#echo-bleu

[thelordofgifs]

Congrats on the milestone! How about Maglor or Maedhros and jewellery, from the worldbuilding prompt list?

Digging up this old prompt for @maedhrosmaglorweek day 3! Have both of them.

"You will jingle as you walk," says Maedhros, "they will hear you coming for miles."

Maglor laughs, and tosses his head so that the dangling silver earrings chime. "A poor minstrel I will make, if my jewellery plays more music than I! No, Nelyo, these will not do." He removes them carefully, and lays them aside in the growing pile of precious metal heaped upon the side-table.

Maedhros, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of his chambers in Himring, watches him with a faint little frown. "You must choose something," he says; "you cannot go to the feast dressed as plainly as a Vanya monk."

"My songbird's voice is adornment enough," Maglor says blithely, "and anyhow I did not come here to pick out my own gems. We must make some progress on deciding what to bring as gifts."

From the chest Maedhros draws out a long string of pearls, meant to be draped three times around the neck for the full effect. A souvenir from a summer Maglor spent in Alqualondë, long before the light of the Trees went out, or indeed before their father took it into his mind to preserve it. Maglor chose the pearls himself, going up and down a hundred beachside stalls to pick out those most perfectly round and white, and had Finrod his cousin teach him how to string them on a thread of silk before presenting them to Maedhros. How lovely they had looked set against his brother's fair skin; they had seemed almost to glow.

"These – these stones," Maedhros says, hesitant, "we could gift them to the envoys of the Sindar, perhaps."

Maglor swallows. "They are pearls, Nelyo," he says, keeping his voice light. Maedhros blinks at him, and he explains, "They come from the sea, from oysters. We used to get them from the Teleri." He pauses, and then, when Maedhros still looks bewildered, adds, "I do not think it good politics to gift them to the kin of those we slaughtered, whether or not they know of it."

Maedhros' face darkens. "You are right – Nolofinwë's host will murmur to see them, besides." He gives the pearls another troubled look and then sets them aside.

No use, Maglor has learned, in dwelling on these missing spaces in his brother's memory. They frustrate Maedhros enough as it is: and it is nothing personal, Maglor knows, that he has forgotten the pearls were a gift from Maglor. Their Enemy has taken from Maedhros things far more precious than the recollection of a trinket. It does not sting, that Maedhros does not remember.

Maedhros has turned his attention back to the chest before him. These are all his personal jewels, salvaged from their father's house in Tirion in the brief hours they had to pack before setting out on their ill-fated march. In the years of his captivity Maglor would indulge himself, sometimes, and open the chest, and admire the treasure within as though he were yet a fanciful child trying on his brother's baubles; and he would tell himself that he would hear Maedhros' laughing voice at the door any moment now, saying, Are you going through my things again, little magpie?

Maedhros does not much like to wear jewellery, these days. He says that it chafes against his skin, and on darker days that it puts him in mind of chains; occasionally he will consent to Maglor pinning back his hair with a bejewelled clip, or to an unobtrusive pair of earrings, but all his fine gold necklaces and ornate jewel-encrusted bracelets are useless now.

"Too few gemstones," he says now with a frown; "they were more marvellous than the metalwork, and would be better received."

Maglor thinks with some regret of a fine set of rubies his father had made him for his two hundredth begetting-day. Like all the house of Fëanor's best jewels, they were locked in the vault at Formenos, and stolen by Morgoth when he ransacked it.

"I know not how things are done in Doriath," he says, "but in any case the Mithrim Sindar are not over-fond of jewels, much like their Falmari kin. I do not think we need worry that our gifts will seem poor to them; in truth they will know not what to do with them. They wear flowers in their hair oftener than gems."

"It may be different in Doriath," Maedhros argues. "Findaráto says of Menegroth that the very walls are studded with jewels. Perhaps a gift of our own best would go some way towards earning Elwë's favour."

Maglor frowns. "Think you he will come himself, then?"

