#( a ripple disrupts tranquillity ;; asks )

[kikun]

bites his finger :3c

kills him.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Harry on holiday with the fam and the bubba is being really ratty because he’s tired so harry decided to take him for a walk in his stroller to try and get him to fall asleep.

Tired Baby Styles.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - long hair harry as a dad has me going feral, enjoy :)

word count - 1.5k

in which, you, harry and your one and a half year old son, elliott are holidaying in spain, where your little one won’t go down for his afternoon nap, so your boyfriend comes up with an idea to get him to doze off.

In the heart of a picturesque coastal paradise, the sun-drenched atmosphere of a perfect holiday unfurls. As you step into the scene, the gentle rustling of palm trees draws your attention skyward. Their emerald fronds dance in harmonious rhythm with the ocean breeze, casting dappled shadows on the poolside oasis below.

Beside the sparkling cerulean waters of the hotel swimming pool, a symphony of joyous laughter fills the air. A group of exuberant children, their faces adorned with gleeful smiles, leap into the cool embrace of the water, their splashes creating iridescent droplets that catch the sun's golden rays. Each joyful jump adds to the melody of excitement echoing across the pool area.

Lounge chairs adorned with vibrant towels are strategically arranged around the pool's periphery. Here, holidaymakers bask in the warmth of the sun's affectionate caress, their skin kissed by the sun's radiant glow. Their languid postures bear witness to the relaxation that accompanies these precious moments of reprieve from everyday life. Colorful parasols dot the scene, offering a sanctuary of shade to those seeking solace from the sun's fiery embrace.

As the sun's warm embrace envelops the scene, your heart flutters with a familiar sense of contentment. Beside you, your boyfriend of three years, Harry, lounges on a sun-bed, his magnetic presence amplified by the vibrant surroundings. His captivating gaze meets yours, the unspoken connection between you two as strong as ever.

Harry's trademark long hair is gathered into a casual man bun, showcasing the effortless elegance that has become synonymous with his style. The strands that escape the bun shimmer like spun gold, catching the sunlight in a breathtaking dance. His navy blue swim shorts perfectly complement the azure backdrop, a reflection of both the sea and the sky.

Tattoos, each one a piece of art etched onto his skin, paint a story of his journey and passions. The sun cream delicately applied on them accentuates their intricate designs, turning them into living masterpieces that glow beneath the sun's warm touch. The canvas of his skin becomes a testament to his individuality, every inked mark an expression of his creativity and authenticity.

As the gentle waves provide a soothing symphony, your fingers find their way to entwine with his, a familiar gesture of affection that needs no words. The world around you seems to fade, leaving only the two of you and the timeless tranquillity of this moment.

His eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions, hold yours in a tender gaze that speaks volumes. It's in these quiet, unguarded moments that you're reminded of the depth of your connection, the bond that has grown stronger with each passing day.

As the tranquil embrace of the sun-soaked paradise continues, a sudden shift in the atmosphere ripples through the scene. The melodic lull of the waves falters, and the connection between you and Harry falters for a brief moment. The cause of this disruption is your one and a half year old son, Elliot, whose tired cries pierce through the serene ambiance.

The cries grow louder, and your attention is drawn away from the shared moment to the source of the distress. At the edge of the pool area, you spot Elliot, his tiny face flushed with frustration and exhaustion. The vibrant glow of his blue eyes, a mirror of your own, is marred by glistening tears, reflecting his fatigue and the frustration of a disrupted slumber.

With swift concern, Harry shifts his position on the sun-bed, his tattooed arms extending towards you as if to offer his support. Your fingers reluctantly disentangle from his, a reluctant separation born out of parental instinct. As you approach your distressed son, the cooling breeze seems to carry away the tranquillity that once enveloped the scene.

Bending down to scoop Elliot into your arms, you hold him close, his small frame trembling with fatigue. His sobs echo in your ears, a heartbreaking melody that resonates with the challenges of parenthood. Despite the picturesque surroundings, the most important moment right now is attending to the needs of your son, who has endured a restless night.

As Elliot's cries persist, a sense of helplessness begins to tug at your heart. Despite your best efforts, his sobs show no signs of abating. It's in this moment of shared concern that Harry's soothing presence becomes a lifeline.

With a tender understanding in his eyes, Harry suggests, "M’heart, why don't I take him f’a walk in his stroller? Maybe a change of scenery will help him settle, and y’could use some rest too, considering how the night went."

Touched by his thoughtfulness, you nod appreciatively, your weariness evident in your eyes. Gently handing over Elliot to Harry's awaiting arms, you feel the warmth of his embrace envelop your son. Elliot's cries seem to soften as he nestles against his father's chest, finding comfort in the familiar heartbeat that has always been a source of solace.

With a delicate touch, Harry secures Elliot into his stroller, his gentle hands fastening the buckles with practised ease. As he leans over, his soothing voice fills the air, "Alright, little buddy, we're going f’a walk. Let's see if we can calm down, yeah?"

Elliott's cries continue, a mixture of exhaustion and the desire to be held evident in every sob. The tiny hands that reach out towards Harry's face tug at his heartstrings, and he leans in to brush his lips against Elliott's forehead.

"I know, mate. I know. It's alright," he coos, his voice a soothing melody that dances in the air.

Harry's fingers linger for a moment on Elliott's cheek, a brief caress that conveys love and understanding. With one last reassuring glance, Harry begins to push the stroller, the wheels gliding smoothly along the path. "We're just going f’a little walk, Eli. You'll feel better soon, I promise."

However, the cries persist, growing louder in their protest. Elliott's eyes, pools of innocence and longing, search Harry's face as if pleading to be scooped up into his father's arms. Harry's brow furrows with concern, his heart aching at the sight of his son in distress.

"I know y’want to be held, buddy," he murmurs, his fingers gently brushing Elliott's cheek. "But sometimes a walk can help. You'll see."

Elliott's cries escalate, and Harry's resolve softens. With a tender sigh, he comes to a stop and kneels beside the stroller.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, his voice a mixture of love and amusement. "You win, pal. Y’can come into daddy’s arms."

As he carefully lifts Elliott from the stroller, the little one's sobs gradually subside into sniffles. The warmth of Harry's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart, provides the comfort that Elliott had been seeking.

"There we go," Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against Elliott's fuzzy head. "Sometimes all y’need is a cuddle, huh?"

Elliott's fingers curl into the fabric of Harry's shirt, his cries softening into whimpers as he nuzzles against his father's chest. With a determined resolve, Harry straightens up and looks towards you, offering a reassuring smile. "I'll walk him until he falls asleep, then I'll bring him back. Don't worry, m’love."

As they slowly move away from the poolside

With Elliott nestled in his arms, Harry's touch is a gentle and soothing presence against the little one's back. The rhythmic motion of his hand, moving up and down in a comforting caress, matches the cadence of his footsteps as he begins to walk around the hotel. The atmosphere in the reception area is hushed, a backdrop of understated luxury that contrasts with the earlier scene by the pool.

As they traverse the hotel's elegant corridors, Harry's soft voice hums a tune that's both tender and familiar. The reception staff offer knowing smiles, a nod to the shared experiences of parenthood. Harry's strides are purposeful yet gentle, a dance of patience and care as he navigates each turn and hallway, his focus solely on the slumbering bundle in his arms.

Passing by the tennis courts, the sound of a playful match echoes in the distance. The rhythmic thud of balls and the occasional laughter form a comforting symphony that blends seamlessly with the ambiance of the moment. Harry's gaze shifts briefly, his eyes catching the lively scene before he returns his attention to Elliott.

As they continue their journey, the soft glow of the indoor bar beckons like a haven. The polished wooden floors beneath their feet create a muted melody, the rhythmic tapping of Harry's steps a quiet rhythm that harmonises with the calm of the evening. It's here, surrounded by the ambient light and the low murmur of conversations, that Elliott's eyelids begin to droop.

As they step into the bar, the air carries the scent of aged wood and the promise of relaxation. Harry's hand continues its soothing motion, now softer and slower, his voice a tender whisper.

"Almost there, little mate," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the peaceful expression that gradually settles on Elliott's face.

In the dim light, they find a quiet corner, a shelter within the embrace of the hotel's interior. Harry eases himself into a plush armchair, still cradling Elliott against his chest. The vibrations of his voice hum against Elliott's ear, a lullaby of security and warmth. And then, as if the journey had been leading to this moment, Elliott's eyes flutter closed.

A tranquil sigh escapes Harry's lips, a mixture of relief and tenderness. He gazes down at his peacefully slumbering son, a soft smile gracing his features.

"Sleep tight, little man," he whispers, his hand gently cupping the back of Elliott's head.

[my-timing-is-digital]

danger and i are old companions. —Picard

‘I concur,’ the android said insensitively, his yellow eyes oscillated from the north-west side of the town hall to the south-east side, examining the runes chiselled into the marble pillars, and marvelling at the botanical elements that adorned the establishment. The embellishments alluded to myriad ancient traditions of the indigenous peoples residing on this planet ⸺ some of tribes’ traditions, he noticed, were more predominantly present than others, he wondered why. ‘That is why you requested my presence during this diplomatic gathering, is it not?’

Blatantly agreeing with the Captain’s statement might be inappropriate and inconsiderate, but his frankness served as a testimony to the fact that everywhere the crew of the Enterprise had followed their Captain, danger had lurked in the shadows like an minacious stalker in the night. Data threw a momentary glance at Picard, assessing the nonverbal language he was transmitting as a consequence to his words. Should he comment on the blunt and candid nature of his statement, the Commander would vindicate the uncensored remark by reminding the Captain of his inability to fabricate misinformation...

‘Captain, may I ask you a personal question?’ the inflection that was audible in his voice was inquisitive and rippled like a winding river in the warm, afternoon sun; the day tranquil and utopian until a rainy cloud would blot the blue sky and obscure the solar radiation from coruscating on the wavelets of the river; cascades of water would mercilessly hammer down upon its surface, disrupting the serenity by smashing one’s carefree afternoon plans into smithereens... ‘Though, I do not lack the conviction in your abilities as a diplomat and mediator, I am obligated to remind you that many individuals, who are ⸺ with all due respect, sir ⸺ more proficient and adroit at conducting these negotiations and peace talks than you, have failed in their countless attempts to placate the precarious situation here, on Sevla II. Thus, my query: What makes you think you will be more successful in your endeavours? What tactics will you be employing in order to convince the indigenous peoples to conciliate and proceed to live alongside each other, as a congruent civilisation, in peace, not war...’

[alice-dont-break]

staying in bed | janthony one shot

thanks for the prompt @aangstlord 💕

When Jasmine first woke up, she didn't need to open her eyes to know exactly what was going on around her. She could feel the weight of Anthony's arm laying heavy around her waist, the bump of his nose pressed against the back of her shoulder, and the support of his hips behind her own, and all this told her that she was in the same tight embrace that soothed her to sleep last night.

After a few deep breaths to savor the last of her peaceful rest, she blinked away the sleep from her eyes, and rolled over to face his chest, carefully so that the protective arm around her torso would keep its close guard. Once they were chest to chest with her hands pinned between them, she buried her face into his bare skin and inhaled the woodsy scent of his body wash that remained. His heart thumped against her forehead, reminding her of the simple beat that never failed to enchant her.

Eventually, the mindless musings of her fingertips around the ridges of his muscles roused Anthony as well. "G'morning, love you," he grumbled, rubbing his hand across her back a couple times, and pressing a kiss wherever on her head he could reach. One night when Jasmine's clinginess was amplified by a bottle of wine, she'd asked why people always say "goodnight, I love you", but then not do the same in the morning. He'd realized that her loose lips had spilled a great point, and since then they've stuck to starting their days as sweetly as they end them.

Careful not to bump him around, Jasmine shuffled up the bed so her head lay on Anthony's pillow close enough for their lips to meet in a gentle kiss. "Morning, love you too," she mumbled back, letting out a sleepy giggle as their noses bumped. "Sorry I woke ya."

"S'okay baby, was a pretty nice way to wake up," he smirked, watching how her tired eyes softened for him. The hint of sun sneaking past the curtains was still a mere suggestion of light, allowing their day to freeze at dawn. Just a hint of amber illuminated Jasmine's face, as his thumb traced along the highlight of her cheekbone. Surely he'd already memorized every detail of her face, but every morning still felt like rediscovering a wonder.

"Was it?" She teased, knowing with how perfect it was for her, it had to be just as lovely for him. They adored their lazy mornings together, especially when they'd spent far too many apart lately.

"Mhm, pretty girl all wrapped up in me? Can't think of anything nicer than that." He inched his face a little closer to hers so their smiles could brush against one another, allowing for more and more stolen kisses without even having to move their necks, though for a sensation so sweet they sure would have crossed oceams. The chaste little pecks felt so delightfully easy and always within reach that they kept taking advantage, allowing the lazy kisses to take over their consciousness until their eyes were fluttering shut. They weren't asleep again per se, just peacefully drifting between kisses and enjoying the gentle caresses without having any other thoughts to tend to.

Time seemed to slip away from them for a while, until Anthony opened his eyes and reached up to press a kiss to Jasmine's forehead. This one was just a little firmer than the ones before, trying to pull her out of her haze and safely back to him without startling her out of the peaceful trance they'd both faded into. When he pulled away, she nudged her head forward again to demand another kiss there, and he smiled against her skin at her neediness.

"Your lips feel nice," she rasped through a gravelly voice that hadn't been used for a while. She eagerly tilted her chin up, hoping for yet another kiss, which he happily provided.

Once she pulled back, he peppered another couple to the corners of her mouth, pulling a little giggle from her lips as she smiled up at him. "Yours feel pretty nice too, darling."

"What time is it?"

"Dunno lovely, don't think it's morning anymore though." He responded with another quick kiss to her temple, then rolled onto his back, angling himself up with an extra pillow behind his neck.

As soon as there was space between them, Jasmine started whining and followed him, wrapping both her arms around the one laying closest to her. She hugged it to her chest and nuzzled in closer to use his bicep as a pillow for her head. He nudged down to press a kiss to her temple as she settled into her new position that he wouldn't dare to move her from now. She looked far too tranquil to disrupt.

Somehow, taking complete control of his arm still hadn't felt like enough, so she threw her leg over his to inch just a little bit closer. The skin her feet brushed over felt cold though, so she hooked her ankle around his calf and rubbed it gently up and down, hoping to warm him up a little under the covers. He always ran a little cold, but she was warm in the mornings. She felt like she could melt into the sheets that carried all the heat they'd built between them overnight. When they didn't get out of bed all morning, the warmth never had a chance to escape, so she felt very content being all wrapped up, and eager to share that comfort with him.

