#*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* ⸻ fate may have paved the way but i will choose to walk it ̗ enacting my will ( clover d. iselda ).

[lurkingshan]

La Pluie: We Must Speak Our Love

La Pluie, my precious child, my perfect show, I could not love you more. You stayed true to your themes the entire way through, and you trusted the audience to use our brains to understand what you were trying to say. You stuck to your guns about focusing on the relationships and the choices the characters made as the driving forces of this narrative, not the mythology and not destiny. You knew exactly what story you wanted to tell and you told it with a clarity and completeness that is extremely rare in these drama streets. I salute you.

This show never intended to solve the questions around the workings of fate in this universe, and while the characters individually may or may not believe in soulmates, what matters is who they choose to love. Tai even said it a few times in this episode to make sure the point was extra clear:

As for the destiny and soulmate stuff, they are like a trap in our relationship.

Love is about two people. It doesn’t need destiny to pave [the way]. I don’t care whether you are my soulmate or not. The most important thing is our feelings…I love you, Patts. I don’t care if it rains or not. I do love you no matter what happens.

No one chooses to find an answer anymore [about hearing loss or soulmates]. Because whether or not we know, it doesn’t have anything to do with the path that each person chooses. At least, we get to choose our own path, instead of destiny determining for us.

With that theme (which has been present through the entire show) coming through loud and clear, in the finale La Pluie was able to turn to another very important theme and hammer it home: the importance of speaking our love out loud, and communicating clearly with the people we care about. The fantasy of romance novels–that your lover will just intrinsically understand you without need for you to speak–was fully dismantled. This show said it is selfish to hold back your true thoughts and feelings from those you love, and we can only really connect with each other when we are willing to use our words. Below, I break down the many places this theme showed up in the finale’s excellent resolutions for our characters. 

Dream and Nara

First of all, let me just scream again because AHHHHHHHHHHH. I did not dare to dream that we would actually get this pairing, not as subtext, but as actual text in this show. We got to see Dream ask Nara out! And importantly, we got to see Nara nudge her into doing so by asking her to be clear. When Dream started hinting about whether Nara was open to a new relationship, Nara said straight out:

Can I ask why you want to know that?

Dream then got shy, but Nara kept talking to make it very clear exactly what they were discussing. She didn’t want any uncertainty between them, so she told Dream directly that she was welcome to hit on her. We love a confident and direct communicator! And we see in the epilogue montage that this clear communication paid off for them, and they are now happily dating.

Lomfon and Tien

I have to start this section by giving mad props to Lomfon, because that boy: understood exactly what he did wrong, reached out to Tien to try to make amends many times despite being rebuffed, put his effort into a film project that would get Tien’s attention, and then when the crucial moment came, used his words and used them well.

Lomfon was determined to show Tien how he felt, which was an important part of their resolution. His persistence mattered because it proved to Tien that he was serious. But his actions alone were not enough. When Tien asked why he made that film, Lomfon said:

I have already told you. I would show you with my actions.

And Tien walks away. It is only when Lomfon opens his mouth and begins to speak, in no uncertain terms, about what he did wrong, why he is sorry, and what he wants with Tien going forward, that Tien accepts his sincerity (and lays one on him). 

The words mattered. Tien needed to hear them to know that he could trust Lomfon with his heart. And now that he has heard him, he will.

Tai’s Journey

When we first see Tai in this episode, he is still stubbornly clinging to the idea that Patts is going to reach out to him first, passively waiting for that to happen, and resigning himself to giving up if it doesn’t. Tien shares our frustration with this knucklehead, and tries one more time to get through to his brother:

For the past two years, you haven’t talked to him. He had tried to reach you so many times.

Tien said brother, I love you, but it is your turn to try. And he’s right! Patts has been doing all the heavy lifting in this relationship, and Tai is the one who was in the wrong. He needs to be the one to reach out to Patts this time. 

This inspires some further reflection for Tai, and he finally makes an important connection: he has been doing to Patts what his mother did to him.

You’re really not going to say a thing?! I can’t understand [if you] say nothing.

Yadfah’s silence hurt Tai deeply, and as he remembers his painful conversations with her in the aftermath of the divorce, he realizes he stonewalled Patts the same way his mother stonewalled him. He finally seems to grasp how unfair that was, and he immediately springs into action. 

Tai’s first stop is Dream, who he is hoping can tell him where Patts is. In his conversation with her, we hear him reflect again on how his silence harmed their relationship.

If I’d understood him and talked to him earlier, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.

He also learns about Patts seeing him with Lomfon, which clarifies for him why Patts hasn’t reached out and why he has cut off contact from everyone. His determination grows, and with only the knowledge that Patts is helping to open a veterinarian clinic somewhere in Chiang Mai, he hits the road. 

But we’re not quite done with Tai’s lessons yet! As Tai wanders aimlessly around Chiang Mai, checking every clinic he can find, he makes some new friends when he runs out of gas and a shockingly kind couple invites him to eat dinner with them and stay overnight in their home. Art and Phueng are lovely people who have been together for years, sticking it out through Phueng becoming permanently disabled. Tai asks them for their secret to being happy together, and Phueng tells him:

We listen to and understand each other. We listen more, and speak less…if we speak more but listen less, we don’t hear [each other’s voices]. Then we don’t understand each other.

Do we got it yet, friends? Communication is the key to a happy relationship. 

Tai and Patts 

After days of searching, Tai finally finds Patts by chance, looking like a dead man walking in the street outside his clinic. And Tai wastes no time, calling out for him, running to him immediately, and launching into his verbalization of everything he’s realized. Crucially, he starts here:

You don’t have to say anything. This time, please let me say it.

And y’all. Y’all! Those words meant so much to me, let alone how it must have felt for Patts. We see Patts draw in a surprised breath after Tai promises he will say it this time, and as Tai goes on his eyes get increasingly misty and he struggles to keep his face neutral–you can see how much it all means to him. To finally have Tai acknowledge that Patts has been the one doing all the communicating, that he understands where he messed up now, that he was wrong, that he is sorry, that he absolutely does love Patts and he should have been able to say it. 

I didn’t talk to you well. I let it slide until [it got] bad like now.

Tai finally understands that his refusal to speak was the core problem, and he is saying it all now.

And that is all Patts needs to forgive him. Just the words that Tai has been holding back. Tai’s silence was always the thing that caused him the most pain, and now that he is speaking his love out loud, they can move forward. They can choose each other with no further doubts and a commitment to keep talking.

(Thank you thank you to @wen-kexing-apologist for grabbing screenshots for this post for me, and an extra special shout-out to @bengiyo for grabbing me after episode 1 of this show and telling me in no uncertain terms that I needed to start paying attention immediately. It has been an honor to clown with you and work to bring so many along with us for this wonderful show.)

[cosmicangel888]

If you don't treat others with grace, integrity - you simply will loose them;

No one will sit around and play into sadistic toxic 'I am king & bow to me' levels of dysfunction and barbaric patterns that need true healing and reconsideration of where this resides within our human-spirited evolution -

Will our medical and healing systems be of such; misogyny and those taking as much as they can and those truly doing the work, the nursing, the healing and the front line be the ones being taken advantage beyond what anyone would sell their soul to one day wake up and walk away from;

Being honoured, valued, respected, and treated within balance, fairness and equality - and if it isn't and people still choose to play God over others; be it not giving what is due to those that have done work for you that you have stolen from quite blatantly, be it government and boards in which margins and those false businesses at the community level that mask who they truly are while they steal from the true innocent and kind;

There are those that have taken quite blatantly and stolen from me; my guides 'they are stealing from you' and they sit playing God and projecting spells and manipulation, deceit to bring fog and smoke and mirrors to show and defame what is truly truth and all the while the wisdoms, intelligence being given to a dark warlock, group of cultists that brought me into my strength by walking away from the games and enslavement - those that take what is mine and take it back to another darker one that competes to be me, or better than me yet hide all the while - so it is a game - a game in which what is done in the dark will be brought forth by the divine Itself - for crime and corruption will not stand in the light in which deceit telling on itself; your life is your proof of your vibration - Stand in your light!

Using energy, information, divine guidance are meant for those that are trained and prepared for it - to what and how the collective needs it; the deceit will tell on themselves for there are many that know who's been doing what and none will want to be the fall-guy for the ones that are the instigators of the crime; be it spell caster, or the schemer, the one paying for it - the taking illegally of information, business, and inheritance and insurance docs, copying signatures in whatever way people steal; it will fall - that is darkness and deceit - the truth enlightens it all - period!

Y'all made it your business to be in my lane; I will not stand down and I will stand for my rights and my truth and may story for all the ones being taken advantage of, the ones that have been stolen from, and the ones that chose a deathly fate in the suicide spells and darkness wished and prayed over;

My soul will not be broken - I know who I am and truth will always prevail- I will always create from nothing and spirit will always inspire - all beings are sacred and none have the right to treat like slaves and less than -

Collective Shifts - People Era--> These are truly interesting times in which you will see Taurus in Uranus; the systems will be broken by the walking away from those that mistreat the innocent and the innocent, the ones that truly do the inner work, the ones that truly align with Spirit and devote for healing and evolution, and the ones that pave the way for healing systems they will need at some point when all their darkness backfires -

When we are not being valued and treated with divine integrity and taken advantage of so wrongly and so degradingly, ©

Standing in truth is simply being who you are and is how we share, show, empower all others to also be genuine and authentic and true

Blessings be

Joanna

For private sessions, webinars, classes or consulting ~

Email me at JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

Human - omni- evolution, re-writing all aspects of our co-creative experiences through love, light, harmony of all that is sacred, always been sacred; World Ascension Healing Classes, Intuitive Sessions, Healing Sessions, Ascension Books, Healing Systems, 5D human-socio-altruistic re-write ~

DONATIONS - see our PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

Use peace and standing in compassion of good will and prayers!

#ascension

#enlightenment

#ascensionbooks

#healinghumanity

#healingourchildren

#divinefeminine

#healingourplanet

Already gone - what most are still trying to sort out - I am already gone!

My energy is not accessible to those that do not respect me or themselves - they are blocked and will be watched by many beings and guides and authorities to leave me be

[tellerluna-stories]

ii. rex lapis

The sands of time shifted once more, and now Rex Lapis ruled over Liyue. His land overflowed with wealth, and all who passed through Liyue saw their businesses prosper. The people who now walked the paved streets of Liyue had happily never known the tragedies of war, and they lived out their lives in blissful ignorance.

Within the Golden House, Rex Lapis paced around restlessly. His horns and claws were nowhere to be seen, as Liyue had no need for such instruments of war. The simple white robes he had donned for battle had been replaced with layers of multicoloured ceremonial robes and intricate headdresses that only the finest artisans could craft.

With these robes came great honour and responsibility, a reminder that the fate of Liyue rested solely upon the shoulders of Rex Lapis. Though they were made of mere fabric, at times Rex Lapis felt that they weighed heavier than chains of pure gold.

He sighed and fiddled with his sleeves— though he was, in fact, the reason mora existed in the very first place, he had to admit he was tired of seeing the same golden shimmer that surrounded him everywhere he looked.

“My lord.”

Without even turning around, he replied, “I told you not to be so formal with me.”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and spread your hands disarmingly. “Thousands of years, but you’re still as legalistic as ever.”

Unlike Rex Lapis, you had not chosen to change too much about yourself in the years following the Archon War, whether in appearance or personality. It somewhat brought him comfort knowing that in a world that was constantly changing too fast for him to keep up, there was still one person who could keep him anchored; no matter what era you were in, you could always quickly adjust to the practices and customs around you without forcing yourself to mold to them.

“Thousands of years, and I still need to remind you that titles are unnecessary, my friend.”

“Ah, but the question is: am I genuinely forgetting to drop them, or do I keep using them just to irk you?”

He turned around, face carefully devoid of any emotion. “My friend, do you happen to fear the wrath of the Rock?”

He watched in satisfaction as the smug look on your face quickly morphed into one of fearful respect. “As a matter of fact I do, so let’s change the topic. Your robes are simply majestic, my— I mean, Rex Lapis!”

“Do you not have one just like this?” Rex Lapis looked down at his embellished sleeves— the people of Liyue had gifted both of you with ceremonial robes, but he had yet to see you wear them. “If I recall, yours had the phoenix embroidered on the front.”

“Oh yes, I still have it with me.” You bent over and inspected the nearest pile of mora, brushing the golden coins with your fingertips. “I don’t wear it much since it restricts my movements, but maybe I will if there’s a special occasion.”

“I would like to see you wear it someday, if you choose to. You’d look absolutely stunning.”

He waited for some witty comeback, the usual jokes you’d make in response to his compliments— but you remained oddly silent, hunched over the little pile of mora like a bird guarding its nest.

“My friend...?”

Gently, he placed a hand on your shoulder, unknowingly sending an electric current running through your veins.

“Ah, yes, yes! I was just, uh—“ Hurriedly, you jumped to your feet and dusted your hands off on your clothes. “I was just trying to remember where my robe was, that’s all. I stored it away but I don’t exactly remember where— you know how it is, right?”

Yes, you had just forgotten where you had last put that phoenix robe, as though you still didn’t clean it and carefully air it out at least once a month. That robe was one of the few things you treasured dearly, as it was a gift from the people you watched over... and perhaps also because it was a gift that matched with his.

The heat rushing to your face and the quickening of your heartbeat upon hearing him say you’d look stunning— that was out of pure embarrassment, nothing more. He only meant it out of kindness, now, don’t misinterpret his words.

Clearing your throat hastily, you tried to change the subject. “Did you know that there’s a full moon tonight?”

“Is there, now?” He tilted his head to the side; a somewhat endearing habit of his, left over from when he had horns. “I have not left this place in quite some time; the people of Liyue are a little too concerned for my safety to let me venture outside often.”

“They haven’t....?”

But Rex Lapis merely smiled in reply, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. “It’s only natural for young people to be overprotective of the ones who take care of them. I’m sure they would do the same for you if you just let them, my friend.”

“You sounded very old when you said that, my lord.”

“Pardon?”

“I said your words shone like gold when you said that, my lord.”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically, but you only returned his gaze with a look of pure, angelic innocence. There was no way he could say anything against you, especially not with that look on your face.

“My lord,” You said, with that innocent look still plastered on your face. “Given that you haven’t gone outside in a while, what say you to accompanying one such as myself on an outing this fine evening?”

“An outing, you say?” He put a hand to his chin and pretended to contemplate the idea, silently observing as your eyes lit up with poorly-hidden anticipation. “Where would one go at this hour? It would cause quite a stir if Rex Lapis were to suddenly disappear from his position, with no reasonable explanation.”

To that you raised a finger upwards in reply, pointing to the cavernous roof of the Golden House.

“Technically, you wouldn’t be leaving.” Holding out your hand to him, you smiled and said, “Shall we watch the stars together, then?”

———

“This is incredibly reckless.”

“It’s also incredibly exciting, don’t you think?”

Barely-suppressed laughter bubbled up into your throat as you looked at the great Rex Lapis, who had awkwardly bunched up his robes around his knees. There was no way he could climb to the top of the roof without either damaging his (very costly, one-of-a-kind) robe, or getting him tangled into a mummy wrapping of fine silk.

“Your laughter does not go unnoticed, by the way.” He said, glowing amber eyes trained on the vast ascent of roof tiles before him. “Since this was your idea, how about you think of a solution to this problem?”

The cool night breeze whistled in your ears like a distant flute, and he shivered slightly; it was best to think of a solution quickly, lest Liyue be in uproar over the dignified Rex Lapis catching a mere cold.

You squinted at the rooftop, trying to analyse the best way to scale it with as little collateral damage to your superior as possible. It was certainly possible, especially with your talents as an adeptus (and also because your position did not require such cumbersome clothing), but there would have to be some rather... unusual measures taken.

“Do you trust me?”

He blinked in confusion. “What strange sort of question is—“

Before he could finish, you lifted him off the ground as though you were carrying a princess.

“Hold on tight, my lord.” You whispered, your lips only a few breaths away from his ear. “It may be a little bit unstable.”

He barely had time to wrap his arms around your neck as you leapt into the air, nimbly bounding off the golden tiles like a deer.

What exactly was this situation he was in? Moreover, what was this odd sensation swelling in his heart?

“Mind your sleeves, Rex- I mean, my lord!” You huffed. “I can’t see where I’m stepping if you decide to obscure my sight, which isn’t exactly the best choice for you right now.”

With one final jump, you landed safely on the topmost roof of the Golden House. He could only stare at you blankly as he tried to process what had just happened in the past few minutes— however, you caught onto his stare too easily.

“What, are you surprised that I was able to pull that off?” Shaking your head vigorously to remove the flyaway hair from your eyes, you frowned at him in a jesting manner. “Don’t tell me you’ve been underestimating my abilities this whole time, my lord.”

“No.” He replied immediately. “I would never.”

“That’s what I thought.” With a nod of satisfaction, you gently set him down onto the roof. “Here is the moon and stars for you, as promised.”

Rex Lapis raised his eyes to the sky that he had not seen in some time, and the heavens did not disappoint.

Overhead, the galaxy stretched out in a rich tapestry of hues, stars interwoven in between the threads like beads of precious stones. A full moon hung in the sky, a pearl of great price that took all the beauty that surrounded it and unified it into a beautiful symphony of colours.

For the first time in a while, he felt free— up here with you by his side, there were no such things as duty and responsibility. There were only the two of you in this quiet, peaceful place, with the heavens above as your only witness.

“A lovely night, don’t you think?” You grinned and put your hands on your hips, the wind toying with your hair ever so slightly. “The minute I saw this, I knew you simply couldn’t miss it; not in a thousand years.”

His gaze lingered on the picture of you bathed in a soft halo of moonlight, smiling dreamily at the stars above. “...Very lovely, indeed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jolting suddenly, you fumbled as you brought out a brass bottle and a pair of teacups from seemingly thin air. “I figured it would be cold out, so I prepared something, just in case.” You gestured for him to sit. “Have a seat while you’re waiting— can’t have the ruler of Liyue standing around waiting for me to serve him, can I?”

“Your judgement is as impeccable as ever, my friend. Whatever would I do without you?”

You rolled your eyes as you began to unscrew the cap of the bottle. “Such flattery is unnecessary. We both know that you could manage Liyue just as well if you were on your own.”

“That doesn’t mean I would want to.” He hesitated, unsure if what he would say next would make you uneasy. “You have done more for me and for Liyue than you could possibly imagine, and I... I sincerely wish for you to know that. You have just as an important role in Liyue as I do, and this place would not be what it is today without you.”

Pausing in what you were doing, you slowly raised your eyes to meet his— there was nothing but pure sincerity in his eyes and words. He truly meant what he was saying, and the way he worded it made your heart- no, no, this wasn’t the time for that.

“...Thank you, Rex Lapis. Those words mean a lot to me, especially coming from you.”