"Perhaps," says Maedhros, "but even if he does not we must not seem to be ungenerous. Many of those in Nolofinwë's host will be searching for any excuse to name us so." He passes his hand over his eyes, looking tired. Maglor only arrived yesterday, but he has his suspicions about how long his brother had gone without sleep before that. "We must choose presents for them too—"

"You gave Nolofinwë a crown," says Maglor; "surely he will be sated with that!"

The jest makes Maedhros laugh, as it would not coming from any of their other brothers, edged as it would be with resentment or mockery. Maglor is awfully, selfishly glad of that.

"Come here," says Maedhros, "you are distracting me. Help me choose what to give our own kin, at least."

Maglor settles on the floor beside him. "This for Findaráto," he says, picking out a necklace of sapphires that Maedhros never much liked in the first place, "it will go well with his eyes."

Maedhros favours him with a smile. "Well chosen," he says. Then he finds a very fine emerald, set into the front of a copper circlet but easily prised free, and examines it thoughtfully. This, Maglor remembers, is a relic of their father's first experiments with the art of capturing light; it does not shine with a light of its own as do the Silmarils, but catches and magnifies all the daylight coming through the window in a most pleasing manner, reflecting them back in every shade of green imaginable. Maedhros sets it aside, and when Maglor casts him a questioning look blushes and says only, "For Finno."

The next piece Maedhros draws out of the chest is a golden bangle, from Fëanor's filigree phase: the metal worked into the shapes of trees and flowers and leaping horses, studded all over with tiny gems in a multitude of colours. Their father was in a good mood, when he made this, Maglor recalls. The precision of the work appealed to him. Perhaps it was that more than the loveliness of the finished product that made Maedhros fond of it.

"You always liked this one," says Maedhros, his eyes warm now with recollection. "The number of times it turned up on your dressing-table, after I had spent hours searching for it! Here." And he slips the bangle onto Maglor's wrist.

Maglor tenses, forces himself to relax, and takes it off again. "I do not want it," he says, "thank you, Nelyo."

Maedhros blinks at him. "I cannot wear it," he says, "not a bangle, it will be – too tight." He shudders briefly and then masters himself. "You might as well take it, and then someone can have use of it."

You do not want him back, Celegorm spat once; all your mourning is performance only. You are quite content to sit here wearing his crown and playing dress-up with his jewels, in truth.

"I do not want it," Maglor says again.

"Káno," Maedhros says, very gently. He tilts Maglor's chin up to examine his face. "What troubles you?"

But how can Maglor tell him, I am not now the child you knew in Valinor, the little magpie who so loved to be adorned? How can he say, I too was sated with a crown? He cannot unburden himself to Maedhros, who so depends on him to be merry and bright and unruffled. He has lost the right to do so.

"It will get in the way," he says, "when I play my harp." Then he summons up a smile and says, cheerfully, "Five cousins yet to choose gifts for, and then you promised you would let me practice my new Sindarin songs after we dine! We had better hurry." And he turns back to the chest before Maedhros can object.

[emyn-arnens]

For the five sentence meme if you're still taking those: "There was obvious tension in Faramir's posture."

This one got away from me! I've been ruminating a lot lately about Faramir's and Aragorn's disparate visions for Gondor, and it all spilled out here. (Five sentences game.)

There was obvious tension in Faramir's posture as he read the letter the messenger had delivered to the door of their chambers, apologizing for the lateness of the hour.

Éowyn put down the comb she had been brushing her hair with, troubled by the disquiet she read in Faramir's face. “Is something the matter?” Though the light in their chambers was dim, for the hour was indeed late, she could still discern the king's seal on the back of the letter.

“Aragorn intends to press farther into Rhûn,” Faramir said, refolding the letter, “to quell the Easterlings there and reclaim Gondor’s territory of old around the Sea of Rhûn. He wishes to hold a council and hear his lords’ minds on the matter.”

Éowyn rose to join him, and he handed the letter to her. “You think the campaign ill-advised,” she said after reading the missive. She studied him: A line of worry scored his brow, and tension drew the lines of his body tight.

