#not anything commonly called a berry though sorry

[pensivelyplayfulme]

Me when I'm not eating a fruit: I mean I don't like all of them, but on the whole fruits are okay I guess

Me when consuming a fruit I like: there is a reason we say the gods drink nectar, and here on earth nectar makes fruit. Succulent. Restorative. Nourishing my mana reserves as well as the body. My hands are dripping with it and I will not -- can not apologize.

[younger-days-au]

Wildlife

The first to wake up this time in the morning was the Hero of the Wild. The sun was shining and the peaceful aura of the day filled him with calmness. Wild slowly breathed out, having missed the feeling of being in his own Hyrule, in a region he was familiar with.

The teenager was full of energy for what was going to happen today. He was going to show Link what he could eat in Wild's Hyrule.

It really did worry Wild that Link didn't except his cooked food and only had eaten a few berries in his own Hyrule but if Link really didn't want to have the food from them then Wild could show him what was eatable in his Hyrule.

Slowly the others woke up and they all agreed that they wouldn't move around Wild's Hyrule today, not wanting to bump into moblins or another kind of monsters that Wild's Hyrule possessed. Wild didn't have a problem with this, it was easier to show Link what he had to know with the others staying at the same place.

Link was still on a tree, sitting on it like he watched the camp all night again, and he looked worse than yesterday. There were dark rings under his eyes, telling Wild that Link didn't sleep much or not at all.

Wild wished that Link would trust them so that he could sleep even if it were just for a few hours then everything is better than not sleeping at all. The Hero of the Wild could only wonder how Link could stay awake all night the last two days. He didn't see how Link put a strange looking mask back into his bag.

Wild quickly made the breakfast for the others, already knowing that Link wouldn't accept it.

"I'm going to show him what he can eat," Wild said to Warriors quickly while he was going to the new hero.

The hero was still on his bag for a moment, then noticing Wild in front of him and flinched because of it.

"Good morning," Wild said serenely, already excited deep inside for not being with the other seven.

He really liked the others but Wild wasn't used to live with so many other people in one place and the presence of the silent hero was going to be a good change for a while.

Link looked at Wild warily for a moment but also tiredly.

"Good morning," he replied hesitantly. His hands were more shaky than yesterday. "Can we go now," he signed to Wild impatiently. The 'I don't want to bother you more than necessary' wasn't added.

"Gladly, now come on. Before we go crazy from the others." Wild smiled before he pulled Link in one direction.

"Hey, I heard that!" A voice called playfully upset after them.

"Here would be out first stop," Wild explained to Link. They were standing next to an apple tree.

Then Wild noticed something. "Oh, you didn't bring a bag with you, where you could put all the food in, right?"

Link flinched because he thought that he had disappointed Wild with his forgetfulness.

Wild immediately realized that his words made Link feel anxious in some way.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm here to show you what you can and can't eat and I didn't tell you to bring a bag with you. It's my fault too." He quickly reassured Link like he would do if there were a wild animal before him. "Do you want to grab one?" Wild asked then, remembering that the other teenager still had to eat but not wanting to force him.

Link was standing there with an insecure look on his face, not knowing what to do.

"Please, you told me that you would eat something today," Wild pleaded with him. He didn't want that Link could fall unconscious because he didn't eat enough.

Link nodded and quickly climbed up the tree to grab an apple. He looked at Wild for a mere second, checking if it were safe here and hesitantly took a small bite from the fruit.

Wild and Link both knew that it wasn't much but it was a beginning.

Wild explained everything to Link what he had to know about the fruits and other plants that are growing in this area. It was unnecessary at the moment to show Link what he could eat in other regions when none of them knew how long they would stay in Wild's Hyrule. While Wild was explaining, Link was slowly eating his apple. It really was ridiculous how slow he ate it but Wild wasn't saying anything, not wanting to scare off the new hero in their group.

Wild showed the Hero one of the many mushrooms that existed in his Hyrule. "This is a Hylian Shroom. It's commonly found near rocks, tree and in forested areas like this. So you're always going to find some here in this forest, alright?" Wild smiled a little, hoping that it wasn't too much information with all these different food.

Link nodded, not being able to use Sign Language when he's eating the apple. Even though he took tiny bites you could see how hungry he was. He looked like a student at the moment with how concentrated he tried to listen.

Wild had to giggle at that. Link was his student and he was the mentor. He couldn't wait to tell Twilight that Link would be Wild's protege.

Then the Hero of the Wild spotted a flower in the distance. Wild looked at Link again, excitement was showing on his face.

"Do you want me to show you a flower?" Wild couldn't believe that this sentence would excite Link too but he enthusiastically nodded. His mouth still chewing a small bite that he had taken seconds ago. Adorable, Wild could only think at that sight.

Link was slowly following Wild, carefully so that he didn't damage any plants unnecessary. He seemed to love and respect nature as much as Wild did and Wild was glad that someone understood him.

While they were getting nearer Link could make out the appearance of the flower.

The inside blossoms were blue and those on the outside white. The flower was beautiful, was the only thing that came to Link's mind the moment he saw it.

"Link, this is a Silent Princess." Wild looked proud when he said that, Link noticed. But proud of what?

"This lovely flower was said to have been a favorite of the princess of Hyrule," Wild whispered with a small smile on his face, reciting the words in his Slate, "Once feared to have gone extinct, but it's blooming more and more in my Hyrule."

Then there was a dull sound of something being thrown into the bushes, leaves where shaking for a moment.

"Did you just throw your apple away?" Wild asked the other hero frustrated. Link had only been just finished with the half of it. Why did he throw the apple away? Maybe making Link his protege was a bad idea but Wild had Warriors and Twilight, who could help him.

"Can I touch the flower?" Link wasn't looking him in the eyes, scratching with his fingers his hand palm and Wild realized that maybe he sounded too harsh for the other hero.

