‘Cause I have to make it for her.” Eurydice chimed in, deciding to join them on the floor. Junie squeals as she sees her, lunging at her and throwing arms around her neck before a childlike wonder fills her face. “How long was I out?”

“You make it for her? Is it og-anic?” Junie inquired, brown eyes gleaming with innocence and joy. “...can you make it chocolate?”

“It’s about as Organic as it gets, Junie, now will you get back here.” Persephone calls her, though she is too enraptured by Eurydice to hear. “Forty minutes maybe..”

“No, I can’t...make..it chocolate..” Eurydice tries, grimacing at Persephone as an apology for her failed answer. Persephone just laughs and shakes her head, instead focusing on melody, who slept soundly against her, enjoying the feeling of the tiny human in her arms. 

“Can I have some?” Junie asks, cocking her head at Eurydice who feels the color drain from her face. “please?”

“No, Juniper, you cannot-” Persephone tries before Junie starts to pout, bottom lip quivering.

“Why not? I was gonna share! Tell Melody to share, it’s only nice!!!” Her arms cross over her chest, as she looks at Eurydice with watering eyes. 

Eurydice has a look of panic on her face before Persephone reaches out and pulls Juniper onto her lap. 

“Because. It is for babies and you are a big girl. Babies need milk because they cannot eat other things, and so their mommies make it for them until they can have- “

“Mama?”

Persephone audibly sighs, running her fingers over Junie’s wild curls.  “Yes, baby?”

“Why don’t you make-”

“Because, Juniper. You are four. And you have teeth.”

#Hadestown modern #modern au #hadestown fanfic #eurydice #persephone #melody tag #Junie tag

[foolishlovebugbaby]

moonlight melodies | part 1

princess!reader x scholar!chan

Summary: dancing, unfortunately, was not apart of the list of things you’re good at. luckily for you, chan’s adamant on changing that.

Word count: 9.8k

a/n: so just imagine chan’s a brunette and that this didn’t take me a century and a half to write. enjoy :))

“And five, six, seven, eight- a one, two, three- no! Step with the left foot! To your left your highness!- Maestro if you would please cut the music.” Your dance teacher stood at the far end of the ballroom, ears a blazing red as he frustratedly rubbed his temples. You could only mimic his level of frustration- God, did you have to have two left feet? You had passed through all your levels of etiquette training and learning how to formally address your subjects, courters, and members of the monarchy with perfect diction and fluency, but gracefully learning how to perform the waltz in a ball gown too poofy for its own good would be your royal demise. 

So you stood in the center of the dance floor, face contorted in a mixture of frustration and humiliation at your dance capabilities (or lack thereof) while your practice partner bit down harshly on his lip to mask the profanities wanting to come out as a result of the blistering pain shooting from his feet that your heeled ones mercilessly stomped on.

“Your highness,” The instructor breathed out through tight lips, closing his eyes momentarily. “The masquerade ball is but a fortnight away, and we have yet to progress onto the promenade chassé! You’ve barely grasped the basics- I have no clue how on earth you’ll be able to dance the Viennese Waltz come the gala.” He rubs his cheeks frustratedly, and you snort at his vexation. 

“Chill out, Minho, will you? I’ll be the one making a royal fool out of myself, so you’re safe.” You chuck off your practice heels to the side and stretch your toes in content. “These galas have always been a royal pain in the ass, so I don’t see why this is any different.” You huff, annoyed at the grandeur of it all. 

Sure, being a princess required you to attend every gala, ball, party, whatever, as a way to make your presence known, but it had a way of turning mundane awfully quick. Like, by the second one, you were already over it. Dressing up and chowing down on all the hors d'oeuvres were the only highlights to any event that you went to.

“Madam, it is not just any other sissy gathering,” Minho said, standing straighter and looking quite offended. “It is a ball thrown in your honor. You’ve come of age to be courted, and all the finest young men in the kingdom and beyond will be attending in hopes to get a chance to dance with the Princess of the South.” He says that last part in a posh tone, and you can’t help but gag. He picks up the heels and dusts them off, walking over to hand them to you.

“Forgive me for being a smidge bit repulsed by the idea of having to find my one true love in a sea of stuck-up, unseasoned boys in order to be deemed worthy enough to rule my kingdom.” You say exasperatedly, head hot at the mere thought of it all. Since you were the sole heir to the crown (and you so happened to house a vagina instead of the preferred penile organ) people expected that you be married before ascending to the throne- which, to be frank, was a load of cow manure.

 “Even you can agree that having a grand ball for men to seduce their way to the crown is getting pretty old.” You said, in a matter-of-fact tone. Minho sighed. 

“What I believe is irrelevant, your highness. But tradition is tradition.” He kneels down, lifting up your leg to put on a heel. 

“Traditions are meant to be broken.” You mutter, pouting incredulously.

“Perhaps. I’m not asking that you not break tradition, my lady.” He slips on the other heel as well. “Just that you try and look graceful while doing so.” 

“Well if you put it that way...” You make a face, feeling bashful at yourself for being so indignant. 

So maybe appearing at these dull parties were apart of the duties of being a royal, and, as luck would have it, meant that you had to learn how to waltz through the evening. But you supposed dancing with kiss-ups was a lot better than engaging in meaningless conversations with them.

When Chan became an Academic Scholar for the palace, he didn’t think becoming best-friends with the Count’s son was apart of his education plan. But alas, fate works in mysterious ways.

“Remind me again as to why we need to be present in the palace of the South two weeks before the gala.” He draws out, exhausted from what seemed to feel like an eternal horse ride to your kingdom. He had learnt two things on his journey; the first being that horse back is possibly the worst mode of transportation, and the second being that Princes’ are possibly the worst company on impossibly long journeys. Well, at least, the one he was riding with is. 

From the Prince’s incessant whining to his numerous periodic ‘potty and tea’ breaks, Chan could’ve sworn he had died and gone to hell, and was living out his eternal suffering as a punishment for god-knows-what. But, then again, the sunny-side up to his grievances was that he could at least voice them out loud without fear of a public execution. 

“We are going for the formalities, laddy. As well as for the diplomacy. Father says I need to be the face of the North in order to maintain active peace between our kingdoms, but if you ask me I call a load of horse dung on it.” The prince scowls. “It’s so blatantly obvious that he just wants me to lock it down with the Princess before the ball in hopes to gain an advantage over her other suitors.”

Chan furrows his eyebrows, “Are my ears deceiving me? Does the Prince Hwang Hyunjin detest the prospect of wooing a lady?” He mocks, and Hyunjin sneers at him.

“Keep running your mouth like that Chan and I’ll make sure the people have the juiciest tomatoes in the kingdom to chuck at you.” He says pointedly, “But if you must know, I’ve already met the Princess- a less than pleasant experience. She was always so... aggressive whenever we played hide and seek-”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’ve completely discarded the possibility of romancing the only Princess in this bloody kingdom because of her attitude whilst playing hide and go seek when you were toddlers?” He says, astounded at the stupidity of his friend. One of the knights once said it always seemed like the Prince had a stick up his royal behind, but Chan could confirm that it was, in fact, excalibur up in there.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean. So far, as a result of all the collective impressions she has made, she definitely is not my type.” He puts emphasis on the word ‘not’ and Chan scoffs at him. “But perhaps my opinion will change come the masquerade ball.” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow to himself and momentarily thinks it over. “Hm, perhaps not as she did pin me as a joke during pin the tail on the jester.”

Chan could only roll his eyes. While he could understand astronomy and classical literature and the fundamental workings of the telescope, Aristocracy was a concept he would need 4 lifetimes and a half in order to grasp.