The skin that pressed against her cheek carried his woodsy scent, and she inhaled deeply to enjoy a full helping. Each of their scents had lingered on the sheets for so long now overnight that they'd blended together into something that was distinctly them. It wasn't the sweetness of Jasmine's vanilla, or the musk of Anthony's cedar; it was a perfect blend. Now though, she wanted his scent to overpower hers because she simply adored it. Sometimes it felt like she needed it just to breathe a little deeper, and that was certainly the effect it was having now.

With every inhale, Jasmine felt his scent stealing more and more of her consciousness. This paired with the sonorous beating of his heart, the sweetness of his lips lingering on her own, and the expanse of warmth from the space his hand covered on her back left her senses swimming in his essence. Every squeeze of her shoulder or kiss to the crown of her head coaxed her to sink even deeper until her mind was fully submerged.

"Love you so much," she murmured against his skin.

"Love you too angel." The drawl of her dulcet tones as they slung together told him she was drifting back to sleep, so he spoke just as softly.

"So, so much..." she continued, "just want you and me always. Doesn't matter what or where, jus' you and me doin' us. Just us things with you n'me." His hand swept up her back to cradle her neck as she twisted to look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, looking just as dazed as she sounded.

"Sounds perfect, baby," he smiled.

"And your hands on me... and all 'round me... can be all warm... can we do that?"

Anthony hummed along to her musings, loving the way her voice softened as sleep started to take over. He had to purse his lips together in a smile to stop himself from chuckling at her reverie because the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt. "Course we can, Jazzy."

Her subconscious was speaking to him and he fancied drinking up every word. "Think your hands could hold all o'me, big n'strong, just like you... s'why you keep me so safe... so lucky."

"Always gonna keep you safe baby, and I'm just as lucky," he whispered, muffled by the kiss he pressed to her temple. "How 'bout you close your eyes now and let my hands hold all of ya, hm?"

"Need you to.. need you to know I love you first," she mumbled back.

Her eyes started drooping shut, giving Anthony just enough space to press a gentle kiss to her eyelids. "I know, sweetheart, promise I know," he whispered, letting his featherlight words melt away the tension prying her eyes open until they lolled all the way shut. His lips pressed to her temple where they'd linger as he wrapped his leg over hers to draw her in snug.

Anthony could have probably slipped back into sleep himself, but the long distance stints had made it too hard to sleep away moments this precious. Whenever she fell asleep in his arms, her lips curled into a faint smile as her breathing eased into a steady rhythm that lulled him like his own lullaby. Once in a while, her eyelashes would flutter through a dream, perhaps tickling whatever patch of his skin she'd nestled into, or a trill would slip from her lips. Such small ripples through her sleep could only flood his awareness like tidal waves if he kept his eyes on her, keeping a careful watch while his fingertips ghosted over the features that he knew as well as his own.

Time seemed to escape them yet again, as moments were just breaths that they shared together, and those were limitless. They could stay here for as long as they needed; they knew they were always safe here and there were no expectations and no pressures to draw them away. Eventually her eyes opened again, though not because of a far-too-early alarm clock, or erratic breathing from a nightmare, or a tug from the pressures of work. She was simply rested, and ready to be present in the moments they were sharing.

"Think we should get up?" He asked between the soft kisses he was now peppering across the crown of her head.

"And do what, cuddle on the couch instead? What's the point?" She giggled and his cheeks warmed at the most precious sound and feeling of the tickle of her breath on his arm. She started pressing little kisses to whatever skin was there, and he wondered how he could ever possibly say no to her.

"Alright sweetheart, lazy day then," he smiled, reaching over with his free arm for the television remote. He kept the volume low, just so whatever was on HGTV could fill the room with some background noise. Jasmine wanted to watch a little, despite being on her side, so she released his arm and curled her upper back more, letting her head rest sideways across his stomach. She could see the television now, but still couldn't really pay attention, as now she had Anthony's hands in her hair to distract her.

His fingers threaded through, finding any untangled curls he could and looping them around his fingers a few times. Her hair felt like satin to his touch, and he loved how separating the strands seemed to release more of the sweet shea scent of her shampoo. Soon his fingers would delve back in, letting his nails graze over her skin then pressing with the pads of his finger tips to ease any tension across her scalp. The mindless playing and massaging soothed them both, as the whirring of the television just added score to a scene that was already the perfect image of serenity.

As comfy as Jasmine was, she didn't care enough about the television to let it stop her from wrapping her arms around him any longer. She straightened out, placed a hand on his chest and tucked herself under his arm so she could bury her face into his side. The little whine muffled by how she pressed into his skin was nearly inaudible, but he could translate with ease. He pulled her in tighter as soon as she settled, resting a hand on her shoulder to secure her as close as possible. Once they made sure no air could sneak between them, he pulled the fallen blanket up over her shoulder and held it in place as he kneaded the muscles there, which somehow always seemed to be pulled taut until she'd melt into his embrace.

All the stress of filming, writing, press, and travel weighted heavily on Jasmine, meaning even the most peaceful moments could be invaded with the pressure to always be going. As if she were cued by tension in her back, she leaned to look up at Anthony with her lip sucked between her teeth. "Is.. is this dumb? I probably should get up and do something... who am I to take a whole day off?" Her words were breathless and flustered as she scoured her mind for reasons this scene that felt so perfect could actually be wrong.

His lips shifted to the creases appearing across her forehead, giving the most gentle caresses until the muscles there released. "You are a beautiful woman who is ahead of schedule on every single project, who deserves a break, and who has a lovestruck fiance craving a chance to take care of her. Relaxing is the smartest thing you can do for yourself right now baby, can't have you burning out, right?"

"I.. I guess." She shrugged up to be drawn deeper into the kisses to her forehead, and focused on using the slow pace of his presses as a guide for her breath and her thoughts.

She got to that ultimate point of relaxation quickly, as the tension released from her shoulders under Anthony's touch. Feeling her sink deeper into him, his hand slid up from her shoulder to her cheek, where he rubbed his thumb gently. "There you go baby," he cooed, barely above a whisper, "nothin' to do today but relax."

They'd been in bed for so long now that they would certainly be stiff when they got up, but that didn't matter. They were absolutely where they were meant to be, as the bed had assumed their combined shape. Their bodies lay heavy in the mattress, as the pillows curved around Anthony's neck and throw blankets bunched up around them. The wrinkled comforter and sheets weren't the only things that enveloped them in this perfect warmth though; they knew it was their arms and lips and legs and bodies melded together, along with the sweet words and assurances and the aura of love that surrounded them that would always give them this bubble to hide away in. They could stay in bed all day because everything they needed was already there.

[monkwrites]

I can't decide what long fic to write next so I've been working on a couple things, a little at a time. A long time ago I shared the beginning of a KyouHaba fantasy AU, and a few months ago I decided to revisit it. I didn't like what I had so I started from scratch, and here's the new beginning.

He really, really hoped it could be so.

______________________________

The moon shone bright that night, bathing the garden in an ethereal light. The joyous shouts of intoxicated party guests could be heard all the way from the banquet hall, but did little to break the serenity of the garden. He wasn’t supposed to be out there, especially not this late at night, but without anyone keeping watch to deter him, it was the only place young Shigeru wanted to be. He sat happily in the old, worn gazebo where it sat prominently in the middle of the pond, watching the breeze blow ripples across the water like folds of fine silk flowing off an elegant gown. The pond lilies had always been his favorite flower, not just in the garden, but of all the flowers he had ever seen. Sometimes he wished he could be as tiny as a frog so that he, too, could rest on their broad leaves. It was a foolish idea, he knew, and he knew because his mother had told him as much. A stupid idea from a stupid child. Perhaps if he were to grow up and become a learned young man, he’d have better thoughts and his mother wouldn’t be as cross with him? One day, he was sure it would be so. And then they could sit in the gazebo together and talk and play and she would be happy like his chambermaid was.

A particularly hostile gust cut through the air, disrupting the water and shaking the bushes around him. From the gust, petals fell around him, small and pale blue, resting gently at his knees. He clenched his tiny fists in the fabric of his robes. Oh no, he’s done it again.

Shigeru reached up to shake the rest of the unwanted flowers from his hair, hoping to every God in the Six Kingdoms that there truly was nobody around who could tell his mother. If she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t punish him. He only wanted to make her happy, but it was so difficult with—

A board creaked behind him. Shigeru turned around with a start, fully expecting a guard or a maid to have found him. Instead, it was another little boy that looked about his age. He’d never met him, but he still recognized him after spending the past five days watching him from afar. Prince Kentarou stared at him, his body completely still like an animal on the hunt. His golden eyes almost glowed in the dim light. Scary.

Neither child dared speak. It wasn’t until more flowers were shaken from Shigeru’s hair that either child moved again. Kentarou stepped tentatively under the gazebo, looking from the golden lotus base up to the exposed wooden rafters. He took a seat at the far end, sitting in a way Shigeru found scandalous for a crowned prince. Surely even animals like the Kyoutani family had manners? Kentarou didn’t seem to care, he simply sat there casually, slouching like a peasant. Shigeru had been so dumbstruck that he had almost forgotten his manners.

He scooted himself around until he was facing the crowned prince. He held out his hands in a respectful bow, but received none in return.

“Prince Kentarou.”

Kentarou didn’t answer. He pulled his knees up to his chest and turned his bright eyes to the pond, as though Shigeru weren’t even there. He couldn’t believe it. How rude.

He moved again until he, too, was facing the pond. The garden no longer held the same peaceful tranquility as it had just moments prior, but if the crowned prince kept to himself, it couldn’t be helped. At least he seemed to be calm and quiet, unlike many other children their age.

Still, he was curious, as he seldom had the opportunity to meet someone like prince Kentarou. Shigeru looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see golden eyes staring at him. Kentarou looked away, his face warping into a mess of angry lines. Shigeru, too, looked away. Of course a Kyoutani would be so rude, but it still made him clench his fists with irritation.

Yet another gust swept through the warm summer air, and yet more petals fell. Letting out a small gasp, Shigeru did his best to discreetly pull the flowers from his hair, but it was as though they were never ending. He realized that perhaps they were; if they grew from his head then they would surely always grow, but sometimes they were more persistent than others.

The more he pulled, the quicker they seemed to grow. Shigeru stole another glance over his shoulder, once again to those glowing golden eyes. The crowned prince didn’t look away.

“What?!” Shigeru snapped. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but the prince didn’t seem to care. He simply kept staring. “Did your mother not teach you manners?”

“What if she didn’t…” Kentarou mumbled.

“Oh, so you can talk?”

Kentarou narrowed his eyes. “‘Course I can. Just don’t wanna talk to an Oikawa…”

Shigeru’s stomach dropped. “Well, I’m not an Oikawa.”

“Huh?" The prince cocked his head to one side. "You’re the King’s son, ain’t you? Then you’re an Oikawa.”

“Don’t you know anything?” Shigeru asked. It was all he could do not to shout at the idiot before him. “I’m a bastard, and bastards can’t be Oikawas.” They shouldn’t shout at princes, either.

Kentarou tilted his head, his face warped with confusion. “That’s dumb. What are you, then?”

“I’m...I’m Yahaba Shigeru...your highness.”

“Now you’re polite…” Kentarou grumbled. “Whatever.”

Turning away, Shigeru silently scolded himself. What had he been thinking, speaking to a crowned prince in such a way? Even a prince from a family of wild savages was well above himself in the social hierarchy. If Prince Kentarou were to tell anyone, surely Shigeru would be severely punished. He sat in silence, staring down at the worn wooden panels that made up the gazebo floor.

Why did the Prince have to come here in the first place, he wondered.

A board creaked behind him for a second time that night. Shigeru turned around once more, this time to the Prince on his hands and knees, frozen in place crawling towards him. One of his hands was outstretched towards…

“What are you doing?!” Shigeru demanded. They were only flower petals, so small and so pale, but being as they grew from his own person...it felt odd to think another might touch them.

The Prince recoiled. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’...they’re just flowers, right?” Leaning back to sit on his rear, the Prince crossed his arms with an irritated grunt. “Was just curious…”

Shigeru looked from the Prince to the flowers and back again. He hesitated, but he plucked a flower from his head and held it out to the other boy. “Here. You can have one if you don’t tell anybody I was rude to you, okay?”

Kentarou’s eyebrows had come together as he pouted. He seemed irritated by the offer, and for a moment Shigeru worried he’d be found out, that his mother would know he came to the gardens without permission, and that his father would know he forgot his place with royalty. To his surprise, Kentarou scooted forward and accepted the single, pale little flower. Neither boy spoke the rest of the night as they sat and enjoyed the cool breeze and chirping of crickets. At one point Shigeru turned around and the Prince was just...gone, as though he’d never been there in the first place.

[richathaoir-folamh]

opinion on loki :')

Old-timer

He gazes at the pond, delicate fingers drifting over the waters in tranquillity.  If he peers into the waters, he would see the reflection of his own crimson eyes - turned so by time, the rings around his pupil like the trunk of a tree.  It’s a serene moment as he ponders the question, staring deep at himself.

“The spectator,” he says. “The serpent who looks upon the world.  A danger to society if kept unchecked. . .”

One of his birds flies in, disrupting the water.  Ripples appeared in the pond, creating ripples upon ripples, until all the water was distilled and the birds sit content in his pond.  They ruined his reflection, yet Im continued staring.

“They were an inspiration to me, once.  But that was a long time ago.  Now, they are an emotionless wreck, a mere shadow of their former self.  That child that looked up to them would be disappointed.”

Hopelessly chasing after him, hoping to grasp some form of the same immortality that Loki had achieved.

“Pathetic.”

Ask Im about his opinion on your muse!

[cnyxi-blog]

Moments In Time

Part 1/3 – Left Behind

Pairing: Winter Solider! Bucky Barnes x Shadow Solider! Reader

Summary: One of Bucky’s actions that leads to a series of questions and confusion that accompanies a dangerous downward plunge for both the Winter Solider and You, his supposedly emotionless shadow.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Blood and Needles, Pure Angst, Brainwashed Bucky and Reader, implied torture, language

     Using a water bottle to rinse out the large gash on his side causing a mixture of blood and water to run down his side and seep into the bedding beneath him. With the gash flushed of dirt and cleaned of dried and clumped up blood you discover that it’s not as deep as you feared. The fear poisoning your mind are snowflakes in the desert,  it’s a sharp twist in your stomach that baffles you. All it took was seeing the knife buried to the hilt into Winter’s side.

     Why now? Why this time? You’ve see him hurt before this shouldn’t bother you plain and simple. Especially since while the cut it deep it’s not deep enough to kill someone like him. It do anything more than hinder his movement for a short while and require stitches while both of you are on standby for further orders. And you’ve seen much worse than this. During your service you’ve inflected worse than this. Yet seeing him hurt this time is different with one heavy factor looming above it all.

