#I forget the exact circumstances that made me fall in love with the twins but

[emmet-appreciation]

I'm an Emmet fictive! This is a very nice blog, thank you for being normal about Ingo and I's characters. Don't feel pressured to reply to this, I just wanted to give my own thoughts. :D

Ahhh of course I'm going to respond to this, it's so sweet ahhghfsdgbshdbf 😳😳😳!!

Thank you so much!!! I'm so happy you think that way, ehe ;w;!

I know there are some... creepy people in the fandom but it's so good to know you consider this a safe space <3!

// I try my best to reblog from like-minded people too, but if I interact with a weird post please don't hesitate to let me know!

[roger-that-cap]

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either. 

warnings: lots of emotions, feelings, slightly cynical and bitter reader- she’s honestly just being a realist, we are chugging forward, did not check for typos, format could be fucked up bc i’m posting from my phone quite literally minutes before i clock in- PATHETIC LMAO

word count: 2.7k

this is a short chapter by my standards, but it felt long to me because of the things in it??? this is part five! all other parts can be found on my masterlist, it’s my pinned post!

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Wanda asked while she tied your corset, not even needing to ask whether it was too tight or loose. You looked up in your vanity and immediately tried to wipe your smile away, but it was too late. She knew you better than anyone, and she had yet to see a thoughtful smile on your face, ever. Pietro, who had caught you going back inside the previous night, caught on to the fact that you looked more carefree, and that you just seemed to look like you were carrying around less. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hmm,” Wanda hummed, an entertained look on her face. Something told you that she already had an idea of what was going on, even though there was no way she could have. Besides, you hardly even knew what was going on. “I’ll ask again later.” She looked you in the eyes through the mirror, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. “Maybe then you’ll tell the truth,” she said, flicking you on the side of the head, and then letting it rest.

§§

Natasha was out in the village doing whatever it was the knights did one night, and she was planning on spending the night at a bed and breakfast before coming back in the morning. As disheartened as you were about not being able to see her for your stargazing, you were partly glad for it. You missed being with the twins. 

You had dinner with them alone, sitting and laughing about old memories and scheduling times to make new ones together. You loved the way you could be with them. Your laughter was allowed to go over the volume of a giggle without them looking at you like you had grown seven heads, your silverware were allowed to take a tumble onto your plate with a clatter without a second glance, and you were allowed to use whatever language you pleased. You missed the comfort that you felt with them, the comfort that your brain and the part of you that would always be the farm girl felt with them. 

“And Pietro chased him all the way off, you should have seen how terrified he was,” Wanda recapped, and you couldn't help but grin at Pietro, who was sipping wine with his charming grin. “That boy will never lift another skirt, I can assure you of that.” 

“I’m glad,” you mused, shooting Pietro a look that made him laugh. 

“Enough about me,” he said after swallowing a sip of his wine that was much more like a gulp. “We’re not going to talk about how you’ve been walking on the clouds for weeks now?” 

You nearly dropped your fork again. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve both realized,” Pietro said, motioning with his buttered knife towards his sister, who had a soft smile on her face as she observed your reaction. “That you have been significantly happier. Even with the circumstances-”

“Pietro,” Wanda hissed, but you just snorted and shook your head. 

“It’s like you found your own little pocket of happiness. We were worried about you, but, you’re doing alright.” Ever the blatant one out of the three of you, he leaned forward with his trademark smirk, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you know that we don't?” 

You hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing twice as you grappled for anything to say, even a lie. And then, you settled on just shrugging your shoulders with a grin, shaking your head. “Honestly, Pietro, I know nothing. I don’t know anything.”

§§

Your heart was beating faster than normal as you looked at the woman next to you, your hand subconsciously itching closer to hers as you sat on the ground, ass on the blanket that you had brought out.  “I would like to… show you something.” 

It was probably the twentieth time that you and Natasha had met with each other, and still, you were entranced by her and everything that she did.  And you were entranced while you stared at her and waited for her answer, just a little nervous as to what she would say. 

As if she would ever say no to something you said. 

“Show me anything you’d like me to see,” Natasha urged on, and you fought back a smile. You stood up, and she did the same, and then you were picking up the blanket and walking side by side with her. It was quiet the entire way there as you walked in step with her, hand brushing against her every few steps and sending tingles down your arm every time it happened. 

The feeling that you got when she touched you made you feel both alive and scared to death. You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were steadily collecting more than friendly feelings for her, and that she may have been on the same page you were on. The game you were playing was a dangerous one, the risk threatening to swallow up the reward more and more by the day. 

You had known that being with her by yourself was bad judgement, ever since the first time you did it. Hell, the look you gave her the first time you met her was far from appropriate. Every single conversation that you had with her was a risk, and both of you knew it. And now that your soon-to-be husband was approaching, it was even more scandalous. No one knew and you hoped no one would ever find out, but hiding forever wasn’t a choice. But what would you be hiding if there were no true feelings? 

You hated yourself for falling for her and her pretty words. 

“I used to come here to escape,” you started, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, voice low as you passed the tree line to get into the thick of the woods. You narrowly missed stepping in a particularly muddy spot on the ground. “This was my spot, before I got the garden of course.”

“The woods?” 

“No, Nat,” you said, slightly amused as you stepped over a fallen branch. You smiled a bit when the sound of running water hit your ears.  “The stream.” 

You knew the exact second that she saw it, because her eyes widened and her breath hitched.  “That’s not a stream, that’s a river.”

“It’s the forgotten part of the main river,” you explained. “It’s much skinnier and more shallow, and it doesn't have nearly as much fish coming through, so people forget about it.” You looked towards her and saw how intrigued she was by it, so you judged her armor free body with a slight smirk. “What? Never seen running water?”