The rest of the last leg of their journey went just the same, with Hyunjin and him exchanging sarcastic banter while the entourage of the Prince tailed not too far back. Moments of silence were a rare occurrence, but Chan figures it was better than nothing at all.

“Gates up ahead!” A knight yells from behind as the metal monstrosities came into view. Sure, war and sieges were a quiet yet possible danger, but really? To have borders built that outlandish with that much security? 

The foundations were made of thick slabs of rock stacked up on top of each other, chiseled to have some sort of semblance to a cuboid, and stretched out on either side to what seemed like the edge of the world. On its sides were two flagpoles bearing the royal family crest up high and mighty. The wooden grid gate was a dark mahogany reinforced with steel, adding to the overall undaunted demeanour the structure exuded. The tops were adorned with metal spikes with more miniature flags of the royal family crest peaking through the breaks, a gentle juxtaposition to the otherwise severe facade. 

It was definitely a lot more intimidating and fortified that what the North had, and the entire entourage could only gulp in anticipation. While many had visited the kingdom before, Chan was a first-timer, and his dazed expression certainly gave it away. He always heard stories about the South and how it was known to be the more liberated state in comparison with the two, and how his nature professors raved about how lush the kingdom was. 

The guards at the top of the watchtowers stared intently down at them, and soon enough even more come bursting through the side gates, ready for inspection. A knight from behind emerged and presented papers with the Northern royal insignia, and the two guards exchanged mutual greetings. 

“Open the gates!” A southern guard shouted up to the men in the watchtowers, and slowly, the inside of the kingdom came into view. 

Brick houses and quaint village shops lined the cobblestone streets, with children running up and down tirelessly playing under the spring sun. The air smelled heavenly- the scent of freshly baked Sunday buns coming from the village bakery. On the side, the morning market bustled with townspeople negotiating prices with sellers to get a better deal on the vibrant fresh produce. The villagers yelled out brightly, a mix of greetings and laughter and heated negotiations, and Chan’s never seen somewhere so alive before.

Chan’s in awe at the picture-perfect scene in front of him, and they haven’t even rode into the main square yet.

 If you were to be nit-picky about the most dreadful stage in preparing for an event, it wouldn’t be the entrance practices, or the dance training. It wasn’t even the horrid memorising of the monstrous guest list, though that certainly was a close second. Oh no, it was the absolutely abominable dress fittings that you swore took a lifetime and a half to finish. It was a mystery as to why it took that long, really, because you’d gladly walk out in anything- even a nightgown.

Which is the exact reason as to why your seamstress was unbelievably burdened by your lack of active input. 

“Would your highness prefer satin or silk?” The seamstress seethes with tight lips, more so out of frustration and anger, and you look at her sheepishly through the reflection on the mirror. 

You stood on a raised platform situated directly in front of an obnoxiously big mirror with a corset cutting off your circulation and a large crinoline fastened onto your waist to see how different silhouettes would look on your figure. Not the prettiest sight, admittedly, as you held semblance to a skeleton rather than a lady. 

“Uhm, silk?” You say diffidently. In your defence, you had never been taught Fabrics 101 and so you supposed that you didn’t exactly qualify to have an opinion on what fabrics or cuts or colours a debutante princess should wear.

She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a breath through her gritted teeth, and you swore you could see smoke steaming from her ears. 

“Silk it is.” She said curtly and you nod along. 

She hung her measuring tape around her neck and stalked over to the side of the room, where a large wooden trunk sits collecting dust. With much effort and a stream of mumbled profanities, she dragged it over to you and opened it with a click. 

“Does your highness have any preferences on a structure of mask?” You peered down at the box, viewing all the old and used masks stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Some with elaborate feathering attached, others with an assortment of austentatious jewels from rubies to jade lining the frame. Some were vividly emerald with a delicate satin sheen while others were a somber matte black. How could you possibly choose, you thought to yourself, when a myriad of masterpieces sat before you? 

“Surprise me?” You quipped, unsure of yourself, knowing for certain you wouldn’t mind the final product as you knew the craftsmen were masters at their art. “Just make sure it’s not too… wild I suppose.” You added and the seamstress nodded, slightly pleased that you gave a single specification in your 5-hour session. An improvement from the last indeed. 

She began to hold up numerous plain full-face masks up to your head, each a different size from the last, in order to find a suitable size that complimented your features well. 

You were giddy in place at the thought of the process coming near to an end, wanting nothing more than to go back into your library and read another Jules Verne novel, when, “Master Minho had instructed me to send you back to the ballroom for more rehearsals, my lady. And he requests that you remain in your fittings.” 

You wanted to curse, but there wasn’t a word that had been conjured up as of yet to fully encapsulate the amount of apprehension that bubbled inside you. So you groaned excessively, slumping where you stood. 

“But I was so excited to get these contraptions off! Please please please at least take the crinoline off? I feel like a Leonardo Da Vinci project in the making.” You whined and made puppy dog eyes at her, and she looked at you with pity. 

You could practically see the amount of protest and conflict that went on in her head through her expressions, because dealing with a displeased Minho was a terror and a half, but how could one resist the puppy dog eyes of the palace treasure? 

Clearly, not the seamstress. “Okay, but you better do exceptionally well at practice today.” She huffed and began unclasping the abomination around your waist, as well as loosened up the damned corset which you were very much grateful for. 

“You’re the best!” You yelped, and she looks at you with a hint of a smile on her features but masked it with a roll of her eyes. “You still need to wear a practice mask on.” She commented, but you were just happy you didn’t have to wear a cage around your legs. She handed you a black satin mask that only covered half of your face, and sent you off. 

You always loved walking through the palace hallways. It felt like they were endless, going on and on until they reached the other side of the world. If you tried hard enough, you could get lost in them. But that sort of bliss would remain utterly untouchable, however, as Minho came into your line of view with his hands on his hips and an impatient scowl on his features. 

“You’re late.” He said monotonously, and you’d be scared if it weren’t for the fact that he looked like a kitten. A very hostile one, but a kitten nonetheless.

“By, like, a minute.” You brushed his accusatory glare off and saunter into the ballroom. 

“Just for that I’m making you wear your event heels.” His head was held up high, and you wondered if you could indulge in exercising authoritarianism just for this moment. 

“Sometimes I wonder whether I’m even royalty anymore.”

“Not with those dance skills you’re not.” “Minho!”

As a scholar, Chan had the privilege to travel far and wide, experiencing and immersing himself into an array of different cultures, cuisines and religions, only to come back and record his stories of his wondrous adventures and teach all that he had learnt. His favorite part, however, was being able to hear copious amounts of unique dialects and tongues and how the people of the world conversed. 

He’s a language nerd, to keep it frank. 

Which is why, after 6 excruciating hours of dress fittings, Chan could spew every single profanity known to mankind in all the 7 languages he knew without being called out for being a foul mouth. 

Even then, none could encompass the amount of maliceness he held for dress fittings.

Mumbling a string of incoherent obscenities under his breath, he kicked the rocks beneath him and he walked along the palace grounds, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“God, I can’t even count on both hands how many times I’ve been poked by those damned sewing needles... “ He sneers and kicks at the ground beneath him, disorienting a few pebbles. “At least the tailor called me fit.” Silver linings were for hopeless optimists, and so, naturally, they were for Chan.

As he entered the palace’s garden walkway, he could hear faint humming in the distance. If he were any more distracted, he would have missed it- but he didn't. He was certain he could hear an obscure melody floating through the air- pitchy? Yes. But a melody nonetheless, and Chan was not about to judge the person when he could not put a face to the music.

