#(tomorrow's post might be ................... late i have somewhere to be today which leaves less time for typing up)

[custardcove]

First Memories

Chapter Five - Easy as Pie

The competition was to be held three days after their discussion. Alice spent that time getting ready, despite her ever-growing sense of dread. Knowing Queenie, they’d be working in front of an audience, she’d make it the biggest deal possible, and Alice would crack under the pressure. But there was no use being paralysed by fear, she’d just have to do her best…

She had looked online and in Pansy’s cookbooks for the easiest to follow recipe of the highest quality. Ultimately, she’d cobbled together a fusion of several methods that she thought would be best. Some said to precook the apples, others said not to, but she’d made her mind up to follow the latter. This meant marinating the peeled and cut apples in sugar and spices for an hour. It seemed like there would be a lot of waiting time between cooking it all … she wished Taylor had shouted out something less time-consuming.

“The kind of apples you use are important too,” Pansy said from behind her, making her jump. “Got word there’ll be a few to choose from tomorrow.”

Alice wiped her hands on her loaned apron, which had otherwise stayed relatively clean. “What would you recommend?”

“Hmm.” Pansy leant on the doorframe to the kitchen, rubbing her chin. “Pink Ladies? No—maybe Braeburn. Somethin’ I can tell what it is might be better; that’s what I usually use—it’s what you got there. I’d want it to be fair, but … Queenie’s not playing fair.”

“Yeah. I’d expect she might try something.” Alice sighed. A half-finished pie crust lay on the counter before her. “Even if I don’t win though, um. Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know how to repay you, but I’ll try when I—”

“Aw, you don’t need to do that.” Pansy moved closer to clap her on the shoulder.

“I do! I can’t just take living here for granted. Not like with my parents,” Alice joked. It didn’t get much of a reaction, so she continued, “Thank you, though. Really. I’d be dead two or more times without your help.”

Arms crushed her middle as Pansy swept forward, full of sentimentality. “Aww, you big softie!”

“I’m just being honest—I haven’t done anything to deserve—”

“Simply be! You don’t need to ‘deserve’ being rescued, or fed.”

“I suppose, but that doesn’t make you any less kind.”

Once Alice had escaped the pseuman’s iron grasp, she proceeded to cook her trial pie. When it had cooled she cut a slice for Pansy and mashed up some of the cooked apple for Primrose to try.

“Well…” she hovered as Pansy ate. “Is it any good?”

“It’s not bad.” Pansy chewed on her words as she savoured the pie. “I wasn’t expectin’ my socks to get blown off, but it’s cooked fine, and you’ve spiced it enough. I’d only recommend cutting the apples a bit more even-like tomorrow.”

“Right…” Alice gripped onto the apron fabric. At least it wasn’t awful, then.

Pansy helped spoon some of the apple mush into her daughter’s mouth. “See, Prim likes it.”

“Prim can judge tomorrow instead of you, then.”

Laughing, Pansy put the spoon down. “You’ll do fine! Better yet if you taste it yourself, might give you an idea.”

Alice cut herself a slice, sitting at the table with a cloud of gloom. She put a crumb of the pie in her mouth. It needed custard. “So, if I lose…”

“We’ll just have to think of somethin’ else. Find a trinket she’s willing to trade for, maybe? I don’t expect Miss Dragonpants will be a spectacular cook or anything like that. Someone with that much money has staff to cook for ‘em.”

“I guess you’re right.” Alice felt like there was some crucial detail about Queenie that meant this wouldn’t be the case, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Oh well. “What should I be expecting tomorrow? Just so it doesn’t keep me up tonight…”

Pansy hesitated. “They’ve set up a sort of makeshift stage with kitchen appliances on it—it was still being done up when I went, but I was impressed. The only advertisement for it’s been word of mouth, but that travels fast here.” She paused again to take in Alice’s expression, in case her horror was too great. It was a manageable amount. “Taylor’s gonna MC—I’m starting to wonder if he ever goes to work! Apart from me n’ Tech, Queenie chose one of her maids as a judge. But tomorrow I’ll take you there, and all you have to do is cook.”

“Ugh … this better be worth it, then.”

***

In no time at all, the day of the competition was at hand. It was another bright and cheerful spring morning, but Alice trembled as she followed Pansy to Erryton square. They’d been to Pablo’s to drop off Primrose, but the wait only served to make Alice more nervous. She gained a bit of relief on arriving, noticing that the crowd there wasn’t very large, and was mostly scattered around food stalls and makeshift shops. The cooking competition was just an impromptu side-event. The stage, too, wasn’t huge like she’d expected – it was more of a flat platform, barely raised enough to stop people milling over it. Taylor was there, and he beamed at the pair, to which Alice offered a weak smile.

“You ready?” He asked.

“No.”

His eyebrows folded in sympathy. “You’ll do fine. Everyone’s here now, so we’ll start soon. Just stand near your kitchen area—the one on the left—and Pansy,” Taylor shifted his gaze, “You’ll be sitting on that table at the front with the other judges.”

Pansy smiled at Alice, patting her on the shoulder. A lot of people were trying to give her hope today… “Good luck.”

Mid-walk to her seat, Pansy whipped her head toward the kitchen area, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t think I don’t see you there, Queenie! You can’t just take Alice’s ingredients and throw the contest.”

Indeed, it seemed the noble had not-so-slyly swiped something from Alice’s setup, caught carrying it away to her station. “Oh, is this Alice’s sugar? My mistake…” She placed it back down on the counter, simpering sweetly.

 Alice frowned. That seemed typical, yes, but was Queenie so careless? Pansy seemed satisfied with this result, however, and doesn’t delay any further. Alice hurried to her cooking station. Everything she needed was here—a selection of labelled apples, flour, an oven and fridge—but there was one thing she was more concerned about. She could hear Taylor speaking to the audience, now, but where was the sugar Queenie had placed? There…

“All right, get ready—”

Alice licked her finger, dipping it in the sugar and tasting it. That wasn’t right, it was—

“—your time starts now!”

Salt.

Time had already started, and Alice looked around frantically to see if she had any actual sugar. To her relief, she still had a whole pot of brown sugar, and her own pot of salt. But Queenie’s sleight of hand had still delayed her start. She got to work, glancing at her hastily scrawled recipe from yesterday evening. Apples first, they had to sit for ages, then dough, which also needed to sit—but before that, preheating the oven. It wasn’t something she ever remembered when cooking for herself, but right now she needed every advantage she could get.

Alice then made the mistake of looking over at Queenie’s workstation. She was midway through peeling her apples and waved cheekily with her knife. Alice fumbled for the Braeburn. She needed a peeler, and the sugar and spices, and . . .

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

[incarnateirony]

Okay so, you guys know I went from some pretty recent highs to a series of unfortunate lows as disability onset. But as I see the finish line clear as day, and things actually getting REAL GOOD HERE SOON, I really got no choice to ride it instead of stress--and I've been laughing.

So enjoy the story of:

"Man, you guys think autistic executive function is bad? Let's try Autistic Executive Function With Effectual Narcoleptic Disorder.", which I'm actually now laughing at myself the last few months.

Because god DAMN is it debilitating to pass out all the time.

So anyway, some months back, monnnnths back I got REAL sick. It used up most of my PTO. Afterward, I started passing out, which they wanted separate notes for, for any kind of leave. But I have my funky medical history and my clinic was backed up and by the time I got in, it was too late basically. I mean doc has on file I'm basically screwed, so there was that. Weird silver lining but okay.

My bosses were great, apologized, said if I ever felt I could do the old 9-5 style again they'd take me back in a heartbeat rehire policy be damned, but that was a pretty big limiter. And like that, poof--my insurance, including my disability insurance I was trying to file for at the same time which would pay me about 1200/mo forever even BEFORE federal SS--boom, gone.

So at this point, you're probably like, wow, I'd be panicking. But really I was too tired from falling asleep over and over through the day to care? I was like. well i have some savings and I can pull my peasly lil one year 401k i'm good.

So at this point it's like early november. You know you're an industrious person and can make this work. You got time, and a variety of side income options. And. You fall asleep. And--you know you're an industrious person and-- you fall asleep.

Yo okay this rebooting shit is getting wild. Is today tomorrow new zealand? Wait, what day is it. Oh shit how did I lose a week?

So around then it's like. Mid November suddenly. You're not sure when that happened somewhere in the last 100 times you passed out but it sure the fuck did. In that time you've been getting up to do various processes that need done. Like dishes. Or trash. Or posting online. Or stuff. But there was zero concept of time much less ability to prioritize by it. THINGS WERE ACCOMPLISHED SUCCESSFULLY, BUT NOT NECESSARILY AS NEEDED.

So in this time you're like, trying to fill out paperwork and shit, like disability and all that good stuff. Only this also falls in the various miscellaneous life tasks pile, complete with passing out a few times at processes like 'get a copy of id' or whatever. So somehow this only gets in at like. End of month. But now it's holidays anyway so god knows ain't nobody opening it until today when I'm making this post, if I'm lucky.

So. Like. Somehow you just had to pay out not just October and November, but December from those spare funds and you realized, wait. When's the last time I paid my FUCKING utilities. FUCK. FUCK I DIDN'T PUT THAT ON MY LIST.

Even while I was working, I realized my passing out schedule; what I didn't think about was why it was a passing out schedule. I spent months, these many months, fighting it. Like, maybe if I try this diet thing or cutting coffee or doing whatever, I can do... something. It has to be something I can adjust. But no.

And some point around early december I got an insomnia bit, it shifted my schedule half a day, and I slept through what I can only call peak passout period. And yeah I woke up groggy like mornings and took a while to get moving but... I really only passed out like once in a few weeks, and that was while figuring out this could, in fact, be a schedule.

But you know. That's in a few weeks. So basically, Merry Christmas, go you, you figured out How To Fucking Function Again.

So this last week has been primarily that, and I've even scouted out a WFH job that might suit even these limitations, though still letting other things pend. I got stressed from the roomies being late on shit and went full middle class suburban housewife in panic for a second there. And yeah I'm in the red bad this month, but I can just post another garage sale in the basement if I really gotta push just enough to hop ahead.

For what it's worth, the doctor literally put on file that he can't figure out what's causing it, just that it's clearly debilitating. But my health is so complicated the simplest thing demands minimum 12 blood panels because, for most people, it's usually X thing, but for me, it could be 100 things, something he's literally said. He has to treat me like an episode of House whenever I come in, only instead of being an asshole, he's quirky and gay.

not all doctors get a zebra in their lifetime, but the ones that recognize they ARE there instead of regular ol horses tend to end up REAL keen docs.

But that said, that IS why I pushed my patreon and stuff a bit this month, to help bridge the gap if you will, but I brought myself down like. Nono, LET them bring this to court, this will go so bad for them. I show up with my 1700 receipts from THEIR negligence they've been dodging and they come at me over being a few weeks late once like their weird autotrigger threat emails. Nawwww. open that can, assholes. So I'm good. Got what I need for the second, and know over the next week I got enough liquid cash coming in to do whatever it is i need to do.

So now that I'm sitting here realizing I'm 100x better than good just Not Right This Second, but finally in relative mastery of my schedule as long as I stop trying to conform, I can't help but look back at the lunacy of the last 3 months.

Like sure, in life I was always more nightowl aligned. But I could snap into Adult(TM) schedule. With the random passouts, I couldn't. I literally couldn't. And for some reason the heat of them came pretty much during normal 9-5 work hours. Then, duh, I decide to sleep through the worst period of my flares after a few months instead of Trying To Make It Work, and omg, I'm mostly functional.

Who woulda thunk if I didn't spend all my spoons fighting my body just to fit Normie Shit, I'd be able to hold coherent days.

That's where I've been since the holidays roughly, though the last week is realizing I HAVE finally found a tempo that works for more than a few days, this is NOT a temporary resolution. Now it's just working in those constraints.

But what a wild timeless dream ride like October through December were, jesus christ. Goddamn groundhog day. I feel you, Sam, I feel you buddy.

For what it's worth, finding that schedule has you know, given time meaning, instead of floating through Just Being In The Cosmos But Somehow Paying Rent In It or whatever that was for a season there. Jesus christ.

Literally none of it was lack of effort. The effort was there, it was just in a million tasks I could never finish before passing out again. Or at least not in the necessary order. WILD shit to experience.

[softrozene]

Sacrifice

@luna-hatake-uchiha​ requested: Hi. First of all, I want to wish you a happy new year. I read on Archiv of your Own that your request box is open... Soo could you please write a scenario where Law and his s/o are having a daughter and after a few years their daughter shows symptoms of the Amber Lead poisoning? And Law doing everything he can to heal her? (This is my first time doing this and I'm sorry if I sound rude somewhere.)

You were perfect in requesting Hon! Apologies for how late this is (I hope you had a good start to the new year!) but omg- That would be so heartbreaking ahhhhh. This came out pretty angsty but I tried to give it a neutral ending! I hope you enjoy it!

This turned into a one-shot oops.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Angst- Spoilers of Law’s past. Can be considered a good or sad ending! Uhh Post-Pirating au? Law is retired from the pirate life lol, grammar

*Instead of 2nd pov I wrote this in 3rd pov for a change. : )

Also, yeah- I am pretty sure that Law would be able to cure his daughter of this because of his Devil Fruit and it’s “Miraculous” abilities but I went for the more angsty side, so I made it more complicated than that lol. I just love the idea of protective dad Law.

Words: 1983

-

The smell of coffee is usually a scent that brings the pregnant woman, (Name), a comfort since that means she can sneak a sip from her husband’s cup but right now… It is too early for coffee. He should be in bed with her, but the sun is not even up. With exhaustion evident on her face and the goal of finding Law and bringing him back to bed- She regretfully leaves the warm bed.

The house they have is a decent-sized home. Two bedrooms- The one they share together, and the guest room, a nursery that Law and (Name) have been working on and of course, Law’s office to store his medical books and journals, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small cozy living room.

It felt like bliss living here.

Even more so with the bun in the oven. Law was in shock when he realized his wife was indeed pregnant, but it made the joy of retiring from piracy to enjoy a domestic life with her all the better. It most certainly eases his thoughts that most of his crew also retired here on this peaceful island.

Things could not have turned out more perfect for them.

Though… That was about to change as (Name) walks into his office- The light from it leaking out into the hallway. The smell of coffee gets stronger, and she smiles upon seeing how serious her husband is looking through some of his books.

No matter what he is doing, he looks so handsome.

Something he got used to arguing with her saying how she is crazy for thinking his eyebags are attractive. It was all jokes sure but (Name) was serious and proud to say he was handsome. His personality definitely that too. She can rely on him and him on her and that is something hard to do for the both of them.

Law is too in the zone in the book so (Name) uses that to her advantage. She sneaks up behind him and is quick to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. His tense body immediately relaxes within her hold and he turns to offer her a tired smile.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly as a hand comes up to meet her swollen belly.

(Name) laughs and holds his hand to her stomach. “Yes, but it is fine. I just got cold without your warmth. That and the beautiful smell of coffee. I think our daughter wants a sip.”

Law’s face turns into a scolding one immediately making his wife laugh as she continues, “Hey! You said I could have some in moderation! I think a tiny sip is less than that and yes, I know we do not know if our child will be a girl, but I just have this feeling…”

Law sighs but… Then smiles as he just shakes his head. He gives in knowing full well that his wife’s point was mainly about getting her daily sip of coffee in. He pulls away from his wife’s loving hand to reach for his mug of coffee. Being careful of the still-hot contents in it. He hands it to her and watches as she smiles and takes her desired sip. Handing it back to him he puts it on the desk and immediately pulls the pregnant woman onto his lap earning himself a giggle from her.

“Anyway, what are you doing up, my love?” She asks as she nuzzles her face into his neck the best she can.

At this question, Law turns tense. His sigh comes out stressed as he hesitates to speak. He thinks it would be better now to share his concern, especially when it is such a valid one.

“I… Fear that our child may get Amber Lead Poising. It is a hereditary disease,” Law mumbles.

This makes his wife freeze up. She knows his pain with that. The fear of it. He must have been bottling it up until he just could not ignore the possibility. With a gentle sigh, (Name) places a tender kiss on his lips, momentarily distracting him from his painful thoughts.

“My love, please come back to bed. After a few more hours of sleep, you can come back in here… And no matter what happens with our child- I have faith that you will find a cure. Until then, try not to worry. Otherwise, you are going to send yourself into an early grave by putting all that stress on your heart,” (Name) says as a yawn escapes her.

Law can only smile now. She truly is his best friend. His other half. She knows how to ease his worries even if it is temporarily, but what she said… It also rings true. He vows to find a cure in the case that their child will get that stupid disease.

~*~

The rest of the pregnancy goes by quickly and as soon as the baby, a girl, is in their arms it feels like total bliss for them. It is everything they never imagined having but makes their lives totally complete. Her middle name is in memory of Law’s younger sister. The full name being Trafalgar Lami Lin.

“She looks like you already- Look at those wide (eye color) eyes,” Law says with a gentle smile on his face.

He never imagined he could allow himself to be this soft and vulnerable. To share it with (Name). His wife laughs as she leans against his arm as he holds their little girl in his arms. Both (Name) and the baby are exhausted.

“Thank the gods she does not look like a mini sleep-deprived version of you. Well, if she takes my looks, I only hope she gains your intelligence,” (Name) jokes.

Law smirks at the playful tone and as if he remembers sighs- “I forgot to tell you. What is left of the crew will be coming here tomorrow. They were even more excited than us combined.”

“Looks like we got a couple of free babysitters… I trust Bepo with her. Sachi and Penguin might drop her.”

Law sweatdrops at this and wishes he could argue back but… His wife is right. He makes a mental note to have Bepo be their go-to babysitter.