     “Why did you take the hit?” You sponge up the water extra water that pooled on his stomach and some flowing blood with a small dry towel. That you switch out for another one that you wet with disinfection that you use to clean him with. It’s an extra measure that you take despite that fact that you could go ahead and stitch it up without an infection being a problem for the Winter Solider. Either one of you would be fine with less than subpar care to a wound like this with the serum running through your veins. Even with this fact glaring you in the face you can’t stop yourself from fussing over him.

     All of this happened because you didn’t listen. When you saw the slim chance to take out the targets right then and there before they could make a deal that Winter and You would have to take months unraveling you took it. Going against your orders from him and forcing him to take action in the messy events that transpired.  With the only saving gracing being that both of you did in fact end up killing the group and shortened the mission. For all of this even in the fact of the success he should be lecturing you in that deadly calm voice of his that turns the blood in your veins to ice. But he’s been quiet with gears in his head churning the way yours are. Due to one glaring fact: he saved you.

     In some parts of the past that you can recall you’ve been in dangerous and fatal situations with Winter not bothering to interfere in favor of moving forward with the mission himself. Since the dynamic is in stone and clear for both of you. You are the emotionless weapon to him, too weak and slow to be a Winter Solider, yet still valuable in serving as his weapon. Meant to be used just as one would use a gun, something that can be discarded and replaced. Not a person but a thing, that was the sacrifice you were told you had to make to serve both Winter and Hydra.

     Your life didn’t matter, so why did he save you?  There are already other Shadow Soldiers lined up to replace you, he knows this.

     Running in circles going over this in your head scrambling to try and make sense of the burst of emotion that is throbbing inside of you fresh and raw. Hope, guilt, worry, confession and anger are stones that have been casted into an otherwise still lake. And now you’re dealing with the aftermath of the disruptive ripples.

     You need him to explain his action with logic to remove any impossible sentiment that you could possibly find in his actions. Winter needs to clear destroy the ridiculous idea that he wanted to save you into that he only came to your aid simply because you are needed elsewhere. And that the only reason he isn’t chewing you out is because in face of the injury your ‘plan’ succeed. That had to be it. The first part is illogical, because you are replaceable even so it’s a feeble excuse that you would readily buy.

     “You are more valuable than I am.” Silence. It was a pointless statement and a weak attempt to get him to say something.

     Setting the small towel down and picking up the needle as you glance up at him to discover that he is already watching you. Those icy blue eyes holding a hint of grey to them as a fuzzy memory starts to buzz softly in the back of your mind painfully. Fighting to shove it back down as you drop the needle and clutch your aching head. As the damn buzzing turns into a shrill ringing that threatens to shatter you eardrums as it drowns out all other sound.

     Neither Bucky nor You are allowed any pillows in the small cell they have you locked up in. Which is why he has been using your lap to rest on after getting shoved back in here. Anytime one of you returns torn, bloody and bruised there are no words one could offer the other and with interactions between Bucky and You limited this is one of few feeble forms of comfort either of you can offer. Allowing the other to sleep as peaceful as they are able on the other’s lap.

     By now your back is aching from switching between slouching and leaning back against the cement wall. And your knees are screaming out for any sort of movement. But the sight of Bucky sleeping comfortably, peacefully for the first time in you can’t even tell. Has it been days, weeks or even months? Everything blends together into incohesive mess where this is. In the face of that none of your physical pain matters when he is getting some well needed rest. You could stretch out and wonder over to your bed for some sleep once he got up. Clinging to his thought as you try and keep your eyes open.

     Try as you might your exhaustion is winning as you slump awkwardly over him with your eyes closing with the refusal to open. You couldn’t fall asleep in the same bed as him, the punishment that both or one of you would receive for sleeping in the same bed together. The urgency to stay awake and the fear of invoking their anger is snuffed out him the weight of being utterly and thoroughly tired. You can’t stay awake any longer.

     A hand clamps around your wrist as you bolt up straight and glance around the room expecting to see soldiers and scientists that are about to drag you out for another one of their experiments with that serum. But you see nothing as you freeze and darkness closes in as fat tears roll down your cheeks. Your paralyzed in the darkness waiting. Unable to react as a weight lifts off your lap and two hands cup your cheeks, one warm and rough the other smooth, cold and metal?

     A metal hand!! Panic shots through you as you want to jerk away from the hand being held against you out of fear of what pain it could inflict. That’s when two arms wrap around you and pull you onto a lap as you try to struggle against whoever it could be. When two soft lips graze yours that you realize there is only one person who would do that even if he isn’t supposed to. Alarm trickles through you at the thought of what if someone catches him. He didn’t need to try this risk just to break you out of an episode.

     Relax in his arms as you turn away from his lips and break the kiss. Opting to nuzzle into him even though just this was pushing it and at any moment depending on the soldier that comes to check on him and you. You didn’t want to think about that right now but savor the feeling of being held and holding him because this could be the last time your ever that close to him this way. You steal seconds in his arms taking deep breaths of him before you shift out of his lap and glance into those blue eyes you adore. The only beautiful color in this gray world both of you are trapped in.

     Those blue eyes hold his pleas and concern that he is unable to vocalize. His pleas are that you’ll stay with him, and not slip into another episode where you can end up harming him or yourself. You don’t want to slip away from him either, you don’t want to hurt him and  the time you get with him as been dwindling rapidly. This little bit of time doesn’t need to be spent being held down by him as you struggle and scream. While he tries to break through to you by talking to calm you down.

     “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Keeping your voice low as guilt stirs in his eyes as the realization that since he has been back he hasn’t spoken a single word. His voice must have given from screaming too much again. And now he was feeling guilty about it. Staring at him with wide eyes,

     “Don’t you dare feel guilty over this. Don’t you fucking dare.” The corner of his lips twitch up as he leans forward resting his forehead against yours and his nose brushes against yours. You know what he is silently asking for permission for. Both of you need to steal just another moment together, it was the only thing that kept both of you fighting. And you knowing that Bucky was fighting for ten years before you were kidnapped and brought here. In here these stolen moments with each other.

     Leaning in closer, the cell door slams open. Springing off the bed and to the other side of the small cell. It’s too late as they lift a gun and fire a tranquilizer at Bucky and another one into your arm. Both of you slumping over on your beds unable to move as you staring across the cell at Bucky where he sits slouched. His long hair falling forward an hiding his face from you.

     “I know the two of you have become rather close and for that we thank you.” The solider speaks as he walks to your bedside. Grabbing you by the hair and jerking your body off and holding you up with your feet touching the ground. But in you paralyzed state your unable to support yourself as you weight of your body acts with gravity and your head starts to throb with fiery agony.

     “You see we picked you knowing that the two of you would hit it off despite the circumstances. Something that we could use against our Winter Solider to break him quicker, there was also the added benefit of experimenting with you.” Another solider shoves Bucky against the wall so that through long locks of hair he can see you. Helpless to do anything but watch as they drag you away for another one of their sessions. But instead the solider starts talking, amusement oozing from his voice.

     “You see you most definitely don’t remember but princess you started to break a long time ago. With every episode that we catch you in all we have to do is lead you into our Doctor’s work room and you set to work on him.” The solider chuckles, a sound that writhes underneath your skin like maggots eating away at your still living body. Staring into Bucky’s eyes trying to find the lie in the man’s words. You couldn’t have been one  of those hurting him. The thought of your chest tightening and your stomach churn as the contents of your stomach threatens to come up.

     “He never blamed you for it of course, “after all it wasn’t you” as he would claim. But at the end of the day it’s still by your hands that he suffered. Why do you think he can’t speak right now? That was all your doing!” You want to beg him to stop as memories of what you’ve done to Bucky come flooding into your head threatening to shatter you mind at any moment. But It’s pain that you feel you deserve for what you’ve done.

     “Look at her already breaking for us completely, before you go listen to this. Remember this moment, let this moment come bursting forth and destroy you one day replaceable solider.” Pulling your face closer to his, you keep your eyes on Bucky wishing that you could at least say sorry. But just saying sorry could never make up for that, there is nothing you can do to make up for what you’ve done.

     “He is prone to these episodes too, not as much as you are but during those episodes we have him do the very same to you.” Bucky’s eyes widen as a sickening horror. You want to tell him that it’s not his fault it wasn’t him as you struggle against the burst of memories that break past the dam of the pain he was forced to inflict on you. Of the amount of times he has shattered your bones with that metal hand of his or even come close to snapping your neck with it.

     The memories are playing out on his face, breaking Bucky apart from the inside bit by bit till his eyes are hollow and empty of emotion. Rejecting everything that he is remembering that was the last sight you saw as you slip under a smothering blanket of darkness and you feel your body hit the cold and hard floor.

     “Look at that, the very bond they believed kept them going is the very one that broke them both. Now Captain I present to you, your soldiers. I hope one day if one of them is to remember something they remember how they broke each other.”

     Opening your mouth to call out his name, to scream for him but your voice dies in your throat. The name on the tip of your tongue shriveling up and you can’t remember what happened. The wave of pain that came with the now foggy memory is fading rapidly as you discover you are leaning against the wall far from the bed. Your nails about to break off your fingers from how hard you digging them into an unyielding floor. Freezing in your actions to note that you’ve been crying as you lift a hand to wipe away salty tears.

     Looking up to see him sitting up on the edge of the bed. His fists clenched tight enough that you can hear the metal one creak. It’s harsh remembrance of his wound and the pain he is putting himself through sitting up as you bolting up and forgetting yourself. Closing the gap between him and you, you falter as you notice the way he drinks in your every movement and the way he watches you. Like the very sight of you is torturous, as if the one the in the world that you need is dangling right in front of him but he can’t never have it. But each and every time you get close its slips through your fingertips. That agony is held in his eyes as you place your hand over his rapidly pounding heart with the intention to give a light push to urge him to lay down. But instead you freeze, standing still with your hand over his heart. Taking in how it races and the warmth of his skin.

     You can’t look him in the eyes anymore, ripping your gaze away and focus on where your hand rests on his chest. Shock sparking inside you as he leans forward into it and he reaches out for you. Coming close as you feel his fingertips brush your hips before he jerks his hand back and lays down. With that you shove down everything that has happened, refusing to give it any more focus as you set to work on the gash on his side.

     Finishing up you lean forward with the intention of kissing the area close to his wound. As a small sign of affection that feels familiar, yet forbidden. Like you’ve done this in the past despite not being allowed to. It’s an action you done follow through. Instead you turn your attention to the medical supplies around you and start gathering them. Ignoring how he is watching you, not wanting to see his face after you came close to kissing your superior so casually.

     Ripping yourself away from his bedside and stealing a brief peek at him. Discovering lost and wistfulness dancing in his eyes. In that moment you curse the mask covering his face hiding the rest of his expressions from you. While playing around with the possibly that he could have wanted you to kiss him as you walk over to the duffle bag. Seconds later it’s an idea you refuse to entertain any longer as you put the supplies back into their spot and shove the bag underneath the desk and out of the floor.

     Standing up and catching sight of him in the mirror attached to the desk. Another wave attacks you viciously, lacking the buildup that the first wave had. Grabbing the edge of the desk and doubling over, it’s all you can do to keep from falling over. You have no choice but to endure being bombarded with waves of salty kisses, a name that you can’t fully grasp that you can hear being groaned, whimper and screamed out in a voice so similar to yours. There are thick heavy arms that you can almost feel with a light tingle of a ghostly touch, bringing with it comfort that has you melting.

     B-uc-ky.

     The name is dancing on the tip of your tongue. It’s something that you sure if you spoke aloud you’d would be able to understand why it’s scratching on the inside of your skull. It’s in your efforts to understand that you discover something else. Those scraps of memories of him and you. Of the man standing behind you, when did he get behind you?

     Turning around to face the man that you apparently have more history with than you know. Placing a hand on his arm, the plates shift as he tilts his head to the side. The feel of the cool, smooth metal is tugging on something horrible within you, something that threatens to rip through you should you reach down and drag it out of the depths. But you can’t seem to stop them from bubbling forth.

     Lifting his hands up and cupping your cheeks, silently pleading with you to stay with him. You jump at the sound of a cell door slamming open as you realize that sound came from within your mind. You don’t understand why you have to tell yourself that your safe, that your free. Safe from what, free form what? Where were you that you needed to be safe and free from? These questions leading you back to the one that started it all,

     “Why did you take the hit?” but you can’t stop there, “Why did you save me? Why can’t you let me go?” Confusion greets you after your last question. While pain and guilt arises in his eyes from it. That question comes from a place you can’t compared but something that he seems to. It’s something that he stays silent about.

     Reaching up and running your fingertips along his cheeks till you reach the edge of the mask. Giving him time to pull away or to tell you to stop. H leans forward, it’s a small action that has you spilling what you remember.

     “Why do I remember kissing you, being held by you and us…” your words falter. Easing the mask off and tossing it to the side. His lips are set into a hard line and the look in his eyes conveys that he remembers it too. Perhaps remembering more than you do?

     Within seconds of the mask being gone he is stepping closer to you. His hands dropping from your cheeks to hips as the distances between the both of you shrinks  but doesn’t vanish completely. You can feel the heat coming off from his body now giving you chills at how close he is. Which is clearly having an effect on him too as he digs his fingers into your hips like at any moment someone will break through the door and rip you away from him. It’s something both of you wait for.

     “I need you.” The three words rush past his lips, but it’s not the type of need that you wish he would have said. He didn’t need to tell you that, he needs to break whatever this is and explain that he only saved you because you are in need for future mission. He shouldn’t need you, but the words have already been spoke and they carve themselves into you.

     Why did you take the hit? Why did you save me? Why can’t you let me go?

     I need you.

     Therein lies another problem being that you need him too, so much it fucking hurts.

     “I never meant to hurt you,” the words stir up something in you as the response comes rushing out before you can give it any thought.

     “That wasn’t you,” You don’t why you say what you did, but your words bring him some relief. And at your confession he closes the space between you, lightly pressing his body against yours. While being mindful of his stitches yet craving to be close to you that he can’t seem to stop himself. And you can’t find it in yourself to pull away and chastise him for it. Being close to him is like that first breath into starving lungs as you break through the water’s surface.

     Placing your hand on his chest, above his heart to feel it pound underneath your hand. Leaning down his nose grazes yours as you hold your breath in anticipation. It’s ok to kiss him isn’t it? It can be a secret between the two of you, something you share when no other eyes are upon.

     Your heart is racing in your chest as wrap your arms around his neck and stumble back against the desk. His hands slip down to your thighs as you jump up on the desk and wrap your legs loosely around his waist.

     The door opens as Sargent Ross enters the room, both of you having been too distracted with one another to pay attention to someone picking the lock. Winter doesn’t pull away from you instead squeezing your thighs as he lowers his and nuzzles it into your neck even has soldiers fill up the room. He refuses to let you go.

