#i love him so much! he makes me so sad. it is. a nostalgic sentimental bittersweet feeling. and all so hollow

[astrxealis]

i love elidibus so much it is unreal

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 2)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: language, angst, Josh is perfect, angst, also maybe some angst

I’m so happy that you are all enjoying Sugar 2.0 as much as I am! I’ve missed this little world so much and it just makes me smile to know that you missed it too ❤️

Curled up into a tight ball under hotel room sheets, your mascara smudges across and stains the bleach-white pillowcases. And you might feel a little guilty about that if you could form a halfway coherent thought.

You’d expected a coworker, also dragged into town for this god forsaken conference, when you’d heard your name skittering across the marbled lobby floors. Turning to find Daniel, dripping in Greek God beauty and memories, had stolen the air from your lungs.

Quite literally, you had found it impossible to breathe for a few panicky moments as your eyes darted around in search of those that might be tagging along with him.

The warm, nostalgic feeling of stumbling across an old, dear friend had been overshadowed and twisted by fear…and a horrible, throbbing sadness; there was a time when this was your life…the last time anything had made any sense.

The overwhelming urge to sob in his arms had left you aching when he’d pulled you in for a bear hug. Somehow, his being so near had made home feel that much further away.

Take me to him. You’d wanted to beg Danny, clinging to his sturdy frame.

Now, you just want to run. To pack up your things in a hurry and flee the building as if it were engulfed in flames. You wish you were shoving your bag into an overhead compartment on a plane bound for anywhere that isn’t here.

This is too close. They are too close.

Three years it’s been, and he is still the first thing that weighs like sand on your mind when your eyes blink open in the morning…and your very last thought before they drift closed at night.

Has it really been three years? It doesn’t seem possible.

You think of Josh, too. Of course you do. But it is with a distant fondness for what you had. He is a pretty memory. A good memory. One you can recall easily, and with wistful affection. You can speak of him readily, with gentle sentiment. It was a great thing you had, and now it is no longer. Simple.

Jake.

You try so hard not to think of Jake, but he’s there all the time anyway. Cozied up inside your head like he owns the place, no matter how many times you’ve ordered him to vacate. He always was stubborn, and his memory has proven no different. There is a hole in your soul shaped exactly like him. Hardly a blip of light in your eyes; you left most of it there with him all those moons ago.

You could so easily satiate your searing need in some minuscule manner, via YouTube interviews, balcony seats at shows where you would stand no chance of being spotted. The wails of his guitar could pour from your speakers and right into your chest whenever it feels too hollow. You could fall asleep to samplings of his velveteen voice, rasping answers to questions floated from radio hosts and devour written pieces where he speaks so eloquently and with such reverence about his craft…

You could, but you don’t.

You do none of these things. It simply cuts too deeply.

Early on, you did. Tortured yourself as you sobbed and cried out in the night like a homesick child. Yes, in those early days, you’d punished your fractured heart and yearning mind with pain; sunk your teeth into and gnashed them together, fearful of letting go.

But you’ve found your way. Tripped clumsily along, patching together a new normal slowly. The diamond that rests upon your ring finger reminds you of that…and you feel sick with self loathing. Weeping in this strange bed over what used to be, while he waits at home for you, happily watering your plants and tending to the household chores. Loving you from a distance.

He sends you texts just to say he loves you, and so you’ll know you’re on his mind. To ask if you’d like him to pick up anything from the store so you won’t have to worry about it when you return home. To remind you that he adores you in a hundred little ways.

…and here you lie, in a bed that isn’t the one you share with him, chest caving in around your heart, squeezed up tight and longing for Jake.

Jake, Jake, Jake…always Jake. Why won’t he go away?

A knock, swift and sure, startles you out of your misery with a jolt.

You don’t plan to answer, that’s a given…you’re a mess, complete with a blotchy, tear streaked face, and swollen eyes…so you’re silent as you creep over to the door to have a peek through the peephole.

He looks angelic, waiting out there in the hall nervously fidgeting. His curls look like home and your fingers itch to touch them, innocently. Almost the same, and so different all at once, now closely clipped at the sides. He looks reminiscent of his younger self. A little like the Josh you’ve only ever known through pictures; the Josh before he swept into your life like a tornado of light and smiles. He always was so beautiful. So offbeat. So eclectically mishmashed together and esoteric.

It’s like spotting a twin flame that you never expected to see again. Like the dead has risen…

…and before you’re consciously aware of your actions, you’re sliding the lock and cracking open the door.

“Hello, sweet girl.” His voice is soothing, and weighed down heavy as it slams into your head and scrambles your brain.

“Josh,” is all you’re able to manage, stupidly.

“As beautiful as ever, mama.” He smiles, flashing that tiny gap in his teeth that used to make you weak.

“Now, listen,” he holds a hand up and then shoes away whatever notion he’s about to bring up, “Don’t you hold this against our dear Daniel…I know you didn’t want to see us,” he lowers his voice into a conspiring whisper, “but you should know, he’s become a terrible tattletale in your absence.”

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact that you’ve left him standing in the hall like an unwelcome stranger. Against your better judgment, you invite him in.

He’s careful not to touch you, mindful of overstepping in a way that’s so out of character for him it makes you feel unsteady.

“You really do look lovely, sweetheart.” He smiles, “A vision. I’ve missed you, my friend. I’ve missed you very much.”

‘My friend’ stings a little at first, but within a blink, it settles and feels right - you were always friends. Friends before it became love, friends while it was love…

The Josh you knew possessed a great many talents, and quick adaptability was listed among them. He allowed the fickle winds of life to toss him about like no one you’d ever known, and had an ever present and uncannily firm grasp on relationships, and an admiration for how they can shift and morph.

He also always was a cool liar when it was for the greater good. Some things clearly never change.

Nervously, you sweep a hand through your hair and blot your eyes with the backs of your hands, “Lovely my ass…c’mere.”

With little reservation, you tug him in close and fold your arms around him. An unexpected huff of a laugh escapes you when you feel his familiar warmth.

He hugs you back, long and hard, with a soft, “Hi, baby, hi.”

“How’d you find me, you stalker?” You joke tenderly as he sways your bodies back and forth. “I didn’t give Danny my room number.”

That chuckle of his that you’d buried in the past trots out to say hello, “A trip to the front desk was all it took. Have you forgotten the Kiszka charm so easily?”

“Uh-huh,” you roll your eyes, though you’re still wrapped up tightly together and he cannot see.

“Okay,” he concedes “the Kiszka charm and maybe a hundred tucked into a hand or two.”

How strange that you had begged Danny not to tell him; his embrace is blissful and you’ve missed him terribly.

Still, there is a phantom in the room with the two of you, and you know without a doubt that he feels it too.

When he pulls back, his hands slip down your arms to clasp around yours…and he sees it.

“Oh my, mama,” he tugs it up closer for inspection, “would you look at that. Going to the chapel, huh?”

“I—“ for some unknown reason, you pull your hand away and tuck it behind your back as though you’ve been caught in a shameful act.

He tilts his head, regarding you carefully “Can we sit?”

With a welcoming gesture, you usher him in further, and like the gentleman he’s always been, he opts for the chair and doesn’t mention the disheveled bed, or its wept upon pillows.

After you settle in respectively, there’s a long stretch of silence in which you both seem to just sort of sink into being in the same room together again. Finally, he breaks the ice.

“He can’t know you’re here. It won’t be like this,” he waves a finger back and forth between the two of you, indicating the ease in which you’ve reunited.

A choked sob threatens to breach your lips at the mere mention of him, and your hand darts up to press it back.

“And he certainly can’t know about that.” Josh points to your ring winking obnoxiously in the light.

“Of course,” you nod rapidly, blinking tears back. “Yes, of course not…but, is he…” falling silent, your gaze lands on your bare toes and stays there.

“Is he, what?” Josh’s voice is kind, and you are so grateful for it. “Okay? No, sweetheart. He’s very far from okay. I should lie for him, I know I should. He’s my brother…I should tell you he’s happy. Happier than he’s ever been.”

“Will you?” There is a desperate hope in your plea that makes you cringe inwardly. “Will you tell me he’s happy?”

His eyes, so like his twins, and so full of sorrow, watch you for such a long time you begin to squirm this way and that in your seat. “Sit still, mama…” he finally scolds with the tiniest wink to soothe your anxiety, “he’s happy. He’s fine. But best if you just steer clear, alright?”

“So he’s happy? Or you should lie, Josh? Which is it?” Why are you asking? You don’t want to know. It’s infinitely easier to swallow the lie. You can’t stand the thought of Jake broken still and riddled with the pain you know so well.

With a sigh, he avoids your gaze. “You know the answer to that already, it seems. Are you?” His eyes flick towards your engagement ring, “Happy, I mean? Are you?”

Now it’s your turn to lie, “Yes. Very.”

He nods, and then glances at the mascara glaring from your pillows like evidence at trial. “Yes, it would seem so.”

“Josh, I—“

“Look,” he cuts you off, stressing with urgency. “We’re only here for the night. Lay low if you can. He’s bad off, and to see you would level him. To see you with that,” he once again points out your ring, “Would kill him. You leaving…”

A shaking breath rattles his shoulders, “It wasn’t easy for either of us, but Jake? Jake is still in that hotel room you walked out of a thousand nights ago. He never left, sweet girl. He never fucking left…and as much as I know that it’s not your fault…”

He trails off in thought and then drags in a hitching hiss of air, “As much as I know it isn’t either of our faults, I still place all that blame right here, with you and me. I can’t watch him descend any further, alright? So just lay low until we’re gone. For me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a thousand questions beating like bird’s wings against the cage of your mind, “Yes, of course.”

Another lull slips in to visit until he shakes his head slowly, “How did I ever manage to get over you? You truly are beautiful. I’d almost forgotten…that’s heartbreaking.”

There is an innocuous lilt to his tone that warms your soul like cocoa with the fattest marshmallow bobbing along in the mug, and you feel your cheeks turn pink under his open, golden gaze.

“Me?” You laugh, “What about you, gorgeous? I love the hair.”

“Oh, you know,” he brushes his palms over the sides with a bashful shrug, “I let Sam trim it, scissors slipped…had to do something.”

“Still blaming Sam for all of life’s tragedies?” You laugh again. You always did laugh so freely with him, and you’ve missed it more than you ever allowed yourself to realize.

He scoffs with the faintest roll of his sparkling eyes “Obviously. That’s what the youngest is for, mama. You know this. And speaking of Samuel, you understand that Daniel will tell him, right? Those two might as well just get married and call it a day.”

Another giggle sounds out of you, “Don’t be jealous, Joshua. It’s unbecoming. Danny loves you, too…and Sammy I would say definitely considers you a solid acquaintance.”

“Yes, well, my acquaintance would be thoroughly crushed if he didn’t get the chance to at least say hello to you. Maybe later tonight? After the show?” He leans forward and toys with the beads swinging between his knees. “How would that be?”

“Only Sammy?”

He holds up two fingers, scout’s honor, “Only Sammy.”

You agree, and catch up a while longer until it’s time for him to take his leave, and you can’t help the confession that blurts out of your mouth without eloquence.

“You said he never left that hotel room,” you waver with bitten back tears. “It wasn’t…I don’t want you to think…it took me a very long time to leave that room, too.”

One last time, before the door closes behind him, his eyes linger on your pillow and the evidence of your tears, and then find yours, “Sweetheart, are you sure you’ve left it at all?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[rubylace]

heeseung — fireworks

wc! 5,272

The clock struck midnight, you found yourself standing next to Heeseung, your boyfriend, under the starlit sky. The air was filled with the sound of firecrackers and the sky was beautifully lit with fireworks.

Heeseung's eyes sparkled with the reflection of the colorful lights above, mirroring the joy in your heart. He held your hand, his grip warm and comforting against the winter chill.

First firework of the New Year lit up the sky, he turned towards you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, leaning in to seal the start of a new year with a sweet kiss. The fireworks weren't the only thing that made your heart explode that night.

The rest of the crowd was lost in their own celebrations, but for you and Heeseung, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Heeseung's arm was wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The fireworks continued to light up the sky, each burst of color reflecting in his eyes.

He looked at you with so much love and affection, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.

"Here's to a year full of love, happiness, and us," he said, raising his glass in a toast.

You clinked your glass against his, a wide smile spreading across your face. This was indeed a perfect start to the New Year.

You both sat down on the nearby bench, still hand in hand, watching the vibrant spectacle of fireworks. Breaking the comfortable silence, Heeseung turned to you,

"Do you remember the first time we watched fireworks together?" he asked, a nostalgic glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, "How could I forget? We almost missed the show because you couldn't find the right spot." He laughed along, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

"Well, I had to make sure everything was perfect for our first date," he said, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

The memory warmed your heart, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "And it was," you replied, "Just like tonight." the fireworks show continued, you both started reminiscing about the past year. The highs, the lows, the shared laughter, and tears.

"Remember when we got lost on our hiking trip?" you asked, a giggle escaping your lips.

Heeseung groaned, "Don't remind me. We had to spend the night in the car because we couldn't find our way back." You both laughed at the memory. Then Heeseung's expression turned serious,

"But you know what, despite the mishap, that trip made me realize how lucky I am to have you. You didn't panic, you stayed strong, and we made the best out of the situation. That's when I knew, I want to spend every New Year, every moment with you."

