#Calm Before The Storm (the take this to your grave version)

[random-yandere-fandom]

How would feel about writing headcanons about platonic yandere zhongli with a child reader who is the reincarnated version of his child who died in the past. But now the child has been reborn in the present but belongs to a different set of parent which naturally doesn’t make Zhongli happy considering he wants his child back. But I hope you get what I’m saying and are interested

have a good day!

How absolutely tragic! I love it! Have a wonderful day!

Platonic yandere Zhongli with his reincarnated child

The day of your death is spent in solitude. Each year, Zhongli leaves for your grave with your favorite flowers, homemade dishes and a different children’s book each time, which he will then read out loud. The silence he receives for it is deafening. There are no animals around as the area is protected by one of his shields, though he himself always makes sure that the place is well-taken care off. Your birthday is a bit more joyful, as he will hand-pick the newest trending toys in Liyue as well as decorate your grave just like he knows you would have liked it. Both dates will have in common that no matter how dire the situation in his nation is, the archon will at the very least visit.

He has lived for millennia and is well-acquainted with the concept of rebirth and the like, and yet he never imagined it happening to you. However, there is no denying what he is seeing, hearing, feeling. You are three, maybe four, years of age, walking on your small legs in a somewhat clumsy manner and smiling with such childish innocence that makes his heart ache. The moment he heard your laughter he had turned to face you only a few steps away, his vision tunneling as he takes in your appearance. Even though you look different, are different, it is still you. He sees it in the way your eyes move curiously around the street, hears it in the littlest gasp you make when you notice something particularly interesting and feels the familiar soul, so old and yet never having had the chance to remain anything but young. 

Zhongli is barely able to contain himself, every fiber of his being screaming to snatch you away, to the Guyun Stone Forest to watch the stars again and to the place which now harbors Qingce Village where you loved to play hide and seek. But alas, fear grips his heart. He sees the way your hand is held tightly in those of who must be your mother, your new father currently talking to some store clerk. The thought leaves him bitter, as if anyone could ever take his place. 

But he can not let this opportunity pass, can not let you disappear in the crowd of people, though he knows that now that he is aware of your rebirth, he would find you wherever you are. He quickly walks over to the woman by your side, greeting her politely before turning to you. He has to think of some excuse for his sudden intrusion, but all thoughts die out as you look up at him and making grabby hands in his direction. Instinctively he kneels down as you leave your mother’s hold and almost stumble into his awaiting arms, joyful giggles escaping your mouth as you grasp for his clothing. 

The mother is horrified, scolding you but clearly on guard around this stranger and Zhongli hesitates to let you go. He feels deeply satisfied with how you refuse to listen, preferring to stay with him instead of leaving for this woman and there’s a gentle smile he just can’t help nor contain. It’s a shame he can’t just take you away like this and he hesitantly lets you go, his heart breaking when he has to unclasp your hands, his own shaking and his voice almost failing him as he apologizes, making some kind of excuse that he did not wish for you to fall. His exterior looks awfully calm, maybe a bit embarrassed. On the inside though a storm is brewing. Why should he apologize? You came to him, you recognized him, however much that may be, he was your father, you were his child. He had seen you grow; he had taught you of this land, he heard all you had to say and express, he had witnessed your first and last breath and yet they dare to step in between the both of you. 

This wrath was not unlike what he had experienced before, your death having made him a grief-stricken, vengeful god more than he was ever before. It had taken centuries for it to calm, for him to regain composure and become the gentleman he is known for. Yet it all threatens to spill over as this woman - she is Liyuen, and though he never thought like this before, shouldn’t she be grateful for the life he had granted her indirectly? It’s ridiculous, she doesn’t even know who he is - this human dare to shield you away from him.

One look at you and he sighs unnoticeably. Even if your instincts tell you to trust him, your father, he does not wish to scare you and so your meeting ends, with the trio leaving the already planning archon behind. He waits a bit before gesturing Ganyu closer. She must have felt his raging emotions and come to see, help, maybe, and now that she is already here, he might as well ask her for a favor or two.

Your parents, two loving mortals that work hard to provide you a good life, admire your creativity. Each morning you tell them of your dreams, wonderous plains, mountains higher than the sky and caves big enough to fit entire cities. You ramble of palaces made of pure gold and clouds painted in the most colorful ways. The only continual constant being the dragon that accompanies your own scaly form, a graceful being full of wisdom and stories and wonders, anything a child would love. How incredible, your parents think, it might be a blessing of the yakshas if not for the archon himself, they tell you with which you refute them that the archon is long gone. In your mind, the dragon is greater than any god and wiser than every scholar. You can’t help but wish he’d break the boundaries of your dreams. 

Sometimes you see the man from before in the streets, clad in brown and gold and black and he reminds you of your dreams. He’s always smiling, too, eyes curved gently as he waves and you wave back, to which he laughs and you grin. You don’t know his name, don’t know him at all but he feels safe and you know that if you had the time you would like to run to his side and hug him again, no matter how much your parents warn you against it. You have a feeling it would make the man happy.

Zhongli watches from afar. You are as curious of the world as you always have been. He longs for you by his side again, he knows which stories he’d tell and what toys he’d buy and what food he’d make. He wouldn’t even harm your parents. 

You are a curious child and when there is a trail of gold leading somewhere, you follow. When your scaly friend is waiting at the end of it, far away from any people, you run to him. When he takes off into the sky, you cling to his back. When he gives you a charm, a pretty little thing, you wear it. When he tells you that it’s so you can live with him, as his life would normally be longer than yours, you believe him. You don’t think of the people left behind, too great is the comfort and trust you feel in Zhongli’s presence. “His little treasure” he calls you affectionally and you react to it as if you had never been called anything else. 

While your parents weep and cry and call your name you are taking a nap at a dragon’s side. While Ganyu tries to comfort them, knowing their efforts of finding you are, and always will be, fruitless, you play catch with the nice man. As long as you are happy and safe, Zhongli can justify anything. He had promised you long ago to always be with you, to always care for you, and what kind of god of contracts would he be if he couldn’t even hold true to that? More importantly, what kind of father would he be? Zhongli doesn’t even entertain the idea of letting you live your life as a mortal and he believes he has every right to it, too.

[tranquilitybasehotelcasino]

i think my only truly cancellable fall out boy opinion is that i kind of like the version of calm before the storm off evening out with your girlfriend more than the one off take this to your grave

[sasha-whos-askin-racket]

TREASON LIVEBLOG SINCE LIGHTING THE FUSE JUST DROPPED

When Will I See You Again - ARE WE STARTING WITH MARTHA???? - WE’RE STARTING WITH MARTHA. - I DONT KNOW WHATS HAPPENING IM SO LOST ARE THESE IN NARRATIVE ORDER?  - carrie sounds absolutely fantastic, 100%, absolutely gorgeous. - “then i will go from your grave” is this about thomas? i haven’t looked enough at martha historically, i’m not all that interested in her but this might be about thomas?? in which case, confusion and intrigue.  - BRADLEY??? SIR???? YOU SOUND GORGEOUS OH MY GODDDD.

The Wedding -  "BEFORE WE MET I WAS A TROUBLED MAN" NO I CANT BAWL OVER THOMAS ALREADY - immediately so glad this isn’t Oliver Savile as Thomas still because I’d already be sobbing by now if it was. - OH GOD MARTHA AND THOMAS’S WEDDING I CANT DO THIS, I GET SAD ENOUGH ABOUT THOMAS AS IT IS - “AND NOW IM PROUD TO BE YOUR WIFE” I CANNOT DO IT - OH NO NOT IT BEING HAPPY, OH NO PLEASE, OH GOD THEY HAVE NO IDEA WHATS COMING -  "we will endure the storm together" NO YOU WILL NOT BESTIE The Catholic Problem - Ohhh this is a new voice, hello. I have no idea who this is. Narrator? Do we have a narrator?  - Guys we might have a narrator.  - Sorry I am absolutely obsessed with how much this song feels like an allegory for queerness.

All We Dreamed And More - assuming this song will be much the same as the version on the album- OH NEW LYRICS - NEW LYRICS GUYS, STAY CALM, NEW LYRICS. NEW LYRICS. - nO THEY TOOK OUT THE VERSE ABOUT JAMES???? WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT??? - okay they’re making me sad about thomas can we just have the- OH OKAY THEY KEPT THE JAMES VERSE THEY JUST MOVED IT FURTHER BACK - holy shit bradley sounds so good, i love this man, i love this man so much, he’s absolutely killing it. - OH HARMONIES OH THE TEMPO IS PICKING UP, OH WE HAVE INSTRUMENTS OH THIS IS AWESOME - oh shit yeah course because the other one was an acoustic version, right? oh the little triumphant instrumental oh i love this oh im gonna cry - THEYRE ACTUALLY POOR LITTLE MEOW-MEOWING THOMAS WHAT IS GOING ON. - okay really glad they’re making more references to his past, i was literally talking about this with somebody earlier, i’m super happy we’re getting these little references. 

The Promise - Immediately I’m like. This does not sound like Daniel. - It definitely is because you can hear it in the intonation and the accent but I am....not necessarily on board with the character voice? i get what he’s doing but i’m. i can’t say im a fan? maybe i’ll warm up to it. - i was gonna say this version is less camp but actually as we hit the chorus, i think it's just as camp - OH THAT LAUGH HOLY SHIT - OH GOD OKAY THIS MIGHT BE MORE CAMP - oh this is so good. oh bradley you are so good. i am a massive oliver stan first and foremost but bradley is doing a phenomenal job. - HERE WE GO COME ON DANIEL  - i heard that little laugh sir, you didn’t get away with that - NAILED IT. FUCKING NAILED IT. HOLY SHIT. I LOVE THE ENDING TO THIS SONG. AND THE ENUNCIATION AS WELL???? FUCKING PERFECTION.

The Day Elizabeth Died - Okay so I wasn’t a fan of this on the album so we’ll see how we do. - Granted I think that’s because it’s a Thomas-less song so I just wasn’t all that interested. - OOHHH HARMONIES, OKAY. - hmmmm are those the bells from Take Things Into Our Own Hands - IT IS, THATS THE DRUMMING FROM TAKE THINGS INTO OUR OWN HANDS. - yeah that’s so cool, i love that so much. i love that you can hear Take Things Into Our Own Hands building in the background, i’m assuming that’ll be the next song? either way, gorgeous detail.  - is that daniel? little bit of daniel? not sure. can’t tell. 

A United Kingdom - DANIEL SONG. DANIEL SONG. ANOTHER DANIEL SONG. OHHH THERE’S THE END OF THE PROMISE PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND, OH I LOVE ALL OF THIS. - smh James get your ego in check, there’s more important things right now than being remembered for uniting the nation. - oh i love this. i love daniel. his voice is so good. - i don’t know how i feel about the comedic tone shift? knowing what comes later, i’m unsure. i don’t like it. i guess that’s kind of the point? maybe? - "i said i'd leave the catholics alone. in fact, i sort of...promised" the fact that i can visualise the face he's making - explode? poor choice of words there james.

Burn - Oh narrator again! Hello narrator! - See yeah I’m really not being sold by the continuing tonal whiplash. this feels too hamilton-esque and it doesn’t really fit?  - i’m so confused by this song, there’s so much going on.  - oh hello is this the catholics? trying to pick Bradley’s voice out and struggling. - okay yeah i liked the narrators first song but i’m not on board with this one. it would be really good if it was separate from the other vocal parts but having the two combined in one song is kind of muddling my brain.