~*~

Days pass by fast when you feel joy and they pass even faster when you feel like the world suddenly has a time limit on it. Law promised his wife to enjoy the days with them and he did, but he spent countless nights trying to find a cure- Getting so close to finding something that can help in the case his daughter gets the disease.

The baby grows quickly into a child, but it was the age of five when Law realizes that she has those stupid white spots on her skin- Meaning she has Amber Lead Poisoning. He felt like he was suffocating. She was not supposed to get it. He paid his dues during his piracy. His loss of Rosinante. His loss of family. He paid whatever the hell life thought he owed it, so she was supposed to be in the clear.

She was not.

He knows that is just wishful thinking. His whole family got it and Amber Lead is a hereditary disease. He was supposed to die at age thirteen. He did not all because he ate a fruit thanks to Rosinante. Just because he ate a fruit and cured himself does not mean he could actually cure Amber Lead with his fruit.

He could try and cure Lin as he did himself. Using the fruit’s "miraculous" properties which is having the ability to cure any kind of illness. However, this requires some extent of medical knowledge in order to be utilized effectively. He has that knowledge, but he does not have the full knowledge to cure others of this disease. He cured himself because he ate the fruit.

He needs a real cure. One to ensure that this disease does not follow into the genes anymore. He wants to ensure that if his daughter wants a family of her own- If she makes it to that age, he wants her to be able to not have to think about her own children having the disease.

He estimated she would only have a few years left. Until those white spots grow big enough to almost devour her. His blissful life turned into a nightmare for him. He always could not stand the thought of losing (Name) and the feeling was deeper with their daughter Lin since she was only a child.

She deserved a long and happy life.

He was going to sacrifice his time to ensure that.

It was during one of these nights when he cursed out life for being cruel that Law had an epiphany. Something in his research began to make sense for a cure- It was uncertain, but it was something and it was this night that his wife was woken up when he got up out of excitement to begin writing on a large board he put together. He accidentally dropped a book nothing too alarming, so he was surprised to see his wife checking on him.

Her large eyes watching the board- Trying to decipher his valid obsession of finding a cure. He could not contain his excitement as he pauses briefly to place a kiss on his wife’s lips.

“Whoa. You are super cheery for once,” She notes.

Law can only smile. “I think I am close to finding something. A cure. It would still be a while before I have something solid but… This is it. It has to be it.”

Hearing this fills (Name) up with excitement too. Only to see Law experience a crash. He is at his limit for tonight since he spent all day shopping with his daughter and wife to go to Penguin’s birthday (definitely an alcohol) party. He should be totally spent after today.

(Name) only hugs him feeling his body immediately relax into hers and he freezes upon remembering something. Pulling back slightly he looks at his darling wife and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey… I do need to tell you something. If this lead goes nowhere. I am going to use the Ope Ope no Mi fruit on her,” Law states.

(Name) freezes in his grip. Understanding these words. That means he is going to sacrifice his life for their daughter if he can’t make a cure. He is willing to use the fruit’s powers for what others have wanted it for. Immortality.

He is willing to grant their daughter “eternal youth” if it means she can experience life without the disease affecting her.

His mind is dead set on that backup plan so all (Name) Can do is nod. He smiles at her though as to reassure her.

“That is just a backup plan. We still have a few years left but as of now, I do believe it is time to get in contact with that crazy pirate- Luffy. I need him to bring Chopper here. With Chopper’s help this should work,” Law murmurs more to himself.

He is exhausted.

“Alright Love- I will go get in contact with them. I will send a letter. Though… I think you should head to bed. You did well. You are such a good father,” (Name) murmurs.

Hearing this… Law really feels like he might break. All of these restless nights are going to be worth something. He is going to do what his dad almost did for his younger sister. He will cure his daughter and be able to watch her grow.

“Law… You are getting my hair wet with your snot and tears.”

“Shut up,” He mumbles as he holds his partner.

She laughs and the two stay like that- Content that there is hope for their daughter.

[mystical-marauder]

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

[michibikionmain]

Who Blew Up the Community House?

This is a very pressing question to me in the Dream SMP lore right now, and I’ve seen a handful of theories surfacing and I’d like to explain and post some of my own/the more popular ones.

Dream

This seems to be everyone’s favorite theory right now and I can see why. He does the most things off stream, he’s been one of the most violent and active villains on the server since the very beginning. On top of that, there’s him mentioning to Punz that he planed on doing something that would “upset everyone on the server”, which could be referring to blowing up the community house. It would also be the last thing of value left to him on the server and destroying it would completely detach him from everything, meaning no one has anything that could resemble power over him.

The only thing holding me back from thinking it was done by Dream is that I’d like to believe that his character still holds some things special and important and that things like the community house would be one of those things. He clearly holds some reverence for places on the server based on the fact that he hasn’t touched church prime and abides by and listens to the laws of the holy land. If he’s willing to respect something that was built by him, Tommy, and Tubbo, it would make sense for him to respect the home he built with his closest friends, George, Sapnap, Sam, Callahan, etc.

He also has no other home and refers to as the only place he still felt safe on the server, since he’s turned nearly everyone else into his enemy. It could be him, but there are a couple of other possibilities I’d like to discuss.

Tommy

While less likely than Dream destroying the community house, this seems to be everyone’s theory in canon. Tommy has a long history of destroying things on the server, especially things related to Dream. He even mentioned the other day on stream that he wanted to destroy the community to get back at Dream. Living with Technoblade would also have definitely given him access to the materials to do so. His main motivations lately have revolved around getting revenge on Dream in order to get his gun back, so he has the ways and means to.

There’s only a couple of things that make this unlikely. For example, Tommy rarely does anything off stream, so for him to do something so massive off stream is a bit strange for him. It would also be weird for him not to make any kind of ultimatum threat before hand. He also seemed rather insistent that he did not do this, swearing on church prime.

It could be him, and this is definitely something Tommy would have done, but I feel like he would’ve done it in a very different way.

Technoblade

So if Tommy himself didn’t do it, what about his closest ally at the moment, his only real ally right now? Technoblade has shown no hesitation to destroying things, having no qualms for doing them with little warning like when he spawned the wither the other day in L’manburg, giving them no time to discuss alternative bartering chips because he just wanted to destroy L’manberg and still wants to destroy L’manberg entirely. He even talked about doing this with Tommy.

He definitely could do something like this, but I don’t believe he would. Techno currently owes Dream a favor, and is well aware that the community house is important to Dream. This would leave him in an unfavorable position and Techno is too smart to do something like that. There’s also the fact that Techno has no real motivation to blow up the community house.

Yes, he said he might help Tommy with that, but his fight isn’t with everyone on the server or with Dream, it’s specifically with government. The community house isn’t associated with L’manburg, who he hates for personal grudges, or government, which he is morally opposed to. He could’ve done this, and maybe would’ve if he was directly helping Tommy at the time, but probably wouldn’t have done so alone and off stream.

Quackity

This leaves my final, and probably most interesting theory: Quackity. This might seem like it’s coming out of left field, but I have my reasons okay trust me. If you think about who has gained the most out of the festival today with the least losses, Quackity comes out on top. While he didn’t technically kill Dream properly, and they lost the disks, if he’s behind this he would have brought Dream to his lowest possible point, which is arguably more useful to him than having Dream completely dead if his goal is power on the server. He brought Tommy out of exile, where not only is he useful but also serves as another jab at Dream.

The only thing Quackity “lost” is that he officially left L’manberg, which isn’t a real loss since he has the political power of El Rapids now, which he is completely the president without a proper vice or cabinet to oppose him. Destroying the community house would also destroy George and Sapnap’s last remaining tie to Dream, further separating them from Dream and hopefully getting them more on his side. I’m sure Quackity is going to push the theory that Dream blew up the community house, and he could easily use that as yet another weapon against Dream to gain power. He also technically has L’manberg as an ally against Dream, at least for tomorrow. Quackity lost nothing in the destruction of the community house because it doesn’t matter to him. He wasn’t around for the early days of the server and has shown that he doesn’t particularly care about the history of the server when it doesn’t completely benefit him.

This works even better if he’s being possessed by JSchlatt, like he’s hinted at, the parallels between the new festival and the old one: both being planned with malicious intentions then being turned on their heads to end in a violent betrayal. From a literary standpoint he’s the most interesting option, and from a character development standpoint he’d get the most development from doing this. When it comes to the actual story Quackity is the best option to have blown up the community house.

Is Quackity the most likely answer? No, but I sure can hope that they’d give this to him and flesh out his identity as a character and take his possession arc somewhere cool. It could be any of these four and the only one that would really surprise me is Technoblade, all are really compelling and lead to different places for the story to go in the future.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Can you do a list of Mic being pure w/ his favorite student, (y/n) (like, he’s not afraid to show it), but she’s living with her friend and their family since she’s alone in Japan, and trying to keep it a secret. But when he finds out he’s just “ASDFGHJKLWHAT”, and he’s trying to help her with so many things, which soon evolves to “custody of child—”.

https://dontbesoweirdkira.tumblr.com/post/189518600672/hey-its-me-again-i-hope-you-are-still-open-for

A/N: I first would like to say I ALSO HAVE EATEN A NUCLEAR REACTOR...it tasted like radiation and strawberries yummy!  Here’s your soft present mic X student. I hope you enjoy.  

(I kind of made it where you aren’t fully living with your friend. Just bouncing from the streets to her house every so often if that makes sense??)Requests open

-So at first Mic didn’t notice anything was up...well no he did but he kind of brushed it off since he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

-Like when he asked for your parents signature but they were always somehow “out of town” or “working overtime” 

-Or when he was going to offer you a ride home since it was pretty late but you just insisted to walk by yourself. And how you didn’t bother to call them and let them know you were going to be home a bit later than usual. 

-He was always curious but like i said he didn’t want to cross a boundary and make you feel uncomfortable about something so personal. Besides how would he bring it up?

-”Hey Y/N, Why do you always conveniently “forget” to fill out your home address on forms?” 

-Yeah see his dilemma?^ And like what if it was nothing and it really was just a convenience.  It seemed better to leave it alone and not worry. You’d tell him if something was going on, right?

-Maybe one day you’re talking to your friend and He’s just around the corner so he overhears the conversation.

-”Hey Y/N, my family is going out of town for a few weeks. I- i would ask if you could come with so you’ll have some place to stay but we are going out of the county and you know how that is..”

-”Oh..um..Don’t worry, I'll figure something out.”

-”Are you sure? I- i can always leave the house key so you can have somewhere safe to go? But uhm, My cousin might come over every so often to watch a game or to check the house so be alert and make sure he doesn’t see you.” 

-”N-No it’s okay, seriously. I’ll find somewhere to go, thank you though. ”

-”Well, I'll leave the key under the doormat if you change your mind, we’re leaving in the afternoon tomorrow so after then the place will be yours for a bit.I’ll text you later, ‘kay?”

-He’s shocked?? Like he thought maybe your at home life wasn’t good or maybe you were embarrassed about living in a low income place, but you were homeless?? And you’ve been staying with your friends every so often?? Why didn’t you tell him? Did you not feel comfortable? He’s in this weird state of shock and acknowledgement.

-For the rest of the school day hE Is cOnTemPlaTiNg oN WhaT tO Do. He’s not sure how he should bring it up or even if he should bring it up. 

- *is casually being torn apart internally as he’s trying to teach english*

-*dEeP sPaCe STarE while he is standing at the board pointing to the sentence structures*

-”Sensei, are you oka-”

-”IMTHINKINGASHARDASICANTOFIGUREOUTASOLUTIONDONTPRESSUREMEoKaY.”

-lolol but once classes are over he taps you on the shoulder and asks if he could walk with you home for a bit. You visibly nervous, you reject and say “Umm It’s all right Mr.Hizashi, you’re busy and I don't want you to take up any of your time plus it’s late and I'm tired and i have to go and-”

-”Y/n...You don’t have to make up excuses, I know you don’t have anywhere to stay.”

-stopping in your tracks, your eyes went wide and you faced him 

-”I heard you talking to that friend this morning.”

-M-mr.Hizashi I can explain-”

-cutting you off once again he begins “Hey, you don’t have to do any of that. It’s your business. But I don’t want you to just roaming around or staying anywhere alone anymore, okay? If you would like, I have an extra bedroom at my house, you can stay there until we get everything sorted.”

-”No..Mr.Hizashi...It’s okay..I’ll be okay, I’ve always have. Plus you have been such a great teacher and already went out of your way more than what I could have asked...staying with you would be too much.”

-”Y/n, it’s okay to ask for help. I seriously don’t mind. At least stay for the night so you can eat and have a roof over your head, then in the morning we’ll figure something out.”

-You hesitantly accepted but you told him that you’d be out of his hair as soon as the next morning hit.

-That night going to his house was...nice to say the least. The guest bedroom that he had was bigger than your friend’s kitchen and nicer than any place that you’ve stayed at. It really was heaven. So warm and cosy. There was a nice sense of nostalgia and security, something you’ve haven’t felt in years. His home was somewhere anyone would want to live in their whole lives. 

-”Once you’ve settled down, you can come to the dining room. I ordered some take out, I figured you’d be hungry.”

-For a moment you sat on the fluffy bed and just took in everything. God was so good to you right now and honestly you thanked him. Although it frustrates you to think that this would only last for a second and you’d be back on the streets, roaming around. Yeah yeah, Hizashi wants to help you but you knew soon he’d get tired of your presence in his house…..they all did. 

-Taking a deep breath, you went to go meet hizashi in the dining room.

-He welcomed you then motioned you to sit down at any of the seats at the table. “Oh hey, there’s miss america. You may sit anywhere you’d like. And help yourself to the food here.”

-You sat down across from him, only not to look at him just to have your eyes on the empty plate in front of you. You didn’t really touch any of the food actually or even make a sound. You weren’t trying to be rude or anything, you just..there was a lot on your mind and facing hizashi seemed difficult.

-”Are you okay Y/N? I hope sushi is okay. I- i meant to um ask what you would like to eat first. I’m sorry.”

-”No I’m sorry for-,”  twiddling your thumbs for a moment you then looked towards the blonde fellow “Mr.Hizashi..My parents left when I was around three but they left me with my aunt. She was a very good person and took good care of me but she got very ill...and um you know. At first I was living in her apartment but i couldn’t pay for it when it was time for rent so..I stayed with my friend for a couple of months. But her parents kind of got tired of me staying there and it was this thing, so I lied and told them I found a family member to stay with. And um up until now I've been staying on the streets. Sometimes having a sleepover once every so often.”

-”Y/n…”

-”I didn’t tell you because I was so scared… I didn't know what to do and I really really don’t want to go in foster care or anything so I just thought I was better off keeping it from you. But I guess it backfired anyways because you still found out haha….I’m sorry Hizashi. I hope you don’t think of me any less. I- it was a tough situation and all and you know how that is...”

-He immeadately stood up, walked over to you and hugged you. It was with So mUcH compassion and genuine love. You really was his favorite student no scratch that HIS FAVORITE HUMAN i swear he would end the world for you. 

-He gave you a little cheek kiss and was like “I’m not letting anyone put you in foster care and I'm sure as hell am not kicking you out even if i have to take custody of you.”

-”w-wait what? wAiT wHaT???”

-”KID IM fucking keeping you here safe with me even if i’m in court all year. We are going to make this work somehow, you aren’t doing this alone anymore. Do you understand?”

-YeAh hEs cRyInG iM cRyinG yOuRe CryInG wE aLl CryinG 

-BRO YOU ARE UGLY CRYING NOT NO SOFT CUTE CRY LIKE HAHA YOU SOUND LIKE A WALRUS TRYING TO SAY ‘t-tH-Th-HaNKy-yyy-YoUUU-UOi  mR hIzZaShIiIi”

-He whipes the tears of your cheeks and ruffles your hair 

-”it’ll be okay Y/N, I promise.”

-I swear he’s like rushing to the computer and trying to figure out how to adopt you.

-”HoW tO aDoPt a ChILD wHen You aRe a hEro.”

-There's an actual wiki-how about it???????

-No but he’s really doing his research and is visiting lawyers trying to find the right one. He has them immediately looking into everything and making sure that his chances of getting you is as high as possible. 

-He’s up late at night on the phone, emailing,  and writing

-He has pounds and pounds of evidence that he is the most fit person to take care of you. He is not playing whatsoever

-He already let’s you decorate and he even gives you an office so you can do work or whatever. He most definitely brought you clothes and stuff for your room.

-When the courts and everything finally approves it after a long year of fighting, he picked you up and spun you around.

-”What did I tell you?!? I was not going to lose you and i made sure of that. And starting today and the rest of  forever you’ll never have to be alone.”

-BonUs

-100% takes you out somewhere super fun and nice. 

-”Wait we must take a selfie, The first day we are legally Father-daughter!”

-The most chaotic duo now, Everyone at school knows he adopted you and like he won't let anyone forget it.

-MISSSSSS AMERICAAAAAAA, is now, MISSSSSSS HIZAAAAASSSHHHHHIIIIIIII.

-”WHEEEEERRREEEE ISSS MYYYY LITTLE MUSHROOM???”

-”YYYYYY/NNNNN YOU LEFT YOUR BAG IN MY MINIVAN.”

-He has a minivan now. It also has a ‘Yeah I’m a soccer dad and i’m proud’ sticker on it.

-He joined the PTA 

-HE IS SOOO BIASED I SWEAR NO ONE IS ABOVE YOU IN HIS CLASS AND NO ONE BETTER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT

-Always hugging you and giving you little cheek kisses when he sees you in the halls

-Made a titled track called “Now a dad”

-he most definitely wears ‘Best Dad’ shirts now. He also is in a ‘Single dad’s in Japan’ group now

-”I think we look just alike, Don’t we Y/N?” you both smiled and posed at the same time

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: mutuals 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: miyoshi kazunari/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: me? back w/ fluff? it’s expected at this point! his speech is hard for me to replicate, but I rly do love Kazunari so I hope I did this scenario justice! I, uh, got too excited at the prospect of “insta mutuals” oops~ hope you don’t mind the additional media TT

The Insta notification that popped up on the top of your screen distracted you from the game you were playing. Normally you’d flick the notif away, but as soon as you realised what it was about, you rushed to finish the rest of the stage.

