At my parents’ wedding when they cut the cake they decided long beforehand that they wouldn’t do the “shove it in each other’s faces” tradition. And even though they told their families as much (and though their wedding party made it very clear at the time that it wasn’t happening) they still were pressured to do it anyway.

So after lovingly feeding each other the first slices, mom grabbed a handful from the top and flung it out into the crowd

A Bloom In Time Ch 1 A Flower Princess Lost

An non-beating heart is a bad thing to most, but not a bad thing if you were already dead and didn't need anything like that of course. Snatcher is a complicated spook that already has everything he wants now and with two little kids constantly playing in his woods and asking him to join, he has more than enough of his mushy love anyways. But when a familiar face and secret pops up, it may prove that the beating of love may still come from beyond the grave.

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Warning: Mentions and briefly explains Snatcher's death.

Would it be so wrong to say I love you when you obviously didn't love me back the way I loved you? Would it be wrong to say I would I like you more than any other thing when you didn't see me more than a stranger? Would it be so wrong to want to hold you when you would be confused at my touch? Would there be any world where we were aloud to be together, with your hair flowing like rose petals and eyes of the beautiful blue sky. Where no one would stop them and no duties got in their way.....But it wasn't meant to be because no amount of begging or asking would probably change the way you see me right now. The smile I'm giving you as you talk about the flowers like they were your proud children and you were mother nature. You would make the best mother nature. With your fiery passion and gentle kindness. You always listened to me. Didn't pressure me to picking. Always smiled and never EVER treated me as some fairytale prince I wasn't, which is why after all these years of knowing you and loving someone who I know definitely loves me, but for all the wrong reasons, and as much as I love her back...I think I love you more.

"Your Highness? Are you alright?"

He snapped out of it and yellow eyes blinked up at the lady who's stolen his heart. The fairytale romantic love of a Queen with beautiful blonde hair and emerald eyes was the first to catch him heart and he fell hard for her, but overtime that vision started to blur into one of fiery red passion and smelt of flowers. He could imagine his Queen in a wedding dress of pure white and covered in lace, but now he couldn't get the idea of how the maiden with red hair would look shyly looking at him in a dress of white, flowers in her hair and a red hue to her face as he held her close, wedding bells sounding as he promised her he would always love her. Forever.....But he should get his head out of the clouds. From the day he was born, his parents and Vanessa's mother had an arranged marriage for the two royals, and he didn't think even though she was Queen now, she'd let him go so soon with how attached she was....and how forcing his parents were about this. So he smiled at the confused face on the beautiful woman with hair of the rose.

"I'm perfectly fine. Vanessa's just been....A b-bit cranky lately. So I wanted to surprise her with some flowers today. M-Maybe that'll help calm her down. "

That got her attention when she rose a brow at him and asked a question that made him flinch. "Is this like the time she banned everyone here from eating bacon?"

He waved her off. "N-No, no. She was only concerned about my health, a-and she's right. Bacon has too much fat. I could loose a few more pounds and eat healthier.''

Her beautiful blue eyes ran over him with a raised brow. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn't and instead smiled and pointed a hand to the flowers around her in her stand. "Well, how can I help you this time, Prince-y? We have a fifty percent discount on mixed wild daisies this week, more sprouted up than expected, but they smell great and multicolored. A colorful rainbow bouquet would brighten up anyone's day!"

He looked at the many flowers she was pointing to and smiled and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Vanessa's loves any flowers I give her! These are perfect! You know what, I'll take some thanks!"

She smiled and went to work on getting the flowers. Cutting them and getting the pretty pink paper to wrap them in so he could present them to his beloved Queen. He couldn't help but smile at the gentle way she handled the flowers ...but remembered. He didn't have any pons to pay her with. He spent the last on them on getting Vanessa an anniversary gift yesterday after she insisted he'd better do something to make her happy and 'prove he still loved her by not forgetting. And he didn't. He got her a beautiful bracelet with beautiful blue saphires studded into it and was getting her flowers on top of that....But- When she turned back to him with a smile, flowers ready to go...It was like it was stupid but-...He immediately held up the bracelet to her without question, smile on his own face. She blinked at the sudden gift held out to her before looking back up to his face in question.

"Take it. I-...I-I got three others at home just like it," he lied with a smile but it felt like the right thing to do at the time, "Besides. I-I don't have any pons on me right now."

He stared at him more. "Oh, no. I couldn't!" She held up her hands. "I couldn't possibly just accept it like that. Here." She held the flowers out to him. "You buy so much anyways. This time it's on the house."

"NO!" He insisted. Gently placing the small bracelet into her hand while staring into her eyes. "I may be a prince but even Im not above getting things for free just because I buy a lot of it. You obviously put so much work into growing such beautiful flowers and I won't let hard work like that go under paid."

They ended up just holding hands unintentionally for a few seconds as they talked and smiled. Neither noticed the beautiful golden sunshine haired woman with beautiful green emerald eyes suddenly stopping and watching from the dark corner of the alleyway. She stared in absolutely horror as she watched her prince, her beloved perfect prince holding hands with a...a...A PEASANT GIRL!! This girl with bland red hair that looked like it was dunked in tacky red paint and gotten red splotches all over her face, dirt smudging her tacky dress and obviously dirty and not fit for anyone other than another low life peasant like herself. AND YET THERE THEY WERE!! Holding hands, smiling, and giggling like they were...A Happy couple..NO! NO!! HE WASN'T ALLOWED TO LOOK AT ANYONE LIKE THAT!! HE WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT HER LIKE THAT!! HER! THE ONE WITH EYES OF EMERALD GREEN AND PERFECT HAIR SHINIER THAN GOLD!! FAIR SKIN AND BELOVED BY HER KINGDOM!! RICH AND COULD GIVE HIM ANYTHING HE ASKED!! THEY WERE THE ONES THAT WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED WITHIN A YEAR'S TIME!! THEY WERE GOING TO ADOPT ONE OF THE CHILDREN FROM THE VILLAGE TOGTHER!! HE COULDN'T WAIT TO HAVE A CHILD BUT SHE WANTED TO WAIT UNTIL A FEW YEARS INTO THEIR MARRIAGE BEFORE HAVING ONE!! IT WAS GOING TO BE THE PERFECT THING FOR THEIR IMAGE!! ADOPTING A CHILD OF NONE ROYAL BLOOD AND LOOK LIKE ONE OF THOSE FAIRYTALE STORIES!! THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TOGETHER AND HE'S.....He's holding hands with someone who's not fit to even be in their story beyond a lowly subject!! With tears stinging her eyes she hiccupped and turned to run back into the darkness of the alley, if she would've stayed a little longer she would've seen the florist hand over the bouquet of flowers meant for her to he beloved prince and him paying her with the golden bracelet. The movement out of the corner of his eye made him look towards the swift movement and he easily recognized that fancy green dress running back into the shadow of the alleyway.

He jumped almost dropping the flowers he was just handed. "Vanessa!?" The florist looked to where he was looking but didn't see the woman that dashed into the alleyway as he stared in confusion. "Vanessa?.....Why did she run away so suddenly?"

...The florist shrugged lightly with a smile. "Maybe she was embarrassed she walked in on you getting her flowers?", she suggested.

....He gave a smile. "OH! Of course! She's considerate l-like that." He gave an almost nervous smile and turned back to her before bowing. "T-Thank you for your help once again...Ms. Poppy."

She waved her hand. "Oh, don't mention it! It's always to see just a nice man be so considerate and give the gal he loves so many flowers."

The gal he loved...Heh. He guessed that was true. He still loved Vanessa in some way or another...but lately..he wasn't too sure about things, but he was sure she was right. Vanessa was just in a bad place for a few years. Her mother was sick and dying slowly, she just got crowned Queen a month ago after her mother had an accident, her new duties were overwhelming her, and with him still doing his princely studies about law it musn't be easy for her. But like any betrothed, he was going to try and work through these problems together. But he still couldn't stop smiling after he left the Florist to her work. Cute freckles and blue eyes clouding his vision. He was sure as soon as Vanessa saw these flowers she would perk right up! She always enjoyed it when he brought her gifts like these- OH! How wrong he was. As soon as he got to the manor, Vanessa's vacation spot away from her huge castle, everything suddenly felt....off somehow. Like a tense and thick aura was in the air, so thick one would have to use a battle axe to cute through it, but upon further searching he found her. Vanessa, his beloved Queen with golden hair, weeping in one of the hallways, back faced to him and of course the sight pained him. What could've brought her to this state of being?

"Vanessa?!" She flinched when he shouted her name and came near her. The sound of his footsteps stopping just behind her. "Sweetheart? W-Why are you crying?" Sudden worry came over him. Oh no. Did she think he forgot their anniversary?! That made him hold out the flowers with a giant smile. "Don't cry. I-I got you these! Look. A-Aren't they beautiful?"

".....How could you betray me, Philip?" Her voice growled out. And he took a step back, was it just him or was the room suddenly darker? They needed to open up the blinds more. But the shadows seemed to come from her as she growled again in a voice that was clearly NOT the sugary sweet voice of his beloved maiden. And betrayl?? What was she talking about? "How could you CHEAT ON ME!? AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH!! ALL OUR LIVES WE WERE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER!!" Her form slouched over as the shadows continued to consume her and her once beautiful emerald eyes twitched with a red of rage and anger he'd never seen before tears beginning to consume her eyes, or the one eye that was exposed to him at the moment. He froze just staring at her in horror as the same distorted voice asked another question. "How could you give your heart to that PEASANT GIRL!?"

He stared at her in absolute fear as she growled like some wild animal at him, "W-WHAT?! You mean-...N-NO!! Nonono! You have it all wrong!" He held up the flowers with a strained scared smile. "I wasn't cheating on you! I would NEVER cheat on you! I was paying her and got you these! S-She grows the most beautiful flowers in the land, and you deserve no less than the best!"

"LIAR!!" The not-Vanessa shrieked like she was a banshee making him almost drop the flowers. "I SAW YOU HOLDING HANDS!! AND LAUGHING AT HER JOKES!! FUNNY HUH?! WELL I HOPE PLAYING ME FOR A FOOL WAS WORTH IT, PHILIP!! GUARDS!!"

As if being summoned out of thin air, two heavy footsteps of the iron dressed guards came stomping down the hallway and like an idiot he looked back to her with pleading eyes. "Vanessa! I wasn't I swear to you! I was merely paying her for the flowers n-not giggling at her jokes! AAH!!" He yelped in fright when he was suddenly surrounded. two giant armored arms snatched him and wouldn't let go!

She giggled without any humor. "Oh, Philip. You played me the fool for so long perhaps a punishment is in order for you. Take him to the celler and CHAIN HIM!!! I never want to see his face again.....And then seeze the florist. No crime against me shall go unpunished."

WHAT?! POPPY!! "W-WHAT?! VANESSA, PLEASE NO!!" Two arms latched onto him and no matter how much he kicked and struggled he couldn't get out of their grasp. The flowers dropped to the ground as he reached out for her one last time. Her tears forming deadly ice to match her cold heart. "P-PLEASE!! DON'T HURT HER!! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!! VANESSA!! NOOOOO!!!"

He weeped and weeped when he was painfully suspended in the air by his wrists. The coldness taking over him as he hiccuped and mumbled to himself and choked on those tears. He didn't know how long he stayed down there actually. TIme flies when you couldn't see what was happening but he was sure he never stopped crying for all that time as he got weaker, and weaker. Just getting colder and colder as the cold seeped into his very core...he was almost gone. Looking back up towards the ceiling and through his tears he wondered what was going on up there. He couldn't hear anything but he hoped Poppy was alright. He'd never forgive himself if Vanessa did anything rash. He hiccuped. His beloved queen. This was all his fault.

"I-Im sorry. IM SORRY! IM SORRY!! IM SO SORRY!!" He yelled to the empty air knowing full well no one could hear him. But Vanessa was not the one he was apologizing to. The maiden of feiry red hair and ocean blue eyes. "I-Im s-so sorry, Poppy. *hic*"

The cold crept further and his body felt light, somehow his shadow was extending, his life force fading into it as those handsome brown eyes closed to the darkness and numbing-

"I-...love-..."

The shadows and darkness consumed him. The shadow enlarging and morphing and contorted into a being of power and enhanced abilities. A gasp escaped the creature as it looked down at itself. At the same time moonlight shown through the window and what was left of the prince and his willpower faded away into the moonlight, so when the creature looked behind it, the prince was gone from the chained wall. The prince with his heart split into two by his heart splitting between two and found attachment in two very powerful elements of dark and light. Moonshine and shadows. The creature looked down at his new self....feeling his grin widen and a powerful laugh that many would come to fear vibrating around the basement of his new found freedom.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!''

***************************************************************************************************************

"GAH!!"

Something wacked his head and he immediately jumped to the air. If he still had lungs he would probably be panting and looking around wildly around the room he was in. No cold walls caging him in. No coldness seeping into him. No Vanessa or chains or....Poppy. Instead a small pale little girl was staring up at him with concern as she watched his confused face darting around the area....He was on her ship. Her strange cute ship of the small seven year old in front of him. He had been laying on the pile of pillows she had and looking around the area as if he was afraid for a moment. Before he sighed in releif and reached up a clawed hand to rub at his head and hair. Staring down at the little girl standing upon the pile of pillows, holding one dangling in her hand, which he guessed must've been the thing that wacked. He sighed again and slowly lowered himself down look at her better.

"Kid. It's already pass your bedtime probably. What are you doing up?"

Her head tilted and those blue eyes blinked at him before a tiny hand reached out and poked his face where a nose should obviously be if he was human and he rose a brow. "Boop!"

"....Did you really just wack me with a pillow for THAT? Kiddo, you should really find better reasons to wake me up." Two clawed hands gently reached down and picked her up from under the arms. She dropped the pillow from her hold and instinctively wrapped her arms around him as he floated her back down to her bed, the covers were already pulled back from her getting up and her friend snored away happily on the floor next to her bed....He made a mental note to get her a bed sometime. Bow couldn't be expected to keep laying like that on the hard floor, he gently placed the young child on the bed and went to pull the covers back over her-

"You were mumbling something funny." She said making him stop and blink at her.

"Oh yeah?" She nodded. Dang nightmares. He barely had any, but he still got the occasional blast from the past. Wasn't being a cursed prince fun? He pulled the blankets up and she snuggled down with her stuffed toys he hand crafted for her. "And uh..What exactly did you hear me say?"

She shrugged again as she was recovered and he started tucking her in. "Your head was in the pillows." He went to roll his eyes when something grabbed onto his hand. And he looked at her wide excited smile spread across her face. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Squirt, I already read you the one you wanted with the space unicorns," he grumbled remembering the ridiculous book the girl begged him to read to her.

"Yeah. But I always sleep better with a story, and if I don't sleep I'll get up and bother you again." She gave him that cat lipped smug face and he groaned lifting a hand to rub his face and look down at the child in the bed. Before sighing and giving in. She was right. He'd done this too many times to not expect a sudden pillow attack from the hyper story deprived child.

"Fine." He turned back to the bookshelf by her bed and looked over the many childish covers. "Which one do you want now? Space Adentures? Starella? Planets and Star Maps?"

"Your story!"

He paused, and snapped his head to her wide eyed. "What?"

She giggled and turned to her side yawning a bit before speaking. "I want you to tell me one of your stories."

..."My stories eh?" She nodded and he hummed. That..wasn't a very good idea. All the books he read were either lawyer/law books (what better way to help make his contracts better) and scary or mysteries books that were uh...N-Not suitable for children her age lets say. Plus he didn't have any on him at the moment so he guessed he could just make one up? How hard could making up a story for a kid be. She'll fall asleep if he just told her a story about a talking flower making friends with a bumble bee. His hand reached up to rub at his head again before looking at her now clutching the C.A.W agent plus he made her after telling him her adventures in the movie studio. ..."Ok, Ok! I'll tell you one I witnessed a long time ago....In a book. But you gotta promise to go to sleep." She hummed 'Mmm-hmm' and smiled patiently at the ghost who groaned and rolled his eyes again. Why was he doing this?...Well he just had a nightmare about his death-again- and talking about it even twisting the details sounded nice. Not that he'd ever admit it to the little girl. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful flower Princess named Poppy, and a-"

"Pop? Why is she named after a soda?", the kid interrupted blinking confused and he scowled.

"Not 'soda pop'. Poppy. Poppy is a kind of flower on this planet, Kid. Now don't be a rude little lady and let me finish the story unless you want to be grounded from them." She shut up and curled back down into the covers to his satisfaction. "Good. Now like I was saying! There was a flower princess POPPY not soda pop, an evil which named....'Veronica', and a stupid, stupid king." She raised her hand like in a classroom. "....*sigh* Yes?"

"Why was he a stupid, stupid king?"

"You'll see. Now" He grabbed her lamp and pulled the shade off, letting more light flood everywhere and she blinked at the sudden brightness, which a snap of his powers shadows slithered up the wall and formed the outlines of three people. Two women with their dresses and one wearing a witch hat, and a man wearing a crown. They moved as he talked and she watched amazed. "You see. WAY, WAY back before your great granny was even born there was these three. Like I said the Flower Princess was very beautiful. Her hair was a rose red and her skin was as soft a-as their petals. She had the most wonderful patience listeningto her friend The Stupid King, and his p-problems...."His face saddened for a moment as the king and princess shadows held hands platonically...."B-But..she didn't know the king was in love with her. You see...He was too cowardly to tell her or anyone else because he was betrothed to the Evil witch Veronica-" ANother raised hand. "...Yes?"

"What does 'betoofed' mean?"

"Betrothed, Kid. Not betoofed. You know contracts right? How you legally have to follow them because you promised to?" She nodded. "Well basically means the Stupid King promised to marry the witch a long time ago."

..She cocked her head. "But he doesn't love her. That's not like Starella and the Milky Way Prince. They fell in love before they got married."

He chuckled. Even a seven year old could clearly see the stupid logic in arranged marriages and she didn't even comprehend them yet. And his situation, but he shrugged before making the king turn around and ....ECK!! Kiss the hand of the witch who looked like she was giggling. "Well, you're wrong. He DID love her. A long, long time ago before she became evil."

"Why didn't he break with her like in the movies?"

He shrugged. "Promises are sometimes h-hard to break for some people. And he still cared about her in some way, the witch was really, really pretty too, and I guess he just couldn't see past her beauty and wanted to try and make things right."

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship." She held up a hand in knowing. "Conductor always says*ahem*!!" She tried to do a bad impression of the old bird and he smiled. "Lassie! If ye ever get yerself whatever the aliens call a wife, at thee first sign of trrrrrouble ask 'er if she loves the money ya makes with mah' movies. If she says yas, she's a no good golddigger and leave before she takes ye kids and house and most of ye money too!!"

He laughed a couple times and Bow stirred in her sleeping bag. Not waking up but almost as he stared at the proud Hat child. "Well that's good advice kid. But she wasn't a golddigger-"....His face slowly contorted to a scowl and looked down. "She was in love with a fairytale. She loved the Stupid King for being like a King from a story. She never loved him for who he really was as long as her fairytale wasn't tampered with. She was clingy, selfish, nothing was never good enough unless it was expensive, and she demanded all his attention all the time. ....Until one fateful day-" He waved his three fingered hand at the shadows and it contorted until it showed the witch with slated eye holes and the king and princess holding hands....platonically of course. "The witch saw the King And Flower Princess holding hands...AS JUST FRIENDS." He stressed. "Nothing romantic. Just two friends holding hands for a little bit. And she got really, really jealous. In fact she got so jealous-" The shadows contorted to the king looking sad behind a cage. "-she blamed him for breaking her heart and locked him away forever. And then she-" The shadows again contorted to show the witch still angry and this time over a cauldron. "-cursed the Stupid King's and Princess's kingdoms. All the plants died, all the animals ran away, and everyone...." he couldn't say they froze to death! "..T-They moved on from there. But karma struck her good and-" She raised her hand again. "...What now?"

"What's 'karma'??"

"It means he got revenge. Justice? Whichever one you wanna call it." The shadows formed to show the king opening the door to the cage and running. "The Stupid King managed to escape and get free, but the Witch's spell backfired. She cursed herself too and was trapped forever in her home, the black magic keeping her inside the cave she dug, but it was too late. The Princess was gone and he never saw her again. The shadows formed one more image of the King holding a flower with his head down in shame."

"WHAT?!" Bow stirred again and Snatcher shushed her. "He never saw her again?" She asked more quietly. "But that's not fair! He loved her so much!"

He shrugged sadly and put the lamp shade back on, making the shadows disappear and he sighed, "It's not all bad. He's free and he got to go rule again without worrying without pleasing anyone else. Not all stories have a happy ending kid, even if it's half decent like this." He stared down to the floor with a frown...before reaching over and ruffling her hair which she giggled at. "It's also a very important lesson. Don't let yourself be blinded in bad situations and don't let someone use you like that. Ok?"

"I'm never gonna fall in love! Yuck!!" She stuck her tongue out and he smiled.

"Good, good. You don't need to fall in love when ...well you're stuck as a kid for all eternity with me now don't you?"

"NOPE!! I don't like that mushy stuff anyways!"

He smiled wider. "Good. Good. Now go to sleep. I need all the energy you can get to fix the well tomorrow."

She giggled again but yawned and slowly closed her eyes and snuggled back into the blackets. As he smiled he looked back to the giant windows, as he looked to the darkned and frozen abyss of the planet they were above a frown slowly returned to the ghostly prince's face as he slowly floated over to the window. Placing a cold hand to the cool glass and watching as it slowly ticked by and he sighed once again.

"Sorry, Princess. I had to be the stupid king to do that."

"Snatcher...I can't sleep. Can I have a glass of water?" The Kid's voice piped up again and he chuckled.

"Sure, kid."

a promise’s a promise

word count: 1.5k (i apologise, this is a lot longer than i usually do)

member: Joshua

genre: mafia!joshua. prosecutor!reader, irritatingly posh-is!hreader

summary/prompt: you and your best friend made a pact. you both agreed that if neither of you had gotten married by the age 30 then you’d marry one another. it’s now time to fulfil that promise, the thing is, over the years, your best friend has become the leader of mafia. you have become city’s top prosecutor

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood and violence

a/n: i got this prompt from an ig account called writing.prompts.re and the moment i saw it, i thought it was perfect to write about sooooo here it is :))) on a side note, i do try to keep my reader’s “character” as genderless as possible, but i finally realise that i can do more to be more accepting. so from now on, i’m going to use they/them pronouns for the reader and if you notice, i also try to keep the reader’s past relationships genderless as well so that i don’t stay too heteronormative. so i really hope that you won't mind and this will obviously change how i write but i hope that you can still appreciate it anyway!!

You were never known for a sloppy memory. But you have never wanted to forget anything more than this, considering the reminder was in your hand. Said reminder was in the form of a letter. Now that you look at the letter, you even remember writing it...you remember sitting at the cafe with your best friend at that time. And if you think even harder, you can roughly recall how the conversation went...

“This is just sad....”, you pouted.

“What is? The fact you get to spend time with your best friend???” Jisoo was starting to tease you about your mood. You felt the biggest eyeroll come out of you.

“No, you idiot. I’m probably gonna end up sad and alone...I doubt I’m gonna be married by 30...”A sigh came out of you. You knew it was still a little young to think about it but being an only child, your parents had always told you that you would need to carry on the family line. But how were you going to that when you barely had time to have a relationship in the first place? How would you even find som-

“Hmm how about this....if the both of us aren’t married by 30....we’ll marry each other.” Jisoo said it with such confidence that you almost agreed without actually processing the idea.

“The fuck? You complain that my crackheadedness is tiring already and you want propose a marriage?” Needless to say, you were at a lost for words.

“Well...it is sort of a last resort for the both of us. And I’m pretty sure that the both of us will find someone by then....soooo, deal?” 

You could tell that he was being serious about this, that this wasn’t a jokey “haha here’s a weird idea”. And you thought to yourself, ‘Why not? It’s not like Jisoo would be the worst person to marry if it came down to it..’

“Then, it’s a deal. If we are both lonely, sad losers at the age of thirty, we’ll marry each other. Let’s seal the deal with a letter...” You declared your decision.

Why younger you chose a letter you can’t remember well but knowing yourself, it would have had something to do with a letter writing phase at that time of life. It would get really stressful and writing letters were therapeutic for you. You had found one of those services that holds on to letters and that would send them out at a later date. Both you and Jisoo agreed for the date to be the first day of the year after since Jisoo was born near end of year so a few days wouldn’t hurt right.

And with the letter dealt with, the both of you had went on with your lives. You remember that you parted ways with him because you disagreed with some friends of his. They would sometimes get into trouble and with you studying law, you didn’t know how to feel about this and when you voiced your troubles to Jisoo, he had dismissed them entirely and said that if you didn’t like it, you could leave. And to his surprise, you actually did. 

With that letter in your hand, you brushed the thought aside. You knew long ago that it was a joke. And you left for work, knowing that with your recent promotion to the top prosecutor position, you would have a mountain of cases to look through. The blood, sweat and tears that took for you to finally be promoted to this esteemed position paid off. You knew that it was an honour to be where you wanted to be. This expectation stemmed from your own overachieving tendencies and the fact that your parents had also worked in law, along with several family members. Being an only child only fuelled that expectation further and as such, people who were close to you understood that sometimes you had to pour your free time into cases as well. You had lost many relationships that way, with your partners saying that you never spared them any time or that you loved your job more than them or the fact that you could always procure a solid point in any fight due to your experience in court. 

And with every failed relationship, you came to accept that with your work life, you would never be able to find a partner understanding enough. Although that meant that you having a lasting relationship was low, you were content. That feeling came from knowing that you tried and you could accept if it wasn't written in the book of fate for you to find a loving partner. 

The letter brought you back down to earth. You were shocked, to say the least, that you didn't even open it until you drove to work. You obviously knew what was written inside but weren’t ready to face it yet but you knew you would have to sooner or later. You heaved a sigh and read the letter;

Dear future me,

I know that this might be sudden and this might not even apply to you now but you made a deal. Do you remember it? The deal might not even apply ti you now and it might sound crazy but hear me -yourself- out okay?