     “Hydra has ignored the last time both of you had this break in character. But it seems that it’s doom to repeat it’s self as long as one troubling factor remains.” His words pour ice into you veins as you get the sneaking suspicion of what he means. That one of you is going to have to go and it’s not going to be him. You refuse to let it be him.

     Lightly pushing on his chest and hoping off the desk. He doesn’t stop you as you move towards the soldiers. As Sargent Ross takes out his gun and shoves it against the side of your head at an awkward angle.

     “Turn around and face your what was it you used to call him? Your Bucky? You love?” Doing as told as you stare into the eyes of someone who clearly once meant so much to you and still does. By the look on his face as he fights against what he is he needs to do and what he should do.

     “It seems your doll as steps up to the plate. It doesn’t matter anyhow which one of you did, that just means you are going to be sent on one last mission against Captain America alone. I think I would have taken her anyway, you are better suited to face off against the man than a defect like this one.” Stepping away and putting distance between him and you, taunting Bucky and giving him time and space to attack him, to stop him. Yet he stands there, his fists clenched at his sides. Watching you as you watch him, taking in the sight of your Bucky for the last time. There is this scary sense of calm that settles over you and you refuse to let the last expression he sees from you.

     Forcing a joyless smile as he watches with clenched fists and a tight expression. He wants to interfere to stop them but he knows that he has to see the next mission through. And that there isn’t a choice between which one of you goes even if it was displayed as such beforehand.  Taking in a deep breath at the finality of this, refusing to tell him goodbye but opting for

     “Enjoy some plums for me?” The pain doesn’t register as the bullet is fired tearing through your eye as you instantly crumble to the floor and darkness closes in.

Taglist:

@alittlebitproblematic

[thethotwithoutfear]

Haven: Chapter 3

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 3,512

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The days went by in a flash. They’d decided to walk to and from the hardware store just a couple of block over, it was closer by way of Steve’s apartment so meeting there had been a no brainer. Going early in the morning had been ideal as well, (y/n) had been sure to be conscious and prioritize Steve’s sense of privacy. He had insisted that carrying a couple of small beams of lumber wouldn’t be a problem for him, and subjecting her to New York City traffic would be downright cruel if she’d driven them there.

 Steve had also confessed that he’d wanted to walk for selfish reasons, the strolls they’d taken together were some of the most tranquil moments he’d had in years and he would like more of them if it was ok with her. The honesty of Steve’s statement had made her smile and a soft heat rush to her cheeks, she was glad he couldn’t see the bashful look on her face when they’d discussed it over the phone.

The morning of (Y/n) found herself as planned clutching on to a piece of paper with Steve’s address written on it in neat cursive letters. She’d already put it in her phone, but something about the messy but still delicate looking scrawl of his handwriting calmed her nerves. She was prone to getting lost; she glanced nervously at the address and the numbers on the building just one more time to be sure she’d gotten it right. She rang the buzzer to Steve’s apartment when she’d finally felt secure enough that she was in the right place.

Steve’s deep voice came rumbling through the intercom a few moments later to disrupt her antsy thoughts: “Hey (y/n)! Let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down in a few!” She gave him a simple “Alright!” in reply. Waiting on the old stairs of Steve’s brownstone, she decided to pass the time counting windows on the buildings across the street. She’d gotten to 25 when Steve finally made it outside the doors of his building.

It was obvious he was trying to not be recognized, she really didn’t blame him. Being constantly bombarded by strangers had to get a little annoying, even for someone as kind and courteous as Steve. He wore a navy Brooklyn Dodgers cap and a pair of sunglasses so dark she wondered if he could even see through them. She always found it a bit silly when people tried to go unnoticed that way, it only drew attention to be quite honest.

Her train of thought was lost when her eyes fell on the matching blue henley that clung to every rippling bulge in Steve’s massive arms and torso; the well fitted black pants which accentuated the impossible shape of his waist to broad shoulder ratio practically had her head swimming. She’d always found him handsome, it was a known fact that Steve Rogers was undeniably attractive, it was like saying the sky was blue. But the sight in front of her had stirred in much different feelings, ones she really didn’t need to be dealing with. A simmering heat crept up her body and got stuck in her throat, a sudden and startlingly dryness taking hold there. And to make matters much more embarrassing it resulted in her succumbing to a small fit of coughing when she’d tried to take in a deep breath of air to talk. Steve quirked an eyebrow in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to face her, a worried frown appearing on his lips and an unbelievably warm hand placed on her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah...Yeah I’m fine! I’m good! Throat was just a little...dry I guess. Let’s get moving shall we?!” she said, voice much too loud and a little too high to sound anywhere near convincingly okay. The absence of Steve’s hand as it fell from her shoulder was like temperature shock but thankfully he didn’t pry further. She cleared her throat one more time as a means to compose herself as they made their way down the street to their destination. Steve following behind in a small mist of confusion.

------

The walk was pleasant enough, the sun was casting a bright glow between the early morning clouds. It was a brightness the likes Steve was becoming used to in (y/n)’s company; it was like sunshine followed her around. He appreciated the comfortable silence that had fallen between them through the halfway point of their journey, the accompanying sound of footsteps around them creating a lulling buzz, but part of him wanted to know more. Maybe it was the growing fearlessness to connect with another person outside of “work” but Steve realized he didn’t know much about (y/n), hell, he knew far more about the genus of plants than he did her now.

So he mustered up the courage to pry just a little. “(Y/n) where’d you even learn all this stuff? There’s not very much gardening around Brooklyn, let alone the city. Did you grow up here?” he said. A small grin began to grow on her face, a memory was passing through her mind he guessed, a happy one.

“My grandmother. I grew up just outside the city, but she grew up around here. When she got married she moved out there in the suburbs of sorts, raised her kids and that’s where most of us stayed. But grandma learned to garden from her own mother, they were from a culture of agriculture I guess. She taught me everything she knew growing up, my father didn’t really care to pick up on what she’d learned, so when I was born she practically raised me out in the garden while my parents worked.” she said, a distant but soft look in her eyes.

“She taught you well if the garden is anything to go by,” he replied, giving her one of those crooked smirks that he was starting to notice made her pulse run a little faster (he could practically hear it) and he’d be sure to do it more often,“She must be proud of what you managed to build with what you learned from her too. I can only imagine watching the care you put into someone blossom like that is a great source of pride.”

“Thank you Steve, the success of the garden I owe to the community coming together to learn and grow alongside the plants and each other,” she said, bowing her head in timidity at the compliment, “but I’m sure she would have been proud. She was however, incredibly happy that I decided to move to Brooklyn after graduation. It’s a shame she never got to pay the garden a visit before…she died. But, she’s there, I’m so sure of it!”

“I'm sorry...about her passing. I didn't mean to-” Steve had begun, but was quickly cut off as (y/n) stopped in her tracks and faced him.

“It's ok Steve. You didn't know. It hurt for a while, but she gave me so much more to hold on to. The garden, it's what keeps her with me. Thinking about her is bittersweet, but I’d rather remember than ever forget her” she said. The flicker of memories was in her eyes again, a grin growing on her face only to be accompanied by watering eyes.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to grasp her hand, squeezing it gently in comfort. He would have hugged her, held her tightly in his kindness, but even Steve knew a boundary was still in place, one he'd needed to respect. She looked up at him and sniffled, a small teary giggle springing forth as she wiped her eyes.

“This is supposed to be a fun field trip to the store! No more crying! God I'm sorry!” she laughed, letting go of his hand and giving his bicep a small punch in appreciation, it felt like hitting a concrete wall. Steve looked down at her, a slightly worried but kind frown directed at her. He lifted the sunglasses off his face, a courtesy to the words he would say next:

“(Y/n), I just want you to know that...you’ve done so much for me, more than you realize. There's no need for apology, you have a right to confide or rely on me the way I have come to with you. It wouldn't be fair to continue this...” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “...in a one sided way would it? I want us to be friends, you make me feel content in a way I've missed for a very long time. I want us to be good AND honest friends...if that's ok with you?” he said. She looked at him slightly startled, her face a mix of things Steve couldn't quite read, until a blindingly broad smile was beaming up at him.

“You're right,” she nodded, “Although I already thought we were friends Steve! But I'd love to be your friend. How could I not be friends with the nicest man on earth?!”

The two of them couldn't stop smiling at the other, it was if the world had stilled itself for just a moment. Steve had felt that only a few times in his life, the shift of a puzzle piece being set in place. The most recent had been on the day he took his first step in the garden and met her. The woman in front of him was his friend now, his actual friend who didn’t have to part of his shared world of pain and duty just to make a connection. It was a great blessing, one which Steve told himself he would not fear to sustain as selfish as it could be.

---------

They’d made it to the hardware store in no time after that. The rest of the trip there had been woven with Steve’s strolling down memory lane. He’d recounted when buildings hosted the ghosts of places he’d frequented as a child and ones where he'd gotten the shit kicked out of him to both their amusement. The bittersweet look of nostalgia flooded his face and it made (y/n)'s heart ache with both fondness and sadness for him.

Feeling out of place in a world you used to call home must have been such a daunting and lonely feeling, but she held onto hope for Steve. As much as others seemed to persist on labeling him as “ the man out of time ”, she had come to have the great privilege to appreciate that Steve Rogers was an incredible survivor. As out of place he might of seemed sometimes, Steve was also intelligent, resourceful, kind, adaptable, and empathetic enough to start to survive in his new realities.

She admired him for it; it took a lot of inner strength and courage to learn to navigate not only the changing currents he once knew how to tread, but to also learn to navigate the complete unknowns which being in his line of “work” threw at him instead. Others might've run, hid away at a change of reality such as that, but he felt a sense of duty to continue to help keep others safe. Steve Rogers was truly a man worth admiring and she wished so desperately that others could get to know the absolute gem of a human being she was getting to. She smiled to herself as they walked into the store, relishing in the privilege of being called Steve Rogers’, not Captain America’s, friend.

A boisterous accent heavy voice greeted them instantly: “(Y/N)!!! GOOD TO SEE YAH!! WHAT’LL IT- HOLY SMOKES IS THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA?!” Her eyes shot to Steve, who’s neck began to flush red, probably in slight disappointment at being recognized, sliding the sunglasses off his face in defeat; there was no use hiding now. She placed a gentle hand on Steve’s arm in assurance that he’d be ok here, the hardware small store seemed to be vacant with exception of the two of them and the owner.

“Hiya Rudy,” she replied eyes rolling with a knowing smile, “Rudy this is Steve Rogers, Steve this is Rudy Rodriguez. He’s my go to guy for all my gardening needs.” Rudy came out from behind his counter in a hurry, giant smile plastered to his face as he stretched out a wrinkled but strong hand for Steve to shake.

He was a shorter man, around what one could guess was his 70’s, clothed in the plaid flannel and carpenter’s pants one would assume a guy who runs a hardware store would wear. He had a thick stark white mustache that matched a lush head of white hair which contrasted with his beautiful dark brown skin. He also had the friendliest smiling eyes in all of Brooklyn and Steve felt calmer as he bid Rudy a hello and a hand shake.

“Wow, if I woulda known Captain America was payin’ me a visit I woulda’ cleaned up a little better today!” he chuckled, rubbing at the light stubble on his cheeks with his free hand, the other still gripping Steve’s.

“Please, call me Steve. It’s not problem, you should see me in the morning” he replied with a smile. (Y/n) noticed the mask starting to creep its way back on to Steve’s face. It wasn’t the cold professional one, no this one was more so the one he probably put on for everyday encounters. The wall in his eyes was rising a little, a guarded courteousness and accommodation beginning to take over there. But then she chuckled, Steve giving her a glance of amusement as she noticed Rudy had not yet let go of Steve’s hand, an awestruck smile on his face.

(Y/n) cleared her throat, “Uh, Rudy I need some supplies. Me and Steve here are building a raised flower bed for the garden” she said, hoping Rudy would snap out of his starstruck daze.

He finally stopped staring at Steve, dropping his hand and looking at (y/n) with an apologetic but happy smile. “Of course, of course! My apologies, it’s just not everyday you get Captain America waltzin’ to your store yah know? What’daya need, mija?” he said.

“The usual. I wanna walk around and get the smaller stuff myself, just need my standard 2x4 beams and a couple more of them custom cut for the ends, you know the drill” she said with a wink at the old man.

“You gonna need me to get one of the boys to put them in the car when I’m done cuttin’? When one of them gets here… ” replied Rudy with a grumble.

“Oh no, Steve here’s gonna haul them off himself” she said, elbowing Steve lightly in the side with an incredulously goofy look on her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe he could carry the lumber a couple of blocks with no effort, she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of it until she saw it. Rudy gave a whistle of disbelief, it got a chuckle out of her, and that charming scarlett tell of Steve’s came back.

“Best come with me son. (Y/n) knows her way round here, plus I’m gonna need you to get a couple of them down for me out in back. I usually have my boys around here to help but they’re running late as always” the old man said with a comical frown of annoyance, and a wink for Steve. He turned and scurried off leaving Steve with no choice but to follow, giving (y/n) a quick look and a shrug of acceptance. She giggled at the idea of someone probably younger than Steve referring to him as “son” and began her search for the items she needed. She hoped Rudy wouldn’t pester Steve too much about his being Captain America, she adored the old man but he could be incredibly nosey.

She was reaching for the final item on her list, a box of galvanized screws, when Steve suddenly showed up at the end of the aisle, watching as she serenely looked for the screws,  never having made a single noise. She jumped when she finally turned in the aisle, becoming aware of his presence and dropping the box as she crashed face first into his more than firm chest. Luckily, Steve caught the box before they could hit the floor, screws rattling as they landed in his large palm.

She laughed in mild annoyance, “Jesus Steve! How long have you been standing there?!” He gave a deep chuckle that made her knees wobble a little.

“Just a couple of seconds! Here I thought you’d need this, yah know cause of earlier?” he said, handing her a bottle of water she hadn’t noticed him holding. She felt her face grow white hot as she looked at it before taking it from him. She could have sworn steam might seep from her ears as she dwelled on the embarrassment of the real cause of her coughing fit, but also because the absolute charm of such a sweet gesture.

“Oh god, uuuuuh thanks,” she said with a small nervous laugh, throat tightening again, “Are you and, umm, Rudy done?”

Steve smiled widely, “Yeah, he’s a character that Rudy. He was telling me about a couple of places that are still open from ‘my time’. Real nice of him actually.” There was a lightness there again, Steve probably having grown comfortable with him, it was hard not to be charmed by the stories and the stellar energy of Rudy Rodriguez. It was hard not to fall in love with Rudy's ever present smile either.