His words left you speechless, your heart fluttering with happiness.

Final firework exploded in a brilliant cascade of colors, Heeseung turned to you, his gaze intense.

"I want to make a promise," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise to make every day of this new year as special as tonight. I promise to make you smile, to hold you when you're sad, to be there for you no matter what."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the truth of his words.

You squeezed his hand in response, your voice choked with emotion, "And I promise to do the same, Heeseung. Here's to us and together in this new year."

As the last echoes of the fireworks faded, you both sat there, lost in each other's eyes, ready to face whatever the new year had in store, as long as you were together.

The fireworks had ended but the night was still young. Heeseung broke the silence, "Do you have any New Year's resolutions?" he asked curiously.

You pondered for a moment before answering, "I want to live in the moment more. I spent so much of last year worrying about the future, I forgot to appreciate the present." Heeseung nodded, understanding your sentiment.

"That's a great resolution. I think I'll join you in that. This year, let's focus on now, on us." He suggested, his gaze softening. The promise of a new year filled with love and shared moments was more than you could have ever wished for.

The night was getting colder, but the warmth between you and Heeseung was more than enough. Heeseung broke the silence,

"Do you remember the first song we danced to?" His question caught you off guard, but a smile tugged at your lips as you remembered.

"Of course, it was 'Firework' by Katy Perry.

You were so offbeat, it was hilarious!" You teased him, and he feigned hurt, "Hey, I've improved a lot since then!"

To prove his point, he stood up, extending his hand towards you, "May I have this dance?" Under the starry night sky, with the echoes of fireworks in the distance, you danced to your song, lost in each other's eyes.

You swayed to the rhythm of your shared memories, Heeseung suddenly stopped, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you," he said, his hand disappearing into his pocket. He pulled out a small box, and your heart skipped a beat.

He opened it, revealing a beautiful firework charm. "I know it's not New Year's without fireworks for us, so I thought you should have one with you all year round," he explained, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you threw your arms around him, whispering a heartfelt "Thank you, Heeseung."

This night was truly turning into the best New Year's Eve you'd ever had.

You pulled away from the hug, Heeseung gently held your face, his eyes searching yours. The world seemed to stand still as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with promises, a kiss that spoke of the love you shared.

The fireworks may have ended, but in that moment, there was a different kind of fireworks going off in your hearts. As you pulled apart, both of you were smiling.

This New Year's Eve was indeed a night to remember - a night filled with love, promises, and a kiss under the starry sky.

After the kiss, you both sat back down on the bench, the cold barely noticeable with Heeseung's arm around you. "This is the best New Year's Eve I've ever had," Heeseung confessed, his voice soft. You looked up at him,

"Me too, Heeseung. I wouldn't want to start the new year any other way." Heeseung squeezed your hand, "Here's to many more New Year's Eves together, babe." As the night grew colder, the warmth of his words wrapped around you like a blanket.

You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the stars twinkling above, the perfect end to a perfect night. "Here's to us, Heeseung. Happy New Year," you whispered, your heart full of love for the man beside you.

[clairelsonao3]

Top 10 Character Essence

It's tag game time again!

@tabswrites and @hollyannewrites challenged (and I do mean challenged) me to name my top ten characters "decided by their essence or meaning to you."

  A challenge to give your Top 10 favourite characters, based on their ESSENCE. They have to be favourite characters that also have a deeper literary value, where you enjoy their specific role in the story, and this means that the list also should exclude characters that would normally count as favourites if for purely nostalgic reasons. They can be from film, tv, or written media, anything.

Thank you! I hope I fulfilled the challenge the way it was meant to be fulfilled!

Although TBH, I can't believe I'm even attempting to tackle this. I have to choose only 10? I think it goes without saying this list is not exhaustive, nor does it represent all of my favorite books/movies/media. I really did try to capture the question by focusing on "essence and meaning" (including how they've influenced my own writing and not just "random characters I like." I also have to attempt not to write an essay for each because we don't want to be here all night.

Charlotte Doyle (The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi) Rich girl in the early 1800s gets on a ship with a mutinous crew and an evil captain, joins the crew, defeats the captain using only her wits, miraculously makes it home, AND THEN DECIDES TO GO BACK TO SEA AND BECOME A SAILOR. I read this all in one sitting one night when I was about 15 (after avoiding it because I thought it looked boring) and then literally decided to reshape my entire life based on it (I'm not kidding). Yes, I actually took up sailing. Also, there's a hot sailor that she obviously has chemistry with but it's left unresolved, and no one has ever written a future fic about it to my knowledge, and that's a CRIME. So yeah, step right up.

John Bender (The Breakfast Club) He's not just the original '80s bad boy with a Dark and Troubled Past, but what most people forget about him is that he's also hilarious. It's a rare combination. Honorary mention to his love interest, Claire, and not just because of her name.

Fantine (Les Miserables by Victor Hugo) - Mostly the book version of her, though she obviously has a showstopping number in the musical as well. She was the sad, angsty character I needed during the most sad, angsty period of my life. She was a poor, lonely urchin who found fleeting love and happiness in the spring, got abandoned and pregnant in the winter -- and it only got worse from there. Also, apropos of nothing, at one point, I wrote a short story featuring a dog by the same name -- who, um, died.

The Artful Dodger/Dodger (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens/Oliver & Company) - I'm including both the human version and the dog version of this character because I love them both (though I actually prefer the Disney movie, lol). They're both thieves with devil-may-care attitudes, with soft spots for those more vulnerable than themselves. Plus, the dog version is Billy Joel, wears sunglasses, and plays piano with his tail, which -- I don't care what anyone says -- will never not be cool.

Satine (Moulin Rouge) - She was the beautiful, sparkling, singing, dancing tragic sex goddess I so badly wanted to be. So much so that as recently as five years ago when I reluctantly dressed up for a Halloween party, I chose her silver-dress-and-top-hat ensemble.

Rick Blaine (Casablanca) The most endlessly quotable character from one of the most endlessly quotable and romantic movies of all time. He sticks his neck out for no one. Except, oops, wait, he does. The OG Hollywood antihero with a Dark and Troubled -- whatever, you know the drill. Plus, he's also my dad's favorite character in his favorite movie (and I discovered it because of him), and so this pick has sentimental meaning for me.

Leah Price (The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver) - When we read this book in high school, she was the least popular character, probably due to her unwavering love and support for her dad, even though he was a singular-focused religious zealot who destroyed his entire family by dragging them into the African jungle in an ill-thought-out missionary trip. And then she married a guy with some of the same qualities (but he was better, thankfully). But for whatever weird reason, I related to her most. Anyway, for class, I wrote and tried to perform a monologue where I played her but forgot 90 percent of my lines. Oh well.

Mary Lennox (The Secret Garden by France Hodgson Burnett, I found the movie version fairly meh) There were a lot of spunky, iconic childhood book heroines to choose from, but she was Mary, Mary Quite Contrary, and so I choose her. (I got told to "smile" a lot as a kid). Also, as I mentioned in a previous post, I was a Mary/Dickon shipper before I even knew what shipping meant.

Neal Caffrey (White Collar) - Does anyone remember this show? I have no attention span for TV, and this is probably the last scripted show I remember watching every episode of during its original run, which is saying something. Everything I know about being a con artist (in fiction, lol) I learned from this charming, charismatic art-forger-turned-FBI-consultant. I think he also has the honor of being the subject of the first actual fanfic I ever wrote.

Iris Chase Griffin (The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood) I also had to pick one character of my favorite author, so Iris gets the crown. She starts off the story as an old lady looking back to when she was forced to marry some rich asshole instead of the science fiction writer (with a past that was -- wait for it -- Dark and Troubled) who BOTH she and her sister loved, and meanwhile, her sister became a writer and when she died it was discovered that -- oh, just read the goddamn book, I won't spoil it for you here.

Honorable mentions, in no particular order:

Violet Westing (The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin)

Jack Kelly (Newsies the movie, NOT the stage musical)

Turonga Leela (Futurama)

Vicky Austin (The Austins by Madeleine L'Engle)

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt-Bukater (Titanic) I can't decide between them, so they're getting an HM.

Palaestrio and Milphidippa (Miles Gloriosus by Plautus) Same as above.

Michael Furey (The Dead by James Joyce) Who is, in fact, dead throughout the story -- but being alive wasn't one of the requirements.

I wish I could include a Star Wars character, but could never decide, so let's say, oh, all of them, except that one you hate.

In case the following people want to do what I did and spend several WEEKS on this fascinating but life-ruining (in a good way) tag game: @mysticstarlightduck @enne-uni @kixngiggles @obviousknife + OPEN TAG because you don't even have to be a writer for this one, so I'd be interested in hearing from anybody who wants to chime in!

[sayakxmi]

[Magi rewatch] Episode 7: His Name Is Sinbad [Part 1]

Oh, yeah, it was definitely the right call. I already feel less exhausted having to watch this. Should've done this from the beginning, but, well, a Pole is smart after a mistake, not before it.

Me for, like, half of this goddamn year. Hot as balls. For how long, actually? October or November. Jesus. I think October, cuz November/December I was on-and-off sick. What a fucking time to be alive.

The characters tend to look kinda eh at times, but man, are the backgrounds cool.

A bunch of characters nobody cares about, but in the manga they thought they'd be able to get people to join them in Balbadd, but here they're just. Going there, I guess.

He does look good.

Also SQUIRREL. And a BIRD

She looks good in here.

"You don't have to thank either of us! Alibaba did it, because he's a kind person!" Like, you're completely right, but also gets me how much Aladdin trusts and believes in Alibaba. And, the thing is, he isn't wrong to do so - Magi can kind of read people's Rukh, so Aladdin gets the kind of person Alibaba is on instinct. Still, F.

Also, gfdi, why does it all look so pretty. The colors get me, too.

What a character introduction. What a legend.

It kind of reminds me. You guys know, Magi is like one of the series that's the dearest to my heart. One of the few. Which is why I get so critical of it. And it's hilarious when I think about the fact, that this AMV is the reason I watched it in the first place. I'm not kidding.

"Why are you freaking out? :("

Also, gdi. Magi rewired sth in my brain, and whenever I hear Daisuke Ono I immediately think about Sinbad, it'll never stop. Did you know Jing Yuan from Honkai: Star Rail has Daisuke Ono as VA? And Wriothesley from Genshin Impact. I'm still processing that, lol. Other one I'll always recognize bc of Magi is Kaji Yuki (Alibaba). Funnily enough, he voices one of my fav Pokemon character - Clemont. Imagine my surprise. Man, maybe I do have a type.

I love low quality Magi.

He looks normal in the anime. Kinda nostalgic, good. Also, the wording seems to be a bit different, but mostly the sentiment remains.

Agh, look how excited he is to meet another adventurer! You get it, mister, you get it!

What if Aladdin became Sinbad's Magi, hmm.

There's some yt channel that posts Kimetsu no Yaiba videos, what ifs, and then offers like three scenarios. Lastly it was what if Muzan was a Demon Slayer. Can't help but think abt it whenever I consider some what if.

She smelled Hakuryuu's cooking.

It really looks nice. From afar.

Huh, in the anime they don't mention how various races mingle here.

Paper money. Something that Sinbad notices. Good characterization moment + good hint at what the porblem might be. Neat.

Reminded me abt one of the fics that I'm writing. These goddamn towers. Two fics, actually. Though one of them is just recalling the events from the other.

Anyway, back to the ep, I do think it's cool. Lots of show don't tell.

Yeah. In the previous arc we've heard that Balbadd wasn't doing well, and now we get to see it.

Down with the monarchy.

This entire scene is still hilarious.

"We're going to have to help him out, Masrur." "Damn."

I love Ja'far. What a pro.

Since I had to delete it from the chapter post bc of the photo limit. Here. Morgiana & Masrur noticing each other.

The Sinbad experience.

Pffff

The sound he makes, lmao. "Ahhhhh". He's so not getting paid enough to deal with this bs.

Also, sad: we don't have Masrur helping him :/ That was such a nice moment : (

White eyes. You killed him, Sinbad. You killed your future husband.

"You're Sinbad, the King of Sindria!"

[malewifehenrycooldown]

a very long post talking about how some of the mainline nmh characters interact with amelie and rhys.

Right off the bat, Jeane and Travis would both be the 'cool aunt and uncle' on opposing ends of the spectrum of 'will break more than your ankles if you hurt my niece/nephew' to 'you can stay up late past your bedtime and watch tv just don't tell your mum or dad i said that :3 '

on a more serious note, when Jeane Smackdown holds newborn Amelie (and then later Rhys) she almost cries because now she realises the future is worth fighting for and also swears to kill anyone that harms her niece/nephew. def. makes a comment about how cute they are. Absolutely the kind of person to take them to theme parks and other outings.

Travis on the other hand, who has no idea how to hold a baby is like 'Haha! A mini version of Shallow and Henry :D' (regarding both Amelie and Rhys). But then a lot later it then turns into 'oh god I'm an uncle now, oh god I need to get my shit together, I need to turn down the loud anime paraphernalia in my home, I need to keep hazardous objects away from them, oh god my nieces/nephews can be used as leverage against me and as the top number one assassin I need to keep my guard up around them.' TERRIBLE babysitter, but is a great uncle, has also cheekily let them stay up late a few times when they're older.