You and Kazunari have been Insta Mutuals for nearly a year now, ever since he hit you with a follow and you proceeded to stalk his readily-available socials. 

The two of you had been liking and commenting on each others’ posts for weeks on end, starting off with you praising his most recent graphic design work to him sending a paragraph of heart emojis on the most recent fan art you drew.

Somewhere in between following each others’ spam accounts to tagging each other on Insta story games, he finally slid into your DMs and the rest was history. Sort of.

You knew what people said about online dating, or even just long distance relationships in general, but try as you might it was hard not to fall for Kazunari.

The more you talked to him, the less he stayed as your “funny artist mutual” and soon enough he progressed into the “still funny but also really sweet and cute artist online friend, 10/10 would date if asked” category.

You didn’t bother stifling your laugh as you looked at the message he sent you, immediately liking his selfie before saving it on your phone.

Okay, no. He can’t just hit you with an “I do wanna meet u already” and then take it back but not fully commit to it!

You waited for him to respond through text, but instead got hit by your ringtone blaring loudly at such an ungodly hour. At the sight of your contact nickname for him, you eagerly answered his call. You rushed to get the first word in, him doing the same unbeknownst to you.

“Kazu-“

“Babe, I-“

The both of you paused, his eventual laughter easing up your tension as you let out a giggle of your own. You mentally told yourself not to be so nervous— Kazunari and you would have this conversation eventually anyway; besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to see him in person. It was quite the opposite, actually. You just figured that conversations like this needed to happen in call, at least.

“Shoot, should probs shut up so Mukkun doesn’t wake up,” Kazunari commented, his voice volume already lowered, “do you wanna go first?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with resolve. You gathered up your thoughts, formulating the next set of sentences that would leave your mouth, before ultimately deciding on one question. “I just need to know first… how serious were you about meeting up irl?”

“I mean, that wasn’t what I meant when I sent the message? But like, it’s still valid, you know?” he paused, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to continue, “it’s not the first time I’ve thought about meeting you. I think about it a lot, actually.”

It was a bit of a shame the two of you chose to voice call instead of video call. You would’ve loved to see your boyfriend’s face just about now, though you supposed it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a heart attack a quarter to 4 in the morning.

Plus, you weren’t sure you could handle him teasing and throwing compliments at you due to your clearly visible elation, if the upwards stretch of your lips was anything to go by.

“Babe? You still there? Did you pass out, or…” In reality it had only been a few seconds, but still you didn’t want to leave him hanging. Not when the two of you were talking about something that meant taking the next step in your relationship.

“I’m still here, Kazu,” you reassured him. Your voice shook slightly, a sliver of your excitement slipping through the cracks. “I’m the same. Like, no lie I was shocked we brought it up like this, but, um… I’m ready, and if you’re ready, too, I want to meet up with you.”

“Wait, wait, wait— hol’ up! So we’re finally going—“ he laughed for the second time tonight, a fuzzy-wuzzy warmth escaping as its sound equivalent. “Wahh! Of course I’m ready! Can’t wait to finally see what a cutie you are irl♪ Hngg, how am I supposed to sleep now? I’m too hyped up!”

You rolled your eyes, despite understanding exactly how he felt. His infectious cheerfulness amplified the blossoming commotion occurring inside your brain. Despite not making any official plans yet, the prospect of finally meeting up had you frenzied.

Still, one of you had to be at least slightly responsible. While you wouldn’t claim to know his daily schedule, if Veludo Arts was anything like your university, he should be as swamped with workload as you were. Actually, maybe that was the reason he was up so late? That’s how it was for you, anyway excluding the fact that you took a break to stamina clear.

“It’s nearly 4 am… do you wanna continue planning this tomorrow? Err, rather, in a couple hours? After our lectures end, maybe?” You asked, though by the tiny whine Kazunari let out you had a feeling he wasn’t going to agree so quickly.

“Ehh? Why don’t we do it now? I have so many ideas about where we could go, and what we could do… oh! I could introduce you to everyone in Mankai! I’m sure they’d love-“

“I’d love to meet them too,” you cut him off, tone as firm as you could manage at this time, “and I want to hear your ideas, really, but I just know if I let you keep talking the sun will rise before we’ve even decided on a date.”

You chuckled as Kazunari let out a sound of protest, though you had a feeling he knew you weren’t wrong about your assessment. “Zuzu~ Let’s go to sleep now, okay?”

His phone microphone picked up on an audible gasp. “Ehh, how come you rarely call me Zuzu? It’s cute when you say it!”

“Because it sounds like a nickname you’d give to a Pokemon!”

“Uwu, maybe I’ll get Itarun to lend me a copy? Then I’ll catch the cutest Pokemon and name it after you~” you nearly groaned at how fluffy he was being. Seriously, he was distracting you from your agenda of going to sleep!

“Kazu! Stop flirting with me at 4 am or we might not fall asleep!”

Though you couldn’t see him, you were 200% sure he had a wide grin plastered on his face right now. “Me? Using tactics to get you to keep talking with me? Never,” he claimed, professing his false innocence.

“Well, I’m not falling for it! I may not be able to physically tuck you in bed right now, but I can in spirit!”

“Oh!? Then can you give me a goodnight kiss in spirit, too?”

At this point, you were sure that even with just a poke on the cheek you’d be able to feel the heat beginning to envelop your face.

As Kazunari finished laughing, you let the quiet lull of the night seep in the conversation for a few moments before gently breaking it.

“I’d rather give you a kiss irl, though.”

And just like that, you claimed victory over the game he started. With how Kazunari sputtered, a part of you worried that he’d disturb his roommate’s slumber. Still, an even bigger part of you was smug to have him speechless for that much of a duration.

“Babeeeee,” he drawled, “you’re so, so, so unfair… I, like, really want to hold you tight right now…” he murmured, the rustle of his bedsheets discernible through the call. You found yourself nestling onto your bed, too, snuggling up to a soft pillow.

“Soon,” you suddenly yawned, your tiredness seeming to have settled in the comfier you got on the bed. “We’ll have a lot of time to plan tomorrow and the days after, yeah?”

Kazunari let out a hum in agreement, a comfortable silence following suit.

“Kazu?” You muttered quietly, careful not to disturb your peaceful atmosphere.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Good night,” you said, heart aflutter as you heard his response.

“I love you, too, cutie~ sweet dreams♪” he said in an unbelievably soft tone, before ending the call.

After quickly connecting your phone to a charger, you fell back atop your bed and hugged your pillow tight, already anticipating the day you’d be able to hold Kazunari in your arms, and you in his.

…

Morning come, you hastily prepared for class as you always did. You fell into your usual routine— as soon as you were out of the bathroom, you selected an outfit and went over the things you needed to bring to uni today.

You stopped for a minute; taking a quick selfie to post on your story and emphasise your exhaustion to your close friends, before making yourself some breakfast. Within less than 5 minutes, your phone pinged— a recorded message from one of your favourite people this early in the morning.

"Mornin' piko☆ You're looking cute as always today♪”

There was no way you would admit to how many times you replayed it to Kazunari, but even so it was a good way to keep you positive for the rest of the day.

You don’t remember Veludo Way being this rowdy, though it was hard to trust your memory when it’s probably been years since you’ve last visited. Somehow, it was not tough to imagine Kazunari walking around and performing here— the liveliness of the streets difficult to not associate with one of the liveliest people you knew.

While the original plan was to meet up at a cute and trendy cafe you saw all over people’s SNS, the two of you agreed to meet up somewhere less crowded and more meaningful to him— the theatre which he’d performed at multiple times in the past.

As you saw the building from a distance, you wondered when you’d be able to see him on stage, too.

A shout of your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you couldn’t help yourself from running over to meet up faster with the figure that was jumping and waving around in your direction.

Had you any sense left, you probably would have told him that you didn’t want him embarrassing himself in public, but in reality it was quite apparent that you were just as excited to finally see him in person.

“Kazunari!” you can’t help the little shriek you let out as you finally embrace him, only joyous laughter and each others’ names escaping the both of your lips. When you finally got a good look at Kazunari, you nearly wanted to bury yourself into his shirt again.

Everything still seemed so unbelievable. That this was real. That it was finally happening. It almost felt like the dreams you’ve had of this moment many times before.

“How are you so beautiful in person, too?! It’s totes like I’m falling in love with you again♪” Kazunari exclaimed, squeezing you one more time before finally settling on holding hands with you. “Ahh! I super, duper love you!”

Except it wasn’t. There was nothing imaginary about his warmth, and the way his words made you feel, and the beaming sunshine of a smile he aimed at you.

“I love you, too!”

want to order again?

[bqstqnbruin]

The Biochemistry of Smell

Wow, I’m here with another post. I actually started working on this before i got requests, so I’m sorry if you’ve requested stuff, I’m working on that, too, I just really wanted to finish this!

Also fun fact, all the stuff from the ‘paper’ in this is from my actual Biochem final paper from first semester junior year. Is that plagarism ? Oh well. 

Hope you like it!

______________________________

The family of odorant receptors also must be able to interact with the given complexity of the molecule. The receptors must bind to the odorant molecules in order to send the message to process the smell.

You were sitting in the Starbucks that was near your apartment building writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell. It was your final project and you needed somewhere with enough noise to tune out in order to sit down and focus. Not that you still don’t have music blasting in your ears, but you needed movement to block out in order to focus. At least that’s what you told yourself. Plus, needing to write this paper for your final project was enough of an excuse to get away from your roommate and her annoying boyfriend as they pretended to work on their finals. 

Except, after writing those sentences, you had a hard time figuring out how to continue. You finally look up from your computer to take in everything around you. An older man was walking outside with someone younger than him, a grandson maybe? Some girls who went to school with you gossiping about their professors. A woman in nurses scrubs leaning against the wall on her phone, her drink in hand. A guy at the table in front of you, staring at the stickers on your computer.

“It’s not polite to stare, ya know.” You say, taking out your music, giving the stranger a slight death stare that probably made you look more annoyed than anything. 

“I’m just looking at the stickers. They don’t make sense.” He gets up and places himself at the seat opposite you, the one you had your feet on for the last two hours, “I’m Jackson.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking? And what do you mean they don’t make sense?” You try to ignore his answer, just going back to your paper: Changing the structure of the molecule changes the smell produced by the molecule.  

“Oh, a feisty girl. And I mean, you’ve got all these Dallas sports teams stickers, but here we are in Denver. Wait, is that the Boston Red Sox?” he squints at the clear red B that was in the upper right-hand corner of your computer. The Stars logo was in the center, the Cowboys logo under the Sox, the Mavs in the bottom left corner, all surrounded by the other stickers that displayed what you liked for all to see that you’ve had since the beginning of the last school year: the chemistry sticker, Welton, turtles, The Office, Stitch, and more. 

“My mom grew up in Boston but I grew up in Dallas, it’s a family team. What do you want from me? I go to school here.” 

“So that means we can see each other a lot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. God, this guy was annoying. 

“You go to Regis, Jackson?” 

“No, but I work here, and what are the chances that I’ve seen you here every day for the last week and a half at the same time, the two of us sitting in the same places, at times, but today is the first day you’ve noticed me?”

You shrug, “I’ve been doing work for finals. I have a paper to write.”

“On what?” 

“The biochemistry of smell.”  

“So what’s your name?”

“Can you please just let me write my paper? I was just fine working on it before you started staring.” You had enough distraction at the apartment with your roommate, you didn’t need to have more distraction in the one place where you could block it out. He keeps talking while you just try to go back to writing. A molecule of higher complexity is typically found to be more pleasant than a molecule with lower complexity.  An example of this deals with furan, which has three olfactory notes: cinnamon, smokey, and spicy. 

“Hey! I thought we were going to meet at the Starbucks on the other side of campus?” A guy wearing an Avs sweatshirt comes up to you, taking the seat next to you. He plays for them, you just can’t remember his name, but why is he coming up to you?

“Oh, sorry, I must have read your message wrong. I was wondering why you were late,” you decide to play along. He’s much less annoying than Jackson is, and you have to admit, he’s much more attractive.

“Who’s your friend?” He turns to Jackson, who’s now bright red and looks incredibly frustrated over the fact that someone just crashed the one-sided conversation.

“You’re Tyson Jost. How do you know-” he looks at you, realizing he doesn’t know your name. 

“Y/N?” you say, glancing up from your computer.

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” he spits out, his arm finding his way to the back of your chair until his hand ends up on your other shoulder. You have to admit, him doing that made you jump a little, but you were just hoping Jackson didn’t notice it before you settled back into your chair.

“Ya know, I think I actually have to go. Nice to meet you two,” Jackson says, storming out of the Starbucks. 

“You looked really annoyed and I figured pretending to know you for a few minutes was better than you killing him,” Tyson says, standing up once Jackson is definitely gone. 

“Thanks for keeping me out of jail,” you tell him, smiling up at him. You’re actually sad that he has to go. “Why don’t you take his seat?”

He looks stunned for a moment before a smile spreads across his face, taking the seat. “So I think I heard you were writing a paper on the biochemistry of smell?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my final paper for my biochemistry lecture.”

“So what, different chemicals cause you to smell different things?”

You look at him, shocked but smiling, “You know something about smell?”

“I get bored and I start reading things.” 

The two of you spend hours talking. He was much nicer about the stickers on your laptop. You two had spent so long talking, you didn’t even notice the missed calls from your roommate asking you why you had been gone for so long. 

“Hey, just checking in on you, haven’t heard from you in a while. Dylan and I are ordering Chinese good tonight, let me know what you want.”

“Y/N/N, we’re ordering, but if you don’t answer I’m just assuming you want veggie lo mein and egg drop soup. Worst case you eat it tomorrow. Love ya.” 

“Bruh, answer your damn phone, would ya? Find my friends says you’re still at Starbs, hopefully you’re with your phone and not off in a ditch or kidnapped in the back of a van. See ya later.” 

“Everything alright?” Tyson says, seeing the look on your face as you debate going to your apartment, or possibly asking Tyson to do something else with you tonight.

“Yeah, my roommate is just wondering where I am. I just need to call her back, is that alright?”

“I’ll be right here,” he smiles at you, leaning back in his chair and stretching, revealing abs as his shirt lifts up. 

You know your eyes grow wide as your cheeks flush, running to the back near the bathroom so you can call your roommate, “Hey, Jocelyn, I’m fine, I’m still at Starbucks, I’m alive. Go ahead and order with dinner with Dylan without me, I’ll explain later but wow I might be making an ass out of myself right now. Ok, wish me luck, love you, bye.”

“So, once you finish this paper, what are you going to do?” Tyson asks once you get back to the table. 

“Uh, probably try to find some dinner. My roommate and her boyfriend are eating at my place, but something tells me they’re going to be doing more than just eating food,” you both laugh as you start to put away your computer, “Any suggestions on where to eat?” 

“Well, I know a place that has a special on chicken fajita pasta that I was going to go to,” Tyson says, standing up as you swing your bag over your shoulder, careful to not hit anyone passing by while doing so.

“Oh, really? Where?”

“My place.” 

“You’re inviting me for dinner?” 

“Only if you can tell me what chemicals are giving off the smells. You are the expert, after all.” 

The two of you walk out, his hand finding yours as he leads you to his place. “Well if it’s garlic, it has some sort of sulfur-containing compound, which is the same type of compound that’s associated with rotten eggs and the smell gas companies but into natural gas.” 

“So garlic and rotten eggs are the same compounds?”

“No, they just both have sulfur.” 

He spends the rest of the walk asking you about your research paper, followed by spending the rest of the evening cooking together, talking about your lives, bonding over the love of hockey you both shared (even though his ran much deeper seeing as he did it for a living). Time flew by, you didn’t even realize it was almost two in the morning when Jocelyn called you again, frantic, “I’m outside the building Find My iPhone says you’re in, and I’m here with Dylan, do we need to come in and kill someone?”

“No, love, calm down. I’ll be down in a few, ok?” You calm her down long enough so you can say goodbye to Tyson.

“We’ll have to do this again?” he asks, looking nervous, running his hand through his hair as he struggles to make eye contact with you.

“I would love that. Maybe next time you can meet my crazy roommate?”

“And maybe next time I can read the full paper on smell?” he asks, blushing by how nerdy that sounded. He actually seemed really interested in reading your paper, just as he has seemed interested in you all night.

“Sure. And, thanks again, for saving me from that guy,” you say, trying to prevent yourself from leaving. You can feel the tension building around the two of you. He wants to at least kiss you, and you definitely want to kiss him. 

“Uh, yeah. No problem.” 

“Oh, my god,” you say, grabbing his arm. Enough is enough. You kiss him as your hands find their way through his hair, his hands finding his way around your waist. 

You can hear a car honking from outside, knowing that it’s Jocelyn and Dylan. Tyson pulls away, obviously startled, but also seems relieved. “Oh, yeah, we have to do this again, please.” 

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 22

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: More good stuff. And some serious. A/N: Sorta got the job! As in: not the steady contract but they arranged a 1year temp so I can get more experience (that was the only reason I didn’t get the full). Anyhoodles, might explain more in a separate post when I get home from my grandma’s funeral. As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 22

Darkness has fallen over Konoha, but this time the early night walk leads Kakashi and his mystery woman ambling down the streets towards the housing reserved for the jōnin and higher-ups who haven’t got their own real estate.