"Yes, you can touch it," Wild said to the other and Link didn't let himself being told twice. He was so careful with the flower, he was treating it like it was something holy.

Wild could have sworn that Link's eyes were orange glowing.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Wild asked, looking at the flower with a dreaming look in his eyes. "It reminds me of my Zelda and like I already said it is her favorite flower. I was her knight when she told me that. That was a hundred years ago."

Link's eyes widened at that, not expecting to be told something personal like this. How was the other still alive?

"I'm alive again. Something killed me all those years ago, which is also the reason for the scars if you haven't noticed them,” Wild tried to joke but then got serious again, “ I was a hundred years in a coma, not aging, not remembering much from my old life. Just a few moments and one of them is this flower." Wild had a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the flower in Link's hands.

"Why are you telling me this?" Link signed desperately. He didn't understand why Wild would just tell him about his life, about his trauma.

Link's adventures were nothing against this. He has missed seven years but he got them back in a cruel way. Nobody remembered him but he didn't forget nearly everything like Wild did. How could Link compare to that? Probably the others had it worse than him too. He didn't think that they would take his adventures seriously and they would be right. Others had it worse than him, Link remembered and hoped he would never forget it.

"You know nothing of us and I know the feeling of when you're suddenly somewhere else in an unfamiliar place with people that you don't know. I wanted to change that," Wild explained to him with a warm smile, "You don't have to tell me anything about your past. That isn't the reason why I told you a part of mine. But you know what?"

Link looked at him with a questioning gaze when Wild picked the flower up. Someone Something in him wanted to scream when Wild killed the flower in that way, when he destroyed the possibility for more flowers of that kind in this area for a while.

"The flower will now remind me of more than just being Zelda's favorite," Wild put the flower behind Link's ear and stroked through his hair, "it will remind me now of your eye color too."

Link flinched when he heard that. A blush was creeping on his cheeks. It wasn't often that he was complimented.

Wild saw how violently Link flinched and it broke his heart. Maybe the compliment was a bit bold but Wild thought that friends were complimenting each other. Maybe they didn't know each other enough for compliments. Maybe Link wasn't just used to getting compliments anymore.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that," Wild touched the back of his head nervously, "I'm not that good with other people. Just say if some of us are too bold or something. We don't want you to be uncomfortable, alright?"

Link nodded hesitantly, still a blush was to see on his ears. "It's alright," Link didn't look Wild in the eyes when he signed that.

Link was pulling the flower from his hair carefully not wanting to damage it. As he inspected the flower, Wild wondered why the blue eyes of Link were now orange. Had it something to do with the nature? Was it one of Link's powers that has his eyes glowing orange?

Then Wild noticed that Link was trying to hold back a yawn and Wild wished again he knew how much the new hero slept if he slept at all.

The Hero then stared at him with his orange eyes, flower still in his head and looked like he was thinking about something. He was having his head turned on one side like a dog would do.

Wild wondered how more adorable Link could look.

"What is it?" Wild questioned, slowly starting to think that maybe Link was too shy to ask for something.

"Can you turn around?" Link asked him carefully. "I-... I want to braid your hair."

Link was a mystery for Wild. How could he look like like he didn't want to have to do anything with them and in the next second like he didn't want to be left alone? What had happened to the other teenager?

Wild probably took too long for answering because Link looked disappointed.

 "It's okay if you don't want to. It was dumb from me to even ask."

What happened to him that he had so little faith in other people? That he questioned everyone around him?

"No, it's alright. I didn't expect that you would ask that. If you want to you can braid my hair." Wild answered lately the question.

Link positioned himself behind Wild, slowly and carefully opening the pigtail from Wild.

"Sorry for the mess that my hair is. Would have been more intelligent if one of us had brought a brush with us but I hope that it isn't a problem for you," Wild joked, when he felt how Link was brushing through his hair with his hands. Wild noticed then for the first time that day that Link wasn't wearing his golden gauntlets.

There was no answer from Link and Wild thought for a moment that he did something wrong but then he realized it. "Oh, you can't use Sign Language when you're behind me and I can't see it."

More silence.

"But it's okay, you know? I think we both have nothing against silence for a few minutes. Just tip on my leg twice if you want me to turn around and talk with you." Wild added with a small smile, finally relaxing with the careful hands of Link braiding his hair.

The sounds of the forest alone were lovely and exactly that what Wild had missed. The calmness of the leaves shaking in the wind or the quiet animal noises were that what was familiar to Wild and probably Link too.

Link... Wild wondered why Link wouldn't tell them his hero title but he would never directly ask Link that question. It was Link's decision when to tell them this information and it was even more a wonder that he even joined their group even though he seemed tired of saving the world. The others were right though. They couldn't call the new hero Link forever because of identities that could be mistaken between them. What could they call him, Wild wondered, what nickname wouldn't be taken as offense from the new hero.

Two taps on his leg and Wild turned his head carefully, not wanting to damage the braid that Link had made.

"I'm done," Link signed at him nervously, not being sure about the outcome.

"That's great. Here," Wild gave Link the Sheikah Slate, "can you take a picture so I can see the result myself?" Link made quickly a picture, hoping that it isn't that bad but Wild only smiled at him when he was giving the Slate back. Wild nearly dropped the Slate when he looked at the picture.

"Link, that is beautiful! Did anyone ever tell you that you have a talent for braiding? I love how you worked the Silent Princess into the braid." Wild directly looked at Link. "Thank you but I gave you the flower. I didn't expect that you would give it back."

Link turned away for a moment to yawn again then he signed: "You look better with the flower than me."

Then the carefree smile vanished on Wild's face.

"We need to go back to the others. They're probably already sick from worry," Wild said to Link, already missing the silence of the forest of not being in a group with eight other people. "I hope that you will now eat a little more, Link. It isn't healthy if you continue not to eat." Wild really hoped that Link would eat more from now on. He wouldn't forgive himself if Link should faint.