“Do my ears deceive me?” He put a hand to his mouth in mock disbelief. “Say that once more, my friend, I do not think I heard you well the first time.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” You glared at him. “It seems that your age is showing, my lord. Perhaps I should carry you back inside, if your age has really advanced so rapidly.“

“You called me Rex Lapis, for once. This is a day that this aged man shall remember for the rest of his life, and shall be inscribed into the history of Liyue as a momentous occasion—“

“The tea will grow cold long before your long-winded speech finishes, my lord. How about you drink first and talk later?”

Rex Lapis gave you an unimpressed stare. “Perhaps if you cease calling me ‘my lord’, I will think the matter over. When did you learn to brew tea, by the way?”

You returned his stare with one equally matched in unimpressed energy. “Over the years, I’ve found that the art of tea-brewing helped greatly in calming myself, and so I’ve been practicing ever since. Your cup, please— my lord.”

He rolled his eyes at your smug face and held out his cup.

A faint wisp of steam curled from the bottle as the dark liquid trickled into his teacup, along with some unknown plant matter. His thoughts must’ve shown clearly upon his face, for you burst out laughing upon seeing it. “It’s not poison, for Celestia’s sake! If I were planning to assassinate you, I would’ve done it eons ago.”

“And how is that meant to bring me any reassurance?”

“Oh, it wasn’t intended to.” You poured a cup for yourself and downed a sip of your concoction. “But no assassin would be fool enough to drink the poison intended for their target... except for me, possibly. Drink up!”

Rex Lapis still eyed the teacup in his hands suspiciously— but then again, you had never given any reason for him to doubt you, so why should he start now?

“So, is it good?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the unique flavours on his tongue. “If I could, I would drink the tea you make everyday for the rest of eternity.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words; you choked, nearly sending the bottle of tea tumbling off of the roof. “Ah- er, well—“

“What, is that too humble of praise for it? I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

“No, it’s just- well, it sounds like a phrase I’ve heard among the merchants of Inazuma— oh, never mind. I’m glad you like it.”

“What did you put in it to make it taste so exquisite?”

Leaning closer to him, you whispered, “Petals of peach blossom and glaze lily flowers. Along with some other choice ingredients, but what truly gives it that taste and aroma is the flowers.”

Your face was close, closer than he ever even dreamed to approach in a million years; in the pale moonlight, your eyes glittered brighter than any jewel the earth could give. Any dragon would covet such a treasure and guard it with their very life.

How had he not noticed how mesmerizing your eyes were till tonight?

“Absolutely fascinating,” He murmured, before belatedly realizing he said it aloud.

“Isn’t it?” You hummed in agreement. “It’s my special brew. I experimented on it until I could perfectly balance the flavours to my liking.” Your gaze swiveled to the elaborate water gardens sprawled in front of the Golden House. “Do you want me to plant a peach tree and some glaze lilies by the front of the gate? I could do that, if you really do enjoy my tea that much.”

A mix of relief and disappointment washed over him; you hadn’t realised he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

He mused over the idea— it didn’t seem so bad, after all, but...

“I’d like to plant them somewhere more.... permanent. Somewhere we can watch them grow together.”

“Say the word, and your wish is my command.” You beamed at him. “Just tell me when and where, and I’ll have them in full bloom for you in no time, no matter the season.”

A warm, fluttering feeling filled his chest, and Rex Lapis suddenly found it harder to breathe than before. His face felt oddly warm, while his hands were cold— was it a result of the night air? He wasn’t that old yet.

Anxious to change the topic before you cracked another joke about his age, he quickly asked, “How are the affairs of Liyue doing, my friend?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “The trade routes are thriving splendidly. Many merchants from the other regions come to seek permission to transport goods to and from their lands, so I’ve been handling most of their affairs. Even picked up some of their languages while at it.” A mischievous smile spread across your face as you said, “Tu ne me comprends pas, non? Je t’aimerai pour toujours et à jamais, mon amour.”

“Impressive.” He hadn’t understood a word of what you had said, but he was almost dead certain that you were poking fun at him. “It is good to see that Liyue is in such capable hands. What about the—“

“—the adepti? Oh, they’re all doing quite well, I believe. They don’t really leave their abodes anymore, save for Madame Ping and young Ganyu.”

“How about—“

“Xiao? I visit him every now and then, to make sure he eats well and is doing alright. And yes, I bring him the painkillers you have specially made for him.” You paused. “He sends his greetings, and it is very obvious that that boy misses you, even if he won’t admit it himself.”

Rex Lapis breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You really do know what I’m going to say, even before I say it.”

“What can I say? Even before you need to ask, you can consider it already done.” A chuckle escaped your lips as you scuffed the sole of your shoe against the roof tiles. “That’s why I’m here, after all. Who better than I to carry out the word of Rex Lapis?”

“You had best watch yourself there, my friend, lest your head grows too big for your shoulders.”

“Oh, but my lord, who was the one who gave me this position?” Propping your chin on your steepled fingers, you give him a smug look. “I seem to recall a certain someone appointing me as his right-hand, after all.”

“What has been given can just as swiftly be taken away.”

“You’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue out at him and turned away, pointedly staring at the moon.

“So, what is the real reason you brought me up here?”

In an instant your head whipped back to meet his gaze, eyes wide and mouth agape. “How did you—“

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, and now it was his turn to look smug. “You’re not the only one who can practically read minds, my friend. The facade you put up is better crafted than mine, but I can still see right through you.”

“Well...” You fell silent for a moment, fingers tracing along the sides of the brass bottle and etching invisible patterns into the metal with your fingernails. “I wanted to ask how you were doing.”

Rex Lapis tilted his head slightly, confusion and curiosity melding into one feeling. “How I was doing?”

“I struggle sometimes... with the memories of those who have passed on. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment I forget; I get distracted or actually feel happy, but then I suddenly think of them, and I wonder if I actually have the right to enjoy myself.”

Shifting slightly, your expression was unreadable in the pale moonlight. “But lately, their faces have become blurry, and I get scared when I can’t remember what they look like. It’s the least I can do for my comrades, since I’m the only one left.” You pursed your lips. “Do you have the same problem?”

The somber look on your face stirred up the remorse that still gnawed at his heart, even after all these centuries. You had been suffering alone because of his mistakes, and it pained Rex Lapis even more knowing that no contract he wrote could remedy the empty gap in your heart. All he could do was sit with you and be something you could anchor yourself to, just the way you had been a steadfast rock to him.

He shifted to sit closer to you, no longer caring whether his robes would be dirtied or not. “Not quite the same problem.”

“...Oh.”

“Like you, even after so many years I still cannot help but think of them. Every detail of their lives, their voices and faces— I remember it all.” Rex Lapis looked up to the stars, where perhaps the constellations of your friends lay, and laughed dryly. “Mortal men have been blessed with forgetfulness, but it seems that I have been cursed to remember.”

Tentatively, he raised a hand to gently pat you on the head, just the way his caregiver used to when he was feeling out of sorts or upset. “But worry not, my friend. If what you worry about is forgetting, then I will be the one to remember everything for you.”

“You needn’t worry about me forgetting you, by the way.” You said quietly. “Even if I forget everything else in this world, I know that I’ll always remember you, no matter what form you take.”

The strange, fluttering feeling in his chest returned, coursing through his veins and flowing through his fingertips— subconsciously he pulled his hand away, fearing that those feelings would somehow reach you.

It’s merely the chill of the night air, he told himself.

You said nothing as he pulled away, but Rex Lapis found himself wishing you would say something, anything; complain, or make a joke out of it, or perhaps even ask him to do it again— no, he couldn’t dare dream of that.

Not for your sake.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You said suddenly, breaking the silence and the maze of thoughts his mind was trapped in.

Rex Lapis looked to the moon over Liyue Harbor, admiring the way it bathed the city in silver light. Though Liyue in the daytime was loud, filled with many colours and sounds that overwhelmed the senses, this version of Liyue was also beautiful to behold.

Perhaps... perhaps this is what she meant by living treasure, he thought to himself.

Caring for this city of people, nurturing them and building a better future for them and the future generations— that was certainly something close to his heart. It didn’t feel exactly like the living treasure he had expected, but as long as you were there to watch over Liyue with him, then perhaps... perhaps it would grow on him as time passed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It truly is.”

But that evening, he failed to notice that you weren’t looking at the moon.

[deja-you]

domestic tranquility

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: a collection of intimate scenes from the L/n Administration, or the ‘what if’ ending to foreign affairs.

word count: 4.3k

author’s note: i hope this makes up for the ending of foreign affairs :) also a special thank you to @astralaffairs​ because she is my inspiration and she took the time to help edit this and i just love her in general

masterlist | foreign affairs

“Lafayette, will you marry me?”

The other line was silent, and you almost thought he had hung up on you.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I must’ve heard you wrong. I could have sworn you just asked me to marry you.”

“I did.”

You could hear him suck in a deep breath. “Chèrie, I don’t understand.”

“Lafayette, I know this is a lot to ask. I’m going to run for president. I’m the perfect candidate, I really am. I’m what America needs right now.”

“Of course you are. Where do I come into this?”

“My staff has run some numbers. I do a lot better in the polls if I’m in a committed relationship. But the problem is, I’m not in a committed relationship.”

“You want to lie to the press and tell them we’re married?”

“I don’t want to lie to them. I’m asking you to marry me. It wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Huh.”

“You can say no. I know this is a lot to ask. It’s crazy, reall—”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Let’s get married.”

Your jaw hung open. “Just like that, you’re on board?”

“You should be president, chèrie. I want to help you any way I can.”

“Are you sure about this? This isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“Believe me, I’m taking this very seriously. I’m going to get on the next plane to New York. We’ll talk about this in person.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but you found yourself at a loss for words. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he repeated. “Let’s get married.”

You were in Iowa.

For some reason you had to come to godforsaken Iowa to become president. You didn’t think about how stupid corn was. You couldn’t think about it, just in case it somehow slipped out and you then alienated all the voters in Iowa. But you really didn’t care.

What you did care about was the sight of your French husband (it still felt strange to call him that) contentedly eating away at a cob of corn. A strange contrast to the sight of him smoking cigarettes and drinking a diabolo menthe at a Parisian café, but he looked just at home at the Iowa State Fair as he did in France.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he gestured for you to join him. Pasting on a smile, you made your way over to him and a series of photographers followed after you.

“Chèrie, have you tried this? It is amazing. This is the best corn I have ever had,” he said, waving around the corn on the cob animatedly while he spoke. The photographers were eating it up, and the corn on the cob vendor was smiling proudly.

You were absolutely bewildered by just how magnetizing he was. People loved him just for eating corn. You couldn’t even blame them, because you knew just how infectious his smile was when he was genuinely happy.

This marked your first official outing as a couple on the campaign trail since you had married Lafayette. If you were honest, you had been nervous about the whole ordeal, but the second Lafayette sent you that easygoing look, you relaxed.

When you were close enough, his hand found yours and he was quick to intertwine your fingers together. This was where the real and unreal collided. His genuine smile and unharnessed affection met your faltering remembrance that this wasn’t the loving marriage it looked like. It was serving its purpose at this exact moment.

You counted each time the camera flashed to take a picture of you and Lafayette walking hand in hand. You could see the headlines on tomorrow’s papers, and you could see Lafayette’s grinning face. A political marriage certainly wasn’t traditional or morally acceptable, but there were real issues that needed to be tackled. You had plans to reform the health care system and the economy. If Lafayette helped you achieve a platform where you could really make a difference, who cared if you bent a few social constructs?

Besides, it gave you the opportunity to reconnect with an old… friend.

“You really like corn?” You asked him quietly.

Lafayette sent a disarming smile to the photographers, and leaned in very closer to whisper in your ear, “I can’t stand corn. Get me out of Iowa.”

You didn’t hide your laugh, and the photographers quickly shot a few more photos of the two of you being a cute couple. Lafayette really didn’t like the corn? You had been so convinced his smile was real. You were beginning to think you couldn’t tell the difference between what was fake and what was real.

There was some kind of external force that wanted you and Lafayette to end up together.

You were sure of this, because you had expelled him from your life multiple times by now. The memory of him leaving you on the sidewalk in D.C. felt like it was just yesterday, but now you were back in his arms. And it felt so natural.

So yes, there was something pulling the two of you together. You didn’t want to call it fate. You didn’t really believe in that. It had to be something stronger. There was something tugging at your heart telling you it was choice, but you didn’t want to believe that, either. Your fingers gripped his suit a little tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

This was good. This was nice, you thought as you swayed back and forth. There were thousands of eyes trained on you, and millions watching you from home on their TVs. The thought that so many people were watching you right now was daunting, but it was nothing that you weren’t used to at this point. You were the Leader of the Free World. The President of the United States.

You could hear a few cameras click, and you flashed a disarming smile in their direction. A well-known singer was crooning out the words to a slow, melodic version of Stand by Me. Your husband squeezed your hip lightly, causing you to look up at him while he absently swayed with you.

He grinned when you met his gaze and softly whispered, “relax a little. This is your moment. Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

Your stiff smile melted into a genuine one and you gave him a small nod. He was right, you did deserve this. The road to the White House had been one paved with blood, sweat, and tears, and you still hadn’t stepped foot in the building yet. A few more balls, and then you could finally move into your new home for the next four to eight years. But you had earned it.

The last year and a half had been the craziest 18 months of your life, and you knew it wasn’t about to get easier anytime soon. But this was good. This was nice. You didn’t have to worry about any political opponents or Supreme Court appointments right now. All you had to do was dance leisurely with your attractive husband.

“What are your thoughts on my seeking out a second term?” you asked quietly on the ride back to the White House.

There were a few more balls that you and Lafayette had attended, staying only long enough to share a dance or two with the press before heading to the next event. It had been a non-stop day; the inaugural address in the morning and the inaugural balls in the evening, and everything in between had successfully worn you thin. Lafayette had been at your side all day, and you could tell that he was exhausted as well.

“Ma chèrie, you were just sworn in. How can you already be thinking about re-election?” Lafayette yawned, slumping back against the seat with his bowtie undone and hanging lazily around his neck.

You laughed softly and shook your head from side to side. “It’s you I’m concerned about.”

“Hm?”

You shifted in your seat to look him in the eye. “You agreed to marry me so I could win the Presidency. I told you that we would only have to stay married while I was in the White House. So what are your thoughts on eight years instead of four?”

“Are you kidding me, Y/n?” Lafayette asked incredulously.

You pursed your lips and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You’re running for a second term. And I’m going to be by your side through it all. That is, if you still want to be President after dealing with Congress for four years.”

This solicited a laugh from you. He paused before he continued. The pause was the space between you and him, between the Earth and the Sun and everything in between. A hesitancy for the desperation of being wanted and the interval for not knowing if that was what he wanted.

“And of course, if you still want me by your side in four years.”

You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him. “Of course I’ll still want you by my side. We made a promise. For better or for worse.”

Lafayette took your hand in his and raised it to his lips. “For better or for worse.”

Somehow you found the time to sit down and watch a movie in the White House movie theater. 

Lafayette chooses some sort of action movie, you can’t even remember the title of the film and you decide that it’s not important.

You’ve invited some close friends to join you for the night. The Hamiltons (of course), your chief of staff, Nathan Hale, and his partner, and a few other White House senior staffers. All people you would trust with your life and your secrets.

You know Alex’s suspected for a while that you and Lafayette got married for political reasons. He’s a real politician, so he’s one of the few who have actually considered that marriage could be an ambitious political move. A heartless speculation, yes, but he isn’t exactly wrong. You consider that he’s mentioned the idea to Eliza, but you’ve given them no confirmation on the subject.

Nathan knows you better than you know yourself after working for you for all these years. And he knows about your history with Lafayette. He may have been the one to plant the idea in your head of calling Lafayette up before you ran for office, but you’ve never officially explained to him the truth about your relationship. You don’t need to.

The point is, most people in this room know both you and Lafayette completely. And you trust everyone in this room completely. Even if they did find out the truth, it wouldn’t matter. You know your secret would be safe. Knowing all this, you begin to wonder who you’re trying to convince that your marriage is real.

It has to be someone. You’re not throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close for your own benefit. Lafayette isn’t getting you a bag of popcorn and placing a kiss to your cheek for any other reason than because he really wants to sell this marriage. 

You have to be putting on this performance for someone, because if not, that would mean you’re shooting Lafayette loving looks for no other reason except for the fact that you want to. And that can’t be right. Quid est veritas?

You’re given relief from the thoughts turning around and around and around in your head when the lights turn down low. You take your seat beside Lafayette (something in you tells you that your place has always been beside him). The movie starts playing and you relax for the first time since before you were sworn in as president (was that nearly a year ago?). 

You don’t know if it’s because there’s something therapeutic about watching a fictional President having to deal with fictional problems, or if it’s relaxing because Lafayette has pulled you to his side and his hand absently runs through your hair. You decide it’s both.

“Are you tired?” Lafayette whispers in your ear quietly about halfway through the movie.

You are tired, but you insist on whispering back a no. He doesn’t believe you. Lafayette turns his head and presses his forehead against yours. The movie is forgotten in the background, you have his complete attention.

“Close your eyes,” he says softly. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”

You want to kiss him. You’re so close to him now, all you would have to do is tilt your head just slightly to the right. If you kiss him now, you can say you were just trying to sell the relationship. To the maybe five people in the (dark) room who weren’t even paying attention to you, and even if they were none of them were about to report to the press that they thought your marriage was a sham. It’s not a good excuse, but you’re still considering it.

You don’t consider it any further; you don’t get to. A bit of light comes flooding into the movie theater, and you hear some hushed voices at the entrance.

“Madam President?”

Regretfully, you untangle your limbs from Lafayette’s and sit up. A White House staffer gives you an apologetic look and explains that there’s been a situation. You don’t look back at Lafayette because you know you’d be met with a look of disappointment. Instead, you make a light joke to the audience about never getting a break and they all laugh politely and urge you to go take care of the matter at hand.

You recall the 25th amendment while you’re leaving the theater, and you try to recall what the succession of the presidency really means. What is the Vice President doing tonight? You’re too busy thinking about what it would feel like to have your husband’s arms wrapped around you once more to think about whatever situation had arisen, did that make you unfit for office? Could someone else just take over for one night so you could spend the evening with Lafayette?

“You stayed up?”

You didn’t know what time it was – didn’t need to – but it was late. You had spent the entire day flying back from meetings in Germany, and then more meetings on the plane. You were exhausted, your staff was exhausted, so by the time you got back to the residency you were certain that you were the only one on the planet who was still awake.

“Didn’t want you to be alone.” Lafayette is still awake.

He looks tired, and you know he’s beyond tired. No doubt his schedule has been filled all day, and the both of you have to be up – four hours? That’s hardly enough sleep to function properly. And yet Lafayette has sacrificed his sleep because he didn’t want you to be alone.

Not that you would have been alone. You had planned on entering the residency quietly and sliding into bed beside him after you changed into sweats. You would let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep, and you’d hardly feel alone. But you’d be lying if you said his consciousness wasn’t a comforting presence to you.

“How was Germany?” He yawns.

You’re in a hurry to change out of your suit because the soft comforter of the bed is calling your name. You hardly process his words, murmuring some practiced, diplomatic response. He says he wishes he could’ve come with you, and you tell him you understand why he couldn’t this time. Next time, you say.

