#and came across happy memories in the moment but sad depressing ones as nostalgia | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maplecornia · 3 years

Text

chapter 19

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.93K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: when it's 5 am in the morning, you kind of start to lose inspiration for banners ;-;

When you step out into the rain, you feel a bit sad, shutting the door behind you. Smiling to yourself, you sigh, trying to find Taehyung through the tinted windows, your hand lingering on the door.

You don’t want to leave, you want to hold onto him for a bit longer. Somehow, you know that if you say goodbye now, things will stay the same, you will stay the same.

Broken as you've always been.

He’s lost behind the dark, and you have to let go, turning away.

You can’t rely on him. You can’t let your burdens rest on his shoulders, you have to figure out how to solve them on your own. Nevertheless, the temptation is there. To lose yourself in the fantasy of bliss and happiness dancing in the rain.

What happens when you finally let go?

You don’t want to find out.

Inwardly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you leave him behind, holding tightly to the bittersweet memories he has given you.

Smiling softly to yourself, you lift your satchel to cover your head, shielding you from the rain like a little umbrella, only a few feet away from the apartment complex door. Glancing to your left, you receive a pang of nostalgia as you recognize the small bench where you waited for Jaejin before.

Was it only yesterday that you came to Korea?

You find it so hard to believe that in a mere span of 24 or so hours, so much has already happened and yet you're here.

The same as before.

You scoff a bit to yourself, finding how pathetic that is. You know you have to change, that you have to fix yourself, and find it sad that you can't seem to do it alone. The only moments where you start to feel okay are moments like today, where others can distract you and give you their strength.

Is that all you're capable of being?

A parasite that leeches off of other's happiness?

You are weak, aren’t you?

Turning away, you start to resume your trek to the safety of your apartment, your new home but pause at the sound of someone shouting behind you.

"Wait!"

It's a familiar voice, and frantic. Curious, and a bit worried, you turn around, trying to find the source of the sound. It takes you a moment to peer through the rain, but soon you can see a figure stepping out of a sleek black car that is parked on the curb.

The same car that dropped you off just moments ago.

Why hasn't he left yet?

Furrowing your brow with confusion, you step forward, but then you see him.

As the figure turns towards you, even from this distance, you’re still able to recognize his face. Why wouldn’t you, when you have been looking at it, memorizing it, adoring it throughout the 5 years you have known him? His eyes glint as they meet yours across the way and he calls out your name once more, leaving you frozen, speechless.

“Wait for me!”

Kim Taehyung, little do you know, I have been waiting for you all my life.

He starts running towards you. Through the rain, splashing through puddles, getting drenched all over again. Not even bothering to pull up his hood as he runs to reach you, his eyes never leave your gaze, braving the monster that is the storm.

You shake your head almost in disbelief as he comes to a stop before you, drenched from head to toe. He’s dripping almost as much as the clouds around you, his hair now plastered to his face. The rain has turned it from its normal dark brown shade to a deep pitch black. His clothes stick tightly to his body from the rain, all efforts to dry off in the car now futile. He shivers a bit from the cold, his teeth slightly chattering as he stands before you, those eyes boring into yours.

He must be so uncomfortable, so cold, and yet…

His eyes can’t stop shining.

You look up at him, half stunned.

“Thank goodness you heard me. I thought I would have to chase you inside.” He says, chuckling to himself. Stunned, you are frozen, your eyes wide and searching his. He notices the strange expression and tilts his head, confused.

“What is it?” he asks, but you don’t answer. He looks left and right as though he weren't the cause of your stare before bending forward and whispering…

“Do I have something on my face?”

At his question, you can’t help but chuckle.

“Yes.” You nod, lowering your satchel to rest by your hip once more and reaching around his neck, pulling the now soaked and heavy fabric of hood up to cover his head. “You have quite a few things on your face.”

Before pulling away, you can't help but absentmindedly brush a bit of his hair out of his face, your hand resting on his cold but soft cheek. He doesn’t complain, just stares at you with wide expectant eyes. His hands itch to raise and keep your comforting hand there on his cheek, but he’s too late as you slowly pull away, meeting those dark mysterious eyes.

“What were you doing?” You ask, raising a hand to shield your eyes to see him better and he stands straight, clearing his throat.

“I never got your name.” He says quite plainly, shocking you a bit.

“You came out here...for my name?” you ask, quite incredulously. “I’m sorry I--”

You’re cut off, by the hand that he holds out to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, what’s your name?” Taking his hand after a moment, you shake it.

“My name is Lin Yen, it’s nice to meet you.” You reply and he smiles broadly, his eyes seeming to shine with a million stars.

"Was that all?” You ask him, having to raise your voice over the growing torrent of rain.

“Hardly.” He murmurs under his breath, so soft that you can't hear him. Squinting your eyes at him, you push your hair away from your face, the wind playing with it violently.

“What did you say?” You call out to him, wincing as another howl of wind shrieks in your ear. He doesn’t respond, just turns to you and holds out his hand. You give him an incredulous look, thinking he wants another handshake, but he smiles, shaking his head slightly.

“Give me your phone.” he requests, and you sigh in exasperation.

“Tae, we're in the middle of a storm, I don't--”

“I don’t care.” He says, cutting you off and you regard him in silence. “Besides, you're short enough that I could be your umbrella. So you don’t have to be so worried about the rain.” You raise your eyebrow at his statement, a bit offended. He notices your expression, but at the sight of it, his smile only grows wider, mischief playing in his eyes.

“You did not just call me short.” You warn him, crossing your arms across your chest as you wait for his response. He rolls his eyes, shrugging a bit before stepping forward, so close that he’s hovering over you.

“Just stating the facts, sweetheart,” Taehyung replies, raising his brow as though asking for a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, pursing your lips a bit before he smirks and speaks once more. “You’re like a little fairy, and I’m your protective tree.”

He chuckles, sliding his forefinger under your chin before you pull away with a scoff. Just because some people have the biological genes that make them as tall as the freaking sky…

Tired of his incessant teasing, you raise your hand, take his nose within your fingers, and twist it lightly in retaliation, as though you were stealing it from him. He blinks, a bit surprised as you pull away smirking. Holding your thumb between your fore and middle finger, you wave your hand in front of his face, brandishing it as though it were your prize before turning on your heel and walking away.

“Come on, Mr. Tree.” You call over your shoulder and after a moment, he follows you. When you reach the small overhang above the entrance to your apartment complex, you stop and turn around to him, no longer bare to the storm. Giving him a triumphant smile, you turn to your satchel, slightly humming to yourself. “Looks like you don’t have to be an umbrella anymore.”

“Your loss, for your information I am an excellent tree.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before resting his hands behind his neck and peeking into your apartment complex. The doors are glass, so it's not hard to see through and as you glance up from your tiny task, you smile at how cute and innocent his expression seems. When your hands finally close around your phone, you let out a small gasp of excitement, startling him. He jumps, his hands falling and resting on his chest as though to try and calm his pounding heart. Pulling it out of your satchel, you try your hardest not to burst out into laughter at the sight of his surprised expression.

“You okay there, Mr. Leafalot?” You ask and he scoffs, a bit annoyed, his soft lips pursing into a small pout.

“For one thing, I have no idea what that means.” You bite back on your laugh, snorting a bit as you raise your hand to hide your ever-growing smile.

“For another, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” Scoffing, he rubs the back of his neck glancing away from you for a moment.

“Honestly, I don't need a clumsy Tinker Bell telling me to be careful.” You roll your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight taunt he just directed your way.

“Whatever, Peter Pan.” You shoot back, earning a slightly surprised look from him. He opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off, holding your phone out to him. He looks at it, then back at you, a question waiting in his eyes. After a moment, you grow tired of waiting and sigh, lagging your arm a bit. “Didn’t you ask to see my phone?”

His eyes light with realization and he nods as though he has forgotten why he was there. He takes the phone from you, your fingers brushing against his before you draw away. As he glances at your home screen, he smirks.

“So...am I your bias?”

You glance up at him, a bit confused by his question, but then you realize.

He has your phone.

The same phone that has him...

On your home screen.

As your wallpaper.

Inwardly, you curse, trying to ignore the blush rising in your cheeks, and lunge forward, trying to take it back. He laughs, dodging and holding your phone out of your reach.

“What's wrong, Tinker?” he antagonizes, grinning like an idiot as he blocks you with his arm.

Curse your tiny arms.

“Taehyung!” you whine, the embarrassment clean on your face. He just laughs, his fingers playing on your screen doing God knows what as he holds you back. You droop on his arm, pouting as he shows no signs of pulling away, nor giving the phone back.

“What did you even need it for?” you complain, slipping off of his arms and crossing your arms once more. Having finished, he turns back to you, smirking. You tilt your head a bit confused as he hands you your phone. Cautiously, you take it, wondering what he’s done.

“See for yourself.” He instructs.

As soon as you see it, your eyes widen.

He opened your contacts and entered one, the new contact set up and filling your screen. On it, he entered a phone number and titled the contact as Your TaeTae with a purple heart next to it. You breathe out a stunned scoff, before looking up to see him smiling at you. A soft, but innocent smile, which shows his hope and unanswered questions. You smile back, touched at his gesture, and still caught in slight disbelief.

“Is this real?” you ask and he nods. Still unsure, you chuckle a bit shakily turning back to the phone. “I mean, this isn’t your manager's phone number or something…?”