Apparently, Uguisu has been more or less ordered to live in an apartment there and her own reasoning is, as she’s explaining, that it’ll be easier to keep an eye on her. “That way...there’s no need to have anyone assigned to follow me 24/7, like Mitarashi...”

Makes sense – both the arrangement and the fact it’s Anko keeping an eye on things right now. “Is she’s gonna be your warden?”

“I dunno...” They’ve reached the complex on the Academy grounds and she takes the lead up the stairs towards her new home. “I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow if it hasn’t decided already...”

Leaving the staircase and coming to a halt, Kakashi realizes it’s an apartment wedged in between the homes of fellow jōnin. That’s not a coincidence. Handing the stack of books over to free her hands, Uguisu procures a key, unlocks and opens the door, but then holds out her arms for the borrowed goods in a clear but polite hint that he’s not invited inside. Can’t blame you. It gnaws inside him nonetheless, even if the jōnin doesn’t show the concern – he would much have preferred to make sure everything was as it should be indoors before leaving her alone.

“Well,” he nods resolutely, “if you need anything...”

She looks small and sickly in the unnatural light of the outdoor lamp. Dark bags under her eyes are suddenly prominent, the less than completely sincere smile unable of pushing away the grim demeanour. Still...there’s also an air of something calm about the woman. She’s hopeful, and that warms Kakashi’s heart.

“Thank you,” she hums.

He waits til she has closed the door. No footsteps? Perhaps she remains standing just on the other side of that barrier, perhaps it’s just the hopeless imagination of a man in trouble, either way he has to force his legs into action or he would have stayed there the entire night.

...

Among the shinobi comrades, Kakashi is often equalled with tardiness. He knows this. It's never his intention to be late and he always gets up and gets ready in time, but there's one stop he has to make at some point during the day and once there...old friends are hard to say goodbye to. All that remains of them is a memorial build in their (and many others') honour and visiting the site somehow detaches the living from time while granting them a brief respite surrounded by memories. Sometimes the faces of old are smiling. Often, though, the emptiness they've left behind is tainted by bitterness at the evil that stole these people away too soon.

Today was different. This morning, the white-haired jōnin lingered for no more than five minutes before hurrying off to see to his students because he was adamant, the day's training must be finished before the Recruits' classes ended. Needless to say, Team 7 greeted him with stunned silence as they arrived later than their sensei and none of them opposed the day's curriculum either.

"Who is she? Really?"

Kakashi glances over at the black-haired boy who's sitting in the grass with the lunchbox open. "You mean Uguisu."

The two other (yes, even Naruto) stop eating, favouring instead to listen and hopefully have their curiosity satisfied. There's no doubt they will take matters into their own hands and dig around if the many questions aren't answered soon, but...it's not my place to tell anyone and they have no reason to know. Turning the page of his favourite Icha Icha volume, the senior considers his options which could be better because, truth be told, even if Kakashi technically knows more than them, what he can tell will only lead to more speculation. He had hoped for news this morning only to be disappointed at the slow decision making. And the woman at the centre of the uncertainty? She'd left early for class.

"As I said yesterday," he mutters, "she's a friend from far away. She'll be staying here in Konoha and...maybe become one of our shinobi."

Oh yes, the kids are itching to find out more.

"Why does she have to do Academy classes?"

Sasuke is the one to answer the girl. "The Hidden Villages' schools don't teach the same things. If she's from somewhere with a very different choice of subjects then she might not have learned the things we take for granted. Right?" The last part is addressed to Kakashi who merely nods in agreement.

"What was her name?" Naruto has never had a great memory – a trait generally vital to ninjas.

"Minami Uguisu." And it fits her too. "Well! Better get back to work. How's it looking?"

They've been testing out a variety of knots and other rope-works. Some with better results than others.

...

Soon, the open area in front of the Academy will be swarming with kids as they flee from the last lesson of the day either to play or return home, but right now the only sign of life is Hayase about 20 meters up in the tree with his legs dangling lazily.

"Bird watching?" Kakashi calls out to him.

The chunin nods. "And revisiting the boring days from when I was little." He does look like someone who was half asleep only a moment ago – or at least wishing he had been.

"Gonna take her off your hands the rest of the day." Already walking through the front doors, whatever the assigned shadow says remains unheard.

Some of the little students acknowledge Kakashi as they rush past him on their way to freedom once more bu thankfully it isn’t long before the path is clear and the jōnin can enter the classroom without fear of toppling anyone over. Only two people are left: Iruka who’s gathering a wad of papers that probably are assignments, and the blue-haired girl that’s been haunting him regardless of being asleep or awake.

“Ah, I see they got a hold of you,” Iruka smiles at his friend who doesn’t admit he hasn’t been contacted, “that’s good! It seems my work with Uguisu’s gonna be fairly easy.”

The woman in question has joined the two men at the teacher’s dais, her arms laden with the borrowed books and a few pencils. Today, she’s tucked her hair into a messy bun which allows a peek at the curve of her neck. Pretty. It’s hard for Kakashi to focus, but he fights his attention back to the words flowing from the teacher.

“There are...some areas we need to cover, but none connected to the theoretical works of a shinobi.”

“What he means,” Uguisu smiles, “is that I’m a disaster when it comes to math or history, for example.”

Oh? Watching a blush grow and fade rapidly on Iruka’s face, some corner of the white-haired jōnin's guts tighten in protest before the brain catches up with excuses or explanations – all of which are necessary as he hasn’t been able to ignore the distance the woman keeps between her and anyone else. Including him. Less than 48 hours ago, he’d been kissing her, feeling her reciprocate and making his heart sing...then the dream ended and a nightmare unfolded, and now she’s pulled away.

“Well, that’s quickly fixed,” Iruka promises, “however!” He turns to fully to Kakashi at this, slapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “As her warden, I hope you’ll remind her to hand in the written assignments regardless of their simplicity and ensure she’s capable of applying theory to the practical training you’ll be overseeing.”

I’m her...? YES! None would have known how happy the revelation makes Kakashi just like they would be ignorant of the fact that he, until this moment, had had no clue of his role in the relation to Uguisu’s potential as a Leaf Shinobi going forward.

“Hai, I’ll keep her busy with studying,” the warden nods.

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 2 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(ao3: x

Chapter 1 Tumblr Link: x )

Geralt is not someone who is an active social media user. He has never been.

Hell, he wouldn’t even use WhatsApp if he didn’t have to.

He thinks that apps like this make people so accessible, and leaves little privacy, and ironically, despite it’s called “social media” it makes people less social. He has lost count of how many times he has seen a group of friends sitting somewhere and scrolling through some apps on their phone or something instead of talking to each other.

Of course, it depends on one’s use, but from what he can tell, whenever you’re online, people tend to think that you have all the time in the world.

So no, thank you very much. He likes his privacy.

Whenever he says that “Social media is for people who don’t have nothing better and important to do,” Ciri just gives him The Look ™ and says: “Okay, boomer.”

He has no idea what the hell it’s supposed to mean, but he is sure it’s not something good.

Once Ciri had downloaded some dating app on his phone without his permission while he was sleeping his ass off after a very tiring night shift. That little match-maker of a girl.

And not only that, but also she had said: “I texted some of the users for you! The ones I thought you might like. One of them seemed nice, I like her energy. So, anyway, long story short, you have a date this weekend. You can thank me later.”

“Excuse me, you did what?!”

Needless to say, Ciri wasn’t allowed to use the internet for three days after that.

“I just want you to be happy,”  on the third day, Ciri had said out of the blue while they were reading I, Robot together —they were both into sci-fi, and reading was a great escape from thinking about all the things going on in life.

“You deserve love. Everyone does. Your whole life is nothing but me and your job, and… You deserve happiness, dad. You deserve love.”

“Come here,” Geralt had said, opening his arms wide for her to embrace him, which Ciri had applied.

“I am happy, pumpkin.”

“You could be happier… If there was someone you loved and dated—”

“Ciri, look. Love is… A beautiful thing.” he started ‘Even though it can be hurtful,’ was left unsaid.

“But love doesn’t necessarily mean the affection between a couple. It doesn’t just mean romantic love. Love can be in many forms, shapes, and different ways. Love of self, of animals, of nature, friends, family… We experience love every day when you think about it. You can find it in everything.  Even in a slice of homemade pie that Mrs. April brought us today.”

“I love pie! But dad, I doubt that if a slice of pie can tell you that you look lovely today. A cutie-pie on the other hand—”

“Ciri, have you been even listening to me?”

“…and a pie can’t run their fingers through your hair-”

Geralt sighs, “Why am I even trying?”

“Deep down you know I’m right. Dad… How about you just… give her a chance? For me? Just see how it goes?”

"Is it gonna make you happy if I do that?”

“So happy!”

“And you’re not gonna do something like that ever again.”

“Promise!”

“Not downloading stupid apps on my phone, and not trying to set me up.”

“You got it, Cap!”

Geralt had met with that woman, and they just didn’t click.

True to her word, Ciri never has done something like that again.

***

Geralt is not someone who likes social media.

But there he is, looking at the musician’s posts instead of sleeping—even though he has to get up early as always tomorrow—scrolling through the app, and feeling like a high school girl with a stupid crush.

He reads every little caption the musician had written.

Surprisingly- well, maybe not so surprisingly- his songs aren’t the only thing he posts about.

He posts about random things; sometimes it’s a pretty flower he came across this morning, sometimes it’s a kitten, a book he is currently reading, food recipes, his drawings, things like that.

His account seems like just his personality.

Filled with all the beautiful colors in the word. Filled with joy, and every little thing he shares feels so sincere. Personal.

[I tried that recipe @Brianricci has sent me and it still feels like there are fireworks in my stomach, so here’s a little drawing for you my life-saver pasta-mate.]

That one makes Geralt smile. Reminds him of that day.

***

“I have something for you, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason. Not that I’m complaining, for the record. The only thing I have complaints about is your hospital’s awful food. So awful that it should be illegal. A sin, even. You’re sinning whenever you guys force people to eat that food. I can only imagine your staff’s weekly confessing: ‘Forgive me father for I’ve sinned.’

‘What’s wrong, immortal one? What did you do?’

‘Oh, father, even bathing myself in holy water can’t cleanse me from my sins! I made my patient eat that awful food, I had to, father! I had to! I had no choice! But I have faith that I can change that one day!’

‘Faith becomes you. Stay with it. Keep fighting the good fight with all thy might.’

God help him this man is so ridiculous.

“Why are you suddenly Anthony Hopkins from The Rite?”

“Eh, just felt like it,” Jaskier shrugs “Your jello is pretty good though, so, good deed point. And your nurses aren’t half bad either, so I heard.”

Jaskier winks at him.

The audacity of that man.

“Anyway! As I was saying, I have something for you—”

“I have something for you, too, Mr. Pankratz,” Geralt says. He has a good guess about what Jaskier has for him.

A drawing of a flower.

He had heard the staff talking about how the pretty patient in room 242 has been giving flower drawings to pretty much everyone while he was walking around.

“Why thank you, you shouldn’t have! You brought some wine for me or something? For the celebration for my third week here? You’re so kind, my good sir.”

“It’s your medicines.”

“…ever the heartbreaker. I take back everything I said. You’re the devil in disguise.”

After Geralt gives him his medicines, Jaskier pulls a scratch book under his pillow and carefully tears a page from it. He gives it to Geralt.

“I thought I was the devil in disguise?” The nurse says as he takes the drawing from him “Are you sure that you should give demons a flower draw—”

Geralt can’t finish his sentence.

Because what he is looking at certainly is not a flower drawing.

It’s a man who holds a syringe in his hand with a kind smile on his face, and the syringe is filled with cute little hearts.

It’s him.

There’s a giant cactus standing behind him for some reason Geralt finds it hard to understand why.

He has seen the other drawings, and they are nothing like this one. This one looks like Jaskier has tried his hardest to make it perfect. Put everything in it. It’s perfect and detailed as if he had drawn it while looking at Geralt. It also seems familiar for some reason.

“—in conclusion, devils are fallen angels, so…” Geralt hears Jaskier talking.

Yet he is too busy to say something as he keeps looking at the drawing in his hands.

“Ooops, did I go too far with the hearts?”

“Hm.”

“Geralt? Say something, please? Oh God, I broke my nurse. They’re sooo gonna sue me. And I don’t think I can afford a good lawyer, I’ll rot in jails, I’m too young to rot in jails, I can’t be someone’s bitch, I’m not even—”

“May I ask why is there a cactus standing behind me?”

“A comment! Phew! Finally! Well, that would be because you’re just like a cactus.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Better than being a weed, Dandelion.”

Jaskier holds his hand to his chest and gasps, feigning offense.

“Words hurt, Geralt. Words hurt.

I meant it as, like, let’s face it, you’re kinda prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

Geralt sighs.

“And now you imply that my hospital is a desert. How nice. What’s next?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay.”

It’s obviously more than okay, but teasing with the young man is fun, and everyone needs some fun in their lives once in a while.

“If you don’t appreciate my drawing just give it back,” Jaskier makes grabby hands as he pouts like a little kid that just dropped his ice cream,  “I’m pretty sure it’ll look good on my fridge anyway. No trouble for me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not giving this back. Too late, you should’ve thought that before you gave it to me. Can’t take it back now.”

“If you don’t say something nice about my spectacular drawing you can be sure that I’m gonna take it back from your hands even if that means putting up a fight.”

“How bold of you to think that you’re in a condition to put up a fight.”

“You’d be surprised. And if I can’t, your other nurse friends and your fellow patients can do it for me. I haven’t been handing out flower drawings for nothing all day.”

“And you say I am the devil in disguise.”

“I never said I was an angel, have I? Seriously though, you have ten seconds to pay a compliment to my drawing. Ten—”

“ ‘Okay’ was a compliment.”

“I beg to differ, since when ‘okay’ is a compliment? Say that to the Italian chef in Mamma Mia when he asks how is the pasta and see if he takes ‘okay’ as a compliment and doesn’t pour half-full pasta plate over your head, and ruin your favorite bee shirt. Also, nine.”

“That was oddly specific. Did that happen to you?”

“Eight, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just being hypothetical. Seven, six—”

“I bet he wouldn’t threaten me with taking my meal back if I did at least.”

“Sev— wait a second I was counting backwards, weren’t I? Where were we? Five!”

“Man, you’re really no good at math.”

“Wanna know what I’m good at? Many things, and fighting happens to be one of them. Four, ” Jaskier attempts to get up from the bed, somehow forgetting about his broken leg for a split second and swears: “Ah, cock!”

Geralt barely holds back a laugh at that one.

“Careful.”

“I can still verbally fight you.”

“You’ve been already doing that for the last five minutes.”

“…three.”

“You never give up, do you?” Geralt rolls his eyes with a smile, “It’s a good drawing. I really like it.”

Another lie.

He doesn’t just like it, he loves it.

But even saying that he likes it is enough to make Jaskier beam at him.

“You gave everyone a flower drawing,” he points out  “but I get a cactus and a drawing of myself, why is that? It must have taken some time to draw this.”

“A special drawing for a special nurse.” Not making eye contact, Jaskier says so softly that Geralt nearly misses it. “Yeah, it sure took some time to draw it, and my schedule was so full because of all the crazy hospital parties you guys keep throwing that I could hardly find the time, but eh, I managed somehow.”

“Sucks that they never invite me to that parties,” the nurse jokes back. “Seriously though, thank you. I appreciate it.”            

“I’d like to draw something for Ciri, too. But I’m saving it for later when I can meet her. You didn’t tell her that I’m here, right?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Good! Keep it that way.”

***

Smiling at the memory, Geralt rises from his bed to take the drawing from his bedside drawer. No, of course he doesn’t look at it every day, what are you talking about?

If he hadn’t promised Jaskier that he wouldn’t let Ciri know until these two can meet in person, this drawing would be on his wall already.

Maybe next to Ciri’s painting of a white wolf.

He had considered doing so but then decided that it would be wise if he didn’t. No doubt Ciri would figure out it was Jaskier’s drawing as soon as she would see it. It was signed by him, after all. Not that Ciri couldn’t figure it out without the signature.

“What the hell, Geralt” The nurse snorts to himself and runs a hand over his face as he imagines his room filled with the drawings of his daughter, and Jaskier’s. “What are you gonna dream about next? Ciri being a flower girl at your wedding?”

Fuck.

He is totally dreaming about it now.

God, it’s crazy how much he misses him, even though he doesn’t really know him.

Ciri already is crazy about Jaskier, and Geralt looks forward to them to meet, to see how Ciri is going to react when she sees him. He feels like the two would talk non-stop, and he would just listen to them talking about God knows what.

He would have no problem with that; in fact.

“I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” he thinks.

He wants to see Jaskier again.

(Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of Jaskier in this chapter, but it was like:

-So, it’s time for you to meet Ciri! 

-Hah, well, I love her, but I don’t think so. Not yet. 

-But Ciri- 

-You can have me as a Flashback Guest in this chapter, nothing more. 

-But my plan wasn’t like this. 

-Too bad, I’m my own character.

Let me know what you think please. Have a good day everyone ~ 💛)

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 4

Loss.jpeg

Night has fallen on Chaldeas. Though the globe still casts its red glow across the room, the doom of humanity, it’s too late and Ichigo has been awake for too long for the grief to wash across him like so many waves right now.

He’s summoned another servant today, with the help of technology and Saint Quartz and Cu Chulainn, of course. It was maybe  his fault that he now had two celtic servants. One a caster with vicious loyalty but a habit of hitting on girls, and another that avoided women like the plague and followed Ichigo like the most desperate of puppies.

So now he has four servants to keep up with, and so he’s  tired .

They go off to the next singularity soon. Somewhere in England, in the late nineteenth century. He should really be resting. Getting ready for the next fight. Letting Olga Marie try an fail to teach him even the simple but powerful magecraft that she and Cu specialize in.