If you aren’t married by now, well then you are kind of engaged to JIsoo...go give him a call or something

And if you are, well then, you can throw this or keep it for a laugh lol

Love,

Me

You recalled how close the two of you were. All the random hang outs and Netflix sessions at each others houses. All those sweet moments where you remembered why the both of you because friends in the first place. Those thoughts brought a grin to your face.

Until you remembered why the friendship broke off..

You were starting to worry about Jisoo. Especially about the company he was hanging out with. They were definitely not of the savoury type. You passed it off at first, until you realised that it was affecting Jisoo as well. And that was when you knew, you had to speak up about it once and for all.

You were nervous. This would obviously not be a very comfortable experience but you just knew it had to be done. You decided that it would be best to bring it up as nonchalantly as you could which happened to be during a platonic Netflix and chill session. 

“Hey Jisoo,” you began shakily.

“Yea?” He seemed to not expect anything, which was advantageous to you.

“Umm, about you know, Seungcheol and your other friends...are you sure it’s...you know...in your best interest to be uhh hanging out with them?” It took you a lot of effort to bring this up. 

He heaved a sigh.

“y/n, it’s really none of business and also not in your best interest to ask...Plus, it’s not like you know what’s best for me and you also do not know anything about them.. ” Jisoo was understandably irritated. This was not the first time that you had hinted about this. 

His comment had really gotten under your skin. What’s best for him?? He says that you would not know, even though you spent the better half of your lives looking out and taking care of each other. And yet, he now cites that you don’t know anything about them either...

“I know plenty about the riff-raff you are hanging out with. They are borderline CRIMINALS!” You don’t know why you had shouted that last word but it definitely took a weight off your chest. 

It also seemed to dislodge Jisoo’s surprisingly calm attitude. 

“You don’t know anything so don’t say shit that you will never understand! You were brought up with privilege you never knew you had. My friends didn’t so I don't see what’s wrong with me making sure that get that privilege now. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. If you aren’t happy, then you can leave.”

And you did. You left that day and never looked back on your friendship. And if you had physically turned around that moment, you would have seen the broken look on Jisoo��s face. But you walked off, towards the future that you never knew was coming. 

The memories plagued you sometimes and there were moments where you felt guilty, after all in your line of work, you knew that sometimes the accused were partly innocent but a job was a job. And with that memory resurfacing, you shook it off and continued your day as per normal. 

It was a long day, full of paperwork and meetings about new cases and everyone was blabbering about a group that was becoming dangerously powerful. It was a mafia at this point and you knew that one day, you would have to face them and try your best to put them behind bars. 

You were more than happy to reach home and take a nice long shower and just..relax for ten minutes. But before you could even put your bags down, your phone rang. 

It annoyed you. The probability of it being someone from work calling about a missing file was high. And you answered the phone with an annoyed, “What”

“Is that how you greet everyone, darling?” 

The voice was lilting and somewhat familiar and yet, you couldn't place your finger on it. 

aight imma end it here for now, this has been in the drafts for a while as i was slowly writing this

as usual, feedback is welcomed!! thanks for making it this far!!!!

another kind of green (5/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I hope everyone is having a good weekend! 💚

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma filed for an annulment of her accidental drunken marriage yesterday.

She also took a pregnancy test.

Neither of those things were exactly in her life plan. Or whatever hypothetical life plan she’s supposed to have.

Luckily, that test (and the three she took after it because she does not trust those things) all came back negative because if getting accidentally hitched isn’t bad enough, getting accidentally knocked up would be even worse. That’s significantly more permanent and time consuming than marrying someone she doesn’t have to see every day, and she’d pass out from stress if she was actually pregnant.

And the extra-large margarita she had two days ago would have been a pretty big mistake.

(It was already a pretty big mistake when it made her a sloppy kind of intoxicated that had her telling Killian Jones that she liked the smell of his hair.)

(Ruby and Mulan have not stopped making fun of her for that.)

(Killian Jones, Emma Swan, and alcohol are obviously not a good combination.)

But she’s not pregnant, started her period today actually, and after going downtown to the family clerk’s office and having the nicest clerk in existence help Emma fill out the request for annulment papers, she’s officially got that off of her to-do list, which had quite possibly been the biggest weight off of her shoulder in years. Walking inside of the courthouse hadn’t been the best time, giving her flashbacks to being seventeen and having to go to trial (and jail) over those damn stolen watches that Neal set her up for, but at least she didn’t have to have a lawyer.

She stressed over that way too much, but it’s all in the past now. She’s got to keep that stress there.

Fucking Neal. He’s the scum of the earth, and that doesn’t even describe him. She wants to – no, she can’t. she can’t go there.

Positives. She has to focus on the positives, and not all of the memories she’s been tormented with over the past few days. There have been flashbacks of spending her days in a small cell and marking down the days until she could get out, her eighteenth birthday passing by her without her truly realizing it because she’d missed a few days on her chart. The flashbacks of the pregnancy test are the worst, however. The test she’d taken in jail was cheap, something not entirely reliable, and for a brief moment, Emma thought she was pregnant.

For an even briefer moment, she was happy about it because it meant she still had a connection with Neal. How messed up was she that she still wanted to be connected to the man that betrayed her trust and her heart? Why would anyone sane want that?

Why would anyone want to be connected to the man who ruined their life?

Because she loved him, let him tell her that things in her life were going to turn out right, and listening to him was her first mistake.

Emma wasn’t pregnant then and isn’t pregnant now, and she’s thankful for both negative tests even if things would have been different this time. It wouldn’t have been great, but at least she wouldn’t be a teenager in jail scared shitless over how the hell she’s going to do anything with her life because no one she cares about seems to stay. She’s got people now. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. That’s all that matters to her.

She’s got to stop focusing on those awful memories that make her stomach churn and nausea bubble up, and she needs to focus on something productive.

Like serving Killian Jones with his annulment papers.

The clerk has given her options to do that, including paying a courier to do it, but that had cost money and she figured it would be just as easy to give it over to them himself and ask for his half of the two hundred bucks she had to shell out for this. She meant to text him yesterday morning to arrange a time, but the whole pregnancy test thing threw her off. There was no way in hell she was going to talk to him after all of that. Today, however, she’s going to get her shit done and get this whole thing over with.

Emma Swan: Can you meet today?

The little bubbles pop up two seconds later.

Killian Jones: I’m booked all day today. Tomorrow?

Emma Swan: I’m booked all day tomorrow.

Killian Jones: Saturday then?

Emma Swan: I can do Saturday. What time?

Killian Jones: My place? Around noon?

Emma Swan: Send me your address.

She realizes that she never tells him why she wants to meet, but he probably knows. Despite them spending the entire evening together Monday night, they’re not casual friends who meet up to get something to eat or go to a concert together. They’re…acquaintances. She’s got no clue, isn’t really interested in defining it, and she’ll leave it at that. Their “whatever” is short term and will be ending soon anyways. There’s no need to get any kind of attached.

Her phone starts ringing, a picture of she and David from last year’s Christmas popping up, and she slides the bar across the screen to answer the phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” David sighs, “this is your daily reminder that you have to file your annulment papers.”

“It’s really a shame that you and Marg haven’t procreated yet because you’re such a dad.”

“How could I have a baby when I’m too worried about you? So I think we’ll keep using condoms for now.”

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles, getting up from her bed and walking the few feet to her kitchen, which is really more of a kitchenette that can barely fit food than anything. She needs to get a bigger place, but she doesn’t mind living here. Having a savings account to fall back on is far more important than an apartment with actual walls around her bedroom. “I don’t need to know about your sex life.”

“I know for a fact Mary Margaret talks to you about it.” “That’s different.” “How?”

“So, I filed the papers,” she blurts out, changing the subject.

“Did you really?”

“Mhm, yesterday, and I’ve already texted Killian so I can give him the papers in case he wants to contest it or anything.”

“Do you think he will?” “What? No. Neither of us want to be married. It was literally a drunken mistake. Nothing about it was sane. We both want it behind us.”

“Is that Emma?” Mary Margaret says.

“Yes.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Wait,” Emma starts, “aren’t you at work? How is Marg there?”

“I’m home on my lunch break. I – ”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, her voice coming in clear in the phone. “I had no idea Killian was one of Ariel’s clients. I don’t know how I didn’t realize that when we did the convention. I called Ariel yesterday, and I just had to talk to her about how funny the whole thing was with the two of you getting married. We – ”

“Wait,” Emma gasps, dropping her package of Pop-Tarts to the counter, “you talked to Ariel about it? Did she know or did you tell her?”

“Well, I told her.”

Shit, Marg. “Marg, Killian hadn’t told anyone about it! I don’t think he wanted to! What happened to not telling anyone?”

“I assumed she knew.” “Did you having to tell her about it not clue you in that maybe you shouldn’t have told her?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking. That’s been happening so much lately. God, Emma, these pregnancy hormones will make you insane. It’s, like, shit, my brain isn’t even my brain even more. I’ve been all over the place. I promise I didn’t mean to screw that up. It didn’t even cross my mind. Will you apologize to Killian for me?”

“Mary Margaret Nolan,” Emma whispers, “did you just say that you’re pregnant?”

“Fuck, I did, didn’t I?”

Emma barks out a laugh, leaning forward to rest her arms and her forehead against the countertop. She was just teasing David about this, and then…they’re having a baby. For all the screwed-up thoughts Emma has over her own experiences in this area, she knows this is a good, wonderful thing that David and Mary Margaret deserve.

Damn.

They’re going to be great parents.

“Congratulations, lady! I’m so happy for you guys, and I forgive you for being even more scatterbrained than normal.”

“Says the most unorganized person I know.”

“I get shit done.”

“That you do…most of the time.” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so happy, Emma.”

“As you should be. You guys are going to be the best parents.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tell David congrats on knocking you up.”

“What a graceful way to put that my wife is pregnant,” David grumbles, his voice muffled. “Real classy.” “That’s me. Marg, are you going to be at any of my shoots tomorrow? I think I need to hug you.”

“I will be at your two o’clock appointment because I need to go over some of the paperwork for you.”

“Perfect. Expect the biggest hug of your life.”

-/-

“How the hell does Ariel know that I got married?”

“Well, hello to you too, Jones.”

Emma side steps around Killian and lets herself into his apartment, her eyes scanning over the place. It’s clean a lot cleaner than her place, and she wonders if it’s always like this or if he cleaned specifically because she was coming over. But that would be ridiculous, and she doubts Killian would have straightened up his bookshelves and dusted his TV off just because she was here.

“Hi, Swan,” he sighs, closing the door behind her before walking back to the kitchen where something that smells ridiculously good is cooking on the stove. “It’s nice to see you. You’re looking as beautiful as ever. How the hell does Ariel know that I got married?”

Emma sighs and pulls out a barstool to sit down, dropping the envelope of papers on the countertop. “Mary Margaret can’t keep a secret, and she told Ariel. I’m really sorry about that.”

“I mean, it’s fine. Honestly. Ariel and Eric have always been like older siblings to me, but they can get a little…”

“Overbearing, protective, annoying as hell?”

“Yeah,” Killian laughs, turning around and crossing his arms so that the muscles in his arms flex underneath his t-shirt. “You know the type?”

“My friends are the exact same way, which makes sense that they’re friends with Ariel and Eric.”

“Small worlds and all that.” “That seems to be happening lately.” Emma sighs and pushes the papers over the countertop. “So, we are officially a pair of fools whose annulment papers are somewhere bustling around in the family council office of Boston.”

His brow arches. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I didn’t get an attorney. I filed the papers out myself I didn’t ask the split any assets or anything…since we don’t actually share any. I don’t think you have to do anything unless you see something ghastly wrong in these papers, but we have to wait at least twenty-one days before it’ll get looked at. That’s how long you have if you dispute anything.”

“I’m not going to dispute anything, love.” Emma opens her mouth to dispute his little name, but she stops herself. It’s just how he is, and there’s no reason for her to be rude to him no matter how fun that could be. He’s never actually done anything wrong to her. “The only reason I’d dispute the disappearance of our marriage is the fact that I know how you kiss, and it’d be such a shame to not get to do that again.”

She takes back every nice thought about him she’s ever had. She gained a few new ones Monday night, but they’re all about to fly out the window.

“If I had something to throw at you, I would.”

“Such a violent lass.”

“I am what I am.”

Killian chuckles and turns back around to the pot he has on the stove. “I’ve got some spinach and ricotta tortellini if you want to stay for lunch.”

“Oh, I, um, I really shouldn’t.”

“Have you eaten lunch?”

“No.”

“Do you have plans to eat lunch?” He turns around to look at her, and all she can do is shrug. “Exactly what I thought. C’mon, darling. We’ll call it a celebratory lunch that we’re soon to be free of what was quite frankly a nasty marriage. I mean, my wife kept trying to throw things at me.”

“Shut up, Jones, or I’ll actually throw something at you.”

“You think that’s a threat, but really, I see it as a promise.”

The bastard winks. He’s got to stop doing that.

Killian keeps talking, asking her about her shoot yesterday and how it went. He apparently hasn’t been working as much lately but does do the occasional job like the other day to keep paying the bills until he can officially start at the Academy and get a paycheck like normal people do. Emma’s never liked talking about her job because it always seems to lead into conversations about if this is what she really wanted to do with her life. It’s not, never has been, but considering everything, this is so much better than she should have it. Maybe one day she’ll branch out into something more normal and a little calmer, but googling jobs that hire ex-convicts with a GED has never been something she particularly enjoys.

“So, how’d you get into this whole thing?” Killian asks her when he slides her a plate and hands her a bottle of water. “Someone saw you and thought they just had to have your face in an ad in a magazine?”

Emma hums, cutting a tortellini in half. “There was an ad in the paper, which makes me sound so old, for a local dress designer who wanted someone to do a shoot for some of her dresses. There was no experience required. I just needed to be the right size, and I was. I think I maybe got paid two hundred bucks for that shoot, but it opened me up to the whole industry. You?”

If she’s got to answer these questions, he does as well. Tit for tat and all that.

He hesitates. He tries to cover it up, but she can tell. He’s trying to be a cop, so obviously this whole modeling thing isn’t what he’s always wanted to do. Emma may not be some kind of genius, but she knows people pretty damn well.

“Ariel got me into it. I’d known her forever, needed some money, and it just kind of happened. I’d been piddling around in construction and bartending before that.”

“Ariel’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she’s one of the good ones, always keeping me on track.”

Killian smiles, something soft that makes the crinkles around his eyes show up where they normally wouldn’t, and Emma’s stomach flips. It’s probably because this food is really good. That has to be it.

“So, did you make these from scratch? They’re really good.”

“I bought them from Whole Foods. It’s simple, Swan. I think anyone can make it.”

“That’s because you don’t know how unfortunate of a cook I am.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, I’m the worst. I won’t admit that to anyone who has seen me cook, but I’m definitely the worst. I could mess up boiling water.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“Hey,” Emma scoffs, flicking a piece of the bread off her plate at him. “I can say it. You can’t say it.”

“Are these in the unwritten rules of Emma?”

“Oh, absolutely. And they constantly change, so you’ll never really know.”

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles, leaning forward to press his forehead to the counter and hiding his face in his hands. She can see his smile peeking through. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Well, I assume at some point we did say ‘til death do us part.’”

“Does that mean you’re going to murder me before our papers are processed?” he laughs, those crinkles showing up again as she feels her own lips curling up to the sides.

“Obviously that’s exactly what I meant. Gonna finally put all of my police connections into use.”

“What the hell is going on out here?” someone groans, and Emma nearly falls off of her stool as someone walks down the hallway in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s got to be fifteen years old from all of the holes and faded letters. “Who the hell are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You’re in my apartment.”

“You have a roommate?” Emma asks Killian, turning to look at him as he’s still got this shit-eating grin on his face. “You never mentioned that.”

“You never asked. Emma, this is Will Scarlet, my roommate. Will, this is – ”

“Holy shit,” Will gasps, “you’re the girl he married. I couldn’t believe it when Ariel told me. Sorry about that, lass. He’s a real piece of work, and I’m sure he didn’t get you satisfied on your wedding night.”

He did, but that was technically before the wedding, and she’s not saying any of that out loud.

“Oh, I think I’m going to like you,” Emma laughs, shoveling some more food in her mouth. “Can you tell me every weird thing Killian does?”

“How long do you have?”

“All day.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbles, pushing his hair back, “I don’t need to be here for this.”

“You do if you don’t want me to tell her about the time you went blonde.”

“Oh, I definitely have to hear that,” Emma sighs. “Tell me everything. I hope you have pictures.”

“Digital and print versions.”

“Perfect.”

-/-

-/-

Tag list:  @xemmaloveskillianx​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​

OTP PROFILE GAME!

rules: answer the questions about your favorite ship (all time or current) then tag 10 people to do it too!

tagged by @chloexmorningstar (ily Sho!!!) and listen... obviously newtina is my #1 ship ever. i am doing peggysous, even though it’s a lowly #4, because reasons. and apologies to everyone for how goddamn long this got. i have a lot of feelings about these two.

SHIP AND FANDOM: peggysous/agent carter

MOMENTS:

what were their first impressions of each other?

sadly we don’t get the peggysous meet-cute- in fact, i’m just realizing now that most of my favorite ships meet offscreen, which is kind of weird. we do know that they’re each other’s only friend in the workplace, and even more than that they’re on first-name basis, so i like to think that when they met, they both kind of went wow, this one sucks a lot less than every other person that works here!, and then the rest was history.

a moment you think that both/one of them will remember forever about each other:

i mean obviously the rebar incident, but also when peggy had to choose between the literal universe and daniel and chose daniel. everything worked out and the universe was fine, but the fact that peggy “dispassionate, chief, your words” carter even took that chance speaks volumes about how much she loves him, and i think it’s something they’ll both remember for a long time.

a moment you think that both/one of them wishes hadn’t happened:

when i saw this i instantly went, “well obviously peggy’s interrogation was not a high point for them,” and then remembered that peggy asked daniel for a rain check when he asked her out and he took that to mean “i don’t want to see you again ever” and literally moved across the country, so i’d say there were a couple of rough patches lol. conversely, i think that peggy in retrospect is extremely glad she got impaled by that rebar because otherwise they would have just stayed in pining hell forever.

what is their moment for you?

if i'm not allowed to choose “literally all of season 2,” i’m going to say when peggy kidnaps rufus hunt and daniel gets angry not because she committed a felony, but because she committed a felony without him. daniel is a lot more by-the-book than almost every other character on the show, so the fact that that’s the thing he’s mad about really shows how much he’s come to trust and care for peggy. as they both say, they’re a team now.

LIFE QUESTIONS:

marriage? if yes, who proposes?

yep! they get married. avengers endgame never happened. aos will never happen. i’m not sure if i like the idea of peggy or daniel actually proposing better, but daniel definitely buys the ring and agonizes over how to make the perfect proposal, and then of course they actually get engaged on a whim during some messy, high-stakes action sequence.

children? if yes, if one had to stay home with them, who would do it?

we know that peggy and whoever she canonically marries do have two kids, so assuming it’s daniel (which it is), there are definitely kids! neither of them stay home- they’re good parents but obviously very busy at work, especially peggy- but they spend as much time with them as they can, and the jarvises are more than happy to look after the kids when they can’t.

housing? where do they live together?

i have absolutely no idea where the original base of shield was, and i don’t think the ac one-shot is actually canon, so let’s say for argument’s sake, and for the sake of “most of the characters i headcanon as being involved with shield’s creation were located in california in the late 40s anyway,” and for the sake of “as of 1995 there was still a prominent shield base located in l.a.,” that it was near los angeles. in which case i guess peggy could just move in wherever daniel’s living. it looked like a nice enough place. 

pets? do they get a pet together?

i don’t see them as pet people, honestly. i think bernard has put them off that idea.

PERSON A&B…

who would kill/remove the spider and who would leave it under a cup and leave the room?

peggy is definitely terrified of spiders just because i think the “peggy carter, the same woman who fought in the war and took down dottie underwood and punched me in the nose, is afraid of spiders?” “shut up, jack!” conversation would be hilarious. this leaves daniel as the de facto getter-ridder of spiders.

who sings all day long and who gets so used to it they don’t even hear it anymore?

this is not something i'd ever pictured either of them doing; however, i’m absolutely loving the idea of serious, professional daniel singing under his breath while working on case files. peggy thinks this is the cutest thing in the world but figured out very early on that if she comments on it, he stops, so now she just lets it happen without a word.

who can cook a gourmet meal for two and who can maybe use the toaster?

peggy obviously can’t cook to save her life. i think the entire fandom has accepted this as fact. daniel i can see as a decent cook, but i think if for whatever reason they actually need to provide food for anyone other than themselves, peggy calls jarvis in a panic and makes him do it.

who wakes up before the sun rises and who would sleep in until 2pm if they didn’t have an alarm?

neither of them really strike me as early risers (or late risers- they seem to have a reasonable sleep schedule when they aren’t up to spy shenanigans), but peggy definitely gets up before daniel.

who is more affectionate/touchy?

in public i think they’re both usually very professional or at least not blatantly affectionate, but in private or with friends they cannot keep their hands off each other. peggy is usually the worse offender but it’s oftentimes a toss-up. they drive jack crazy. 

who wears the other’s hoodies/shirts?

look i don’t think this is something they’d do, but i’m definitely giggling at the thought of peggy walking around in a fucking hawaiian shirt that’s about two sizes too big for her.

who said “I love you” first?

i like to think that a very exhausted peggy, after daniel did something like bring her coffee when she was working on case files at one in the morning, groaned “daniel sousa, i bloody love you” without really thinking about it and then promptly became so re-engrossed with the files that she nearly missed daniel’s quiet “...love you too, peg.” 

tagging @erumpets @florenepugh @wespers @mollyweasly @nataliarvmanova @romanocff @saralahnce @captleia  @billhaders @wintersoeldiers and anyone else who wants to do it :) 

Boys Don’t Cry

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

Request:

Prompt: “I came by your house late at night for advice and you’re dancing in your bedroom to The Cure and, not gonna lie, it’s pretty amusing.”

A/N: And the slowest writer ever award goes to: me. But ok Boys Don’t Cry is one of my favorite songs to dance to in an over-dramatic fashion while I’m alone in my bedroom. And I figured like. Why not.

TW: underage drinking, Guys Bein’ Dudes™️, slight language, you dated Nancy but the sexuality is never specified.

Cliques were always dangerous. You never really fit in with any specific group. Fellow peers at Hawkins had just kind of dubbed you a wanderer. And for as much as the teachers liked you, you found yourself in detention quite a bit. Not because you actually started fights, but pissing off Steve Harrington was one of your favorite hobbies. And when Billy Hargrove moved to town, your focus simply shifted to tormenting him instead.

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the attention. For whatever reason, aggravating each other was the main basis of your friendship.

It was about third period and you’d come in to school late. The secretary noticed you weren’t at roll call for algebra or science, so she called your house. And before you could get to the phone your mother picked up and began screaming at you, whom she just assumed had already left, prompting you to get ready and leave.

The hallways were empty and it was fairly quiet, save for the noises of one of the gym classes going on. Your locker, unfortunately, was in the hall right beside the gym. Squeaks from sneakers and thuds from a dribbling basketball came from behind closed doors. Every time that damned ball hit your head throbbed more, still recovering from the party last night.

Tossing your Walkman inside, you began to grab out one of the books you’d need. English had been boring, but not as laggy as math and science. For a kid who was good with numbers you were surprisingly bad at the two subjects.

A sudden break in your thoughts came when a familiar face spotted yours and began to walk over. You could sense the uneasiness in the way he walked, normally he’d be trying to scare you. With everything in your hands, you nudged the door to your locker closed and waited for him to say something snarky as a greeting.

But he never did.

(E/c) orbs met dark brown ones. The light behind them was gone, now replaced with a sorrowful expression.

“You good?”

“Not really,” he sighed defensively.

“What’s got you—?”

Memories of the party from the night before came back in a blurred montage. Drinking, dancing, smoking, laughing, making out, repeat. You didn’t remember much, but at one point Nancy spilled her drink and went to the bathroom. What seemed like five hours later, Steve was pissed and ended up leaving.

“Oh, shit.” You visibly cringed.

“Look, I’m going to go talk to her.”

“It’s a wasted effort, man.” You reasoned. “Coming from somebody who’s been with her, just trust me.”

He always went to you for advice when it came to her. Nancy Wheeler was a very complex person, but you two dated for a while, and you kind of knew everything. A breakup came after about ten short months when you grew apart, but after a bit of a chat you two decided to stay friends.

The brunette shook his head slightly and glared. Reaching a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, he muttered something about just getting it over with. You opened your mouth to speak just when the secretary stepped out, a less than pleased look on her face.

“(L/n), you better get to class before you end up with another detention. You too, Harrington.”

A small smirk crossed your features. “Aww, that’d be such a shame, huh?”

Steve quickly sauntered off, presumably to talk to Nancy, and you were left with the secretary. The look in her tired eyes that reached your own pleaded for you to just shut up and go to class.

“They aren’t paying me enough for this,” she groaned.

The smirk on your face morphed into a full shit-eating grin, then prompting you to make your way down the hall and into your English class. Just another average day would follow, nothing out of the ordinary.

Later that evening as you got home, you decided it would be best to unwind and listen to music. Nobody else was home, your parents both at work, so that meant you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. Reaching your beat up door, you began to tug your denim jacket off and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

Everything about the room was overdone; posters adorned the off-white walls, the pictures overlapping at times, and stickers thrown onto the closet door. Two large bookshelves were filled to the brim with your music collection, some sketchbooks, and whatever other junk you had that couldn’t be left on the floor.

Nancy always hated your room but that was to be expected. It didn’t bother you much, you’d rather be at her house anyways.

You shut the door and began to change into something a bit more comfortable, wondering what you’d do with yourself for the remainder of the night. Ordering a pizza sounded pretty good, considering nobody was home and you didn’t want to cook. Most nights alone you’d end up watching TV, playing video games, and then crash at about 2 AM. A vicious cycle, one you never grew tired of.

Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed your phone from the receiver and dialed Steve’s number. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the two of you could hang out for a bit without getting yelled at.