Take Things Into Our Own Hands - Immediately i’m excited to see if Bradley gives us that beautiful high note that Oliver does. I know I shouldn’t pit them against each other, but I’ve seen so much of Oliver’s stuff that I know what he basically always brings to a character, and having seen Bradley in only a couple things, I’m excited to see how their versions of Thomas differ. - I like this Catesby. I think this is the first we’ve heard from him all musical so far, he sounds really good. - Okay that was Thomas’s verse but that wasn’t Bradley. I’m fairly certain that wasn’t Bradley.  - OH OKAY THEY JUST CUT OUT THE ENTIRE BUILD-UP AND THE END OF THE SONG. WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT. HELLO???? WHAT.  - absolutely not a fan, i really love the build on the “haaaands” before they split off into their vocal parts and do the harmonies. bring that back. bring that back right now. bradley would have killed that high note, i know he would have. 

The Inevitable - I cried the first time I heard this song. Let’s see how it holds up.  - OH YEAH OKAY RIGHT OFF THE BAT THE VIBES HERE ARE DIFFERENT. - OH THAT LITTLE LAUGH.  - OH THIS IS SO MUCH SADDER.  - OH NO MARTHA ITS OKAY.  - i mean its not okay but its okay.  - GOD THIS IS SO GOOD.  - I have a really strong visual of Thomas during this song and this is kind of adding to it? this version doesn’t feel quite as hopeless? like, there’s an anger here where in the other version it was just, kind of an acceptance? super interested to see how this translates across towards the ending. 

The Plot - Is this Catesby? I think this is Catesby but I’m not 100% - oh i love these vibes, it reminds me of something but i can’t put my finger on what it is - i can’t hear Bradley, where is Bradley, give me Bradley. We want Bradley. We want Bradley. We want Bradley.  - ohhhh. the metronome(?) in the background. - OH NO NOT THE INEVITABLE CREEPING BACK IN. I HAD A FEELING IT WOULD BE USED AGAIN BUT I FIGURED IT WOULD BE DURING THOMAS’S DEATH, NOT THIS EARLY ON. - okay is this bradley? oh yeah that’s bradley. 

A Watchful Eye - OH A SONG ABOUT MARTHA???? - OH NO IS THIS GOING TO BE ABOUT THOMAS. OH NO. OH NO.  - oh this is going to ruin me. oh martha. oh darling martha.  - oh thomas my boy. my darling boy. my (historical) thomas percy fixation started i think a little over a decade ago? its been a long time anyway. i fucking love (fictionalised) thomas percy so much.

Digging Down Deeper - hello narrator!! i missed you!!! - oh this slaps, go narrator!!  - i might need a better name for them than “narrator” but i don’t think they have any historical basis, i think they might just be a narrator. - “someone oughta warn them, someone oughta tell, they’re tryna find god but they’re heading for hell” HOLY SHIT

Blind Faith - Okay this was my favourite song so lets go! - carrie aceing it, of course. come on bradley. - opt up? - oohhhhh no he’s sticking with the lower range from the acoustic version. yeah, i think this song is where his and Oliver’s approach to Thomas differs the most. he sounds super good though. - i think i prefer the opt ups that we get from oliver but bradley sounds gorgeous either way. - i know bradley has the upper range, i just wanna hear it. he’s a lot stronger though i think? that might be the lower notes but he feels very booming. i’m conflicted as to how well it fits with the thomas we’ve seen seen so far. and i know bradley has a different approach than this to No Happy Ending. - not sure this one holds up unfortunately. not that i’m giving out points, but if i was, it would be a point for oliver. 

The Plot Reprise - See now THIS is what i wanted to hear from bradley during Blind Faith. - oh this is super good. i love this. do i remember what the non-reprise version of this song sounded like? no, but this slaps.  - okay i just scrolled back up and checked my notes, back on board.  - sidenote, terrified to reach Caught in the Crossfire in case that’s Thomas’s death song. 

As Far as I Can Tell - OH DANIEL SONG AGAIN. - he sounds so good i’m a daniel stan fr.  - oh this is jazzy. i hope he gets some good choreo for this. i want some jazz hands, a couple of kicks maybe.  - “...oh for gods sake” Daniel you’re incredible.  - pls stop giving daniel massive notes at the end of his songs, he’s got to do an entire run of this. i have complete faith that he’ll manage it but still. come on.

No Happy Ending  - I don’t actually have that much to say about this song? This is the version they dropped on November 5th, and I’ve listened to it enough since then that I don’t have anything else to say about it really.  - “robert catesby is a man of pure intention” gets me every single time though. i am grabbing thomas and i am shaking him and demanding he listen to his wife. he is a FOOL. an IDIOT. and i love him immensely. - “but my faith in you has clearly been misplaced” BRADLEY JUST DOESNT MISS. EVERY LINE HE SAYS FEELS LIKE A PUNCH IN THE GUT. - how have we gone from The Wedding to this. Y’all sounded so happy earlier and now we’re here. - oh scream bestie, i love you thomas.  - okay i am conflicted on martha here. i love her and she’s done her best and thomas is doomed and we know that but still. be gentle with the man who has been brainwashed into a religious cult. that’s my two cents on the matter.

Caught in the Crossfire - I paused it immediately because I needed to emotionally prepare myself but I think I heard the narrator so i think we’re okay. - no, this is not the narrator. i may still need to prepare myself. - i don’t know who this woman is. it’s not martha.  - SING LADIES. FEMINISM.  - i was expecting to be sad about thomas and actually im just vibing. there’s two minutes for things to go sour before the end of the song but i think we’re good.  - wondering if the final song will be thomas then since its a reprise of the first song, which was a Martha and Thomas song.  - MARTHA GETS THE DECIDING VOTE. NO. I MEAN, BE A FEMINIST GIRLBOSS BUT THAT IS HER HUSBAND IN THERE. - IS SHE TURNING HER BACK ON HIM. I KNEW THEY OBVIOUSLY HAD BECOME ESTRANGED BECAUSE OF NO HAPPY ENDING BUT IS SHE ABOUT TO ACTIVELY BETRAY HIM. - OH NO IM REALLY INTRIGUED BY HOW THE LAST SONG IS GONNA GO THEN. 

When Will I See You Again Reprise - buckle in lads, lets go. - oh that’s martha. that is martha.  - see i’m now fairly confident she’s not talking about thomas? i don’t know. this is what has stumped me. - is this about thomas? give us a bradley line. i need some indication of something.  - oh is that the Take Things Into Our Own Hands motif again? it sounds similar. oh i think it is.  - WHAT DOES THAT MEAN.

Okay then. Uhhh, general thoughts below ig? - the lack of Cold Hard Ground did not go unnoticed. Where is that song? give me that song. i want it. i’m aware that this isn’t all of the songs from the musical, but i’m surprised it’s not on here, since it was an already released track. very intrigued. much to think about. - no actual conclusion song. again, i’m aware this isn’t all of the songs but i THOUGHT we’d get a thomas and catesby death song this time around. i hope we get one. i hope one exists. i will be really fucking bitter if not. its been set up really well. i want one. give me one. - same goes for anything post-plot actually. i am assuming the musical will continue on and explore the death of the plotters rather than cutting off when the plot fails? i am hoping it goes on until the deaths of the plotters. i think there is the potential for good songs surrounding the manhunt. and i always want another daniel song. - i need more of thomas. i always need more of thomas. again, talking about the deaths of the plotters, i want a death song for thomas. let me take a peek inside his tiny idiot brain. i want to know if he dies still believing that catesby is a good man, or if that blind faith finally starts to give way to doubt. i want to know. i need to know. give me that good thomas percy content please. 

all in all - that fucking slapped. i’m assuming we won’t get any new content until the tour releases, so i’m gonna have to be really fucking patient until it does. i think i can manage that. im lying. i can’t. i need it now. 

[songshowdown]

Favorite FOB Song?

Hum Hallelujah vs Calm Before the Storm (Take This To Your Grave Version)

[trinketchick]

you're telling me there's an earlier version of "kingdom"?! wild. dude was goin buck wild with the time signatures in this one. it's so fun and fuckin fascinating to hear what it was, what was kept, what was reworked. and of course the difference in devin's singing voice!

it's the same with fall out boy's "calm before the storm." i heard the evening out with your girlfriend version before i heard the take this to your grave version, and i was like "there's another version?!" and my friend was like "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN???"

anyway. yall know i love drafts and iterations of a medium lololol

[andie-cake]

finally decided to sit down and listen through evening out with your girlfriend, and well. i wouldn't call it atrocious, but like if take this to your grave is an album that i really would've liked to have when i was 13, evening out is an album i would've roasted the shit out of when i was 13.

i didn't really hate it tho! like, i'm not itching to listen to it in full again any time soon, and i'm not exactly gonna pog out if fob decides to break out switchblades and infidelity as an 8 ball song for tourdust. but like, i think it's a charming kinda bad. it's rough, but not unexpectedly so. and honestly? i can actually see myself going back to listen to pretty in punk and the world's not waiting (for five tired boys in a broken down van), and calm before the storm is one of my favorite tttyg tracks so i've got a soft spot for the evening out version (even if it annoys me that the spotify lyrics for both versions of the song uses the evening out lyrics despite the tttyg lyrics being different). and plus, the way i've seen fob fans talk about them, i went in assuming that patrick stump's vocals in this one were gonna be awful. but they're not? not really? like, yeah they're definitely the vocals of a 17 year old who thought he was gonna be the drummer, and some songs sound better than others. but i was definitely expecting worse, which i can say for the whole album tbh. nothing great, but i was expecting worse.

[confessionsofadunmerskoomaeater]

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend has the superior version of Calm Before the Storm because of the line “the phone can wring my neck, it gets no answer.”

That being said, the Take This to Your Grave version has. Cleaner production, but that doesn’t make the song for me.

[orangelemonart]

I was listening to one of my fave songs "The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy and I remembered that the only reason it became a fave was that you used it in a lyricstuck and introduced me to it

Thanks! It and the entire "Save Rock and Roll" album would have been a tragedy to miss out on :>

haha lmao im glad you like it so much! I cringe a little looking back at it now, but it sure was fun making it <3

From Under The Cork Tree is their best album tho

[seasaltmemories]

Regret

Rating: T

Summary: When the nurse finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman. [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

~

The first time Anthiese remembered meeting her father was when she was eleven.

A year after the villa was attacked, Sir Mycen sent a letter to Novis declaring all of Desaix collaborators jailed or executed. Since heirs were now in a sudden short supply, her father had decided it best for her to join him at Zofia Castle.

She had only started to allow herself to view the priory as a home the prior month; nevertheless, Anthiese followed the dark-hair mercenary back to the capital without complaint. With both a decade and the fire under her belt now, she didn’t feel like a child anymore. And because eleven was the oldest she had ever been, she thought that meant she must be ready to be an adult now.

For all her poise, though, it didn’t make that first night in one of the castle’s guest-rooms any easier. It was furnished with the same silks and mahoganies of the royal villa, and no matter how much she tried to reason with herself that such similarities were only natural, she still found herself dreaming that she was choking on ash. That morning she woke up convinced she was buried in the villa’s rubble and scrubbed her cheeks near raw.