He rolls his eyes before stepping forward and taking your hand into his own, gently cutting you off. You meet his gaze with wide eyes and he holds it with his deep ones before turning back to your phone. You still have your hand around it, the same hand which he holds in his own, a gentle touch that never ceases to fill you with warmth.

You watch as he saves the contact to your phone. Held in beautiful silence, the two of you watch as it registers. Once it's saved, he presses the call button and puts it on speaker just as it starts dialing. It holds out three long beeps before a muffled sound can be heard.

A ringtone echoing from Taehyung's back pocket.

You watch in silence as he pulls it out, holding it next to your phone, an unknown caller ID flashing on his screen. The two of you watch as your soft beeping and his ringtone mix together in a strange symphony. That is, until Tae pulls away, answering the call and holding his phone to his ear. It takes you a moment, but as he softly nudges you, you raise yours to your ear, murmuring a soft response.

“Hello?” He smirks at your faint whisper before replying.

“Hello, is this Tinker Bell?” He asks in the same soft, quiet voice, subtly mocking you. But you catch it, and narrow your eyes at him, playfully smacking him in the arm. He winces, pouting, but you don’t buy it and ignore him.

“It is she, is this Peter Pan?” He wrinkles his nose at the nickname, and you scoff, looking away.

Like Tinker Bell is any better?

“No.” He answers, dropping the mocking voice, his deep silky one returning. At the sound of it, you look up, wondering why he turned so serious all of a sudden. He meets you with those large dark hooded eyes, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“This is Kim Taehyung.” He takes a step forward, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, his smell wafting over you once more.

“This is real.”

You look into his eyes, take in his face, the serene look he holds and everything seems to fade away. There’s only you and him, the rain far away, your troubles falling behind you. There’s only one thing that matters.

After a moment, he slowly smiles, ruffling your hair softly. You flinch, raising your hands to protect your head just as he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later, Tinker Bell.” Stepping back, he raises his hand, waving goodbye before turning on his heel and running off into the rain.

You smile, a bit stunned as you watch him until he rounds the corner around the car and opens the door, looking up at you one last time. You smile, and dramatically wave goodbye to him. He laughs, you can hear it, though it may be faint, as he waves back.

Then he’s gone.

The door closes and you watch the car as it drives away. You stare after it long after it's gone and though you're still smiling, it's almost as though you're returned to your dark and empty self.

As though when he left, he took all the light with him.

Sighing, you shake yourself off.

Now is not the time to lose yourself.

So what if the dream has gone?

You promised yourself you would be strong. You promised yourself not to fall.

So you won’t.

Before you turn away, you look down at your phone, which is still open to Taehyung's contact. You smile at the sight of it, a small sign that what just happened was real, and not a dream. Smiling to yourself, you tap on the empty profile and replace it with the same picture you have on your home screen. Smiling like an idiot, you save the contact changes and are about to turn to the door before you see it.

The option to send him a message.

Licking your lips, you raise your hand to your bottom lip, absentmindedly playing with it as you contemplate whether or not you should do it. After a moment, you press the option and watch in anticipation as it brings you to the empty chat page, waiting for you to type. Biting your bottom lip, your fingers fly across the screen. Sweet and simple, you smile once it's finished, adding a purple heart at the end before pressing SEND. The transaction done, you press your home screen button before turning it to sleep, pocketing the phone safely in your satchel once more.

Taking one last look at the rain, where your dream faded away not a moment ago, you sigh with content before turning on your heel and pushing open the door to enter the apartment complex.

And somewhere amongst that onslaught of endless rain, Taehyung, driving down the slick streets of Seoul, receives your message. He opens it, finding it to belong to an unknown number. But when he reads it, he knows it's you.

Goodbye, Peter Pan

After all, who else would call him that?

Smiling, he sends back a purple heart before pocketing his phone and driving farther and farther away.

And yet…

It’s almost as though he never left.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i'm sorry but even though the banner is simple, I'M IN LOVE WITH HIS SMILE OMFG

chapter 20 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

33 notes · View notes

rubyredsundae · 3 years

Text

Mass Effect Trilogy Tag!

I was not tagged by anyone, I just really wanted to join in. If you see this and want to as well, please do! I've been loving reading through everyone's :)

I am a fan since… 2011ish? Definitely at least a year before ME3 came out. I remember watching my brother play ME2 and thinking it was so cool. While he was away it was a huge comfort for me to play it in his room, kind of like a bonding or cathartic experience for someone who wasn't there at the time.

When ME3 came out, me and him went to the midnight release at a gamestop like 40 minutes away or something, wearing clothes we threw together to kind of fit the N7 color scheme. Even though we don't talk anymore, those memories are still really precious to me. Also, the nostalgia of playing ME1 after-school or on the weekend, running to get my easy mac from the microwave during a cutscene, stuffing too hot mouthfuls while speeding the Mako towards the conduit on Ilos.

Favorite game of the series: It's a tough call between ME1 and ME2, but I'd say ME2. It's the game I get the urge to replay the most.

MaleShep or FemShep? Femshep all the way. I only play MShep when I want to do his exclusive romances. No offense to BroShep, but ME was the first game I ever played that let me not just be a girl, but customizable. Not just to be the already generated token girl character in a pack of boys. And not only can you play Femshep, but every game you are surrounded by smart, funny, tough women as squadmates. It was such a huge deal to me, and still is. Femshep represents so much. As Jennifer Hale put it, FemShep was a military grade boot to the video game industry glass ceiling.

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer? I personally tend to lean spacer in-game, but I tend to use Earthborn when I'm writing fics.

Paragon or Renegade? Usually Paragon, but Renegade playthroughs can be really interesting, especially if I have a detailed background about why Shep is the way they are. My first Renegade, Krystle, is pretty bigoted and anti-alien until she meets Liara. Krystle is naturally guarded and quick to anger, so meeting someone who seemed to accept her and listen to her without judgment really opens her mind.

By the 2nd game, she wakes up in the cerberus lab with new biotic powers, having previously been a regular foot soldier. This makes her seeth, having someone completely take her agency, agreeing with the illusive man on the surface but plotting against him the entire time. She starts to lean more Paragon, if only to piss him off. She has the biggest smirk on her face when she blows up the collector base.

Biotics or Tech? Oooh, this is hard. Maybe biotics just the tiniest smidge because of Jack/Samara biotic bubble throw during the suicide mission. I don't know if we'll ever get a screen adaptation but THAT is a moment I would pay to see done with a big SFX budget behind it.

Favorite class: Sentinel! I don't know how much this reflects on my class preference in gaming in general, but I love the 'jack of all trades'ness of it. By the time I get an assault rifle, I don't really feel the need for anyone else to make up for something I lack. Also, tech armor in ME2? Where your shields regenerate automatically when it breaks, and the cool down is when you initially active it, instead of when you detonate it? Chef's kiss. I understand why it was nerfed in 3 but I'm still mad.

Favorite companion: Ho boy. This is obviously very difficult to choose but I'm gonna say Miranda. I've always loved and identified with her character, I love the accent, and she's always useful on missions. I was so happy when I learned she could be a squadmate in the armax arena.

Honorable mention to Ashley in ME1. Her character is rarely used to exposition lore, so she just gets to have her personality fleshed out. I don't always agree with her but she does seem genuinely willing to listen. ME3 tosses her out the airlock though; partially because her content was bugged and never restored, leaving her inclusion feel half-baked, and partly because Ash and Kaidan have to be able to serve the same plot function as each other and it negatively affects her character more than his. This could also be intentional on bioware's part, to try to flesh out kaidan's personality and tone down Ashley's as a response to criticisms of them from ME1.

Least favorite companion: Also difficult, because I don't really hate anyone as much as I am just less interested in some. I didn't like Zaeed for a long time, but I think he's much better and really funny in ME3. James was pushed on me too much at the beginning and it made me really dislike him, but I think he's greatly improved and also pretty funny in Citadel DLC. I'm also pretty indifferent to Jacob; I don't think he's a bad character, just disappointing because there was a lot of potential.

Not that every character has to go on and do some grand quest to be interesting, but I don't feel like Jacob every really got a big hero moment like everyone else. He is a very calm and introverted person (imo) who doesn't really share his feelings, so it's always been hard for to to connect with him on anything.

My squad selection: Depends on the game, but it usually involves Garrus lol. Typically it's Liara/Garrus in ME1, Miranda/Garrus for ME2, and Liara/Garrus again in ME3. I am very boring and predictable! If you have any suggestions for me to try out and mix things up, let me know!

Favorite in-game romance: Also depends on the game. ME1 it's Liara, hands down. It was the first game, really the first piece of media, where I was told two women could fall in love and be happy and that was okay. The amount of enlightenment and comfort in figuring out that I was bi these games brought me is kind of wild to look back on.

ME2 is a toss-up between Garrus and Thane. They are both wonderful but in completely different ways. I tend to now romance Thane on characters I don't plan on importing to ME3, or if I do, to just have a really depressed fucking Shepard lol. I hate how much Thane was brushed off, especially if you romanced him.

Other pairings I like: l love Miranda so much, but I'm a gay girl so I ship her and Femshep. Same goes for Tali, Jack, Ashley... damn I'm just really gay for straight girls huh :/

I don't really have any other ships for non-Shep related pairings.

Favorite NPC: Shiala is really cool to me, I wish we got to see her in 3. Emily Wong is also cool, also wish we saw her in 3. There's probably a lot more that when I come across them next I'll be like, "you! I love you! You're my favorite."