Last time he was over, your parents came home earlier than anticipated and found the two of you sat on the couch, drunk, reading through the phone book (for whatever reason), only to just lose your shit whenever you saw a name that sounded even mildly amusing.

The phone rang a few times before eventually being picked up.

A sigh could be heard. “What?”

“Hey, loverboy. I’m ordering pizza tonight. You wanna come over and hang out?”

“Are we going to get our asses ripped this time?” The brunette retorted.

A fake laugh came from you. “That was one time, so are you coming or not?”

There was a minute long pause between you two. No matter how much you annoyed each other, you were one of his weaknesses. And pizza was something that he couldn’t say no to.

“Fine, but—”

“Great! See you in a few.” You chirped and practically smashed your phone back onto the base.

Steve lived only a couple streets down from you. You met back at the beginning of elementary school, both of you riding the same bus. Neither you, nor him, could really remember when you started to consider the other a ‘friend’. But it mainly had something to do with him and Nancy being a couple.

Since she and you dated before and were still close friends, somehow you ended up becoming the marriage counselor along the way.

But hey, the more the merrier, right?

Your mind couldn’t help but drift sometimes. Steve was pretty cute in your eyes, even with his weird hair. Generally the same taste in music, shows, movies, and obviously the same taste in girls. And although he was stupid (sometimes), he was a good dude.

It wouldn’t take long for him to reach the house. In the meantime you decided it would be best to put in the order for the pizzas. A quick call to the nearest shop, and they’d deliver it as soon as it was done.

After scanning through some music, you finally settled on one: a mixtape of your favorite songs from The Cure. You popped it in with no hesitation and set your player to max volume. The intro to Siamese Twins rang out in your bedroom, the beat eventually making all of the furniture thud in perfect time. Glass window panes shook as well, you’d probably have the neighbors complaining in the morning.

Your feet guided you around the house aimlessly as you searched for something to drink, the sound of music becoming more muffled as you entered the kitchen. It reminded you of the party a few nights ago, but far less stuffy. And with better music.

“I chose an eternity of this; like fallen angels, the world disappeared,” you sang slightly to yourself as you rummaged through the cabinets.

Nothing.

Onto the fridge, stocked full of Coke and other stuff you didn’t much care for. Nobody

Meanwhile, down the street, Steve could hear loud music coming from your street. Which was odd, if there was a party he would’ve known about it. Upon further inspection he realized it was coming from your house. The sun was already starting to set behind said abode, nestling itself deeper and deeper into the rows of houses that occupied the area.

The Harrington boy stepped a bit closer and took in the view; your house covered in orange and red tinted leaves, the living room and kitchen lights shining through their respective windows. Your silhouette moved about inside, gracefully, to the beat. Almost like a shadow with perfectly fluid movements.

His focus shifted to the porch lights, then the door, the doorbell, and back again. He only assumed your parents weren’t home but he wasn’t sure, although with as loud as the music was, ringing the doorbell or knocking wouldn’t have done any good anyways. It took him a bit to move, then walking around to the darkened backyard where he counted the windows.

The first one was your parents’ room (he learned the hard way), the second belonged to the bathroom, and finally, the third was the entrance to your bedroom. He glanced down, careful not to step on the flowers, then maneuvered his way around to find a spot where he could see through the gap blinds. What he got was something out of a renaissance painting.

You with your mom’s pearl necklace and matching earrings draped carelessly, your shirt all the way unbuttoned, and a wine glass in your hand. To top it all off, your hair was a mess, but complemented the askew lipstick that painted your lips. Your hips swayed back and forth in a graceful yet drunken manner. Inside, Boys Don’t Cry came on the stereo.

Each step you took was calculated to sync with the beat, the only thing that could’ve made it more amusing was if you would’ve been wearing heels.

“What is that moron doing?”

“I would say I’m sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time I have said too much,

Been too unkind,”

You sang along, a slurred version not being heard by the other male as he watched from the window. Brown eyes were fixated on your form as you leapt up onto the bed, forcing a bit of a stumble from yourself. After almost toppling over, you continued on.

“I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies

I tried to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes cause—”

“Boys… don’t cry.” Steve finished.

In the midst of the dancing spree you turned and locked eyes with said boy. The room was swaying about and took a minute to stop, your vision focusing on him. Each step you took closer to the window made your knees feel weaker, but somehow you managed to pull the screen up to let the other boy in.

The room was almost like a time capsule; nothing really moved or touched since the last time he’d been there, the only difference being the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Sudden weight on the bed caused it to dip behind him. When he turned, your body was draped gracefully across the dark (color) sheets. Almost something out of an erotic painting, the clash of textures and colors alike.

Originally, the plan had been to come to wallow in self pity and ask for advice about Nancy. Now all he could think about was you, tipsy, singing along to music so loud it would rival an actual concert.

“You—you want a sip?” You shouted over the lyrics, somewhat slurred.

Steve thought about it for a minute, taking glances at your extended hand every so often. A slight sigh escaped him, then taking the glass and downing whatever was left. He started coughing and gagging as a result of the cheap liquor hitting, but didn’t care too much to do anything besides wipe his mouth off.

Everything in that moment was fuzzy, and loud, and warm. Time was stopped for you two. Nothing really mattered except the exact moment you were living in. Not some dumb party, not some spoiled suburban girl, and most certainly not being sober.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips. The newfound anxiety on his face made you wonder, but still too afraid to ask.

“Is there more to drink?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen… come on.”

Everything that happened afterwards became a blur of colors and muffled noises. Almost like going under anesthesia in the hospital, you couldn’t really remember what went on until something triggered it. And from then on you’d spend your time wondering if it was real or not, trying so hard to distinguish a vivid dream from a drugged reality.

One thing happened to stand out. The single thing you could remember.

Not so many hours later, bottles of liquor had been spread across the floor and the lights turned off. The music that once blared and annoyed the neighbors was turned down now, a much softer volume. Melodic hums came from your lips as Steve ranted about Nancy. The party, it was all because of the stupid party.

“— and, I mean, I apologized. Me. Steve fucking Harrington.”

After what seemed like four rounds too many, his speech was slurred.

Steve buried his face in his hands.“I don’t know what I did wrong…”

“You didn’t do any-anything wrong, man. Nancy just... has a stick up her ass, nothing new.” You assured him with a soft shove to the shoulder.

Your eyes met for a brief moment, his hands sliding down the sides of his face. A pitiful laugh found its way from his throat, soon after turning into something far more maniacal. Something about the situation was funny to you as well.

But not what you had said about Nancy, no. What made you laugh was the look on this idiot’s face, perfectly illuminated by the neighbor’s porch lights. How he slid down deeper onto your floor, ribs aching from giggling too hard. Though he was drunk, the smile plastered on his face was genuine.

Two separate roars were only extinguished after a few minutes, but at the time it felt like hours. You attempted to regain your composure but it was hard when his face was right next to yours. Once perfect brown hair was now askew, the result of the perfect night in. Eyes in the color to match brimmed with tears from laughing, something he felt like he hadn’t done in a while. Nearly perfect skin and perfect lips almost begging for some action; it was too amazing.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to make out with me…”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Even in the dark he could see the red flush rise to your cheeks. You swallowed a bit, hand rising to comb through (h/c) locks anxiously. Harsh shadows covered your (s/c) face but even then Steve could still tell you were biting your lip.

It seemed he had his answer.

“Oh,”

“Yeah, oh,” you mirrored.

Everything happened what felt like hours later, but at the same time, all at once. Your bodies had been forced together, the taste of long forgotten cheap wine playing on your tongues. His hands reached up to tangle gently in your hair, all while yours gripped desperately at the lapels of his denim jacket.

The kiss was soft and messy, but whether it was the alcohol’s fault or the fact he was nervous was anybody’s guess. For whatever reason, Steve expected it to feel different but it didn’t. The kiss was just that; a kiss. Not a kiss with a boy, just a kiss.

Clumsily, he straddled your lap to get a better angle. It still felt the same. The time had come to an end, your lungs begging for air, forcing the two of you to pull back. His shoulders heaved, the room only being filled now with the slight sound of you both panting.

(E/c) hues opened to take in the view. Steve Harrington straddling your lap, breathless, disheveled, only being lit by the light that came through the window. The grip you had on his jacket slowly loosened, only to be stopped by his hand on yours. Red lipstick that once adorned your lips was now shared. The Cure that played in the background had finally come to a complete stop. But the gaze Steve had on your lips didn’t, especially when he began to lean in again.

“Don’t tell Nancy,”

Promise Me Forever [5]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 5/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir sits at Dante's desk, gazing at him. He is stretched out on the couch, his feet crossed on the arm and his eyes closed, snoozing away. She is supposed to be organizing the bills and writing checks, but his soft snores caught her attention, and now she can't stop staring at him.

Watching Dante has been something she often catches herself doing. It's been over a week since she arrived at the Devil May Cry, and every day brings something new she never saw before: a new television show, a new joke of his, a new case that piques her interest. But none of it as interesting as the son of Sparda himself, who has turned out to be an intriguing mixture of strength and determination wrapped up in a layer of an simplicity she hadn't expected.

Even now, napping on the couch, he's a conundrum of contradictions. His outfit, an odd blend of red and black leather, was quite obviously chosen with care, yet his face holds a day's growth of stubble, and his sprawl is haphazard; he looks like he puts effort into his appearance, like he doesn't, like he's comfortable, like he's going to fall to floor at any second. It's a far cry from what she was raised to expect, to be certain. There is no cold, elegant warrior here. Just a man, or a little more than, content in his little corner.

Despite her doubts, the truth of him is far more comforting than the myth she was led to believe.

Lir ducks her head, feeling a bit silly now. Even a legendary knight and the son of humanity's hope is still a man, isn't he? It seems foolish now to know she never once considered he would be a normal guy, but it makes a lot more sense than a mysterious figure whose life was fighting and justice.

Of course, Dante is a fighter; that was made clear enough first hand. He's had two jobs since the cat incident, both dispatched with ease. As for justice . . . well, he has a good heart, good enough to take a stranger in, anyway.

In the end, Lir is glad that Dante isn't what she had expected. It's much more interesting this way certainly. She is even having fun, something that also had never occurred to her to even expect in their union. Fun and flirting and enjoying one another's company is something that might come later, after years of marriage; love at first sight and romance lived in novels and Hollywood movies, not reality. Yet being with Dante had Lir questioning everything.

"Yer starin' a hole in me," Dante mumbles from the couch. His voice is heavy and thick with sleep, and he rubs at his face before yawning so widely that his jaw pops. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry. I was woolgathering, I think." Lir stands with a smile and heads into the kitchen, where she sets to making him a cup of coffee from the pot she'd only just brewed. He takes it from her with a grumbled thanks when she carries it to him, and the sight of him with mussed hair and drowsy eyes is so strangely adorable that it makes her heart pound. "It's strange for you to have a day off, isn't it?"

Dante swallows a large mouthful of coffee before he replies. "Mm, nah. Sometimes I get handyman jobs—that's how the shop is listed in the phonebook—but I rarely take 'em unless the pay is good. So it's a lot of this, unless Morrison or Lady drop by."

Lir nods, continuing to watch him. Her chest tightens a bit when her thoughts land on how handsome he is; if this marriage had worked out, that is one thing that would not have been an issue. Lir had tried not to have any expectations, particularly since the paintings of Sparda in the old books had him with long, curved horns and spikes on his hands. She moves to sit back down at the desk, her eyes drinking him in. Never had she pictured his son with soft silver hair, tall and broad and muscled, strong jaw and lips the perfect shape to kiss—

"Where'd you go?" Dante laughs, and Lir misses the desk chair and lands on her backside on the floor.

He's on his feet in an instant, coming over to help her to her feet. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yes." Embarrassment colors her cheeks scarlet. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Might be something in the air," he says. His hand is warm and solid against her own, and she clasps it gently, marveling at how much larger than hers it is. "Can't seem to wake up, myself."

"Well, luckily, we ca—"

The door to the shop swings open, admitting Lady inside, and she eyes the two of them with what Lir assumes to be amusement. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Lir laughs as Dante pulls her to her feet. "Just clumsy."

"You're back sooner than I expected." Dante lets go of her hand and turns, folding his arms. "Don't you know how to call first?"

"No time. I told you, I was running an errand. A mutual friend needed a ride back to Red Grave." She gestures behind her and Lir looks up to see a gentleman walk in, his suit almost as sharp as the little gleam in his eye. 

Before she can ask, Dante groans. "Unless you have some money I don't want to hear it."

"Nonsense," he says. "I got wind of your predicament and I just had to come see for myself." Lady smirks as he crosses the shop, and Lir sees Dante roll his eyes a moment before he takes her hand, holding it up to press his lips to the back of her fingers. "You must be Lir. Lady told me all about you."

"I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage, sir," Lir says, falling naturally into the role of demure hostess, "as you know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"The pleasure is all mine. It's been a long time since I've seen true beauty, and you, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes." The man smiles at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "Name's Morrison. I act as Dante's broker, bringing him jobs that I think suit him." With a wink, he adds, "He starts giving you trouble, you let me know, and I'll set him straight."

Lir glances at Dante with a giggle, but he looks unamused. "Thank you," she says, smoothing out her smile as she delicately retrieves her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"So what do you want?" Dante sighs.

"Call it curiosity," he says. "I was out of town and Lady offered to give me a lift home, seeing she would be in the area. Naturally I accepted, and when she told me about her latest job I had to come and see for myself."

Morrison turns back to Lir with a wink. "The daughter of Ler, this is an honor. I'm somewhat familiar with your family, and of course I've heard the story of how your people helped the legendary knight Sparda."

"You have?" both Lir and Dante ask at the same time.

"Sure." He reaches into his coat, drawing a cigar from a pocket along with a trimmer. "The gods are mostly forgotten now. Humanity moved on, and only a couple of the old ones managed to hold on. Ler is one of 'em. Back when Sparda was separating the worlds, he needed a priestess, and Ler sent one of his along . . ."

"I was always told it was a relic," Lir replies with a frown.

"That too. In fact . . ." Morrison tilts his head towards Dante. "That pendant you gave Trish came from Ler's temple."

Dante sucks in a sharp breath as Morrison casually moves to the sofa, sitting and crossing one leg over the other. Lady leans against the pool table and watches as he puts his hands on his hips. "How do you know?"

"She showed it to me. There's some patterns on the side that look just like their buildings." He nods at Lir, who jumps. "Don't know how Sparda got his hand on those amulets though. Care to enlighten us?"

Three sets of eyes fall on Lir, who blushes and shakes her head. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"Ah well. Mystery is long over anyway. Two thousand years has a way of muddying the truth." He chews on his cigar a moment thoughtfully. "Surprised to hear about this oath though. From what I understand Ler and Sparda didn't see eye to eye."

"No, they were great friends," Lir interrupts, stepping around the desk. "At least, they respected one another very much."

"Not what I heard," Morrison chuckles. "Sparda lost too much money playing dice to him for them to be that good of friends."

"Really?" Confusion swirls within her, along with a faint, barely noticeable tinge of discomfort. Was everything her family told her wrong? Could they really have forgotten so many truths? 

It must show in her voice, or on her face, because Morrison exhales a slow cloud of smoke. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It could be both, or neither. The only ones who would know for sure are Sparda and Ler, and neither of them are talking."

". . . Yes, I suppose."

"Anyway," Lady interjects, "the fact of the matter is that you're stuck with her, Dante. I can't move her now that she's here, or the cult might find out that the two of you aren't honoring the promise. So, Lir, you're gonna have to stay here until we figure out what to do."

She nods as she leans against the desk, listening to Lady tease Dante about being a terrible gambler ("like father like son," she laughs), but not processing anything. It's just like Dante himself: she had expected one thing, and found another. Ler himself might not be at all what they know, but the idea leaves her feeling shaky.

"Hey," Dante says, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes!" Lir says quickly. "Are you both staying for dinner? We'd love to have you."

Lady laughs and waves her hand. "I can't stay. I have work tonight." She nods towards Morrison. "You coming?"

"I think I'll take the lady up on her offer," Morrison smiles. He takes a drag from his cigar and nods at Lir. "I want to hear more about her people."

Lir ducks her head, wondering what would have happened if Dante were more like Morrison, deciding that she likes him just as he is. Then she flushes, a rather odd trend that's started whenever she's around or thinks about the devil hunter. "Dante, would you mind entertaining our guest while I get started on dinner? I'll be out with drinks in a moment."

His eyes are assessing on her face. "Don't worry about the drinks. I got 'em."

"Nonsense!" She pats his arm. "I can take care of it. Besides, you said that Morrison often brings you work, didn't you? I'll leave the two of you to discuss business."

Lady huffs a laugh, drawing an uneasy look from Lir. "Careful you don't spoil him too much," she chides. "Dante is insufferable enough as it is."

Lir feels a strange urge to defend him, but Dante interrupts. "Get going. And you didn't let Lir's family know what was up, did you?"

"Of course not!" Lady gives a wave as she saunters through the shop. "I told you, I'm a professional!"

Lir turns and heads towards the kitchen, but to her surprise, Dante is right behind her. "You okay?" he asks with a frown as she opens the refrigerator. "First you fall over, then you're offering dinner? You don't have to do this, it's just Morrison."

She considers the options within and his question with equal care. "I'm fine, I think. All of this has just been . . . a bit of a shock, if I'm allowed to be honest. It's like . . . like my family was so disconnected from the world that they forgot how things really were. Or are. I don't know."

"Lir . . ."

"I mean, it was one thing when it was just you they were wrong about, because they never met you. But to be wrong about Ler, or his relationship with Sparda, it . . . it means they're probably wrong about everything else, too. What if there never was a promise? Or they wrote it down wrong?" She pulls out a thing of ham, deciding that a roast will do nicely. "What if they sent me here and I've been in your way for nothing?"

"You're not in my—"

"The worst part is, they don't even know that they're wrong!" she continues, rifling through the pots and pans. "Our entire community is built on providing a bride for the damn son of Sparda, and if Sparda didn't even want that, if there was no agreement, then what have we even been doing for two thousand years? Sitting around on the sea looking like idiots! We'd be no worse than the Order who thought they could raise him from the dead. I mean, I didn't get to do anything because I had to prepare myself for this thing, and it's not even—"

"Hey." She blinks up in surprise when Dante grabs her arm. Then very suddenly he pulls her into a hug, suffocating her slightly as he crushes her to his chest. "Slow down," he chuckles, patting the back of her head.

Despite the lack of oxygen, it does feel good in his arms, and Lir allows herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad chest and arms. But then she eases back, looking up as she wipes at her nose. "Sorry," she mumbles.

He gives her a crooked smile. "We can't know anything. So don't get all worked up. We just need to figure out today." Lir smiles at that sentiment and he nods. "Now, I'll cook dinner. You go talk to Morrison since you actually want to know this stuff."

"But—"

"No buts." He swats her rear end, making her squeak, before pushing her out the kitchen door. "I got this," he laughs, and Lir finds herself back in the office, Morrison grinning in her direction.

Belatedly, she realizes that she has no idea if Dante even knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, but one of them needs to sit with Morrison and Dante has made it clear that he wants her to do it. Lifting her chin slightly, Lir crosses to the couch across from Morrison and settles delicately on it, crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her hands in her lap. "How long have you known Dante?" she asks.

"'Bout ten years. I met him shortly after he opened shop and gave him a bit of a loan to help him along. He's still working on paying it back." Morrison chuckles. "That's long enough to notice how much he likes having you around."

"You must be very good friends."

"Something like that." Morrison looks around the shop. "Probably something more like what Ler and Sparda had. A relationship out of necessity."

Lir swallows nervously. "In our community, we believe they had a close relationship built on mutual trust and respect."

Morrison chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure the two old ones respected each other well enough. My curiosity isn't to be invasive, but to understand." He leans forward and studies her closely. "See, from what I've been told, Ler's magic was used to maintain the seal on the oceans, so the demons couldn't come slithering out of all those unexplored deep parts. Considering the planet is eighty percent water, that is a pretty big task." Then he nods at her knowingly. "Your oath here was a part of that. Payment for the spell."

Lir shifts nervously. That is similar enough to what she had learned, with a marked difference. "It isn't a payment," she murmurs. "It is a . . . an agreement between friends."

"Is it now?" He leans back as if thinking deeply, tapping one finger on his lips. "All that magic must have cost Ler a great deal. Maybe even took his immortality. And he just gave it away for nothing?"

"I . . ." Her gaze drops to her lap. "We are taught from birth of the legends of Sparda, and of Ler. Millennia ago, when Sparda sought to permanently divide the human world from the demon world, he came to Ler, as they were friends and he knew that Ler was wise in the ways of magics. Ler agreed to aid him and Sparda, as a show of faith, promised to marry his firstborn son to one of Ler's daughters."

"So," he says mildly, "two different stories, two different versions of how it all played out. In my experience, when something like that happens, the truth is somewhere in the middle."

"In the middle?" she murmurs.

Morrison nods. "In the end, though, it probably doesn't matter why. Whether Sparda asked him for a favor or Ler offered, hell, Sparda might have threatened him over it, stole the magic, who knows. Doesn't matter if they were friends or enemies or just drinking buddies."

He points at her as she considers this. "What does matter is this oath of yours. That's serious business. And if it is true, and the ocean seal is caught up in this power, then we need to know. It would be a devil of a time if you two didn't get married, and suddenly demons started walking out of the ocean."

Lir glances at the kitchen, where she can faintly hear Dante singing wildly off-key, and then she lowers her voice. "It's not that I don't want to marry him," she admits. "In the time that I've been here, he's proven to be a far better man than I ever dared to hope he would be. He treats me kindly, and I've learned so much since coming here, and he never asks me to do anything that I don't want to do."

"But?" Morrison prompts.

"But I . . . I don't think it's what he wants. That I'm what he wants. And it doesn't feel right to me, anymore, to try and force him into it because it's expected. There's also . . ." Her cheeks burn, but Lir forces her voice to remain steady. "Well, I think I could love him, and I didn't expect that, either."

"Is that so?"

Lir's eyes open wide as she realizes what she just said. "No! No, I mean . . ." She holds her palms up frantically, "I didn't mean that! I've only known him a week, we're friends. It's silly, I spoke out of turn."

Morrison chuckles, leaning over to pat her knee. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He winks, but Lir is filled with shame, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap.

A moment goes by during which she takes a deep breath. She glances towards the kitchen, wondering what would happen if Dante had heard that—if her parents had heard her say something like that.

"In the meantime," Morrison sighs, chewing on his cigar, "there is this question of the oath. It would be a bad idea to just wait around and see if the seal breaks, although I don't see any alternative."

"What if we . . ." Her heart pounds in her chest. "If we did the ceremony, it would count, right? We wouldn't have to actually get married, or anything like that?"

Morrison chuckles. "Maybe. You would know more about this stuff than I do."

Lir frowns, her mind wheeling, when the fire alarm goes off. They both jump up at the high pitched beeping as Dante bursts through the kitchen door. "Everything's fine!" he hollers. He pulls one of his revolvers out and aims for the smoke detector, shooting it from the wall, and it lands on the floor, smashing into pieces.

She gapes at him in the sudden silence. "We're ordering pizza," Dante says.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Morrison leaves before the pizza arrives, citing heartburn, offering his apologies for not having more information to give. Lir and Dante eat in relative silence; she watches him scowl as he picks the olives from his silences, thinking of how wrong her family has been about everything so far. What other lies have they taught her, so caught up in tradition that they never thought to question any of them?

Setting her half-eaten slice on her plate, Lir works up the courage to ask, "I know that it's . . . a sore topic for you, but would you mind telling me what you remember of Sparda?"

"What for?" He doesn't look up, and that worries her.

"Because I . . . I want to know the truth.”

Dante snorts. "Who cares about the truth?"

"I do!" she insists. "When I came here I knew what I had to do: marry the son of Sparda, be a good and obedient wife, and give him children to continue the line."

He almost chokes. "What?"

"But now it's all—it's all shit!" She clenches her hands furiously, tearing her paper napkin. "Sparda didn't tell you anything. So either he forgot, or it wasn't important. But what if it's not even real? What if Ler didn't give him the power? What if everything I've ever known is a complete and total lie?"

She looks at him with eyes that are bright with frustration, and Dante takes a thoughtful bite. "That sucks."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she snaps.

He says nothing for quite a while, working steadily through his pizza, taking measured drinks from the beer at his elbow. Finally, when her irritation has begun to simmer into mortification for saying so much, and none of it pleasant, he leans back in his chair. "He was a jackass. Nice when he wanted to be, but I don't think he ever really knew what to do around children, even his own. So, my mother took care of us. He was usually off doin' something or other. Sometimes we wouldn't see him for weeks."

"I see . . ."

"Had a strange sense of humor, thought swords were good gifts for toddlers. That's the kind of guy he was, as far as I know." Dante looks at her steadily. "But he disappeared when I was six. Went off and got himself killed. A year later, the demons came, killed my mother, and Vergil disappeared. And every time he's come up since, it's been some mess of his that I've had to clean up."

Lir flushes, regretting having asked. She bows her head and whispers, "I'm sorry."

There is a moment, and then Dante says, "He made good brownies. Not sure how, but they were extra chocolate-y. He taught me and Vergil how to arm wrestle. Came in handy when I was living on the street, I could hustle some money for food." She peeks up at him, relieved to see him smiling. "He had a laugh that sounded like a goose dying. Mother would put the radio on and Vergil would dance and it would make him laugh."

"He sounds . . . human," she murmurs, more to herself than anything.

Dante shrugs. "He lived here for a long time before he and my mother met. Locals probably rubbed off on him. But all that Legendary Dark Knight stuff? That wasn't him, not as I knew him. He was old by the time I was born, even for a demon, and he lost a lot of his power when the gates were sealed."

Lir nods, and Dante leans in to lift another piece of pizza. "Not what you wanted to hear, huh?"

"Actually . . ." Lir picks an olive off of the pizza and pops it into her mouth before making a face. "Ugh, you're right, these are awful."

"Told ya."

She chuckles, and they exchange smiles. "I'm not disappointed," Lir murmurs. "It actually sounds nice. I think I like human Sparda better than the legendary stuff anyway."