Cautiously, he followed the string of faint notes through the garden’s meticulous and intricate landscape, being careful not to take a mis-step and ruin the delicate conglomerate of ornate flora and fauna. It didn’t help that it was the dead of night- the sky a misty navy blue with the pale crescent moon being the only source of light illuminating the fields. But, Chan being Chan, continued his peculiar late-night quest to find the out-of-tune songstress. 

And find her he did. 

He reached the center of the garden- a large, octagonal marble platform with large, renaissance limestone pillars on each point and an extravagant two-tiered fountain smack dab in the middle of it all. But it wasn’t the luxurious marble or the fountain with vines and flowers of all different kinds lining its base that had caught his attention- it was the barefoot maiden in a white tunic and burgundy midi-skirt dancing as if she had two left feet, to the tune of her own voice that did. Her back was facing him, so she had yet to acknowledge his presence, but he was fine with just watching. 

She stumbled clumsily, every beat horrendously off while her toes betrayed her as she attempted to recall the music. Was that Johann Strauss? He couldn’t be sure, for her humming could be mistaken for the monotonous hum of a metalloid contraption. It amused him, really, how talentless one could be when it came to a simple one-two-step. He couldn’t help but lean on a pillar and watch her from afar, silently chuckling to himself when he heard her slew of profanities each time you messed up. He liked her determination, he concluded, and her efforts to improve despite all her errors.

There was a brief moment in time where she twirled around and Chan got a fleeting glimpse of her face- only, it wasn’t her face. It was partially covered in a mask, the black satin glimmering in the moonlight, and chan’s hand instinctively went to his back pocket where he had shoved his own as he hurried out the fitting room a couple of moments ago. He decided that if she was disguised, he would be too- for the sake of the enticing mystery, of course. 

“You’re terribly off beat.” She gasped, startled, whipping around to look at him and he could only chuckle at her appalled expression, lips agape and eyes wide. “Excuse me?” Her tone was defensive, accusatory, confused and terrified all at once.

Remarkable.

“You move after each count, when you should be moving with the count.” He explained, standing straighter and slowly made his way towards her. She raised a shaky hand up.

“Don’t come any closer,” Her tone was timid, but there was an edge to her voice. “Who are you?” She questioned, looking straight into Chan’s masked eyes. Her gaze was strong and curious behind her mask, and he stared back with the same intensity.

“Who are you?” He questioned back teasingly, and she scoffed. She crossed her arms, “I asked first.” She said pointedly.

He bit back a smile, enjoying the teasing a little too much for his own good.

“Okay,” He looked around in contemplation, “I’ll give you a hint. I’m not from here.” He shoved his hands inside his pockets casually. “Your turn.”

“I am from here.” She replied back, annoyed. “You must have come from the North, correct?” 

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, slightly taken aback by her sudden assumption. 

“Well, I’m not offbeat.” She huffed and a pout made its way onto her lips. Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at her denial. “How long have you been standing there anyway?” She asks, and he suddenly felt bashful at the realisation of how creepy he must come off after observing her like that. He thanked the Gods that his mask covered his crimson cheeks. 

He cleared his throat and swallowed down his embarrassment. “Long enough to know that you are offbeat.” He retorted, and she scoffed again at his reply, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t know that you were a dance prodigy.” She mumbled under her breath, offended and humiliated at the thought of a random stranger watching her stumble over herself. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to the flower vines, and she couldn’t help but curse at the Gods for making her so talentless.

“I’m not, but I know enough to get by.” He took another step closer to her, until they stood at arms length, and stretched out a hand. “I could teach you.” He didn’t know why he offered, but the urge to help her learn the waltz was compelling. At least, that’s what he told himself as he nervously peered into her masked moonlit orbs. And anyway, what was a scholar supposed to do in the dead of night? Sleep? Unheard of.

Her eyes went wide at the suggestion, “I don’t even know you- h-how do I know you’re not going to kill me?” She stammered and took a step back. He recoiled his hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. But I understand your hesitation.” He began to slowly back away, knowing that when he reached his room he would be staring at a tomato in the mirror. “My offer still stands.” With that, he turned and walked off.

She didn’t know why her breath hitched in her throat and why her mouth felt dry and scratchy as her mind debated on whether or not to accept his offer. She always thought she was logical and smart, but as she yelled “Wait!” she couldn’t help but feel reckless and everything but.

“I-I accept.” She stammered, her heart hammering in her chest. 

He turned around shocked, “What?” He heard her loud and clear, but the mere likelihood of her accepting a strange masked man’s offer to teach a dance class was, statistically speaking, zero to none and went against all the maps of logic and reasoning that the universe laid out. But I digress. 

“I said I’ll accept your offer.” Her voice was timid yet confident, an air of intrigue and uncertainty swimming around her. “But just know that if I’m found hurt, the castle would have your head.” Of course there was a catch, and Chan did not know what to make of that statement. Was she an important person? Was she bluffing? So many questions, not enough dancing.

He walked towards her for the second time that night. “You can trust me,” He held out his hand, his eyes trained on her own curious ones that peered up at him. 

She took a breath and gently laid her hand in his. “Okay. This is me trusting you.”

Mornings are always difficult. 

You always found it hard to get out of your thick comforters and ‘seize the day’, as they say. You would rather seize your dreams by the neck and hold onto the fleeting adventures in your brain. You could be a traveler, a dragon and a knight all within the span of your six-hour slumber rather than a princess in a castle too big with walls too high. 

That night you had dreamt you were in the palace gazebo with a masked man so handsomely illuminated by the moon that you thought your mind had conjured it up as a result of your lackluster experience when it came to men.

Only, it wasn’t a dream. He was doubtlessly there, as solid as the ground you stood on- you’d know that because your felt the firmness of his shoulder against your palm and the calluses on his fingertips against your own. And it was everything but lackluster. 

You sat up from your bed, the haze of last night’s endeavours fresh and vivid as though they were playing right before your half-lidded eyes, and you couldn’t help but groan at yourself.

“Reckless and stupid…” You mumbled, rubbing your temples vigorously while trying to suppress the growing grin forming on your lips. Spoiler alert: you failed to do so even as your teeth clamped down on them. You let out a dreamy sigh and crashed back down onto your pillows. 

You closed your eyes, recollecting the moonlight of yesterday as it played back in flashes.

“Okay. This is me trusting you.” The Gods upstairs must be frowning down at you and your carelessness, you thought to yourself as you held onto the strange man’s hand. But screw the Gods- if Jules Verne had taught you anything, it’s that you need to be reckless in order to find an adventure. 

A smile graces his plump lips and you can’t help but admire the cute indentations on the sides of his cheeks, taking note of the faint red tint seeping from under his mask. His hands, you realised, are much more bigger than yours- they engulfed yours in a stomach-turning warmth and felt sturdy against your shaky ones. 

“Well then, shall we begin?” He says, his voice deep and thick with an accent you had never heard before. You nod and gulp, slightly in awe at the whole ordeal and impossibly nervous. You grew increasingly aware of how clammy your hands must have felt and how hard your heart was pounding in your chest- you might just go into cardiac arrest, you thought, but that was a risk you clearly were willing to take. 

He held your hand firmly in his and proceeded to place your other one onto his shoulder. “May I?” He asks cautiously, his free hand ghosting over your side and you nod, feeling another round of heat spreading through your cheeks and neck. His warm palm rests on the small of your back, and you can’t help but have your mind go into a frenzy at the feeling. You felt utterly thrilled and stupendously stupid all at the same time. 

“I’m assuming you know the basic movements and foot placements, correct?” He asks again and you snort. “Of course, I’m not that bad.” You defend and he smiles. “That is for me to decide, m’lady.” You scoff and squeeze at his shoulder, not being able to control the bashful smile making its way onto your lips. 