Oh also Joker! And EDI! But not together. Idk I feel like ME3 threw a curveball at me with "do you support organic/non-organic relationships?" Like m'am please don't ask me, I accidentally drank turian liquor last year, I'm not qualified to be an expert on this.

Favorite antagonist: Tbh I really dig Saren. I think his reasoning is super fascinating, both to set up how someone who's indoctrinated can rationalize to themselves that they are still in control; and as a foil to Shepard, to show what can happen when you become too isolated and the ends justify the means. I think his VA does a great job of walking the line between desperate survivor and madman. He's also the only antagonist in the trilogy that we ever fight 1 on 1 (ignoring squadmates) and it feels more personal. I think he's such a fantastic foe for the first entry in a trilogy and I don't think he gets enough credit.

Favorite mission: Is it cliche to say the suicide mission? It's honestly close to perfect. The stakes, the sequencing, the cinematics, the score. Everything works so well.

Favorite loyalty mission: Kasumi's and Tali's are really cool, as we all know. Samara's is also cool because it is entirely non-combat based. Shepard has to prove they can accomplish what seems impossible without a gun or biotics.

The confrontation at the end with Morinth always haunts me a little, because they are both right in their own way. Morinth's final line, "and they say I'm the monster", as you let Samara kill her, watch her scrambling backwards in fear... I know that she's a remorseless killer, but it gets me every time.

Favorite DLC: It's Citadel, obviously. Turns out what I really wanted was quality time and a party with all my friends. I love mass effect for many reasons, but simulating friends and affection when I had none has always made me bond to this series like other games don't. Is it sad? Sure! But I don't think love and affection for fictional characters should ever be shameful until it makes you hurt other people.

Control, Synthesis or Destroy? I'd say destroy. If the other options were presented earlier and we had time to stew with it, maybe I'd be more split. But all of this in 5 minutes? It's not like the collector base where the implications are obvious and the choice is just down to what Shepard believes. The 3 choices all seem like space magic out of nowhere, and none of them seem to really offer any insight on what Shepard should believe. So I say destroy, just because it's what Shep has intended and is most consistent with their character and their admiration of Anderson.

Favorite weapon: The spectre level assault rifle in ME1. Never have I felt more powerful.

Favorite place: Idk why but I just thought of the creepy lab with all the scientists during the leviathan DLC. I really love when Mass Effect leans into the Lovecraftian horror aspect of things. Talking to Sovereign and Vigil in ME1 gave me goosebumps my first few playthroughs.

A quote I like: I have hundreds, but the one off the top of my head is, "After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began." I have a poster of it up on my wall right now!

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mass effect trilogy tag

3 notes · View notes

dfnm-mnfd · 5 years

Text

i haven’t seen you in forever, but you still feel like home

Inspired by this post by @xandertheundead

“We’ll keep in touch, Eds.” That’s what Richie had said. “I’ll call you every night, maybe even video chat for those more risqué conversations.” Even now, Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle at Richie’s antics, even though he hadn’t talked to the boy in eight years.

He and Richie had been best friends for as long as he could remember, meeting on the first day of elementary school, bonding immediately over a shared fascination in the way their teacher’s mole on her lip moved when she talked, and, since then, they’d always been at each others’ sides. Until ten years ago, that is.

Eddie had always dreamed of becoming a chef. He’d always been fascinated in cuisine, and had been forced to cook for himself since he was a child- due to his mother’s inability to function as a normal human. So, when he received an offer to spend five years in France learning how to master French cuisine up-close, how could he say no?

Apparently, that was Richie’s exact query. In high school, the two boys had gotten even closer than best friends. Richie had crossed the line of platonic love, stepping into the zone of romance, and Eddie had been more than happy to let him. The boys were happily dating for a good few years, they even moved into an apartment together in the summer before their freshman year of college. All was going splendidly- the two boys had never been more in love, until-

“Richie, oh my gosh, you’ll never guess what came in the mail!” Eddie practically skidded into the living room of their apartment, waving an envelope in the air, eyes glowing with excitement. On the floor, where he had been absently plucking at his guitar, Richie looked up curiously, a few stray curls hanging over his forehead. Even in his excitement, Edie couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was, the morning sun streaking through half-closed blinds to highlight the flecks of gold in his green eyes, to accentuate the freckles scattered across his pale skin. Richie cocked his head, blinking up at Eddie in silent (for once) question. “I got a letter from Le Cordon Bleus!” Though it was clear Richie had no idea what that was, he fed off of Eddie’s excitement, a large smile growing across his face. “It’s a french cooking school,” Edie explained, “they offered to let me transfer there for five years!” Just like that, Richie’s smile was gone.

“They- like, you’d go to… France? For a whole five years?” Eddie blinked.

“Well, yeah. Is that a problem?”

“N- no. I mean. I’m proud of you!” Eddie could tell that his smile was fake, the sadness in his eyes betrayed him. “I’m just… five years is a long time, I’ll miss you, Eds.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, and, just like that, all of his previous excitement was gone, like someone had flipped a switch, draining all of it from him. “Shit- Rich. I didn’t even think about that…” The sunlight didn’t look so pretty in Richie’s eyes anymore, all of the pain in them was drowning out the gold flecks. He wished that he could say he wouldn’t go, to make all of that pain go away, but his was the opportunity of a lifetime. He wasn’t about to pull a Rachel from Friends and ditch a golden opportunity for a man, was he? When he looked into Richie’s beautiful, sad eyes, he wasn’t so sure. He had waited his whole life for something like this to pop up, sure. But he’d loved Richie for his whole life, too. It was an impossible decision, giving up one dream for another.

“I- It’s all right, Eds. We can make it work, right?” Eddie wasn’t so sure. He’d heard all the horror stories about long distance relationships- the cheating, the distractions, the emotional distance. It was hard to believe that, even though he and Richie were close, they wouldn’t be affected by such things, and Eddie’s anxiety definitely wasn’t helping the situation. “We can call every night, text all the time. It’ll be just like it is now, but… really far apart.” Richie tried to make that sound less depressing than it was, pairing it with a meager smile. And Eddie, being the lovesick fool that he was, let Richie convince him.

Looking back, he would try and curse himself, he would try and wish that he had decided to stay. But he couldn’t deny that he loved his life now. Sure, he refused to date anyone, or even think about romance, but hey, that was just because he was so busy all the time, right? And when he saw pictures of Richie and his band- which had gotten to be quite popular over the past few years- pop up on Instagram, or even in magazines, his heart didn’t hurt so bad that he wanted to rip it out of his chest, right?

Okay, maybe Eddie could think of one way that his life would be better. But he was doing swell! After moving to France, Eddie had adjusted to life there easily, making friends in his classes, winning the favours of his professors. He managed to get good grades all the way throughout university, and snagged a well-paying job at a fine-dining restaurant. His life was packed to the brim, busy with exciting opportunities and happiness. Too busy for Richie, it turned out.

Richie had broken up with him through an email, of all things, breaking countless social codes, and Eddie’s heart, in the process. Though it wasn’t exactly out of the blue, that didn’t make it hurt any less when Eddie opened up the email, and blinked back tears as he read it. It didn’t make Eddie’s chest ache any less as he sobbed on the floor of his dorm, curled up for hours.

Eventually, Eddie stopped checking his phone for cheesy good morning texts when he woke up. He stopped leaving his ringer on at night, in case Richie decided to call him, forgetting about the time-zone difference. But, somewhere, though he hated it, he knew that he never stopped loving Richie.

Now, ten years after he had moved to France, Eddie was back in America. Having saved a decent amount of money over the years, he was opening a French cuisine restaurant, a high class one at that. He spent months perfecting everything- from finding the perfect location, all the way down to selecting the cutlery. And, having finally realised his plans, he was able to open the restaurant.

His restaurant was amazingly successful, generating loads of people, and bringing in thousands of excellent reviews. It wasn’t entirely unusual for the occasional celebrity to even wander in, and Eddie couldn’t have been happier.

About a month after Eddie had opened the restaurant, on one of the less busy days, a popular band arrived in a black car. Of course, as Eddie was in the back, cooking, he had no clue what awaited him. Even when an order for beef bourignon and chocolate mousse was passed back to him, which had always been Richie’s favourite things for him to make, Eddie suspected nothing. He let himself get caught up in the memories of cooking for Richie, sure. He let himself remember when Richie’d somehow managed to get chocolate mousse all over himself, and how Eddie had playfuly licked some off of his neck. Eddie’s cheeks reddened a little as he remembered what happened after that, and, by then, he was on to the next order, quick to be pulled from his nostalgia.

Eddie was in the middle of making a dessert crêpe, one of his favourite, and easiest, recipes, when he was called to the dining area by a somewhat flustered looking waitress. Compliments to the chef, she’d said. Though compliments weren’t entirely rare, Eddie was still incredibly pleased, and made sure he looked somewhat presentable before following her out.

He saw Richie just a few seconds after walking out of the kitchen, freezing in his place with wide eyes. The waitress turned to look at him, head tilted inquisitively, but Eddie couldn’t even begin to form words to explain himself. As a matter of fact, he could hardly breathe. And, fortunately or not, Richie noticed.