Instead, Ichigo finds himself standing in the doorway to the Chaldeas observation room, looking not at the ominous depiction of their future, but the man standing in front of it.

Romani Archiman. Dr. Roman. His shoulders are tense and drawn and his hair is out of its usual pony tail. He looks as tired out as Ichigo feels. When no one’s watching, right now, his green eyes are dull and his humor has faded. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

Mash kept reminding him how important it was to get proper sleep, and maybe it was easier for demi-servants than it is for humans. He doesn’t know. He never thought to ask.

Ichigo comes to a stop beside him.

It is a testament to his exhaustion that Roman doesn’t even notice Ichigo enough to react until he’s been standing there for nearly a full minute. When he does he jumps, startling and in the space between breaths Roman’s demeanor shifts. His eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to Ichigo, a dozen times more cheerful than he’d been mere seconds before. It’s a startling contrast. From one face to another in less time than it took Ichigo to even realize he’d seen him looking so serious.

Roman was not a serious man. He had a tendency to jump around and get overly excited over seemingly nothing at all. Like cake, and slacking off and a blog he’s obsessed with that is, somehow, still posting online even though the world outside is nothing more than ash and fading memory. Ichigo personally suspects that it’s a prank put together by Da Vinci.

That artist is something of nuisance.

“Ichigo!” Roman’s smile is hard to spot as a fake, when Ichigo doesn’t know to look for it. Now that it is, it’s still hard but he can see the slant to his eyes, the tiny purse of his mouth. Ichigo is no genius, but he likes to think Roman is his friend. And so he does his best to learn to read him.

“Did you need something?” Roman asks, peering curiously at him. Something under Ichigo’s skin hums and crawls. The hiding sets his teeth on edge. Maybe it's because Ichigo himself is such a straight forward person, but he doesn’t much chair for people who hide like this.

And maybe it’s hypocritical, but at the moment he, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

“You need to sleep,” Ichigo says, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Oh! Ah, I just have a little more work to do here before I can do that. See, Sonya wasn’t feeling well earlier and-”

“Roman,” Ichigo grabs his elbow and watches the man jump, like he’s been shocked. He acts like no one’s ever laid a hand on him before in his life.  “Go to sleep. We’re not going to a singularity tomorrow. You can afford rest.”

Still, Roman’s smile turns, tilts, like he’s confused, and this close Ichigo realizes that he’s thrumming with anxiety.

  No wonder he can’t sleep.  

Ichigo is not a genius. And he’s not the best at offering comfort, especially not at times like this. This is a time when they have to step up, when there is no other choice for them than to stand together, and he can’t say he’s entirely sympathetic with the doctor.

But he pulls him, by the elbow, not giving him time to argue as he manhandles him towards the hallway that leads to the dorm rooms. Most of them are empty now, their occupants frozen in cryogenic coffins. Anyone who isn't working is frozen, in fact. All of the staff that had died during the initial explosion had been dragged out, sometimes in pieces, and laid in the snow and ice outside the facility. It would preserve them for the time being. And with Ichigo around, so too were the ghosts.

It had started with Marie, but by now most of the dead staff have started to drink in his reitsu, to supplement themselves. If they take enough, they can even interact with the world around them, though it leaves Ichigo exhausted if too many do it at once. It’s like vampires, but they're eating his soul instead of drinking his blood. And in any case, it keeps the chains in the chest from eating their way up.

Marie had explained, very vaguely because her family specialized in astronomy not ghosts, that if those chains vanished entirely they would have less ghosts and more ghouls. Which was bad.

They pass twelve of them on the way to their destination.

“Ichigo, please,” Roman tries to tug his arm out of Ichigo’s hand, but out of the two of them it’s no contest who the stronger one is. “I have work-”

“You’re no good if you work yourself to death!” Ichigo snaps. He closes the door behind them with a tap to the pad on the wall and tosses Roman bodily onto the bed.

Roman scrambles to sit, blinking at their surroundings in confusion.

It’s almost the same as the last time they’d been there, during their first meeting ever. The only difference is that there’s a pair of jeans in the corner and a picture of his sisters and his mom on the desk under the window now.

“This is…”

“My room,” Ichigo finishes for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his customary scowl in place. This was probably stupid but-

“You said you come here to relax, right? To goof off and slack on your duties. Well, relax. Marie’s still around so it’s not like you’re the acting director anymore.”

Roman gapes at him like a fish.

“But- But-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo orders tersely. He’s already second guessing his initial reaction but he wasn’t gonna leave Roman there to stare at their doom and he doesn’t have the damn poetry of words to convince him that they’ll rise above their challenges. “And go to sleep. Chaldea will be here in the morning, and so will the past.”

Roman slowly gathered his limbs together underneath him. He looks at Ichigo, confusion written across his face and it’s all Ichigo can do not to snap at him. Roman is a doctor and grown ass man. He should know better than to neglect himself.

To be fair, Goat Face is also and doctor and grown ass man, and Ichigo doesn’t trust him to so much as feed himself.

“O-kay,” Roman says at last, drawing the words out and his face finally softens, with fondness and truth. Some of the lie slips away. “Okay. But what about you, Ichigo? You need to sleep too. You’re supporting multiple servants and multiple ghosts, now.”

Ichigo hadn’t even thought about that.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. I can just sleep in a chair or something.”

“No!” Roman shakes his head. “No, that’s not acceptable. As your doctor I have to advise against it.”

“ ‘as your doctor’? What the hell kinda crap are you going on about?” Ichigo scowls deeper.

“You need to sleep, in a real bed. Honestly. We can just share.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a sleep over in a movie!”  

“... You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“Eh?!”

“Fine, whatever,” Ichigo was too tired to deal with this. In the morning he’ll kick himself, and maybe Roman, but for now all he can think of is turning the lights off and getting some sleep, at last.

And if it’s easier to sleep when the living are next to him and not when he’s haunted only by figurative ghosts instead of literal ones, no one will even be the wiser.

*

It’s not so much a house as it is a room where he can simply exist.

It’s small, single story and a basement that still smells faintly like lightning and copper and a strange magecraft. One that he can’t quite place, one that he’s never encountered before.

Ichigo doesn’t ask about the old owners and Waver Velvet, who gets pissed every time Ichigo doesn’t call him something stupid like Lord Elmeloi the fifth or whatever, hadn’t volunteered any information.

Ichigo spends a few minutes looking around. There’s a fold out couch in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with none perishables and frozen meats. The bedroom has runes carved above the door and the window, offering Ichigo a modicum of protection from what might be out there. There’s a bed big enough for his whole family and then some, and the closet has a few changes of clothes. Three suits, of all things, and a familiar mystic code.

White and black, it’s a body suit he’d been given early on. His Chaldea combat uniform.

The material feels like silk but Ichigo knows better than to think it is. It’s tough enough to hold up to arrows and fire and more than he wants to think of. He’d only taken blunt force trauma when he’d worn it. There were three spells woven into the fabric, and Ichigo wonders what it will be like to wear it again before he dismisses the idea.

Ichigo wonders just what Waver had thought Ichigo was going to be doing here, that he needed this.

He goes to the basement.

It’s bigger than he would have expected, and there are weapons lined on the walls. Spears, swords, and bows, and a range setup with dummies stuffed with straw.

There are no windows, to hide him from curious eyes. Any non-mags who finds out about magic is sentenced to death, and that is part of why Ichigo hasn’t told his family about his escapades. His wars.

Kon walks past him at the foot of the stairs. Along another wall is a shelf built into the stone foundations, filled with texts and materials that Ichigo can recognize instantly.

He’d never been good at spell work on his own, but he can use the magic equivalent of chemistry just fine. And, on top of that, after Babylonia a certain goddess had magnanimously taken time out of her ever so busy schedule to teach him the graceful art of gem magic.

Or rather, a stuck up deity who Ichigo had bribed to be his friend had taught him how to shove magic energy into rocks he could throw at people to blow them the fuck up.

Combined with the runes that Cu had spent years drilling into his head, Ichigo could survive a regular mage battle fine on his own, if he had time to prepare. And war has made him paranoid, so he starts taking stock of everything that he’d been given.

Evil bones, dragon scales, eternal gears, crystals of several types and a mystic gunpowder. A few feathers, and a jar of scarabs. Chalk, too, and strong thread that’s more like fishing line.

There’s also, definitely for the best, a fire extinguisher in the corner.

“What kinda place is this, Ichigo?” Kon finally asks. He pokes at a jar of red liquid on top of the thick desk that Ichigo has been given. It’s all and all not very personalized, but for Ichigo’s purposes it’s more than enough. Especially given that Ichigo’s purpose was to sit somewhere where his dad wasn’t. Where he didn’t have to think about the spirits or the hollows or the shinigami, however briefly that might be.

“It’s just a house, Kon. A… friend of mine owns it. Think of it as our secret hide out,” Ichigo waves his hand around, idly.

“A secret hide out huh… I get it!” Kon bounced towards him, his soft paws scuffing lightly on the concrete floor. “This is a place to bring girls!”

Ichigo snorts and punts the plushie towards the stairs. “What girl is gonna hand around a creapy basement with you, huh? What are you a serial killer?”

“More like a lady killer! Or I could be, if I just had a body to call my own. Hey, you said I could borrow yours, remember!”

“I didn’t forget. Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Ichigo steps over him and climbs back up to the totally normal looking house above, with Kon on his heels. He lets out a soft breath. It feels too warm above ground, but Ichigo opens the windows and lets the sunlight pour inside upon his skin, lets the wind pull at his hair and dance through the drapes. “I’ll let you have it tonight, okay?”

“But nothing in this town ever happens at night!” Kon whines. When Ichigo sits on the couch he climbs up to flop across his lap, pouting.

“Just try to stretch your legs, and you can have some time on the weekend, deal?”

Kon considers him suspiciously before he nods, once.

“Deal.”

They sit together in the sunlight, in the foreign house, with the spring air cooling them until his phone goes off. Rukia, of course, because work doesn’t give him much of a break.

It’s alright. Sometimes a few minutes to breath is enough.

* *

Rukia Kuchiki is  not the first Shinigami that Ichigo has ever encountered.

There was another, a man who had taken to following their group around North America.

They met in 1783. He was… strange. And admittedly, it was a strange situation that they had found each other in. He’s pretty sure Shinigami don’t normally hang around Alcatraz, but what does he know? The island is infested with all sorts of monsters and guarded by one of the oldest heroes of written legend.

Beowulf. Powerful and vicious, battle hungry but not necessarily cruel. He’d even let them pass into the fortress after just a ‘test’ fight against a dragon.

They, or rather Ichigo, find the Shinigami with Sita, sitting next to her in the deepest prison of Alcatraz. Florence Nightingale is somewhere above them, charging headlong after him with Rama strapped to her back. He’s in bad shape, his curse slowly consuming his body, and Sita is their only chance to save him. Even without Beowulf the prison is crawling with dangerous creatures of all types.

Ichigo finds Sita first.

But she is not unguarded and Ichigo curses himself for leaving his servants upstairs to handle the chaos there.

Ichigo is more than capable of handling celtic soldiers, who fall beneath his vicious attacks and his steadily strengthening magic. The more he uses it the stronger it gets, and his body is adapting quickly to the strain it puts upon him. It’s only been a year or so and he can already go toe to toe with most average mages. A simple soldier with a spear is well within his abilities.

This man, Ichigo can tell with a second of inspection, is not.

He doesn’t have the same energy as a servant. And he’s dressed in clothes that aren’t celtic or american. He’s dressed like he’s from japan.

A black kosado and hakama. All black, with curly brown hair that’s nearly past his shoulders and brown eyes that almost fool Ichigo into thinking that he’s harmless.

But people are more themselves when they aren’t being watched, and this man, older than Ichigo and, he realizes, most certainly dead, has no idea he’s been seen.

He looks at Sita like she’s some kind of puzzle, like some game that he doesn’t know all the rules to. Ichigo stays a moment, and watches him watch her until Sita realizes that she has a visitor.

“Oh!”

She leans forwards on the bed, and right through the stranger, who half turns to look at Ichigo over his shoulder. He’s not interested in him though, not really. He can see it.

Roman is hiding something.

Something important, and he doesn’t know what but he does know now how to recognize when someone is hiding something. Even if it wasn’t for Roman, it’s not only heroes he’s summoned. There is an assassin class, and his heroes have their flaws. Their secrets. Each singularity is it’s own mystery and they are full of liars and tricksters and more than ever before Ichigo has a bone deep appreciation for people who are plain and true.

Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest and stares right at the ghost.

“You’re Sita, right? Rama’s wife?”

“My Lord Rama? Is he here?” she rushes to her feet, all red hair and fire the flutters like an ember on the wind. Not like Rama, who burns anything in his path if he must.

Ichigo nods, once. He lets the stranger inspect him too. There’s the smallest amount of stubble around his chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. And he’s armed. Saber class.

“Yes. But he’s injured. We need your help to heal him.”

Ichigo finally breaks eye contact with the ghost. He steps backwards and points his fist at the lock on the door. Sita hurries to brace herself and he shoots it off with a vicious Gandr. When he uses them on living things, he’s lucky to stun them. On inanimate objects, they blow up. He doesn’t get it, but that’s his life. Becuase fuck him, obviously.

“Yes!” Sita agrees eagerly. Her smile is equal parts soft and fierce. “If I can be of use to him, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay,” Ichigo stands away from the prison door. “Stand back,” he orders, and she steps back into the cell, against the door. The ghosts watches him raise his hand, holding up his fist at the door. The mystic code hums across his skin and he feeds his own mana into it. There’s a flash of pale blue and red and the lock explodes in shards of steel, just as they’re joined by others.

Rama comes stumbling around the corner, his fine clothes stained with blood and his body frayed at the edges. He looks bad. The hold in his chest is starting to gape and glow gold at the edges.

Ichigo hears the ghost suck in a sharp breath and he takes a step towards Rama before Ichigo cuts him off, blocking him from his friends. Sita rushes to him.

“Sita!” Rama reaches out around him and Ichigo can’t understand how he’s even on his feet. How deep does his love for his wife run? “Damn it, my vision is blurry. I can’t see anything…”

“I’m here!” Sita falls to his side as Rama collapses, finally succumbing to his festering wound. Ichigo watches, his hands clenched at his sides as Mash explains about Cu Chulainn Alter, and his Gae Bolg.

Ichigo stands back, with his Cu at his side. The caster leans on his staff, watching Sita gently stroke her husbands hair. They will never meet, and it drives pain into Ichigo’s chest on their behalf.

“Well. Fuck.” Cu says bluntly.

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah. That sums it all up pretty well.”

The ghost tries to take another step, but Ichigo catches his hand.

He spins, his brown eyes wide. “You- You can see me.”

“Well yeah. No shit,” Ichigo says aloud. Caster peers at him curiously, but Ichigo just taps the corner of his eye. A ghost, and Cu nods and leans back again. Even amongst his heroic spirits he’s an oddity. Not all of them can see ghosts. Only the ones that attack them, and more than once has Ichigo had to forcibly guide them into striking true.

Cu is a bit better. He hasn’t told him explicitly but Ichigo suspects that Scathach is somehow related to the afterlife. The land of shadows sounds like it should be full of ghosts.

Ichigo let’s go when the ghost pulls at his hand, peering at Ichigo. It’s funny, watching someone pull a metaphorical mask onto their face. This one is a kind person, someone who’s harmless, but Ichigo can still see them. He is armed and his eyes betray him, as eyes so often do.

Sharp and intelligent. Like a cat watching him.

“I suppose you do have some reitsu. But to be able to see me, is still not an easy feat.”

Ichigo frowns. “I do? It feels like all of it’s being sucked out by everyone at Chaldea…”

“Excuse me?” he blinks at Ichigo a couple of times.

“Nevermind. There’s just some people who are sucking up my reitsu so they don’t disappear, you know?”

And now even the ghost was looking at him like he’s crazy. Great. Awesome.

The glittering glow of Sita’s body dissolving interrupts them, and Ichigo turns to face his servants with a hard clench of his jaw. Rama slowly sits up, sorrow over taking his features. Even in a holy grail war, he will never meet his wife again.

“We should go,” Ichigo says quietly. “We still have to go east. We have to finish what we started. Rama, are you ready?” Ichigo goes to him, and offers him his hand. Rama takes it and stands.

“Yes. My body does not falter. I renew my vows now, Master of Chaldea. I, Rama, King of Kosala, will fight at your side. I shall not be defeated again. This I swear!” He bows his head to Ichigo, this proud, powerful king.

“Yes,” Liz steps up, a noble countess with her chin lifted and her eyes defiant. “We will win, for you our master!”

“We will rip out the root of the infection,” Nightingale agrees, smacking her hands together. Her red eyes burn with a ferocity that would make lesser men tremble.

Mash nods, shortly and firmly. “I will put my faith in Master, and follow his lead.”

“You already know that I will strike down your enemies,” Medusa adds, her long hair swaying with the promise of poisons.

“Lead the way, Master,” Cu claps his shoulder and Ichigo looks each of the mover in turn. Finally, he speaks.

“I swear I told you to use my damn name. You’re all so dramatic.”

Cu laughs at him, and Ichigo starts the long walk. From Alcatraz to Washington.

Only now they have a tag along. The ghost insists on following them along, because apparently Ichigo and the singularity is dangerous enough to warrant his attention. Which is  great .

“What do I call you then,” Ichigo asks, side-eying his newest companion.

He tilts his head, sending brown waves spilling across his shoulders.

“Mmmm. Kyo,” he says after a minute.

“...That is  not a real name.”

* * *

“So, your friend, the Lord, how do you know him?”

Ichigo looks up at Rukia. She’s standing over his bed that night. Chad is asleep in the corner, passed out after a study session run long.

“Who, Waver? We met a while ago.”