He hums the song you attempted just moments ago, and the air fills with his melodic voice. He had the voice of an angel, you thought to yourself as he bobbed his head to fall into the proper count. 

“And one, two, three-” He takes a step back, then to the left, and another to the right and you realised how much of a narc your feet were as you continuously missed each beat and stomped on his foot. Your eyes are trained to the floor where your feet are, and you thank the Gods that you are barefoot- had you been in anything else, he would have entered a different world of pain. 

You shoot your gaze back up at his contorted face and you could not help but wince. “So maybe I am that bad.” You quip, and he only chuckles. “Yes- but don’t worry. You just need to relax, loosen up. Don’t be so nervous.” He says calmly, and your mind teeters at the thought of him knowing how fast your heart rate was going. “Just follow my lead.” His gaze never trains off of you, and he begins humming the same tune. Only, you could not just relax and loosen up given the situation you were in, and so your eyes immediately darted to the floor below you in hopes you would not mess up. 

He stops his humming. “Eyes on me,” His voice is soft and gentle as he brings his hand up to your jaw to lift your gaze to his. You gulp and bite down on your bottom lip out of sheer restlessness. “You need to trust yourself- here you are trusting a complete stranger and yet you can’t even count on yourself to go with the music.” He says teasingly, and a displeased pout forms on your lips. “Easier said than done.” You mumble.

“You’ve got this,” He says with an encouraging smile, and you puff out your cheeks. “I hope you’re right for the sake of your feet.” He laughs. 

His humms fill the air again, and it took all your mental capacity to keep your eyes steady on his. You blamed it on your second nature to look down at the floor whenever you danced- it certainly was not due to the fact that his soft brown eyes remained constantly on yours. Definitely not because his features- at least, the ones visible- were incredibly distracting in the moonlight. Oh no, none of those. At all.

He moves steady and slow, allowing you to pace yourself throughout the steps which you were incredibly grateful for- something foreign to you thanks to the trauma of Minho’s fast-paced counts. His body is sturdy and confident, guiding you through each stride with such ease and elegance. And before you knew it, you were both moving in sync- your legs naturally following and mirroring his own movements each time. Albeit shaky and far from elegant, it was definitely a level-up from the previous endeavour. 

He smiles at you and you can’t help but beam back, “See? You’re doing it,” He says mid-hum and resumes right from where he left off, a proud grin on his face. Just like your movements, your lips mirror his elated ones and you continued to move through the platform for a few more paces until he finished the last note. 

You were slightly out of breath- partly because of moving that briskly for the first time and also because the man before you managed to take your breath away simply with his gaze- and, involuntarily, you let out a quiet squeal. “I can’t believe I just did that,” You say in shock at yourself, a sense of pride filling your chest. 

He only laughs at your epiphany as he held onto you, “I told you~” He sings, and you pinch his bicep playfully for his teasing. “I totally could have navigated through it by myself.” You say sarcastically, and he snorts at your comment. “You’re welcome.” He says pointedly. 

“Thank you, I really mean it.” He smiles at your gratefulness, “Don’t mention it.” 

You both stood towards the edge of the pavilion, your hand still in his and on his shoulder whilst his arm encircled your waist. Both of your chests rose and fell in sync, and for a moment you’re both silent- eyes still trained on each other while the crickets sang in the background. Of course, with all things exciting, the Gods decided that awkwardness was a must. 

He steps back and clears his throat, his arm letting go of your waist and his hand falling back to his side, after realising just how close your bodies were to each other. You almost shiver at the loss of contact, feeling cold in the absence of his warmth. You scratch the back of your neck and wobble back and forth on your heels, feeling the air become dense with awkward tension.

“S-so uhm, you’ve definitely improved a lot since, well, since the last time I saw you- which really wasn’t that long ago so I’d say that’s a win.” He rambles, his gaze darting towards all eight corners of the gazebo, trying to look everywhere but at you. Which was fine, since you were doing the exact same thing. 

“Y-yeah- still got a long way to go before the ball.” You say sheepishly, leaning back on a pillar to your left and twiddling with your thumbs. 

“You’re going to be at the ball?” He questions, with a cute tilt to his head and you nod. “Will you?” You’re slightly hopeful- what are the chances of ever meeting this strange, alluring man again? “Maybe.” You can see him wink behind his mask and you roll your eyes. 

“I could teach you again, if you want.” He suggests from beside you, and you hear his breath hitch. Your mind goes wild- what does one even say to that? Yes? No? Absolutely? Absolutely not? “I don’t want to waste your time with this though,” You settle on the courteous thing to say, even though your heart yelled at you to be selfish and seize the opportunity before it went away forever.

“It wouldn’t be a waste of my time- I could teach you at night, the same time as now.” He insists, and there’s a war going on in your head to accept. “And anyway, you’re still terribly ungraceful.” He smirks playfully, and you roll your eyes at his incredulousness. 

“Well, if you insist.” You retort, and he grins. You could feel butterflies flare in your stomach, the buzz of the situation at hand making you feel absolutely wondrous. The masked stranger was charming and enthralling, and if you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was an apparition-a trick of the moonlight. Maybe you didn’t know any better, but that's besides the point. 

“Well, I’ve got to go now.” You say wistfully, wanting to stay longer but knowing that the palace would be turned inside-out if you weren’t back in your chambers before midnight. His expression falls, much like yours, but his eyes are hopeful. “Tomorrow, same time?” He asks, and you bite back a smile. 

“I’ll be here.” You drag your feet along the marble slowly, still facing him as you back away, before sending a final smile and turning around to walk off, your heart doing back flips in your chest. You don’t even make four strides when his warm hand wraps around your wrist. 

“May I please know your name?” He breathes out, and you’re at a loss for words. For the first time in your life, someone was not bowing to you every time you made eye contact. For the first time in your life, someone could tease you and make playfully snide remarks without hesitation and fear. For the first time in your life, someone was unapologetically straightforward with you. And for the first time in your life, you were able to detach from your identity as a princess and remain completely you. 

“Try again next time,” You say playfully after contemplating. 

He sighs with a smile, and you head back to the palace, a skip in your step and the feeling of his hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

You have a stupid smile on your face at the breakfast table, much to your parents confusion and delight. “What’s got you so elated, dear?” Your mother questions with her brows furrowed, chewing on her omelete. 

“Oh nothing, just a book I read.” You lie on the spot and feel your face heat up, turning your gaze back down onto your plate of breakfast pastries. “Must be some book.” Your father says, and you let out a knowing chuckle. 

“Sweetheart, some troops and dignitaries of the North have come for the ball, and so has the Prince, so I’d suggest you make yourself well acquainted with them during their stay at the palace.” Your mom quips and you sit up straighter. “Hyunjin is here?” There’s a displeased tone to your voice, and it’s clear that your mom doesn’t appreciate it. 

“Yes, and I expect you to make nice, just like old times.” She says pointedly and you puff out your cheeks. You see, it’s not that you didn’t like the Prince, but you didn’t exactly like him either- he always seemed rather... displeased by your antics and so you never really moved past royal formalities. 

“How are your dance lessons going, dear?” Your father asks you in his booming voice, and you have to laugh. 

“How do you think they’re going?” You retort and he makes a face at you. “I do hope you’ve at least improved from the last time we saw you dance,” You parents exchange looks, “It’s high time that the Princess is able to dance through the evening without ripping the ends of her gown.” You roll your eyes at that and groan. 

“That happened only twice, father, and if you ask me, those gowns needed some edge to them.” It was your parents’ turn to roll their eyes at you. It was no secret that you, the Princess, resembled a dismembered horse whenever you danced- even if it were a secret, it clearly was not a very well-kept one. Which was fine, since the subject of your blundering dance capabilities only saw the light of day whenever an event as grand as a ball became the talk of the town. But jokes get old, and so do the labels that deemed you nothing more than an ungraceful royal, so your determination to prove anyone and everyone wrong grew more and more each day.