“Even when Gondor had control of those lands, they were tenuously held, and Gondor has not now the power or population it did in those days to hold the land with a great force of men,” Faramir said, moving to his desk to collect a map and spread it out across their bed. “The Sea of Rhûn and the lands just to the east of it marked the farthest eastern border of Gondor during the days of warring and expansion.” Éowyn watched as he drew with his forefinger an outline of the border on the map.

“Such far-flung borders were hard bought, and Gondor has paid dearly for doing so, for it was Gondor’s own roads of old in the South and East that the Haradrim used to hasten their armies to the Pelennor and that the Wainriders used to invade Gondor many years ago. I fear that in doing this, it would merely repeat the follies of the past and weaken Gondor—if not now, then in many years hence. I would not have our children or our children’s children suffer from a needless conquest that will only breed future trouble.”

“But that is not the only reason that this troubles you,” Éowyn said, placing her hand on his forearm so that he turned to look at her. Worry pinched at his brow, and she longed to smooth the lines of concern away with her thumb. “It is the war and conquest itself that is the chief matter. It is not what you wished for Gondor—to be a mistress of slaves, to be feared. And that seems now a certainty.”

They had spoken of such things before, when the early campaigns in the South and East had seemed less routs than conquests, and Faramir had feared that Minas Tirith was to become the cruel mistress of broken lands and peoples. But the campaigns had drawn to an end soon after, and Aragorn had looked to rebuilding other parts of his realm, and it seemed such fears had been dispelled.

“It is not what I wished for Gondor,” Faramir said. Sorrow hollowed his words.

Éowyn drew him nearer and took his hands in hers. “What will you do?” 

“I will do my duty. I will speak my mind at the council, and if I can, I will speak to Aragorn in private and seek to dissuade him from this course. But if he will not be swayed, and if the council is of the king’s mood, I will govern as Steward while he is away. But I will not do it gladly.”

Grieved by his words, Éowyn took him in her arms, and he leaned wearily against her, pressing his forehead to hers. 

[nordleuchten]

what is the best source for information on georges lafayette?

Dear Anon,

that is a wonderful question! You will shoot me a message, if you found the answer, yes? :-)

But all jokes aside, it is a little tricky to find information on Georges due to several reasons. He never wrote his own Memoirs, he has always very gladly occupied his fathers shadow and no historian has yet decided to dedicate their professional life to Georges. If you just search for the term “Georges Lafayette” most results will deal with the relation between George Washington and La Fayette. Still, there are some resources I can recommend if you want to do some research.

Lafayette in America in 1824 and 1825, Volume 1 and Lafayette in America in 1824 and 1825, Volume 2. Both books were written by La Fayette’s secretary Auguste Levasseur and give great insight into La Fayette’s Tour of 1824/25 – including Georges, who accompanied his father.

Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette by Jules Germain Cloquet. Cloquet was the family’s physician and a friend. The focus of this books lies once again with the older La Fayette but nonetheless offers a view of Georges and his position within the family.

Life of Madame de Lafayette by Virginie, Marquise de Lasteyrie du Sallant is primarily concerned with Adrienne but, for example, details Georges’ whereabouts and “journeys” during Adrienne’s imprisonment in France.

The best thing there is, are letters. Sadly, Georges’ letters have never been compiled and published but that does not have to stop us! Founders Online has a number of letters about and by Georges (here and here). The letters that are written about Georges are mainly between Alexander Hamilton and George Washington during the early 1790’s when Georges was in America and later between La Fayette and Thomas Jeffersons (but also James Madison and others) when they updated each other regularly about their families. The Library of Congress has a few handwritten letters by Georges to George Washington (and a few others). Georges Washington’s Mount Vernon also had a few letters from Georges to members of the Washington-Parke-Custis-family, but as far as I knew they are only partially digitalized.