"Oh?" He cocks a brow, but the expression has lost the taunting edge it held when she first arrived.

"Mm." Tucking her legs beneath her, she yawns. "Just like I like the real you more than the Legendary Devil Hunter."

Lir leans her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her cheek on her hand and smiling. "Real me, huh?" Dante chuckles.

He sits back as well, the two of them gazing at one another, and Lir is struck by how comfortable she is with him. There are no expectations, no rules, no one there to tell her what to do. Instead she sets her own schedule, does what she wants, and the only standards she has to meet is her own. And Dante . . . in just a short time he has made her feel at home. "Real you," she murmurs.

Dante chuckles, his voice deep, and it makes her breath catch in her throat. "How do you know the real me, hm?" he teases.

"I just do," she answers. "I know I haven't been here long, and maybe it's out of place for me to say, but I'm . . . I'm really glad that I met you, Dante."

His eyes on her keep her pinned, and before she realizes it, she leans towards him. Her gaze falls to his lips, and Lir wonders what it would be like to kiss him, wonders what would have happened if he accepted her offer right away and married her that night. Something tightens deep inside and a small part of her wishes he had, despite the freedom she has now.

"You're not so bad either," he says, leaning in too.

The air between them is charged, and she feels a shiver up the back of her neck. But Dante doesn't move any closer, just keeps gazing at her with those intense eyes, and as the moment stretches on, Lir starts to doubt. They get along, and he's said he likes having her there . . . so why didn't he take her offer? Why hasn't he tried since?

Maybe he wants something more, she thinks, but that is ridiculous. More, what more? Romance isn't really a thing, at least not that she's ever seen outside of books and movies. Sure, they have a connection, and he is sweet and handsome and she is dying to taste his lips. But that can't mean anything . . . and even if it does, it doesn't mean he feels the same.

Suddenly embarrassed, she eases back and looks away. "That's kind of you," Lir murmurs.

"Yeah."

He is still staring at her, but now his brow is creased, as if confused. All it does is make him look more handsome, and make her want to reach out and brush her fingertips on the crease and slide closer, so she stands, gathering up their plates. "I'll take care of this," she says, escaping to the kitchen, and once there she splashes water on her face, telling herself to get a grip.

Fathers and Sons || Mu Jun

 Summary: This takes place the Taekwondo weekend! Mu-yeol and Yeong-jun drink together and open up to each other. It’s Very Good i love this thread 

@baenxietydad

tw: mentions of cancer, death, also alcohol 

MARLIN:   Jun made the mistake of conceding when the two of them went back and forth about who was going to pay for the alcohol. Mu-yeol would have let Jun pay if he didn’t already feel like rot about him having to pay for the hotel, and if he actually suspected Jun would buy enough to even get Marlin drunk in the first place. A fairy’s alcohol tolerance was no joke; especially a healing talent fairy.   It was almost like he needed an alcohol IV to get enough into his bloodstream to get him good and proper pissed.   There was no way in hell he’d tell Jun to go out and buy that much alcohol. He’d do it himself and look like he had a drinking problem instead.   When he got back to the room, he waited with a smirk and his back turned to Jun for Jun to insist he had gone too hard at the off-licence. 

  JUN:  Jun was already a bit drunk.   Of course he was at least a little drunk! His little brother had won, dragging all those other kids across the mat and making the Moon family proud. He’d shouted himself nearly hoarse, almost cried when he was hugging Tae, and could not stop smiling whenever he caught sight of the medal that Jun was forcing Tae to wear throughout dinner. So yes, celebratory drinks! Such things were mandatory when you were the hyung of the  T.A.G.B Tae Kwon-Do Cadet English Championship Finalist!    They ate a horrid amount of food, Jun had some fancy cocktail he couldn’t remember the name of, and soju, of course soju, they all, even Tae-yah and Nam-min-ie, had a little soju. Just a little.    Now the boys had gone back to their room to stuff their mouths full of sweet and salty snacks and pass out. Jun, however, just a little drunk, asked his hyung-nim if he would like to keep drinking with him. It was a night of nights, eh? The weather was perfect for drinking.   Now though?   “Yahhhhhhhhh,” Jun exclaimed and then laughed. “What are you doing? Are you trying to drown me? This is enough for Tae-yah’s whole taekwondo team!”

    MARLIN:   Marlin laughed and shook his head. Oh, Jun. You’ll see. Soon enough, you’ll see.   “You won’t be saying that for long.” Mu-yeol said with a devious grin. “You’ve obviously never tried drinking with a fairy before.”   It would take him probably an entire bottle of liquor and some change to feel a buzz, more to be proper drunk, and even more to wake up with a hangover the next morning. He was trying to drink in the proper drunk range, but there’s no telling. Maybe Jun is a surprisingly fun drinking buddy and he’ll lose track of how much he’s drinking.   “I can’t drink in public because I get cut off before I even get drunk.”   JUN:  He rolled his eyes at Mu-yeol, but he reached for a bottle of the soju and beckoned for him to sit down. They did not have a proper table in this hotel room-- just a desk, the one desk chair, their two beds, and a small nightstand between the beds. Thus, Jun had determined the nightstand to be their table of sorts, with both of them using the beds as seats. Jun put the soju glasses down and poured Mu-yeol’s drink.    “Ah, you fairies, eh, must you be better at everything?” he joked as he poured. “Should get ahead of me then, I’ve not been drunk since--” When was the last time? Jun scoffed and laughed, shoulders shaking. “I don’t even remember.” 

  MARLIN:   Marlin chuckled when Jun instinctively poured his soju. Damn, Jun really was Korean. Though he was more surprised that Jun acknowledged the fairy thing with a joke so comfortably.   “Depends on the fairy. Like, my sister and one of my brothers get drunk a little quicker because they aren’t healing fairies. Nemo needs me to heal his nose when he breaks it, but when I drop kegs on my toe at work it heals itself.” He explained with a shrug.    He smiled sadly at Jun. of course it had been a long while since Jun was able to proper drink. He had to become his father so fast.    “May 18th, 2006.”   Three days after So-yeon was murdered. He left Nam-min with his parents for the night while he and his siblings went to human Daegu and they let him get embarrassing, crying, incoherent drunk. He wanted to get completely pissed just once under the watchful eyes of his dongsaengdul. 

  JUN:  “Aish, well that’s longer than me. Can’t believe you remember the date.” Jun said, laughing. 2006! Jun was-- how old? He had moved to Swynlake. Must be 14 or 15? He hadn’t gotten drunk yet. The first time for him had been when his hal-moni died. He huddled alone in his room, having stolen beer from the store. He drank and drank, can after can, eyes wet with tears, until everything spun and Jun passed out. He woke up hours later only to go vomit. Eomma found him and scolded him, though quietly, tears still in her eyes. Because Jun might have lost his hal-moni, but Eomma lost her own eomma. Drinking was selfish.   He got drunk outside of the house then. Not often. When he did drink though, Jun liked to black out and spend the next day in complete misery for his stupidity. The punishment fit the crime.    Tonight though, for once, he drank to celebrate.    He kicked back a shot. 

  MARLIN:   “Yeah, I mean, I still lived in Daegu and my parents were watching the baby.” He said, shrugging a shoulder.    Conveniently, he left out why he got plastered that day.   He knocked back his shot and went ahead and poured himself another, promptly taking that one as well. Believe him, Jun. He needed it. It suddenly occurred to him as he poured himself another shot, and poured on for Jun, that neither of them were talking.   “Have you told Tiffany about Tae’s win yet?”

  JUN:  Jun also went for another shot. The soju burned pleasantly, lingering long enough for the body to crave another. Such was the appeal of soju-- much better than vodka, which seared like gasoline.    He downed it and then peered at the one remaining drop that had clung to the bottom of the glass.    “Eh? Who?” he asked, still staring at that drop. 

  MARLIN:   Who?   That wasn’t what he was expecting when he brought up Jun’s girlfriend. From what Eun-jung said they were made for each other. Not that she said much but what the normal Korean parent would say. Oh, she’s going to be a doctor, she’s so intelligent, and so Korean!   Jun was going to be a doctor too. That hurt him to think about, how Jun had had to give that up to run Moon Market.   “Uh, Tiffany? Your girlfriend? Your mother’s talked about her before. Unless, uh, that was an old girlfriend?”

  JUN:  “Eh?” Jun grunted again, blinking. And then Tiffany snapped into place, firing off the correct neurons. “Oh! Yes, yes, Tiffany. My girlfriend,” Jun confirmed with several more nods as he put the glass down on the table.    He had forgotten to tell Tiffany about Tae’s tournament at all, to be honest. When was the last time they had spoken on the phone? Aish, who cared? It wasn’t like they needed such things. Tiffany was quite busy and they had a very pleasant email correspondence going on…    “No, I-- s’busy day.” He waved a hand. “I’ll tell her tomorrow! She’s still at her clinic right now, I’m sure. And this sort of thing isn’t, not really her thing.” He shrugged. “She’s an only child, you know how it is.”   

MARLIN:   “It sounds…” Marlin trailed off, wondering if he should say it.    He was going to say ‘like she’s not your thing’ but decided against it. That was best kept in his head.   “Boring. Being an only child.” He said, knocking back his fourth shot and pouring another. “Only children in the traditional sense aren’t a thing in fairy culture.”

  JUN:  That didn’t make much sense.    But much of fairy culture did not make sense, the little he heard of it. It sounded-- too nice. Jun could not trust something that was so nice. Fairies themselves were nice too, very very nice, nice to a fault. Of all the Magicks, he supposed he’d like to hang out with a fairy more than anything else, but that didn’t mean he would trust them. There was always a catch to kindness. He just had never figured out what it was when it came to fairies.    Or maybe they were just naive, the poor dears.    “Your son is an only child,” Jun said then bluntly, like Marlin forgot. 

  MARLIN:   He smiled sadly. “Not by choice, of course.” And waved a hand dismissively as if to etch-a-sketch away the sad thing he said.    Marlin cleared his throat to explain. “Typically if a fairy is widowed, we’re expected to, if not find another partner or two, combine households with another widowed fairy and raise your fledglings as siblings. Alternatively, if your Talent is considered rare - like my mother’s - or highly essential, like mine, you are expected or enter into a Promise with another fairy of that same talent and have a child in hopes of it being that Talent. If you don’t go into a love Promise, you should have a strategic one, for the good of the Hollow.”   He took his fifth shot.    “Promise is like our version of marriage. You can have 1, 2, I’ve even seen a fairy have 3 Promise partners. And you can’t have children outside of your Promise. Anyway. I’m a healing Talent, basically a fairy doctor. It’s actually considered incredibly strange that I didn’t either enter into a Promise with another healing Talent and try to have a healing Talent child; or, just combine households with another widowed fairy. Selfish, even.”   Marlin sighed and poured himself another shot. “Nemo and I aren’t very popular in the Hollow as you can imagine.”

  JUN:  It was a very good thing that Jun was about half a bottle of soju in, plus the drinks he had at dinner.    If he were sober, his impulse would be to stop this conversation at once. He had no interest in fairy culture. The less he knew, the better. That was the best thing about fairies, eh? Unlike other magicks, they kept their business to themselves and in their Hollow. They did their thing-- and humans did theirs. Everyone lived in harmony, which was what fairies were all about.   But he was drunk, his curiosity floating to the surface. His face screwed up at how bizarre it all sounded.    “Aish, that’s a headache waiting to happen,” said Jun. “Three partners?!  One is already hard enough, you’re probably better off on your own!” He sucked his teeth. “Ah, but they shouldn’t be so hard on you, being a single parent should be-- it’s like--” he searched for his words. “Being a warrior. You deserve a medal.”   

MARLIN:   “Fairies don’t see it that way. There’s much I love about fairy society, in fact I love everything about it except that. But I have had much more exposure to human society and culture than the fairies in either Hollow I’ve lived in.” Marlin explained. “An acceptance of single parents kind of crept in by osmosis.”   He knocked back his sixth shot, then his seventh right after, and poured the eighth.   “It is almost offensive to many in the Hollow that my son and I live alone. But I worried we’d speak English in the home if I combined households with another widowed fairy. Then Nam-min wouldn’t know any Korean.”   After taking his eighth shot, he clicked his tongue and said. “Still no buzz. Aish.” And poured his ninth.    “In my home Hollow, Promise pairs or sets could produce three children without permission from the Pixie Queen. Here, it’s two, so our homes are made to house four fairies. And it is the height of selfishness ours houses two.”   JUN:  Stupid. All of what Mu-yeol was saying was stupid and Jun honestly didn’t know why they were talking about it. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because tonight, wasn’t it supposed to be a celebration? His brother was a winner! Jun and Tae had not gotten into one single fight all weekend (even if sometimes Jun had wanted to slap the back of his brother’s head). Even Mu-yeol seemed rather happy, eh? He and his son were cute, and Jun knew that they’d been fighting because of that damn vampire.    So why talk about things that could not be changed?    “Well who cares about them,” Jun said. The soju sloshed into his glass. “Don’t pay them any mind. You should get more human friends.” Jun said and pointed the lip of the soju bottle at Mu-yeol. “Not that people aren’t just as annoying but still, none of that 개소리 (gaesori) about being selfish. We humans love being selfish. And you can afford to be selfish sometimes! Eh? Like my eomma, she usually comes to these things. But I’ve been away so long. Over a decade you know, because medical school, aish, so exhausting. Tae hated me for missing his tournaments. And I hated me too! Did he think I was doing it on purpose?! I wanted to come, I tried, I really-- but there was so much work all the time.”   Jun sighed and he shot back the glass. He poured more, forgetting his manners now. Some sloshed over the side of the glass. “So I told Eomma-- my turn. I’ll take him. I’ll close the damn store for a weekend if I have to, no matter what Abeoji says, ohhh, he’s so mad at me for that-- says we never close the store, never. So I upset him. Of course I upset him. But too bad. For once, I do something for me. My little brother…”    Jun was drunker than he thought.    “So-- there you go. Do something for you, hyung. We work hard, eh?”

  MARLIN:   Jun was very drunk. He knew he was very drunk, because he accidentally called him hyung, just plain hyung, and not hyung-nim. Adding -nim still put distance between them. Hyung meant they were actually friends.    “Yeah, fuck-- fuck it.” Marlin said, taking his ninth shot, then drinking the about half-shot worth that was in that bottle straight from it and opening another. Knocking back his tenth shot, he smiled and said. “Ten and a half, I should finally start feeling something. You can imagine how expensive this would be if we drank in public.”   Bottles of liquor in the hotel was the way to go.

  JUN:  Jun laughed, shaking his head. “You better not be lyin’ about this fairy tolerance, ‘m not cleaning up after you.” Jun said, leaning forward a little and pointing at him with a finger.   Though ah, that was a lie. Even drunk, Jun would drag Mu-yeol to the bathroom if he needed to. He’d wipe his chin and force water down his throat and tuck him into bed like a child, if he had to, because Jun did not know how to be anything else.   He wanted to be, though. For one night.   Jun reached for another soju bottle. “You’re an appa, eh?” He cracked open the top. “What’s the secret? Mm? To be a good son? Because I’m really trying.” Jun touched his own chest. 

  MARLIN:   Mu-yeol snorted and shook his head. “Mate,” the single word in English sounded off in the middle of comfortable Korean. “You’ll wish I was bullshitting.”   At what Jun said next though, his heart lurched painfully in his chest. He never understood why human fathers couldn’t just tell their sons they were proud of them. It was four words and they prevented a lot of frustration and heartache. A part of him understood Mr. Moon. They were both immigrants and just wanted to push their children to be able to survive without them one day in this country that would always be foreign to them, that would never quite be their home.   But as fairies, Marlin and Nemo easily could express their feelings toward each other. Nemo hugged him when he wanted to show his affection and occasionally hopped up on his toes to kiss his cheek goodbye as he scurried out the door. Marlin would curl up next to Nemo when he sensed he needed appa snuggles and played with his hair like he’d done since he was a toddler. To fairies it was ‘a little childish’ at worst, and ‘just normal’ in most cases.   “Jun...I’m not in your father’s head, but. You are a very good son. You gave up your life to run the store, and you’re putting yourself through a relationship you aren’t invested in just to please your Korean parents that want a Korean daughter-in-law. You are the dictionary definition of a filial Korean son.” Marlin said. “And your father is the stereotypical Korean immigrant father who loves you but can’t seem to say it.”   Had Yeong-seok said with his own words to him that he loved Jun? No, no but he didn’t have to. As a father himself, he could recognize the older man’s love where his children wouldn’t.   “Korean immigrant human father.” He clarified. “We-” meaning fairies “-tend to be very open about our feelings. It just isn’t in human masculine culture. And that isn’t fair to you, I know. But you are a good son. You love your parents, and your sisters, and your brother, and you’ve sacrificed your own aspirations for them. That is the most selfless--”   He cut himself off and downed his eleventh shot. “I think your father can’t say it because he hates that you had to do it. He wanted you to be a doctor so badly. He never stopped talking about how well you were doing in medical school, but then he got sick, and kept getting sicker, and here you are.”   JUN:  He didn’t believe Mu-yeol about this either.    He could think in the most logical part of his brain that yes, Appa loved him, and yes, Appa was proud. A few years ago, before his cancer, he’d come close to saying similar things to Jun when Jun came home on one of his brief weekends he could spare, and ended up assisting his abeoji with some task. Usually working in the garden. His abeoji loved the family garden more than anything else and would have lived his happiest life if he could go out day after day and simply tend to the rows of greens and vegetables. When Jun worked in the garden with him, there was peace between father and son...a beautiful, clean silence, only broken occasionally by Yeong-seok when he decided he had something to share.    Jun liked the garden too. He liked working with his hands, the cool, wet dirt against his work jeans. It was the opposite of sterile clinic rooms. The smell of pulled roots and fertilizer nothing like disinfectant.    He always thought of his abeoji when he gardened now. His appa spent many mornings out, sitting in his garden, but no longer had the strength or energy to even weed.    And so now there were no more opportunities for his abeoji to say anything kind. Instead, there was a neverending list of everything that Jun did wrong. Abeoji mad at him for coming home too early, Abeoji mad at him for partnering with a different, cheaper distributor, Abeoji angry about hiring Eric (he had called Jun lazy-- could Jun disagree with him?)    Jun knew that the man he’d never truly known, as hard as he tried to, would die disappointed in him.    He drank his soju.    He shook his head. “Abeoji and I…it’s different. I don’t think I was ever his son.” He squinted, looking past Mu-yeol’s shoulder. “How can you feel those things eh, for a boy you don’t know? He was a stranger to me too. The first year I lived in Swynlake with him, aish, I kept wanting to call him Ahjussi. Abeoji kept catching on my tongue, like saying this was disrespectful to the man who took my eomma and me in.” Jun chuckled, though this wasn’t funny. “As if my parents weren’t married!”    “I have to work much harder for him to call me his son, I think. He got to see Tae-yah and my sisters grow up, so it’s easier to love them. I’m not complaining,” Jun added quickly. He blinked, and his eyes were wet. Because he was tired, that’s all, he wasn’t sad. “He would have liked to know me as a boy. He sacrificed that for me and Eomma, so ‘m not mad. It’s simply how it is. Maybe if I had a son of my own, it’d be a second chance.” He blinked again, his chest burning and tight, and his voice wobbled as he said, “It’s too late though, isn’t it? He’ll never know my son.” 

  MARLIN:   “Jun.” Marlin said, eschewing all the rules of human masculinity and reaching to grab one of Jun’s hands in his. “You were always his son. He wouldn’t have left to lay a foundation for you and Eun-- your eomma if you weren’t his son. I can promise you, as a father myself, that it tore him apart inside to not get to raise you himself. And fathers, we...kind of suck at dealing with our own pain. Especially when its related to our children.”   He laughed bitterly to himself, thinking about how he’s absolutely fucked Nam-min up for life.   “He’s probably hard on you because he just wants to know you’ll turn out all right despite him not having been there for you. And I know it isn’t fair to you, and I know from where you’re standing you don’t feel his love for you, but Jun. Yeong-seok loves you.”   And it was unfair that Jun would never get the chance to actually know that.   Because Jun was right. It was much too late. For months now Mu-yeol had physically felt Death on the patriarch of the Moon family. It clung to him like dried wood glue that stuck to your skin no matter how much you tried to rub it off. The treatments only ever made the intensity of the weight of Death fluctuate but never come close to leaving him.   “Oh, Junnie.” Marlin cooed, going from his bed to Jun’s and impulsively cradling him in his arms. “Jun, I know. I know it's not fair.”

  JUN:  The room was swimming. Jun blinked slowly, his eyes coming to focus on Mu-yeol’s hand on his, though he did not really feel it. He was just aware of its warmth, but it could have been anything.  His eyes closed briefly, only half of his hyung-nim’s words reaching him through this own stupid alcohol blanket.    How could he explain? There was so much distance in Jun’s life between himself and the people that he cared about, his abeoji most of all. He’d grown up talking to Abeoji on the phone and that’s how it had felt now, even when they were in the same room. They did not really look at each other; they could not exactly see. There was a flaw in their timing as was always the case with phone conversation, Jun and Yeong-seok trying to talk at the same time, stopping, and then falling into a hesitated silence.    Jun might have started rambling about phone conversations and maybe if Facetime had been invented when he was a small boy then it’d be all different, oh the joys of modern technology-- but then Mu-yeol’s weight fell on the other side of him.   And he was being held.    What the hell? Jun wanted to pull away, but instead he leaned into Mu-yeol’s grip, his face twisted and his eyes closing even tighter than they had before. “This is stupid,” he croaked but still didn’t pull away. And he wanted to say other things--   That cancer was stupid.   That it was hilarious and cruel that he could be a doctor, in a relationship with an oncologist, and still be unable to help his abeoji.    And despite how sad he was, there was a part of him that was relieved. Relieved to be home. Relieved to be back in the Moon Market, where he spent his adolescence. And it was this part of him that he hated most of all, that he was certain his parents saw and were ashamed.    Instead, he remained in Mu-yeol’s arms and he said in his voice still thick with tears, “Hyung...hyung, can I call you hyung?” He already was, of course, but he was much too drunk to register.   

MARLIN:   Mu-yeol shook his head and pat Jun’s back. “No it’s not. Having feelings and being hurt isn’t ridiculous. It isn’t fair to you to always be the one to keep it together for your family.”   He could stand to take a page from Jun’s book, however.    “Yeah, that’s okay.” He said, biting back an awkward chuckle at Jun remembering his politeness even now.    He kind of wished he were Olaf because then at least hugging Jun would have provided some amount of genuine comfort.    JUN:  Was he crying? Jun could not tell. How embarrassing if he was, and he grimaced at himself and pulled away from Mu-yeol’s arms, though they still sat side by side, close enough for their shoulders to brush. He hoped that he was drunk enough to forget this. It was fine, as long as he forgot the whole thing, even if Mu-yeol didn’t.  He tried not to think about how much it meant to him, to have a hyung of his own. He should thank Mu-yeol for his pity, ha.    “Bah, enough of me. I’m sick of me. Talk about yourself.” Jun instructed and he drank from his soju bottle, the alcohol burning quite pleasantly. 

  MARLIN:   Mu-yeol chuckled low in his throat and grabbed another bottle of soju and drank straight from it. Talk about himself? He was never good at that.    “Well, what should I say, huh?” He laughed. “What could distract you for a night?”  

JUN:  “Anything,” said Jun at once. He groaned a little, lifted a hand to his forehead to rub with two fingers. This was why he didn’t cry, eh? Crying was painful, he hated it so much.    “Tell me-- tell me about Daegu, eh? I never visited. I never went anywhere though, eh, just stayed in Boseong and South Jeolla,” rambled Jun. “We went to a few...surrounding towns and things, to put my eomma’s pottery in cafes. She is a talented potter, you know.” Mu-yeol did; he’d known Eun-jung for years after all. Even now, Eun-jung had some of her ceramics displayed in Hatter’s, [name redacted], and there was a shelf in the store. She did not sell many things, but what she did sell, she was proud of. 

  MARLIN:   “She’s very talented. Your mother always seemed like an artist, even before I knew.” Mu-yeol said. “Have you ever been to Seoul? I lived there for a while too. Daegu is more beautiful, and feels more like home, but Seoul was...until the end, Seoul was good to me.”   “Daegu is surrounded by mountains, it sometimes feels like you’re straight out of a fairytale. Like the modern Korean city was plucked out of the works and placed in a storybook setting. I miss Seoul. I miss Daegu more, even if Seoul was where I lived with Nam-min’s mother. Daegu is where I fell in love with her.”   He sighed and smiled sadly before he drank straight from a bottle of soju. That was all so, so long ago now.   He hoped Tiffany made Jun as happy as So-yeon made him. He knew she didn’t.   “I wonder if I would recognize the city if I went back. Or the Hollow that I grew up in.”  

JUN:  Jun hadn’t been to Seoul. When he met other Koreans, whether first or second or third generation, this was a question that came up. Not so much second-generation, but still. He always felt fake when he admitted that he’d never been to his country’s capital...that there was much of his home he never saw. Most of the Korean families he met anyway came from the city areas up north. When he mentioned Boseong, they always nodded before saying anything else. Jun could hear their thoughts: ah, from the country. Ah, he’s not educated.    Such judgments always pushed Jun harder to work on his doctor’s license. That was why Eomma and Abeoji always pushed him, wasn’t it? Their family came from humble means, and South Korea was stratified by class like most of the stupid world. Jun had to prove that he was more than just a boy from the tea fields.   For a while, the ruse had worked, but the world had now beat Jun back into place. He chuckled sadly. A fairy had even been to Seoul. A fairy. And he hadn’t.    “I hope the fields are how I remember them,” Jun commented instead of revealing the depth of his own inadequacy. “So green. And it smelled amazing. I still brew green tea when I miss home, just to smell it.” He sighed and looked at Mu-yeol. “Daegu sounds beautiful.” A beat. “I’m sorry...you lost so much.” 