Your masked dance instructor certainly increased your will tenfold. 

After breakfast, your parents wasted no time in shooing you off to the dance hall, saying something along the lines of “a full stomach means bountiful results of labour.” much to your dismay.

Time is money, and that certainly was the mantra that Minho exuded as he wasted no time in directing you through all the warm-ups and floor routines with your dance partner. You took a deep breath and imagined that you were back at the gazebo, in the arms of someone you didn’t fully know. 

Trust yourself.

Do you trust me?

You’re doing well, just remember to count each beat in your head.

I told you you could do it.

Eyes on me.

It felt like you were floating as the maestro played each melody, your eyes dazed as your mind played back each step on repeat. Unbeknownst to you, you had successfully ran through the routine without stepping on your partner and staying on count- for the most part.

“Well, my lady, I am pleasantly surprised at this drastic improvement,” Minho’s eyes are wide and sparkly and full of shock at the fact that you stayed on beat for the majority of the dance, and you can’t help but chuckle at his dramatic bewilderment. “What in heaven’s name has gotten into you?” He questions genuinely, and your mouth goes wide in disbelief. 

“Don’t sound too shocked, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve stayed on count.” He makes a face. “Okay, so maybe it is.” You mumble curtly and proceed to fold your arms over your chest like an offended child- which you were, but that’s besides the point. 

“Does this improvement call for a celebratory, well-earned 2-day break?” You ask, half jokingly and half absolutely serious, and clasp your hands together hopefully. His face goes back to blank and he straightens up.

“Absolutely not- you’re still astonishingly shabby and lumbering, your posture is horrendous and-”

“Okay I get it, a simple ‘no’ would have been sufficient, thank you very much.” You sneer, and he smiles sarcastically back at you.

“You’re welcome.”

Minutes, seconds, hours, days, months, years- you didn’t know just how long practice took until you stepped out of the ballroom, feet covered in blisters and an ache in your back, to a haze of purple and orange in the sky, the sun just about to touch the horizon. You’re exhausted and drained, and, if it were up to you, you’d have ran away right there and then but you couldn’t, because the sores on your feet laughed at your futile attempts to even walk. 

Okay, that was a tad dramatic. You could walk, but you figured playing it up a little would somehow garner the attention of your very powerful parents to do something about Satan’s Incarnate, Minho, and get you a few practice-free days. 

But of course, your parents were not in the throne room, or the dining area, or even in their chambers- the reason being an impromptu visit to the eastern provinces for diplomatic purposes as you later came to find out. You could almost hear the Gods snickering at your turmoil. 

So you dragged your sore feet to the palace library, ready to delve into another chapter of another book that peaked your interest even though your mind would betray you and saunter back to your masked instructor gleaming in the moonlight. 

He was all you thought about, even as you vividly imagined strangling Minho, he remained in the back of your mind. If you tried hard enough, you can almost feel him again- firm arms and everything. Your heart raced at the thought of meeting for the second time tonight. 

A loud thump echoed through the library, and you freeze in place, a hand outstretched towards a bookshelf, your heart startled from the sudden noise. “Who’s there?” You question loudly.

“Sorry!” A muffled and strangled voice yells from the other side, and your head darts in all directions to get a glimpse. 

You clamber down from the step-stool you had been on and investigate, peeking your head through every aisle and row from the piles of encyclopedias to the endless collections of literature. But, in an aisle labelled Astronomy, a pale, curly-haired stranger sits disheveled with a thick volume of books strewn on the floor, pages exposed haphazardly and face-down. You raise your eyebrows, and he smiles sheepishly at you. 

“The collection fell as I was trying to get it out.” He explains, cheeks tinted rouge while he bent down to pick them up. You bend down as well, gathering as many as you can and flattening out the bent pages. 

“Thank you for your help,” He says gratefully, and you smile at him. “No problem.” You’ve come to the conclusion that you absolutely have no recollection of who this is, and what his name is or where he’s from, but there’s a strange sense of familiarity that wrecks your brain. The way he talks sounds so familiar, but you can’t quite put a finger on it. He’s clad in a white dress shirt and a burgundy vest over top, with black slacks to match, and you notice the insignia on the left side of his breast pocket. A Northerner. 

You notice as well that he’s handsome- thick dark hair that curled at the tips with rosy skin and eyes that looked as though they were dipped in honey- but nevermind that.

“May I please know your name?” He asks and you’re snapped out of your analytical trance. You say your name, and he looks as though he’s seen a ghost.

“Y-your highness- forgive me, I did not know it was you,” He’s kneeling on one knee and his head is bowed, and you feel bashful at the sudden formality. Princess. Right.

You curtsy and nod your head, “It’s okay, my apologies for not introducing myself. May I know your name?” 

He’s about to speak when, “Channie boy! Where are you? The palace has got so many great-” You can immediately imagine a face to match the voice, and your suspicions are confirmed the moment his tall figure saunters into the aisle.

“Ah, Princess y/n. Delighted to see you again.” He cuts himself off and stride over to you, bending to bow and taking your hand to place a chaste kiss on the back of it. He does this because he knows how squeamish it makes you feel, and your distress entertains him too much. 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Prince Hyunjin.” You curtsy and fold your hands over each other behind your back, shooting lasers with your eyes at the boy in front of you. “Chan, I see you’ve met Her Royal Highness.” Hyunjin says that last part pointedly and sarcastically, and you feel like shoving him into a pit of snakes. 

“Indeed I have.” The stranger, Chan, says curtly with a tight smile, obviously noticing the blunt tension between the two of you. 

“Well, Princess, unfortunately my scholar and I have some business to attend to,” Hyunjin and Chan are exchanging a conversation with their eyes and you find it amusing how strange it would look out of context. “So we shall bid you farewell for now. Hope you have a good night.” You exchange bows again and soon enough the two men were off, their seemingly hyper conversation being drowned out by the enormity of the library. 

So he’s a scholar, you repeat in your head and smile in amusement. Since when did the prince hang out with scholars?

There’s nothing more nerve-wracking to Chan than having to wait. But in retrospect, he did come a little too early than what was expected, his excitement and nervousness not allowing him to sit still until he found himself in the grandeur of the palace gazebo. 

Could you blame the guy? His mystery woman was all he thought about, even as Hyunjin dragged him around the palace to look at god knows what, and he could not help but hope to see her in the palace by coincidence even if he did not fully know what she looked like. Consequently, he ended up looking like a fool on a wild goose chase, with Hyunjin interrogating him about why he looked like he was after hidden treasure more than he would have liked. 

So he walked around a few times, then another few times, with each time eliciting a sigh from his lips and a puff of his cheeks, until the golden hues were long gone and were replaced by a dark night sky looming above him. He was wearing the same mask again, even though he felt as if he looked absolutely stupid in it, and made sure he practiced the routine a few times so that the information he parted wasn’t complete and utter horse dung. 

Thanks to the fact that the palace clock tower was easily seen from his vantage point, it felt as though the clock hands were mocking him, saying ‘ha! It’s been two hours, get a grip!’. Any rational person would have left after thirty minutes- an hour, at most, but rational was not apart of Chan’s dictionary. 

Maybe she’s not coming tonight, he thinks to himself, and he can feel the heat stain his cheeks for being so hopeful. 

“I’m sorry- have you been waiting long?” She’s panting and there’s a sheen of sweat slick on her forehead, but she’s here. He jumps slightly, startled by her sudden and unexpected appearance, and scratches the nape of his neck.