“Maybe we can check them out someday, when you’re free of course,” she said, feeling a tad shy, fingers fidgeting with the bottle cap before she took a quick sip of water. Steve’s smile grew much wider than she’d ever seen it, his eyes practically sparkling. She was absolutely dazzled.

“I’d love that,” he said, “Should we go pay for that and head back now?” Pointing at the basket of supplies looped on her arm with a nod of his head.

She shook her head in realization, had she been staring? God she’d been staring. “Yeah, yeah. We should do that” she said. She could’ve sworn she heard a low rumbling chuckle as she passed Steve on her way to the counter.

He paid for their things, he insisted on it actually, “They’re my flowers after all!” he said. Rudy called Steve a gentleman and said he’d hoped to see more of his favorite new customer around. She rolled her eyes at that, retorting with a simple “ Hey! I thought I was your favorite customer!? ”

They laughed until Steve with little to no effort lifted the tied together beams of lumber that had been leaning against the counter and rested them on his shoulder; it was scarily effortless, as if he was picking up something as light as a feather.

Rudy looked flabbergasted. Sure, Steve had helped him take down the lumber from a shelf on the wall in the backroom but seeing him lift all of them over his head had been something else. And (y/n) had gone instantly breathless, the flexing of Steve’s biceps and chest as he effortlessly lifted and curled his arm behind the planks of wood like delicate little figures was truly a sight.

Steve gave her a lopsided and devilish smirk, a simple wordless I told you so . It made

her whole body catch fire in one quick sweep. She reluctantly looked down at the floor in a sense of overwhelming bashfulness.

“ Ok so he's really that strong ”, she thought to herself. The thought of how easily he could probably pick her up crossed her mind, hands suddenly and unconsciously opening the bottle of water in her hand. She took a quick gulp. God what was her deal?

“It was a pleasure meeting you today Rudy. We should really be on our way” said Steve with a chuckle. He used his free hand to shake Rudy's again.

“Yeah, I’ll ah....I'll see you soon Rudy. I gotta put in an order of fertilizer n...next week.” she said, keeping her mind on the task at hand.

“Good! Have fun building that flower bed yah lovebirds ” he yelled, as they exited the store.

Their eyes went wide, shooting Rudy a look and gaping like fish as they waited for one or the other to say something to the contrary.

“It’s not like that Rudy!” (y/n) finally managed to shout back as the door she'd held open for Steve began to close. Rudy’s laughter and the sweet jingle of the doorbell seemed to mockingly seep their way out of the closing gap in the door, Steve’s face flushed red, a mortified look on (y/n)’s face as they turned to walk. Neither one said very much as they began walking back to the garden, the air between them a little awkward and dense with unspoken thought.

But unbeknownst to each other the feeling of a little flicker of something began to bloom the center of their chests from Rudy’s words….

[kikun]

. . .

i have immense regrets already

[vasaquafoxx]

For #ereriween, the Ereri Discord’s Halloween Event!! (The deadline is today, okay. I’m still good.) I’ve brought art plus a few words because I couldn’t leave the idea alone.

Eren scowled at the moon as the usual tranquility of it was marred.

He had a visitor today.

It wasn’t as if he could help his emotions. After dying, he was always like this. He breathed anger like hot ash through his throat and spilled it out at whoever crossed in his territory. His “territory” being an old cemetery by a tiny church that many had forgotten. Eren wasn’t even sure if he was buried here. This was just where he existed, and he felt no desire to leave.

The furthest he would go was slightly past the dilapidated church and by the lake which he would sometimes go to for a view, but he did not feel nostalgic or reflective. He would stare over and into the rippling water seeing nothing looking back at him. Though occasionally, he’d watch some small rodent going about their business.

It was almost midnight on a chilly autumnal evening before Eren had his vision obscured by the wavy heat pulsing out of his being from rage. This had only happened thrice before, but he knew exactly what it was every time.

Tearing his sight from the lake, he moved toward whoever decided it would be a good idea to disturb the slumber of the dead.

Expecting to see some teenagers messing about with a shiny new ouija board, he was surprised to find a man in a ragged pointy hat carrying what could only be described as a wand.

For the first time, interest dominated anger, and Eren watched silently from the iron gate that surrounded the yard. Lights, textures, and magnetic force spread out from the center of the gravestone that the man tapped with the stick. The air started to cloud with a random assortment of things: the soft fur of a red fox, the smell of soiled milk, the worn-out melancholy of an old stuffed bear, and other senses that Eren could not begin to comprehend. It seemed that nearly immediately, the mysterious stranger put on a scowl and thrust his hands out to cease the act.

“Hey!”

Eren jumped when the man turned in his direction.

“Quit slinking around over there.”

Before he knew it, Eren moved closer looking to ease his curiosity. He saw a green cloak, dark hair, and a set of glowing wings pinned to the man’s hat. A bored-looking pair of grey eyes stared back at him.

“You can you see me. Who are you?” Eren asked.

“My name is Levi.” He breathed out each word as if he was tired of them. “I’m what you call a witch. And you’re disrupting my ritual. Let me finish what I’ve started.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little disrespectful?” Eren shot back, remembering himself.

Levi sighed, pointing a few feet away at the ground. “See that? That’s my body from my previous life. I’ve come to take what is mine.”

Eren kneeled down at the gravestone he pointed to and read L-E-V-I-A... N. He paused, squinting. It was so old the letters blended with the rest of the surface.

“Leviathan...?” Eren grew cold at the thought, but his imagination was getting ahead of him.

Levi shook his head, a corner of his mouth upturning. “Levi Ackerman. To mistaken me for a demonic beast...” He trailed off, seemingly amused. Eren did not know what to think of this “Levi Ackerman”. He was confusing.

Eren touched the earth where the man’s body lay as a respectful gesture before standing up again when Levi stopped him.

“Wait. Stay there.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly, the sensations from earlier began again, only this time much stronger. Eren started pulling at the grass and dirt as it all washed and threw him violently like the Tsunamis he could only imagine. Each feeling, each vision filled his being to the brim, and he could do nothing as it continued. If spirits could die, Eren felt as if he was doing so.

And then it stopped.

“Fuck!”

Levi gripped his head, slowly lowering toward the ground. Once the pain rolled over, he huffed in ridicule of himself. “I will never get used to that,” he spoke hoarsely.

“Did you just steal your memories from yourself?” Eren hardly glanced his way, still staring at his shaking hands.

Levi snorted, feeling more relaxed now his task was completed. “It’s a loophole. I’m practically immortal. As long as I keep getting reincarnated, unlike you...”

Eren finally turned and gave him a look. “My name is Eren. I choose to stay here.” He felt weird saying that.

Chuckling, Levi got close, his breath a few inches away from Eren’s face. “I know you more than you know.”

In a smooth movement, Levi delicately took his hand in his. “Would you like to come with me, my love?” His eyes twinkled with nostalgia as if he has done this many times before.

And Eren suddenly remembered. He remembered Levi, his one and only. He remembered all previous lives that he snatched from God’s powerful hand. He remembered both Hell and Heaven, and his desperation to live and be by Levi’s side. He remembered himself. The dark, obscured path within his mind was rediscovered in an instant. He smiled wondering why it took him so long.

The two of them stood, pushed through the iron gate, and past the lake where their reflections walked beside them.

[ktrsvo]

an eon for a dream

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170343

summary:

Without another word, the god of summer drifts off, a vision in colour. Even his dream is lovely, a picture of pastels and a crown of sun-shards. Then the scene shifts, and now someone's there, too: a boy all in black, eyes woodland dark, hair an ebony-green shade. He sits beneath a moon, mouth curled in a grin, the heavens winking at his shoulders.

Izuku holds the dream close to his sternum, enchanted.

He meets a god with eyes like a winter storm, and it’s all too easy to fall.

i. aphelion

It's mostly colourless, the realm of dreams. A land of cloud, starlight, wishes, and nightmares, drenched in everlasting night. The beginning of all things, the separation between life and darkness. Beyond the boundary, the solar realm thrives, ever-changing and dynamic, dawn to dusk, summer to winter, spring to fall. Peace to war, then back again.

Dust, rust, and stardust—that's how this world began, a god's wish brought to life, red underneath it all; the earth was hewn from a need of stability, a fear of oblivion. A god's creation is never perfect, it seems, naturally predisposed to chaos and war. Occasionally the earth will run with rivers of crimson, the handiwork of men, born from a desire to rule, to conquer. The ultimate ode to a god's favour.

Izuku very rarely crosses the boundary, but he knows enough—dreams and nightmares, they come to him all the time. What goes on in the land beyond, it's a latticework of tension and intrigue. Here, no such conflicts exist. Night reigns supreme, the thing all mortals fear yet it is the first thing they see in slumber and death.

No, that is exactly why, Izuku thinks dryly as he watches the Sea of Nightmares roil.

 The boundary is mostly stagnant, but sometimes a disturbance will come along that's great enough to disrupt it.

"A great war will come soon," Toshinori reports to him on the day of the winter solstice, light flakes of snow falling from the Sky of Dreams. "There is strife among the courts on who will rule the solar realm. The Mother has abdicated, and already the gods are fighting for the throne. If the situation does not change, the mortals will be dealt a devastating blow."

A fractal of ice lands on Izuku's palm, its facets boasting spiderweb-intricate cracks. "A tempest," he corrects, watching the ice mist into light in his hold—blue, bright. "A tempest will come; the deities, especially those of summer and autumn, will fight tooth-and-nail for the prize."

Toshinori's gaunt features grow dim. He is a nomad of night, well-acquainted with the other realms. A friend, an advisor of sorts, a companion at times. Night's realm has very few denizens; it's too much of a vast, desolate place. "This is not a matter to take lightly," he warns. "An era of madness will descend upon us all again. And you—" a rumble of thunder interrupts him.

"What of me?" Izuku turns towards the Sea of Nightmares, the movement idle, languorous. "It is the same every year, decade, or century."

Toshinori shakes his head. "You are missing the point," he says. "Do try to understand."

Around them the snow falls in a deluge, a blizzard in development. "It is not me you have to worry about."

"My boy, is the weight on your shoulders not heavy enough? This has gone on for far too long." Pleading, sorrowful.

"It is not all bad sometimes. Look." Izuku cups his palms. A star falls from the sky, a dream of tranquility in neverending war, lovely, serene. Rippling fields, corn-yellow stalks bending in a breeze, jugs of nectar and honey, the colours faded soft throughout.

"You will still bear the brunt of what's to come," Toshinori argues.

"The burden has always been mine to carry and mine alone." The dream creases, ripping, unearthing the rot festering in its recesses. A thing drained bloodless by fear. Here, no crimson rivers run, just miles upon miles of ash-grey snow. "Duty is everything, is it not?" Izuku's mouth twists. "This realm has been my domain long enough. I have collected far too many nightmares that the burden almost weighs nothing now."

"Almost," Toshinori echoes.                                                                    

Izuku's fists close. Unclench. The dream-turned-nightmare eddies away.

 The world is beautiful today, the skies a light grey, dreams ripe for the picking, the Sea only lightly frothing. It hasn't been this idle for an age, and Izuku will savour every moment of it. Perhaps the summer realm is responsible for this shift; the scale is tipping towards its favour, it seems.

The cloud beneath him glides gently above the waters. Izuku reclines on it, one hand tucked beneath his head, the other spinning stars, the loveliest dreams of the day. The most colourful sights his domain has to offer, besides glimpses of the solar realm. From here, they're mostly obscured by mist, pearl-white and thick.

On rare occasions he'll see fields of green, maybe a kingdom or two, perhaps even a god's court, but it's all clouded up right now. Pity; he had hoped for a sight of the nymph gardens, one of Toshinori's favourite places.

A sigh. Izuku's eyes flutter shut. Just for once, he thinks absently.

Then, a disturbance: ripples shudder through the Sea. The cloud bucks with the impact. Izuku cracks an eye open, annoyed. A figure emerges from the mist, the air around them bright, leaving colour in their wake. Izuku tilts his head, eyebrows raised, curious.

A boy with hair the colour of both flame and snow stares back at him.

The stars halt their rotation, streaking away in a trail of sparks.

"Hello," Izuku greets, raising a hand in greeting.

The boy's eyes narrow. His gaze, it's like a winter storm—glacial, imperious. "Who are you?" Even his voice can freeze a desert.

"I could say the same thing about you," Izuku drawls, offering a grin.

The cloud banks into the shore. The boy takes a step backward, his ivory cloak billowing behind him. Over his heart a beveled insignia rests, the sides gilded. It displays a sun, several rays jutting from the centre, each ray ending with one of the solar realm's courts' marks. A candidate, then.

The boy shifts. "I—" he breaks off abruptly. "Just—never mind." Weary, dull. He cranes his neck, scowl replaced by pensiveness. "This is the boundary," he murmurs, voice tinged with disbelief. "I never thought I would actually find it."

"How did you find it, if I may ask?" Very few gods dare venture into this territory. Although the realm of dreams had once been a no-man's-land, it was the closest to night, which most gods feared—still fear. A claim had had to be made for order's sake.

"I wandered around in search of something. I can't really remember ..." The boy sways, expression going vacant. He shakes his head. "No, I needed to see the night realm for myself. Not many gods can claim to have gone here."

"Why the curiosity, though?" Izuku sits up, legs dangling off the cloud.

"Night is powerful, unconquerable. The gods and songs of old speak of the realm in fearful tongues. Its king rules over the vastest lands, lands unfathomable to most, lands that surround the solar realm. He maintains equilibrium, vanquishing the sun day by day." A fevered, exhausted pitch. "I have heard many tales, but, this, I did not quite expect."

"You came at a good time." Indeed he did; all is calm here, clear, grey. "Send summer my regards."

"I am summer," the boy says, the air around him stirring. "It runs in my veins, strong and true. The earth has smiled upon my court, and therefore I have to pay my dues." His form tilts again. Izuku's fingers twitch. A puffy cloud catches his fall.

"Rest," Izuku says. "It does your realm no good if you've no strength, and a leader must always be ready."

"I can't rest," the boy snaps, but already he's sinking into the cloud. "My father, he will be displeased with my indolence. I can't ... I must not—"

"Forget your troubles for a moment and sleep," Izuku insists softly.

Without another word, the god of summer drifts off, a vision in colour. Even his dream is lovely, a picture of pastels and a crown of sun-shards. Then the scene shifts, and now someone's there, too, a boy all in black, eyes woodland dark, hair an ebony-green shade. He sits beneath a moon, mouth curled in a grin, the heavens winking at his shoulders.

Izuku holds the dream close to his sternum, enchanted.

 ii. eclipse

"Someone visited," Izuku says tells Toshinori, cradling the dream in his hands.