“I lived in the capital, all they had was the ocean. And even then I was never allowed on the harbor if I wasn’t selling clams, and I didn’t sell clams much.”

You felt silence start to grow between the two of you, so you said the first thing that you thought of. “You don’t look like a clam seller.” 

He looked away from the river and to you, a slight grin on her face even as she talked again. “And you don’t look like a petal kisser, blossom, but look where we are today.”

Your heart raced in your chest. “Blossom? Is that what you’re calling me now?” 

“It’s only payback for calling me ‘cherry’,” she said, and you stifled a laugh at the retired name, glancing up at the red hair that you had gotten inspiration from.  

“You didn’t actually mind it,” you said, looking off into the distance, only looking back at her when a warm hand slotted over yours. You blinked and looked down at your hands, which she had intertwined, and then back up at her again, only to see that she was staring straight ahead in the dark at the way the moonlight hit the water. 

“How could I?” She asked softly, a subtle breeze picking up.”You were the one saying it.” She looked at you, and in the dim lighting, you could have sworn that her eyes were saying, you can call me anything in the book, and I will own it proudly. And then, the look changed to something else, something less devoting, and something more passionate. It took you a few seconds to understand what the look meant, and before you could fully register it, she was leaning forward. 

A few seconds came and went where you could feel your heartbeat all over, and you tried to look somewhere other than in her eyes. You couldn't. “Don’t look at me like that.” When all Natasha did was tilt her head to the side and give you an even more intense version of the look, you let out a small sigh. “Please.”

“Why not?” 

She knew why. She knew why probably better than you did after living in the capital. She saw what happened firsthand to people who committed crimes, and those who committed second degree adultery. If you two did what you were wanting to do with your entire heart, you would fall right into that category. “I know where this is going,” you said softly, “and this won’t end well.” 

“Why not?” She asked again, and you turned your head to the side, shaking it slightly and closing your eyes. 

“Because, I’m about to get married,” you hissed, and though you didn’t mean to sound so angry, you did. Natasha was hardly affected. 

She lifted her arms and let them fall against her clothing with a soft slap that still echoed in the night. “You’re not married right now.” 

“But I will be, Natasha,” you said, gripping her hands and squeezing  them softly, begging for her to understand you. “What’s going to happen when I get married to a man who already has a streak for murdering his wives, and he finds out that I have feelings for you? He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll both be hung for adultery, after being put into torture camps for being… together as women.” 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Y/N, you know that.” The fervency in her tone nearly shocked you as she took a bold step forward, nearly surrounding you in her scent and energy. “I would never let anything happen to you.” 

“You’re too important for me to condemn to death and dishonor just because I have feelings for you. It was selfish of me to meet with you in the first place, but I can’t let myself do this. It’s a bad idea,” You said, voice hushed even though no one would have followed you. You were trembling, hand shaking more than anything else as you tried to understand how fast everything was moving; forward and backwards, sewing together and ripping apart all the same. If you were any more attentive to her expression, you would have seen the grin that lit up her face as your confession. “We were just about to cross a line. We’ve crossed quite a few dotted ones, but this one? It is bold and blaring.” 

“Blossom,” Natasha started, and you just shook your head and kept going. 

“And-and what we were just about to do? That crosses the line. We cannot.” 

“Do you really think my feelings for you are going to change depending on whether or not we kiss?” She asked, her voice slightly deeper than usual, almost sounding insulted. “You’re telling me to close my heart off from you, not to not kiss you. And you know that.”  

“What if I am?” You asked, eyes starting to burn with tears. “I’m doing it for the right reasons, Nat. I’m trying to save us from a world of hurt when reality finally sinks in.”

“That isn’t today.” She took another step forward and this time, you couldn't find the strength in you to step back. “And it isn’t tomorrow, and not even within the fortnight. You and I have something, and I know that you know it’s different. It’s special. We would be so stupid to ignore it, so stupid.” 

“I know, I know,” you said, voice tapering off into a whine as you slowly felt your resolve come apart, even though you thought it was stronger. “I’m sorry.”

 “You don’t have to apologize,” Natasha said after a few minutes of pure silence, and you found yourself exhaling. “I just wish things were different.” 

  “I know,” she said, and you turned to look up at the sky, tears threatening to come down on your cheeks. The stars seemed to twinkle and wink at you, talking amongst themselves about a future you had no idea about just yet. 

“Guess they’re never gonna line up,” you murmured to yourself, and then you heard Natasha grumble something from your side, and then she was coming closer, a barreling energy force full of passion and intent, and you knew exactly what she was coming for. For less than a split second, you thought about it. And then you turned your head and met her halfway. 

You would have been surprised by the passion in it if you weren’t just as desperate for the contact. You twisted in her arms, already wrapped around you as she drew you in close, closer than you had ever been with her, and the tears that were welling up before were now escaping for a different reason. Your lips were pressing into hers, moving fluidly and with an air of fervor that she matched equally. You felt wanted, and needed, and you felt loved. You felt the tenderness of the moment with every brush of her fingers on the back of your neck and with every rub of your back over the thin material of your night dress. 

Your legs were shaking, and she noticed before you did that you were getting weak in the knees. She held you up and pulled back slightly, just enough for you to feel her lips brush against yours while she asked if you were okay, like she wasn’t willing to take herself from you just yet. And honestly, you weren’t ready for her to leave you, either. You nodded, and she leaned in again, much slower, and then you had time to think. 