“You shouldn’t have stayed up for me,” you tell him once you’re comfortably situated in your favorite pair of sweats.

“For you? I was waiting up for the Vice President. Jay and I had a little rendez-vous planned for tonight, you just got back early.” His grin is tired, but there’s still a playful twinkle in his eye.

You sit beside him on the bed, giving him a little shove and rolling your eyes. “If you had said Secretary Hamilton, I might’ve believed you.”

He leans on you slightly, his head resting on top of yours. “Secretary Hamilton?”

“Mmhmm,” you say quietly. “The two of you have far too much chemistry.”

“Ma chèrie.” He lifts his head off yours just enough to turn to face you, and two of his fingers move your head so you’re facing each other. There’s only one bedside lamp turned on right now, and he’s taking this moment to memorize the lines of your face and the exact shade of your eyes. “You know you’re the only one for me.”

You realize you don’t love him in the way you used to. Not in a bad way, you haven’t stopped loving him. It’s just different this time. It’s honest and real, which is a bit ironic, because the foundations of your marriage were anything but truthful.

You’re polite, so your smile often is fake. He’s real. Right in front of you, right beside you. Every night. There’s something about his mercy and selflessness that you are in love with. He’s teaching you what it really means to be human. Even if you didn’t love him for that, you are so covered in him you wouldn’t know what else to be.

Whatever bravery you had stored up for debating political adversaries or promoting your most radical ideas suddenly possessed you, and you felt yourself leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. In the privacy of your shared residency. With no one around to see.

It’s almost like something breaks in him, if just for a moment. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness that’s slowing eroding away at his brain. Maybe he’s like you, and he’s also been wanting this for longer than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t hesitate, he just melts into you.

Your head feels foggy, you can’t really think, all you know is that this feels good. It’s the kind of intoxicating feeling that reminds you of the first time you kissed him, but you remind yourself that nothing is like the first time. You don’t love him in the way you used to. It’s different. Better.

“Don’t run for re-election.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. Well, usually he would, but right now he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are memorizing the stitches on your coat, refusing to look at your eyes or your lips or your hands. You recognized the emotions swirling from his heart up to his lips. Shame.

Lafayette had never been anything but supportive when it came to your political career, so hearing him ask you not to run for re-election was a shocker. He loves supporting you. You know it’s out of a place of deep regret and desperation that Lafayette would ever even broach the subject. But he’s desperate now. You can tell.

You take his face in your hands – reaching out for anything good. You’d like to take the moment to just be here with him, but you’ve never been given enough time for that. It hurts him to look at you, but eventually he does.

“What?” You ask him softly. You know you heard him correctly, but you feel the need to prompt him into an explanation.

“I know it’s not my decision. And if you decide that you are going to run for re-election, we’ll put the matter to rest. We can pretend this conversation never happened,” he says sincerely. Lafayette takes a deep breath as if the next part will be difficult for him to articulate. You know that is. “Don’t run for re-election.”

He’s firmer in his request this time. Yes, the shame is still there, but it’s an underlying tone beneath his pure tenderness.

Lafayette’s never asked much from you. When you asked him to marry you, he hardly asked any questions. You know he would do whatever it is you asked of him at any time, so when he asks you not to run for re-election, you already know your answer without him having to explain himself. If this is what he wants, you’ll do it for him.

But you are still the president of the United States. You have a responsibility to your party, the government, and Americans as a whole. After accomplishing all you have in the last four years, it won’t be easy to walk away from the presidency without a reason. No, you don’t deserve a reason from Lafayette – you don’t even need one, if you are being honest – but you can at least pretend to be hesitant when it comes to leaving the Nation’s highest office.

“Why don’t you want me running for re-election?” you ask.

“Because I love you.” He says it like it’s the most simple and straightforward answer he can think of.

You can’t help but smile. “And I love you. But what does that have to do with me not running for re-election?”

“I know you love me. But there’s some part of me that will always think – as long as we’re in the public eye – that you only love me for appearances. That this is only love for the cameras—”

“Laf, it’s not. I promise I love you.”

“I know you do. But I’m always going to wonder. If it’s fake. If it just feels like love because of the atmosphere. For the past four years I’ve had to live with the gnawing fear that you wouldn’t love me outside of the White House. It would kill me if I had to live like this for another four years.”

Your voice is softer when you speak again. “You once told me you’d stay with me if I wanted to run for re-election. You said for better or for worse.”

“I know. That was years ago. That was when I thought you would only stay married to me while we were in the White House. That was when I thought a fake marriage would be enough for me.”

“Laf—”

“Ma chèrie, I want a life with you. One that isn’t just for show. I want to love you because I love you, not because it will help with your polling numbers.” There’s a deliberate determination between his words. He’s nervous. “I love you so much, and I can’t stand the idea of anyone having reason to think it’s anything less than love.”

The Oval Office is golden.

Well, technically, it’s more of a beige with a vibrant blue carpet in the middle of the room displaying the presidential seal. But in the low light of the December afternoon, the room is filled with a golden glow.

You’ve always known you were going to make history, but to actually be history is something altogether new for you. In another month, the drapes in the Oval Office and the furniture would all be replaced with whatever furniture the next president saw fit. It would be too easy for the white house staff to clean out the White House of any trace of you, but maybe if you were lucky you’d be mentioned in a footnote in a textbook somewhere.

It’s not like you are one to make rash choices. The decision of stepping down from office came after long and meticulous thought on the subject. You are more certain that you made the right decision more and more each day, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your doubts every now and then.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Lafayette knows you better than you know yourself. He can tell by the blank look on your face while you read through a thick file that no, he’s not interrupting anything.

“It’s strange that I can say no,” you sigh softly. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t busy. But apparently people don’t care about a lame duck when there’s a shiny new President-Elect.”

He crosses the room and leans against the desk. Lafayette gently tugs your hand up to his lips and presses a delicate kiss against your knuckles. It’s gentle and timid, as if everything about this relationship depends on this small act of affection. You’ve noticed that Lafayette has been more reserved lately, almost like he feels guilty for asking such a heavy favor of you.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite president?” It’s hardly a question and mostly an answer.

You smile, and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He thinks you get more beautiful every day, although he can’t figure out how that’s possible.

“Your favorite? You like me better than President Washington?”

Lafayette hums softly and pulls you out of your seat, lifting you up onto the desk. He stands between your legs, hands resting gently on your hips. His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and finally says, “you’re easier on the eyes.”

You laugh – Lafayette swears it’s lyrical – and press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s good to hear. How has the house hunting been going?”

His eyes visibly brighten. “I think I’ve found the place.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm. It’s this piece of property in upstate New York. The drive to the city isn’t so far, and the estate. I just know you’re going to love it.”

You could sense the excitement emanating off of him. “Am I?”

Lafayette nods. “Chèrie, you have to see this place. It has a beautiful kitchen for me to cook in. A balcony – I know you love balconies. A few acres so one day our kids—”

“Our kids?”

His eyes widen as he quickly realizes his mistake. “I—well… yeah? I know we haven’t talked about this. I always pictured us with kids, but if that’s not what you want, I can respect that. We don’t need to have kids, I promise that you are already more than enough for me.”

You bring a hand to cup his face, your thumb softly moving across his cheek as you just hold him. “Lafayette, I want a family with you. I want a future with you. I want forever with you. I love you.”

He brings your lips to his, and for the first time, you’re not worried about it being the last time.

I’m just going to add foreign affairs taglist here :)

@fanfic-addict-98 @wordvomit-foryourmind @farihafangirls @actuallyanita @cubedtriangle @katierpblogg @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @lexylovesfandoms @dovesgrangers @a-hopeless-fan @biafbunny @hermionie-is-my-queen @zeelmol @oi-itsemily @itsjube @someinsanefangirl @awkward-walking-potato @lu123sworld @exorcisms-with-elmo @ohsoverykeri-blog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @poetnstuff @nyxie75 @roxanne2020 @luckyfriesss

[i-amm-writing]

Senseless Short Story Shamble: Hated

fluff, love, somewhat suicidal hints

Penny Thomas walked slowly down the cracked sidewalk. Eager, green things grew from the cracks, exposing the faults more clearly. But, at least they were not undecorated cracks. That's not to say the weeds were beautiful. Which is to say they weren't. But perhaps in their own way.

That was how Penny was feeling. So very not beautiful. Not pretty. Not special. Just ugly and awkward.

She crossed the gray street, not bothering to check both ways.

She turned right, heading up the paved hill, going for a mile or so before stopping in front of a brick mansion. It was not the most glamorous house in the city, but it was by far not the simplest.

Marcus Wilby lived here. Along with his grandfather, Old Judge Wilby. Most everyone called him Judge, but Penny had always called him Mr. Wilby.

Marcus hadn't ever been a good friend of Penny's. Far from it, in fact. Actually, Marcus avoided Penny like the plague. He was her worst enemy, in some cases. He was so popular and handsome, and not even speaking to her made everyone look at her like she were some leach.

And so, on this sunny, solemn day, Penny had come to see him, to ask him one thing before she made a last and final decision.

She walked down the driveway. This too was paved. Cement City was an appropriate description of urban areas.

Marcus knelt in the backyard, enclosed in a picket fence. He was rubbing the belly of an old dog. Penny didn't see a gate, so she stayed on her side. He'd probably like it better that way, anyway.

Surprisingly, the dog didn't alert his owner that he had some unwanted company. So, Penny had to announce herself.

"Mark?"

He looked up. There was utter astonishment written on his perfect face, but it was soon replaced with confusion. He jumped to his feet.

"P-penny? What are you doing here?"

She sighed. "Quite a surprise isn't it?"

Marcus looked down at his feet. "I. . .um. . ." She could hear him swallow.

"Be quiet, Mark," Penny snapped. "I have something to ask you. And I want you to answer me honestly."

He hesitated, licking his lips. "O-okay. What is it?"

"Can you please tell me how much you really hate me? And why?"

Soon, even both of their breathing sounded loud. Penny almost covered her ears, dreading what he had to say, knowing it would seal her fate.

"I hated you, Penny. For a long time I did. So much, I almost killed myself to get away from you. You were happy the way you were - I wasn't. And that drove me crazy-"

"You're speaking in past tense."

"-You have a great, whole family. Two loving parents. And fun siblings. I have never had what you have. So, yes, I hated you because of how jealous I was of you," he said.

"I don't understand. You're perfect, not me. You have money, popularity, good looks, a big house and anything you could ask for. Why would you be jealous of me?"

"What good is all that if I'm not truly happy? What good is a big house if its not full? You have everything that I could ever ask for. That's why I hated you."

Penny couldn't speak. This couldn't be true. He was just manipulating her or something.

Marcus walked over to her. The fence was the only thing that separated them. He took her hands. "But not anymore," he said. His eyes turned soft and passionate. "I don't hate you, Pen. I love you. Now, I may still be jealous, but I should never have taken it out on you. Please forgive me?"

Penny's tears flowed slowly, not quite believing what she was hearing. The boy who had hated her loved her? How could someone be envious of her crazy, loud life? Of her smothering parents. Her insane siblings. All the things that made up her messed up life.

"Mark, I. . ." She sniffed away some pouring tears. "I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be."

"But I do. I almost hated you back. I thought such horrible things of you."

"I know how you felt. But now? How do you feel?"

"Would it be crazy to say I love you too?"

"Yes, especially after the way I treated you," he said quietly. "But, do you mean it? Do you really love me as well?"

Penny bit her lip, staring at him with concerned eyes. "I always have. Do you really love me?"

He smiled, then pulled her towards him, at least as far as the fence allowed. He kissed her. Penny couldn't quite grasp what she was feeling. She was at a loss for sanity. She must be - or Marcus, at least, was going crazy. Maybe they both were if they actually thought this strange romance would work out.

He released her from his kiss. "I do love you."

"You don't hate me?" She whispered, leaning against him.

Marcus laughed. "Do I have to spell it out? Declare it from the rooftops?" He took a deep breath. "I L-O-V-E, love Penny Thomas!"

She was quiet for a while, trying to understand. Trying to trust him.

"I want to believe you. It's just-"

"Hard," he said. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He looked at her softly, a flickering smile lighting his eyes. "Why did you choose today to come over?"

"I wanted to make a decision. And you were the only one that could help me make it."

"What was it?"

Penny took in a breath and sighed. "Maybe I will tell you later. But, no, not now. You did help me, though. Thank you, Mark."

He lifted her chin, his eyes studying her with a hint of worry. "You're welcome, Pen."

"Can you kiss me again?"

He didn't hesitate.

[sweet-evie]

you would probably be able to go on forever answering this (and honestly i would love something like the way u did when u answered if he loved shirley or kallen more after cc.. if it's not too much trouble for you 😅) but what convinced you that lelouch loves cc the most out of all the other girls (shirley & kallen)? taking just the series into consideration first then the movie. thank u!

Lol true 🤣😂 I could ramble forever.

And if it's about CLuCLu? 🤭😅😂 You better be ready for a lengthy (and I mean lengthy) essay. 😍😂

As for who Lelouch loves the most? 

I'm not so sure I would say C.C...

Canonically speaking, that would be Nunnally... And then probably Suzaku (platonically & shipping aside).

It's honestly not so much as I think he loves C.C. the most, it's just the ship that's to my taste. I mean, it's pretty obvious he cared about everyone he had personal relationships with. And I'm not Lelouch so I can't give a definitive answer. Lelouch is so complicated. 🙉😂

We could look at the subtle affection between them though 🤣😂😅 And why Lelouch & C.C. are soooo compatible (in my humble opinion).

But before we do... 

Let’s dive into the background.

And let's address the elephant in this essay.

C.C. betrayed Lelouch by lying to him for the majority of the series.

Okay... But do we understand why?

This is why I don't outright judge any character in Code Geass, because they all have a reason for doing what they do... well, the main cast anyway.

I saw this in a translation of the official texts... 

C.C. is the kind of code bearer who is torn between wanting to die or fulfilling her true wish. She purposely makes her contractors hate her for the sake of making it easier for them to take her code and kill her one day. (Which is why Mao doesn't work. Because he's too obsessed with her to kill her). Because she's desperate to die, and end her suffering. But let's not forget that she also has a secret wish: to be loved... 💝💘❤💗

Throughout R1 (and you only realize this after you watch the series in its entirety) and most of R2, C.C. is hellbent on making sure she dies that time around (especially because Lelouch shows so much promise and potential for ending her existence). Now why would I say that?

She deliberately lies to Lelouch and withholds information from him to make him hate her. So it would be easy to kill her and she gets to die, and he walks off happy without emotional baggage or trauma... In C.C.'s POV, that's a win-win. Her hypothetical scenario looks something like, "I make you hate me, that way when the time comes, you can kill me easily. I finally end my hell of immortality, and you get to live forever, although you may hate it one day like I did."

But you know what's fucking sad?

Aside from living on and on and having accumulated experiences and seeing the world and finding the entire point of life pointless and hopeless, the romantic part of me strongly believes C.C. wants to die because she 1) gives up on life and 2), she doesn't think anyone can truly love her after everything. She may have been hopeful, probably in the early years of immortality, but after everything she's been through, it's fucking impossible.

That might as well be canon. 😆 For all I know, it probably is. 🙉🤷‍♀️

Anyway, back to the point before I went on a weird tangent...

Remember, C.C. even asks him that question outright when they were in the Avalon. Remember? Kallen cockblocked them 🤣🤣😂😂

She asked if he hated her after everything she'd done to him (contextually speaking, & not the actual C.C. quote)

Anyway, when Lelouch finds out the terms of the contract... what happens?

He's moved by empathy... Because in his words, "Living just to die is so sad." He's too damn kind. C.C.'s intentions and plans BACKFIRE. It was in this moment that I believe Lelouch starts to understand (like truly 💯 understand) the depth of C.C.'s sadness and her personal tragedy.

He already started doing so in R1 when he saw her many deaths and he said he'll be a demon because she's a witch.

This series has reaffirmed the nature of their relationship as accomplices and partners plenty of times. First it was C.C. reiterating that in early R1, then Lelouch affirms it after the Mao-shooting-C.C.-in-Clovisland incident, and then the one I mentioned where they said they'd be a warlock/demon & a witch.

Now we circle back to R2, where Lelouch learns her true wish and gets to really see her. Like, C.C. in her entirety. From former slave-girl, to Geass-wielder, and then code-bearer.

Their complicated-turned-wholesome relationship has a slow and subtle build-up that mounts to, dare I say, a satisfying conclusion. For me anyway.

Because in the end, Lelouch did motivate C.C. to start living again. And C.C. stuck with Lelouch even if she didn't have to.

And he came to death smiling. 🥺😭

CG isn't about romance.

But if it did have an element of explicit romance between C.C. and Lelouch, I wouldn't have had complaints. It could have been a tragedy still, and I would be happy with it.

“C.C. didn't have to struggle as much for Lelouch's affection and that she got everything handed to her in a silver platter.” <-------- WRONG!

I do believe Lelouch bounces between hating C.C. and needing her. Like a fucking spectrum. And until her true self is revealed to him, I don't think Lelouch saw C.C. as a human being. Just another means to an end.

Lelouch & C.C.'s relationship is as bumpy as Lelouch & Suzaku's, albeit more subtle in its complications. Obviously, the SuzaLuLu dynamic is more fleshed out compared to CLuCLu because duh, CG is Lelouch & Suzaku's story. 😅

I can literally point out every moment where Lelouch is hating on C.C., and when you can tell he's desperate for her help and her presence. (But that's for another post 😂😂) Point is, he does it plenty of times that it's obvious their relationship is far from lovey-dovey hearts and rainbows.

So no, any sliver of implied romance between them is neither forced nor instant. There 👏 was 👏 build 👏 up! 👏

If CLuCLu romance was an actual thing in the show, it would have been so interesting to see the progression.

It's built on a slow but steady train to Love Land 🤣😂 Slow burn at its finest, as I imagine it would have taken two seasons before either Lelouch or C.C. would fess up and confess. Hell, it took them 2 seasons to care about each other deeply in all reality.

If it were a real shoujo romance, it would have been built on a unique trust... you know, the kind that only crops up when you've seen each other's lowest points and still choose to support one another. Unconditional love and all that 🤪🥳

It's not a stretch to say that Suzaku and C.C. saw plenty of moments where Lelouch was at his lowest, rawest moments. Moments where he strips himself of pride and his façade, and he caves to his burdens.

Lovely example of this is the C's World episode,

Also this scene where he calls and begs Suzaku to protect Nunnally...

And the times Lelouch grieves and despairs in C.C.'s presence.

They even added that lovely scene in the Recaps where he's despairing over Suzaku being Lancelot's pilot and having to fight his best friend. And C.C. is there offering him her advice and being the realistic voice.

A Brief Opinion on Re;surrection

The ending of Re;surrection was truly the closing of unfinished business between him and C.C... and as messy as that movie was, I still love that they touched on the profound meaning behind the names C.C. and Lelouch choose for themselves.