Bishop is sad that his older brother (who was also called Bishop) won't get to meet Amelie and Rhys, but he is also happy to be part of this circle of friends. Should be noted that much like Travis, he has NO idea how to hold a baby, so poor Shallow has to tiredly demonstrate how to hold them.

Shigeki Birkin gets slightly nostalgic, because holding Amelie/Rhys immediately reminds him of the time when he was a new dad raising Charlotte. Definitely takes Henry aside to give them as much helpful parental advice as possible.

Charlotte doesn't really pay that much attention to them, because this is bad girl we're talking about she is not the most family friendly person ever. But when Amelie and Rhys get a bit older (say 4 - 6 years old), she opts to actually teach them baseball w/ her dad. sometimes she does their hair too.

Scarlet Jacobs does have other things on her plate, especially with her dojo. Although when Amelie and Rhys are old enough she does invite them over to the dojo and they make friends with the other kids there :'). When Scarlet does hold Amelie and later Rhys for the first time, she's kinda comes to similar conclusions like Jeane Smackdown. When Amelie and Rhys get older they start to view Shinobu as a role model figure, and they do help out at the dojo when Scarlet needs extra helping hands.

Kamui and Midori do take a liking to Amelie and Rhys, esp. Midori who does have her own 'kids' (they're demon kids that are her hands, look non-nmh followers just roll with it) - so immediately she has a BIG soft spot for them. Is ABSOLUTELY the best babysitter, loves putting on shadow puppet shows for them.

Kamui on the other hand is a little more apprehensive, because I think that even with the powers he has - he might be a little scared of harming them, esp. since you know. their dad is like outright dangerous - but I do think that he'd be great in making sure that Amelie and Rhys have their powers in check. (which hey remember, shallow DID create a black hole in a room that one time as a kid so y'know. Kamui can perfectly handle such a situation.)

Dr. Naomi is just. kinda disappointed? I'm not sure how to explain this other than her asking Henry point blank "are you sure you're ready to take care of a child who might have inter-dimensional abilities?" Henry just simply says "I know what I signed up for. Don't question my capabilities." Obviously since she's a Cherry Blossom tree she can't really hold them, but I do like to think that maybe she has a branch that does turn into a swing of sorts. idk it's more of a sentimental thing because really seeing Amelie and Rhys just reminds her of the time when she was caring for Shallow when she was their age.

Dr. Juvenile is kinda melancholic in that she can't really properly interact with her grandniece/grandnephew as much as she would like. Don't get me wrong, she is really happy for her niece, and does really adore Amelie and Rhys - she feels that this is an opportunity to make up for the lost time she never really spent with Shallow when she was younger, she's not lost in her work making games or being a perfectionist anymore - she has the opportunity to make up and be the aunt she has wanted to be. It will certainly be a challenge, esp. since she primary communicates through technology, and obviously tech can't replace any of the same sensational feelings like flesh and blood provide. But Juvenile is a genius enough to probably find solutions to these issues, and perhaps may make an artificial body for her to load her consciousness in and actually be able to physically interact with Amelie and Rhys. She at the very least tries to interact with them, which honestly just doing her best is enough.

[velvetineblue]

hewwo ?   /  /   MUN AND MUSE QUESTIONS  .  ♡

List 5 of your muse’s favourite sensations .

a perfect breeze; not too cold, not too hard, just enough to whistle through the grass and trees, and remind you that the earth really can be a pretty place . . . 

hearing the sound of laughter and warm conversation by your loved ones in the other room.

cold ice water with hints of fresh fruit inside, to flavor it.

a crowd tuned directly into you, effected by and influenced by the mood of your performance.

being trusted; being relied on.

Do they have any pet peeves ?

of course; who doesn’t ! here are some of the small, ‘insignificant’ things that minorly get on his nerves: medium-welldone/fried fish dishes ( fishies are best eaten fresh/raw in his humble onion, so he mourns to see it desecrated so... ), seeing people nail-biting, long text messages that are one big paragraph instead of broken up into smaller texts (i do that)... and if he has not met someone and pre-approved of them, he doesn’t like them telling him what to do or what not to do; this may lead him to commit acts of purely petty defiance against them . . .

Their comfort read ? (could be a book, magazine, comics, etc)

he preferred to read comic books as a kid, and some shonen manga’s. spiderman, batman, naruto, and godzilla comics being some of the major ones he reached for as a kid . . . so those would be the ‘comfort’ reads, though reading material is not what he’d usually reach for for comfort. but if he did, it would bring him some nostalgic comfort for a moment, . . . . until he got sad because oh no, the innocent childhood days of sitting on your bed reading a spiderman comic are gone, ahHhhHHhhhHH!!!!! 

If the book they are reading turns out to be shit, do they push through just for the sake of finishing it, or do they move on and find something else ?

he doesn’t read for leisure very often, but the same sentiment can be applied to various things: tv shows, food, etc. tai will usually abandon things he isn’t getting enjoyment from . . . but the exception is when it was recommended to him by a friend, or if it’s their favorite book, something like that -- in which case, he will want to stick it out, to see what it’s all about . . . even if he doesn’t like it, he’ll want to finish it, in hopes it will help him understand that person better or be closer to them.

Their comfort tv show / film .

he can relate to suki on this one : D it’s definitely the 2000′s cartoons / animation he watched growing up !  pokemon, naruto, disney movies that came out around and before that time, studio ghibli films; those are a few examples of the type of thing. his parents definitely used the tv to ‘babysit’ him a lot when he was at home, lmaoo. his childhood doesn’t have a lot of happy memories, but the pretty stories on the tv screen were a distraction from that, and inspired his adolescent imagination when he needed an escape from that reality, so, they are near and dear to his heart. 

A song that is currently stuck in their head ? (or multiple)

songs i have been listening to / or songs that i discovered recently, as they just came out within a few months of now . . . that he would like :  /   golden hour 😍     /   born to run  ( a classic but he’s like ‘damn bruce springsteen is THE DUDE... a man’s man... a musican-man’s-man... that man do be writing MUSIC AND SONGS.damb.....’ )  /    any way you want me   /    kids eat pills*    /   

The next three questions are for you. do you have anything special in common with your character ?

not much of significance; some of my characters are very similar to me, but he’s one of my most different ones. our similarities are relatively superficial things ( we both have a passion for music, and luv animals, make a lot of jokes, -- things like that... ), nothing really ‘special’ and highly personal comes to mind atm tbh. personally i think i gravitate towards writing characters quite different than me; i just find that i have more fun that way !  

What brings you the most joy about writing this character, right now ?

he’s sincere about who he is and what he feels-- even to a fault--, he’s witty & loves a good banter, he lives in the moment, and isn’t afraid to be silly or cringe ... but he contains a lot of depth, multitudes-- more than most will ever begin to uncover ... so he’s full of surprises, for those who choose to plumb those depths~ he’s just loads of fun to write!!

Who would win in a fight, you or them ?

him, for a million reasons asjjaj. among them, i’m WEAK like a limp noodle and SHORT, i don’t stand a chance. but it is for that reason that he’d never fight me lmao; he likes a challenge... or, dispatching a threat. i am neither, LOL.

Any advice from your muse ?

always be nice to your local 7-11 cashiers . . . if they like you, they will let you get free slushies every now and then, and let you take one of the candy bars by the register for free, too. ( sidenote: do not take any of the free hot dogs and/or gas station sushi they offer. it is not fit for consumption by mere mortals... ( who then, you ask, is it for? ) dare not thee question the ways of the 7-11 slurpee sage; he has spoketh.)

tagged by: @kamipyre​ thee freaking gREATEST tagging: um... hrm... who is alive out there who i haven’t seen tagged already... @seaprofound​ for the new bby boi perhaps ? :eyes: and @twojwrog​ UNLEASH MAGDA !!!!

[mackscorner]

I chose the song Dance with My Father by Luther Vandross as a work of art that speaks to me. This song is a tune that explains the loss of a father and how the singer’s relationship was with him while growing up. It is a nostalgic, slow-tuned melody that captures how it feels to lose your father. The details of how his father would pick him up, dance around the room with him as a child, and carry him to his bed after falling asleep in his father’s arms convey how well his father loved him. He describes the feeling of being an innocent child and letting his father take care of him. These lyrics are all in past tense, so the listeners know that his father has passed on, which makes the song so emotional. Luther explains that if he ever got the chance to dance around with his father again, he would pick a never-ending song. I remember as a child, dancing around and building snowmen with my father in the Ohio winter. We had so much fun, and I never knew that our time would be cut so short. Upon hearing this song, it made me smile but also made me sad. My father passed when I was eleven years old, and there is not much I would not do just to have one more moment with him. Toward the end of the song, Luther talks about his mother and how he prays that she will also get another moment with his father. This is the part of the song that really does touch my soul because even as a child, I knew my mother was broken and did not think she could carry on. It becomes so consuming that you feel more badly for your mother than yourself. I could never explain that pain, but this song describes it perfectly. I have not found a more sentimental song that directly applies to how I felt as a child more than this one. This work of art can ensue more emotions in me than any other. 

[nagimitsus]

Title: somewhere along the line

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Synopsis: For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

Diluc has known this from the start. Before the traveler entered their lives, before the battles, before he saw him standing in front of a dragon, ready to give everything in exchange for the freedom of another. And Diluc had thought, now that is how a god should behave.

That is someone I could believe in.

 [Read on AO3!]

For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

Diluc has known this from the start. Before the traveler entered their lives, before the battles, before he saw him standing in front of a dragon, ready to give everything in exchange for the freedom of another. And Diluc had thought, now that is how a god should behave. 

That is someone I could believe in. 

It should come as a surprise, the amount of respect that he has gathered for the bard of melodious voice that makes himself at home only at his tavern. But it doesn’t. Maybe Diluc felt a pang of nuisance at first, when he thought of Venti only as a drunkard with too many stories to tell. 

That was before he came to know him. Before the nights when his smile became sad after too many bottles of wine, small and nostalgic and unfitting in such a bright face. Before he understood that there was still a raw wound behind those eyes of his, still bleeding as much as Diluc’s own. 

Diluc took the habit of offering him a glass of water and telling him to go home. The sensation of discomfort that nested his chest when Venti smiled up at him and asked what home was he talking about made Diluc wince.

.

At some point between that and the whole Dvalin situation, he stops asking Venti to go home and starts keeping him company until the silent streets of Mondstadt, illuminated only by the moon and the stars, call back for its bard. 

When Venti leaves, his smile is a bit more grateful and a lit less lonely, and Diluc tells him “I hope you find something more rewarding to spend your time on, tomorrow” but thinks See you later. 

Venti laughs. It sounds like a breeze. “What’s more rewarding than wine, I wonder?” he says, and has the audacity to wink.

Diluc sighs, because there’s nothing else he can do. 

.

The thing about Venti is that he doesn’t want to be worshipped. 

He doesn’t. It’s made clear in the way he behaves, the way he doesn’t stop too much in front of the church unless it’s to perform, the way he talks to the citizens of his country as if they were more friends than subjects. And it’s not because he likes the freedom that comes with anonymity, it’s not because of his own wants or needs. 

It’s because he wants them to be free, in this city where there are no tyrants and no gods. This city where they can follow the winds and their hearts alike, bound by nothing but their own ideals.

Diluc protects Mondstadt, fiercely. Because he loves everything it represents and everything it stands for. 

And likewise, he protects the god that gifted them all of this.

.

 Venti stops by the Winery of Dawn sometimes. Diluc finds him trying to steal wine or sleeping inside a barrel, and thinks: this is not a deity, this is a raccoon. 

Still, because he has a bit of faith left in him and because he used to go to church with his father back in the day, Diluc takes him by the back of his cape and into the house, where he makes sure he’s put to rest in one of their spare rooms, with enough water on his bed table to deal with the hangover. 

By the next morning he’s always gone, but the wind blows gently through the open window. 

Sometimes, if he’s still sober enough to string a few words together when Diluc takes him in, Venti laughs, and clings to his shoulders with both arms, and says things like “I can sing for you if you desire it, Master Diluc”, with that sweet voice blurry but cheerful. 

Diluc sits him down before the fireplace on those occasions, just so he can make sure that Venti drinks enough water and doesn’t do something like throwing up into his own mouth and suffocating on it.

What a troublesome bard, Diluc thinks. The thought is covered in affection anyway, and he has to sigh to himself at that. Venti blinks slowly at him, almost as if he could know what’s crossing his mind just by looking at him, and then he leans in his direction with a drunken smile that makes Diluc roll his eyes. 

“You,” Venti says, slowly but with intent, “are a very good person. Do you know that, Master Diluc?”

The reaction is immediate. Diluc can feel it start on his stomach and creep up until his head, his ears, his hands. It’s a fuzzy sentiment that makes home on his chest and purrs like a cat, a reminder of how good it is to be acknowledged. 

Diluc looks back at Venti’s eyes, clear even in his state. 

When he was young, he wondered how the truly religious felt. He asked Jean once, eleven or so, as little Barbara tried to sign in tone with the croaking of a frog. And Jean, always patient and warm, had said: I don’t think it can be explained.