Link still couldn't look him in the eyes but he signed: "No promises."

Wild sighed at that, he really shouldn't expect something else. He carefully grabbed Link's chin so he could look him in the eyes. The blue color was back and the orange glow was just in Wild's memories.

"Okay but remember that you aren't alone anymore. Now let's get back to the others."

Wild stood up and started to walk back to the camp.

The mission not to bond with one of the others didn't work, Link thought. He really wished that he didn't do that, that Wild wasn't so worried over him, that the others simply wouldn't care. But the universe was rarely so kind to him to make his wishes come true.

"You coming?" Wild called back to Link.

Link started to move after him, not wanting to worry the other more.

Wild was wrong in one thing though.

Link's eyes flashed orange for a second again.

Link wasn't and had never been alone.

Not since Termina.

[ellaofoakhill]

Oak and Stone, Part Two

Oak and Stone was a bustling town, with fey and creatures briskly going about their business. There were mice like Jasper here, as well as voles, weasels, ground squirrels, tree squirrels, stoats, a few bats, and many other creatures Ella knew.

As well as a few she didn’t.

Creatures like the lizards Ella had encountered on Gaea, or a bit more commonly on Fey. But no lizard she’d heard of had four arms. The smallest of these was a head taller than her. Tusks twisted down from their jaws. Their bodies were a uniform grey-brown or mottled green, with frills on their jaws and crests on their heads, which many had painted or tattooed or pierced with rings and studs. According to Meline, they called themselves drakles, and most of those in Oak and Stone were sailors.

What most surprised Ella about this place—unknown beings were really to be expected—was the abundance of elves. Well, relatively speaking; abundance was not a word that fit well with elves. But there were more of them here than Ella had ever seen outside of Fey. To be fair, impeccable manners and upturned noses aside, elves were known more than anything for their love of the sea. And the sea Oak and Stone did have in abundance.

Meline showed her down to the shipyards, where vessels from across this world—the drakles called it Nidd—docked and unloaded their goods. These went to the seaside market, a paved square by the water with a stream running through. The stream allowed smaller boats to paddle or pole into town and drop their goods right by the stalls.

There were fabrics Ella had never seen, some softer than velvet, others smoother than silk, still others so strong Ella’s knife couldn’t cut them; according to Meline, those needed crystal-edged scissors to cut into shape. There were spices alien to Ella’s nose and tongue, including one somewhere between lemon and banana that she particularly liked; Meline laughed at the incredulous delight that flashed across Ella’s face when she tasted it. There were strange rocks and shells, scales shed by massive beasts, and gems that seemed commonplace here which Ella had only read about. There was a wood here, one a fairy could mould with her bare hands while it was green—or, more accurately, orange—and once it seasoned became like fairy silver. Ella shaved the hair from her arm with a knife made from it. There were metals as well—the mayor had banned the import of iron for all but a few specialized purposes—but this claywood, as it was called, was so easy to work hardly anyone used any metal not found as a nugget.

The moonbeams were strange too. Nidd had four moons and two suns, and each moon made beams different not only from Gaea’s moon, but from Nidd’s other moons as well.

Beyond the market were shops. There was a shop bordering the market that sold crepes filled with berry and honeyed cream; Ella laughed at the white moustache on Meline’s upper lip. Another sold kebabs of sweet and spicy fruits, of roots savoury, sweet, and spicy, and of the spiced meats of different fish and insects, or whatever the equivalent was here.

There were shops that sold fine berry wines, cordials, and ciders, and shops that sold candied chocolate mixed with granules of nuts and dried fruits. There was stronger drink as well, but Ella had hardly more than a sip of a spiced liqueur that made her fingers and toes tingle. Too much made a fool of anyone, and Ella was in a town she didn’t know, in a world she didn’t know, surrounded by fey and creatures she didn’t know.

And Meline knew a great deal about this town in another world. Many shopkeepers and stall-owners in the market waved or greeted her by name, and she knew not only them, but their families, and how business was doing. And she presented it all masterfully.

After they were quite full, Meline led Ella across the bridge and out of the square. Ella had heard the sounds of industry from this section of town for some time, but she suspected Meline had been building toward this.

Ella worked a wide variety of metals, woods, and some fabrics, but would have freely admitted her grasp of other materials was lacking. She saw a water fairy weaving six different materials into one cloth, a mole and a frog setting gemstones into a brooch, a squat, spiny

local—they called themselves ekidnes, according to Meline—throwing a clay pot, and a squirrel blowing glass.

Meline led Ella around a corner, and Ella’s fingers thrummed to the melody of hammer on metal. A shop with a sign depicting a hammer and anvil drew her. Beneath a slate lean-to, a drakle so green he was almost yellow held a bronze bar in two pairs of tongs while his upper arms operated a hammer and punch. Ella watched as he twisted and worked the cherry-red metal into a whorl of vines and leaves. He’d already finished the central portion, which had what looked like three vines braided around each other. He had two trays of tools in easy reach, and the fluidity and precision with which he picked up and set down tools—hardly taking his eyes off his work—gave Ella to know this drakle might have plied his trade as long as she had.

Finally he set the piece on a frame and stood, reaching for the ceiling. His crest and frills were bright red. He wore a thick apron, and heavy trousers with a third leg for his tail. He wore a grey sleeveless shirt with two wide armholes.

His eye wandered in their direction. “Ah, Meline,” he said, stepping out from under the awning, “good to see you again.” He had a thick, unfamiliar accent, with something of a lisp.

Meline went forward and took his hands—well, two of them, anyway—with a bow. “And you, Art.” She turned to Ella. “Ella, this is Arthur Bronzemonger, the best metalworker in Oak and Stone.”