He smiles sheepishly, “Not at all, just got here a few minutes ago.” Yeah, if one hundred and thirty eight minutes were considered as ‘a few’. She smiles at him with her half-covered features, and he thinks the wait was worth it. 

“Shall we begin?” He nods, finding her straight-forwardness cute, and takes her hand in his. 

-

“Will I ever know your name?” 

They’re sitting side by side on the steps of the gazebo, and Chan’s slightly out of breath from all that dancing. It had been a good couple of hours since they had started the night, the dark starry sky freckled with stars blanketing their horizon, and neither of them had any plans to head back to the palace.

“That depends,” She chuckles from beside him, “Will I ever know yours?” She says playfully and turns to look at him, her masked eyes gleaming with the slightest crescent-moon curve to them. He’s dying to know what she looks like, but he guesses time will only tell. 

“Alright then. What’s your relationship with the royal family? I’m assuming you’d have to either work under them or be apart of them to live in the palace.” He doesn’t notice her gulp out of nervousness. 

“You could say I know them, sure.” She says half-heartedly.

He contemplates her response, “Do you know the princess?” Though brief, his run-in with the Princess was one he had yet to live down, with the embarrassment of questioning who she was a complete blunder on his part. It was so obvious she was goddamn royalty, what with her stately attire and astonishingly regal features- were all royals exceptionally good-looking? Was the good-genes pool reserved for the throne? Chan’s certainly met a fair amount of underwhelming-looking aristocrats during his time, but the Princess of the South was definitely not classified as such. 

He doesn’t know that her heart beats a million miles a second at his question. 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” She says playfully in attempt to mask the irony. “Why? Do you know the Prince?” She challenges. “What if you are the Prince?” She says exaggeratedly and he can only laugh. 

“Ding-dong your answer is wrong,” She laughs. “I could never last being a royal.” He says and she tilts her head to the side.

“And why is that?” 

“Well, I just don’t think being at the receiving end of a life of servitude is my sorta thing. And, between you and me,” He leans over playfully, “It seems like all royals do is demand this and demand that, since they’re born into a life that requires them to not work for anything.” It’s not that he hates royalty with every fibre of his being- and he isn’t one to complain, since he has basically been interwoven into that lifestyle after joining the Scholar’s court. But seeing life from the perspective of someone who has had to work for everything and of one who has had to work for nothing unsettles him- the unfairness of it all leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“I think you’re mistaken,” She replies with conviction, and he turns his gaze onto her. “They never really asked for that life, and, sure, being born into something makes you ignorant but to assume that all of them are the same is ignorant as well. Maybe some are waiting for their turn to make an actual difference, and maybe some are doing their best behind closed doors because everything they do and say is recorded by everyone around them.” She rambles, staring at the ground with her fist clenched on the marbe below it and Chan stares in awe. “I mean, that’s just my take. Just a guess.” She follows up quickly, the tips of her ears turning red. 

He’s floored by her response, mostly because he’s been surrounded by people with the same ideology (save for the royals themselves, of course) that it’s refreshing to hear something different. His curiosity towards her only skyrockets.

“I’ve… never thought of it that way.” He says slightly dazed as he stares at his outstretched, boot-clad feet. 

“Well, you learn something new everyday.” She says, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on them, facing him and flashing a small smile. It makes his heart skip a beat, but he shrugs it off as the pollen grains triggering his allergies. 

They stay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, his eyes never leaving hers and letting the autumn air breeze by them, until the clocktower rumbles, signalling that midnight has fallen. She breaks their gaze and looks up, “I’ve got to go.” She sounds unwilling to, and Chan almost tells her to stay. Almost.

“Will I see you again tomorrow night?” He stands up along with her, his voice hopeful, and her eyes answer for her before her voice does. “Yes.” 

“Well then,” He takes a step back and grabs her hand in his, “This is goodnight.” He bows like a gentleman and leaves kiss on her knuckles, his heart soaring at the feeling of her soft skin against his lips. He looks up to see her biting her shy smile away and a grin makes its way onto his face. “Goodnight to you too.” She squeaks out and looks him in the eye one last time before scuttering off into the garden, her silhouette shrouded by the trees.

He already misses being close to her.

You’ve come to the conclusion that only a specific stranger in a mask can make the butterflies in your stomach act as though they’re on acid, which is completely fine with you.

“Good evening Princess, fancy seeing you here.” Hyunjin greets dryly, his straight posture making him look as wound tight as ever, and you quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“I sort of live here, Prince Hyunjin.” 

It amazes you how you had managed to run into him out of all people within the enormous palace, but you figured that it was punishment for all the immature pranks you had pulled on him when you were younger. In your defense, scaring him was the only pleasure you took, not the crying and screaming part.

“I know that.” He retorts just as dry. “Why are you lugging such a big record player around? And why the mask?” His head tilts perplexedly at the machine twice your size cradled in your arms, and you gulp- how were you going to explain your way out of this one?

“My dance instructor is making me practice in my chambers?” It comes out more like a question and you thank the gods you have a mask to cover the sheer audacity on your face. His face contorts even more in confusion, as if it were even possible. “But your chambers are that way?” He points directly behind you. God dammit Hyunjin, can’t you just let a girl live?

You clear your throat, “Well, I meant my other chambers.” You don’t have a second room, but you’re relying on his gullibility to save whatever dignity you have left. “Anyways, can’t chit chat, I must get back to practicing my dance moves.” You excuse yourself quickly and start making a beeline around him.

 “But it’s late-”

“Have a good night!” You’re desperate at this point- you were already running late thanks to having to find and carry your father’s record player around your obscenely large palace, you didn’t need a nosy Hyunjin interrogating your motives to add on to your tardiness. 

“Oh, Princess! Before you go, have you happened to see Chan around by any chance?” Hyunjin yells from behind you, but your foot is already halfway through the exit.

“Nope!”

-

“Wow.” He says, his eyes glinting with amusement and shock behind his mask. You stand there panting, slightly sweaty and extremely eager to show him how the contraption works. But the moment you settle it down, he’s already tinkering with it. 

“I’m guessing you’ve brought this to aid in our lack of music?” He smiles up at you humorously and you grin sheepishly. 

“Figured you’d appreciate a break from having to hum all the time.” You mumble and fiddle with your thumbs. It was a gesture that you had been conjuring up ever since you noticed how fatigued he would get trying to hum and dance simultaneously, and you figured you needed an arm workout anyway. 

“I don’t mind the humming,” He stands up and takes your hand in his. “But thank you anyway.” His smile is perfect, and you thank the heavens it’s not covered by the mask. 

“So, shall we begin?” You nod and he places a hand on his shoulder and his hand around your waist and flips a switch on the player with the tip of his boot.

“One, two, three…” The music fills the air softly, a mix of static and melodies while he guides you around the courtyard. You’re still not yet used to holding his gaze- mostly because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t, but you blame it on your lack of habit. 

Each step is just as smooth as the previous and there’s no denying the massive improvements you’ve made. “You’re doing excellent,” He compliments in-between counts and you grin. “I have a great teacher.” 

He spins you out and you twirl back into him, your back pressed against his chest and you can feel his breath ghost over your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, and you’re praying he doesn’t see the hairs standing up at the back of your neck. 

The moment  is gone as quick as it came, however, and you’re back to facing him. You notice the red tint on the tips of his ears and something inside you becomes giddy at the thought of making him blush. 

But of course, the gods hate you, so they decide to mess with your record player. “What’s happening?” The tunes become slower and slurred, the periods of static becoming prolonged, and what once was a harmonious symphony has now become nothing but noise. 