The University of Chicago has a number of letters by Georges La Fayette – quite the treasure chest. Same goes for the Archives départementales de Seine-et-Marne. The family’s manor La Grange is located in this department and the archives have a webpage and a great PDF-file on the family. Again, La Fayette is placed in the spotlight but there are also a few but highly interesting tidbits about Georges.

Then we have the Paris Archives, État civil reconstitué (XVIe-1859) in France. There you find documents like birth-, marriage- and death-certificates.

Last but not least, Georges’ political opinions are partially documented in the Archives Parlementaires (huge thank-you to @echo-bleu for helping me finding these.)

I hope you are able to find the information you are looking for and I hope you have/had a lovely day!

[leucisticpuffin]

For the word game: flower?

From we will make this place our home, a lesson in botany:

“What’s this flower?” I would ask, pointing to a little plant with small white flowers and heart-shaped seedpods, and Linher told me it was called shepherd’s purse; or a taller plant growing on the roadside with long feathery leaves and heads of creamy-white flowers – that was yarrow, and Linher said there were old stories about it healing wounds made by iron; or a plant like a nettle with circlets of pink flowers – that was red dead-nettle, and quite harmless.

And from my other WIP, coirë:

“Look, Russo,” he exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “Even here there are flowers!”

New shoots surrounded the slender trees; bladelike leaves pushed bravely up to colour the bank green – and, yes, there were flowers: delicate petals of ice-white, suspended like hanging lanterns upon finely-wrought stems.    

It was not a surprise to learn that his uncle’s people held them dear, the first promise of winter’s ending; but it was the flower’s tenacity that struck Russandol.

(there are more but these are the best ones i think)

Thanks for the ask :)

[southfarthing]

Hi!! I am so happy to have found your blog I love it!

I've fallen face first back into the lotr fandom recently and i'm again obsessed with Faramir so i'm happy to find that i'm not alone

If you have any blog/fic/art/whatever recs for me I'd love to find more Faramir lovers out there!

hello!! thank you so much! and welcome to the faramir frenzy 🫡🫡🫡

some fellow faramir lovers off the top of my head: @emyn-arnens @liridi @rarepairnation @starry-mantle @bitchfaramir @hectomache

you can also go through the notes in this post and see all the blogs there!

and if you go through my faramir tag, there's loads! or you can type "faramir fave" or "faramir fave fanart" into the search bar (it usually does a good job of searching for posts that have been tagged with the same two or three tags!)

[wren-of-the-woods]

Thank you @echo-bleu for tagging me! <3

RULES: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I'm restricting this to stories that have at least 100 words of draft and that I've thought about in the last month, because otherwise we'd be here all day 😂 The last few months have been difficult for me in terms of writing, but I'm slowly getting my feet under me and would love to talk about my projects!

Double Fake Dating (Geraskefer)

King Radovid Saves the Day

I Would Break My Lute For You (unspoken words of love)

Ticcing

Jim Please Stop Almost Getting Killed, Sincerely, Spock

Spirk fog (sitting on the dock of the bay)

Renfri fic (Buttercups and Butcherbirds)

Mark Watney Enjoys Earth

Letters to Maglor

Yennskier Kidfic

Radovid Fakes His Death

Tagging @cherryjuicegf @ghostinthelibrarywrites @bambirex @thequeeninyellowlace @blaidd-gwyn @samstree @jaz-the-bard @bloodsoaked-rainbows @dancingwiththefae @damatris @dreamofbecoming and anyone else who's interested! <3

[manesalex]

Happy Birthday, @echo-bleu!!!

[handwrittenhello]

5, 21 and 22 for the artist asks?

answered 5 here!

21. Do you like to challenge yourself?

yes!! i try to do something new with every work, especially stuff way above my paygrade which doesn't always turn out well but sometimes it does and i gain a new skill! and regardless it's good practice anyway :3

22. Are you confident that you’re improving steadily?

hm, steadily, no, because it's definitely a pattern of plateaus followed by a huge breakthrough lmao, but yes i think i'm generally trending upwards!