Her nurse had scolded her once the episode passed and spent the rest of the morning brushing powder on her face. If she couldn’t act like an adult, then maybe she could at least try to present herself like one.

She hated the process, feeling like a porcelain doll being painted and brushed to perfection. But if someone ever took the time to ask her what she wanted, she didn’t know if she would have protested in the slightest. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to explain at all what she expected from this journey. It was only the distance that memory provided that allowed her to give words to such a childish desire. That if she bore all her pain with grace and determination, somehow, someway she’d be rewarded.

And so, Earth Mother, she tried. She tried to hold her head high and approach the throne as if it was where she belonged.

The man who sat before had hair as red as hers. It shouldn’t have been all surprisingly, but Anthiese found herself clinging to detail all the same. She liked to think she had never needed him before in her life, but it was thrilling to imagine he might need her in return. So she went through whole ritual of curtsying and giving her most genuine respect.

When she lifted her head again, she found her father looking at her as if he was meeting a god. Trembling, he extended a swollen red hand.

“Liprica?” It was barely a murmur, but the stink of his wine-soaked breath still overwhelmed her. When he moved to cradle a curl of hers, she couldn’t help but recoil.

His eyes widened, as if coming out from a waking dream, and somehow she knew in that instant that he’d never look at her with that same reverence ever again.

It didn’t take long for him to dismiss Anthiese back to her chambers. Once there, the cool mask of maturity she had been weaving since she had received the missive fell apart. She found herself bawling like a newborn, kicking and screaming at any of the maids that tried to restrain her.

Then, like a flash of lightning, her nurse struck her across the cheek. The fear and pain that followed was so overwhelming, Anthiese went silent almost immediately.

“How dare you behave in such a selfish manner! What kind of daughter refuses her own father’s affections?!”

Something deep inside of her started to catalyze. She didn’t quite know what she was becoming, but she had the feeling she wasn’t quite Anthiese anymore.

“Who is Liprica?” It felt dangerous to ask, but the question fell from her lips before she could take it back.

The nurse furrowed her brow in pity. Surprisingly, she picked up the child and gathered her in her lap. In the last show of tenderness she could remember, the nurse recounted the story of the only woman the king had ever loved.

When she finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman.

~

When Celica awoke in Mila’s cell, she felt that same sense of transformation pull at her limbs. While her memory and vision came back to her slowly but surely, some third, indescribable part of her seemed to leak out onto the ground. Like a cocoon cracked open before it could hatch into a butterfly, if she was supposed to become someone else again, she had no clue anymore on how to get there.

She liked to think it was courage or bravery that compelled her to stand, but that felt too optimistic a conjecture to make. Picking up Falchion and climbing past the torn cell bars seemed more muscle memory than anything deliberate. She didn’t know what could possibly be fueling her at this point. With each breath she swallowed, she tasted the ash that still lingered in the air.

Earth Mother...

She didn’t know if it was a prayer or a curse. As much as Celica rather forget it, the memory of Mila’s grasp had been burned into her memory. No matter how many times she went back to try and construct a different version of events, Mila’s claws seemed to tear into her mind each time.

You didn’t take imprisonment gracefully either...

Celica’s mind drifted back towards the Rigelian maid she burned. She must have seemed just as monstrous and terrifying as Mila in that moment. Guilt swirled inside Celica’s stomach like a storm, but she tried to channel it into something positive. If there was hope for her, then perhaps Mila might calm with time.

Are you sure you’re so above reproach?

Celica bit her lip and pressed forward into the darkness of the tunnels. Perhaps this whole underground was her cocoon. She wouldn’t be able to see what she’d become until she left.

~

It was dawn when Alm reemerged from his grief. Not because the pain had subsided or because he had somehow overcome it, but rather because he was simple too exhausted to sob any longer. All his pity and empathy had been wrung out of him like washing rag.

From the distance, he saw Berkut lead a squadron of soldiers up towards the bastion. And despite how he knew Father meant to Berkut, meant to everyone, a strange possessiveness overtook him. He found himself moving towards the top end of the ramparts, blocking any view of Father’s body.

“Alm--” Berkut struggled to catch his breath, eyes wild and unfocused. “--there you are! Do you have any idea what’s been--”

“I know!” Despite himself, Alm’s voice came out harsher than he wanted. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just--”

As Alm struggled to find some words that might capture the last few hours, Berkut pushed past him. Alm couldn’t stop him before he managed to catch sight of the ugly scene.

“Uncle...” Those two syllables managed to break Alm’s heart all over again. There was a weakness to Berkut’s voice he hadn’t heard since the two of them were children. Alm leaned forward to comfort him; however before he could complete his embrace, Berkut gripped his forearms in a tight squeeze.

“Who did this!?” Berkut hissed.

Mila’s shadow hung heavy over the two men. This was a conversation that they had sworn to keep behind closed doors, but what were they supposed to do once everything had been blown open?

“It was her, wasn’t it? Never should have let her out of our sight!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Alm could feel what little control he had mustered start to fray. “He’s gone now! Nothing can change that! Not even a brand!”

Alm wondered what this must look to the outside world: Rigel’s two fine princes yelling like madman. All of Father’s hard work to crafting the perfect golden hero vanquished before he even had a grave to roll around in.

From that thought, the sorrow returned, stronger than ever before. However before the tears could return, Berkut dug his nails into his skin.

“Don’t you dare.” There was a dangerous calmness to his voice. “You don’t have the luxury of grief anymore. You have to be able to do what’s necessary for the country.”

He turned around to face the squadron. “Everyone kneel! You have the honor to bask in the presence of our sovereign emperor!” Berkut fell to his knees in front of Alm, and like dominoes, each following soldier did the same.

“All hail Albine Alm Rudolf II, may his reign be righteous and just!” The cry went out like a chorus, ringing across the ramparts. With each round, another further group repeated it, until the entire castle was shouting as one voice.

It took all of Alm’s willpower not to vomit.

When Berkut rose again, he was quick to issue orders about funeral and burial preparations. As the squadron dispersed Alm wanted nothing more than to fade into the wind--to let the one who truly wanted this responsibility take it. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, Berkut caught him off-guard with one final question.

“Do you have any idea if your wedding gift is still secure?”

Alm was puzzled for a moment. Wedding gift had been their code for Mila since his marriage was arranged. How could he go from recognizing her involvement to asking about her imprisonment?

Suddenly everything came together with terrifying clarity.

Where in the world was Anthiese?

~

Celica had trouble discerning how long she had been in the underground tunnels. There was no natural lighting to indicate if it was night or day. No people going about their daily routine. For all she knew she could have been unconscious for centuries, and spend another few running around in circles. The only way to prove herself wrong, would be if she kept pressing forward regardless.

On one hand the solitude was, all things considered, welcomed--she still felt too fuzzy to attempt any stealth maneuvers. On the other hand though, the further she ventured, the further she felt unmoored from the rest of the world. When she first descended down here, she had mostly followed the pain in her brand. Without its guide, she had no idea where to go.

After what felt like ages wandering in the darkness, Celica found a green feather lying at a crossroads. Immediately she ran up to it, as if it were a talisman that might save her soul. And while even under closer scrutiny, she couldn’t discern anything further about the feather, she noticed a fresh set of claw marks on the rightmost wall. Whether intentional or not, the Earth Mother had not completely abandoned her. And so despite all odds, Celica allowed herself to believe in the hope that she would not stay lost forever, that if she was meant to die, it wasn’t here.

For a moment, it seemed as if her hopes weren’t for nothing. In time her makeshift trail of plumage and scratches brought her to an room so warmly lit, it almost blinded her. Something about that orange glow tugged at Celica’s heart strings. The relief was so great, she almost believed she might be able to truly love Rigel. That she’d never need anything ever again, and she’d be good and obedient if it meant staving off the dread that seemed poised to swallow her whole. She couldn’t help but run to the light without looking back.

However as her vision adjusted, any comfort she had managed to dream up, evaporated in an instant.

From the slick marble tile and high-vaulted ceilings, she could tell that this once was a place of grand splendor. There was a strange nostalgia to the splintered benches and crumbling columns, but she found her gaze being drawn mostly to the broken slab at the far end of the hall. It was hard to say, but perhaps if she put all her attention to reconstructing what it could have been, then maybe the stench of death and decay would fade away. Things would go back to the way they were supposed to be, and she wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare anymore.

Celica didn’t realize she had continued wandering forward until she tripped and found herself on the cool floor. Blankly, she checked to see what had made her fall. She expected to find a loose stone or cracked board, but instead a limp, bruised arm laid sprawled across the path. When it twitched, she could help but shriek.

However rather than reach out and grab her, the arm did nothing but spasm weakly. Instead the true source of life came from the groan that echoed across the room. She followed the arm to find the source to be Jedah of all people, crushed under a pile of rubble.

“Anthiese...is that really you?” His words were slurred and difficult to make out. The only sign of life on his blood-crusted face was the slight tremor of his lip as he spoke.

Celica shivered. His choked voice made her blood run so cold, her tongue felt frozen in place. She tried her best to get away from the horrid sound, but in the process of trying to push herself up, Falchion clattered against the floor with a piercing ring.

“That sword!” He gasped. Quickly Celica picked it back up, a new possessiveness overwhelming her, but he seemed content to simply follow the light that bounced off the blade. “...that’s why he forsook us. You used our own tools to conquer us.”

“My intention has never been to conquer Rigel.” Celica spat.

“Look around you. Duma’s Faithful have been on death row for the longest time. This is just the noose finally tightening around our neck. Now your goddess can reign completely.”

Again Celica remembered the sensation of Mila’s claws on her chin. She wondered if she looked closely, how many other corpses she might find. She wondered if their bodies would carry the same wounds as her.

“Perhaps this is Duma’s last lesson...” Jedah mused. “In my arrogance, I thought I had tamed you thoroughly enough. Let that boy influence me too much. Now you shall be our undoing.”

Celica’s skin crawled. As much as her hatred for him hadn’t diminished in the slightest, she did not want to watch him die. Even as she tried to look away, she couldn’t stop from noticing all the blood stains that lined the walls. Just how many other corpses were hiding among this room? How much blood would stain her hands before Mila’s rampage ended?

“I didn’t want this.” Celica whispered--as if any of that mattered at this point.

When what remained of Jedah’s life began to fade away--she found herself closing her eyes and raising her face towards heaven. If it was a prayer, then she only prayed her drumming heartbeat would drown out his dying gasps.

When she heard a group of soldier shout for her arrest, she didn’t resist.

~

News of Anthiese didn’t get to him until late that night. After Berkut found him, he passed Alm off to Massena for a more formal coronation. Even if Rigel Castle hadn’t been in such a dismal state, succession had become a fraught topic since Father ascended to the throne. Up until now, every heir had been required to be blessed by the Duma Faithful before they could rule. In theory such a thing shouldn’t be necessary now that the Emperor also doubled as head of the Church, but wars had been fought over more insignificant details in the past. As a result, Alm spent most of his day signing documents and sending letters, certain Jedah would interrupt him at any moment. When sunset came and there was still no attempt of a coup, Massena finally bestowed Alm his crown and declared him emperor.

The only witnesses were General Zeke and his wife.

Alm was escorted back to his old chambers afterwards. In theory, they’d have a more public ceremony tomorrow, so it be better if he looked like he had at least gotten an hour or two of sleep. Still even his study had not escaped the day untouched. A pile of notes the height of his forearm laid on top his desk, all addressed to Emperor Albein Alm Rudolf II.