But it can.

Diluc feels like he’s being hugged by a tornado and cradled by the breeze at the same time. It’s excruciating and infuriating and exhilarating, and it’s making a knot into his stomach, reddening his ears. 

He scoffs lightly, but his voice is not unkind when he says:

“And you are very drunk.”

Venti laughs at that, and the sound reverberates in the space of the room.

The only reason Diluc doesn’t leave is because he’s still afraid that Venti will throw up all over himself. 

.

(The traveler comes.

The traveler comes, they fight against Dvalin, and Diluc has to see Venti’s slender form fly across the battlefield when the dragon hits him once. Even when he gets up immediately, smiling through the pain, the knot that he made in Diluc’s stomach twitches and hurts. 

He makes sure to tell Barbara that the bard got hurt once they go back to Mondstadt, and ignores the perplexed look that he sends his way.)

.

Venti doesn’t come to the winery for a few weeks after the Dvalin incident, and they don’t meet up at the tavern either. Diluc would be worried, if he didn’t see him here and there, talking to Kaeya or playing a simple tune for Klee (who he seems to adore, if the warm look in his eyes as the little girl tries to harmonize with him.)

Diluc is not prone to lie to himself, so he doesn’t even try to deny that he misses Venti’s annoying presence. Still, since the traveler left for Liyue, the whole town seems to have subdued, its upbeat attitude turned into a dull sense of longing. 

Someone knocks on his door one night, almost sixteen days after he saw Venti for the last time. And of course, as fate would have it, it’s the bard himself who’s waiting at the other side.

Rain is not unusual in Mondstadt, even when they’re accustomed to a gentle drizzle, so most citizens have learned to take an umbrella with them when the spring is creeping on them.

Venti is dripping wet, and there’s something in the way his clothes cling to the line of his shoulders that make him straight up sad, almost pathetic. Still, the gleam on his eyes is a tell-tale that he’s been drinking, and the curve of his smile is too close to loneliness. It stirs something in Diluc, calls for the silent understanding of their nights in the tavern.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a step to the side to let him in. 

The maids will find awfully unpleasant the wetness on the carpet, Diluc’s mind supplies, but it’s difficult to care when Venti smiles like rain and alcohol and apples, all mixed up. His mere presence tends to be intoxicating, with the way he takes so much space with his voice and his laugh and his music, but it’s even worse now. Maybe it’s because Diluc has become unaccustomed to it.

“Do you need somewhere to stay?” Diluc asks after a few seconds. Venti’s smile is still sad, but it’s there nonetheless. 

If this were any other person, the sound of the wind outside might have drowned their words. But Venti has never known how to be quiet, and so Diluc hears him without any trouble:

“You care about me, don’t you, Master Diluc?”

He sighs, and closes the door. The storm becomes a muted sound behind the wood and the steel, and somehow that adds to the intimate atmosphere that this scene carries. Diluc can feel it at his throat, the warning, the threat that comes with the closeness. He talks through it.

“I don’t think you’ve made all the way here just to point out the obvious, bard.”

He turns then, and Venti is still there, looking straight into him. In the pit of his eyes there’s an ancient kind of loneliness that makes him look terribly old. It’s in times like this when it becomes easy to think of him as a god. Again, Diluc thinks of what being religious means, thinks of kissing his temple and his hands until pink and red go back to his skin, thinks of drying his hair and lending him a bed.

That’s not the kind of devotion that a God requires. But for Venti, who would treat the cathedral built in his name just to see Klee smile, who dirties his hands helping Sucrose with her work and runs away from Diona between laughs whenever she gets angry at him, it might be enough. 

Venti laughs. The sound is enough to loosen the muscles of Diluc’s tense shoulders.

“I haven’t,” Venti says, and then he turns around and walks into the house as if it belongs to him. Diluc follows, waiting for him to go on. Since he doesn’t, he adds:

“I’m not going to serve you wine here,” just to make sure that’s out of the table. 

Venti hums, amused. He goes straight to the fireplace, sticking both hands in front of the flames. Diluc stops just three steps away from him, taking a few seconds to stare at the side of his face, shadows dancing over the curves of his nose, his eyebrows, his neck. 

“I lost something important,” Venti says at least, his voice soft, “and my power has decreased drastically.” 

Diluc frowns before he can stop himself. Venti looks at him with that same smile that doesn’t suit him, even as he’s winking, probably trying to downplay his own words.

“Worst possible time too, right?”

Diluc would know. The Abyss Order’s activity is still on rise, and the Fatui are getting bolder every passing day. He knows the Knights of Favonious are not good enough to keep them all at bay, not enough to protect all of Mondstadt, bound by the laws and diplomacy and their own duty.

Even so,

“I’m still here,” he reminds him, as if it was obvious. “And Jean will do everything in her power.”

Venti looks at him through the corner of his eye for a second before he’s turning his whole body, hands on his hips. He giggles again, and even though the sound is far off the usual, it doesn’t sound as tense as his last words.

“Are you saying you will protect me, Master Diluc?” 

Diluc doesn’t roll his eyes, because he’s not keen on the gesture, but he hopes that the expression on his face is enough to convey his feelings of fond frustration. One can’t be serious with Venti around unless someone is in immediate danger, it seems. 

“I am saying that if my actions can bestow some peace upon you, know that I’ll keep protecting Mondstadt.”

Venti takes a step in his direction, then another. When his hands close around Diluc’s white shirt, they leave wet marks that extend through the cloth under his fingers, cold against his skin. The flower on his hat has lost at least two petals in the rain, but his eyes are alive and  warm as they look straight into Diluc’s red ones.

He doesn’t feel the need to confess, doesn’t want to kneel down and ask for forgiveness for his sins. But he wants to keep Venti here nonetheless, in the intimacy of the room illuminated only by the flames. Maybe that’s a thought that needs absolution. 

“You,” Venti says, very slowly, “are a very good person. Did you know that, Master Diluc?”

He smirks, the little shit. Diluc doesn’t bother to answer this time, because he’s too busy trying to calm down the beating of his heart as Venti gets on his tiptoes, one hand going to his shoulder, the other remaining on his chest.

Diluc leans down into the kiss, and it’s impossible to think of a god when the laugh that he swallows in his own mouth it’s so undeniably Venti.

[becca-leigh]

𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘.

✧ Anime - Attack on Titan.

✧ Pairing - Armin Arlert x Reader [No mention of body descriptives].

✧ Word Count - 2.4k

✧ Contains - Fluff :)

✧ Synopsis - When paying your old treehouse one final visit, forgotten memories of your time spent with Armin flood back in nostalgic waves.

Dust scattered in minuscule particles on the oak wood surfaces of your shared treehouse, a distant reminder of how long it had been since it was paid any attention. Nostalgia metaphorically filled your senses, and you found the Earthy smell somewhat comforting.

A prolonged period of time had passed since either of you had visited the place you used to call your second home. You were surprised to see it remained in pristine condition, aside from a few small areas of damp or wear-and-tear, but nothing major. Both you and Armin had left insignificant belongings in here, but nonetheless, they were belongings that you were hoping to retrieve in your final visit. You set the cardboard box down on the bed, your eyes scanning your surroundings.

Hand-crafted bookshelves held the books you loved to read together as kids. You shared a love for the ocean, often spending your youth sitting together on the beanbags under lantern light, reading all about the wonders of the sea. You smiled at one memory in particular, one from Armin’s 8th birthday.

❉᯽❉

“Armin!” You squealed, hurriedly making your way into the treehouse, a wrapped parcel clutched in your arms. Armin’s face lit up at your presence as you tackled him in a hug, his arms softly encasing you.

“Happy birthday!” You forced the present on him with excited eyes, watching as he gently took it from your hands with a grateful smile. “Well, go on, open it!”

“Okay, okay!” Armin giggled and set to work delicately unwrapping the gift, his eyes growing with elation as he pulled out the book. Deep Ocean (100 Facts) rested in his palms before he clutched it to his chest contently. You watched with adoration, your best friend’s reaction to your gift better than you could’ve imagined.

“Thank you, (Y/N), I love it so much! Let’s read it.” He began to settle comfortably on the beanbag, patting the free spot beside him.

“But it’s your birthday,” you replied quietly, “don’t you want to spend it with your family?”

“My best birthdays are spent with you.”

❉᯽❉

Your fingertips traced delicately over the spine of that very book, a sad smile lacing your features. The spine was littered with small creases from how much Armin had reopened the book as a child, often times reading the facts out to you. You would giggle at the images of the sea creatures, finding humour in the many uncertainties about what lurked in the vast, blue waters.

More memories flooded back as you pulled the book from the shelf, completely lost in a train of sentimental thoughts. So much so, you hadn’t heard the presence of someone else until he spoke.

“That was my favourite book when we were little.” He commented softly, leaning coolly against the doorframe. You jumped slightly, turning to the owner of the sweet voice.

Your gaze met Armin’s apologetic one as you clutched your heart with one hand. “Jesus, you scared me.” You laughed nervously, these being the first words you had spoken to Armin in years.

Armin chuckled warmly, a light blush tinging his cheeks. “Sorry, (Y/N), I should’ve knocked. Didn’t expect to find you up here.” He lied. He’d seen you venture out to the treehouse.

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled, running a hand over the front cover of the book. Armin stepped into the treehouse, observing his surroundings as he did so. He spotted the box resting on the bed and raised a brow at it. Sensing his curiosity, you answered his silent question.

“I’m moving to University soon, so I wanted to see if there was anything worthwhile bringing with me.” Your eyes ran over Armin’s appearance. He hadn’t changed much, the obvious difference being his hair. His silky, blonde locks were styled with an undercut, and those ocean-blue eyes remained as inviting as ever.

“I am too,” Armin smiled, “what are you studying?”

“Marine biology. You?”

Armin’s eyes widened slightly. “Hey, me too! I guess our love of the ocean paid off, hm?”

You giggled shyly at his remembrance of how you shared that love equally. “Yeah, I guess so. Are you going to the University you always talked about?” There was a slight hopefulness tint to your voice, the chance to reconnect with Armin weighing on your mind. You had been accepted to that very University.

"Mhm,” he nodded, “all my friends are going elsewhere, but I had my heart set on that place ever since we were young.” Your heart raced at his reply.

Armin noticed the relieved expression on your face. “Wait, did you- are you going there too?”

“Yeah!” You nodded excitedly. Armin’s expression washed over with relief that a familiar face would be joining him. He perched on the edge of the bed, unable to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, “well, I’ll be happy to see you around, and most likely in class, too. It’s been a while, huh?”

The elephant in the room had finally been addressed. You nodded sadly, your gaze fixating on your shoes as you brushed your foot over the rug. “Being in here brings back a lot of memories. We had a good childhood, didn’t we?”

“Of course. Hey,” Armin stood up, heading over towards the bookshelf and pulling something out, “remember this?” In his hands resided a photo album, the front cover coated with stuck-on seashells from your many trips to the local beach. The job was messy, but the reminiscence was there.

“Oh God.” You giggled, approaching Armin casually. “Fancy taking a trip down memory lane? If you’ve got time.”

“I’ve always got time for you.”

—♡—

Memories were restored, laughter was shared, and hours had passed. The conversation had been constant, and you came to find that really, nothing had changed between the two of you. Back then, you believed your love was unrequited; that the only love Armin would ever offer you was platonic. Hearing the way he spoke so fondly of your memories together made you think otherwise.

Armin flicked to the last page, and your eyes glistened at the photograph in its place. You were both covered in flour, your tongues poking out as Armin’s Mum snapped the picture. It had been a while since you’d been next door and seen his family.

“Mum misses you, you know.” Armin stated, looking at you with the same sparkle in his eyes; the sparkle that knew how to ignite a dozen fireworks in the pit of your stomach.

You sighed sadly. “I miss her too. It was strange to go from seeing you all nearly everyday to... not at all.”

Armin snapped the book shut, making you jump slightly. He placed it on the floor, turning to you in a serious manner. “I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I never made any effort to keep our friendship the same when we separated at high school. You were only next door, but yet, I treated you like you were a thousand miles away.” Armin ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before continuing. “Believe me, I’ve regretted it since we were 11. The more time that passed, the more I convinced myself you wouldn’t want to see me. It was selfish to assume that, and for that, I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes widened, a look of pity flashing across your face as you cleared your throat. “Armin, I- no, stop. Look, it takes two to make a friendship work. This isn’t your fault. We just drifted apart, and as sad as it is, it happens. We had a good childhood together, that’s what matters.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.”

“Yeah, I know, I do too. I used to dwell on it a lot, so much so it kept me up at night.” You murmured. Your heart felt heavy.

Armin placed a gentle hand over yours. “I want you to know that you were the best friend I ever had. I never replaced you, I couldn’t. No one understood me like you did, not even Eren.” His soft gaze met yours, the air thickening with the weighted confessions.

A genuine smile crept onto your face. After years of not knowing your place in Armin’s life, it was relieving to gain some closure. His fingertips danced over yours, his touch featherlight as if you were a precious fragment of porcelain. 

You took a deep breath in before speaking. “I never replaced you either. Even though I made some good friends at my high school, I always found myself comparing them to you,” you paused, “but they were never you. You were the only friend I ever needed.”