Ichigo scoots back on the bed, until his back is to the wall and he can sit, criss cross, looking at her. Waver had come to town earlier, on business as much as to see Ichigo. They’d talked, briefly, in front of the school earlier until Ichigo had had to rush off. Not before Waver had extracted a promise to meet up with him a few days in the future. Apparently there was some weird shit going on in town that had nothing to do with Ichigo and his friends, but was now his problem because he was a mage.

A two bit one, but still.

“How?” Rukia asks, narrowing her eyes at him if only slightly.

Ichigo considers telling her everything, but it’s a bit too much to believe.

‘I time travelled for three years trying to stop the incineration of humanity and I met him as a demi servant and his old servant because he fought for a holy grail and oh yeah did I mention i punched god?’

Yeah, no. Even shinigami didn’t go time travelling. He’d checked. It didn’t help that most shinigami were so out of touch with the living world that even three hundred years ago they didn’t know much about human magics or the goings on. Before the fall of the age of gods humans and spirits had been closer, had almost lived together. Ereshkigal had told him some of how it worked, four thousand years ago, but he’s certain things have changed. For one, she is clearly not in charge of the afterlife anymore. Which begs the question of just where she had gone.

To the reverse side of the world? Or somewhere else entirely?

“After Chaldea,” he says instead, picking over his words with as much care as he can, “After the explosion of Chaldea, their patrons, the Clock Tower in London, sent someone to see what was happening. And to take stock in the situation. Waver was the one that they sent.

“Apparently he gets the ‘problem children’ a lot.” And that was what they were, really. He and Mash, they were just teenagers. Even now. Eighteen….

Eighteen is not enough years for what he’s seen, what he’s done. For the choices he’s had to make.

“No wonder they sent him for you,” Rukia snorts at him, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth and Ichigo fights not to return it. Instead he scowls, as he usually does.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you wanna come with?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he stands and leaves her in his bedroom. His dad is in the clinic. He’s been avoiding Ichigo for weeks, ever since that day in the cemetery and Ichigo is fine with that. He’s still angry.

Yuzu and Karin are up in their own room, and the lower half of the house is quiet. Ichigo pours himself some water and takes a few minutes to calm himself. Waver has him on edge, and more than that…

Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, yet, but his instincts are hissing in the back of his mind, louder and louder ever since he took Rukia’s power as his own. Something is something. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Some change he has no idea how to see or stop.

His cup is covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ichigo stares down at it.

The cold spreads across the surface, white eating over the glass. Elegant swirls of frozen leaves spread out from his finger tips.

He pours out the water and puts the cup away, trying not to think about it.

Because even with Ichigo, even with magic and ghosts and all the other shit in his life, he’s never frozen anything. He isn’t fucking Jack Frost.

He goes back upstairs, trying not to think about it, and helps Rukia rouse Chad to send him on his way home. There’s work to be done. A smarter man would ask about the ice. Would mention it to Rukia. Would wonder if the two aren’t connected.

And Ichigo is not stupid, but he’s maybe a little too used to strange things happening and learning the why at a later date.

* * * *

The acrid smell of burning flesh sears into his mind. Into his soul. Choking him, smoke curled into his lung like an ash made cat that tears claws into the soft tissue.

It’s red. Red, red, red everywhere. Fire singes along the edges of reality. The earth hovers, red and burning and doomed from the start. Doomed from babylonia, doomed from the present and the now.

Mash lays in front of him. Crushed, broken. No shield, no armor, just a dead little girl, reaching for his hand.

Yuzu and Karin are sprawled apart from eachother and they never should be, never should be, because they are twins, they were born together nothing should ever tear them apart-

Isshin. Isshin and his mother, they lie beside a river that runs with fire instead of water. Bloody, broken, staring at Ichigo.

The air shifts and the glittering shine of gold spins around him with a scream. His servants, his friends, cut down and torn apart and left only as glitter that roars their betrayal at him. At his failure. He is the master, the center of power, but he cannot fight on his own. He is powerless in the face of the hulking monster that drags itself out of the rubble to kill him.

He takes a step back, fear clogging his throat. Lahmu crawl across the broken rubble of Fuyuli, of Uruk, of Rome and London and Camelot. His foot hits something. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. Orange and green and white. White and gold and black. Romani, laid to waste.

He is helpless. Powerless. His command spells are gone and he has failed. Lost.

Fire roars at his throat and-

He’s punched in the face by the smell of perfume.

Ichigo looks up at the sky. Pale blue, a few whisps of cloud floating across it.

He drinks in air. Air that tastes like flowers instead of ashes and death.

Something soft touches his shoulder and it’s only familiarity that keeps him from lashing out.

Lavender eyes peer down at him. It’s his hand on his shoulder. His Caster.

His Merlin.

“Wha- I’m in a dream?” Ichigo sits, slowly, and Merlin helps him up. A warm hand on his shoulder and guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Merlin shakes his head, mournfully. “I normally call you here before they can set in, but I was distracted this time…”

“Distracted,” Ichigo repeats dumbly. “Wait. So every time you’ve brought me here, it’s because I was going to have a nightmare?”

“I did tell you, once. Incubi are made of dreams. And I, as half of one, gain my sustenance out of them as well. Bad dreams are sour, so I don’t want yours to-”

“Cut the crap,” Ichigo elbows him lightly in the side. “Just tell me the truth. We’re friends and you don’t want to see me suffering.”

Merlin can only stare at him for a second. “... I always forget how brazen you are, Ichigo. You never have minced your words. You really consider me a friend, do you?”

“Of course I do! And don’t try to give me any shit about we can’t be friends because I’m human. I’m not anymore, remember. I’m a shinigami.”

“Yes, yes. And isn’t that ironic? I, unable to die, and you a creature made of death.”

“You make a bad philosopher. Stick to being a dreamer, Merlin.”

Merlin merely laughs at him, a softness in the wind, and Ichigo sits with him until the sun comes up outside his bedroom window.

* * * * *

What was with people and coming in through his window?

Ichigo stares at the man, Urahara, that is sitting on his window sill. Kon is having a minor panic attack in his arms, flailing around. Rukia has left. Vanished with only a note to tell them not to look for her and if she thinks Ichigo will listen to it, she doesn’t know him very well at all. Ichigo has never been one to abandon his friends, even if they don’t explain what’s happening or why they’re in trouble.

Ichigo will go after her, but first he needs to figure out how to turn into a shinigami again. Kon is no help, he’s too busy running around for Ichigo to dig his pill form out of his plush body. And this man…

His timing is too good. Is he some kind of clairvoyant, like Gilgamesh? Or just a man with far too many cards in his hand to play?

Whatever the case, Ichigo is strangely glad that he’s here. Without Rukia’s glove and with Kon losing his mind, Ichigo needs help to get out of his body.

“So you’ll pop me out of my body,” Ichigo says, eying his cane, “Just because Rukia is a regular customer. Is your shop really that slow?” He definitely has too much time on his hands.

“That’s right!” the man practically sings and Ichigo could swear for an instant his eyes were lavender instead of grey. He’s like a strange mix of Merlin and Da Vinci.

And isn’t  that a scary thought?

“...Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate the help.”

Kisuke pushes his cane through Ichigo’s chest and he pops out the other side like a weasel.

Ichigo carefully lays his body in bed and covers it up. It’s almost two in the morning and normal humans are asleep, including his family. He picks a few small rocks out of his school bag, simple stones with straight lines carved onto them. He eyes Kisuke, still sitting in the window.

“When I get back from this, I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he says, marching up to Kisuke, who flicks his fan out over his mouth. Only his eyes are visible and those are still hidden in shadow.

“Oh? I can’t imagine what you’d ask a simple shop keeper like me…”

“Plenty,” Ichigo says plainly. He plants his hand next to Kisuke’s head and leans over him. “But for now. Get out of my room.”

He pushes him straight out the window, and onto the lawn beneath. Ichigo figures that he’s probably tough enough to take a little tumble. He trusts Kisuke to be fine before he jumps out the window after him. He needs to get to Rukia. He can feel it. Something is happening.

His instincts hiss that he needs to  move .

He follows the feeling of coolness and wind and snowflakes that he can almost see. It’s joined by another feeling, something clean and pale and just a little bit angry, thin threads that wrap together to be stronger.. Uryuu.

He needs to hurry.

Ichigo sprints across the city, pouring on his speed. Faster and faster until he swears he’s running on the wind.

He turns the corner.

Uryu on the ground, Rukia not far. Two Shinigami. Red hair and black. The red head with his sword lifted above Uryu’s head, ready to strike.

Ichigo swings his sword off his back and the streets cracks and erupts beneath the sudden force of his power. It throws the shinigami, Renji Abarai, off of his feet.

“Huh? Who are you? Who’s orders are you here on?” he barks.

Ichigo ignores him. He touches Uryu’s shoulder, making sure he’s still in one piece, and pours Mana into his human body. It should be enough to jump start his own healing process. Mana transference is about all Ichigo is good for anyhow.

“What did you…?” Uryu looks up at him, bewildered.

“Later,” Ichigo says. He blocks the blow that comes from behind, bracing himself against the ground.

“I get it,” Renji pushes down hard, his eyes wild. He feels like fire and venom and bone. “You’re the one that stole Rukia’s powers! Because of you, she’s going to be executed!”

Ichigo’s blood runs cold. Rukia. Executed? For helping him? For giving him the power to protect his friends, his family?

No. He will not allow it.

“That’s bullshit!” Ichigo throws him back, power surging through him. His own anger and the energy that Rukia has given him. Cold coursing through his veins. “Rukia was just helping, she saved us! Isn’t that what your job is?!”

“She broke the rules is what she did. What’s a few human lives to a shinigami? She should have never done that.”

A few human-

Ichigo throws himself at Renji with vicious abandon. Renji is fast but Ichigo is strong, Rukia is strong, and it’s her power that lets him swing his sword with utmost surety.

Still, it’s hard to keep up when Renji won’t shut up. Something about menos and children and then he asks Ichigo’s swords name.

He frowns and racks his brain. That feels like something he should know. On the tip of his tongue. His sword. Rukia’s sword. Does it have a name?

Renji takes his silence for ignorance and he’s not wrong.

He puts his sword in front of him and it glows faintly red. The taste of fire and bone is stronger.

“A shinigami’s zanpakuto is the true form of their soul, it’s their true power. And this is mine! Now Roar, Zabimaru!”

Ichigo watches the sword change, grow fangs and cracks. A Noble Fantasm? No, it’s much weaker. He looks at Renji, looks harder at his power. He’s strong, probably stronger than Ichigo but is he stronger than Ichigo and Rukia together? This will have to be a battle where he can’t rely on brute strength.

The sword swings and the cracks pull apart until it’s a glorified whip with teeth and Ichigo jumps back to dodge it. The stones weigh heavy in his pocket and his mind whirls. No longer a saber, no longer capable of simply attacking and slashing until he’s won.

“Give up already! You’re 2000 years too young to beat me!”

And maybe Renji would be right. Maybe he would be too much for Ichigo to handle, in another life. Maybe if he really was just a fifteen year old kid, shihakusho more green than black, he would leave him laying in a puddle of blood without breaking a sweat.

But Ichigo is not fifteen. He is eighteen and he has fought eight wars. He has ended extinction and walked the land of the dead, and demons, and stood amongst stars. He has fought and bled and killed and died, and he has done it all for his family, his friends.

And now.

Now these two are trying to take another friend. They are trying to steal Rukia, to punish her for saving him and giving him strength enough to fight.

And he will not allow it.

His temper howls, blood rushing into his ears and battle fury washes over his skin.

Beneath it, beneath that hot fire that has driven him for so much of his life there’s something else. Something cold and foreign, frost on a window pane in summertime, snow floating around a campfire.

He lunges for Renji.

Renji is forced to release his noble phantasm, his zanpakuto. It lashes out, a segmented whip that bites the pavement with terrible teeth. Ichigo takes it in stride, catches it’s glinting teeth in his own too-long blade and twirls it like spaghetti around a knife. The teeth catch and hold, Renji’s eyes go wide and Ichigo yanks him forward with his zanpakuto.

He takes one hand off his own sword and drives it into Renji’s jaw. His teeth click and blood spurts between his lips before he drops like a lead balloon.

With Renji at his feet Ichigo turns to face Rukia and the man in the white cloak. He tilts his long blade, letting Renji’s zanpakuto slide off. On the ground it glows faintly red and returns to its original form.

“Are you next then?” Ichigo asks, his voice careful and calm even as the wrold inside him rages. Plans pick up and he reads this mans strengths. He’s leagues ahead of Ichigo but even still…

Ichigo is not the type to run. He is not the type to give up. No matter that Rukia is screaming at him to. He won’t-

He twists and blocks the blow he had barely ever seen, his sword moving faster than his mind.

Surprise registers on the man’s face, muted and little more than a twist of his mouth and a twitch of his eyes. Ichigo shoves him away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Blood seeps out of his back. The cut it shallow, it won’t slow him down but the fact remains. He got hit.

Faster, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A memory, a premonition. He blocks the next attack but only just and under the force of the drawn sword, his own begins to crack. No. No, he will not lose, not like this.

He shoves the man back and flings one of the stones at him, shooting a burst of Mana through it. The man in white has to move fast to avoid the fire that erupts in front of him.

“Ichigo?” Rukia stares at him, her mouth open. “What was that?!”

“I’m not that great at magic,” Ichigo admits, tossing another stone up and down in his hand. He never takes his eyes off of his enemy. “In fact, I wouldn’t even call myself a real mage. I’m pretty second rate at this stuff. But this much… This much I can do.”

He shoots another stone at the shinigami in front of him, who’s name he never did get, and grins when he’s forced to release his own zanpakuto. He’s glad about it, but Rukia is screaming at him.

The air fills with glittering flower petals and Ichigo tastes steel, feels the weight of ‘Duty’ and ‘Honor’ and the scent of sakura blossoms wash across his skin.

They surge at him, a tidal wave of power, danger. Each one is a blade and Ichigo cannot dodge of block them all. Even still, he will not run. He will-

  Protect Rukia!  

Fine.

Cold chases through his body, Rukia’s power surges. Ichigo gives his strength over to it, pours his reitsu into the sword as he once did his saber’s and the sound of bells echoes around him.

A ribbon flutters graceful in front of his face and he swings, running on instinct alone.

The wave of flower petals is stopped in its tracks. Frozen in a circle of ice that reaches towards the sky.

Ichigo is aware, from the shock on the faces of the people around him, that he’s just done something impossible. Again.

Oh well.

He turns again to the Shinigami, bringing his blade in front of him. Not his, Rukia’s. He was going to save her-

“Rikujōkōrō.”

Ichigo shouted when light, six straight rectangles of it, slammed into his stomach. He froze, unable to move. The ice shattered and the blades inside of it floated back to their master, reforming into a single sword. This time, Ichigo couldn’t block. He could do nothing as the blade pierced him twice, and the light faded.

He tried. He did. He would crawl if he had to but-

“Stay alive, for just a little longer, Ichigo. And if you follow me, I will never forgive you.”

He can recognize what she’s doing. She’s drawing the man, Byakuya, and the newly awakened Renji away from him. She is protecting him, and the helplessness is acid on his tongue.

He was left, bleeding, dying, on the streets of Karakura.

* * * * * *

[princecharmingmendes]

Heartstrings | Chapter VII | Shawn Mendes

“ ‘It’s like a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person, well, actually they don’t make you a better person… you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens..you’ll always love them.’ - unknown”

“Shawn was a huge believer that the ‘soulmates’ situation’ was the most stupid thing on the planet, specially since it was such a rare thing to find someone with the same mark as you. He would do anything he could to prevent the so called 'destiny’ from happening, but could he?”

hi, i hope everyone’s doing okay and this is another chapter to the series. Shawn's finally understanding that he's wrong and things might change, so just have a little bit more patience and faith on it. i'm sorry this is not the best chapter so far, but things are really complicated hear and i didn't want to leave you guys without this weeks chapter, i came up with many different scenarios and this is by far the best one and im still not 100% happy with it, so i'm sorry. I'll just stop rambling, anyway i hope you like it, and please give me some feedback.

*Word Count: 2,9+K.

*Warnings: cursing, violence; pushy, rude, disrespectful dude (if that's triggering, please don't read it).

*Posted: April 23rd, 2020. 

                                                    -*-

“No” I said pulling my arm back and taking a deep breath “now leave me the fuck alone”

“Oh, darling, but we were starting to have f...”

“She told you to leave her the fuck alone, which part of it you didn’t get?” I heard his voice and I could feel my blood running cold.

Shit, this is going down.

“Of course you would show up, the fucking prince charming, or at least that’s what you like to pretend to be”

“At least I’m not a stupid asshole who needs to stalk girls around campus and be so insistent that they give up”

“Go find another girl to pin, Mendes”

“Go fuck yourself, dude” Shawn said with his face starting to redden.

“I’m trying to” Byron said with a smirk on his shitty face.

“Shawn, just don’t, I can handle it, leave me alone”

“But...” he said finally turning to look at me.

“Please” I asked looking over at him and I could see his pleading eyes begging to take control of the situation and I shook my head “Please, leave”

“Fine, I’ll be at the library” he said walking past through us, not before bumping the guys shoulder with his own.

“Now we can finally talk”

“No, we can’t, I have somewhere to be and you probably shouldn’t talk to girls like this, we don’t like it and it’s rude”

“No, kitten, don’t piss me off, I’m trying to be nice here, don’t want to get on my bad side, huh?”

“I don’t want anything with you, and that’s not nice at all” I said ready to turn around and leave again “you should stop being an idiot before someone goes to the police or something”

“You’re starting to annoy me, princess” he said crossing his arms above his chest.

“Couldn’t care less, bye”

“You’ll be begging for me to want you next time, bitch”

“Me and all the other girls who are clearly into you right?” I said with venom practically dripping off my mouth as I started to walk back to my dorm.