Her eyes weren’t the same shade they were when the sun hit them, they were almost an eerie pale blue, but they were still just as gorgeous to you, especially now that they were slanted with desire. Her hair wasn’t perfect like she somehow always managed or it to be, and you realized that it was because you had gotten a hand to run through it despite the way that she had previously held you like a lifeline. Her lashes were long, and you swore that she was close enough that you could count them. Her cheekbones were accentuated in the lighting, making her look like something straight out of a fairy tale, like a floating fae creature that led people to safety. In that moment, you could have sworn that she was the answer to every prayer you had ever whispered, to every question you had ever asked your etiquette teachers. In that moment, and in every moment to come, she was your ending and beginning, your creation and destruction, your sunrise and sunset. She was Natasha Romanoff, and in that moment, no wedding or murderous man even held a candle to the way you felt about her.

  What a beautiful person. 

“Now you’re looking at me strangely,” Natasha said, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it as the both of you treated over the moment carefully, trying not to break it and leave it in shambles. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How I’m going to have to pretend like this never happened in a few weeks,” you said softly, and part of you hated yourself for bringing up the bad part of the future so soon after you both had just lost all ties to reality. 

“You don’t have to,” she said, stroking your hair. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, sneaking off in the night and coming back in the morning before anyone realizes. Nothing really has to change, I just want you to know that I… that we can be whatever you want us to be.” 

“As long as we’re in the confines of the garden walls.” 

“And now the woods,” Natasha said, and you couldn’t help but laugh in her arms. 

“And now the woods."

****

this is short, but i couldn’t see anything being tacked on to this. we’re at an important part, and from here it’s gonna be fun!! thank y’all for reading; if you liked it please drop a like and a reblog bc it makes my day!! comments also make me ascend y’all

tags!! : tags! : @teenwonder @saamwilscn @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife​ @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

so sorry if i forgot anyone!!!!!

[diamondsnowflakes]

(A True Home Is) Dancing In The Kitchen

It isn't home until you're dancing in the kitchen. Sometimes it's who you're dancing with that makes it home as well. Dellumbra being unable to sleep in the early morning/late night.

Thanks to my roommate and good friend, Jay, for beta-ing.

AO3 Link

   Three in the morning and McDuck manor was still and silent. The majority of the people Scrooge had graciously allowed to stay in the manor were asleep, including the man himself, with the exception of a select few. One of these select few was Della Duck, Scrooge’s thirty-seven year old niece, who sat on the kitchen counter, one of her legs drawn to her chest and the other dangling from the edge as she read.

    The radio softly hummed from one corner, not breaking the silence, but instead making it feel cosy and warm. The notebook and pen that sat to one side of Della was accompanied by a quickly cooling mug of hot chocolate. Both were untouched, and she didn’t even look up when a set of heavy, muffled footsteps approached the closed kitchen door, and barely acknowledged when it swung open to reveal an unusually sleep-ruffled Penumbra, who was sleepily dragging herself to the kettle before she carried it over to the sink.

    “I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either,” Penumbra mumbled, sounding the least robotic Della had heard her since the moonlanders had made their invasion attempt.

    Della smiled tiredly, finally looking up from her book to address Penni. “Nope, gotta love nightmares. The feelings they bring up are real great at making me not sleep.”

    “What nightmares and what feelings?” Penni inquired as she sat the kettle on its metal rotation base with a dull thud and set the water boiling. Its whistling broke the silence, but not the awkward tension that had settled between the two.

    “Just being back on the moon, the loneliness and guilt I felt before I met you… I never want to be back there, but my brain is a bitch so I’m back there every night. It’s fine… Just a little jarring… Makes sleep difficult,” Della closed her eyes and sighed, before opening them and staring at the cold floor, inches below where she sat. “Don’t tell anyone. As far as they know, I’m still the same old Della; sans a leg, with longer hair, and a tad more experience. Anyways, what about you? You’re as awake as I am.”

    “Who would I tell? The majority of people here are either more eager to hear about the Moon or still have a lot of mistrust for me, not that it isn’t justified,” Penumbra collected a mug and a tin of instant hot chocolate mix from a set of cupboards above the kettle as she talked before placing them on the counter and turning to Della. “And my own consciousness has, similarly to yours, taken to reminding me of my own guilt. As much as the planet Moon was my home before you, now I know all the wonders of Earth are as true as you say and now that the Moon has become full of memories I’d much rather forget, it isn’t my home anymore, although some part of me thinks maybe it should be. And let’s be honest, the circumstances I left in weren’t ideal.”

    There was a pause before the kettle whistled, breaking the tension that had been slowly growing throughout the couple’s conversation. Penni turned and busied herself with preparing her hot chocolate, similar to Della’s, and Della tried to stick her head back in her book.

    It took five minutes of uncomfortable silence, the radio playing quietly in the background, before Della broke the silence once again, having read the same paragraph five times without processing its contents.

    “Ugggggghhhhhhh,” She groaned, collapsing on the counter dramatically. “Penni, I’m boooooooorrrrrrrrrred.”

    Penni ignored Della’s display and turned to lean on the coffee counter, sipping her hot chocolate thoughtfully.

    “Penniiiiiii,” Della whined after a pause, slamming her book shut before jumping down from her perch and tossing it on the counter. “We should do something.”

    Penni blinked, startled out of screen-saver mode, before tilting her head slightly. “What do you suggest?”

    As if on cue, the soft music that had been delicately drifting around the kitchen faded out and the radio DJ announced the next song, a sappy slow love song that had been popular some ten years ago. Della lit up and started humming, swaying along with the melody and gently carrying herself towards Penumbra before stopping in front of her. She held her hand out to her and smiled softly.

    “Dance with me?”

    Penni almost reached for Della’s outstretched hand, but quickly stopped herself, looking at the duck with a wrinkled brow.

    “What’s wrong Penni?”