Despite the hour, he still felt the vast emptiness from the morning, somehow too exhausted for sleep. So he tried to do what he thought a chosen hero should do. He lit a candle and went to work.

Anthiese’ report was nestled in between a record of civilian deaths and an estimate charge for castle repairs. He’d be lying if he acted as if he hadn’t be thinking of her all day, but he forced himself to read the paper at the same detached pace as every other piece.

It claimed that the lost princess had been found in Duma Temple, next to Father Jedah’s wasting body. Considering the number of Duma Faithful found dead, she was currently being imprisoned on charges for mass murder. However most of the corpses had been found under rubble and other debris; the report argued it was unlikely she had been the only one responsible. The only piece of evidence she could have been involved was the sword she had been found with.

Alm read the last sentence over. Then he read it again and again, until the words started to blur before his eyes. He pushed the document away and took a deep breath. He tried to hope against hope.

He pulled out the charges for repairs. He read the first line of figures. Then he crumpled it into a ball and headed for the dungeons.

On his journey downwards, Alm couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he made this trip. If he had reported first to Father as expected, would he still be here today? As illogical as it sounded, he couldn’t stop from trying to pinpoint everything went wrong, when Father’s demise had been locked in place.

“Promise me you won’t let her lead you astray.”

That had been some of his last words. And yet despite everything, when Alm thought of Anthiese, he still imagined her flushed face and the sensation of her lips against his eyelids. He didn’t want to open his eyes, see what she must really think of him when not performing for his pleasure.

This time there was no forcing his way in. The minute the guard saw him, she immediately stepped aside and gave a deep bow. “Is this going to be a private interrogation?” She asked while handing him the keys. And maybe this was another mistake, another point of no return he was damning himself to, but he wanted the two of them to be honest for once, about Mila and everything in between.

“Yes,” He answered. And by the time the door slammed shut, she had all but disappeared down the hall.

A long time ago, Father had told him that the worst thing an Emperor could do, was appear anxious. Any physical tics or irregular breathing could turn into a terrible tell for enemies to exploit. Therefore, Alm took his time facing Anthiese, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the rise in his chest was barely noticeable.

When he finally looked up he found her curled up on the floor wearing a torn set of his shirt and trousers. Shackles chained her to the wall, only allowing a short range of movement, yet even that amount of freedom made him uneasy. He struggled to predict what might occur if she got her hands on him.

“Wake up,” Alm ordered.

He struggled to trust what might occur if he got his hands on her.

The only sign of life she showed was the singular cold eye that peeked out behind her curtain of hair. She looked less like the alluring temptress from the night before and more like a stray hound.

“Most of the time, the high judge is the one to lay out the case, but just this once, I’m going to give you the chance to explain yourself.” He tried to speak with Father’s commanding presence.

Anthiese tilted her head to the side. For a moment she just stared. Then a sickening giggle began to scratch its way out of her throat.

“How nice. Do I get to choose the method of execution as well?”

Alm’s eyes narrowed. “I’d stop the jokes if I were you. The high judge lost his wife this morning. He’s not likely to have much sympathy for you.”

Anthiese stopped giggling. “Do you have sympathy for me?”

His brand ached at her words, as if it was just now being etched into his skin. He wondered if perhaps it was something like an infected wound, slowly spreading to the rest of him.

“Don’t mock my mercy,” He took a step forward, ignoring the pain. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? What wielding that blade means?”

“I’m not an idiot.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I know you already know about the temple and how much blood they say is on my hands. What’s the use in asking for my story?”

“A man is supposed to think the best of his wife.” His words caught on something sharp inside of himself. “An orphaned king must be the loneliest creature in the world. If possible, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“That’s your problem,” Anthiese snapped. “You’ve forgotten Jedah’s warnings. How could a Zofian woman be anything but duplicitous and selfish? It doesn’t matter if you pamper her with flowers, you can’t change nature.” She leaned forward and bared her teeth. “You should have locked me up our wedding night.”

Alm could feel his blood hum through his body. It felt like an entire colony wasps was needling at his skin, wanting to burst clean from his body and swarm. Images of a manor in the woods he did not want to think about flooded his mind.

“Tell me you didn’t know you were doing.” He begged. For a moment he believed that was all they needed to return to the magic of their night together.

Anthiese pushed herself up so that they were eye level. “I rather watch the continent burn than become anything resembling my mother.”

He wished he could say he was blinded with rage. He wished his body had acted as a separate creature from him. but if anything, he felt more like himself than he had all day when he slammed his fist into her cheek.

Anthiese hit the floor hard, her chin catching on a loose stone. A slow stream of blood started to dribble down her neck as Alm gasped for breath. Carefully, she picked herself up, cradling her cheek.

“Thank you, Emperor Albein--” Her voice was cold and distant. “--for finally showing me your gentle, tender care.” The giggle returned louder than ever.

But despite all her best efforts, she could stop the tears that were streaming down her face.

A.N. Well, man was last chapter a bad cliffhanger to end on.  I'm real sorry for the whole two year hiatus, definitely had a lot of personal projects to focus on.  Good news though, this is now the WIP at the top of my "to finish" list.  At the very least, I finally feel as confident as I'll ever be with this chapter, while there are still plenty of questions to answer, I thought it important to really get this personal reactions from the two of them, I wanted to show how grief and trauma can really consume ppl in the worst ways, how it can be defined by painful absences as much as vivid hauntings.

[tameila]

January Week Four Albums

January 22nd: We Are Pilots, Shiny Toy Guys

familiarity: another adolescent favorite! there’s only two songs -- “Waiting” and “Jackie Save Me” -- that I am not familiar with from this album

favorite(s) before listen: Chemistry of a Car Crash is one of those songs that I wish I could experience again for the first time they didn’t need to go that hard but they did, Shaken, Starts With One, We Are Pilots, Le Disko

favorite(s) after listen: favorites stayed the same

January 23rd: This is What I Live For, Blue October

familiarity: Blue October is one of those bands that I’ve always checked back with from time to time to find new music. When I was relistening to Foiled, I was excited to see they had a new album!

favorite(s) before listen: N/A

favorite(s) after listen: Fight For Love (ft. Blue Reed), Moving On (So Long), I Will Follow You, Stay With Me, The Weatherman. the fact that his daughter is featured on “Fight for Love”? im not crying YOU ARE!!!

January 24th: Take This to Your Grave, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: My best friend suggested a Fall Out boy themed week and, since they have seven albums and i love them, how could i resist? I would say that this album is one that I don’t know as well as some of their later releases, but...I think you’ll see by the favorites list that it’s not by too much lol

favorite(s) before listen: Grand Theft Autumn / Where is Your Boy, Homesick at Space Camp, Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today, Homesick at Space Camp, Chicago is So Two Years Ago, The Pros and Cons of Breathing, The Patron Saint of Lairs and Fakes

favorite(s) after listen: [adding onto aforementioned list] Calm Before The Storm, Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over [if only for that name amirite ladies]

additional thoughts: “stop burning bridges / drive off of them”? still iconic.

January 25th: From Under The Cork Tree, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: I hadn’t realized that it’d been so long since I listened to this album until it started and damn...sounds like staying up too late on a school night, waiting for my internet bestie to get on MSN so we could roleplay and talk about our charaters. ah, the good ol’ days.

favorite(s) before listen: [im realizing it’s gonna be easier to list these as a bullet pointed list]

- Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year

- Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued

- Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

- Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

- [and an honorable mention to...] Dance, Dance and Sugar, We’re Goin Down [...of course]

favorite(s) after listen: [adding onto aforementioned list] I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song), A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me", Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows)

additional thoughts Pete Wentz lyric of the day: “The best part of believe is the lie” a lyric that defined a generation, truly

January 26th: Infinity on High, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: I definitely slept on this album a lot when I was younger, which is sadly true of quite a few of their “early-to-middle” albums for me, but has been one of my go-to Fall Out Boy albums as of late.

favorite(s) before listen: I gotta say that this one is a no skip album for me! With my top awards going to...Hum Hallelujah, The Carpal Tunnel of Love, Bang the Doldrums, and Fame < Infamy

favorite(s) after listen: I already love all these songs, but I really vibed with “You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave” and “This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race” during this listen through. For the latter, I can’t tell if it’s just been years since I heard it or if the version that I listened to was mixed differently because it sounded not completely different but different enough to give me pause. Also, more of an overall album thing, but I loved how each song bleed into the next. [chef’s kiss]

Pete Wentz lyric of the day: nothing gives me a god complex quite like “I could write it better than you ever felt it” like yes. i want that on a t-shirt. embroidered on a pillow. i sing it passionately and loudly. i could write it better than you ever felt it. thanks for the ego boost, pete.

January 27th: Folie à Deux, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: Now this is an album that I unfairly slept on for years! I’m ashamed to admit it considering that each song of this album is a banger but, for years, I only ever listened to “I Don’t Care” from this album and wrote off every other song. It wasn’t until I was in my early 20s that I gave it another listen through and, even then, not until a couple years ago that I fully came around to every song. I’m a Folie à Deux truther now! It’s not my favorite favorite -- we’ll get there tomorrow ;) -- but you gotta put some respect on its name!

favorite(s) before listen: Another no-skip album for me! With my particular favorites being...Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes, She’s My Winona, America’s Suitehearts, The (Shipped) Gold Standard, (Coffee’s For Closers), What A Catch, Donnie, and 20 Dollar Nose Bleed

favorite(s) after listen: Found myself vibing especially to “America’s Suitehearts” and “w.a.m.s” during this listen through

FoB lyric of the day: this one was a hard one because there are so many lyrics on this album that i just feel in my heart and that i have to Perform™, not sing every time i hear them. but i’m going to give it to...”and perfect boys with their perfect lives / nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy”

January 28th: Save Rock and Roll, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: yes! here we are!! this album is my absolute favorite within FoB’s discography and have enjoyed it front-to-back, no-skips since the day it came out. and though it hasn’t been that long since my last listen through, i was still so excited to do it again!

favorite(s) before listen: no skips! this album is a masterpiece! it doesn’t matter if i ‘personally’ relate to what the song is saying. i sing them passionately and borderline screaming. as we all should. my ultimate favorite is “Save Rock and Roll”. i mean, come on! the f-bomb is perfectly used and it’s got the man, the legend, Elton John. but another one of my favorites to sing is “Where Did The Party Go”

favorite(s) after listen: N/A, vibes remained at an all-time high

FoB lyric of the day: since this is my favorite album, i picked a couple of favorites...

- My heart is like a stallion / they love it more when it’s broken

- I’m the lonelier version of you / I just don’t know where it went wrong

- I’m either gone in an instant / or here ‘til the bitter end / I, I never know

January 29th: American Beauty / American Psycho, Fall Out Boy

favorite(s) before listen: I enjoy each song when I listen to it, but there are definitely some that I’m prone to skip in favor of getting to songs I like more. I do want to say, though, that I think FoB gets a lot of flack for “Immortals” and “Centuries” (maybe just because they were the singles?) but I think they’re both bops. Not my favorites, but -- Come on! Have a little fun! That being said, my favorites are...Fourth of July, Favorite Record, The Kids Aren’t Alright, Jet Pack Blues

favorite(s) after listen: My favorites are p solidly placed but Irresistible really BROUGHT it on this fine Saturday

FoB lyric of the day: that Fourth of July bridge? my god. “I wish I’d known how much you loved me / I wish I cared enough to know / I’m sorry every song’s about you / The torture of small talk with someone you used to love”....damn.