"Strange." Toshinori frowns thoughtfully. The realm, after all, was not meant to be simply found. "What were they doing?"

"It was an informal meeting, cordial on all counts." A comet rips through the sky, a burst of white. "The god of summer wished to see the night realm."

A blink. "You mean the ruler's son?" Toshinori strokes his chin. "That boy is favoured to preside over the solar realm; his power is great enough, though he still has much to learn, much like someone I'm very familiar with."

Izuku shoots him a dry smile.

"Does he know?" Toshinori watches the comet extinguish into streaks of light.

"No." Not yet.

 The god of summer returns on a calm night, figure lissome, blazing golden in the dark. His tread is sinuous, airy, a sylph's step, but also swift, precise, and carefully calibrated. War is inscribed along his every movement, the set of his jaw, the sharpness of his glare, the lift of his shoulders. A warrior through and through, born and bred from blood.

It's a captivating sight.

"You look better," Izuku says, stepping away from the shoreline.

"I suppose you could say that." The god shrugs. Turns his head around. "The boundary looks different. Dark."

"Like it has always been." The calm, however, is unusual. "What brings you back?"

The god shifts. "I had .... a peaceful time here," he says in a measured tone. "It was a lull in a storm."

"So you came all the way to thank me? I'm flattered."

The god's eyes snap towards him. "Hardly," he says, but there's no bite to his words. "Surely you know why: I seek an audience with the king of night. A brazen request, I'm aware, but as a future ruler taking initiative is imperative."

Izuku clicks his tongue. "Future ruler? How assuming."

"It is not assuming when you know it to be true." A hint of irritation. "My role was decided from the day of my conception. The solar realm will fall under my reign, mark my words." If Izuku is not mistaken, there's an almost sour note hidden in his words.

Izuku slips his hands into his pockets, holding the god's piercing stare. "What if the king does not wish to meet you? What if he has no interest in making your acquaintance?"

"He must, if an alliance is to be had. If not, well, it's not the worst-case scenario—"

"Which is?"

The god sends him a withering look that Izuku returns with an idle grin. "So he doesn't deign to see me? I know a dismissal when I see one."

"Clearly you have not seen enough, because he has yet to express an opinion on the matter."

"An agreement is what I require, not a sentiment."

"Which you will have in due time."

The god huffs. "Are you always this irksome?"

"Only when it comes to you." Izuku's grin widens, luminous.

Anger—ruby red—stains the god's cheeks. "Another time, then." He spins around, sparks trailing at his heels.

Before the god disappears out of sight, Izuku calls out, "Will you at least tell me your name before you go?"

The god pauses. Looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing silver and blue. "An answer for an answer, which you have not delivered."

"The king will grace you with his presence upon your next arrival," Izuku promises. "I swear it upon my court."

The god of summer breaks off eye contact. There's a moment of silence, and then he says, "It's Shouto." His name lingers in the air long after he leaves.

The Sky of Dreams glows brighter.

 Izuku's throne, a cold, ethereal thing made of moon-shards and starlight, rests on a mountain overlooking the earth, the onyx sky fading to indigo at the boundary, transitioning into full colour beyond—the view both panoptic and opaque. Seeing all yet nothing at the same time. Enough to get by, at least.

Izuku rests his chin on a palm, his other arm draped over the armrest. He raises his gaze skywards, towards the crescent moons atop the pillars surrounding his throne. One for each realm. The nightmares, they've started to stir—vicious, heavy, red. Exhausting, worst of all.

"Are you expecting someone, my king?" a wind spirit asks, kneeling before him.

"A soon-to-be-ruler," Izuku confirms, crossing his legs. "Have you seen anyone of that sort make an appearance?"

"The summer god is here. Shall I send him in?"

"Please do." The spirit rises. Izuku's fingers tap against his throne, once, twice, thrice.

"So you were the king all this time." A blaze of fire and ice. The wind spirit scuttles away. Shouto storms towards the throne, eyes irate, bright. "I don't appreciate being played for a fool."

"That's much too harsh a term," Izuku says smoothly. "My apologies for the confusion you must've experienced. A bad move on my part and for that I take full responsibility."

"You—you're making light of the situation again."

"A necessary evil, I'm afraid; it's been awfully boring these past few seasons."

"When I become king, I will not tolerate such mistreatment. You may rule the greatest realm, but I will have the solar courts at my disposal. There, a matter not to be laughed at."

"Oh? Is that a threat?" Izuku stands. Slips his hands into his pockets.

"A warning, more like."

The marble clacks under Izuku's steady tread, stars issuing from his step. The stars weave into his cape, a ripple of gossamer, diaphanous, light. On his head a constellation sits—a jagged crown, all sharp valleys and crests, each star connected by a web of glasslike threads.

Fitting for a king of the most powerful realm.

"Well, I'm sorry. Truly I am." Izuku inclines his head.

"Say I came with the might of the courts. Conquered your realm and took your throne for myself. Will you be sorry, then?"

"You wouldn't."

"What if I did?" A challenge.

"The loss will be felt deeply, that I cannot deny. But ..." Izuku shrugs. "Take it, then. It will be yours, all of it: my crown, the Sky, the Sea, and the darkness."

Surprise is stamped across Shouto's face. He flinches sharply, whirling around.

"If that is what you wish, so be it," Izuku continues, every step taking him closer to the summer god. "I will not retaliate. Now, you have no obstructions. My domain is yours to seize. An easy victory; you have nothing to lose but all to gain." Izuku halts. Brings up his lips to the summer god's ear. "Shall I bend the knee right here and now?"

Shouto freezes, fists clenched at his sides. The silence that follows is long and agonizing. Then: "It is not so much a victory as it is theft. Honour does not exist without sacrifice." Weary, hollow.

Izuku's mouth curves.

"I have to go." Shouto makes a move for the exit, all traces of anger gone. He spares a single glance at Izuku, and it's a curious look, soft at the edges, a little mysterious.

It's absolutely disarming.                                                        

 "Have you come to conquer me after all?" Bubbles drift lazily around Izuku's fingers, courtesy of Toshinori's visit to the siren kingdom. "Now would be a good time; I cannot be bothered to get up."

"No," Shouto murmurs, crouching down on the shoreline. "I've come without any ill intentions, believe it or not." He regards Izuku with raised eyebrows. "For a being of your position, you seem to be at leisure all the time."

"I assure you that it isn't the case. It's just that my responsibilities are not for public consumption." Izuku props himself up on an elbow. "So you're back. It seems that our dispute wasn't sufficient enough to keep you away."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Not at all." Izuku flicks a hand. A flurry of stars swirl around Shouto. "Starlight looks good on you. Brings out the colours of your hair."

"I appreciate the flattery," he says flatly, lowering his gaze.

"Oh, but I do mean it." Izuku grins sweetly. Shouto scowls, blushing sunset-pink. "Tell me, is there a real reason you're here? Surely there are far more interesting distractions in your realm."

"Not particularly." The bubbles drift to join the stars, opalescent in the light. Shouto absently pokes one. "I wanted to get away from it all. My father, my court, everything. The other gods grow more restless by the day, and—it's all just madness. My reserves of diplomacy are running in short supply." His next sentence is uttered so softly that Izuku almost misses it: "Plus, I could not stay away."

Izuku's cheeks heat up. The Sky of Dreams twinkles knowingly. Warm—Izuku is warm all over in the way his realm can never be. "Let me show you something for your troubles," he says, summoning a star.

Shouto watches, transfixed. The star unfolds.

"A dream, one of my favourite ones. How I yearn for a land I have never been to." A lullaby, tinkling, effervescent, fills the air. Vibrant bowers, sleepy hollows, glistening caverns, lush dells.

Izuku glides towards Shouto. Transfers the dream into his hand.

Eyes wide, Shouto murmurs, "It is beautiful."

"It is," Izuku hums.

 A flower—a single rose—is tucked between Shouto's fingers, the petals deep red and moon-bright. Out of place in a world of black and grey.

"A gift," Shouto says. "For the dream you shared with me."

Flowers do not bloom in the night realm; the barren grounds ensure that little to no life exists here. Izuku accepts, hesitant.

"It will not die," Shouto assures. "I made sure of it."

Izuku holds the flower to his nose. Inhales. It's sweeter than any song he's tasted.

"Thank you," Izuku whispers.

For the first time ever, Shouto smiles at him, and it's enchanting.

Captivating.

Disarming.

Even when the smile fades into a look of hesitation.

 The war Toshinori mentioned has come at long last. The Sea churns with screams and dirges, spitting them out raw and guttural. In the years to come, the soil beyond the boundary will grow gravid with corpse and gore. Many stars have reached their last exhale, the Sky rife with hisses of gas.

As the Sky dims with loss, the Sea turns frothing, a graveyard of dreams.

Longer nights and shorter days, a tragedy many fear. It has become all too easy to swallow the sun, and dimly Izuku wonders what the summer god's smile would transform into if he plunged the world in eternal night. Conquered day.

(A calamity, possibly).

 An elixir of something silvery bubbles in Toshinori's hand. "You are too tired, my boy," he says, worried, holding the goblet to Izuku's lips. "Why must you take it on alone?"

The liquid is honey-sweet on his tongue, acrid in his stomach. "Heavy lies the crown," is the eternal answer.

Toshinori sighs.

 "I realize that I still do not know your name."

"Have this dance with me and I'll tell you."

A pause. Shouto considers Izuku's hand. "Must we really?" he says, cheeks pink, eyebrows raised.

Star-bright eyes twinkle. "That decision is yours to make."

Shouto's palm slips into his own, golden against moon-pale. His expression is vacant and, somehow, a little lost. The two of them sway gently in the blue moonlight, Shouto's gaze suddenly appraising.

"You stare at me like you're sizing up a formidable foe. Do I intimidate you that much?" Izuku's tone is light and casual.

Instead of retorting, Shouto asks, "Why is the boundary under your domain?"

Izuku shrugs. "It's a responsibility that can't afford to fall into the wrong hands. The consequences would be disastrous."

"It's true, then, all the tales of your power?"

Izuku breaks away from their dance. Looks up at the inky darkness. "It's Izuku, by the way," he says, evasive.

 The violence continues, untameable.

The moon god stands in the midst of a storm, the world a dark crimson. The creatures sprout army by army, each a harrowing pastiche of skeleton, flesh gone sour, and other broken things. A sweep of an arm, and they rear back, jaws snapping at his heels, mutinous.

The summer god watches, expression carefully blank.

"Are you scared?" the moon god asks.

"No." An honest answer.

"Maybe you should be."

The summer god does not blink.

 A circlet sears Shouto's brow, its apex bearing a miniature sun.

Izuku bows at the waist, arm sweeping in a grand arc. "Congratulations," he offers with a smile.

"It was only a matter of time." Shouto's mismatched eyes bore into him, something soft and shy flickering in their depths.

Izuku blinks, breath catching a little in his throat.

"The coronation will take place soon." His gaze continues to linger on Izuku's face, and suddenly the hall does not feel nearly as cold anymore, a pleasant burn kindling beneath his skin.

"And?" Izuku finds himself drifting closer, closer, closer.

"What?" Shouto's face starts to burn as well.

The realization hits him with the force of a meteor shower. Oh, Izuku thinks, dazed. Shouto must've sensed it, too, because his expression turns closed-off and mildly confused.

Izuku halts.

 "Duty is everything. I cannot afford distractions," Shouto murmurs.

The words dredge up a dim echo in the hollows of memory. Hadn't Izuku said the same thing once? Although Shouto's talking about something else, Izuku can't help but feel he's addressing a certain issue.

"Indeed," Izuku hums emptily.

 Soon enough it dawns on Shouto, and the confrontation is less than pretty.

"I think we should stop," he whispers, torn. "We have to stop meeting like this."

Izuku swallows. "Why?" comes out, even if he already knows the answer.

Silence stretches out between them. It shouldn't hurt this much.

"I will be the ruler of the solar realm, of Day. That much is clear." Shouto runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We aren't meant to be this way. We just aren't. What would—what would my court say, what would my father do, it's—"

Izuku reaches out for him. Shouto flinches away, eyes hardening into chips of ice. That glacial, warrior's mask slips over his features. "Don't," he says coldly. "We were never supposed to grow this close. I wasn't supposed to feel the way I do. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did," Izuku says quietly.

"It was a mistake." Shouto shakes his head, clenching his jaw. "We can't do this."

Izuku stares, cold all over.

Shouto's next words are a sword to the gut. "I can't love you. And this ends now." There's remorse in his tone, but it isn't evident by the way he leaves without so much as a backward glance.

Still Izuku waits, and waits, and waits.

 The circlet has turned into a crown of sun-shards, each point representing each of the solar realm's court. The summer god no longer but the sovereign of day, blindingly bright.

They meet under an eclipse before several faceless courts and hushed voices. This one time where the boundary has lifted, two realms blurring into one.

"Day." The moon god tilts his head.

The sun god wavers. "Night," he acknowledges stiffly.

The smile Night sends Day is sad.

 They meet once more before the end of a millennia, a wide, wide rift between them.

"Shouto," Izuku calls out.

Faraway, distant, Shouto does not respond. Does not even look back.

 The war reaches a long-awaited end, dispersing in hope and unity.

"There, the troubles are over," Izuku says, the boat beneath them rocking gently.

Toshinori purses his lips. "Not all of them."

Silence.

"You're lonely."

The sails overhead flap sharply."I have you."

"It is not the same, and we both know it."

Izuku looks away.

 A year passes. Izuku sends a dream.

Ten. Northern lights.

A hundred. A galaxy.

A thousand. He stops.

 iii. perihelion

The sun god's gift remains dewdrop fresh—lovely, red, alive. Izuku twirls the stem. Watches the petals dance.

"Perhaps you were right," he says to it.

The waves stop lapping against the hull, like they're holding in a breath. Toshinori steers the vessel uneasily. "Will you ever let it go?"

The petals are a silky kiss against his fingers. "Should I?" One hand dangles the flower over the bow, the boat listing to port.

The Sea yawns, eager. "It is not for me to decide."

Izuku shuts his eyes, resting an arm over his forehead. "One day," he murmurs, pressing the rose to his heart instead. For now, he tells himself, as the thorns dig into his skin.

 Soon enough a petal falls from the rose, crumbling at his feet. Using the remains, Izuku fashions a falling star, wispy, lonely. He sends it at what would be dusk in the solar realm, before he trades the sun for the moon. A parting gift.

Pathetic. Izuku sighs, tired.

 The boundary is the most beautiful it's ever been: a dark blue evening. Izuku stands, gazing at the rose in his hand.

It is time, he thinks, heart numb.

One petal falls, then, two, four, stardust at his feet.

Izuku stares. What was left of the petals scatters. Done—it is done. Izuku feels drained and hollow inside. Then, he catches movement in the corner of his eye: a single rose petal.