Armin blushed at your words. His mind casted back to a conversation you had the night before you went your separate ways. A night that, in hindsight, was a night he’ll cherish forever.

❉᯽❉

Fairy lights strung across the bookshelf flickered in the darkening treehouse, the sun outside resting on the horizon. You were both laying on the bed, giggling over a stupid joke Armin had made, before the laughter died down and a content look was shared.

“I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” Armin commented sadly, “but we can always come up here whenever we have time.”

“Exactly. We’ll still see each other, silly. You’re only next door.” You giggled, playfully hitting him on the arm. Armin didn’t return the playful banter, but rather wore a saddened expression.

“Hey?” You sat up on your elbows, looking down at Armin. He sighed, turning his face away. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just... I don’t want us to forget about each other.” He croaked, turning back to face you. His eyes were filled with tears. You never liked seeing him upset.

You lay back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around him. “We won’t forget about each other, Armin, I promise. I won’t let that happen.” You softly comforted, running your hand up and down his face soothingly.

Armin let out a shaky breath, holding up his pinky. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You stated, intertwining your pinky with his. “You’re the only friend I need.”

❉᯽❉

Armin knew you’d stuck to that promise. It made him feel guilty more than anything when he thought back to how he let you down.

In the first few weeks of high school, you left your respective houses at the same time. A smile, wave, and a good morning would be shared, before he went one way and you went the opposite. This became less frequent, until eventually, it stopped completely. The more used to his timetable Armin become, the later he left the house. You didn’t fail to notice the change.

After school, you both had different schedules, whether it be extracurricular or school work. You visited the treehouse every so often in hopes of seeing your best friend, but he was never there. It saddened you that you barely saw him now, so you urged yourself to let him go.

Over the years, the treehouse became desolate, dust collecting on each surface. Its aura was filled with memories that you deemed painful to think about, shutting them out of your mind. You focused on school and studying, telling yourself it was to ensure you achieved your dream.

But really, it was to keep the boy you loved from occupying your mind.

—♡—

One thing you learnt from letting someone you love go, is to let yourself grieve their loss.

In the time you were apart, you taught yourself a valuable lesson; never let your feelings overflow. Any spare time you acquired was spent on yourself.

Being with the boy you spent so long letting go of brought back feelings you thought you had abandoned indefinitely. But yet, you strangely found comfort within those feelings, despite how long you spent shutting them out. Armin was someone that would always hold a special place in your heart; he was a large part of your childhood and the person you are today. So, as you packed away the things you had decided to keep, you didn’t symbolise that as storing away the memories like you had planned. Instead, you allowed the memories to plague your mind, letting them roam free as they pleased. You may have drifted, but you had been reunited.

You closed the box lid, sealing it shut with duct tape. Armin watched from afar, a small smile playing on his lips. “This feels like it should be sad. End of an era, and all that.” You laughed, turning to face Armin.

He approached you, keeping his blue orbs locked on yours. “I like to think we’re starting a new one. Together, this time.”

“You’re right. I’ll see you everyday.” You said excitedly. All your hard work over the years seemed worth it in this very moment.

“I can’t wait.” Armin whispered, his eyes glancing down to your lips for a split-second. You took a step closer, closing the short distance between the two of you. “I missed you.” He added.

“And I missed you. So much.” Armin delicately placed his hands on your waist, yours wrapping around his neck. The air grew suffocatingly thick with tension as the desire to kiss one another elicited from you both.

Armin dipped his head, his lips hovering over yours. “Can I?”

“Yes.” With that, your lips met, his hands pulling you flush against his body. Time felt as if it stopped the moment your lips connected, though your only focus was how soft he felt against your mouth. Your body tingled with the kiss, his touch like a black hole sucking you in. Tiny butterflies erupted in your tummy as the kiss intensified, sending you into an inner frenzy.

The kiss was broken, much to your dismay, with Armin pressing his forehead against yours and panting slightly. A smile graced his plump lips before he spoke. “I don’t think my feelings for you ever left.”

You pulled back slightly to check what you were hearing was true. Armin sensed your uncertainty, continuing. “I loved you back then, even if we were just kids. Being here with you now, reminds me just how much I loved you. How much I love you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your eyes twinkling knowing he felt the same. “Letting you go all those years ago hurt, because the one thing I couldn’t overshadow was the love I felt for you.” You paused, gauging his reaction. “What I’m saying is, I never stopped loving you. I love you now, and I think I always will.”

You never truly left one another. Although you distanced, you were always in his heart, keeping him alive. Just like how the Moon relies on the Sun to illuminate the night sky, brightening everything in its wake.

In his eyes, you were the Sun, and he was the Moon.

(A/N): Some fluff as a filler whilst I continue to write my next smut. I hope you enjoyed. <3

Next One-Shot: Tōru Oikawa. ෆ

[tokoyamisstuff]

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 2 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 2: “On The Run”

Chapter Summary: Even though you can’t help feeling drawn to the lunatic that looks like your deceased lover, you try to surpress your feelings and flee to find your friends.

Warnings: Loki is fucking crazy, Violence, Torture, Jotun! Loki, Mentions of Death, Abuse, Unhealthy Relationship, Mentions of Rape

Words: 3360

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

“And the shark, it has tears,

And they run down its face.

But the shark lives in the water -

So the teardrops one can’t see.”

- Rammstein - Haifisch

Taglist: @winterglcw​ @commonintrest​ @emmojoy​ @satansbra @just-someone-who-likes-to-write​​

“She died through my hands.”

That sentence replayed over and over in your head, forming a continuous loop as you silently formed those words with your own lips.

“It’s not him!” you called out to yourself, since your reason had seemingly disappeared ever  since you first saw the person that was a perfect copy of the man you once loved.

You were rolling around on the bare floor, shivering as you softly punched your head to not get lost in thought again. The emperor didn’t even have the basic decency to give you any clothes back, only having the Citauri throw you into an old dungeon to keep you prisoner - or whatever he’d plan to do with you.

That man was so different of your Loki.

And the timeline both of you were currently in had exceeded your worst expectations, making you wonder if fate just wanted to torment you.

In this universe, Thanos never even got so far as to collect all of the Infinity Stones. Loki Laufeyson had won the battle of New York and took over this world, then somehow double-crossed and killed the Titan. So right now, he possessed the power of the Tesseract, as well as the Cascet of Ancient Winters. For what reason he kept that Jotun relic was unknown, probably out of nostalgic sentiment you assumed.

Afterwards, the God of Mischief had killed his brother Thor in bad blood, as well as torturing Natasha - the exact way he threatened her back in your world, when he was in his cell. Clint was still his servant, as it seemed. You had seen him when they took you to his cell.

He couldn’t get rid of all the Avengers, however - even though their current location was unknown. They were in hiding for many years now, probably trying to get their hands on the other Infinity Stones. 

Also noticeable was the fact that this universe had neither Hela, nor Captain Marvel - so one good and one bad thing to compensate for each other. Not that they’d be a match for Loki in his current form anyway...

And there was no Dr. Strange on this version of Earth, your last bit hope to escape disappearing as you learned about this fact.

That much was all you had learned by now, mainly through tricking and manipulating some of your guards into giving you information.

All in all, you only knew for sure was that this world’s Loki was a terribly trong, murderous sociopath, intoxicated by power and loneliness.

And you had become the focus of the little emotion left in him.

It was hard trying to surpress all the voices and memory submerging in your mind. So there was nothing left for you except for rolling up into a ball, lying on the cold floor as you prepared to be washed over with sadness and guilt once again.

_____

“Would you help me recieve the greatest honor by becoming mine and mine only, Lady Y/N?”

How could you ever forget this moment?

Back on the Asgardian refugee ship, your Loki had asked you that very question, now popping up in your mind once again.

Every detail was still as bright as daylight, preserved deep into your heart.

You clearly remembered the small, green box he had summoned out of thin air, presenting you a plain but still incredibly beautiful ring. The golden piece of jewlery formed a snake eating itself - a symbol of infinity and wholeness.

It was just his way of being thoughtful.

“I-I prepared this a while go, to be precize...but I never thought of being worthy” he had stammered and you found yourself speechless, admiring that very scene playing in front of your eyes. “A-Anyway, after all that happened, I realized that all moments I spent happy, were when I was with you. I don’t want to lose you again, Y/N! And I feared, well...that it might be too late to ask someday.”

It was most unjust that this most blissful moment would be interrupted by a great rumbling shaking through the whole spaceship - and even before Thor would crash Loki’s proposal, both of you were aware just what kind of danger you would have to face soon:

Thanos.

Your numbers had already been decimated by Ragnarok, all that’s left being some civilian refugees, injured and traumatized. The only ones capable of fighting left were Loki, Thor, Heimdall, you and the Hulk.

Yet all of your struggles were to no avail, only able to watch and scream and bag at the Titan, so he’d at least spare those innocent lives as he mercilessly slaughtered woman and children alike.

“Fucking monster!” Pulling out a gun, your mind went completely blank as you gave it some last, desperate attempt to save or avenge just anyone.

No bullet would even come close enough to pierce his skin, as Ebony Maw would deflect them to hit yourself and people close to you. “I’m not the only one you should see responsible for this outcome” Thanos scoffed.

“What do you mea-” Your voice got swallowed by a pained groan as you saw Loki, kneeling in front of Thanos and revealing the one thing he was after:

The Tesseract.

“You......took it?!?” The only thing managing to escape your throat was a high-pitched yell as Loki’s face contorted in disappointment and regret - just now realizing that he had put you all in danger.

They would’ve never went after you if it wasn’t for him. He had doomed his race, failed you and what was left of his family.

“How could you put us all in danger?! I thought you had changed! You swore it with your life, Loki! That you loved me more than you desired power!”

No answer.

Instead, the god would prepare one of his speeches, directing words of undying fidelity at Thanos and his arms. And even though it was meant to be lies, a play to make the threat feel save, every single word hit your heart like knives.

“How could I ever marry someone like you?!” feeling as if Loki most recent, selfish act was suffocating you, you could only whisper - yet he understood very clearly, the facade dropping in an instant.  “I-I hate you...traitor...”

If only you knew that those would be the last words you’d ever direct at him...

Loki materializes a dagger, desperately trying to make up for his biggest mistake yet, and at least save you, the light of his cursed existence, and the only thing he had ever done in his life full of wrongs.

But Thanos looked right through the charade from the very beginning, using the stones to trap Loki in their hold - and then, grabbing the god’s throat.

“You have what you want, Thanos!” Thor tried to bargain, “There’s even less than half of my race left. Please, just let us go!”

“Oh, I will” he spoke stony, then shifting his attention to the god in his hands. “But first, I’ll do you a favor and erase that disgraceful pest all of you were too weak to take care of.”

As he was struggling for air, gasping uncontrollably as he tried to free his neck from the Giant, Loki’s glare wandered to you - and when your eyes met, both of your hearts skipped a beat.

He smiled. In the face of death, the last thing he wanted you to remember was the good things after all.

And seeing the ring on your finger, how couldn’t he? Loki knew you were about to say yes - and knowing this was more than enough for someone like him.

After all, the God of Mischief was used to happiness being taken away from him as soon as he thought it to be okay to open up to someone.

But you were safe. That’s all that counted for him!

It was like his eyes were telling you “It’s gonna be alright. I’m sorry, Y/N...I love you.”

You don’t remember much after that, having a mental breakdown as you had to watch the love of your life perish - and forever thinking about how you had turned him down just seconds before.

A part of you had died with him back then.

_____

The creaking sound of the cell’s door made you jump from your dream - but the person which entered was one you had never seen before.

A monster.

It’s silhouette very much resembled Loki, yet his skin was painted in a dark shade of blue, with thin linings carved across his whole body. He had fangs and even horns coming out of his temple to add at that.

The beast’s eyes were shining in a threatening red, glistering contrastful in the dark hallway. But the worst were those black irises, absent of any form of compassion - there seemed to be only rage, confusion and hate.

“Fuck!” you screamed, terrified and fearing for your life. Shuffling until your back hit the wall of a corner of the room, you defendingly put your arms in front of yourself. “Go away! Don’t to-ouch me!”

Loki cleared his voice as he put the Casket away, not making any efforts to revert his outer appearance back to ‘normal’. He had admired it on his way to your cell, like he’d do many times a day when he was reminiscing about the day he learned about his heritage...

...and how he had killed Odin, his adoptive father, with that very relic, afterwards clearing the universe of that despiseful race of the Jotunn - making him the last of his kind.

“Oh my” a dark voice finally declared, “Seems like ‘your’ Loki never dared to show you his true form. Pathetic.”

No, that wasn’t completely true. Your lover had at least told you back then. But when did you ever have the time to talk things over and heal, being dragged from one fight to another?!

The Jotunn felt great joy as he towered over you, gleefully watching your naked body cowering to his knees, covered in goosebumps and shaking heavily. Your breath was clearly visible while you tried to cover your shame as best as you could, wary glare never leaving the abomination that was just lurking right in front of you.

“Wha- OUCH!” you hissed as the Frost Giant took ahold of your wrist, monitoring the pain spreading across your face as his touch would frostburn any skin he was touching with ease.