  MARLIN:   “I’ve never been to Boseong, but I’ve spent time in other parts of the countryside. Country people are the kindest people. Don’t let people who can only speak in a Seoul dialect talk down on your family for being from the country. Or worse - people who can only speak English.”   He smiled almost devilishly and slipped purposely into his own native dialect, curious if Jun could follow Daegu dialect Korean. He’d lived in Korea for ten years, his parents spoke in a regional dialect when they weren’t careful, so Mu-yeol suspected Jun may be able to.   “You know there were probably Hollows, at least one, around Boseong. Hollows usually thrive in the countryside, but my home Hollow in Daegu is as ancient as the Korean Peninsula. The city was born and our Hollow never moved. Ironically, the war breathed a new life into it. Refugees from the North, including my father, flocked from firebombed Hollows, fleeing Soviet, North Korean, and Chinese soldiers killing any fairy they saw. Dictatorships and their soldiers don’t take kindly to magicks of any sort.”   He sipped from his bottle of soju and sighed wistfully. “It was beautiful. And so was-” he almost said ‘she’, but god, that would make this so sad, wouldn’t it?    This wasn’t about him. This weekend was about Tae and Jun. Jun was one whose father was dying. Mu-yeol’s wife had been dead for over a decade. He didn’t get to whine. Then Jun gave him the opportunity and he wondered if he was cleverly using his grief to avoid his own. Well, he wasn’t selfish. He’d not burst into tears and make this a woe is Mu-yeol, the maladjusted widower, the shame of Daegu moment, but he’d give Jun permission to eventually access the full tragic backstory.   That’s what friends do, after all. And Jun had called him hyung.    “Humans measure time in B.C.E. and C.E. My metric is before May 15th, 2006, and after. I should stop whining that I didn’t have So-yeon for longer and just be grateful I got to have her for the ten years I did. Some people get even less time.” Mu-yeol sipped more soju, the pleasant burn made talking about this easier. “But I’m not that big of a person. My anger’s too big.”   He smiled sadly at Jun. “I hope someday you are as happy as I was, before the fifteenth of May. And I hope you get to stay that way for a long time.”  

Parentage

When Gil-Galad was twelve he decided it was time to find out about the facts of life.

“Who's really my father?”

Maedhros looked up from the map he was studying. “Why do you ask?”

“I know Fingon’s not my father, and you know it too. So who is?”

“Unimportant.”

“My father is some random nobody?”

“Most likely, but that’s not what I meant. Who really fathered you is far less important than who people believe did so.”

“Easy for you to say.”

"Perhaps. Let me ask you, who was my father?”

“Feanor. Everybody knows that.”

“They do. You never met Feanor, but you have met Curufin, yes?”

Gil-Galad nodded warily, wondering if this would turn out to be a revelation that he was Feanorian.

“Curufin is a mirror image of his father, different in stance but not in feature. Tell me, do I have a single feature in common with Curufin?”

Gil-Galad thought for a moment. “You have the same shaped eyes?”

“As do all the rest of the Noldor.”

“Then no, I can’t think of any.”

“Precisely. I do not resemble Feanor any more than a random elf on the streets of Tirion, and a good deal less than some of them.”

Gil-Galad was frustrated. “But it doesn’t matter if you resemble him, because he really is your father. It matters that my eyes are the wrong color and my nose is the wrong shape to be Fingon’s because I am not his son!”

“You are Fingon’s son. He took you in as an infant, he claimed you as his own, he loves you, and he is raising you to lead his people after him. By that same token, I am Feanor’s son.”

“But - everyone knows you’re Feanor’s son.”

“And everyone knows you’re Fingon’s.”

“Who’s son are you then?”

“Feanor named me for my heritage, both blood and adopted. You should be able to figure it out from that.”

“Nelyafinwe...” Gil-Galad hummed under his breath. “The finwe is obliviously for King Finwe of Tirion. But nelya, three, if it’s not just an insult to Grandpa... is it for the tribe from Cuiviénen? The Sindar - or they’re Teleri across the Sea, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Who was he? Are you related to Thingol?”

“No one you would have heard of.” Maedhros looked at Gil-Galad’s eager expression, and sighed. “His name was Penmalaclar, he was a ropemaker who would also pose for artists. Nerdanel had him model for several sculptures. She joined with him while she was engaged to Feanor, but Feanor forgave her. He knew quite well how rumors around a child’s birth can hurt them, so he told no one else, and only told me when I was old enough to understand.”

“He really didn’t tell anyone? Not even King Finwe?”

“King Finwe knew he had a grandson, who would be smart and strong, and would be raised with all the dignity of a prince of the Noldor. He had no right to, and or interest in, details about his son’s marriage bed.”

“But that means you never really should have been king in the first place! Does Grandpa know?”

“He does not. And why shouldn’t I have been king? I was raised to it, I understood it, and the people trusted me.”

“But you aren’t Finwe’s line at all!”

“I spent my life as Finwe’s beloved grandson. I learned how to listen to his people’s concerns, and how to solve them, by watching him in court. I was Duke of Formenos, and spoke on Finwe’s behalf in the remote reaches of his realm. I am a far more accurate representative of Finwe than say, Findulias, who has never met him, and whose father did so only as an infant. Is she more Finwean than I am? Is Lady Anaire?”

Gil-Galad thought about this for a moment. “So you’re part of Finwe’s line because everyone thinks you are?”

“Because everyone thinks so, and because the rest of them want me. Blood is neither necessary or sufficient to make people family. Think of how Fingon speaks of Elenwe for the first case, and Galadriel speaking of my father for the second.”

“Really no one knows though?”

“My parents know, as presumably does Penmalaclar. I told Fingon before we married, as he was worried about a marriage of half-cousins. No one else knows - not even my brothers.”

“And you don’t worry that they would love you less if they found out?” Gil-Galad asked quietly.

“They might be more annoyed at me for yielding the crown, but they’d still love me. They know I love them for who they are, not just because we’re supposed to love each other, and I know they love me the same way. Besides, Father loved me and counted me as his son, and Feanor’s word is good enough for us.”

“Will Fingon’s word be enough?”

“For some people. Most of the rest will accept his actions, that he wouldn’t have raised you as his son if it wasn’t true. There will probably be a few who spread rumors, as they do about anyone who is different. People liked to speculate that Celegorm was illegitimate or adopted, because his hair is silver and he’s not as studious. Never mind his nose and cheeks are a perfect match for Feanor, as is his ability to inspire a crowd.”

Gil-Galad considered that for a minute. “Why did Dad take me in to start with? You said that Feanor was already engaged to Nerdanel when she got pregnant with you, so Feanor would have had to give up his love as well as the strange baby. But I don’t know my mom, and Dad certainly isn’t in love with her.”

“Fingon has always wanted to have a child. He and I obviously can’t make any. When he showed up with a baby, I asked him why as well, he said you needed somewhere to go. He had a point, and another layer to the succession is probably good anyway.”

“So you really don’t know who my father is? Or my mother?”

“You are Gil-Galad son of Fingon. Whoever sired you doesn’t matter.”

“But I want to know.”

“Then you should ask Fingon. I spent the year after your birth pretending I was mad at him. If there was any coordination with your blood parents, I didn’t see it.”

“Why would you be mad at him?”

“For having a baby with someone else even though we’re married.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He wanted to keep you from the moment he saw you. If that meant the two of us had to be apart for a little while, it was worth it, for both of us.”

“Oh. Who knows about me?”