    “I- I cannot dance,” Penni admitted, looking away. “We didn’t dance on Planet Moon. I only learned what dance was when one of your offspring introduced me to it.”

    “That’s okay, I can teach you,” Della paused for a moment. “Well, unless one of the boys taught you to when they told you what it is.”

    There was another pause. Then Penumbra set her mug down on the counter and offered her hand for Della to take, allowing herself to be pulled neatly and gently to her dance partner’s chest.

    “That would be acceptable.”

    “Glad to hear it,” Della smiled, before starting her instruction. “Okay, so I might not have this down as an exact art, but my right hand goes on your back, here, your right hangs onto my shoulder, here.”

   Della and Penni arranged their hands with Della’s instruction, and soon they were standing in the outside left position, close enough to kiss had either of them worked up the courage.

    “Ready?” Della asked after a second of awkward silence.

    Penni gave a soft smile she reserved for Della alone. “Indeed.”

    “Just follow me, okay?”

    “Okay.” And the couple took off, rising and falling with the rhythm of the music as they spun around the kitchen softly.

    As they danced, something in Della settled slightly. The empty cavern left in her chest that’d been keeping her awake slowly calmed its flare and, as the Duck twin gazed at Penni, filled with a hurricane she’d only felt twice before. Her heart spun with the duo and Della couldn’t help but admire the moonlander in the golden-white kitchen lights, the way it caught on her sleep-ruffled hair, the periwinkle flush in her cheeks from exertion and adrenaline, and her focused frown as she concentrated on following Della without stepping on her in her oversized pyjamas.

    Meanwhile Penni’s heart stuttered in her chest as she focused on Della’s graceful footwork, trying to ignore the fact that her dance partner was only in shorts and a vest top, any sign of her jacket, warm long-sleeved shirt, practical brown shorts, or signature blue scarf left in her room.

    It was all too soon when the song ended, leaving Della and Penni standing close in the silence, staring at each other as the room filled with a new type of tension that neither of them felt like they could break. Then the moment was gone. The DJ on the radio started loudly announcing another song and Della was shaken out of her haze. She quickly shook her head and let go of Penni, stepping away before playfully bowing to her dance partner.

    “Thank you for the dance, m’lady,” She giggled, looking up at Penni from her 90˚ bow.

    Penni rolled her eyes affectionately and went back to leaning on the counter next to the kettle, focusing on her now cold drink. Della huffed a laugh at the response and hopped back onto the counter she’d been sitting on, picking up her book so she could attempt to regain her focus.

    The words still floated on the page, and this time it took three minutes for someone to break the new wave of silence, or at least Penni tried to before being interrupted by an exhausted Donald ambling into the kitchen, breaking the tension with the smoothness of a knife.

    “Della, Penni,” He rasped, stumbling towards the counter Penni was leaning against, prompting her to shuffle aside to allow him room to check and then boil the kettle.

   “Heya, Don,” Della yawned in response, putting down the book and stretching her arms above her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

    “I’m not,” Donald responded grumpily. “I’ve got work.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah,” Donald tapped his feet on the tiles of the kitchen floor as he waited for the kettle, leaning on the counter next to Penni. “From your question, I’m assuming you haven’t gone to sleep yet. You should probably go to bed, Dell, last time you didn’t sleep all night you crashed the plane.”

    Della rolled her eyes. “I’m not flying today, Don,” She paused and looked down, frowning softly. “I don’t even have my Joyrider anymore.”

    Della shook her head and took a steadying breath, quickly regaining her composure before configuring her face back into a bright smile.

    “Not flying doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep,” Donald sighed, turning around to the kettle just as it whistled and taking out a mug and the instant coffee he’d stashed at the back of the cupboard.

    “Eh, you’re right, but I’m still staying up,” Della crossed her arms.

    “Whatever, your funeral.”

    Della stuck her tongue out at her twin as he finished making his coffee and strolled out of the room, leaving the gaping silence hovering once again.

    Penni considered her options for a few minutes before opening her mouth once again, ready to say something even if she wasn't sure what, before she was once again interrupted. This time it was by Della hopping down from her perch, smiling sheepishly at Penni.

    “Look, maybe Don’s right, it might be my funeral if I don’t go to bed, and I can’t let that happen,” She put up fingerguns as she backed up towards the kitchen door. “Night Penni!”

    Then the door swung and Della was gone, leaving Penni with a weird aching in her chest she’d never felt before. She resigned herself to a lack of sleep that night. 

[ithilwen-lionheart]

Love, lead me on - Legolas x Priestess!Reader - Chapter 4 pt. 1/1

Alternatively: With a downcast smile, you pierced my heart like a dagger...

[ Work Text ]

After giving me a smile with downcast eyes, you suddenly grew up

That was like a sharp knife split my chest apart...

There stood Legolas, clad in the finest silver tunic that reached his knees, dark brown pants and matching boots. His entire outfit screamed sophistication and elegance, his hair in its usual perfect braids, but his eyes...

His supposedly stunning and enticingly piercing blue eyes that always seemed so alive just looked too tired, sad and emotionally spent that it physically hurt her.

He was smiling but it was so mournful that Celine just hopes he would stop straining himself by pretending. His gaze then fell to the ground, defeated, as if he'd not only seen war but something much more tormenting.

And it stabbed her with more pain than a jagged saw would ever inflict on her body.

Which of course, makes perfect sense, considering the hole the elven prince had dug himself into.

And then she remembers, of course he'd end up like that. She almost forgotten that she had seen Kili with Tauriel earlier. She was way too caught up laughing with Thorin that she couldn't pay them any heed back then.

It didn't matter whatever it is that they were doing because the war had been won and Legolas had all but lost this one.