Re;surrection is Lelouch & C.C.'s moment 💯! CLuCLu fanservice at its finest. It's actually a decent (not great) alternate route if Lelouch lives after being killed. Plus, it's kind of obvious now that Re;surrection and the Recap films set it up to be CLuCLu end-game.

Still, it could have gone differently. Lelouch could have stayed behind and let C.C. leave. He had a choice. No one was asking Lelouch to go, and C.C. certainly wasn't goading him into leaving with her. Plus, it's obvious people wanted him to stay. Suzaku and Nunnally especially.

So of all the people he could have chosen to be with at the end of that movie, why her then?

Well, probably because C.C. really does know him and understand him on a level that's not easily achievable by many. Only matched by Suzaku, really. (Even Nunnally could admit to never really understanding Lelouch because her older brother shielded her as much as he could from being touched by the true cruelty of the world).

She wasn't handed his affection on a silver platter and vice versa. It's a relationship that developed mutual trust and understanding, even paving the way to noble sacrifice. Also, their sass is fucking on point.

And honestly, ever since Lelouch chose Geass and his path of blood, he wasn't exactly tethered to the world like a normal human being would be anymore. Both the original and alternate timeline express that wonderfully.

After everything he'd been through and the kind of power he'd acquired (both in the original & alternate timeline), I'd say he now exists on a level that's a little bit on par with C.C... Whether he wanted it or not, he tied his own fate to C.C.'s, in a way, when he accepted that contract and by making the choices that he did.

With that said,

In comparison to the main characters shipped with Lelouch -- Shirley, Kallen, and Euphemia -- C.C. (and Suzaku, honestly) have the edge for a romance with Lelouch. (According to my opinion! 👏👏👏)

Lelouch and Suzaku are opposites... Moon & Sun

Lelouch and C.C. are complements... Moon & Star

I know that's fucking cheesy 🧀🧀🧀 But it's the only metaphor I can think of. 😆😅 (Also, can you tell how pro-SuzaCLuCLu I am?)

All of that ⬆️ got me on board the CLuCLu train. And honestly, I don't want to leave.

[destielomegaversebigbang]

Posting 19th May 2020

Nomad by Fate by maleyah | Art by lotrspnfangirl

A truce between the Tribes and Elysian Empire has held for over 20 years. The Gathering takes place every five years: to elect a new Tribal Alpha and set the tone for the next ruling period. Navigating this political landscape are The Nomads, roaming bands of shifters who choose to side-step tradition. Ruling Tribal Alpha, John Winchester, has been trying to balance a wind of change with the deep-seated traditions that course through the Tribes’ veins. Unlike most Alphas, he is willing to listen, providing peace within and without holds.

Elysium has no business at The Gathering or within their borders, but when they present the Tribes with a problem no pack can turn a blind eye to, the situation turns combustible.

Castiel is a run-away from Elysium, who has recently taken up with the Nomads in the hopes of paving the way for future generations, like his daughter, Claire. Dean has been following his own path, because to him both the Tribes and the Nomads are on irreconcilable tracks. Packless and touch-starved, he looks forward to working protection at The Gathering.

Unsolicited, Dean steps in on Castiel’s behalf, much to the latter’s dismay, only to have Castiel challenge him unlike any Omega he’s ever met. They are drawn to each other in ways neither one expects. The timing of their meeting couldn’t be more unfortunate, but they may find the gravitational pull towards one another impossible to ignore.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Shapeshifting, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel, Atypical A/B/O dynamics, Action/Adventure, Age gap, Abuse, Abuse recovery, Past rape, Canon typical violence, Loss of body autonomy, Non-consensual secondary gender reassignment, Body horror, Body modification, Top!Castiel, bottom!Dean, Switching (eventually), Slow burn, Grumpy Castiel, A cast of many, Happy ending Excerpt: The trenchcoat looks too big on him, despite the fact that he is built like a house. Dean subtly tries to scent the air as he draws closer to him. When the Omega’s head snaps up, intense sky-blue eyes narrowed, he tilts his head. Dean swallows hard and holds his breath. He feels like he’s been caught out doing something naughty.

“Don’t,” he bites at Dean.

“Just… checking if you’re alright. Castiel, right?”

Castiel’s face contorts in irritation, lips pursing in an almost aggressive pout, and he ignores Dean’s question. Instead he pats down his coat, knocking some dust out of it and rearranges the collar and the linen shirt underneath with a few jerks. He glances over at Dean in the process, eyebrows raised in stern authority.

“Then use your words, pup. A question doesn’t go amiss instead of scenting me.”

The use of the word ‘pup’ sets up his hackles, a low rumble emanating from his chest. To make it worse, a cocky lop-sided smile accompanies the man’s judgmental gaze. Dean looks to Sam, who is clearly living for the fact that Dean is getting chewed out by an Omega. Unacceptable, given the two hostile Alphas in their presence. It is enough to trigger him back into action.

“We have to take them in, Dean. To Dad.”

“Yeah… I’ll do it. You said he’s with you, the Nomads?” he asks, not looking at Castiel. “How about you…”

Castiel’s exhale is explosive. “I don’t need an escort. No offence, Sam.”

“None taken whatsoever.”

With that, Castiel walks away.

“Hey,” Dean calls after him. “Is there a story behind this?”

The attitude oozing off him, Castiel turns on his heels. He keeps walking, spreading his arms wide, his coat flaring behind him, as he juts his chin out arrogantly. His smile is wide, gums showing. “Knot-head Alphas! What more is there to explain?!”

Without waiting for a reply, he turns his back on Sam and Dean, two fingers tapped to his temple in a cocky goodbye.

“Charmer, that one,” Dean grunts.

[lady-divine-writes]

In the Beginning ... (Rated PG)

What if Aziraphale’s job on Earth, in part, was to keep an eye on Crowley because God realized She’d made a mistake banishing him from Heaven? (2378 words)

Notes: I’m sure other people have written this, but here’s mine XD

“Aziraphale?”

A holy light shines down upon the angel currently scrambling to fit the last grey brick from a rather large hole in the great stone wall back into place. He spins around quickly in response, nearly twisting an ankle in the soft, disturbed earth.

“Yes, Almighty?” he replies, shielding his eyes from a glare that glows brighter second by second, as if God’s goal is to blind him on the spot. “H-how may I help you?” He worries his hands, then throws them behind his back so as not to bring attention to the fact that something those hands should be holding, something the Almighty gave him specifically to do his job, is now gone, paving its flaming way to the outskirts, clutched tightly in the hands of the first man protecting the first woman, both of them banished to the wilds beyond.

Banished for disobeying God, which he, too, has done.

‘Heaven help me,’ Aziraphale thinks, which smacks of irony seeing as he’s begging for help from those he’s just betrayed.

Any way he looks at it, he’s doomed.

He hopes Adam and Eve don’t walk too quickly. He may be catching up with them in a minute.

“Aziraphale, my dear,” God says, Her voice motherly sweet. “Come. Stand with me. I desire to talk with you.”

“All right,” Aziraphale agrees. No sooner does he say it then he’s standing at his post overlooking the Garden of Eden, and the apple tree he’d been tasked to guard.

The one that slipped his notice right when a giant snake tempted Eve into eating the fruit she’d been warned to avoid.

‘This is it. Banishment.’ He steals a final look at the glorious Paradise he’ll never set eyes upon again. He just got this appointment, too. It was a stepping stone, coming on the heels of another promotion set to begin soon.

Now, he’s finished.

But would he change a thing? he asks himself privately. If the situation presented itself again, would he do anything different? Would he second-guess giving up something valuable, something God-given, to protect the vulnerable and the innocent?

No, he answers honestly. He doesn’t think he would.

Aziraphale stands in silence beside the shaft of light, God’s ethereal form, for some time, ready to defend himself and his actions, before it becomes too much for him and he clears his throat to speak.

“God?” he starts. “Might I inquire as to what it is you wish to speak to me about?”

God heaves a heavy sigh.

A disappointed sigh.

Aziraphale’s stomach drops to his feet.

“Aziraphale,” she says sorrowfully, “I may have made a mistake.”

“That … that doesn’t make sense. You don’t make mistakes.”

“I created the concept of a mistake. I definitely make them.”

“What kind of mistake?” Aziraphale asks when he knows he should be holding his tongue. A sudden chill freezes him solid. Why would God be confiding in him this which sounds so utterly important if it didn’t concern him directly? “Is it me? Am … am I the mistake?”

“No, my love. You are not a mistake. Not by a long shot.”

Aziraphale sighs so deeply he shrinks a foot. “That’s a relief.”

“Do you see that demon over there?” God directs her light on the apple tree, the Tree of Knowledge, and a scaled, red-bellied creature slithering swiftly out of sight.

“I … I see a serpent.”

“Look with your third eye.”

The serpent burrows into the earth then as if it knows it’s being watched. Aziraphale squints to catch a glimpse of it past God’s golden glow before it disappears. “Ah, yes. I see now.”

“Just like you, that demon was once an angel. But now …” Another heavy sigh “… he is Fallen.”

“H-how? Why?” The words slip past his tongue before he can think better of it. He shudders with the feeling that he’s taking a huge risk questioning God.

“I banished him. Tossed him out of Paradise,” She explains succinctly and says nothing more. “And I realize now that I may have been a bit hasty with that decision.”

“If you feel you have made a mistake,” Aziraphale says, choosing his words carefully, “why not reverse it? Bring him back?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not?”

“Unfortunately, no. You see, all of my creations have their part to play in the Universe. And when I set them on their path, no matter what that path is, how it may change, they must remain, headed in one direction. Once an angel is Fallen, there is no way they can return. That’s where I’m hoping you come in.”

Aziraphale looks away from the hole the serpent escaped into and up at the light that is God. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You and he are similar. You have the same pure heart, you cling to the same truths, though you execute them differently. You’re opposite sides of the same coin.”

Aziraphale frowns. “Coin?”

“You’ll find out about those later,” God dismisses. “I need you to help me keep an eye on him, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale nods. This he understands. “So that his doing Evil deeds doesn’t prevail over the greater good.” He folds his hands in front of his stomach and puffs his chest with pride of his appointment. “Gabriel already told me.”

“Gabriel is wrong. Though, by the time the two of you meet, you won’t remember I’ve said that. In fact, you won’t remember this conversation at all.”

“Why won’t I?”

“Free will. In order for you to take this particular assignment, you can’t remember that it is an assignment.”

“Forgive me for my confusion, but what exactly is it you need me to do?” Aziraphale asks, mildly disappointed that the great role he was supposed to play in the evolution of the Earth, the inspiration of all humanity, may now be changed, demoted, due to the fate of one single demon.

“I need you to make sure nothing too bad happens to him, Aziraphale. Oh, he’ll do Evil. He’s a demon, and as such, must do demonic things, but … I want him to know that no matter what, he is loved.”

“If … if you erase my memory then how will I remember to do that?”

“You won’t need to.” God chuckles. “Within five minutes of meeting you, he’s going to fall hopelessly in love with you.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunches. “Really?”

“Yes. From this day forward, he’ll devise plans to ensure that the two of you forever meet throughout time.”

“Yes, I see. I suppose you’ve … you’ve planned it that way.”

“You underestimate yourself, my dear. That I will play little part in.”

“But … don’t you control everything?”

“Again, it’s confusing. The only answer I can give you is yes and no. Will you do it?”

“Why are you asking me? Can’t you simply make me do what you want? Set me in motion the way you set him in motion?” With a wince, Aziraphale notices how bitter that came across. He doesn’t question God’s ways, but that doesn’t mean he always appreciates Her line of thinking.

“No. Not when it comes to love. You have to decide this for yourself or it won’t turn out the same. The outcome won’t be genuine. Also edicts of this nature would need to pass through the head office, and I don’t want the Archangels knowing about this request. It’s top secret.”

“Top secret?” Aziraphale repeats, tossing God’s request over and over in his head. Down below he sees the serpent surface again. It looks up at them, tilts its head, and grins (if a serpent can grin. Normal serpents can’t but a demonic serpent probably can …). It ducks beneath the earth once more and disappears. “If I do this, will it be for the good of humanity?”

“Yes? No? Possibly? This one time, that can’t be the crux of your decision making.”

Aziraphale’s eyes unfocus as he considers what God has said. He feels better knowing that this assignment isn’t a demotion, but he still has to wonder … why him? Why would God choose a principality for something like this, especially if it’s this important? Wouldn’t an Archangel be better suited for a mission of this kind? Keeping tabs on a demon should fall somewhere in their purview.

Unless this top secret mission isn’t as important as God is making it out to be and just a fancy way of assigning Aziraphale to babysitting duty.

“Will he really fall in love with me?” Aziraphale asks, unsure why it matters. It should matter because he’s a being of love, but it surprises him how much that doesn’t seem to enter into his thinking. It matters because it matters, whether he can explain why that is or not.

“Yes,” God says, matter-of-factly.

“Will I … fall in love with him?”

“Eventually, but it’ll take a bit longer.”

“H-how long?”

“That depends on you, Aziraphale. But right now, time is running short. The demon is coming, so I need to know how you wish to proceed.”

“I think I should …” Aziraphale pauses when Gabriel’s voice, of all things, leaps into his brain.

“Your job on Earth will be to inspire humanity.”

“Inspire humanity to do what?”

“To be good. Follow the rules. And to, you know, love … one another,” the Archangel replied uncomfortably.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said. “I read that in the literature I received. Thank you for that, by the way. What I need to know is how, exactly, am I supposed to do that? I have a general idea but what are my parameters? Do I have any guidelines?”

Gabriel blew out a breath and made a face. “Not really my department.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, as lost then as he is right now.

Did anyone in Heaven know what was going on?

Inspire humanity. Inspire them to be good. To be compassionate and kind. To be loyal to God.

To help one another. Love one another.

That was a huge undertaking, no matter how Gabriel sneered and smirked when he mentioned it.

Aziraphale could do both jobs in tandem – inspire humanity and look after this demon. So no, not a demotion. Besides, it’s a top secret mission bestowed upon him by God Herself! Is he really going to say no?

It’s the love aspect that he’s having trouble wrapping his mind around. Love humanity he understood. But love a demon? And not necessarily for the sake of humanity? That part has been left to interpretation, apparently, but that’s not the point.

Love a demon.

A demon who will fall in love with him.

And make sure he knows God loves him still.

Because God may have made a mistake.

Oh, and fall in love himself, as if that’s something he can easily overlook.

That’s everything!

His stomach takes a turn and dammit! Why wasn’t he looking after that stupid apple tree the way he’d been supposed to!?

He doesn’t feel prepared to make this decision on the fly. He hasn’t entirely come to terms with what eternity as a whole will hold for him. This is the beginning. What happens in the middle?

What happens at the end!?

But while he ponders these quandaries, his mouth speaks unexpectedly for him.

“I’ll do it,” his mouth decides.

“Excellent!”

“Yes, excellent,” Aziraphale mutters, shuffling uncomfortably in place. “So, when do I begin?”

“Somewhere around … now.”

Aziraphale hears a sharp crack, like fingers snapping. Or could it be thunder? He thought he saw a fork of lightning out in the distance. Thunder would surely follow. Still, he can’t help the feeling that he was talking to someone about something important, but he can’t remember where they left off.

Or who they were.

“Sorry. What was that?” Aziraphale looks about him, confused. He’s at his post on top of the wall, the Eastern Gate of Eden, only he can’t recall how he got there. He’d been down in the garden giving those poor people his sword. He’d finished repairing the wall when he saw a light. He thought the Almighty had caught him, come to reprimand him, but now he’s back here.

Why can’t he remember what happened in between?

He turns his head left and right, then left again when the body of a snake rises up and transforms into the human-shaped figure of a demon dressed in long black robes and spreading glossy black wings.

“I said, ‘Well, that one went down like a lead balloon,’” the demon says, staring out over Eden forlorn, as if searching for a way home.

Aziraphale straightens, unnerved by the thousand nonsensical emotions erupting inside his brain, bursting like poppies with explosive colors and pungent aromas, dizzying him with unasked questions. “Oh,” he says, coming back to himself. “Yes, it did, rather.”

***

“Angel …”

Aziraphale startles. He turns and looks at his companion handing him the bottle of wine they’ve been sharing.

“Hmm?” he says in response.

“What if the Almighty planned it this way all along?” Crowley asks, gazing across the bus stop bench at Aziraphale, serpent eyes behind dark lenses hoping for an answer, some insight that only an angel might have that he is too far removed from. “From the very beginning?”

“Could have.” Aziraphale grabs the bottle by the neck and takes a swig. It tastes bitter, like truth. The realization that this ineffable plan – ineffable game, really – that God has devised isn’t just for the world, but for all Her creations, including them. They had played a part in it, too, regardless of how small, impotent, and in the end, unimportant that part was. But that begs the question - if saving the world wasn’t their particular goal then what was? What did they get out of all of this? Had the world exploded, they would have survived one way or the other. So why involve them?

The thing they got out of it, Aziraphale discovered, is the thing he refuses to acknowledge yet - not because it’s bad (in his eyes) but because it would be selfish of him to do so.

They got one another.

Was that part of God’s plan, too?

Aziraphale shrugs.

He’s not drunk enough to decide.

“I wouldn’t put it past Her.”

[theshinobiway]

I read your other two posts about shipping nejiten and why you dont. I think you make good arguments about how marrying neji would take away tenten's freedom but I was actually wondering about how you view the ship from the perspective of someone who is married? Sorry of that doesn't make sense. I mean like how compatible you think their personalities are if the story was written differently.

Hey there anon!

So this will be my third time addressing the pairing and not to say it's any fault of yours, but I hope it's the last.

I care most about what makes a character develop in a way that is meaningful and beneficial for the overarching story. This extends into the pairings I choose to ship. I've also never been a big shipper to begin with and I'm indifferent to most pairings from any show I watch.

I also am married. Personally, fictional ships or shipping wars do not interest me in the slightest. I'd rather focus on my own, real, interpersonal relationships.

To expand on why I don't like talking about this pairing in particular: it's because I have been openly harassed by fans of the pairing both on this blog and on a previous blog that I eventually closed because my inbox blew up with angry stans that, a few years ago, I was not mentally equipped to handle. I've responded to around two to three asks openly on the blog, but at this point I've deleted in the range of 10-12 messages that I did not see fit to dignify with a response.

I figure that most of these comments come from underage followers who are too immature to understand complexities of romantic relationships or are simply too disinterested in talking about the literature to have open discourse with. They just want to ship what they believe the characters are like, have headcanons, and ignore the evidence contrary. As an adult, I have to handle this with patience and understanding. I'm not about to rage on any anon follower because I don't know their age or personal circumstances. And frankly, a fictional pairing is not worth tearing someone down over–I speak from experience.

Now, on to answering your question in full:

When it comes to the narrative, there isn't a common thread (theme, motif, storyline, etc.) that ties Neji and Tenten together. They both have the goal to get stronger, (As is the theme of team Gai at large) but Neji's story is MOST closely tied to Hinata/The Hyuga, Lee, and Naruto (in that order.) All three of those characters are sufficient enough to spur Neji's growth in his own arc. Tenten's support as a teammate is also sufficient enough. They are good battle partners (combining long range and short range) but the same is also said for Tenten and Lee. There's nothing special here. Nothing that screams "chemistry" or that "stands out."