It refuses to die, even in his hold.

Izuku's gaze snaps skywards. The world is lightening, indigo fading to grey. The petal sears his skin as his eyes widen, a sharp gasp hitching in his throat. After all this time—

Why?

A pair of footsteps, light and airy, sound from behind.

Why now? His nails dig in sharp enough to draw out blood.

"Don't," a voice pleads, hoarse, broken.                                

A new rose blooms—red, alive—in Izuku's hand.

"I'm sorry for what I did."

A chin rests on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist.

"I didn't—I didn't mean what I said."

The moon and sun cannot coexist, a natural law. The boundary ensures the separation of the two entities. One realm is cold, colourless, unlovely, the other bright, vibrant, beautiful. They're opposites, the moon and the sun god, two spheres not meant to overlap.

"What I feel for you, I was wrong to dismiss it."

This is all wrong.

"Please allow me to give you this."

An arc of colours bleeds into the Sky—there's yellow, red, blue, and everything in between. The clarity is crisp, unmistakeably genuine. Izuku freezes, breathing harshly. He breaks free from the embrace, fists clenched at his sides.

"You," he whispers, rounding onto Shouto. "Why?"

The sun god takes a step forward, face tired but lovely—unbearably so. "You have sent me much over the years," he says breathlessly, voice ragged. "All of them beautiful things, the dreams especially. I was frustrated and too ashamed to respond. For a time I thought that it was never meant to be, that what I had done was for our best interests; we are both of two realms that have been kept separate since time immemorial. I was told to stay away from you."

The ground beneath Izuku tilts, unsteady.

"Night is to be feared, challenged, and threatened, my father always said. A figure of malice and wrath. His words were poison, and I foolishly allowed them to interfere with my reasoning. He always said I was born for the crown, and therefore bound to its duties." Shouto's palms reach up to cup Izuku's cheeks. "I can see where I went wrong, and for that I am sorry. You are more than I deserve, nothing like what they rumour about in hushed tones, and that comet that you sent—" A crack snags at his words.

"It made me realize exactly what I had lost." Shouto pauses, eyes brimming with remorse. "You, Izuku. You." The words twist a knife in his heart.

"This isn't ... I did not expect ... I was—I was about to give up on you," Izuku says harshly, something wet trailing down his face. "Shouto, what are you saying?"

"I've loved you for a thousand years, and have never, ever stopped. I know that I am in no position to ask this of you, but ..." Shouto leans in, brushing the tears from his face. "Don't. Please. Don't."

The Sky bears down on them, stars wavering. Shouto's touch burns against his skin. Heart heavy, Izuku can hardly move or say anything. "The colours," Izuku breathes, lightheaded. "How?"

"You've held the weight of the boundary alone for far too long. Now, it doesn't belong entirely to you anymore. Half of your burden is mine to carry, and I will not let you take it back." His thumb caresses his jaw. "The beauty of my realm is here to stay. But if you no longer wish to see me, you need only say the word."

Izuku's eyes widen as he takes in the eclipse that has replaced the moon. "It is not easy, this duty," Izuku murmurs, pale.

"It does not matter."

"You won't—you won't regret it?"

Their foreheads touch. "Never," Shouto says with conviction.

The ground rights itself. The rose in Izuku's hand blooms. He draws away, lifts the flower to the eclipse. The petals unfurl, deep scarlet against lavender.

"Will you still have me?" Shouto asks softly.

The rose disintegrates into light in Izuku's clasp. The newly formed star winks at him. "A dream," Izuku says. "My new favourite one." He meets Shouto's eyes. Lifts a starlight-dusted palm to his cheek. Smiles. "I am yours and you are mine."

The smile that Shouto gives him return is achingly lovely—lovelier than any of the dreams Izuku has in his possession. He presses a kiss to Izuku's knuckles. "You are beautiful," he says, cheeks sunrise red as he bridges the gap between their lips, the kiss sweeter than honey and hotter than flame.

The warmth that fills Izuku, head-to-toe, is unmistakeably love.

 The boundary has fallen under the night and the solar realm's rule, shining with a muted sort of brilliance. All around fields of flowers stretch towards the horizon, stalks fluttering and bending, dreams bobbing up and down like fireflies.

"My king," Izuku says, fiddling with the crown at Shouto's head. At the tip of it rests a lone crescent, cradling a sun.

Shouto catches his hand and interlaces their fingers together, amused.

"Will you ever tire of eons of this dalliance?" Izuku jests, resting his head on Shouto's shoulder.

"What we have is not a fleeting affair but the kind that is immortalized in song and poem, the kind that mortals envy, the kind that they can only hope to dream of. It is forever, if only you will have me for that long."

Their hands untangle. Izuku brushes a hand over his cheek. "Surely you have not forgotten my response."

"It seems that I am in need of a reminder." The throne beneath them shifts as Shouto rolls over to hover above Izuku, the eclipse resting at his shoulder.

Izuku reaches up to adjust the crown atop Shouto's head, sun-bright against the dim twilight. "Do you really?" he murmurs, grinning slyly.

Shouto's eyes, they're limpid, bottomless pools darkening over with fire. "Indulge me," he rasps, hands sleepwalking down.

A sharp intake of breath. "My, my, how improper. Where are your manners?"

"Stop tormenting me."

"Only if you say please."

Shouto's mouth descends to his collarbone. "Please," he murmurs against his skin, full of want.

Laughter slips past Izuku's lips. Shouto lifts his head. Fire—Izuku is burning with fire. "It would be better to show you," Izuku says, closing the gap between them. Shouto eagerly deepens the kiss.

Izuku pulls away for a moment, flushed, remembering something. "Don't we have two realms to run, my king?" he breathes.

"That can wait," Shouto says, gaze heavy-lidded. "We have forever after all." His face grows closer, closer, closer. "I have something to show you."

Their lips reconnect, and here, under Shouto's touch, energy thrums, lightning red and alive—and this something becomes a thousand colours bleeding into a single burst of ecstasy that leaves him weightless and exhilarated, summer-warm and golden.

 A sunburst gleams at the peak of Izuku's crown, framed by three stars. No longer does he have to maintain the balance of the world alone.

"Finally," Toshinori says, eyes glimmering with softness.

"I suppose it was time," Izuku agrees, cradling Shouto's rose against his heart.

The Sea of Nightmares remains quiet for a very long time after that.

[jinnieboo-blog1]

Min Yoongi: Raindrops

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Suga) x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Yoongi’s date was supposed to be perfect and sunny, but then it started to rain. However, that wasn’t enough to stop them from having a good time.

Word count: 1,612

Genre: Fluff/romance

Warnings: None

You thought it was a good idea. Actually, you were certain it was a good idea. What could go wrong with a simple date wherein you would just walk in the park, right?

It was perfect. Sleepy Yoongi actually agreed to go out and indulge in your wish to take a stroll. The weather was perfect, and Yoongi was just as excited as you were. You bought snacks from stalls and enjoyed the scenery. Yoongi wasn’t one for PDA, but when he held your hand gingerly while walking, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach about to burst out of you.

It was perfect…that is, until gray clouds covered the sunny blue sky and little drops of water came down. “Oh come on.” you sigh, grinning at the sky. “The weather was so perfect.”

“No use complaining, y/n. Let’s go back before it rains harder.” Yoongi squeezes your hand.

You nodded and walked faster, attempting to get back to your house before the rain became stronger. Unfortunately, halfway to your place, the rain seemed to be mocking you and Yoongi. You could feel the coldness all over your body, and you were sure Yoongi did too. He held your hand as you both sprinted on the sidewalk as the raindrops pelted you two.

A few minutes later, you finally arrived, dripping wet. After wringing out your clothes, the both of you headed to the kitchen because that’s where it was warmest. You prepared the coffee maker for the two of you to enjoy a good cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I dragged you out only to get wet by the rain.” you say, chuckling sheepishly as you switch the coffee maker on.

Yoongi approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Looking down at you, he flashes his gummy smile, “I had a good time, so don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault it rained.”

Giggling, you rest your hands on his shoulders. “You left clothes here, right?”

Yoongi often stayed over at your place during their off days or during the times they were on break. Thus, he had some clothes left. Yoongi replies, “Yeah, I did.”

He leaned down, bringing your face closer to his. It was like everything was in slow motion, even when you closed your eyes and felt his lips softly press onto yours. You didn’t plan on pulling away anytime soon, until you felt water droplets tickling your cheek. Opening your eyes slowly, you could see that Yoongi’s wet hair was dripping water on your face. You both forgot that you were still wet from the rain. Giggling, you pull away and brush Yoongi’s hair away from his forehead.  “I think we should get changed while waiting for the coffee to be ready.”

Yoongi smirks, “You go first.” he then wiggles his eyebrows, “Unless you want to change together.”

“Min Yoongi!” you blush, but laugh nonetheless.

Taking up his offer, you grabbed dry clothes from your closet and went inside your bathroom. You slipped into comfortable denim shorts and a white oversized hoodie. It was pretty cold, so you wore the Kumamon socks that Yoongi gave you last Valentine’s Day.

You dried off your wet hair and finally stepped outside. “Your turn, Yoongi.” you call out.

Yoongi appeared a few seconds later, holding his own change of clothes. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” you tell him as you went downstairs.

When you got to the kitchen, the smell of coffee surrounded the area. Breathing in deeply, you smiled. Nothing is better than a warm cup of coffee on a cold, rainy day. You pour the brown liquid into two mugs: a Kumamon mug for Yoongi, which you gave to him during his birthday, and a Kakao Frodo mug for you. You prepared the coffee just the way Yoongi liked it. Taking the two mugs, you turned around to go to the living room, only to be surprised by Yoongi right in front of you. Nearly spilling the coffee, Yoongi took the mugs from you and gives you a quick peck. “I got this.”

He started to walk to the living room. Smiling at your boyfriend, you followed him quickly. Yoongi was settled into the couch- he looked so serene sitting there comfortably, taking a satisfied sip of his coffee. You sat beside him and since you weren’t out in public anymore, you nuzzled into his side and leaned on his shoulder. Sighing happily after sipping your coffee, you say, “I’m glad you’re here, Yoongi.”

Yoongi smiles, “What can I say? I miss my girlfriend.”

You chuckle and sit up properly to look at him. “Do I miss you?” you smirk, teasing him.

Yoongi playfully pouts his lips, causing you to laugh. “Of course I did, you silly.”

“Of course you would.” Yoongi jokes back.

You leaned on his shoulder again. Turning your gaze to the window, you joke, “Does Namjoon have any plans on making songs about the rain? You can make so many songs about the rain. The rain is an amazing thing.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I don’t think he does. Want me to write a rain song for you? The kinds of songs that you’d sing to make the rain go away?”

You laugh and reply, “Something like ‘rain, rain, go away. Come again another day’?”.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Yoongi smirks.

“Ok…” you start, “how about videos where you guys would get soaked in rain? You know…those dramatic rain shots you’d see in K-dramas.”

Yoongi had a very silent laugh, but you knew he was laughing because you could feel his body’s rise and fall. “I’ll be sure to tell them about your ideas, y/n. Who knows? You could be in the video.”

“Then I’d be famous and people will discover me, then I’d become an idol and everyone will love me.” you joke.

“Dreaming big? That’s cute.” Yoongi smiles.

You chuckled. By now, you both have finished your coffee and were cuddled up on the couch. It was a very peaceful moment. The neighborhood was quiet; the only sounds you could hear were the raindrops pattering on your window and the sound of Yoongi’s heartbeat. Not wanting to disrupt such a tranquil silence, Yoongi softly spoke, “You know…I actually like the rain.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Well, for one, it makes me relaxed. There’s just something about it that calms me down.” he explains, and you softly nod, gesturing for him to continue. “And it also reminds me of the other members.”

A big smile formed on your lips as soon as Yoongi said that. You loved how Yoongi treasured the other boys of BTS. You loved the close bond those boys shared with each other. Yoongi continues to speak, “We’re like raindrops. Look at the window. When one raindrop merges with another raindrop, they start to move, and the more raindrops they pass and merge with, the faster they move. It’s like how the members and I work. We’re better and faster when we’re together and note by ourselves.”

“That’s really nice, Yoongi. It’s cool that you thought of that.” you say, playing with the hem of his sweater. “And you know what? One raindrop may seem weak at first, but when you have all these raindrops falling together, you have the rain, or even a storm. That’s you and the boys.”

Yoongi smirks and plants a kiss on top of your head. “I like that.”

You then directly looked at Yoongi as his gaze never wavers from you. “You remind me of a raindrop, too, Yoongi. When a raindrop hits a body of water, it makes a ripple; it has a significant effect somehow. You have an effect on the people around you with the songs you sing, the stories you share and the memories you make. You may be just one Min Yoongi, but the impact your life makes is significant, and I am beyond happy for that.”

Yoongi didn’t need words to express how touched and how happy he was to hear you say that. All he had to do was kiss you with so much intensity as if all his feelings were poured into that single kiss. “The rain is also like how the sky isn’t always happy and sunny- it can be cloudy and gloomy too.” you laugh as you both pull away.

“Have you been sad recently?” Yoongi whispers against your lips.

“No,” you begin, “but every time I remember that you’re going to be busy again makes me melancholic. I’m happy that you guys are doing great, but it also makes me sad because I won’t get to see you so much.”

Yoongi smirks and you feel his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll make time for you, y/n. I promise. But for now,” he leans back, fully lying down on the couch with you embraced in his arms. “let’s not think about that, ok?”

“Ok.” you blissfully smile as you feel his arms securely wrap around you.

The warmth of Yoongi’s embrace mixed with the faint aroma of coffee and the cool weather lulled you to sleep, and you knew Yoongi was fast asleep as well. So you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep as the raindrops spat on your window.

Everything was perfect. You had Yoongi with you right now, and you both enjoyed the time together, and that was all that mattered. Once he got busy again, you wouldn’t see him as much, but that was alright. Even if he wasn’t with you physically, you knew he was always there for you, even if you were miles apart. In fact, it made you treasure precious moments like this even more.

Hope you enjoyed, and I hope it made you feel all fluffy as it did to me!

Have any requests? Make a request here!

[donettelooney5-blog]

Real Property Guidelines That Every Vendor Should Know

Offering a genuine estate house can easily be a difficult approach. Identifying the list price, executing repairs, workplace set ups and the listing the house are simply a few of the problems that any potential house vendor will face. This content includes the key suggestions and tips any actual property vendor might want.