"Am I the only one noticing or is it getting a bit too stuffy here, dear prince? Shall we head outside for some fresh air?"

And Celine is just about to lose it too.

-----

--It's not that I want to be loved, but I want to love all of you

"You knew this would happen, did you not?" Celine began right after they got out and into one of Erebor's near nonexistent balconies.

It's not as elegant as the ones they have in Mirkwood, Rivendell or Lothlorien. Neither does it offer any splendid scenery down below. All one could see from where they are were the bloodied battlefields from where they fought earlier, and whatever is left of the -once again- ruined city of Dale.

The morbid side of her thinks that the setting somehow matches the mood they are both currently in, perfectly.

But they aren't here to make small talk about the differences of dwarven and elvish aesthetics and so she kept the thoughts to herself.

Legolas made his way to the crumbled stone railings without a word.

Celine didn't really have much to do but wait for his response, and so she did.

There's nothing she could say to make things better for him anyways.

A few minutes had passed and she thanked the valars for her expansive patience when it came to the prince.

"Yes." he hung his head low and slumped his shoulders from what she could see of his back.

Cautiously making her way towards him as if she's walking on thin ice -which she probably is doing at the moment- she voiced out that one question that had been nagging at her ever since, "Then why did you still do it? Why have you kept pushing the inevitable aside? If you knew you would end up hurting, why?"

And she ponders, she should be asking herself pretty much the same question as well.

Why?

And she'll come up with a pathetic excuse like-

"I cannot. Could not stop. I have tried, multiple times to... To forget. But I couldn't. It had always been and will always be there on the back of my mind... And before I know it, I am back and stuck on the same place as I had been before." He didn't turn to her and just stared straight ahead, glimmers appearing on the corners of his eyes before he bowed and held his head in between his hands, breaths shuddering and racking his body.

"Have you ever tried looking some place else?" Celine began softly, trying her best not to choke because seeing him in this much pain because of someone else is beyond excruciating for her. Reminding herself that she should be the one comforting the prince and not the other way around, she resumed her job of rubbing one hand against his back in a futile attempt to tame the unpleasant shakes threatening to shatter his fragile weeping form.

She was answered by a furious shake of his head and a broken voice saying,

"I-I could not..."

"You could not or you would not?" If there was even a hint of bitterness in her tone, Celine made sure that it was evident enough for the oblivious prince to notice. The priestess doesn't know how long she could take this merciless twist of fate before she just breaks down here and then herself.

Legolas finally faced her as she posted the question, with his brows furowed in confusion, "Have you not figured out that if I could, then I would have already done that ages ago?"

Lavender eyes widened at this, warmth spreading across her cheeks, "S-so you k-knew?" She cursed herself from stuttering.

So this is it.

"I knew what?" He slightly pulled back, certifiably on the exact opposite track of what she is expecting.

No,

He's even more dense than she had originally thought.

His words practically stung that she quickly retrieved her hands as if she'd just been burnt and took a couple of steps back. Eyes wide in disbelief.

"By the valars, Legolas!" She whispered somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, all air literally knocked out of her lungs with the effort it took to keep herself from screaming in frustration.

-this is it.

Tears began clouding her lilac hues as she clutched her shattered chest. All these times she thought she was being lucid enough, all these times she thought he could at least somehow feel that she cares for him badly, more than absolutely necessary.

"How can you not see it?!" Her lips were quivering and every nerve inside her body was quaking but she couldn't bother minding them at the moment.

She has so much to say, so much questions and reprimands piling up from the deepest pits of her stomach just waiting until they could finally spill out. It was as if she had a heart full of explosives that could go off anytime after she had spent the last of her wavering forbearance, as if it was a match just waiting to be lighted up by circumstances.

Circumstances as unfortunate and ruining as this.

And all was out before she could even attempt to reign all the words back in to mull over their applicability and the tone she's supposed to use as she spoke them. It was all cursory as if her mind had finally failed her and her damaged heart had taken over,

"How can you not see how much I care for you?

How can you not realize that I would be willing to do everything just to keep you happy?

How can you not notice the way my eyes would linger long after you looked away?

How can you not see that I would be willing to throw my life away just so that I could keep you safe?

That I'd rather have my heart on the line if that would mean yours would be happy even if it'll be in the arms of another?

How can you not realize how your minute smile would take it's effect on me?

Is everything that I had done not enough to make you see?" Her voice finally broke and her gloved hands flew over to cover her mouth upon realizing that she had finally spewed all these words when she tried her hardest not to make it look as if the prince had made her do it and she blamed him for it or that she would've wanted something in return for something she had done even though the ellon had never asked her to in the first place.

But still, what was done cannot be undone and Celine was sure that it all came out as if she was desperately asking the prince to at least take notice of what she had sacrificed and the ends she would be willing to go to just for him and his approval.

That was precisely when she lost it to one heart shattering cry as she fell to the ground,

"H-how c-can you n-not notice that I-I l-love you all this t-time?" She barely managed to get it through sobs and hiccups as she frantically tried to rid her face of the salty trails out of habit.

"Celine-"

"I love you, Legolas, okay?!" She shouts and tries to stand up on wobbly legs. The priestess swears that had that party inside been quieter, it would've already been heard by everyone else.

Celine couldn't stop the words from flowing out, not now when she had already started it, this might be the one and only chance she'll ever get with her courage and pain enough to push the words she'd kept in herself for too long, finally out. Cracked voice and messed up face be damned.

The blond ellon was just about half on his way off of his position on the railings to assist her when her knees threatened to finally give up but she rose one hand up to stop him. She couldn't trust herself to bear his touches, not when she's breaking down, not when she's prone and vulnerable because she might do something he'll hate her for and she'll regret.