Loki grinned menacingly as he let go off of you, admiring his handywork as the first layer of your skin had already died, crumbling away to reveal your pink flesh.

“Oh, how I missed that” he explained, much to your surprise ripping a piece of his own clothing apart to cover the wound with it. “Your kind is so easily broken. It’s always fascinating to watch.”

“Just kill me already, you freak!”

Well, Loki had in fact spent hours after hours thinking about how to handle you, and yet he couldn’t decide. Obviously he would’ve killed you right away if it was otherwise, but he still had a soft spot for you somewhere deep in his heart, after all.

And it upset him more than he’d ever admit. So he tried to assert his dominance, to ease the feeling of weakness and loss of control.

“I’m only doing you a favor, woman.” The god would touch your cheek, making you flinch away - but this time, it wouldn’t hurt. Never would he dare to scar this most beautiful face!

“The man you loved was just the same as me, yet it seemed he wasn’t completely honest with you. What you are seeing right now is the form of a Frost Giant...the monstrosity you chose to love.”

“L-Loki…”

It was no surprise that he saw tears filling the rim of your eyes - yet out of a whim, you pulled your arms around his neck, tears wetting his robe. He gasped, unable to act in any way as he stiffened in the pose.

That was by far not the reaction he had been expecting - and he surprised you as well. You had thought him to instantly shove you away, beat you agaib or even bite - but he just kneeled there, not daring to make a move.

"Why?” Now his voice was much softer, pained even. “I’m a monster. I hurt you. So why?”

“I’m so sorry” you whimpered, words being interrupted by heavy sobbing. “I try to fight it, I really do. But I just can’t, I-I”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“How could I be? It’s you, Loki...no matter what you look like.” Eventually, you’d face him again, wiping the tears out of your face when for another moment, you made yourself forget that this was a completely different person. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Letting me see this form out of nowhere...”

“Y/N, I’m not the same as him” he retorted, knowing very well what it’s like to lose oneself in daydreams and illusions to ease the pain of loss. His sight wandered around the room instead of your face, stating “I did horrendous things, dear. Tormented and killed countless. It’s unforgiveable.”

“So did he” you stated, even though you knew those two Loki’s couldn’t be compared. “And you should already know: I feel dead inside, ever since he died.”

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” When you nodded confidently, Loki sighed ashamed, reluctantly touching your wrist again. A warm magic would flow through you, healing the wound in no time. “I wish she had felt the same for me...”

For a while, both of you were plainly sitting in uncomfortable silence, with Loki even lending you his cloak to warm yourself up.

“It’s not him” you told yourself once again. “It’s not him. It’s not him. IT’S NOT HIM!!! That man is dangerous and instable. He can’t be trusted!”

And then, finally, you dared asking, cutting through the thick air:

“What exactly happened to me, in this world?”

Loki’s face contorted in agony, rubbing his face as if in deep pain. “Is this really necessary? I already told you. She died because of me.”

“More details would be nice” you retorted bluntly, not really caring if he was to have a violent outburst again. Curiosity got the better of you at that moment.

The emperor’s voice was low and husky, and just now you realized how damn tired he looked - with dark rings under his eyes, and more pale than you had ever remembered him.

The weight of his sins sure had taken a stroll on that sensitive man.

"I saw the ring” he uttered deeply affected, “That’s something I could only dream of. Thinking about it, I think she never really loved me in the first place. Or maybe she just grew tired of my lies. Understandable, I have to admit...”

“Yes, it was quite the opposite, even” he continued after a long, strained breath of his. “She hated me. Joined the Avengers and tried to kill me, several times. Only years later I learned about the truth: Already far in the past, back on Asgard, she betrayed me. After I fell off the Bifrost, she thought myself dead - and consoled herself by bedding my brother. I had to kill him, I-I-I just had to!”

Loki’s hands were shaking so frantically you could feel it from over there, mad eyes darting over your physique to take in your reaction. “After they finally lost, I took her prisoner. Seven months of trying to make her mine, no matter the methods. Mind-controlling her would not be satisfying. So I tortured her, played games with her sanity, and- I’d rather not speak about how else I violated her.”

“You, wha-” Now you were the one shivering in horrid anticipation, “You raped me...?”

No answer. Instead he just finished this disastrous story.

“One day, I went to her cell like I always did. I hoped once her mind was broken she’d stop struggling to be mine. But she never did. You Y/N’s are quite the fighters, as it seems.”

“Wha- wwhat happened to me...I mean, ‘her’?”

A loud whine escaped his vocal cords as he hit the wall right next to your face, making you suck in a pained breath.

“She used her chains to hang herself. There was nothing I could do. Ever since then I knew I’m cursed to inflict pain on anything I hold dear.”

"D-Don’t give me that self-pitying bullshit” you wanted to shout at his face - but the cramping in your heart as well as the hyperventillation made talking impossible.

How could one do something like that to a person they claimed to love?!

“Go” you whimpered, already shuffling away from him and he could hear anguish and fear drop out of every vocal, and he realized you were having a panic attack. “Please!”

Loki closed his eyes, letting out one last, deep sigh. He knew he owed you that much.

“Very well.”

That whole night, you spent crying and screaming to your hearts avail, unable to process your current situation and newfound knowledge.

So that would be your life from now on? Being hurt mentally and physically, frostburnt and hurt and violated against your will - all while looking at a face that remembered you of happier days?

Never!

Things were just like that evil Loki said: You are a fighter!

And if you couldn’t help that crazy man, you would at least help yourself! The Avengers are still out there, somewhere. You needed to escape and help them!

How could you have been so blind all those years?

Loki - your Loki - would have never wanted to you give up. He’d want you to survive and live your life to it’s fullest, trying to make the best out of everything you’ve got.

Just like he always did. That much you had learned from him.

“I’m sorry, Loki. If I die, I can’t even remember you...I love you…”

Breaking out succeeded faster than you could ever think it would take - because when you’d finally get out of your fetal courl and wandered across the cell, you realized Loki didn’t properly close the heavy steel door back when he rushed away from you.

“It’s not him. There’s no helping that man. I have to find my friends, I-”

Still shocked and scared and traumatized, you didn’t even realize that someone was watching you, not even questioning that the hallways were oddly empty.

You sneaked out of an open window, bare feet feeling the morning dew as you shook away Lokis cloak and ran as fast as your feet could carry you.

There was it - the fence.

No one could tell you what kind of world would await you outside of that property as you swiftly avoided some guards, rushing through the all so beautiful garden.

But as soon as you reached out to climb the railing, you felt someone balling a fist in your hair, harshly holding you back and causing you to stumble and fall.

“I thought you to be different…” an all too familiar voice grumbled. Loki didn’t even want to hear any apology or excuse, kicking your guts so heavily that you had to throw up, cramping on the ground.

“Don’t you dare to run away ever again!” he now yelled furiously, "She tried it too...so damn.many.times…!”

But before you could even respond, he suddenly began to cry uncontrollably. “I thought you would stay. Do you think I like to do this?!”

His voice was laced with grief and regret, yet he kept on forming countless bruises on your body. “Why can’t you fucking love me, hel?!”

You didn’t know how long his violent crying fit lasted, with him weeping as he let off some steam on your helpless self.

There was no trace of the hurt, regretful man left you talked to in your cell earlier. After being finished, having reclaimed a fraction of composure, Loki pressed your face in between his hands, ripping on your mangled body to face him.

“Fate gifted me another chance to possess you, Y/N. And I will form you into a magnificent pet, I promise.”

_______

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[egcdeath]

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note:  i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet,  after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.  

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.  

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.  

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

[envyofthegods]

here is my headcanons for which taylor swift album would be each of the dead poets favourite and why. 

neil perry: folklore 

- i feel like this is self explanatory

- literally taylors rendition of shakespeare 

- it has incredible storytelling and lyricism which neil is a sucker for and also big escapism energy, which lets be honest is one of the reasons neil loves acting so much

- its cottagecore meets magic/fairy vibes which imo is neil to a T 

- ‘mirrorball’ was literally written about him 

- his favourite song is ‘cardigan’

- he has definitely cried while listening to ‘this is me trying’ 

todd anderson: evermore and red

- sad boi hours 

- lets face it todd is one of those people who loves to cry. he likes to go somewhere quiet to just sit alone and let it all out and these two albums are his go to for that 

- he’s also a hopeless romantic at heart so all the love songs hit him in all the best ways (hes definitely a secret stay stay stay stan)

- mans is a poets so he loves good lyricism. between ‘all to well’, ‘state of grace’, ‘champagne problems’, ‘coney island’, ‘evermore’ and a bunch more, both these albums knock it out of the park. 

- ‘gold rush’ was literally written about todd the minute he laid eyes on neil

- his favourite season is autumn

charlie dalton: reputation 

- this man loves people standing up for themselves 

- he definitely cried listening to the album knowing taylor was doing better after what happened to her

- this man HATES bullies. (thanks to nolan and his dad)

- he definitely screams ‘this is why we cant have nice things’ at the top of his lungs whenever it comes on 

- his favourite song is ‘don’t blame me’ (he definitely has a thing for religious undertones when it comes to sex) 

- he’s a ‘getaway car’, ‘cruel summer’, ‘august’, ‘gold rush’ stan

- he secretly really likes all the love songs (don’t tell the other poets) and he sometimes listens to ‘gorgeous’, ‘call it what you want’ and ‘delicate’ when he’s alone and daydreams about meeks like a lovesick puppy

steven meeks: fearless and lover

- meeks and pitts are fearless stans all the way. they definitely became swifties during fearless era so it has sentimental value and they also just LOVE her country stuff

- meeks also adores lover. he thinks its some of her best work and he also just loves how happy and good vibes it is, while still being so lyrically and sonically impressive 

- hes definitely a sucker for a good fairytale romance so his favourite song is ‘love story’. he’s just glad romeo and juliet could have a happy ending for a change 

- paper rings is his favourite song off lover and he can’t not dance if it comes on. he also made charlie and him matching paper rings when the album came out. 

- meeks loves his family a LOT so ‘the best day’ also has a special place in his heart

gerard pitts: fearless

- he and meeks joined the fandom in fearless era so its very nostalgic for him 

- pittsy loves taylors country vibes and he’s secretly also a debut stan 

- his favourite song is ‘the other side of the door’. he sings along to the bridge and outro at the top of his lungs every single time

- he definitely went through an intense country music phase at some point bc of taylor but in the end only her stuff really stuck long term. 

- he’s hoping for her to make another country album some day 

(fanon) knox overstreet: 1989

- this man loves pop music. but not just popular music, music that sounds like proper GOOD pop.  

- ‘style’ is definitely his favourite song 

- he also loves ‘out of the woods’ and thinks the bridge is a masterpiece. he definitely accidentally got deep into the vehicular manslaughter theory

- at some point he tried using ‘how you get the girl’ to actually get a girl

-  he thinks ‘shake it off’ is amazing and will come after anyone who disses it

- cried the first time he listened to clean (i feel like his sister went through some kind of mental illness) 

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

Actually for that Japan trip Taehyung was supposed to go with them but he couldn't because he wanted to spend time with his family. So they just decided to go because they had the free time. Now on the topic of Jungkook's GCF's I don't think those should be used as proof since Jungkook himself said there is no main model and this is his artistic expression the songs he chose are just songs I'm sure he liked and decided to use them because they fit the mood of the videos.

I remember hearing something about V being supposed to join Jikook in Tokyo, but I've never seen actual proof, so if you have it...

For the second part... where to start... Jungkook is a sentimental, thoughtful person. Every time he does a cover he chooses a song he likes, but also a song whose lyrics he knows and have some meaning to him. A lot of times he says he likes the sad, romantic lyrics of the songs he covers or recommends to fans. He has said that he looks up the translation of the songs he chooses and that we should too.

JK said there was no main model in his films, which may be true. Maybe he doesn't actually try to make JM the main model of GCF. He was asked in Helsinki why he always filmed JM, and answered that it was because JM was always there. Even if JK doesn't make a conscious choice to film JM the most, he is around JM the most and JM feels the most comfortable being filmed by JK. So JM has the most amount of screentime in the GCFs, which is why he jokingly calls himself the main model (or maybe it's because he knows he is actually the main model...). Regardless, Jimin being the main model or not has absolutely nothing to do with GCF in Tokyo, so I'm not sure why you brought that up.

We've established that JK knows the lyrics to the songs he chooses. And you can say he chose Troye Sivan's song only because he liked it, and that would be true if he hadn't matched the lyrics to the scenes in the video so well (even if abstractly). In "Love is a roller-coaster, goes both ways" JK films a roller-coaster flashing the colors of the rainbow. Plus, the song is not only lyrically romantic, but the melody of the song is romantic and nostalgic too, which matches the black and white editing of the video or the many nighttime shots.

When you watch the video it feels romantic. JK spent more time filming JM's happiness and playfulness than he did filming the city. When it comes to BTS, fans often forget they are people and not robots designed to please us. Imagine going to Tokyo with a friend and making a video about it. No big deal, right? Now imagine choosing a very obvious love song that can't even be used to convey friendship because it's so explicitly intimate and atmospheric. Now imagine filming your friend more than the beautiful city you visited. Regardless of how much you love your friend and how much their happiness means to you, your happiness matters the most, so you would want to film either yourself, or yourself with your friend, or the things you liked too. And you know your friend will watch this video, and they're only a friend, so you will be careful when editing the video since the song is so romantic. When it says "I'm running, running just to keep my hands on you" you probably won't film your friend walking backwards from you, smiling at you, walking away from you, etc. Right? You will choose to film something else instead, to make things less awkward.