The reason people love pairings such as SnS, NaruSaku, NaruHina, Sasusaku, SaiIno, ShikaTema, etc. is because all of these pairings have two partners that can equally contribute to the other's growth. Neji and Tenten simply do not have this. Tenten adds nothing to Neji that he does not already have: her support already comes from multiple other people in his life that understand his situation better. Tenten is often shown having a more common thread with Lee: they are both ninja that came from no special background and are overcoming their own weaknesses to pave their own path. You might say Tenten could humanize Neji or humble him, but Naruto and Lee already do that. Neji's closest female relationship is with Hinata, and that's where we see him become softer and more patient. Hinata is the one that humanizes Neji the most, and it's because they also share a same arc: literally, the Hyuga clan arc. She has the emotional intelligence to reach Neji and the position to make him believe in the determination of the once-talentless. That's THEIR arc as siblings.

I would also like people to ask themselves what exactly Neji can offer Tenten. In the reverse, I strongly can affirm that Neji does NOTHING for Tenten. He can train with her? So can the rest of her team, and she does. He can encourage her? So can the rest of her team, and they do–far more than Neji. He can calm her down when Gai/Lee do their antics? Okay, but is being a walking pacifier really a great foundry for a relationship? (Also, as Tenten gets older, part of her personal development is finally accepting her own goofy side and joining in!) In fact, his relationship and subsequent would inhibit her stated goals and dreams.

Tenten flat out does not want to have a traditional, feminine lifestyle of getting married. And as a married person, it's not impossible to understand why! Relationships and marriages are HARD work! It's not sailing into the sunset with kids and a house! They require commitment and upkeep! Sacrifice! They are a huge stressor (even the best marriages!) and you must balance the feelings and dreams of another person when you are deciding your future and make personal sacrifices.

Tenten wants to follow her hobbies and her dream is one of self-determination. Marrying Neji means introducing a rigid, hierarchical clan structure for which Tenten has no experience/interest in and is ill-prepared to handle. Her blunt, insensitive attitude would not fare well in the formal atmosphere of Hyuga affairs–this isnt a shoujo of rich guy/average girl. This is a shounen. She'll be expected to raise children and retire/hiatus from her career. This expectation does not help her goals or dreams and effectively halts her personal development.

In fact, had this pairing actually happened, shippers might have been happy that their pairing "made it," but I have no doubt that people would have ALSO called Tenten yet ANOTHER victim of Kishi's 'housewife' troupe next to Sakura and Temari. Making her Neji's wife erases what little personal identity and development she had. Why would you want to put the ONE woman who pursued her career and goals in a relationship and erase that? Because they have an aesthetic? I surely hope you never then complain about the fates of Sakura or Temari, then!

And on that note, "fixing the writing" to where Tenten is an 'empowered working mom' does NOT address Tenten's personal desires. I see this most often discarded in favor of ANY of her ships.

Tenten's purpose in the story is to show a woman who branches out from the norm. I also seldom see a woman in any story who is as balanced and flawed as she is while still being lovable. Also, despite relegating the other kunoichi to housewife status, Kishi deliberately let Tenten be a single woman who is not criticized for her decision. Japan itself still has a traditional mindset in that regard, and seeing the other cast members treat Tenten as normal–not even commenting on her relationship status–is a quiet, but no less significant addition to the story. It normalizes career women in a traditional atmosphere.

Gag about her store aside, Tenten's shop isn't doing poorly because she's a bad businesswoman or a spinster. It's been clearly stated by Tenten herself that it's because they are in a time of peace. Again, a small but significant detail that gets overlooked in Tenten's story. As Boruto progresses and war seems to loom on the horizon, I have no doubt her shop may get more business soon.

Tenten and Neji have the making of good friends and comrades with some common ground, and it's for the betterment of both of them personally that they stayed that way throughout the series. Good relationships add to characters and stories–they don't take things away.

Hopefully this finally puts my full opinions on the matter to rest. Fandom can do whatever it wants, but I'd like to not see any more of the ridiculous "pairing war" nonsense pop up in my inbox. Nejiten has FAR better reasons to stay platonic than it ever will to become canon, even in a rewritten story where Neji lives. If you want a pairing with this aesthetic but actually have chemistry and a shared narrative, look at Ren/Nora of RWBY (which, coincidentally, is actually one of the few pairings I enjoy.)

Thanks for contributing to the blog!

[eury--dice]

on the pitcher's mound

read on ao3 She’s at the mound again, where she always ends up. 

Life has a funny way of doing that, doesn’t it - jumping from similar moment to similar moment, aligning itself so perfectly around blaseball that nothing else matters. Before the void, she knows-well. She knows she had a life. A family. She didn’t just hatch from an egg and start playing blaseball the next day as the star pitcher of the Garages. She was mayor, wasn’t she? A satisfying career. Friends. Drinks. Nights spent out. Songs with the band. Maybe the shadows and the void took the memories from her, but all the same they’re - well, buried. Missing. Like a space where a lost tooth had been, smarting and metallic and fleshy and warm. Or maybe her life truly was this pre-void, pre-debt. The same collection of moments structured around the true meaning of her life, her true purpose. Maybe she hasn’t changed, and she’s just deluded herself into thinking something so insignificant as being the first to die for the sake of hubris was enough to change her into something inhuman. 

If pre-void is a missing tooth, time in the void is a rib aching in her chest. She remember everything and she remembers nothing, remembers the rubber on the pitcher's mound black with decay and falling apart beneath her feet, remembers her fingers biting into the ball so hard that they tear and bleed and scab and bleed again until it’s stained a jagged red, remembers throwing the ball so hard everything in her shoulder snaps and cracks, her arm, her wrist, and through poking shards she still hurls it, sending it off like a tiny cannon or a giant bullet, feeling it’s impact with whatever thing waited beyond the fog. She knows there was nothing but that, nothing less and nothing more. Just an infinity until dirt and blood cling to her like a second skin, her Garages uniform nearly unrecognizable and yet the only familiar thing. 

And if before is a cruel joke of a life, after is a heartless crime. They dragged her out, didn’t they, her teammates? They shouted Hotdogfingers and slapped her rapidly knitting-together bones and talked of life as though she could still participate in it. Because she wasn’t there, not really - she wasn’t there how they wanted her to be. Not a martyr to a shelled god she has never seen and can never believe in but can certainly fear. Not the holy face they want to see, just the scarred and bloodied version. Not the innocent victim, nor the vengeful demon. How do you move forward when you’re perched on a pedestal and you can’t remember where your feet begin?

She is still on that mound, pitching until her body falls apart and comes back together in the space of a moment, pitching until she is nothing but a vehicle for the ball, a pawn for the gods to accept. She is still on that mound, not a drop of blood in her veins, nothing but her and blaseball and the ever cracking fire of incineration and whispers of how tragic she was the first to go, how tragic her life was cut short. But no one will say how tragic her eternity merges with some poor carbon copy of being real. She is still on that mound - until she is on the mound again, but her uniform is fresh and starched and audience fills the stands with chants of WE ARE ALL LOVE BLASEBALL and her teammates stand around her, ready, alive. Is she alive? She can’t be alive. She presses two shaky fingers to her inner wrist, and after a moment it flutters - a pulse, strong, then gentle, strong, then gentle. Alive. Blood coursing through her, though the rest is empty. But she is on the mound, and her foot digs into the rubber, and so she pitches. 

Nothing looks off, not at first, but she knows it is anyway. She doesn’t know anything anymore, but just like she knows her existence is wrong she knows that this is wrong, her pitching. Each one tears at her mended bones, grinds into her ears, drags her body downward. A chill surrounds her, only they're not even playing the Tigers. Dread, and it’s the closest thing she’s felt to human since - since - since. Jaylen blinks away tears, always the perfect icon, the perfect martyr. She pitches, and she sees everything, everything she has never wanted to see, everything she sees daily. It hurts. God, it hurts. She didn’t want this. No one wants this, to be alive and not, to be divine and not, to be idolized and a demon. The gods do not want this, but the gods are cruel and will take out their unhappiness on -

On the rival team, because as she collapses to the heap, her pitch hits the batter. 

Jaylen wants to beg to be taken off the mound, but every time she tries it just disappears. No words, no voice, no memory. They love her, does she know? They idolize her. They play their games with gods that only she has met and faced and feared properly to keep her tattered self in front of their eyes. They would never let her sit in reserve. They don’t blame her, you know. She might throw the balls but she doesn’t choose who hurts, after all. She may tear another part of her shred of humanity away with every pitch, and she may be rapidly losing the ability to regret it at all, but they don’t blame her. And still, she can only remember the pitching mound, the thrill of a pitch that she knows so well, there sickening crack of yet another turned Unstable, her fault and not hers at all. 

Is it worse that she cannot bring herself to regret it? Because if nothing else, when she winds up and aims true as she always has and her arm fails her, the gods fail her, at least she feels something, some rapidly dwindling shred of humanity that raises its ugly head and screams in agony as yet another tiny weight is lifted off of her shoulders. It’s a relief and it’s a new agony, and that’s all being human is, right? Shared relief and agony. When she hits them, turns them Unstable, it’s like she’s back on the mound with a beating heart and functioning lungs and every nerve in her body being fried in such comically slow pain that she can still feel it, sometimes. With guilt and pain is proof that she is human, and she hates herself for wanting that when she’s clearly the furthest from human a person can become. 

There is still more to pay, the gods whisper in her ears. There is always more to pay, and you must be the one to pay it, to give it to us. For you were the one who was permitted to come back. You wanted this, didn’t you, Jaylen? You wanted this. You who committed no exceptional sin but to have extraordinarily bad luck, who did nothing magnificent but became an idol for it anyway. You, the first martyr, the first stolen. Pay us the price of your ingratitude. Pay back our kindness tenfold.

And still, every moment is like a dream from which she can’t escape, blurs of faces and names and buildings as she walks by. She is surrounded in fog, one she cannot escape from, until her feet find the rubber of the mound and her fingers press to her pulse, at once achingly alive just in time to damn someone else to a fate as uncertain as hers. 

She stands on the mound and the microphone beckons her - or, no, she beckons it with some sliver of the power they think she holds. She is not who she used to be, after all, and there must be some advantage to it. 

Hello, Jaylen Hotdogfingers, the microphone crackles, and she suddenly feels as though her skin is not there, that the microphone can see to her very core. How nice of you to finally pay a visit. 

She cannot respond. She thinks her vocal cords have been shredded from long ago. 

Such a pity, the microphone croons. We so looked forward to playing with you for a little longer. And you do know how we hate to have our toys taken away. 

“It’s not their fault,” she croaks, lifting a hand to sense her pulse. Faint, but there, beating at the base of her throat. Her voice sounds harsh and uneven. She hasn’t used it since Before. She didn’t think she ever could again. Her throat feels empty and then it feels filled with moss, a gag of the most effective kind. 

If not theirs, then whose is it? 

“They don’t dese-” Jaylen manages before the moss overtakes her again, decay crumbling into her gut. 

Deserve is a false word, pitcher. Do not speak to me of what anyone deserves when you see so little of how the scales balance themselves, when you have had them so unfairly tipped in your favor. There is no such thing as karma and good deeds; what happens will happen. Deserving does not have a hand in your story, in any of your stories. Speak blasphemy again and you’ll know more of yourself than anyone should see. 

Jaylen bites her tongue so hard it bleeds, and it’s only once she tastes the metallic tang that she finds the strength to dredge up words. “My debt is mine to pay, not theirs.”

So you turned yourself into an idol?

She picks up the ball in her right hand, finding the seams with her calloused fingertips before snapping it back into the glove with practiced precision.

Very well, pitcher. I suppose you’re right. But they are not permitted to do that to us without cost. 

Suddenly, the microphone felt very close, not the same distance it had been before. You cannot comprehend how easily your road has been paved, Jaylen Hotdogfingers. And your request only makes it bumpier. 

I hope you maintain the certainty of your choice. 

And, just before Jaylen releases the ball again, the microphone came back to her. To the right. Up a smidge. There you go. You know what will happen to you if you don’t, pitcher, correct? You know what fate awaits you, awaits your friends. 

The weight on her back shuffles and folds in, redistributing. A new bargain, a new form of payment, new terms of interest. Same debt. Same guy-wrenching debt. 

And she knows what will happen if she doesn't obey, so she casts as much of a prayer as her broken mind can conjure and lets her true aim strike the batter between the ribs. 

The microphone chuckles so only she could hear. 

The payment is new, indeed, but it is not being Unstable, it is not incinerating until they’re gone completely. It is Flickering, being alive one moment and gone the next but still alive when you come back. It is ceasing to exist and, in the breath you were gone, reappearing. New jersey, new team, same soul. Probably. 

It...hurts, probably, though Jaylen is not one to guess at pain. It hurts, and the guilt is there, but it is better, isn’t it? To switch allegiance and keep your beating heart. To drain the blood of fraternity from your veins and fill back up again. 

Anything is better than Unstable. 

(At least it’s not Death. At least it’s not the Void.)

That is the mantra in her head both on and off the field. That is the mantra that carries her when her feet cannot. That is the mantra that drowns out the screams of those she has damned. 

They’re playing the Philly Pies. Jaylen barely registers it even though the scent of sugar clings to them in waves. She is up to pitch again, and she hears the clinical voice of the gods whispering in her ear. Betsy Trombone, they whisper, and she hardly cares, too clinically removed to hear the edge in their words. Too relieved to be alive and on the mound again to care about who she’s about to hurt. Jaylen Hotdogfingers pitches the baseball straight into Betsy Trombone, or something that used to be Betsy Trombone. 

And she Flickers. 

Her fingers find her left wrist immediately, digging desperately and probably leaving marks, but then she

nothing 

has no wrists and she has no fingers and when she’s alive again her fingers are practically inside of her skin, touching her bones. 

This is worse, this is so much worse than she could have imagined, so much more painful on the organs she barely holds in check anymore. She -

nothing

-can barely-

nothing 

-feel anything in her-

repent repent repent this is your debt to pay and your cross to bear and being nothing is too kind a fate for a sinner like you to 

-wrist, where’s her beating heart, has she decayed right back into a-

claim you the false deity the false god you are truly an idol to be prayed to and to repent for all those who would dare place their faith in a husk

-uniform. A new uniform, smelling faintly of sugar. She can’t remember the last time she smelled anything. 

She is on the bench, as though in reserve, but there aren't any instruments laying around or heads laying on her shoulder. Everything is pastel, open, airy. No Garages Navy to be seen. 

She has been Feedbacked, and she has never felt more trapped. 

A better fate than what the gods wanted, Jaylen had thought. She’s fallen to the same hubris that had killed her the first time, too presumptuous that everyone would prefer forceful separation than the void. 

It was foolish to think she could outplay the gods, really. Because in the end they always got what they wanted. 

She pressed her fingers to her wrist again, breaths jagged and shallow, and felt nothing. 

Sometimes, they even got more. 

[darlingrutherford]

Once Upon a Time in Thedas

Oops, I went and posted the first chapter of my Cinderella!AU, because I can’t help myself. First chapter is a short one to set the scene. This fic may move rather quickly for the main bit of it, but I have every full intention of expanding on it after the main bit is done. This is a bit out of my comfort zone and rather different from what I usually write, so please be kind! Also, tagging @schoute because I promised ;) And, enjoy! <3 

Trigger warnings for this series for mentions and scenes of mental/physical abuse. 

Once Upon a Time in Thedas - Chapter One | Cross-posted on Ao3 | DA Cinderella!AU with alternate world canon | Alistair Theirin/Lana Surana | Mature rating for this chapter | 

Once upon a time, there lived a young elf named Lana. She lived with her mother and father on the outskirts of Denerim in a small cottage surrounded by trees and brush. Denerim was a large city in Ferelden, home to many different kinds of people: humans, elves, even the occasional dwarf or two who had come to the city looking to trade. Shops of all kinds paved the city: apothecaries, smiths, inns, even a few rarities shops run by mages who had managed to scrape their way to a better living despite their Maker-given gifts. Being a mage wasn’t considered a blessing by many. They could be dangerous, unpredictable. As such, the Chantry kept a close watch on all mages, requiring them to live within a city limit so that the Templars could keep an eye on them. Circles existed to contain any mage deemed too dangerous or those who would refuse to abide by Chantry rule, but those who kept quiet and to themselves could live a simple life.

Lana had come into her magic at the age of eight, much to the displeasure of her parents. There had been an argument, one started in a moment of hot headedness when Lana had questioned her mother. When the back of her mother’s hand made contact with her face, ice had sprung from Lana’s fingertips and frozen the floorboards beneath her feet. That was the day Lana sustained her first scars: one, on her forearm from a knife her mother had swung at her in anger, and another, a small knick close to her left eye, just before her father had forced the knife from her hand. Lana had spent three days in her parent’s dark hall closet while they argued and ultimately decided, with council from the local Chantry, what to do with her. Since that day ten years ago, Lana had been confined to their home. Her parents were devout Andrastians. They were ashamed of having a mage be of their blood, and wished nothing more than for all of Denerim to forget that Lana even existed. And, for some time, they did.

All her days after that frightful, fateful moment had been spent focusing on the Chant, taking care of their home, and trying to suppress the magic inside of her. Lana did the best she could. Some days she woke up with her pillow cold as ice, or a flame would spark from her fingertips when she was having trouble lighting the hearth. Each time a panic would set in deep in her gut, and after a quick look to ensure neither of her parents had seen, she would carefully remove any evidence and pray to the Maker to make it stop while she atoned throughout the day.

Each day began the same for Lana: she would wake just before the sun to recite from the Chant, brush out her hair, and braid it in a simple, tight braid that her mother preferred her to wear. Then she would dress before quietly making her way into the kitchen. Breakfast would be complete by the time her parents woke, hot tea heated on the hearth and not by magic to be on the table waiting. The three of them would sit at the table, say a morning prayer from the Chant before their meal, and eat in silence. Occasionally there would be a harsh remark from one of her parents: her mother would remind her to sit up straight; her father would remind her of something she missed in her chores the day before, which her mother would reprimand her for later. Then Lana would clear the table, clean the dishes, and work on sweeping the house if the sun was out. Her parents would sit at the table, and Lana would take her time sweeping while they discussed the happenings about Denerim as of late. She would listen eagerly as she worked, wanting to soak in everything they said. Later she would take what she heard, sit at her windowsill, and daydream about life in Denerim for those without magic.

In her daydreams, she thought of the bustle of the city, all the sounds and all the different people who would be there. She thought of the shops, the different types of trade found throughout that made Denerim the city it was. She had seen the Royal Palace once, when she was much younger, from the outside as she walked quickly at her father's side on their way to the market. Its gates had seemed so large at the time, stone walls surrounding it but not quite containing the sound of those running back and forth about their daily duties from within. Every so often Lana would imagine what it would be like to wander the city again, with someone else at her side, someone other than her father; someone she could walk hand in hand with, when they could walk leisurely without rush. As her face would flush from the thought, she would pull herself from the dream. That's all it was, after all. Just a dream. Who in their right mind would love a mage?