She took her hand back and clenched her chest with it along with her other one, as if the gesture would keep her shattered heart from entirely falling out, "I love you so much that it hits me tenfold whenever I see you hurting because of Tauriel, because I know that if I had only been given the chance then... Then..." Celine made an inner oath never to blame a single thing on Legolas, or Tauriel or on fate because she knew she brought this upon herself. Well aware that everything are mere consequences of her decisions and actions.

Never to blame and never to post herself as better than the elleth Legolas had loved -still loves- because who on earth is she anyways?

"If just.. If you would just see me..." Her voice went out pleading and desperate despite of her efforts not to. The tears kept on coming as if there would never be an end to them, twin waterfalls that kept on running for at last they've been given an outlet.

That was only then that Celine had realized she'd been keeping this much tears for the prince. She'd wished that this day would never come, he didn't need to see her break -especially not when he himself is beyond repair.

They couldn't cry here and cuddle in each other's arms and expect everything to get better for the two of them somehow, they don't comfort and build each other's hearts and end up with each other in the process.

It doesn't work that way. This isn't some fairy tale a mother would read to her children. In fairy tales, there would be magic that would keep people from dying, those in love would end up with the person that they treasure and live happily ever after.

They don't break like this and mourn over their unrequited feelings. In fairy tales, there are no such things.

Maybe there's a reason why fairies are mere legend in Middle Earth. They come up with such ridiculously idealistic tales the world is better off without.

'I should not be despairing like so,' the bluenette shook the negative thoughts away and brushed the tears off her eyes once more as she took one steadying breath and stood as straight as she can.

It had already been a given that she wouldn't notice the prince who was now merely a feet away from her, considering how she had majority of her concentration focused on not letting herself be swallowed by such cataclysmal thoughts.

One cold hand laid against her cheek and freezing was the last thing she had expected his touch to feel. He'd always seemed so warm and welcoming when it came to Tauriel.

His voice, his movements, eyes, gentle grasps and steps.

But she isn't Tauriel.

Celine would never be Tauriel.

Ever.

"Celine, I... My apologies.. "

Still, she looked up even as his own tears went down to mingle with her own as he bowed his head, flaxen strands curtaining the pain that they both shared and had plastered on their wrecked faces.

His eyes were clamped shut and his entire features were contorted in pain, one large hand was trembling on her cheek as the other gripped her shoulder for support. A support she'd be all too willing to give.

"It's alright." Her tinkling voice soothed, reaching up to relieve his face of both the drying and brand new tears with trembling hands of her own.

His eyes fluttered open at this, piercing blue orbs shimmering with a thousand more tears, eyebrows furrowing in confusion because why would it be alright?

And of course Celine knew what that tiny gesture meant.

"It was my choice to love you. You did not tell me, no one did. Not your father, not the elves, or the dwarves, men or even the valars themselves. It was not fate or circumstances that lead me to this. It is my actions. And for it, I regret nothing." She answered truthfully, barely keeping herself from placing the kiss someplace else that would not be his cheek.

The elf could only blink, frozen in place, still broken yet bafflement had -for once- dominated the pain,

"Celine, you are well aware that-"

The priestess shook her head, a timid smile on her lips as she pulled away and let her hands slip off his face to pat his sturdy chest playfully,

"I figured I should at least do that before-" she trailed off as her lavender hues wandered off to the side.

Legolas felt something stir in him. Maybe it had something to do with the state he found her in earlier with Oakenshield.

"Before?" She didn't answer and his suspicion grew all the more unpleasantly potent, "Before what, Celine?"

'Valars, not her too...' It always had to be the dwarves doesn't it.

Celine only takes a shuddering breath and the Sindarin Prince feels every nerve in his body quake with each scintilla of movement.

The hand that was on her cheek moved to her shoulder as he stared into her eyes, the intensity in those shades of blue enough to voice his question out even without him needing to tilt his head to urge her to continue.

"I'm going back to Lothlorien."

His expression was unreadable but his hands went limp and dropped to his sides.

Celine smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, not wanting to dampen the prince's eyes over again. Surely he wouldn't mind her being gone.

"And please do not feel obligated to love me. All I could ask of you is to allow me to at least love you until nothing more is left of me." Taking his hand in hers one last time, she kissed his palm and went off to leave.

Not once bothering to turn back to see the prince's reaction because she could only take too much hurt in a single day, and this particular one had given her her fill of the dreaded emotion for what she could see as the entirety of her lifetime.

[ To be continued in Chapter 5 ]

[mysticmylifeisamess-enger]

Forget Me Not - Ch. 12

Pairing: Saeran/Reader

Word count: 1,774

Summary: Saeyoung & Saeran pay V a visit after receiving an alarming letter

Warning: Major spoilers for Ray route, Saeyoung’s route & secret ending.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the late update, I’m hoping to get a regular posting schedule for this soon cause I do want to spend more time on this, considering I love this fic with my everything 

AO3 Link | Chapters Masterlist

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As soon as the door closed behind him, Saeyoung leaned against it to steady himself. His knees threatening to buckle under him as hot tears spilled. His hand clasped over his mouth, trying to suppress the sobs so his brother wouldn’t hear. ’This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,’ he thought to himself repeatedly. The tight feeling in his chest making it hard to breath properly and his brain finally processing the gravity of the situation.

There were few moments in their life that brought on a fear like this. A handful of instances where they thought this exact thing would happen. Those few times someone would recognize them or he thought they had found them out only for it to be a coincidence or fluke. But he should have known what this man was capable of, how powerful his influence could be.

The panic was evident as he fumbled for his phone, quickly dialing the only person he could think to turn to. His mind racing with all sorts of outcomes as he heard the ringing on the line before a short ‘hello’ cut his thoughts.