Ella bowed. “It’s always nice to meet another of my kind.”

Meline turned back to Art. “Art, this is Lord Ella of Oakhill. She recently did me a great service, and to repay her I’m showing her around town.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Her smithing might give you a run for your money.”

Art raised a pair of scaly eyebrows as he took Ella’s hands and bowed. A forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. “You smell of metal, charcoal, and wood—mostly oak, but also willow and poplar—but you have overlaid it with lavender.” Ella reflexively moved back from the tongue. Art’s eyes widened, and he sucked it back into his mouth. His frill reddened more. “Forgive me. Fairies are new to Nidd, and your ways do not always come easily.”

“I could forgive a smith of your caliber far worse than a small eccentricity,” Ella said. She felt a flush creep up her neck. “Could you… would you honour me by showing us around your forge?”

Art’s eyes gleamed. “I would be delighted to show another smith my work.”

“Then lead on, good sir!” Ella said.

Arthur reached for a clay pitcher by a sturdy door leading into what was probably his house. “Would you like a glass of ice water?” he asked. “Smithing is good work, but hot.”

“How do you keep your ice?” Meline’s ear-points wiggled. With interest, as far as Ella could tell.

“Carters bring the ice down the mountain packed in crates with sawdust,” Art said as he opened the door to his cellar and hopped down. He came back up with several finger-sized chunks of ice, dropped one in each glass, and put the rest in his pitcher. “and I put it in my ice

box downstairs.” He took a long draught from his cup. Ella noticed his frill start to pale. “You can also have a water fairy freeze some water for you. But the genuine article tastes better. Now,” he rubbed two of his four hands together, “let me show you some of my projects.”

Hanging from the ceiling was a bronze-bladed scythe. On two hooks on the far wall were a pair of axes, one with a silver head, the other copper. Tools of various kinds hung on the wall, including a number Meline was unfamiliar with; the only one that stumped Ella turned out to be a set of scale clippers. A pair of silver shields shaped like gigantic scales intrigued her.

Art, unsurprisingly, proved a fount of knowledge regarding his craft. There were a few points he was unable to clarify for Ella, though she suspected this was due more to a slight want in his vocabulary than a lack of understanding. He’d no trouble making silver and gold as hard and strong as any fairy.

“I have a question,” Meline said, as she examined a set of caterpillar shears. Art and Ella both raised their eyes from the minutia of a serpentine-handled camp knife (which had a blade below the municipal length limit).

“What is it?” Art said.

Meline looked around the shop. “You have a lot of high-quality items here.”

Art’s eyes lit with understanding. “You are wondering how, in a busy port town, I keep thieves from walking away with my wares.” Meline nodded. Art looked between her and Ella. Ella felt her own eyes widen as a thought occurred to her.

“We’ve just met,” Ella said, “so I understand if you’re uncomfortable talking about the security of your forge. I don’t tell strangers about mine, either.”

Art smiled; Ella hadn’t realized a drakle’s grin split its head in two. He gave a coughing, raspy laugh. “From anyone else, I might have taken the question amiss.” He shook his head. “I will not go into details,” he lowered his voice. “But it stems from my kind being dragonkin.”

Ella felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered from long ago the whump of colossal wings, a roar that shook the bowels of the world, a column of flame so hot it burned white. A pair of eyes larger than she was, a five-part pupil so huge it could have swallowed her, slamming shut as the flame poured out. And a voice, so deep Ella felt it in her bones, howling fire and blood.

“Ella?” She jumped at Meline’s touch on her shoulder. Judging by her and Art’s concerned looks, she’d been elsewhere for a while.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, handing the knife back to Art. “Dragons have occasionally wandered into Fey.”

“And massacred and extorted everyone they could, I would guess?” Art asked. Ella nodded. “It is good to know, I suppose, that they are consistent.” Art hung the knife back on the wall. “They have been exacting the same cruelty on us since before our most ancient writings.”

He refilled their cups. “I have set foot beyond Nidd thrice in my life. Once to visit Gaea and learn a special technique for forging steel.” He held up a hand. “I have not used it in Oak and Stone, if anyone asks. Twice I visited Fey; yes, I visited your home world. Once when I was

still in my father’s care, and much later with my wife.” He sipped his water. “And it seems to me both worlds are less wild than mine. Though still full of dangerous creatures, I’m sure.

“Dragons are the worst, though wyverns and drakes are plenty vicious. Wyrms cause serious problems, though they usually stay deep underground. Sea wyrms are actually good to deal with; we give them baubles," he gestured to the silver shields, “and they leave our fishing vessels in peace. And the lung are kindly creatures.”

Ella leaned back. “So… this is where the lung come from?”

Art and Meline both stared at her. “I mean, yes,” Art said. “But they are rare on Gaea, much like the dragons, yes?”

Ella nodded. “I saw one once, shortly after I left Fey.” She sipped her water. “It danced on the clouds, even though it had no wings. And it conjured rainclouds as it danced, weaving in the sky like a glittering ribbon.”

She met Art’s eye. “They’re so different from dragons, I never made the connection before.”

Art shrugged. “Understandable. Take away the long bodies and scaly hides and there is hardly any similarity.” He looked at his own scaly hide. “But kin we all are.”

Ella did not ask which drakles were closer to, dragon or lung. Maybe they didn’t know. Either way, it seemed an unpleasant topic.