When you watch GCF you don't feel JK's happiness for being in a new city, or doing fun things with JM. The way he edited the video, filming JM being happy most of all, gives you the feeling that what JK loved the most about that trip, and in general, is JM's happiness. What he liked the most about Tokyo was watching Jimin have fun, act goofy, etc, and the way he filmed JM is tender, careful.

Jimin's happiness is contagious in the video, and maybe that's why JK edited it that way - but if he wanted to show Jimin's happiness and "true self" to the fans, why choose a romantic song like that and edit the video to match the vibe of the song so well? Why not choose a fun, lighthearted song about being young and free?

It's not just that the song is romantic. GCF in Saipan has a romantic song but it doesn't fit the video nearly as well. GCF in Saipan has a more commercial nature, from the song selection to the more generic shots of boys having fun on a beach. Still, the most important verse "Imma let you get the best of me" fits the video, since we know the members have and are the best of Jungkook.

Plus, like I said, both times from "I don't wanna hide no more" to "Imma let yo get the best of me" there was only JM and the beach. Not only that, but JK filmed JM more intimately than the other members. The other members are filmed for a few seconds at a time, but JK films Jimin for multiple seconds at a time, and the lighting is the brightest when it's on him. With JM, there's only him and the ocean for an entire chorus. JK lets JM goof around for the camera for so long that it starts to feel like he made the video just for that purpose (which he might have, considering he was caught filming JM by a clueless RM).

(Also, JK sneakily shoots the rainbow unicorn for about a second. That's two rainbows in his videos...)

You are right that Troye Sivan's song fit the mood of the video, but that mood was romance. The song is the most romantic of all the songs he chose for his films, and also the song that best matches the video itself, and he used it in the one video that features Jimin and Jimin alone. Of all the GCFs, the one that feels the most genuine and emotional is this one. The GCFs in Helsinki and Newark also feel personal, but less emotional. The way Jimin is filmed in Tokyo, and the contrast between his happiness and the feelings of longing and almost loneliness that you get from the lyrics and editing make the film immensely powerful. It's like JM is right there, and so loved by JK, but also distant at the same time.

If JK had done this video for a woman, absolutely no one would be calling it friendship (regardless of our tendency to assume men and women who get along are dating). I've nothing else to add.

[path-of-my-childhood]

The Story Behind Every Song on folklore - According to Aaron Dessner

By: Brady Gerber for Vulture Date: July 27th 2020

The National multi-instrumentalist spoke to Vulture over the phone from upstate New York a few hours after the surprise release of Swift’s eighth studio album. (“A pretty wild ride,” he admits, sounding tired yet happy.) He was clear that he can’t speak on behalf of Swift’s lyrics, much like he can’t for The National frontman Matt Berninger’s either, or the thinking behind Jack Antonoff’s songs. (Here’s a cheat sheet: Jack’s songs soar, Aaron’s glide.) But Dessner was game to speak to his specific contributions, influences, and own interpretations of each song on folklore, a record you can sum up by two words that came up often during our conversation: nostalgic and wry.

“the 1″

“the 1” and “hoax,” the first song and the last song, were the last songs we did. The album was sort of finished before that. We thought it was complete, but Taylor then went back into the folder of ideas that I had shared. I think in a way, she didn’t realize she was writing for this album or a future something. She wrote “the 1,” and then she wrote “hoax” a couple of hours later and sent them in the middle of the night. When I woke up in the morning, I wrote her before she woke up in LA and said, “These have to be on the record.” She woke up and said, “I agree” [laughs] These are the bookends, you know?

It’s clear that “the 1” is not written from her perspective. It’s written from another friend’s perspective. There’s an emotional wryness and rawness, while also to this kind of wink in her eyes. There’s a little bit of her sense of humor in there, in addition to this kind of sadness that exists both underneath and on the surface. I enjoy that about her writing.

The song began from the voice memo she sent me, and then I worked on the music some and we tracked her vocals, and then my brother added orchestration. There are a few other little bits, but basically that was one of the very last things we did.

“cardigan“

That’s the first song we wrote [in early May]. After Taylor asked if I would be interested in writing with her remotely and working on songs, I said, “Are you interested in a certain kind of sound?” She said, “I’m just interested in what you do and what you’re up to. Just send anything, literally anything, it could be the weirdest thing you’ve ever done,” so I sent a folder of stuff I had done that I was really excited about recently. “cardigan” was one of those sketches; it was originally called “Maple.” It was basically exactly what it is on the record, except we added orchestration later that my brother wrote.

I sent [the file] at 9 p.m., and around 2 a.m. or something, there was “cardigan,” fully written. That’s when I realized something crazy was happening. She just dialed directly into the heart of the music and wrote an incredible song and fully conceived of it and then kept going. It harkens back to lessons learned, or experiences in your youth, in a really beautiful way and this sense of longing and sadness, but ultimately, it’s cathartic. I thought it was a perfect match for the music, and how her voice feels. It was kind of a guide. It had these lower register parts, and I think we both realized that this was a bit of a lightning rod for a lot of the rest of the record.

The National’s Influence On Swift

She said that she’s a fan of the emotion that’s conveyed in our music. She doesn’t often get to work with music that is so raw and emotional, or melodic and emotional, at the same time. When I sent her the folder, that was one of the main feelings. She said, “What the fuck? How do you just have that?” [laughs] I was humbled and honored because she just said, “It’s a gift, and I want to write to all of this.” She didn’t write to all of it, but a lot of it, and relatively quickly.

She is a fan of the band, and she’s a fan of Big Red Machine. She’s well aware of the sentiment of it and what I do, but she didn’t ask for a certain kind of thing. I know that the film [I Am Easy To Find] has really affected her, and she’s very much in love with that film and the record. Maybe it’s subconsciously been an influence.

“the last great american dynasty”

I wrote that after we’d been working for a while. It was an attempt to write something attractive, more uptempo and kind of pushing. I also was interested in this almost In Rainbows-style latticework of electric guitars. They come in and sort of pull you along, kind of reminiscent of Big Red Machine. It was very much in this sound world that I’ve been playing around with, and she immediately clicked with that. Initially I was imagining these dreamlike distant electric guitars and electronics but with an element of folk. There’s a lot going on in that sense. I sent it before I went on a run, and when I got back from the run, that song was there [laughs].

She told me the story behind it, which sort of recounts the narrative of Rebekah Harkness, whom people actually called Betty. She was married to the heir of Standard Oil fortune, married into the Harkness family, and they bought this house in Rhode Island up on a cliff. It’s kind of the story of this woman and the outrageous parties she threw. She was infamous for not fitting in, entirely, in society; that story, at the end, becomes personal. Eventually, Taylor bought that house. I think that is symptomatic of folklore, this type of narrative song. We didn’t do very much to that either.

“exile” (ft. Bon Iver)

Taylor and William Bowery, the singer-songwriter, wrote that song initially together and sent it to me as a sort of a rough demo where Taylor was singing both the male and female parts. It’s supposed to be a dialogue between two lovers. I interpreted that and built the song, played the piano, and built around that template. We recorded Taylor’s vocals with her singing her parts but also the male parts.

We talked a lot about who she thought would be perfect to sing, and we kept coming back to Justin [Vernon]. Obviously, he’s a dear friend of mine and collaborator. I said, “Well, if he’s inspired by the song, he’ll do it, and if not, he won’t.” I sent it to him and said, “No pressure at all, literally no pressure, but how do you feel about this?” He said, “Wow.” He wrote some parts into it also, and we went back and forth a little bit, but it felt like an incredibly natural and safe collaboration between friends. It didn’t feel like getting a guest star or whatever. It was just like, well, we’re working on something, and obviously he’s crazy talented, but it just felt right. I think they both put so much raw emotion into it. It’s like a surface bubbling. It’s believable, you know? You believe that they’re having this intense dialogue.

With other people I had to be secretive, but with Justin, because he was going to sing, I actually did send him a version of the song with her vocals and told him what I was up to. He was like, “Whoa! Awesome!” But he’s been involved in so many big collaborative things that he wasn’t interested in it from that point of view. It’s more because he loved the song and he thought he could do something with it that would add something.

“my tears ricochet”

This is one of my absolute favorite songs on the record. I think it’s a brilliant composition, and Taylor’s words, the way her voice sounds and how this song feels, are, to me, one of the critical pieces. It’s lodged in my brain. That’s also very important to Taylor and Jack. It’s like a beacon for this record.

“mirrorball”

“mirrorball” is, to me, a hazy sort of beautiful. It almost reminds me of ‘90s-era Cardigans, or something like Mazzy Star. It has this kind of glow and haze. It feels really good before “seven,” which becomes very wistful and nostalgic. There are just such iconic images in the lyrics [“Spinning in my highest heels”], which aren’t coming to me at the moment because my brain is not working [laughs].

How Jack Antonoff’s Folklore Songs Differ From Dessner’s

I think we have different styles, and we weren’t making them together or in the same room. We both could probably come closer together in a sense that weirdly works. It’s like an archipelago, and each song is an island, but it’s all related. Taylor obviously binds it all together. And I think Jack, if he was working with orchestrations, there’s an emotional quality to his songs that’s clearly in the same world as mine.

We actually didn’t have a moodboard for the album at all. I don’t think that way. I don’t really know if she does either. I don’t think Jack... well, Jack might, but when I say the Cardigans or Mazzy Star, those aren’t Jack’s words about “mirrorball,” it’s just what calls to mind for me. Mainly she talked about emotion and to lean into it, the nostalgia and wistfulness, and the kind of raw, meditative emotion that I often kind of inhabit that I think felt very much where her heart was. We didn’t shy away from that.

“seven”

This is the second song we wrote. It’s kind of looking back at childhood and those childhood feelings, recounting memories and memorializing them. It’s this beautiful folk song. It has one of the most important lines on the record: “And just like a folk song, our love will be passed on.” That’s what this album is doing. It’s passing down. It’s memorializing love, childhood, and memories. It’s a folkloric way of processing.

“august”

This is maybe the closest thing to a pop song. It gets loud. It has this shimmering summer haze to it. It’s kind of like coming out of “seven” where you have this image of her in the swing and she’s seven years old, and then in “august” I think it feels like fast-forwarding to now. That’s an interesting contrast. I think it’s just a breezy, sort of intoxicating feeling.

“this is me trying”

“this is me trying,” to me, relates to the entire album. Maybe I’m reading into it too much from my own perspective, but [I think of] the whole album as an exercise and working through these stories, whether personal or old through someone else’s perspective. It’s connecting a lot of things. But I love the feeling in it and the production that Jack did. It has this lazy swagger.

“illicit affairs”

This feels like one of the real folk songs on the record, a sharp-witted narrative folk song. It just shows her versatility and her power as a songwriter, the sharpness of her writing. It’s a great song.

“invisible string”

That was another one where it was music that I’d been playing for a couple of months and sort of humming along to her. It felt like one of the songs that pulls you along. Just playing it on one guitar, it has this emotional locomotion in it, a meditative finger-picking pattern that I really gravitate to. It’s played on this rubber bridge that my friend put on [the guitar] and it deadens the strings so that it sounds old. The core of it sounds like a folk song.

It’s also kind of a sneaky pop song, because of the beat that comes in. She knew that there was something coming because she said, “You know, I love this and I’m hearing something already.” And then she said, “This will change the story,” this beautiful and direct kind of recounting of a relationship in its origin.

“mad woman”

That might be the most scathing song on folklore. It has a darkness that I think is cathartic, sort of witch-hunting and gaslighting and maybe bullying. Sometimes you become the person people try to pin you into a corner to be, which is not really fair. But again, don’t quote me on that [laughs], I just have my own interpretation. It’s one of the biggest releases on the album to me. It has this very sharp tone to it, but sort of in gothic folklore. It’s this record’s goth song.

“epiphany”

For “epiphany,” she did have this idea of a beautiful drone, or a very cinematic sort of widescreen song, where it’s not a lot of accents but more like a sea to bathe in. A stillness, in a sense. I first made this crazy drone which starts the song, and it’s there the whole time. It’s lots of different instruments played and then slowed down and reversed. It created this giant stack of harmony, which is so giant that it was kind of hard to manage, sonically, but it was very beautiful to get lost in. And then I played the piano to it, and it almost felt classical or something, those suspended chords.

I think she just heard it, and instantly, this song came to her, which is really an important one. It’s partially the story of her grandfather, who was a soldier, and partially then a story about a nurse in modern times. I don’t know if this is how she did it, but to me, it’s like a nurse, doctor, or medical professional, where med school doesn’t fully prepare you for seeing someone pass away or just the difficult emotional things that you’ll encounter in your job. In the past, heroes were just soldiers. Now they’re also medical professionals. To me, that’s the underlying mission of the song. There are some things that you see that are hard to talk about. You can’t talk about it. You just bear witness to them. But there’s something else incredibly soothing and comforting about this song. To me, it’s this Icelandic kind of feel, almost classical. My brother did really beautiful orchestration of it.