“V! We need to talk, are you home?”

“Yes, but what’s going on?” V asked, taken aback to hear the distress in his voice.

“I-I think he found us, and I think he’s gonna do something. V, we’ve been so careful, I don’t know how this happened,” he stammered, choking back sobs as he continued.

“Saeyoung, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

“Someone left a note at our door telling us they knew who our father was. I can’t tell who wrote it, but I have a feeling it might have been him.” 

“Come over as soon as you can and bring the note. And please be careful.”

“O-Okay, I’ll see you soon,” not waiting for a response, his hand fell to his side in a defeated manner. It was like he could see the pieces of his life that were held together tightly for years crumbling in front of him. The life he built to desperately protect his brother, the one important thing in his life, was falling from his grasp.

He collected his thoughts, trying to compose himself before he had to face his twin once again. He knew he had to be put on the brave face for the two, to be the rationale one in this situation. But his mind couldn’t help but wander to all the worst case scenarios, just how exactly this all could play out if they weren’t careful.

As his hand wrapped around the door handle to face his twin, he put those thoughts aside, knowing that in this moment, they just had to talk to V. He could solve this. He could figure out what to do. He’s going to know exactly how to handle this.

Opening the door to see Saeran, he could see the panic in his every little movement. His hands were shaking with every action, an unspoken tension thick in the air. Saeyoung was sure that the two were thinking the same thing, ‘how could this be happening?’

“I, uh, I just talked to V,” Saeyoung said, breaking the long-standing silence. He could see the wheels turning in Saeran’s mind as he looked up for a second before returning to the work at hand.

“We’re going over once you’re done here.”

“Alright,” was all he could bring himself to say after a long pause, but even with just that, Saeyoung could hear the absolute fear underneath it.

Once they locked up shop, they made the trek over to V’s. The utter silence in the air between the two was nerve-wracking as they walked side by side. The most unsettling was the sullen demeanor they both had, each lost in their own thoughts without so much as a word spoken. They both knew what the other was thinking, but couldn’t bring themselves to talk about it out loud, instead glancing over at each other.

To the outside perspective, they looked nervous, as if they were constantly on guard. It was evident in the way Saeran jumped with every little sound he heard, looking around to make sure it was nothing and how Saeyoung’s hand toyed with the cross around his neck, mouthing the silent prayer looping in his mind.

As they neared V’s house, Saeran could feel an unsettling aura coming from the place. He wasn’t sure if it was the circumstance, or being there so late at night, but it had his every nerve on edge. Just as the two reached the steps and knocked on the door, Saeran heard a ‘ding’ coming from his pocket, startling him for a second before he realized it was his phone. Looking at the screen, he saw your name along with a text— a sincere smile forming as he read it.

‘The flowers you sent are beautiful, you are so sweet to have done that <3 Would have loved to have seen you deliver them, but Saeyoung told me you were busy. Anyways, I’ve got two-lips I’d like to deliver to you tomorrow morning so I’ll see you then!’

The smile on his face when he read it quickly faded as he physically felt his heart wrench. Every word of it was like a needle that pricked at his skin through no fault of your own. He wanted nothing but to protect you in all this, to make sure they couldn’t get to you. You, of all people, shouldn’t be put in danger like he is.

Before he could think of a response, the front opened to the tall, mint-haired man.

“Come in,” he gestured as he took a step aside, ushering the two in. They wasted no time in entering and shutting the door behind them, handing over the letter for V to read.

As he looked over the note, the twins took one look around the room and noticed that it seemed emptier. A place they considered their home away from home looked and felt a little off in this moment. Though one missing piece did seem to stand out from the rest.

“Where’s Rika?” Saeyoung asked, saying aloud what they were both thinking.

“She’s out of town at the moment,” he responded nonchalantly, still examining the paper at hand.

“Day after the party?” Saeran pressed, brows knitting in his direction.

“It was, uh, an emergency,” he paused, “but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Alright,” Saeran said, watching V as he continued to look over the note. He looked as if he was trying to decipher the letters themselves rather than the message put together. An intense, scrutinizing gaze on his features that could burn holes through the paper.

After a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity, V looked up from the note to meet the twins’ face. His expression was unreadable, looking at it once more before shaking his head.

“I know this is going to sound weird and a little alarming, but you don’t have to worry about this,” he said simply, earning a ‘what’ in unison.

“Trust me when I tell you that I know exactly who left this and you don’t have to worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean you know? Who left this?!” Saeran asked, his voice getting louder with every word.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, it’ll only cause more problems. I know this sounds odd, and I understand that this is scary-“

“Scared doesn’t even begin to cover what I’ve felt in the last few hours!” Saeran intervened, a frustration bubbling in his chest, “Do you not understand what this man can do?! If he sent this, we’re in danger! He has the whole country at his fingertips, if he comes for us, it’s not just Saeyoung and me!”

“He didn’t send this.”

“Then who did?!”

“I can’t tell you that, please just trust me.”

“V, I can’t trust you if you don’t tell me! Who the hell sent this?! Who knows that he’s our father?!?”

“Saeran, I think we should go-“

“I’m not leaving until I get an answer! Who left it, V?!”

He was locked in V’s colorless gaze, searching for a hint of resolve or answer only to be met with eyes that were begging. Begging for trust or forgiveness he still couldn’t tell, but they at least held some of the V he came to know. It held the smallest amount of fear, but fronted with a cool and collected demeanor. And with that, Saeran almost knew what he had to do.

“Okay,” Saeran sighed after a minute, much more calm than before, “I’ll trust you. But you have to promise me you can take care of this.”

“I promise I’ll resolve this.”