[moonshinelouis-archive]

fine line analyses

these are thoughts; my thoughts. if you don’t agree please be reasonable and just ignore.

tumblr fucking ate this post so here i am. rewriting it all.

tw: i talk about alcohol, drugs, grief, and death

the album in general uses the extended metaphor of yellow. the colour is mentioned in nearly every song and i’ll explain why or why not later. the yellow is hope, happiness, and all things nice but as all archetypes it has a ‘dark’ side; it means cowardice and/or deceit. it also seems to follow the hero’s journey which is interesting.

side a: love/light vs dark. exposition.

golden begins the album already in sunshine; in happily vibes imo. gold is the ultimate illuminated colour, so to use it is... the next level, especially as the album opener. “take me back to the light / i knew you were way too bright for me” are ideas that come back in lights up. i love the juxtaposition in this song: “hold [the golden (light)], focus, hoping,” and then a couple lines later, “i’m hopeless, broken”; showing that at the same time, he’s hopeful and hopeless. i love that he alludes, in the entire song, that his person is the sun but he never says it outright: “you wait for me in the sky / [your light] browns my skin just right / you’re so golden,” which come back in sunflower. “i know that you’re scared / because hearts get broken / because i’m so open” immediately made me thing of strong. both he and his lover overwhelm each other at times: “you were way too bright for me,” “you’re scared / because i’m so open”; but ultimately this is a song about devotion: “i don’t wanna be alone / loving you’s the antidote.”

watermelon sugar doesn’t have anything outright yellow; however, the entire lyrics are rooted in imagery surrounding summer which inherently involves a sunny, especially when he calls out that it’s “warm,” that there are “berries,” that it’s “the end of June,” so my point stands. this song has already been analysed, i think, so i’m not gonna go too into it; in a nutshell, it’s the sweetest of loves. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening” calls to we made it’s “remember how it tasted / looking into your eyes,” and the absolutely feral warm image of tasting moments makes me crazy...the tenderness..oh god.. “it sounds just like a song” comes back in many other tracks; in sunflower, “plant new seeds in the melody” -- try to find new beginnings in the music -- and also “want you more than a melody.” harry says this one was “the hardest one to finish” which could suggest ongoing events.

adore you has yellow in “honey” and “lemon” and hidden in “summer skies” and “brown skin.” thematically, this song is the same as watermelon sugar; devotion. “walk in your rainbow paradise” -- a rainbow is renewal, promise; a gateway, the calm after the storm. to be with his lover is to walk in paradise, away from all evil. though their lack of communication plagues them, it can sometimes be how they find their peace: “you don’t have to say you love me / nothing / [that] you’re mine.” “i’d walk through fire for you” reminded me of happily and through the dark. 

lights up, too, has already been discussed at length; “what do you mean? / i’m sorry by the way / i’m never coming back down / can’t you see / i could but it wouldn't stay?” will speak volumes to anyone who’s been closeted, even if nothing extreme. “i’m never coming around / it’d be so sweet / if things just stayed the same” would be the melancholy and fear of watching those you love slip away because of something you can’t change; and, even if it doesn’t, there will always be the little things that change, like how you’re perceived. “all the lights couldn’t put out the dark / running through my heart” is one of my favourite lines; it speaks of the things within himself he’d rather hide, and yet, all the pride he’s told to have does nothing to erase his bitterness towards the feeling -- internalised homophobia/transphobia. however -- “step into the light / so bright sometimes / i’m not ever coming back” -- as overwhelming, as scary, as engulfing as it all may be... it’s much better to be in the light than in the dark; back to golden. the yellow in this song is in the ‘light.’

side b: complete abstinence of yellow. abyss.

cherry presents vibrant red rather than yellow, perhaps to illustrate the glossy jealousy he expresses in this song, and possibly to say he is angry despite sounding defeated. thematically similar to woman. i don’t think this song is dismissible because its aspects all come back: “gallery” is again in sunflower; “don’t call me baby” returns in to be so lonely. “there’s a piece of you in how i dress” reminded me of “painted nails make harry beautiful” :’) also, “your accent” is pretty loud. if anything is to be said about the ending, is that it’s in the “language of love.”

falling is very clearly the death in the hero’s journey; the lowest point from which he could only rebirth. again there are communication issues: “forget what i said / it’s not what i meant”; “we’ve run out of things we can say.” and then there’s rediscovery: “what am i now?” he asks, after having asked the listeners if they know who they are; and his despair seems tied to insecurities -- “what if i’m someone i don’t want around? / what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? / what if you’re someone i just want around?” (notice the flip of pronouns in the last two; switching the blame. harry and louis seem to do that a lot; the blame is passed from one to another in songs. he blames himself in this one, though: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”) the biggest insecurity lies in the line: “i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again,” in which harry just wants.. to be needed; to be loved and to be in love. overall he’s asking for redemption, whatever of.

to be so lonely is still sad, but obviously a rise; a rebirth. “don’t blame me for falling / i was just a little boy / don’t blame the drunk caller / i wasn’t ready for it all / you can’t blame me, darling / not even a little bit / i was away / and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry” -- the opening verse is just all excuses, all flimsy at best; pushing the blame around. “i was just a little boy” had me screaming; “don’t blame the drunk caller” is distancing himself as far away as possible even though....that’s him, drunk-calling; he said so in falling: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.” the last one is not even trying; he just straight up says he’s arrogant.. lol. again he’s rooting onto insecurites: “i just hope you see me / in a little better light” asks his lover not to only see him as the stupid little boy who became a needy and arrogant drunk caller; and again he pleads for mercy with rather nonsensical logic: “do you think it’s easy? / being of the jealous kind?” overall, these three songs together could be interpreted as a breakup, though the romantic songs in the album would support better that there have been really rough patches in their relationship; specifically times in which they were caught in untimely scheduling inconveniences amid fights. but see it how you will.

she is a projection. harry tries out the ‘normal guy’ archetype, giving his character a nine-to-five office job and the predictable (supposedly married) life with kids; he likely did this to try out a different perspective of his feelings and/or to appeal to his audience, who is mostly not made up of millionaires. right away, he’s pretending, with the most basic of things: “[he] sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon / around 13:32 / like he knows what to do.” as for the whole chorus and “a woman who’s just in his head / and she sleeps in his bed / while he plays pretend” is, to me, the woman inside him who aches to be seen; she represent his struggles with binary genders, both of which are oppressing. “he takes a boat out / imagines just sailing away / and not telling his mates / he wouldn't know what to say” is literally eroda?? and shows communication issues. again.