January 30th: MANIA, Fall Out Boy

familiarity: I remember hearing “Young and Menace” from this album and hating it. which is funny. because I go hard to that song now. I think, after Save Rock and Roll, this is the album that I lose my absolute mind over the most. If “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” comes on while I’m driving, I WILL be committing vehicular crimes.

favorite(s) before listen: another album of “all great songs, but there’s some that I could take-or-leave”. My heart goes to Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes), Champion, Sunshine Riptide, Young and Menace, Bishops Knife Trick. every day, i am both angry and grateful that FoB didn’t release “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” when I was in middle school. for the former, because it feels like an elevated version of all those old songs. for the latter, because i would have been absolutely insufferable and i was already insufferable enough in middle school without it.

favorite(s) after listen: Favorites hold their places, but I found myself vibing with “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON���T” more than I usually do

FoB lyric of the day: not to be a sap who definitely cried to this song in the parking lot of target before her 4 am shift during one of the shittest years of her life but i gotta give it to...“If I can live through this, If I can live through this / I can do anything”

[yukidragon]

Mermaid Jamie - Family

So... I’ve made a chapter for the dark fantasy AU/canon divergent story of mermaid Jamie I’ve been playing around with for Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch (which you really should play if you haven’t already, and I will never stop plugging it, never). Like an actual proper chapter instead of a teaser or snippits of scenes.

I still don’t have a proper title for the story in general, but if I was to title the chapter specifically, it might be “Family.” It seems appropriate to me since a certain theme has started to form between this and the teaser.

Standard disclaimer - my version of Our Life’s MC - Jamie Leimomi - aka Jamie Last - may differ from your interpretation of the character. This writing is also in third person rather than second. This writing is rougher than stuff I co-write on @dragonandtiger, and there are spoilers for the game. If none of these things bother you, then I hope you enjoy my splash of a bit of dark color onto such a bright and soft game.

...

Jamie had never planned to ask about her biological parents. She always rejected the idea whenever it flitted across her mind with the mercilessness of a hurricane tossing aside a butterfly. Yet, when faced with the question dead on, there was only one answer she could give.

“I want to know.”

The words came out distant to Jamie’s ears, as if someone else had spoken them with her voice somewhere several feet away. She at least hoped she was managing to look as calm as she sounded. At seeing her moms nod as one, she braced herself, preparing for the oncoming storm.

“Um…,” Lee squeaked out reluctantly. “I… I can leave… if you wanna have things be private.”

Jamie couldn’t draw her gaze away from her moms. They looked so sad. It tore her up inside. She tried instead to focus instead on the warm, bracing hand on her back.

She was fine. She could handle this.

“I want you here,” Jamie said, keeping her voice steady.

Lee gave Jamie a weak smile that went unseen by her cousin. “I can do that,” she said softly before shifting closer to Jamie. She gave the blue haired girl another part on the back, trying to channel all her love and support through the simple touch alone that she couldn’t manage with words.

Jamie managed to draw some strength from that support, and she straightened her back a little more. It was fine, she reminded herself. She could handle this. She had a loving family supporting her after all.

There was nothing to be upset about, no matter the answer.

It was obvious to Jamie that delivering this information was taxing on her moms. The looks they gave her broke her heart. It made her start to regret asking when she heard the way her ma’s voice wavered with heartache.

“You were adopted as a baby,” Noelani began, “but two years after Elizabeth. We used a different organization at the time, and you were adopted within the U.S.”

Not from the same family as Elizabeth.

But that was obvious, Jamie chided herself. The two of them had different skin tone, body type, hair, eyes… It was an absurd thought to have, and she banished it to focus on the rest of what her parents had to tell her.

Pamela sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as she drew in her courage. When she met Jamie’s intense gaze again, it was with tired eyes. “We’re sorry to tell you, Jamie… your parents also passed away, and no other family member took you in… if there were any.”

So that was it then. Not that much different than Elizabeth. Not as bad even - she got to be a U.S. born citizen at least.

“That’s why we wanted to wait until you asked,” Pamela continued before Jamie could process the information further. “We didn’t want to suddenly drop that in your lap. We wanted you to be prepared.”

Of course not, Jamie silently agreed. They had no idea that Elizabeth would do that for them.

“We’re sorry, Jamie,” Noelani said, and the way she said it twisted Jamie’s heart a little more.

Lee squeezed Jamie’s arm, but the blue haired girl barely felt it.

For a long moment there was silence as Jamie accepted the information about her birth parents. Countless thoughts whirred quietly in the background like static as she processed it all. It was such a small amount of information, a fraction of what she had to study for classes, and yet it felt so much more massive than anything she had learned before.

“Okay…,” Jamie began, more to fill in the empty space of everyone’s expectations, as they waited for her to react. She had to organize her thoughts, and that meant focusing on the most important things first. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jamie saw the way her parents looked at her before glancing at each other. Clearly, they needed a little bit more. “I did wanna know, and now I do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Noelani managed a careful smile. “Thank you for listening, Jamie.”

“If there’s anything else you want to know,” Pamela added a little quickly, “all you have to do is ask. We’ll do our best to answer any questions you have.”

There was no chance for Jamie to stop to consider any before Noelani interjected one of her own.

“How are you feeling now?” she asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Jamie could feel the way her parents were staring at her, and Lee too. They were worried, afraid of her flying off the handle like Elizabeth did. She couldn’t, wouldn’t yell at her parents in anger. Ever. 

Besides, there was too much misery in this house today already.

Jamie put on her best smile and nodded. “I feel fine.” She was certain her tone was convincing, pleasant even. Despite that, the sad smiles her moms gave in return told her that it wasn’t quite convincing enough.

…

“Jamie?”

Jamie snapped back to the present at the sound of her mom’s concerned voice. It had been over five years since that afternoon when she gathered the nerve to ask about her birth parents. She was an adult now.

Despite that, the news her moms had for her made her feel like she was thirteen all over again.

“Are you okay?” Noelani asked as she took a step towards Jamie.

Jamie shook her head a bit to clear it and forced her focus back into the here and now. Just like five years ago, she was in the living room looking at her moms’ grave faces. The only major difference beyond the advancement of years was that Lee and Liz weren’t involved this time.

“I feel fine,” she said with no small sense of déjà vu. “I just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither were we,” Pamela said, her eyes crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry for dropping this in your lap, but there wasn’t an easier way to tell you.”

Noelani nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “We were just as shocked when the orphanage called us to tell us the news.”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered as she ran a hand over her eyes. “I get it. I mean…” She faltered as her gaze slipped from her moms to somewhere in the distance. “My birth parents are actually alive? And they want to meet me? It’s… a lot.”

That was probably the biggest understatement of her life.

As a child, Jamie had considered the possibility that her birth parents were still alive somewhere and, if so, they would likely want to meet her someday. That possibility disappeared five years ago on that summer afternoon. Now it was back, just like that.

And just like back then, Jamie felt as though someone had stolen the ground from underneath her feet.

Despite how concerned Jamie had been after her moms told her to come visit them, that they had something important that they could only tell her face to face, she didn’t expect anything close to this sort of world shaking revelation. It made her regret telling Cove he didn’t need to skip work to come with her; she needed him right now.

Noelani ventured to pierce the uncomfortable silence that had hung over them. “It’s okay not to know how to feel about it.”

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Pamela added. “We know you’ll need time to process all this.”

Noelani smiled gently, but Jamie noticed the sadness tinged in her eyes. “No matter what you decide to do, we’ll support you.”

Pamela nodded, her mouth set in a determined line despite her own clear distress at the situation. “One hundred percent, full stop.”

Despite the turbulent thoughts swirling around in Jamie’s head, she managed to smile sincerely at her moms. “Thank you.”

Five years ago, Jamie had chosen to leave rather than accept her moms’ comfort and reassurance. This time, she stepped forward, arms outstretched, and they eagerly closed the distance to envelope her in a warm embrace.

For a moment, Jamie just took in her mothers’ love and silently offered her own in return. “No matter what, you’ll always be my moms,” she said, her voice soft but earnest. “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” Pamela said, her voice cracking a little at the edges.

“More than words can say,” Noelani added, her voice thick with emotion as she gave Jamie an extra squeeze.

Although a part of Jamie wanted to remain like that for a while longer, she couldn’t help but start to feel overwhelmed. The air wasn’t quite stifling, but somehow there didn’t seem to be enough of it in the house. Reluctantly, she drew back from the hug and gave her moms an apologetic smile. “I’m gonna to go for a walk for a while… clear my head a bit.”

Both of her parents nodded, still smiling at their daughter despite the obvious concern in their eyes.

“Okay, kiddo,” Pamela said. “Do what you need to do for you right now.”

“Don’t worry about us if you want to go straight home after your walk,” Noelani added.

It was strange for Jamie to hear her ma say that her home was no longer the house she had grown up in all her life, but it was true - home was now an apartment a few miles away from here with Cove.

Jamie thanked her parents before leaving. She resolved to come back to give a proper goodbye before returning to the apartment, but it didn’t take long for her mind to wander as she let her feet carry her in no particular direction.

The sky was heavy with clouds, making the fall afternoon darker than it should have been. Although Jamie much preferred clear sunny days, it seemed appropriate that a storm was coming to match the one raging in her head.

As conflicted as Jamie felt about the whole thing, she knew she had to meet up with her birth parents. There was no way she could reject them, no matter how almost invasive their sudden return to her life felt. Guilt churned in her stomach for thinking that way, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling.

Jamie wondered if this was anything like Cove felt about his parents when he was younger. She vividly remembered the night he snuck into her bedroom for the first time and confided in her about how conflicted he felt over his mom coming back to live with him for a while.

This should have been good news. She should have felt happy to learn that her birth parents were still alive, that there had been an error with the orphanage’s records about their death, and they wanted to have a relationship with her, but she wasn’t. There was a sticky knot in her throat of sickly emotions too tangled together to make sense of them beyond knowing that the whole thing felt completely unwanted.

Jamie needed Cove right now.

She stopped walking to pull her cell phone out of her pocket and pulled up the conversation between her and Cove. She vaguely noticed that she had reached the beach in her mindless wandering and found it oddly appropriate.

Jamie: hey

Jamie’s finger hovered over the screen as her mind went blank. She had no idea how to summarize what was going on. She didn’t even know when Cove’s next break would be. It wasn’t as though he was allowed to have his cell phone on him at work.

Despite this conflict, it wasn’t even a minute before she heard the distinct chime she had assigned to Cove’s texts and saw his reply pop up on the screen.

Cove: Everything ok?

Jamie couldn’t help but smile a little in spite of how crummy she felt. Cove must have been waiting for her all to get back to him about what was going on all this time, rules or no rules. He was always so considerate of her. It made her feel a little less guilty about asking him to ditch work for her.

Jamie: Could you come to my moms’ place?

Jamie: I need you.

Cove: Okay. I’ll be right there.

Jamie closed her eyes and sighed with relief, feeling a little of the tension in her shoulders slip away. She could always count on Cove to be there for her.

Jamie: Thank you.