“betty”

This one Taylor and William wrote, and then both Jack and I worked on it. We all kind of passed it around. This is the one where Taylor wanted a reference. She wanted it to have an early Bob Dylan, sort of a Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan feel. We pushed it a little more towards John Wesley Harding, since it has some drums. It’s this epic narrative folk song where it tells us a long story and connects back to “cardigan.” It starts to connect dots and I think it’s a beautifully written folk song.

Is ‘betty” queer canon? I can’t speak to what it’s about. I have my own ideas. I also know where Taylor’s heart is, and I think that’s great anytime a song takes on greater meaning for anyone.

Is William Bowery secretly Joe Alwyn? I don’t know. We’re close, but she won’t tell me that. I think it’s actually someone else, but it’s good to have some mysteries.

“peace”

I wrote this, and Justin provided the pulse. We trade ideas all the time and he made a folder, and there was a pulse in there that I wrote these basslines to. In the other parts of the composition, I did it to Justin’s pulse. Taylor heard this sketch and she wrote the song. It reminds me of Joni Mitchell, in a way - there’s this really powerful and emotional love song, even the impressionistic, almost jazz-like bridge, and she weaves it perfectly together. This is one of my favorites, for sure. But the truth is that the music, that way of playing with harmonized basslines, is something that probably comes a little bit from me being inspired by how Justin does that sometimes. There’s probably a connection there. We didn’t talk too much about it [laughs].

“hoax”

This is a big departure. I think she said to me, “Don’t try to give it any other space other than what feels natural to you.” If you leave me in a room with a piano, I might play something like this. I take a lot of comfort in this. I think I imagined her playing this and singing it. After writing all these songs, this one felt the most emotional and, in a way, the rawest. It is one of my favorites. There’s sadness, but it’s a kind of hopeful sadness. It’s a recognition that you take on the burden of your partners, your loved ones, and their ups and downs. That’s both “peace” and “hoax” to me. That’s part of how I feel about those songs because I think that’s life. There’s a reality, the gravity or an understanding of the human condition.

Does Taylor Explain Her Lyrics?

She would always talk about it. The narrative is essential, and kind of what it’s all about. We’d always talk about that upfront and saying that would guide me with the music. But again, she is operating at many levels where there are connections between all of these songs, or many of them are interrelated in the characters that reappear. There are threads. I think that sometimes she would point it out entirely, but I would start to see these patterns. It’s cool when you see someone’s mind working.

“the lakes”

That’s a Jack song. It’s a beautiful kind of garden, or like you’re lost in a beautiful garden. There’s a kind of Greek poetry to it. Tragic poetry, I guess.

The Meaning Of Folklore

We didn’t talk about it at first. It was only after writing six or seven songs, basically when I thought my writing was done, when we got on the phone and said, “OK, I think we’re making an album. I have these six other ideas that I love with Jack [Antonoff] that we’ve already done, and I think what we’ve done fits really well with them.” It’s sort of these narratives, these folkloric songs, with characters that interweave and are written from different perspectives. She had a vision, and it was connecting back in some way to the folk tradition, but obviously not entirely sonically. It’s more about the narrative aspect of it.

I think it’s this sort of nostalgia and wistfulness that is in a lot of the songs. A lot of them have this kind of longing for looking back on things that have happened in your life, in your friend’s life, or another loved one’s life, and the kind of storytelling around that. That was clear to her. But then we kept going, and more and more songs happened.

It was a very organic process where [meaning] wasn’t something that we really discussed. It just kind of would happen where she would dive back into the folder and find other things that were inspiring. Or she and William Bowery would write “exile,” and then that happened. There were different stages of the process.

Okay, but is it A24-core? [Laughs.] Good comparison. 

[mah-gah-lee]

They had been lovers - (alex mercer x sibling! reader) + (luke patterson x reader)

words count: 2052

request: no

summary:  Y/N find a huge secret about his brother and need some time alone. But Alex seems to want talking about all of this.

warnings: sadness (?)

a/n : I tried to make this fic gender neutral, I’m not sure I've succeed but I really tried.

If you want to be tagged in my next fic, let me know! Don’t forget to tell me if you've liked it!  

tagged: @standingtalllove​ @happinessinthedarkesttimes​  @asdfghjkl-fanfics  @lukeys-giggle​

The night was beautiful, the clear and dark sky made it possible to see the thousands of small dots twinkling. The stars were multiplying in the sky like the hundreds of thoughts going through your head. You were serene, calm and the immensity of the night did not scare you. You wouldn't trade your seat for anything in the world. Even though your head was full, you had the strange feeling of being emptied. Being alone on this roof didn’t scare you, on the contrary, it washed away all the anxieties that had been created in the hollow of your chest these last hours. After finding out about this secret, you couldn't blame your brother. Or rather, you couldn't be mad at him for that reason. But you were hurt. A twenty-five years silence had been broken, an intimate information Alex had kept deeply for himself, for them. A secret that destroyed the dusts of hope that had formed in your soul since you were fourteen. The theories about twins have never been truer than now: they shared everything, down to the person they had feelings for.

 This will teach you to dig through your old stuff. But could the boys really blame you? The loft was a mess, it was flooded with all your stuff. Rose seemed to have kept everything: some of the boys' clothes - most of which belonged to Luke since he had mostly lived in the garage when he had run away - their instruments, the many songbooks, the demos, the band's banner, but also, countless memories like many Polaroids.

Among the photos that you had browsed to get drunk of the times when the four of you were still alive, you have discovered some more intimate than others. It all started with a photo of Alex asleep on the sofa: "First night", another where you could see two hands intertwined, you recognized Luke's rings. Alex also wore rings, but it was the tricolor bracelet that made you realize it was him with Luke. Another cliché was becoming even more obvious: Luke licking Alex's cheek as your brother grimaced in mock disgust. In the white space of the Polaroid it was written in black felt-tip pen with a messy handwriting: "playing with the handsome boyfriend"

 But it was the last picture that broke your heart. Luke seemed to be the most romantic of the couple, which surprised you a bit as your brother was quite sentimental. The last shot showed the guitarist, supposedly lying on the sofa bed. Around his neck, Alex's blonde head could clearly be seen. He was tight against him, hiding, perfectly asleep. Both were shirtless, which made you uncomfortable looking at the photo. Once again, a note was written on the white space of the polaroid: "a year of love".

 One year. A full year, twelve months of a secret relationship and maybe even more. How long have they loved each other? How long had it lasted? Because you couldn't really deny this information anymore, the photo made it obvious: they had been lovers.

 A distinct pop sound was heard. The sound of a few footsteps on the roof tiles caught your attention, but you didn't move. The movements approached you, a fuzzy pink shape giving you a clue to the disruptor of your thoughts. Soon, the intruder comes to lie down next to you, leaving you overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. You don't need all these little details to recognize your neighbor on the right. There was only one person who allowed himself to enter into such a private moment: your brother.

 You felt blue and you let the darkness of the night engulf you. The secret that you had discovered explained many things like: this complicity that Alex shared with him and only him, the small touches, the looks that you had sometimes intercepted between the two musicians. You knew now: They had been lovers.

 Silence reigned for several minutes without it being awkward, neither of you or Alex knowing how to start this conversation. Come to think of it, was there really a need to discuss it? It was the drummer who finally broke the silence.

 “y/n…i’m sorry”

 You let out a sigh before smiling weakly into the night. It was typical of your brother: apologizing when there was no need. Alex was a sensitive person and even under his armor of sarcasm he was incredibly gentle.

 “why are you apologizing about, ‘lex?”

“I didn’t know. I’m your brother, your twin, and I didn’t know.”

“I am the one who hides his emotions the best.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

 Slowly you turned your head to look deeply at your brother. You could see the worry in his eyes but also the regret. This question, you could very well have asked him in return because between you two, it was him who had hidden a huge secret. But you couldn't blame him, it was his right. You didn't have any and that's why you kept your feelings quiet.

 "Because you would have tried to control your feelings to make me happy."

 Alex couldn't lie about it. It didn't matter what he had been through with the guitarist and lead singer of their band. If he had known his sibling had feelings for Luke, he would have suppressed his in a second. Despite your lying positions, you could see him look down, seeming to consider your words. He knew you were right, that he would have done anything for you even if it meant sacrificing his feelings for his best friend.

 "Alex, you have the right to be happy."

 But it was not enough. Your brother was moving his thoughts like you had done a few minutes before. This situation seemed to upset him, like any situation involving change.

 "’Lex ..."

 The blond drummer turned his face to you, lost. You knew you would have to find the right words, in addition to repeating the ones you had already said just a few seconds ago. You sighed to give yourself a little courage, helping him to find a calm that had escaped very slightly.

 "I don't blame you. We don't control how we feel. I'm not mad at you. You deserve to be happy, Alex."

 A faint smile played on the corners of Alex's lips as a few tears beaded from his eyes. Slowly, you stretched out your hand to erase them with the back of your index finger. It was your turn to be the protective sibling. Sometimes Alex needed to be reminded that he was important and that thinking about himself wouldn't hurt him.

  You've always had a crush on Luke. You realized your feelings for your brother's best friend when you were fourteen. You had never declared yourself, however, considering that the friendship that existed between your brother and the guitarist was too precious. Friendship ... If only you had known that there had always been more than that between them. Because the reality was there: They had been lovers

 But despite your feelings, you had always been close to Luke, as you were to Reggie. They were first and foremost Alex's best friends, but step by step they had become yours.

 “Does he know? Does he know that…I love him ?” you asked

“I think he's starting to understand.”

 Since your arrival in 2020, things had changed between you and Luke. The first time the guitarist had been to see his parents, Alex, Reggie and you had followed him in secret. But when the boys left, finding it best to leave Luke alone, you stayed. You stayed until he saw you and got angry. You stayed until he exploded again, in your arms as you ran your hands through his messy hair, kissing the top of his head tenderly to give him the much-needed comfort. Because deep down you knew. You knew Luke just needed to be loved again, he needed to be “touched” after seeing his parents again.

 After that moment everything started to change. It was like Luke needed your presence all the time, to feel against him. He was eager to hug you, rub his nose on your neck, or just kiss your cheek. You had the impression to feel his gaze sliding over you more than usual, you melted when he gave you a warm smile. But all of this, all of these signs that you thought you saw might have just been your imagination.

 Silence came over you again and once again it wasn't embarrassing. You liked the silence, you liked looking at the stars without any noise around you. Only your breaths disturbed this soothing silence. As you gazed at the sky, you couldn't help but countless thoughts cross your mind. You had so many questions for Alex. How did it happen? When did it happen? How long had it lasted? Were they still together today? You seemed to know that last answer already, having noticed the looks Luke had been giving Julie over the past few weeks, especially at the concert they played Finally Free. But the only question that crossed your lips was this one:

 “Do you still love him?”

 You looked back at your brother, only to see him smirk, almost nostalgic.

 “Part of me always will. He’s my first love.”

 It seemed like a logical answer and it broke your heart once again, although on a certain side hearing this from your brother seemed to hit you less and less hard. Reality hit you with less pain. You were starting to get used to this idea. They had been the most important person to each other for a year: they had been lovers.

 “You know…it’s over…between me and him”

 Unconsciously, your brother had answered one of the questions you had been asking yourself since the moment you discovered this secret. In a way, you were sad to hear that your brother was no longer with Luke. That their relationship was over and your curiosity took precedence, once again.

 “why?”

“because we work better by being best friend. Because I know he’s falling for someone great.”

 You regretted your question now. Luke had evolved, just like Alex was currently doing with Willie, although that's what led you to Caleb and those really painful electric shocks. But it was obvious, Luke was also starting to recover from this love affair and you noticed how not special you were another one was. All those looks, those moments where your skin had touched, everything was in your head, everything was only the rantings of a teenager in love.

 “Yeah, Julie is great”. you said with a little disappointment in your voice

 Alex chuckled. You had both risen to a sitting position. Your arms circled your knees as you rested your chin on them. You turned your head towards your brother, raising an eyebrow. And despite the darkness of the night, he could see your questioning expression thanks to the reflection of the moon on your face.

 “It’s not Julie I was thinking about”

“Reggie?”

 Alex laughed again before sighing gently. You couldn't be so oblivious or you just tried to ignore the possibility, shielding yourself from possible teenage grief.

 “You.”

"Me?"

“Yes, y/n. You. Luke is falling for you. ”

“But… Alex… he’s.. And, you ..”

“I'm okay with that. You deserve to be happy and I know you’ll be good to each other.”

 In perfect timing, the distinctive sound of a pop was heard behind you. Alex looked up and his shy smile confirmed the doubt that had settled in you as to the identity of this new arrival. Your brother gave you a protective look and then gave you a slight wink.

 "I think you need to talk to each other."

 The blond drummer stood up cautiously and when you turned your head to see him go, you noticed the hand he placed on Luke's shoulder. And the last thing you heard before your brother disappeared into a ghostly cloud was, "I trust you. Take care of her/him like you took care of me, Luke."

 They had been lovers and now, strange as it may sound, you had Alex's blessing ... leaving you the possibility for Luke as for you, of being, in turn: lovers.