When selling your home, try to produce it appearance as attractive mainly because possible to a potential customer. This does not want to end up being expensive: merely a riff of paint indoors or making sure the home windows are gleaming. For outside attraction, seed some brightly coloured plants, and become sure that your yard is usually newly mowed. Selecting the correct real property agent to sell your home with can easily be a daunting task. The appropriate measures to consider in acquiring the appropriate agent to represent you are: study, looking at out rankings and testimonials, interviewing multiple agents and asking the correct queries. Make sure to do your research (analysis) to observe agents in their regular open home configurations. Proceed online to check out actual existence reviews and ratings of potential brokers you may have your eye on. Make sure to narrow straight down your search to make the last decision by interviewing multiple agents and waterfront homes Chesapeake Va asking them queries about their practices to make sure they match your requirements. Hiring a Real estate agent is normally really worth taking into consideration when selling your house. Using a Realtor, versus offering on your personal, gives you professional suggestions and views, and accurate information for pricing your home. In addition, you'll receive maximum publicity through MLS listings and marketing. This can help you obtain a faster sale and higher selling cost. Clearing your schedule meant for a showing will enhance the benefit of that period spent and make a better impression upon potential customers. Change your telephone off, keep the children calm and avoid any various other feasible disruptions of the displaying. You perform not really wish anything distracting a potential purchaser from inspecting your home and visualizing themselves living there. Arranged the mood during the showing of the house you desire to sell. A fire in the fire place, candles glowing on the furniture and rippling water fountains make the home feel more tranquil and relaxing. These stuff may help maintain purchasers from observing less desired noises that may be noticed in any other case. One suggestion to keep in brain when it comes to true property is to not wait around too lengthy to put your home about the market. This is definitely important because while many people wait until the warm season to buy and move, it does not mean that people not necessarily looking for houses in past due wintertime and early springtime. Obtain your house on the market, and obtain it out there early. When offering your home, remove items that you would not want to stay in the house. The potential customer views the house as being sold as is usually and will believe that certain items will stay with the home. So remove the drapes that match your comforter arranged or the brand fresh metal steel refrigerator, if these items will not really be staying with the house. Keep the market place in brain when prices your home. If your home offers been on the market for many weeks, you may want to consider reducing the cost of your house. The market can be presently becoming made the decision by the economy, and many people do not have cash to spend a premium on a home. When selling your home, make absolutely sure to maintain your front panorama seeking nice and well taken treatment of. If you are not really good at stuff like that, then you might need to hire somebody to do it. This can be important because it will be the first region that anyone will discover as they get up to your house. You should take any additional space that you may have and add a second bathroom to your house if you just have one. Many house purchasers look at multiple restrooms as a requirement, and they are even more likely to purchase your house if you have two or more bath rooms. New floors can be extremely costly, so if you are putting your house about the market, only replace it if it's in really bad shape. Replacing the flooring can become quite expensive and you won't also obtain to enjoy it. Try cleaning them thoroughly and repairing any places to the best of your abilities rather, therefore that you can reduce bad opinions. Online analysis is a crucial component of choosing a true estate agent. There are many rating and review sites where people share their encounters with different agents. You can search your neighborhood to discover out which providers possess the highest rankings and most positive evaluations, or check out a particular agent to observe how well they are examined. As this content discussed previously, selling real property may be challenging, particularly when considering the amount of decisions any true property seller will need to make. Offering a real estate can become very much much easier when you possess the best knowledge and suggestions. Apply the ideas from this content and you'll end up being on your way selling your house.

[linabrigette]

Amid Chaos, Our Decentralized Future Is Being Built

Michael J. Casey is the chairman of BTC News Today’s advisory board and a senior advisor of blockchain research at MIT’s Digital Currency Initiative.

The following article originally appeared in Consensus Magazine, distributed to attendees of Consensus 2018.

If, during BTC News Today’s Consensus conference in May 2017, I’d predicted the crypto and blockchain industry’s subsequent experiences, you wouldn’t have believed me.

Back then, BTC News Today’s Bitcoin Price Index (BPI) was around $2,400. Six months later, it passed through $10,000 – right when 1,300 investors and financial professionals attended the inaugural Consensus: Invest conference. But that was only a way station to $19,783, an all-time high in mid-December.

This came as the Chicago Board of Trade and the Chicago Mercantile Exchange launched bitcoin futures contracts, giving professional entities a vehicle for betting on the cryptocurrency. Come 2018, the entire mood shifted. Bitcoin lost two-thirds of its value in less than four months as regulatory clampdowns in China, South Korea and the U.S. ensued.

Bitcoin was not alone in this volatility, either. In the eleven months following Consensus 2017, $8.3 billion was raised in initial coin offerings, according to BTC News Today’s ICO Tracker. At its peak in early January, the market capitalization for all cryptocurrencies and digital tokens listed on coinmarketcap.com surpassed $831 billion, a 900 percent rise from May 2017. As Consensus 2018 wrapped up recently week it was $375 billion.

With all this money being made and lost, and the “What the hell is going on?” questions it provoked among the general public, bitcoin, cryptocurrencies and blockchain technology were thrust into the headlines. Suddenly, they were topics of conversation at dinner tables. Mothers were asking their crypto-obsessed teenagers what coin to buy.

And those of us who’d floated around the space for some years were looked upon with intrigue: Are you one of them? A bitcoin billionaire? (For the record, I most decidedly am not.)

This level of public curiosity was totally new. But the market mania wasn’t, not for crypto. Ratio-wise, the BPI chart of 2017–2018 looks similar to the 12 months from April 30, 2013, when bitcoin started at $144.30, soared to $1,151.30 on December 4, 2013, and then slid to $445.87 on April 30, 2014, where it more or less stayed for the rest of the year. The same goes for the calendar year 2011, when the price started at 30 cents, peaked at $29.60 on June 8, and then closed the year at $4.25.

I believe we were in a bubble in 2017, but we were also in one in 2013 and in 2011. In those two cases, recovery to higher highs came much sooner than it did for, say, the Nasdaq, which took 15 years to top its dot-com bubble peak of March 2000. The crypto markets may be redefining the nature of investment booms, speeding up the entire process of speculation, correction, retrenchment and recovery.

Under the hood

Price, though, is a distraction. It makes people miss the forest for the trees, overlooking the important innovations on which the investment ideas are supposedly founded. So, we must note that amid all the money mania, big changes were also occurring with the development of crypto technology itself.

In that same 12-month period, the bitcoin community’s three-year internecine war, otherwise known as the “block size debate,” came to a divisive conclusion with a software hard fork to create bitcoin cash, a new, competing version of bitcoin with a larger block capacity. That left the community that supported the original small-block standard, now known as Bitcoin Core, free to incorporate code changes of its own. Most importantly, the Segregated Witness (SegWit) protocol upgrade was introduced, which streamlined data management and enabled other software improvements.

In particular, SegWit facilitated one of the most exciting cryptocurrency innovations since Satoshi Nakamoto’s white paper: the lightning network. Now live on bitcoin, litecoin and other cryptocurrencies but still in its infancy, lightning is an off-chain payment channel solution that promises to significantly increase transaction-processing, enable derivative-like smart contracts, and lower costs.

Not to be outdone, ethereum developers introduced their own scaling initiatives. These included the lightning-inspired Raiden and Plasma, which aimed to enable smart contracts at massive scale. Meanwhile, new projects from Polkadot, Ripple and Cosmos and others sought cross-blockchain interoperability while still more worked on decentralized exchanges for custody-free token trading.

Meanwhile, businesses, NGOs and government agencies launched blockchain projects covering a smorgasbord of use cases. Almost every day a new private or public collaboration was launched for supply chain management, digital identity, land titles, trade finance, commodity exchanges, decentralized electricity or additive manufacturing.

The UN, the IMF and the World Bank set up blockchain labs. Consortia comprising established companies, startups and even state governments and cities were formed to explore open-source standards in energy, climate data, and the internet of things. People everywhere were striving to make blockchain go live.

Many of these ideas are ahead of their time, mostly because the underlying infrastructure, the protocols and programming rules that govern platforms such as bitcoin or ethereum, aren’t sufficiently developed for them. That they are being proposed puts pressure on core blockchain developers.

Unlike the mostly academic and publicly funded founders of the internet, who worked for decades in relative obscurity before their work on packet switching and the Transmission Control and internet protocols was ready for the online boom in the nineties, blockchain developers are in the spotlight. The world is already demanding applications while highly speculative crypto markets want returns on their money.

Having hundreds of billions of dollars at stake does not make for an ideal, tranquil environment for testing and developing software.

Still, developers have no choice. Like it or not, the ecosystem is coming together at once rather than in sequence. Programmers and cryptographers are working on cleaner code, designing smarter security solutions and installing faster transaction mechanisms at or on top of the base protocol layer, while established companies and startups are rolling out smartphone products at the higher, application layer.

All this is occurring as day-traders flip in and out of multiple crypto tokens, creating huge, distracting gyrations in the developers’ own net worth.

Out of this chaos, order will eventually come. It will partly be forced by regulators like the Securities and Exchange Commission, which will set rules and enforce them, hopefully without killing innovation.

Order will also come from the community itself, driven by the demands of the market. We need best practices for token-issuing startups, software audits and other quality assurances, and self-regulating governing bodies to encourage standards, adjudicate disputes and disincentivize wrongdoing.

Welcoming the bubble

Although the hysteria ensures this industry’s development won’t chart a methodical straight line, the crazed market need not be viewed as a negative phenomenon.

Throughout history, the arrival of transformative technologies has been accompanied by Wild West-like speculation. It happened with electricity, with railroads, and with the internet itself in the 90s.

As the economist Carlota Perez explains, speculation and bubbles are not just a byproduct but are core feature of how new, disruptive technologies are developed, deployed and ultimately incorporated into our economy.

Speculation unlocks cheap capital. Much of it just lines the pockets of early investors in crazy, overvalued proposals such as Pets.com in 1999, but it also funds real, valuable infrastructure.

In the dot-com bubble, money went into physical infrastructure: fiber-optic cable, giant server farms, research into 3G mobile technologies. People lost billions on silly ideas in the nineties but their money also paid for the infrastructure that would underlay internet 2.0 post-bubble. It enabled algorithmic search, cloud computing, smartphones, social media, big data and all the other functionality that have changed our way of life and made a few titans of tech fabulously wealthy and powerful.

What’s the equivalent now? The capital unleashed by the crypto bubble isn’t funding physical infrastructure but social infrastructure. Token valuations might be out of whack with reality and imply big losses for many. But they’re also incentivizing global groups of innovators to come together online, conceive of new decentralized economic models, and codify those ideas in open-source software.

Their startups may fail but their code will be freely available for others to later work with, even more readily and cheaply than the dot-com era fiber helped Google, Facebook and co. in the 2000s.

We don’t know what new innovations will emerge, but it’s fair to say these early innovators are laying the building blocks of our future, decentralized economy.

The big idea

At times like this, there’s a broad understanding that something big is going. It’s just hard to predict its economic impacts. So people throw scattershot money at everything. Inevitably, their bets overshoot and prices decline. That this is going on in crypto is perhaps vindication of the underlying technology’s importance.

This raises some fundamental questions: What is the paradigm shift, the big idea that breeds such excitement? Why, after almost ten years is the market assigning $144 billion of value to a digital asset based on a software system that no one controls? What’s so special, anyway, about a decentralized, censorship-resistant system of value exchange?

The big, underlying idea, I believe, is that blockchain technology can upend not just the business models of recent decades but a millennia-old societal practice of deep significance to civilization.

Its decentralized structure portends a profound change in ledger-keeping, a dramatic re-imagination of society’s methods for tracking and assigning value. It overturns the centralized model installed with the first ledger, the Code of Hammurabi, which was founded around 1754 BC in Babylon.

It’s hard to overstate how important ledgers are to our way of life. Without bookkeeping, modern society simply couldn’t function. We’d have no idea of who owes what to whom and of how much value to assign to the assets of individuals, companies and entire economies.

It’s how we overcome the core challenge of mistrust among strangers, the means by which we reach agreement on sets of facts and make exchanges of value. This is the stuff of civilization. Anything that transforms this function is, by definition, extremely important.

Until now, we’ve had to rely on centralized ledger keepers, essentially requiring us to trust the say-so of those who control the books. We’ve assigned regulators and auditors to randomly check their work, but for the most part we are blind to the accuracy of the data, beholden to what the bookkeeper tells us.

This siloed recordkeeping results in a “cost of trust” that takes many forms. One is found in financial crises, such as that of 2008, when society lost faith in the ledgers produced by banks such as Lehman Brothers and the Royal Bank of Scotland.

Another is less obvious: the endless work of millions of accountants at businesses around the world, each reconciling their company’s books to those of their counterparties. Why? Because they don’t trust each other.

Blockchains promise to supplant this centralized approach with a distributed, shared ledger whose updates follow a robust, ongoing consensus in real-time.  At any given time, everyone who’s with access can know the current state of agreed-to transactions and balances. No more need for weekly, monthly, quarterly, or annual reconciliations and audits. The entire rhythm of our financial system could change.

And it’s not just financial data. Valuable information of all kinds can be tracked in this decentralized manner. It includes the online data that defines digital identities, titles to assets, and compliance information. It could disintermediate middlemen of all stripes because, by having a decentralized algorithm resolve our mutual mistrust rather than depending on all-knowing centralized ledger-keepers, we can trade directly with each other. When this system is reliably attached to trusted devices in the internet of things, it could even allow for machine-to-machine trade.

Such a transformation points to unimaginable new efficiencies. It could create untold new forms of value. And it could massively disrupt existing businesses and jobs.

These prospects have stirred a hive mind of dreamers and fueled an unprecedented bout of economic speculation. We don’t know where it’s headed. But we sense something profound is afoot.

Blockchain is a software technology, but its sweeping potential has fostered a giant sideline industry of speculation and ideation. As the technology “goes live,” this hurly-burly process of creative innovation and destruction will only intensify.

That’s both exciting and daunting, but it poses massive potential payoffs. Join us for the ride.

Fractal form and math image via Shutterstock

The leader in blockchain news, BTC News Today is a media outlet that strives for the highest journalistic standards and abides by a strict set of editorial policies. BTC News Today is an independent operating subsidiary of Digital Currency Group, which invests in cryptocurrencies and blockchain startups.

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[kikun]

@ruinlost said:   where   is   the   milk??   YOU   HAD   A   LIST!!

      —       he   tosses   a   3L   bottle   at   farrow.   the   lid   somehow   screwed   off.   must   have   been   the   wind.   oh   dear,   now   you're   drenched   in   milk.   

[kikun]

@mmriesoftvat said:   "ew,   stinky." — kami

❝   have   our   insults   really   stooped   this   low   ?   what   happened   to   our   usage   of   idioms   and   metaphors   ?   does   our   algorithm   not   compute   intellectual   complexities   anymore   ?   ❞   

❝   or   are   you   simply   a   malfunction   with   FLAWED   coding.   ❞