[acrossthewavesoftime]

@echo-bleu tagged me in the Last Line Challenge, so here it goes:

Auch wenn ihm wohl gewahr war, dass man ihn bei Hofe für seine Wahl verlachen würde, so war es ihm doch ganz gleich, denn keine konnte in seiner Betrachtung schöner sein als Caroline von Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, die, obgleich die Natur sie nicht in Fülle mit den Attributen beschenkt hatte, die für gewöhnlich eines Mannes Herz zum Schlagen bringen, in seinen Augen doch unvergleichlich war. Sie war mutig, edel, standhaft, und schön— wunderschön.

Although he was aware that he would be laughed at at court on account of his choice, he did not care at all, for none could, in his opinion, be more beautiful than Caroline von Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, who, despite Nature not having so generously bestowed her with the attributes which usually cause a man's heart to beat faster, was incomparable in his eyes regardless. She was brave, noble, steadfast and beautiful— gorgeous.

From a certain AU, instigated by @nordleuchten which is going to make two dead people spin in ther graves.

If you want to participate, tell them I tagged you!

[thelordofgifs]

What are Caretaker burnout notes? 👀

(WIP titles ask game) also for @thescrapwitch!

This is my newest WIP, and probably the one with the best working title! It's a shortish little thing I'll hopefully have ready in time for epistolary week. Concept: Maglor, who is so completely hinged and stable, keeps a little pamphlet of notes on How To Care For Your Traumatised Elder Brother Whom You Abandoned. Featuring entries such as "foods he will eat so you don't fuck up this time, Moryo" and "what to do after a nightmare". I can't share a snippet because I pretty much only have two sentences jotted down so far, but I am excited for this one!

[emyn-arnens]

I want to know about Farmer's grief, that sounds like something that will destroy me 👀

Thanks for asking! This is for @sweetshire too.

This one is an epistolary fic of Faramir after Éowyn's death. Here's a little bit of what I've written so far:

But it is easier, perhaps, to speak of grief in words that draw a line between my heart and my mind. It is less easy to speak of this pain that gnaws at me each time I think of the lilt of her voice or the shape of her hand fitted in mine, to give voice to the hollowness that fills my chest in the long nights without her. I have lost that which was dearest to me, and I must now live without her, though it seems impossible—an insurmountable mountain that my feet can find no path with which to scale it. There is the grief of a mother lost before one has even a bare conception of grief, and the grief of a brother dearly loved slain in battle, and the grief of a father given over to madness and succumbed to it. But the grief of a spouse, the loss of one whom I chose to spend the rest of my days with, or as many were allotted to her, is another grief. But I write again of the thoughts of the mind, drawing away from the heart of the matter, so that I do not have to open my heart to the grief that stands at its gate.

WIP Title Game

[katiestardoodles]

[nordleuchten]

La Fayette's Acte de Décès

@echo-bleu was kind enough to find me and to help me find some important legal documents connected to La Fayette and his family. Mostly birth-, marriage- and death-certificates. Among these documents is La Fayette's Acte de Décès (his certificate of death) from May 20, 1834. It is not the original document (since that one was destroyed in a fire) but a reconstruction of the original. Thank you again @echo-bleu for all your help and research!

[leucisticpuffin]

I'm curious about coirë for the WIP game!

Coirë is a short fic about Maedhros, recovery, and spring, which is meant to accompany one of my paintings. It has, unfortunately, been languishing in my drafts for some months now - I can never find time to finish editing it.

Here's a snippet:

They left camp by the northern gate, where the path ran right out into untamed woodland. Much of the north shore of Lake Mithrim was wooded: ancient thickets of spruce, pine and fir, established in long-ago twilight and growing ever swifter under the new sun. But Fingon was not headed for the deep woods. Instead he led Maedhros to a glade of birches, young trees like spears piercing the snow. Feathered shadows flitted between branch and frost-laden bush. The deadening blanket of snow muffled all sound.   