Jamie: <3

Cove: <3

Jamie smiled at the little heart Cove sent her and left the conversation at that. Even that little bit of back and forth had been a soothing balm to her aching heart, but she held herself back from seeking out more. She knew he needed to talk to his boss and then focus on driving. Any further texting would just delay his arrival that much longer, and more than anything else she needed him with her right now.

After turning off the phone, she paused to idly trace the dolphin keychain attached to it with her fingers. Even after all these years, the material was still as soft and vibrantly colored as it was on the day Cove purchased it for her. It was her first present from him, an irreplaceable symbol of their friendship. Just looking at it reminded her of him and how much he meant to her, as well as how grateful she was to have him in her life.

A quiet rumble of distant thunder drew Jamie’s gaze up to the horizon. The waves of the ocean were choppy in front of her, the wind starting to pick up in earnest. In the distance, dark clouds were approaching the shore, and as she watched, a brief flash of lightning flickered with them, followed by another ominous rumble.

Jamie frowned at the sight of the approaching storm and turned to head back home, or rather to her moms’ home. She wasn’t ready to go back yet, her mind still too tangled with conflicted thoughts, but she wasn’t about to stay outside during a thunderstorm. If it was a sunshower, then she would have been all for basking in the thrill of it, but she had never been a fan of lightning and thunder.

Jamie closed her eyes with a sigh, her shoulders slumping a bit. At least Cove would be here soon. She would feel better then, she was sure.

“Siren!”

The sudden yell caused Jamie to flinch in surprise. Between the oncoming storm and it being the off season, the beach had been deserted. Now she had even more reason to leave when she noticed someone walking in her direction from further down the beach.

“Siren! Wait!”

Jamie hesitated at the almost frantic call of the woman who she realized was definitely approaching her, waving to get her attention. She wondered if the woman knew her. She wasn’t familiar with anyone with blue hair and pale skin… except… herself…

Jamie froze, her mouth going dry as a desert as the woman closed in on her.

The woman was beautiful, her slender, delicate figure giving her the appearance of a model, though she walked in an awkward gait across the sand. Because Jamie was just shy of six feet tall she had several inches on this stranger, who was more average in height for a grown woman. There were other more subtle details, ones Jamie couldn’t help but recognize as ones she saw in the mirror every day.

As the woman got closer, Jamie saw she had large pink eyes that practically glowed in the muted sunlight. Her smile was wide, her expression one of pure delight that didn’t waver as she closed the distance between them. She wore a short but flowing dress that not only bared most of her legs but also the fact that she was walking barefoot. Oddly, her pinned up blue hair and pale skin were damp with moisture while her clothes appeared perfectly dry.

It took Jamie all her willpower not to give in to the irrational urge to make a run for it.

“Oh Siren, my Siren,” the woman said with tears welling in her eyes. Her voice had a sweet quality to it and an accent that Jamie couldn’t place. “I finally found you!”

Jamie braced herself to greet the woman in spite of how her skin crawled, but when she saw arms open wide to welcome her in a hug, she stepped back quickly to avoid it.

That retreat was enough to halt the woman’s approach just outside arm’s length from Jamie. She blinked her wide pink eyes repeatedly, appearing genuinely baffled. “Siren? Do you not recognize me? It’s your mother, your true mother!”

The bottom dropped out of Jamie’s stomach as the woman confirmed her suspicions. She tried to force out some sort of response, but words failed to come.

Her supposed mother grew distressed by the lack of response. “Oh, my poor, poor Siren. Do not fear. Your mother has come to take you home.”

Jamie panicked when the woman tried to grab her wrist and jerked away. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

The woman froze, her large eyes somehow growing even wider.

Jamie held her phone in both her clammy hands as she took deep breaths to calm herself down after that outburst. If this really was her birth mother, she had to try to show some empathy. It was only natural for someone who lost a child to get emotional over a reunion with said child after being separated for almost two decades.

That didn’t mean Jamie wasn’t also giving serious consideration to running for it.

“My name is Jamie Leimomi,” Jamie said, speaking more calmly but drawing an edge under her name. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know you, and I don’t know anyone named ‘Siren.’”

Surprise melted away quickly from the woman’s face and her wide smile returned to full force. “Oh, yes, yes, of course. I am Demetria Palinouros, your real mother. Siren is the name I gave you before you were stolen from me.”

“Stolen?” Jamie repeated, surprised.

Demetria let out a sigh that turned into an almost painful moan. “My traitor sister Maris, she stole you from me, lied that I and your great father Apollo were dead to those people who took you from her. She lied to us that you were dead, and I believed her lies for so many years!”

By the end of the tirade, Jamie found herself feeling sorry for the woman in front of her, despite her misgivings. The distress Demetria showed, the tears that spilled forth freely, those were real. It made her feel guilty for wanting to run away when it was clear that reuniting with her meant so much to this person, her apparent birth mother.

Jamie tried to stand firm despite the guilt gnawing at her gut. She could handle talking with this woman. She reassured herself that if things went wrong, she could run or fight if she needed to. Demetria was smaller than her and didn’t appear nearly as physically fit, nor did she seem to move easily on the sand. A quick look around verified that they were the only two on the beach and that the clouds hanging overhead had turned a dark shade of gray.

Jamie took a deep breath and braved the conversation just a little longer. “Do… do you have proof?”

Demetria blinked away large tears, the sorrow fading somewhat with confusion as she stared at Jamie. “Proof?”

Jamie nodded, refusing to budge on the point. “If you were able to prove to the orphanage that you’re really my… my birth parent, then you can show that proof to me too, right?”

Demetria sniffled, but nodded, smiling once again through her tears. “Yes, yes, of course, of course!” She reached out for Jamie. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

Jamie stared at the offered hand for a moment before she took a deliberate step backwards. “I’d rather not.”

Silence set in for a moment as Demetria stared at Jamie. She appeared genuinely oblivious to how suspicious she was behaving. “Why? You asked for proof, so come with me for proof, Siren.”

Jamie tried to be discreet as she turned her phone on and began to type without looking away from the woman in front of her. “I’m not comfortable going anywhere with you.”

“But I’m your mother!” Demetria cried, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“I don’t know who you are!” Jamie fired back, keeping her expression and tone rigid. There was no shaking the feeling that all of this was wrong and that she needed to get away as quickly as possible.

Maybe Demetria really was who she said she was, but that didn’t matter. To Jamie, she was still a stranger. Besides, just being biologically related didn’t mean the woman in front of her was safe to be around.

Jamie took another step back then another to increase the distance between them but made sure never to turn her back on the woman that claimed to be her mother. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna go now.”

Demetria’s expression was blank as she watched her so-called daughter’s cautious retreat, tears trickling down her cheeks, mouth flagging open. She seemed truly at a loss, but not so much distraught as she seemed unable to comprehend why Jamie was leaving instead of going with her.

It only served to leave Jamie even more unsettled.

That was when the storm arrived.

Thunder tore through the air, causing Jamie to jump with a yelp. In the split second she took her eyes off Demetria, she realized that the woman had halved the distance between them, reaching out for her.

Adrenaline sent Jamie sprinting in the opposite direction when a deafening scream tore through her, but the scream did not come from her. A high pitched shriek erupted from the woman behind her, an explosion of noise that pierced her brain with a million bits of shrapnel.

Pain was the last thing Jamie knew before everything went dark.

…

Cove had been in the middle of driving when the rapid fire texts from Jamie came in. His phone had been tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat, and he had been too focused on the drive to notice it vibrate. When he arrived at their old neighborhood, he hadn’t bothered to check his phone when he scooped it back up, thinking only of meeting up with Jamie as soon as possible.

Her moms informed him that she had gone on a walk to clear her head, and that was all he needed to know before he was on the search. It didn’t matter that it was raining and the clouds rumbled with thunder. He had to find Jamie.

The first place Cove went was the hills behind the Leimomi house, but Jamie wasn’t there. It was then that he turned to his cell phone. Taking shelter beneath a tree to keep it from getting wet, he turned it on and saw the missed texts.

That was when the world stopped.

Jamie: theres a lady here

Jamie: at beach

Jamie: tryin to get me to go with her

Jamie: she looks like me but pink eyes

Jamie: says shes my mom

Jamie: thers something wring wit

That was all. The last text had been sent only twenty minutes ago.

Cove ran down the hill towards the beach, his heart pounding in his ears. He tried calling Jamie, but it only rang until it went to voicemail. He hung up and tried again and again to the same result. The frantic texts he sent asking where she was also went unanswered. He scoured the empty beach, screaming Jamie’s name all the while as he searched for some sign of her or any person at all.

He found nothing but empty sand and turbulent waves as the storm raged on.

[tranquilitybasehotelcasino]

the two lines of growing up that william beckett sings in the bridge of what a catch donnie are probably five times better than the version of the song that shows up on evening out with your girlfriend but i feel like i’ll get pelted with rocks if i say that i think the evening out version of calm before the storm is better than the take this to your grave version

[goldeneyedgirl]

whumptober time

I’ve always been a joiner, so following in @volturialice & @flowerslut’s footsteps (and holy hell, those ladies are bringing it), I figured I’d toss my hat in the ring. Not sure if I’ll get many done, but I can only try! And what better way to try that to start with a spontaneous MCU crossover. 

Day 08: Where Did Everybody Go?

“Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

Rating: T for swearing

Words: 2,482

Summary: Twilight X MCU crossover. The Snap doesn’t just kill humans. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Notes: Takes place a couple of weeks after the Eclipse Battle/ at the end of Infinity War. Yup, now Twilight happens in 2018. I should just call this ‘Jar of Hearts’ but that feels a big grisly. Ideally, I’ll be writing three more parts to this for Whumptober or for Jalice Week (depending on prompts). 

It was a normal night for them. There was nothing to indicate anything was wrong. The boys had gone hunting together, deep into the Olympic Ranges for predators.

If he had to remember one thing about that hunt, it was how … pleasant it was. They’d all caught what they had hoped for (with a helpful map from Alice). There were no disagreements, no mood-swings, no storming off for hours. And with brothers like his, to avoid all three of those things was a fucking miracle.

When he looks back, he tries to work out when it started. They were running back, mud-splattered and bloody; for once, they weren’t so late they couldn’t clean up before school.

It’s Edward first - just ahead of him to the left. Eddie leaps over a fallen tree and he … stumbles, only just keeping his balance.

“Jasper!”

He’s laughing at Edward’s stumble - perfect balance and all that - but Jasper isn’t. In fact, both Edward and Jasper have this look of increasing horror on their faces, and it’s only when Jasper grabs Edward  and Jasper’s hand goes through Edward’s shoulder because Edward is turning into dust and that is not fucking right.

“Emmett.”

He’s never heard Edward sound so much like the seventeen year old boy he was, and he reaches for his oldest - and his youngest - brother, but by the time his hands are grasping out for Edward’s, Edward is gone. There’s nothing left of him, no clothes or cellphone or bones or hair or anything. It’s not even proper ash, but dust that mingles with the dirt on the ground, and there’s nothing. Nothing. He might as well have never been there.

He’s not entirely sure if he’s feeling his own horror, his own terror, and grief, or if Jasper is projecting. Neither of them know what to do, to scoop what is left of Edward into their pockets, and flee home or to get help or to… what.

But then Jasper is running again, and he follows, desperation streaming off Jasper so strongly that Emmett can almost feel his own dead heart pounding.