If Eddie hadn’t been silently wheezing and regretting all of his life choices, they probably would’ve made romantic eye contact, maybe ran into each other’s arms sobbing. However, Eddie felt like he was literally about to die, and probably looked like it, too, and so Richie just kind of stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

The entire restaurant was watching them now, several forks suspended mid-air on their way to some pompous customer’s mouth. But Eddie hardly cared, eyes huge as he stared at Richie, and Richie stared right back. They stayed frozen like that for a good few seconds, Richie’s bandmates all looking at their friend in confusion and concern, their bewilderment increasing as Richie pushed himself out of his chair, and strode towards Eddie, his shocked expression melting more into, what- intrigue, maybe? Eddie let him take his arm, and lead him back through the double doors of the kitchen, still hardly processing the situation he found himself in.

“Eds.” Richie’s voice was breathy, as if he could hardly believe that this was real. To be fair, it hardly seemed real. From the far end of the kitchen, the sous chef stared at them curiously, not that either of them noticed.

“Hi, Richie.” Eddie marvelled at how his voice didn’t shake when he spoke, despite the anxious churning of his stomach, and the panicked screeching that had become background noise in his mind from the moment that he saw Richie. For a while, they just blinked at each other, taking it all in.

Richie’s style didn’t seem to have changed one bit since Eddie last saw him- he wore an obnoxious hawaiian shirt over a Hozier shirt, paired with bright orange jeans and an entirely different shade of orange converse. He still wore his yellow-framed glasses, and his hair was still a beautiful curly mess. In other words, Richie was still absolutely hot and a complete dork, it seemed.

Eddie figured he probably looked much the same as well. As far as he could tell, his sense of style hadn’t changed much- his wardrobe was still comprised of oversized sweater and mom jeans. And, physically, the only change was that Eddie had gotten maybe half and inch inch taller. Basically, he was still exactly the same. Richie, it seemed, shared his sentiments.

“You look the same.” Eddie noticed how Richie’s hand seemed to twitch towards him. “I- I mean. You look great. I’m glad you look the same,” he stumbled over his words, wincing a little. “Not that I would be upset if you looked different, change is good! But-” Richie took in a deep breath, his words deflating. “I just… missed you, is all.” Eddie couldn’t help but smile at that, a whole flurry of butterflies taking flight inside him at Richie’s words.

“I missed you too, ‘Chee.” They both blinked at the pet name that slipped from Eddie’s lips, almost startled by the familiarity of it all. It was like they were suspended in air, wrapped in this careful conversation, and one wrong breath could send them crashing back to reality, back to when they hadn’t spoked for years, back to how Eddie had sobbed all alone, and how Richie had stared numbly at his ceiling, itching to call Eddie.

“Are you… um.” Richie took in a deep breath, and Eddie could tell that he was nervous. “Are you seeing anyone?”He smiled, letting out a relieved sigh when Eddie shook his head, and the butterflies that fluttered around inside Eddie multiplied. Did Richie still feel the same? It seemed that way.

“Are you?”

“Oh, god no.” Richie shook his head adamantly. “I haven’t been with anyone since we-” he blinked, uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at Eddie, his words falling short.

“Me neither,” Eddie said, his tone cautious. They slipped into silence, a million unsaid words hanging in the air between them.

“Are you-

“Would you-” They both spoke at the same time, breaking off with a few awkward laughs.

“Sorry, you go,” said Eddie, looking up at at Richie, who shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Seeming nervous, Richie shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. You go, Eds.”

“I-” Eddie stuttered, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he gaped up at him. “No, no, it’s not important. You… you can go.” Richie, seeming to understand that literally nothing on Earth would make Eddie talk, sighed, nodding.

“Ok, um” He shifted from one foot to the other, wetting his lips. “I was uh… just wondering if maybe you’d like to go get dinner with me sometime?” Eddie beamed, eyes lighting up.

“I’d love that.” Richie beamed as well, his forest green eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Awesome! I can pick you up on Friday, if that works.”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie couldn’t agree quickly enough, nodding emphatically.

“Great!” Richie nodded, eyes alight. “It’s a date, then.”

“I can’t wait.” He smiled up at Richie, and the two stood there for a few moments, just beaming at each other until Richie blinked, lifting one hand in the air to point vaguely at nothing.

“Ah! Well.” He let his hand drop. “I believe I have an absolutely delicious beef bourignon waiting for me, so I must be off, but um…” He shot Eddie a crooked smile, taking his breath away. “I can’t wait for Friday.”

“Me neither.”

#eyyyyyy hmm if you want a part two #also this was fun to write yeet #reddie #reddie headcanons #reddie au #i think this turned out quite well actually #tho i had to look up how to cut text #uhhh ye hope you liked it #i might put this on ao3 #if i do i'll link it here probs

89 notes · View notes

axgustvs-blog · 6 years

Text

i’m not here for you. augustus & charlie & marin.

summary: augustus puts on an act. marin puts out a fire. charlie puts things away.

AUGUSTUS

As promised, Augustus had forgiven Marin by their next meeting. In fact, he was proud to point out, he hadn't even mentioned letter through implication. The two of them sat together, casual despite the subject of their conversation, which Augustus was only half paying attention to, anyway. Ethae was crowded as usual. Augustus was staring aimlessly into the crowd, coffee forgotten, as Marin explained to him one more time the importance of merfolk and fairy relations. It was too noisy in here, he decided, and that was why he couldn't focus. "Sorry to cut you off, Marin, but can we move to the quieter part of this establishment? I'm sure we're capable of using our inside voices."

MARIN

Amid the crowded tables and long lines toward the front of the café, it was all too easy to blend in with the other patrons. It was one of the few times where Marin was comfortable discussing certain topics out in the open, so long as he had someone trustworthy to speak with. He was pleased that Augustus had so readily forgiven him for the letter incident, though he hoped it’d stay that way so long as Charlie didn’t make yet another stink. And from what he’d seen and heard so far? It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan yet again.

Raising a brow at Augustus’s request, Marin had half a mind to stay put. But given it really was starting to get chaotic on this end of Ethae, he was inclined to agree. “Fine,” he sighed, already picking up his tea and the tiny flask of vodka he’d managed to smuggle in with him. “But once the line dies down, you owe me a croissant.”

AUGUSTUS

"Fine," Augustus replied, echoing Marin's exasperation. But he was smiling, just a little, happy to have gotten what he wanted. He picked up the coffee, drained it, and then moved around the tables and into the library. Not two steps inside, he saw Charlie, placing books on the nearby shelf. He stopped in his tracks, frowning. "Oh," he said aloud. It was too late to breeze past and act as though he hadn't seen the man, so Augustus crossed his arms and looked Charlie up and down. "You work here?"

CHARLIE

Charlie was not thinking about Augustus. He was not thinking about letters, not the fact that his most recent visit to Arabella had provided some interesting information. He was thinking, instead, about shelving books. He was so not thinking about Augustus that when he appears, he had to do a double take. He sighed. "I told you I was a librarian. Where else would I work? The zoo?"

MARIN

As if the universe was trying to deliver the biggest ‘fuck you’ imaginable, Marin was greeted by the sight of a certain thorn in his side. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he worked somewhere Marin actually had to behave himself. “I think you’d be right at home picking up animal shit,” he quietly remarked, unable to keep a frown from spreading across his face. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse us, we have some very important things to discuss.” Marin motioned toward an empty table, waiting for Augustus to make the first move.

CHARLIE

Charlie blinked at the insult. He vaguely recognized the man’s face, and then, after a few moments it came to him: “Aaron?” He asked, sounding unsure.

AUGUSTUS

Augustus remembered, a moment after asking, that Charlie had told him he worked at a library. He rolled his eyes, about to retort, when Marin beat him to it. He turned to his friend with a surprised expression. "Marin," he scolded. Charlie spoke again, and Augustus almost laughed, but just cleared his throat to cover it. "Ah, no, this is—" He realized what this introduction would mean, that it might make Charlie angry all over again, and sighed. "This is Marin."

CHARLIE

Charlie paled. His indignation flew out the window as the pieces fell into place. He vaguely remembered seeing the two of them together at the West Hollow Beach reopening, but it was a fleeting memory. Of course, the person who he poured his heart and soul to was the same man who wrote him that cruel letter. Of course, they were friends. His heart sank at every idea that came into mind, every picture of the two of them together laughing over the contents of Charlie’s inner thoughts. “This is Marin?” He repeated, trying to regain composure. “Fantastic. Charming, even. I can’t imagine what sort of devious plot you two are planning, but I would like it if, for once, you kept my name out of it. Past is past, isn’t it, Augustus?” He challenged.

MARIN

Marin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. It wouldn’t do him any good to make a scene, but there was always room for a quip or two. “In his defense,” he said, “Augustus had nothing to do with the letter. You seem so worked up about the fact he might be involved, but I thought it was obvious that it was all me. I even signed it with my name — in squid ink, which shows just how much dedication I put into it.”

AUGUSTUS

This whole run-in was quickly turning from inconvenient to annoying. Charlie was throwing all this anger at him and, sure, he was still pissed about this prank, but it felt larger than that. He wanted to shake the younger vampire and shout what now, what now? Could they not go a single week without fighting? And he knew there was something he'd done that would make Charlie angry, but there was no way he could know about that. So, he was clueless. And getting pissed. "Marin, shut up," he snapped, finally tearing his gaze away from Charlie. "Shut up about this stupid fucking letter. I told you there was no point in explaining yourself to someone like him." He then turned to Charlie. "Don't get yourself all worked up, you're not important enough to dedicate an entire afternoon discussing. I wouldn't have let us meet here if I'd known you'd be here finding some reason to be mad at me." He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away, starting to fume.