You both stop in place momentarily, your gaze drifting towards the turn-table across the courtyard as you curse it out for ruining the mood. Out of all the times it could’ve picked to malfunction, it chooses now to act up? Blasphemy. 

A finger is placed on your chin and brings your gaze back to his. “Well the music is, technically, still playing and you know what they say- The show must go on.” There’s a smile on his face and you look at him, puzzled. 

“But the music’s off beat?” 

“The music is never wrong- we’re simply too fast.” He says wittily. You’re still confused, but he takes extra slow steps and your mind puts two-and-two together. 

After being so accustomed to moving as fast and as accurate to the beat as possible, the slow counts are ones you can barely get used to- heck, you can barely count in the midst of the skewed melodies and scrambled music. But you keep your eyes on him and he brings your body closer to his until you’re flush against his chest, and suddenly the music doesn’t even matter any more. You’re moving aimlessly with him with every slow step that passes you by, and the music melts into the background until it becomes lost with the crickets and trees. His gaze is soft and gentle with a comforting firmness, just like his grip, and you’re so entranced with the stranger before you that you don’t even hear the clock strike twelve.

There’s a myriad of synonyms that are along the lines of ‘perfect’, but you’d have to spend a lifetime trying to find the one that perfectly encapsulates this moment.

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[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 26: Abandoned

(Form an alliance with the masses.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 26: Abandoned

Word Count: 2835

Relationships: Prinxiety (implied pre-relationship/pining Virgil)

Warnings: Crying/Emotional breakdown, mild self-harm (unintentional), mild blood, mentions of panic attacks, mention of rituals/sacrifices in a joking/satirical manner

A/N: i don't really have much of an explanation as to how this ties in with the prompt. you could view it as roman abandoning his pride to accept comfort, or virgil abandoning his anxiety to help someone he cares about, or even just something as simple as that abandoned mug of hot chocolate. up to you, do with this what you will. anyway, i intended this to be way angstier, but then it somehow got to almost 3k word of prinxiety fluff? so. yeah idek either. by the way, the song in the fic is called "Ribbons".

“And you fell in ribbons around me.”

It’s nighttime when he hears it. The melody of a song too obscure to pinpoint, beauty in each wistful note. The words are laced with thoughtfulness, speared by longing, and it’s unlike anything Virgil’s ever heard before. It’s almost as if the lyrics themselves dance down the hallway, twirls and pirouettes and every kind of graceful move imaginable to the ballad from which they were born. Virgil doesn’t know the song, hasn’t heard it sung or played in the mindscape before, which is odd considering how it feels like there’s always new music waiting to be discovered here.

“Shredded by the ones you used to seek.”

Virgil hopes he’s not intruding on anything important when he rounds the corner, and he’s met with a massive room he didn’t even know existed. It spans multiple stories, bookshelves filled with all different sorts of novels towering so far into the sky that he can’t see to the top. The room itself is oval-shaped, which is odd enough, but considering this is in Thomas’ mind, anything is possible. Smaller, more normal-sized bookcases lie in rows on either side of the room, creating long passageways that seem to twist and turn like a labyrinth fueled by pure knowledge. In the very center lies a few couches and beanbags chairs all situated in a circle, bordering a large table in the middle that holds magazines, stray bookmarks, pens, and a single mug of what looks to be steaming hot coffee beside an opened book.

The room is impressive, and almost intimidating with it’s accented swirling designs in the mahogany wood that makes up most of the walls, but the fireplace directly in front of him on the other side of the library emits a glow that keeps it cozy despite its enormity. It’s warmer in here than it is in the main part of the mindscape, though cool enough so as not to be uncomfortable, almost at the perfect temperature to lull one to sleep whilst in the middle of reading.

Virgil wonders why he never knew of this place.

“Be quiet now, it’s almost time.”

The soft voice comes again from somewhere in the left half of the room, far away enough to allow Virgil to conclude that he’s on a different floor. It’s Roman, he knows it is now that he can hear his voice better, but what’s Roman doing in a library at three in the morning?

Virgil twists his hoodie strings in his fingers as he slowly walks into the library, making the trek across the plush green carpet to the common area in the center. The soft fabric caressing his bare feet feels more soothing than he was expecting, like a cloud holding him up as he walks across the sky. He doesn’t know if Roman came in here with the express intent of being alone, but hopefully he won’t be angry. Virgil couldn’t sleep, and who’s to say he’s to blame for being curious?

“Be careful not to fall out of line.”

A page finally submits to it’s rigid conditioning and falls back to the other half as Virgil approaches, exacerbated further by the small amount of a breeze he kicks up when he gets close enough. Scanning everything on the table is more of out of wonder, for once, rather than fear, and it’s a nice breath of air from the usual hypervigilance he’s been instilled with since his first appearance within Thomas as a side.

There’s not much of note in the way of the scattered supplies and note sheets littering the table, covered in neat handwriting that is undoubtedly Logan’s. It’s a surprise to see such a disquieted work space, such an unrefined lack of organization that isn’t typical of Logan’s usual behaviour. His need for categorizing and cataloguing and sorting is something that feels like it’s been ingrained into him since day one, and to see his visibly scattered thought and work process is weird. Really weird.

“Breathe so softly, keep your whispers low.”

Virgil notices that the bright red porcelain mug on the table doesn’t, in fact, hold coffee, but hot chocolate with colourful marshmallows. It’s fitting to Roman, suits his need for simple comforts such as a warm, sweet beverage, and the thought of him with a chocolate mustache on his lip from drinking it too quickly brings a small smile to Virgil’s face. Well, at least it does until Hot Chocolate Mustache Roman turns into Regular Remus, and Virgil berates his brain for corrupting a pleasant mental image like that.

The liquid is still very hot, as shown by the steam rising from the lip of the cup and the heat Virgil can feel radiating onto his fingers despite his hands not even being close to touching the ceramic. It hasn’t been drunk, not even a sip as evident by the perfectly clean and immaculate rim around the edge, which means Roman must have either gotten distracted or was in a hurry for something. Virgil can’t imagine that someone leisurely singing songs at 3 a.m. is necessarily in a rush, so that just leaves distraction. Typical of him. Virgil wishes he were annoyed instead of endeared.

“Silently dream of what you used to know.”

Virgil finally tears himself away from the warmth, comfort, and coziness of the reading area to start locating Roman, and it’s not particularly difficult to find him. His voice carries even when he’s not in one of those grandiose, lifting belts he loves so much, and the melodies act as a rope to pull Virgil closer to where he is. Up the stairs behind one of the bookcases on the wall, along balconies, traversing ladders and mazes of shelves just to try to find his way to the source of the song.

“They don’t love you, no, they never will.”

At that lyric, Virgil stops in his tracks, falters when the words sink in. Is… is that what Roman thinks? It could be argued that they’re just lyrics and don’t mean anything, but Virgil of all people knows best that the music we listen to is an extension of ourselves. It reflects our deepest wants, and fear, and insecurities, the ones we refuse to let out of their cages locked deep within the heart to escape and leave us vulnerable. And judging by the raw emotion in his voice as he sang that line, the way it dipped at the end of the line very narrowly missing a crack, it… it makes Virgil worried. And guilty, because this must be partially his fault. 

“They’ll always be better so rest your heart and still.”

Virgil wants to tell him that he’s wrong, wants to stave off the thickness steadily building in his throat as the result of what is likely to be tears. Roman’s cried around them, of course, but never over something very serious or personal. When he learned an actress Thomas looks up to died, or when he realized that a show they were scheduled to play got cancelled at the last minute after weeks and weeks of painstaking script memorization and practice.