“You can say shit about it, it’s not like many boys talk to yo...” my fist collided with his face before he could end his phrase and before I could even process my actions.

“Hey!” I heard someone shouting from behind me, making me turn around in the same direction, being met with one of my teachers who happened to be passing by “Y/N, you can’t just punch people!”

“I didn’t just punch him, he’s been extremely disrespectful and annoying, and apparently lost sense of the world ‘limit’ so it was proper self defense”

“No, it was not, both of you are completely wrong, Mr. Byron, you already have a detention to do, so I’m giving you two extra weeks, and you, Miss Y/N, you’re going to help another student on organizing the library every night starting now for a whole week, close it when you both are done”

“But we’re in college!” Byron tried to protest.

“That’s an excellent point, which means both of you shouldn’t be doing this, especially you Byron”

He mumbled a curse before heading other direction. I just sighed and got back in the library, I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, this place was like my second home, and also, I loved books anyways. But I felt the blood draining from my face when I say those mop of curls trying to pile a bunch of books randomly, with a frown on his brows and a pout on his lips. You’ve got be kidding me. I got in and started sorting other books in other table when I felt his gaze falling on my figure, but I completely ignored him. He cleared his throat twice but I didn’t even blink, too focused on organizing books by their section and in alphabetical order.

This deafening silence lasted for a while, almost making me forget his damn presence on that library. I couldn’t completely ignore him when he started sighing and trying to find out where the books were supposed to be, he even dropped a whole pile on the floor, but I didn’t dare to look back at him. The only thing that made me turn around was a loud ‘thump’ and him letting out a “outch”. I saw him kneeling on the floor with a bunch of books around him, one of his hands was on his forehead and the other one on the table in front of him. I turned back to my work and started placing the books back on their places.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Can we please talk?”

“I never said we couldn’t”

“But you’ve been ignoring me”

“I haven’t, I’m not just following you around like I used to, you made it pretty clear earlier today that you don’t want me around”

“That doesn’t mean you should ignore me”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, even though that’s all you’ve been doing lately”

“Okay, I deserve that” he said getting up again “I’m sorry”

“For what exactly?”

“For being a dick”

“Okay, but will you keep on acting like it? Because honestly you’ve been a bitch and then nice and I don’t want to believe you mean it and be an idiot the moment we leave this library”

“I deserved that too”

“What do you want?”

“Why?”

“You called me”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, can you help me sort this stuff?”

“I’m already doing it”

“I know, but I honestly don’t know what I’m doing, and if you helped, maybe we could end this sooner”

“So you could go back to your bad boy life away from me? Sure!” I said going to his side.

“Again, I deserved that”

“Have you ever been to the library?

“Yes, I just don’t get the system of organization, you generally helped me out and I helped you with any math related situation”

“That was before”

“Okay... I...”

“You deserved that for hurting me, I know”

“I might have been too harsh and stuff, and I’m sorry for that, and I’ll give you time to consider it, I’m sorry for saying all that”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m more lost than you right now”

“Shawn, this is exhausting, I had a bad day or semester and I just want this to be over”

“I know, I know, I know, I want this to be over as well”

“Shawn... I’m the one begging you please now”

“Okay, but can you still help me out? I’m lost” he said sighing and I just nodded, starting to pile up the books like they’re supposed to.

We actually spent a great amount of time only talking when it was necessary, with me explaining the sections and how to actually organize them, and he only spoke to me when extremely necessary. I was so pissed at him due to his attitude and also due to the fact that he decided to completely push me without saying the reason, and right now he’s acting like nothing happened. Well, at least he’s quiet now.

“Hm... I saw what you did to Byron” he said and I only hummed in response “Y/N... I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have suggested what I did today”

“Or acted like a dick without an apparent reason”

“That too”

“And then pretending you care”

“I never did that”

“Oh no? What was yesterday to you?”

“I didn’t pretend”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“I never stopped caring”

“That’s not what you said”

“I... I know okay? I’m sorry for everything... there’s just so many things going on and I’m just as confused as you”

“I doubt that” I mumbled and he sighed running his fingers through his curls.

“I mean it, I shouldn’t have done any of the things I did to you and I’m sorry, I can’t change what happened, I can only change what will happen, so can you please forgive me?”

“Shawn...”

“It doesn’t have to happen today or tomorrow, I can be patient, I just need you to give one more chance, please, Y/N, you’re not the only one hurting here”

“It sure seems like it...”

“I know, but I’m too tough to show that” he quoted himself from a few years ago with a playful grin threatening to show up and pleading eyes.

Damn it, Mendes, not those puppy eyes.

“I’d have to think about it”

“Sure” he said giving me an honest smile “thank you, honey”

“Whatever, Mendes” I said trying to hold back a smile that threatened to appear.

After that, I got back into organizing stuff, but the silence between us now was a lot lighter and almost pleasant, if it wasn’t for the fact that we were stuck on a library as a punishment and it would last a week, at least for me. Shawn kept stealing glances at me and he wasn’t trying to hide it, which was odd.

“Can I ask you two things?”

“Uh, sure” he said somewhere behind a shelf.

“First, why are you even here?”

“Got caught sneaking out a girl’s dorm room, two weeks here, this is my last one”

“Oh”

“Now I have company, by the way, that was a really good punch, he deserved it”

“Thanks, the second one is... I don’t remember much from last night”

“I know”

“Did I...?”

“You what?” He asked, head poking out of the corner of one of the heavy bookcases.

“Did I said something to make you say what you said today?”

“No, it was... I just realized something and I thought that was the smartest move to make, which wasn’t, we both ended up getting hurt and it sucked, and it only lasted like... ten hours”

“Was it because you kissed me?”

“What?!”

“Nothing... Hm, I’m done” I said turning around to grab my stuff.

“Wait, I can drop you off, just let me place two more books in place and we can head off”

“You don’t have to”

“I know, don’t want you walking around alone”

“Okay” I sighed sitting at one of the tables.

Any other day and I would’ve ignored him and walked to my room, but after today’s encounters it might be best if he took me there. I waited what seemed like five minutes when I finally saw the curly haired boy coming to where I was waiting and grab my backpack for me. I jumped off the table and we both went to his jeep, that was parked not that close to the main entrance. The night got chilly quickly and he noticed me curling into myself, and he quickly peeled off his leather jacket, giving it to me, which I tried to deny but knowing him for as long as I did, I knew it was pointless. I just gave up and put it on, being quickly engulfed by warmth and his scent, which was pretty addicting.

Tyler was standing next to his jeep, leaning on his own car, talking to a few of his friends and laughing, probably his study group, but when me and Shawn got closer, he stopped laughing and stared at us like we were two aliens on campus. I felt my face heating up, so I just gave him a tight lip smile and a little wave, which he quickly corresponded still looking like he saw a ghost. I climbed on Shawn’s jeep and I saw him staring at Tyler with a slightly suspicious look on his face, so I just placed a hand on his bicep and he seemed to come back to reality, starting the engine and driving back to my place.

The ride was quiet besides the soft music playing on the background, which I quickly recognized as John Mayer, making a smile cross my lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn, who started to softly singalong with it. It took him less the five minutes to get to my dorm, and it still took long, but he was driving rather slow and I wasn’t complaining, I was getting a free ride home. He parked outside and stretched to get my backpack from the backseat for me.

“Hey... about what you asked...”

“Forget it, please” I asked and he sighed nodding “thank you, and thank you for the ride”

“It’s okay” he said placing my backpack gently on my lap.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Yeah”

“Why don’t you like Tyler?”

“Why do you like Tyler?”

“He’s nice to me, he’s hot and he’s funny”

“So am I”

“Are you?”

“Yes!”

“You used to be”

“I still am”

“You’re going to have to prove it”

“I will”

“Good luck, and hey!”

“What?”

“You didn’t answer me”

“You’re smarter than I thought”

“Always underestimating me?”

“I’d never do that”

“Whatever, answer me”

“Tyler’s literally the worst”

“You two were going out with the same girl?”

“No, you know I don’t get attached”

“Than what is it?”

“He’s a player, and I’m the one who’s saying it, I just don’t want him to break your heart”

“So what if he’s a player? I’m not saying I’m in love with him, I just want to have some fun”

“I know you”

“You don’t, not anymore”

“Y/N... I know you get attached easily, and I know you care, and I know he’s not good enough for you”

“How could you know that? How could you know who’s good enough for me or not? Honestly, Shawn, you know nothing”

“Honey...”

“And by the way... who’s good enough for me? You? Cause you’re the one to break my heart here, not him, and we weren’t even romantically involved, imagine if we were, maybe you should be sorry, cause right now I’m pretty sure you didn’t change at all, goodnight” I said swinging the door open.

“Hey! Wait! I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to offend you, you just asked why I didn’t like the guy, that’s the reason, I’m sorry” he said and I took a deep breath.

“Fine”

“And what I meant when I said you get attached easily is not a bad thing, I think it’s just because you actually believe in love and this sort of stuff, and that’s not a bad thing, and I just don’t want to see you feeling bad due to some idiot who can’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated, and I know I’m not good enough for you, God knows how much I thought about it since the day we’ve met, I’m sorry” he said I my heart swelled at his words.

“I’m sorry too, I guess I overreacted, I think I’m on the edge today”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s okay, you should rest a bit, today was pretty stressful for you”

“I know, thank you, Shawn, for real”

“It’s okay, goodnight, Y/N” he said as I got off his car.

“Night, Shawn” I said closing the door and climbing the steps to the main entrance to my dorm room, seeing him pulling off and heading home.

I got up to my dorm room and Mel instantly smirked when she saw me, and that’s when I noticed I still had his jacket on.

“Oh My...”

“Don’t even start, Melissa”

“Okay... why are you so late? I left like, a thousand voicemails! I know you get lost when you’re with Shawn and stuff, but you could’ve warned me”

“Sorry, I was in a sort of detention”

“What?! Why?”

“I punched Byron”

“Why?! What did that son of a bitch do this time?”

“Same as yesterday, only this time I made sure he got the message, but a teacher saw us, and Shawn happened to be already in trouble and library duty, I just had the luck of lack of it for receiving the same punishment”

“So how was it?”

“Not that bad, we sorted a few strings that were loose and I think he wants to change, maybe go back to how we were before”

“That’s nice”

“You don’t seem surprised” I said as I took off his jacket and placed it on my closet, sending him a quick ‘forgot to give you your jacket, sorry, x’ text.

“I talked to him after seeing you that sad today”

“What?! Why?! When?”

“Because I happen to care about you both and he looked like shit today, I just knew it was for the same reason you looked the same, maybe even a bit better. I met him in one of our classes, and I just sat down and said a few things”

“Which were?”

“You should ask him, he’s the one I was taking to”

“Rude” I said jokingly going to the bathroom to change into my pj’s.

“But you still love me” Mel shouted from the bedroom.

I went through my night routine normally when I saw my phone’s screen lighting up with Shawn’s name on it.

From Shawnie:

‘you know, if you want to keep on stealing my clothes i might have to buy more’

‘kidding, i would let you keep it if it wasn’t my favorite leather jacket’

To Shawnie:

‘oh, okay, when do you want it back?’

From Shawnie:

‘chill, i’ll pass by tomorrow or whenever to pick it up, don’t worry ‘bout it, see you tomorrow x’

I decided not to reply, just lock my phone and go back to bed and hope he wouldn’t drive me crazy and keep on acting like this for good. Maybe I’ll finally have peace.

Boy, was that a lie.

                                                    -*-

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[kinetic-elaboration]

March 15: Thoughts on Fandom

Not feeling too well this evening but hopefully a good night's sleep will make me feel better and tomorrow will be low key and chill. And my hot water will be fixed successfully.

I was thinking today about how I've felt for a long time that I'm 'between fandoms' even though technically, literally, I'm not. I continue to write and read for The 100 but I don't entirely feel like I'm in the fandom. Sometimes I think I should just leave officially, but then I think--but to go where? And "Star Trek" seems both an obvious and an incorrect answer. It's like I'm not truly invested anywhere, but in a sort of limbo-like space.

Anyway, so I broke it down like this.

I want 3 three things from "fandom," broadly speaking:

1. To engage with media that I really love.

Examples: waiting for new installments (for ongoing media); rewatching or rereading; obsessing over how great the characters or stories are, dissecting plot lines and themes.

2. To engage with a fan community that also loves the media I love.

Examples: reading fanfiction; reading meta; engaging in online discussions; reading other people's excited posts; following blogs relating to the media in question; reblogging gifsets/graphics/fan art

3. To engage creatively with the source material through transformative works.

Example: writing fanfiction.

Ideally, I'd have one piece of media that fulfills all of these purposes. That was T100 for me for a while. But then I stopped watching the show in late S4, and got farther and farther away from the 'current' fandom. And then the show ended, and on such a sour note, so that the fandom itself, the fan community, started changing. And at the same time, I started getting seriously back into Star Trek again.

So now I'm in this place, where I'm still at least kind of engaged in all three aspects of the fandom experience, but not in a unified way.

Star Trek is fulfilling the first purpose of fandom for me, right now. I'm loving rewatching TOS, and the AOS movies too, and I just have a lot of Emotions about the characters and universe. It's that good kinda excitement that a show (or book or movie or whatever) that you really love always gives. Like--ahh!!! I cannot feel anything else but just happiness because I love this so much!

BUT I'm not engaging with ST in either the second or third sense of fandom. I follow a couple ST blogs but there aren't many truly active TOS/AOS centric blogs out there right now. I don't read any ST fanfic because, well, first of all I never really did, and second, I'm far enough behind on my T100 fic! And I have rl people like my mom and B to talk about it with, but not really anyone on tumblr or wherever who's into it like I am.

And though I've vaguely plotted and poked at some fic ideas, I haven't done any real ST writing in a long time--again because I have ideas for T100 that I need/want to get to first, and I'm not writing so much anyway now in general.

On the other hand, T100 is definitely NOT fulfilling function (1) for me and hasn't in a long time. When I stopped watching the show, I still engaged with the canon a little. I watched other people get excited or debate or discuss. I noticed the patterns of fandom as the show went into and out of hiatus. Plus, I still enjoyed the early seasons and liked early-canon and canon-divergent fics (reading and planning/writing). But even that is largely fading for me. I've been trying to rewatch the show but it's not really doing anything for me... I have a hard time getting into it. The canon-divergent fics I'm writing for the collab are not interesting me in the least, either.

I realized today that most of my fic ideas, or at least most of the fic ideas I really care about in any way, are so far removed from the canon they might as well be original fiction with some familiar names thrown in. The one exception is the Ark AU, but everything else is some form of extreme AU, modern or otherwise. I don't even know that the characters make me feel much of anything anymore. I've been toying with how to explain this for a while but... I feel like both for me personally and the fandom as I perceive it, the characters are more like a shared vocabulary, rather than actual characters from a source material we all love. I think this is partially because the fandom is old enough now to have some very long standing shared headcanons, and either small enough or bifurcated enough for fanwork creators to influence each other more than the canon influences them, and partly because the show ending on a sour note for most viewers has left the people who remain in the fandom with a sense that these characters are OURS and that the value of them is in how we collectively decide to use them now, rather than in how they are tied to the universally derided source material.

I'm not saying any of this is BAD, I'm just saying, that's how it is now, from my perspective.

I'm sort of engaging with the fan community (2) through T100, but... it's a little weird. I have people I legitimately like and enjoy talking to on tumblr who I know through T100 and of course there are events like Troped that I really love. I have a ton of cool fic bookmarked too and I'm getting back into reading it. But my dash has a lot less T100 content than it used to and sometimes I'll find myself j-ing very fast through it because I'm just not in the mood. I know a lot of people are either semi-disengaging, like I am, or wholesale moving on to other things. So it's like... the community straggles on, but it's uncertain at best.

And as far as engaging creatively (3)--to the extent that I write or plan fic it's almost all T100. But I haven't... I haven't been finding it easy to write. In general. This is a little hard to explain but.. when I think "I need to leave T100 fandom and really force myself to go somewhere else" it's usually because I feel like I'm not really getting what I need creatively out of the fandom. I like a lot of my wips and unstarted ideas, in theory at least, but the closer I look at some of them the more... herculean the task of actually writing them starts to seem. And tbh I rarely just... tell myself little stories about these characters or within these potential-fic scenarios. Like in all my idle, free thought time--when I'm washing dishes or taking a walk or a shower or going to sleep, when I want to think about something nice and fictional and not let the worries in... when I'm really engaged with a fandom, I'll imagine little scenes and tell myself little stories during these times. Sometimes they're scenes I want to eventually make into or include in a fic. Other times they're not. But they're still an extension of my creative life.

And I haven't really done that for T100 in a while. Sometimes I imagine Star Trek scenarios. Sometimes I retreat into highly silly comfort scenarios with original characters. But I only think about T100 when I specifically need to brainstorm for a fic. And that makes the fic feel more like work. And that makes me want to do it less.

So... I'm not sure what that will mean for me getting back into my projects when I finally (FINALLY) finish the last of my obligations. Maybe when I feel like I can actually make progress on old wips or ideas I care about, I'll get more invested in them. I was pretty damn invested in Mountain Lion Mean and that wasn't that long ago, so it is still possible. But overall, T100 definitely doesn't have, and probably never will have again, a total monopoly on my brain the way it did c.2016.

Which is fine. Like... it's more than fine. I've been here a while. What I'm trying to articulate to myself with all this is that the dissatisfaction I feel with my fandom life is probably stemming from the lack of one, coherent obsession. I have stuff to read, stuff to write, stuff to think about, stuff to talk about, and even a small fandom community of people I like--so what's the problem, right?? It's because it's not all coming from the same piece of media and that's not as clear and coherent and nice for me.