CHARLIE

He rolled his eyes at Marin, but he knew his face was slowly but surely turning a bright red. His pride was on the line, or rather, his pride had been shot several times over. He wanted nothing more to do with Augustus, but it seemed as if Augustus was intent on having everything to do with him, while claiming in the next breath that he wanted nothing. It was all a very exhausting experience, all this guess work. “Oh, I believe you. It’s nice to know you have nothing better to do,” he said simply. “I’ll very much be keeping that in mind.”

Charlie flinched visibly at Augustus’s words. He had every right to be angry, but he just felt sad. Given every recent revelation he’d had — namely with Roman — all of this mess between them was amounting to one very depressed Charlie. He wanted nothing more than to walk over and shake Augustus, ask him several times over just what he was trying to prove, among other things. He sighed, turned to the books he was shelving and muttered, “Alright.” But then, beaten and downtrodden, he turned to get one last, albeit dejected, word in. “I’m not stupid, Augustus. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

MARIN

“Right,” Marin quipped, looking like he was ready to rip Charlie’s head right off his scrawny little neck. “Because someone who spends their days filing books for a living has room to talk about a letter that took me five minutes to write.” If he couldn’t snap at Augustus for snapping at him, then Charlie would make for a fine punching bag. “But go off, I guess.”

Setting his sights back on the table, Marin placed a hand over Augustus’s elbow, trying to nudge him in the general direction. “Whatever you’re accusing him of, he didn’t do. I’m starting to think you just want an excuse to pitch a fit until someone brings you a bottle of milk or finally changes your soiled diaper.”

AUGUSTUS

He narrowed his eyes at Charlie, who now looked decidedly miserable instead of angry. But his own anger had already started swelling. Augustus yanked his elbow out of Marin’s hold and took a step closer to Charlie. “Find out about what? What in your laundry list of grievances is the problem today?”

CHARLIE

Where with Augustus there was misery, with Marin there was a prideful anger. His chest swelled with anger at this effective stranger who apparently had a huge problem with him. While he knew the right thing to do was to say nothing, to offer silence and return to nurse what wounds had suddenly been reopened, Charlie could not resist. “We clearly have different definitions of how to best spend our time, Aaron,” he huffed.

Then, turning to Augustus and ignoring the painful ache of his heart, he sighed. “Call any retirement homes lately? I find it incredibly interesting how you want nothing to do with me yet you spend your spare time digging into my life. Did you think it wouldn’t get back to me?”

AUGUSTUS

He should have known that this would have happened. Augustus tightened his jaw and straightened up his stance. Now that he knew what, exactly, Charlie was upset about, and he thought it was actually quite reasonable, he switched out of his anger. Instead, he stepped into his self-righteous defensiveness. “Oh, spare me, Charlie. It’s practically my job to know what’s happening in this town. And since you never actually explained to me why you moved back to this town despite wanting nothing to do with me, I was curious.” He glanced back at Marin. “Unfortunately, he’s rightfully accused me, for once. But, actually it’s a good thing I did go digging. What you’re doing is incredibly stupid and dangerous, Charlie. If you’re going to risk everyone because of your pathetic nostalgia, at least have the decency of informing us.”

MARIN

“Aaron? Who the hell is Aaron?” Marin genuinely looked confused, but quickly decided it wasn’t worth his time. The more pressing issue was the fact that Augustus was, in fact, doing some digginng of his own. Marin would have to deal with that piece of information at a later time and a different place. For now, he needed to cut the conversation and refrain from making a bigger scene than he wanted.

“Can we just have some tea in peace?” Marin sighed, one hand on his hip while the other clutched his drink. “I swear, every time the two of you cross paths in public, you wind up making asses of yourselves. Augustus, let’s go.” Again, he motioned toward the table. “Leave the sad little man baby alone.”

CHARLIE

Choosing to focus instead on Augustus’s words, Charlie found he didn’t appreciate the man’s defensiveness. “Oh, yes, educate me on keeping things a secret. The woman knew full well and good the happenings of West Hollow before I even arrived. She contacted me. Apparently it was an easy task, not that you’d care to know,” he dug. He refused to be lectured by Augustus again, especially when he was the one in the wrong.

Then, wheeling on Marin, he forgoed biting the insides of his cheeks to control his anger. “As for you, I’d appreciate it if you kept yourself out of my business. My mistake for involving you in the first place, I’ve clearly never been a good judge of character.”

AUGUSTUS

"Go sit down if you're so sick of this, Marin." Augustus said, barely glancing over his shoulder as he continued to glare at Charlie. His words made no sense, but they felt pointed once again. The needled at him with that accusatory tone he'd grown so used to. "Not that I'd care to— What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, raising his voice to speak over Charlie's continued insults to the merfolk behind him. "You're bragging about being easily found? The fact that she could contact you is not good, Charlie. That's actually, pretty fucking embarrassing, considering you've been roaming around, trying to be elusive and unnoticed all these years."

MARIN

“Hey, hey, hey. Indoor voices,” Marin quickly hissed, nudging Augustus as if that would get him to listen. “We’re in public, you two. Or have you forgotten that you—“ He pointed to Charlie with a scowl. “—are on the clock? And that you—“ Now he was pointing at Augustus. “—are supposed to be cutting the leech out of your life? Shut up, sit down, and let him self-destruct on his own. How hard is that?”

CHARLIE

Marin was all but out of the picture, cut in Charlie’s tunnel vision. He felt his cheeks go hot with anger, likely tinged with some embarrassment, too. “It was easy for people who knew me. Which her family had, for decades. I went back there, Augustus. I kept going back there, half for reasons you’d know and half because —,” but halfway through he changed direction, deciding he didn’t deserve to know that information. That actually, if he knew anything at all, it wouldn’t need saying.

“You are such a stupid, stupid man. And you’re absolutely horrible at lying, it’s embarrassing. You think I can’t see through this and figure out what it’s about? Even your friend can tell, though why he’s in denial about it is beneath me.”

AUGUSTUS

That word— leech— made a small, hidden part of Augustus explode. Heat rose to his face, his back went rigid, and his expression morphed into something just shy of murderous. He listened to Charlie without comment, his anger nearly tangible, radiating off of him, distorting the edges of his vision. "Marin," he started, tearing his eyes briefly away from Charlie long enough to stare daggers at his friend. "Fuck you. Charlie." He turned back to the vampire, looking seconds from tossing him across the room. His hands were balled into fists at his side. "Before I send you across this library. What's this about? I'd like to know, since I'm so stupid, since you seem to know every possible thing about me. What is this all about? Speak plainly to me, for once in your sorry life, how you really fucking feel."

CHARLIE

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re back to throwing me across the room. You have two moves, and they’re both very, very uninteresting,” he took a step forward, feeling either brazen or insane. Then again, he had next to nothing to lose anymore. He’d lost his pride, he’d lost his cool, what was really the harm in risking being thrown across the room?

“You’re upset because I’m not here for you. You’re upset that after all this time I’ve left you behind like I did all those years ago, you’re upset I left you. And you can do whatever you like to me, say whatever you like, but it won’t change that fact, and for whatever godforsaken reason...whatever sick and cruel joke the universe is playing on me, somehow I’m the one left with...with,” he was steaming, his own hands balled into fists so tightly his knuckles where whitening.

Then, he laughed—a cold, harsh and mirthless laughter—before shaking his head. “I should tell you? Why don’t you tell me, Augustus? Why don’t you, for once, tell me? I could be dying in front of you and you still wouldn’t admit it. It’s fucking sad, really, really, really sad. And I mean that. You’ll be alone forever, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

AUGUSTUS

He hated Charlie in that moment, because he'd somehow taken the upper hand from him, all those weeks ago, and no matter what he tried to do Augustus couldn't get it back. He hated Charlie, because he was frustrated, and had so many retorts and comebacks and arguments that they all went senseless in his mouth and he was left standing there silent. He hated Charlie because he was fucking right, and he hated that, too. That Charlie was here, not for him and still here. That somehow this promise of loneliness hurt, coming from his mouth.

Augustus really did nearly shove him. And, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. But he could feel eyes on them, now, so he kept himself composed. "I hate you," he said, simply. "You want me to tell you? I can't stand the sight of you. Every time I see you I'm reminded of a time I never want to think of ever again." As he continued to speak, his voice got steadily louder, his composure grew thinner. "You seem so fucking certain that you know me, but every time you fling these insults in my face it's like you're waiting for me to confirm. So fine, fine! You're wrong. I was trying to find out when you were leaving. I was trying to get a guess on when you'd be out of my life. And I was hoping that maybe, this time, when you were gone you'd be gone for good. So I could finally, finally put you resolutely in my past instead of being followed around by some stupid wounded puppy. Is that what you want to hear?"

MARIN

Normally one to bask in attention, the odd looks and puzzled expressions of those around them didn’t sit well with Marin. He still had a reputation to uphold, one that would be on the rocks with the local fairy population if he let these two continue hashing it out. And as much as he disliked getting emotionally worked up, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse for Augustus.

“I think that’s enough,” he firmly stated, putting an arm in front of Augustus to keep him at bay. “You’re making a scene, and not the good kind.” Stern gaze turning to Charlie, he added, “You’ve done more than enough damage. If I were you, I’d take my break before this gets any worse — and shut the fuck up instead of escalating the situation.”

CHARLIE

Charlie’s eyes weren’t on Augustus, they were on the clock behind him. While some part of him figured he was lying, knew he was lying, his words still cut deep. They pierced through his skin and embedded themselves in his heart. But instead of focusing on how much it hurt to hear, he focused on how much time was up before his shift was over. When the clock struck, after some silence on Charlie’s part, his eyes gazed back to Augustus, and they were cold. Emotionless.