Lana’s days weren’t entirely filled with chores. She had become quite proficient at them, and as such was able to afford a good amount of her day to reciting the Chant as her parents preferred for her. They allowed her to choose where she spent that time, as long as it was within their small property. Between her bedroom and the small garden that surrounded their home, Lana found her peace. When the sun hit her face, Lana felt she could breathe again. No matter how the day had been, as long as she had behaved herself, she had the sun. Even when confined to her room when her mother had decided it was needed, Lana’s window faced West, and the sun always found her. On a day such as today, when Lana had made her mother happy with her - as much as a mage could - she found herself on her knees in the garden near her window, the sun warming her face as she recited the Chant.

“...’So the Maker turned from his firstborn and took from the Fade a measure of its living flesh and placed it apart from the Spirits, and spoke to it, saying, ‘Here, I decree opposition in all things: For earth, sky; For winter, summer -’”

“‘For darkness, Light.’”

“Sister Leliana!” Lana rose from the ground as she heard the light voice of the Chantry Sister. As an established mage in Denerim, the Chantry kept a close watch on Lana. Traveling from Lothering, Sister Leliana had been assigned to her for going on a year then, after Lana’s last Sister had taken a missionary sabbatical to the Free Marches. The Sister would check up on her twice a week, and Lana often found herself clinging to the opportunity to see the face of someone other than her parents. “Is it Tuesday already?”

“No, it is Monday,” Leliana said with a smile. “I will have special business tomorrow that will keep me from you. I thought it best to stop by and see how you are doing.”

“I should tell my -”

“I already spoke with your mother,” Leliana said. She smiled as Lana visibly relaxed at her reassurance. “How have you been since I last saw you?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lana said. Leliana waved her hand and walked to the edge of the garden near a tall oak tree, and Lana followed. They sat in the shade, elbows close to one another.

“How are you really?” Leliana asked, her voice lower than before. She took Lana’s hand, turning it over to observe a fresh scar near her elbow. “They don’t listen to us talk, you know. Out here, it’s just the two of us.”

“It’s fine. I… I upset her,” Lana said quietly. “I accidentally used… I shocked her when she grabbed me.”

“I see.” Leliana was quiet for a moment as Lana fidgeted with the end of her braid. Her braid was the same always, and this day was no different: close to her head, beginning on one side near her temple and ending on the other at the nape of her neck, not a hair out of place. The sun glimmered off her red strands, glittering like fire in the light that filtered through the branches of the tree.

“How are things in Denerim?” Lana asked, trying her best to not sound too eager.

“You are in Denerim too, you know,” Leliana said with a knowing smile.

“I know,” Lana laughed quietly. “It’s just… it’s so quiet here.”

“You heard they chose a new King a month ago?”

“I did, yes.” Lana’s face lit up, as it always did whenever she and Leliana spoke about anything new. Reciting the Chant and speaking of the Maker with the Sister was wonderful and all, but Lana yearned for the world outside their home more than anything. It was a world she felt she would never know, despite its closeness, and she wished more than anything to live vicariously through the Sister as much as she could.

“He was crowned this past week,” Leliana said. “He will have to find a Queen soon, I assume.”

“Should be easy for royalty. I can’t imagine any woman would say no to a life of living in a castle. Can you imagine?”

“Would you say yes?” Leliana teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous, why would I be asked?” Lana flushed, then horror washed over her face. “I’m so sorry, Sister, I didn’t mean to say that you are -”

“I know what you meant,” Leliana reassured her. “It will be our little secret. Now then… Which part of the Chant would you like to discuss today?”

Lana and Sister Leliana spoke to one another for a few hours. Lana always appreciated how much time Leliana took with her. The other Sisters had been content with an hour here or there, but Sister Leliana seemed to genuinely sympathize with Lana's life, and Lana's parents would never question a Sister of the Chantry. By the time Sister Leliana had left on her way, the sun had begun to fall and Lana rushed inside to help her mother in the kitchen.

“Don't think that you can shirk your duties just because Sister Leliana was with you today,” her mother warned.

“Yes, mother, of course,” Lana said. She quickly grabbed a pot from above the stove and went about lighting the wood below the stove.

“What did you two discuss today?”

“We spoke of Threnodies, and the Maker's creation of the world.” Lana grabbed a knife from the table, trying to make quick work of the potatoes. She turned them in her hand, trying to peel quickly with the sharp knife.

“For three hours?” Her mother scoffed. “You had better be able to recite it backwards to me after - now look at what you've done! If you've bled on the potatoes…”

Lana dropped the knife, holding her bleeding finger tightly in her hand. She angled her hand away from the table, quickly scanning her eyes and feeling relief wash over when she saw no blood on the table. She felt warm for a moment, and then the pain in her hand almost melded into nothing. Her mother grabbed her injured hand, tearing it towards her face and Lana's stomach opened like a pit. Her finger was stained in blood, but the offending wound had closed as if it were a week old. In her panic, she had worried of the wound itself offending her mother and she had healed it. An eerie silence broke over the home, the calm before the storm as time seemed to stop. She could see the red rushing to her mother's face, could feel time speeding up. Lana began speaking quickly, her brain racing.

“I didn't - I didn't mean to -”

“Do not talk to me after you did that… unholy thing in my house!”

Lana audibly winced as her mother grabbed her by the long point of her ear. She had to bend low to offset the pain as her feet quickly followed her mother's. She strained to look up, her stomach sinking and panic setting in as she saw them heading straight towards the closet.

“Mother, please, I swear on the Maker I didn't mean to -”

“I don't want to hear a sound from you until I open this door again!” Her mother yelled as she opened the door. Lana stumbled forward, grabbing at the wall for balance as she hit it. She turned around as the door slammed shut behind her. She could hear the lock turn as her mother forcefully turned the key, then the sound of her feet stomping away in anger, before silence took over.

The closet was dark. It had always been dark, pitch black, and empty for this use and this alone. Lana couldn't see her shadow as she slid down against the wall. It was tight and, even as small as she was, she couldn't stretch out her legs. Normally her mother would punish any regular transgressions with a pinch, a bruise, something quick and then leave Lana to her room. The closet was reserved for magic, for when Lana went against the very stringent rules that her parents expected her to abide by in order to live in their presence. Lana had spent many hours in the closet when she was younger, when controlling the magic had been harder. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes a day, always dark, and alone. As she grew she had become better at suppressing the magic, but, occasionally, it took her by surprise, as it had that day. She shook against the wall in the darkness, knowing that when she finally did see the light again there would be hell to pay. Making noise would make it worse. It would make her mother leave her in there for longer if she heard, make the eventual punishment more terrible than it already would be. Lana hugged her knees close to her chest, burying her face against her legs. She cried silently, her lips moving as she recited the Chant barely above a whisper in hopes that the Maker would hear:

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and d - do not falter… Blessed a - are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just… Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow... In their… In their blood... the Maker's will is written.”

[artboitrash]

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 20 - Ultimatum

My footfalls along the hallway resonated along the stone walls and paved floor. I hadn't been in this hall for several days, and I haven't had this much determination since I found my calling.

After several more paces, the walls fell away and lead into a larger stone room. I didn't bother to emote, knowing the anger burning away inside of me would tell him why I was there.

"Stefano!" said the man before me, opening his palms towards me and smiling a fake, unmoving smile. "Have you had any success in finding the Core?"

"I am still searching, but I'm here for another manner." I said, my own voice tight and holding back a shout.

He made a noise of curiosity as he looked over me. "And what would that be?"

I sneered at the man, though it wouldn't serve me well to get my point across. He could read even someone like me without the need to show my emotions.

"You have promised me everything, and you have promised me it all would not be held off until I brought you the core." I gripped my knife tightly in my hand, unwilling to allow him to think I wouldn't kill him instantly. "And still, the one thing I do desire is lying in my domain, and has completely forgotten me."

"That would not be my doing." He frowned at me. "Even my abilities are not fully understood. The world has likely corrupted her memories when the core disappeared. That is why she is so important."

I continued to sneer at him. "I do not believe you." I raised my knife, pointing it at him. "She would not forget me without someone else's influence!"

"Perhaps not, but it was not because of me."

I began to walk forward, becoming tired of his lies. I stepped into a puddle of dark black fluid, and it instantly erupted into flames. I jerked and sped several feet back in a split second.

Safely away from the fire, I tilted the knife at him. Before I could speak, his louder voice surrounded me.

"If you continue this madness, I will ensure you will never have the materials for your art ever again." He lowered his head, tilting it down as he did when he was speaking low. It was a way to manipulate those that would fall for his charm, a movement that tells them he has something to say that is only for them to hear. "I can see this girl you have become infatuated with in your mind, Stefano. I can see her importance. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure she will meet with a much more unpleasant fate than any you could give her."

He raised his head, holding his cane in front of him, standing to show his prowess and complete idealization of his own life. I lowered my knife, knowing it wouldn't be of use against his use of illusions and nightmares.

"Why would you even bother telling me something like that?"

"You will bring me the core. If you defy me once again, I will use the stable core to destroy her memories." A smiled pursued his lips as he continued to speak, ignoring my question. "Perhaps I will destroy your domain and make her watch under my care. But I shall not, and you will be able to live the rest of your lives together, as you create your art, and I continue to keep the world ever expanding within this town."

I was silent. "How do I know you aren't holding back more from me."

He sighed loudly. "If you so wish to have more for now, you may. The surface of this world is now yours to change. You do not have to rely on the domain I have given you, and you can create anything you so choose. This shall no longer be limited to what you take a photograph of. You may create your sculptures and if you so choose, they will come to life and do your bidding."

I paused, thinking for a little bit. "If what you have said is real, I'll get you the girl. Once she is in my grasp, I shall bring her. When I bring her, I expect you to fulfill your promise completely. Give me my muse's memories, and allow us the space to coexist together."

"And so, you shall have it. First, bring the core to me." He waved his hand, lifting it in a gesture. Something pooled at the bottom steps of his platform, coming out of the ground. "Here is a gift, do not disappoint me again."

A four-legged creature slid out of the ground smoothly. Two creatures fuzzed together, two of the changed and tampered with humans that now roamed the streets, emerging as a four-legged being. It was almost something from my dreams, but was made out of one of the creatures I did not want to go anywhere near. Two of these four-legged creatures walked around me, and rested on the ground by my feet. These seemed to be something he had made for the sake of being ground beings, something to always bow before him in his presence. I could feel them morphing to my will, and stood as I mentally commanded them to.

I closed my eye, and turned away. I knew better than to agree to his terms, but at least he was trying to show he meant what he said. I knew better than to give any credence to what he said now, so I said nothing as I began to walk away from him. The creatures followed, and they felt more like watch dogs than they did something I had control over.

The walls crumbled around me, the stones and carved areas disappearing as I made my way back down the hall. The surroundings disappeared altogether, and I found myself walking through the door to the empty rooms of my domain. There was still much I had to create, but I wasn't able to focus on that entirely. Not just yet.

If bringing this young girl to this man is what it took to have my precious bella back to me, then so be it. Once she remembers me, I can keep her by my side, teach her how to assist me in making my creations.

I walked through the door in front of me, flashing forward every few steps to save time, leading to a hallway I had constructed to hold my works. I passed through, finding one of my most recent works.

William Baker. I laughed to myself as he stood, frozen in time. His body constantly in the never ending sequence of death. I had placed a nameplate by the door that lead to this room, turning the entire setting into my work.

I looked over the camera I had used to capture this work at the exact proper angle, leaving it standing in case I ever needed to capture this work again. I could hear the last few moments of his scream playing out over again, quieted as my favorite song played over him. I slipped my hand over it, glancing through the viewfinder again. Of course, the angle was perfect, and the lighting of the frozen box I had stopped him in tied the scene perfectly. I smiled to myself, watching his death play out slowly for the half second it had been captured in. The arc of his blood was my favorite part of the portrayal. The way his head whipped back had created the most marvelous stream of blood, and now everyone could appreciate it as I did. The rose petals to the right of the image tied it together perfectly, and balanced the image exactly as it was meant to be seen.

I certainly am one of the greatest artists in this world. No one could compare to what I create, my imagination guiding the most wondrous creations. And now I can continue to create my work forever.

I waved off the guard dogs Theodore had sent to watch me. They slunk into the darkness, and I could see them seep into the floor as they disappeared. I felt my will surrounding them, and knew I would be able to call them when I needed. They are now able to do as I say, and it was a wonderful feeling knowing I had a new kind of power, the ability to bring my work to life.

A smile crossed my face. I must show my muse. Even if she no longer remembers me, I shall entrance her with my inspiration.

I could feel her walking through my gallery, sensing some of the people who had been captured in the hallways that held my work. Her soul had grown more noticeable in my mind, and I could keep watch of her as long as she was in my domain. She was awake and walking along the hallway that had the duplicates of my work from the real world. I wondered if she knew she had already seen them, or if they helped her remember.

I wondered what she thought of them now. I began to move to exit the room William Baker was portrayed, when I noticed something new. A new soul had appeared in my realm, and I wasn't certain where they had come from. I frowned, seeing them in my mind's eye walking closer to this room. I moved myself away from it, watching as the world disappeared away from me, reappearing as I stood still.

Now I stood on the balcony overlooking my work. I stared down, watching a rugged-looking man walked through the door. He turned away from the images of mine that had been hanging on my wall, turning to the ever-dying William Baker.

"What the hell...?" I could hear slip from him mouth.

He glanced over the sculpture I had created, watching him push his hand into the box I had constructed. He didn't seem to notice at first that he moved slower once completely engulfed in it.

"The team leader... One bullet, straight through the head." He muttered quietly.

I grumbled to myself. I didn't like the feeling I was getting as I watched this man. He made his way out of the frozen box I had made, looking briefly through my camera. I watched him back away from it with a look on his face that said he didn't like my work.

He looked up towards the ceiling as he was looking around the room more. As I realized he had seen me, I pushed myself away. I found myself outside the door the man had come in. I angrily walked forward, then closed and locked it.

I heard the doorknob being grabbed and jiggled. I allowed myself a small laugh as I realized he had tried to leave this situation.

This man was going to be fun to turn into a sculpture as well. I could almost feel the fear beginning to come off in waves. He was uncertain, and a growing sense of helplessness began to find its home in his mind. I could not wait to transform it further.

I watched in my mind as he began to walk through the room, a could feel him making his way into my darkroom and wandering around the lower floors of my domain. The winding hallways and maze-like rooms would leave him guess for a little while. For now, however, I have much more pressing matters to deal with.

Deciding to play with the man some more, I manipulated the world around me to allow me access to a phone several floors away. I dialed the number for the telephone several levels down, closer to my sculpture. It began ringing, and I could faintly her the bells chiming from several rooms and a staircase away. After a while as the man tentatively moved to the phone, as I could see in the back of my mind. He picked up the phone, making the phone stop ringing down the staircase a few rooms over, and I could hear the click on my end.

"Hello?" he asked with what sounded like a hesitant tone.

I couldn't help but chuckle as his tone registered. I didn't find the words I had expected to say to him, so instead I put a finger on the lever that held the receiver. The phone clicked and disconnected. I lay down the phone, watching it slide over the edge. I did not want to be bothered by the ringing phone in case he decided to call the previous number.

I turned and began walking down the hallway. One step forward, I walked into a new hallway, watching it unfold before me. I grasped forward, seeing a woman who had been in the visitor's center continuing to run through my world. She had cornered herself and was walking quickly, but once she had seen me she began running.

It was futile, of course, but I could not help but revel in her fear. I managed to watch her some more before giving in and beginning to give chase. I watched her run down the blackened hallway, heading towards a wooden and glass door.

She slammed her figure into the glass as someone walked up to it. As I neared, I saw it was that same man that had just come across my sculpture.

"Help! Help me!" the blonde woman screamed to him.

Instantly I shifted her away from the door, pulling her diagonally away. It was fast enough that it knocked the air out of her, silencing her for the next few seconds. Once she was far away from the door, in a more secluded area, she began to scream as I followed her. She would make wonderful material for my next sculpture. I pulled her into a vacant room and threw her into a table.

"Come, my new pet." I said as she continued to scream. "That will not help you. But you will be something marvelous."

She shrieked as I now stood before her, knowing that my fast movements forward were not something most had the pleasure of seeing. With a smile, I knocked her out with the butt of my knife. Her fear was wonderful, and it was inspiring me to make something new.

And so I shall create. I sped my body up, or slowed down time around me, it was almost unclear how my abilities appeared to others. I pulled her into another room with my ability to appear wherever I chose. She wasn't able to react as I picked her up and placed her on a table.

Now in my element, I began to tie her down, slowing my consciousness down to their normal stream of time. She shrieked as she realized her new predicament, and I turned away as I could hear her break into sobs.

I hushed her, approaching with my favorite tools.

"Do not cry, now." I said quietly. "You will become art, my pet."

She started crying out louder as I raised my knife. I smiled and plunged it into her skin, an eruption of blood spilling from her torso. I carved through her skin, tearing through her flesh, and marveling as I sculpted her. She shall be the finishing part of my piece, Rebirth. I just needed one more flower maiden, and the piece would be complete.

The amount of arms I had needed to create the main focus left me with so many leftover parts. I was thinking of what to do with them. Now I know what I will use them for. Once I have finished this ongoing piece, I will put Theodore's newest "gift" to practice.

I will create a new sculpture, and I shall bring it to life. And once I am finished, I will use it to kill the new intruder, and I will use it to impress my lovely muse.

Once I have finished all of that, I shall find that girl. Once I have my muse back in my arms, I will not allow her to forget me ever again. I will hold her and never let her go.

And I know, I just know so well, she will never want to leave me once she sees my newest works.