Plus, it makes writing more difficult when I do want to write these particular ideas, but I'm only motivated by own desire to see the ideas realized, not my genuine love for the characters and the material from which they derive. There's a certain energy that fannish activity has... but T100 fic barely feels like a fannish activity to me rn. Just another type of work. It's a work I'm invested in...but I just so often don't have it in me to WORK at all, is the thing.

So that's the biggest annoyance about it. I haven't really experienced this before so even though this situation has been forming for a while, I still don't really know what to do with it.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t.  The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest.  "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

 Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.”  I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway.  XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

 Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.”  Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?  I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you.  You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.”  I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

[soundofseventeen]

Can I Have This Dance? Pt. 8 (Kwon Soonyoung)

Hello! I realized today I said I would start posting the requests after this series finishes. And the series finishes tomorrow. So uh. I better work on those a bit. We hope everyone is having an okay day and that you’re all staying safe and healthy!! 💛

Masterlist

About three weeks had passed, you now sitting in a cafe, looking around for Soonyoung. He was going to be meeting you soon. He said he had something he needed to talk to you about something, which he swore up and down was good. At least he hoped that it was good news. You also hoped this would be good news. You kind of hoped it was one specific thing, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too high. It was probably something about a comeback or something. 

You couldn’t help but feel very nervous while you waited. It wasn’t the same cafe as last time, but you could take in a lot of similarities between that cafe and this one. And the situation. Granted you weren’t dating Soonyoung or anything, but you had been spending a lot of your time with him and his members. Between Soonyoung and Jiwoo, you hardly had any time to yourself in the last three weeks. You knew they planned this, so you wouldn’t be alone and heartbroken, but it still kind of warmed your heart that they were both so concerned. You even had a couple days where you hung out with Soonyoung’s member Dino, who got really good at making you smile. 

The first week was rough, where you kept replaying that day in your head, then your whole relationship, trying to figure out what went wrong. That week you always Jiwoo or Soonyoung by your side. But then the second week, you started to think about it a little less. You were able to focus on other things more. Your mind would usually go back to Daeho, but you were able to get it off of him for a while. Then this week, Soonyoung told a joke that made you laugh so hard you snorted, causing both him and Jiwoo to stare at you. When you asked why they were staring, they both said nothing, but had smiles on their faces. 

You were healing. And with each day, you were realizing that maybe you didn’t need to be with Daeho as much as you thought you did. You missed him a lot, but maybe it was a good thing that he-

“Y/N?” You looked up, fully ready to give Soonyoung crap about being late, when your eyes widened. 

“Dae… Daeho.” You said, freezing on the spot. 

“Crazy running into you here…” He said, scratching the back of his head. 

“Uh… Yeah, I guess.” You said, looking at your peach tea. 

“How… How are you?” Daeho asked, you shrugging your shoulders. 

“I’m alright.” You looked out the window, hoping that Daeho would leave before Soonyoung got here. You didn’t see Soonyoung out on the street, and now you were silently cursing him for being late. Hopefully he would get here soon.

“That’s good.” He said, standing awkwardly next to your table. You looked back at him, a little confused. He was never awkward. Ever. 

“...How are you?” You asked, Daeho shrugging his shoulders. 

“I’ve been better.” He said, you nodding. You pulled out your phone, seeing the last text from Soonyoung that he was excited to see you. Maybe you could just text him to meet your somewhere else? You started to type the message, standing up. 

“Look uhm, I have to meet someone-” You started, Daeho looking at you. 

“Actually, uh… I was kind of hoping to run into you…” He said, you raising an eyebrow, the half typed message remaining on your phone. 

“You were?” 

“Yeah, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” He gestured at the table. “Can we sit?” 

You debated for a second, knowing you should probably say no and go find Soonyoung. But your heart still made you sit across from him, setting your phone on the table. 

*

Soonyoung smiled at his phone, seeing you had agreed to meet him later. He finally decided he was going to do it. He was going to do this. He was going to tell you how he felt. He was going to tell you about how you managed to take his breath away just by looking at him. He was going to tell you about how you made his heart pound in his chest by just lightly touching him. He was going to tell you about how you took his heart, and while he should have had a problem with that, he really didn’t. 

He wanted to wait until you had healed a bit more. He was fully prepared to tell you that if you weren’t ready, he wouldn’t pressure you into a relationship. You two could go at your pace. Even if you said you weren’t even remotely ready for a new relationship, he just needed you to know how he felt about you. 

Soonyoung couldn’t help but think that maybe you had picked up on those feelings, or that you might just like him back. There was something about the looks you gave him, the way you linked your arm through his when you went places, he even noticed the way that your eyes followed him when you would be hanging out at dance practices. Jun tried to make it less obvious, by pointing out that clearly you were following him, which then caused the rest of the boys to break out into who you were following: you picked a new boy every day. But Soonyoung, and the rest of the boys, all saw how your eyes just watched him through rehearsals. 

“Earth to Hoshi?” Seungcheol said, waving a hand in Soonyoung’s face. He looked up, smiling at his general leader. “What’s with you?” 

“Nothing.” He said, going to put his phone away. Seungcheol was quick though, grabbing the phone, and glancing at the screen, managing to read a message before Soonyoung took the phone back. 

“...You’re telling Y/N?” Seungcheol asked, Soonyoung looking at him. 

“What?” 

“You said you had something important to tell her. You’re telling her you have feelings for her, right?” Soonyoung stared at him, mouth open. 

“How did you…”

“I’ve known you a while dude, I can tell.” Seungcheol grinned, Soonyoung closing his mouth. “Plus every time she’s here you go full heart eyes and go extra Hoshi mode. It’s kind of obvious.” 

“It’s true.” Wonwoo contributed, Soonyoung looking towards him. Wonwoo just shrugged. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised at this point that she hasn’t figured it out.” Seungcheol added, Wonwoo nodding at him. Soonyoung looked at his other members, who all also nodded in agreement. 

“Wait, I was that obvious?” He said, the boys continueing to nod. 

“Again, we’ve known you for a while.” Joshua said, patting Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

“But, to be fair, we’ve only known Y/N a little less than Soonyoung, and it took him this long to figure out that she likes him.” Wonwoo said, Soonyoung looking at him. 

“Yeah, she has had such a crush on you and the fact that you hadn’t noticed until now is just… Wow.” Seungcheol said, Soonyoung glaring at him. 

“She was with someone else, okay…” Soonyoung muttered, putting his phone away officially. 

“Hey, we think it’s great.” Jeonghan said, putting his hands in the air. “It’s about time someone else takes up your time. You know, more than she already does just being your friend.” 

“Yeah, we hope it goes well.” Seungcheol said, smiling at Soonyoung. Soonyoung grinned at him back, suddenly starting to feel a little nervous. 

“Yeah, me too…” Soonyoung muttered, shaking his head and getting into dance practice mode. He could worry about that later. 

*

Soonyoung walked down the street, unable to ignore his nerves anymore. He got through dance practice okay, only kind of thinking about it. He started to think about it more after he showered, trying to decide what to wear. What do you wear to a confession? Do you dress up? Do you wear street clothes? Do you mix it up? 

After 5 outfit changes, Seungcheol found Mingyu and had him pick the outfit, shoving him out the door as soon as he had it on so he couldn’t change it again. 

At this rate he was going to be a little early (considering he got kicked out earlier than he planned), so he tried to walk slow. He figured if he was walking his nerves would be more controlled than if he was just sitting in the cafe waiting for you. But walking slowly only seemed to bug Soonyoung more, knowing he just wanted to get there and do this. He just wanted to know your answer. 

As he walked, he spotted some flowers on the side of the road, and a thought crossed his mind. Should he bring flowers? You liked flowers, he liked to think he knew what kind of flowers would make you smile. Then at least you would walk away from today with some pretty flowers… Soonyoung looked at the time on his phone, figuring he had time to swing by the flower shop. Maybe he’d go to yours, it wasn’t that far. So he quickened his pace, taking a little detour. He should still be able to get to the cafe on time to meet you, hopefully you hadn’t gotten there early or something. 

Except once Soonyoung got to the flower shop, he faced a new problem. He was pretty sure that any of the flowers there would have made you happy. So now he had to pick. He went back and forth, picking up bouquets and then starting to go the counter, turning around halfway there and putting them back and picking up a different bouquet and repeating the process again. 

“Having trouble?” The cashier asked, Soonyoung looking at him. He smiled when he realized it was the same guy who was here last time. 

“Kind of… Uhm… Listen, do you know what Y/N’s favorite flowers are?” He asked, the cashier raising an eyebrow. He thought for a second, smiling a bit and nodding his head. 

“Well, Y/N likes all the flowers.” He said, Soonyoung letting out a sigh. “But, it depends on what the flowers are for?” He looked at Soonyoung, smirking a bit. 

“Oh… Uh… Well I… I just… I was planning on��� I wanted to…” Soonyoung stuttered, the cashier shaking his head. 

“That’s what I thought. Those lil pink daisies should do the trick.” He said, pointing behind Soonyoung. He looked where he was pointing, nodding and going to pick up the bouquet and smelling it a bit. They did smell nice. He nodded, going up to the counter. 

“She likes these?” 

“Well,” the cashier said, typing on the register. “She always says how romantic it would be to receive these from a special guy when we get them in. I think they’ll work today.” 

“Thank you.” Soonyoung said, paying him and taking the flowers. 

“Good luck.” The cashier said, Soonyoung giving him a smile and nodding, waving as he left the store, now with the bouquet of flowers. 

He walked down the street, occasionally sniffing the plants. The scent somehow calmed his nerves a bit, and he was feeling grateful he stopped to get them. He knew he was going to be a little late now, but hopefully you got that peach tea you liked and maybe a treat or something and wouldn’t be mad at him. Soonyoung finally saw the cafe up ahead, his stomach beginning to do flips with each step. 

But with the nerves, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was about to do this. He was about to tell you how he felt and potentially start something amazing. It almost made him giddy to think about. 

Soonyoung stopped outside of the cafe, taking a few deep breaths. He then turned to go to the door, stopping once his eyes landed on something that made his heart drop into his stomach. 

You were already there, seated at a table, Daeho sitting across from you. You were looking down at your hand, which was currently being held by his. He couldn’t quite tell the look on your face, but Daeho seemed to be pleading with you about something with a smile on his face. Soonyoung knew he should be able to just go in there, since you had made plans and were expecting him, but instead he found himself turning and walking away. He tossed the flowers on the sidewalk, leaving them behind. 

He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. 

[forgetmenotaftg]

La Vie En Klosé

Nicky Hemmick huffed as he walked out of the gate at Berlin-Tegel after a rough Christmas at home. He was just ready to get back to his host family. The Stuttgart airport was never this crowded, so he tried his best to look confident and totally not lost as shit, and finally, with the help of the signs and his growing understanding of the German language, he made it out past the passport checks. Peering out over the crowd, Nicky saw a few people waiting around with signs and advertisements for taxis and rent-a-car services, but couldn’t spot either one of his host parents yet.

“Nicky!” he heard someone call. Nicky stood up on his tiptoes and saw who had to have been Erik Klosé standing by a shitty looking Burger King with a bouquet in his hand.

…And promptly tripped over a little girl’s bright pink suitcase.

As soon as he hit the ground, Erik was offering him a hand.

Nicky suddenly realized that he was staring. He’d seen pictures of Erik around the Klosé home, but wow. “Erik?”

“Hello, Nicky. These are for you.”

“Beautiful. I mean. They’re beautiful. The flowers,” Nicky stammered, taking the flowers and hugging them to his chest as Erik helped him up.

Erik grinned.“You’re telling me.”

-

Nicky and Erik shuffled their feet along the winding stone path ahead of them. The quiet there was almost unsettling–It felt like the only things in existence were the hundreds of lilies in the gardens around them, the two of them, and one word hanging in the air between them.

“So your parents aren’t okay with it?”

“No. In their eyes, I’m an abomination. They’re stuck perceiving the Bible the way they want to,” Nicky shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep himself as small and contained as he felt.

“They don’t deserve to claim the title of ‘Christian.’ You do know that, right?” Erik said, stopping mid-step and turning to Nicky.

“I know. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t say that it should.” Erik placed a finger under Nicky’s chin and directed his gaze upward so they could make eye contact. “But hiding hurts even more, doesn’t it?”

Nicky swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly, reaching up to wrap his hand around Erik’s wrist. Before he could force the words he wanted to say out of his chest, Erik spoke up.

“Me too.”

“You’re— “

When Erik kissed him, those petal-soft lips made Nicky bloom as excitedly as lilies around him, and for the first time in a long time, Nicky felt the sun again.

-

“Erik?”

“That’s your concerned voice,” Erik said, marking his place in his book and setting it down on the nightstand next to their bed. “What’s wrong, Love?”

“I never talked about him much, but…My cousin Aaron’s mother just died in a car accident. His…You know the long-lost twin thing. Andrew was with her. He survived.”

“Oh, Baby,” Erik whispered, motioning for Nicky to join him in bed. After his boyfriend crawled in next to him, Erik wrapped his arms around Nicky and kissed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“They don’t have a mother anymore,” Nicky started, then paused. “They’re not old enough to be independent yet, either. That means that they’d go to—“

“Luther and Maria.” Erik knew what that meant, as much he didn’t want to acknowledge it. “You want to go take care of them, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Nicky sniffled, but then his voice broke. “I—”

“You know I will respect whatever decision you make. I will be beside you the entire way, if you’ll have me, Nicky. If you want to go, that is what you’ll do. I want to make this work, and if you do, too—”

“That isn’t fair to you, Erik,” Nicky shook his head.

“Nothing is ever fair. Not wholly. I love you, and I love your heart. I trust it. Right now, it belongs somewhere else. And as long as it can share,” Erik smiled. “I don’t mind. We’ll still make time for one another. We can visit on holidays. You should go. They need you. I can wait. I will.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Says the man who is uprooting his entire life to take care of family he hardly knows. No one deserves someone as selfless and bright as you.” Erik reached over Nicky and plucked a long stem of forget-me-nots from the arrangement beside their bed. He tucked the flowers behind Nicky’s ear and kissed the end of his nose. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

-

“Erik?”

“Any updates?”

“They found him. He’s alive. He…Well, he looks fucked, to be honest. But he’s alive, and he’s dating Andrew.”

“Holy shit.”

“I think Aaron almost had a grand mal seizure,” Nicky shook his head. “I think I actually did. Anyway. They’re with the feds working through everything. They want him to go into witness protection, but God knows we aren’t letting him go anywhere. And Andrew? I think he’d kill the next person that even looked at Neil for too long.”

“So it isn’t just physical? Andrew actually has feelings for someone?”

“Feelings might be an understatement,” Nicky teased. “He choked out Kevin over the fact that Neil was nowhere to be found.”

“That will make my next visit all the more entertaining, won’t it?”

“Speaking of, you’re still coming to the championship, right?”

“I got approved for time off and already booked the flight. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I love you,” Nicky sighed dreamily. He could almost see Erik smiling in the stands, now. “Today just—The way Neil looked at Andrew today, it was…The same way you look at me. It was like the day you first kissed me, when you saw me for the first time. It’s…I miss you, and—Today just made me realize how quickly things can change”

“I miss you too, Nicky. I love you so much.”

“I know. I love you, Erik. Be good. Don’t get into trouble.”

Unbeknownst to Nicky, Erik popped open the small box that held Nicky’s engagement ring in his hand and closed it again. It almost made him laugh to know that Nicky would hear the click when it shut but would have no idea what it was. “I’m always good.”

“One: Bullshit. Two: Bye, Honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Love. Be safe.”

-

“Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Renee asked, closing the Bible in her hands with a soft look in her eyes.

“I do.”

“Do you have a ring for the groom?”

Neil smiled and pulled the simple platinum band out of his pocket before handing it to Nicky. Go get ‘em, he mouthed.

“Please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring…” Nicky slid the ring onto Erik’s finger, a single happy tear running down his cheek. “I thee wed.”

“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. By the power invested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you to be married. Erik, you may kiss your husband.”

Only Matt and Dan’s catcalls managed to pull the two of them apart.

“You’re insatiable,” Nicky laughed breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck and pressing their noses together.

“What can I say? Mr. Klosé looks good on you.”

Before Nicky could speak, Erik pulled him in again.

-

“He’s smaller than I thought he would be.”

“Wyatt is just a baby, Love,” Erik chuckled, leaning over to rest his chin on his husband’s shoulder. “They’re small.”

“He was just born so early. He’s too small.” Nicky pressed his hand to the glass wall of the incubator in which their son was placed with a sigh.

“I think he takes after Andrew,” Neil smirked (despite the look Andrew gave him). “Really though, Nicky. He’s perfect. I know he’ll be alright before you take him home to Germany.”

Andrew crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. “Katelyn said we—You have nothing to worry about. He’s finally eating well and he’s been gaining weight for the past week.”

“Speaking of babies, we have to go feed ours. Sir is a menace when she’s hungry,” Neil mumbled, whispering something else and receiving a nod before taking his husband’s hand.

“When we were out late for Wyatt’s birth, she tried to escape in retaliation,” Andrew nodded.

“Thank you for stopping by, you two.” Erik gently squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Neil and Andrew said their goodbyes, Nicky pursed his lips and looked up at Erik. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

“I know that we are,” Erik nodded, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Nicky, you’ve already been a parent. You were there for Andrew and Aaron when they had no one else. Because of you, they went to college. Because of you, they grew together instead of uprooting the support system you gave them. Because of you, they have a family outside of blood. You gave them all the love they never had. I have seen you love and care for people for so many years, Nicky. You are going to be an amazing father,” Erik whispered. “After everything you’ve been through and everything we’ve been through together, I think we can handle just about anything.”

Written by @reaching-my-summit, and posted here with permission.