“Fingolfin knows as much as I do. I don’t know if anyone else knows at all, besides Fingon and your blood parents.”

~~~~~~~~

'Penmalaclar’ translates to “man who loves gloriously” in Telerin. Inspired by my own post on my sideblog.

The Longest Library #1: And on the Eighth Day She Rested by J.D Mason (Or, Eidolon talks too  much about their shitty childhood and relationships)

( Until I find a format for these, I’ll just be rambling about the interesting bits I have flagged in the book. There WILL be spoilers. ) 

Rundown: A perfectly capable story about one woman’s recovery from a 14 year abusive marriage, ‘And On The Eight Day She Rested’ is a quick but immersive read. I give it a 4/5, only because I don’t agree with the heroine’s final decision. If you ignore that, it would have been a 4.5/5. This is because I am a bitter bastard.

Because it’s a story mainly about abuse and recovery, of COURSE I’m going to relate to it. What I wasn’t expecting, was just how well the author depicted the feelings and thoughts involved. The narrative voice is entirely inside the main character’s head, from her perspective, and nobody else’s.

Right off the bat, she talks about how her husband has disappeared again. How this time, instead of being jealous or insecure, she savored her time by herself, even ‘back[ing] away from feelings of inadequacy’. My first relationship involved a lot of ghosting. This is something I desperately wanted to do, to ACTUALLY enjoy time by myself, instead of worrying up and down about how HE’S doing, what HE’S feeling, whether it was my fault he wasn’t talking to me or if I was good enough for him.

“It’s a piece of time that doesn’t warrant any more attention than it’s been given.”

The main character refuses to press charges or do anything at first. All she wants to do is to make that entire part of her life disappear, like it never happened (but of course, after things like that, it’ll never be ‘like it never happened’). I don’t talk a lot about my mom (my abuser) in the present tense. I don’t get very angry thinking about her either. Because she doesn't warrant any more of my time or energy, and if I had it my way, she would just quietly disappear forever.

“But the words linger, piling up inside me like garbage, and when he’s not around to pile on some more, I can usually regurgitate them to remind myself of who I really am.”

I still deal with this, to this day. The things my mother said to me and my sister often return like some kind of horrible specter. I can usually tell when it’s me, or if it’s ‘mom’ talking based on how extreme and unwarranted my language gets toward myself.

“Didn’t I ever dream of being...doing something besides worrying about Eric, pleasing Eric, ducking from Eric, crying over Eric, or crying because of Eric?[...] All these years have I been completely driven by this man to the point that I don’t have the fuel or desire to drive my damn self?”

Yes, actually. Being trapped in the house with your abuser, often makes it so that they’re the focus. Avoiding them, pleasing them, often meant the difference between survival and... not. The main character married him when she was eighteen, and kind of had to grow up with him, depend on him. It gets like that when you’re dependent on somebody. For a long time after getting out of my parent’s place, I would just sleep. I wasn’t needed, so I slept, or laid there. I didn’t know if I was allowed to eat, so I didn’t. Abusers like that often control nearly every aspect of your life, and left to your own devices after they’re gone... you don’t have anything, like a sim with the free will turned off. There’s no self-direction, not even driven by your desires, because your desires didn’t matter, and were punished out of you.

“Even when he was gone, the anticipation of him was enough to keep me in hell and I couldn’t enjoy being alone. [...] My mind was constantly filled with the challenge of keeping everything perfect and not giving him a reason to fuss.”

This is something I still do, although now it’s just a reflex turned into an act of love, as opposed to a survival instinct. I make the surroundings comfortable for my loved ones and myself, because I love them, and I’m aware of how much of a difference the smaller comforts can make, not because I’m afraid of a ragemonster thundering through the house if one little thing is off. I do still get nervous if people are moving too much or making too much noise sometimes (it was like blood in the ocean, make too much noise and here comes the shark, ready to shut it down and punish you for daring to assert that you were in any way alive and not serving her that very moment). Although there are sometimes when my body remembers, but I don’t. I’ll accidentally forget my partner’s tea on the counter and burst into tears out of overwhelming guilt, and then feel ashamed because my emotions are so overblown (but the emotions are from when I would forget something of my mother’s and would be in the midst of fearing punishment). It’s hard sometimes.

There are these poems/prose that happen only twice in the book. I don’t really understand what purpose they serve or why they’re there. Maybe it’s a staple of romance novels, like a writing tick or something?

“I haven’t been able to get the encounter with Eric off my mind. It’s not running into him that’s bothering me. It’s my reaction to him.[...] He’s been out of my life so long, but today I felt that familiar intimidation I used to feel from him and I don’t like it because I thought I’d convinced myself that I was over it.”

I feel this. I feel this hard. I hate just how much power those memories hold over me. I get into a situation that’s similar enough, and I break down and regress back into a kid, following the same set of insane rules. It scares my partners sometimes, that I could be terrified and obviously hurting, but still deflecting any questions about me, and being extra attentive to them and only them. Because that was how you did it. You showed fear, you were punished. You made anything about you, you were punished. And god forbid I ‘break a rule’ in that state, because I devolve into a terrified mess, because the rest of my nervous system expects a punishment for it. Sometimes the freeze response is so bad that my body shuts down. It was enough pain in the past that my body felt like there was a threat on it’s life, and prepared me for it accordingly, slowing everything down, making it harder to move (It’ll hurt less when the lion eats you if your muscles aren’t tensed), flooding my brain with opiates to make things numb and foggy and distant. It was enough to make my body think I was going to die. Of course it doesn’t just go away. The body wants to live. It WILL remember, no matter how ashamed you are of it. And by god am I ashamed.

“I refused to give that bullshit any more attention than it’s been given”

For me, it’s who my mother was as a person. I spent a really long goddamn time fighting not to blame myself. I refuse to recognize her as anything but empty and monstrous. I get angry when people attempt to assign any kind of humanity or careful, conscious thought to her. She has neither. She is a creature, driven by instinct. I don’t care that she made me, she’s never made anything good in her life. I refuse to give her credit for me. I made me. Not her. She didn’t raise me, and she sure as hell isn’t raising her other daughter, I AM.

“I waited all day, but he never called. So the next day, I call him, several times, but he doesn’t return any of my messages.” - “Lately, my nerves are on edge and there’s an uneasiness flowing through my veins. I’ve been trying to ignore these feelings, but it’s hard to do. I sense a shift occurring in my little universe.[...] He won’t talk to me except to say he’s tired, or busy, promising we’ll talk later, but later never seems to come. Most of the time I sit here waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it’s him and hoping things will be back to normal again. When that doesn’t happen, I go to bed trying not to be depressed about us breaking up and trying not to make plans for my life without him in it.”

So back to ghosting dude. The fear of pulling away only got stronger the more he did it. I‘d dread when I didn’t get replies, because then I would think ‘Is he doing it again? Will I have to wait another three months?’. And before you go “But Eidolon! What a shithead! Why didn’t you leave him be?”, this was happening while I was still living with my mother. He was the only source of nice things and what felt like genuine attention I’d ever had. A starving dog would rather take bread from someone who feeds them once a week than to take bread from someone who beats them. Insert that study about the rats and the lever and how the lever that inconsistently gave rewards was more attractive/addictive than the one that was consistent. Anyway, this part of the book filled me with a tension, a dread I didn’t expect to feel. The new boyfriend, The One, the First Healthy Relationship is obviously going downhill, and nothing is being said about it because ‘what if I ruin it’. The first quote made the pit of my stomach open up, and the second set made me question whether someone was spying on me 6ish years ago. 5/5 on a realness scale. Fuck me up, J.D.

“I can’t lose this man. Whatever is bothering him, whatever problems he has I want to be there for him. I want to be his woman and help him work through them. No matter how difficult, or how impossible things might appear to him, I can and will do anything for Adrian Carter. He has to know this.”

Whoof boy. The determination and blind hope that it IS something that I can deal with, that it isn’t anything huge or life altering, that we can get through this. In the end, the same thing happened in the book that happened to me. He didn’t WANT help, he’d already made up his mind without me (despite previous assurances that SOME kind of communication would happen). I like my current relationship. Everybody actually fucking TALKS, and they TRY, instead of crumpling and giving up like that.

So I’m not quoting this part of the book, otherwise I’d be writing out almost an entire chapter, but what’s basically going on is that the ex husband showed his crusty face and doesn’t get to complete his threat because more people came about to witness him. Anybody who’s been there knows he’ll be back to finish it later. So now Main Character and the new boyfriend sit down, and both say “I have something I need to tell you.” Of course she lets him go first, because she’s desperate to find out what’s going on, fix it, and repair the relationship. But the thing he needs to say is essentially the end of their relationship. So of course she says nothing. This was a little frustrating for me, but I do remember being in a position like that. You don’t ask for anything from someone who’s just hurt you. You’re given the innate knowledge through years and years of experience that the person who just hurt you (no matter the pain) will NOT help you, and might even hurt you more. I get it. I understand. The frustration I feel is the frustration of my loved ones when my feelings don’t line up with reality. The boyfriend is a good man, and probably would have assured MC’s safety before completely leaving. But she feels she has to keep it tucked away. Another unspoken thing is, what if he thinks it’s just a call for attention, a ploy to get him to stay a little longer? What an awful thought. Better not say anything.

“There are other ways, Adrian. Lots of other options, and together, we can come up with some, but we can’t if you walk away from me like this. Don’t walk away from us. Adrian. Please.”

God, did I beg. I did a lot of begging. Maybe not to him, because what if he thought I was pathetic and actually left because of that? But this was said, slower, and with a lot more words, calmer, with a lot less desperation. I was so used to being The Calm One, The Adult, that I thought I just had to navigate through it. Nope. He just crumpled and gave up and refused to do anything except verbally lash himself, and at the very end, I wasn’t going to come to his rescue yet again.

“I’ve got to go, Ruth. I’ll try and call back when I get a chance.” Adrian hangs up, without even saying goodbye. It’s after midnight and Eric’s car is still parked outside.”

This part gave me such dread. Both things were so, so close together. But safety was floating away while danger just crept closer and closer. It was like that nightmare I had about a different boyfriend’s texts getting farther and farther apart, eventually not answering, right before mom entered the dream and did horrible things. *shudder* What a vile and despairing feeling. What a writer.

“Time has a way of dulling the pain and helping me to get over him. I’ve needed big doses of time.[...] Am I supposed to be here waiting for him just in case? That’s no fair. He moved on with his life, and despite all the drama, I’ve moved on with mine.”

So in this part, it’s a bit later and the boyfriend is back, and people are asking the main character to talk to him. She actually does better than I did in this regard, because she just downright refuses to give him the time of day beyond civility. I however kept letting this fucker back in and out like a revolving door (but the boyfriends in question aren’t really comparable, the reasons for leaving are WAY different.)

“I’m afraid to turn around. Afraid I still love him now as much as I did then. I don’t want to see Adrian. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I’ve worked too hard all these months to turn back. I can’t afford to do that to myself. I owe me more than that. I don’t owe him a damn thing.”

That horrible mix of hope and the need to stand your ground. My own reasons were far less involved in the realm of self-advocacy, I was just bitter and hurt and didn’t want to feel that weak ever again, but by god did I desperately want things to go back to ‘normal’, for things to be better, to have a relationship that I thought we could have if we’d just worked a little harder, did a little more, waiting long enough that we could meet more in person.

And now, for the extra spoilery bit because it’s literally the end of the book:

“Of course I’ll marry you,” I say with tears in my eyes.”

Fucking *EYEROLL*

I get it. I really do. I get that it’s kind of a romance story, I get that she’s doing this entirely for herself and is a part of her self development, but COME ON.

I wanted her to make the opposite decision. I wanted her to be stronger than I was. I wanted her to make him WORK for it, and STILL deny him, because goddamnit he left her, and left her in a dangerous place, (like my own did).

She even goes as far as moving into the goddamn mountains in colorado, in a cabin. That’s my fucking DREAM. To just, physically shun everything that’s ever hurt me, and to be by myself. Even now that I’m in a much better place with much healthier relationships, this is still something I want to do (but with more people involved now).

The shit that Adrian carter says is only slightly less weak than the shit that Eric says. “[I’m here] To fix what’s broken for both of us” “I’m human, baby. I made a choice and it didn’t work out” “I learned a valuable lesson” “It was hard, but I learned that a man needs to go with his gut instinct”

Just fuck off, Adrian Carter. Quit talking about yourself. He just fucking smiles and slithers his way right back in and UGH. And the thought that it would actually WORK between them afterwards just makes me bitter as fuck. Or rather, it makes me feel the bitterness that I already had in me.

Despite the recovery process being so abbreviated, the beats were so similar to my own that I began to look for a catharsis that wasn’t there. Because this story belongs to the writer, and not to me.

Now, fanfiction definitely belongs to me, however. I can certainly write a story about Ruth turning him away to the cold, and further building her own sense of self and maybe making friends with another hermit and discovering more about how she’s running away from her problems and yadda yadda, and THEN reintroduce the boyfriend, who’s actually trying harder this time.

But again, this story belongs to the writer, and not to me.

----------

Thanks for reading this clusterfuck, eventually I’ll get better at this.

Only 296 books to go!

Hey! So, I always thought a Schneeplebro Speak Now AU would be cute, but it was always kind of just a background idea I didn’t know what to do with until @dead-inside-mcgee wrote this amazing fic which got me thinking about Chase and Stacy’s wedding, so thank you so much for the inspiration!

This is also on ao3 if you’d prefer to read it there :) 

“I hear the preacher say ‘speak now or forever hold your peace.’ There’s a silence, there’s my last chance, I stand up with shaking hands, all eyes on me...” - Taylor Swift, “Speak Now”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m gonna fall. Or puke.”

“No you aren’t.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna fall and puke. Which should I do first? Fall, right? If I’m on the ground, maybe less people will notice when I puke.”

“I will make you a deal: hold onto my arm. If I let you fall, you have my full permission to puke.” He was supposed to walk just behind Chase anyway; who would really notice or care if they went side by side? He offers his arm and Chase links his own without hesitation. “I feel like I am giving you away.”

“What?”

“Um, because we are standing like this. It is like I am a parent, giving you away.”

“Oh.”

He changes the subject quickly. “Are you alright? Being in front of people doesn’t usually bother you this much. You are not nervous, are you?”

“Yeah, I’m nervous. I’m very nervous. Is that bad?”

“No, I am sure you are fine. It is normal - remember what a wreck I was before my wedding?”

“Henrik, your marriage lasted seven months.”

“Yes, well, my point still stands.”

The music starts up. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Chase whispers, and the words ‘you don’t have to do this, you know’ are right there on Schneep’s lips, but he can’t say it. It would be one thing if it was one friend checking on another, but it feels like it would be a manipulative thing to say considering… considering how much Henrik wants Chase not to do this. It would be selfish, to put that idea in his head, wouldn’t it?

“Are you ready?” he whispers instead.

“I- I guess.”

They walk to the back, where the wedding party is gathering. Stacy’s mother is the first to walk; she ignores everyone else, but Jackie and Marvin give Chase quick hugs before lining up behind him. And then they’re starting down the aisle. Chase is latched so tightly onto his arm it almost hurts, but he doesn’t mind. It takes him out of this moment, where he’s marching the man he loves into someone else’s arms, reminds him of a sweeter time, the day when he first realized that he was in love with him. It was years ago, when they were in college.

It had been Henrik who decided that they should go to the library, which was the first thing he thought about when the loudspeaker announced that someone had called in a bomb threat. First Thought: Oh god, I brought us here; if we die, it’s my fault. Second Thought: Hey, we’re moving. Because Chase hadn’t had a First Thought at all. He’d heard the announcement and immediately grabbed Henrik’s hand and started running.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ Getting us out of here! Come on!” Everyone else was still panicking; the announcement hadn’t even finished yet. The voice was still in the process of telling them to ‘proceed calmly to the nearest exit.’ A few people were starting to follow them, but the two of them were the only ones already at the front door.

Chase, he quickly realized, was a faster runner than him. There was a long cement staircase leading to the front door of the library, and Chase was more or less dragging him down it - he was sure he was going to trip and crack his head open and then get trampled by the crowd behind him, and he remembers thinking that if that happened, he hoped Chase was smart enough to leave him and get to safety, because - because oh fuck, I’m in love with my friend Chase. But before he knew it they were at the bottom, and then a safe distance from the building, and then all the way across campus, catching their breath.

Later that night, they found out that there had never been a bomb in the first place, and the student who had called in the threat had been caught and expelled. So, crisis averted, Henrik figured. There was nothing to be scared of anymore. He had plenty of time to figure out these new feelings and how he should deal with them.

One week and four days later, Chase met a girl named Stacy.

And Henrik was disappointed, but not too worried at first, because she was so obviously wrong for him. Within two months of their relationship, she was going through his closet, picking things that were “so ugly he had to get rid of them” and replacing them with clothes she bought in stores with names that Chase could barely pronounce. A few more months, and her constant “helpful suggestions” that he change his major to something “worthwhile” turned into an ultimatum: choose a ‘real’ career path or she would break up with him. Henrik had thought this would be the end, but Chase was a man in love, and Henrik woke up one day to Chase telling him he was a business major now. And then his grades fell, because of course they did - he had no passion for or understanding of business. One night, they were all hanging out and doing some homework together, and Chase was frustrated about how difficult it was. Stacy sighed. “Here, let me do it.”

“Thanks, babe. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault you’re so dumb.”

It was quiet for a few seconds; Henrik was watching Chase, and Chase was watching Stacy, who kept working. Chase seemed to take her indifference as a sign that this was a totally normal thing for someone to say to their boyfriend, so he just gave a forced chuckle and changed the subject.

Henrik should’ve said something then. Should’ve taken him aside and said, ‘Hey, no one who really loved you would talk to you like that,’ be he didn’t. He knew that if Chase tried to have a real discussion about Stacy with him, he could never be impartial. He would get defensive and Chase would figure out that he was jealous. He told himself he would just wait, until Chase realized how unhealthy the relationship was, or at least until Henrik could figure out a way to intervene that didn’t risk losing his friendship.

Neither of those things ever happened. The months turned into years, years of quiet, cowardly love, of watching Stacy get even more controlling and demeaning.

But those parts of the past are too painful, so as Stacy walks down the aisle and the ceremony begins, he goes back to that day at the library. There was just something about that day that changed the way he saw Chase.

For a long time, he thought it was the way that Chase had held onto him, had kept him safe, but it was more than that. They’d been friends for years at that point - it wasn’t shocking that Chase had tried to protect him. It was something about the way he did it, how fucking fast he did it.

He hadn’t waited for any more instructions or to see how other people reacted. He knew what the right thing to do was and he did it without hesitation. That was what made Henrik fall in love with Chase.

And now Henrik’s standing at the altar watching his best friend marry someone who had hurt him, who was going to keep hurting him if nothing changed.

“If anyone has a reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Oh, shit. He actually has to do it. Well, bye forever, Chase. He steps forward. “I do. I have a reason.”

Such a small crowd shouldn’t have been capable of producing such a huge audible gasp in perfect unison.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Jackie hisses in his ear.

Stacy isn’t so subtle. “Do you think this is funny? Because no one’s laughing,” she snaps, her voice loud enough to carry to the back row.

Henrik’s eyes stay locked on Chase, but Chase doesn’t say anything at all, just stares back at him in shock.

“Chase, listen to me, okay? I’m sorry to do this now. I know I had plenty of chances. Whenever you asked what I thought of Stacy, if I was happy for you - the answer was always no. Always. And I did not want to lie to you, but I thought that telling the truth was selfish. Because I knew I would not have the courage to tell you the whole truth… that I had feelings for you.”

There’s more gasping, which Henrik doesn’t even care about anymore. He does care about the tears welling up in Chase’s eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, fragile. “I don’t understand, Henrik. Is this a joke? Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No! Please, please listen. I thought it would be wrong of me to tell you that I disliked Stacy because I had selfish reasons for doing so. And since I couldn’t tell you how I really felt, I tried to be supportive, like a good friend. If I could be nothing else to you, I wanted to be that: a good friend. But I was being a bad friend. Because a good friend would have told you that you deserve better than this. You deserve someone who respects you and loves you for who you are. Even if that someone is not me.”

“Are you done?” Stacy snarls, while Chase stands, still facing Henrik, shaking his head a little, mouth open like he’s about to say something but can’t get the words out. “Because I think you’ve done an adequate job making our wedding about you and this pathetic little crush. I think you should go.”

Henrik has no reason to care about what she says anymore. “Chase?”

He leans towards Henrik a little, so the people watching won’t hear. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea if you waited outside, just while we work things out.”

If being kicked out of his best friend’s wedding felt like an earthquake (and it sure fucking did), Henrik is pretty sure that the realization that he’s going to have to walk back up the aisle, past every guest, to get to the doors at the opposite end of the room qualifies as a pretty nasty aftershock.

He forces himself to keep his head up, but he can’t bear to look at anyone’s face; he keeps his eyes trained straight ahead. The walk seems to take forever, but at least the humiliation is distracting. As soon as the doors shut behind him, he becomes acutely aware of how real what he’s just done is. After so much time, so many smiles, his friendship with Chase is over. He ruined it. He’s fighting back tears now, and part of him just wants to get the fuck away from there, but he doesn’t have the faintest idea where he should go. He’s also pretty sure that if he tries to drive in this emotional state he’ll end up dying in a horrific car crash, but that doesn’t sound too bad at the moment.

He sits down on the steps to try to collect himself. Makes himself take a few deep breaths. Stacy‘s going to hate him forever, but Chase might give him a second chance if he apologizes, and gives him some time, and tells him how much his friendship meant to him. Chase is a forgiver, it’s just in his nature. But how long will it take? Can they ever get back even a fraction of the closeness they once had, or would it forever be uncomfortable, a permanent awkward wall between them of unspoken feelings, regrets, and-

“So, quick update, Stacy and I did not work it out,” a voice says. He looks up and Chase is just standing at the bottom of the staircase, still in his tuxedo.

“What are you doing here?”

“After you left, Stacy and I went into this little back room to talk, and I was trying to convince her that this didn’t need to be a big deal, and that we should just carry on with the ceremony, but I wanted to come get you, obviously, and she was furious.” He walks up the stairs to sit next to Henrik. “And so she was yelling and ranting, but all she kept talking about was how you interrupted us to say you’re, uh, y’know… into me. But she didn’t say anything about how you said she doesn’t really care about me or respect me, and it made me realize that you were right. So I told her I didn’t want to get married after all.”

“Holy shit, Chase.”

“Yeah, she, uh, didn’t take that super well. She started full-on screaming at me, and then she threw the flowers, and then she was coming at me - like, not hitting, really, just getting up in my face and kind of shoving me, so I found a bathroom with a door that locks, and long story short I may or may not have crawled out of a window.”

He laughs. “A pity that no one with a camera was there to capture such a wonderful moment of your beautiful wedding.”

“God. She probably thinks I’m still locked in there. How long do you think I have before someone finds me?”

“Not long.”

“Fuck. I know I have to face her eventually, but I wish it didn’t have to be in front of everyone we know.”

“Do you have your phone? And your wallet?”

“Yeah, why? Hey!” he says as Henrik grabs his hand and drags him to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here.” He starts running down the stairs, still pulling Chase behind him.

“Slow down!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going, until they’re sprinting through the parking lot to Henrik’s car and Chase is laughing the whole time. They have to let go of each other’s hands to get in the car and buckle up, but after Henrik is out of the lot and driving away, Chase reaches out again.

Henrik grabs on tight, not intending to let go until they’re far, far away.

“Baby, I didn’t say my vows; so glad you were around when they ‘speak now.’” - Taylor Swift, “Speak Now”

Fic: Happily Ever After 7 (Commitment)

Title: Happily Ever After Rating: Teen (for Dan’s language, as usual) Word Count for This Chapter: 6.6K Summary: Dan proposes marriage, but Phil’s reaction isn’t quite what he’d been expecting or hoping for. Genre(s): Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposals, Gay Marriage, Commitment, Relationship Issues Author’s Note: Kindly ignore the fact that the Isle of Man is not in fact part of the UK, but rather “a self-governing crown dependency,” which complicates the bureaucratic side of things for a couple of English guys getting married there. With the magic wand of the fiction writer, I proclaim that all necessary licenses, provisions, permissions, and such legal niceties were easily obtained, and everything in my fictional little world happens simply and smoothly for my fictional Dan and Phil. Also available on AO3 here

[Masterlist of all “Happily Ever After” chapters on Tumblr]

[moodboard inspired by this chapter]

Chapter 7: Commitment

They got together to Skype all their close family to tell them the news.

Phil amused himself by allowing their conversation with his parents to meander through 15 minutes of random chitchat before he finally said, “So I hear you guys have been waiting months to find out my answer to a very important question.”

Phil’s mum had actually squealed, hands covering her mouth as she glanced from one of them to the other. “Really?” she breathed. Dan and Phil raised their hands to show her the engagement rings they were both wearing, and she threw her arms around Phil’s dad with a happy cry. All four of them beamed with happiness.

Phil’s dad said gruffly, “Now, I’m not going to ask what took so long, because that’s your private business, but I will say I’m glad you finally saw sense, son.” Then he had looked between them as his wife had done and grinned, “I suppose you’ll both be my sons now.” When he said it, he looked the happiest Dan had ever seen him.

Dan’s parents had responded with more reserved congratulations. They’d long ago accepted Phil’s place in Dan’s life, but Dan’s father had been raised Catholic, and it still tinged the family’s attitudes. They’d never treated Phil badly, but neither had they been warmly welcoming. They both smiled over the Skype connection, but they couldn’t hide the fact that they seemed more resigned than excited about their son’s decision.

The real issue had been Dan’s grandmother. They’d always been very close, but she was extremely religious and for the past seven years had persisted in referring to Phil always as Dan’s “friend,” “flatmate,” or “work colleague.” Dan didn’t like to think the word about someone who had loved and supported him so much throughout his life, but he had some time ago accepted that she was homophobic.

“I can call her on my own,” he offered. “We don’t have to do it together.”

Phil looked concerned. “Is that what you want to do?”

Dan licked his lips nervously and explained, “I’m just afraid … she might say something … you know how she is.”

Nodding, Phil said, “Yeah, I know. But I’d rather we do this together, unless you really don’t want to.”

Dan took his hand, worried. “I know you’re nervous about dealing with people who won’t understand … and I can pretty much guarantee that she is not going to understand. I just don’t want her to upset you.”

Phil kissed him gently, then smiled. “You don’t have to protect me. I’m the one who decided that I’m ready to do this, and I spent a good long while making sure I was certain. I’m ready to face the world with you, and that even includes scary grandmas.”

Dan laughed, which he knew had been Phil’s intention, and shrugged. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

As predicted, Dan’s grandmother had not reacted well. When they’d told her they were getting married, she had only shaken her head disapprovingly and insisted, “Daniel, you don’t need to do this. You’ll find a nice girl. What about that girl you were dating?”

Dan sighed. “I haven’t dated a girl since I was 17, grandma. Phil and I have been together for 7 years and we’re really happy together. We love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.” She still looked as if she had just bitten into a lemon.

Dan felt Phil’s hand on his and looked at him in question. Phil squeezed his hand and looked back at the laptop camera. “I know how special you are to Daniel, Mrs. Howell, so I look forward to getting to know you better now that we’re going to be family. I know he loves you very much.”

Her face softened marginally, but Dan knew she would most likely phone him tomorrow to try to talk him out of it again. He wondered how this would work over the years, whether she would ever be able to learn to respect his love for Phil. Of everyone in his family, she’d always been the one he felt closest to. She had always offered him a kind of gentle warmth and kindness that did not seem to come naturally to his parents, and he loved her fiercely for it. Perhaps his love for her and tolerance of her prejudices might even have actually helped him to be more patient with Phil’s long struggle than he might otherwise have been. But if her prejudices ever threatened his relationship with Phil …

He hoped that he would never be forced to choose, because if he were ever forced to make that choice, he knew he would choose love over hate, and he would lose his grandmother from his life forever.

Dan didn’t see why this was even a question. “Howell-Lester.”

Phil was persistent. “No. Lester-Howell.”

Dan sighed. “No. It’s always been ‘Dan and Phil,’ so we should keep to the same order. Howell-Lester.”

Phil nodded. “Right. You’ve had your turn at going first. My turn. Lester-Howell.”

Dan tilted his head and put on his best patient, logical voice. “But ‘Howell-Lester’ is alphabetical. It’s only fair.”

Phil got a sort of sneaky look in his eyes, making Dan suspicious. Then Phil said, “But think about which one is more aesthetic, Dan. ‘Howell-Lester’ has three L’s in a row in the middle. That just isn’t … aesthetically pleasing.”

Dan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re mocking me.”

Phil wheedled, “But it’s true, right?”

Dan sighed crossly. “I don’t know…”

Phil left the room for a moment, then came back with a notepad Dan recognized from their trip to Japan, the paper delicately scattered with cherry blossoms that cascaded from a tree blooming at the top of the page. They almost never used paper notepads, so this one had obviously survived years stashed somewhere in the flat. Phil handed Dan the notepad and a pen.

“Write them both down,” Phil said, gesturing to the paper.

Dan heaved another noisy sigh, wanting to make his impatience clear, and wrote across the cherry blossoms, Daniel Howell-Lester, then, on the next line, Daniel Lester-Howell.

Phil watched his face and asked, “So … what do you think?”

Dan had to admit that Phil might have a point, but he really didn’t want to give in. “It’s not so bad…”

Phil scoffed, “Yeah, right. Now write them both in all caps.”

Dan wrote, DANIEL HOWELL-LESTER, then DANIEL LESTER-HOWELL, then groaned, “Oh god.” He tossed the pen and notepad onto the coffee table in disgust and put his hands over his face. “Those three L’s … all in the middle together like that … arrrgh!” He brought his hands down and glanced at the innocent notepad again. “And the other one … it has kind of a nice balance and symmetry, with the two L’s in the center and two L’s at the end. But … those three L’s in ‘HOWELL-LESTER’…” He made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Okay, you’re right: I couldn’t deal with that for the rest of my life. We’ll go with Lester-Howell.” He sulked, “I hope you’re happy.”

Dan saw Phil’s right index finger stroke the platinum ring he wore on his other hand as he said softly, “I am. Aren’t you?”

Dan fought it—he really did—but he could feel a smile start to bloom on his face. He still tried to grouse, though. “Okay. Fine. Yeah, I am happy. I don’t like to admit it, because I feel like I’m losing an argument, but I am. I am happy.”

Phil’s face seemed lit from within when he said, “I love you, Daniel Lester-Howell.”

Dan held up his hands. “Whoa there, cowboy! You have to make an honest man of me before you can call me that.” He grinned.

Phil grinned back. “I can’t wait.”

Dan really didn’t want to bring this up, but they were going to have to leave the flat at some point, and then it would become an issue. He hadn’t been thinking about it before, but now…

He sat beside Phil on the sofa and took his left hand, gently caressing the ring shining on Phil’s finger. “You know, I spent a long time choosing these engagement rings … but I actually think we probably shouldn’t wear them.”

Phil looked distressed. “Why? Is it the coming out issue? Because I’m really okay with that now. I mean, I know in a perfect world we’d obviously really prefer to continue keeping our personal lives private, but … we’ve talked about starting a family, Dan. I think it’d be pretty hard to convince anybody that we’re just friends if we start adopting kids together.”

“Except maybe my grandma,” Dan joked darkly.

Phil smiled slightly to acknowledge the jest but didn’t reply.

Dan stopped. Rewound. “Wait, did you say ‘kids,’ plural?”

Phil shrugged shyly and looked down, then back up to meet Dan’s gaze. He was giving puppy dog eyes. “I thought one kid might be lonely. We could see how it goes…”

Dan hugged him. “Let’s see how it goes. If we don’t accidentally kill the first one within a couple days…”

Phil groaned a laugh and covered his face with his hands. “Don’t even joke about that! You’re giving me ‘Who’s Your Daddy?’ flashbacks! Our kid is going to crawl around intentionally looking for the bleach and electrical sockets.”

Dan admitted, “I’ve been figuring we’d wait a few years, anyway, before we even start thinking about it.”