It’s hard to not say something when he finally peers through an open space in the last bookcase in the row and sees his their Princey, of whom is surprisingly not in his trademark royal garb. He wears it so often Virgil has wondered before if he dons it while he sleeps, when he works out, even in the shower, and if Virgil’s being honest, it wouldn’t surprise him. But the familiar red sash and white jacket and golden lace embroidery is nowhere to be seen, replaced by something much less prince-like, more humbling, more… human.

Virgil never thought he’d be admitting to himself that Roman somehow is able to look hot in dark grey sweatpants and a loose red t-shirt, but here he is.

“It’s time to leave, I promise it’ll be fine.”

Roman sings much softer this time, as if coming to his senses about his surrounding, realizes that it’s late and he might wake someone up. Too late.

His face is stained with tear tracks, both old and fresh with the moisture building in his eyes only to spill over the dam and roll heavy upon his cheekbones. Virgil’s so used to him keeping up appearances, just as Virgil himself and every other side does despite how much Patton denies being sad or Logan denies having emotions, and he decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the sorrow in their resident prince’s eyes, doesn’t like the way meekness looks on him.

“Just don’t look, they’re not coming back this time.”

Roman seems to get impossibly smaller with every uttered word, curling in on himself where he sits against the railing, peering over the balcony to the ground floor many stories below with misty, unseeing eyes. His arms slowly snake their way up to his sides, come to clench at each other with a surprisingly harsh force. His fingers dig hard enough into his arms to cause them to go white with the lack of blood, to create crescents in the shape of his fingernails, and Virgil doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold himself back from rushing over to help any longer if he sees even the tiniest ounce of blood come out of Roman’s skin.

“Tell me now how is it up there.”

And it does, unfortunately. Roman has never been one to control his strength very well, and in this state of upset, it’s likely he doesn’t even feel the pain. Being numbed by self-loathing, the apathy that comes shortly after almost like a soothing but assertively temporary balm to the pain, it’s all so familiar. Virgil knows that state like the back of his hand, can almost feel it radiating off of Roman in waves, but maybe that’s his ability to sense the others’ anxiety. He’s still not very good at being able to differentiate between different feelings.

Tiny little droplets of blood well up from where he pressed a bit too hard with sharp, manicured nails, wells up just the same as a soft sob does. Virgil doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know what happened, what set him off, what triggered this kind of response. He doesn’t know the kinds of thoughts Roman may be having, or how in control of himself he is. He doesn’t know. But Virgil will damn well try to help despite all of that.

“Princey?” Virgil murmurs from behind, and Roman flinches as he whips his head around to meet Virgil’s concerned gaze. He seems bewildered for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting anybody to be in here, which would be a fair assumption if it weren’t for the fact that Virgil’s sleeping habits and schedule is awful. Roman takes a minute to process the turn of events, and then comes back to himself with a shuddering sigh as he hastily wipes his tears away with unforgiving fingers.

“Haha, what are-- what’re you doing up, Surly Temple? Prowling in the night? Some sort of… I dunno, emo ritual? A-All the emos gather ‘round at 2 a.m. to chant My Chemical Romance lyrics while they sacrifice band tees to the flames?” Roman rambles on nervously, a look on his face that implies even he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly when Virgil gives him a judging look, but then hisses through his teeth when he realizes he has minor wounds littering his upper arms. Virgil’s immediately back to that same worry, that same empathy that coursed through his veins before, and he calmly approaches the disheveled prince. Roman gives him an unreadable look when he sits down a respectable distance away (closer than Virgil originally planned on being, close enough to barely be able to brush shoulders if he just leaned over a bit), but soon his eyelids flutter as he shifts his gaze back to look out over the chasm filled with books.

“C’mon, Princey, what’s up?” Virgil asks quietly, knocks his shoulder against Roman’s in a show of good faith (at least he hopes it comes across like that). Although he still feels awkward talking so candidly with someone he’s used to bickering with all the time, Virgil finds himself oddly confident. Maybe it’s the survival instinct that’s embedded so deeply within his core, the want to protect and save those he cares about, those who have been hurt by both others and themselves. Although he and Deceit have had their differences in the past, ones Virgil is still having trouble reconciling even after acknowledging his faults in the unfortunate falling out, the two of them share that, at least. Self-preservation, two sides working to protect and better Thomas (and the sides, by extension) in their own specific ways. 

“It’s… it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just saw a-- saw a sad movie! Needed to cry it out, haha!” Roman bites out, pained and strained and oh so fake, and Virgil huffs out an exasperated breath. It’s times like now where Virgil feels that intense urge to safeguard, to shelter the ones he cares about, and it builds in his chest like a scream waiting to burst out. There’s no way to expel the restless energy, no way to quench that absurd, overwhelming need to shield, except…

“Roman, don’t do this to yourself,” Virgil murmurs gently, reprimands with a soft, caring tone, and taking the other side into his arms is much easier than he ever imagined. It feels right, feels like he’s supposed to be here, helping and holding the creative side throughout anything the world could throw at him. Or whatever he can throw at himself; Virgil is no stranger to being your own worst enemy. Roman just laughs brokenly, shudders through another sob as he buries his face into the soft fabric of Virgil’s patchy jacket, and Virgil wraps his arms around the broader shoulders to offer the rare moment of tactile comfort while he’s able to stand physical touch.

They sit there for a long time, a long few hours of Roman crying as quietly as he can while Virgil delivers gentle, relaxing reassurances. He knows it isn’t easy to open up like this, to allow someone you’re not very close to see you vulnerable, and Virgil hopes that maybe this’ll spark a change. Maybe they can get to know each other a bit better, understand each other’s intentions and wants and needs, and maybe. Maybe they can be friends, could be something more.

Roman’s weeping tapers off eventually, shifts into soft sniffles as the sun rises high enough to shine bright rays through the enormous stained glass window in the center of the library, just above the fireplace. Virgil is starting to get uncomfortable from holding the same position for too long, and sitting hunched over on the floor for hours like this surely isn’t very good for his back, but he’ll deal with that when it comes. Right now, his focus is on Roman, on wiping the last stray tears away from his reddened cheeks after a moment’s hesitation, and he counts it a victory when Roman doesn’t push him away for it.

Roman sits up fully but doesn’t lean away, just presses his fingers into his eyes as the two of them finally rise and stretch their sore muscles. Virgil can’t help but admire the way the red light falls upon Roman’s face, the way it casts shadows and highlights and wraps his lips and lashes in hard candy. It’s breathtaking, steals the air from his lungs and the support from his trembling knees, and he knows they need to wrap this up quickly before the events of the night can fully crash down on Virgil and send him into a spiral. The panic attacks can wait until later, when he’s alone and doesn’t have to deal with the humiliation of being so uncharacteristically sappy.

Roman sudden barks out a hoarse laugh, shakes his head at Virgil’s questioning look. He leans back nonchalantly, tries to appear casual even though Virgil can see that his hands are still shaking in the aftermath of his breakdown. He won’t say anything, though. He doesn’t like when people call attention to his anxiety unnecessarily, and although he knows it’s out of concern, it often just makes it worse. “‘Grasp my hand and pull me out of here.’ The next line in the song.”

Virgil smirks at the soft, final notes, senses an idea blooming in his head. This is probably a bad idea, a terrible idea, and Roman will probably slap him for it, but… he said to grasp his hand and pull him out of there. So Virgil does, he slides his hand into Roman’s own, tugs him to run down the balcony and the stairs and through bookshelves and the thankful grin he’s given in return is absolutely blinding.

#whumptober2019 #no.26 #abandoned #ts sides #sanders sides #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #roman angst #kinda? it's vaguer than i intended ngl #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #mentions of: #ts logan #ts deceit #thomas sanders #tw breakdown #tw self harm #tw blood #tw panic attack mentions #jasper's writing