"It is beginning to thaw, see?" said Fingon, as they neared a running stream. "Soon the lake will be swollen with snowmelt. Then flag irises will grow in the marsh, and the swallows will be back to nest in the stable roof – you are not too cold, Russo?”

Already Fingon had asked that question four times. In truth, Maedhros had no suitable answer. Cold did not feel like cold anymore; he felt it only when it hurt. He searched now for the feeling – for numb fingertips or the sting of icy air – but found only the winter-ache of old scars. 

“I'll live," he said instead. A poor answer; but it was all Maedhros could give.

[cafemilk-tea]

We’ll be okay

❒ pairing - evelyn x mingyu

❒ word count - 1.5K

❒ synopsis - the aftermath of the d*spatch news

⚠️ angst

🏷️ taglist - @justmochi @ateezjuliet @itzy-eve @cosmicwintr @billboard-singer @kimhyejin3108 @cixrosie @enhacolor @allthings-fandoms @mingis-wrld @kmgfeels @peachyaeger @choihaneul @alixnsuperstxr @angie-x3

(a/n prepare your tissues everyone. im so sorry </3)

Evelyn hummed a little tune to herself as she dropped the towel she used to dry her hair off into the hamper in her bedroom. After getting home from the airport, she had wanted nothing more than to simply take a hot shower and relax.

A small pout formed on her lips when she had finally taken notice that the apartment was way too quiet for her liking. She was picking Winnie and Bleu up tomorrow from Seungcheol’s place on his recommendation so she wasn’t stressing herself out having to rush to pick them up even though she had missed them terribly and wanted nothing more than to snuggle with her fur babies.

She turned on her heels quickly when the sound of her phone buzzing on the coffee table in the living room and the familiar jingle of her ringtone echoed throughout the apartment. Sliding in on the hardwood floor, she fumbled around for her phone, smiling when Seungcheol’s name and picture flashed across the screen. She fell back onto the couch as she answered the call, throwing her feet up on the coffee table in the process.

“Are my children causing you havoc, Cheolie?” She made herself laugh as she wiggled further down into the couch, “They’re my little angels they could never-.”

Seungcheol took a deep breath on the other side of the line, swallowing thickly before simply cutting her off, “Eunji, I need to talk to you urgently and I wanted to be the one that called you before you saw it for yourself.”

Evelyn pinched her eyebrows together as she pouted her lips outwards, picking at the fringe on her sweater. He sounded a little too serious to be playing a prank on her but she couldn’t quite tell what he was worked up over. His tone held that leadery tone that he used very seldomly and that’s when she knew something wasn’t right, “What’s up? Did something happen?”

“Eunji-,” He paused on the other side of the line, “Firstly, I want you to know that I’m so sorry that this has happened. I-I don’t know how but we will find out, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Cheol, please you’re scaring me.”

She took her legs off the coffee table to sit up straighter, gnawing on her bottom lip as she waited for him to continue his speech. She leaned forward to allow her elbows to dig into her knees in what she could only describe as anticipation? Fear? Maybe a little of both?

“Dispatch…You and Mingyu…They- someone told them about you two-.”

Her face drained from its color as the blood in her body ran frigid. Her ears were ringing so badly to the point that she could barely hear Seungcheol talking anymore. The firm grip she had on her phone tightened as she tried her best to keep it pressed to her ear, her other hand flying to her mouth out of complete shock.

“I’ve talked to Mingyu right before I called you and he’s on his way over.” It felt like he was speaking to her from a thousand yards away.

It was getting harder to speak, her throat felt like it was closing in on itself with the lump that jumped up into it, “H-How did-?”

His voice carried a heavy weight to it as he spoke to her. She could hear his footsteps on the other end, Seungcheol saying hello to someone and then a car door closing, “I’m not sure, Eunji. Manager-nim just picked me up and we’re heading straight to the company to see what we can sort out. You and Mingyu will probably be called in by them as well, but don’t be afraid, alright? Every single one of us has both of your backs.”