Is it disease? Are there vampires diseases?

It can’t be age, Jasper and Carlisle are older, the Denali girls older still…

His phone trills in his pocket but he keeps running and Jasper keeps running, and they aren’t getting there fast enough.

Jasper keeps running until he crumples into dust, his golden eyes wide, and the one word on his lips lost as he disintegrates.

Alice.

He backs away from Jasper’s resting place, like the dust is contagious - and maybe it is - maybe whatever happened to Edward spread to Jasper when he touched him.

Instead, he runs. He tears through the forest, a soundless rhythm in his head Rosie-Rosie-Rosie-Rosie and the kind of swirling, twisting worry like human nausea in his stomach as he bursts through trees and underbrush.

He’s ten miles out when he hears the screaming.

It doesn’t stop as he somehow moves faster, and bursts through the property line, to the backdoor of the house, which he half rips off the frame as he charges into the house.

The screaming - the wailing - is Alice, on her hands and knees in the sitting room. There’s dust on her face and hands, and she’s not all there, her eyes wide and glassy, as she rocks back and forth.

There’s a weight in his stomach, one that gets heavier every second Rosalie doesn’t appear, that Esme isn’t trying to calm Alice. Instead, he skids to a stop and drops to his knees in front of her, tugging her into his arms, pointedly ignoring the dust that sticks to his jeans, that he sends floating up into the air.

This is an Alice he doesn’t know, just like he knows a Rose that no one else does. The one that Jasper has alluded to, once or twice, in confidence. That it might have always looked like Alice was the one piecing Jasper back together, pulling him along in her grand plans, but it was never as simple or easy as that. Jasper held her together, she put him together. A balancing act.

Just the way that people assumed that he was the one that healed Rosalie of all her demons, when in truth he was just there, letting her know that whatever ‘okay’ looked like for Rosalie was for her - and only her - to decide. And that he’s always been the luckiest son of a bitch in existence to be apart of her version of ‘okay’.

Rose would have lost it with Alice by now. There’s no way Rosalie would have tolerated this level of noise.

Rose isn’t coming.

He holds his sister tight, and mutters reassurances in her hair. They stay like that for awhile until Alice just lets out a sob, and looks up at him, blinking slowly.

“He said he’d never leave me,” she says in a wobbly voice. “He promised me.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Emmett rushes to tell her. “You were his last thought; he tried so hard to get home before he…”

Alice wipes her eyes, but she still doesn’t look like Alice. She looks lost and breakable, and she sits back, noticing the pile of dust they’re both sitting amongst.

“She… she was so mad,” Alice babbles suddenly, grabbing his hand. “If anyone could have stopped it, could have reversed it by… by sheer will, it was Rosalie, Em. She didn’t go alone, I had her.”

He’s sitting amongst his wife’s… ashes-dust-remains. It’s on his hands and legs and face, and he can see it clinging to Alice’s hair, and he kind of wants to match her wailing because there has never been an Emmett without a Rosalie, not in any history that counts, and without Rose, he has no plan, no direction, no purpose. The world has tilted off its axis, and he wants to go and bury his face in her clothes upstairs, clothes that smell like roses-lemons-cars until the tearing feeling in his chest just stops.

“Esme came running,” Alice continued, staring off into space. “She didn’t make it down the stairs. She didn’t even notice until she was practically gone.”

They sit in silence for a moment, or maybe longer, until the day has begun. The sky has lightened, and they are still alone in a quiet house. No radio, no conversation, no bickering, nothing.

“Did you see this?” he asks finally, and feels cruel asking.

“No.” She sniffles, and he thinks how cruel it was to take Jasper and leave Alice. “It happened so fast; I saw Edward when Rose started to…” She took a deep breath. “I felt Jasper go.” She shudders and there’s a hitch in her breath, and he really doesn’t want her to start crying again.

“We should call Carlisle,” he says, and she nods but pauses.

“Call his phone, not the hospital. No one will answer,” she whispers, but there’s a look in her eyes he doesn’t like and he doesn’t want to ask, either…

“I can’t see him answering, Em,” she whispers.

He takes a deep breath and dials the number.

It rings.

It keeps ringing.

“Hello?”

It’s a nervous sounding woman’s voice, and for a moment, he can’t find the words.

“I don’t know whose phone this is,” the woman continues, her voice shaking.

“It’s Emmett Cullen. I need to speak to my father - Dr Carlisle Cullen,” he manages, but Alice is already shaking her head.

“Emmett, it’s Nurse Fletcher,” and he has no idea who that is, truly. “Your father… he’s gone, Emmett.” The woman sounds traumatised, and he understands. “Half the hospital just… disappeared, there was nothing anyone could have done…”

He throws his phone against the wall, and it smashes through the drywall as it shatters, and Esme’s not even here to yell at him.

—

Somehow, Alice gets him to his feet, and drags him into Forks. Something about people coming looking for them and they need to go to the school, where everyone who is still here is gathering. They’re both covered in the dust of their family (Edward and Rose, mostly, and he wonders if bringing Alice a handful of her husband’s remains would have been the right thing to do. They’d left Esme where she fell, a waterfall of dirt on the stairs.)

There aren’t many people at the school when they arrive, and people are staring. He gets it; Alice looks like she just crawled out of an empty grave (Rose’s; Rose sticking to her face and hair and hands and knees…) and he’s splattered with mud and probably blood that he didn’t think to clean up before they left but together they are a suitably haunted, stricken pair of siblings.

A couple of Bella’s friends are at the impromptu gathering; the Hispanic girl is clinging to a man who has to be her father, fresh tear tracks on her face. A blonde girl is sitting with a blanket around her, almost bisected perfectly down her body with the dust of someone - a classmate, a family member, a passerby. Just dozens of people standing around, confused and grieving.

But Alice stops when she sees one figure, stooped and already exhausted.

Charlie Swan catches her in a hug as she approaches him a little faster than she should, and he wants to pull her back because now parts of Rosalie are sticking to Charlie’s clothes and from the look on Charlie’s face and on Alice’s, the dust on Charlie belonged to Bella.

He wants to chuckle, at the picture of Rose’s face if she was told her ashes would be mixed up with Bella’s forever now, or at least until Charlie does some laundry.

“She was in bed, sleeping,” Charlie says. “I thought it was a prank, at first.” His eyes are shiny and he takes a shuddering breath and looks closer at the pair of them. “Who…”

Alice seems to shrink into herself, and just shakes her head. “It’s just me and Emmett now,” she mutters. “Jasper’s gone and Rosalie’s gone, and Esme and Carlisle and Edward and now Bella.” There’s a tinge of hysteria to her words, and Emmett pulls his sister closer because he doesn’t want what’s left of Forks to watch if he has to try and calm her down from another round of hysteria.

“It’ll be okay,” he manages. “We’ll call Denali and see how Tanya’s doing. Cousins,” he offers to Charlie, who looks relieved. “We’ll check in on a few people,” he continues, hoping to distract Alice, who keeps repeating their names under her breath. “Peter and Charlotte, Maria, Garrett, Randall…”

“Good. You kids can stay with me while you track down some family if you need to,” Charlie offers but Alice manages to pull herself together.

“No, we’ll be fine,” she assures him. “Emmett’s old enough and … we’ll be fine. We just need to know what happened.”

“We don’t know much yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll call,” Charlie promises. “I’ll put your names on the … Survivors list, you two go on home and take a shower, make sure you’ve got enough food and gas in the car. And you call if you need anything.”

“Carlisle’s phone,” he says immediately. “Nurse Fletcher at the hospital has it, but we … can’t go there.”

Charlie seems to understand by totally misunderstanding why they can’t go to the hospital and promises to see what he can do.

And then there’s nothing else for them to do but go home. Go home and wash off the dust, and scoop what’s left into Esme’s vases (urns, now). Alice folds their dirty clothes and puts them in a box without a word, and he watches her collect dust from the trim on the coffee table, from the gaps between the floorboards, with a tiny paintbrush so that every grain of his beautiful wife is collected.

Then he takes her to where Jasper fell and she doesn’t say anything. There’s no way to tell what dust and dirt is Jasper and what is the forest, and there’s nothing here for her to gather in her hands and hold tight. They sit for awhile, just staring at the spot.

“If Maria survived, it’s going to be bad,” she manages as the light begins to fade. “And if the Volturi…”

They walk home at a human pace, and they both start to notice things that they missed before; the stillness of the forest, suddenly amiss half its animals. The sparseness of the trees, of the ground. As they make it home, the day sinking into night, he notices half of Esme’s gardens just gone, as if waiting for someone to plant them fresh, when they were in full bloom less than a day ago.

There’s a small figure waiting on the back porch, in dirty denim cut-offs. He looks smaller than last time they saw him, only weeks ago.

Seth Clearwater swallows hard when he sees them, and they can tell by the look on his face that whatever, whoever is left on the Res, it certainly isn’t his family and friends, and Emmett is overwhelmingly sad for the kid that had to come to his natural enemies for safe haven.

“The pack,” Seth begins. “It’s only me, and Colin, and Brady left. And at home, it’s only me.”

Alice moves too fast, and pulls him into a tight hug, and Seth hugs her back, despite the stench.

“I figured you might know something about what’s happened,” Seth continues, and he’s trying so hard not to cry, he’s giving Emmett a headache. “I left Colin and Brady back to protect the Res, and came to find help.”

He wants so badly to promise this kid it’s going to fine, that they’ll find a Tardis, a time-turner, a fucking goddess of time and rewind everything to stop this from happening but his wife is nothing but dirt, and his sister looks like a broken marionette, and there’s a wolf pup looking so desperate and hopeful that the words die on his tongue.

Alice smiles at him, kindly, for for a second she looks like herself. That lost, glassy look she’s worn all day has faded back inside her, and he hopes it stays there.

“Come in, Seth,” she says, and motions that they both follow her in through the door he broke that morning. “I think we’ve got food.”

Emmett takes off his boots before he goes inside (just like Esme always nagged for him to and he never remembered), and he wonders if the others are up there, laughing their asses off that the House of Cullen has crumbled and all that’s left is a broken psychic, an underage shapeshifter, and the guy with his wife in a jar.

He thinks it might even be funny to someone.

[arcstral]

𝑫𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ( i - v )

     i.

As of late, there is his fixation with mirrors.

Wise and motherly Elice. Tragic, dead Elice. He peers at himself and some calming likeness of his older sister is reflected back. They’re distinct enough when he presses himself to remember, through the thick wet blanket of the Darksphere’s muddle that has fallen so heavily over his head. The airs of male gallantry and female chastity that even two remarkably similar sibling faces could convey apart from one another. 

Merric had fancied his sister. If Elice had been so sure a beauty to her futile suitors, to the maidens Marth must have seemed as their chimeric princes of song come to life. Not that any of it mattered now.

An unbreakable sense of justice and blinding white smile. Chivalrous ideals and warm receptions of love both given and received.

He is not that sort of prince anymore. Not really.

Elice would be disappointed.

He dare not think of the other great loss of his life that would feel the same.

     ii.

The widower king, the people have now taken to calling him. The Hero-King who went mad for grief. Where they speak fearfully of Dark Emperor Hardin’s brutality, they whisper instead of Marth’s tragedy. The pity that has become his once shimmering existence. Where Hardin had fashioned the globe into his bloody plaything of conquest and vengeance, Marth wanted little to do with it and simply cared no longer for the things he once did.