He decided to take Marin’s advice—again, he supposed—and he put the books he had been shelving down, wiped his hands on his shirt and walked past Augustus without another word.

AUGUSTUS

Augustus didn’t care about making a scene, or about Marin’s stern look and attempt at holding him back. He cared that Charlie wasn’t saying anything— wasn’t even looking at him. And when the man walked away, it took all of Augustus’s self-control to not grab him and demand a response. With enormous effort, he stood still, let Charlie leave with the unspoken final word. Scorned by the silence, he started shaking.

“Fuck him,” he muttered under his breath. The grand confession had done nothing for him; in fact he felt even worse than before. Dredging all that up had stirred too many emotions, and now he was here, again, too angry and hurt to function. Trying not to rage-cry in public. “Fuck him, fuck him. Fuck his stupid holier-than-thou attitude and fuck— fuck!”

He took a few steps aside, trying to give himself some space and calm himself down. But he was too far gone, too overcome to quiet it all down. In a rush of anger, he picked up one of the discarded books and threw it to the floor. It felt pointless and pathetic, but he had nothing else to take this out on. So he grabbed another and sent it across the room.

MARIN

It was obvious that Charlie had gotten directly under Augustus’s skin, but Marin was still shocked to witness the vampire having a full-blown meltdown in public. In an instant, Marin had grabbed hold of Augustus’s wrists and roughy yanked both arms down to his friend’s side. “What the hell are you thinking!” He hissed, trying to quell his own embarrassment and humiliation. “Get a grip on yourself, Augustus!” He tried to keep his own voice down, but still made sure it was firm enough to get his scolding across.

Leaving Augustus for just a moment, Marin picked up both books and did his best to brush off any damage, figuring he’d need to talk to someone else in the café to pay for the now fragile books that’d faced the wrath of Augustus.

“We’re leaving,” he sternly remarked, setting the books on a random shelf. He took hold of Augustus’s arm and quickly began dragging him to the nearest back exit, looking utterly mortified. “I have a reputation to uphold, Augustus, and so do you.” He’d never seen his friend so furious in public, and Marin couldn’t help but think that if Charlie was out of the picture, he’d get the old Augustus back. “I swear, I can never take you anywhere these days.”

AUGUSTUS

Marin quickly yanked him back from the edge. Augustus stopped abruptly, and managed to pull himself together just enough to not cause any more damage. Somewhere among all this rage he remembered that this behavior looked very, very bad for him. Still, he couldn't do anything more reputation-saving than stand there and seethe until he was guided out of the library altogether. Then, he sat on the curb, head in his hand, swaying back and forth between sharp sadness and the burn of embarrassment. "I think you're right, Marin," he mumbled, eventually, sounding almost defeated. "I can't be around him. At all. Fuck."

#i'm not here for you.#marin.#charlie.

5 notes · View notes

thestoryofme13 · 7 years

Text

Hoodie (Angst)

Warnings: Therapy, death, anti-depressants

Based on this fluffy post

Authors note: this will be a two or three part fic. It was getting too long

Concept: Angst with Virgil's hoodie

Hoodie Part 2 (Angst)

Hoodie Part 3

Pairing: analogical

It had been a month since Virgil had faded. After the nostalgia video, Thomas knew he had to get help, it was imperative for him and his sides. The thing about Patton's room is there was no space for negative thinking, let alone sad thought, finally, once Virgil had convinced the others to leave the room they had to a lot to discuss. Namely that Thomas and Patton had to confront all of the emotions, not just the happy ones. Logan had told Thomas the numerous reasons why it wasn't healthy to bottle up all the negative feelings and suggested therapy. While Virgil was apprehensive of telling a complete stranger all of Thomas' thoughts, feelings, and fears, he supported it because he could not bear to see Patton and Thomas in so much, this decision would be the beginning of the end for him.

Thomas had been in therapy for about two months now; he was learning healthy coping mechanisms and putting his needs first which was a first for him. Thomas' therapist had suggested that maybe Thomas should try anit-depressants. His therapist could sense that Thomas was struggling with these negative feelings and had been for a while, they feared that it was possible that these feelings of hopelessness about the future could not be handled with only therapy. Thomas was very hesitant, he knew that he needed anti-depressants but what would people think of him, if he needed help returning back to his happy self. Thomas' therapist assured him that he may not need to take them for the rest of his life, but that these pills would help him come out of this depressive state and "remember how to smile." (I know this isn't how this works but go with it, I just wanted a song reference)

It had been about a month and a half of Thomas taking his anti-depressants; he didn't feel like the future was hopeless or that he was worthless. Thomas knew that in part it had been the anti-depressants but also the intense amount of therapy, he wanted to return to his normal self and if that meant he needed to focus on himself then he would do whatever it took. There had been a surprising side-effect to the anti-depressants, his anxiety about everything had decreased. The difference between this and Virgil "ducking out" was that he still had his motivation and shame, he thought maybe that Anxiety was also benefiting from the therapy, he never would've guessed that the pills were making his anxiety fade.

Virgil had noticed things were different, when Thomas started therapy, his host was more grounded and prepared for situations; Virgil didn't mind because that meant less work for him. It only became a problem when Thomas started the medication, Virgil knew that some anti-depressants are also prescribed to handle anxiety, he was hopeful this wasn't one of them but he was wrong. After a couple of weeks of taking the medication regularly, Virgil had noticed that he was dizzy, lightheaded, and nauseas most days, he went to go find Logan on one of these particularly bad days. He approached the logical sides' door and knocked. Logan from the other side of the door said, "You may enter, it's unlocked." Virgil opened the door to find Logan sitting at his desk, "Hey Lo, I'm not feeling great today." Logan looked up at Virgil and took in his appearance he did seem a "under the weather." Logan spun his chair so that he could face Virgil, "Come here, let me help." Virgil sat in front of Logan, while the logical side played with his hair and had summoned a pitcher of water. Virgil was enjoying the human contact, especially from his crush, but he knew something was wrong, if Thomas was sick all of the sides would be sick so there is something wrong with Virgil. As for right now he was too caught up in how good it felt to have Logan playing with his hair and to not have to think about anything else, he was focusing on his breathing and eventually fell asleep. Logan had noticed after about fifteen minutes that the anxious sides' breathing had changed, he looked down and realized he had fallen asleep. He chalked up Virgil's illness to lack of sleep and picked up his crush. Once Virgil was safely in Logan's arms, he started walking to the other's room so that he could sleep in a more suitable environment. Logan left Virgil in his own room, not really wanting to leave but he had to go help Thomas plan for the next week, with one last look at Virgil, he sighed and then left the other to sleep soundly.

When Virgil woke up, he had no idea what year it was let alone where he was. He sat up and immediately regretted that decision, he felt like he was going to puke or pass out. He took a deep breath and looked around, he was in his room, but how did he get here? The last thing he remembered was Logan playing with his hair, he sighed happily at the memory, and prepared to get out of bed when he noticed something, his left leg was gone! What was happening to him! He was panicking, as he hopped to his desk so that he could do some research, he was happy that he had finally convinced Logan to make a digital catalog of all the information on the sides, memories, and anything else of relevance. He brought up the catalog and searched for the symptoms he had recently thinking they may just be something related to who he was, but he was shocked when the result that came back was "Fade." He hesitantly clicked on the result that came up, apparently a trait can fade due to lack of use or another substance inhibiting the traits' ability to work. Virgil thought for a moment and then it clicked, the anti-depressants were hindering Virgil's ability to work and therefore he was not used; which resulted in him being an unnecessary part of Thomas. There was still so much he had to do, but he was running out of time, he began to cry. Not long after starting he shook it off, this was better for Thomas, the medication was helping, it's not a bad thing. A new chapter of Thomas' life was beginning, one where anxiety did not have a leading role, he was happy for his host but now he had to focus on what he still needed to do. Virgil could not fade without letting Logan know his feelings, but he knew that if he were to confront the logical side he would become too emotional and not get the point across. He decided he would leave a letter, he knew Logan had emotions and that this dying declaration was selfish but he didn't care. He would leave the letter and something for Logan to remember him by, but what. Finally, the idea came, eh would leave his old hoodie, at least if left something that important maybe Logan would realize just how much he meant to Virgil.

Dearest Logan,

I am fading, there is nothing either one of us can do now but I couldn't fade without telling you how I feel. I know this is selfish and that this will only cause you pain but I can't leave you alone. Don't be sad for me, my love, this is what is best for Thomas. This new chapter of his life with less anxiety will allow him to pursue all those dreams that I kept him from. I'm losing my train of thought. The purpose was of this letter was to let you know that I love you. I've had a crush on you for a while now but I was always too nervous to act on it. The thought of dying and you not knowing how important you are was something I would never forgive myself for. I know that we always talk over you, you think we don’t listen, or you think that you are unnecessary and unloved but I am here to tell you that's not true. You are a vital part of Thomas, you help to make sure that those dreams Roman comes up with can be attained by thoughtful planning, and keep on task so that we can enjoy our downtime. You may not think you are vital but I know you are, just please remember that. Take care of Thomas and the others.

Yours in eternity,

Virgil

P.S. I'm leaving you my old hoodie so that you have something good to remember me by, take care of it.