[breathe-smiles]

pt i. fragile notes

prologue:

i hope you’re not reading this. you know who you are. i can’t think of a reason why you would be [reading this], but in the slightest chance that you are, i hope you stop eventually (or at least come to an understanding of why you do continue to).

this piece is all about you. you’re enlaced in every word and punctuation. but i promise that it’s for me and i’m the reason i’m writing. i forget that this blog is my space - the only space i let myself be unapologetic, completely honest, and brutally real. so if you’re looking for something written to and for you, open any of #s 1 through 10, even if you’re still afraid to.

this piece is a collection of things i’ve jotted down over this period of time in between my last letter to you and now. these are feelings and emotions and thoughts that i have not been able to address, process, comprehend, or make sense of. these are things i’ve put on hold.

i’m in a headspace i’ve never been in before. i am encountered by circumstances i don’t know how to overcome. i actually thought i knew it all this time around - how to deal with any insecurity, separation or loss, heartache, growing pain, or communication issue. but once again, my fate has taken me on a path that is so indecipherable. what’s guiding me? where does it want me to go? is it taking me somewhere? where do i turn?

my sense of direction is pretty skewed to be upfront. i haven’t had to deal with a curve ball in quite some time. i’ve been meticulously in control for a long while. and it’s been great paving my own path; in the past 2 and a half years, i’ve learned a lot about the kind of person i want to be and how to potentially get myself there.

but now life’s in flux again. i’m feeling things that contradict each other; my thoughts are so mixed up i almost feel numb. i feel so much that i feel almost nothing. i wonder if this is a product of your departure or the arrival of a new period of growth - perhaps both (because they’re separate, but not mutually exclusive).

so, here are some fragile notes. my goal is to sort through them until i make sense of them. i want to reestablish my grasp on my being and my journey, because my life at the moment feels all over the place. i’ve always strived to create a world for myself that’s black and white, a place where everything has its boundaries and is clear. now that i’ve been in gray zone for a while, i want to gain a better understanding of where i’m headed and where i’d like to be headed. because the future’s in my fate, but it’s also in me. the roads are paved, but i’ve got the steering wheel. i’ll buckle up, i guess.

revisitings + expansions of already written words

i’ve been trying to convince myself that you don’t mean the world to me but you do, and you might always will. at least a little bit? you walked into my life and demonstrated to me what love could be (even redefined what i wanted it to be). despite knowing that there’s always going to be somebody better, you are, quite simply, all i really need.

i want to apologize to myself every time i choose to love you more than i love me. that’s every time i hold back from calling you drunk, every time i stop myself from asking you to be in my life again, every time i feel like i’m falling apart and i know you know how to fix me - but i know i’d never let my broken parts get in the way of you being absolutely carefree and happy. i apologize to myself that i can compromise giving in if it means something better for you, if it means giving you a better chance at being content. i apologize to myself for all the little times i put you above me, even if it only proved to me that my love for you was genuine.

why do we let beautiful things die?

they do say if you love something, let it go - and if it comes back to you, it’s yours.

i’ve recently come to the conclusion that it’s been difficult not saying your name out loud because you’re relevant in so many contexts. i don’t think i’ve stopped talking about you since we’ve broken it off, and not even on purpose. i wrote you into my future; i talked about you because you were in the infrastructure of so much of my life. i didn’t do it on purpose, that much is clear to both of us. we tried so hard not to do it when we were together, but i guess i did subconsciously because it was so easy to. you made sense with me. you made a place for yourself in my universe so effortlessly. you became embedded into my world. my future entwined itself with parts of you so much so that my future became you, even though it wasn’t supposed to. upon your departure, it took me a long time to understand why i wasn’t in pain. i understand now it’s because it didn’t even feel like you were gone (but now it does, and i think you really are gone). my future was you but it’s supposed to be me. isn’t that what you always believed? that your future was and will always be you? perhaps there was never even a place for me.

as i was assembling all of your things into a box, something i didn’t get to do until thanksgiving, i realized there were just too many pieces of you in my surroundings. objects of utility that have become a part of my daily life, small tickets from places we had gone that i had superglued to my door, my toothbrush and turtle anklet and that gigantic plush bunny you helped me carry back to my house. there are parts of you in my life i still don’t quite know how to delete. there are objects i don’t know how or where to put away. you’ve left your mark. some days i can still feel you sitting on my bedroom floor, and other days i can’t shake the image of us laying on my bed crying on our last day together. man, that shit makes my heart drop.

i’ve said goodbye to you more times than i can count. i’ve said goodbye to you so many fucking times and it jeopardizes my need for ultimatum, something i’ve always achieved with my last letter. unfortunately, it’s not been the same in your case. i’ve declared that i’m over you, still in love with you, angry at you, sulking over you, again and again in cycles that it stopped making sense to me to declare anything at all. do i love you? do i hate you? do i blame you or do i blame myself? am i over you? am i not? maybe that’s just how this life thing works - you can’t always be sure i suppose. i just wish i didn’t feel like i needed clarity to properly function and exist.

i don’t know if you ever really understood how you made me feel. the security and comfort you brought into my life, like i could see everything in a blink finally working out, like years of floating not knowing where things were going finally pulled down with gravity towards reality. you made me feel like everything was coming together. you made me feel okay, merely solid for once in my life. i’ve never ever felt as okay as i did with you. maybe i don’t feel quite okay right now, but i know i will be. because i have to be eventually, right? or at least that’s what my best friend tells me when i ask him if i’m going to be alright.

your departure feels like a slap in the face, a reality check, that things don’t work out like they feel like they’re supposed to, that your fate and your growth and your life may very well have always been separate from mine. maybe we are no longer together because we were never a unit. we were two distinct beings tied in pinky promises and interlocked hands, like a string tied in a knot eventually coming loose.

now that you’re gone and you love another and you’re growing with somebody else, i feel an odd sense of separation and distance that i don’t know how to explain. it’s like a discrepancy that i can’t make up for, like you are morphing into a person that is unfamiliar to me, a person different from the one i remember and held close and adored, like i don’t know you like that anymore. and though it’s not surprising that you’ve moved on to somebody else, it’s somewhat unsettling because you were somebody i was committed to knowing forever. one sided things have never been my groove, and maybe here knowing that you’re holding somebody new so close, you really did lose me.

maybe you’re still you, and i’m sure you’re still you. you’re just taking on parts of yourself that you have yet to find and keep finding. that was the agenda, wasn’t it? so perhaps i am overthinking and perhaps i am doing the same. perhaps i am doing everything you’re doing - growing, discovering, creating, and attempting at loving - but my brain is villainizing you because i feel like the stupid one. for believing that we were something so incredibly irreplicable and special and unique, that our love was something maybe so extraordinary that it was all only in my head and not yours. my anxieties always try to discredit the love i experience through my relationships, like these loves are not as grand as they might’ve felt. and i wonder if that holds true for our love, too: was it just as ordinary as any other?

we are not a fairytale. while i’ll care about you forever, i’m the only one in this world that loves me more than anyone else could. that means doing what’s best for me, understanding you don’t love me like i always thought you would. the dreams and the fantasies and the idealizations and the pedestal i put you on - it’s all in my fucking head. and i need to throw that shit out if you’ve moved on, you know? i don’t sulk on what’s not mine.

i’ve been unsettled with the idea of losing you for a long time but i find a slight comfort, something eerie inside of me, simultaneously making me want to fly and glow and shine, but also very sick to my stomach, that maybe i’ve already lost you. here i am holding onto the slight intuition that you’ll be here again one day, something that we said we could feel in our stomachs, something like a 6th sense. months of fluctuating between knowing you’re gone and knowing you’ll be back, counting on the fact that you are something so amazing that i’ll probably never be able to replicate, comparing everybody i could love to you and saying how could this person ever measure up. but who am i kidding? you’ve long moved on. you left and you found a new world where there’s no place for me. and maybe deep inside of me, i always knew there was no place for me, that maybe i was never essential, never needed, and i know still very clearly i am not - and it’s never hurt me because i know you and how you are. i was an episode and a companion for only a period of time, a character that only made sense in part of the plot. but i also know, as perfect as i make you out to be, that this is not what i want out of a lover or a partner. i shouldn’t feel unnecessary. i know i deserve better. i know i deserve more.

when have i ever been afraid of loss? when have i ever not known what to do with a vulnerable heart and some disappointment? i have navigated through these emotions prior to this. every healing journey is different and so is every period of growth, but i can hold onto where i’m heading. i know where my hope and my faith can take me. i know fate’s doing its thing. i know there’s something bigger and brighter and better out there calling my name, pulling me towards it - even if i don’t know what it is right now.

and i’ve spent these past few months hoping the prettiest things for you, the most beautiful moments and experiences, the happiest and most enlightened you could be. but i need to start wishing these things upon myself. i’ve given you every last bit of love i wouldn’t feel guilty giving you. it’s time for me to love me. what do i want? how do i get there? what bits about myself are in for reform? is this a solo journey or do i let people in? it’s in flux. maybe gray zone is not so bad. i feel myself growing. i just want a sense of direction.

i’m going to be patient with myself because i always am. i will not let anything even scratch my well-being. so that’s that, right? detox, breathe, and feel again. rebuild, construct, create, and rise. isn’t that what i do best?

to you: i hope you find what makes you weak. i hope you find what makes you crazy. i hope you find what you can’t live without and i hope you find what has the power to kill you. you’ve never had weaknesses to me; nothing could ever make you soft. but there’s strength in letting things make you soft - and i hope you find that.

there’s beauty in coexisting between the delicate and the indestructible. i know who i am and i know what i can do and i know as shaky as i may be, i am capable of shaking the world. i am a powerhouse even if i don’t believe it sometimes. so what’s a loss of a boy that i loved gonna do to me?

i find it interesting that our breakup was essentially us moving to different cities and turning off love switches for the other person. needless to say, i never knew love worked like that. but i guess since i’m writing this, it doesn’t work like that (at least not for me).

i knew it was over when i listened to the way you talked about her. it’s okay; i know how to stand on my own two feet. you’re not holding me up anymore but i’m still steady.

what i’ve learned from our breakup is that your dreams and your goals can exist at the same time as people you love. you can grow as an individual despite being with somebody you love. i didn’t do what was true to me when it came to our breakup and loving you. my truth is that love is stronger than anything else. i didn’t stick around to prove that. i didn’t give it my best shot. and for a little bit, i think i hated myself for it. but i remember that i am only one half of me and you, so maybe we just weren’t meant to be.

something has to fucking change.

i am having trouble processing our breakup because it’s filled with contradictions. why did i let you go when i knew i loved you? was my love for you really the reason i let you go? who would i be if you were still in my life? just how sure was i about you? why do i find it difficult to open up after you? why do i constantly remember all the ways you took care of me so perfectly? am i really not ready to move on? where do i stand emotionally? am i over you or not? i know you prioritize yourself more than anything, but were we really something you could let go of so easily? do we have different perceptions of our relationship? why do i feel like i’ve always been on the same page as you, but i’m trailing behind so far now? did i believe in us more than you did? was i the only one that thought our love was so special? was that discrepancy always there? did months of mental preparation for our breakup do anything for me? these questions fucking suck.

i have to remember that every period of growth is different and i can’t expect the same things to happen in cycles. just because i know how a breakup goes doesn’t mean it’s going to feel the same every time. it’s scary because it’s unfamiliar. it’s scary because you don’t know what’s gonna happen. breathe. take it easy. (i sound like jay but these are honestly probably his words.)

i guess we didn’t have as coherent as a partnership as i thought if we just gave our relationship up so easily. we didn’t even put up a fight. we didn’t even try. i’m ashamed i thought we stood a chance against forever.

i guess we let this go because it wasn’t good enough to keep around. our love felt like something else, but it still wasn’t enough to stay.

the amount of growth i’ve experienced in the past decade has morphed me into completely different people at different points in time. but i somehow feel like i’ve always been consistent in lots of ways. i wonder which parts of me have been held constant and which parts of me have continued to change. will these parts always stay the same and will these other parts always be temporary?

there are moments where i’m taken over by memories of us in all the places we got to see together. i don’t even try to think about them, but they just reappear in my mind. living with you, being on a plane with you, figuring out maps with you, learning about the world with you. philadelphia and los angeles have taken on new meanings for us, but upon revisiting these memories, i realize i lost my most intimate companion. i don’t think i can call you my best friend, nor were you simply my lover, but i did lose my most immediate connection in proximity. i was supposed to do so much with you. i guess the worst part is knowing very well we were capable of it.

i let you define home and now new york city is just you everywhere i go. fuck that shit. this is my city. i’m reclaiming my space. my bed. the 7 train. the church we’d volunteer at. central park. college point boulevard. driving lessons. your parking spot. my sheets. the front porch. new york is mine. i can’t let you define what new york is to me. i shouldn’t be afraid to come back to my city just because you exist in its crevices. this is my home. our last memories here are not. you are not.

[subostartrek]

STAR TREK DISCOVERY 02.05 - “The Saints of Imperfection” Recap

“If you lay a hand on my brother-”

“You’ll what? Oh, now here’s the woman I recognize.”

“Shuttlebay’s through there. I’m sure you need to get back to your... snakepit.”

This episode plays almost like a midseason finale, converging much of the character and plot development seen in the prior episodes while paving a clear way for the main plot to enter critical mass.

But wow, this was beautiful. The Saints of Imperfection is the best episode of the season so far. Fates converge, wills collide, and I absolutely loved it.

Once again, I have to give it up for the actors. The acting has always been Discovery’s greatest strength, but here it’s a standout even among their uninterrupted string of exceptional performances throughout Season 2.

I enjoyed and assessed this episode at a 5/5, returning a final rating of 5/5.

RANDOM THOUGHTS:

1: I was worried that May would bond with Stamets and become Hugh.

That would be weird as shit.

The method they ended up choosing was far better.

2: But, I still want May to return. The bond between her and Tilly has been so special, and I can see it blossoming into a healthy, even lifelong relationship. She should join the Discovery as one of its crew! What if she becomes Starfleet’s first fungal recruit?

3: So many characters! Admiral Cornwell, Ash, Georgiou, basically everyone is here except for Spock. Each one of them gets some time to shine. Literally the only thing that could have made this episode even better would be Jet Reno.

4: This was the most literal “sinking ship” I’ve ever seen in Star Trek.

5: Loved the little combadge cameo.

6: Michael is such a great character. She’s able to

“If I have a path, I’m still searching for it. We all are; that’s how we find our way. By choosing to walk forward. Together.

And if there is a greater hand, leading us to an uncertain future... I can only hope it guides us well.”

[capturedaestheticsslc]

“He’s the hero that Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now, so we’ll hunt him. Because he can take it. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful guardian, a dark knight.” Commissioner Jim Gordon: The Dark Knight

Do you remember what it was like, as a kid, to be left in suspense and in awe of the amazing things you’d see? The feeling you’d get when something amazing happened, or you witnessed something so spectacular it left you feeling so full of life and that feeling just sticks with you. A feeling of joy, happiness, of excitement and wonder. Do you still get that feeling? Very few things today can draw the child out of you and tug at you to feel alive and full of wonder as you once did. Well what if you never had that? What if when you were a kid you witnessed the opposite? What if you witnessed something so primal, so terrifying it left you a shell of what you could have been? Or what if it created a spark? A spark that set you on a path to be something more than yourself? More than you ever dreamed of? Let me set the stage: You’re walking down a dark alley, you just got out of a great movie with your mom and and dad. A fun time is had by all, it unknown you, is a figure in the shadows, a figure who would change you’re life forever in the blink of an eye.

You may already know this one, but today, today this story is very important, why? Well, the Batman has turned 80 and it’s time to celebrate.

Bob Cane would write the very first Batman story for Detective Comics #27 in May of 1939. The story would introduce the world the masked vigilante who fought to clean up the streets of Gotham of the crime that took his parents from him on that terrible and fateful night. Batman would go on to bigger and better things and would become a pillar in the world of comics. Don’t think Bob Cane ever saw that coming. But why is this so important?

For 80 years stories of caped heroes have been created, drawn and brought to life through various forms of media. Today you can see the Avengers, Superman, TMNT and the list goes on and on, in TV, movies and just about anywhere. But did you ever think a character dressed as a bat would be up there with them? I fact, Batman has been a pioneer in the world of comics. From the original Batman film serial in the 1960’s, the Burton films of the 90’, the Animated Series, the Nolan trilogy and the list goes on and on. To understand why a man dressed as a bat has gained so much popularity, you have to look deep into the mythology of this legendary hero.

Bruce Wayne was a boy who had everything a boy could ask for. His parents were Thomas and Martha Wayne. Children of the founding families of Gotham. You can’t go anywhere in Gotham without knowing who the Wayne’s were. But all of that would mean nothing after that night. The night his parents were gunned down in an alley. The young boy watched in terror as his parents were ripped away from him, leaving him alone and broken. But where many would succumb to the loss and live a life in fear, Bruce choose different. He would take the events of that night and use them as motivation. On that night he would embark a crusade to fight injustice, to rid the streets of crime and to ensure what was done to him would never happen to anyone ever again. On the night, the idea of Batman was born.

Through out the years some of the greatest authors and artist would take the character on a journey of self discovery, turmoil, growth, loss and so much more. A journey that would pit the Batman through some of the worlds most dangerous villains, and powerful allies like Superman in Frank Miller’s iconic Dark Knight Returns. But still, was is it about Batman that has kept him going through the years? For that you have to go deeper.

Have you ever gone through something, something you thought there was no coming back from? Loss, betrayal, a devastating injury? To understand why Batman is so powerful, you have to know what it’s like to hurt. To hurt on scale so big, you have no idea you can come back from it. Speaking from personal reflections, you relate to Batman. Everyone one does, in some shape of form. Batman was able to overcome the death of his parents, the death of 2 sons, one of his greatest allies being crippled, he himself being crippled. You put yourself in his shoes, you tell yourself if he was able to overcome it, then so can I. We often think of these heroes as more than characters but as an extension of who we are. We place ourselves in there world, in their lives, to escape and to heal, to learn, to overcome. From the minuet he was created Batman would be a character who would face adversity and would have to overcome it. Something we can all agree, is no easy job. We may not fight the likes of Superman, Darkseid or the Joker, but we fight everyday life. And to some that is just as bad as the Joker. We gain power, strength and courage from our heroes, our idols. And what greater hero, than the human Batman. A hero who has overcome death and fights for what he believes in.

It doesn’t matter how old you are, where you grew up or when, at some point you’ve heard or seen the adventures of the Dark Knight. You know his story, you know his mission and you know his secret. Heroes like the Avengers are what we see and know, but for how long? Batman has been around for 80 years now and for many more years to come. Wether your a fan or not, credit has to be given to his creator, the late and legendary Bob Cane on this mile stone achievement. We owe a lot to him and to his icon characters for paving the way for so many and for inspiring generations to follow in his legacy and to carry the mantle. I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman.

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

Hey, I Think I Like Your Girlfriend (Jungkook x You ft. Taehyung) //Oneshot

MASTERLIST

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is impenetrable. But what happens when the only girl who manage to penetrate his heart seems to belong to his best friend, Kim Taehyung?

Genre: Fluff

Jungkook is impenetrable. His friends knows it. His fans knows it. His hyungs obviously knows it. Everybody knows it. Jungkook had met millions of girls around the world, all of them are beautiful, of course, some are even both funny and interesting. But no one seems to have been able to penetrate his heart, until he was introduced to you. By Taehyung. As his special someone.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s someone special to me!” Taehyung’s voice suddenly pierced through the noisy bar. Jungkook can hear Jin and Jimin howling and start to tease him as he lifts up his head to see the person Taehyung was introducing. Jungkook’s vision was met with a pretty girl, he had seen prettier ones obviously, but there’s just something about you that seems to affect his heart is a different way.

Maybe its the way you laugh off the teasing from his hyungs, even joining in to tease Taehyung, maybe its the way you are simply dressed,in a plain off shoulder blouse and skinny ripped jeans and light makeup although you know you are meeting six internationally well known idols, and trust Jungkook when he says that most girls dressed up like they were attending the grammys when they know they are meeting them, or maybe its the way you gave off a friendly vibe, like all of you had known each other for years, or maybe, just maybe, its the way that you smile.

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” Jungkook snapped out from his thoughts when Jimin who’s on his right elbowed him, and he realized that you had finished your introductions with everyone else and is now looking funnily at him.