Her whole body felt numb to the touch with the feeling that she was going to be sick creeping up the back of her throat. It was hard being an idol in a relationship in this kind of industry. Wanting to keep the relationship a secret was always something she knew she wanted, knowing the exact outcome if anyone had found out. And of course, the world just happened to be against her on what some people wait an entire year for just to get their hands on the newly outed Dispatch couple; the good, the bad, and the ugly.

“I’ll call you back once I hear something,” Seungcheol’s voice dropped with sadness when she let out a dry gasp on her end, “And please for your sake, don’t go online, promise?”

Evelyn’s eyes clamped shut as all she could do to answer him was hum her response. She couldn’t give him that promise. She ended the call with him, dropping her phone into her lap and running her hands through her hair.

Tears pricked her eyes as a dry sob finally left her mouth, picking her phone up and her thumbs flying to type her name into the Naver search bar. She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she stood up from the couch to pace around her apartment, clicking on the first article she found.

‘Thanks to the work of Dispatch, Seventeen’s Evelyn and Mingyu are caught in a secret relationship extending a little over two years…’

Her vision was becoming blurry as she scrolled down the article, her eyes glossing over countless hidden pictures taken of the two of them in secret locations. She bit the inside of her cheek hard when she scrolled to the comment section and choked on air as she skimmed through the thousands of comments left behind by netizens.

“[+74, 0] #PledisRemoveEvelynFromSVT”

“[+36, 0] Is that girl for real?”

“[+53, -2] Seventeen is thirteen after this s**t”

“[+19, 0] Seriously, this girl has no shame. She’s going to drag Kim Mingyu down the more she hangs onto him.”

“[+6, 0] This b***h is crazy going after Mingyu. Dating your own group member is a little nasty?”

“[+22, -1] Protest trucks are on the way demanding for her removal ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ. Fingers crossed this one works.”

Her phone slips from her grip, clattering onto the floor below most definitely leaving a crack or two across the screen. Tears flowed from her eyes in steady streams down her cheeks, droplets falling onto her hands as she stared at the floor below. All this over finding that one person and being in love?

She didn’t even hear the front door opening until it was falling close behind the person. She knew who it was without even having to turn around. Her bottom lip quivered as she turned to face Mingyu, roughly wiping at her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Baby-,” Mingyu choked out as he reached her in three strides, pulling her into his chest firmly as she finally broke down guttural sobs. Her shaking hands came up from where she had them balled up at her sides to clutch at his shirt in tight fists.

Mingyu kissed the top of her head before making himself smaller and lowering his face into the crook of her neck, his breathing coming out in shaky waves.

“I-I’m sorry,” It felt like all the air inside her lungs had given out, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong, Evie.”

“I-It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t-,” She choked out another sob and Mingyu tightened the hold that he had on her, “I didn’t mean it, I swear.” He fought back his own tears as he listened to her speak, wanting to be strong for her.

“I don’t want to ruin your career Gyu, you love this job way too much for me to tear it all down.” She didn’t think it would hurt this much. To her, it was her fault. If she hadn’t developed her crush on his all those years ago, they wouldn’t be in this position today.

“Evie, I love my job with you in it.”

“The netizens t-they-.”

“Let them all talk, say what they have to say. You and I both know the truth and that’s all we need,” Mingyu’s grip tightened on her again, wrapping her in his warmth, “They can go fuck themselves for all I care.”

He waited until she was calmed down enough and ready to be pulled back, moving his hands up to cup around her face. The pads of his thumbs swiped underneath her eyes to collect the buildup of tears from falling down their path. Her watery eyes found his eyes as they were filled with copious amounts of sadness from seeing her in this state.

“Baby, please listen to me.”

Her bottom lip trembled again as he gently tilted her head upwards to properly gain her attention.

“I’m still the same me and you’re still the same you, right? Nothing has nor will it ever change, okay? I love and care about you and you only,” He pressed his lips firmly to her forehead and left them linger there for a few moments before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers, “We’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”