side c: ascending

sunflower makes the yellow comeback.. loud and in your face. the sunflower is commonly associated with the sun tarot card, which often depicts them with children, who are mentioned... the card stands for clarity and success. this song is thematically like watermelon sugar and adore you, but it just has that stoner vibe you know ? “kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall” triggered “even as young as you are.” again, there are communication issues; “i’ve been trying hard not to talk to you” “let me inside, i wanna get to know you / wish i could get to know you” “i was just tongue-tied / i’m still tongue-tied.” “i’ve got your face / hung up high in the gallery” again shows adoration; with cherry’s “does he take you walking through his parents’ gallery?” it could be interpreted as, are his parents showing you off like i do? a big note about it: “hung up high in the gallery / out of this shade” in the light! this is major.

canyon moon shows yellow in “the world’s happy waiting / doors yellow, broken, blue” -- happy, first of all. the doors are portals that they’ve taken, will take, or could take; some are happy, some deceitful, some sad. i find it very interesting that in she “the man drops his kid off at school” and in this one jenny tells her husband to “go get the kids from school.” “two weeks and i’ll be home” loud loud loud. paris and rome are both romantic cities. “[she -- jenny?] pretends not to know the words” again shows some pretending, perhaps to show that we all pretend about things in life, even mundane activites... just a fun song about being away and missing each other like right now.

treat people with kindness is the only song outside of side b that does not have yellow. i think that is because, though this is a happy song, it’s jus a cover up -- he’s burying his grief in the music and drugs/drinks. “and it’s just another day / and if our friends all pass away / it’s okay.” “feeling good in my skin / i just keep on dancing” shows the other effect of numbing all the insecurities and fears he normally carries. 

side d: settling. the first sign fine line is a track to be paid attention to is that it’s the titular the track. the second push is giving it its own side on the record. 

fine line is another side of she, for which i liked this eloquent explanation. it’s a drastic shift in mood from tpwk to fine line; harry truly shows how vulnerable he is. he’s divided -- “you sunshine, you temptress”; god, when i read/heard that i cried. so beautiful, so appeasing, but it looks like such a distant dream. unachievable. furthermore i think making this song about a relationship, or anyone other than harry and harry’s inner demons is belittling it; belittling his internal struggles to reach the so desired fine line...

[sign-from-god-complex]

Spooked

@partialentirety I can’t believe you made me write this (I’m kidding, but you suggested someone write the Logan Crofter’s thing and I thought about it and just couldn’t help myself). So this is loosely based on this post!

Summary: It's well established that Logan would do almost anything for a jar of Crofter's and Virgil and Roman are not above using that to their advantage.

Pairing: Platonic LAMP, with a focus on (platonic) analogical

Warnings: Food mention? Other than that really nothing!

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard 

AO3 Link

It had started off subtle. At least, Logan thought it had.

To begin with, it was more of a pavlovian response than anything. First with Patton asking for his assistance with dinner and subsequently making pancakes with Crofter's for breakfast the next morning; next with Roman wanting help with organising his writing and providing Logan with Crofter's on toast afterwards; then Virgil getting him to keep Roman distracted for an hour in return for a Crofter’s and Nutella sandwich, etc. etc.

Logan sort of just... came to expect a Crofter's-type reward for helping out his roommates. And he received one, without fail, every single time.

Most commonly it was toast or sandwiches, sometimes even biscuits, but on rare occasions, Logan would be provided with Patton’s Crofter's cookies—delicious homemade shortbread with Crofter's baked into the middle. And on even rarer occasions Logan would be rewarded with a whole jar. An entire jar of Crofter's jelly for him to do whatever he pleased with (though really, both he and his roommates knew exactly what he was going to do with it—consume the entire jar the second he returned to his room).

And, okay, sure, maybe the lure of that delicious fruit spread had enticed him into doing a few things he may not have done otherwise—take care of Virgil’s pet spider for a week while he was away, agree to read Patton a bedtime story and clean Roman’s entire room, to name a few—but he had it under control! He knew what was happening and it was all under control.

So how, exactly, he'd managed to get to this point, he wasn't entirely sure.

11:37 p.m.

"I'm sorry, what are we doing?"

The living room was covered in empty cardboard boxes, wires and... Logan supposed “equipment” would be the correct term, but he used that word loosely. Virgil was currently preoccupied with laying some cables across the living room rug but at Logan’s question he glanced over and rolled his eyes.

"The apartment is haunted, genius, I told you. Me and Princey here are setting up a trap and you—" he pointed a finger at Logan—"are going to be the bait."

Logan blinked.

"The apartment is not haunted, Virgil."

"Oh yeah?” Virgil sat up, giving him a mostly harmless glare. “Then how do you explain that time when we woke up to find every cabinet in the kitchen open? Huh? And what about the time every single pair of our shoes were thrown out the window overnight?" He adjusted a wire beside him, muttering, “Thank god we only live on the second floor.”

"You know I hate to agree with our resident storm cloud, but he is right,” Roman said, pushing himself up from where he was fiddling with a grey box on the ground, “Weird things keep happening in this apartment and we’re going to find out why.”

Logan sighed. This clearly wasn’t a fight he was going to win today.

“Okay, alright. Regardless of whether or not the apartment is haunted—which, by the way, it isn’t—what makes you think I’m going to agree to be the bait?”

Virgil and Roman exchanged a look which Logan was sure did not spell out good things for him.

The two of them were notorious for mischief, actually. There had been an ongoing pranks war for months during their first year of living together before they’d eventually called a truce, and even now April Fools Day was a day to be feared.