Tax reports and revenue projections, restoration projects, bandit plagues, and official government memorandum that had once topped the list of the diligent monarch’s priorities now hung freely at the bottom. As few truly important documents were signed off with a whimsy hand, many more were delegated to the waste-fires.

His is an illusion of productivity and the world suffers for his indolence, even if his Altean vassals in particular do not believe it at first.

‘His Majesty is suffering, he will return to his senses after his grief has abated.’

‘It is the weight of Archanea upon his shoulders that has turned him to this.’

‘Have pity. He is an overworked candle that has melted on both his ends.’

They do not know the full truth of it.

Marth merely does as he pleases, as he has never done before. 

     ???.

His recent decrees have flooded his rooms of authority with a new wave of silence. The tensity in the council room is broken only by the occasional ugly hacks emitted by Arran who tries without success to stifle his sounds. Each one shatters the very air like a crystal glass lopped against the floor. 

As this unstoppable effusion of water in sorry old Arran’s lungs, there is a sickness breeding within the young king as well. He trades his brooding for a flurry of many radical new statutes. Criminal offenses of all nature and all possible standing are deemed punishable by death. Manaketes and convicts seen treading within a few miles’ radius of the Pales capital will be shot down. Families who cannot pay the entire extent of their taxations are made to do so with their lives. So on.

Where the prince he was had advocated justice and equality, the king he is was a gravely twisted version of those ideals.

He rolls around the Darksphere in the palm of his hand, feeling for its sweet seductions. Like Hardin, Marth alone indulges the impression that he has never changed.

     iii.

Eventually, Marth commands the tombstone silence of his halls as well.

His knights have tasted his sweet light and now they fear the difference of his shadows. Jagen. Cain. Frey. Draug. Gordin. Ryan. Rody. Cecil. Astram. Midia. Defectors attempt to leave his court in droves until they learn he will not allow it done. Former friends become plague rats that he burns out to the loyal, unquestioning torch of Merric’s Bolganone or an Archaean firing squad.

They are traitors in the vein of Gra who have betrayed his kindness and his trust. Their deaths hold as little value to Marth as their lives in that regard, but replenishing his depleted ranks qualifies as both a nuisance and sizable difficulty.

He seeks out the conscription of old faces. Knights are more reliable in proportion to their training, but hired swords will care less for the muck of his deeds and more for the shine of his imperial gold. Radd accepts him on this useful ideal, then Caesar. Of Navarre, he curiously receives no word, and of Ogma there are a few, albeit the kind that leaves the fallen Hero-King with much to be desired.

“It is said that Sir Ogma was not the same after Princess Caeda’s passing, Your Majesty. Upon one night of disorderly drinking, he was tossed out of a Knorda tavern where he landed upon his face in a wet patch of bog beside the cesspits. There, he fell fast asleep, and–”

“I understand,” Marth finishes for the messenger suddenly, disturbed.

     iv.

The crown chamber is exceptionally quiet, as it usually is with King Marth and the mysterious weight of his thoughts. The overhanging fear of his retribution that choked his few remaining followers upon their bold and progressive proposals for His Majesty to pray reconsider his seat upon the throne. For once in a long time, it echoes with the soft admission of his pain.

“If it was not the Darksphere that claimed my life, it would be the devil’s drink that bewitched Captain Ogma until his lungs could not tell mud from air. He and I are not truly so filled with differences.”

“Even so, the few differences to be had are not regrettable, my liege. Your Majesty is still alive.”

Marth looks to his shadow after a long moment. A fragile distance to his voice that marked the difference between the Darksphere’s diamond barrier and the glass man who stood behind it.

“Don’t be silly, Kris. He is with her and I am still here.”

Like a kernel of honesty buried within the rotting fruit, his words illuminate the grander scheme to his motives. His longing for the death that has so generously evaded him by God’s will only to take his sister and lover instead. 

But with his face as a tortured statue, his most loyal knight offers no response.

No solution. No release.

Not yet.

     v.

An unexpected visit from Julian brings news that has already taken the rest of the continent by storm. Princess Minerva is raising an army in response to his crimes. The diplomat she has sent is not so much a proponent of politics or any particular nationality as he is of significant attachment to abbess Lena, a Macedonian. The fact means that he can navigate enemy territory with more delicacy than Minerva’s pegasus knights. She has indeed chosen well. 

Marth has already drawn his notions for the visit and so he allows the man to speak for the enemy. Another traitor for another traitor—

“Before she raises the Archanean League’s standard.. She wishes to extend her offer of peaceful surrender to both His Highness and his loyalists. I believe there is still a fond remembrance by the princess of your meaningful friendships.”

Archanean League. Loyalists. His army is Archanea and he is its heart. The choice of semantics is insulting.

“I will think on Minerva’s offer,” Marth says at last to his former friend, an involuntary twitch of his dominant hand. Beside him, Merric stirs as if acutely aware of his moods. Kris stares with solid interest at a painted mosaic across the ground. 

“You must be exhausted by your trip from Macedon.”

Just as any flower grateful for the sunlight, Julian blooms before he ever wilts. “I am, Your Majesty—”

“Good,” Marth interjects. “You will not need to make the journey home. I will send clear instruction to sister Lena so that she might collect your body within the fortnight.”

He will give Minerva her answer and he will use Julian to do it, for all the goddess of wisdom in her name and god of war in his. In spite of this hammer of injustice, Julian willfully does not scream as he’s dragged away. Split open by the headsman’s axe and carted off in twos to the castle gates before the morning brume has settled. 

Sister Lena does. 

Just as Marth expects, the Macedonian declaration of war follows mere days later.

[omegalomania]

little fob things that Get Me™ but i dont see people talk abt

the sheer difference between evening out’s version of calm before the storm and take this to your grave’s. if there was ever any doubt that andy was Essential to what made fob pop?? the energy just SHOOTS up, it’s so much more focused, and the playing. it is so polished. it is is so c r i s p 

when patrick sang “eighteen going on extinct” on reinventing the wheel i felt that a little bit. god i wish i had listened to this record when i was 18

the backing vocals at the end of sugar you know the “take aim at myself / take back what you said” like it doesnt crop up at any other part in the song and it’s JUST at these backing points. and specifically when patrick duets with someone else with them live (like with hayley williams or the band perry) and he sings that bit at the end?? idk it Gets Me man those words just sprinkle this whole extra layer over the entire thing

PATRICKS UNCLEAN VOCALS they don’t come up a lot on fob discography but on get busy living or get busy dying he does that whole vocal duet with pete and god if it’s kind of stunning how much they can sound like each other

the tight fills joe lays down in nobody puts baby in the corner like theyre not solos but theyre so iconic and just as catchy as the melody that they might as well be and that is TALENT

the way pete always always always ALWAYS fucks around with andys drums when they play thnks fr th mmrs live and andy giggles and grins while this horrible gremlin man bashes his cymbals EVERY TIME literally every single time

i dont care goes VERY hard live in part because andy is playing like the hardcore king he is and joe SHREDS for fucking MILES and if you listen to the instrumental, just the whole like last thirty seconds are GODLY what the fuck. special shoutout to the sharp glamrock synths they drizzle in there too! those have patrick written all over them

andy’s double bass work on thriller. listen close to the hardcore-esque breakdown after jay-z’s intro. this man still plays like hes in hardcore and god bless him for it

the riffs joe lays DOWN in the second verse of the take over the breaks over??? play this one live again guys, these were so cool to hear live!!!!

literally any time andy goes ham with the ride cymbal. maybe this is my bias because i just adore a good strong ride but especially in the chorus of grand theft autumn and in the second and third choruses on stay frosty

“i cant commit to a thing / be it heart or hospital” is the rawest fucking line to ever come from a song that was intended for the soundtrack to shrek 2

you ever listen to the isolated vocals on americas suitehearts because im pretty sure thats the aural equivalent of melted chocolate. just THOSE STACKED HARMONIES my GOD. tho it is ridiculously funny to me that you can really clearly hear that they left petes “sorry guys” from the citizensFOB mixtape in the final version?? for some reason???? they just....they left a little something

the MIXING on 27. they did NOT have to go that hard with the sound mixing and then THEY DID. you ever listen to that shit with headphones? listen to when the backing vocals go “chasing the direction.” the tune literally changes direction - drifts from one ear to the other. they did not have to do that but they DID

the solo break in 27 is so worth mentioning too. that sharp needley guitar......it is so fresh

just the entirety of pax am days. like 12 minutes of absolutely pure chaotic energy. andy is screaming. pete is laughing. patrick is wailing drunk into a microphone. joe is shredding like no tomorrow. it is poetry.

ANDY AND JOES BACKING VOCALS you can hear them a bit on the studio recordings sometimes, like you can definitely parse andy on young volcanoes and save rock and roll but when they’re singing backing vox live it is just extra EXTRA good. you can hear joe super well here and here anD ALSO WHEN HES DOING HARMONIES ON UMA THURMAN LIVE?? he and patrick have such amazing vocal synchronization and i love them

immortals acoustic is actually one of my favorite things and not just because of joes guitar and backing vocals but id be lying if i said that wasnt a big ol part of it

the frankly stunning number of #iconic basslines their songs have. you can recognize some of their most iconic songs based on their basslines. dance dance. where did the party go. church. sunshine riptide. fob play sunshine riptide live please.......PLEASE

no one talks about how joe does a ton of synth work on fob records in addition to guitar work and songwriting but he DOES and he is so talented? here’s a performance of young volcanoes where he’s doing synths and lead guitar simultaneously??? HE IS HONESTLY SO TALENTED?

THE GUITAR WORK ON THE BRIDGE OF IRRESISTIBLE?? it’s so understated but joe just sHREDS and it is beautiful.....it is so beautiful and especially prominent live

the entirety of twin skeletons but like the guitar work especially? the instrumental bridge? the a capella ending? god ok fine heres another instrumental cAN YOU JUST LISTEN TO THOSE GUITARS FOR ME

burma boy’s verse on sunshine riptide. “i fell in love but i didn’t fall down” is such a simple line but damn if it doesn’t get me

“i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me” as a line just...... fucks me up every time i hear it

some blessed soul was able to strip down the instrumental of young and menace and holy gOD is it maybe a bit transcendent? it is maybe a bit transcendent. the build. the crash of the guitars. andys DRUM FILLS. its super apparent that it is all real ass instruments they just played them to sound all electronic and edm and GOD ITS JUST SO COOL TO HEAR

champion isnt my favorite song off mania but i think it might have my favorite line on the record actually? that line, the one. “i’m just young enough to still believe, but young enough not to know what to believe in.” fuck me if that aint a Great Big Mood

on that note, this one lad put together an instrumental of bishops knife trick and its just........really beautiful.....people can bitch and moan that fob doesnt use guitars or drums anymore but like....theyre RIGHT there. theyve got effects and stuff on them, but theyre right there. and they are BEAUTIFUL!!! fOB PLAY BKT LIVE CHALLENGE I WANT TO HEAR JOE PLAY THESE BEAUTIFUL LINES LIVE

ANDYS DRUM FILLS ON DEAR FUTURE SELF GODDDDDD

i could keep going but this is getting long but im just full of a lot of love for these boys....the layers the musicality the GENRE BLENDING the wORK they put into every song on every record for almost 2 decades.......they are truly special