With the letter finished Virgil felt at peace, he folded it and folded the hoodie and placed them neatly in the center of his bed. He knew eventually Logan or someone would come in and find it. By the time he had everything in place, he merely had minutes before he would disappear entirely, so he sat on his bed and waited. The good thing about fading is that it didn't hurt. He heard his door open but he was far too faded by now, the final thing he heard was Logan screaming his name.

#myfics #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #angst #sanders sides #tw depression #tw anxiety #tw therapy #tw anti-depressants #tw death

176 notes · View notes

bananadineapple · 7 years

Text

So Close

PROMPT: Ever since Bucky chose to be frozen in cyro sleep, Y/N never left the area. One night, while Steve was passing by, he hears Y/N sadly singing her and Bucky's favorite song to dance to.

· Pairing: Bucky x Reader

· Word Count: 3073 words

· Warnings: Depression

· A/N: this is slightly connected to an upcoming 4 part imagine I am currently finishing writing; On Second Thought, Maybe You. The imagine takes place after the Civil War happened.

Masterlist

xxxxx

For the same reason like every night, Steve found himself still restless, even if he was staying where his best friend was safely placed in. It just didn't seem, comfortable. His eyes blankly stared at the ceiling before sighing when he realized he hadn't had a good night sleep for the past month since Bucky was put back to the cyro. And soon, he remembered, a certain young lady had it far worse than he did, and made him look worriedly to the bed beside him. Sure enough, it was empty.

But the Captain knew where she exactly was. And it saddened him to see Y/N do the same routine every single night, as if the very life of her had been put to sleep as well. For days, Y/N stuck to her stubborn vow to never set foot outside of the building ever again, to stay watch over the Soldier even if she knew he wasn't going anywhere. Everyone, even T'Challa, tried to reason out to her to go out, live a normal life. But she gave the same answer both she and Steve knew was true,

"It isn't normal without Bucky."

The captain quickly rose from his bed with a heave, to again check up on her like the previous nights. From time to time, each one of the Avengers was in Steve's place of taking care of Y/N taking care of Bucky. Even Tony himself brought up the courage to, tried to bring up a joke to lighten her up, but always seemed to backfire and make her feel worse. And each night, it was the same, empty woman staring silently in pain through the glass. The same, depressed Y/N who forgot about her life and had here intentions only to be beside the man she loved, for what seemed like eternity. Of course, Steve understood her in a deeper level, and he would do the same thing.

•••

"I'm not leaving." Y/N stated without keeping her eyes off the Soldier.

"Everyone's worried sick about you, Y/N." Steve worriedly implied to the young woman, even when she ignored the concern, "You haven't eaten, slept, or heck, lived well for almost a month!"

"Just...leave me alone, Steve."

"No I can't. Not with knowing your condition will worsen if you stop being so stubborn!"

When she fell silent again, the Captain noticed the way her eyes looked towards Bucky. It's as if they guarded his stiff body, to maybe see a slight movement to know he was stable. A look of pain, to see a man who had a pure heart receive something he didn't deserve yet needed to do as an obligation to protect everyone. Steve saw how it broke Y/N so much as how it did the same to himself, and found himself no more reason to argue against her decision. He slowly approached her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

When the young woman looked back, with eyes so sunken and surrounded by eyebags that marked the countless nights she stayed awake, the tears silently streaking down her bloodshot eyes, he remembered the request by Bucky, the promise to keep her safe and happy, and realized it was going to be a little hard for him to do so.

•••

"Y/N?"

He called out from the hall, as if she would respond anyway. Steve proceeded down the hallways clad in nothing but a shirt and sweatpants. It was a little dim, T'Challa wanting to conserve energy with the lights, but he knew the same old route he has taken for the past week. When he found himself nearing the familiar door to the laboratory housing Bucky, he heard something faint from the distance. Steve froze in shock of the noise, thinking if there was an intruder in their midst, and from the sound of it, it came from the lab. The thought of someone infiltrating the lab, and maybe having her hostage, alerted the Captain. But when he had listened intently to the sound, it sounded more...melodic, and not belonging to an intruder of any kind. As if someone was, singing.

"What the-?" He muttered to himself, confused as to why the noise was prominent at 2 am in the morning.

But the moment Steve slowly inched closer to the door, the tone of the voice sounded more familiar. And when the distance between him and the lab was merely but an inch, he quickly recognized it to be Y/N's voice, singing. He was surprised and confused as to why she was singing, and just stood there in shock. But then, he heard the familiar notes and lyrics, and it struck nostalgia to his memories.

"Oh..." He breathed out in realization.

Steve slowly brought his hand to turn the knob without a noise, as to not startle the young lady inside. In doing so, he gently pressed on the cold door to open it. And sure enough, her voice became more audible. And as Steve turned to look at the young woman seated across the room in the same position near the frozen Soldier, clad in nothing but the Henley red shirt Bucky had given to her and shorts, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm. The song she sung, completely struck the Captain and made him feel so sorry for the poor girl.

Bucky and Y/N once danced to the song being sung by Y/N alone. The dance contained so much passion, an expression of how they both dearly loved each other, a sign that they were both willing to be together until the end. He remembered the glow she once had when Bucky was still around, and the smile that slowly grew on her face when the Soldier finally confessed his true feelings for her. The dance, the song, it was a mark of the beginning of their love story, about how a man like him fell for a woman like how. How the lion fell in love with the lamb. It was a memory both him and Y/N held dearly; seeing both Bucky and Y/N so happy with each other.

When the song would play, it didn't matter where the two lovebirds were. They'd quickly pull in each other's bodies close to each other, and just silently gaze lovingly at each other while they let the music guide their steps. Steve wondered how long it was since he saw Y/N's real smile, how long it was since he heard her laugh, how long it was since she looked so complete. He knew that Bucky was willing to promise a life with her, to grow up old with her, to have and hold. An engagement he spent endless nights talking about it to Steve.

But now, he was looking at a completely heartbreaking scene of a woman singing to a man who'd never even hear her sweet, angelic voice calling out to him again. A woman who held the ring that she could've worn when it could've had a meaning, when the ring could've marked a possibility of a normal life for the both of them. And he was completely stuck in place, just frozen at looking at her completely beaten down and broken. He even found himself tearing up to her singing, when the feeling of missing his very best friend, his brother, and missing the old Y/N, hit him hard.

"Y/N..." he sighed sadly, as he listened once more to her sad melody.

'...And we're...So close, to reaching

That famous happy ending

Almost, believing

This one's not pretend..."

'Now you're, beside me

And look how far we've come...'

The young woman slowly stood up and strode nearer, her hands slowly caressed the glass just above the Soldier's rested face, and he looked at him with a weak smile that tried to restrain the painful tears that streamed endlessly down her flushed cheeks. Across the room, Steve sensed that Y/N was too overwhelmed with grief to continue singing, and she completely lost it again. When saw her sink down to her knees, sobbing her heart out, he quickly dashed to her, slowly enveloping his arm around her small, humped figure.

"Hey, Y/N..." He cooed gently to her ear with his hands rubbing circles around, "I'm here."

Steve was surprised that she didn't fight back as usual, but instead clung her arms tightly around his torso, as he tears quickly soaked his shirt. Nevertheless, he remained silent and hugged her comfortingly.

"I-I'm s-so done w-with this, S-Steve..." her words barely came out clear with the hoarseness of her voice pulling it back. "I c-can't t-take this any-anymore!"

"I j-just f-fucking miss h-him s-so much...I-I can't live l-like this! Why did he h-have to deserve t-this Steve?! Why?!"

She screamed loudly in pain, in a way that broke the Captain even more, because he realized the gravity of how much they both terribly missed Bucky. So much, that he himself was starting to feel a lump build in his throat, but he found himself completely speechless at the situation. He slowly brought his eyes to look at his friend behind the glass, and the longer he stared at Bucky's closed eyes knowing it could take a long while before he'd see them open again, a soft sob came out of his mouth as well.

"I-I know...I miss him too, Y/N..." He quietly admitted in tears while hugging her tightly in his arms.

•••

"Here, it'll help you calm down."

Y/N looked over to her shoulder to see Steve holding out a mug of hot Camomile tea. She didn't take a moment to hesitate, taking the mug in hand and whispered gratitude towards the Captain. When a small string of silence went by, Steve quietly sat down on the cold marble floor beside her, with his left arm gently wrapping around Y/N's cold body. She suddenly felt a sense of comfort in his arms, a thing she hadn't felt in a long time, and slowly, she relaxed and leaned her head on his shoulder, both keeping their gaze on Bucky. For a while they haven't spoken and just let their thoughts float around. Steve realized how much more comfortable it was in the room, and understood much more how Y/N managed to survive the grief.

It was as if James Buchanan Barnes' spirit filled the room. Like he wasn't completely gone, purposely leaving a part of his essence in the place, a fervent reminder for both Y/N and Steve that he won't be gone too long. And for the first time since weeks, the Captain slowly smiled, basking in the comfortable aura the room contained.

"So this is why you manage to keep on." He remarked, feeling her head nod gently.

"Yeah. It's the closest we got left of him." She replied weakly, tentatively smiling towards the man she loved.

"I know he doesn't deserve this, but he chose other people's sake before his. He chose to keep us safe, to keep you safe."

"S'why I love him. So selfless."

Steve chuckled at the term, connecting it to the many memories he had of Bucky being so selfless, especially to the time Bucky held firm on the railings when a massive explosion was between them, saying he was never leaving without him.

"Yeah, he is."

They both fell silent for a while, until Steve looked down and saw Y/N had set the mug down on the floor to let her fickle fingers gently fiddle with the beautiful diamond ring adorning her ring finger.