Virgil, of course, had a running list of things it was not okay to mess with during a prank—including obvious things like physical harm and anyone’s mental wellbeing, and not so obvious things like the sugar content of meals or the destruction of any books.c

Logan had managed to avoid being involved in any of Virgil and Roman’s hairbrained schemes thus far mostly by claiming complete disinterest, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to get away with that this time.

He watched as Roman reached into his bag and drew out a single jar of jelly. Crofter’s. Logan’s Berry.

Goddammit! He had classes in the morning! He could not afford to be playing ghost hunters with his stupid roommates well into the night; he needed optimal sleep and rest.

“No. No! You cannot keep doing this! This is not going to work every ti-” Logan was waving his hands in front of his body in a negating gesture but stopped cold when Roman made direct eye contact, reached into his bag, and drew out another jar of Crofter’s.

Shit.

Logan shut his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Give me the fucking jars.”

There was a cheer from the other two as Roman handed the jelly over—complete with a spoon—and Logan dropped into the armchair, clutching the obtained Crofter’s closely to his chest.

12:05 a.m.

Just as Logan was finishing off his first jar of Crofter’s, Virgil announced that they were “all set up”. He took a seat on the couch next to Roman, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Across the living room rug, Logan could see about 15 different wires in all different colours, set up in a grid pattern. Logan assumed there was some sort of method to the colours, as it certainly wasn’t arranged for aesthetic purposes—plainly put, it looked awful.

“Right.” Logan frowned at the floor. “And what is this, exactly?”

Virgil grinned, balancing on the balls of his feet on the couch cushions and really, couldn’t anyone in this house ever sit like a normal human being? 

“It’s an electromagnetic grid,” he explained, “Don’t worry, it’s totally harmless to us, but to ghosts… and, uh, rats, it’s kinda like a super uncomfortable jail.”

Logan inhaled. “I see.”

He didn’t know where Virgil got the information he was standing so firmly behind, and quite honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was probably best he was left in the dark on this one.

“Okay, Lo,” Virgil instructed, “What we need you to do is, when you see the ghost try and lure it over here so that it’s floating above the grid, and then, when it’s in position, press the big red button on the box by your feet and we should have it trapped. You got that?”

Honestly, he looked entirely too proud of himself for a plan that could have just as easily been concocted by a four-year-old with an overactive imagination (so, Roman), but he kept that to himself. After all, the whole situation was ridiculous so the complexity of the plan wasn’t really something he was all that worried about.

“Okay,” Logan responded, with what he thought was a healthy amount of scepticism, “and what exactly do you plan on doing with this “ghost” once it’s captured?”

Roman gave him a look like he was being an idiot, which Logan thought was ironic given the circumstances. “Why, we ask them to politely leave, of course!”

Right, of course.

“Anyway,” Virgil continued, voice a little sharper, “While you play bait out here, me and Ro will be hiding so the ghost doesn’t see us and get spooked. You ready to go?”

Logan sighed. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Great,” Virgil replied and with a grin, dashed to hide in the entrance to the kitchen.

1:22 a.m.

Logan felt as if he’d been waiting in the dark for days now at this point, though likely it had only been an hour or so. As was to be expected, no one had heard a single strange noise or seen a single strange thing in the time they’d been sitting there and Logan truly wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

He had counted and mentally catalogued every item in this room twice already and he was strongly regretting not fetching a book before they’d begun, even if all he would’ve had to read by was the light produced by the box at his feet and Roman’s flashlight resting on the windowsill behind him. His patience was seriously beginning to wear thin.

“And when, exactly, is this so-called-ghost supposed to show up?” Logan whispered in the general direction of the doorway where Virgil was “hiding”. He’d tried speaking a regular volume earlier this evening and, to the backdrop of Roman and Virgil’s insistent shushing, Logan had decided it was best to play along.

There was a slight shuffling noise from the kitchen before Virgil spoke up. “I dunno, it probably should have been here by now, right?”

There was a note of hesitancy in his voice that Logan felt was entirely justified and, in fact, probably should have appeared sooner.

You would think that Virgil would be more nervous about this whole “ghost catching” situation considering his almost crippling anxiety disorder. From many a late night conversation, Logan was aware ghosts were a thing that Virgil was interested in, however, he’d always thought it was more in the abstract—enjoying creepy places and being curious about historically significant “hauntings”—not quite so concrete as believing their actual, real-life apartment was haunted.

It seemed as if his excitement was trumping any fear and Logan was not entirely sure that that was a good thing.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t want to show up, what with specs over here searching the room like he’s looking for his lost contact lens!” Roman hissed from his spot behind the couch—and really, if their problem truly were a ghost, Logan is sure Roman’s hiding spot would not protect him from being seen—“Pretend to be asleep or something!”

Logan sighed, moving around in the chair until his head was settled against the armrest and closing his eyes. “That shouldn’t be hard, considering that is what I should be doing right now.”

And with that, the room fell back into silence, and despite Logan’s best (well, maybe second-best) attempts, he found himself drifting off to sleep.

3:13 a.m.

“Guys. Guys, wake up. I heard something.”

Logan felt a voice pulling him out of sleep and into consciousness. The surface beneath him was moderately uncomfortable—it certainly wasn’t his bed, it seemed more like a chair. In fact, when he opened his eyes he could vaguely make out the shapes of the living room furniture.

Logan blinked a few times. Why was he in the living room? And if this was the living room, then what was that all over the flo-

Oh. Right. This.

“What was that, Virgil?” Logan mumbled, stretching out in the armchair and wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

Virgil's voice was a little harsher this time, slightly more panicked yet still quiet. “I said, I heard something.”

Logan sighed. “Are you sure it isn’t simply a cat on the roof? Possibly the w-”

His rationalising was cut off by the sound of a step creaking.

Oh.