Phil nodded. “Wise man.” Then he looked confused. “But if it isn’t about the coming out issue, why are you not wanting to wear the rings?”

Dan sighed. This hurt. “It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, because I do! It’s that … well … I love our fans … but some of them are a little…”

Phil leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. “Oh.”

Dan grimaced. “Yeah. I mean, if they wait around airports for hours when they know we’re just trying to catch a plane, imagine what they’d do if they knew we were planning a wedding.”

Phil sighed. “Some of them would spend months trying to find out where and when.”

Dan nodded. “And I don’t want the most important moment of my life getting interrupted by a fan running in to ask for a selfie in the middle of our vows. And I don’t want to have to establish some kind of security perimeter to prevent it, either.”

Phil looked unhappy. “So we don’t wear the rings?” He looked down at the platinum band on his finger with its winking aquamarine stone.

Dan sighed. “I think we probably shouldn’t. Not until after the ceremony.”

Phil made an exaggerated pouty face and begged, “Maybe just around the flat?” which made Dan laugh.

Dan knew just how he felt. “And maybe we should move up the date we were planning.”

So they started making plans for something maybe a month away, determined that they’d somehow make it happen because they didn’t want to wait.

“Okay. So. The vows. Do we want to just each write them separately and surprise each other at the ceremony, or talk about them a little bit?”

Phil pondered. “Well, it would be kind of weird if they were dramatically different in tone or something.”

“Yeah. So. Maybe talk about some themes we want to touch on?”

“Honesty.”

“Trust.”

“Kindness.”

“Patience.”

Phil nodded vigorously. “Definitely patience! I can’t believe you put up with me these past few months!”

Dan was honestly surprised. “Me being patient with you? I was thinking about you being patient with me!”

Phil gaped at him. “How could you be thinking that after everything I put you through? You’ve had the patience of a saint!”

Dan wasn’t going to let Phil beat himself up about this forever. “Think about it, though. I mean, the bigger picture. Yeah, the past few months were really hard, but we were talking, I could tell you were working through some serious shit, and it was hard work for you. But have you forgotten that you sat through my daily pathetic angst for more than a year when I was at uni, and thinking about dropping out, then dropping out and worrying that I was throwing my life away? You never told me to hurry the fuck up and make a decision. You never told me to quit the whining. You listened to me every single day, and you let me cry on your shoulder, and you didn’t tell me what to do but you did tell me your opinions, and you gave me the time and space to work it out on my own while still giving me support through the whole thing.”

“Dan … that was a long time ago,” Phil said dismissively. “You were just a kid then.”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but how long ago was it that you last found me face down on the hallway carpet in some kind of downward spiral of existential doubt about the meaninglessness of trying to accomplish anything in a world where we’re all just going to die and nothing really matters?”

Phil bit his lip. “Um. Okay, yeah. That was more recent.”

Dan nodded, then continued, “And it’s happened a lot. For years. And you’re always patient with me when it happens. You don’t tell me to get my emo ass up off the carpet or hurry me to just get over it. You hang out with me and talk to me, let me talk to you, listen to what I have to say and tell me what you think in return. We do it together. And sometimes you leave me alone when I need it. You try to understand where I’m coming from, and you’re patient with me. You’re always patient with me. You’re the one who has the patience of a saint, Phil.”

Phil still had that hangdog guilty expression on his face, though. “It’s not the same. You asked me to marry you, and I said no! And I said terrible things! Then I made you sit around for months waiting for me!”

Dan was determined to make Phil see his perspective in this. “You didn’t say no, and you didn’t ‘make’ me do anything. You said you needed to think. So you did a lot of thinking, and you worked through your shit, and you came up with the obviously right decision to marry my ass. And now we’re moving on … together. We’re past it. But you’re still going to find me face down in the hallway once in a while. And you’re going to have to deal with me occasionally losing my shit over a video not being perfect enough. Admit it, Phil: I’m not that easy to deal with. But when it comes to the boyfriend lottery, I hit the fucking jackpot. You might leave cupboards open and steal my cereal, but you’re otherwise pretty much perfect. You’re like the nicest person I’ve ever met in my life! You’re always there for me, and when we disagree you always let me calm down before you try to talk to me about it, and you don’t mind if I stay up on Tumblr for hours instead of coming to bed with you, and you listen to me rant about things even when you don’t care…”

Phil interrupted him, “Dan! Stop! You do realize that I’m happy with you, right?” He looked honestly concerned.

Dan squeezed Phil’s hand and leaned over to kiss him gently, just a little one. “Yeah. That’s my point. It makes no sense to me sometimes, but I do believe you. I’ve never doubted it, never doubted that you love me, never doubted you, not for a second. And that’s why I was able to wait for a few months while you worked through something really big.”

Phil blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I just looked at the big picture. And in the big picture, I would have been a complete idiot to let you get away if there was any chance that we could work things out … if there was any chance that you might choose me … choose this…” And he gestured at the laptop where they’d been taking notes for the ceremony.

Waiting for Phil had been hard, but a life without him would have been a lot harder.

Phil leaned in for another kiss, and this one wasn’t as little or as quick.

An hour or so later, they were back to planning. Dan said, “I want to make sure the ceremony is as much ‘us’ as possible.”

Phil suggested with a straight face, “So you’re saying we should just play Mario Kart at the altar instead of reciting vows?”

“Ha bloody ha. You know what I mean.”

Phil nodded affably. “Well, then, I should stand at the altar and you should walk down the aisle to meet me, because it would be symbolic. You were the one who found me on YouTube.”

Dan pointed out, “Yeah, but it was really you who started the relationship by reaching out to respond to me on Twitter.”

That threw Phil off topic, as he wondered, “Do we need to invite the bosses of YouTube and Twitter to the wedding, since they were instrumental in the formation of our relationship?”

Dan frowned. “I don’t think so. But, wait, yeah, maybe we should invite Susan … uh … Susan … Wobblemijicki? Whatever her name is. She is kind of our boss.”

Phil looked uncertain. “Do you really have to invite your boss to your wedding?”

Dan gestured helplessly. “Well, hell if I know! Do I look like a wedding planner?” He held up a hand. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “Maybe we should ask my mum.”

Dan nodded eagerly. “Yeah, text her. Also, ask her which one of us has to walk down the aisle.”

Phil had been in the middle of pulling out his phone, but he stopped to hold up a finger. “How about we both walk down the aisle together, side-by-side.”

Dan thought about it. “Or we could not have an aisle at all, and just enter from opposite sides at the same time and meet in the middle.”

Phil exclaimed with glee, “It’s weird! Like us!”

Dan tilted his head and smirked, “We said we wanted to make the ceremony very ‘us’. So I guess maybe it might have to be a little weird.”

In the end, they decided not to invite Susan Wojcicki … or pretty much anyone else really … just close family. The guest list numbered only 15 people. No best man or groomsmen or flower girls … just Dan and Phil and the people they loved most. And some guy they didn’t know who was going to perform the ceremony. But they Skyped with him beforehand and he asked a lot of good questions and got to know them a bit, so they figured he’d probably do a decent job of it. He emailed them in advance what he was planning to say, and it sounded fine.

Phil really wanted to hold the ceremony on the beach where Dan had first proposed. “It’ll be symbolic!” he insisted. “Like I’m saying yes where I should have said it in the first place!”

“Phil,” Dan said calmly. “Think about it. That beach is rocky. Imagine slowly walking toward the altar over those shifty pebbles, looking into my eyes instead of watching where you’re going…”

Phil made a face. “Broken ankle for sure. You’re right.” He looked so disappointed—Dan felt bad for him.

“How about the hillside above the beach?” Dan suggested as a compromise, and Phil’s face brightened.

But when they told her the plan, Phil’s mum fretted that they couldn’t have an outdoor wedding because rain was certain to ruin it. Dan joked that if they got rained on, they could just call it a baptismal blessing by the gods, but she didn’t seem to think that was very funny, as she pointed out she was more worried about their formally-attired guests getting drenched. Dan and Phil were used to London’s weather, she insisted, and rain was a much more constant threat on the Isle of Man than they realized from their fairly brief visits.

When they explained the reason behind their choice of location, however, she was obviously deeply touched by the sentiment and suggested a nearby lighthouse that overlooked the beach in question. The octagonal lighthouse interior was large enough to accommodate their small party easily, and the quirkiness of the location seemed to fit with their personalities. She was overjoyed when they declared it a brilliant suggestion.

They’d decided that they didn’t want a really fancy ceremony, but they agreed that they wanted something appropriately formal and solemn to reflect the seriousness with which they viewed the commitment they were making, so Dan insisted that they both have clothes that were worthy of the occasion. Phil didn’t care and would have been willing to wear a suit he already owned, but Dan dragged him down to Savile Row to get a bespoke suit made by a respected tailor. When they talked about what Phil wanted, the tailor ended up recommending a color called “zaffre,” which is apparently what pretentious people call a shade of blue simultaneously dark and bright. They didn’t want Phil to look gaudy or outshine Dan, just show a bit of color to reflect his personality. Dan thoroughly approved of the choice.

In a fit of whimsy, Dan showed Phil a picture online of some suede Gucci hightop sneakers in a color that would complement his suit perfectly, and Phil fell in love with them, placing his order immediately. “I’m less likely to trip in sneakers than in fancy dress shoes,” he offered in defense of his choice, but Dan hadn’t needed him to defend the shoes. He thought they were perfect or he wouldn’t have shown Phil the photo.

Dan himself took the wedding as an excuse to get himself a Wales Bonner suit. She was a fairly new designer on the fashion scene, but he’d been a fan since he first noticed her unconventionally fluid vision of masculinity. He was excited to support her career and own a piece of her work, but since he didn’t want to freak out his grandma or any of their other comparatively conservative guests, he chose one of her more traditional designs for this particular occasion: a black suit and tie with a shirt dyed to exactly match the color of Phil’s suit. The tiniest peek of a white pocket handkerchief would be a nod to the white of Phil’s shirt.

At the last minute, they decided to ask Phil’s friend Mark, who had taken so many of the tour photos that made up DAPGO, to document the day, and he had gladly agreed.

Before they knew it, everything was planned. Now all they had to do was show up at the Isle of Man, wear some fancy clothes, say some fancy words, and they’d be married. Simple.

They were both nervous as hell … but at least they were nervous together.

When they woke in the Lesters’ guest room that morning, they just lay there in the quiet for a while, looking at each other. Dan knew he probably had an embarrassingly soppy look on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Phil was the one person in the world who was allowed to see his soppiest faces. And Phil was looking pretty soppy, himself.

“We’re getting married today,” Phil whispered in wonder, and they wrapped their arms around each other and held each other close for a long time.

They’d planned a short ceremony with fairly simple vows, because they felt they’d said all the most important things to each other already in private. This was merely their public declaration to the world, something to share with their families and make their commitment official.

Phil’s mum had arranged the octagonal room inside the lighthouse with simple but beautiful decorations. A sort of trellised arch stood at one end of the room on a low dais with a podium where the registrar would stand. White and blue flowers of various kinds twined all over the trellis, and simple white cloth chair covers hid the folding chairs where guests would sit. Blue flowers decorated the ends of each row of chairs. The wide windows that surrounded the room let the hazy summer sunlight stream in to shine on the freshly oiled wood floor and walls. It looked perfect.

Dan and Phil went to hide in a small separate room while the guests arrived and seated themselves. While they both tugged at their jackets and fussed with their hair, they could hear the voices of their family members greeting each other and settling down as a recording of soft piano music Dan had chosen played in the background. When the music fell silent, they knew that meant the registrar had assumed his position before the assembly. Dan and Phil met each other’s eyes, heaved a simultaneous deep breath, and waited for the signal.

When Dan heard Debussy’s Claire de Lune start, he glanced at Phil again and they exchanged small nervous smiles and a reassuring squeeze of their hands as they waited the planned several seconds, then left their private lair.

They entered the octagonal room together through the door behind the rows of chairs, and turned apart to walk simultaneously, each alone, up the separate sides of the room until they both turned to meet at the dais and step onto it, facing each other in front of the registrar. Dan wasn’t really aware of their audience, whether their eyes followed him and Phil as they walked, what expressions might be on his family’s faces, whether Mark was somewhere taking photos—he could only think of Phil, and of the poem which had inspired Debussy to write this beautiful music. Phil was the source of this incredible happiness Dan sometimes still found so difficult to believe that he had found. Phil was the pale moonlight that had illuminated his life and melted his sadness into the ecstasy of love.

Standing on the dais, he reached out and Phil met him halfway. They held each other’s hands as they had planned, and Phil’s were a little sweaty with nerves. Dan smiled at him, trying to look reassuring, trying not to let his own jitters show. Why should he be feeling nervous? He certainly had no doubts! It was just … this was it. In a few minutes, they would be married. He really hoped when it was his turn to speak he didn’t forget the vows he’d spent so many hours working on.

The music trailed off, and the room again filled with silence. The registrar looked from Dan to Phil, then back again, smiling in the blandly benign way friendly bureaucrats have. Then he looked out at their gathered family members and began to speak in a voice that rang pleasantly in the odd little room.

“Welcome, loved ones of Daniel Howell and Philip Lester, to witness the celebration of their joining in the joyous bonds of matrimony.” The man kept talking for a few minutes, but Dan couldn’t really focus on his words. He and Phil had okayed them in advance in email, but right now, in the moment, all he could see was Phil’s eyes shining in the sunlight that came through the windows, and all he could hear was the beating of his own heart. Nothing else mattered. Then he jolted to attention when he heard the registrar say, “Daniel and Philip have both prepared some words to say. Philip, would you like to begin?”

Phil nodded, his hands squeezing Dan’s a little harder, and Dan saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, but he looked into Dan’s eyes with a joy Dan couldn’t doubt as he began to speak. “Dan, I never knew it was possible for me to love anyone as much as I love you. I always knew I was kind of weird…” There were soft chuckles in the audience, but Dan’s attention was all on Phil as he continued with a small smile, “I never thought I’d meet someone who understood me like you do, someone who would see my weirdnesses and love them, someone who would make me feel truly accepted and appreciated for everything I am. Even when I steal your cereal.” A quick grin from Phil and more quiet chuckles from the audience. Then Phil’s face settled into serious lines again. “Dan, when I look in your eyes, I see everything I want for our future: I see love, and trust, and patience, and kindness, and honesty even when it’s something I don’t want to hear. Because you challenge me to be a better person, and I love you all the more for that. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, holding your hand and facing everything that the world might bring us, always together. So today I offer myself to you, body and soul, heart and mind, with the promise that for the rest of my life I will do everything in my power to be as good a partner to you as you have always been to me.”

The registrar nodded and turned to Dan. “Daniel?”

Dan nodded and took a calming breath before he began. “Phil, I never knew it was possible for me to love anyone as much as I love you. My life was so dark before we met, and then suddenly you shone this bright sunlight into my heart and I have never been the same since. You make my life better every day, simply by being in it with me, and I don’t know if I’ve ever really told you how grateful I am to you for that. Sometimes darkness still pulls at me, but you are always there to pull me back into the light, and I can’t imagine my life without you—I don’t want to. I want to spend every day with you for the rest of my life, sharing all of life’s challenges and all of life’s joys. I want to hold your hand when you need comfort, and I want to turn to you when it’s me that needs support, because I know that we will always be there for each other. You will always be my favorite person on the planet, even after you’ve gotten old and wrinkly and aren’t so ridiculously pretty anymore.” A smattering of laughter. “I trust you with all my heart, and I promise to always try to be as kind and patient as you are by your very nature without even trying. I know I’ll slip up sometimes, but I also know that you will forgive me and help me, just as you always have done. And I will try to always do the same. So today I offer myself to you, body and soul, heart and mind, with the promise that for the rest of my life I will do everything in my power to be as good a partner to you as you have always been to me.”

The registrar nodded again, solemn and formal, before intoning, “Daniel and Philip would now like to exchange rings as a token of their commitment.” Dan fished in his pocket, sure that he would have lost the ring. Or maybe Phil would have lost his ring. Nothing had gone wrong yet, which wasn’t very “Dan and Phil,” so he was just waiting for the inevitable disaster. But then his fingers felt the small circle of metal in his pocket and he pulled it out with a sigh of relief. The registrar said, “Daniel, please repeat after me. ‘I, Daniel James Howell, take you, Philip Michael Lester, to be my wedded husband.’”

Dan fidgeted with the ring in his hand, then stopped, certain that he would drop it. “Um, I, Daniel James Howell, take you, Philip Michael Lester, to be my wedded husband.” He slid the ring onto Phil’s left ring finger with not too much effort, then grinned at him like a loon. Phil grinned back, and Dan looked down to see that the other ring was already in Phil’s hand. He looked much calmer now than Dan was feeling.

Dan’s stomach was doing an excited dance and he kept feeling like he might laugh out loud. He tried to stand still and act like a normal person getting married. They were almost done!

He missed the registrar, but clearly heard Phil when he said, “I, Philip Michael Lester, take you, Daniel James Howell, to be my wedded husband.” And then Phil’s hands were gentle on his as he held the platinum band Dan had purchased so long ago with such dreams of this day, and he slid the ring onto Dan’s finger smoothly and easily. Dan looked up from the ring into Phil’s eyes, and he could feel the sting of impending tears. He was not going to cry!

Now came the part Dan and Phil had requested, not wanting only individual promises but also a final moment when they joined together in voicing one last vow. The registrar asked, “Do you, Philip Michael Lester, and you, Daniel James Howell, take each other to be lawfully wedded husbands from this day forward, to love and support each other through good times and bad, until death shall part you?”

Dan and Phil, holding hands tightly, looked at the registrar and said together, “We do,” then turned to look into each other’s eyes again.

The registrar’s voice seemed to ring through the room as he announced, “I now pronounce you legally wed.” He gave them a brief moment to gaze wonderingly at each other, then gestured for them to face their families. “I present to you Daniel and Philip Lester-Howell.” Their families clapped, some more enthusiastically than others. Dan saw his grandma’s polite society face as he glanced around, but also heard Martyn give out a whoop of approval. He turned to look at Phil again, and they walked forward to the group waiting for them.

Phil’s mum, sitting in the front row with Phil’s dad and Dan’s parents, rushed forward to hug them both before anyone else even had a chance. When she hugged Dan, she sobbed, “We love you so much, Dan!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she patted at her face and eyes with a handkerchief when she pulled away.

And then they were swamped with hugs and congratulations from every direction, separated by the throng of excited well-wishers as everyone came forward, all talking at once. Dan’s dad shook his hand first, then pulled him into an awkward hug without saying anything before passing him to his mum, who hugged him a bit more warmly and said, “I’m so happy for you, Bear.” Dan smiled down at her when she released him, and then he glanced across the room to try to meet Phil’s eyes.

Phil was hugging Cornelia, who was chattering enthusiastically, but his eyes when they met Dan’s said that this moment was really about the two of them alone, no matter how many other people might be in the room.

The small reception at the Lesters’ house spilled into their lovely back garden, where Phil’s mum had erected a marquee in case of the dreaded rain. The sky, however, had cleared, and sun now shone on the happily mingling group among the profusion of tea rose bushes, hyacinths, and primroses.

Holding Phil’s hand while talking with Martyn and Cornelia, Dan saw his grandmother in conversation with Phil’s mum and wondered if perhaps in time Kathryn’s warmth might help thaw his grandma’s reserve. Later, in passing, he heard his grandma say, “That’s such a kind offer, Kathryn, and it really is so lovely here. I’d be very glad to visit sometime, as you’re kind enough to invite me. We are family now, after all.” Dan’s heart swelled, just knowing that she was making such an effort for his sake. She might still be uncomfortable with the idea of him and Phil, but Phil’s welcoming family was sure to win her over eventually.

He turned back to his own conversation in time to hear Cornelia ask whether he and Phil had written their vows together. Phil replied, “We collaborated on the first and last sentences, because we wanted the ceremony to feel cohesive, but neither of us knew what the other was going to say in between.” He looked into Dan’s eyes. “What you said was so beautiful.”

Dan leaned down for a brief kiss—nothing too heavy in front of the entire fam—and replied with a heart-felt, “You, too.”

They ended up separated, but Phil found him again eventually, and his cheeks were pink.

“What’s up?” Dan asked, taking his hand again. He couldn’t seem to stop doing that today. It just felt good to be joined with Phil in some physical, tangible way after such an emotionally intense experience.

His husband. Phil was his husband now. He squeezed Phil’s hand, then remembered the funny look on his face.

Phil leaned close to tell him quietly, “We aren’t staying the night here in the guest room.”

Confused, Dan asked, “What? Why? Then where are we staying?”

Phil shifted from one foot to the other, an obvious sign that he was uncomfortable, then said, “My parents rented us one of the little cottages near the village.”

Dan tilted his head in question, knowing Phil would explain without him asking.

Phil put his lips right next to Dan’s ear and whispered, “My mum insisted. She said tonight is the one night in my life when I shouldn’t have to worry about my mum overhearing me in the next room.”

Dan laughed out loud and pulled Phil into a hug. Phil really did have the best family.

“I guess maybe we haven’t always been as discreet as we thought.”

Phil brushed even brighter and Dan laughed again, loud and happy.

A month later, their suitcases still unpacked from the honeymoon, they sat side-by-side on the sofa in their flat, each with their laptop open on their knees, both with Twitter windows prepped. They exchanged glances.

“Ready?” Dan asked, and Phil nodded. “1, 2, 3!” They hit the buttons at the same time. Dan’s Twitter name changed at the same moment that Phil’s did.

Then they turned to Tumblr, then Instagram, and so on, until everywhere on social media they were Daniel Lester-Howell and Phil Lester-Howell. Then they closed their laptops, not planning to open them again until tomorrow. Tonight was for them. Tonight was for anime and cuddles on the couch and long kisses and no worries about anything or anyone outside this cozy flat.

“Pizza for dinner?” Dan asked casually, and his wonderful, beautiful, amazing husband nodded with the loveliest smile in the world.

[moodboard inspired by this chapter]

[Continue to the Epilogue]

A Bloom In Time Ch 1 A Flower Princess Lost

Would it be so wrong to say I love you when you obviously didn't love me back the way I loved you? Would it be wrong to say I would I like you more than any other thing when you didn't see me more than a stranger? Would it be so wrong to want to hold you when you would be confused at my touch? Would there be any world where we were aloud to be together, with your hair flowing like rose petals and eyes of the beautiful blue sky. Where no one would stop them and no duties got in their way.....But it wasn't meant to be because no amount of begging or asking would probably change the way you see me right now. The smile I'm giving you as you talk about the flowers like they were your proud children and you were mother nature. You would make the best mother nature. With your fiery passion and gentle kindness. You always listened to me. Didn't pressure me to picking. Always smiled and never EVER treated me as some fairytale prince I wasn't, which is why after all these years of knowing you and loving someone who I know definitely loves me, but for all the wrong reasons, and as much as I love her back...I think I love you more.  "Your Highness? Are you alright?" He snapped out of it and yellow eyes blinked up at the lady who's stolen his heart. The fairytale romantic love of a Queen with beautiful blonde hair and emerald eyes was the first to catch him heart and he fell hard for her, but overtime that vision started to blur into one of fiery red passion and smelt of flowers. He could imagine his Queen in a wedding dress of pure white and covered in lace, but now he couldn't get the idea of how the maiden with red hair would look shyly looking at him in a dress of white, flowers in her hair and a red hue to her face as he held her close, wedding bells sounding as he promised her he would always love her. Forever.....But he should get his head out of the clouds. From the day he was born, his parents and Vanessa's mother had an arranged marriage for the two royals, and he didn't think even though she was Queen now, she'd let him go so soon with how attached she was....and how forcing his parents were about this. So he smiled at the confused face on the beautiful woman with hair of the rose. "I'm perfectly fine. Vanessa's just been....A b-bit cranky lately. So I wanted to surprise her with some flowers today. M-Maybe that'll help calm her down. " That got her attention when she rose a brow at him and asked a question that made him flinch. "Is this like the time she banned everyone here from eating bacon?" He waved her off. "N-No, no. She was only concerned about my health, a-and she's right. Bacon has too much fat. I could loose a few more pounds and eat healthier.'' Her beautiful blue eyes ran over him with a raised brow. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn't and instead smiled and pointed a hand to the flowers around her in her stand. "Well, how can I help you this time, Prince-y? We have a fifty percent discount on mixed wild daisies this week, more sprouted up than expected, but they smell great and multicolored. A colorful rainbow bouquet would brighten up anyone's day!" He looked at the many flowers she was pointing to and smiled and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Vanessa's loves any flowers I give her! These are perfect! You know what, I'll take some thanks!" She smiled and went to work on getting the flowers. Cutting them and getting the pretty pink paper to wrap them in so he could present them to his beloved Queen. He couldn't help but smile at the gentle way she handled the flowers ...but remembered. He didn't have any pons to pay her with. He spent the last on them on getting Vanessa an anniversary gift yesterday after she insisted he'd better do something to make her happy and 'prove he still loved her by not forgetting. And he didn't. He got her a beautiful bracelet with beautiful blue saphires studded into it and was getting her flowers on top of that....But- When she turned back to him with a smile, flowers ready to go...It was like it was stupid but-...He immediately held up the bracelet to her without question, smile on his own face. She blinked at the sudden gift held out to her before looking back up to his face in question. "Take it. I-...I-I got three others at home just like it," he lied with a smile but it felt like the right thing to do at the time, "Besides. I-I don't have any pons on me right now." He stared at him more. "Oh, no. I couldn't!" She held up her hands. "I couldn't possibly just accept it like that. Here." She held the flowers out to him. "You buy so much anyways. This time it's on the house." "NO!" He insisted. Gently placing the small bracelet into her hand while staring into her eyes. "I may be a prince but even Im not above getting things for free just because I buy a lot of it. You obviously put so much work into growing such beautiful flowers and I won't let hard work like that go under paid." They ended up just holding hands unintentionally for a few seconds as they talked and smiled. Neither noticed the beautiful golden sunshine haired woman with beautiful green emerald eyes suddenly stopping and watching from the dark corner of the alleyway. She stared in absolutely horror as she watched her prince, her beloved perfect prince holding hands with a...a...A PEASANT GIRL!! This girl with bland red hair that looked like it was dunked in tacky red paint and gotten red splotches all over her face, dirt smudging her tacky dress and obviously dirty and not fit for anyone other than another low life peasant like herself. AND YET THERE THEY WERE!! Holding hands, smiling, and giggling like they were...A Happy couple..NO! NO!! HE WASN'T ALLOWED TO LOOK AT ANYONE LIKE THAT!! HE WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT HER LIKE THAT!! HER! THE ONE WITH EYES OF EMERALD GREEN AND PERFECT HAIR SHINIER THAN GOLD!! FAIR SKIN AND BELOVED BY HER KINGDOM!! RICH AND COULD GIVE HIM ANYTHING HE ASKED!! THEY WERE THE ONES THAT WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED WITHIN A YEAR'S TIME!! THEY WERE GOING TO ADOPT ONE OF THE CHILDREN FROM THE VILLAGE TOGTHER!! HE COULDN'T WAIT TO HAVE A CHILD BUT SHE WANTED TO WAIT UNTIL A FEW YEARS INTO THEIR MARRIAGE BEFORE HAVING ONE!! IT WAS GOING TO BE THE PERFECT THING FOR THEIR IMAGE!! ADOPTING A CHILD OF NONE ROYAL BLOOD AND LOOK LIKE ONE OF THOSE FAIRYTALE STORIES!! THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TOGETHER AND HE'S.....He's holding hands with someone who's not fit to even be in their story beyond a lowly subject!! With tears stinging her eyes she hiccupped and turned to run back into the darkness of the alley, if she would've stayed a little longer she would've seen the florist hand over the bouquet of flowers meant for her to he beloved prince and him paying her with the golden bracelet. The movement out of the corner of his eye made him look towards the swift movement and he easily recognized that fancy green dress running back into the shadow of the alleyway.  He jumped almost dropping the flowers he was just handed. "Vanessa!?" The florist looked to where he was looking but didn't see the woman that dashed into the alleyway as he stared in confusion. "Vanessa?.....Why did she run away so suddenly?" ...The florist shrugged lightly with a smile. "Maybe she was embarrassed she walked in on you getting her flowers?", she suggested. ....He gave a smile. "OH! Of course! She's considerate l-like that." He gave an almost nervous smile and turned back to her before bowing. "T-Thank you for your help once again...Ms. Poppy." She waved her hand. "Oh, don't mention it! It's always to see just a nice man be so considerate and give the gal he loves so many flowers." The gal he loved...Heh. He guessed that was true. He still loved Vanessa in some way or another...but lately..he wasn't too sure about things, but he was sure she was right. Vanessa was just in a bad place for a few years. Her mother was sick and dying slowly, she just got crowned Queen a month ago after her mother had an accident, her new duties were overwhelming her, and with him still doing his princely studies about law it musn't be easy for her. But like any betrothed, he was going to try and work through these problems together. But he still couldn't stop smiling after he left the Florist to her work. Cute freckles and blue eyes clouding his vision. He was sure as soon as Vanessa saw these flowers she would perk right up! She always enjoyed it when he brought her gifts like these- OH! How wrong he was. As soon as he got to the manor, Vanessa's vacation spot away from her huge castle, everything suddenly felt....off somehow. Like a tense and thick aura was in the air, so thick one would have to use a battle axe to cute through it, but upon further searching he found her. Vanessa, his beloved Queen with golden hair, weeping in one of the hallways, back faced to him and of course the sight pained him. What could've brought her to this state of being? "Vanessa?!" She flinched when he shouted her name and came near her. The sound of his footsteps stopping just behind her. "Sweetheart? W-Why are you crying?" Sudden worry came over him. Oh no. Did she think he forgot their anniversary?! That made him hold out the flowers with a giant smile. "Don't cry. I-I got you these! Look. A-Aren't they beautiful?" ".....How could you betray me, Philip?" Her voice growled out. And he took a step back, was it just him or was the room suddenly darker? They needed to open up the blinds more. But the shadows seemed to come from her as she growled again in a voice that was clearly NOT the sugary sweet voice of his beloved maiden. And betrayl?? What was she talking about? "How could you CHEAT ON ME!? AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH!! ALL OUR LIVES WE WERE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER!!" Her form slouched over as the shadows continued to consume her and her once beautiful emerald eyes twitched with a red of rage and anger he'd never seen before tears beginning to consume her eyes, or the one eye that was exposed to him at the moment. He froze just staring at her in horror as the same distorted voice asked another question. "How could you give your heart to that PEASANT GIRL!?" He stared at her in absolute fear as she growled like some wild animal at him, "W-WHAT?! You mean-...N-NO!! Nonono! You have it all wrong!" He held up the flowers with a strained scared smile. "I wasn't cheating on you! I would NEVER cheat on you! I was paying her and got you these! S-She grows the most beautiful flowers in the land, and you deserve no less than the best!" "LIAR!!" The not-Vanessa shrieked like she was a banshee making him almost drop the flowers. "I SAW YOU HOLDING HANDS!! AND LAUGHING AT HER JOKES!! FUNNY HUH?! WELL I HOPE PLAYING ME FOR A FOOL WAS WORTH IT, PHILIP!! GUARDS!!"  As if being summoned out of thin air, two heavy footsteps of the iron dressed guards came stomping down the hallway and like an idiot he looked back to her with pleading eyes. "Vanessa! I wasn't I swear to you! I was merely paying her for the flowers n-not giggling at her jokes! AAH!!" He yelped in fright when he was suddenly surrounded. two giant armored arms snatched him and wouldn't let go! She giggled without any humor. "Oh, Philip. You played me the fool for so long perhaps a punishment is in order for you. Take him to the celler and CHAIN HIM!!! I never want to see his face again.....And then seeze the florist. No crime against me shall go unpunished." WHAT?! POPPY!! "W-WHAT?! VANESSA, PLEASE NO!!" Two arms latched onto him and no matter how much he kicked and struggled he couldn't get out of their grasp. The flowers dropped to the ground as he reached out for her one last time. Her tears forming deadly ice to match her cold heart. "P-PLEASE!! DON'T HURT HER!! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!! VANESSA!! NOOOOO!!!" He weeped and weeped when he was painfully suspended in the air by his wrists. The coldness taking over him as he hiccuped and mumbled to himself and choked on those tears. He didn't know how long he stayed down there actually. TIme flies when you couldn't see what was happening but he was sure he never stopped crying for all that time as he got weaker, and weaker. Just getting colder and colder as the cold seeped into his very core...he was almost gone. Looking back up towards the ceiling and through his tears he wondered what was going on up there. He couldn't hear anything but he hoped Poppy was alright. He'd never forgive himself if Vanessa did anything rash. He hiccuped. His beloved queen. This was all his fault. "I-Im sorry. IM SORRY! IM SORRY!! IM SO SORRY!!" He yelled to the empty air knowing full well no one could hear him. But Vanessa was not the one he was apologizing to. The maiden of feiry red hair and ocean blue eyes. "I-Im s-so sorry, Poppy. *hic*" The cold crept further and his body felt light, somehow his shadow was extending, his life force fading into it as those handsome brown eyes closed to the darkness and numbing- "I-...love-..." The shadows and darkness consumed him. The shadow enlarging and morphing and contorted into a being of power and enhanced abilities. A gasp escaped the creature as it looked down at itself. At the same time moonlight shown through the window and what was left of the prince and his willpower faded away into the moonlight, so when the creature looked behind it, the prince was gone from the chained wall. The prince with his heart split into two by his heart splitting between two and found attachment in two very powerful elements of dark and light. Moonshine and shadows. The creature looked down at his new self....feeling his grin widen and a powerful laugh that many would come to fear vibrating around the basement of his new found freedom. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!'' *************************************************************************************************************** "GAH!!" Something wacked his head and he immediately jumped to the air. If he still had lungs he would probably be panting and looking around wildly around the room he was in. No cold walls caging him in. No coldness seeping into him. No Vanessa or chains or....Poppy. Instead a small pale little girl was staring up at him with concern as she watched his confused face darting around the area....He was on her ship. Her strange cute ship of the small seven year old in front of him. He had been laying on the pile of pillows she had and looking around the area as if he was afraid for a moment. Before he sighed in releif and reached up a clawed hand to rub at his head and hair. Staring down at the little girl standing upon the pile of pillows, holding one dangling in her hand, which he guessed must've been the thing that wacked. He sighed again and slowly lowered himself down look at her better. "Kid. It's already pass your bedtime probably. What are you doing up?" Her head tilted and those blue eyes blinked at him before a tiny hand reached out and poked his face where a nose should obviously be if he was human and he rose a brow. "Boop!" "....Did you really just wack me with a pillow for THAT? Kiddo, you should really find better reasons to wake me up." Two clawed hands gently reached down and picked her up from under the arms. She dropped the pillow from her hold and instinctively wrapped her arms around him as he floated her back down to her bed, the covers were already pulled back from her getting up and her friend snored away happily on the floor next to her bed....He made a mental note to get her a bed sometime. Bow couldn't be expected to keep laying like that on the hard floor, he gently placed the young child on the bed and went to pull the covers back over her- "You were mumbling something funny." She said making him stop and blink at her.  "Oh yeah?" She nodded. Dang nightmares. He barely had any, but he still got the occasional blast from the past. Wasn't being a cursed prince fun? He pulled the blankets up and she snuggled down with her stuffed toys he hand crafted for her. "And uh..What exactly did you hear me say?" She shrugged again as she was recovered and he started tucking her in. "Your head was in the pillows." He went to roll his eyes when something grabbed onto his hand. And he looked at her wide excited smile spread across her face. "Can you tell me a story?" "Squirt, I already read you the one you wanted with the space unicorns," he grumbled remembering the ridiculous book the girl begged him to read to her. "Yeah. But I always sleep better with a story, and if I don't sleep I'll get up and bother you again." She gave him that cat lipped smug face and he groaned lifting a hand to rub his face and look down at the child in the bed. Before sighing and giving in. She was right. He'd done this too many times to not expect a sudden pillow attack from the hyper story deprived child. "Fine." He turned back to the bookshelf by her bed and looked over the many childish covers. "Which one do you want now? Space Adentures? Starella? Planets and Star Maps?" "Your story!" He paused, and snapped his head to her wide eyed. "What?" She giggled and turned to her side yawning a bit before speaking. "I want you to tell me one of your stories." ..."My stories eh?" She nodded and he hummed. That..wasn't a very good idea. All the books he read were either lawyer/law books (what better way to help make his contracts better) and scary or mysteries books that were uh...N-Not suitable for children her age lets say. Plus he didn't have any on him at the moment so he guessed he could just make one up? How hard could making up a story for a kid be. She'll fall asleep if he just told her a story about a talking flower making friends with a bumble bee. His hand reached up to rub at his head again before looking at her now clutching the C.A.W agent plus he made her after telling him her adventures in the movie studio. ..."Ok, Ok! I'll tell you one I witnessed a long time ago....In a book. But you gotta promise to go to sleep." She hummed 'Mmm-hmm' and smiled patiently at the ghost who groaned and rolled his eyes again. Why was he doing this?...Well he just had a nightmare about his death-again- and talking about it even twisting the details sounded nice. Not that he'd ever admit it to the little girl. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful flower Princess named Poppy, and a-" "Pop? Why is she named after a soda?", the kid interrupted blinking confused and he scowled. "Not 'soda pop'. Poppy. Poppy is a kind of flower on this planet, Kid. Now don't be a rude little lady and let me finish the story unless you want to be grounded from them." She shut up and curled back down into the covers to his satisfaction. "Good. Now like I was saying! There was a flower princess POPPY not soda pop, an evil which named....'Veronica', and a stupid, stupid king." She raised her hand like in a classroom. "....*sigh* Yes?" "Why was he a stupid, stupid king?" "You'll see. Now" He grabbed her lamp and pulled the shade off, letting more light flood everywhere and she blinked at the sudden brightness, which a snap of his powers shadows slithered up the wall and formed the outlines of three people. Two women with their dresses and one wearing a witch hat, and a man wearing a crown. They moved as he talked and she watched amazed. "You see. WAY, WAY back before your great granny was even born there was these three. Like I said the Flower Princess was very beautiful. Her hair was a rose red and her skin was as soft a-as their petals. She had the most wonderful patience listeningto her friend The Stupid King, and his p-problems...."His face saddened for a moment as the king and princess shadows held hands platonically...."B-But..she didn't know the king was in love with her. You see...He was too cowardly to tell her or anyone else because he was betrothed to the Evil witch Veronica-" ANother raised hand. "...Yes?" "What does 'betoofed' mean?" "Betrothed, Kid. Not betoofed. You know contracts right? How you legally have to follow them because you promised to?" She nodded. "Well basically means the Stupid King promised to marry the witch a long time ago." ..She cocked her head. "But he doesn't love her. That's not like Starella and the Milky Way Prince. They fell in love before they got married." He chuckled. Even a seven year old could clearly see the stupid logic in arranged marriages and she didn't even comprehend them yet. And his situation, but he shrugged before making the king turn around and ....ECK!! Kiss the hand of the witch who looked like she was giggling. "Well, you're wrong. He DID love her. A long, long time ago before she became evil." "Why didn't he break with her like in the movies?" He shrugged. "Promises are sometimes h-hard to break for some people. And he still cared about her in some way, the witch was really, really pretty too, and I guess he just couldn't see past her beauty and wanted to try and make things right." "That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship." She held up a hand in knowing. "Conductor always says*ahem*!!" She tried to do a bad impression of the old bird and he smiled. "Lassie! If ye ever get yerself whatever the aliens call a wife, at thee first sign of trrrrrouble ask 'er if she loves the money ya makes with mah' movies. If she says yas, she's a no good golddigger and leave before she takes ye kids and house and most of ye money too!!" He laughed a couple times and Bow stirred in her sleeping bag. Not waking up but almost as he stared at the proud Hat child. "Well that's good advice kid. But she wasn't a golddigger-"....His face slowly contorted to a scowl and looked down. "She was in love with a fairytale. She loved the Stupid King for being like a King from a story. She never loved him for who he really was as long as her fairytale wasn't tampered with. She was clingy, selfish, nothing was never good enough unless it was expensive, and she demanded all his attention all the time. ....Until one fateful day-" He waved his three fingered hand at the shadows and it contorted until it showed the witch with slated eye holes and the king and princess holding hands....platonically of course. "The witch saw the King And Flower Princess holding hands...AS JUST FRIENDS." He stressed. "Nothing romantic. Just two friends holding hands for a little bit. And she got really, really jealous. In fact she got so jealous-" The shadows contorted to the king looking sad behind a cage. "-she blamed him for breaking her heart and locked him away forever. And then she-" The shadows again contorted to show the witch still angry and this time over a cauldron. "-cursed the Stupid King's and Princess's kingdoms. All the plants died, all the animals ran away, and everyone...." he couldn't say they froze to death! "..T-They moved on from there. But karma struck her good and-" She raised her hand again. "...What now?" "What's 'karma'??" "It means he got revenge. Justice? Whichever one you wanna call it." The shadows formed to show the king opening the door to the cage and running. "The Stupid King managed to escape and get free, but the Witch's spell backfired. She cursed herself too and was trapped forever in her home, the black magic keeping her inside the cave she dug, but it was too late. The Princess was gone and he never saw her again. The shadows formed one more image of the King holding a flower with his head down in shame." "WHAT?!" Bow stirred again and Snatcher shushed her. "He never saw her again?" She asked more quietly. "But that's not fair! He loved her so much!" He shrugged sadly and put the lamp shade back on, making the shadows disappear and he sighed, "It's not all bad. He's free and he got to go rule again without worrying without pleasing anyone else. Not all stories have a happy ending kid, even if it's half decent like this." He stared down to the floor with a frown...before reaching over and ruffling her hair which she giggled at. "It's also a very important lesson. Don't let yourself be blinded in bad situations and don't let someone use you like that. Ok?" "I'm never gonna fall in love! Yuck!!" She stuck her tongue out and he smiled.  "Good, good. You don't need to fall in love when ...well you're stuck as a kid for all eternity with me now don't you?" "NOPE!! I don't like that mushy stuff anyways!"  He smiled wider. "Good. Good. Now go to sleep. I need all the energy you can get to fix the well tomorrow." She giggled again but yawned and slowly closed her eyes and snuggled back into the blackets. As he smiled he looked back to the giant windows, as he looked to the darkned and frozen abyss of the planet they were above a frown slowly returned to the ghostly prince's face as he slowly floated over to the window. Placing a cold hand to the cool glass and watching as it slowly ticked by and he sighed once again. "Sorry, Princess. I had to be the stupid king to do that." "Snatcher...I can't sleep. Can I have a glass of water?" The Kid's voice piped up again and he chuckled. "Sure, kid." 

random dalish headcanons

halla are not raised for slaughter like goats or sheep, but when they die of illness or age or accident, every part of their body is used, to honour their life. usually a funeral is performed first. things like halla leather and halla horns are very expensive because of this; it’s rare the dalish will sell either to non-dalish, but the high price those goods fetch when sold to shems is a pretty good source of income if they get really desperate.

halla milk is definitely a staple of their diet though. halla milk isn’t as sweet as cow or goat milk but it is HUGELY superiour in terms of fat and protein content and makes really tart, tasty cheeses. you milk a halla for the same reason you milk a cow, it’s good for them.

all dalish can understand halla, who do not talk but make themselves understood to elves. it’s not just reading their body language like you would a mabari or a cat, but neither is it verbal words nor telepathic thought. the process is impossible to explain to shems. “you just /know/ what they mean,” lavellan says to cullen after trying to explain it to him for like an hour.

dalish spirits are strong as fuck, but their wines are typically shit, and mostly used ceremonially. that varies by clan, location, year, and luck, though. sometimes you forage some good shit.

lavellan was BLOWN AWAY by the ABUNDANCE of readily available sugar in haven and skyhold. sugar would have been an expensive luxury to his clan. that and the idea that shem are used to food just being like… delivered to them is like ????????? to him. most shem have never even butchered a chicken in their lives????????

like city elves, dalish marriages (they dont call it marriage, but lbr it’s marriage) are mostly arranged. dalish clans that we’ve seen are mostly small, and after a while everyone in it would be related to everyone else in some way, and i hc that they’re you know, intelligent enough to recognise incest = bad. there’s no stigma against a love match, it’s just kinda rare bc most of the people in your clan who you spend 99.99% of your time with are like, your first cousin. so chances are once you’re an adult your keeper eventually arranges a match, and it’s not like YOU MUST MARRY THIS PERSON OR BE CAST OUT FOREVER it’s like hey i found this girl from another clan who i think would be perfect for you, you should spend some time together and see if you’re into it. 

for them, it’s about tracking bloodlines for the purpose of knowing who everyone’s parents are; “pedigree” is a non-issue, unlike human nobility. you’re not matchmaking for pedigree kids, you’re matchmaking to create healthy, long-lasting, loving relationships that produce happy, healthy, supported children. 

family lines are tracked through the mother. they have no word for “bastard”

the attitude about homosexuality varies wildly both by clan and individual, but nowhere is it forbidden, no one sees it as inherently wrong or sinful, it would be refusing to reproduce that would be the problem.  at WORST, the attitude would be that it’s a selfish individual choice.

like the qunari, the dalish see transgender individuals as just being the gender they say they are, because surely they’d know best, right? nonbinary individuals are not unknown to them, and elvish has always had gender-neutral singular pronouns, and gender-neutral forms of gendered words, like lethallin (masculine), lethallan (feminine), lethallen (gender-neutral).

trans and nonbinary individuals are widely viewed as special and important. shem don’t understand but fuck ‘em.

kicking out mage children to die in the woods is stupid. if i HAVE to acknowledge it as canon because apparently it is now, i hc that was that an extreme minority view. one or two specific clans’ stupid decision is NOT a common, widespread practice. if a clan already has a lot of mages and is worried about templars, they make contact with another clan to harbour the mage child until a more permanent placement can be found. elves do not fear magic like humans do. magic is a precious commodity, and a USEFUL and RARE skill. it is a gift to them, not a curse.

dalish religious ceremonies involve a lot of song and dance, especially call-and-response type of songs. a lot of their song uses sounds that aren’t explicitly words, necessarily, but which are loaded with meaning anyway; this is a result of them substituting what they’ve lost of elvish.

they don’t really have the space to be hauling books around. they have an oral tradition, and most dalish are functionally illiterate in terms of the common tongue. they don’t really need to read. that said, some choose specifically to learn, and keepers/firsts usually make the effort to learn, since they’re usually the ones preserving and studying ancient elven artifacts which does include some books and scrolls.

their history being mostly oral, they also use song as a teaching tool. it’s much easier to teach a bunch of six-year-olds history lessons if it’s presented as catchy songs.

dalish dancing is way more expressive and interpretive than ballroom dancing. it’s meant to tell a story, not follow a set of rules, and how good you are at it is determined not by how well you follow predetermined steps but how good you are at getting your point across and how creative you are. your dance should make your audience *feel* something.

it’s also how the Youths flirt with each other, you gotta really practice ya moves for the next arlathvhen cuz what if neria from clan whatever thinks ur a scrub... ya gotta Bust A Move...

they craft elaborate costumes for their dances. everything on those costumes is symbolic in some way, meant to express something.

generally speaking storytelling is SUPER important to their culture. much of their values are taught by fables. elvish is an inherently metaphorical language, this has always been the case.

all dalish are taught to track and hunt with bow and arrow. obviously some are better at it than others, but everyone learns the basics just in case. everyone learns to provide for themselves just as everyone learns to defend themselves. children, men, women, elderly, everyone learns.

dalish courting involves a LOT of gift-giving on both sides. usually one party initiates it with a gift, and if the other party is interested, they return with a gift, and so on and so forth, the purpose being to show mutual commitment to providing for each other. it’s not regulated by gender roles.

the vallaslin ritual involves taking just enough lyrium and felandaris to trip balls and go into the woods and have a spiritual experience. used to be elves would take lyrium and meditate and receive a message from their chosen god, and that’s how you picked your patron, but the gods aren’t listening anymore, so you just kind of have to have your own epiphany about life and culture and yourself and stuff. it’s meant to purify your mind and clear any lingering fears or doubts away. then you purify your body and the keeper mixes your blood, their blood, and the keeper’s magic into an ink they embed under your skin.

vallaslin is applied when you are ready, not at a certain age. some get it as young as fourteen or fifteen, others have to wait until well into their twenties. it’s about maturity and being ready for adulthood. 

nobody has ever failed the ritual. that is, sometimes people can’t do it on the first or second etc attempt, but nobody has ever PERMANENTLY failed to complete it. a keeper who senses that a young adult is sensitive and might not do well at it is likely to encourage them to get a small design. it’s a keeper’s job to see their whole clan safely through the ritual. if someone fails, it’s as much the keeper’s failure as theirs.

everyone in the clan has a “job,” but if you’re not up to speed or where you should be, the keeper intervenes, finds out why, and fixes it – whether that’s through counseling, or assigning extra training, or figuring the individual just isn’t suited to the task and finding them something else that brings them pride to do instead.

they bathe a LOT, cleanliness is super important to them. shem stereotype them as being stinky wood savages but nah, once or twice daily bathing is widespread practise, and they’re super careful about keeping their water sources clean. 

nomadic life is hard as shit. most clans lose a couple members every year from age, illness, accident, starvation, or shem interference. some years are harder than others. babies and the elderly are especially at risk.

there’s a dalish saying of “two keepers, three opinions.” the arlathvhen can get… heated… with debate, but nobody takes being argued with personally, because if you can’t defend your position then it’s a bad position. debate is a bonding activity. it’s the keeper’s job, also, to make sure everyone’s opinion is heard.

you will pry shoeless elves from my cold dead fucking hands

Love is Blind (Netflix) - Series review

Before we even go here… let me start by saying I absolutely HATE reality TV shows lol.

I kept hearing about Love is Blind and then some very close friends of mine had text messages waiting for me when I woke up one morning super hyped about it so I decided to give it a try.

When I say pure entertainment… whew baby, lol I was cracking up. Now, don’t get me wrong, the experiment seems super intense and valid, but I don’t know that I could go through that and then actually go through with the marriage at the end. That’s too permanent for me.

Warning! If you haven’t seen it and you’re interested but don’t want spoilers, stop reading now.

Love is Blind is a Netflix series that takes love and throws it into an experiment to test if mental and emotional ties can truly help a couple withstand the sands of time and the controversy of the world and push forward into Marriage after blindly dating for 10 days you pick someone out of a group of many that you connect with the most, the kicker is you’ve never seen them until after the blind proposal.

My overview of the couples and their storybook endings:

Carleton and Diamond… had to start with them. Carleton, my guy… you’ve definitely got some issues you need to work through. That blow up stemmed from things he hasn’t yet accepted within himself. I mean it’s fine if you’re bi-sexual or fluid (he used that term) and you’re worried your final decision to be with a woman may be met with resistance, but if you don’t first accept yourself for who you are and the past you chose to live nobody else will ever have the chance to. Neither of them were really like “beautiful” to me and they were both ghetto anyone. Not shocked they didn’t make it pass what 2 episodes… unfortunate the only black couple ended up like this. WOMP! I’m appreciative of their forgiveness and capability to make amends with each other both before and during the reunion. Carleton needs some healing still though, can see it all over his face!

Gigi and Damien… Whew chilly, the issues on these two. Gigi is too much, and I know one thing, I’m not arguing with my man or fiancé calling him a “motherfucker” in public so he can snatch my tail up… 1 that’s disrespectful as a partner, respect is given where it resides and 2 the guys I like are often bigger than me and that’s a battle I don’t want to have lol. I mean, cute idea Guess but he has no backbone and she’s crazy. Good thing they didn’t get married cuz that would have been disastrous. Damien said no, and he was truly the savior of that situation. They’re actually dating now, and seems like Gigi has grown a great deal and they’re better than they were just jumping into marriage. Go them!

Kelly and Kenny… absolutely adorable… so adorable in fact they make me want to go to sleep. It’s strange how many unconventional things they have in common. For example the fact that both sets of parents met, dated, and married within knowing their respective spouses less than 6 months. I mean, they seem to be a really great fit for one another. Kelly said no however and I mean… okay, lol. I don’t know they didn’t do anything for me, Kenny was lit though, he has so much class. Kelly seems to be battling herself and upset about how she let things play out, jokes on you sis.

Mark and Jessica… talk about a train wreck… Jessica is the absolute WORST, and poor little Mark. I’m actually ridiculously tired of her whining about Barnett not choosing to be with her, and the kicker is Mark doesn’t even realize he’s the rebound guy. He’s so hopeful, it’s cute but sickening and I feel really bad for him because he’s trying to be married to somebody that would absolutely hire him as the help. And he really thinks she has physical issues because there’s no connection… no baby she is attracted to somebody else that is NOT you. She’s still trying to get with Barnett who is happily attracted to his own disarray with Amber. Not to mention her disgust with the fact that he’s 10 years younger than her. I’m glad she said no and didn’t go through with marrying him just because. They both need something other than one another. I’m also glad she appalled herself with her actions throughout her time in the experiment because he was just a hot mess.

Amber and Barnett… I’m not really sure how I feel about these two other then thinking Barnett was curious and afraid of Amber. Now, I think they’re a cute couple, but Barnett caused too much drama to be this corky little white boy that now wants to take on the task of caring for this girl that has no sense of responsibility or a stable job. Ma’am, I’m confused how you’re surviving. I’d have an anxiety attack if I walked in her shoes, but hey if he likes it I love it. They’re both a little confused about Love but what they are perfectly clear on is Jessica is a nut job and that sad, sad girl doesn’t know how to let go. Barnett made the wrong decision whispering sweet nothings in her ear because his fiancé will rock the socks off that poor little 34 year old. One of the two couples I really thought would go through with the wedding and they did. Marriage looks good on them, seems like they had their struggles and came out success on the other side of things. Good for them!

Lauren and Cameron… ALTHOUGH, I’m a strong advocate for black love and keeping it in the melanated realm, these two surprised me. They’re both adorable and interesting, Cameron obviously loves black women, because I mean look at us. Lauren is just as fabulous as she wants to be and she is not here for the games or “fairytale” of it all. She was clearly for something which brought her here but luckily she found her perfect match and they are definitely making it work! Her dad did not come to play games, however, and was the epitome of what most black children fear when choosing to bring home someone of the milk complexion. I’ve never dated outside of my race, so I don’t have that fear lol but I know it’s real for some people and that’s why. I think they’re DOPE for pushing forward in spite of Papa Speed’s rock solid demeanor, I mean he did agree to see where this road takes them so he’s not COMPLETELY against Cameron, and he was even in tears when he saw his babygirl in her wedding dress… almost had me crying with them like I was in the room. They said yes and I’m happy they made it. They look so happy and like the struggles of an interracial marriage aren’t weighing on them in a destructive manner. They gave me life, and hope lol

This show was interesting overall. I don’t know that I could put myself in that predicament and go through with the wedding, however. I mean I wouldn’t mind experiencing the trip without the “I do” at the end LOL, but actually saying yes? I really wouldn’t understand unless I experienced it which is something they all said. Could be they’re just amazing actors but something tells me they all genuinely went through these emotional twists and turns.

Anyway, check it out if you want, if nothing else you’ll get some really amazing laughs. I definitely did, LOL. If you have seen it or go watch, let me know what your thoughts are below! I’d love to read.

Be D.O.P.E.

Telling Manuel’s Family | Boxing Babes

Manuel was nervous as all hell to tell his mother about their baby. They had seen the a doctor, they had heard the baby’s heart and ha does tend how many weeks into the pregnancy she was, so it was a sure thing now. Scar and Manu would have a baby. A part of him was still nervous, but a bigger part of him was looking forward to it. He had already been planning on taking on a huge fight where winning or losing he would get a big check, so they could find a new place to live that had more than one bedroom. So he was excited for that. But he was dreading talking to his mother and Theresa about it, that much was clear. Climbing out of the car, he took a hold of Scarlett’s hand and managed a smile for her sake. “You ready to do this?” He asked her softly.

Scarlett wasn't certain how to feel. She was sure Gabriella wouldn't exactly be thrilled initially, but she could only hope that she would come around sooner rather than later. For Manuel's sake more than anything, really. Scar climbed out of the car, walking around to take Manuel's hand and nodded a little. "I'm ready," she replied softly, lifting his hand to kiss the back of it. "We'll be fine," she replied hopefully, nodding a little up at him.

Manuel nodded a little, hoping that would be the case. His mother was old fashioned but she would go with this because she loved them. He just didn’t want to hear her go on and on about celibacy or protection and marriage and children. God, it was going to be tiring. Leading her to the front door, Manu opened the door and stepped inside. “Mom? I brought sodas for dinner like you asked me to!” He said as he stepped into the kitchen, letting go of Scarlett’s hand to set the sodas down on the counter carefully. Gabriella walked over to them and smiled. “Hi, you two. Theresa and I made some empanadas for dinner. We figured if you guys wanted to talk it meant business.” She said playfully.

Scarlett followed closely behind Manuel into the house, which had come to be like a home for her too in the time that her and Manuel had been together. Scarlett grinned at Gabriella as she walked over to them, definitely feeling her nerves peak but also trying her best to remain calm. "Oh, yum. Thank you," Scarlett replied appreciatively before making her way to the dining room, really not elaborating on what her and Manuel had came to talk about.

Manu nodded and followed everyone to the dining room where dinner was already served and Theresa was pouring some soda in their glasses. “Hey,” She said excitedly when she saw Scarlett grinning and then taking a seat. Manu waited until Scar sat down to sit next to her. Gabriella smiled at the sight and looked at them as they began eating. “Yeah, we do have some stuff to tell you. Really important, actually.” Manuel said softly.

"Hey, pretty," Scar greeted Theresa easily, reaching over to rest her hand in Manuel's leg as they all began eating. Scarlett took a sip of her drink, looking over at Manuel as he spoke up. He certainly wasn't eating around the bush. Scarlett cleared her throat, squeezing his leg gently. She would say it if he wanted her to, really, it would probably be easier if she did so anyway. "Want me to?" Scar offered gently.

Manuel swallowed hard and nodded a little. Sure, he was there with her, but if she wanted to say it, she should. Taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, Manuel looked back at his mother intently and sighed softly.

Scarlett took a deep breath, holding Manuel's hand tightly as she turned to look at the two women across from them. "Theresa, Gabriella.." Scar began slowly. "I'm pregnant. Ten weeks." Scarlett explained softly, a small smile pulling at the end of her lips as she did so.

Gabriella just stared at them as Scarlett finally spoke up, making Theresa he the one to talk first. “What?!” She exclaimed quickly, gasping in the process. Manuel took in a deep breath and looked at them. “We found out a couple of days ago and went to the doctor today.” He said gently, looking over at his mother who finally spoke up. “Manuel, are you kidding me? Why would you let this happen? Scarlett...you are too young for this. You’re in school. Manuel just signed onto this new job. We don’t have any money. How could you two be so irresponsible? How many times did I talk to you about this? God. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Neither of you.” She said quickly, making Manuel lean back on the chair as he heard her.

Scarlett's face fell as soon as Gabriella spoke up. She knew they wouldn't exactly receive a positive reaction right off the bat, but she hearing it was something else entirely. Scar swallowed hard as she listened intently to Manuel's mother, taking a deep. As she finished, Scarlett was ready to speak up. "I graduate in less than a month. Manuel's going to be making more than enough for the two of us and I have plenty saved up from my internship." Scarlett replied, trying to make it clear that financial stability wasn't a problem.

Manuel es surprised to hear Scar speak up so quickly, but he was grateful for that. For her always being there to defend him. “And just like that, you are ready to have a child? You don’t even have a house. You aren’t married. How can you be so calm about this?” Gabriella retorted. Manuel sighed loudly and shook his head. “Mom. Scarlett has her own apartment. We will live there until w have enough money to get a new place. She’s only two months and a half, we have time. I’m moving in with her tomorrow and everything else can wait. We will make sure the kid has everything that they need and more...it’s not ideal but it’s our baby. We already decided that...we are going to keep it and we are gonna be okay.” He said quickly.

Scarlett shook her head a little at Gabriella's words, not having the chance to speak up because Manuel beat her to it. Scarlett held his hand tightly, nodding slowly in agreement with his words. "We know we're not ready. We're both...terrified. But regardless, this child is ours and we couldn't possibly imagine giving it up in any way." Scarlett replied sincerely, nodding her head a little as she did so. "It may not be perfect and we probably won't be either, but we're going to do our absolute best. Besides, it doesn't matter that we're not married. With all due respect because I have nothing but for you, Manuel and I don't need a piece of paper to legitimize our relationship."

Manuel listened to as se intently, nodding his head to let his mother know that he agreed with her and managing a small smile as she finished. “And we will get married too. Some time soon. But it’ll be with the wedding that Scarlett deserves and right now, we want to save money for the new place and the baby, you know? Getting married Can wait. Scar knows I’m not going anywhere. We are being responsible, Mom.” He whispered softly. Theresa finally spoke up once again. “Oh my god, I’m gonna be an aunt. This is so cool.”

Scarlett looked over at Manuel as he spoke, nodding slowly with every word that left his lips. He was right. They had this under control. She understood his mothers concern, it was only natural. But they could do this. They had it all figured out. Scarlett then looked at Theresa as she spoke up, causing her to giggle softly. Scar wanted Theresa to be the god mother, more than anything, but she figured they should handle one thing at a time. "You'll be the best aunt anyone could possibly have."

Gabriella was obviously frustrated. All she wanted was her kids to do the right thing but she knew that Scarlett and Manuel were good kids. Manuel had taken care of them from a very young age and she knew that he would have a kid and be good to it. Scarlett was selfless. She managed a small smile at her daughter’s words and finally sighed. “I guess there isn’t much I can do about this. As long as you know that a baby isn’t easy, you know?” She explained softly, which made Manuel nodded his head. “We know mom. We just want your support.”

Scarlett then shifted her gaze to Gabriella who still had yet to say anything, biting down on her bottom lip as she finally did. Scar nodded gently along with Manuel's words as she looked at him, then looking over at Gabriella again. "More than anything," Scar whispered. "My parents-" Scar began slowly, shaking her head. "My parents aren't in my life anymore and-and all I want is for this child to have a grandparent that will love them immensely."

Manuel gave her hand a careful squeeze and sighed softly as his mother relaxed. “Of course I will love them. I may get mad at you two but if that child is yours, I will never stop loving them. Family comes first. Always.” Gabriella said easily, reaching over to take Scars hand gently and tapping it. “Now, eat. My grandchild needs to be very strong.” She said teasingly, shaking her head. “You kids are gonna killer one day, I swear. Dropping news like that.”

Scarlett relaxed as soon as she heard Gabriella's words, not being able to help but smile as she did so. Scar laughed softly at her words, nodding a little. "Of course," Scar replied softly, as she began eating once again. Scarlett was incredibly relieved they'd done this. They had it off of their chests and could all move forward, as a family.

Manuel chuckled at her words, shaking his head at it all and beginning to eat as he gave Scarlett’s hand a gentle squeeze. “These are good, Mom. As usual.” He said happily, takin a sip of his drink after.

Scarlett began eating easily (without a fork bc that's not a thing), keeping a tight hold on Manuel's hand as she did so before nodding easily in agreement. "I can't believe that I never would have had these had it not been for you all," Scar mused gently.

Manu grinned at his girlfriend and let out a small laugh. “I know, all of your life without good food. I don’t know how you did it, just eating all that McDonalds.” He said playfully, shaking his head at himself and then reaching over to take another one. He could eat like ten of these easily honestly. “Manu, can you not eat half of these all by yourself, please.” Theresa asked with a roll of her eyes.

Scarlett gasped at Manuel's words, taking her hand from his to smack the back of it. "Don't expose me like that in front of your family," Scar replied playfully, the grin on her lips an indicator of that much before she laughed at Theresa's words. "That's asking for a lot, T."

Manuel laughed lightly as Scarlett hit him, rolling his eyes. “I’m not exposing you! Everyone knows this.” He exclaimed playfully and then laughed at Theresa’s words. “Nope. I need to eat everything.” He said quickly.

Scarlett rolled her eyes playfully at Manuel's response, then laughing as he was very honest with Theresa. "See, told you. You have no idea how many times I go grocery shopping a week. He's like a vacuum when it comes to food," Scar teased him, grinning widely at him as she did so.

Gabriella laughed along with her. “Makes two of us. I swear, he eats here and hen goes to your house and eats there too. He needs to be stopped.” His mother said, shaking her head. Manuel groaned, narrowing his eyes at them. “Stop ganging up on me.”

Scarlett giggled at Gabriella's words as she finished her second empanada, then leaning back into her seat to look at Manuel as he spoke up. She laughed once more, shaking her head a little. "It's out of love, baby." She resolved playfully, setting her hand on his knee.