"He really meant it, you know. He was so willing to marry you."

The young woman looked up to him, eyes slightly widened, waiting for a longer explanation.

"If only I could show you the many nights and days he would call me up, sounding so nervous, telling endless times how much he loved you enough to promise a life together." He started off with a warm smile, and was relieved to find the young woman slowly doing the same. "He would even talk about how many children he wanted to make. Oh God, he's real whipped for you."

When Steve had paused, Y/N's mind had been filled with recalls of the times Bucky had acted so weird, either fumbling to grab something in his pocket, or trying to gather the words to say it but to his dismay, have the words go tumbling down his tangled tongue.

"But this happened. I really wished it didn't. I wanted so bad to see what could've been between you two. I'm really sorry, Y/N"

"It's okay." She nodded, more tears streaking down her cheeks. "Couldn't make him change his mind about this, s'why I'm doing the same in considering a 'normal life'."

"You really willing to wait?" Steve asked out of the blue after a short pause, making the young woman shift to look up to him in slight astonishment, "Even if it meant that he might not wake up in time for us to see so?"

For a moment, the young woman thought of her answer, but soon realized she already had one when the ring caught her sight again. With a deep breath in and a long sigh, the memory not so long again replayed in her thoughts when she gathered the words to say in silence.

"2 months ago, I said 'yes' to a commitment Bucky offered to me. Even if we both didn't know this was coming, I'm obligated to remain in that promise; the promise to be his and only his." She spoke as if she were retelling an age old story, and Steve openly listened to what she was to say next.

"I really can't imagine myself marrying someone else, because I already saw it a possibility with Bucky. Only Bucky. And I may sound so damn clingy, but the heck with it. I love that man so much, to the point that if he can't have me, no one can."

The Captain was astounded at how she stood ground to her promise, even if it looked like it wasn't going to be a reality. Even if it seemed that she would growing old without being with anyone else than Bucky; she was stubbornly in love with him to do such a thing. It didn't seem to bother Steve at all, because he understood where she was coming from. She reflected a part of himself deep inside; and it made him chuckle seeing how much Y/N was identically alike him. In response, he gave nothing but a slow nod in agreement, which Y/N took in as something unusual for him to respond to her explanation.

"What? No side remark? No violent reactions? No nothing?" She questioned him in curiosity, having to remember the countless times Steve scolded her for being so stubborn.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did so. Which I am, I guess." He shrugged, "I did also became so insanely stubborn to protecting Bucky at all costs, and I almost killed Tony for him."

Y/N was relieved to her that Steve finally understood her feelings, and quietly took back in her hands the, still, hot mug of tea. Before it even reached to touch her lips, she paused, finding herself unfinished with talking to the Captain.

"You know how much it kills me to wake up every day, and instantly remembering him, frozen and asleep inside a cold prison, instead of awake and moving." Y/N started, as she tried to hold back her runny nose from all that crying but Steve already had her back with a spare handkerchief he had in hand.

"Steve, we were all so close to a normal life. He could've had the life he wanted, and so did I. He could've stayed longer to wed me, just to seal what we have officially. At least, to have him just a little bit longer." Her grip of the now warm mug had tighten, already feeling the grief of missing Bucky so much.

"I just, really, really, really miss him so much."

The young woman had again fallen silent, but let a few tears slip through her eyes again. Her gaze fixated on the still pool of Chamomile sitting inside the cream-white marble mug, as she wondered if she would really drink the damn tea already. But it took her less than a second in her calm state, to remember that Chamomile was the tea Bucky always loved when she would bring it up to him. Because he loved the way it would slowly bring its warmth and unique flavor to trigger the sense of comfort in his veins, and how much it always did the trick of calming him down from his nightmares. It didn't take her long before she found herself crying again, and her eyes couldn't take anymore of it and felt heavily droopy.

With nothing more to say, the two friends stayed silent. Maybe he’s right, maybe she will get through this. Maybe one day, she’ll be able to look at Bucky without breaking down or regretting she didn’t do enough. But it seemed so hard for now. They were so Close to that; a happy life. It all ended so fast.

But knowing Steve was there, who apparently deals with the same pain, willing to go through each step to moving on, Y/N knew she’d turn out fine. It’ll still hurt, but she could just imagine Bucky finally being at rest knowing she can smile once again.

Maybe she could still keep him awake in her heart.

“It’ll take time.” He gave her a small smile, something that she always found reassuring, “But trust me, it’s worth it.”

Masterlist

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #barnes #bucky #civil war #he didn't deserve this #marvel #marvel imagines #james barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines

92 notes · View notes

clippedwingsmusic · 5 years

Text

Interview with Renny Conti

(Photo by Bre Kelly)

A cool, cloudy night brought us to an unassuming apartment in Allston, Massachusetts and ultimately to the soothing songs of Renny Conti. This Bay-area native, NYC transplant has introduced a certain sentimentality to the music industry that i feel is yet to be found this year. We got to speak to him about his debut record, “People Floating” and how nostalgia has shaped his life in the past few years.

“People Floating” is your first record but by far not your first release, what made you feel like now was the time to start putting out LPs?

I’ve always wanted to put out LPs because I’ve been putting out EPs in bands and alone for so long, and I come from making movies too, so I wanted to put out a body of work that’s cohesive and you can listen to it all the way through or have the songs be tied together in some way. That’s the best thing to listen to to me. I think now I just have the time and resources and have written enough songs so I might as well just put it out instead of sitting on it. I would love to go to a studio and just make a huge record, but I think it was best for me to just get this first one out of the way. Might as well start it out now and break the ice then doing bigger things in the future.

You’re originally from San Francisco, but you now live in NYC. Do you feel as though your writing style has changed as your surroundings have? How so?

100%! I also think that I have changed since I moved to New York because my entire life has changed in every way possible. I went to SF State for 2 years and then I transferred because I’ve been focusing on school a lot lately. I think that my life just kinda flipped so my music changed because of that. I also think I’ve found a rhythm that I’m comfortable with because I wasn’t writing or recording as frequently in San Francisco so I think this has acted as a catalyst for me to write. I used to write a song here and there but now I’m just constantly thinking about it.

What is the significance of the audio clip at the beginning of “Euphoria”? Why did you choose to intertwine audio clips into a few of your tracks?

I love archival anything. Any VHS footage or audio is great. That clip is actually my mom when she was 18 and living in New York and she had sent it to her parents because she was a singer/songwriter and would record herself practicing. If that track kept playing, it’s actually her singing an old showtune or something. I texted her one day and asked if she had any old tapes because I liked the idea of throwing some archival stuff throughout the record since this record is about change and growth and how things can happen quickly. I just felt like putting that right at the beginning of the record when she was right where I am now but in the 70s or something was cool. It’s all very cyclical and I felt like if I didn’t do that it wouldn’t be cool.

Your record was released through Urban Scandal Records, which is home to quite a variety of music. Do you categorize your music as any specific genre? Do you feel that genre labels are important when it comes to music these days?

I don’t feel that genre labels are important now. I think they’re cool when you’re looking at music historically, but nowadays people just get way too caught up in them. I grew up in the hardcore scene which is home to probably the deepest genre battles. If anyone is down with putting their music into a weird little genre, that’s chill but for the most part it isn’t important. I definitely had songs that I didn’t put on EPs because I felt like it didn’t fit the genre of the EP, but I feel like I’ve gotten away from that now and just write whatever I’m feeling. If it’s honest and coming from the same person, then it’s the same “genre” to me. But whenever people ask me what genre my music is I get super overwhelmed because I have no idea, so I just say “I don’t know, somem indie, folk-y thing?”.

You wrote and recorded most of the songs featured on “People Floating” in your childhood home. Was that intense nostalgia important to the creation of this album?

For sure. I think it’s a pretty nostalgic record or at least elicits that feeling. My parents actually just moved out of that house recently and I had recorded 5 or 6 of the songs in that house but wrote more of the tracks there then recorded them in New York in my bedroom. I think looking back and just knowing that I recorded the songs there makes me really happy because I think of this house that means a ton to me.

How does the album art for “People Floating” tie into the content of the music, if at all? How did you pick the art?

My friend Jack Ludwick (who is probably the sweetest and coolest person I’ve ever met) and I were at my house and he asked if I had album art yet because he always talks to me about album art and helps guide me through all the aesthetics and stuff. I didn’t, so we went into my Dad’s home office and went through this scrapbook of hundreds of super tiny printed pictures of my parents, and we came across 3 black and white pictures of my Mom as a baby in Indiana. I thought that it would be cohesive as what you’re looking at when you’re listening to the record and the archival stuff that’s at the beginning, middle, and end of the record. It just seemed super super necessary. I don’t think I could’ve had a picture of myself or a drawing because it wouldn’t have felt the same. Also I’m a huge Nirvana fan, so having the baby in the water for my first record seemed right.

If listeners were to take away one thing from your music, like a feeling or message, what would you like it to be?

I could say nostalgia or growing up, but what I really want to spread in my music is a hopeful message. Even though it’s sad, I think that’s super important. I try to do that in how I present my music with the composition, performance, etc. but I think the takeaway should not be “Fuck, this is super depressing.” but the fact that you go through these moments but you’ll make it out at the end and you can look back at them as memories and not as misfortunes.

https://rennyconti.bandcamp.com/

Written by Ashton Carr

#renny conti #people floating #ashton carr #ashtoncarr #interview #ftbt #ftbtmusic

0 notes