Okay, well, there was no reason to jump to conclusions. Logan was sure it was just the apartment settling, old buildings did that sometimes.

“You heard that too, right?” Virgil sounded panicked and Logan raced to assuage his fears.

“Yes, Virgil,” he whispered, “but I’m sure it’s noth-”

Another creak on the stairs. Closer this time.

Logan took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. What could he possibly have to be worried about? Ghosts weren’t real. He was simply indulging Virgil and Roman (the latter of which, actually, Logan was sure was still asleep) with their nonsensical ghost theory and nothing more.

It was only a moment before the stairs creaked again, closer than before, and Logan distantly realised he had curled up tightly in the chair—his legs pulled in tight to his body and arms wrapped around them. He forced himself to relax. There was nothing to worry about. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

With a final creak, a figure appeared in the doorway to the living room.

And as that figure stepped out of the doorway and into the light of the flashlight, all the tension Logan held left him in one big exhale.

“Patton?” Virgil said, clearly giving up on the idea of being quiet, and this time it was Logan’s turn to shush him.

“Virgil, he is clearly sleepwalking,” Logan whispered, “Please refrain from startling him; he would likely be very disoriented were he to wake up here.”

Logan watched him curiously, all his previous apprehension far gone. Patton was making his way around the couch, mumbling to himself words that Logan couldn’t quite hear. Once he reached the windows, Patton grabbed the ends of both of the curtains and began tying them together.

Logan could make out, “Gotta make sure you don’ fly away,” in amongst all the gibberish and he chuckled softly to himself. It seems they’d found the culprit after all.

Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil, who’d stepped out of his hiding place to sulk in the doorway instead. “Would you still like me to “trap” him?”

“Oh, shut up,” Virgil scowled, “I can’t believe I bought all this stupid equipment for nothing.”

He moved over to the middle of the room and began to pack up all the junk laying there, evidently deciding that it wasn’t worth it to wake up Roman.

“Yes, it would appear that is the case, wouldn’t it?” Logan said smugly, acting as if he’d never been worried even in the slightest. He wasn’t sure Virgil bought it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Patton back to bed and maybe finally get some proper sleep myself.”

He placed a hand on Patton’s back and led him gently towards the stairs. Before they actually began to ascend the steps, however, Logan spun around to glare at Virgil.

“Oh, and the next time you two want a guinea pig for your ridiculous antics, call someone else.”

So, of course, two weeks later Roman and Virgil were back, waving two individual jars of Crofter’s in front of Logan to entice him into something ludicrous and time wasting. Logan agreed. After all, they were nothing if not predictable.

[sian1221]

Our Home (Meced 2, 1202)

Sim’s view

(0900)

I decided to wake up early today to collect new herbs outside the castle that are a lot more visible in the morning. Due to the weather today it was quite foggy regardless of the fact that it was already 0900. The vibe was great and it felt really cool and nice. The flower I wanted to collect today was a glowing flower along with other magical herbs, due to my ability to detect and access a data file of all the herbs. Just like a game, it made it easy for me to understand its uses and where to find it. Before I left I gave Vanessa a hug and left with my bag. Trying my best not to get into any trouble, the trip went really well, from the glowing insect that looked like fireflies but rather bigger and even more disgusting. I tried my best to avoid it but it ended up sticking to me. It felt cold and weird crawling up my skin. I felt like dying…  

After some time I finally found the plant that I was looking for, it was commonly used for colds and sores and typically mixed with other herbs as its taste and smell are horrible. Along with that, I found small berries, they are great treats with excellent nutrients that help the body but in this world, they could also be directly applied on wounds to lessen pain and even stop blood flow to certain areas. I should go back to the store and rearrange the potions tomorrow. It has been quite a few days since I last opened, I ended up just dropping by yesterday to pick up the written orders. They seemed to have missed me… or should I say my medicine…

I said I was going to avoid trouble but before I realised I fell into an old trap that was planted years ago. It looks like it is about to rain, I should contact Vanessa.

Vanessa’s POV

(0915)

I slept through the morning sun. They don’t have anything like alarms so I usually just relied on the sun. Today was foggy, on grim days like this I feel extra sleepy. I heard Sim outside. Being the light sleeper I am, I woke up. I got dressed and Sim was leaving, and she randomly gave me a hug. Her bag swung and hit me though, it hurt. I got to work and saw my assistant at my public table.

Good thing today is an office day. I could be late but I have to be earlier than lunch. It’s really vague, the line,  but it’s there. I had to work on filing documents. It may sound like an assistant’s job but I’m doing Royal-class information so I had to handle it. But my assistant, Jones, burst in to demand my audience. I jumped and quickly hid the documents. I think there’s something suspicious about Jones. Anyway, I locked the documents and headed outside. There were some buff adventurers. Not good news. I told the smartest one to come out. We had a debate, I won… obviously. Then I get a call from Sim.

(1800)

After accidentally falling into a hole, Sim decided to telepathically tell Vanessa, “Vanessaaa, I am stuck in a hole near our house please send some help!”

Vanessa interrogated, “Sim where exactly are and how did you fall into a big hole?”

“I’m sorry, I DIDN'T SEE. Please come save me, it is about to rain soon.” Sim added

Vanessa had to leave work early to help Sim. She then gave her a scolding about how dumb she was as Sim laughed. After showering and resting due to being drenched by the rain Vanessa decided to cook dinner.

“How was work today?” Sim asked curiously.

Vanessa replied “Some muscle men demanded high-class info. Their IDs can’t even avail of that information yet.  So dumb, so I gave them a debate. Needless to say, I won.”

Their convo then went on for a few more hours before they fell asleep on the couch beside the fireplace, it was another cozy day. Their day was no more than normal as they wished more, no drama or the necessary need to please the societal needs of others. Just two random girls in a random world and nothing more or less…