“I..I’m Jungkook,” he managed to stuttered out, making you laughs.

“The maknae is akward and shy around new people. He will warmed up to you soon enough. Dont worry about it babe,” Taehyung explains to you to which you just smile and nodded, gaze still locked on Jungkook, a tiny amused smile still plastered on your face. He dont know if it’s because the way of Taehyung had called you babe or the way your elbow and sometime your thighs seems to graze his because Taehyung has seated you in between himself and Jungkook on this too tiny table, but Jungkook feels suffocated and sweating more than he should have. His heart is beating so fast and he dont understand it. He really just wants to go back and lie down on his bed, maybe dreaming about that smile of yours.

Weeks passes and you seem to be a constant thing in his life. You are always around. Granted, its not your fault, since Taehyung is always dragging you around with them whenever they have free time to hang. The rest of the boys doesnt mind. They find you fun and refreshing, especially when you dont fangirl over them, at all, well, maybe that’s because you are already together with Taehyung, a fact that Jungkook definitely doesnt what to be reminded of, and they can treat you like one of the boys, and you will be totally cool with it. Or as what Jin had described you before, “I like hanging out with Y/N, I’m comfortable. She’s fun, like one of the boys, but so so so much prettier,” which earned him a smack from Taehyung.

“Yah, no one gets to call her pretty except for me!” Taehyung once said.

“Tae, she’s a girl. And a pretty one at that. I think she would like it if people calls her pretty,” Namjoon said a matter of factly giving Taehyung a look towards his protectiveness.

“I need to protect her innocence from savage men like you guys!”

“Yeah yeah, we know she’s your someone special Tae. Stop being so overprotective,” Jimin chimed in, slapping Taehyung’s shoulders. “And she should be protected from you more that she should be from us,”

“And excuse me, I am not a savage man. I am incredibly poised,” Jin said, rather offended to be called savage by his dongsaeng.

Jungkook will usually keeps quiet when they start talking about you. He doesnt want to know about your relationship with Taehyung and he doesnt want to hear about how amazing you are from his hyungs. He already knows you are amazing. You are not just amazing  you are incredible, fun, funny, interesting, beautiful…

Getting over you seems like an impossible task as whenever you came over or just hangs out with them somewhere, you would usually sticks around Taehyung, and the two other maknae. Maybe its because all of you are closer in age, you are afterall, the same age as Jungkook, and some stupid things you guys did together, the hyungs just dont find it funny.

Fate is a funny thing when one stormy day Jin has forced the both of you go to the nearby store to get him some ingredients he is missing for his recipe. “It wont be the same without it!” Jin whined when Jungkook complained that it will rain soon and the weather report has predict for a storm to hit later today. Since only the two of you left, Jungkook didnt know where did all his other hyungs went to but they will all miraculously appeared when dinner is ready, the both of you decide to share the burden together.

The rain has started to fall by the time Jungkook and you were walking back to the dorm. Quickening your pace, both of you managed to reached the building just in time when the storm starts to hit. Wind are howling and rain is heavily pouring. Cold and wet, Jungkook ushered you to hurry up into the elevator so you both can get the warmth you needed at home.

The moment the elevator door closes, a loud thudering lightning hits and the elevator shut down from its power, leaving the both of you in the dark, except for the faint emergency light.

“Oh crap,” Jungkook cursed and look at you. Although he knows you are panicking inside, you tried your best to not show it.

“It’s okay. Dont panic. I’m sure the power will be up soon. At least on the bright side, we are together. Imagine how scary if would be if we are alone,” you smile at Jungkook. “In the meantime, lets try pressing that emergency bell. Maybe someone who passes by will hear it. Oh and try the intercom too,”

Jungkook quickly do as you suggested. He is still amazed by how calm you are. He swears if its some other girl, she would already be crying and screaming like they were stuck in an avalanche instead of an elevator.

“Hello? Can you hear us? We are stuck in the elevator in the building. I think the power went out,” Jungkook quickly explain the situation to the person who answered their intercom call.

“We have received the situation. However ths storm is prohibiting all vehicles to move right now. Our rescue team will only be able to get there once the storm has slowed down. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m with another person. A girl,“Jungkook quickly answered, hoping that with your presence the rescue team will find another way to come by quickly.

"Noted. Please stay calm and wait. Do not do anything that may cause harm to your safety. We will check on you from time to time. Do not break communication,” was the last thing the operator said.

“Well, seems like we are stuck for a while,” Jungkook turned back to look at you. He tries to steady his heart beat. Being stuck with you, the subject of his dreams for weeks now, is surely not going to be good for his mental health.

“Seems like Jin wont be able to do his special recipe then,” you chuckle, holding up the bag filled with ingredients that causes this mess in the first place. Jungkook just smile at you, wondering how you can still make jokes in this situation.

She looks so calm. She must not be feeling anything to be stuck with me then. Jungkook thought to hinself. What are you talking about? She’s Taehyung’s girlfriend! You are just her boyfriend’s best friend. Get a grip. Jungkook mentally slapped himself.

“Come sit here Jungkook,” you motioned for him to sit beside you who are sitting cross legged on the floor when he doesnt say anything for a while. “Lets play some games or something to pass the time,”

“Okay. What do you have in mind?” Jungkook finally reacts and takes his place besides you, joining you in sitting cross legged on the floor.

“How about 20 questions? We can get to know each other better. Although we have been hanging out for quite some time now, I dont feel like I really know you,” you smile at him, which sends his heart in a marathon. Jungkook agreed and start off the game. The game starts off simple. Questions about favorite animals, food, color. His favorite tour memory, your favorite celebrity and so on.

“So tell me Y/N. Why are you studying to be a doctor? Is it the glamour that comes with it? So you can tell everyone that you are a doctor?” he winks, teasing you. “Dont you feel like it will take too much of your time to  study it until you can actually be a doctor? Taehyung told me that you are good in dancing too, why do you choose the doctor path instead?” Taehyung had mentioned to him once that you are only in your second year of paving your way to be a doctor. And also you are extremely good in dancing, you might even be as good as Hoseok, but never wants to proceed it as a career, only as a hobby to pass free time.

You chuckle. “If studying for almost 14 hours everyday and slaving yourself trying to learn medical terms for years is what you call glamorous, then yes. I’m doing it for the glamour,” Jungkook laughs at your humor.

“But seriously… I feel like being a doctor will give me a purpose in life. To be honest with you, I was a sickly kid. I have a terrible disease, that I dont want to get into further details, but it was when I was younger. So I spend more than half of my childhood in clinics and hospitals, being tested and poked around,” you sigh, remembering the bitter memory. “I used to think that a job is just a job. When you are done, you go home and you dont think about it until the next morning. But as I watched all these doctors running around all day and night, giving their all to save their patients, the worry they have on a patient’s condition, how they cried and share their patients’ happiness and grief, I start to understand that a job is not just about earning paychecks, its more than that. You actually bring a meaning to someone else. I feel like by being a doctor, even when I feel like there’s nothing else going on in my life, at the end of the day, when I come home, I can always say that I save a life today. I had made someone’s day better today. And that just gives me a reason to live, a purpose, even when the time comes where I might have nothing else going on in my life,” you finished, realizing that Jungkook is staring at you and your long heartfelt explanation. You laugh.

“Cheesy right?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, not at all,”

All these while, Jungkook had wanted to be an idol because its his dream to sing, his dream to dance. And what better thing to do than following your own dreams right? He thought he’s feeling happy when he succeeded because he had achieved what he had dream to be, but listening to you, he realized he was wrong. What actually makes him happy are his fans, his Armys. He found a purpose to improve his singing, his dancing, just so he can make them proud. He remembers how happy and proud he felt when he reads the messages his fans have sent him. How they said that their concerts, songs, appearances and even their mere photos gave them a reason to smile. To be happy. To help them crawl out from their state of sadness and depressing thoughts. At the end of every tiring day, he comes back smiling, knowing he had make someone’s day today.You are right, he never realizes it before but you has opened his eyes to a whole new perspective. A beautiful perspective. He finally realize what had made he’s life feels so fulfilled, all thanks to you. Jungkook shift his eyes to you, seeing you in a whole different light. Sure, you are amazing to him before, but right now, you look ethreal to him. And as if he is being pulled by a magnetic forced, he leans in and kiss you.

And you kisses him back.

Jungkook had never felt this refresh, this alive while he is kissing you. Until he realizes who is he actually kissing right now. He is kissing Taehyung’s girlfriend. Taehyung’s. You belong to Taehyung!

He immediately breaks the kiss and push you away. You were startled by his actions and immediately open your eyes to see Jungkook’s frantic face.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

“I..I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,”

“Its okay Jungkook. I-”

“Its not okay!” Jungkook suddenly shouted and standing up, cutting you off. You were shocked by his sudden reaction and just stared at him, opened mouth. “Its not okay Y/N. You are Taehyung’s g-”

The power suddenly came back right at that moment and you were greeted by two people from the rescue team, peeking at you.

“Hey kids, you okay? We are going to help you get out now,”

Jungkook kept silent during the whole time they were saving you. You tried to talk to him, to ease out your confusion but its hard to do with him avoiding you and being in the presence of the two rescue man. Once the both of you are safe and sound, Jungkook immediately rush off to the dorm and locked himself in his room, leaving you more sad and confused.

You havent seen Jungkook since that day. He is apparently very good in avoiding you. Everytime you came over when Taehyung invites you, he will either locked himself in his roon or went out somewhere. Taehyung told you that he’s been in a mood lately and all of them are just leaving him be. They assumed its because of stress of maybe he finally hits his puberty, as Yoongi had said it, chuckling. But you know better. Its obviously because of what happened in the elevator.

When it has almost been two months since Jungkook didnt even bother to  read your text, you’ve had enough of his bullshit. He’s being childish and you are no longer playing his games. You storm into the dorms one day, startling Hoseok who open the door.

“Where is that man child?”

“He’s in his room,” you waited no more and stalked off to his room. “But he’s-” you slammed open his door before Hoseok can finish his sentence and boy, you should have listen to what he wanted to say. Because what you see breaks your heart into little pieces. Jungkook is making out with some girl you recognized as a new idol on his bed. All lips and hair and limbs tangling together. You cant stop it, tears are already forming in you eyes. Both Jungkook and the girl look at you, suprise by the sound of the door slamming open.

“I guess this is why you didnt even read my text! I understand then Jungkook,” and you stormed out, ignoring the calls of the other members who are concerned at your crying state.

Immediately after you stormed out from his room, Jungkook asks the girl to go home. She just shrugged and said her okay, asking him to call her again if he still needed someone to help release his stress. The relationship between Jungkook and her are strictly sexual and nothing more. They definitely were not an item. Both the girl and Jungkook agree to just treat their relationship as a fling, a way to help each other ease their stressful life. Jungkook had met her after the elevator incident with you. And boy, does he really needs to blow of some steam. He had to kept it all inside. He cant really tell his hyungs what had happened between the two of you, you are Taehyung’s girlfriend.

Jungkook rubbed his face, pacing around his room, not understanding what happen. Why did you cry? Why did you seem so angry to see him with another girl? Did you mistaken him with Taehyung and thought Tae’s cheating on you? Only a crazy man would cheat on someone as perfect as you. But you did say something about him not reading your text. You even mentioned his name. What’s going on? Urghhh he’s so confused!

“Okay coconut head. Tell me what happen, now!” Taehyung suddenly enters his room, fuming. “Y/N just came out from your room, bawling her eyes out. And now she doesnt even answer my calls or texts!”

“Its.. its,” Jungkook didnt know what to say. How can he tell his hyung, his best friend, his brother, that he likes his girlfriend. Love even? And he had even kissed her? That’s like throwing himself under the bus. But he knows he has to come clean someday. Especially when its Taehyung. Their bond is too special for him to continue lying to his face.

“Spill it Jungkook,” Taehyung sternly warn him. “Let me help you then. What happen with you and Y/N in the elevator? I know you have been avoiding her since then,” Taehyung starts off when Jungkook still didnt answer. Jungkook is suprise that Taehyung actually notice that. Jungkook took a heavy breath before he opens his mouth.

“Hyung, before I tell you, please know that I’m sorry and I regret it and I-”

“You like Y/N dont you?” Taehyung cut him off, arms crossing over his chest. Jungkook avoided his eyes and decides to come clean.

“Ye..yes. but I know-”

“Hah, I knew it!” Taehyung jumps around happily, mouth spread into a huge grin. Jungkook is more confused than ever. Why is Taehyung happy that he likes you? What kind of boyfriend is he? Does he gets off to the thoughts of someone else being in love with his girlfriend of something?

“Hyung. I know she’s your girlfriend and I’m sorry. I kissed her in the elevator and I’m sorry I broke the bro code. I didnt mean to do it. It just happens. I was caught in the moment. I promise I will stay away from her,” Jungkook rambled on, voice filled with guilt.

Taehyung’s laughs gets louder until he’s clutching his stomach. “You are really stupid!” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in confusion. What is he on about now? He knows that Taehyung is weird, but this is too weird, even for him. “When have I ever said that Y/N is my girlfriend, you dumbass?” Taehyung managed to control his laughter this time.

“Wh..what?” Jungkook stuttered. “But..but when you introduced her, you said she’s your special someone. And..and you call her babe! Andyou guys are always together! You guys look like a sickeningly sweet couple!”

“I said she’s my special someone. I didnt say she’s my girlfriend, you idiot! She’s special to me because we have known each other since we were kids! We were practically twins growing up. She’s like family. Even my mother thinks of her as a daughter. And I call her babe because that’s a nickname we use since we were younger. Since when does babe implies that you are surely dating anyway?” Taehyung question. “And what do you mean we look like a couple? A couple of best friends maybe. She’s been spending more time with you than with me since I introduce you to her!” Taehyung pouts.

“Wha..what?” Jungkook fell down on his bed, trying to process this new information. You and Taehyung are not together? You guys are just best friends? Freaking best friends?

“And for your information. She likes you. Like a lot. She keeps on gushing about you until I feel like sewing her mouth shut. No wonder she said you always seems like you are setting a boundary around her. You thought she’s my girlfriend?” Taehyung laughs again. Jungkook only hears she likes you a lot, and both guilt and butterflies starts to creeps up his chest.

“Wait. You said you kissed her right?” Taehyung suddenly remembers his confession. Jungkook nodded. “And then you avoid her? And then she finds you in your room kissing some random chick?” Jungkook nodded again. His stupidity sounds even worse when Taehyung said it loud and clear like that. “Oh boy. You got some major shit on your hands. That is if you really like her and wants her back. You do like her right?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows. “I will not allow you to play with my best friend’s heart, maknae,” Taehyung’s voice us stern, warning him.

“I do. I like her hyung,” Jungkook looked dowbln, embarassed . “I think I’m in love with her,” Jungkook finally admits. Taehyung nodded his head.

“Then you have to get her back,”

Ever since what happened in Jungkook’s room, you no longer hangs out with the boys. You need time to heal before you can see him again. You feel used as apparently Jungkook’s been going around kissing everybody. What you had in the elevator is not special. All the bond you thought you create with him is just an illusion. You thought wrong.

You went to the practice room at one of the dance academy near your home. You are close with the owner and he lets you use it whenever they are closed for the day. Dancing is what you do when you are stressed out, or when something is bothering you, or when you need a break from all the medical terminalogy you’ve been cramming your head with all day long. This is a secret that only Taehyung knows as he usually accompany you and watch you dance when you were younger.

You went to the usual room that you use and flicked the lights on. You wonder why the lights seems to be dimmed today but you got yoir answer when your vision is greeted with the sight of hundreds of balloons decorating the ceiling and the floor is covered with roses. Every single inch of it. And in the corner of the room, stood one Jeon Jungkook, as handsome as ever, holding a single rose, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Isnt this a scene from your Boys In Luv video or something?” you sarcastically said, hands on your hips. Jungkool chuckle. “And do you mind picking up your roses that’s all over the floor? And your balloons too? I need this practice room. Shouldnt you be giving all this to your girlfriend instead?” you pressed on the word girlfriend.

“I’m sorry but I dont think I have a girlfriend. I’m single, for now,” Jungkook said, taking a step closer. “And as I was informed, so do you, as for now,”

You look at him, confused. What is he talking about? You have always been single.You have never been in a relationship before.

“What are you talking about? I know I’m not dating anyone. Not sure about you though,” you said, still pressing on the issue about him kissing the girl.

“I know you dont. Well, at least now I also know you dont,” Jungkook slowly walk closer until he’s standing right in front of you. You raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what he meant.

“Y/N… I’m sorry for my behavior. For putting a wall between us. For pushing you away,” he looks into your eyes then shifted his gaze away. “Actually…I…I thought you and Taehyung are together,” he paused. “That’s why I try to stay away from you when I realized how bad I have fallen for you,” Jungkook finally admits. His confession startled you. You really want to stay mad at him. You really do. But what he’s saying is so innocent and honest and just adorable. How can someone be this innocent? You keep it in mind to smack Taehyung in the head when you see him next time. You had told him to not be so clingy and to stop introducing you to everyone he knows as if you are he’s girlfriend. He is the reason why you are single for the whole of your high school career. And you almost lost Jungkook too.

You laugh and Jungkook smile at that. He really hopes your laugh means that you will forgive and accept him. He really wont know how to recover if you reject him. Then your smile dissappeared.

“But that doesnt explain what I saw the other day though. I thought what we shared in the elevator is special, but apparently you just go around kissing everybody Jungkook. And I cant be with someone like that,” you start to turn around but he grabs your wrist and pull you closer. His chest sticks to your back as he hugs you.

“No! No Y/N. What we had is special. What you saw the other day…that’s just me trying to get over you,” Jungkook turned you around to face him as he hastily explain himself. “Y/N, I have met and been introduced to millions of girls all over the world, and no one, no one is ever able to penetrate my cold heart. Until the night when I laid my eyes on you. I knew at that moment that I have fallen so deep for you. And when Taehyung said you are his someone special, I thought that the world is unfair. How can fate bring you to me but I’m not able to have you? Then we got closer… and we kissed. I dont think my heart can take it Y/N, after feeling you in my arms and I still wont be able to make you mine? I knew I needed to stay away from you. Get over you. I thought you will  never be mine. When Tae-hyung told me loud and clear that the both of you are just friends, I feel like the whole world suddenly got brighter again,” Jungkook is breathless. He grabs both of your hands. “I love you Y/N. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. To love me. You told me that we all need a purpose in life, and I’ve found mine. Its you Y/N, its you. Please Y/N, will you be mine?”

You felt your heart soared at his words. You had fallen for him not long after Taehyung introduced you to him. His akwardness, his shy smile, his cockiness when he gets comfortable. You have fallen for everything. And it has been your dream since then for him to actually fall in love with you too. Now he’s right in front of you. Jeon Jungkook is right in front of you, whispering words of promises and love, in a room that is filled with thousands of roses and hundreds of balloons. Nothing could be more surreal than this, so you answer with the only thing that you know you should,

“Yes Jungkook, I will.”