“And promise me that no one around us is going to get hurt because of this,” Saeran said, much more serious. A silent plea in his eyes to let him know just who he meant.

“I promise no one will get hurt, especially not MC,” V said without a hint of a waver in his declaration, leaving Saeran silent for a minute as he eyed the taller man.

“Saeyoung, let’s go,” he said simply, turning on his heel towards the door, the red-head following shortly behind and leaving V alone with the letter.

Once they left and were out of sight, Saeran couldn’t quite shake a feeling that he knew Saeyoung had to be thinking about. A gnawing feeling in the pit of his gut that he wanted to avoid, but it only seemed to multiply from that interaction.

“Do you think V’s been a little different these last few months?” Saeran asked, breaking the silence.

“It could have to do with what happened to his eyes,” Saeyoung responded, “But that doesn’t explain why Rika’s been so different too.”

“Yeah,” he said, pausing as he thought over his next words, “I just can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen, or maybe something has already happened.”

“I hate to agree, but I get that feeling as well,” he said, avoiding eye contact as they kept walking, “What are we gonna do now?”

“I think we should lay low for a bit. I don’t want to distrust V, but there just isn’t something right and I don’t want to risk anything. We won’t be opening the shop for a while.”

Saeyoung fell silent, thinking over those last words. The shop means everything to him, more than he leads on. For him to close it, even for a few days, must mean he’s beyond terrified.

[carseatheadrest]

regarding your analysis of C&L: you mentioned that you don't connect with it as much because it is a more general account of grief, while ACL@M has it's own explicit narrative. comparing Twin Fantasy and Teens of Denial, could you say that your own art has moved in the direction of C&L? TF has a very clear narrative that is relatable in a much deeper way than ToD because it tells a specific, personal story. i love both albums, but your analysis aligns with my feelings about your project.

I’ve seen the term “relatability” thrown around a lot in conversations where people compare, usually in a disappointed tone of voice, ToD with TF. I can’t say I really know what it means. I wrote Denial in the same way that I’ve written every album I’ve made since Twin Fantasy: I’ve started with personal experiences, and attempted to tie them together with more universal sentiments, to create a work with a coherent conceptual arc that stands as something larger than myself. I’ve never written an album like ACL@M. Twin Fantasy was every bit an attempt to create something universal as Denial was; I specifically remember writing Bodys to be an anthem, something people could sing along to with no knowledge of me or my “story”. This was mixed with more diaristic elements elsewhere, obviously, but only inasmuch as it serviced the record as an independent object for it to be diaristic. I’ve never felt that the most important thing on a record is to “tell my story”. That’s not what art is about to me; that’s not how the art that is important to me has affected me. I think every record I’ve made does tell a story, but it is only mine in the sense that my name is on the credits. 

Denial is created in the exact same manner, to the exact same proposed end; it’s a diaristic work of art. Songs like “Drugs With Friends” are specific and personal in a way that I shouldn’t really have to point out. The album tells a story just as TF does, propelled by its musical and conceptual structure, and by repeated motifs and images. The mirroring of song titles, the splitting of sides into “Hometown Hero” and “Cosmic Hero”, the recurring image of being “split in two” - these are not random upcroppings any more than the images and patterns on Twin Fantasy are random. I structured them in a very specific way, to create a specific unfolding of meaning. 

The real difference between these two albums is content. Twin Fantasy is a romance; Teens of Denial is a bildungsroman. Most people will prefer a romance over a bildungsroman, as it speaks to a more essential aspect of humanity. I can’t protest this, and I feel the same way - I think romance is inherently a stronger genre, being (presumably) about two people instead of one. Denial is by no means one of my favorite records. I wrote it during a period in my life where I was not feeling a lot of love. Its tone and content reflect that. I made it because that’s what I do - records have always marked the various phases of my life, and I needed to get out of this one, so I needed to make a record. I think it is what it is, and it’s good for what it is, and other people without a lot of love in their lives might relate to it more strongly than anything else I could have created. If you can’t relate, then consider yourself lucky, and consider checking out one of my many other albums on other subjects.

I think, though, that the reason that a vague term like “relatability” has been selected as appropriate in driving this discourse is that the discourse is based more on how the album was promoted than what the album actually is, when you sit down and listen to it. When we’d wrapped up the record and I was discussing with our publicist what the best approach would be for promoting it, I sent her a track-by-track breakdown of the album, explaining the overarching narrative, and how each song fit in context. Ultimately, we decided to leave this aspect of the record unspoken in promotional material, and focus instead on the strength of the songs as individual works. Thus, the narrative that subsequently built up around the album was about its songs, their accessibility, their potential as works of mass consumption. I had assumed, perhaps blithely, that people who preferred concept records to pop songs, who sought meaning through the building of ideas through a record rather than an immediate emotional release provided by an explicit turn of phrase, would encounter the album on their own time, listen to it while reading the lyrics, and discover that it did, in fact, function on this level as well. I underestimated the power of promotional narrative to influence people’s beliefs about what a thing actually is. This is an idea that has always haunted me, because I don’t speak through press releases, I speak through my art. Most artists do. A press release is something designed to get people to look at art - it should, under no circumstances, be able to replace the art, to override its meaning through memetic repetition. (This is also a large part of what bothered me with C&L; I was tired of seeing people trying to interpret lines like “You checked your texts while I masturbated” under an unshakeable assumption that it must be about his mother’s death.) You must not allow the world to convince you to consume art like this. Art so rarely falls into your lap unannounced, but you must make the effort to pretend as such each time you enter a work; forget what you know about the artist, what you’ve heard other people say about the work, and try to experience it as direct communication. That is the only way you will be able to understand the art as it was intended to be understood.